Like lions leaping at a fold,When mad with hunger’s pang,Right up against the German linesThose Irish heroes sprang.
Like lions leaping at a fold,When mad with hunger’s pang,Right up against the German linesThose Irish heroes sprang.
Like lions leaping at a fold,When mad with hunger’s pang,Right up against the German linesThose Irish heroes sprang.
Like lions leaping at a fold,
When mad with hunger’s pang,
Right up against the German lines
Those Irish heroes sprang.
The Germans turned and fled in all directions, completely routed and wholly disorganized. Such was the effect on the Irish Guards of the sight of their old green flag and the cry of “Erin Go Bragh”:Corpl. Michael O’Mara, of the Irish Guards.
One night when it was unusually wet and miserable and dreary, and some of us had got all the humps that ever were seen on a camel’s back, the Assembly sounded, and we were paraded at midnight. We fell in, glad to have something to take us away from our miserable surroundings. We didn’t know what the move was when we were marched out into the darkness, but we didn’t care much so long as it was warming work. We tramped through weary swamps and soaking wet fields for nearly five miles, and then we were halted near to a line of German trenches, while scouts went on ahead and the remainder of the force was being conducted to its assigned position. Just when some of us felt like having the creeps all over because of the uncanny stillness of everything, a rifle shot rang out, followed by others, and then there was a regular volley. We lay down quickly and tried to peer into the darkness to see something to aim at. There was nothing: and then their artillery opened fire all along the line. Shells kept bursting all over us, and our horses began to get restive. By now the whole of our attacking force was in position, and our artillery opened fire at the points where the attack was to be delivered. The order to advance was given quietly, and we sprang to our feet with right good will. Some of us went down again jolly quick under the German fire, but we kept moving on, and by that time the Germans were losing the range. We were supported by an infantry brigade that had to clear a line of trenches on the right.The four battalions opened out in extended order and pressed slowly towards their goal. Men dropped quickly, dotting the line of advance, but in less than half an hour our lads were ready for the tiger-spring that never fails. The Germans met them with a heavy rifle fire as they climbed the last slope, and when they got to the top they were assailed by twice their number of infantry armed with the bayonet. At one point the line broke, and our lads fell back in some confusion. Reserves were pressed forward to feed the fighting line, and the advance began again. Once more the Germans were too heavy for our chaps, and again they were forced back. They halted for a little to take a rest and then began again. They dashed up the slope like wild cats and closed with the Germans, who were by this time getting tired of it. There was no falling back this time, and though it was very hard work indeed, the whole line of trenches was cleared and the Germans sent flying:A Trooper of the 15th Hussars.
I was on picket duty, and it was just after midnight when the men ahead fell back reporting strange sounds all along the front. At the same moment we heard rustling in the bushes close by, and as there was no response to the challenge we fired, thus giving the alarm in the sleeping camp. Out of the bushes the enemy’s advanced guard rushed, but we held them in check until we deemed it wise to fall back on the camp with a report of the enemy’s strength and disposition. We reckoned there was at least a whole German army corps attacking, supported by endless bodies of cavalry and ten batteries of guns, besides hundreds of machine guns. When we got back to camp we found everything was in apple-pie order for the fight. The men were standing to their arms, and though some of them were cursing a lot at being roused from their sleep and vowing what they would do to the chuckle-headed pickets if it turned out to be a false alarm, they were ready to do their duty like men. They hadn’t long to wait for the Germans, who were really close on our heels. On our way back we had heard our artillery open fire and saw the shells bursting along the German lines. At the same moment the Germans, who seemed to realize that their surprise was no surprise at all, opened fire with their artillery right along the front, and their searchlights were playing all round like so many will-o’-the-wisps. Their searchlights were useful to us, because they enabled us to see something of their strength as they advanced. Soon we sawcoming out of the inky darkness a long line of white faces, and in response to the quick order we fired right into them. The first line wavered for a moment or two, part of it was blotted out, but the line of reserves behind filled up the gaps and the front line advanced again, seeming not to heed the heavy hail of bullets we were pouring into them. Within about one hundred yards of our trenches the first line of advancing Germans flung themselves flat on the earth, fixing bayonets, while the second fired over their heads, and yet a third line was pushing forward men to fill the gaps of the second line where our fire tore through. Then the first line rose and the second fixed bayonets also. Finally, they all came sweeping forward with the bayonet and threw themselves right on to our trenches. We poured one terrible volley into them as they came on, but all the devils in hell would not have stopped them. Our front ranks gave way slightly before the fierceness of the attack and the weight of men hurled at them, but the recoil was only temporary. We steadied ourselves, and while they were standing still for a moment to take breath and dress their ranks for another rush we went at them with the bayonet and hurled them over the trenches down the hill again. It was in this rush that I got run through with a bayonet, but as I lay on the ground doing my best to forget the pain in the exultation of victory, I saw our lads chase them across country in fine style, and I knew from the cheers all along the line that we were beating them back:A Sergeant of the Worcester Regiment.
On came the whirlwind—like the lastBut fiercest sweep of tempest blast:On came the whirlwind—steel-gleams brokeLike lightning through the rolling smoke;The war was waked anew.
On came the whirlwind—like the lastBut fiercest sweep of tempest blast:On came the whirlwind—steel-gleams brokeLike lightning through the rolling smoke;The war was waked anew.
On came the whirlwind—like the lastBut fiercest sweep of tempest blast:On came the whirlwind—steel-gleams brokeLike lightning through the rolling smoke;The war was waked anew.
