41 Royal Marines Commando Re-enactment/Living History

10/06/2025

Now that it's June, that means two things; the anniversary of D-day and changing into winter impressions for the cooler weather here in Australia, so it's the perfect time to show off the D-day set of kit. It has been based off the pictured original photograph in the Imperial War Museum archives. The sergeant in the foreground facing the camera appears to be Sergeant John "Jack" Murray, who would sadly be killed in action one month after this photo was taken. Marine Clifford Coates has also pointed himself out in this photo in an interview for the Veteran's Lottery.

The uniform is Battledress, the standard across all the British forces landing in Normandy with the exception of 6th Airborne who had the addition of the Denison Smock. The size and shape of the packs worn suggests that it is the Large Pack, or Marching Order Pack, with the Light Anti-Gas Respirator bag affixed to the top of it. It appears that on this occasion nothing was to be left behind, unlike the Sicily landings in which the mens' large packs were left aboard ship and never seen again.

On some men there is clear signs of a Life Belt worn, and on others it is less clear or appears to have already been jettisoned. Understandably, with all the extra weight of Marching Order kit, anything surplus to requirements would have been quickly ditched. Raymond Mitchell points out that in the days following the landings he saw many discarded "coal scuttle" helmets that had been taken souvenir by the advancing troops, only to be left behind when they became too burdensome.

George Simms, another member of 41 Commando, recalled later in his life that, when boarding the boats to make the landing, they were instructed to remove their helmets in favour of their green berets, ostensibly to fighten the Germans. George expressed his skepticism that a green beret would do anything at all to frighten the Germans, and spoke of the resulting head injuries from the resulting lack of head protection. Raymond Mitchell also tells of how, once off the beach and with opportunity to take a breather, berets were whipped off to mop sweaty brows, and to get at the ci******es stashed beneath. He also mentions one of the units' signalmen diving for cover during a bombardment but his helmet, left out in the open, being peppered with shrapnel. Clearly both helmets and berets were in use that day.

The photograph does show a few men wearing their green berets, but the majority of men appear, sensibly, to have switched back to wearing their helmets. With that in mind we consider it acceptable to wear this impression with either the helmet or the beret, in this case a helmet being chosen.

Sergeant Murray carries his Rifle No.4 with a canvas cover over the action, though it's unclear who else, if any, bears such a cover. In the very bottom left of the photograph we can just see the muzzle of an M1928A1 Thompson Machine Carbine, complete with Cutts Compensator and vertical foregrip, marking it out as the same type pictured during both the Sicily and Walcheren actions, and which has been pictured on this page before. Sergeant Murray also appears to have a Pattern 37 pistol holster on his right hip. This is something of a departure from the "standard" loadout, and pistols in general are not commonly carried and usually issued only in small numbers. Based off Raymond Mitchells account, Sergeant Murray's holster likely contains the C**t M1911 .45 calibre pistol.

12/05/2025

Posing in front of a work-in-progress Nissen Hut.

41 Royal Marines Commando lived in Nissen huts a couple of times during its wartime service, but by the end of May 1944, in the lead up to D-day, they were moved into cities of canvas shelters. This was mostly to bring various troops together that were slated to take part in the imminent landings, and partly for the control of sensitive information. While they were being briefed on the cricual and confidential details of the operation, the unit was kept confined in the camp, nicknamed Stalag C19 by the men, to ensure any important information couldn't be leaked.

With the colder weather coming back, we've switched from khaki uniforms to woollen battledress, just as the real 41 Commando did when returning to Blighty.

Raymond Mitchell describes the men as "khaki clad" when disembarking form the SS Otranto in Gourock, Scotland, but we're not sure whether he's referring to the Khaki Service Dress, tan in colour and made from thin cotton, or Battledress, also often described as khaki or khaki-drab in colour. We do know that by the time the men paraded at Deal Depot on the 5th of January, they're pictured dressed in Battledress and greatcoats, we're just not sure when the changeover officially occurred. The men were to remain in battledress, with the addition of Denison Smocks for the Walcheren landings, for the rest of their wartime service.

