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  Friday 4th June I meet Roy for the start of the journey. Then we drove to Ian Marshals to load extra kit and meet up with Ray Nixon and Lance Owens , who I hadn't seen since training with the Red Devils 27 yrs ago. After refreshments prepared by Ian's lovely wife we were off to Newhaven to catch the ferry to France. All went well and we arrived at Dieppe in the wee hours, filled up the cars and set off for Normandy.

	We arrived at Pegasus bridge about 06.30 in the morning and in glorious sunshine to await other Pathfinder members. Throughout the long hot day they arrived in ones and twos. We all took the chance to visit the Pegasus Bridge museum and glider landing memorials and chat to the many veterans who were there.
After settling in at our digs the community hall in Sannerville, refresher training took about an hour before we all did our own thing.
I accompanied Ian Marshall and Lance Owen on the DZ recce, Roy joined us shortly after and plans were set. That evening all were free to do what we wanted. About 11pm the thunder and lightning started and it wasn't long till the rain followed. We awoke Sunday morning with the storm still going on. Needless to say there were some nervous glances passed between the guys on the manifest for that day.
The rain eventually stopped around half nine and things started looking up. So we got ready and loaded the parachutes onto the coach for the journey to Caen /Capriquet airport.
Just after 10 am we set off and the butterflies started in earnest. On arrival at the airport we were driven straight onto the apron, passing two Dakotas, a B25 Mitchell bomber and a P51 mustang, all in pristine condition. Kit and jumpers were offloaded and laid out in stick order to await the arrival of our jump ship, the DC3 Drag em oot, an aircraft I had seen in many photos wishing I was the one jumping from her.   About 20 min's and a few cigarettes later things were not looking good, especially when it was discovered the plane was still at Cherbourg with the crew not knowing they were dropping us today. After some frantic phone calls the crew were on their way, although we were going to be late jumping. There was great relief the drop was back on.
Another 20 min's and we had the order to kit up. It would be a quick turn around with us loading with the engines running. Soon we heard the unmistakable sound of the grand old ladies Pratt & Whitney as she descended towards the airport and finally coming in to land. My nerves were building now as normal as the plane landed and taxid to the apron and stopped. We were soon loaded up and were off. As usual once on the aircraft my nerves calmed down and I began to think about what I was about to do. Jumping from a Dakota over Normandy 66yrs after my father had done this with the 9th Para battalion in the early hours of D-day. I tried to imagine what it was like for him. 19 yrs old and going to war, in the dark, loaded with extra kit and not knowing what would happen once he landed. I couldn't get my head around what those brave men did that night.  We took off to the sound of the roaring engines. My first flight in a Dakota. This was something special. After about 5 min's flying time the first stick in which I was number four, were given the order to stand up, hook up and check equipment. The jump master ensured the static line extent ions were fitted and checked and we were ready.
The first pass was made and the widdy was dropped and assessed and soon enough we were running in, I heard Ian shout for Roy, the number one, to stand in the door and we all shuffled forward, a few more seconds and it was GO! One by one we shuffled to the door and out I went to be met by the famous Dakota prop blast Id heard about so many times. The canopy was open in what seemed like a split second. Check canopy, check left, check right for the other jumpers, all clear and look down for the markers and asses my drift. We had been warned about the strong gusts of wind and that we would be safer to Capewell once on the ground. I picked my landing area and turned into wind expecting the hard backward landing, but it never happened as once I was down to aprox 100 ft the wind died so I had a nice soft landing. I didn't even have to run around the canopy, great.
I checked the rest of the stick. All were OK and safe. It was then that what I had achieved began to sink in. I was overjoyed. I had realised my ambition of paying tribute to my father and his comrades. After field packing my chute I made my way to the DZ RV point where one of the first people I met was Secander Raisani, the man who had made this possible for me to do this jump. He had managed to get here and was going to jump himself the following day. After watching the second and third sticks land safely and get to the RV, we made our way on foot back to our Sannerville HQ. On the way past the local carboot sale on the playing fields I was amazed when some of the stall holders started clapping as we passed. Then some of the local kids came to shake hands with us, a nice gesture I never expected.     After a sit down and a coffee with stories of our jumps passed around, we made our way to meet the locals and the mayor at the carboot sale. The mayor was delighted with our drop, something he had been wanting to happen for many years, and we at Pathfinder had the honour of making it happen, we had brought a forgotten DZ to life, for the locals, the mayor but most importantly for the 8th Para veterans who landed here 66 yrs ago. A lot of goodwill was established and the mayor has invited us back for next year, even before he was presented with a special gift of a wartime map of Normandy, with bogus names designed to fool the Germans.
