Time to come clean, I have a terrible confession to make:

I shot him.

Capa had just given me the mother of all bollockings. I’d got me lefts and me rights muddled and instead of ending up in the throes of battle we found ourselves in a scene out of Heidi. If its not bad enough that a photographers assistant has to work for scratch we’re also expected to have inbuilt GPS.

Anyway it’s the party trick I learned growing up in the circus.  Stick an apple on your head and I’ll shoot it off from twenty paces with me eyes closed (you can see the apple in the photo). I thought it would cheer the grumpy git up only this time I’d gone a bit heavy on the vin ordinaire  and me hands were shaking like a belly dancer. Maybe I just couldn’t stand the thought of wasting an apple (times were hard).  To cut it short some poor bastard of a soldier got  it in in the head.

All’s I remember is Capa stood there, too busy smoking a Galois to have even put the camera to his eye, with an enormous grin on his face.’

‘Fuck me George,’ he said ‘ what a shot!’

DAVID WHITE:

Damn your eyes. I thought as much. Have you seen my suitcase?

JR:

Me too-I WAS that darkroom boy that fu&k$d up nearly all his negatives from Omaha beach.
Somebody at Magnum told me to put the kettle on and I got a bit confused. His pictures were
crap any way so I don’t know what all the fuss was about.

By the time he’d finished cooking and eating his goulash, most of the fighting was over and he had to pose it all up again.