Urban myth? Dunno, but here goes .....
Late '80's in Germany, the Harrier Force is out camping and it's being Taceval'd. Two herberts at the control of entry point to a flying site. It's dark. It's cold. Very cold. And it is absolutely hissing down. As the rain drips off the end of noses and muzzles our two heroes are well into a sense of humour failure and still alot of stag to go. In the darkness the only sound is of the ice cold deluge and the growing sound of many large deisel engines getting closer. This was a German Panzer unit arriving to take over the range the following day. One of them has become detached from the pack is blundering about the pitch black sodden forest. It's getting much closer now, trees can be heard snapping in the dark and the driver is playing tunes on the gearbox. Closer the beast comes, the woods are filled with roaring engine. Suddenly, with a scream of tortured metal, a Leopard MBT lands on the track in front of our two. It sits there for a minute, the rain hissing off the exhausts. Slowly the turret hatch opens and a head carefully emerges. 'Halt, Airforce' says our man, pointing his SLR whilst looking up the barrel of a bloody big tank gun. 'Ah, Britisch', says matey on the turret, & then looking at the rifle, 'but I think mine is bigger than yours!'. I suppose you had to be there.