	The evening eventually returned to normal with everyone back to packing the parachutes for the jumpers next day, Dennis Vink and Cees Jansen helped me and I learned a few more things about packing. Soon all were packed and it was free time. Cees and Dennis said they wanted to see the Merville battery and invited me along, I couldn't believe my luck again. After a stop for fuel and a Mcdonalds we arrived at Merville where there was a small concert going on of pipes and drums. A short journey around the battery and then I went to find the people in charge. After explaining who I was and my fathers part in the attack they accepted my fathers photograph to add to the museum exhibits with the hope my Dad could attend next years anniversary events. All my goals were now achieved, job done. Later on there was a very moving moment when 150 Chinese lanterns, representing the 150 men who attacked the battery were released into the air.
Later that night we returned to the cafe Gondree where I had my jump log book stamped with the famous Gondree Cafe stamp. A few drinks and more tales and amuzing stories were told by those who were there, including a 92yr old veteran who could actually out talk Roy. No mean feat in itself. Monday morning dawned sunny with slight gusts again, that days jumpers got busy preparing their kit and I got ready for DZ party duties. Then out of the blue Lance Owens called my name and said those magic words, "Get yourself sorted with kit, your jumping again". This was amazing, I couldnt believe my luck again.       With the help of Cees and Dennis again I was soon fitted and ready, kit loaded on the coach and I was off again. What an adventure this was turning out to be.
1 of 2 Video's ( click the picture ) June 7th 2010, DZK, Sannerville, Normandy	2 of 2 Video's ( click the Picture ) June 6th 2010, DZK, Sannerville, Normandy
This time we had plenty of time at the airport for photos with the Dakota and I took a chance filming the jump by tucking a small vidcam in my harness. Today I was the last man of stick three so it was great to see the first two stick go. Then it was our turn again. Another great jump was only spoiled by me landing in the rape field which took me about 20 min's to escape from, with the help of one of Paddy Rehills lads
	The Dakota came round again and Ian Marshall jumped in, flying the Pegasus flag and once he had landed the Dakota came round on one of the lowest fly pasts I have ever seen. An awsome piece of flying, followed by another at near normal fly past height. The crowds and the veterans were once more happy with what they had seen. A short sharp debrief soon followed and it was back to the digs for more packing, and then a sit down meal provided by the mayor.
As the evening wore on the jumpers finished packing and started to drift off home with big smiles and happy memories. Again we ended up at Pegasus bridge for drinks and war stories before heading back to get our heads down.       Tuesday saw the final departures and then there was just Myself, Roy, Ian, Lance and Eric left. We had a couple more duties to perform, placing crosses at the cemetery and at the memorial to two 8 Para soldiers murdered by the Germans after being captured.
	We said our goodbyes to Eric, who had made this drop possible with a great deal of hard work and set off for home, stopping at Bruneval for a look around before heading to Dieppe and the ferry. Personally, it hasn't yet sunk in what we achieved over the whole weekend, even after getting home and calling my parents, a strange experience discussing the prop blast of a Dakota with my Dad, looking at the photos, watching the videos. It was a hell of an honour to jump onto DZ K, something I am proud we at Pathfinder did for the veterans. Without their efforts and sacrifices we wouldn't have the freedom or choice to do what we do.
My thanks go to Roy, Lance and Ian for what they do with Pathfinder. To Secander for the incredible help he gave me. To Eric for his supreme efforts making this drop happen and to all the jumpers at DZ K in Sannerville for your help and friendship and fun. I hope to see you all at Arnhem. Doug Moodie Pathfinder UK Chalk 1 June 6th 2010 Chalk 2 June 7th 2010 JM 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 JM  Ian Marshall Roy Mobsby Eric Taillefer Stéphane Goutenoir Doug Moodie Brian Kealy Ian Watts Harvey Grenville Stewert Roxborough Paul Cavanagh Ian Pope Brian Mulvey Cees Jansen Dennis Vink Frederic Lemarechal Floor Plikard Sean Deacon Pawel Moszner Grzegorz Zajac Michal Jeziorski Neil Houston Norman Gibson Louis Verhagen   Bruce Lindsay JM 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Assistant JM Ian Marshall Paddy Rehill JT Rehill Choire Rehill Eric Halberstadt Mike Del Soldato Roy Taylor Ian Taylor Nick Parker Paul Corcoran Mark Mellor Thierry Favry Julian Neal Gary Young Norman Gibson Stewart Fitzell Henry Moroney Herve Steimer  Stephane Hadjade Richard Lowry Brian Dockery Sekander Raisani Mario Gerwen Marco de Pruyssenaere Doug Moodie Lance Owens DZ party   Lance Owens Gary Young Herve Steimer. French Liaison.  Paul Corcoran D Bag retrieval Cameraman  Herman Jonkman DZ party 7th Roy Mobsby Eric Taillefer Ray Nixon Paul Cavanagh Floor Plikaar Stéphane Goutenoir D bag retrieval