On came the whirlwind—like the last
But fiercest sweep of tempest blast:
On came the whirlwind—steel-gleams broke
Like lightning through the rolling smoke;
The war was waked anew.
Sir Walter Scott’s: “Waterloo.”
With fire and sword the country roundWas wasted far and wide,And many a childing mother thenAnd new-born baby died;But things like that, you know, must beAt every famous victory.
With fire and sword the country roundWas wasted far and wide,And many a childing mother thenAnd new-born baby died;But things like that, you know, must beAt every famous victory.
With fire and sword the country roundWas wasted far and wide,And many a childing mother thenAnd new-born baby died;But things like that, you know, must beAt every famous victory.
With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
Southey’s: “The Battle of Blenheim.”
A daring German spy came into the British lines dressed in the uniform of a Scots Grey. He inquired the whereabouts of the Scots Greys; but his speech betrayed him, and on being stripped he was found to be wearing German underclothing:Pte. A. Prescott, 1st King’s Liverpool Regiment.
One night when I was out in Belgium it came on to rain, and I went home with a sergeant in the Belgian Lancers and slept in a lovely feather bed, and started off again for my destination after having a good breakfast and a deep drink of rum and coffee:A Bombardier of the Royal Artillery.
We flew at 5000 feet, and saw a sight which I hope it will never be my lot to see again. The woods and hills were literally cut to ribbons all along the south of Laon. It was marvellous watching hundreds of shells bursting below one to right and left for miles, and then to see the German guns replying:A Member of the Royal Flying Corps.
The French women seemed to think that the best cure for shrapnel or bullet wound was a bottle of wine and a raw egg. After the Wednesday fight the women brought hot potatoes and new bread right into the trenches and firing line. I can assure you they are the bravest women I have ever met:Rifleman Fisher.
You would be surprised to see the enthusiasm of the people here. The little kiddies run towards you and put their hands in yours, just like my little kiddies at home. You can see little boys doing men’s work. I noticed one chap (he would not be more than ten years old) with a pair of horses, and he was ploughing all on his own:A Private of the Royal Field Artillery.
I brought back on my lorry a wounded bombardier, and when the doctor told him that he would have his right leg and an arm amputated he did not seem to trouble a bit, but went on chatting and joking with us as if it were an everyday occurrence. He is only eighteen years old. As they were taking in the ambulance he said, “It’s not much to look forward to, but my mother will be proud of me”:Corpl. Hollyer: Army Service Corps.
With their front files dressed in uniforms taken from the killed and wounded of an English regiment, a German corps attempted to surprise an English battalion. As they approached, the English commander, becoming suspicious, gave the order to fix bayonets, whereupon the Germans shouted, “Nein, nein! Leedle mistake! Ve vos not Shermans; ve vos der Vilts.” The British then charged with bayonets and the Germans “wilted”:A Sergeant-Major, of Colchester.
Villages are nearly empty as we come to them, cats, dogs, and a few fowls being all that are left. Doors are open and the dinner things left on the tables, and people crying. There is plenty of fruit everywhere. The people left give one anything, and are very kind to us in every way. We are really enjoying ourselves very much, and take a very hopeful view that the Germans will soon realize that they have bitten off more than they can chew:Private G. Brown.
In a village we passed through the baker was working all night making bread, and all the time he was working the Germans were standing over him with revolvers.At a farm we passed the farmer said they stole thirty of his racehorses. These horses, of course, would be no use to the Germans as draught or saddle horses, and it is not an unreasonable supposition that they were commandeered for food:Pte. A. Forbes, Gordon Highlanders.
Their prisoners aren’t near so swanky as they were at first, when they used to move about as though the British soldiers weren’t fit to be seen with. Now they’re glad to fall into our hands, and if they see the uniform at all they surrender without further trouble. They’ve all got Government news-sheets containing all sorts of stories, and they say that these are distributed every day. Perhaps they get them instead of grub, and if that’s the case it would account for the half-fed appearance of so many of the prisoners:Pte. Taylor, Rifle Brigade.
A few days ago I witnessed a most exciting incident. A French staff officer went up in an aeroplane and the Germans opened fire on him. Shots went wide at first and then all around him. He didn’t mind that, but turned about again and once more ran the gauntlet. Then the Germans started again, but that didn’t stop him. He turned once more and came back before making off to headquarters with information as to where the Germans were:Drill-Instructor Anderson.
We are all putting up in farms on account of our horses being under cover from the aeroplanes, which have done a lot of damage. The 9th had just got in from a good hard day, when a big shell came into their yard and killed ten men and wounded four. Who would have expected that, after getting away from the firing line all safe? Of course, they might have been stray shells trying to find our artillery. But then it is what you may call rotten luck:Pte. Robinson, 18th Hussars.
I saw some brave things done. “Tanker” Gillespie endeavoured three times, at great risk, to aid a comrade who had been seriously wounded. The first time he got up a bullet grazed his head, and I saw him rubbing it with rather comical grimness, and then seizing hold of his rifle, the barrel of which had nearly all been blown away, and firing; three or four shots at the Germans. He tried a second timeto reach his comrade, but again had to duck, and the third time he succeeded, only to find that the poor fellow had died. In returning to his place, “Tanker” was struck by a bullet which took away some of the hair on his head, and he had to retire:Pte. McMahon, Gordon Highlanders.
