William H.A. Willbond MSM, CD


I don’t think that I shall ever smell
a shit storm, like I’m about to tell
Greek’s arse hole died and went to hell
and made the lads all puke and yell!

In the wet canteen on payday night
the lads went there to drink and fight
It was the real home of John Cattell
his beer farts, man, they’d really smell

John was a darn good friend of mine
and we went drinking all the time
but one day the Greek he got the shits
We thought that he was having fits?

He’d up and run and leave the table
and yell at buddy, Kenny Cable
“Open the door to the latrine!”
The Greek, his shorts were not too clean!

The smell from out the open stall
wafting and chokingly hit us all
It splattered on the shit house door
and brownly ran along the floor

The poor old Greek he grunts and sits
he had the German Rot Gut shits
That was worst case of Deilinghofen runs
Yep, it sounded just like the Artillery guns!

And that was back in sixty-one
when we enjoyed the NATO[1] fun
It was the worst case of dye-her-rear
Since some of the lads had been in Korea!

Author’s Note: Grade D Australian Ox Beef was part of the BAOR (British Army on the Rhine) rations along with canned mutton, Brussels sprouts, bangers, and powdered eggs – the daily fare at the men’s mess hall, and which may or may not have been responsible for the Greek’s Rot Gut runs?

This poem is written about my old drinking buddy John “The Greek” Cattell. John was a Career Rifleman, an ex-Commando who had twice escaped from German POW camps, and who was a WW2 and Korean War Veteran. He loved the wet canteen and he was always seen carrying his small pack with a couple of Dormunder Pils snap caps or a couple of tins of beer in same. He had a daily custom whereby he would pour the partially filled empty beer glasses left on the tables at closing time into one jug and put it behind the curtain in the men’s wet canteen and come up next morning and drink same whilst sweeping the floor, cleaning the ashtrays, and waiting for his wet canteen to open for lunch. There are many Greek Catell stories out there and this is one of them. This is a true story and those of us who knew and admired the Greek, felt badly when he shit himself! And that smell is still a lingering memory.