By Spike Milligan
'At Victoria station the R.T.O. gave me a go back and forth warrant, a white feather and an image of Hitler marked 'This is your enemy'. I searched each compartment, yet he wasn't at the train'. Spike Milligan's at the march, blitzing good friend and foe alike together with his uproarious reminiscences of military existence from enlistment to the touchdown at Algiers in 1943. Bathos, pathos and gales of drunken laughter, and insane army goonery explode in superlative Milliganese.
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Extra resources for Adolf Hitler: My Part in his Downfall (War Memoirs Vol. 1)
We watched in silence for a while. “I fink it’s London,” said a cockney voice. “Could be,” said another. George Vincent went down for his prismatic compass. The bearing showed the fire dead on the line to London. Mick Haymer, a Londoner, tried to phone his family, but was told there was ‘disruption’ on the line and all calls to London were blocked. We looked at the blaze and it seemed to be getting bigger. I think we all knew it was London. My mother, father and brother were there. I’m not sure how I felt.
Busty’ Roberts had joined the Royal Artillery in 1914 and since then had steadily risen to the rank of Gunner. Now the crunch: someone with a perverted sense of humour made him a Lance Bombardier. Roberts went insane with power. The war now consisted of two people, him and Hitler. His command of the language gave off some classic gaffs. ” He was the supreme bullshitter. He would sleep to attention, polish his cap badge on both sides. Cleaning his rifle one day he pulled the trigger and sent a bullet, through the roof; at once he put himself on a charge.
A toothless crone issued forth stirring a sauce pan of thrice-watered porridge. C. door. “There’s no paper, Mrs Hurdle,” he said. ” screamed a refined voice. Down we raced. Up we came, with the blind man bound hand and foot, still looking for paper. “It’s the wrong one,” said Harris. Down we raced again. ” At last we got the animal up. We were covered in cuts, bruises and bottled quince. The pig was unmarked. With a noose around his neck he was as quiet as a lamb. “Who,” said a vast landlady, “who is gwoing to pway fwor all this dwamage!