‘The war was a long time ago, but you remember things when you try to lie down’

The Care for Veterans home in the West Sussex seaside town of Worthing feels a long way from the wartime beaches of Normandy.

But for Ron Parker, memories can flood back at any moment. "The trouble was sleeping," he says from his spacious bedroom, one of 60 in a building that provides complex clinical support to veterans living with degenerative illnesses, acquired brain injury, spinal trauma, dementia symptoms, cancer and old age.

He is talking about trying to catch some shut-eye inside the trench he had dug after being deployed with the Royal Engineers as part of the follow-up forces sent to France just after the D-Day landings .

"It's a long time ago, but you remember things when you try to lie down – you couldn't sleep when the guns were going, especially at night time. They put an infantry barrage down, it shook the ground and, of course, half the night it was shaking the earth down on our faces."

Parker, now a spirited 101, was conscripted aged 18 and a half in 1942. The "gammy shoulder" he incurred when a telegraph pole fell on him as a youngster meant he was a Grade-II recruit deemed unfit for the infantry. But his technical brain suited the Royal Engineers, whose training included weeks spent planning the design of kettles before constructing them from scratch.

At the engineers' depot at Longmoor in Hampshire, he was taught how to clear German booby traps. "We had minefields and detonators. The only thing is with mines – be careful. They're very delicate." He says that young soldiers can be daredevils, though he is unsure the descriptor applied to him. "Not really. I think I dodged whatever I could."

It is a modest characterisation of a man who, with his band of brothers, played a crucial role in liberating Western Europe. As the invasion of Normandy , codename: Operation Overlord, was launched on 6 June 1944, Parker was waiting on the Isle of Wight "ready to go".

Finally, once a storm in the Channel had cleared, at the end of June, he was on his way. He jumped over the side of his ship and into the water lapping over Sword Beach. "It was noisy," he says. "But you didn't notice those sorts of things – you had a job to do. Wherever you looked, there were ships on the side of you." He was weighed down with all the equipment on his back, including two hand grenades and 200 rounds of ammunition .

"Fortunately, there was only about three inches of water when we eventually got down. It didn't get into my boots anyway. Then you just dug in," – making both a defensive position and a machine gun post, half a mile inland.

On whether he always had confidence that we would win the war, he is resolute. "Oh, yes, yes, of course. No doubt." Then I ask if he was frightened. "I don't think I had time to be scared – taking care of yourself was enough."

As the Allies were slowly advancing across the Continent , Parker was repairing the equipment of the stream of soldiers arriving on the French coast on a daily basis. "Lots of light landing craft were getting stuck. You'd go down there and they'd not turned their petrol on," he says with a chuckle. Meanwhile, he had to wake up at 4.30am to be on the lookout for any German paratroopers. "I think it was probably about four weeks [that] we were in Normandy. We were bathing in a biscuit tin."

After being given the green light to head east, Parker travelled for three days – sleeping under his three-ton lorry – before ending up in Antwerp. But for someone who disliked army life, it is perhaps unsurprising that it is the fortnight's rest in another Belgian city, Ostend, that he recalls most fondly.

"We were deloused with the white powder by the Canadian delousing department. And we had a bit of luck because the local people turned over their public baths to the British troops, so we had a nice hot bath the next day and all clean clothes."

It was only after he returned home that he learnt of the death of his childhood friend, Roy Head, from Worthing Boys Club, who "joined up the same as I did, but he was killed in Normandy".

Parker remained serving in Germany after Victory in Europe (VE) Day , returning home to Worthing, and his hairdresser wife Joyce, aged 23.

He went on to get a job at Barclays Bank – which he kept until retirement aged 60 – and to have a daughter, Shirley, who is now in her late seventies and who has given him three grandchildren.

Following Joyce's death in 2021, and his struggles with ischemic heart disease, he visited Care for Veterans for a few days of respite care, but has since become a permanent resident.

The home, established in 1919, supports physically disabled ex-service personnel of all ages (the youngest is just 21), with a neuropsychologist specialising in PTSD , physiotherapy and a daily programme of activities, from arts and crafts to yoga. In September, it received a £150,000 grant from the Army Benevolent Fund. In the past year, the Army's national charity – birthed in the year of D-Day – has supported more than 75,000 members of the Army family in 51 countries through all of life's challenges, including bereavement, injury and returning to work.

Ron, Care for Veterans' oldest resident, admits he gets up to mischief with his neighbour John, who is ex-RAF, ex-Lloyds Bank and in his nineties. "We always go out in the mornings and have a coffee and a natter in the garden."

The longtime Telegraph reader had never given an interview about his time in Normandy until the 80th anniversary in June. No one had asked, he says with a shrug. He admits to being a little bemused by the newfound attention, after spending so much of his life "going along quietly", but for our visit, he is wearing the Barclays tie he dons "for special occasions", his Légion d'honneur medal – and a kindly smile.

When I ask what he would like young people to learn from the conflict, he hesitates. "Wars are a horrible thing. If there were another war, it would probably mean atom bombs and that sort of thing," he says gently.

"I don't think we want any more wars."

Army Benevolent Fund is one of four charities supported by this year's Telegraph Christmas Charity Appeal. The others are Humanity & Inclusion, Teenage Cancer Trust and Alzheimer's Research UK. To make a donation, please visit telegraph.co.uk/2024appeal or call 0151 317 5247.