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The Story Pages are experiences or events that happened to each member during their Service Time.They are individully recounted. Its their Story.
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John's Story
John Blake was commissioned to the Irish Guards on 1st January 1944 after pre OCTU training  at Pirbright and 161 OCTU Mons Barracks, Aldershot. He joined the Training Battalion at Hobbs Barracks, Lingfield. This is his story in his own words.
I joined the Training Battalion at Hobbs Barracks, Lingfield, where in persuit of my future duties in charge of the Assault Pioneer platoon. Among other tasks, a bombing range on Lingfield race course.
I joined the 3rd Battalion in Guards Armoured Division ( GAD) who were then in hot persuit of various bits of the Wermacht across France.My predecessor having fallen victim to an occupational hazzard trying to dissect a mortar bomb fuse with a hacksaw without first removing the gaine, this could happen to anyone.
GAD persued its way across Europe, much enlivened by the capture of Brussels, until we were committed to the garden bit of Operation Market Garden. My story concerns a quiet moment on the road to Grave and Eindhoven.
We were about 60 miles ahead of 2nd Army, only owning the road which were frequently mined on the verges. The germans crossed behind us when they felt like it. Every now and the the column ground to halt for no apparent reason. Time to wrestle with that intractable ,unpredictable weapon the No2 Cooker. (When in doubt, dig in and brew up).
On one occation I found myself in a small, aparently deserted undamaged Village and I decided to take a stroll. Firstly between two houses to the edge of a large field with woods beyond, alongside a large, black barn. Having checked for booby traps, part of my job anyway, as I entered the barn in the gloom I was confronted by a large Focke-Wulf Fw 190.
Focke-Wulf Fw 190
It was just sitting there. Further investigation revealed, behind a partition, a camp bed , locker, table complete with plates tinned food and a telephone.( At this time, Allied control of the daylight sky had reduced the Germans to hiding their few remaining fighters singly, scrambling them by telephone as required), the pilot of this aircraft had scarpered with the arrival of the Shermans and M-10s.
I was fascinated in those days with aircraft and looked over it for several minutes.The cockpit canopy was open and the pilots parachute laid out on the wing. A 500lb bomb straped to the belly, making it a Jagtbomber. At this point my driver blew the horn on my jeep, apparently war was about to restart. It occured to me before we set off , that the pilot of the plane might come back out of the woods to reclaim it. I dug a demolition kit out of the trailer. Took a 25lb tin of Amatol and a detonator and went back into the barn. I set the tin on the pilots seat, inserted a one-ounce primer and detonator, gave myself a long week-ends of safety fuse and lit the blue paper. I debated telling someone what I was doing, but thought it unnecessary. The the firework went off. What I had forgotten was that if you had a fighter bomber you would also have a bomb and petrol stowage. The whole thing went up like a mini Hiroshima. A sergeant came down from the CO's , on a 500 Norton, pushed up his goggles and said "Did you do that sir?". I could only nod silently,
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