A story from my grandfather who has pasted away. Apparently he was moving through a heavily shelled town in france and (he was a flamethrower tanky) was his ank was knocked out by a german tiger crawling out of the hatch and rolling down the side of his tank, he round round the side and came face to face with a german soldier both young at the time stood looking at each other for what probably seemed an eternity and then my grandfather shot him. He liberated belsen, at the end of the war and to the day he died he had terrible nightmares about his job during the war as a flamethrower. his job was to mop up the ground troops. what awful things are lads had to go through.
