Everybody is wild about the Indians, and the way they behave themselves
under fire is marvellous. One day we were close to them when their
infantry received its baptism of fire. When they got the order to
advance you never saw men more pleased in all your life. They went
forward with a rush like a football team charging their opponents,
or a party of revellers rushing to catch the last train. They got
to grips with the Germans in double-quick time, and the howl of joy
that went up told us that those chaps felt that they were paying the
Germans back in full for the peppering they had got whilst waiting
for orders. When they came back from that charge they looked very
well pleased with themselves, and they had every right to be. They
are very proud of being selected to fight with us, and are terribly
anxious to make a good impression. They have done it, and no mistake.
I watched them one day under shell fire and I was astonished at their
coolness. “Coal-boxes” were being emptied around them, but they didn’t
seem to pay the slightest heed, and if one of them did go under his
mates simply went on as though nothing had happened. They make light
of wounds, and I have known cases where men have fought for days with
wounds that might have excused any man dropping out: I have seen a man
dress one himself in the firing line. One day I questioned one chap
about it, and his answer, given with a smile, was, “We must be as brave
as the English.” They are astonished at the coolness of our men under
fire, and it’s amusing to hear them trying to pick up our camp songs.
They were greatly taken with “The March of the Cameron Men,” which they
heard one night. They have a poor opinion of the Germans as fighting
men, and are greatly interested when we tell them of the horrors
perpetrated on the French and Belgians. We are all impressed with the
Indians--they are fine fellows: _A Sergeant of the King’s Own Scottish
Borderers_.