Ian Forsyth, like many ex-servicemen reckons he came back from the war a completely changed man.

"The war changed me drastically," says Ian, from Hamilton. "I was just a wee boy when I went away and I came back a very different person.

"When the war started I was 14 and still at school and it was all Boys' Own Adventure stuff. If I'm honest I hoped I would be able to take part but I'll always remember my mum saying, 'Thank goodness it'll all be over before you have to go.' I didn't understand what she meant at the time."

Ian's older brother was called up the day after his last exam at university and Ian looked on in envy as he prepared to go off to war.

"We really had no idea what we were getting ourselves into," says Ian. "It was all going to be a big adventure and when you're 17 you think you're immortal.

"I'm one of these silly guys who volunteered and when my papers finally arrived at the house my mother wouldn't speak to me. She just threw them at me and said, 'You'll be happy now.'

"I volunteered for the navy because my grandfather, whom I'm named after, had been the skipper of a minesweeper and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. However, the navy was over-crowded, so the next best thing was to join the army. On reflection and on talking to other servicemen perhaps it wasn't a wise choice. I'd never had any inkling for the RAF but pilots never saw what they were aiming at or the effects of their bombs. On the other hand not all soldiers fight other men, only about one in 30 actually do the fighting. In choosing the army I could have been lucky and been placed somewhere nice and easy, but I wasn't."

Ian's initial training was at Lochmaben and it was his first time away from home. In the initial phase he did a lot of PE and square bashing and there were a lot of inspections.

"We got up at 4.45am and worked until 8pm," explains Ian. "It was all to teach us learn to take orders but I loved it - I've never in my life been fitter than I was then."

The new recruits all thought they were heroes - until it came time for their compulsory inoculations.

"In those days vaccinations were something new and the equipment wasn't what it is today," recalls Ian. "We had to strip to the waist in our billets and then we marched down the road to the medical building. There were Auxiliary Territorial Service girls lined up watching all these heroes coming down, laughing their heads off because they'd seen it many times before. There was a big marquee pitched outside the medical block and we all wondered what it was for - I found out soon enough. The big lads all queued up at the front and looked over the shoulder of the man ahead of them and when they saw the needle going into the arm they all collapsed. They were wheeled out on stretchers into the marquee to recover and that's what the ATS had all been waiting for. I can see them all yet - it was like something from Dad's Army!"

After his initial physical training Ian was sent for wireless training, learning Morse Code, how the radios worked and radio procedures. It was during this course that he met a soldier who would make up his mind about what he wanted to do in the war.

"He'd come from the 15/19th Hussars and looked very smart," says Ian. "The Hussars seemed to have more decoration about them than normal soldiers with collar dogs, white lanyards and bits of brass all over so when the course finished I decided I'd join them."

There Ian was teamed up with four other men and they had to learn to live together as a tank crew.

"We lived, slept and ate in close proximity and socialised together whenever we got the chance," explains Ian. "We had me from Scotland, an Irish man, a lad from Bolton, one from Surrey and one from Cornwall. We were a mixed bunch but the bonding was terrific because we all knew that our lives depended on each other."

Although they were training in an amphibious Sherman tank, Ian and the crew knew nothing about where they were going.

"I think by the time we were mobilised we knew we were for the second front at Normandy," says Ian. "Once we were mobilised we knew it was for real and we were all quite excited. We weren't scared at that point, the fear came later. We all thought we were going to be victorious and just go through the Germans like a knife through butter but we got a rude awakening."

Ian's unit's role was reconnaissance and although they never went out looking for trouble, they were often caught in the crossfire. But what was life like, not only as a soldier but also cramped into a tank with four other men?

"It was very claustrophobic," recalls Ian. "I could see very little and when the tank was closed down all we had was a tiny periscope. We felt very vulnerable because if anything hit us we'd go up in flames. It wasn't being killed that we were scared of but being trapped and burnt alive.

"Sometimes the front lines were as close as a few feet away from each other and our first job was to make sure we survived. We were hit three times but we managed to get out."

Although the unit's main job was scouting the men had little information before they went in and very little came back. The biggest problem they faced was that things changed so quickly. As a result they were often strafed instead of the enemy because their exact position wasn't known - today this is known as 'friendly fire'.

Once they reached the River Seine there was a mad dash to reach Antwerp so that the port could be opened and supplies could get to the front line quickly.

