I want to let the public know how the Black Watch went through it.
Well, it was a terrible bit of work, but our fellows stuck to their
ground like men--the men of the bulldog breed the kiddies sing about
at school. The Germans were as thick as the “Hielan” heather, and by
sheer weight forced us back step by step. But we had our orders, and
every man stuck to them, and until the order came not a livin’ man
flinched. We stuck there popping off the Germans as fast as we could,
and all around us the German shells were bursting. And in the thick
of it all we were singing Harry Lauder’s latest. Aye, laddie, it was
grand; all around us were the dead and dying, and every now and then
the German shells would burst, and as we peppered away at ’em we sang
about “Roamin’ in the gloamin’” and “The Lass of Killiecrankie”: _A
Corporal of the Black Watch_.