have seen. They are nearly all long distance champions in the fighting
line, and won’t come too near unless they are made to. Yesterday we had
a whole day of it in the trenches, with the Germans firing away at us
all the time. It began just after breakfast, and we were without food
of any kind until we had what you might call a dainty afternoon tea
in the trenches under shell fire. The mugs were passed round with the
biscuits and the “bully” as best they could by the mess orderlies, but
it was hard work getting through without getting more than we wanted
of lead rations. My next-door neighbour, so to speak, got a shrapnel
bullet in his tin mug, and another two doors off had his biscuit shot
out of his hand when he was fool enough to hold it up to show it to a
chum in the next trench.
We are ready for anything that comes our way, and nothing would
please us better than a good big stand-up fight with the Germans on
any ground they please. We are all getting used to the hard work of
active service, and you very seldom hear complaints from anybody. The
grousers, who are to be found in nearly every regiment, seem to be on
holiday for the war.
* * * * *
_Letter 74.--From Private Martin O’Keefe, of the Royal Irish Rifles,
to his friends at Belfast:_
Our part in the fighting was limited almost entirely to covering the
retreat by a steady rifle fire from hastily-prepared trenches. We were
thrown out along an extended front, and instructed to hold our ground
until the retiring troops were signalled safe in the next position
allotted them. When this was done our turn came, and we retired to a
new position, our place being taken by the light cavalry, who kept
the Germans in check as long as they could and then fell back in
their turn. The Germans made some rather tricky moves in the hope of
cutting us off while we were on this dangerous duty, but our flanks
were protected by cavalry, French and English, and they did not get
very far without having to fight. When they found the slightest show of
resistance they retreated, and tried to find an easier way of getting
in at us. The staff were well pleased with the way we carried out the
duty given to us, and we were told that it had saved our Army from
very serious loss at one critical point. 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.
* * * * *
_Letter 75.--From Sergeant W. Holmes:_
We are off again, this time with some of the French, and it’s enough
to give you fits to hear the Frenchmen trying to pick up the words of
“Cheer Boys, Cheer,” which we sing with great go on the march. They
haven’t any notion of what the words mean, but they can tell from
our manner that they mean we’re in good heart, and that’s infectious
here. We lost our colonel and four other officers in our fight on
Tuesday. It was the hottest thing we were ever in. The colonel was
struck down when he was giving us the last word of advice before we
threw ourselves on the enemy. We avenged him in fine style. His loss
was a great blow to us, for he was very popular. It’s always the best
officers, somehow, that get hit the first, and there’s not a man in
the regiment who wouldn’t have given his life for him. He was keen on
discipline, but soldiers don’t think any less of officers who are that.
The German officers are a rum lot. They don’t seem in too great a hurry
to expose their precious carcasses, and so they “lead” from the rear
all the time. We see to it that they don’t benefit much by that, you
may be sure, and when it’s at all possible we shoot at the skulking
officers. That probably accounts for the high death rate among German
officers. They seem terribly keen on pushing their men forward into
posts of danger, but they are not so keen in leading the way, except
in retreat, when they are well to the fore. Our cavalry are up to that
little dodge, and so, when they are riding out to intercept retreating
Germans, they always give special attention to the officers.
* * * * *
_Letter 76.--From Corporal J. Hammersley:_
The Germans in front of us are about done for, and that’s the truth of
it. They have got about as much fighting as humans can stand, and it is
about time they realised it. I don’t agree with those who think this
war is going to last for a long time. The pace we go at on both sides
is too hot, and flesh and blood won’t stand it for long. My impression
is that there will be a sudden collapse of the Germans that will
astonish everybody at home; but we are not leaving much to chance, and
we do all we can to hasten the collapse. The Germans aren’t really cut
out for this sort of work. They are proper bullies, who get on finely
when everybody’s lying bleeding at their feet, but they can’t manage at
all when they have to stand up to men who can give them more than they
bargain for.
* * * * *
_Letter 77.--From Lance-Corporal T. Williams:_
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 have 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.
