Adolf Hitler_ my part in his downfall - Spike Milligan [17]
So to the great run. Hundreds of white shivering things were paraded outside Worthingholm. Officers out of uniform seemed stripped of all authority. Lieutenant Walker looked very like a bank clerk who couldn’t. Now I, like many others, had no intention of running five miles, oh, no. We would hang behind fade into the background, find a quiet haystack, wait fen the return and rejoin them. Montgomery had thought of that. We were all put on three ton trucks and driven FIVE MILES into the country and dropped. So it started. Some, already exhausted having to climb off the lorry, were begging for the coup do grace. Off we went, Leather Suitcase in front: in ten seconds he was trailing at the back. “Rest,” he cried, collapsing in a ditch. We rested five minutes and then he called, “Right, follow me.” Ten seconds—he collapsed again. We left him expiring by the road.
Many tried to husband their energy by running on one leg. It was too cold to walk, we had to keep moving or hour frost got at the appendages. One by one we arrived back at the billets, behind was a five mile train of broken men. It took two hours before the last of the stragglers arrived back. As a military disaster, the run was second only to Isandhlawana. It was the end of the line for Leather Suitcase.
Our new C.O. was Major Chaterjack, M.C., D.S.O. In the months that followed he ran us across two-thirds of Sussex, the whole of the South Coast, over mountains. through haystacks, along railway lines, up truce, down sewers anywhere.
If ever we had to retreat we were in tip top condition.
In the first week herds of men reported sick with sore feet. Busty Roberts told us the cure: “Piss in yer boots, lads, let ‘em stand overnight.” By God, it worked! There were accidents; forgetful sleepers got up and plunged their feet into boots full of cold urine. What an Army! What a life! I still can’t believe it happened. But of course, the Russians were advancing on all fronts, the Yanks were coming, and we had our first case of Crabs. I had no idea what the crabs (or, as Smudge Smith said, “Sandy McNabs”) were. The victim was Sergeant Cusak—he discovered he got them on the eve of a week’s leave. The M.O. told him to apply ‘Blue Unction’. Now blue unction has only one use—to destroy crabs. Knowing this, Sergeant Cusak entered Boots in Piccadilly with a prescription during the rush hour on Friday—it was crowded. He whispered to the assistant, “Can I have some blue unction?” In a voice that could be heard up Regent Street the assistant said “BLUE UNCTION??” Cusak replied twice as loud, “YES, I’VE GOT BLOODY CRABS!”
BARRACK ROOM HUMOUR JOKES PRANKS
What I am about to relate is bawdy and vulgar but as it’s true, it stands on its own merits.
It was after lights out that some of the most hysterical moments occurred. Those who had been drinking heavily soon made it known by great asphyxiating farts that rendered their owners unconscious and cleared the beds all round. There were even more gentlemen who performed feats with their unwanted nether winds that not even great Petomane could have eclipsed; simply, they set fire to them. The ‘artiste’ would bend down, his assistant stood by with a lighted match. When the ‘artiste’ let off, he ignited it. Using this method I have seen sheets of blue flame up to a foot in length. Old timers, by conserving their fuel, could scorch a Tudor Rose on the wall. There was Signaller ‘X’ whose control of the anal sphincter allowed him to pass Morse code messages. With my own ears I heard him send S.O.S. On these occasions I, like others, lay in bed crying with laughter. But the most unbelievable ‘act’ was Gunner ‘Plunger’ Bailey, who did an entire twenty minute act with his genitals.
It was done on a very professional basis. After lights out a gunner