My Dad was a paratrooper - with 1 Canadian Parachute Battalion. He jumped across the Rhine, and then they made their way across Germany to meet up with the Russians, or hold them at bay, depending on your point of view. He stayed in the Army after the war - in fact, was still serving when he died, just after returning from the Suez. As he died relatively young, age 50, he like many of his brothers in arms, had not yet got sufficient distance to be able to talk about the war. The only thing he ever told me about was a couple of escapades while still in Blighty, one of them being hitching a ride as a gunner in a B-17 over Germany after getting tanked up with the Yanks in a pub one night. Ennyhoots, he was and is my hero.
Cheers,
shredward