Germapult
My Great Granddad, Patrick “Newtie” Newton, was one of the lucky few who survived being in the front line trenches during the First World War. When my dad was a little boy, my granddad would tell him story of the war. Most often they would be stories of extreme British Courage or sacrifice, but, there were sometimes stories about the fun and foolery they all had during the more peaceful times.

For seven months Newtie was stationed at a point know as “shake hand alley”. It was called this because the apposing trenches were so close that it felt like you could almost shake hands with your enemy.
Being this close was, of course, incredibly dangerous. Tunnels were being constantly dug and filled with explosives, Snipers had it very easy and there were constant raids to each trench. A man serving in shake hand alley was a man walking with death.
The men knew this. The constant reminder of death made them search for ways to lighten up the mood. One of the favorites was the Germapult.
The Germapult was a large wooden catapult which had been built by the many carpenters out of spare wood from the trench walls. Over the years it had been there some men had become expert marksman with it. My Great Granddad admitted that the Germapult was about as lethal as cotton wool, but, nothing boosted morale more than knocking off a German officer’s hat with a dead rat.
Anything that could be used as ammo was;

Rats – dunked in lamp oil, set alight and flung
Legs, arms, heads of fallen Germans.
Cups of piss (left to ferment over summer)
Letters tied to rocks with lovely messages like “fuck off”
And, of course, SHIT. Lots of British shit.

Being born a Newton comes with many positive and negative hereditary points.
1. We all have great eyes and ears
2. We are all good with numbers
3. Our shits stink. REALLY REALLY STINKS!
With this in mind, mixed with the less than choice sanitation, my Great granddad was often not too popular in the trenches. He could stink out an entire half mile with the foul acrid smell of his anal devastation. In his own words “you know when I had taken time out because everyone had a tear in their eye”.
One day, after a particularly pungent defecation, the wind changed direction. Instead of blowing the nuclear fumes along the trench – It blew it straight across no-mans-land into the German lines. Within seconds the British could hear sequels of pain, after a minute they could hear the distinct call of “Gas” from their German enemies. It took at least half hour for the panic to subside and normality to flow.
An British officer noticed this and approached my Great granddad
“Son, that was disgusting, your bowels truly are a place of living hell. But, if you can recreate that panic every time nature takes its course, the Germans moral will be crushed”

My Great granddad was then positioned right next to the Germapult. Every time he needed a dump he would do it on a scrap of cloth, place it on the pult and an expert would fire it straight into the trenches. Sometimes they would scream GAS, sometimes they just screamed for the war to end. As this was obviously killing the German moral, my granddad was given sprouts and other Veg to further intensify his odour.
He claims that this extra food and the shelter of being by the Germapult saved his life. He also claimed that they fired a large amount of his shit at a machine gun post minutes before a big push. The gunners were so busy wiping the pain from their eyes that a few hundred british (including my Gread granddad) made the push and lived to fight on.

I have one memory of the man from when i was about four and it was walking into the toilet straight after him.
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 11:44, 8 replies)

Your G-Grandad sounds COCKING ACE!!
*Clicks*
( jim_bob can herd cats., Mon 31 Mar 2008, 11:47, closed)

Aiee! Gott In Himmel! Achtung mit der fartung noise!
I can't help but picture that story being retold in cartoon format a la those old Commando pocket books.

If Commando is still being written and choc full of wartime stiff upper lipped herosim, then this deserves to be aired to a wider audience.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:00, closed)

^What PJM said^
This story made me proud to be British :)
( Droog is too orangey for crows, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:02, closed)

'click'
Winner
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:09, closed)

^as above^
way to go , Tommy!

*click*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Mon 31 Mar 2008, 13:52, closed)

This story
FTW
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 14:18, closed)

This story indeed FTW.
Someone on the *front lines of WW1* declared your g-grandad's bowels a piece of living hell?!

That's bad!

Hooray for British Inventiveness and your G-Granddad surviving! Clearly a win-win situation for Britain! Worth the click you just got.
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 14:54, closed)

That is a good story
click
(ShitBitch, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:49, closed)