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I talked to him off and on, mostly laid-out on the concrete of the garage entry, eating lunch, of his World War Two exploits, of he and his platoon as they moved from the coast say Normandy east toward Germany. He had seen and heard General Patton in person. Said he was a little guy. He told me that he and a few others in his squad commandeered or billeted in different farmhouses nightly. They would take over the house, barricade themselves into the kitchen, nail a board angled from floor to the exit doors, and take turns sleeping and watching with cocked machine gun.
From Amsterdam I went to the north of Holland as far as I could and then west to the coast and followed the dykes down and then to Rotterdam and Antwerp. From Antwerp it looks like I went over to Oostende, Belgium, to catch the ferry for Dover. I remember almost nothing of my trip from Stockholm to London except a couple of singular events. If I was staying again in Copenhagen and Amsterdam, I was driving through rustic farmland all day. Might stop here and there to look at some landmark or other. When one has eight months of driving the roads on a scooter, I suppose it might become all of a blur after a time. I know one thing, and that is I must have enjoyed walking the streets of Amsterdam, but recall nothing, like I was an amnesiac.
But what I must have done was while staying in the cities was have bacon and eggs for breakfast with maybe some European bread and tea and a pipe.
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