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So there I was warmly greeted the first morning, had my fill of Dutch breakfast (not enough coffee and expensive!!!!!!!). Now did I expect the super efficient British military machine in action? No we were in Holland and on Dutch time. I found out that breakfast did not start until 9 am (0900 hrs for you military types). So classes start a little later but the learning process never ends. I was impressed with the level of knowledge displayed by Ian Marshall and probably learned more about round parachuting than I wanted to know especially about the reserve chute (it’s a life saver - you’ll survive but don’t expect to walk away!)

On the day that it wasn’t raining the winds were way to fast for round parachutes and I was very envious watching the skydivers jump onto plane after plane for jumps while I stood on the ground! I have done some skydiving and came to realize a few things; 1) I don’t like flying 2) I like the shock of the opening and the view of the canopy above me 3) those skydivers that swoop onto the drop zone at excessive speeds are crazier than I am.   The accommodations at the airfield are one step above barrack living. It good, just remember the showers are communal J and hopefully no one in your bunk room snores. (just don’t get in with Roy !).

Unfortunately the gods were not with us and we only had one good day of parachuting. Fortunately that day was Liberation Day and the Group was able to complete a drop in Arnhem at the “Bridge Too Far”.  It was a very interesting day for me, I was able to cross the Frost Bridge , seen the view from both the British and American sides of the battlefield which I had only seen in books or on film.

The Dutch love re-enacting the battle, but I was surprised that the weapons the Dutch had (including the 50 cal mounted on the jeep) were all operational. It seemed everyone was having a good time and there were thousands of spectators to watch the drop. Roy , Ian and lance were graceful and took me down to the Airborne Cemetery near Oosterbrook. It was sad and inspiring at the same time. IT seemed that we just missed a high school group form Canada who had been doing a battlefield tour. We then went into town to the four corners where the 21 Independent Parachute Company held their lines. We then went into the Airborne Pub No 1 for a very good coffee and look around at all the airborne memorabilia. This was worth the trip to Holland

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My task in the operation

was that of photographer. .

By Herman Jonkman

 

The small tele-lens was perfect for the drops on the DZ. The Dakota passed right over me while the paratroopers jumped. I had to shoot against bright light but showed the aircraft and the Paras in a nice atmosphere.  The second day I accompanied the group in the C-47. As the aircraft had landed a bit early I got the chance to take a group picture in front of the Dakota. I settled down on the aircraft on top of the bulge near the wing root. There was not much room to move around with one of the jumpers sitting between my legs. Ian had pointed out a window that could be opened in flight.

 

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NORMANDY VISIT WITH PATHFINDER IRELAND June 2010

by Bruce Lindsay,A younger 15 Para veterans perspective.

    Well, the trip started off with a 5-hour delay on the Air France flight from Bangkok to Paris . A bit of hassle crossing Paris to Gare St. Lazaire via Gare du Nord, with all the up and down stairways and like Bangkok Airport , a lack of effective signs and unmanned information desks. ‘Nuff said, the 2-1/2 hour train journey to Carentan, scene of one of the early Normandy battles for 101^st Airborne was pleasant and uneventful, passing through Caen, Bayeux, (didn’t stop to add anything to the tapestry), and Lison.

    At Carentan station, not a taxi to be found.  Lady standing at the corner addressed me in French and, when I replied she said, “Oh! You’re British, well just wait a moment, my husband will arrive and we will get you a taxi”. Which they did, it transpired that she, an English lady, had married a French gentleman a long time ago and they were delighted to be of help.

