Fights to a Finish
Thosewere stirring words which the Colonel of the Manchester Regiment addressed to his men when they were surprised at Douai by very superior numbers: "No surrender, lads! First you have your rifles, then your bayonets, then the butts of your rifles, then your fists!"
Even with their fists our soldiers, on one occasion, made the Germans pay for their treachery. "They attacked our position in very strong numbers, but we kept them at bay until they played a trick on us that cost us dear, but not so dear as it cost themselves. They got to two hundred yards of our trenches, then the fire was so hot for them that they hoisted the white flag. Of course we stopped firing, and some got up to go out and take them prisoners, but as soon as they got up to them they opened a pitiless fire on our fellows. For a moment our chaps were taken by surprise, but it was the sight of a lifetime to see them a moment later. Straight into the German masses they sprang, and with theirbayonets, butts of their rifles, and even their fists, they set about them. The slaughter was terrible. Soon the Germans had had enough of Tommy Atkins when his temper is roused. They broke and fled in utter disorder. You ought to have heard them yell; it was like a wild beast show let loose."
A company of the Middlesex Regiment were also handy with their fists. Alas! these were not sufficient. They were digging trenches near Mons when a mass of Germans, who seemed to come from nowhere, bore down upon them. Bayonets in hand, they rushed upon our men, who were quite unprepared in the matter of equipment, but the sergeant of the company set the lead by the use of his fists, and "downed two Germans with two successive blows." The whole company followed their sergeant's lead, but they were mowed down like grass.
Here is a typical Irish description from a Munster Fusilier: "The Germans seem to think that you can catch Irish soldiers with fly-papers, for they just stepped up the other day and called on us to surrender, as bold as you like and bolder. We didn't waste any words in telling them to go about their business, but we just grabbed hold of our bayonets and signed to them to come on if they wanted anything, but they didn't seem in any great hurry to meet us. After a bit they opened fire on us with a couple of maxims, but we fixed bayonets and wentfor the guns with a rush. They appear to be delicate boys indeed, and can't stand very much rough usage with the bayonet. We got their guns. Their cavalry had a try at getting them back later on, but we let them have it with bayonet and rifle, and they got sick of it altogether before long. A big party of them tried the other day to cut off four companies of the Royal Irish Regiment advancing to relieve a French force hard pressed on our left. The Germans lined up along the road just like the police at home trying to turn back a procession that wasn't approved of. The Royal Irish boys didn't take the least heed until they were right up at the Germans, and then they gave them it blazing hot with the bayonet. The Germans' pluck lasts until we are fifty yards from them, and then they are off. It would do you good to see our little chaps chasing great big fellows shouting and laughing. You wouldn't think it was war."
A British Guardsman related how his regiment received German cavalry: "Suddenly the cavalry remounted their horses, and came crashing down on our chaps. 'Now, Guards!' was all the officer in command said, but his men knew what he meant, and they braced themselves for the tussle. They lined up in the good old British square that has proved a terror to European armies before, and the front ranks waited with the bayonet, while the men insidekept blazing away at the advancing horsemen. They came closer and closer, and the earth seemed to shake and quiver beneath their rush. 'Steady!' was all the commander of the —— Guards said, and he said it in a dull way, as though he were giving a nice piece of advice to some noisy youngsters who had been making a row. The men answered not a word, but they set their teeth. Then the crash came. Steel met steel, and sparks shot out as sword crossed bayonet. The game of the Germans was to ride down our ranks, but they didn't know that that trick won't work with British troops, and the Guardsmen kept their ground, in spite of the weight of men and horses. The Germans came to a dead stop, and just then they got a volley from the centre of the square. They broke and scattered, and then they got another volley. The order was given to the Guards, and they dashed after them towards the point where our other men were expected."
On another occasion the Brigade of Guards, who were doing a slow retreat for rest, and who were being followed by a brigade of Germans, over double their strength, suddenly stopped, and hiding in a wood waited for the Germans. In a pitched battle, with fixed bayonets, they wiped the whole crowd out—over 4,000 of them. General French had this recorded, and it was read out to all the troops on special parade.
Rifleman Cummings, of the King's Royal Rifles, wrote to his mother: "I shall never forget the first day under fire. It commenced on our left, and in a short time, in spite of heroic efforts, we watched it silence a battery of our guns. The ear-splitting crash of eight shells bursting along our line at once was terrible. However, we held on all day and part of the night. We knew it was part of the scheme, our retiring, and, although hundreds must have been suffering agonies with their feet, the boys always managed a song and a cheer. One night we reached a town and had just settled down in our billets saying to ourselves, 'Now for a well-earned rest,' when we were suddenly ordered to fall in. Our officer told us the Germans had captured a bridge about a mile from the town, and the General had sent word it had to be taken at all costs. It was a dark road and we were all in single file. There was a continued stream of wounded coming up from the bridge. After one or two charges the bridge was taken at the point of the bayonet."
Private Fairweather, of the Black Watch, gives this account of an engagement on the Aisne: "The Guards went up first and then the Camerons, both having to retire. Although we had watched the awful slaughter in these regiments, when it was our turn we went off with a cheer across 1,500 yards of open country. The shelling was terrific and the airwas full of the screams of shrapnel. Only a few of us got up to 200 yards of the Germans. Then with a yell we went at them. The air whistled with bullets, and it was then that my shout of '42nd for ever!' finished with a different kind of yell. Crack! I had been presented with a souvenir in my knee. I lay helpless and our fellows retired over me. Shrapnel screamed all round, and melinite shells made the earth shake. I bore a charmed life. A bullet went through the elbow of my jacket, another through my equipment, and a piece of shrapnel found a resting place in a tin of bully beef which was on my back. I was picked up eventually during the night, nearly dead from loss of blood."
There is little of the glory of war for the wounded when they are waiting to be picked up by the stretcher-bearers and wondering whether they will be picked up at all. No wonder that an officer wrote in a letter: "If ever I come back, and anybody at home talks to me about the glory of war, I shall be d——d rude to him."
This is how another Scotch regiment cleared a road for French artillery when German guns were preventing them from passing along it.
The General commanding the British troops demanded for his men the honour of clearing the way. A Scotch regiment was ordered forward. They left the road and advanced in open order across themarshy ground on the left towards the position where the German guns were firing. The German fire was deadly, but nothing could stop the Scotch men. They made a series of short rushes, making ample use of the ditches, which every hundred yards or so cross the peat bog, to take cover. They were soon within charging distance. The order for fix bayonets was given, and with a ripple the whole line dashed forward. Ditches, barbed wire, and a hail of bullets from quickfirers did not stop them. A rush carried them right up to the German guns, and they bayoneted the gunners at their pieces. A few minutes sufficed to damage the breeches of the guns and so render them useless, and then the regiment fell back, its task accomplished. The brief period this brilliant charge of the Scotch regiment had lasted was sufficient for the French guns to gallop along the road to safety, and they soon came into action.
