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Updated: May 29, 2025
To pick one's way in the dark over strange ground littered with débris is not an easy task. The exact language I heard would hardly bear repeating. One party had evidently bumped into another. "D and who are you? Cawn't yer see, mate, I'm taking up company rations? Blimy, but 'ow the 'ell I am going to find the way blowed if I know. Do you know where Company is? I'm taking up sandbags.
My word, you look bad Poor Kid! Well, never say die strike me blimy but there's a good day coming " "I sat here once before," said Peter, leaning forward and addressing her very earnestly, "and it was the first time that I ever heard the noise that London makes. If you listen you can hear it now London's a beast you know " But the lady had paid very little attention.
"Blimy," says one lad to t'other, "'ere's one of our observation bladders the 'Un 'as brought down." Chestnut. I heard the Officer boy telling the Troop Sergeant that he'd buy a hay-stack some day and try to burst you, Tubby. The Sergeant bet him a month's pay it couldn't be done. Tubby. Just because I've got a healthy appetite Brown. Healthy appetites aren't being worn this season, Sir bad form.
Officers and men, we were new to the game then, and we held rather exaggerated notions as to the amount of care to be observed in moving up to the trenches. "Blimy, son!" whispered the trench guide, "you might think we was only a couple o' 'unnerd yards away from Fritzie's trenches! We're a good two an' a 'arf miles back 'ere.
"Right you are!" said Shorty; "now, sit down 'ere w'ile I'm goin' over me shirt, an' arsk me anything yer a mind to." I began immediately by asking him what he meant by "going over" his shirt. "Blimy! You are new to this game, mate! You mean to s'y you ain't got any graybacks!" I confessed shamefacedly that I had not.
Furthermore, it was a mistake to plant a nest in a solitary clump of willows such as this: a clump of trees offers too good an aiming mark for artillery: much better to make a position right out in the open. However, so far he had not been annoyed by shell fire. A machine gun had searched for him, but he had adequate cover from machine-gun fire. "But, blimy!
'Yes, s'ys 'e, 'but blimy, I 'ad to plunk seven Germans before I could get a pair o' clods to fit me. 'E was usin' 'is pal's strength too besides 'is own. Any Tommy'll tell yer a lad wot's dyin' on the field can leave 'is fightin' spunk to anyone 'e pleases." Tom stared open-eyed.
"That's me," he said; "but Lord, how you've changed. Only a fortnight ago, and now you're stone-bald!" I stared, marvelling at his gift of perception. "What have you been living on?" I asked. "But can you sleep after it?" said I. "Blimy! yes," he replied; "I'm fairly what is it? eupeptic." "It's all over with mankind," I muttered. "It is all over," he replied.
Blimy, you're more like to take root in them trenches o' yours unless we comes over again an' chases you out. Again there was no reply. Private Robinson shook his head. ''E's as 'ard to draw as the pay that's owin' to me, he said. 'You 'ave a go, Smithy. Smithy, a believer in the retort direct and no trafficker in the finer shades of sarcasm, cleared his throat and lifted up his voice.
Old scores were to be paid off, old grudges wiped out with our first issue of ball ammunition. Many a fist-banged board at the wet canteen gave proof of Tommy's earnestness. "Shoot 'im?" he would say, rattling the beer glasses the whole length of the table with a mighty blow of his fist. "Blimy! Wite! That's all you got to do! Just wite till we get on the other side!"
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