By Spike Milligan
'At Victoria station the R.T.O. gave me a commute 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 along with his uproarious memories of military lifestyles 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)
Telephone buzzed. P. ” “Right. ” The fog was now settling inland. Toy brass had finished the contents of their thermos flasks and withdrawn to the shelter of a deserted fisherman’s cottage. All was silent save the sound of frozen gunners singing the International. Every ten minutes for two hours, Signaller Devine phoned and gleefully reported, “line still broken, Sarge”. The fog was very dense, as were Signallers Devine and White, who were now groping their way through Sussex in Braille. ’s patience being exhausted, a runner was sent to the gun position.
Visits from orderly officers did little to help. Officer: Any complaints? Soldier: Yes sir, it’s this. Officer: What’s wrong with ‘this’. Soldier: Nothing wrong but what is it? Officer calls the head cook. Officer: Sergeant. This man wants to know what this is. I. with Cornish pasties, or the eternal doughnuts. In early days doughnuts were liberally dusted with castor sugar, but as war went on that stopped. War was coming nearer even for doughnuts. , black finger-nails and halitosis; medieval court poisoners couldn’t have picked a more lethal trio.
Seeing our Christmas dinner disappearing, we gave chase. Heading up the road to St Leonards it suddenly turned right. “No! ” said Bombardier Donaldson as the pig rushed up the steps and through the front door of the ‘Belgravia Guest House for Refined Gentlefolk’. Screams issued forth, crockery was breaking. Entering the hall we saw chaos! A bald man lying face down on his back with a grandfather clock across him. A fat bursting woman was clutching a gross of Pekinese; “My darlings,” she trilled through a rouged hole.
Adolf Hitler: My Part in his Downfall (War Memoirs Vol. 1) by Spike Milligan