Cavalry Charges
A nervousyoung man broke down when trying at a party to recite Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade." The considerate hostess said, "Just give it in your own words, Mr. ——" My words are very inadequate to describe the charge of the 9th Lancers at Toulin. Terrible damage was being done to British infantry and artillery by eleven German guns concealed in a wood. At last the commanding officer of the Lancers said, "We must take those guns," and ordered his men to charge. They rode straight at the guns though "stormed at by shot and shell." "They were like men inspired," declared a spectator, "and it seemed incredible that any one could escape alive." When the brave fellows got near the guns they came across hidden wire entanglements. Horses and men went down in a heap. Nothing, however, could stop them. They got to the guns, cut down the gunners, and put the guns out of action.
The Lancers took the praises that were given tothem very modestly. "We only fooled round and saved some guns," they said.
At St. Quentin the Black Watch and Scots Greys acted in concert. As at the battle of Waterloo, the Highlanders got into the thick of the fight by holding on to the stirrup leathers of the cavalry. The Greys plunged straight into the ranks of the enemy, each horseman accompanied by a comrade on foot, and the Germans, taken completely by surprise, were broken up and repulsed with tremendous losses. "Our men," said a wounded eye-witness of the charges, "came on with a mighty shout, and fell upon the enemy with the utmost violence. The weight of the horses carried them into the close-formed ranks of the Germans, and the gallant Greys and the 'Kilties' gave a fearful account of themselves."
On another occasion the Scots Greys, seeing the wounded cut at by the German officers, went mad, and, even though the retreat had been sounded, a non-commissioned officer leading, they turned on the Potsdam Guards and hewed their way through, their officers following. Having got through, the officers took command again, formed them up, wheeled, and came back the way they went!
Truly the Greys lived up to or died up to their motto "Second to none." They charged no less than five times at the battle of Mons. One of themthus wrote: "The Germans and our people had been fighting at long range for several hours and we stood looking on, impatient to get at them. Our officers told us not to worry, as our chance would come, and we soon found that they were right. The enemy, greatly outnumbering our chaps, kept creeping up slowly in spite of tremendous losses. One body was endeavouring to work round our flank, and when they came close enough we had our chance. We tore down into them, cutting and thrusting. They did not wait long, we were covered with blood and so were our horses."
Of a combined charge of the Scots Greys and the 12th Lancers, a sergeant of the Berkshire regiment wrote: "It was grand. I could see some of the Germans dropping on their knees and holding up their arms. Then, as soon as our cavalry got through, the Germans picked up their rifles and started firing again. Our men turned about and charged back. It was no use the Germans putting up their hands a second time. Our cavalry cut down every one they came to. I don't think there were ten Germans left out of about 2,000."
The officer commanding the brigade said that it went through the German cavalry as circus horses might go through paper hoops.
Another episode was the capture of fourteen German guns by the 2nd and 5th Dragoons. Theywere attacked at dawn in a fog, and it looked bad for them, but they turned it into a victory.
An officer wrote: "There was no stopping them once they got on the move. Many flung away their tunics and fought with their shirt sleeves rolled up above the elbow. One trooper with his shirt in ribbons actually stooped so low from his saddle as to snatch a wounded comrade from instant death at the hands of a powerful German. Then, having swung the man right round to the near side, he made him hang on to his stirrup leather while he lunged his sword clean through the German's neck."
Well might Sir John French write in an official despatch, "Our cavalry do what they like with the enemy."
I was at Pekin at the end of the Boxer trouble in China, and was standing one day near a German officer when a regiment of Indian cavalry marched past. The German officer made many disparaging remarks about them. The following is a description of the first charge in this war of our Indian cavalry, and the Germans must have learned from it that Indian soldiers are as little contemptible as is the rest of French's army:
"The charge took place one day when the enemy had been pressing us hard all along the line. We had been at it hammer and tongs for three weeks, and were feeling the strain. Towards nightfall theenemy kept pressing closer and closer, and it looked as though their deadweight alone was going to force us back. Their plan seemed to be to break our line at a point where they guessed our men to be most exhausted. Just when they were half way towards our trenches, the Indians, who had arrived the day before and were anxious to get into it, were brought up. At the word of command they swept forward, only making a slight detour to get out of the line of our fire, and then they swept into the Germans from the left like a whirlwind. The enemy were completely taken aback. The Turcos they knew, but these men, with their flashing eyes, dark skins, and white, gleaming teeth, not to mention their terribly keen-edged lances, they could not understand. The Indians didn't give them much time to arrive at an understanding. With a shrill yell they rode right through the German infantry, thrusting right and left with their terrible lances, and bringing a man down every time. The Germans broke and ran for their lives, pursued by the Lancers for about a mile. When the Indians came back from their charge they were cheered wildly all along our line, but they didn't think much of what they had done."
Grit and Guns
Inno way has British grit shown itself more in this war than in the capture of German guns and in the defence of our own.
At Neri three artillerymen of the now famous L Battery R.H.A., inspired by their heroic commanding officer, continued to serve the only gun not silenced. The three heroes have been given the Victoria Cross.
Driver Grimes, of the Royal Field Artillery, gave the following account of what happened: "We were about two miles away when we got word to come to the relief of 'L' battery. When we arrived on the scene a terrible sight met our eyes. The battery had been blown to smithereens. Guns were smashed or overturned; some were untouched, but useless, because there was nobody to work them. Officers and men lay dead and wounded on every side. All the officers were killed, and one poor young fellow lay crushed beneath an overturned gun. Haystacks were blazing round about; the place wasdense with smoke from shell fire. The Germans took them by surprise, and opened on them at no more than 600 yards' range. It was wonderful that anybody could have lived through such a hell—it was nothing else. But there were the sergeant-major and a couple of drivers working away like madmen at one of the guns, coats off, shirts torn open, and bleeding from minor wounds. They never looked round, but kept potting away for all they were worth. We were only in time. For almost immediately we came on the scene they fired their last remaining charge. The Germans cleared off as soon as we got agoing, and we never heard them that day again. I was one of those who assisted the three men back to the ambulance. 'Have you got a glass of water?' one of them asked. 'We got it pretty hot in there just now,' he added. 'You don't need to tell us that,' we replied, looking round at the great holes which the German shells had torn up in the ground on every side."
Captain Bradbury, R.H.A., had served a gun himself, and knocked out one German gun. He had one leg shot away; but fired off a round or two, until the other leg was taken off. A doctor came to help him, and all he asked from him was morphia so that the men might not hear him screaming.
In a charge at Toulin, Captain Grenfell, of the 9th Lancers, was hit in both legs, and had two fingersshot off at the same time. Almost as he received these wounds a couple of guns posted near were deprived of their servers, all of whom save one man were struck by bursting shrapnel. The horses for the guns had been placed under cover. "We'll get the guns back," cried Captain Grenfell, and at the head of a number of his men, and in spite of his wounds, he did manage to harness the guns up and get them away. He was then taken to hospital.
