Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

A Second War ‘D-Day’ D.S.C. group of five awarded to Acting Commander L. R. Curtis, Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, who commanded Assault Group J4 during Operation Neptune

Distinguished Service Cross, G.VI.R., the reverse officially dated ‘1944’ and privately engraved, ‘Commander L. R. Curtis, R.N.V.R., Ouistreham, June 6th’; 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star, 1 clasp, France and Germany; Defence and War Medals, with M.I.D. oak leaf, mounted as worn, lacquered, good very fine (5) £1,000-£1,400

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The James Fox Collection of Naval Awards.

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Dix Noonan Webb, December 2006.

D.S.C. London Gazette 28 November 1944.

M.I.D. London Gazette 8 June 1944.

Leonard Rupert Curtis was appointed a Temporary Sub Lieutenant in the “Wavy Navy” in January 1942. Advanced to Lieutenant in April 1942, he joined the landing craft training base Copra in September 1943, which appointment culminated in his appointment to the command of Assault Group J4 on D-Day, a unit comprising the 200th and 201st L.C.I. (S.) Flotillas which landed at “Queen Red” and “Queen White” beaches near Ouistreham. Curtis appears in the acknowledgements of numerous D-Day histories, but no-one was closer to him at the initial landing stage than Lord Lovat, who ‘borrowed’ his bunk during the Channel crossing:

‘The paling stars spelt out ‘Invasion’. It was blowing half a gale and getting light enough to see Curtis, now with his steel helmet on. He had reddish hair and a serious face. A quiet-spoken, dependable man, keenly aware of the importance of the occasion. Rupert was to be awarded the D.S.C. for the work he did that day. I imagine he felt lonely on the crossing: twenty-two boats pitching in line ahead; seven hours of eye-strain darkness, keeping station in rough weather up the swept passage through the minefields. “Twenty miles from the coast and twelve to lowering point,” he shouted against the wind. I nodded respectfully, trying a shivering smile with eyes on the duffle coat. The navigator had done his job well - on course and ahead of the clock. Nautical twilight was past and the sea changing colour to oystershell in the grey dawn when the Aldis lamp blinked on our port bow: “Good morning, Commandos, and the best of British luck.” Curtis and his yeoman spelt out the signal. We made a suitable reply: “Thanks. Think we are going to bloody well need it.” Rupert ran up the battle ensign. War was becoming personal again ... Half-seen through palls of smoke, boats were burning to our left front ... Curtis made a slight alteration of course to starboard. A tank landing-craft with damaged steering came limping back through the flotilla. The helmsman had a bandage round his head and there were dead men on board, but he gave us the V sign and shouted something as the unwieldly craft went by. Spouts of water splashed a pattern of falling shells.

Among the off-shore obstacles - heavy poles and hedgehog pyramids with Teller mines attached - we started to take direct hits. Curtis picked his spot to land, increased speed and headed for the widest gap, the arrowhead formation closing on either side. The quiet orders - a tonic from the ridge - raised everybody’s game: “Amidships. Steady as she goes.” The German batteries mistakenly used armour-piercing ammunition in preference to high explosive and bursting shrapnel. Derek’s landing brows were shot away and beyond him Ryan Price’s boat went up with a roar. Max had an unpleasant experience when a shell went through his four petrol tanks without exploding. Rear headquarters got away with minor casualties. Our command ship took two shells in the stern. It happened in the last hundred yards. There was no time to look back. The impact must have swung us round for two boats, Max’s and mine, touched down side by side. Each carried four thousand gallons of high-octane fuel in non-sealing tanks aft of the bridge. Had Max blown-up we would have gone with him. Five launches out of twenty-two were knocked out, but the water was not deep and Commandos got ashore wading; a few men went wading in the shell craters’ (Lovat’s March Past refers).

Curtis attained the rank of Acting Commander in April 1945 and was released from the Active List in April 1946.