M E Clifton James was in for a boring war.

Wounded at the 1916 Battle of the Somme, when he lost a finger, James joined the Royal Army Pay Corps when hostilities erupted again in 1939.

But a chance meeting with Press photographer from the News Chronicle changed his life.

With his modest theatrical background, James had been ordered to run plays and variety shows for the troops.

He later recalled: "After the sensational victories of the Desert Rats in North Africa a most peculiar thing happened. In Nottingham I went on stage to make an announcement, and was met with loud applause which swelled to a roar.

"I had been mistaken for General Montgomery, the most discussed military commander in Great Britain, if not the world.

"The audience thought he had come to address them. Although taken aback, I soon forgot the incident. But some time later I took a theatrical company of servicemen to the Comedy Theatre in London and we gave a free, Sunday night performance.

"After the show a News Chronicle photographer came into my room. He said: Excuse me, I'm told you are very much like General Montgomery. May I take a photo?'.

"I borrowed a beret from someone and he took a couple of pictures, remarking that the likeness was extraordinary."

After the picture appeared i n in the paper, James received several mysterious phone calls from MI5.

With D-Day looming, the intelligence service needed a lookalike to impersonate Montgomery and fool the Germans.

James was sworn to secrecy, unable to tell anybody, even his wife, about his double life.

He said: "I felt simply terrible. It nearly broke up my marriage. My wife thought I had another woman and I did not see her again for six months."

James joined Montgomery's staff and had to closely observe the General, picking up his vocal mannerisms, body language and facial expressions.

He said: "Here was I looking so like General Montgomery that even men who saw him every day mistook me for him. As we stood facing each other it was rather like looking at myself in a mirror.

"The more I studied him, the harder I found it to believe that this dapper, soft-spoken man was to lead our great armies into Hitler's European fortress."

Then somebody realised James was missing a finger, a dead giveaway to any clued-up enemy agent.

MI5 solved the problem by making a fake finger from cotton wool, adhesive plaster and some stiffening material.

The Germans had no idea where the Allied invasion force would land and agents were desperately trying to track Montgomery's movements in a bid to find out.

James, by now fully impersonating the general, was flown to Gibraltar, where he was met by cheering crowds and deliberately introduced to two unsuspecting Gestapo agents.

That evening, Berlin was told Montgomery was in the Mediterranean but it was all a magnificent bluff.

He was in fact in England, co-ordinating the D-Day invasion, when thousands of British, American and Canadian troops stormed on to the beaches of Normandy, catching the Germans by surprise.

James knew all along he could be a target for assassination but, ironically, owed his life to Adolf Hitler.

The Fuhrer had given orders that Montgomery was on no account to be killed until it was discovered beyond doubt where the invasion would take place.

Returning to England, James returned to the Pay Corps, still sworn to secrecy. His commanding officer, who knew nothing of his double life, threatened to have him arrested for desertion.

James had to keep up the charade until after the war, when Montgomery allowed him to write a vetted version of his adventures to lift the cloud of suspicion hanging over him.

He went to live at 11 Heatherstone Road, Worthing, with his wife Eve and a book, entitled I Was Monty's Double was published in 1954. It was followed by a film of the same name in 1959, in which James played himself alongside John Mills.

He went on an international tour to promote the movie, which did good business at the box office.

While living in Worthing, James gave many talks about his amazing wartime career and admitted a much-publicised visit by Montgomery to the Manor Sports Ground, off Broadwater Road, in the run-up to D-Day was not all that it seemed.

Once again, Monty's double had stepped in to inspect the troops and nobody had batted an eye.

James died of severe bronchitis on May 8, 1963, aged 65. The illness was blamed on that fact that he had been gassed during the First World War.