Big ray

Hi, I am going to be off line for 10 or 12 days, I will have no access to a computer.... perhaps I can jot down a few things for when I am back on line..... thanks.:kissoncheek:

I forgot to mention that under the tree canopy during the hours of darkness........ it is really dark!!!!!:kissoncheek:

We did many exercises in Germany, many of them being NATO based, so troops took part from many nations. I remember one exercise involving only british troops from 6th Armoured Division. We were travelling in convoy and it was decided that we should park our trucks in the woods, this would minimize the need for regular camouflage and provide very good concealment from the air. We parked up and had our late meal, it was then just a matter of the powers that be deciding who was going on guard, and in what order. All of this was pre-my promotion, so I was detailed along with the rest to provide a single vehicle picket guard. I made it known that I did not mind what time I did my watch..... I recall that my allotted spot was something like 2am till 3am. I retired to the back of a truck to get some sleep and await the call in the middle of the night. I was duly aroused and I took my place walking amongst the trucks..... this task is carried out on your own, whilst everyone else sleeps. We had been told the previous evening that the Ox and Bucks Light Infantry were acting as the enemy, and they might attack during the night, they were rumoured to be rather brutal, and likely to hit you with their rifle butt, (probably untrue, but you cant be sure) I expected that in the middle of the night, when all would be quiet, I could expect to hear anyone approaching.... I could not believe just how noisey a wood can be at night, I did not realize that many animals predate at night, what with the leaves rustling, twigs snapping the wood was a cacophony of sound. I began to walk alongside the trucks, banging on the sides and asking if anyone was awake, you can imagine the abuse that I got from those that I disturbed. By the end of my 60minutes of near terror I was glad to be relieved, that from a man 6ft tall and weighing 12.5 stones (175 lbs) goodness knows how they coped with the real thing.......... I`m obviously full of chicken blood. I had many experiences when on these exercises, perhaps I can relate some of them later?:kissoncheek:

I will race you........ the loser buy`s the beers..... I will make sure that I have enough money.:kissoncheek:

So sorry, I was obviously rather depressed after my hospital visit, I have no right to be depressed, this world is full of very unfortunate people, who`s suffering makes my problems look like a common cold, I promise no more references to my minor medical problem. Back to my time in Germany, I have never been a violent man, I would rather put my arm around anyone than strike a blow ( I have told you I am as straight as they come.) I have only ever come to blows with another man twice in my life, both times during my military service. One of my friends fell out with me one evening and threatened to strike a blow, the situation became very heated and he postured himself into a striking pose, I am afraid that I saw what was coming and counter punched. My friend went reeling back several feet onto the floor in the hallway of our block. It was a gut reaction, he had intended a wide sweeping punch, I had done lots of training in a local boys club, and Knew that a straight piston like punch was by far the most effective, I delivered that punch and when he began to raise himself from the floor, I was consumed with regret for what I had done. I pleaded with him to stop at that point, but I suppose that he wanted retrobution, and he charged at me with his head down and arms flailing. It was easy for me to guide his head under my left arm and his left shoulder into my chest area, any punching from him was now seriously negated due to the close proximity, he was I`m afraid bleeding rather profusely. At that point a sergeant appeared around the corner from the stairwell, the sergeants were billetted on the ground floor, he must have heard the commotion, and came up to investigate. The sergeant immediately ordered me into my room and took my friend into a room on the opposite side of the hallway. I could hear the sergeant telling my friend that it was a very serious matter for a junior NCO to strike a private (craftsman) and that he should prefer charges against me. My friend replied, he did not strike me, he was helping me up from the floor when you appeared, the sergeant knew that that was untrue, but could do nothing if no charges were brought against me. I could not believe that he did not want to wreak revenge on me........ but that only illustrated the gravity of the depths of our friendships, we have reamained friends to this day, and are in regular contact......... we have never discussed that incident. That leads me neatly onto the second episode, a friend and myself were in our room one evening when a guy who was at our camp for trade training and upgrading appeared at the door of our room. He asked us if we were busy with anything, we replied, not really, why? He asked if we would like to go over to the gym and do a little bit off sparring (Boxing) we looked at him, then we looked at each other in amazement, this guy was 4 to 6 inches shorter than us (We are both 6ft tall) we smiled and said, we think not, you should go and find someone your own size, he replied, there is only you two in the block. He insisted and we kept saying no, eventually he began to irritate us with his insistance, and we decided to accommodate him. We followed him over to the gym, my friend and I said as we walked over, we will not rough him up too much. I put the gloves on first, I said to my apponent, we will not punch towards the head, because I feel that we have an unfare advantage, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, O.K. whatever......... I never laid a glove on this guy, speed beat me every time, in the end I was becoming so embarrassed in front of my friend, that I would have hit him anywhere. He became aware of that fact, and I began to spend so much time feeling embarrassed that I inadvertantly dropped my guard, he seized his opportunity, and gave me an absolute haymaker, stopped me dead in my tracks, and I threw in the towel. My friends bout was a carbon copy of my own experiences, and we both left the gym feeling very sore in more ways than one. As we walked back to the block he told us that he boxed for the british army, and was pretty good at his weight............ I never underestimated anyone again, life is a real learning curve.:kissoncheek:

I have been to the hospital today to conduct tests on the condition of my heart, I only mention this because I am very concerned that my new found friends will feel that I have deserted them if I should stop these posts. The doctor stopped my tests in mid stream, he was very concerned that any continuence might result in a cardiac arrest.......... I only mention these things because I am so concerned that you might think that I have lost interest in what I am doing. I have been such a lucky individual in my life. I married the woman of my dreams fifty years ago, she has had to put up with so much from me, and yet we are still together. Now might be a good time to tell you that I used to lye on bed bed in Germany and think to myself, There is a woman out there somewhere who is going to be the mother of my children, I wonder where she is. Her name is Margaret, and if you have the good fortune to meet and marry such a lady, then like me you have been a very lucky man. She is a workaholic who keeps my home like a palace, she attends to my every need, and is always there when I return home. My only desire is to leave this planet before she does, such are my feelings for this woman. I do hope that you enjoy the same good luck that I have.

It was the early 1990s before I started to look in urnest for a Jeep. I came across a suitably restored example at one of the shows, it was for sale at what was the going rate for a Jeep at that time. I made the deal whilst at the show, and the Jeep was delivered to my home. I was very happy with the condition of the Jeep, and thought that it had been well restored. Inevitabely has time goes on, and you become less starry eyed, and more realistic, you start to find the things that really should have been done, and were not. I decided three years ago to start and do a complete chassis-up restoration of the Jeep. I took her down to work and we removed the bodytub, wings, hood etc. We could now set about doing all of those difficult jobs that had now become extremely accesable, such as the pedal shaft and bushes, I was never happy with the side play in the pedals. We stripped the brake mastercylinder and refurbished it, removed and replaced all of the brake pipes and wheel cylinders, fitted new brake shoes, a new set of bartread tyres. We took out and checked the gearbox and renewed the clutch. We could now clean and paint the chassis, engine and gearbox. I purchased a new body kit, bodytub, wings, hood, grill and windscreen. We discovered that the new bodytub had been slightly damaged in transit, with a little cutting and welding we overcame that problem. Then we discovered that one of the mudwings was slightly out of line, again just a little discreet cutting and welding solved another minor problem. After about six months the restoration was complete and we applied the final coats of paint, al that remained now was to obtain a new summer top, and a winter top complete with sidescreen and doors. During the rebuilding we discovered a leak in the fuel tank, so a new one was ordered and fitted. One thing that I did do whilst the new body was waiting to be fitted, I recessed the wheel arch on the driver side, this allowed me to extend the seat frame and set the back rest two inches further back......... what a difference that made. She is now marked up in the livery of the U.S. 82nd Airborne Div, parked in my garage and looking very resplendant. Its kept company in there by three motorcycles, 1943 Harley Davidson WLC. 1944 BSA M20. and a 1943 Royal Enfield W.D. C.O. .......... I often walk out to the garage just to look...... it gives me a fix........ My wife says "You are a sad individual" But by then I am in such a good mood, I really do not mind.:kissoncheek:

Someone asked for some details about my military collection. It all started in the early 1980s when along with my wife Margaret we visited a small country fair. Tucked up in a corner of the field were a small number of ex-military WW11 army vehicles, I gravitated very quickly to that corner of the field and began a conversation with one of the exhibitors. I explained that I was ex-REME and my previous involvement with war surplus. I said that I thought that it was a very good idea that someone should save these old vehicles and that infact I would like to become involved myself, but my business commitments left me with very little free time, they were very quick to point out to me that you simply have to make the time........ so I made it known to some of my friends who moved in those circles that I was interested in acquiring a Willy`s Jeep. Within a few weeks one of my friends called at my home to tell me of a GMC truck that had been standing in a field in Denmark, having been released by the Danish army. I went to view the truck and found it to be good mechanically, but extremely untidy, the result of lying out in the open for so long. I agreed a price and the truck was delivered to my place of business, we were very busy when it arrived, so we left the truck parked outside by the gates. Within a couple of hours a couple of guys that worked as fitters in a local utillity co. garage came walking by during their lunch break, they stopped and engrossed themselves in the truck. They shouted up the yard to me and asked to whom the truck belonged, I said that would be me. One of them went on to tell me that he had driven a GMC during his time in the forces, and would I be good enough to start the engine so that he might hear the distinctive sound of the motor, I replied, if you used to drive them, then you get in and start it, which he did, he sat there for several minutes with the biggest smile on his face. That first chance encounter made me realize just how important these old vehicles were to some people, and that spurred me on to want to complete the restoration. The truck was missing all of the canvasses and the tyres were a mixed bag, and well worn. We set about the restoration, first having the whole truck sandblasted and primed, we them painted and stencilled the truck in U.S. markings, bought and fitted new canvasses. All of this was done over a six month period in order to take the truck to the first show of the season, the show was only a few weeks away when the restoration was completed, I was getting rather excited at the prospect of arriving for the first time....... I was discussing this planned event with my co-restorer, when my wife suddenly interupted our conversation, asking me to confirm the date of the show, when I told her the date, she replied, You will not be going there, we are in Paris that weekend..... I was rather gutted, but had to conceal my dissapointment from my wife, who would not have been too impressed with my prefference. I told my friend that he would have to take the truck on his own. The show weekend arrived and he was setting off for the show in the most appalling weather, wind anmd rain. I suddenly felt rather sorry for him, and we set off for Paris. Saturday morning in Paris and the weather was magnificent, I could not help but think of what my friend might be having to endure.......... I should not have worried, on our return he told us that he had experienced the same good weather conditions, so all worked out well!!!!!:kissoncheek:

Hi Folks, I have a GMC 353 Rag top, A White M3 Halftrack, M201 Jeep, Harley Davidson WLC, BSA M20, Royal Enfield WD CO 350cc.:kissoncheek:

Most of our junior NCOs were a very good bunch, we did however inevitably have to have some bad eggs. One such bad egg was a corporal from the London area, he was very much a loner, and a heavy drinker to boot, he regularly abused his position. One recipient of that abuse turned out to be the guy that I mentioned earlier in my posts, he was the one that came dashing into our room saying that he had copied down the words of "Heartbreak Hotel" his name was Atkins, another London boy, you would have thought that that fact alone might have endered him to the London corporal, but not so. Something in Atkins personality really wrankled with that corporal, and he used every opportunity to "abuse" Atkins. Because Atkins was not a member of our room, I was unaware of the extent of that "abuse". It came to my attention one Friday evening when Atkins came into my room almost in tears. He went on to tell me that a regular feature of his Friday evening was to have this corporal return from his bout of drinking going into his (Atkins) room and removing his backpack from the top of his bedside locker, looking at it, and then saying something like, "very nice" and then throwing the whole of his kit through the window, with some of it falling into the fire hydrant (swimming pool). Atkins then had to retrieve his kit and set about drying it and re-cleaning the brasses. Atkins had come to me in desperation because by now I was also a junior NCO. I told Atkins to wait untill the "abuser" had gone out for the evening, and then come back to me. When he returned I told him to take his backpack down and replace it with the corporals backpack, and put his on the corporals locker.......... this he duly did, and of course the corporal threw his own kit out through the window, it never happened again, and I gained a great deal of satisfaction from that little episode, needless to say Atkins was highly delighted with the outcome:kissoncheek:

The vehicles that we used were predominently of world war two vintage, presumably we were equiped with these vehicles because we were a workshop, whilst all the new vehicles would be issued to the front line troops. We had such vehicles as the Morris Commercial C.8. both in G.S. form and water truck, Bedford M.W. GS and Bedford Q.L. troop carriers, Austin Q4 troop carrier, this was the "screamer" it used to make the most appalling noise when changing gear, I always thought that from a mechanical point of view it would not make it around the block!!!! White M3 halftrack, complete with a folding jib on the front, used for changing engines, gearboxes etc when out in the field.... this particular vehicle was so successful when used in that way that the R.E.M.E. continued using them well into the 1970s..... untill the emergence of the hydraulic arm. Scammell Pioneer, both recovery and gun tractor. This was at first glance the most ugly trucvk that I felt that I had ever encountered, but once that you started to use it, you fell in love with the thing, just a road going agricultural tractor really, 6 x 4 configuration with the most incredible suspension system that gave it a better cross country performance than some 6 x 6 vehicles, add to this the 6LW Gardner diesel engine, and you felt that this vehicle would take you anywhere and back My favourite large truck was the Leyland Hippo G.S. 6 x 4, I drove this particular truck to many places and always enjoyed the drive. We used a Diamond "T" 980 c/w Rogers trailer to transport a scrap tank out on exercises, it was dumped and the recovery mech`s practiced their skills at recovery. Today I have to pay for my enjoyment when out with any of my military collection, how many young men would enjoy all of that now, with the government paying for it!!!!:kissoncheek:

Given that we were ostensibly a workshop responsible for the maintenance of all aspects of the british army`s fighting equipment, it should not be any surprise to know that we did not lay a great deal of emphasis on military drilling (square bashing) However if we were going to have any senior officers coming along to inspect our workshops and its ability to perform well, we would have to brush up on our drill technique. The drilling would be conducted over several Saturday mornings in the weeks prior to the visit. This would also involve a massive clean-up of all areas of the workshop, suddenly lots of white paint would be drawn from the stores... if it did`nt move.... paint it. This effort was also extended to the vehicles, all had to be made to look at their very best. I remember on one occasion a truck that was in continuous use right up to the day of the visit ( a Bedford Q.L.) was in such an appalling condition, both mechanicaly and in terms of cleanliness that I was given a bundle of maps, which I threw into the cab, and was then given several destinations that would keep me away from the camp for two days, solving that little problem. In the weeks prior to the visit we had a few people who were considered pretty useless at drill, they were weeded out and excused any part in the procedings. It was a spring clean that left the camp looking very smart for many months to come. I am just sitting here writing down these memories, and thinking how much that I would like all of that interaction right now.:kissoncheek:

By the spring of 1957 I qualified for my first home leave, that involved travelling by train to the Hook of Holland to catch the ferry to Harwich, then train to London and then another train to my home town in the centre of England. I was as you can imagine quite excited at the prospect of seeing my family after twelve months away. For the first few days I busied myself going the rounds seeing my relatives, then I realised that most of my former friends were also away in the forces. My family operated trucks, so it was not long before I was recruited into the workforce, this did at least supplement my income, but I soon discovered that I had nothing on which to spend my money. Within ten days of my arrival home I began to seriously miss my buddies, they had become my new " family" and I was getting home sick for their company, I was now looking forward to my return. Travelling to and from leave was a wonderful experience in the 1950s.. the trains and ferry were filled with troops from all the regiments in the british army, and the array of different uniforms and headdresses was quite incredible, it was fascinating to see all of these county regiments that now no longer exist... I feel that young men of today are missing so much, and I do mean comradeship, not conflict.:kissoncheek:

I thank you for your continued support, it encourages me to continue with my ramblings, I do hope that they are of some interest.... I am simply reliving my past, and I am certainly enjoying my recollections. Its a pity that I cannot relive them!!!!!:kissoncheek: Regards Ray.

1957 / 58, cant remember if it was late autunm or early spring, but the nights were long and generally cold. I was given the task of delivering a small motor component (fuel pump) I received the order to go late in the afternoon, I set off on my journey through an area of Germany that was unfamiliar to me. After a few hours riding I found my self in a very hilly area, and it was getting colder. I stopped several times to check my position on the map, I did this by leaning on the handle bars and holding the map in front of my headlight. On one such occasion I was studying the map when I was startled by a torchlight being used to illuminate me. It transpired that I had stopped at the entrance to a farm, I had left the engine on my Matchless motorcycle running, something that you would always do when out on your own for fear of failing to re-start the motor, subsequently I had not heard the farmer approaching. He asked me if I was american, I replied no, english. He spoke no english and my german was very limited, but I could understand that he was telling me that I must be cold and should go into the farm for a hot coffee drink...... I had been declining his offer for several minutes when his equally elderly wife appeared on the scene, she obviously asked who I was and then they both started to insist that I should go for a warm and some coffee. I could see by now that the drive leading up to the farmhouse was elevated, and would ensure that if the motorcycle should fail to start, then I could roll start it from the farm. I accepted their offer and went into the farmhouse. It was a very large living room with a quarry tile floor, large wooden table and dining chairs...... with a very welcoming large open fireplace, with an equally large wood fire. The coffee cup was smaller than I was used to, so they gave me several cups of coffee and a plate containing several cold meats. At one point I heard a noise behind a door situated in the far corner of the room, the farmer obviously spotted the look on my face and the fact that I was looking at the door. He beckoned me to follow him to the door, which he then proceeded to open, revealling a cow shed. The noise that I had heard was a cow emptying its bowel, he immediately cleaned up the mess, and I noticed just how clean the shed was, I had not detected any smell before he oppened the door. A few minutes later their son appeared and I discovered that he spoke enough english for us to communicate. He told me that the cows were housed adjacent to the living quarters and under their bedroom so that should one of the cows be distressed, then they would know about it....... all seemed like a good idea to me. I thanked them for their hospitality and departed to continue my journey.......... during that journey I reflected on the fact that those two elderly people, who had obviously lived through two world wars, showed me nothing but kindness and consideration, and you realize that there really is good and bad in all peoples.:kissoncheek:

They are worth dying for!!!!!!!:kissoncheek:

On reciept of my motorcycle licence I was asked to sign for several motorcycles that were assigned to our workshops, only people with the appropriate licence could sign for and be responsible for a particular vehicle. I objected vehomently, declaring that I thought it very unfare to expect that of me, however the m.t. sergeant assured me that I would not be held physically responsible for the maintenance or cleanliness of those machines........ I signed, and he was true to his word. I was only required to perform D.R. duties as and when needed. At first I would have to take paperwork to Steele House, Dusseldorf, this was the nerve centre of the British Army of the Rhine. On one of my runs to Steele House my motorcycle, an old tired WW2 BSA M20. The piston rings were obviously pretty well worn, and she was burning oil. I had reached Dusseldorf, it was raining and I was in heavy traffic slowly moving down a tree lined street, the excessive ticking over of the engine, and my lack of concentration due to the rain, the inevitable occured, the plug oiled-up and she stopped. I pushed the bike under the trees lining the street and cursed my stupidity for allowing it to happen. I did of course try several times to start the bike, without success. after about 20minutes a REME Scammell came driving along the road, I waved them down and asked if they had any tools. They were about to take the tools from the vehicle locker when one of the guys asked why I had not got any tools in the tool bag on the bike........ I looked, and produced the appropriate tool for the job.... They all stood and looked and said, are you sure your in the REME, you can imagine what a pratt I felt...They all climbed back into their truck, smiling from ear to ear.... just to rub it in. I have to confess, I did not report this incident to my buddies on my return!!!!:kissoncheek:

Yes, its true to say that most experiences in the military would follow the lines that you have indicated. In my case they were obviously desperate for a motorcycle rider, however my duties as a D.R. were very much on a part time basis, as were most of my duties......... which will become very obvious as I continue with my posts. (assuming that I am allowed to continue, and people show an interest in my ramblings.) :kissoncheek:

In the late summer of 1956 we mustered after lunch ready for dispersal down to the workshops, the m.t. sergeant taking the parade asked, can anyone ride a motorcycle?. After a few moments of no response I took one pace forward, you are advised in the military not to volunteer for anything, the sergeant pointed to a BSA M20 m/cycle at the side of our group. He instructed me to take the m/cycle down to the workshop area, that distance was only some 100m along a flat concrete roadway, being nineteen years old, and as fit has a butchers dog, I did not think that it was worth the effort to start the thing, so I pushed it off its stand and proceeded to push it, the sergeant soon bellowed after me, telling me that he had asked for someone who could ride the thing, any fool can push it, he bellowed. So I turned on the fuel, primed the carb, two turns using the decompression lever and with one kick she fired-up, and I rode the bike down to the workshops. The sergeant had followed me down immediately, he instructed me to keep the bike running, and he climbed onto the pillion seat. He said, take me around the camp, so I did, he then went into the m.t. office and returned with two helmets. I was then instructed to take him for a ride down into the town of Hamm, a distance of approximately one mile, this we did and then returned to the m.t. office, I was told to follow him inside, and he presented me with my army motorcycle driving licence, it was as quick and simple as that. I was now the only D.R. in the workshops, I was destined to have some very pleasant experiences as a D.R. more about them times later.:kissoncheek:

Hi Paul, feel free to copy anything that I put on here (watch some of my spelling) I have these mental lapses over some words, it must be old age............. Lord knows why I miss spelt exercise on my last post!!!!!!! I will get numbers at our next meeting for your June show.......... Tony and Rob have further expanded the diorama, with some nice little extra features. Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

Whilst out on a NATO excercise in the summer of 1957 one of our guys was driving a K9 Austin truck, equivelant to a Dodge weapons carrier in size and capacity, when he was instructed to go to the field bakery and collect loaves of bread, his co-driver was a guy from the Liverpool area. They set off down the winding lanes of West Germany, collected their consignment of bread and proceded to make the return journey. The Austin K9 G.S. truck was well known to be very skittish on the back end, due in large part to the lack of weight on the rear axle. Peter C. the driver, a Sheffield lad, was obviously clattering along the lanes when he encountered a series of bumps in the narrow road, presumably the result of subsidence. According to the co-drivers report the truck bounced violently from axle to axle before going into a side slide, when Peter lost control completely and left the road, going through a hedge and down into the adjacent farmers field. At this point the truck was travelling side-on, and the inevitable happened, the truck rolled over, finishing up lying on its passenger side. The co-driver, whos name I cannot remember (not surprising, it was 53 years ago) climbed out through the gun capola in the roof, Peter climbed out through the driving door window. The co-driver was by this time sitting on the grass, looking at the wrecked truck, when he saw that Peter was o.k. and climbing out through the window. The bread was scattered over a very wide area of the field............ as Peter climbed out his first words to the co-driver were..... is the bread o.k........... funny what shock does to your order of priorities, the only injury sustained was Peters thumb, when he caught it on the steering wheel.:kissoncheek:

Our NAAFI canteen was situated on the third floor of the administration block, the block like all others in the camp was four floors high. The first floor was the central stores, the second floor was the nerve centre, containing the offices of the chief clerk and his staff, the offices of the 2nd IC, the C.O. and the sergeant major. The third floor was the canteen, we visited the canteen each weekday morning at 10am for refreshments. The spirral staircase, like the rest of the buildings was constructed with the best of building materials, it had a substantial wooden handrail, and tiled steps. Military boots, particularly those fitted with studs created a slow laboured clatter when ascending the stairs, and in contrast a somewhat light and almost musical clatter when descending, if I close my eyes I can recall the many times that we visited that floor. The fourth floor housed the recreation floor, staffed by an elderly lady (at least she seemed elderly at the time, I am sure that I am being unjust.) If you turned left at the top of the stairs you entered a room that contained all the comforts of home, easy soft furnishings, music, papers and magazines. If you turned right you entered the snooker / pool and darts room. The WVS lady usually sat knitting and generally acting like a surrogate mother. One evening in 1956, after returning from the top floor to our barrack room one of the guys in an adjacent room came rushing in, very excited and exclaiming that he had copied down the words of "Heartbreak Hotel"...... what is Heartbreak Hotel said I........ Elvis Presley said he........ who the hell is Elvis Presley said I.......... wonderful times.:kissoncheek:

Thank you.:kissoncheek:

Thank you for showing an interest in my ramblings. I have actually written a document covering my early life for my children to read, although they are not children anymore, we have a daughter 46 years old and a son 44 years old.... I realized a few years ago that many of my family had died, and I knew so little about their early life, so I thought that it might be a good idea to address that one where my own children were concerned. I hope that they find it interesting or at least informative. Regards to everyone.:kissoncheek:

In 1946 my uncle Jack was discharged from the RAF. he had served in North Africa as a driver, he was part of a team that went into the dessert to retrieve downed aircraft, or salvage parts and destroy the remainder. Their little crew consisted of one officer and about six other ranks. He related many tales to me over the years, I wish that I had had the good sense to have recorded them. He was always very impressed with the ammount of war material that the US produced, both what he had seen in the UK and during his time in Africa. He told me that most of the time they lived like nomads out in the dessert, looking very untidy and unshaven, but they did have to clean-up on returning to their base. He told me a story about running out of coffee whilst out on one of their tours, they were very near to a US supply depot, so the officer instructed Jack to approach the supply sergeant, he explained that they were out on a tour and had ran out of coffee, could they spare some. The sergeant replied "sure thing bud, follow me." Jack had anticipated a can of coffee, the sergeant threw him a 112lb sack!!!!! and there are many such tales. Once that Jack arrived home things changed for me, my grandfather was very much into psycology to achieve the desired result. An example of that would be when I used to earn my pocket money by looking after the horses that he owned. I would have to bed, feed and water the horses, in the 1940s very few stables would be equiped with electric lighting. Infact most would be like ours, oil lamps, now if you know anything about oil lamps, you will know that they flicker in the breeze. The flickering creates shadows, I was a young boy, it did not take much to frighten me. Feeding and bedding was no problem, all of that stuff was contained in the adjacent building......... the water was a different proposition, it was some 40mtrs away from the stables in total darkness. So I`m afraid that sometimes I ommitted to provide the water......... my grandfather would ask if I had completed all the required tasks, and I replied yes.... he would then go through each of my tasks and watch my response, when it came to water I must have been rather sheepish with my reply, and he surmised correctly that I had not watered the horses. His way of dealing with that was to say to me, sonny boy, if you want a drink, you just have to turn on the tap........ the horses cannot do that, they rely totally on you......... the net result of that was that I went back and watered the horses. I still miss my grandfather and his wisdom.:kissoncheek: