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diff --git a/16675-h/16675-h.htm b/16675-h/16675-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cadc279 --- /dev/null +++ b/16675-h/16675-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3029 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tommy Atkins at War, by James Alexander Kilpatrick</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 65%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + .left {text-align: left;} + .right {text-align: right;} + .padtop {padding-top: 2em;} + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Tommy Atkins at War, by James Alexander +Kilpatrick</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Tommy Atkins at War</p> +<p> As Told in His Own Letters</p> +<p>Author: James Alexander Kilpatrick</p> +<p>Release Date: September 8, 2005 [eBook #16675]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Irma Spehar, Stacy Brown Thellend,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="https://www.pgdp.net/">https://www.pgdp.net/</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive Canadian Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/toronto">http://www.archive.org/details/toronto</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive Canadian Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/tommyatkinswar00kilpuoft"> + http://www.archive.org/details/tommyatkinswar00kilpuoft</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></p> +<p> </p> +<h1>TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR</h1> +<p><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p class="padtop">"The English soldier is the best trained soldier in the world. The +English soldier's fire is ten thousand times worse than hell. If we +could only beat the English it would be well for us, but I am +afraid we shall never be able to beat these English devils."</p> + +<p><i>From a letter found on a German officer</i>.</p></div> + + + + +<p class="padtop"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a> +</p> +<h1>TOMMY ATKINS</h1> +<h1>AT WAR</h1> +<h2>AS TOLD IN HIS OWN LETTERS</h2> +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>JAMES A. KILPATRICK</h2> +<p> </p> +<p class="center padtop"> +NEW YORK<br /> +McBRIDE, NAST & COMPANY<br /> +1914<br /> +</p> +<p> </p> +<p><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a></p> +<hr /><p><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a></p> +<h3><a name="NOTE" id="NOTE"></a>NOTE</h3> + + +<p>This little book is the soldier's story of the war, with all his vivid +and intimate impressions of life on the great battlefields of Europe. It +is illustrated by passages from his letters, in which he describes not +only the grim realities, but the chivalry, humanity and exaltation of +battle. For the use of these passages the author is indebted to the +courtesy and generosity of the editors of all the leading London and +provincial newspapers, to whom he gratefully acknowledges his +obligations.</p> + +<p class="right"> +J.A.K.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></p><p><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<p class="center"> +<a href="#I">I <span class="smcap">Off to the Front</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#II">II <span class="smcap">Sensations under Fire</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#III">III <span class="smcap">Humor in the Trenches</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#IV">IV <span class="smcap">The Man with the Bayonet</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#V">V <span class="smcap">Cavalry Exploits</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#VI">VI <span class="smcap">With the Highlanders</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#VII">VII <span class="smcap">The Intrepid Irish</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#VIII">VIII <span class="smcap">"A First-Class Fighting Man"</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#IX">IX <span class="smcap">Officers and Gentlemen</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#X">X <span class="smcap">Brothers in Arms</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#XI">XI <span class="smcap">Atkins and the Enemy</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#XII">XII <span class="smcap">The War in the Air</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#XIII">XIII <span class="smcap">Tommy and his Rations</span></a><br /> +</p> + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></p><p><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></p> +<h2><a name="TOMMY_ATKINS_AT_WAR" id="TOMMY_ATKINS_AT_WAR"></a>TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR</h2> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<p class="center">OFF TO THE FRONT</p> + + +<p>"It is my Royal and Imperial Command that you concentrate your energies, +for the immediate present upon one single purpose, and that is that you +address all your skill and all the valor of my soldiers to exterminate +first the treacherous English and walk over General French's +contemptible little army."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p>While this Imperial Command of the Kaiser was being written, Atkins, +innocent of the fate decreed for him, was well on his way to the front, +full of exuberant spirits, and singing as he went, "It's a long way to +Tipperary." In his pocket was the message from Lord Kitchener which +Atkins believes to be the <a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>whole duty of a soldier: "Be brave, be kind, +courteous (but nothing more than courteous) to women, and look upon +looting as a disgraceful act."</p> + +<p>Troopship after troopship had crossed the Channel carrying Sir John +French's little army to the Continent, while the boasted German fleet, +impotent to menace the safety of our transports, lay helpless—bottled +up, to quote Mr. Asquith's phrase, "in the inglorious seclusion of their +own ports."