The Germans watched until we halted, and then let fly at us with some
shells. They killed about fifteen and wounded about twenty-five. One
chap was blown to bits; another got one right through his cheek, and
it was terrible to see us after they had bunked. They did not half let
us have it. We all lay flat down on our faces waiting every moment for
our turn to come. I can tell you I thought my last day had come then.
Every time a shell comes it makes a whistle and then a bang, and not
half a bang, too. I can tell you it was a relief to everybody, and they
would sigh after a bang if not hit. They must have thought we had all
gone or been killed or wounded because they stopped for a bit, and then
we started to dig ourselves in. Of course we had to dig deep and well
underground so as to be out of shell reach. We did not get any more
that day, but the next morning they let us know it was time to get up
with some of their heavy gun shells. We only got four wounded then,
but I can tell you I thought I had got hit. One dropped about fifteen
yards in front of my trench, and it lifted me up and dropped me with
such a bang that I thought I was counted out. I felt all over me to see
what I had got, but no, I am as safe as houses yet: _Sergt. T. L. Neal,
King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry_.
Stunned!
What gets at you is not being able to come to close quarters and fight
man to man. As a fact we see very little of the enemy, but blaze
away at the given range and trust to Providence. For that matter, we
see very little of our own fellows, and only know by the ambulance
men passing through our lines what regiments are near us. For hours
we stick on one spot and see nothing but smoke and something like a
football crowd swaying half a mile off. We see all we want of the
German flying machines. They are over our lines day and night, and are
so common that we do not now take pot-shots at them. The chances of
hitting them are about 100 to 1. We hate them, because we know they
are signalling the position and range to their artillery, which is
awful. The German rifle fire wouldn’t worry a covey of partridges, but
their shells are hell. I was stunned by one a week ago. It was a queer
feeling, and rather pleasant than otherwise. It fell about six yards
in front of me, and I felt as if a rush of lime-kiln gas had hit me. I
fell forward, and was carried to the rear, but came to in about half an
hour, with no hurt whatever, except that I had a tingling in my nose
and eyes, and a bad headache all day. Other chaps say the feeling is
the same: _Pte. F. Burton, Bedfordshire Regiment_.
His Fire Baptism!
It was the first time I had been under fire, and for the first ten
minutes I felt a bit nervous, and so, I think, all of us did; but it
soon wore off, and seeing our comrades hit by shell seemed to stiffen
us. We could see the Germans lying in their trenches more than 1000
yards away: we could see their helmets, which showed up like a lot of
mushrooms. While we were still digging our trenches the enemy began to
advance; and some of our cavalry to our rear came through us to attack
the enemy. The Lancers, however, were met by a tremendous rifle and
machine-gun fire, and mown down; and they retired through us, followed
by the Germans, who came on yelling with fixed bayonets. The regiment
who were next us on our right digging themselves in, got caught, I
fancy, for I saw some of their men tumbling out of their half-finished
trenches in their shirt-sleeves without their rifles. We were ordered
out of our trenches to meet the advancing Germans, who, firing from
the hip, and with fiendish yells, were evidently intending to rush
us. They were coming on in dense blocks--blocks which were probably
companies--in _échelon_, but when they saw us come out of our trenches
with our bayonets fixed they didn’t like it, and most of them turned
and ran. Some of them, however, came on, and I saw one man single me
out and come for me with his bayonet. He made a lunge at my chest, and,
as I guarded, his bayonet glanced aside and wounded me in the hip;
but I managed to jab him in the left arm and get him on the ground,
and when he was there I hammered him on the head with the butt-end
of my rifle. I think I had become a bit dazed, for I did not see my
battalion, only a few dead and wounded lying on the ground: _A Private
of the Yorks Light Infantry_.
Smoke--and Fire!
We got down a slope in some way, and thought we were practically safe.
In fact, I stopped behind the rest to light my pipe, when suddenly from
a wood on our right a terrible rifle and machine-gun fire opened; I
couldn’t for the moment realize what had happened, but when I saw our
chaps dropping (whether shot or taking cover I couldn’t then tell),
I thought it was time for yours truly to drop, which I promptly did.
I was, however, all on my own, down among some young cabbage plants,
and I couldn’t see a soul. Bullets hit up the earth in my face, and
the cabbage leaves were perforated in no time. I started to bang away
at the enemy for all I was worth, and continued till I had only five
cartridges left. I resolved to save these, and expected every moment
for the enemy to charge. I am utterly unable to describe my feelings,
but you can take it from me I thought my last moment had arrived. It
seemed impossible I could be missed by that stream of Maxim fire, but
at last, thank goodness! a British battery noticed our predicament.
They galloped into position and fired from behind us. The noise of
their first shell seemed like a voice from heaven, and as they got
range and poured in more shells, the German fire slackened. Then I
caught sight of some of our chaps racing for a ditch to my left. I
made up my mind to chance it. I sprang up, grabbed my things, and
raced for my life. I reached that ditch on the point of exhaustion and
fell into a foot of mud and water. What a relief! One of our chaps had
been shot dead in the ditch. With three or four others I crawled about
two hundred yards till we gained the roadside and temporary safety:
_Sapper Clift, Royal Engineers_.
“Punched!”
I felt as if someone had punched me in the back. A regular Jack Johnson
it was, and I went flat on the ground. There I lay for about twelve
hours. Then an officer came by and wanted to know where I was hit. I
told him, and he said the best thing I could do was to lay there for
a bit. Then I found that there was a man on each side of me, quite
dead, so I felt quite comfortable with them. Night fell and I must have
dozed off, for when I woke up it was stone dark, and I could hear the
wounded Germans crying out in agony. I felt like it myself, for I had
been lying on my stomach all the time, and it never stopped raining. I
happened to raise my head, and I saw a large fire about 500 yards away,
and I thought if I could get beside it I should feel better. I tried to
get up, but I could not. In the end I had to crawl over the dead body
on my right, and I crawled on my stomach for 500 yards till I came to
the fire. When I got there I must have fainted, for when I came round
it was just getting light. Then I heard voices. I called as much as I
could, and they heard me. I saw it was the Northampton outpost. I had
nearly gone off again when they picked me up. When they moved me I knew
the bullet had gone through my lung. They took me to the hospital and
dressed my wound: _Pte. H. L. Hook, Royal Sussex Regiment_.