Flat Oberfeldwebel von Stanley...

... or something like that. While bashing my skull on the joists in the loft this evening, I found some more of my flats from long ago. These were a Christmas present from a German student (an expert in Grecian red figure vases, an ardent Bonapartist, and the son of two Prussians) in 1984. My interests were decidedly modern in those days, and the erstwhile Prussian humoured me with these chaps:

Firstly, rubbing it in for the French, or, perhaps, rallying the forces of anti-Bolshevism, or, if these high ones were from Vienna, staging a raid on the pastry shop.

While, on the Eastern Front, Blue Division flats read the Spanish language version of Signal, and phone mum.

While their mates throw shells at the Anti-Christ.