our surprise meeting
took place in 1946, in Wetter a small town in the Ruhr, when I visited the the
home of a German civilian, who was a former member of a work force I had been
in charge of. I would really like to get news of Ron Treseden, top row, nearest
my inset, I attended his wedding early in 1943, as did Alf Pearman, third from
left in the next row down. The soldier squatting on the extreme left of the
bottom row Private Bryn, used to ask if he could borrow a safety razor blade,
which he would unwrap, put in his mouth, and after a minute or so, blow out
in a cloud of fine particles. I am told that if anyone would buy him a glass
of beer, after drinking it he would treat the glass in the same manner. I can't remember the names of all the members of our platoon, but another one I wont forget is a ginger haired lad named Riley seated on the end of the second row down. Regardless of our boxing experience, we were matched against each other, to determine who would represent the platoon. He should have been a plastic surgeon, he remodelled my nose without the aid of anesthetics.
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