German shell fire is not nearly so effective shot for shot and gun for gun as ours, in spite of all the fine things they claim for it, and where great accuracy in range is necessary they are hopelessly out of it. Their infantry can’t stand half the shelling our men will put up with, and they get awfully panicky under fire from our guns. It is a favourite trick of the Germans to keep a battery well masked for hours, and then when our infantry are deploying within range, without the slightest notion of what is coming, the German shells begin to fall round like the autumn leaves. That’s very trying to the nerves, or was at first, but we are now getting used to it:Gunner T. Wall.
There was one interesting sight I saw as the column was on the march, and that was a duel in the air between French and German aeroplanes. It was wonderful to see the Frenchman manœuvre to get the upper position of the German, and after about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour the Frenchman got on top and blazed away with a revolver on the German. He injured him so much as to cause him to descend, and when found he was dead. The British buried the airman and burnt the aeroplane:A Private of the 1st Royal Kent Regiment.
We are now getting into our stride and beginning to get a little of our own back out of the Germans. They don’t like it at all now that we are nearer to them in numbers, and their men all look like so many “Weary Willies,” they are so tired. You might say they had got “that tired feeling” bad, and so they have. Some of them just drop into our arms when we call on them to surrender, as though it were the thing they’d been waiting for all their lives:Lance-Corporal T. Williams.
It was a pitiful sight to see the people fleeing from their homes carrying all they could save. Our soldiers are very kind to them, and give them whatever they can spare—and sometimes more than that. I saw one young woman trying toreach some fruit from a tree which was a good way out of her reach, and, not thinking, I went over and gave her some pears which I had given me. She ate them hurriedly, but before doing so gave me a kiss on both cheeks, which was rather enjoyed by the rest of the troops standing by:Driver J. Brennan, Army Service Corps.
Oh, dear! I am pleased all my good women live in England. Often I see cottage homes a-smoke and in flames. Villages, too! Dogs forlorn, cats despondent on doorsteps. And yesterday I saw three little dots walking along the muddy road with a tiny wheelbarrow. We were, when we passed them, going under cover from a severe shell fire, whilst they were going in the direction whence we were coming. At present we are billeted in the buildings about a huge water-mill. The wooded hills are all around, and the harvests seem all gathered in about here. It is not so elsewhere:A Reservist of the Beds Regiment.
We are doing fine, and have earned the name of the “Fighting Fifth” again. We have heard that some Hindus have come from India to fight, and the public expect great things from them; but you take it from me, no matter how brave, how fearless they may be, they will never equal the brave little Belgian people. What other race in the world could have fought with more courage and determination than they when the German curs burnt Louvain and committed the most dastardly outrages? Who were they who bit their lips to hide their feelings, but who swore that the Germans should pay for it—not in the way the Germans made the women and children suffer, but by good lead and cold steel? The Belgians!Pte. A. Hayes, of Upper Wortley.
We had not gone three hundred yards before the Germans fired on us. We were between two farmhouses. We were only about thirty to forty yards off, and we didn’t half give it them. We could hear the wounded Germans moaning and groaning, and it was awful to hear. It was dark, and we fired low because we knew that was the best way to get them. Just then a piece of shrapnel came through the peak of my cap and grazed my nose. It was a near thing, but I took no notice of it and kept on firing. The man next to me was then shot dead, and our captain was shot slightly in the head, but he continued togive orders. A piece of my boot was blown away, and I received a piece of shrapnel in my right shoulder, and consequently saw no more of the fighting:Pte. Brayshaw, Guards Brigade.
Half the horses of L Battery Royal Artillery got smashed, and we had to bung our poor old tired ones to fill up. Only a few gunners were left, but they stood by firing still and singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Then the Germans charged, and our gunners did a bunk, but not before they had driven spikes into the guns so as to make them useless to the enemy. They said they guessed they would get them back in a day or two, and if they did they could repair them easy enough. The Germans don’t know these tricks, and we can do them down any time:A Driver of the 4th Ammunition Column.
I was given a map, and a message for my company officer. When I had made my way in the dark to where the outpost should have been, I found it had retired. I went to where I saw a picket posted, and noticed a body of men. It was just getting light, and I thought I saw an English officer. I put down my rifle and whistled. They immediately dropped down and fired at me. I dropped into the grass, too, to bluff them into thinking I had been “winged.” I crawled through a big turnip field, and heard a general action commencing. I could hear people talking, but not loudly enough to know whether they were English. So I hoisted my cap upon a stick and called, “Hullo, West Kent!” Then shots came in my direction, and, as it was getting lighter, I decided, as the best thing to do, to make for our big guns. I crawled along the ground for nearly two hours, and when I stopped for a short rest a bullet hit my right arm:Corpl. Drinkwater, West Kent Regiment.
In getting out of my trench I fell back, so injuring my back that I could not move. I lay there, expecting every minute to be my last, but it did not come. I took a bold front and looked over the trench to see what was happening there. I saw that the Germans had taken a sweeping curve to the right, and I saw the tail of them a long way off. They seem to be driven along by their officers rather than led, for the officers have their swords drawn. I laid down in the trench (my comrades had evidently thought I was shot, as they took no notice of me when I fell backinto the trench) for two hours, looking now and again to see if I could see any signs of our men. At last, after nearly giving up hope, I saw a patrol of the 15th Hussars, and managed to attract their attention, and they put me on a horse and carried me to a French hospital in a village:A Private in the Royal Sussex Regiment.
