The airmen might be described as the “eyes of the army.” They go up
over the enemy’s lines and find out what is going on; then they come
back--if they escape the guns of the enemy--and make their reports to
the British officers.
One day in November 1915, Captain Robert Loraine set out with an
observer to do some work of this kind. He was well used to the task and
had found out many things of great use to the commanding officers.
After a time he saw an enemy machine ahead of him and moved quickly
within range. Both machines opened fire at the same moment, and blazed
away at each other for some time. Then Loraine’s gun and that of his
companion both got out of order, and the two men were at the mercy of
the Germans.
But only for a short time; Loraine’s companion managed to get his gun
to work again, and kept up a brisk reply to the German fire. All at
once the German “bus” dived, and Loraine dived after it. Then a flame
leapt up from the enemy aeroplane and in a moment it was falling to the
earth, a burning wreck.
Loraine rose once more and in a few moments saw another German plane
ahead of him. His observer was by this time almost frozen, but the
two men took the risk and chased the new foe with the intention of
giving battle. The German paused as if to make off, then accepted the
challenge, and the battle was joined.
It lasted for about five minutes, and then the German pilot was hit and
the second machine fell to the ground. By this time Loraine’s observer
was feeling very much warmer and ready to deal with any number of enemy
aircraft.
All at once, however, the engine of the British machine gave out. There
was nothing for it but to come down to earth and that within the German
lines! This was done without mishap, and then the two men pushed their
machine towards the British lines, keeping a sharp lookout meanwhile
for enemy snipers.
By and by they came to the place where the second German aeroplane
had fallen. They found that the pilot was dead and his companion very
severely wounded. Loraine stayed long enough to take from the German
machine all that might prove useful to himself, and then set out again
to take his “prisoner” to hospital. The strange little party reached
the British lines without further adventure and the German was soon in
the hands of the British Red Cross.
He was carefully tended, and when he had been made as comfortable as
possible he asked how soon he would be taken to be tortured!
Loraine’s adventure was typical of the kind of work that went on in the
air during all the operations of the Western Front. As in the days of
King Arthur of olden story--
“Every morning brought a noble chance.”
“A GLORIOUS BAND”
“The Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain;
His blood-red banner streams afar:
Who follows in His train?”
The words of the old soldiers’ hymn must often have come into the minds
of our brave men as they fought and died to win freedom for the world.
And, indeed, they were doing no less than this; for all men knew that
if the Germans were not beaten there would be no more real freedom for
mankind.
There was one day in the month of September of the year 1916 when
the King granted no less than twenty Victoria Crosses. Some of them
could not be worn by the brave men who had won them for they had been
“faithful unto death”; and their medals were sent to those whom they
had left behind to mourn for them and to rejoice when they forgot their
sorrow that they had died so nobly.
The newspaper on the following morning was a matter for gladness and
sadness; for it contained a splendid record of heroic deeds which made
one feel proud to be a Briton.
There was the brave story of Major Loudoun Shand of a Yorkshire
regiment. He led an attack upon an enemy trench and his men were met
by such a severe machine-gun fire that at first they were dazed and
hesitated. But the major leapt first upon the parapet of the trench,
and then turning helped some of his men to scramble up. The others
followed and then fought bravely and well, the major calling words of
cheer to them as they pressed on, driving the foe before them.
Then he received a fatal wound. “Prop me up,” he said to one of his
men, and they supported him against the wall of a trench. There he sat,
bleeding to death; but his voice was heard loud and clear to the last,
urging and cheering on his men, that they might play their part as he
himself had done.
Then there was Lieutenant Cather of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, who
seemed to covet honour as some men wish for gold. After a severe fight
he searched the wide space between the front lines of trenches which
was known as “No Man’s Land,” looking for wounded men. All the time the
space was swept by the guns of the enemy and at each step he risked his
own life.
But on he went, searching, and listening for the groans of the wounded.
He found three men and brought them in, one after the other. Then he
gave up the task for it was midnight and even he needed rest. But at
eight o’clock the next morning he was at work again.
He brought in yet another man who had spent the night in the open,
wounded and lonely; and he carried water to others though the ground
was again swept by the enemy’s terrible fire. At half-past ten that
morning he went out yet again to carry water to a wounded man, and this
time he was killed.
“Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for
his friends.”
Second-Lieutenant Bell of a Yorkshire regiment found that a certain
machine-gun troubled his company greatly during an attack. So he crept
up a trench with two other daring men, rushed across the open under
heavy fire, and made for the machine-gun. The gunner was shot and the
three men then threw bombs at the gun until it was completely wrecked.
A little later Bell met his death in the course of duty, and laid down
his arms like a “very gallant gentleman.”
Sergeant-Major Carter of the Royal Sussex was eager to be in the post
of honour. With a few men as keen as himself he worked his way to the
enemy’s second line of trenches. The men were all forced back to the
first line, but on the way they captured and destroyed a machine-gun
which was worrying their comrades. Then Carter looked about for more
work and was soon busily engaged in carrying wounded men to places
of safety. As he was performing this work of mercy he was mortally
wounded and died in a few minutes.
Corporal Sanders of a West Yorks regiment was another eager spirit who
was cut off with a company of thirty men from the rest of the regiment.
He quickly placed his men so that they could defend themselves. Then he
made up a bombing party and urged his little band to hold out at all
costs and not to give themselves up as prisoners.
The men remained in their position during the whole of the next night,
and on the following morning they were attacked by the enemy. The
Germans made two bombing attacks in strength, but both were beaten off.
Sanders’ men held out all that day, and were not relieved until they
had stood their ground for no less than thirty-six hours.
During all that time the men had neither food nor water. The water in
their bottles was given to the wounded in the true British manner,
which, you may remember, was followed by Sir Philip Sidney. The
corporal brought back nineteen of his party to the British trenches
when at last he was relieved.
Gunner Cooke of the Australian Infantry showed that he was a true son
of Britain, able to fight and to die with the best. He was ordered with
his gun and gun-team to a very dangerous part of the line. Putting his
horses to the gallop he quickly took up the position allotted to him.
He came under heavy fire, as he had expected, and his men soon fell
around him one by one. At last he was the only man left, but he “stuck
it” like a hero, working his gun single-handed and doing good shooting.
Then he was observed and help was at once rushed out to him. His
friends found him dead at his post, one more hero of the glorious band
who counted honour first and left safety to take care of itself.
Private Faulds, of the South African Infantry, went out with a bombing
party under Lieutenant Craig which tried to rush forty yards of open
ground between the two front trenches. The men at once came under very
heavy rifle and machine-gun fire, and several of them were almost
instantly killed or wounded. Lieutenant Craig was badly hurt and lay
midway between the trenches in open ground.
Faulds was now back in his own trench, and looking out saw the officer
lying on the ground. Without the loss of a moment, he leapt over his
own parapet followed closely by two comrades as unselfish as himself.
It was full daylight and the open space between the trenches was still
swept by heavy fire; but the wounded officer was carefully lifted and
carried safely “home.”
Two days later Faulds performed a similar act of unselfish heroism.
At this time the fire across the open space between the trenches was
so severe that stretcher-bearers were not allowed to go out to pick up
the wounded, as it meant certain death for them. But Faulds leapt over
the parapet, picked up a man, brought him safely in, and then carried
him for half a mile to a dressing station. Private Jackson, of the
Australian Infantry, did similar work of the noblest kind, and even
went out to help in bringing men under cover after one of his arms had
been blown off!
Private McFadzean belonged to the Royal Irish Regiment and gave an
example of the most devoted courage and readiness ever reported in the
annals of war.
One day he was in a trench with a number of his mates and was opening
a box of bombs before an attack. The box slipped down in the crowded
trench, some of the bombs fell out, and the safety pins of two of them
were dislodged. When the pin is out the bomb goes off after a certain
fixed time.
Without a moment’s hesitation, McFadzean threw himself on top of the
bombs. There was a loud explosion and the brave man was blown to
pieces; but he had fallen in such a way that the explosion spent itself
in killing him only. Another man was injured, but McFadzean’s devotion
had saved the lives of all the men in the trench.
Then there was Drummer Ritchie of the Seaforth Highlanders who,
without instructions, climbed upon the parapet of the enemy’s trench
and sounded the “Charge” under heavy machine-gun fire. He did not do
this because he wished to make a stirring picture, but because the men
with him, having lost their leaders, were beginning to waver and fall
back. The sound of the drum-beat rallied them once more and they sprang
forward to the attack as though following the lead of the bravest of
officers. The same drummer afterwards showed great coolness and courage
in carrying messages from one company to another across the fire-swept
“No Man’s Land.”
Private Veale of the Devon Regiment heard that a wounded officer was
lying between the two front trenches. He went out in search of him, and
found him lying amidst growing corn about fifty yards from the enemy’s
line. The wounded man was too heavy for Veale to carry, but he dragged
him to a shell-hole, went back to his trench for water, and at the risk
of his life took it out to the wounded man.
When he came back again he asked for help to carry the wounded man in
and two of his comrades volunteered to go out with him. One was killed
in a few moments and the fire was so severe that the other men went
back to await a better opportunity. At dusk, Veale and two others went
out yet again, and saw an enemy patrol approaching. Veale ran back and
brought out a Lewis gun with which he covered his companions while they
brought the wounded officer “home.”