"We were caught up in a battle at Antwerp," says Ian. "I learned recently that it lasted for five days but I can only remember three of them. We were issued with amphetamines to keep us awake but I sometimes wonder how we ever got through the war because it was so chaotic."

After Antwerp Ian's unit moved on to Louvain where they replaced the Welsh Guards who dropped out of the line for maintenance.

"We joined them at what was supposed to be the starting point for our part in Operation Market Garden," recalls Ian. "We lost a couple of tanks and then our job was to get to Arnhem after the paratroopers had dropped. Of course, we never made it. When we got to Eindhoven three of us were sent to help the 101st American Airborne who claimed to be trapped in a wood. When we got there they did a lot of shooting but there were no Germans there. When that was over the three tanks we had left were ordered to do reconnaissance and we asked for the help of some of the American infantry who refused, even although we knew there were Germans there."

Under protest Ian and the other two crews headed off on what they knew to be a suicide mission.

"Without infantry to back you, going down a straight road in a tank with hedges and houses either side is suicidal and that's exactly how it was. One crew was totally wiped out and the other crew behind us was hit by a bazooka and some were wounded and some killed. That was the one and only time I can liken myself to Rambo because I had grenades flying everywhere and we were literally fighting for our lives. Our crew wasn't hurt physically but the young co-driver Charlie Shepston, was badly affected by it. We had to leave the wounded behind and to be able to carry on we had to blank everything out of our minds - we didn't have any other option."

Ian's unit spread out after Eindhoven but still took a battering. As a severe winter set in the tanks were stranded in the snow for two weeks in Roermond, their last town before crossing the Rhine.

"Once we could move we headed for Goch but were caught in an ambush," says Ian. "We'd been awake for three days so we were all like zombies. We were crossing a bridge at night but the Germans blew it up behind us and then our own search lights opened up. We were just picked off one after the other and the whole place was lit up with burning tanks.

"Our tank went up but I managed to get out and got into the biggest shell hole I could find where I found our Squadron Leader. When he'd jumped out of his tank he'd grabbed his bottle of whisky so we shared it. We stayed there all that night and the next day until eventually the engineers dammed the ditch and we were able to get back. When things like that happen your nature changes as time goes on and you develop an animal cunning just to survive.

"We got new Comets which gave us a bit of support and cheered us up in some ways, but it transpired that they just went up the same as every other tank."

Ian was one of the first people on the scene at the liberation of the Bergen Belsen concentration camp. He couldn't believe the desolate scene that met his eyes.

"The air was heavy with a terrible stench and we could quite literally smell death as we got closer. There were still German guards patrolling so we were told to hang back to let in the medical corps. Suddenly it hit us exactly why we were fighting this was and we became terribly angry. On reflection it was best that we didn't go in the the camp because if we had we would probably have shot the German guards because of the anger we felt.

"When we had done all we could we were told to push on. The troop officer joined us and told us we were about to go through a wood and I was to lead. I refused to do it because I'd led the regiment since we landed in Normandy and I was fed up to the back teeth. He offered to lead instead which made me feel really small.

"It only takes one man with a Panzerfaust anti-tank grenade to stop the whole troop so we were on edge by this point. The troop officer said he'd go up to the corner of the road and shout for the rest of us when he got there. Off he went and a few minutes later he called for us but we hadn't gone 10 yards when something hit us hard and the whole tank went up in flames again. If I had just gone as I should have done we'd have got off Scot-free but I didn't."

This last incident happened just a fortnight before the war in Europe finished but Ian's war was far from over. With no leave or time off Ian's regiment was sent to help with the liberation of Denmark. General Doenitz surrendered on May 21st and instead of Denmark, Ian was sent to Palestine.

Instead of being demobbed Ian decided to stay in the army.

"I had nothing at home," says Ian. "My education had been interrupted and I didn't want to go into joinery with my father. I remember after the war my mother saying, 'I can’t understand you at all. You're not the same person you were when you went away' and she was quite right. I was rough and course and haunted by things such as the suicides of colleagues. Two of my own lads took their own lives because they had got to the end of their line and I have to live with that. These things are never mentioned anywhere but they still live in my mind.

"While we were there we could support each other but when we came home we felt isolated so it ended up bottled up inside. When my father spoke of his war it was usually funny stories - the only serious thing he told us about was the number of suicides on the boat home from the Middle East. As far as my mother concerned the war was over and I should just forget it, but I couldn't.

"That's why I do the work I do now because I can't just forget."