The final scene at a British battery during the retirement after the battle of Mons is thus described by Gunner B. Wiseman, of the Royal Field Artillery: "Our battery had fired their last round. The Germans were only three hundred yards away. The order was given, 'Retire. Every man for himself.' It was a splendid but awful sight to see horses, men, and guns racing for life, with shells bursting among them. The Germans rushed up, and I lay helpless. A German pointed his rifle at me to surrender. I refused, and was just on the point of being put out when a German officer saved me. He said, 'Englishman, brave fool.' He then dressed my wound, and gave me brandy and wine, and left me."
About fifty men of the Royal Berkshire Regiment were trying to save some guns at Soissons, and this is what happened in the words of a sergeant in a letter to his wife: "We had an order to abandon the guns, but our young officer said, 'No, boys, we willnever let a German take a British gun.' Our chaps let up a cheer, and kept up a rapid fire. The guns had fired all their ammunition, but we kept on. Then the Staffords came up and reinforced us on our left flank. We then saw the gun teams coming up to fetch the guns."
The following is a letter of a major in the Royal Field Artillery, to his wife: "At last we came to the edge of the wood, and in front of us, about 200 yards away, was a little cup-shaped copse, and the enemy's trenches with machine-guns a little farther on. I felt sure this wood was full of Germans, as I had seen them go on earlier. I started to gallop for it, and the others followed. Suddenly about fifty Germans bolted out firing at us. I loosed off my revolver as fast as I could and —— loosed off his rifle from the saddle. They must have thought we were a regiment of cavalry, for except a few they suddenly yelled and bolted. I stopped and dismounted my lot to fire at them to make sure they didn't change their minds. I held the horses, as I couldn't shoot them like that myself. I then suddenly saw there were more in the copse—so I mounted the party and galloped at it, yelling, with my revolver held out. As I came to it I saw it was full of Germans, so I yelled 'Hands up!' and pointed the revolver at them. They all chucked down their rifles and put their hands up. Three officers and over forty mento ten of us with six rifles and a revolver. I herded them away from their rifles and handed them over to the Welsh regiment behind us. I tore on with the trumpeter and the sergeant-major to the machine-guns. At that moment the enemy's shrapnel, the German infantry who'd got away, and our own howitzers, thinking we were hostile cavalry, opened fire on us. We couldn't move the beastly things, and it was too hot altogether, so we galloped back to the cup wood and they hailed shrapnel on us there. I waited for a lull, and mounted all my lot behind the bushes and made them sprint as I gave the word to gallop for cover to the woods where the Welsh company was. There I got ----, who understands them, and an infantryman who volunteered to help, and —— and ran up to the maxims, and took out the breech mechanism of both and one of the belts and carried away one whole maxim. We couldn't manage the other. The Welsh asked what cavalry we were. I told them we were the staff of the —— battery and they cheered us, but said we were mad. We got back very slowly on account of the gun and the men wild with excitement, and we have got the one gun complete and the mechanism and belt of the other. The funniest thing was the little trumpeter, who swept a German's helmet off his head and waved it in the air shouting, 'I've got it,' wild with excitement. He is an extraordinarily brave boy."
Lance-Corporal Bignell, Royal Berks, tells how he saw two R.F.A. drivers bring a gun out of action at Mons. Shells had been flying round the position, and the gunners had been killed, whereupon the two drivers went to rescue the gun. "It was a good quarter of a mile away, yet they led their horses calmly through a hail of shell to where the gun stood. Then one man held the horses while the other limbered up."
A Highlander, called Wilson, single-handed captured a German gun. Six Germans were in charge of the gun. Wilson picked off five with his rifle, bayoneted the sixth, and then tried to turn the gun on the enemy. Unfortunately it jammed, and an officer coming up helped him to destroy it. Wilson has been given the Victoria Cross.
Another Highlander had more of guns than he bargained for. In a night fight he lost his regiment, and was picked up by a battery of the Royal Field Artillery, who gave him a lift. But he did not rest long, for the kind gunners went into action ten minutes afterwards with their visitor sitting on one of their guns.
A private in the 1st Lincolns, who has returned home wounded, described how two companies of his regiment captured a battery of six German guns, one of which is now in London:
"During the German retreat the British were heldup on a ridge by a battery. Two companies of us made a detour on the right, marched down a valley out of sight of the German gunners, and entered a wood on the enemy's left. The German battery, about 200 yards away, were busy with their work in front, not dreaming that we were on their flank. In extended order we took steady aim, and at the first round every man of the German battery fell. That was all we fired. Our artillery continued firing on the guns and smashed four. The other two were taken. We were afterwards commended."
InThe Timesappeared the following account, gathered from letters received from brother officers at the front, of the charge in which Lieutenant Sir Archibald Gibson Craig gave his life:
"He was shot while leading his men to the attack of a German machine gun which was hidden in a wood. He located the gun and asked our second in command whether he might take his platoon (about twenty men) and try to capture the gun, which was doing a lot of damage to our troops at the time. The major gave his consent, and Gibson Craig went off to get the gun.... They crawled to the top of the hill and found themselves unexpectedly face to face with a large body of Germans. Our men fired a volley, and then the lieutenant drew his sword and rushed forward, ahead of his men, calling to them 'Charge, men! At them!' He gotto within ten yards of them and then fell. By his gallant action he did a great deal to assist the general advance of the regiment, and, in fact, of the whole of the troops engaged. The remaining men silenced the gun, and brought their comrades—two killed and three wounded—back to the lines, two miles, under shell fire all the way, and not one was touched."
A brilliant little exploit was performed by one of our cavalry patrols. Coming suddenly upon a German machine-gun detachment, the subaltern in command at once gave the order to charge, with a result that some of the Germans were killed, the rest scattered, and the gun was captured and carried off.
One who was present described this "double event:"
"The sky turned pure black, and I knew we were going to have a heavy shower. But we had a 'double event'—a shower of bullets also. I could see we were attacked in the rear, and all was confusion for a few minutes, but our men soon woke up, and we got the order to fix bayonets. Down came the rain, and lightning and thunder. I stood for a moment to survey the scene. It was like something you would read about. We got the order to charge the guns, and you should have seen the Irish Guards, 3rd Coldstreams and 2nd Grenadiers rush on them like an avalanche. It was all over in ten minutes. The Germans stood dumbfounded. I shouldn't liketo stand in front of that charge myself. Our men were drenched to the skin, but we didn't care, it only made us twice as wild. Such dare-devil pluck I was glad to see."
On one occasion, when the Connaught Rangers were charging with their bayonets to save guns of the Royal Field Artillery, the Germans put up a white flag and afterwards fired on the Irishmen. This got up the Connaught blood, and as one of the Rangers said, that "is nasty to be up agin." The Rangers left their mark on the treacherous foe and saved the guns.
At Charleroi another Irish regiment showed their grit in helping our cavalry to save guns. The horses were shot from under our men, and the Uhlans tried to capture our battery. Then the Munsters stuck to the guns. They dashed forward with fixed bayonets, put the Germans to flight, captured some of their horses, and all their guns.
"There's been a divil av a lot av talk about Irish disunion," says Mr. Dooley, "but if there's foightin' to be done it's the bhoys that'll let nobody else thread on the Union Jack."
A corporal of the Northamptonshire Regiment wrote: "The Germans, who seemed to have the position to a hair's breadth, sent shells shrieking and hissing around a battery of R.F.A. The horses got frantic and began prancing, kicking, and callingout in terror. The drivers, some of whom had dismounted in readiness for unlimbering, held on like grim death, but the animals were in such a state of terror that they could not be restrained, and at last they dashed off with the guns in the direction of the German lines. The drivers on the ground were knocked down, and one was run over by a carriage, but those who were mounted stuck to their posts and did all they could to restrain the mad horses. A party of new men with horses were brought out and dashed off in pursuit of the terrified animals. They caught them up soon and rode alongside to get hold of the runaways. It was no use, however, and now they came within range of more German guns, and the shells were bursting overhead, making the horses madder than ever. There was nothing for it but to shoot them, and this was done after some difficulty. Then it was necessary to take out the dead team and put the new one in, while German shells were dropping round. Half of the men were hit, but they meant to stick to their posts, and not all the Germans in the field could have driven them away. Just as they were getting the guns away a party of German infantry came on the scene, but by that time our battery had moved out to cover the withdrawal of the guns, and we gave the Germans as much as they could stand."
Simple heroism simply told is the keynote of aletter which Gunner Batey, of the R.G.A., has written to the parents of Gunner F.S. Mann. He says: "God bless your son. If it had not been for him I should not be alive to tell the tale. We had been fighting for three days across the Meuse, and I was severely wounded by shrapnel, and fell. We had to retreat, but we were determined to save the guns. I fell again, and our men drove off. Your son and I had fought side by side, and he missed me. The noble lad came back through fires of hell, and carried me to safety. He was wounded, but not dangerously. We are all proud of that boy; he is always in the thick of it. All over the line you could hear him shout, 'Lads, lads; the sooner we get through, the sooner we'll get home.'"
Gallantry of Individuals
AnIrish Fusilier regiment was in a dangerous position and a messenger was wanted to bring to the men an order to retire. Who would go? Every man offered himself, though they knew that they would have to cross an open country raked with rifle fire. They tossed for the honour, and the first man who started with the message had not gone more than 200 yards when he was wounded, but he rushed on till a second bullet brought him down. Another man took on the message and got only a little way when he was hit. A third messenger almost reached the endangered regiment when he was shot. Half-a-dozen men ran out to bring him in. They all were hit; but the wounded messenger making a supreme effort, crawled to the regiment and delivered the message.
Similar gallantry was shown when the Munster Fusiliers were surrounded and a driver of the R.F.A. named Pledge, who was shut up with them,was asked to "cut through" and get the assistance of the artillery. Pledge mounted a horse and dashed through the German lines. His horse fell and Pledge's legs were injured. Nothing daunted, he got his horse on its feet, and again set off at a great pace. To get to the artillery he had to pass down a narrow road, which was lined with German riflemen. He did not stop, however, but rode through without being hit by a single bullet. He conveyed the message to the artillery, which tore off to the assistance of the Munsters, and saved the situation.
In view of the death of Prince Maurice of Battenberg, the story told by Corporal J. Jolley, King's Royal Rifles, has special interest. After the retreat from Mons the Germans were severely punished. On reaching a height overlooking Chorley-sur-Marne, the King's Royal Rifles were the advance guard. They noticed the Germans preparing to blow up a bridge, but they got away on seeing the British. The latter were ordered to take the bridge. Prince Maurice was the first man over, and searched a house all by himself—a brave act for an officer alone. The British got across the bridge.
A short time before he was shot the cap of the Prince was struck by a bullet. The Prince made a joke of the occurrence and laughed.
Among those who fell at Cambrai was CaptainClutterbuck, of the King's Own (Lancaster) Regiment. He was killed while leading a bayonet charge. "Just like Clutterbuck," wrote a wounded sergeant, describing the officer's valour, and adding, "Lieutenant Steele-Perkins also died one of the grandest deaths a British officer could wish for. He was lifted out of the trenches wounded four times, but protested and crawled back again till he was mortally wounded."
A British officer was in one of the Antwerp forts when it was being pounded by great shells. When its doom was sealed the officer ordered the mixed garrison to save themselves. They succeeded in doing so, but the officer, who stuck to the fort as a captain to his sinking ship, was made a prisoner.
A German prisoner told about a Lancashire Fusilier who had been cut off and refused to surrender to two hundred Germans. He lay on the ground and kept firing away until he hadn't a cartridge left, and as his bayonet was gone he stood up with folded arms while they shot him down.
A corporal of the Fusilier Brigade held a company of Germans at bay for two hours by firing at them from different points, and so making them think they had a crowd to face. He was getting on very well until a party of cavalry outflanked him, and as they were right on top of him there was nodeceiving as to his "strength," so he bolted, and the Germans took the position he had held so long.
Rev. Percy Wyndham Guinness, Chaplain to the Forces, 3rd Cavalry Brigade, was awarded a D.S.O., because on November 5th he brought Major Dixon, 16th Lancers, when mortally wounded to an ambulance under heavy fire, and on the afternoon of the same day, being the only individual with a horse in the shelled area, took a message under heavy fire from 4th Hussars to headquarters of 3rd Cavalry Brigade.
An Englishman, who had just returned from making his way by the banks of the Aisne in an attempt to take cigarettes to the troops, came across a solitary grave. Twice he passed it, and his attention was arrested by the fact that kindly hands each day strewed fresh flowers over it. On the pontoon bridge near by a French detachment was keeping guard, and the soldiers explained that the grave was that of an English soldier who, quite alone, had there fought till overwhelmed by numbers. During the great retreat he had strayed from his comrades and fallen exhausted from fatigue. Unable to find them he took up his quarters in an abandoned carriage, but thirty-six hours later the Germans appeared on the other side of the Aisne and fired at him. Undeterred by the fact that he was utterly alone he replied, and such was his determination and accuracy of aim that the villagers declaredhe accounted for six German officers, one of them a general, before he fell under a volley. The French buried him where he had fought, and erected a cross in honour of his gallantry.
The 1st Royal Scots Fusiliers were defending a bridge and the Germans were firing into them. An officer called Stephens was severely wounded, and would have fallen into the hands of the enemy if he had not been rescued by one of the sergeants. Cropp (that was the sergeant's name) went on the bridge, seized the wounded officer, and placed him on his back. Instead of risking a journey across the shot-swept bridge, he decided, encumbered as he was, to swim the canal, which he did. He swam with the wounded officer out of the line of fire to a place of safety.
A private in the East Yorkshire Regiment tells the following story—"One of the hardest night attacks we had to face was made possible by the momentary carelessness of a lad of the Loyal North Lancashires who was on guard and somehow allowed his thoughts to stray in other directions so that he didn't notice the Germans until they were on top of him. He was disarmed, and became terribly distressed over the prospect of what his carelessness had brought on the Army. He had one chance of redeeming his fault, and he took it. Just when the Germans were half-way towards the sleeping camphe made a run for it. He didn't go far, but the shots fired by the Germans warned the camp of what was coming, and the advanced guard held them in check until the main body got under arms. When we found that lad he was just able to explain what had happened, but he was quite happy when I told him there wasn't a soldier who wouldn't think that his heroism had atoned for the original fault. At that he smiled and passed away."
Another private wrote: "One poor fellow here deserves the V.C. He saved two officers under heavy firing; then after that a shell came and blew a horse right in two. One part of the horse fell across the legs of another wounded man. This fellow, named Morris, of the R.E., rushed out and tried to pull the horse off him. He just managed to do so, and the chap could get up, when another shell came and blew the wounded chap's head and shoulders off, at the same time blowing half of Morris's right leg off. The brave fellow has a wife and three children and is only twenty-five years old. I am glad to say he is getting better, although the whole of his leg has been taken off."
This story was told by a sergeant of the Northumberland Fusiliers. "There was a man of the Manchester Regiment who was lying close to the German lines terribly wounded. He happened to overhear some conversation between German soldiers, andbeing familiar with the language, he gathered that they intended to attack the position we held that night. In spite of his wounds he decided to warn us of the danger, and he set out on the weary tramp of over five miles. He was under fire from the moment he got to his feet, but he stumbled along in spite of that, and soon got out of range. Later he ran into a patrol of Uhlans, but before they saw him he dropped to earth and shammed being dead. They passed by without a sign, and then he resumed his weary journey. But this time the strain had told on him, and his wound began to bleed, marking his path towards our lines with thin red streaks. In the early morning, just half an hour before the time fixed for the German attack, he staggered into one of our advanced posts, and managed to tell his story to the officer in charge before collapsing in a heap. Thanks to the information he gave, we were ready for the Germans when they came, and beat them off; but his anxiety to warn us had cost him his life."
There was a time during the battle of Ypres when our line, so thin in comparison with that of the Germans, was in great danger of being broken, but the courage of individuals of all ranks saved the situation. The General commanding the division spent one day with his staff in the trenches encouraging the men. Brigadier-General H.E. Watts rushedinto the firing line on one occasion to rally the infantry. A spy, a German in a British uniform, had brought an order to retire at a moment when retirement would have meant annihilation. From his post in a château the Brigadier saw the movement. He acted at once. He ran through a storm of shrapnel, placed himself at the head of the battalions, formed them up under cover of a road, and then headed them at the charge back to the trench they had vacated.
Private Jones and Private Vennicombe, 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards, decided that they would rescue Colonel Ponsonby, their colonel, who had fallen. Although German bullets were falling fast, the two men made a dash towards their colonel's body. They found that he had been shot in the leg, and was unable to walk. Between them they managed to get back safely into the cover of their companions, carrying their colonel.
So great was the gallantry of Private Goggins, of the Leinster Regiment, that in a night he brought in under fire no less than sixty wounded men.
Sergeant-major White, of the Army Service Corps, was awarded the Victoria Cross for a deed which he thus described to an interviewer. "We got orders at night to move a convoy. We ran into an ambush of Uhlans and they gave it to us hot. I accounted for four of them with my sword, but we had to retire.When we reached a place where we could pull ourselves together the officer asked if anyone had seen Captain Grey, who was in charge. It was stated he had been shot down, and I said I would go back for him. I went and found him, and placing him across my horse, galloped back to safety with bullets whistling round. I was hit in both legs."
Lance-corporal F.W. Holmes, of the 2nd Battalion King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, after carrying a wounded man out of the trenches under heavy fire assisted to drive a gun out of action by taking the place of the driver, who had been wounded. His letters to his wife contained no mention of his deeds, but after he was invalided home with a bullet wound in the leg, he informed her that he had received the French Medaille Militaire and had been recommended for the Victoria Cross.
An officer of the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers, writing to the parents of Private Tom Barry, said: "All letters written by men have to be read and signed by an officer. Your son is under me (on the maxim gun), and I read his letters. I see he is too modest to tell you that he has been mentioned for conspicuous conduct. During an advance the man carrying one of the maxims was wounded and lying in the open. Your son ran out from under cover, brought the gun up to the firingline, and then went back for the ammunition he had previously been carrying. He is a good soldier, and I am proud to have him in my section. If you have any more like Tom, send them out here."
War in the air has given to many individuals an opportunity of showing gallantry. An officer thus described a duel between a German and a British airman. "The German manœuvred for position and prepared to attack, but our fellow was too quick for him, and darted into a higher plane. The German tried to circle round and follow, and so in short spurts they fought for mastery, firing at each other all the time, the machines swaying and oscillating violently. The British airman, however, well maintained his ascendancy. Then suddenly there was a pause, the German machine began to reel, the wounded pilot had lost control, and with a dive the aeroplane came to earth half a mile away. Our man hovered about for a time, and then calmly glided away over the German lines to reconnoitre."
Self Put Aside
Thefollowing are abbreviated narratives from letters printed in several papers:
Five wounded British soldiers who had lost their regiment managed to limp in the wake of the army until they found an officer lying wounded in a trench. They were all too weak to carry him, but they told him that they could not leave him there to the tender mercies of the butchers. "Push on, my lads," he replied. "England wants every man who can possibly save himself. Better for one life to be lost than six." But they did not leave him, and soon almost jumped for joy to see a motor-car flying the British flag. They were taken in the car to a French hospital.
We are so accustomed, however, to read of officers saying, when mortally wounded, to their men, "Do your duty, my lads, and never mind me," that their self-forgetfulness almost ceases to surprise.
One officer was hit, and his men were for puttingon his first field dressing. "No," said he, "I am past that, but for God's sake don't let the Germans break the line."
There was a British gunner whose wonderful marksmanship was the talk of his battery. One shell blew up a railway station, the second fell plumb into a German victualling train, and the third lopped off the team of an advancing battery. Finally the German gunners hit him in the legs. Even then he would not leave the field. "Carry me to the gun and let me have one more shot," he implored. His comrades did so, and without a groan he took his last aim.
A similar instance of self-sacrifice for the sake of duty was related inThe Evening Newsby Private R.G. Tipper, of the 3rd Battalion Grenadier Guards. "There was a man in the trenches who had not got a clean sheet; he was always getting into trouble for one thing or another. He got hit in the left arm. He crawled back to the nearest field ambulance, and had his wound dressed. We advised him to go to the rear, but he refused, and with difficulty made his way back to the firing line. There, despite his wounded arm, he steadily went on firing at the enemy. Some time passed, and he was shot in the right arm. Again he made the difficult and painful journey to the field hospital, and again, with both his arms injured, he stubbornly insistedon crawling back to the trench. By-and-by he collapsed, shot clean through the body. Several comrades ran to him and raised him. 'You must get back now,' they told him. 'No,' he said with a white face, 'let me be. The blighters have done me this time.' His rifle still rested where he had been firing, supported in its loophole. 'Hoist me up before you go,' he muttered, 'I'll give them another round, so help me! Prop me up, quick.' They knew they could do nothing. They propped him up beside his rifle and went to the other wounded men. With fumbling hands the dying man pointed his rifle, and let drive two more rounds at the enemy. Then he slipped down dead."
The fighting around Ypres involved a great amount of very risky observation work. In many instances artillery subalterns took up dangerous positions well in advance of the front line of infantry, and, telephone in hand, gave the range to the gunners with perfect calmness. A young lieutenant posted himself in a tower a few hundred yards from the German trenches. He telephoned his orders regularly for half an hour. Then he said, without any trace of excitement, to the operator on the other side, "I hear the Germans coming up the stairs. I have my revolver. Don't believe anything more you hear." With these words he dropped the receiver; and he has not been heard of since.
When there is the excitement and stimulus of a "gallery" it is comparatively easy to be brave; but think of the heroism of such lonely work as that which was done by Lieutenant F.H.N. Davidson, R.F.A. Early in the day our gunners had found it impossible to locate certain German guns which were fast rendering our trenches untenable. The country was so flat that there was no possible point of vantage from which the gunners could observe except the steeple of the church in Lourges. But the Germans knew that as well as we did, so the church was being vigorously shelled, and already no less than twelve lyddite shells had been pitched into it. It was the duty of Lieutenant Davidson to "observe," so he calmly went to the church, climbed the already tottering tower, and, seated on the top, proceeded to telephone his information to the battery. In consequence German battery after battery was silenced, the infantry, which at one time was in danger of extermination, was saved, and the position, in spite of an attack in overwhelming force by the enemy, was successfully held. The church was rendered a scrap heap, but still Davidson sat on the remnants of his tower. For seven solid hours expecting death every moment, he calmly scanned the country, and telephoned his reports. At dark his task was done, and he came down to rejoin the battery. As he left the ruins a fall of timber in oneof the burning houses lit up everything with a sudden glare, there was the crack of a rifle—the German trenches were only a few hundred yards away—and a bullet passed through the back of his neck and out through his mouth. But, without hurrying his pace, he walked to his battery, gave them his final information, and then said, "I think I'd better go and find the field ambulance, for the beggars have drilled a hole in me that needs plugging." And he walked half a mile to the nearest "collecting point."
A man who was struck with four bullets in his thighs remarked, "What luck to have got all four; that means three comrades more to fight the Germans."
A private of the 1st Warwicks was hit with a shrapnel bullet at the battle of Mons. He said, "Good luck to the old regiment," and rolled over on his back dead. Whatesprit de corps! What forgetfulness of self!
The gunner who wrote the following had the freedom from self which enables us to sympathise: "I had comparatively little pain, though it seemed that my arm had been blown away. I could not verify this, because I was so numb it was impossible to move. What did hurt was the sight of pal after pal around me either killed outright at one go, or 'snuffing it' in agony quite near."
Another soldier, though mortally wounded himself, felt so much for a wounded pal that he said to the doctor, "See to that poor bloke first. He is going home; he will be home before me."
Some of the Irish Dragoons went to the assistance of a man of the Irish Rifles who, wounded himself, was yet kneeling beside a fallen comrade of the Gloucester Regiment, and gamely firing to keep the enemy off. The Dragoons found both men thoroughly worn out, but urgency required the regiment to take up another position, and the wounded men had to be left. "They knew that," said the trooper who related the incident, "and weren't the men to expect the general safety to be risked for them. 'Never mind,' said the young Irishman, 'shure the Red Cross chaps'll pick us up all right, an' if they don't—well, we've only once to die, an' it's the grand fight we've had, anny-how.'"
Private F. Bruce, of the Suffolk Regiment, acted in this self-forgetting way when wounded. After much hesitation he told the story to a newspaper interviewer: "The bullet that hit me prevented me from shooting. I said to a mate, 'I'm no good, so I'll make room for a better man.' He said, 'Don't go in this lot, you'll get riddled with bullets.' I said, 'Neck or nothing, mate; I'm keeping out somebody who could do more good than me.' I gotup and ran about twenty yards, and a lyddite-shell burst about five or six yards in front of me, nearly bringing me down with the suffocating fumes. I regained my footing, and ran further, until I came to two artillery men. One was wounded in five places, and the other was all right. After giving the wounded man water, I tried to get to another fellow. Every time I made a start the Germans began firing at me, as they were closing round my company. But I was determined to go, and I made a dash for it. I ran about twenty yards, and dived into some standing corn. I got to the poor fellow. A live shell had burst and hit him in the lower part of the body. I asked him if I could do anything for him, and he said, 'Yes; have you got a rifle?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Well,' he said, 'for God's sake shoot me out of my misery.' I told him I could not do that, so I gave him water. A Highlander came up with a wound straight through the elbow. I bandaged him up. At that time the Germans were only about 60 yards away. We had to make a dash for our lives. I saw my company captured just at our rear, but we managed to get to safety."
Even for one of the enemy self was bravely put aside. Seeing a wounded German lying between the German and British trenches, a British officer ordered the "Cease Fire," and himself went out to pick up the man. He was struck by several bulletsbefore the Germans saw what he was doing and ceased firing. Thereupon the British officer staggered to the fallen man and carried him to the German lines. A German officer received him with a salute, and, calling for cheers, pinned upon the breast of the British hero an Iron Cross. Then the Britisher returned to his own trenches. He was recommended for the Victoria Cross, but succumbed to his wounds.
A soldier wrote: "I saw a handful of Irishmen throw themselves in front of a regiment of cavalry, who were trying to cut off a battery of horse artillery. It was one of the finest deeds I ever saw. Not one of the poor lads got away alive, but they made the German devils pay in kind, and, anyhow, the artillery got away to account for many more Germans."
A private told the following to a newspaper correspondent: "A picket of our regiment posted on a hill overlooking our left was surprised in the early morning by a party of German infantry who had crept up under cover of a mist. Our men refused to surrender, and all were shot down but one, who was overpowered by the Germans. They wanted to get information about our strength from him, and thought they had only to offer him his life in return. He refused to tell anything, and then they were going to shoot him, when he made a dashfor it. At that moment a party of our men, alarmed by the firing, came up, and the Germans were cut off."
A sergeant wrote: "There was a man of the Buffs who carried a wounded chum for over a mile under German fire, but if you suggested a Victoria Cross for that man he would punch your head, and as he's a regular devil when roused the men say as little as they can about it. He thinks he didn't do anything out of the common, and doesn't see why his name should be dragged into the papers."
