Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The elder was
always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans, not being
able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their
shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of
course, that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on
it.)
The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder
brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed,
"Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me."--_W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's
Road, Bow, E.3._