Brigades have had the devil’s own hail of shot over them. Please send
me some newspapers sometimes, as we have not seen one since I left, bar
some old French _Petit Parisiens_.
The Scots Greys from York and the 12th Lancers did great work yesterday
on hostile cavalry, and about wiped out those opposed to them. The
“Guardies” are in great form. Very little sleep nowadays, up at dawn
almost always, very often before that hour.
A German regiment, dressed in English uniforms, the other day billetted
with an English regiment (at the other end of the town), and when
the latter marched out they were about broken up by maxim fire from
the bedroom windows. A German force arrived elsewhere, the Berkshire
regiment were on guard, and the former, in French uniforms, called out
from the wire entanglements that they waited to interview the C.O. A
major went forward who spoke French, and was shot down immediately.
This sort of thing is of daily occurrence, and only makes matters worse
for the “Sausage-makers” when our infantry get into them.
* * * * *
_Letter 52.--From a reservist in the Royal Field Artillery (Published
in the “Glasgow Herald”):_
I got a nasty hit with a shell on the thick of the leg. The Germans
caught us napping on Wednesday, and what slaughter! It was horrible to
witness. The Germans came along the village, killing the poor women and
children and burning all the houses. Our division could not hold out.
We were expecting the French troops to meet us, but they were two days
late. Our battery had a lucky escape of being cut up. We entrenched our
guns to come into action next day, but somehow or other we cleared
out, and had only gone ten minutes before the place was blown up.
The officer in charge of my section had his head blown off. I was
carried off under heavy fire on a fellow’s back, and it is to him I
owe my life. It was a long way to hospital, shells bursting all round
us. We dropped behind some corn stacks, then on we went again. I had
no sooner got bandaged up when a chap came galloping up and said the
Germans were in sight. I was the second last man to leave the hospital,
and ten minutes later it was blown up. You cannot imagine what things
were like. The women and children of England can think themselves
lucky, for the poor women here had to walk from village to village,
young children in their arms. It touched my heart to see the sight.
The Germans did not use rifles, but big guns, against our infantry’s
rifles. They are most brutal, killing all wounded in a most horrible
fashion.
* * * * *
_Letter 53.--Front Trooper S. Cargill:_
The Germans let all hell loose on us in their mad attempt to crush us
and so win their way to Paris. They didn’t succeed, and they won’t
succeed. I saw one ghastly affair. A German cavalry division was
pursuing our retiring infantry when we were let loose on them. When
they saw us coming they turned and fled, at least all but one, who came
rushing at us with his lance at the charge. I caught hold of his horse,
which was half mad with terror, and my chum was going to run the rider
through when he noticed the awful glaze in his eyes and we saw that the
poor devil was dead.
* * * * *
_Letter 54.--Front an Irish soldier, to his sister in County Cork:_
I am writing this on a leaf out of a field service pocket-book, as
notepaper and envelopes are very scarce, and we are not allowed to
send picture postcards of places as they give away where we are. Well,
this is a lovely country. The climate suits me very well. Everything
grows like mad here. It is rather like Ireland, only ten times as
rich. All that I have seen yet--and that is a good lot--is far and away
better than the best part of the county Limerick. I think it would be a
pleasure to farm here.
At the present time I am billeted in a farmhouse. I sleep in their
best bed-room--that is when I can go to bed at all--and they give me
home-made cider, cognac, and coffee, apples, plums, etc., and lovely
home-made cheese for nothing, though they need not supply any food, as
the rations are served out by the regiment every day.
’Tis great fun trying to talk French to them and I am picking it up
gradually. It is wonderful how words and sentences that I learned at
school come back to me now, and I can generally make myself understood
all right. It is an awful pity to see this beautiful country spoiled
by war, and it is no wonder the people are so eager to fight for it. I
don’t think there is a single house that has not sent out one or more
men to fight with the French Army, and their mothers, sisters, wives,
etc., are very proud of it. There are two gone out of this house.
* * * * *
_Letter 55.--From Private Carwardine, to the father of a
comrade-in-arms:_
I am very sorry, but I don’t know for sure about your Joe. You see,
although he was in the same company as me, he was not in the same
section. I only wish he had been. The last I saw of him was when we
were in the firing line making trenches for ourselves. He was about 600
yards behind us, smoking, and I waved to him. Then all of a sudden we
had to get down in our trenches, for bullets started coming over our
heads, and shells dropped around us.
We were fighting twelve hours when I got one in the back from a shell.
After that I knew no more until I found myself in hospital, and I asked
one of our chaps how our company went on, and he told me there were
only seventeen of us left out of 210. I hope Joe is among them. You
will get to know in the papers in a bit when they call the roll.
So cheer up and don’t be downhearted, for if Joe is killed he has died
a soldier of honour on the field. Excuse writing, as I am a bit shaky,
and I hope to God Joe is safe, for both your sakes.
* * * * *
_Letter 56.--From Private G. Dunton, of the Royal Engineers, to his
family at Coventry:_
I am in hospital, having been sent home from France, wounded in my
left hand. I have got one shrapnel bullet right through my hand, and
another through my middle finger against the top joint. I was wounded
at Cambrai last Wednesday. I have been in four hospitals in France, but
had to be removed on account of the Germans firing on the hospitals. I
do not think much of them, for if it was not for their artillery they
would be wiped out in quick time. No doubt our losses are great, but
theirs are far more. The famous cavalry of theirs, the Uhlans, are
getting cut up terribly. All that have been captured have said that
they are short of food. I must say we have had plenty to eat. I was
near Mons a week last Saturday and we were attacked the same day. We
have been on the retire ever since last Wednesday, when I got wounded,
but we shall soon be advancing, for they will never reach Paris. I
am very pleased to see that the Germans are being forced back by the
Russians. I hope they will serve Berlin the same as the Germans have
done to Belgium. The 9th Brigade was cut up badly; in fact, my Division
was, but more are wounded than killed. There are 1,000 wounded in this
hospital alone, without other hospitals. I must say that I am in good
health. My hand is giving me pain, but I do not mind that. I only had
four days’ fighting, but it was hard work while it lasted. The Germans,
although four to one, could not break through our lines, and they must
have lost thousands, as our artillery and infantry mowed them down like
sheep. Their rifle fire took no effect at all. All our wounds were done
by shrapnel. My hand is not healing at all, but I must be patient and
give it time. The French and Belgian people were very kind to us and
gave us anything we wanted.
* * * * *
_Letter 57.--From a Manchester soldier, in a French hospital:_
There was a young French girl helping to bandage us up. How she
stood it I don’t know. There were some awful sights, but she never
quailed--just a sweet, sad smile for everyone. If ever anyone deserved
a front seat in Heaven, this young angel does. God bless her. She has
the prayers and the love of the remnants of our division. All the
French people are wonderfully generous. They gave us anything and
everything. You simply cannot help loving them, especially the children.
* * * * *
_Letter 58.--From Private A. McGillivray, a Highlander, to his
mother:_
Of my company only 10 were unhit. I saw a handful of Irishmen throw
themselves in front of a regiment of cavalry who were trying to cut off
a battery of horse artillery. It was one of the finest deeds I ever
saw. Not one of the poor lads got away alive, but they made the German
devils pay in kind, and, anyhow, the artillery got away to account for
many more Germans. Every man of us made a vow to avenge the fallen
Irishmen, and if the German cavalrymen concerned were made the targets
of every British rifleman and gunner they had themselves to thank.
Later they were fully avenged by their own comrades, who lay in wait
for the German cavalrymen. The Irish lads went at them with the bayonet
when they least expected it, and the Germans were a sorry sight. Some
of them howled for mercy, but I don’t think they got it. In war mercy
is only for the merciful.
* * * * *
_Letter 59.--From Private W. Bell, of the South Lancashire Regiment,
to his wife:_
I shall never forget this lot. Men fell dead just like sheep. Our
regiment was first in the firing line, and we were simply cut up. Very
few escaped, so I think I was very lucky, for I was nearly half-a-mile
creeping over nothing but dead men. In the trenches, bullets and shells
came down on us like rain. We even had to lift dead men up and get
under them for safety.
When we got the order to retire an officer was just giving the order to
charge when he was struck dead, and it is a good job we didn’t charge,
or we would have all been killed. I passed a lot of my chums dead, but
I didn’t see Fred Atkinson (a friend of the family).
* * * * *
_Letter 60.--From Corporal T. Trainor:_
Have you ever seen a little man fighting a great, big, hulking giant
who keeps on forcing the little chap about the place until the giant
tires himself out, and then the little one, who has kept his wind,
knocks him over? That’s how the fighting round here strikes me. We are
dancing about round the big German army, but our turn will come.
Last Sunday we had prayers with shells bursting all around us, but the
service was finished before it was necessary for us to grapple with the
enemy. The only thing objectionable I have seen is the robbing of our
dead and wounded by German ghouls. In such cases no quarter is given,
and, indeed, is never expected.
* * * * *
_Letter 61.--From an Artilleryman, to his wife at Sheerness:_
I am the only one left out of my battery; we were blown to pieces by
the enemy on Wednesday at Le Cateau. We have been out here twenty-eight
days all told, and have been through the five engagements. I have
nothing; only the jacket I stand up in--no boots or putties, as I was
left for dead. But my horse was shot, and not me. He laid down on me.
They had to cut my boots, etc., off to get me from under my horse.
* * * * *
_Letter 62.--From Lance-Corporal J. Preston, of the 2nd Battalion
Inniskilling Fusiliers, to his wife at Banbridge:_
I did not get hit at Mons. I got through it all right. We encountered
the Germans on Sunday at Mons, and fought on till Monday night. It
was on the retreat from Mons that I was caught. They had about one
hundred guns playing on us all the time we were retiring. We had a
battery of artillery with us. They were all blown to pieces, men and
guns and all. It was a most sorrowful sight to see the guns wiped out,
and the gunners and men lying around them. The whole plain was strewn
with dead and wounded. I hope my eyes will never look on anything so
horrid again. Our section brought in six prisoners, all wounded, and
they told us we had slain hundreds of them. We captured a German spy;
he was dressed in a Scotsman’s uniform, and was knocking around our
camp, but we were a bit too quick for him. I think the hardest battles
are fought; the German cannot stand it much longer, his food supply is
getting done.
* * * * *
_Letter 63.--From a Corporal in the Motor Cycle Section of the Royal
Engineers:_
Last night the enemy made an attempt to get through to our base in
armed motors. Myself and two other motor-cyclists were sent out to look
for them. It was a pitch-black night, with a thick fog. One of our men
got in touch with them, and was pursued. He made for a bridge which had
been mined by the engineers, and that was the end of the Germans....
The German artillery is rotten. Last Saturday three batteries bombarded
an entrenched British battalion for two hours, and only seven men were
killed. The noise was simply deafening, but so little effect had the
fire that the men shouted with laughter, and held their caps up on the
end of their rifles to give the German gunners a bit of encouragement.
This is really the best summer holiday I have had for a long time.
* * * * *
_Letter 64.--From Corporal J. Bailey:_
It’s very jolly in camp in spite of all the drawbacks of active
service, and we have lively times when the Germans aren’t hanging
around to pay their respects. It’s a fine sight to see us on the march,
swinging along the roads as happy as schoolboys, and singing all the
old songs we can think of. The tunes are sometimes a bit out, but
nobody minds so long as we’re happy. As we pass through the villages
the French come out to cheer us and bring us food and fruit. Cigarettes
we get more of than we know what to do with. Some of them are rotten,
so we save them for the German prisoners, who would smoke anything
they can lay their hands on. Flowers also we get plenty of, and we are
having the time of our lives.
* * * * *
_Letter 65.--From a Sergeant in the Royal Field Artillery:_
If the French people were mad about us before we were on trial, they
are absolutely crazy over us now when we have sort of justified our
existence. In the towns we pass through we are received with so much
demonstration that I fancy the French soldiers must be jealous. The
people don’t seem to have eyes for anybody but us, and they do all they
can to make us comfortable. They give us the best they can lay hold of,
but that’s not much after the Germans have been around collaring all
they could. It’s the spirit that means so much to us, and even though
it was only an odd cup of water they brought us we would be grateful.
Most of us are glad to feel that we are fighting for a nation worth
fighting for, and after our experience there can be no question of
trouble between us and France in the future.
We lost terribly in the retreat from Mons, of which you have heard by
now, but artillery always stands to lose in retreats, because we play
such a big part in getting the other men away and we quite made up our
minds that we would have to pay forfeit then. Without boasting, I can
say that it was the way the guns were handled that made it so easy
for our lads to get out of the German trap. There was once or twice
when it looked as though it were all up with us, and some of our chaps
were fair down in the mouth over it; but I think now they didn’t make
sufficient allowance for the steadiness of all arms of our service;
and, between ourselves, I think they had got the usual notions about
the splendid soldiering qualities of the German army. They know better
now, and though it’s bad to get chesty about that sort of thing, we are
all pretty confident that with a sporting chance we stand to win all
the time.
* * * * *
_Letter 66.--From Private J. Toal:_
It’s tired we all were when we got through that week of fighting and
marching from Mons; but after we’d had a taste of rest for a day or
two, by the saints, we were ready for the ugly Germans again, and we’ve
been busy ever since drilling holes in them big enough to let out the
bad that’s in them. You wouldn’t believe the way they have burned and
destroyed the holy churches everywhere they went, and there’s many an
Irish lad betwixt here and the frontier has registered a vow that he
will not rest content till he’s paid off that score against the men who
would lay hands on God’s altars.
* * * * *
_Letter 67.--From Private W. Green:_
We see more Germans than you could count in the day, but they are now
very funky about it, and they will never wait for a personal interview
with one of our men, especially if he has a lance or a bayonet handy,
and naturally you don’t go out German-hunting without something of
the kind with you, if only just for luck. When they must face us they
usually get stuck away somewhere where they are protected by more guns
than you ever set eyes on, and likewise crowds of machine guns of the
Maxim pattern, mounted on motors. These are not now so troublesome, for
they are easy to spot out in the open, and our marksmen quickly pick
off the men serving them, so the Germans are getting a bit shy about
displaying them. Something we heard the other day has put new life into
us; not that we were downhearted before, but what I mean shows that we
are going to have all we wished for very soon, and though we can’t tell
you more you may be sure that we are going on well.
* * * * *
_Letter 68.--From Private G. A. Turner, to his father, Mr. J. W.
Turner, of Leeds_ (_Published in the “Leeds Mercury”_):
I am still living, though a bit knocked about. I got a birthday present
from the Kaiser. I was wounded on the 23rd. So it was a near thing, was
it not? I got your letter at a place called Moroilles, in France, about
five miles from Landrecies, where our troops have retired.
On Sunday, 23rd, we had rifle inspection at 11 a.m., and were ordered
to fall in for bathing parade at 11.30. While we were waiting for
another company to return from the river the Germans commenced to shell
the town. We fell in about 1.0 p.m., an hour and a half afterwards, to
go to the scene of the attack. Shells were bursting in the streets as
we went. We crossed a bridge over the canal under artillery fire, and
stood doing nothing behind a mill on the bank for some time.
Then someone cried out that the Germans were advancing along the canal
bank, and our company were ordered to go along. We thought we were
going to check the Germans, but we found out afterwards that a company
of our own regiment were in position further along on the opposite side
of the canal, and we were being sent out to reinforce them.
There was no means of crossing the canal at that point, so it was an
impossibility. As soon as we started to move we were spotted by the
Germans, who opened fire with their guns at about five hundred yards
with shrapnel, and the scene that followed beggars description. Several
of us were laid full length behind a wooden fence about half an inch
thick. The German shells burst about three yards in front of it. It was
blown to splinters in about ten minutes. None of us expected to get out
alive.
They kept us there about an hour before they gave us the word to
retire. I had just turned round to go back when I stopped one. It hits
you with an awful thump, and I thought it had caught me at the bottom
of the spine, as it numbed my legs for about half an hour.
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 about 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 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
around me all the way, but somehow or other I got back without catching
another. It was more than I expected, I can assure you, and I laughed
when I got in the shelter of the mill again.
I was very sorry to have to leave the other chaps who were wounded, but
as I could only just limp along I could not help them in any way. They
were brought in later by stretcher bearers.
A man who was at Paardeburg and Magersfontein, in South Africa, said
they were nothing to what we got that Sunday. Out of 240 men of my
company only about twenty were uninjured.
* * * * *
_Letter 69.--From an Infantryman in hospital_ (_Published in the
“Aldershot News”_):
I found myself mixed up with a French regiment on the right. I wanted
to go forward with them, but the officer in charge shook his head
and smiled, “They will spot you in your khaki and put you out in no
time,” he said in English; “make your way to the left; you’ll find your
fellows on that hill.” I watched the regiment till it disappeared; then
I made my way across a field and up a big avenue of trees. The shells
were whistling overhead, but there was nothing to be afraid of. Halfway
up the avenue there was a German lancer officer lying dead by the side
of the road. How he got there was a mystery, because we had seen no
cavalry. But there he lay, and someone had crossed his hands on his
breast, and put a little celluloid crucifix in his hands. Over his face
was a beautiful little handkerchief--a lady’s--with lace edging. It was
a bit of a mystery, because there wasn’t a lady for miles that I knew
of.
* * * * *
_Letter 70.--From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E., to his mother at
Uckfield:_
We met the Germans at Landrecies on Sunday. We had a fifteen-hour
battle. It was terrible. There were 120,000 Germans and only 20,000 of
us, but our men fought well. We blew up six bridges. Laid our charges
in the afternoon, and the whole time we were doing it were not hit.
After we had got everything ready we got back into cover and waited
until 1.30 on Monday morning, until our troops had got back over the
river, and then we blew up the bridges. We retired about thirty miles.
The town where we stopped on Sunday was a beautiful place, but the
Germans destroyed it. Close to where I was a church had been used as a
hospital, and our wounded were coming by the dozens. But, terrible to
say, the Germans blew the place up. They have no pity. They kill our
wounded and drive the people before them.
* * * * *
_Letter 71.--From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E._ (_Second letter,
published in the “Sussex Daily News”_):
We were laying our gun cotton--ten of us were the last to leave, and
the Germans stopped us. We had to run for it down the main street of
the town of Landrecies, and, being dark, we could not see where we
were going. We got caught in some telegraph wires which had been put
across the street. We had to cut them away with our bayonets. On Monday
morning, when things were quieter, we went nearly into the German
lines. We could hear them giving orders. Our job was to put barbed wire
across the road. I was thankful to get out of it. We could see the
Germans burning their dead. They must have lost a few thousand men, as
our troops simply mowed them down.
I saw one sergeant kill fourteen Germans, one after the other. They
came up in fifties, all in a cluster, and you couldn’t help hitting
them. They were only 400 yards from us all day on Sunday. They are very
cruel. Our people used a church for a hospital, and it was filled with
our wounded, but the place was shelled and knocked down. They stabbed
a good many of our men while lying on the battlefield. They have no
respect for the Red Cross. To see women and children driven from home
and walking the roads is terrible--old men and women just the same.
At the town where we were we got cut off from our people--eighteen of
us--and the houses were being toppled over by the German artillery.
The people clung around us, asking us to stay with them, but it was no
good. When we left, the town was in flames. But our men did fight well.
You never saw anything so cool in your life. Anyone would have thought
it was a football match, for they were joking and laughing with one
another.
* * * * *
_Letter 72.--From John Baker, of the Royal Flying Corps, to his
parents at Boston, Lincolnshire:_
While flying over Boulogne at a height of 3,000 feet, something went
wrong with the machine, and the engine stopped. The officer said,
“Baker, our time has come. Be brave, and die like a man. Good-bye,”
and shook hands with me. I shall always remember the ten minutes
that followed. The next I remembered was that I was in a barn. I was
removed to Boulogne, and afterwards to Netheravon, being conveyed from
Southampton by motor ambulance.
* * * * *
_Letter 73.--From Private G. Rider:_