I remember that all of this was taking place in the perfectly beautiful landscape of the Normandy valleys, with their sparkling streams, ripe corn, apple orchards and pear orchards. Here and there was a perfect little French chateau or villa, and then around the corner was a group of German trucks that had been bombed, with body pieces spread all over the road and evening hanging from the trees. All this was on the still, warm evening of the 6th June as we went South. Truly, this was an instance of paradise being turned to hell by the hands of mankind.
