大象传媒

My father, Cyril, was in the 4th Battalion B company of the Lincolnshire regiment. He was having a break with his fellow soldiers when a local farmer came up to him gestering to follwing him -as he did not speak English. My father gingerly followed him, not knowing what to expect. The farmer then started pointing towards a large barn whose doors were wide open and had a gaping hole in its roof. He could see that no Germans were hiding in the barn and went in further to inspect what the farmer was continuously pointing at. He then saw this bomb lying on a heap of straw, about 2ft in length. He turned round to the farmer, who by then had run off. My father being the person he was, carefully picked up the bomb, carried it over to the nearby dyke in his arms and gently lowered into the water. To this day he does not know why he did it. On turning round after placing the bomb in the dyke, was the farmer, his wife and two children. The farmers wife had a large glass of fress milk in her hand and beeming smile on her face. My father drank the milk, rejoined his fellow soldiers and continued ontheir long journy to Germany.

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