He ordered a tank (or heavy truck, not sure which) to knock down some of the smaller trees and create a narrow road that could then be used for transporting coal to the barracks! Higher-ranking officials weren't happy because they feared the narrow road would tip off enemy planes if they spotted the route, and my dad was busted, losing at least one stripe. But he always felt the men would not have survived the winter without some fuel for the stoves, so he made their day-to-day welfare his concern.
Is this a Black Sheep story? My husband doesn't think so, but maybe that's because all ended well. 2022: No way to prove whether the story was true, but I'm retelling it anyway with the caveat that this is a "family legend" I heard directly from Dad.