Imagine being in the pilot's seat of an Avro Lancaster bomber, flying over the English Channel so filled with ships you could have landed and taxied off them as if they seemingly formed a runway.
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That was World War II pilot Bill Purdy's memory from the skies above on June 6, 1944.
This was D-Day, the beginning of the invasion of Normandy - code named Operation Overlord - a bid to liberate Western Europe from German occupation.
About 7000 ships and landing craft, plus at least 150,000 personnel from Britain, USA, Canada and their allies landed across the coastline of France's Normandy region as part of the intense operation.
Thousands of Allied troops lost their life on D-Day itself, while during subsequent missions around tens of thousands more were killed - including French civilians.
"You never got close to anyone else other than your own group because [those men were] going to be there the next morning when you came back," the now 101-year-old told ACM's The Senior.
"You lived or died with the crew and that was it. Most of us died."
'Era of patriotism'
Born in Sydney, Bill (pictured above in 2014) was 18 when he joined the Royal Australian Air Force, and like many youth of the time joined to do his "bit for the empire".
"There was quite an immense sort of era of patriotism around the countryside and it seemed to be the right thing to do," Bill said.
He was one of more than 2000 Australian airmen serving in Royal Air Force and RAAF Squadrons involved in the invasion of Normandy.
Following training at Point Cook, he was posted to England with No. 463 Squadron in Bomber Command.
He was in a group of seven - a pilot, an engineer, a navigator, a bomber, a rear gunner, a wireless operator and an upper gunner.
Bill remembers the treacherous weather on D-Day that would normally deem flights too dangerous, but there was no other choice.
They flew under cloud until they got to the aiming point of Pointe du Hoc, and "bombed the headland and took most of the headland" with them.
About 150 Lancasters, each carrying fourteen 1000-pound bombs, were involved in the assignment, Bill said.
"All we could do was just to marvel at the activity all over," he recalled.
"There were aircraft all over the air and as far as I could see across the channel, there were just never-ending ships."
Bill witnessed 300 minesweepers, thousands of troop boats carrying more than 100,000 soldiers, plus 320 naval ships including six battleships: "all pumping their stuff ... dead onto the coastline as fast as they could".
"When you saw the whole of the sea was just covered with boats, I always reckoned I could have put my wheels down and taxi back home after it," he said.
'The longest three hours of your life'
Bill completed 37 missions between April and August 1944.
One of the toughest part of being at the helm of a wartime bomber, he said, were the hours of dread between the briefing at dusk of their next mission and time for take-off.
"That was the longest three hours of your life because you knew that the odds of you coming back were not all that bright," he said.
"So you spent the next couple of hours just tidying up your room so there wouldn't be too much trouble to send the stuff back to mum.
"And writing the last letter, of course, which you just kept nicely filed ... [but] once we started to get onto the aircraft, you lost all that feeling. You just concentrated on the job."
After Normandy
Bill was posted back to Australia in March 1945 to serve in the Pacific against the Japanese. Following the surrender, he was transferred to the reserves.
He married and had two children, and while he went on to became a flight instructor, Bill's career changed to a sweeter course.
After working with a frozen food distribution company for several years, he joined Arnott's Biscuits in 1966, working his way up to chair before retiring in 1995.
To this day, he keeps a packet of Tim Tams, his favourite Arnott's biscuit, in the top shelf of his kitchen cupboard.
This Anzac Day Bill will most likely be at home, despite marching for many years. He no longer has the spritely step of a young pilot, while most of his mates have passed on.
Lest we forget.
