I was born in 1944, just before Alan Dykes returned home from the war. He soon came to work for my father on our farm and lived with my family. He was another father and I only remember childhood with him in the house. Full of fun, he brought a lot of joy into our lives, teaching me to drive a tractor when I was about 6 or 7. He remained working for the family until retirement and died on my brother's farm where he lived his final years. He rarely spoke about the war, but loved watching Hogan's Hero's.
It was my privilege to conduct his funeral. He is buried in the Manaia cemetery.