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[insert] PHONE 3140 (OFFICE) [end insert]

Major Clayton Fuller, 27 years old at D-Day, married.
Runs Canadian Brass In Galt now, RR1 Galt, Ontario
Wounded D plus 12 (not sure of exact day) when they were strafed
by RAF.

Was with 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion, 6th Brit. Airbo[crossed out]u[end crossed out]rne Div.

Has a nice home in the country and just built a swimming pool for
his three kids. Has broiler chickens and large garden. He has a
mustache, and is a kindof raunchy-type guy. Typical of him is that
when we got to Dick's house, he patted Dick's wife on the fanny.
Damn every other word, heavy set, hairy. Dick's father gave him
a job after the war. 5 ft. 9 or so. Pete Griffin was under him
on D-Day.

When Clayton jumped, he thought he saw a nice hard road surface
beneath him, and landed in about 2-4 ft. of water in the canal. [insert] (Dives) [end insert]
"My God what a shock that was." As he climbed up the bank, he
saw his batman and his batman saw him. But they each thought
the other was a German, and almost shot each other.

In jumping Clayton lost the butt for his sten gun. The first
person he ran into was a limey, who had a typewriter and an extra
butt. Clayton asked him if he had an extra sten gun butt he could
have, and the limey said, "Yes, but you can't have mine because I
signed for it."

Clayton only heard of one chute that didn't open, and saw two guys
a long distance away whose chutes got tangled. Both died.

Clayton had given Capt. Griffin orders to blow the bridge, and
he was [crossed out] looking for [end crossed out] [insert] to locate [end insert] Battalion headquarters. Clayton saw Griffin
on the bridge, but didn't speak to him. (See Griffin for account
of this. )

In looking for the headquarters, he went into a farmhouse and saw
a huge plate of butter on the middle of the table. He said he
hadn't seen butter for 4 1/2 years. He remembers the moaning of the
cows that day who hadn't been milked.

Clayton remembers seeing, on D-Day, an old man carrying his dead
wife in a wheelbarrow. They tried to get him off the road because
they were being mortared, but he wouldn't go. He didn't know where
he was going or what he was going to do. He just wanted to take her
somewhere.

He said they had a German prisoner that day (doubt it was D-Day)
whose arm was off, and he was bleeding like mad and needed a
transfusion. The doctor picked out the biggest Jewish lad in the
bunch. The German refused, but finally had to take the transfusion
from the Jew.

They had another prisoner that day (most of the troops in the area
were Georgian conscription troops) and the Regimental Sergeant Major
had him digging a long thin deep latrine. The guy thought he was
digging his own grave, and the Sgt. Maj. let him think so.