We stood reveille every morning in front of our squad tents; at that time of morning it was pitch-black dark.

I was in B Company and the row of tents next to us was A Company. Every morning the 1^st Sergeant of A Company would blow a whistle profusely.

One morning we fell out and the 1^st Sergeant was blowing his whistle when a man from B Company yelled out, "BLOW IT OUT OF YOUR ASS!" This man had a neck the size of his head and built like a piece of granite.

[The] A Company 1^st Sergeant came jumping across the tent ropes yelling, "WHO SAID THAT?"

The B Company man said." I did, what ya goin' to do about it?"

The 1^st Sergeant approached the man who was directly in front of a squad tent; the man put his head down moving like a blocking tackle, dug his into the midriff of the 1^st Sergeant and kept on moving with both of them going through and collapsing the squad tents around them. To me that was a funny scene to start the day.

Another time was when we came back from Normandy.

I had received a battlefield commission and during the re-training period at Wollaton Park, I was in charge of training all the 60 mm mortar men in the Battalion. We had a live firing range not far from Wollaton Park.

The last thing I had the crews do, was fire for effect with all the mortars with 10 rounds in the air before the first one hit the ground.

One of the mortar crews did not hold the bipod down and with each round the mortar moved to the left. When I saw what had happened I held my breath as the rounds exploded near on and across a civilian highway.

Right behind the round that exploded on the highway came the Regimental C.O., Colonel Lindquist and the only thing I remember him saying was, "HOW CAN I GO THROUGH NORMANDY WITHOUT A SCRATCH AND COME OUT TO MY FIRING RANGE ALMOST GET KILLED?"