One chap who knows a little English told us he was never more pleased
to see the English uniform in all his life before, for he was about fed
up with marching and fighting in the inhuman way the German officers
expect their men to go on. When we took him to camp he lay down and
slept like a log for hours; he was so done up.
That’s typical of the Germans now, and it looks as though the Kaiser
were going to have to pay a big price for taxing his men so terribly.
You can’t help being sorry for the poor fellows. They all say they were
told when setting out that it would be child’s play beating us, as our
army was the poorest stuff in the world. Those who had had experience
in England didn’t take that in altogether, but the country yokels and
those who had never been outside their own towns believed it until they
had a taste of our fighting quality, and then they laughed with the
other side of their faces.
That’s the Germans all over, to “kid” themselves into the belief that
they have got a soft thing, and then when they find it’s too hard, to
run away from it. Our lads have made up their minds to give them no
rest once we get on to them, and they’ll get as much of the British
Army as they can stand, and maybe a little more. The French are greatly
pleased with the show we made in the field, and are in much better
spirits than they were.
* * * * *
_Letter 78.--From a Non-commissioned Officer of Dragoons:_
All our men--in fact, the whole British Army--are as fit as a fiddle,
and the lads are as keen as mustard. There is no holding them back. At
Mons we were under General Chetwode, and horses and men positively flew
at the Germans, cutting through much heavier mounts and heavier men
than ours. The yelling and the dash of the Lancers and Dragoon Guards
was a thing never to be forgotten. We lost very heavily at Mons, and
it is a marvel how some of our fellows pulled through and positively
frightened the enemy. We did some terrible execution, and our wrists
were feeling the strain of heavy riding before sunset. With our tunics
unbuttoned, we had the full use of our right arm for attack and defence.
After Mons I went with a small party scouting, and we again engaged
about twenty cavalry, cut off from their main body. We killed nine,
wounded six, and gave chase to the remaining five, who, in rejoining
their unit, nearly were the means of trapping us. However, our men
dispersed and hid in a wood until they fell in with a squadron of the
----, and so reached camp in safety. After that a smart young corporal
accompanied me to reconnoitre, and we went too far ahead, and were
cut off in a part of the country thick with Uhlans. As we rode in the
direction of ---- two wounded men were limping along, both with legs
damaged, one from the Middlesex and the other Lancashire Fusiliers, and
so we took them up.
Corporal Watherston took one behind his saddle and I took the other.
The men were hungry, and tattered to shreds with fighting, but in fine
spirits. We soon came across a small village, and I found the curé a
grand sportsman and full of pluck and hospitality. He seemed charmed
to find a friend who was English, and told me that the Germans were
dressed in the uniforms of British soldiers, which they took from the
dead and from prisoners in order to deceive French villagers, who in
many places in that district had welcomed these wolves in sheep’s
clothing. We were warned that the enemy would be sure to track us up
to the village. The curé said he could hide the two wounded men in the
crypt of his church and put up beds for them. It has a secret trapdoor,
and was an ancient treasure-house of a feudal lord, whose castle we saw
in ruins at the top of the hill close by.
Then he hid away our saddlery and uniforms in the roof of a barn, and
insisted upon our making a rest-chamber of the tower of his church,
which was approached by a ladder, which we were to pull up to the
belfry as soon as we got there. He smuggled in wine and meat and bread
and cakes, fruit and cigarettes, with plenty of bedding pulled up by
a rope. We slept soundly, and the owls seemed the only other tenants,
who resented our intrusion. No troops passed through the village that
night. In the morning the curé came round at six o’clock, and we heard
him say Mass. After that we let down the ladder, and he came up with
delicious hot chocolate and a basket of rolls and butter.
Our horses he had placed in different stables a mile apart, and put
French “fittings” on them, so as to deceive the enemy. He thinks we are
well away from the main body of the German army moving in the direction
of Paris, but will not hear of our leaving here for at least three
days. But I cried, “Curé, we are deserters!” The old man wept and said,
“Deserters, no, no--saviours, saviours; you have rescued France from
the torments of slavery.”
