The War

I knew Bill for about twenty years but only twice did he mention the Second World War. He was a young lieutenant then, in Europe after the invasion.
He said his troup was marching through a town which had been liberated by the Americans when a crowd came out to greet them. "They kept cheering and shouting 'It's the British, the British are coming'." Apparently they had had enough of the Yanks and were so pleased to see the British that, Bill said, it was embarrassing.
When they arrived at their headquarters, still occupied by some Americans, he and a Major opened a door of a room to discover a young American soldier in bed with two women, one each side of him. "Hi, Guys," he said cheerily.
His other story had to do with a Major or Colonel who was giving Bill and another young lietenant their orders. "See that hill over there? Well, you have to take your platoons onto the that hill and stay there until...."
"Hold it there Sir," said Bill's companion. "No need to say any more, Sir - I've read the book."
And they all laughed.
Don't say there's no such thing as dry, British humour which can reveal itself in the most desperate of circumstances.
The phrase "The British are coming," reminds me of an American composer of popular songs who one day was boasting to fellow practitioners of the art that he could write a love song if he were given any phrase you liked. So one of the group said: "OK, how about 'The Russians are coming?' " The composer thought for a while, then his eyes lit up and he said "The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming, so let's make love tonight."