</p> + +<p>Never before had a British Expeditionary Force been organized, equipped +and despatched so swiftly for service in the field. The energies of the +War Office had long been applied to the creation of a small but highly +efficient striking force ready for instant action. And now the time for +action had come. The force was ready. From the harbors the troopships +steamed away, their decks crowded with cheery soldiers, their flags +waving a proud challenge to any disputant of Britain's command of the +sea.</p> + +<p>The expedition was carried out as if by magic. For a few brief days the +nation endured with patience its self-imposed silence. In the newspapers +were no brave columns of farewell scenes, no exultant send-off +greetings, no stirring pictures of troopships passing out <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>into the +night. All was silence, the silence of a nation preparing for the "iron +sacrifice," as Kipling calls it, of a devastating war. Then suddenly the +silence was broken, and across the Channel was flashed the news that the +troops had been safely landed, and were only waiting orders to throw +themselves upon the German brigands who had broken the sacred peace of +Europe.</p> + +<p>And so the scene changes to France and Belgium. Tommy Atkins is on his +way to the Front. He has already begun to send home some of those +gallant letters that throb throughout the pages of this book. If he felt +the absence of the stimulating send-off, necessitated by official +caution and the exigencies of a European war, he at least had the new +joy of a welcome on foreign soil. It is difficult to find words with the +right quality in them to express the feelings aroused in our men by +their reception, or the exquisite gratitude felt by the Franco-Belgian +people. They welcomed the British troops as their deliverers.</p> + +<p>"The first person to meet us in France," writes a British officer, "was +the pilot, and the first intimation of his presence was a huge voice in +the darkness, which roared out 'A bas Guillaume. Eep, eep, 'ooray!'" As +transport after transport sailed into Boulogne, <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>and regiment after +regiment landed, the population went into ecstasies of delight. Through +the narrow streets of the old town the soldiers marched, singing, +whistling, and cheering, with a wave of their caps to the women and a +kiss wafted to the children (but not only to the children!) on the +route. As they swept along, their happy faces and gallant bearing struck +deep into the emotions of the spectators. "What brave fellows, to go +into battle laughing!" exclaimed one old woman, whose own sons had been +called to the army of the Republic.</p> + +<p>It was strange to hear the pipes of the Highlanders skirl shrilly +through old Boulogne, and to catch the sound of English voices in the +clarion notes of the "Marseillaise," but, strangest of all to French +ears, to listen to that new battle-cry, "Are we down-hearted?" followed +by the unanswerable "No—o—o!" of every regiment. And then the lilt of +that new marching song to which Tommy Atkins has given immortality:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">"IT'S A LONG, LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY"<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a><br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ry one was gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there:<br /></span> +</div><p><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a></p> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHORUS<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's a long way to Tipperary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It's a long way to go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a long way to Tipperary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the sweetest girl I know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good-by Piccadilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell Leicester Square.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a long, long way to Tipperary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my heart's right there!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">It's a' there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Paddy wrote a letter to his Irish Molly O',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saying, "Should you not receive it, write and let me know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I make mistakes in spelling, Molly dear," said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Remember it's the pen that's bad, don't lay the blame on me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Chorus</i>)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Molly wrote a neat reply to Irish Paddy O',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saying, "Mike Maloney wants to marry me, and so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the Strand and Piccadilly, or you'll be to blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love has fairly drove me silly—hoping you're the same!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Chorus</i>)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It may seem odd that the soldier should care so little for martial +songs, or the songs that are ostensibly written for him; but that is not +the fault of Tommy Atkins. Lyric poets don't give him what he calls "the +stuff." He doesn't get it even from Kipling; Thomas<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a> Hardy's "Song of +the Soldiers" leaves him cold. He wants no epic stanzas, no heroic +periods. What he asks for is something simple and romantic, something +about a girl, and home, and the lights of London—that goes with a swing +in the march and awakens tender memories when the lilt of it is wafted +at night along the trenches.</p> + +<p>And so "Tipperary" has gone with the troops into the great European +battlefields, and has echoed along the white roads and over the green +fields of France and Belgium.