On June 8th in the third year of the war the _London Gazette_ contained
a list of no less than 29 names of officers and men to whom the King
had awarded the Victoria Cross. The stories of “most conspicuous
bravery” which followed the names in this list showed that the coveted
Cross had never been lightly won. Heroism had now become a habit, but
British soldiers seemed to have entered into a rivalry as to the amount
of bravery and endurance which they could show.
Take the example of Major Lumsden in his determined efforts to bring
away six captured German field guns. At first it was necessary to leave
them in dug-out positions about 300 yards in advance of the position
held by our troops. The enemy kept the captured guns under heavy fire,
but Major Lumsden undertook the duty of bringing them within our lines.
It ought not to be necessary to dwell upon the high value of such
service.
He got together four artillery teams and a small body of infantry, and
led them out into the open. In a short time one of the teams was badly
knocked about, so the major left the others in a sheltered place and
led the infantry to the spot where the guns were hidden.
In defiance of rifle, machine-gun, and artillery fire he managed to
get away three of the guns, which were then attached to the teams and
rushed back to our lines. After waiting for a time until other teams
could be brought out Lumsden sent back two more guns, although the
enemy were now quite near to him and their rifle fire was at very
short range. Indeed the Germans were able to make a rush and blew up
the breech of the last gun so as to prevent the British from using it
against them at a later time. But Lumsden’s men drove them back again
and the last of the six guns was brought in triumph within our lines.
Then there was Captain Ball of the Royal Flying Corps who had no less
than forty-three German aeroplanes and one balloon to his credit. This
officer’s activity and resource in the air were truly marvellous. On
one occasion, when flying alone, he fought six enemy machines, on
another five, and on another four, and in each fight he brought down at
least one of his opponents.
One day the British airmen were engaged in bombing an enemy train when
one of their pilots was forced to come down within the enemy’s lines.
Lieutenant Macnamara saw German horsemen approaching him and set out to
the rescue. He planed down under heavy rifle fire, and in spite of a
wound in his thigh landed at about 200 yards from the damaged machine.
The pilot quickly climbed on to the lieutenant’s machine and an attempt
was made to rise.
Owing to his wound, however, Macnamara was unable to keep his machine
straight and it turned over. As soon as it touched the ground, the two
men got out from the wreckage, set fire to it, and ran to the first
aeroplane, which they were able to start. And although he was weak from
loss of blood the lieutenant was able to take the machine a distance of
seventy miles to the aerodrome. For this gallant and adventurous rescue
he was awarded the Victoria Cross.
Sergeant Harry Cator, of the East Surrey Regiment, was busily making
secure the first line which had been captured from the enemy, but was
greatly worried by a certain machine-gun. One after another of his
men fell dead or wounded until the brave sergeant could endure it no
longer. So, with only one companion, in full view of the enemy, and
under heavy fire, he went out across the open to attack the machine-gun
and put an end to the annoyance.
After a few steps across that fire-swept zone, the sergeant’s companion
was killed; but Cator went doggedly on, picking up a Lewis gun and
some ammunition on the way. In time he came to one end of the enemy
trench and worked himself into a position where he could cover the
machine-gun which he had marked out for his own. Nor was it long before
the whole of the gun crew as well as the officer were accounted for.
Then the sergeant went over to the gun, put it out of action, and
brought away the officer’s papers. But before he returned to our own
lines he went back to his Lewis gun and covered a bombing party which
was able to work along the trench and to capture 100 prisoners and five
machine-guns.
Sergeant Sifton of the Canadian Battalion did similar work during a
trench attack. He charged a machine-gun single-handed, killing all the
crew, and then gave up his life in holding off an enemy attack while
his own platoon was gaining a desired position. Another sergeant named
Steele of the Seaforths reversed the order by carrying a machine-gun
well in advance of our line and was the chief means of keeping it
intact during a strong attack by the enemy.
Corporal Cunningham of the Leinster Regiment was in command of a Lewis
gun section on the most exposed flank of our attack. His men came under
heavy fire and suffered badly, and he was almost alone when at last
he was able to bring his gun into action. A party of twenty Germans
came on to the attack. Cunningham worked off all his ammunition upon
them and then standing up in full view of the enemy commenced throwing
bombs. He was wounded and fell to the ground, but picked himself up
and went on fighting until his bombs were exhausted. Then he made his
way back to our lines with a fractured arm and other wounds. He was
taken to hospital, where he died a little later from the effects of his
wounds.
Corporal George Jarratt was one of the noble army who during the war
directly gave his life to save others. He had been made a prisoner
with some wounded men and placed with them in a dug-out. On that same
evening the enemy were driven back by our troops and the British
bombers began an attack upon the dug-outs. A hand grenade fell into the
hollow where Jarratt was lying, and he deliberately placed his feet
upon it so as to break the force and direction of the explosion that
followed and save the men who were lying at a little distance from him.
