From George MacDonald Fraser's Quartered Safe out Here.
I was never among them during an action, but I was once privileged to watch, from a distance, a company of them attack a Japanese position. There was a Highland unit to their left, advancing at that slow, steady 110 paces per minute tread which used to be the trademark of the kilted regiments; the Gurkhas were trotting to keep up, little green figures with bush hats at a rakish angle, each man with his rifle at the trail in his left hand and his drawn kukri in his right. The Highlanders accelerated suddenly, but any noise they made was drowned by the earsplitting scream of the little hillmen going like demented dwarves, brandishing their knives as they scampered into the trees – and I was profoundly glad I was not Japanese. One of the Highlanders told me later…that they fund the ground outside the position littered with Gurkha rifles. Most had gone in with kukris alone.