Trainings are proceeding in this setup for the next few months, with pics of the D-day and Walcheren fighting rigs to follow.

07/05/2025

After the Walcheren landings, 41 Commando was pulled back to Holland for rest, resupply and further training. During this time, they were intermittently bombarded by the infamous V Weapons, the V1 and V2. The V1 had a distinctive noise, and if the sound gradually died away then it had passed overhead and you were safe, but if it gradually grew louder then you were in its flight path;

“Your brain crossed its mental fingers, hoping that the devilish thing would keep on going. Should the engine noise stop abruptly, one ton of high explosive was plummeting earthwards and nothing could prevent it from impacting somewhere nearby. It was time to dive for whatever cover might be available, until the juddering blast of on explosion signaled another lucky escape.” (Mitchell, 2001, p168)

By March, the unit had found its way to Zeeland, and began keep-fit exercises, fi****ms practice and bunker-clearing drills, in preparation for their expected deployment across the Rhine and into Germany itself. Indicative of the fierce resistance that they were expected to encounter, men of the Commando began training in the use of flamethrowers. However, there was to be no further call for 41 Commando to bloody itself on the front;

“In Goes we had been able to follow the progress of the Allied Armies on a map displayed in the window of a small newsagent’s shop close to Commando HQ, which the proprietor had updated daily by moving lines of coloured pins. On the day the war in Europe came to an end, this service was terminated with the single word ‘KAPUT!’ - ‘Finished!’ - written in large letters over the map of Germany.” (Mitchell, 2001, p198).

That night in the city of Goes (where the Commando was stationed), and indeed all over Europe, there was an enormous victory party as the locals celebrated their complete liberation, and the Commandos joined in with gusto, and Raymond Mitchell recounts leaving the party and almost tripping over a mate, Bill Smith, stretched out flat on the pavement, dead drunk. Montgomery accepted the surrender of all German forces in North Germany, Holland and Denmark, which came into effect at 0800hrs on the 5th of May 1945. A few days later, the British Government declared 8th of May a national holiday, Victory in Europe Day, of which today is the 80th anniversary.

41 Commando did make its move into Germany, but as occupation troops, POW guards and sightseers. A brigade motorcycle race was held, a few men volunteered for a parachutist qualification course, and some were reviewed on parade by Prince Bernhard of the Netherlands, all interspersed with guard and occupation duties. It was still more or less business as usual for the men, but without the immediate possibility of being shelled or shot at. The spectre loomed of a potential move to the pacific to help in the fight against the Japanese, but the announcement of unconditional surrender by Emperor Hirohito in August put paid to that.

Men were gradually sent home until, in November, 41 Commando crossed the channel en-masse, to be disbanded. A final church parade on the 30th of December marked the end of their wartime service. The men handed back their service equipment and uniforms, given release documents, civilian identity cards, ration books, rail warrants and back pay. They were also provided with a civilian suit, and Raymond Mitchell wrote that he chose a double-breasted navy-blue herringbone.

“Only when I had boarded the train for London, with the cardboard box of clothing stashed on the luggage rack above my head and was settling down for the long journey home, did the finality of the situation impinge upon me. The ticket in my pocket was for one way only; never again would I have to ‘Report back at 2359hrs’; my five-and-a-half year stint of service in the Royal Marines was over.” (Mitchell, 2001, p225).

20/03/2025

The corporal on guard duty in the summer humidity. Sure it beats being at Salerno, but you know what they say:

It ain't half hot mum!

16/02/2025

That's a wrap on the first training of 2025!

It was a pleasure to get to explore Fort Lytton, and it provided an excellent backdrop for our reenactment activities.

It was a hot and humid day, but that didn't stop us from routing a few Jerries out of the fortifications!

