I alluded to that fine body of men, the 1st Battalion The Royal Highland Fusiliers some time ago. In that piece I mentioned David Niven's autobiography, "The Moons a Balloon." Niven writes of his time with one of the RHF's forbears, the Highland Light Infantry and by common consent, the tales of his soldiering days are a mixture of his real experiences and other regimental myths and legends. I thought I might start a little series which I'll call, "Tales from the Lines," in which I shall record for a wider audience, some of my own experiences and those of others..................... all true of course.......!
This is an extract which had me sputtering in my tea, from a veterans website which I reproduce with kind permission..........
"I will admit to getting off with an 'older' frauline when I was part of the 10-20 hawf litre single jocks in Iserlohne. She was not by any stretch of the imagination considered a 'beauty' and she walked with the aid of sticks and had a very pronounced limp. Back at her place she asked me to "Putten ze lichts oot" which I did, and that's when I heard a loud thump which startled me a bit, but did not sway me from my task at hand.
After climbing on her bed and proceeding with the obligatory teenage fumblings, I was stopped suddenly in my tracks and I thought, "hawd oan, there is something amiss here". Aye, something WAS amiss. A bloody leg wis amiss. I mean, it wis bloody missing!!!!. That wis the thump I heard in the dark. Her bleeding wooden leg hitting the fler.
Well, did Ronnie re-investigate the frauline with the 'missing' marching equipment? I will plead the "fifth" oan that one and leave it to your imagination. Let's just say I got a 'leg-over', but it wisnae my leg."
Aye, 1 RHF.............. they'll tackle anything so they will.