"Waho Mohammed" by pegasuseddie
The worst trouble usually began when a group of Airborne lads entered a pub and met up with some coloured Americans. They were friendly lads and we always seemed to get on well with them. The only form of entertainment was normally a battered old piano but the coloured lads were very musical and there was usually one amongst them, or us, who could knock out a few tunes so we would soon be enjoying a sing-song.
All would be enjoyable until some white Americans came in. The coloured lads would tell us that they had to drink up and go. When this first happened we could not believe our ears. We were all in this bloody war together, and would all be dying for the same cause - the right to individual freedom - so what the hell gave the white Yanks the right to expect their coloured countrymen to leave any pub that the whites chose to enter?
After experiencing this inequality we got mad and told the coloured lads "You stay put - you were here first and if they don't like drinking in the same pub as you they can push off and find another one"
This was easier said than done, for when a pub ran dry it was a case of touring round the city centre to find another one which was still open.
When the colour problem arose the whites would stand just inside the door glaring at the coloured lads, and us, until we told them in no uncertain terms to "Push Off".
They would then withdraw with shouted threats and when we eventually emerged it was not unusual to find a large mob of them waiting for us.
If we were outnumbered we would immediately yell out our Airborne battle cry which had been originated by our 1st Airborne Division in North Africa and adopted by all Airborne men thereafter. Up would go the cry "Waho Mohammed".
The effect of that cry was truly amazing. Within minutes, and from all directions, Red Berets would appear and a pitched battle would commence.
Our unwritten Airborne law was clearly understood by every Red Devil - at least amongst the lower ranks - and regardless of which Airborne unit they served in; if an Airborne man was in trouble and called out our battle cry, it didn't matter what you were doing, you immediately responded to the call.
Many a lass, out walking with an Airborne lad, would be dumbfounded as her escort, on hearing the battle cry, would say "Sorry - I've got to go" and would rush off to join in the battle.
What always amazed me was that the white Yanks never cottoned on to our system and adopted their own battle cry. Time and again they started fights in which they greatly outnumbered us but, invariably, when our battle cry was yelled, within moments they were overwhelmed beneath a sea of Red Devils.
