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The most thrilling experience in my army days was when a German Fighter flew over our lines in Normandy very low, and my comrade shot him down with a Bren gun. The pilot baled out and floated down very gently to the ground, his plane landing in flames quite nearby; when he got to the ground with his parachute harness still strapped to his back he looked very pale. We went over to check him out. He seemed okay but badly shaken. He mumbled something in German, then took off his wristwatch and gave it to Ken, my comrade, who had shot him down, although he would not have known that. He was taken away in a captured German car. End of war for him and a 鈥渇ree鈥� watch for my friend.

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