</p> + +<p>On the way to the front the progress of our soldiers was made one long +fête: it was "roses, roses, all the way." In a letter published in <i>The +Times</i>, an artillery officer thus describes it:</p> + +<p>"As to the reception we have met with moving across country it has been +simply wonderful and most affecting. We travel entirely by motor +transport, and it has been flowers all the way. One long procession of +acclamation. By the wayside and through the villages, men, women, and +children cheer us on with the greatest enthusiasm, and every one wants +to give us something. They strip the flower gardens, and the cars look +like carnival carriages. They pelt us with fruit, cigarettes, chocolate, +bread—anything and everything.<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a> It is simply impossible to convey an +impression of it all. Yesterday my own car had to stop in a town for +petrol. In a moment there must have been a couple of hundred people +round clamoring; autograph albums were thrust in front of me; a perfect +delirium. In another town I had to stop for an hour, and took the +opportunity to do some shopping. I wanted some motor goggles, an +eye-bath, some boracic, provisions, etc. They would not let me pay for a +single thing—and there was lunch and drinks as well. The further we go +the more enthusiastic is the greeting. What it will be like at the end +of the war one cannot attempt to guess."</p> + +<p>Similar tributes to the kindness of the French and Belgians are given by +the men. A private in the Yorkshire Light Infantry—the first British +regiment to go into action in this war—tells of the joy of the French +people. "You ought to have seen them," he writes. "They were overcome +with delight, and didn't half cheer us! The worst of it was we could not +understand their talking. When we crossed the Franco-Belgian frontier, +there was a vast crowd of Belgians waiting for us. Our first greeting +was the big Union Jack, and on the other side was a huge canvas with the +words 'Welcome to our British Comrades.'<a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a> The Belgians would have given +us anything; they even tore the sheets off their beds for us to wipe our +faces with." Another Tommy tells of the eager crowds turning out to give +our troops "cigars, cigarettes, sweets, fruits, wines, anything we +want," and the girls "linking their arms in ours, and stripping us of +our badges and buttons as souvenirs."</p> + +<p>Then there is the other side of the picture, when the first battles had +been fought and the strategic retreat had begun. No praise could be too +high for the chivalry and humanity of our soldiers in these dark days. +They were almost worshiped by the people wherever they went.</p> + +<p>Some of the earliest letters from the soldiers present distressing +pictures of the poor, driven refugees, fleeing from their homes at the +approach of the Germans, who carry ruin and desolation wherever they go. +"It is pitiful, pitiful," says one writer; "you simply can't hold back +your tears." Others disclose our sympathetic soldier-men sharing their +rations with the starving fugitives and carrying the children on their +shoulders so that the weary mothers may not fall by the way. "Be +invariably courteous, considerate, and kind" were Lord Kitchener's words +to the Army, and these qualities no less than valor will al<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>ways be +linked with Tommy Atkins' name in the memories of the French and Belgian +people.</p> + +<p>They will never forget the happy spick-and-span soldiers who sang as +they stepped ashore from the troopships at Boulogne and Havre, eager to +reach the fighting line. These men have fought valiantly, desperately, +since then, but their spirits are as high as ever, and their songs still +ring down the depleted ranks as the war-stained regiments swing along +from battle to battle on the dusty road to Victory.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></p> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<p class="center">SENSATIONS UNDER FIRE</p> + + +<p>It is said of Sir John French that, on his own admission, he has "never +done anything worth doing without having to screw himself up to it." +There is no hint here of practical fear, which the hardened soldier, the +fighting man, rarely experiences; but of the moral and mental conflict +which precedes the assumption of sovereign duties and high commands. +Every man who goes into battle has this need. He requires the moral +preparation of knowing why he is fighting, and what he is fighting for. +In the present war, Lord Kitchener's fine message to every soldier in +the Expeditionary Force made this screwing-up process easy. But to men +going under fire for the first time some personal preparation is also +necessary to combat the ordinary physical terror of the battlefield.</p> + +<p>Soldiers are not accustomed to self-analysis. They are mainly men of +action, and are sup<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>posed to lack the contemplative vision. That was the +old belief. This war, however, which has shattered so many accepted +ideas, has destroyed that conviction too. Nothing is more surprising +than the revelation of their feelings disclosed in the soldiers' +letters. They are the most intimate of human documents. Here and there a +hint is given of the apprehension with which the men go into action, +unspoken fears of how they will behave under fire, the uncertainty of +complete mastery over themselves, brief doubts of their ability to stand +up to this new and sublime ordeal of death.</p> + +<p>Rarely, however, do the men allow these apprehensions to depress or +disturb them. Throughout the earliest letters from the front the one +pervading desire was eagerness for battle—a wild impatience to get the +first great test of their courage over, to feel their feet, obtain +command of themselves.