In May last year I started a thread under the heading of "What's your shooting like?" , see http://www.ww2talk.com/forum/weapons-technology-equipment/10691-whats-your-shooting-like.html During the run of this thread, I included the following small story that I'd previously posted on the BBC WW2 Archives, namely: Friday 13th. April 1945 Moved over Santerno. Some M.G. nuisance and one H.E. about twenty yards away. Bags of prisoners, Kiss from Signora. "Liberatoris !". Chasing after tedeschis with 30 browning blazing! The Browning machine gun referred to was rarely fired in anger, the exception being on this one occasion when I nearly killed Hewie our Stuart Tank driver. We had been on the move all day and the Germans were surrendering left, right and centre. To our left, about two hundred yards away, German infantry were climbing out of slit trenches with their hands high and we were gesturing to them to get behind us and to make their way to the rear. Suddenly someone to our right opened light rifle fire at us and Busty (SSM ‘Busty’ Thomas) lost patience and yelled at me "Let the bastards have it!" Hewie swung the tank to the right so we could face the new threat and I started firing non-stop, without giving Hewie a chance to drop his adjustable seat down below the level of fire belching from the Browning. A horrified Busty yelled: "Get down you stupid bastard!" and to my immediate relief Hewie disappeared from view before I could hit him. In the early hours of this morning, after a fairly sleepless night, I found myself thinking about those days and realised that I'd never actually finished the story so, with your pernission, I'd like to add a postscript. The action described above had come to a bit of a standstill and the Squadron ground to a halt. As the local firing had died down, Busty told Hewie & I that we could dismount and attend to any bodily functions or make a quick brew-up. While we were making our minds up, Tommy gun in his hand, he walked ahead of our tank to examine a small area of bushes directly to our front. Before he actually got there about three or four Jerries emerged, hands held high. The oldest could have been no older than fifteen and they made a sorry sight, we were seeing for the first time examples of the Hitler Jugend. Busty, caught completely off his guard by the unexpected appearance of the enemy, however harmless that they might have been, grabbed hold of the first one, spun him round and half-heartedly kicked him up the backside shouting as he did so "You stupid effer!.... you could have killed me !" He was quite right of course..... Busty Thomas M.M., who had managed to survive the war in the desert, two escapes from a POW camp and countless enemy action in Italy could have been brought down only minutes before by these desperate youngsters who now faced us in abject submission. And probably me as well. It's funny what you can think about at 4:30 in the morning !