I was ordered to remain behind with the aeroplanes, one of which was to go up early in the morning and return, and I was to take reports on to headquarters. The machine had been gone half an hour when rifle fire was heard, and we discovered that a German aeroplane was flying overhead. The officers got rifles, and likewise myself, and stood up to have a shot, but he went away, only, however, to return. We allowed him to get in range and then opened fire. He came over the place where we were lying down. I fired twenty-five rounds and expected to have a bomb dropped on us, when I saw he was done. He made one dive and landed in a heap behind us. On examining him we found twelve bombs, all of which had safety caps and pins attached, luckily for us. He had a lot of papers which I had the honour to carry to headquarters. The fall made him like a jelly fish:Private A. J. Davis.
We had to climb up a big hill, and then through a quarry, so that we were fagged out and wet through before we saw the enemy. When we did get to the top they gave us a good welcome with shot and shell. It was so heavy it dug up the ground in front of us, but we had to go on and try to shift them. I saw some sights up there, with one man down after another. I expected the next to be me, but I had determined that I would keep my end up and do my best, so I kept going on. Well, the long and short of it was that we got to them about tea-time, or what should be tea-time. We found them about sixteen to one, or that is what I thought. We could not shift them, but just as I thought we were getting the best of it someone gave the order to retire, which we did. When we got back we found we had lost all our officers, and nobody could tell who gave the order to retire, and the sun was then sinking. It was in going back that I was wounded. It is not a bad wound, and you must thank God, as I have done, that I got through at all:Pte. Clare, 1st Royal Lancashire Regiment.
When night came we knew where the Germans were, so we crept out of the trenches and went down tothe roadway. No sooner had we got there than a great volley rang out. We were in the midst of it, and knew it was either the Germans or us. So we at them. In the struggle that took place I thought of you and the children. I made a jump at a German, but whether I got him or not I don’t remember, for I got such a terrible knock over the ribs. It must have been with the butt of a rifle. You talk about getting your ribs bent. I got mine, and more than that my appendix got first. They thought at first that it was a bullet wound, but happily it was not, or I might not have been here to tell the tale. I was knocked into a “trap” trench about eight feet deep, but I was pulled out and carried eight miles on horseback:A Private of the Gordon Highlanders.
Two hundred of us went into a big château, where we were told we would be quite safe, and we sat down to a meal of tea and biscuits. We were just in the middle of it when a patrol of German cavalry scouts discovered us, and as we were eating, a shell struck the roof of the building, smashing it into fragments. Then there was the greatest excitement as the men scurried out of the building. As the shells were getting very busy we lost no time in retreating from that place, and took up our position in a field about 200 yards distant. There were a lot of wounded around, and we were lying on a slightly elevated ridge in the field. We had only been a short time in this position when we saw the Somersets getting badly cut up. We went to the assistance of the Somersets, and succeeded in checking the Germans’ advance. We began to go forward and went at them with the bayonet, when they turned and fled. We were just 150 yards away when they packed themselves into motor-cars that were waiting on them and drove off, but before they went we managed to capture five of their machine guns:Pte. T. O’Dea, Seaforth Highlanders.
Our last action was the worst. Men fell like corn before the reaper. I tell you truly, I never expected to get out alive. The Germans must have lost thousands, but they were ten to one, so we had to retire. The shrapnel and hail of lead and bullets—I see it all now, and I was one of the last to leave the field. I won’t say more, only I got a bullet through my right leg, but still kept on twenty yards or thereabouts. I got a great piece of shrapnel shell in my neck—laid me senseless. I came to again, and, as if possessed, ran formy life through it all and “made good.” It’s wonderful how you can run with a bullet through your leg. I have not been long at it, but fellows say that they saw more in the last four days than they did in three years in Africa. That’s the truth. Ah, well! I’m not grumbling. I’m not disfigured or maimed like so many poor fellows, so let’s rejoice over all. Some of our engagements lasted thirteen hours, and the last—and worst—ten hours. So tired, must sleep:A Lance-Sergeant of the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry
We had a terrible time at Mons, and for four days and nights we did nothing but fight, and I should think the Germans had three men to every one of ours. On August 24 we lost one hundred men in about five minutes. We had a mile and a half to gallop over open country with as many as thirty shells a minute bursting round us. How I got out of it I do not know, for I had not gone 200 yards before a shell burst under my horse and killed it. I was not touched, and I managed, with a bit of luck, to get another horse from a comrade who had been killed. I am sure it was worse than hell let loose, and I think I said a prayer afterwards, but anyway I shall soon be right now. The man who was with me when I was wounded is dead. He died as soon as the search party found us. He was shot twice in the stomach, whilst I was shot in the thigh. I crawled to him when he was dying, but I could not help him as I was in such agony myself. He gave me his papers, and I gave them to the officer when he rode up to us:Lance-Corpl. Potton, 18th Hussars.
We had been entrenched two days when a German spy was captured. He spoke English as well as I do, and shouted to me, “I surrender, I surrender; take me prisoner.” He was placed in a corner of the trench, seven feet deep, and was guarded. He soon began to chatter, and told us his history in such a plausible manner that we believed him. He told us he had been in private service as a butler in Surrey and Sussex, and also a waiter in hotels at Brighton, Liverpool, and Manchester. The devil actually cried when he pulled out of his pocket the photo of a girl he said he intended making his wife when the war was over if he was spared, and begged we would not take it away from him. He said she was a Lancashire lassie—he could put on the north-country dialect all right—and read portions of a letter she wrote him when hewas called up. The traitor gave us a lot of supposed information about the Germans, and pretended to be as wild as a March hare when he spoke of their officers. They were everything that was bad. I must admit I thought the fellow was genuine, and I gave him some of my rations, but several of the others had their doubts. He had been with us three days when he showed himself in his true colours. It was pitch dark, and raining like cats and dogs. He jumped out of the trench and made a dash for the German trenches, but he did not get thirty yards away before he was brought down. The next morning we saw his dead body lying where he fell:Sapper A. G. Hutton, R.E.