So, too, an English colonel who had saved the life of a French private kept the deed a secret for fear of "a beastly fuss" being made about it.
Similar modesty was shown by a Highlander who helped a wounded comrade for four days through a country full of Germans. "When I found them," wrote a lance-corporal, "they had only a few biscuits between them. I pressed the unwounded man to tell me how they managed to get through the four days on six biscuits, but he always got angry and told me to shut up. He had gone without anything; and had given the biscuits to the wounded man."
Near Cambrai one dark night the British took the offensive against the Germans, who were holding a bridge spanning the canal. When our men reached an embankment running sharply down to the riverseveral failed to secure a foothold, and fell into the water. Four of the men who were unable to swim, were in imminent danger of drowning, when Corporal Brindall, an excellent swimmer, plunged into the river and rescued all four in turn. He was clambering up the embankment himself, when a German shell exploded near him, killing him instantly.
A man of the West Yorkshire Regiment took off his coat and equipment, and walked over to the German trenches under a perfect hail of bullets and brought back the adjutant, then made ten more journeys, bringing in the colonel and nine men. He has been recommended for the V.C.
A soldier wrote in this way of an engagement: "We got the order to retire none too soon, for we had just left the trenches when the Germans swept across the plain where we had been entrenched. Our officer in command was wounded at 3.30 a.m., but notwithstanding his wound he stuck to his post, and it was not until 1 p.m. that we discovered he was wounded and unable to walk. As we marched past him it cheered us greatly to hear him say, 'Good boys, you've had a very successful day.'"
In one of the first battles of the war a British soldier rode on a bicycle through the bullets of German sharpshooters to warn French soldiers thatthey were going into an ambush. After the daring deed the French commander dismounted from his horse, took from his own tunic a medal he himself had won for bravery, and pinned it on the British cyclist's breast. "It was given to me,mon camarade," he said, "for saving one life. I have the honour to present it to you for saving the lives of hundreds."
Private J. Warwick, of the 2nd Durham Light Infantry, did not wish to speak of the deeds for which he was recommended for the V.C. After some persuasion, however, he told the story. "The Germans were entrenched not 80 yards away on the other side of a hill, their trenches being far more formidable than ours. We had not very long to wait before shells and bullets began to fly about us in all directions. Our men tried to rush up the hill, but first one and then the other fell under the hail of fire. The Germans were at least twelve to one, but our men held their own, fighting as I have never seen men fight before. We had a great leader in Major Robb. He led the men splendidly. Lieutenant Twist, one of our number, tried to advance with a company up the hill, but he was quickly shot down. I saw him shot, and although the shrapnel was flying and bullets were coming like rain, I made a dash and brought him back to the trenches. Then I saw Private Howson, a Darlington chap, fall,and I succeeded in bringing him from the firing line. The poor chap was shot through the neck and the shoulders, though I believe he is still living. I then went back and succeeded in bringing Private Maughan. My last journey was the most difficult of all. I had to travel over the crest of the hill to within 30 yards of the German trenches, and how I escaped being killed I really do not know. I crawled on my stomach and got along as best I could, and I am glad to say that I succeeded in bringing Major Robb back right, as it were, from the very noses of the Germans. It was a hard job to get him, and in my effort I was shot through the back and fell."
A Royal Fusilier wrote: "While we were chatting and smoking, German shrapnel began to burst on the trees above us.... I did not think I should see home again, but we were all cool enough.... Eight volunteers were wanted to cross the bridge and tell a section in danger of being captured to retire. I made one volunteer, and my chum another. We were walking between some railway trucks when bullets began to whistle through; one could almost feel the heat of some of them, so close did they pass. We lay down for a minute, and I said, 'We must get there somehow.' Four stayed there and four of us went on. Directly we got up more bullets came over, and one poor fellow got one inthe neck. We left him in the care of the other four and made a run for it. We got there and warned the section. Coming back we had to keep running and lying down alternately, but got back in the end with only one wounded."
Brothers-in-Arms
WhateverChristians who profess more do in reference to brotherly love, British soldiers are real brothers to each other on active service. Each man seems to say, "He that sheds his blood with me, shall be my brother."
Thefollowing is from a sergeant's letter inThe Evening News: "Out there sublime deeds of heroism are being performed every day by common soldiers whom the ordinary 'civvy' would pass by with contempt in times of peace. After Cambrai I was thrown a lot with a wild Glasgow Irishman belonging to the Royal Scots and a wounded man of the Dorsets. We took refuge in a farmhouse, and one day the Irishman had the ill-luck of showing himself to a party of Germans on the prowl. He took it into his head that he hadn't played the game by bringing the Germans down on us, and after reporting their presence he said he was going out just for a bit of a dander. He had not an earthly chance of escaping. Before he left I toldhim so, but that didn't weigh with him at all. 'It's like this,' he said, 'you've got a missus and children to look after. So's that chap in the corner. I'm as bad as they make 'em, and nobody will be a thraneen the poorer if I'm shot this very minute. It was my carelessness in going about that gave us away to the Germans. They don't know there's anybody here but me, and if I rush out they'll get me and go off content. He walked coolly out to the front gate, and made a rush into the fields to the left. The Germans saw him and fired. He fell riddled with bullets, and they went after him. They must have thought that he was the only man in the house, for they didn't come back, and we lay there for three days until we managed to get back to our own lines."
Another man also thought of wife and kids. "In a night fight one of the Gloucesters had his rifle knocked out of his hand, and a big German lunged at him with a bayonet. Quick as lightning one of his mates sprang between him and the German, and received the thrust in his chest. He died within an hour, and when they asked him why he did it, his answer was, 'Oh, God, I couldn't help it. He's got a wife and kids.'"
A corporal of the Bedfordshire Regiment wrote: "Near our trenches there were a lot of wounded, and their cries for water were pitiful. In the trencheswas a quiet chap of the Engineers, who could stand it no longer. He collected all the water bottles he could lay hold of, and said he was going out. The air was thick with shell and rifle fire, and to show yourself at all was to sign your death warrant. That chap knew it as well as we did, but that was not going to stop him. He got to the first man all right and gave him a swig from a bottle. No sooner did he show himself than the Germans opened fire. After attending to the first man he crawled along the ground to others until he was about a quarter of a mile away from us. Then he stood up and zigzagged towards another batch of wounded, but that was the end of him. The German fire got hotter and hotter. He was hit badly, and with just a slight upward fling of his arms he dropped to earth like the hero he was. Later he was picked up with the wounded, but he was as dead as they make them out here. The wounded men for whose sake he had risked and lost his life thought a lot of him, and were greatly cut up at his death. One of them who was hit so hard that he would never see another Sunday said to me as we passed the Engineer chap, who lay with a smile on his white face, and had more bullets in him than would set a battalion of sharpshooters up in business for themselves, 'He was a rare good one, he was. It's something worth living for to have seen a deed like that, and now that Ihave seen it, I don't care what becomes of me.' That's what we all felt about it."
