In March 1918, when Jerry was making his last great attack, I was in
the neighbourhood of Petit Barisis when three enemy bombing planes
appeared overhead and gave us their load. After all was clear I
overheard this dialogue between two diminutive privates of the 7th
Battalion, the London Regiment ("Shiny Seventh"), who were on guard
duty at the Q.M. Stores:
"You all right, Bill?"
"Yes, George!"
"Where'd you get to, Bill, when he dropped his eggs?"
"Made a blooming concertina of meself and got underneaf me blinkin' tin
'at!"--_F. A. Newman, 8 Levett Gardens, Ilford, Ex-Q.M.S., 8th London
(Post Office Rifles)._