We were just about five minutes billeted in the various houses and just stretching our legs when our officer came running in shouting, “The Germans are upon us; outside, everyone.” We came out magazine loaded, bayonets fixed, and eager to get a good bayonet fight with them. It appears they do not like it, but we found none; they had not yet arrived. It was 10P.M.before they did so. In the meantime, the poor people were leaving the town in crowds with as much goods and chattels as they could carry away, and it was well for them, too. It was a dark night when we formed up in the streets, and the lamps but dimly burned. The noises of rifles and field guns were terrific. We rushed to the heads of the various streets, where our German foe would advance. Our field artillery and the Coldstream Guards went out to delay their advance, whilst we stripped off our coats and commenced to tear up the square setts, gather carts—in fact, everything that would build a barricade to keep back our numerous German foe, and we did so under perfect showers of shrapnel shell that fell around us and struck the houses about us, but we were undaunted, and so succeeded:Private Spain.
The order came to retire to a neighbouring haystack. How the bullets flew about! Up I jumped, and up the slope I ran. I soon reduced the distance. Another 100 yards to safety—80, 60, 40, 30, 15 yards. Oh, my left knee! I dropped down flat, with my right arm underneath my body, and my left hand feeling if my leg was still on. An officer ran by shouting out, “Wounded, lie still.” I was laid on my chest, and I could see them coming, 200 yards behind me. They did not put their rifles to their shoulders, but fired fromthe hips. Bullets were spitting in the ground around me. “Should I ever get out of this?” I thought. Something seemed to say to me, “Keep still, and you will be all right.” On the Germans came to within 100 yards of me, then 50 yards, then 20 yards, then 10 yards, and there they halted. They were on the slope leading to the stack, and after a short conversation two of them came in my direction. “Now for it,” I said to myself. But no, they passed me and went to the top of the hill. My arm beneath my body was paralysed, and I could feel the blood running from my wound. Now and again I could hear one of them shout out, “Hoch, Kaiser!” and I said to myself, “Hurrah for the King!” Then I saw them fall in, and about to turn. Thank God! off they went:Pte. Wood, Coldstream Guards.
Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in every foe!Liberty’s in every blow!Let us do or die!
Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in every foe!Liberty’s in every blow!Let us do or die!
Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in every foe!Liberty’s in every blow!Let us do or die!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty’s in every blow!
Let us do or die!
Robert Burns: “Scots Wha Hae.”
And man, whose heav’n-erected faceThe smiles of love adorn,—Mans inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn!
And man, whose heav’n-erected faceThe smiles of love adorn,—Mans inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn!
And man, whose heav’n-erected faceThe smiles of love adorn,—Mans inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn!
And man, whose heav’n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,—
Mans inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!
Burns: “Man was made to Mourn.”
I must admit we were all a bit shaky until we got properly stuck into it, and then you feel in your glory. You forget all fear, everybody full of excitement. You hardly think of your funeral:Gunner J. Robinson, Royal Field Artillery.
People in England can have no idea what it is like on a battlefield, thousands of dead and wounded lying about with nobody to help them. After my pal and I got hit we could hear the deadly shell on its way, but could not move, and had to lay for some time. My pal had his foot blown off:Gunner J. Edgecombe, Royal Field Artillery.
I shall never forget when the first shot was fired. We soon got used to it, and I was as anxious to get at them as anyone else. It is awful in action. I saw my two chums shot down beside me, and one of them said with his dying breath, “Kill ten of those German devils for me,” and I think I did:Pte. E. Mead, 19th Hussars.
You must not take too much notice of the reports of the soldiers in the trenches singing as if they had not a care in the world. I heard more talk of religion—and from men from whom you wouldleast expect it—than any popular songs! Some of the sights are simply shocking—you could not talk about them:Private Pope.
It was my first baptism of fire, and I frankly confess that I thought my time had come. It was a nerve-racking experience. I said a prayer to myself. But the fear soon wore away, and I recognized that to save my own skin I must beat the enemy. We were also encouraged by the poor marksmanship of the Germans:Pte. Gallagher, Royal Scots Fusiliers.
We saw some terrible sights—women and children cut up—and I shall never forget until my dying day some of the awful things I saw. The firing was awful. I am not much of a praying chap, but I prayed when the shots were coming thick about us. It was maddening to see the fellows shot down right and left, and wondering when it would be my turn:Pte. Sibley, 3rd Worcester Regiment.
War! How terrible the word sounds, but our British spirit in us makes us view things from the bright side. I do not mean to imply that the troops do not think it a serious concern—far from it—but all seem quite confident. When under heavy fire there seems to exist a jubilant sort of spirit, each and all steady and ready to sacrifice themselves for the honour of England:A Private of the Scottish Rifles.
You feel pretty shaky going into battle at first. When you are going along the road and see dead lying here and there and hear the groaning of the wounded you do feel rather queer, but once you see what you are getting at, all that feeling disappears and your one desire is to get at them. In fact, when the bullets begin to fly you turn mad for the time being:Pte. Lightfoot, Cameron Highlanders.
You don’t realize that you are in danger until some of the men around you get knocked over by shells and bullets, but afterwards you have the feeling that you don’t care. You know you have to be there, and you don’t care a hang whether you get knocked over or not. In a way you are only too glad when you can get to close quarters with the Germans. As to the sensation caused by being struck by a bullet, it is just like being hit by a stone thrown at you:A Sergeant of the Irish Rifles.