One of the King's Royal Rifles told in a letter how a Highlander milked a cow under rifle and shell fire to get something for his wounded mates to drink when the water ran out. Also how a boy of the Connaught Rangers rushed out of the trenches under heavy fire to an orchard near by to get an apple for a wounded comrade who was suffering from thirst and hunger. "He got the apple all right, but he got a German bullet or two in him as well on the way back, and dropped dead within 50 feet of the goal. The wounded chap had his apple brought in after an artillery man had been wounded in getting at it. I hope he valued it, for it was the costliest apple I ever heard tell of bar one, and that was a long time ago."
Sergeant J. Rolfe, 2nd Battalion King's Royal Rifles, wrote: "When I got hit, I couldn't say how long I lay there, but a chum of mine, Tommy Quaife, under a perfect hail of bullets and shells, dragged me to safety, and said, 'Cheer up, Smiler, here's a fag. I'm going back for Sandy' (his other chum). He never got there. Poor Tommy got a piece of shell and was buried the same night."
In a lancer charge near Cambrai a man dropped a letter. It had arrived just as the order was given to mount, and he had not had time to read it.Even in mid-charge a comrade saw it fall out of his tunic and returned it at great risk.
Two Highlanders were carrying a wounded comrade, and he dropped a stick of chocolate, a thing of which only soldiers in the field under trying conditions know the value. He fretted and worried about it, and at last one of his chums volunteered to go back for it to where it had been dropped, not more than two hundred yards away. He never came back. In full view of his companions he was hit by a bullet and fell dead. There was another case where a religious Dublin Fusilier lost his life because he stayed just long enough to cross the hands of a dead comrade, and say a prayer for his departed soul.
One night a man of the West Yorkshire Regiment took off his coat and wrapped it around a wounded chum who had to lie there until the ambulance took him away. All that night he stood in the trenches in his shirt-sleeves, with water up to his waist, and the temperature near to freezing point, quietly returning the German fire. On the afternoon of the following day he had acute pneumonia.
The following was related by a British Hussar. After the charge of the Highlanders on the German heavy guns near Hanbourdin the Hussar was sent with a message to the base. On the way he encountered a Seaforth Highlander going in the samedirection. Something in the man's set face prompted the question: "Are you hurt?" "Aye, a sma' matter," was the reply. The man's arm was shattered from shoulder to elbow. "Are you going to sick bay?" said the cavalryman. "It's a mile and a half away. Get on my gee." "No, no," said the Scot, "I'll just walk, you'll find many worse hit than me."
Private D.F. Gilmore, of the Seaforth Highlanders, told this in a letter: "It was on the Aisne. We had had a hard day. Our casualties were greater than I care to tell. I was with a fatigue party collecting the wounded and burying the dead. We came on a sergeant of artillery and about twenty wounded men. The sergeant was nearest and I signed to my mates to take him first. He waved us away. 'I can wait. Get the others first. They're much worse.' That was what he said. We persisted. He got angry. 'I'm your superior in rank, and if you disobey I'll report you for insubordination.' That settled it, so we started on the others. We got the last away, and came back for the sergeant. He was stone dead. Unknown to us he had been bleeding to death. He must have known that when he made us attend to the others. Had he been taken at first his life would have been saved."
The night before the beginning of the same battleof the Aisne, two men of the Middlesex Regiment had a disagreement and came to blows. The conqueror was struck with shrapnel next day, and the man who was beaten endangered his life to save him. When he had nearly dragged him to a place of safety a shell killed both men.
A stretcher party came on seven men wounded. Only six could be taken, and the problem was to select the seventh. One man solved it. "I'm the worst case," he said. "If you take me I'll probably die on the way. These other chaps will all pull through and make good soldiers yet. Leave me. You won't? Well, if you try to take me I'll resist, and that'll be the end of me, so you'd better let me have my way." What could they do but let him have his way? And so he was left. An hour later they came back, and he was dead.
"There were two men of the Camerons who had been chums since their boyhood" (writes Sergeant R. Duffy, Rifle Brigade). "They had 'listed together, and been in I don't know how many scrapes and 'scraps' side by side. In the fighting around Ypres one night one of them got hit in a bayonet fight. The regiment had to return to the trenches, leaving the wounded to take their chance for the time being out in the cold. The wounded man's chum caught sight of him lying in the roadway with the pallor of death in his face, and histeeth chattering with the terrible cold. 'My God, Jock,' he exclaimed, 'is it you that's lying there? A canna' lee ye, so a'll stay wi' ye tae the morn.' The wounded man wouldn't hear of it, but his chum meant to have his way, and he got it. Next morning we had a look for the two, and we found them side by side—both dead. They had crept together under their greatcoats to keep warm, but death had found them all the same."
A cavalry sergeant, though he had got three wounds, went to a badly wounded corporal who was shouting to be taken out of the way of the line. The wounded sergeant bound up the other man's wound, set him on his own horse and sent him back out of the way. Then the sergeant limped along on foot as best he could after his regiment to fight again.
W. Roberts, 1st Life Guards, wrote to a friend how his regiment gave timely and thoughtful assistance: "We were sent to help the Queen's Regiment one day. It was just getting dark, and it had been raining for three days without stopping. We were only just in time, and they had given up all hope. The Germans were just about to charge them, but when they saw us they made it 'as you were.' We helped to carry out the wounded. It was awful. They were nearly wiped out; chaps with arms and faces smashed. It was terrible. The trenches were full of water, and the men wereblue with cold, and as our chaps went to carry out the dead and wounded the Germans fired on them. We made them as comfortable as we could, making them fags and giving them tea, and we took their places in the trenches that night."
How these acts should rebuke us when in time of peace we refuse to do small deeds of kindness!
When allies do not pull well together there is trouble, but happily this is not the case in the present war. There is a fine fraternity between the French and the British soldier. The French calls out, "Bravo, Tommie!" and his British brother replies, "Right, O!" It is not a long conversation and there is no dangerous discussion, but it shows good will.
Once at least French and British soldiers were play-fellows. Seven of our men having lost their regiment joined a French one for the time being. They taught the French how to play football, and often played with them when under fire.
One of the Royal Lancasters said in a letter that the sign manual of friendship between the French and the British soldier is a cross on the throat indicating their wish to the Kaiser. "The French Tommies copy us a lot, and they like, when they have time, to stroll into our lines for a chat or a game. They are fond of the jam served to us and exchange things for it."
On one occasion the appreciation of the French soldiers was even embarrassing. They had seen the Irish Guards put to flight great numbers of the "Kaiser's crush," and when the regiment marched back the French stood up in their trenches and roared applause. The Irish Guards, who only became a regiment after the Boer war, felt shy about this French fuss. They did not like the idea that it was their first time in action, and that their battle honour was brand new.