</p> + +<p>"We were all eager for scalps," writes one of the Royal Engineers, "and +I took the cap, sword, and lance of a Uhlan I shot through the chest." +An artilleryman says a gunner in his battery was "so anxious to see the +enemy," that he jumped up to look, and got his leg shot away. Others +tell of the intense curiosity of the young soldiers to see every<a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>thing +that is going on, of their reckless neglect of cover, and of the +difficulty of holding them back when they see a comrade fall. "In spite +of orders, some of my men actually charged a machine gun," an officer +related. After the first baptism of fire any lingering fear is +dispelled. "I don't think we were ever afraid at all," says another +soldier, "but we got into action so quickly that we hadn't time to think +about it." "Habit soon overcomes the first instinctive fear," writes a +third, "and then the struggle is always palpitating."</p> + +<p>Of course, the fighting affects men in different ways. Some see the +ugliness, the horror of it all, grow sick at the sight, and suffer from +nausea. Others, seeing deeper significance in this desolation of life, +realize the wickedness and waste of it; as one Highlander expresses it: +"Being out there, and seeing what we see, makes us feel religious." But +the majority of the men have the instinct for fighting, quickly adapt +themselves to war conditions, and enter with zest into the joy of +battle. These happy warriors are the men who laugh, and sing, and jest +in the trenches. They take a strangely intimate pleasure in the danger +around them, and when they fall they die like Mr. Julian Smith of the +Intelligence Department, declaring that they "loved the <a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>fighting." All +the wounded beg the doctors and nurses to hurry up and let them return +to the front. "I was enjoying it until I was put under," writes +Lance-Corporal Leslie, R.E. "I must get back and have another go at +them," says Private J. Roe, of the Manchesters. And so on, letter after +letter expressing impatience to get into the firing line.</p> + +<p>The artillery is what harasses the men most. They soon developed a +contempt for German rifle fire, and it became a very persistent joke in +the trenches. But nearly all agree that German artillery is "hell let +loose." That is what the enemy intended it to be, but they did not +reckon upon the terrors of Hades making so small an impression upon the +British soldier. There is an illuminating passage in an official +statement issued from the General Headquarters:</p> + +<p>"The object of the great proportion of artillery the Germans employ is +to beat down the resistance of their enemy by a concentrated and +prolonged fire, and to shatter their nerve with high explosives before +the infantry attack is launched. They seem to have relied on doing this +with us; but they have not done so, though it has taken them several +costly experiments to discover this fact. From the statements of +prisoners, indeed, it appears that <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>they have been greatly disappointed +by the moral effect produced by their heavy guns, which, despite the +actual losses inflicted, has not been at all commensurate with the +colossal expenditure of ammunition which has really been wasted. By this +it is not implied that their artillery fire is not good. It is more than +good; it is excellent. But the British soldier is a difficult person to +impress or depress, even by immense shells filled with high explosives +which detonate with terrific violence and form craters large enough to +act as graves for five horses. The German howitzer shells are 8 to 9 +inches in caliber, and on impact they send up columns of greasy black +smoke. On account of this they are irreverently dubbed 'Coal-boxes,' +'Black Marias,' or 'Jack Johnsons' by the soldiers. Men who take things +in this spirit, are, it seems, likely to throw out the calculations +based on the loss of <i>moral</i> so carefully framed by the German military +philosophers."</p> + +<p>Every word of this admirable official message is borne out by the men's +own version of their experiences of artillery fire. "At first the din is +terrific, and you feel as if your ears would burst and the teeth fall +out of your head," writes one of the West Kents, "but, of course, you +can get used to anything, <a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>and our artillerymen give them a bit of hell +back, I can tell you." "The sensation of finding myself among screaming +shells was all new to me," says Corporal Butlin, Lancashire Fusiliers, +"but after the first terrible moments, which were enough to unnerve +anybody, I became used to the situation. Afterwards the din had no +effect upon me." And describing an artillery duel a gunner declares: "It +was butcher's work. We just rained shells on the Germans until we were +deaf and choking. I don't think a gun on their position could have sold +for old iron after we had finished, and the German gunners would be just +odd pieces of clothing and bits of accouterment. It seems 'swanky' to +say so, but once you get over the first shock you go on chewing biscuits +and tobacco when the shells are bursting all round. You don't seem to +mind it any more than smoking in a hailstorm."</p> + +<p>Smoking is the great consolation of the soldiers. They smoke whenever +they can, and the soothing cigarette is their best friend in the +trenches. "We can go through anything so long as we have tobacco," is a +passage from a soldier's letter; and this is the burden of nearly all +the messages from the front. "The fight was pretty hot while it lasted, +but we were all as cool as Liffy water, and smoked <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>cigarettes while the +shells shrieked blue murder over our heads," is an Irishman's account of +the effect of the big German guns.</p> + +<p>The noise of battle—especially the roar of artillery—is described in +several letters. "It is like standing in a railway station with heavy +expresses constantly tearing through," is an officer's impression of it. +A wounded Gordon Highlander dismisses it as no more terrible than a bad +thunderstorm: "You get the same din and the big flashes of light in +front of you, and now and then the chance of being knocked over by a +bullet or piece of shell, just as you might be struck by lightning." +That is the real philosophy of the soldier. "After all, we are may-be as +safe here as you are in Piccadilly," says another; and when men have +come unhurt out of infinite danger they grow sublimely fatalistic and +cheerful. An officer in the Cavalry Division, for instance, writes: "I +am coming back all right, never fear. Have been in such tight corners +and under such fire that if I were meant to go I should have gone by +now, I'm sure." And it is the same with the men. "Having gone through +six battles without a scratch," says Private A. Sunderland, of Bolton, +"I thought I would never be hit." Later on, however, he was wounded.