I lost my troop leader once. No one seemed too fussed about that. I left him on the end of a pressle handset and 200 metres of don 10. Apparently myself and the tank were supposed to be on the other end.
I only ever 'lost' two things, but they were beauties.
1- SLR breechblock. On a recruit course- where I was a DS- ordered some pizzas one night, put my breechblock in the hip pocket of my trousers, jumped into a mate's MG, 'urtled across camp, got pizzas, returned and assumed 'wolfing' mode.
End of feed, check pocket...NO BREECHBLOCK! Cue frantic search in pitch dark- no result. In desperation, check car. There it was, on the door ledge (exactly the width of a breechblock) as perfectly aligned as if I had placed it there. Half an inch one way...gone under the seat; half an inch the other...gone into the night.
2- Prismatic compass. On exercise (again as DS) bangety bang bang, run back to platoon harbour, trip flying over blackboy stump. 24 hrs later, go to use compass...NO COMPASS!
Slink up to the normally even-tempered Pl SGT. and confess. With a muted intensity that would have made Hannibal Lecter quail, he leaned towards me ever-so-slightly and intoned 'FINDIT'
About 30 terrified seconds later I found it- right where I tripped over.
Never lost my gat,but I did loose....er...misplace my White Sifter slap bang on the Fermanagh/Donegal border when I was a sprog on my first tour of Northern Ireland. We had been out for days on a big op to close the border crossing points,and had stopped for a fag and a brew. ******** here forgets to pick up the sifter when we were finished,only to start wondering why my back wasn't hurting 10 minutes later. We patrolled back in a very fast manner to retreive it............what a total fanny.
I thought the SA80-A2 left smack in the middle of the DMZ between Iraq and Kuwait was a bit of a classic - and no, it wasn't me! But, one of the luckiest wearers of green that I know, should count herself very lucky that I carried a GPS.
Some numpty (not me) left an SLR complete with 20 rounds sitting on a barricade in the Markets Section of Belfast (circa 74). The pig sped back at extraordinary speed but alas the gat had gone. IIRC it was returned later that day by a civvie banging on the roll up gate.