The following interesting letter has been forwarded to us by the relatives
of one of our wounded heroes. It gives a vivid idea of his impressions
during a severe engagement, particulars of which have not so far appeared
in the Press.
_"Red Cross Hospital,_
_Somewhere in England._
"... And now I must tell you of a very hot time that our lot here had
recently. The attack was due to open at 5.30 in the afternoon. We had
been warned to expect it, and the appointed hour found us ready in our
positions. We were five deep, strongly posted on deck chairs; moreover,
the warning had given us opportunity to construct a defensive rampart
of evergreens and pot-plants before the front line.
"The engagement opened fairly punctually with a furious pianoforte
bombardment, accompanied by asphyxiating footlights. Owing to the
closeness of the range and the weight of metal employed, our first rank
gave way a little, but subsequently rallied smartly. The attack now
became general, the enemy advancing first in detached units, subsequently
in column or quartette formation. A stubborn resistance was put up,
but we were nearly forced to recoil before a desperate charge by _The
Men of Harlech_.
"Hardly had we contrived to withstand these, when, with blood-curdling
cries, the Funny Men dashed forward and fell upon us. The engagement
was at this point so fierce that it was impossible to obtain more
than a confused impression of it. I saw several of my brave comrades
doubled up. Puns and lachrymatory wheezes darkened the air. At last,
after a specially violent offensive, in which he was supported by the
full strength of his piano, the enemy retired, followed by salvoes from
our ranks, and left us, at least temporarily, masters of the situation.
"A lull ensued, during which, however, in spite of the curtain
behind which the enemy endeavoured to mask his preparations, we were
convinced, from certain unmistakable signs, that a fresh and possibly
more violent attack was shortly to develop. Nor was this view wrong;
for, when the curtain lifted, we at once saw that our worst fears were
justified. Confronting us were the 1st Amateur Thespians, the most
dreaded battalion in the enemy's Volunteer forces, and one reputed to
have decimated more British classics than any two professional regiments.
"The methods of this body have changed very little during the last
half-century. They still employ for choice the old _Box-and-Cox_
attack, which has proved so effective in the past, followed frequently
by _A Case for Eviction_ or else _Gentlemen Boarders_. Bold to the
point of rashness, no difficulties are found to daunt them; and the
stoutest hearts might well quail at being exposed to the fury of their
onslaught. Indeed how any of us survived the half-hour that followed I
hardly know. It was a nightmare of smashed china, dropped cups, shouts
of 'Bouncer, Bouncer!' and general confusion.
"But time was on our side; and when, towards seven o'clock, the curtain
fell again, we knew that, holding as we did almost our original positions,
we were victorious. Our exact casualties I have not yet heard, but they
are certain to have been heavy. The ground lately held by the enemy
presented a spectacle of appalling confusion; and everything pointed to
the struggle having been most determined. Restoratives were administered
to our men, and we turned in, exhausted but happy."
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