However, we have now secured complete disguises as French
cultivateurs--baggy corderoy trousers, blue shirts, boots, stockings,
belt, hat, cravat, everything to match--and as we have not shaved for
two weeks, and are bronzed with the sun, I think that the corporal and
myself can pass anywhere as French peasants, if only he will leave all
the talking to me.
The two wounded soldiers don’t wish us to leave them, because I am
interpreter, and not a soul speaks English in the village. So we have
explained to the curé that we shall stay here until our comrades
are able to walk, and then the party of four will push our way out
somewhere on horseback and get to the coast. The sacristan at once
offered to be our guide, and it is arranged that we take a carrier’s
wagon which travels in this district and drive our own horses in it,
and pick up two additional mounts at a larger village on the way to the
coast.
We must get back as soon as ever we can. Nothing could be kinder than
the people here, but this is not what we came to France for, and
hanging about in a French village is not exactly what a soldier calls
“cricket.”
You cannot imagine how complete the Germans are in the matter of rapid
transport. Large automobiles, such as the railway companies have for
towns round Harrogate and Scarborough, built like char-à-bancs, carry
the soldiers in batches of fifty, so that they are as fresh as paint
when they get to the front. But in point of numbers I think one of our
side is a fair match for four of the enemy. I hope that the British
public are beginning to understand what this war means. The German is
not a toy terrier, but a bloodhound absolutely thirsty for blood.
* * * * *
_Letter 79.--From Private Tom Savage, to his relatives at Larne:_
At Sea.
Just a line to let you know that we are landing outside ----. They
kept us without any knowledge of how and where we were going till the
last moment. I am quite well and extra specially fit. It is good fun
on a troopship, and we are going to have a nice little holiday on the
Continent. I’ll be able to “swank French” when I come back. I’ll write
a good long letter when I settle down. I’m writing this at tea time
just before we land. I have got two very nice chums, Jack Wright, the
footballer, who has seen service before, and Billy Caughey, both of
Belfast.
In France.
I am writing this note while on outpost duty. I can’t say where we are,
or anything like that, but I am in the best of health and enjoying
the life. I am getting a fine hand at French. There is plenty of food
and the people are all very nice. It’s great fun trying to understand
them. Plenty of fruit here, pears and apples galore, and as for bread
big long rolls and rings of it, and all very cheap. When you happen
to be riding through a town the people give you cigarettes, fruit,
chocolates, and cider.
If you are all extra good I’ll bring you home a pet German. How is Home
Rule getting on? Send me a paper, but I don’t know when I’ll get it or
you’ll get this. I suppose the papers are full of this ruction. I can
write no more as I’ll soon have to go on guard.
* * * * *
_Letter 80.--From Mons. E. Hovelange, of Paris, written on August
30th, to Sir William Collins_ (_Published in the “Sussex Daily
News”_):
How serious the situation is here it is hard for you to realize in
London. We may be encircled at any moment by these hordes of savages.
Such murderous cruelty has never been seen in the annals of war. The
Turks and the Bulgarians were no worse. It is the rule to fire on
ambulances and slaughter the wounded. I know it from eye-witnesses. The
Germans are drunk with savagery. It is an orgy of the basest cruelty.
They are rushing Paris at all costs, squandering their men recklessly
in overwhelming numbers. Our troops are submerged and can only retreat,
fighting desperately, but the spirit of our soldiers is splendid.
All the wounded I have seen laugh and joke over their wounds and are
burning to have another go at the barbarians. Victory is certain. But
what disastrous changes shall we know before it comes. I am prepared
for the worst--another month of hopeless struggle perhaps. But we will
light to the last man. The tide will turn, and then--woe to them. I
know you will stand by us in the cause of civilization, common honest
truth till the bitter end. But if you want to help us you must hasten.
* * * * *
_Letter 81.--From a young officer who has been through the whole
campaign, from the landing of the British at Boulogne:_
I wish you would try to make the people in England understand that
they should be most exceedingly thankful that they are living on an
island and not in the midst of the dreadful things which are happening
on the Continent. Do enforce upon the public that England must fight
this thing out, and must conquer even if it has to spend the blood
of its young men like water. It will be far better that every family
throughout England should have to sorrow for one of its members than
that England should have to go through similar ordeals to those which
Continental countries are suffering.
The sight of old women and men fleeing from village to village; young
mothers with babies in arms, with their few personal effects on their
backs, or in some more fortunate cases with their goods and chattels
surrounding the aged grandmother stowed away in an old farm cart, drawn
by a nag too venerable to be of service to the State; this is what one
has seen daily. Picture to yourself our night marches with the burning
villages on all sides set fire to by German shells--and the Germans
have been rather careless whether their shells struck fortified and
defended positions, or open ones. In some cases the fires were caused
intentionally by marauding patrols.
Do not imagine that things are not going well with us. We are all
satisfied and confident of the end; but at the same time the only
possible end can be gained by sacrifice on the part of those at home
only. All is well with me personally; I have a busy time, but it is
most interesting work.
IN HOSPITAL.
(1) _At Salisbury._
A non-commissioned officer of the Royal Field Artillery, invalided home
with shrapnel wounds in the thigh, from which he hopes soon to recover,
has given this vivid description of his experiences at the front after
passing north of Amiens, to a _Daily Telegraph_ correspondent:
Pushing forward from our rest camp, covering from twenty to thirty
miles a day, with the infantry marching in front and cavalry protecting
us on either flank, we received information that we were within a few
hours’ march of the enemy. Needless to say, this put us on the alert.
There was no funk about us, for we were all anxious to have a go at the
Germans, about whom we had heard such tales of cruelty that it made our
blood run cold.
Our orders were to load with case shot, for fear of cavalry attack, as
shrapnel is of little use against mounted troops. The order was soon
obeyed, and after passing the day on the road, we moved across country
north of ----, where the infantry took up a strong position. We saw the
French troops on our right as we moved up to gun positions which our
battery commanders had selected in advance. It was Sunday morning when
the attack came, and the sun had already lit up the beautiful country,
and as I looked across at the villages which lay below in the valley
with their silent belfries I thought of my home on the Cotswolds and
of the bells ringing for morning service. I pictured dad and my sister
Nell going to church.
It was, however, no time for sentiment, for gallopers soon brought the
news that the enemy was advancing, and that a cavalry attack might be
expected at any moment. Infantry had entrenched themselves along our
front, and there was a strong body posted on our flanks and rear. These
became engaged first with a large body of Uhlans, who endeavoured to
take them by surprise, the front rank rushing forward with the lance
and the rear using the sword.
We were on slightly higher ground, and could see the combat, which
appeared to be going in our favour. Our men stuck to their ground and
shot and bayonetted the Uhlans, who, after ten minutes’ fight, made
off, but, sad to say, a dreadful fusilade of shrapnel and Maxim fire
followed immediately, and our guns also came under fire. To this we
readily replied, and must have done some execution, especially to the
large masses of infantry that were advancing about a mile away.
We got a favourable “bracket” at once, so our Major said, and we worked
our guns for all we were worth, altering fuses and the ranging of our
guns as the Germans came nearer. Shells fell fast around us, some
ricocheted, and passed overhead without bursting, ploughing the ground
up in our rear, but not a few exploded, and made many casualties. Three
of my gun detachment fell with shrapnel bullets, but still we kept the
guns going, the officers giving a hand.
At one time we came under the fire of the enemy’s machine guns, but two
of our 18-pounders put them out of action after a few rounds. The order
came at length to retire so as to get a more favourable position, but
our drivers failed to bring back all the gun teams, only sufficient
to horse four of the guns. The remainder of the animals had been
terribly mutilated. These were limbered up, the remainder being for a
time protected by the infantry. The Gordons and Middlesex were in the
shelter trenches on our left, and the latter regiment was said at one
time to be almost overwhelmed, but aid came, and the masses of Prussian
infantry were beaten off.
Still, there was terrible slaughter on both sides, and the dead lay in
long burrows on the turf. We should have lost our guns to the Uhlans if
the infantry had not persevered with the rifle, picking off the cavalry
at 800 yards.
It was grand shooting. In the afternoon we slackened fire, as also did
the Germans; in fact, we did but little from our new gun positions, as
we were destined to cover the retreat of the infantry later on.
As the wounded were brought to the rear we heard of the deeds of
heroism from the men of the Royal Army Medical Corps in the fighting
line--how an officer stood over the body of a private who had
previously saved his life until he had spent his last shot from his
revolver, and then fell seriously wounded, to be avenged the next
moment by a burly sergeant who plunged his bayonet into the Prussian.
In the ranks of the South Lancashire Regiment, from what has been
heard, many deserve the Distinguished Conduct Medal, if not the V.C.,
for the manner in which they charged masses of German infantry through
the village to our front. Uhlans got round behind them, but they did
not flinch, although serious gaps were made in their ranks.
A non-commissioned officer of the Medicals related how he saw a party
of Fusiliers rush to the aid of their Maxim gun party when Uhlans swept
down on them from behind a wood. They accounted for over twenty and
lost but one man.
At night we were ordered to move on again, and we marched south-west
in the direction of ----, covering twenty miles in the darkness. Our
unhorsed guns were got through by splitting up our teams, and with the
help of the brawny arms of the infantry.
The enemy were aware of our retreat, and kept up an incessant fire,
bringing searchlights to the aid of their gunners. The moon slightly
favoured us, and, with the help of local guides, we found our way. I
heard of the brilliant work performed by our battalions, who kept the
enemy at bay whilst we withdrew all our vehicles, and we gunners felt
proud of them. They kept the enemy busy by counter-attack, and made it
impossible to get round us.
Next morning the enemy were again in the field endeavouring to force
our left flank. Field-Marshal Sir John French, whom we saw early in the
day, was, however, equal to the occasion, and so manœuvred his troops
that we occupied a position from which the Germans could not dislodge
us. The artillery kept up long-range fire, and that is how I received
my wound. Within a few minutes first aid was rendered, and I was put
in an ambulance and taken off with other wounded to a field hospital,
where I met with every attention.
IN HOSPITAL.
(2) _At the London Hospital._
By a _Daily Telegraph_ correspondent.
A description of a thrilling fight in the air, which had a dramatic
climax, was given to Queen Alexandra when her Majesty paid a visit to
the London Hospital.
Among the wounded soldiers there is a private of the Royal Engineers,
who was himself witness of the incident.
He said that following a very hard fight on the day before, he was
lying on the ground with his regiment, resting. Suddenly a German
aeroplane hove in sight. It flew right over the British troops, and
commenced to signal their position to the German camp.
A minute later, amid intense excitement of the troops, two aeroplanes,
with English and French pilots, rose into the air from the British
rear. Ascending with great rapidity, they made for the German
aeroplane, with the intention of attacking it.
At first some of our men, who were very much on the alert, fired by
mistake at the French aeroplane. Luckily, their shots went wide.
Then the troops lay still, and with breathless interest watched
the attempts of the French and British aviators to outmanœuvre
their opponent, and to cut off his retreat. After a little time the
Franco-British airmen abandoned this attempt, and then the Englishman
and the German began to fly upwards, in the evident desire to obtain
a more favourable position for shooting down from above. Owing to the
protection afforded by the machine, it would have been of little use
for one aviator to fire at his opponent from below. Once a higher
altitude was attained, the opportunity for effective aim would be much
greater.
Up and up circled the two airmen, till their machines could barely be
distinguished from the ground. They were almost out of sight when the
soldiers saw that the British aviator was above his opponent. Then
the faint sound of a shot came down from the sky, and instantly the
German aeroplane began to descend, vol-planing in graceful fashion.
Apparently it was under the most perfect control. On reaching the earth
the machine landed with no great shock, ran a short distance along the
ground, and then stopped.