He succeeded in his intention, but received injuries from which he died
before he could be removed with the others who owed their lives to his
ready devotion.
Here is another war picture of a stirring kind, the central figure of
which was Private Michael Heaviside of the Durham Light Infantry. In
the early dawn a wounded man was seen in a shell-hole in No Man’s
Land about forty yards from the enemy’s line. He was making signals of
distress and holding up his empty water-bottle.
It was impossible at the moment to send out a stretcher party, for
this particular spot was unusually “unhealthy”; but Heaviside at once
volunteered to carry food and drink to the wounded man, in spite of the
heavy fire. So he set out on his heroic errand and managed to reach the
shell-hole unhurt to find the wounded man almost mad with thirst and
suffering great pain from a severe wound. He had lain there for four
days and three nights and the arrival of Heaviside was the means of
saving his life. Later in the day the rescuer was able to finish his
work of mercy by taking out a stretcher party and bringing the wounded
man into a place of safety.
There are many stories of thirst on the battlefield, but few so
touching and appealing as this. Surely our men will never forget that
early dawn and the faint cries from the figure in the shell-hole weakly
waving a water-bottle as a signal of dire distress. The scene would
make a splendid subject for a great painter.
Private Jensen of the Australian Imperial Forces suddenly appeared
before a party of 45 Germans behind a barricade which also sheltered a
machine-gun. He had a bomb in one hand, and taking another from his
pocket with his other hand he drew out the pin with his teeth. With
both arms raised he threatened the party of cowering men before him
and managed to convey to them the fact that they were surrounded. By
this bold front he induced the party to surrender. He then sent one of
his prisoners to another party of Germans “with orders to surrender,”
which, strange to say, were promptly obeyed.
Meanwhile, another party of British troops came up and began to fire
upon the captured Germans, not knowing that they had surrendered.
Thereupon Jensen stood on the barricade regardless of danger and waved
his helmet to prevent unnecessary slaughter of his prisoners. Then the
Australian’s company of captives was brought in, to the great delight
of his comrades.
Second-Lieutenant Baxter of the Liverpool Regiment spent two nights
engaged in the very useful and dangerous work of cutting barbed wire
before the German trenches. He was so close to the enemy’s line that he
could hear the men speaking; but as he went on with his work he held
a bomb in his left hand, ready to throw at the first sign that he had
been discovered.
On one occasion, his bomb slipped and fell as he was cutting the wire
with his left hand. He picked it up although he knew that it might
explode at any moment, for the pin was out, unscrewed the base plug,
took out the detonator, and smothered it in the soil. In this way, at
the risk of losing his own life, he prevented an alarm being given and
saved many lives among his own party.
When all was ready, Baxter led the left wing of the storming party and
was the first man to leap into a German trench. He spent some time in
bombing dug-outs and then he was lost sight of. He was given up as dead
and the V.C. was afterwards handed to his relatives.
Lance-Corporal Welch of the Royal Berkshire Regiment won the coveted
medal not only for bravery but also for making good use of his wits. He
was first of a party to leap into a trench which was captured largely
owing to his dogged fighting. Four of the Germans got away and raced
across country at breakneck speed. Welch leapt out of the trench and
gave chase with an empty revolver in his hand. Under the influence of
the weapon the men were persuaded to give themselves up. What they said
when they learnt that the revolver was unloaded is not reported.
Private White of the Royal Lancashire Regiment made excellent use
of a telephone wire and won the V.C. by his skill and resource. An
attempt was being made to cross a certain river with three British
pontoons--flat-bottomed boats used for transport or for placing end
to end to form a bridge. The boats came under very heavy fire and the
men of the first two were bowled over one after the other. The third
in which White was standing fared no better, and when it reached
mid-stream every man except himself was either dead or wounded.
White now found that he was not able to control the pontoon
single-handed; so he tied a telephone wire to the forepart, jumped into
the water and towed the boat to the shore. In this way he saved the
life of an officer and brought to the other side of the river a number
of rifles as well as valuable stores.
There were countless instances of the capture of machine-guns by men
who rushed forward from our ranks and shot the German gunners. One
of these daring men was Sergeant-Major E. Brooks of the Oxford Light
Infantry who on one occasion was taking part in a raid on the enemy’s
trenches.
The front rank was checked by a German machine-gun at close quarters.
Brooks was in the second rank, but he made his way through the first,
rushed towards the gun, killed one of the gunners with his revolver
and the other with his bayonet, and so terrified the rest of the crew
that they made off without loss of time. Then Brooks turned the German
machine-gun on the retreating foe, and used it with good effect for
some time. When he had done all the useful work he could do, he carried
off the gun to the British lines.