    A taxi, driven by a young lady, duly arrived and took me to my “digs” at Picauville, or at least near-to. This is where we should beware of travel and booking agents because the farmhouse where I was to stay was seven or eight km from St. Mere-Eglise rather than the two klicks quoted.

The farmhouse and its kitchen fireplace, where I stayed first night.

    The weather was beautiful, the farmhouse, very old and which had been badly damaged in the war, but beautifully re-built, was very old and interesting. I had a much-needed shower and change of clothes before being served a very welcome cold beer and being regaled in machine gun French by the old lady who owns the house.  The large mantel-stone on the fireplace had to be replaced after the war damage.

    A slow meander down the country road to the crossroads, (I am not noted for my alacrity as many of you will know, except for my night “Water jumps”), to meet the chaps from Pathfinder Ireland who had been kind enough to make so many arrangements for me, as I was pretty sure that they would have difficulty finding the place at which I was staying. Even out in the country it was surprising how many WWII jeeps and trucks came past while I waited for a relatively short time, then, there they were, my Irish buddies with their big smiles and warm welcome. So! Off we went to find something to eat. We drove into St. Eglise du Mont and had a very pleasant meal, accompanied by some excellent cider, (the weaker stuff, not the Calvados), in a pleasant little restaurant right across from the church with its quite spectacular tower.

Tower of St Eglise du Mont Church.

Bryan and Stewart at dinner, St. Eglise du Mont

   Afterwards, before taking off, we visited the well where both German and American troops had refreshed themselves during the war; regrettably I did not take a photograph and will have to rely on the encyclopaedic knowledge of my friends Henry and Owen to fill in the historical gaps.

    We then took off for St. Mere-Eglise where, in stone throwing distance from the church with its parachute canopied tower, in memory of the young American paratrooper who spent the night of the invasion draped from the tower where his ‘chute had snagged, we found a hostelry with a mass of American and British visitors, all sitting outside having a whale of a time. We decided to bring some class to the company and joined them. The day had been very warm, 30 degrees C in Paris , but he late evening turned cold. Fortunately Henry had lent me a thick woolly cardigan as I, unused to the European weather, had dressed in a short-sleeved shirt.

Out of curiosity, Henry and I found our way inside the bar for a quiet one, where we found ourselves at a table with a veteran of 82^nd Airborne, Mr. Howard MANDAN, Legion d’Honneur. He was wearing his Red Beret and sporting his medals, holding forth to a continuous stream of well-wishers whilst smoking and drinking all us younger guys under the table. At 86 years old, sound proof that smoking and drinking causes early death, I must admit, I’m converted.

Howard MANDAN 82^nd Airborne vet and Henry

    Needless to say, all too soon the bar owner threatened to throw us out in the street as he wanted to close, at only 01:00 what’s wrong with these people?

    So it was home to bed with advice from the chaps to ensure that I have a good breakfast the next day! Are you joking? In France ! They have no idea what a breakfast i! Some tea, (on which naturally, being British, I insisted), then some bread and jam…

    Henry, Owen and Stewart were to jump at La Fiere so Bryan was good enough to collect me and take me to the DZ, where, being mistaken for a veteran by an American lady, of whose status I am unsure, I was warmly invited to go down into the park beside the river where they had a big Marquee. Naturally I invited my young Irish friend to join me. We sat in the sun, admiring the scenery, (you’d better believe it, especially the piece in the short black dress with the long legs, the girl I mean, not the dress), and took the sun. I continually badgered young Bryan who had removed his T-shirt, about getting burnt, and here am I, having removed at least three layers of sunburnt skin. 22 years in Thailand , years in deserts like the Qatara, Kuzulkhum and Sahara to mention a few, and I have never suffered sunburn, one day in Normandy was enough.

    The drops were quite spectacular, the weather perfect, then, after the big drop finished, (they said that the drop would comprise 500 American, British, French and German troops)

Beginning of mass drop, 500 troops.

    During this time the old American Vet, Howard MANDAN was sitting a couple of chairs behind me and when he saw Henry and I chatting, and Henry in his American Uniform, he called us over to chat with him and have a chuckle. It really is a privilege to meet some of these old vets, such as Dennis CRAMP, the 22 Pathfinder I had the honour to be introduced to at Tegue last year.

