THEY ALL DIE IN THE END!

Camp News, Volume 2, Issue 61, 21 February 1941, Page 2

THEY ALL DIE IN THE END!

, Somebody asked us the other day what we thought would be Hitler’s end. Not being blessed with pre-vision, we said we didn’t know. But that if there was anything in the popular belief that history repeats itself, it wouldn’t be a nice one. '■ We had in mind the other dictators of history. Most of these gangsters came to a sticky or an ironical end. < Take Alexander the Great, whose troops were like Hitler’s — always trampling over other people’s territory. On his return to Babylon after twelve, years of conquest, Alexander died as the result of a booze-up with his principal officers. * Then there was the Cathaginian dictator, a guy called Hannibal. His men went strutting all over what we know as Africa, Italy, Greece and a number of other places. But in -the end they got a licking by the Romans. Hannibal fled to Bithynia, hoping to escape his enemies. But just like any other Hun, Hannibal wasn’t able to take his medicine, so he poisoned himself. Then there was that famous Hun, Attila. This fellow was hated as much as Hitler in his day. With his brother Bleda he attained to the sovereignty of all the northern tribes between France and China. He died on the first night in bed with his beautiful wife Hilda as the result of a burst blood vessel. How’s that for luck? We won’t bore you with details of Julius Caesar’s career. He was bumped off by a couple of his thugs, Cassius and Brutus, who might be likened to Goebbels and Himmler. They put Napoleon an an isl#id and they permitted the Kaiser to hibernate in Holland, where to-day the old gentleman sits and broods with the rest of Europe, who is under Hitler’s heel, and that worse than death. And Hitler? We’ll just wait and see!

The “All Clear!” had sounded ana people were filing from the air raid shelter. “Lot of frightened sheep,” scoffed a sceptical young man. “All dashing in there as fast as their legs could carry them. Why, I was in bed when the siren went. I shdved, washed, dressed and then strolled down to this shelter.” Is that so?” said the Bright Young Thing. “But aren’t your legs cold without your trousers?”

; The big sailor was , home on leave and was celebrating in the local. After consuming about ten pints he suddenly glared round the 1 bar and shouted “Anybody here want a fight?”.,; The locals were all busy with their glasses, '/j ... Again ■he , shouted, “Anybody here want a ’ fight?” But again he received no answer., , r He drank ’ his. beer,' walked across to , the door, turned round and said “Well,) you’re the most unsociable ,-lot of blighters I’ve ever met.”> ! '

" .‘‘There must be a dozen sergeantmajors in this. camp, roughly speaking,” writes a soldier. Well, who ever heard ,of a sergeant-major without a rasp ini his voice? I > j i i I’A 7i: