DeedsAbove heroic, though in secret done,And unrecorded left through many an age.
DeedsAbove heroic, though in secret done,And unrecorded left through many an age.
DeedsAbove heroic, though in secret done,And unrecorded left through many an age.
Deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age.
Milton’s“Paradise Regained.”
Who, doomed to go in company with pain,And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train!Turns his necessity to glorious gain;This is the happy warrior; this is heWhom every man in arms should wish to be.
Who, doomed to go in company with pain,And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train!Turns his necessity to glorious gain;This is the happy warrior; this is heWhom every man in arms should wish to be.
Who, doomed to go in company with pain,And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train!Turns his necessity to glorious gain;This is the happy warrior; this is heWhom every man in arms should wish to be.
Who, doomed to go in company with pain,
And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
This is the happy warrior; this is he
Whom every man in arms should wish to be.
Wordsworth’s“Character of the Happy Warrior.”
An amusing thing was to hear an officer of the Royal Irish shouting at the top of his voice, “Give ’em hell, boys, give ’em hell!” He was already wounded in the back by a lump of shrapnel, but it was a treat to hear him shouting:Pte. R. Toomey, Royal Army Medical Corps.
I pinched a German’s “bike” and tried to escape, but could not. So some Belgian people gave me civilian clothes, and a Belgian soldier, also a prisoner, helped me through the German patrols, and by a miracle I escaped. I am footsore with walking in a pair of boots three sizes too big for me:Pte. V. Cohen, R.A.M.C.
The Germans rushed at us like a crowd streaming from a cup-tie at the Crystal Palace. You could not miss them. Our bullets ploughed into them, but still on they came. I was well entrenched, and my rifle got so hot I could hardly hold it. I was wondering if I should have enough bullets when a pal shouted, “Up, Guards, and at them!” The next second he was bowled over with a nasty knock on the shoulder. He jumped and hissed, “Let me get at them”:Private Whittaker.
When we copped the German infantry without their artillery we gave them “What Ho!” Ourboys were fine marching on, or in the firing line, always happy. One night in the trenches, waiting for the Germans, they were singing “It’s a long way to Tipperary” and “Sing something Irish to me,” but it was not long when the German artillery sang “Get out and get under.” They sent some “humming birds”—I mean shells—over to us and spoiled our concert:Private P. McGrath.
We saw some grand fighting between our aeroplanes and theirs. You could see them circle round each other like a couple of fighting cocks—and then one would come down. One aeroplane was brought down with our guns. We had had several pot-shots at it, but they did not take effect. The first shot from one of our aerial guns brought it down, a mass of blazing wreckage. We were told afterwards that the airman got away and was unhurt:Pte. J. Doolan, Northumberland Fusiliers.
Near to Cambrai one of our cavalry regiments ran full tilt into a battalion of German infantry. They flung down their rifles and ran for all they were worth, with the exception of one company, whose officers commanded them to stand. They faced round without attempting to fire a shot, and stood there like statues to receive the onslaught of our men. Our lads were bound to admire their iron discipline, but you can’t make way for sentiment in war, and our men rode straight at them with the lance. They were swept away, and our fellows took most of the unwounded ones prisoners:Trooper E. Tugwell.
I have to go right up to the firing line, and when I arrive there I have to give a hand at serving the guns. It is dangerous work, but we don’t look at it from that standpoint: we only look to make the enemy run. At the first battle in which the British were engaged I got a flesh wound, but was very thankful it was nothing worse, as scores of my comrades were falling all round me. One of our gunners was so anxious to see the enemy that he jumped up to look, and got part of his leg shot away as a result:A Salvationist serving as a Royal Field Artillery Motorman.
I saw a fine “scrap” in the air between a British and a German aeroplane. The British airman can move about quicker and has a much greater speed. This is partly due to the fact that the Germanmachines are armoured underneath. The English airman got above the German, and they had a fight for about a quarter of an hour. Our man emptied his revolver into the German, who kept trying to get out of his way, but could not owing to the Englishman’s speed. The German then seemed to plane down in good order, but when he got to the ground he was dead:Pte. Herman, King’s Royal Rifles.
I was in South Africa, and that was a jolly beanfeast to what this is. I have been all day soaked to the skin, standing knee-deep in water. Sometimes all is quiet, then shot and shell come down like rain and men drop out all around one; but we English Tommies know how to shoot, and that is more than the Uhlan does. We came to fists with them once, and we know more about that also. I downed three with my fist, and I believe I stuck four with my bayonet before I got shot. Our officers are simply grand. They work with us, and one pulled me out of the trench when I was wounded and carried me a little way back:Pte. J. Hesselop, Essex Regiment.
I got hit by three bullets in about a minute. One went through my cap, one smashed the magazine of my rifle, and one flattened five rounds of ammunition in my belt. Nearly all my company wanted to shake hands with me, telling me that I am the luckiest man in the war. I think it was a record myself. They wanted to keep the cap, ammunition, and magazine, but I am keeping them myself to show you when I come home. So you see I am not to be shot with rifle bullets. At least, that is what they say here, and I think so myself:Pte. W. Hinton, 1st East Lancashire Regiment.
There is one thing I am glad to say, that I have fulfilled my undertaking by killing I don’t know how many Germans, as they fell before me like broken eggs. I was promoted to full corporal for sticking it out in my blockhouse for seventy-three hours without anything to eat or drink, only firing away all the time at the savages, as this is what I call them. I was given a hearty cheer when the General shook hands with me and congratulated me on my pluck, and not forgetting the men that were with me in the blockhouse. There were four killed and myself and two more wounded—seven altogether, so I will say no more, but will write again soon. Give my love to all. Good-bye, from your loving son, Bert:Corporal B. L. Prince.
Now, directly we see the Uhlans or the Prussian Hussars we make for them. We have galloped for a mile to get at them. Once they drew us on to the fire of their infantry. We were only two hundred yards away when they fired on us, but at the pace we were going very few were hit. At one time we were in line, and then inéchelon, and after a short hand-to-hand fight many surrendered, whilst others made off, the machine guns accounting for many. The German cavalry have excellent mounts, and the horses appear to be well trained. Somehow the men haven’t got the same grit as our chaps. When they hear our yells as we get into the stride, and they see the glint of our swords, they turn pale, and if it wasn’t for their officers they would bolt each time:A Cavalryman of General de Lisle’s Brigade.
I was in the firing line, and my mate next to me had one of his fingers shot off and a bullet through his head. How I got hit, I was bandaging his head up. I was caught in the neck just below the jaw, and the bullet came out of my mouth. It knocked all my teeth out on the left-hand side, and went through my tongue and lip. I ran about a mile and a half before I could get it done up. The doctor said I was a very lucky chap to be alive. I can hardly speak or eat. Dear mother, do not let this upset you. I shall soon be better:Corpl. Emery, Royal Lancashires.
We were guarding a road where it was expected they would retreat; and they did. The first lot that came along was a Maxim limber. I accounted for the driver about 400 yards away, off the left shoulder, and someone else accounted for his mate, but still the horses came galloping along towards our ranks, so I thought I would try my arm at stopping them. I did, and got well repaid, for I took them into a farm close by, lifted the German wounded off, and went through his kit. I found a clean change of washing—badly needed, for we had not had a change since we left Chelsea—and something more: a bottle of champagne, three loaves of bread, six pots of jam, and a rabbit; so you can bet I backed a winner:Private J. Stearn.
Both the French and the British troops display marvellous coolness under fire, but I think the biscuit for coolness ought to go to the battalion of infantry of the French line which we found eating itsbreakfast by the roadside under a heavy German fire last week. In our own regiment it’s not unusual to see men playing cards under fire while waiting for the order to advance. I know of a case where one of our chaps was just going to win the trick when the Germans sent along a shell that hit every man of the card party, killing one and wounding three. When one was being taken off on a stretcher he called out, “It was the Germans won that trick”:Private R. Duffy.
I have had occasion to thank God three times for as many escapes from death. The first was when we were forced back by artillery fire. A shell fell right under my horse, but failed to explode, being probably what is called an over-timed shell. Anyway, it was an escape! The next time was when we were shelled out of a village. My horse was grazed by a fragment of shrapnel and lamed, and a sharpshooter missed me, but the bullet went through my rifle-bucket and flattened itself on the nozzle of my rifle. The third time was when we had a most trying time in a village and were bombarded by eight German guns. The houses were demolished like packs of cards, but Providence looked after us, and after six hours of mental agony we had to retire one by one across a pontoon bridge; the other bridge had been blown up by the Germans:A British Cavalryman.
I was posted in a house, with about twelve others, firing on the enemy, when the house was shelled, and fell in on us. It was a marvellous escape for all of us. I can just remember falling through the roof; but I am more than pleased to tell you I was not hurt—only shaken up a bit. Two days after we had another go: then the shells were bursting all round us; but we managed to get over that with very little loss. We had another go about a week later. My company was ordered to go in a wood to try and capture some German snipers. No sooner had we entered the wood when the bullets started singing all round us. I had one go right through my cap, and it cut my hair; I have still got the hat, and if I am spared I am going to bring it home with me as a memento:Pte. Marsh, 1st Bedfordshire Regiment.
The warmest bit of work I was ever in was when I was injured. Some seven or eight of us and about the same number of Hussars were on patrol in a village. We had dismounted, and were talking overmatters when quite unexpectedly some shrapnel shells burst over our heads and brought down some of the cottages. Our officer hurried up to us and ordered us to mount and retire. When we had all mounted he shouted, “Gallop away; every man for himself!” I just remember being hit in the left thigh first. At the same moment the old mare seemed to falter a little. The enemy had our range to a yard, and again and again the shells burst among and above us, bringing some of the fellows down, man and horse. Then something struck me in the right hip, but we kept on, and after five or ten minutes’ ride we came on our own regiment dismounted for action. I think about seven or eight of us got through:A Private of the 12th Lancers.
There was a farmhouse up the hill, and from this a Maxim gun was pouring out a continuous stream of little “breath-stoppers.” The British fixed bayonets and charged the house. On the farm were found about a score of the enemy, who made absolutely no resistance. On the contrary they laughed, and were thankful it was all over and that they were safe. On searching the bushes it was found that several of the enemy had taken refuge—some were dead and others wounded. One feigned having been shot, but after being carried down the hill by a British soldier and finding he was safe, he was all right. He confirms the stories that have come to hand from many sources that the Germans fear the British bayonet:Pte. V. Wells, Worcestershire Regiment.
One night we were lying quietly in some woods when we heard the rattle of hoofs all along the road making enough noise to wake the whole dead in all the graveyards of the world. There was a regiment of the Kaiser’s pets, the Uhlans, coming along as lively as larks on a summer morning. We waited for them at the bend of the road, just close to the cemetery, and when we crashed into them I think they imagined we were ghosts. Very tough we were, to be sure, and a ghost that feels for your ribs with a lance at midnight is an ugly customer to deal with. Those chaps didn’t half howl with rage and fear when we went into them, and as soon as they could turn their horses they were off down the road like blue murder. We captured half of them, and cut up the rest:Sergt. Diamond, of the Lancers.
There is no doubt about the personal bravery of the Germans.I saw a file of them coming down a slight hillock, and twenty or so were hit and toppled down over each other, exactly the same as ninepins. The wonderful thing is that any of us came out of it alive. As I looked up from the trenches, the sky was blue with flying lead. After the fighting had gone on for five hours a bullet passed through the lobe of my left ear, and, after scarring the back of my neck, tore a piece off my coat collar, which was up at the time. The same bullet killed the man behind me. I felt myself growing faint, and gave my name and the name of my mother to my mate next to me, and then I seem to have fainted. When I recovered consciousness my mate was dead:A Sergeant of the South Lancashire Regiment.
It was butchers’ work. We just rained shells on the German gunners until we were deaf and choking. I don’t think a gun on the position could have been sold for scrap iron after we had finished, and the German gunners would be just odd pieces of clothing and bits of accoutrement. It seems swanky to say so, but once you get over the first shock you’ll go on chewing biscuits or tobacco when the shells are bursting all round. You don’t seem to mind it any more than smoking in a hailstorm. Then you get pulled up with a jerk when your mate on the left curls up in a heap. War is rotten, but you can even get used to working in a candle-factory. We hated smells more than we did the Germans:An Artilleryman.
One night after a very hard day in the trenches, when we were wet to the skin, we had lighted fires to dry our tunics, and were at it when we heard firing along our front, and then the Germans came at us like madmen. We had to tackle them in our shirt-sleeves. It was mainly bayonet work, and hard work at that. They were well supported by cavalry, who tried to ride us down in the dark, but we held our ground until reinforcements came, and then we drove them off with a fine rush of our cavalry and infantry. At one point there was a fine race between our battalion and one of the Lancer regiments as to which should get at the Germans first. We were handicapped a bit because we hadn’t horses, but we won in the end, and charged right into the German hordes with the bayonet. After that the Lancers came up, and there wasn’t much left for anybody else when the Germans were done with:Private A. Tims.
We got our orders early in the morning to get across the Aisne, and we had to turn out early. It was very cold, and there was a heavy rain; but we got our pipes set a-going, and we were all right then. When we got up the river the fun began. There were no bridges, but the Engineers had made some rafts. Six men got on each raft, and with the burden we were up to the knees in water, and we were hauled across to the other side by a rope. When we got to the other side we got it hotter than ever. Some time after this three of us were lying in a field. I was smoking my pipe, and my chum was puffing at a cigarette. The man next my chum hadn’t a match, and wanted a light badly, and he got up to get a “touch” from my chum. As soon as he rose the poor beggar was hit with a shell and killed:Pte. Hamish, King’s Own Scottish Borderers.
In the mad rush through the village Dodds was also shot badly in the leg, and the poor horse, which was carrying us two, was brought down. The result was that the two of us fell helpless to the ground, and we were immediately surrounded by a crowd of Germans, who yelled and acted like a lot of savages. We saw them tearing practically every bit of clothing from one of our poor chaps who had been killed, and in my own case they stripped me of everything but my trousers and shirt. They took from me the revolver that I had taken from a German officer, and one of them was about to strip me of my shirt when a funny thing occurred. I often laugh when I think of it. When I was looking up and trying to think as little as possible about my arm, who should stand above me but the captured German officer whose guard had been killed. He said, “You are the man who took my revolver. Let me have it back instantly.” I said that I had not got it, and that one of his own men had relieved me of it. “Then come with me,” he said, “and find the man who took it, and I shall have him shot.” I went around with him as a matter of form, but I was not having any:Lance-Corpl. M. Nolan, Royal Scots Greys.
The fiercest fighting took place when the Germans tried to force a passage of the river at various points. As they came up the fords—every one of which was commanded by our artillery and bodies of picked French and British riflemen—they were galled terribly by the rifle fire, and we kept plugging them with shells as fast as we could.For a while it didn’t seem to be of any use, for as one man fell another stepped forward to take his place, but he only struggled on a few yards before falling in his turn before the hellish fire we poured on them. They had evidently made up their minds to get the pontoons into position regardless of cost in lives. The first party got theirs in position nicely, and then came rushing across like a swarm of bees rushing out of their hives to see what was wrong. A shell from a French battery hidden on our left dropped right on to them, and the thing went toppling into the river with its human load, being carried downstream under a heavy rifle and shell fire. The same thing went on the whole day, until we were sick of the sight, and mists of blood were floating before our eyes, and the cries of the drowning and dying men were always ringing in our ears. That was the daily programme as I saw it until I got hit and was sent home. Only at one point did they manage to cross the river, and then they had to face a bayonet charge from the Allies’ infantry, who rushed on them with rare joy and hurled them back into the river:A Driver of the Royal Artillery.
It was a jolly hot shop. A lot of the chaps of the section of —— Battery were wounded. I cannot explain everything, only when those shells were bursting all around us and over us, and the rifle and machine-gun bullets were dropping and whizzing round us, a lot of us thought of home and other things. We had to man-handle our guns out, while the other batteries drew their fire. We had one officer left. We were complimented by the colonel, who repeated General French’s and General Gough’s orders that they were proud of us for the cool and brave way in which we worked the gun under heavy fire. Our colonel, poor old chap, nearly cried. He said: “Needless to say, lads, I am proud of you too,” and he walked away. He could not say any more. I don’t want to be in another action like that. The prettiest sight I saw out here was one hot day when we were retreating. We were all paraded, tired and hungry. We went through a little village. At the end of the village there was a little convent, and the nuns in their long grey uniform and white headdress, with crucifix hanging on their breast, were distributing wine and fruit to us as we marched through. They were lovely little women; and the way they came out went straight to my heart. They looked so good, pure, and holy. It is a picture I shall always remember:Gunner Osborne, Royal Horse Artillery.
I was on patrol duty the other day. I can’t tell you the name of the place, but there was a chum of mine, an officer, and myself. We met five German Uhlans going down the road. They were in front of us, so we got on the grass on the side of the road and galloped right on top of them. They saw us when we were about eight yards away. They tried to get away from us, but we were into them. Our officer got the first one with his sword, and as the German fell out of the saddle the officer’s horse fell over him. That left me and my mate for the other four. Even then they would not face us. All the better for us. I got the next fellow. I put my sword right through him, and my mate did the same with another. Then we went after the other two. Both of us got up to one of them at the same time, and he got both swords through him. He did try to defend himself, for he got me on the lip with his lance and knocked two of my teeth out and took a piece out of my lip. It was not much, but he will never take any more pieces out, for he got both our swords into him. While we were trying to draw our swords out the last of the Uhlans got off his horse and tried to escape in the woods. I fell off my horse in my haste trying to get up to shoot him. All the same I shot him through the head, and he was as dead as a door-nail when I got up to him:Private M. Ferguson.
The dear old Rangers have had their fair share of the fighting. Still, they’re ready for as much more as the Germans want, and it won’t be our fault if every man of ours that has gone to face his Maker with an unshriven soul hasn’t at least a dozen German trash to keep him company. There’s a lot of talk about the disloyalty of the Irish people, but, sure, when it comes to the bit, and England needs soldiers to fight for her, she knows she can rely on the Irishmen. There’s not a man in the Rangers would let any German trample on the Union Jack, no matter what his views about Home Rule and the need for making England recognize our right to nationality. The Rangers have lived up to their character as fine fighters, and they have been in some very hard scraps, you may be sure. One day we were sent to help a battery of our artillery that had got into difficulties, and was like to be carried off by the Germans. There was little time to spare, as the Germans were pressing hard on both flanks, and there was fear we might be cut off if we didn’t get on the move. We rushed at them with the bayonetat the double, and swept them away like the dust goes before the wind. It was hard fighting, and many of us got hit, but our charge made it easy for the guns to be got away in safety:Private P. O’Hanlon.
They were in front of us before we had time to entrench ourselves, and we had to make the best of what cover we could find in a country as level as Glasgow Green. Still, we made the best of it, and the Germans were far from getting it all their own way. They came on us in swarms, but we sent them back time and again, and if it had not been for their shrapnel we could have been peppering them yet. As it was, we were suddenly alive to the fact that there was a trenchful of them lying quiet just in front of us, waiting to catch us on the retreat, and it was with a demoniacal howl we received the order to charge. It was a charge with the pipes playing for all they were worth, and you could hear the roll of the kettledrums above the sound of the firing. Our men bayoneted all who could not get out of the trench, about 600 of them; and the Middlesex Regiment got in on all who ran. It was a bloody fray, no quarter being asked nor given, and as we returned to our first position we were satisfied that we had given much more than our enemies expected from us:Pte. A. M‘Nally, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.
We took up a position allotted to us, and just when we had settled down to it a staff officer came along, and we were told we were going to have a chance of showing whether we were “show” soldiers or the real thing. We could have yelled for joy.... After covering a short distance we were sent across the fields in open order. We found some of our cavalry dismounted and holding a line of trenches quite close to the Germans. Just then we came under fire from the rifles and the machine guns. It was a bit unnerving at first, and some of our chaps didn’t like it, but we pressed steadily on, taking advantage of every bit of cover. It was a matter of lying down every few minutes, and then rushing forward a few yards, until we came right up to their trenches. As we got close the German rifle fire ceased almost, and we saw their infantry stand up in the trenches to receive our attack. I must say they struck me as being game chaps, and after what I had heard about their fear of the bayonet I was a bit surprised. We were now near enough to see the fierce glare in the eyes of the enemy as they waited for us. We gave them one great volley and then bayonets werefixed, and in a long line we charged down on their trenches. The madness of that charge I shall never forget. There was no time to think of fear or danger. We were mad drunk with the excitement. The blood was coursing in our veins at express speed, and our only thought was to close in the death-grip with the foe. Some of our boys yelled out “Scotland for ever!” and others were as silent as the grave. Their lines were strengthened at every point, and they made a great stand against us, but we were fresh, and we slashed right and left with a will. They weakened after the first shock, and gradually fell back, fighting inch by inch, but each step we forced them back, their pace became quicker, and then they broke into a mad race for life:A Member of the London Scottish.
The hardest fight, in my opinion, took place around a block of farm buildings, with a windmill in the centre and cattle quietly grazing close by. There was a Franco-British force of not more than 800 bayonets in possession, and near by some British cavalry were posted. Under cover of darkness the Germans made a sudden sweep round the position, threw back the cavalry after a hot fight, and had the little force completely cut off from headquarters. They brought up artillery and began to batter down the walls of the buildings, and when they had made a big gap in the wall of the stable, a battalion of infantry made a rush for it with the bayonet. The defenders stood there quietly shooting down the Germans as they came along, but it was worse than shooting mosquitoes with automatic pistols. They hit many, but there were others behind, and they kept coming on. The defenders fired their last shot, and the building was rushed by the Germans, who simply swarmed in. Into the corner the handful of men went with their bayonets, determined to sell their lives dearly. The Germans stood at the doorway firing into them, and when only three remained standing the Germans rushed on them and overpowered them. From the stable the attack was then developed in like fashion against the rest of the buildings. One of the gables was sent crumbling down, exposing the defenders to a withering rifle fire, and then the roof toppled in with a crash, burying all that were left of the brave men beneath the ruins. Not a man in that building escaped unhurt, and of the whole force engaged in defending the position only twenty were captured by the Germans unwounded. We avenged them finely the next day:A Private of the Warwickshire Regiment.
Our machine gun began yapping, but its noise was little better than that of a toy terrier against a brace of bulldogs, and we didn’t count much on it. Part of the regiment lay in the trenches firing away at the Germans for all they were worth, but we didn’t count much on that either. We knew that the good old bayonet would have to be our mainstay, and so one of the companies was ordered to get ready for the rush across the intervening space. We were out in a brace of shakes, and there was no loitering by the way, for the sooner we got there the easier would it be. Half way across they found our range with the guns, and shrapnel dropped all around. Our chaps were suffering badly, and seemed to get a bit weak in their advance. Nobody could blame them, for it was awful work. The officer in command simply called out, “Remember, men, the Black Watch never wavers. Forward!” That knocked on the head any idea of wavering, and we were off again like a party of merry trippers at the beginning of the Glasgow Fair holidays. We got there in the end, but at a terrible price, and we found the Germans ready for us. We went in without a word or a cheer. After we had driven them off, they were on to us again before we had time to make the position secure. We beat them back, but they came on over and over again. The last time I think it would have gone hard with us, indeed, but for an unexpected diversion. A French aeroplane appeared overhead and began signalling to a point in our rear. This scared the Germans, who feared a big force was moving to cut them off, and they fell back. Before they had had time to find out their mistake a brigade of infantry arrived to our assistance, and then the enemy cleared off for good. That was one of the closest things for us; and it was a miracle that we pulled through against such terrible odds as were thrown against us that night:A Private of the Black Watch.
The Germans took full advantage of the woods. Sharpshooters and even machine guns were posted on the trees, and they did terrible execution amongst our men, who were unable to see them. You approached a wood that appeared quite peaceful and an ideal place for a quiet rest. Suddenly you awoke to the fact that every tree was a fortress, and bullets began to drop all round just like acorns from the trees at home. For an enemy the woods have many advantages, but the disadvantages must not be overlooked. We saw enough of them to bring home to us thattree-fighting is not all a picnic. One day we had reason to suspect that the enemy were trying their trick in the woods on our left. The French artillery opened fire, and as we advanced we found the wood blazing from end to end. From all directions came the agonizing cries of the Germans who were concealed in the trees. They had no hope of getting away in many cases, and simply had to stay in their perches until suffocation brought a merciful end. A few of them did escape, and dashed out to our lines in terror. We ceased fire and did the best we could for them, but that wasn’t much. On another day we advanced into a wood that was held in force by the enemy. They were bent on contesting every inch of the ground, and what we had to do was to shelter behind each tree as we advanced, firing at the next where one or more Germans were posted. We had to keep that sort of thing up for a day, and when night fell it was doubly dangerous work. Still, we had to keep at it, and in the end we drove them out. Our chaps and the French are ready to do their share of “nesting” in the trees when it is necessary to resist the Germans, and we have had plenty of that kind of fighting. It requires a lot of courage, and is terribly risky all through:A Corporal of the Middlesex Regiment.
There is a victory in dying wellFor Freedom—and ye have not died in vain.
There is a victory in dying wellFor Freedom—and ye have not died in vain.
There is a victory in dying wellFor Freedom—and ye have not died in vain.
There is a victory in dying well
For Freedom—and ye have not died in vain.
Thomas Campbell.
Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred!Storm’d at with shot and shell,While horse and hero fell,They that had fought so wellCame thro’ the jaws of Death,Back from the mouth of Hell,All that was left of them,Left of six hundred.
Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred!Storm’d at with shot and shell,While horse and hero fell,They that had fought so wellCame thro’ the jaws of Death,Back from the mouth of Hell,All that was left of them,Left of six hundred.
Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred!
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred!
Storm’d at with shot and shell,While horse and hero fell,They that had fought so wellCame thro’ the jaws of Death,Back from the mouth of Hell,All that was left of them,Left of six hundred.
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
Tennyson’s“Charge of the Light Brigade.”
In one of our rearguard actions an officer was saying to me, “I am not good enough to die yet.” He had not spoken the words before he was shot through the brain, and the man on the left had his head blown off by a shell. You know I wasn’t severely religious, but I’m inclined to be now:Pte. Watts, 4th Grenadiers.
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:A Private of the Black Watch.
I am all right, but very nearly got shot in a trench by the Germans. I got on my knees to dig a bit of earth to get comfortable when they spotted me. Then about ten shots came in quick succession. One sent my cap off. Down I got, and jolly quick. This is the seventh time I have escaped being hit:Pte. Oliver, Yorkshire Light Infantry.
I was standing with a chum, watching the artillery fire. “Look at the smoke,” I said to him. A moment later a shell came screaming down, and I was knocked kicking by the suction. My chum simply said, “Lordy, look at the hole,” and then I saw I was lying on the edge of a hole made by the shell large enough to bury a horse in:Pte. J. Charley, East Surrey Regiment.
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. If ever a hero lived he was one: Sergt.J. Rolfe, 2nd Batt. King’s Royal Rifles.
We put in some wonderfully effective shooting in the trenches, and the men find it is much easier making good hits on active service than at manœuvres. The Germans seemed to think at first that we were as poor shots as they are, and they were awfully sick when they had to face our deadly fire for the first time:Pte. M. O’Keefe, Royal Irish Rifles.
Just as I was hit, I said, “Oh, Bill, it has knocked my foot up. Pick it up for me.” He said, “It is all right. Keep still,” and he tied something round my leg to stop the blood running. Then the doctor came up. He said, “The stretchers will be up just now”; but as soon as he went away I was making for the field hospital on my hands and knees. I got so far, and was having a rest when the doctor gave me a lift:Pte. Wilde, Worcestershire Regiment.
About midday a German aeroplane, flying the Union Jack and the French colours, came flying down on our positions. We thought it was our own craft, but wherever she dipped the German artillery took range, and as soon as she got up out of our reach they simply poured their shells upon us. Within ten minutes we had five killed and forty-seven wounded, and a number we cannot account for. One shell came blowing my knapsack off my back, and made a hole through my waterproof sheet. It was just like hell on earth:Pte. A. Fricker, 1st Gloucestershire Regiment.
As I was crawling on hands and knees to the base, bullets whizzed around me and shrapnel fell within a few feet. I had my kilt pierced on eight occasions. Everybody who has seen the holes in my kilt says what a marvellous escape it was. I had escaped without any additional scratch, even though I had my gun shattered to pieces in my hand:A Corporal of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.
Who was going to stop with the transport? Not me! I was sent for a box of ammunition, and was carrying it on my shoulder when a shrapnel splinter struck the box and knocked me down. All our fellows thought I was dead, and one or two came running to me, but I got up all right and went back to the trenches. I had a pop at ’em with a rifle. Ever seen a shrapnel drop?A Drummer Boy of the Cheshire Regiment.
I had the misfortune to have a pat on the ankle. I was placed on the tool cart, and had a ride with some others who had had a taste of German shells. One of our chaps had a narrow squeak. A bullet took his cap off, and a groove was cut through his hair, but it did not hurt him. It was just the same as if his hair was parted in the centre, for the bullet carried away the hair without hurting the scalp:Sapper McKenney, 1st Div. Royal Engineers.
My Dear Wife,—I hope that you have been getting my letters and postcards that I have sent to you since I have been out here. Well, dear, I am sorry to tell you I have been wounded, but it is not so serious as it might have been. I got hit in the head by a piece of shell, and the wound is getting on very nicely up to the time of writing. Do not worry yourself; we are all being treated splendidly:Pte. A. E. Bell, of the Rifle Brigade.
I picked one chap up who had been shot, and asked for someone to come and help me, and the two of us were picking him up when a shell burst between us. We were blown up in the air, and turned a somersault, and it is marvellous that neither of us was hurt. The chap we were picking up was not so lucky, for he was hit a second time. However, we got him up and took him back to the ambulance. The Germans finally blew down our barricade and everything that was movable, and we retired to the trenches, three miles away:A Lance-Corporal of the Royal Marines.
I have had some close shaves. Once I looked up for a second at an aeroplane flying overhead, and a couple of bullets just missed me by a hair’s-breadth. One day I was filling my water-bottle at the stream when it was shot out of my hand, and another bullet ripped into my coat and was stopped against the photos of you and the children. Last night in the trenches I dreamt I was back home again and was playing with little Gracie and telling her some stories of the fighting:Pte. Hamson, King’s Royal Rifles.
I have had the narrowest escape of my life. The horse I was riding got knocked out altogether by a shell, and while I was getting another one to put in its place a shell came and put three of us out of action. I managed to scramble out of it for about two miles, when I dropped unconscious, and the next place I found myself in was a French hospital with enough bandage round my head to make a girl a dress. You ought to see the sight of a battlefield; it is just like the Crystal Palace on a firework day but for the men and horses dropping:Driver T. Tyler, Royal Field Artillery.
The second day we were under heavy fire, and we had to retreat; but the next morning we regained the trenches. Then we came under heavy fire again, and it was at this time that I received my wound. “Have you got it, old boy?” said my mate, George Hunter. Only about ten minutes afterwards Hunter himself received in rapid succession five shots in the thigh and groin. He quickly died from hæmorrhage, and lies buried in France. I myself had to lie upon the ground for eleven hours before I was carried to an ambulance wagon:Pte. Whitehead, Norfolk Regiment.
The German had killed several of our fellows before I knocked him over. As they were going through a gate—“piff”—and down they went. We knew by the sound that the rifleman could not be far, and we kept looking out for him, for there were no large bodies of Germans about. At last I saw a flash coming from a tree, and I took two aims at him, and then we saw him swaying to and fro, dead as a nail, but tied with a rope to the tree:Pte. Jakeman, West Riding Regiment.
We came to a wood that looked as if it had been occupied by the Germans. Sure enough, there was a sentry standing all by himselfunder the trees with a rifle in his hands. We were in his direct line, so he couldn’t help seeing us, but he made not the slightest sound or sign of being put out. We crept close to have a better squint at him, because there was something uncommon in the look of him, and then we saw what was the matter. The poor chap was stone dead:Corpl. Miller, Army Service Corps.
I had the misfortune to get three bullets through my right leg. It feels just like getting a kick from a horse. It’s worse if the bullet strikes a bone, but by a bit of luck all three bullets went clean through my leg. They were from a machine gun, and it happened just after we had cleared the Germans out of a wood in order that we might put up there for the night. I was more fortunate in South Africa, when I was serving in the 5th Mounted Infantry, for then I only received a slight shell wound:Corporal F. Price.
After the battle the men rested in a deserted village where the one or two inhabitants who remained boiled some eggs for them and provided them with some refreshments. In the deserted shops enough tobacco was secured to make a cigarette each for most of the Cheshires, but they had only one box of matches between the whole battalion. A number of the Cheshires were sitting in a cottage having some tea. The door was open, and a drummer-boy was sitting near. Suddenly a bullet whizzed just past his face and struck a corporal, who was at that moment drinking tea from a cup, killing him instantly!Private Whitlow.
One night, while we were lying prone behind some earthworks, we heard the sound of hoofs. For a time we could not detect the intruders, so kept quite still. Then a light flickered out in the distance, then another disclosing a party of Uhlans, who, thinking they had the country to themselves, were lighting their pipes. We allowed them to advance, joking among themselves, until they were within close range. Then we gave them a volley. Three were killed, and the remainder, very scared, galloped off:A Corporal of a Highland Regiment.
I got a bullet through my shoulder that put my right arm out of action. I dropped in a clover field. The machine guns were sweeping the hill, and the bullets were cuttingthe clover tops about six inches above my head. I dare not move, as I would have been riddled, and the whole of the line had gone on. I lay there over two hours trying to get a bandage on my wound. When I heard the guns becoming silent, I jumped up and ran behind a haystack, where I found thirty more men all smothered with blood. We bandaged one another up as best we could, and lay there until dark, when a doctor arrived, and those alive were removed with stretchers. We got some hot tea, the first drop for five days:Pte. Cundell, Northamptonshire Regiment.
When I found I could not walk I gave it up. Just after I got my first view of the Germans. They were coming out of a wood 400 yards away all in a heap together, so I thought as I was done for I would get a bit of my own back, and so I started pumping a bit of lead into them. I stuck there for about three-quarters of an hour, and fired all my own ammunition and a lot belonging to two more wounded men who were close to me—about 300 rounds altogether, and as it was such a good target I guess I accounted for a good lot of them. Then I suddenly discovered I could walk, and so I set off to get back. I had to walk about 150 yards in the open, with shrapnel bursting abound me all the way:Private G. A. Turner.
I was wounded by shrapnel. When the shell burst in the air about 300 bullets flew in all directions. I was hit on the right shoulder. At first it did not hurt, and I continued to fight for about an hour. Then another shell burst, and I got a small wound on my left shoulder and a bullet through my left arm. It was in the forearm, and it came out just above the back of the elbow, and it fractured the bone. I have been under X-rays, and I am pleased to say there is nothing left in either shoulder, but there are little bits of shrapnel left in the elbow:Pte. W. Struthers, Northumberland Fusiliers.
While looking over the top of the trench a shell burst in front, and something hit me in the eye. It seemed like a blow from a sledgehammer, and down I went. When I came to about an hour after I found our chaps had beaten the enemy off, though the shells still came over. I had a bandage round my head, also a terrible aching. To improve matters rain started falling heavily, but I could not be moved till daybreak. I was then takento the nearest field hospital, had my wound bathed and dressed, and then was moved by motor ambulance to another field hospital about ten miles away. I stayed there a day, and again motored some distance to a town, and from there came by rail to this hospital, the train journey taking thirty hours:Sergt. Guest, Black Watch.
I had a bullet taken out of my leg yesterday, and I shall have to have my own back. You see, we were in the field, and the Germans were in the bush, and our officer told us to retire for a few yards, as he could see better cover from the enemy’s shot and shell. The first man got up and got back safely. Your humble was No. 2. I got up to go, and one of the Germans took a penalty. “’Nuf said!” Final score—One, nil. But, you see, we always play a return match, and it will then be my turn for both points. The Germans are a very big set of fellows, taking them on the whole; but what rifle shots! If the majority of them were in an empty house, they would not be able to hit it, because the bullets would go up the chimney. You may say, “They were good enough to hit you.” But that was more by good luck than by good management:Private J. B. Coates.
It was about six o’clock in the morning when I received my souvenir. It was almost impossible for a wounded man to get back from the firing line without being riddled. I stayed in the trench until five in the evening. The noise was deafening, shrapnel bursting all over the place and raining bullets. I determined to try and get back to have my wound dressed, and I crawled back somehow, rolled down on to a road, crawled along again for a few hundred yards, and presently got in touch with some stretcher-bearers, who carried me to a doctor. I with many others lay in a barn for two days, and the shells from the enemy’s big guns burst unpleasantly near the hospital the whole time. After a two days’ ride in cattle trucks we reached a good hospital, where we were made comfortable:Pte. G. Sims, 1st Batt. South Wales Border Regiment.
I was really fascinated by the shells, and was not really thinking of anything at all. Suddenly a shell burst over my head and it got me right in the back. I could feel my horse getting lower and lower; I put my hand behind me and felt a lot of hot wet. I wondered if I could get him over the ditch, but just before I got to it he rolled overinto it with me. My troop sergeant came and asked me if I could get up. I said, “No, mate, I can’t move; I’ll have to stop here.” Then back came the trumpeter with Captain ——, and he asked me the same thing. If I couldn’t get on a spare horse they would have to leave me there. I said, “Very well, sir, I’ll stop. You had better clear out.” I crawled along the ditch to get out of the way of the shells, which were bursting a long time after my squadron had gone to cover. I lay there about four hours in a semi-conscious state, and when I came round I found I had buried my head in the mud trying to get out of the way of the shells:A Lance-Corporal of Hussars.
The bullets and shells were flying all round, and did not cease until after dark. Then was my only chance to get out. I crawled on my hands and knees to a little inn, and there my wounds were dressed. To-day since I have been in hospital shrapnel has been bursting all round, but the hospital was not touched except for one bullet which struck a window. The bullet that wounded me went into one breast pocket and came out of the other, and in its course it passed through your photo, making a hole in the breast. What a strange coincidence! It then passed through my watch and struck a large clasp knife, smashing it to pieces and driving it through my pocket:Sergt. E. W. Turner, Royal West Kent Regiment.
I got an awful wound in the left hip. A shell burst in the trenches close to me, killing five of our chaps; so I had a lucky get off. I had to lie in the trench wounded all day, as the battle was so fierce they could not take me to cover. A few days before this happened I and another of our chaps were captured by some Germans. They took everything I had, even my watch and chain. The escort took us to a barn for the night. We laid down and made out as if we were asleep. We could hear them talking, and they touched us, but we did not move, so they lay down themselves and soon dropped off to sleep. There were eleven of us altogether. Then we thought they were all right and sound asleep, so I seized a German rifle next to me, which was fully loaded, and I touched my mate and we both moved slyly away. I was determined to shoot the first German that moved and make a run for it; but we got away all right and slept the night in a wood:Pte. Evenden, 1st Coldstream Guards.
“Come on now, lads,” said our officer, and we went running on as hard as we could. We had got to take the hill, you see, or smash the Germans that were on it. At last we got quite near—not 150 yards from the trenches. I and two pals of mine and two others got behind a hedge and started to blaze away. We lost our sick feeling then. There was one chap got hit in the face with a shrapnel bullet. “Hurt, Bill?” I said to him. “Good luck to the old regiment,” said he. Then he rolled over on his back. There was a grey German helmet over the side of the trench with a rifle under it. I let that German have a bullet all to himself. I saw his helmet roll back and his rifle fly up. Then I got on my knees to bandage up a pal, and just as I moved there was a smash on my side. They’d got me, too, and I rolled over and thought I was done for:Pte. S. Smith, 1st Warwickshire Regiment.
One day I was in front of my horses with my back to the enemy, just putting on my nosebags, when a shell from somewhere fell between the horses and put the whole six on the ground. I was pulled up in the air by my horse, and he dropped on his back dead. The wheel-horses were struggling, and my wheel-driver was lying dead with his face blown away. I did not get touched, but no sooner did the devils see that their shells were effective than they opened fire with the whole lot of their big guns, twelve in all, and I don’t know how many machine guns. The din was horrible, shells screaming and whistling around me, and the pop-pop-pop of the Maxims. I ran round to the gun and tried to get it unlimbered, but the horses were struggling in the wheel harness and I could not move it. Then I felt a twitch in my arm. I saw blood on my sleeve, and the hole where the bullet went in. The use of my arm was gone. I did not know what to do. I dropped down and crawled out of the firing line. Another fellow came along with a wound in his hand, and we sat there talking together till we were picked up by an ambulance:Driver G. Chiswell, Royal Horse Artillery.
I was told to go back to the farmhouse and cut the horses loose. I did so. Then God answered my prayer, and I had strength to run through a line of rifle fire over barbed wire covered by a hedge, and managed to get out of range, and then I fell for want of water. I had just about two teaspoonfuls in my bottle; then I went on struggling my way through hedgesto a railway line. When I got through I saw a man of the Royal Irish with six wounds from shrapnel. I managed to carry him about half a mile and found water; then he was as happy as if he were not wounded. I stuck to him although he was heavy and I was feeling weak and tired. I had to carry him across a big field of turnips; when half way I slipped and we both fell. I had a look back, and could see the fire mountains high. I then saw one of my own regiment, and with the help of two Frenchmen we soon got the Irishman on a shutter to a house and dressed him. We got him away from the village, which was being shelled, and then met a company of Cameronian Highlanders and handed him over to them:Pte. G. Kay, of the Royal Scots.
“We’re in for it,” says I to Tommy Gledhill, my chum. “Anything’s better than lying here,” said he. “Anyhow, it will warm us up just as well as brandy, and it’ll help a few more Germans to a place where they’ll not be bothered with chills.” Sure enough, it was as hot as anyone could wish it to be. The Germans were in their best fighting form. They came right up to where we were posted, stopping every few yards to fire into us. Then they came for us with the bayonet, and there was as nice a set-to in the muggy downpour as you could ask for. It was ugly work while it lasted. In the soaked ground it was difficult enough to keep a foothold, but if you want a really tough job just try a little bayonet exercise with a heavy German dancing around you trying to jab a bayonet into you if you should happen to slip in the mud. That’ll give you an idea of what we came through. “Anchored!” We don’t like to be called that at any time, but that morning we were proud when the brigadier called us the old “Stick-in-the-Muds,” and I dare say if it hadn’t been for the fact that some of us caught the wheeze of anchoring ourselves at least a foot deep in the mud we might have been swept away. As it was, it was the Germans who were swept away, and you might say that they were properly rolled in blood and mud, for when any of them went down in that fight they were a sight for sore eyes, or I’m a horse marine:A Private of the Grenadier Guards.
We had not marched more than 500 yards, and got to the outskirts of the town, when we heard a cavalry patrol coming towards us, the officers speaking in French. Our captain immediately challenged in French, and we got no reply. Thecaptain then realized they were Germans, and the order came, “Fire!” The German officers dashed forward and seized the muzzles of the front-rank rifles a second before we had the order “Fire!” and a proper mêlée took place. A German slashed one of our chaps’ head nearly off. All of them (Germans) were wiped out in a few seconds. After that we fired volleys as they charged down on us, and they never got within 50 yards of us. They brought a big gun, and then it was a perfect hell. The gun was only 400 yards away, and was blazing shrapnel into us. Five times we silenced it. It was hell all night. I was shot, and carted off to hospital. My rifle stopped the bullet, and saved my life, or I should have got it in the chest:A Guardsman, at Mons.