We were attacked by a brigade of German cavalry--Uhlans. We got out of
the trenches and prepared to receive their attack. I caught the first
horse with my bayonet, causing it to swerve so suddenly to the right
that the Uhlan was pitched on his head, breaking his neck, I fancy, but
not before I heard a sword whizz past my head. I did not feel at all
comfortable. I also caught the second horse, but he got his hoof on
my left foot, and I felt something on my chest throwing me on to the
ground. What happened afterwards I don’t know, as I was unconscious for
the next thirty-six hours: _Sergt. Gibson, Sussex Regiment_.
Stonewalling!
The fighting was hard at times, but only really terrible when you were
groping about in the dark exposed to heavy rifle or artillery fire
without the least suspicion of where it was coming from at the moment
or likely to come from next. Later, when we had settled down to the
work and could see what we were up against, it was child’s play, so to
speak, and all you had to do was to lie in the trenches and pick the
Germans off as you saw them coming on to the attack. And to pick them
off is just like taking shots at a stone-finished wall. You can’t help
hitting something, and every time you hit you are taking chips off the
wall: _A Private of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment_.