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where a load o' military geniuses was discussin' 'ow to win the fuckin' war. There was some vajemkom 13 pushin' out a load o' pig-latin. I pointed me old rock-a-bye 'ere at 'is fat gut, an' 'e stopped talking quite sudden-like! " Germanski !" 'e screams, and didn't 'ave time to say any more 'fore 'e was a goner. Porta swept the rest of 'em under the carpet!'
    'You brought their charts back, I hope?' asks Heide, professionally. He thinks of nothing else but military objectives.
    'What the 'ell'd we want with them?' asks Tiny, blankly. 'They wasn't what we'd gone out to get. And, any road, we knew the way back!'
    Heide can only shake his head despairingly.
    'What a row there was then, both south and north,' explains Porta. 'When we got outside we got tumbled head-over-heels by a whole shower of 'em, and some cunt of an officer gave us a real shellacking. He was that mixed up he never even noticed when Tiny answers him: " Jaawohl, Herr Leutnant !"'
    'Almost more'n a bloke's life was worth to be out in the open there,' Tiny goes on, lighting up a cigar.
    'Well we kept walking about a bit and watching the confusion,' laughs Porta, heartily. 'A major, red in the face as a boiled lobster, gives us another bollocking and orders us to help get a PAK-gun + into position. An order's an order in any man's army, so we got on with helping the anti-tank boys to get their pea-shooter set up where Major Ivan wanted it.'
    'All 'ell'd broke loose up the other end of the camp,' grins Tiny. 'Up 'ad gone an ammo stores an' there was an awful din goin' on. We thought for a bit it was you lot come to give us a 'and. Somebody blows the alarm whistle an' all the stinkin' Russians dashes over to where the bullets are fiyin'.'
    'Now we had some elbow-room,' says Porta, loftily. 'We pushed our nuts into the various companies just to say hello, and suddenly there we are with the catering boys.'
    'I doubt if any German soldier 'as ever seen so much perishin' grub at one time in all 'is born life,' interjects Tiny, rolling his eyes ecstatically heavenwards. 'They'd got every-thin'. Wobblin' pork, smoked reindeer, pickled gherkins, the lot !'
    'Yes, a comparison of Russian army catering with German ditto,' remarks Porta, drily, 'makes one realise that belief in the Final Victory can only be supported by faith alone!'
    'There was a fat sod of a cook-sergeant, lyin' there 'avin' a wank at a picture o' Marlene Dietrich,' Tiny gives a dirty chuckle. 'Biggest load 'e shot in 'is life was the last, when rock-a-bye-baby 'ere pushed forty-two tracers right up 'is bleedin' jacksey!'
    We had to move fast, now,' says Porta, with a short laugh. We grabbed everything we could get our hands on. When we found out we couldn't carry the half of it we went out to try and liberate a sledge. That's how we met this Commie reindeer, who did not conceal from us that he was a critic of the system, and since he also had an akja with him, well, we enlisted him on the spot.'
    'I 'ad to promise 'im some Finnish, capitalist reindeer cunt,' grins Tiny, 'and 'e's goin' to get it too, if I 'ave to bend over an' supply German arsehole to 'im, personally!'
    'Don't tell me this unit's going to be cluttered up with a reindeer, now?' shouts the Old Man, furiously.
    'We can discuss that later,' answers Porta, off-handedly. While the neighbours were shadow-boxing and banging away at one another, we popped in on the QM. There was only one man on guard and he was asleep, so he didn't even notice it when we shot him.'
    'Asleep on guard,' shouts Heide, indignantly. 'He deserved to lose his life!'
    'Well, I'm quite happy to find that the majority of soldiers are bad soldiers,' replied Porta.
    ' Beseff 14 that is because most soldiers are poor people,' says the Legionnaire. 'Life has taught them that however hard they work they will still continue to be poor.'
    'Ah! But poor soldiers make good killers,' says Tiny, 'an' they've got sharp eyes an 'ears. That's because they've 'ad to keep 'em open for the