At the start of World War One, a father approaches his son to explain he has to go to fight for his country. Nodding, his son asks that on his return could he bring back a souvenir from the battlefields – perhaps a German helmet. ‘You know,’ says the boy, ‘One with a spike on top.’ And so, weeks later the man is out on the mud-soaked fields of Flanders, when he spies a German helmet lying in the mud. Bending down to pick it up, he finds it stuck fast; as he grasps the spike for a better grip, he realizes there is a German soldier still attached underneath. ‘Bitte, pull me out,’ says the soldier, through the grime. ‘If I pull you out,’ says the Brit, ‘can I have your helmet for my son?’ ‘Ja – be my guest!’ comes the German’s cheerful reply. And so, with great effort, he begins to pull the soldier from the ground. But, after half an hour, he’s still only managed to get him up to his waist. ‘I’m bloody knackered,’ he says, catching his breath. ‘Vud it help,’ replies the German soldier, ‘Iff I took my feet out of der stirrups?
