By Spike Milligan
'At Victoria station the R.T.O. gave me a shuttle 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 buddy 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 info for Adolf Hitler: My Part in his Downfall (War Memoirs Vol. 1)
As a parting gift our host gave us each a fiver. We stood stunned. ” He waved us off. Outside, in the dark, we loaded our gear on to the fifteen hundredweight truck. Looking up I saw the night was alive with stars. In the Eastern sky I could make out Saturn, Pegasus, Castor and Pollux. I could hear the distant sound of sea washing the pebbled beaches of Pevensey. The Romans must have heard it once. We drove back in silence until Alf Fildes spoke. “Five pounds? ” It was gone one o’clock when we rolled ourselves in our blankets for the ‘big black’ (as Kidgell called sleep): we drifted off talking about the gig.
After the war, when I lived at Shepherds Hill, Highgate, he said he would show me a short cut to his house in St John’s Way, Archway. We walked for a hour that night, during which time we never got more than three hundred yards from my house. “I can’t understand it,” he said. ” Whatever that was supposed to mean I’ll never know. We climbed into bed. “I’ve never heard so many bombers before,” said Harry. We lay in bed smoking for about quarter of an hour, then Smudger Smith came in. ” We pulled on our trousers and climbed up on the roof.
We decided to act. ” he said. ” This crude military life was terrible for our Jehovah’s Witness, Bombardier MacDonald. Through all the vulgarity and blasphemy his voice would come out of the darkness. “I tell ye all repent! The day of judgement is at hand! ” “Mock ye now, but hear me! ” Despite these witty replies he maintained a non-stop attack on military morals. Like most fanatics, he didn’t enjoy religion, he suffered from it. Every weekend we’d find his pamphlets on our beds. A terrible end they came to.