The welcome order to fix bayonets and charge came at last, and we
didn’t lose much time in getting at them, As we finished the last lap
of our race for their trenches they concentrated a fiendish fire on us,
but that didn’t stop us at all, and we reached their trenches at last
with a wild whoop that must have struck terror to their hearts. For the
first time in my experience they made a desperate attempt to repel us
with the bayonet. Their weight seemed enough to hurl us back, but we
stuck to them like leeches, and at last their line began to waver. They
were stretched across the trenches in one long line, and when one man
fell another slipped into his place. Near the centre we made a break
in the line, and then the whole lot gave way, running like hares, and
throwing down their arms as they ran. We bayoneted them by the score as
they ran, and shot them down in dozens until we were completely used
up. Their officers made many attempts to rally them, but it was no
good, and those who could not get away surrendered rather than face any
more of it: _A Non-commissioned Officer of the Irish Guards_.
A “Hot Shop”
Where we were posted was a hot shop, and for a week the Germans had
been treating us to night attacks. It was long past our time for
standing treat in return, and we weren’t surprised one night when we
were paraded and marched out in the direction of where the Germans had
been firing from all day. In the pitch darkness it was slow work, and
the men had to be halted every few minutes to enable the guides to take
their bearings from the few stars that were overhead. By three o’clock
we were resting on a slight slope leading up from a stream, when the
scouting parties ahead reported movements in front. A few minutes after
that we stumbled right on top of a big body of Germans stealing along
as quietly as we had come, and evidently trying a surprise attack on
our camp. You can bet your last half-crown that we didn’t wait to ask
if their intentions were honourable. We just shot right into them, and
the ball was opened in fine style. Before they had time to think what
was happening, we had fixed bayonets and were charging down on them. We
swept them off their feet and right down the other side of the slope in
confusion: _A Lance-Corporal of the Cameron Highlanders_.
“Talk About Excitement!”
It was like going to a football match, cracking jokes and singing
all the ragtimes we knew. All our fellows knew what depended upon
the result, and that only made them the more determined. But it was
determination in the best of spirits. And how our fellows did fight,
with always a joke handy and utter fearlessness. The Germans looked
like a forest approaching, but that didn’t daunt us, and our artillery
replied to theirs with interest. For hour after hour it was one
continuous stream of shot and shell. Their artillery was the best part
about them, their individual firing being poor, but our artillery was
far better, though their biggest guns created the most havoc among our
ranks. Talk about excitement, it was all excitement from the beginning
and during the retirement. There was nothing else for us to do. It was
a rare hot time. We were working for concentration the whole time, and
there is no doubt about it, our orders were the best possible under
the circumstances. The Germans were making a mark of us all along, but
directly we got our chances we let them have it: _A Private, at Mons_.