Artillery fire is the deadliest thing out, and it takes a lot of nerve to stand it. The Germans keep up an infernal din from morning until far into the night; but they don’t do half as much damage as you would think, though it is annoying to have all that row going on when you’re trying to write home or make up the regimental accounts. The French seem to like the noise, and don’t seem at all happy unless it’s there. There’s no accounting for tastes:Sergeant J. Baker.
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 for 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 he gave me brandy and wine and left me:Gunner B. Wiseman, Royal Artillery.
How I came to be wounded was like this. I had got my bayonet fixed in some fat German, and I could not get it out in time, and a German officer hit me over the head with the butt of his revolver. Of course I went down for the count, and when I came round I found I had stopped a stray shot with my left foot, so I had to lie among the German dead until it became dark. Then I crawled to the British lines three miles away, and into hospital:Pte. P. Rourke, North Lancashires.
You know, Bill, it looked hard to see my old chums mowed down like sheep.... After being under shot and shell for seven hours, Bill, I know what it is to be at death’s door. You can bet your hat God answered my prayer, for I asked and He accepted. They were killed on each side of me, and shells were bursting front and back, but none hit Joseph, so that was a Godsend. What do you say? I know what I think, Bill:A Reservist of the Lancashire Fusiliers.
“Never say die till you’re dead” is the only motto for us in the firing line, for every hour of the blessed day you’re expecting to have your head blown off by a German shell, and you wonder how on earth you managed to escape every time it hits something elseinstead of you. Their shells make awful havoc when they do burst, but it is not so often as you would think. There seems to be something wrong with the stuffing of them:Engineer Hughes, Royal Artillery.
When you do drop asleep you awaken suddenly and think you are being fired at. Twice now while I have been in battle, the man on my right and on my left has been killed. The last one next to me to be killed was poor ——. He was asking me where the enemy was when he got shot in the arm. Then he got hit in the stomach, and afterwards, poor chap, in the chest. The man on my right got hit, and then it came my turn. It is strange that the same thing should occur twice running. God is guarding me all right:Sergt. Greeley, South Lancashire Regiment.
The whistle has just blown to get under cover as there is an aeroplane up. I have just spotted it. All the fellows are running for shelter so as not to be seen and give the position away. I am inside the car, a covered van body. The shells are beginning to drop very close, so we’ll have to make a shift for better cover: they are screaming and howling like some of those funny fireworks, but you cannot see them and don’t know where they are going to land any minute. Our guns are firing on the aeroplane, but I’m afraid he is too high for them to reach him:Driver F. Clarkson, Artillery Transport Service.
A bullet struck the kit of Corpl. Thompson, of the 3rd Worcesters, and lodged in his canteen. Thompson gave a grunt and thought he was done for, but when the bullet rattled inside the canteen he just laughed and blessed his luck. It’s a funny thing to go into battle for the first time. There we were in the trenches with rain falling heavily all the time, bullets whizzing all round us and shells—death-dealing things—dropping everywhere. The roar was deafening: in fact, I was deaf for a week afterwards, and I couldn’t tell what was shouted:Private J. Sibley.
We had no cover, and simply walked into the German army, who were about twenty to one. We bayoneted and charged several times. They shouted for mercy. They can’t face steel. I think I was just mad, and the rest were, too, at seeing chums go under.You simply don’t think about yourself; all your thought is to get at them. I felt right proud to be a Britisher, especially a Cameron. If I do go under, it will be fighting with a rifle in my hand and like a Britisher; but, at the same time, a few Germans are already my victims:A Private of the Cameron Highlanders.
We got into a little hell yesterday and all last night—a proper warm corner. Shells bursting all over and round us and bullets whizzing about all over the place. I had to take one of our wagons right into the firing line. Our captain, who was riding ten yards in front, got blown off his horse. The battle is still raging now. Heaven only knows how it will end up. We cannot hear ourselves speak. My writing is very bad, but you must excuse it as the very ground is shaking. I have to take another wagon right into the firing line in ten minutes’ time:A Corporal of the Royal Army Medical Corps.
The Germans are an awful lot of bad shots with the rifle, but they are good with the artillery, and that is where we have suffered most of our losses. There have been very few to speak of who have fallen through rifle fire. To tell you the truth, I do not seem sometimes as though I was on a battlefield at all. I go blundering along as if I was on the dear old sea front at Bridlington, and I find that is the best way, for, as sure as I am living, the less you think of it all the better. We do our best, and trust in God. You need not trouble much about me, for I am as happy here as I am at home. It is no use being otherwise, and it is like being on guard at home:Pte. C. Gledhill, Coldstream Guards.
Every morning we go within 300 yards of the place where the shells are bursting. First you hear the shell whistling about a quarter of a mile away like a Gabriel horn, and the nearer it gets the louder, then it bursts like 120 tyres bursting together. At first it frightened the life out of me. I was digging some potatoes in a garden, and one burst about 200 yards away. I left the potatoes and hopped it—I did the fastest 100 yards on record. When you hear a shell coming it is best to lie flat—it’s quite amusing to see everybody drop to the ground. It reminds one of the pictures:Pte. Noel Withers, Army Service Corps.
