It was the tail end of the war and Jerry had lost his stranglehold. Our unit was exchanging gifts in a trench, with the odd stray bullet whizzing overhead.
Pugsy handed me a squishy package, which was wrapped in a piece of burlap sack. I unwrapped it warily, but it was only mud. Pugsy's last squishy gift was something far worse. "It's all I have to give," he had said, still trailing his fatigues round his ankles. Filthy swine.
Rufus ran towards us with the field telephone. The wire reached its end and pulled tight, creating a limbo wire the length of the trench. Pugsy thrust himself backwards and attempted to limbo.
"I picked this up from a Caribbean girl," he said.
"You should have put it back again," I told him.
Rufus handed me the phone.
"Go on, you can call your lady," he said. "The brass is making allowances for Christmas."
"That's fine. Did you call your wife?" I asked.
"Yes. It was good to hear her voice. Go ahead, you do it."
"You want me to call your wife?"
"Ho, ho," he replied with sarcasm.
"Oh, Santa Claus is still here."
I called home. My dearest picked up. She was happy, possibly to hear me, or maybe because she'd already started boozing. I asked, "Is everything okay on your end? Or at your beginning, if you prefer?"
She laughed, possibly at my jest, but maybe because the third double was kicking in. Pugsy started tugging on my trouser leg. He was bent over backwards at my feet. He'd locked his back doing limbo and couldn't get up.
"You bloody fool," I said.
My wife started screaming, enraged.
"Not you, dearest," I stammered. "What's that? No, I haven't started drinking yet. I don't drink generally, you know that. I don't drink generally, or even majorly. Or mere infantry, for that matter."
"Ho, ho," said Rufus, standing by with the telephone box.
Later on Pugsy handed out Christmas crackers. He'd fiddled with the gunpowder, adding a little from our arms supplies. He pulled the first cracker with Rufus. After the war, the two were fitted with prosthetic hands. They toured the music halls together. They had a double act where they'd slap each other until their hands fell off.
Artist's rendition of yours truly. He was going to draw Pugsy too but Pugsy would only pose for a nude.