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>Though the artillery fire has proved most destructive to all ranks, by +far the worst ordeal of the troops was the long retreat in the early +stages of the war. It exhausted and exasperated the men. They grew angry +and impatient. None but the best troops in the world, with a profound +belief in the judgment and valor of their officers, could have stood up +against it. A statement by a driver of the Royal Field Artillery, +published in the <i>Evening News</i>, gives a vivid impression of how the men +felt. "I have no clear notion of the order of events in the long +retreat," he says; "it was a nightmare, like being seized by a madman +after coming out of a serious illness and forced towards the edge of a +precipice." The constant marching, the want of sleep, the restless and +(as it sometimes seemed to the men) purposeless backward movement night +and day drove them into a fury. The intensity of the warfare, the fierce +pressure upon the mental and physical powers of endurance, might well +have exercised a mischievous effect upon the men. Instead, however, it +only brought out their finest qualities.</p> + +<p>In an able article in <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, on "Moral Qualities in +War," Major C.A.L. Yate, of the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, +dealt with the "intensity" of the war <a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>strain, of which he himself had +acute experience. "Under such conditions," he wrote, "marksmen may +achieve no more than the most erratic shots; the smartest corps may +quickly degenerate into a rabble; the easiest tasks will often appear +impossible. An army can weather trials such as those just depicted only +if it be collectively considered in that healthy state of mind which the +term <i>moral</i> implies." It is just that <i>moral</i> which the British +Expeditionary Force has been proved to possess in so rich a measure, and +which must belong to all good soldiers in these days of nerve-shattering +war.</p> + +<p>Little touches of pathos are not wanting in the scenes pictured in the +soldiers' letters, and they bring an element of humanity into the cold, +well-ordered, practical business of war. Men who will meet any personal +danger without flinching often find the mists floating across their eyes +when a comrade is struck down at their side. Private Plant, Manchester +Regiment, tells how his pal was eating a bit of bread and cheese when he +was knocked over: "Poor chap, he just managed to ask me to tell his +missus." "War is rotten when you see your best pal curl up at your +feet," comments another. "One of our chaps got hit in the face with a +shrapnel bullet," Private<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a> Sidney Smith, First Warwickshires, relates. +"'Hurt, Bill?' I said to him. 'Good luck to the old regiment,' says he. +Then he rolled over on his back." "Partings of this kind are sad +enough," says an Irish Dragoon, "but we've just got to sigh and get used +to it."</p> + +<p>Their own injuries and sufferings don't seem to worry them much. The +sensation of getting wounded is simply told. One man, shot through the +arm, felt "only a bit of a sting, nothing particular. Just like a sharp +needle going into me. I thought it was nothing till my rifle dropped out +of my hand, and my arm fell. Rotten luck." That is the feeling of a +clean bullet wound. Shrapnel, however, hurts—"hurts pretty badly," +Tommy says. And the lance and the bayonet make ugly gashes. In sensitive +men, however, the continuous shell-fire produces effects that are often +as serious as wounds. "Some," says Mr. Geoffrey Young, the <i>Daily News +and Leader</i> correspondent, "suffer from a curious aphasia, some get +dazed and speechless, some deafened"; but of course their recovery is +fairly rapid, and the German "Black Marias" soon exhaust their terrors. +A man may lose his memory and have but a hazy idea of the day of the +week or the hour of the day, but Tommy still keeps his nerve, and after +his first experience <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>of the enemy's fire, to quote his own words, +"doesn't care one d—— about the danger."</p> + +<p>As showing the general feeling of the educated soldier, independent +altogether of his nationality, it is worth quoting two other +experiences, both Russian. Mr. Stephen Graham in the <i>Times</i> recites the +sensations of a young Russian officer. "The feeling under fire at first +is unpleasant," he admits, "but after a while it becomes even +exhilarating. One feels an extraordinary freedom in the midst of death." +The following is a quotation from a soldier's letter sent by Mr. H. +Williams, the <i>Daily Chronicle</i> correspondent at Petrograd: "One talks +of hell fire on the battlefield, but I assure you it makes no more +impression on me now than the tooting of motors. Habit is everything, +especially in war, where all the logic and psychology of one's actions +are the exact reverse of a civilian's.... The whole sensation of fear is +atrophied. We don't care a farthing for our lives.... We don't think of +danger. In this new frame of mind we simply go and do the perfectly +normal, natural things that you call heroism."