I got shrapnel in the face, and it entered just by my eye and camethrough my mouth, splitting my face open and fracturing my jaw. Lucky for me my sight is not gone. My face is stitched up and healing nicely, but I’m afraid I’m disfigured for life. The beggars were not content with that—they shot me through the left forearm and fractured the bone. I’ve got it in plaster of Paris. I am glad to say I am not in much pain now, and I am as strong as an ox. I had to leave everything on the battlefield, including my pipe and the pouch you gave me. Your photo, taken at Paddington, I had in a waterproof case with some more:A Private of a Field Battery.
All the officers stood round us the whole time, including one young lieutenant who had only just joined the battery from England, and was under fire for the first time. The captain was wounded, but he stood up and cried out, “Go on, lads! I’m not killed yet.” We went on. But another hail of shells came, and the captain fell. We all knew we were in for it; but we cracked jokes as we loaded and fired. One by one the fellows went down. Those left shook hands with one another, and just said, “So long, old man!” My chum at my gun bent down to look through the aperture of the gun shield. A shell came and caught him in the forehead. He tumbled up against me as he fell. Then they got the shells on our limbers. I can’t describe the sight as our own shells exploded on the spot. There were only ten of us now. We had never received the order to clear out, and we stuck it dazed:A Gunner of the Royal Field Artillery.
When I read in books or stories of the coolness of men under fire I thought somebody was blathering. But after eight weeks of it, I can say that no book has ever done justice to the coolness of British soldiers under conditions that would try anybody. The night I was hit we were just leaving the trenches for an interview with some Germans who were trying some of their fancy tricks about our left. As we stood up there was a ghastly shower of bullets and shells bursting all round. Into it we had to go, and as we looked ahead one of our chaps said, “I think we’ll have to get our greatcoats, boys; it’s raining bullets tonight, and we’ll get wet to the skin if we’re not careful.” The men of “C” Company started laughing, and then they took to singing, “Put up your umbrella when it comes on wet.” The song was taken up all along as we went into the thick of it, and some of us were humming it as we dashed into the German trenches. The Germans must havethought us a mad crew:A Private of the Irish Fusiliers.
We were sent up to the firing line to try and save a battery. When we got there we found that they were nearly all killed or wounded. Our Irish lads opened fire on the Germans, and you should have seen them fall. It was like a game of skittles. But as soon as you knocked them down up came another thousand or so. We could not make out where they came from. So all of a sudden our officer gave us the order to charge. We fixed bayonets and went like fire through them. You should have seen them run! As the firing line was at full swing we had with us an officer of the Hussars. I think he was next to me, and he had his hand nearly blown off by one of the German shells. So I and two more fellows picked him up and took him to a place of safety, where he got his wound cared for. I heard afterwards that he had been sent home, poor fellow:Pte. Levy, Royal Munster Fusiliers.
I am writing this under fire. Every now and again a little message from the Kaiser comes whizzing in this direction, but no damage is being done, and we don’t worry. Bang! Another message. One of the things I miss more than anything else is a drop of milk for tea. Would give 2s. for a tin of condensed milk. Of course, most of the cattle are moved miles away from any battlefield, and consequently no milk can be obtained. There is plenty of fruit and vegetables. But now and again we run short of certain things. For instance, to-day we have run short of salt, and consequently our dinner was not quite the success I anticipated. We made a stew—1½ lb. of corned beef, potatoes, beans, carrots, and pumpkin. This did for three men. I was the cook. To-night for tea we are having bread, bacon, jam, and cheese; but, sad to relate, I have no cigarettes:Private W. Rouse.
I got five or six bullets in my right thigh. The actual wounding was not very painful—like an electric shock. I fired for over an hour afterwards, then crept to an old barn, where my wounds were dressed. There we had to stay two days under shell-fire. Then they started smashing the place up with shrapnel, knocking the roof on the top of us—without hurting us. We were dragged out. It was night before we could be taken in farm carts to the field hospital. On Sunday the “dirty pigs” shelled that, though the Red Cross flag wasflying. It seems to be a favourite game of theirs. We are well away from the fighting line now, our only danger being bombs from airships, which we don’t fear. Our biggest risk now is over-feeding. We are quartered in the finest hotel in Versailles. Crowds of French people collect round the gates and send us presents of flowers, tobacco, and cigarettes, which are very welcome. The people here think the world of the English “Tommy,” and nothing is too good or too expensive to give him. All they ask in return is a button or a cap-badge “to keep as a souvenir of us”:Pte. Graham, Coldstream Guards.
One of the coolest things I have seen—and I have seen a few—was an Engineer sergeant and two assistants measuring a piece of the river bank with the tape, and having to lie down every few minutes to dodge shells or extra-strong volleys. The sergeant could not hear some of the figures, so yelled out, “Don’t let your voice be drowned by a ---- German gaspipe.” I assure you that we think no more of bullets and shells than of a cricket ball sent down by a fast bowler. In fact, I have felt more funk when ---- is in form at the wicket than I have at a shell. This may sound awful swank, but when you have lived among shells and bullets for a month it is a case of familiarity breeding contempt. I believe I am the funkiest, or at any rate the most careful, chap in the regiment, but I have long since given up worrying:A Private of the Bedfordshire Regiment.
