There is absolutely no doubt that our men are still animated by the
spirit of old. I came on a couple of men of the Argyll and Sutherland
Highlanders who had been cut off at Mons. One was badly wounded, but
his companion had stuck by him all the time in a country swarming
with Germans, and though they had only a few biscuits between them
they managed to pull through until we picked them up. I pressed the
unwounded man to tell me how they managed to get through the four days
on six biscuits, but he always got angry and told me to shut up. I
fancy he went without anything, and gave the biscuits to the wounded
man. They were offered shelter many times by the French peasants, but
they were so afraid of bringing trouble on these kind folk that they
would never accept shelter. One night they lay out in the open all
through a heavy downpour, though there was a house at hand where they
could have had shelter. Uhlans were on the prowl, and they would not
think of compromising the French people, who would have been glad to
help them: _Lance-Corpl. Edmondson, Royal Irish Regiment_.
“Hallelujah!”
We had been lying in the trenches firing for all we were worth. On my
right, shoulder to shoulder, were two Salvationists. I remembered them
as having held a meeting with some of us chaps about a week before. As
we lay there with the bullets whistling round us these two were the
coolest of the whole cool lot! After we had been fighting some time we
had orders to fall back, and as we were getting away from the trenches
one of the Salvationists was hit and fell. His chum didn’t miss him
until we had gone several hundred yards, and then he says, “Where’s
----?” calling him by name. “I must go back and fetch him!” and off
he hurried, braving the hail of shot and shell. I admired his bravery
so much that I offered to go with him, but he said, “No, the Lord
will protect me; I’ll manage it.” So I threw myself on the ground and
waited. I saw him creep along for some yards, then run to cover; creep
along, and take shelter again; and, finally, having found his chum, he
picked him up and made a dash for safety! How the bullets fell around
him! Into the shelter of some trees he went; out again, and in once
more; and when he did get into the last piece of clearing I couldn’t
wait any longer, so I rushed forward to help him. Then I got hit. What
do you think the brave fellow did? He just put his other arm around me
and carried us both off. Darkness was fast coming on, and presently
he laid us both down and found the wounds, which he bandaged up with
strips which he tore from his shirt. I shall never forget that terrible
night: _An Anonymous Private_.
“A Rare Good One”
Near our trenches there were a lot of wounded, and their cries for
water were pitiful. In the trenches was a quiet chap of the Engineers,
who could stand it no longer. He collected all the water-bottles he
could lay hold of, and said he was going out. The air was thick with
shell and rifle fire, and to show yourself at all was to sign your
death-warrant. That chap knew it as well as we did, but that was not
going to stop him. He got to the first man all right, and gave him a
swig from a bottle. No sooner did he show himself than the Germans
opened fire. After attending to the first man he crawled along the
ground to others until he was about a quarter of a mile away from us.
Then he stood up and zigzagged towards another batch of wounded, but
that was the end of him. The German fire got hotter and hotter. He was
hit badly, and with just a slight upward fling of his arms he dropped
to earth like the hero he was. Later he was picked up with the wounded,
but he was as dead as they make them out there. The wounded men, for
whose sake he had risked and lost his life, thought a lot of him, and
were greatly cut up at his death. One of them, who was hit so hard that
he would never see another Sunday, said to me as we passed the Engineer
chap, who lay with a smile on his white face, and had more bullets in
him than would set a battalion of sharpshooters up in business for
themselves, “He was a rare good one, he was. It’s something worth
living for to have seen a deed like that, and now that I have seen it
I don’t care what becomes of me.” That’s what we all felt about it: _A
Corporal of the Bedfordshire Regiment_.