</p> + +<p>When the heroic things are done and there comes a lull in the fighting, +it is sweet to sink down in the trenches worn out, exhausted, unutterly +drowsy, and snatch a brief unconscious <a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>hour of sleep. Some of the men +fall asleep with the rifles still hot in their hands, their heads +resting on the barrels. Magnificently as they endure fatigue, there +comes a time when the strain is intolerable, and, "beat to the world," +as one officer describes it, they often sink into profound sleep, like +horses, standing. At these times it seems as if nothing could wake them. +Shrapnel may thunder around them in vain; they never move a muscle. In +Mr. Stephen Crane's fine phrase, they "sleep the brave sleep of wearied +men."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a></p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<p class="center">HUMOR IN THE TRENCHES</p> + + +<p>One of the most surprising of the many revelations of this war has been +that of the gaiety, humor, and good nature of the British soldier. All +the correspondents, English and French, remark upon it. A new Tommy +Atkins has arisen, whose cheery laugh and joke and music-hall song have +enlivened not only the long, weary, exhausting marches, but even the +grim and unnerving hours in the trenches. Theirs was not the excitement +of men going into battle, nervous and uncertain of their behavior under +fire; it was rather that of light-hearted first-nighters waiting in the +queue to witness some new and popular drama.</p> + +<p>"A party of the King's Own," writes Sapper Mugridge of the Royal +Engineers, "went into their first action shouting 'Early doors this way! +Early doors, ninepence!'" "The Kaiser's crush" is the description given +by a sergeant of the Coldstream Guards as he <a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>watched a dense mass of +Germans emerging to the attack from a wood, and prepared to meet them +with the bayonet. When first the fierce German searchlights were turned +on the British lines a little cockney in the Middlesex Regiment +exclaimed to his comrade: "Lord, Bill, it's just like a play, an' us in +the limelight"; and as the artillery fusillade passed over their heads, +and a great ironical cheer rose from the British trenches, he added: +"But it's the Kaiser wot's gettin' the bird."</p> + +<p>Many of the wounded who have been invalided home were asked whether this +humor in the trenches is the real thing, or only an affected drollery to +conceal the emotions the men feel in the face of death; but they all +declare that it is quite spontaneous. One old soldier, well accustomed +to being under fire, freely admitted that he had never been with such a +cheery and courageous lot of youngsters in his life. "They take +everything that comes to them as 'all in the game,'" he said, "and +nothing could now damp their spirits."</p> + +<p>Songs, cards and jokes fill up the waiting hours in the trenches; under +fire, indeed, the wit seems to become sharpest. A corporal in the Motor +Cycle Section of the Royal Engineers writes: "At first the German +artillery was rotten. Three batteries bombarded an en<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>trenched British +battalion for two hours and only seven men were killed. The noise was +simply deafening, but so little effect had the fire that the men shouted +with laughter and held their caps up on the end of their rifles to give +the German gunners a bit of encouragement." The same spirit of raillery +is spoken of by a Seaforth Highlander, who says one of the Wiltshires +stuck out in the trenches a tin can on which was the notice "Business as +Usual." As, however, it gave the enemy too good a target he was cheerily +asked to "take the blooming thing in again," and in so doing he was +wounded twice.</p> + +<p>"The liveliest Sunday I ever spent" is how Private P. Case, Liverpool +Regiment, describes the fighting at Mons. "It was a glorious time," +writes Bandsman Wall, Connaught Rangers; "we had nothing to do but shoot +the Germans as they came up, just like knocking dolls down at the fair +ground." "A very pleasant morning in the trenches," remarks one of the +Officers' Special Reserve; and another writer, after being in several +engagements, says, "This is really the best summer holiday I've ever +had."</p> + +<p>Nothing could excel the coolness of the men under fire. With a hail of +bullets and shells raining about them they sing and jest with <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>each +other unconcernedly. Wiping the dust of battle from his face and loading +up for another shot, a Highlander will break forth into one of Harry +Lauder's songs:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It's a wee deoch an' doruis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jist a wee drap, that's a',"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and with a laugh some English Tommies will make a dash at the line "a +braw, bricht, minlicht nicht," with ludicrous consequences to the +pronunciation! According to "Joe," of the 2nd Royal Scots, the favorite +songs in the trenches or round the camp-fire are "Never Mind," and "The +Last Boat is leaving for Home." "Hitchy Koo" is another favorite, and +was being sung in the midst of a German attack. "One man near me was +wounded," says a comrade, "but he sang the chorus to the finish."</p> + +<p>It is remarkable how these songs and witticisms steady the soldiers +under fire. In a letter in the <i>Evening News</i> Sergeant J. Baker writes: +"Some of our men have made wonderful practise with the rifle, and they +are beginning to fancy themselves as marksmen. If they don't hit +something every time they think they ought to see a doctor about it.... +Artillery fire, however, is the deadliest thing out, and it takes a lot +of nerve to stand it. The Germans keep <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>up an infernal din from morning +till far into the night; but they don't do half as much damage as you +would think, though it is annoying to have all that row going on when +you're trying to write home or make up the regimental accounts."</p> + +<p>Writing home is certainly done under circumstances which are apt to have +a disturbing effect upon the literary style. "Excuse this scrawl," +writes one soldier, "the German shells have interrupted me six times +already, and I had to dash out with my bayonet before I was able to +finish it off." Another concludes: "Well, mother, I must close now. The +bullets are a bit too thick for letter-writing." To a young engineer the +experience was so strange that he describes it as "like writing in a +dream."