Sir: Seeing the veggie heroes of Generation Why (12 May) unwittingly loosing their rescued sheep on to a Ministry of Defence firing range reminded me of an Army battle camp, in 1956, on the Welsh hills, abounding with sheep. We were told not shoot at them, though it was reputed that local farmers drove their scraggiest beasts on to the firing ranges, as the MoD paid them £5 a carcass.
All was well until our plump platoon officer ordered us to charge up a hill and fall flat in a firing position. At the crest, puffed out, he saw sheep ahead, but yelled: "Oh! Bugger it. Fire!"
All the flock survived our ragged fusillade.
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