At the end of 1914 we were in the trenches in the Ypres Salient. As
we were only about 30 yards from the enemy lines, bombing went on all
day. The German bombs, shaped like a long sausage, could be seen coming
through the air. Our sentries, on the look-out for these, would shout:
"Sausage right!" or "Sausage left!" as they came over.
One night we were strengthened by reinforcements, including several
Cockneys. The next morning one of our sentries saw a bomb coming
over and shouted "Sausage right!" There followed an explosion which
smothered two of our new comrades in mud and shreds of sandbag. One of
the two got up, with sackcloth twisted all round his neck and pack.
"'Ere, Bill, wot was that?" he asked one of our men.
"Why, one of those sausages," Bill replied.
"Lumme," said the new man, as he freed himself from the sacking, "I
don't mind the sausages, but," he added as he wiped the mud from his
eyes and face, "I don't like the mash."--_H. Millard (late East Surrey
Regt.), 3 Nevill Road, Stoke Newington, N._