</p> + +<p>Some of the nick-names given by Tommy Atkins to the German shells have +already been quoted, but the most amusing is surely that in a letter +from Private Watters. "One of our men," he relates, "has got a ripping +cure for neuralgia, but he isn't going to take out a patent for it! +While lying in the trenches, mad with pain in the face, a shell burst +beside him. He wasn't hit, but the explosion rendered him unconscious +for a time, and when he recovered, his neuralgia had gone. His name <a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>is +Palmer, so now we call the German shells 'Palmer's Neuralgia Cure.'"</p> + +<p>The amusing story of a long march afforded some mirth in the trenches +when it got to be known. A party of artillerymen who had been toiling +along in the dark for hours, and were like to drop with fatigue, ran +straight into a troop of horsemen posted near a wood. "We thought they +were Germans," one gunner related, "for we couldn't make out the colors +of the uniforms or anything else, until we heard some one sing out +'Where the hell do you think you're going to?' <i>Then we knew we were +with friends.</i>"</p> + +<p>Football is the great topic of discussion in the trenches. Mr. Harold +Ashton, of the <i>Daily News and Leader</i>, relates an amusing encounter +with a Royal Horse Artilleryman to whom he showed a copy of the paper. +"Where's the sporting news?" asked the artilleryman as he glanced over +the pages. "Shot away in the war," replied Mr. Ashton. "What!" exclaimed +Tommy, "not a line about the Arsenal? Well, I'm blowed! This <i>is</i> a +war!" "We are all in good spirits," writes a bombardier in the 44th +Battery, Royal Artillery, "and mainly anxious to know how football is +going on in Newcastle now." "I got this," said a Gordon Highlander, +referring to <a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>his wound, "because I became excited in an argument with +wee Geordie Ferris, of our company, about the chances of Queen's Park +and Rangers this season."</p> + +<p>An artilleryman sends a description of the fighting written in the +jargon of the football field. He describes the war as "the great match +for the European Cup, which is being played before a record gate, though +you can't perhaps see the crowd." In spite of all their swank, he adds, +"the Germans haven't scored a goal yet, and I wouldn't give a brass +farthing for their chances of lifting the Cup." At the battle of Mons it +was noticed that some soldiers even went into action with a football +attached to their knapsacks!</p> + +<p>But there is no end to the humor of Tommy Atkins. Mr. Hamilton Fyfe +tells in the <i>Daily Mail</i> how he stopped to sympathize with a wounded +soldier on the roadside near Mons. Asking if his injury was very painful +he received the remarkable reply: "Oh, it's not that. I lost my pipe in +the last blooming charge." In a letter from the front, published in the +<i>Glasgow Herald</i>, this passage occurs: "Our fellows have signed the +pledge because Kitchener wants them to. But they all say, 'God help the +Germans, when we get hold of them for making us teetotal.'"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>What a Frenchman describes as the "new British battle-cry" is another +source of amusement. Whenever artillery or rifle fire sweeps over their +trenches some facetious Tommy is sure to shout, "Are we downhearted?" +and is met with a resounding "No!" and laughter all along the line.</p> + +<p>To those at home all this fun may seem a little thoughtless, but to +those in the fighting line it is perfectly natural and unforced. "Our +men lie in the trenches and play marbles with the bullets from shrapnel +shells," writes one of the Royal Engineers; "we have been in two +countries and hope to tour a third," says a letter from a cheery +artilleryman; and Mr. W.L. Pook (Godalming), who is with one of the +field post-offices, declares that things are going so badly with "our +dear old chum Wilhelm" that "I've bet X—— a new hat that I'll be home +by Christmas."</p> + +<p>Bets are common in the trenches. Gunners wager about the number of their +hits, riflemen on the number of misses by the enemy. Daring spirits, +before making an attack, have even been known to bet on the number of +guns they would capture. "We have already picked up a good deal in the +way of German souvenirs," says one wag; "enough, indeed, to set a +decent-sized army up in business." The British<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a> Army, indeed, is an army +of sportsmen. Every man must have his game, his friendly wager, his +joke, and his song. As one officer told his men: "You are a lively lot +of beggars. You don't seem to realize that we're at war."</p> + +<p>But they do. That is just Tommy's way. It is how he wins through. He +always feels fit, and he enjoys himself. Corporal Graham Hodson, Royal +Engineers, provides a typical Atkins letter with which to conclude this +chapter. "I am feeling awfully well," he writes, "and am enjoying myself +no end. All lights are out at eight o'clock, so we lie in our blankets +and tell each other lies about the number of Germans we have shot and +the hairbreadth escapes we have had. Oh, it's a great life!"</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a></p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<p class="center">THE MAN WITH THE BAYONET</p> + + +<p>Some military writers have declared that with the increasing range of +rifle and artillery fire the day of the bayonet is over. Battles, they +say, must now be fought with the combatants miles apart. Bayonets are as +obsolete as spears and battle axes. Evidently this theory had the full +support of the German General Staff, whose military wisdom was in some +quarters believed to be infallible—before the war.