The Germans watched until we halted, and then let fly at us with some shells. They killed about fifteen and wounded about twenty-five. One chap was blown to bits; another got one right through his cheek, and it was terrible to see us after they had bunked. They did not half let us have it. We all lay flat down on our faces waiting every moment for our turn to come. I can tell you I thought my last day had come then. Every time a shell comes it makes a whistle and then a bang, and not half a bang, too. I can tell you it was a relief to everybody, and they would sigh after a bang if not hit. They must have thought we had all gone or been killed or wounded because they stopped for a bit, and then we started to dig ourselves in. Of course we had to dig deep and well underground so as to be out of shell reach. We did not get any more that day, but the next morning they let us know it was time to get up with some of their heavy gun shells. We only got four wounded then, but I can tell you I thought I hadgot hit. One dropped about fifteen yards in front of my trench, and it lifted me up and dropped me with such a bang that I thought I was counted out. I felt all over me to see what I had got, but no, I am as safe as houses yet:Sergt. T. L. Neal, King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry.
What gets at you is not being able to come to close quarters and fight man to man. As a fact we see very little of the enemy, but blaze away at the given range and trust to Providence. For that matter, we see very little of our own fellows, and only know by the ambulance men passing through our lines what regiments are near us. For hours we stick on one spot and see nothing but smoke and something like a football crowd swaying half a mile off. We see all we want of the German flying machines. They are over our lines day and night, and are so common that we do not now take pot-shots at them. The chances of hitting them are about 100 to 1. We hate them, because we know they are signalling the position and range to their artillery, which is awful. The German rifle fire wouldn’t worry a covey of partridges, but their shells are hell. I was stunned by one a week ago. It was a queer feeling, and rather pleasant than otherwise. It fell about six yards in front of me, and I felt as if a rush of lime-kiln gas had hit me. I fell forward, and was carried to the rear, but came to in about half an hour, with no hurt whatever, except that I had a tingling in my nose and eyes, and a bad headache all day. Other chaps say the feeling is the same:Pte. F. Burton, Bedfordshire Regiment.
It was the first time I had been under fire, and for the first ten minutes I felt a bit nervous, and so, I think, all of us did; but it soon wore off, and seeing our comrades hit by shell seemed to stiffen us. We could see the Germans lying in their trenches more than 1000 yards away: we could see their helmets, which showed up like a lot of mushrooms. While we were still digging our trenches the enemy began to advance; and some of our cavalry to our rear came through us to attack the enemy. The Lancers, however, were met by a tremendous rifle and machine-gun fire, and mown down; and they retired through us, followed by the Germans, who came on yelling with fixed bayonets. The regiment who were next us on our right digging themselves in, got caught, I fancy, for I saw some of their men tumbling out of their half-finished trenches in their shirt-sleeves without their rifles. We were orderedout of our trenches to meet the advancing Germans, who, firing from the hip, and with fiendish yells, were evidently intending to rush us. They were coming on in dense blocks—blocks which were probably companies—inéchelon, but when they saw us come out of our trenches with our bayonets fixed they didn’t like it, and most of them turned and ran. Some of them, however, came on, and I saw one man single me out and come for me with his bayonet. He made a lunge at my chest, and, as I guarded, his bayonet glanced aside and wounded me in the hip; but I managed to jab him in the left arm and get him on the ground, and when he was there I hammered him on the head with the butt-end of my rifle. I think I had become a bit dazed, for I did not see my battalion, only a few dead and wounded lying on the ground:A Private of the Yorks Light Infantry.
We got down a slope in some way, and thought we were practically safe. In fact, I stopped behind the rest to light my pipe, when suddenly from a wood on our right a terrible rifle and machine-gun fire opened; I couldn’t for the moment realize what had happened, but when I saw our chaps dropping (whether shot or taking cover I couldn’t then tell), I thought it was time for yours truly to drop, which I promptly did. I was, however, all on my own, down among some young cabbage plants, and I couldn’t see a soul. Bullets hit up the earth in my face, and the cabbage leaves were perforated in no time. I started to bang away at the enemy for all I was worth, and continued till I had only five cartridges left. I resolved to save these, and expected every moment for the enemy to charge. I am utterly unable to describe my feelings, but you can take it from me I thought my last moment had arrived. It seemed impossible I could be missed by that stream of Maxim fire, but at last, thank goodness! a British battery noticed our predicament. They galloped into position and fired from behind us. The noise of their first shell seemed like a voice from heaven, and as they got range and poured in more shells, the German fire slackened. Then I caught sight of some of our chaps racing for a ditch to my left. I made up my mind to chance it. I sprang up, grabbed my things, and raced for my life. I reached that ditch on the point of exhaustion and fell into a foot of mud and water. What a relief! One of our chaps had been shot dead in the ditch. With three or four others I crawled about two hundred yards till we gained the roadsideand temporary safety:Sapper Clift, Royal Engineers.
I felt as if someone had punched me in the back. A regular Jack Johnson it was, and I went flat on the ground. There I lay for about twelve hours. Then an officer came by and wanted to know where I was hit. I told him, and he said the best thing I could do was to lay there for a bit. Then I found that there was a man on each side of me, quite dead, so I felt quite comfortable with them. Night fell and I must have dozed off, for when I woke up it was stone dark, and I could hear the wounded Germans crying out in agony. I felt like it myself, for I had been lying on my stomach all the time, and it never stopped raining. I happened to raise my head, and I saw a large fire about 500 yards away, and I thought if I could get beside it I should feel better. I tried to get up, but I could not. In the end I had to crawl over the dead body on my right, and I crawled on my stomach for 500 yards till I came to the fire. When I got there I must have fainted, for when I came round it was just getting light. Then I heard voices. I called as much as I could, and they heard me. I saw it was the Northampton outpost. I had nearly gone off again when they picked me up. When they moved me I knew the bullet had gone through my lung. They took me to the hospital and dressed my wound:Pte. H. L. Hook, Royal Sussex Regiment.