Once captured they gave us no trouble, and I think these fellows are just glad that their war is now over.

02/02/2025

03/01/2025

Well that's it, 2024 is officially done and dusted! Here's hoping that 2025 brings lots of opportunities to do some reenacting.

This year we plan to show off some of the equipment and weapons used in this impression in a little more depth, and of course we will continue to show off our activities at our regular training. The final touches are being added to the D-day and Walcheren impressions, and we're mostly just waiting for the weather to cool down before donning them for field use.

We will also be continuing to showcase the history of the real 41 Royal Marines Commando. 2025 is the 80th anniversary of VE day, and I'm looking forward to sharing what the commandos got up to during their time in Germany.

Our first training for the year is planned for the 15th of Feb, so stay tuned. In the meantime, enjoy these photos depicting how two NCOs from 41 Royal Marines Commando and 3 Kompanie,Panzer Pioneer Battalion HG. Living history/Reenactment may have looked when they two units fought each other at Vietri sul Mare, September 1943.

10/11/2024

This Remembrance Day, I’d like to remember the 139 men of 41 Royal Marines Commando who didn’t live to enjoy their lives after the war. I’m not going to write a short novel, like some of my other posts have been. I’ve rustled up what images I can of the fallen, and I wish simply to say this; The rights and freedoms that we enjoy today, and often take for granted, were bought dearly with the lives of the 139 men of 41 Royal Marines Commando who died during the war, and millions of others like them. We owe it to them to remember.

“I lost friends, yes. Nobody is sacrosanct. When that shell explodes, when that bomb drops or when that gun fires, somebody’s going to die. And it doesn’t matter who you are, if you’re in line, it’s you. And that’s it. You’ve got just as much chance as the other 20,000 that’s there. What can you do?” Marine Clifford Coates, at age 94, relives his experiences of D-Day.


The 41 Royal Marines Commando Roll of Honour;
https://www.commandoveterans.org/41RMCdoROH

In lieu of the traditional Ode, I’d like to share a poem written by the men of 7 Section, X Troop, 41 Royal Marines Commando, for the comrades they left on the beach on June 6 1944;

“The fields of France are stained with blood,
With the bullet’s swish, and the mortar’s thud,
There in those fields six feet below,
Lies buried dead, a commando.

D-Day began – this was the start,
Nerves keyed and tensed and strong of heart,
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind,
And he thought of his wife, his kin and kind.

Life’s future held a lot for him,
But fate stepped in and made it grim.
His visions of a cottage home; dead stop.
They vanished with his blood, last drop.

He knew the price he had to pay.
To turn around and run, or stay
And fight to keep his record clean.
He stayed and fought like a true Marine.

Though life and time no more exist
And his name goes down on the honours list,
His soul among his pals remains
Alive for ever in their hearts aflame.”


Lest we forget.

01/11/2024

On the 1st of November 1944, 80 years ago today, 41 Royal Marines Commando landed on the island of Walcheren as part of Operation Infatuate, which is one of the least known amphibious landings of the entire war. Since D-day, Allied forces had advanced so far east from Normandy that the transport of supplies overland was straining their logistics and affecting further advances. The situation had to be rectified, and to that end on the 4th of September 1944 the British 11th Armoured Division liberated Antwerp and its deep-water port. The proximity of Antwerp to the front lines promised to renew the momentum of the advance. However, the city lies a short way inland from the Belgian coast and is accessible to maritime traffic only by the River Scheldt, which had been made impassible by the presence of German troops and fortifications on the north bank, and a dense minefield in the river itself. If a vessel would attempt the gauntlet, it would be sunk, blocking the narrow channel for future shipping. Landings were planned to put Allied troops onto the island of Walcheren, at the mouth of the Scheldt Estuary, to wrest control from the Axis.



