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Hussein is among some 30 Palestinians in Lebanon who fought under the Union Jack during the second World War but who were forced to flee their land in 1948 after the creation of Israel.
The majority have since been living in squalid refugees camps with little hope of ever returning home.
On Sunday, when Remembrance Day is celebrated in Britain, Hussein will stand alongside his fellow veterans at an annual ceremony in their honour in Beirut organised by the British Embassy, which has been trying to secure the men some regular assistance in recognition of their service.
"They will come on Remembrance Sunday from Tripoli, Sidon and Tyre, aged 80 or 90... they will travel three or fours hours to get here and they will stand in the sun with their medals on... proud ex-soldiers," Frances Guy, Britain's ambassador to Lebanon, told AFP.
Guy said given that the veterans had served less than 20 years in the British army, which withdrew the last of its troops from Palestine in May 1948, they were not entitled to a pension.
"The Palestinians are in a particular case because they were chased out of their homes immediately after they served with the British army, and if there is a way that we could help make the end of their lives more comfortable, then perhaps we should be doing that," she said.
The veterans, whose numbers have dwindled over the years, receive the equivalent 150 dollars annually from the Royal Commonwealth Ex-Services League, a charity that provides assistance worldwide to needy ex-servicemen or women.
Several non-governmental organisations also provide medical and other assistance on a case by case basis.
But for Manhal Freih, 84, a twice-decorated veteran who joined the British army at the age of 16 and who now lives in the Burj al-Shemali refugee camp in the southern city of Tyre, the aid is all but negligible.
"We witnessed so much and suffered so much and in return we have received very little," said the blue-eyed Freih whose only keepsake from his military service is a cane.
At the time it was a prop to learn correct rifle positions, but now it is used as a walking stick.
"When I fought for the British, I was fighting against the Nazis, there was no Israel at the time," added the father of 13 who sports a white handlebar moustache and still has the energy to do daily push-ups and exercises.
"You should have seen me as a soldier," he said wistfully, dressed in a traditional white headdress. "I really looked sharp.
"Our superiors were all British, and I recall one who was called Mr Ridley and who was feared by everyone," he added.
Freih said that while he does not regret joining the British army he felt rejected because there was little recognition for his years of service.
"We live in dire conditions in a land that will never be ours," he said of the camps in Lebanon. "And you know when you live a free man, even if it's in a cave, you are king."
Ibrahim Adawi, 84, who was part of the British army's cavalry for two years and who lives in the Burj al-Barajneh refugee camp in Beirut, said he holds no grudge against Britain, though he would welcome a little more aid for himself and his family of nine.
"My ID was 8250," he said softly in English before quickly switching to Arabic.
Adawi, who uses a walker because of a recent fall, has preserved his soldier's service book which bears his picture as a young man and states that he enlisted on November 6, 1946.
Like his fellow veterans, he has trouble recalling specific incidents or places of deployment during his years of service.
"I don't regret one bit having served with the British army," he said, sitting next to his wife in a sparsely furnished single room that is his home. "I salute them.
"You know, once a soldier always a soldier -- and if I could serve with them again I would proudly do so."
For Hussein, a frail man with a deeply lined face, Sunday will mark an opportunity to stand proud and forget, even for a brief moment, his life of suffering in the refugee camps.
"I haven't missed one invitation over the years," he said, taking a long draw on his cigarette and showing off a fading black and white picture of himself as a young man in uniform.
"I feel I am somebody on Remembrance Sunday."
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The majority have since been living in squalid refugees camps with little hope of ever returning home.
On Sunday, when Remembrance Day is celebrated in Britain, Hussein will stand alongside his fellow veterans at an annual ceremony in their honour in Beirut organised by the British Embassy, which has been trying to secure the men some regular assistance in recognition of their service.
"They will come on Remembrance Sunday from Tripoli, Sidon and Tyre, aged 80 or 90... they will travel three or fours hours to get here and they will stand in the sun with their medals on... proud ex-soldiers," Frances Guy, Britain's ambassador to Lebanon, told AFP.
Guy said given that the veterans had served less than 20 years in the British army, which withdrew the last of its troops from Palestine in May 1948, they were not entitled to a pension.
"The Palestinians are in a particular case because they were chased out of their homes immediately after they served with the British army, and if there is a way that we could help make the end of their lives more comfortable, then perhaps we should be doing that," she said.
The veterans, whose numbers have dwindled over the years, receive the equivalent 150 dollars annually from the Royal Commonwealth Ex-Services League, a charity that provides assistance worldwide to needy ex-servicemen or women.
Several non-governmental organisations also provide medical and other assistance on a case by case basis.
But for Manhal Freih, 84, a twice-decorated veteran who joined the British army at the age of 16 and who now lives in the Burj al-Shemali refugee camp in the southern city of Tyre, the aid is all but negligible.
"We witnessed so much and suffered so much and in return we have received very little," said the blue-eyed Freih whose only keepsake from his military service is a cane.
At the time it was a prop to learn correct rifle positions, but now it is used as a walking stick.
"When I fought for the British, I was fighting against the Nazis, there was no Israel at the time," added the father of 13 who sports a white handlebar moustache and still has the energy to do daily push-ups and exercises.
"You should have seen me as a soldier," he said wistfully, dressed in a traditional white headdress. "I really looked sharp.
"Our superiors were all British, and I recall one who was called Mr Ridley and who was feared by everyone," he added.
Freih said that while he does not regret joining the British army he felt rejected because there was little recognition for his years of service.
"We live in dire conditions in a land that will never be ours," he said of the camps in Lebanon. "And you know when you live a free man, even if it's in a cave, you are king."
Ibrahim Adawi, 84, who was part of the British army's cavalry for two years and who lives in the Burj al-Barajneh refugee camp in Beirut, said he holds no grudge against Britain, though he would welcome a little more aid for himself and his family of nine.
"My ID was 8250," he said softly in English before quickly switching to Arabic.
Adawi, who uses a walker because of a recent fall, has preserved his soldier's service book which bears his picture as a young man and states that he enlisted on November 6, 1946.
Like his fellow veterans, he has trouble recalling specific incidents or places of deployment during his years of service.
"I don't regret one bit having served with the British army," he said, sitting next to his wife in a sparsely furnished single room that is his home. "I salute them.
"You know, once a soldier always a soldier -- and if I could serve with them again I would proudly do so."
For Hussein, a frail man with a deeply lined face, Sunday will mark an opportunity to stand proud and forget, even for a brief moment, his life of suffering in the refugee camps.
"I haven't missed one invitation over the years," he said, taking a long draw on his cigarette and showing off a fading black and white picture of himself as a young man in uniform.
"I feel I am somebody on Remembrance Sunday."
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