Me, Howard MANDAN 82^nd at La Fiere DZ, and unfortunately I didn’t catch the other gents name.

    We then trekked off to the car and drove out to the site where the lads re-packed their ‘chutes. By this time every one of us was ravenous but we had to get to the camp near Pegasus Bridge to get booked in. This place is well worth consideration for accommodation next year; I know Henry has the details which I'm sure he will be pleased to pass on once we have OUR accommodation confirmed there.

Owen and Stewart packing a ‘chute.

Strange thing, I cannot remember eating that evening at all, someone needs to verify this, and I just know that there was a constant supply of a strange, amber coloured liquid in “Hollible” plastic glasses. We met up with a lot of the UK Pathfinders in Les 3 Planeurs, Lance, Paul, Ian and a bunch of others, but we noted the lack of a certain Mr. Mobsby in re-filling the constantly draining, plastic beverage containers. Some people have pronounced that this is par for the course for Roy , but I am prepared to defer judgement. However, memory serves me well now, We DID eat some sandwiches, (Oh Yes, before I left home my buddy here was ecstatic about the food I would find in Normandy … Still searching, but I must admit a certain partiality to their cider; the Pate de Canard was a bit like “Bully beef” but not half as tasty.

Up with the lark on Saturday morning and off to meet the boys for the bus to Caen Airfield where I was delighted to see a Mustang, (first I had seen in real life, AND a Mitchell B-25 which I believe is a camera plane). Came back to join the chaps who received a general chewing out by a certain Mr. “R” for being unprofessional in wandering around the field like a “Bl**dy Tourist”, that was me, what else did he think I would do, but I was happy to share the chewing out with everyone else, made it seem a little less personal.

Mustang P-51 fighter, grossly underpowered with the original Allison engine, but one of the finest fighters when fitted with Rolls-Royce Merlin engine.

Mitchell B-25 Bomber, now used as a camera plane.

As usual, and it made me feel so nostalgic, there was a “Cock-up” with the plane and so we had to hang about, shades of sitting on the airfield grass at a number of airfields waiting for Godot and the Sally-Ann van to come up with some tea and wads, the Naffy never gave us a thought.

Danny Cavanagh, (Paul’s father), and me waiting for a plane at Abingdon ‘82

This is a picture of Britain’s brightest and best, stuck on our bums at Abingdon, waiting to fly to Germany, except that, shades of Arnhem last year, our Beverly blew an engine just after we took off, and we were not ‘chuted up, so couldn't make an “Emergency Jump” to get our Irvine “Caterpillar”.

Then, the good news, the plane is on its way, ‘chute up ready for embarkation.

‘Chutes ready to be fitted.

    These new ‘chutes are terrible, give me the old Irvine Mk I with the quick release system, much quicker to get in AND out of, even if being dragged, however, maybe we old F**ts have something to learn, but I wager you it won't be much.

Paul and me “made up”  and ‘chuted up.

(Cam cream was optional, Bruce honest . Didn't anyone tell you? ED)

    The DC3 arrived and, being number 24 Passenger, (Don't even THINK about jumping, the Jump Master will be watching you like a hawk. Roy had already briefed the jumpmaster just incase I got the urge.), I had to lead the sticks out to the plane where the chaps gave me a real help climbing in, the old legs not doing as well as I had hoped.

    Everyone got in and sat on their bums, I had never seen anything like it; we had REAL seats in all the planes I jumped from, Vickers Vallettas, Handley Page Hastings and Blackburn Beverlys, of which I was in the first stick of troops in training to jump from in late November 1956 when they came into Para Service.

    Off we went and dropped three sticks of eight; (in fact one stick was seven as we had an accident in the actual airport, which disabled one of the chaps. To my regret I did not identify him although I saw him later in the day and was pleased to see that he was at least ambulatory.

    I had been led to believe that we were going to land at Cherbourg but to our delight, mine at least, we landed back at Caen to be met by a little golf cart thing which gave us a lift back to the building, We sorted the bags etc. out on the plane and so we loaded them into Georges car, had a quick beer, and returned to base where we offloaded all the D-Bags etc.

I'd like to express my thanks to Ian, George and the crew member on the plane who gave me so much help and consideration, (I think George managed to prevent me from putting the chute on upside down), and the constant update from the crew member who kept me abreast of what was going on.

I am having a problem with my equipment in downloading the video film, I'm not sure if it is a problem with the camera itself, as soon as I get it resolved I will distribute it.