The fleet of 180 vessels steamed towards Walcheren in broad daylight, ostensibly to give RAF Typhoon pilots a clear view for their rockets, but it left the ships in full view of a 150-foot-high lantern tower at Westkapelle and dangerously exposed. Fire was exchanged back and forth as the ships chugged inexorably towards land, waterspouts from bursting shells dotting the sea all around. The slow, exposed approach of the landing craft could have led to disaster, had it not been for the sacrifice of the Support Squadron Eastern Flank (SSEF); 27 armed vessels whose sole purpose was to draw the fire of the defending batteries away from the landing craft, and do what damage they could in the process. Of the original 27, 9 were sunk and 11 were disabled with heavy casualties. In recognition of their bravery, the Chief of Combined Operations General Laycock, wrote the following to the Squadron commander;

"I understand that the success of the landings and the comparatively light casualties sustained by No. 4 Special Service Brigade at Walcheren was due largely to the efforts of the Naval Support Craft who, at great cost to themselves, effectively silenced the coastal defences. I should like to express the appreciation of all ranks, Special Service Group, and particularly that of General Sturges and Brigadier Leicester and all ranks of No. 4 Special Service Brigade for the self-sacrifice shown by all naval personnel during the landings, which had such splendid results."

The tanks assigned to the operation had not fared well. Out of the original twenty, only two Shermans and two AVREs had made it ashore in serviceable condition. Brigadier Leicester, commander of 4 Special Service Brigade, of which 41 Commando formed part, later wrote that even this bare handful of tanks had been worth their weight in gold.

Walcheren sits largely below sea level, and so is ringed by a protective d**e to prevent the ingress of seawater. In the days leading up to the landings, the RAF bombed this d**e until the North Sea flooded in. The aim was to hamper movement of German troops on the island; however, it also hindered the movement of Allied forces and turned parts of the battlefield into a freezing lake, and parts into a sodden marsh. Such was the state of the soil and the extent of the flooding that 41 Commando spent a good deal of their time being ferried to their objectives by amphibious Buffalo LVTs (Landing Vehicles, Tracked).


It was in this way that 41 Commando hopped along the Walcheren coast, from battery to battery, clearing away German artillery and opening the Scheldt Estuary for the badly-needed supply convoys. All the while, a steady trickle of casualties ate away at them piecemeal. By November 1944, the end of the war was by no means in sight, but it loomed just beyond the horizon, and some began to hope they’d make it through the whole thing. Men who had, by way of skill or good fortune, survived the previous three landings in Sicily, Italy and Normandy, found their luck finally running out. One of these, Captain Peter Haydon, had won the DSO in Italy when, as a Lieutenant, he had stayed atop Dragonea hill despite his wounds, to support and rally his men. Wet and muddy Walcheren proved to be his end.

On the 8th of November the last, isolated pockets of German resistance in the islands’ northwest surrendered to the Commandos. All in all, thousands were taken prisoner but, as Mitchell put it, too late to save many of his comrades;'

“At a churchyard a burial party took over to carry the bodies to their communal grave, a rectangular excavation barely two feet deep, alongside a boundary hedge overhung by the branches of leafless trees. The bottom was awash with water, but, with most of the island flooded, the water table was everywhere very close to the surface, so that was unavoidable. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem fitting that our dead comrades should be put to rest in such a wet place. The bitterest thought in most minds, however, was that if the Germans had surrendered only a few days earlier these men would have still been alive.” (Mitchell, 2001).

After a massive minesweeping operation that lasted most of November, the first loads of Allied cargo were unloaded at Antwerp and shipped to the front in a logistical revolution that likely shortened the war. In April 1945, Antwerp’s ports accounted for 1.7 million tons of shipping, 60% of all Allied supplies landed across all of northwest Europe. Not only did this support 84 divisions, the surplus capacity allowed the Allies to feed Europe’s liberated civilians. All this, for the cost of 925 Allied wounded, 59 missing, and 489 killed in the capture of Walcheren.