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Desmond and the rest of the Ambrose crew were side by side with battleships to aid in the invasion when it began.
The shiny-eyed 84-year-old Desmond gestured with his hands to demonstrate the size of the shell, and the magnitude of that day.
The transport ship, SS Burnside was unloading troops onto the shores on Aug. 15. According to Desmond, the ship could hold 644 troops, and he was manning the 5-foot long .38 guns to protect their passage from an enemy aircraft onslaught. The guns, he said, didn't have shields then like they do now.
"We were out in the wide open like we were shooting out of the back of a truck," Desmond said. "An airplane could shoot us down with no problem."
He won a Bronze Star that day, as well as a personal thank you from officials in Southern France for participating in the invasion.
What really amazed him was the site of "Big Mo" firing three miles offshore.
Desmond sat back in his chair as he laughed, "We were bounced up and down like a cork in the water from the concussions." Then added more seriously, "I learned a lot that day."
The lessons of war have been a serious teacher to Desmond, and he has carried those lessons with him through his long legacy of dedication to service in the Armed Guard and as a volunteer fireman.
Still, it is a youthful, humorous vigor that now carries Desmond around New York and Pennsylvania, and even to the NEWS of Delaware County.
Desmond took three buses to get to the NEWS office from his Wallingford home, memory-rich scrapbook in hand, to tell his story. With his eyes full of constant surprise and his mischievous smile, Desmond is a warm, energized, young at heart senior citizen.
Desmond beamed as he spoke about going to the seniors orchestra.
"They were playing Mummer's music so I got up and did the Mummer's strut!" He pumped his fists up and down and had to cover up his mouth to hold in the laughter.
His droll energy is contagious. A man looking at his scrapbook on one bus exclaimed, "You got your nose into everything!" according to Desmond.
The man didn't know how right he was.
Before entering the war, Desmond became a volunteer fireman in 1939 at Moyamensing Hook & Ladder Company No. 1 in Chester.
Three years later, at his medical exam for the draft, the doctor told him he was fit for service in the army.
But Desmond envisioned himself somewhere else, and two weeks later he marched down to the recruitment office to enlist for the Navy on Oct. 14, 1942. He was a 25-year-old Chester resident.
From naval training in New Port, R.I., to the Armed Guard gunnery school in Little Creek, Va., and finally to the Armed Guard Center in Brooklyn, N.Y., Desmond picked up the intricacies of the equipment he was going to use.
He was assigned to the brand new, lustrous SS Lord Delaware, where he served from December 1942 to July 1943 as a third class gunner.
The SS Lord Delaware was one of 2,700 Liberty ships built during World War II. The standardized, mass produced design could be welded together in about 70 days. One Liberty ship, the SS Robert E. Peary, was built in four days.
The treatment on the Delaware was exceptional compared to conditions on the Burnside. The Delaware crew actually ordered food off a menu.
After the Delaware, he was transferred to his second ship, the SS Burnside, which toured the coasts of Italy to such places as Naples, Bari and Civitavecchia.
It was while he was on the Burnside that Desmond experienced the grim realities of war, culminating in the invasion of Southern France.
During his time on the Burnside, Desmond mastered the maintenance of the .38. He can still recall the stress of loading the big guns manually, hefting the projectile powder case into the cradle and ramming it up into the chamber.
"Some guys lost their finger tips," he exclaimed, gesticulating the cutting motion. "They got caught in the rim of the shell, and the breach block would shoot up, cutting them off!"
He remained on the Burnside until October 18, 1944.
Later he was sent to the West Coast on the SS Mission San Antonio and the SS Mission Purisima to guard Navy property.
Desmond's own father couldn't serve in the armed forces during World War I because he lost his index finger to a meat grinder, working in a butchery. He kidded Francis and his sister, Anna, that a boat ran over it.
Francis, however, never lost a finger manning the guns during his service in World War II.
After the war, Desmond retained the lessons learned in the Navy as a volunteer firefighter.
During his 66 years of fire fighting, he assisted at 655 fires. He started out serving the firemen coffee, then began to fight the fires himself. But after having heart surgery, Desmond had to slow down again and serve coffee.
Nevertheless, Desmond still donned the uniform for two or more-alarm fires.
There was one such fire in the Meridian Building in Philadelphia he helped fight for six hours alongside his son, Francis III. The fire started Sunday and claimed the lives of three firemen.
"When my wife (Audrey) and I took the train into Philadelphia on Monday, we could still see it burning," he said.
Desmond still has friends at the Philadelphia Fire Department from helping with fires in the city, and he still misses the job.
Desmond is proud of his days in the Navy and with the fire department. He made sure to specify that he was in the U.S. Navy, not the U.S. Navy Reserve, and part of the Armed Guard, not the Coast Guard.
In fact, Desmond calls the Armed Guard the "orphans of the Navy," and it wasn't until long after the war that he was honored for his service with an Armed Guard certification.
The wide-brimmed Navy cap that sits above Desmond's jovial face is adorned with some medals he earned, and some he actually made himself.
One, on the side, is a yellow circle with a fire helmet drawn on it, and written around the helmet are the words valor, pride, honor and courage.
He attached red, white and blue ribbons onto the back of the medal. The father of three, grandfather of six, and great-grandfather of three is not afraid to be proud.
He displayed one article titled "Unknown Hero" about a fourth grade boy saved from drowning in a Chester Park creek in July 1955.
"This 'unknown hero' jumped in and couldn't swim!" Desmond cried, "I had to bypass him to get to the boy and save him."
Desmond gets a lot of recognition these days for his exploits in World War II. He participates in Media's flag exchange on Veteran's Day. His list of partners in the exchange runs from his oldest granddaughter, Adele Dewees, to Pa. Gov. Ed Rendell, and even Sgt. Samuel Santana, back from fighting in Iraq.
He's also good friends with Martin Wusinich, Media police chief, who gets Desmond in to the courthouse before the exchange for free coffee and donuts like a VIP.
Desmond said he wanted to thank everyone for the compassion given to veterans since 9/11.
"People see that I'm from the Navy now and want to shake my hand," he said. "Before they would just ignore you like some person just walking down the street."
Desmond spoke poignantly as he recalled the return of his nephew, Liam McGrogan, who retired from the Navy a captain. When his nephew saw Desmond, he saluted him and called him "Admiral".
"Imagine," Desmond said with disbelief, "a captain saluting me as an Admiral! Me, a third class gunner!"
When Desmond returned home from the war, most of his friends had moved on. Few of his buddies from the fire department are still alive.
Still, he remains upbeat.
"Maybe I'm the last of the Mohicans," he kidded.
Desmond has said it before, and he'll say it again. "No one wants to volunteer anymore. They're too busy watching the boob tube."
