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My father (now dec'd) told me that he and a few men from the 12th Lancers were baking in the hot Algerian sun when, from over the horizon, came officers in full red hunting gear with a pack of beagles. They stopped and asked my father if he had seen any foxes. They had imported 4 foxes from England and "couldn't find the blighters anywhere!"
Oh what a lovely war, for some.

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