    On arrival at base we found it deserted so we walked up to what I thought was a sports field. Ideal for packing the ‘chutes I thought, (how long HAVE I been out of circulation?), there was not a single member on the field, however, to our delight, a whole bunch of children who were playing on the field came galloping across to shake our hands, and of course, in my case, kiss me on the cheek, (not for Ian Marshall).

Waiting to jump.

    Needless to say, virtually everyone was in the hostelry on the other side of the field so, hiding our bitter disappointment, we decided to join them. A particularly convivial time was had by all. They even had REAL chips!

    Well then, after presentations of various types, and the ‘chute packing, it was back off to our camp site for a shower, change and trip back down to Pegasus bridge where a particularly enjoyable time took place at both the 3 Gliders and the Pegasus Café, Le Gondree. There were a number of D-Day vets there as well as a bunch of Army Air Corps chaps, I took particular pleasure in ticking a Sergeant Major off for some paltry dress reason, but he realised it was all fun and we had a great chat together. Someone, who was less than well informed, but is better apprised now, was questioning why the AAC chaps, who were VERY smartly turned out in No. 2 Uniform, with considerable and impressive groups of medals, even on the very youngest member, were there!!!! I thought at first glance that they must be American with all this hardware, then I quickly realised that they were too, smart, reserved whilst enjoying themselves, and soldierly to be ANYTHING other than British. God Bless them all!

    Needless to say, we had a rather late night, with a little bit of a “Downer” due to a massive thunder storm which came in late at night. We had concerns that it as going to affect the jumping next day, (fortunately it cleared up and did not), however, of more immediate concern was that one of our company insisted that he had to get back to his camp instead of “Kipping” with us, and so walked home some seven or nine clicks. He admitted next day to having been as wet on the outside as he was on the inside by the time he got back. THAT is Para spirit, remember the old Regimental Motto;

“NEVER LEAVE YOUR PALS BEHIND”

    I have left the apostrophe for you to place as you desire.

    Well, after it dried up enough we started a rather wobbly walk back to the camp where we arrived without mishap, and very quickly to bed. Seemed like we were going to get a long lie, but about 08:30 it started to clear so there was an immediate move out to the airport for their last jump.

    I had to make some emergency arrangements to go back home early due to a sudden family bereavement, so I stayed at the camp to get things sorted out. The jump went well by all accounts, and the festivities afterward, which I would like to have participated in but…

When the chaps got back to camp we immediately departed on a little site-seeing tour of Pegasus Bridge , Orne River Bridge , the Horsa at the side of the Airborne Museum , which I will make a point of visiting next year.

Pegasus Bridge

I don't think these chaps liked Henry, (taking photo)

Our bodyguard…

   Next we stopped at the War Cemetery and church to pay our respects;

The Airborne Monument

    We then decided that we needed an ice-cream, which evaded us, but, to our utter chagrin we saw a little pony standing outside, what we presumed were its stables. Unfortunately for us, it was our Parachute Regiment Mascot “Bruneval” with His handler, and the stable was actually a pub, so…

Our regimental mascot BRUNEVAL and “Minder”.

    We drove out to see the Merville Battery where, as we arrived close to the site, we were stopped by an old Frenchman, who immediately started berating us in English, but to be perfectly honest it might as well have been French as I had no idea what he was raving on about. Eventually Henry just closed the window and drove on. I'll bet the old sod didn't speak to the Bosch like that when they arrived in 1940!

    The Merville Battery is a very impressive place. I cannot help but wonder at the sheer bravery of these young men who, on arriving, found that the majority of their men and equipment were not where they were needed, but had the sheer guts to go ahead with, and achieve, their objective of putting the Battery out of commission before the landings started.

    We then took off and eventually found a place to eat, (to my surprise, and contrary to my experience in Paris and the South of France, they tend to finish eating fairly early in the evening in these parts).

    After that it was back down to Pegasus Cafe for a last FAREWELL for all the boys. Our old friends from the bridge earlier in the evening, were there as well as many friends, so it was a rather late, boisterous and VERY enjoyable farewell.

    Sadly, next morning I had to leave for Paris to be sure of catching my evening flight back to Thailand .

ROLL ON ARNHEM !

AIRBORNE ALL THE WAY!

Until then, thanks to all my friends for another great time, I wish you all well.

Bruce.

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