</p> + +<p>As events have proved, however, there has been no more rude awakening +for the German soldiery than the efficacy of the bayonet in the hands of +Tommy Atkins. In spite of the employment of gigantic siege guns and +their enormous superiority in strength, though not in handling, of +artillery, the Germans have failed to keep the Allies at the theoretical +safe distance. They have been forced to accept hand-<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>to-hand fighting, +and in every encounter at close quarters there has never been a moment's +doubt as to the result. They have shriveled up in the presence of the +bayonet, and fled in disorder at the first glimpse of naked steel. It is +not that the Germans lack courage. "They are brave enough," our soldiers +admit with perfect frankness, "but the bayonet terrifies them, and they +cry out in agony at the sight of it."</p> + +<p>Admittedly, it requires more than ordinary courage to face a bayonet +charge, just as it calls for a high order of valor to use that deadly +weapon. Instances are given of young soldiers experiencing a sinking +sensation, a feeling of collapse, at the order "Fix Bayonets!" their +hands trembling violently over the task. But when the bugle sounds the +charge, and the wild dash at the enemy's lines has begun, with the skirl +of the pipes to stir up the blood, the nerves stiffen and the hands grip +the rifle with grim determination. "It was his life or mine," said a +young Highlander describing his first battle, "and I ran the bayonet +through him." There is no time for sentiment, and there can be no +thought of chivalry. Just get the ugly business over and done with as +quickly as possible. One soldier tells what a sense of horror swept over +him when his bayonet stuck <a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>in his victim, and he had to use all his +strength to wrench it out of the body in time to tackle the next man.</p> + +<p>Many men describe the effects of the British bayonet charges and the way +the Germans—Uhlans, Guards, and artillerymen—recoil from them. "If you +go near them with the bayonet they squeal like pigs," "they beg for +mercy on their knees," "the way they cringe before the bayonet is +pitiful"—such are examples of the hundreds of references to this method +of attack.</p> + +<p>Private Whittaker, Coldstream Guards, gives a vivid account of the +fighting around Compiègne. "The Germans rushed at us," he writes, "like +a crowd streaming from a Cup-tie at the Crystal Palace. You could not +miss them. Our bullets plowed into them, but still on they came. I was +well entrenched, and my rifle got so hot I could hardly hold it. I was +wondering if I should have enough bullets, when a pal shouted, 'Up +Guards and at 'em.' The next second he was rolled over with a nasty +knock on the shoulder. When we really did get orders to get at them we +made no mistakes, I can tell you. They cringed at the bayonets. Those on +the left wing tried to get round us. We yelled like demons, and racing +as hard as we could for quite 500 yards <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>we cut up nearly every man who +did not run away."</p> + +<p>One of the most graphic pictures of the war is that of attack in the +night related by a sergeant of the Worcester Regiment, who was wounded +in the fierce battle of the Aisne. He was on picket duty when the attack +opened. "It was a little after midnight," he said "when the men ahead +suddenly fell back to report strange sounds and movements along the +front. The report had just been made when we heard a rustling in the +bushes near us. We challenged and, receiving no reply, fired into the +darkness. Immediately the enemy rushed upon us, but the sleeping camp +had been awakened by the firing, and our men quickly stood to arms. As +the heavy German guns began to thunder and the searchlights to play on +our position we gathered that a whole Army corps was about to be engaged +and, falling back upon the camp, we found our men ready. No sooner had +we reached the trenches than there rose out of the darkness in front of +us a long line of white faces. The Germans were upon us. 'Fire!' came +the order, and we sent a volley into them. They wavered, and dark +patches in their ranks showed that part of the white line had been +blotted out. But on they came again, the gaps filled up from behind.<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a> At +a hundred yards' range, the first line dropped to fix bayonets, the +second opened fire, and others followed. We kept on firing and we saw +their men go down in heaps, but finally they swarmed forward with the +bayonet and threw all their weight of numbers upon us. We gave them one +terrible volley, but nothing could have stopped the ferocious impetus of +their attack. For one terrible moment our ranks bent under the dead +weight, but the Germans, too, wavered, and in that moment we gave them +the bayonet, and hurled them back in disorder. It was then I got a +bayonet thrust, but as I fell I heard our boys cheering and I knew we +had finished them for the night."</p> + +<p>This is one of the few accounts that tell of the Germans using the +bayonet on the offensive, and their experience of the businesslike way +in which Tommy Atkins manipulates this weapon has given them a wholesome +dread of such encounters. Private G. Bridgeman, 4th Royal Fusiliers, +tells of the glee with which his regiment received the order to advance +with the bayonet. "We were being knocked over in dozens by the artillery +and couldn't get our own back," he writes,<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> "and I can tell you we +were like a lot of schoolboys at a treat when <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>we got the order to fix +bayonets, for we knew we should fix them then. We had about 200 yards to +cover before we got near them, and then we let them have it in the neck. +It put us in mind of tossing hay, only we had human bodies. I was +separated from my neighbors and was on my own when I was attacked by +three Germans. I had a lively time and was nearly done when a comrade +came to my rescue. I had already made sure of two, but the third would +have finished me. I already had about three inches of steel in my side +when my chum finished him."</p> + +<p>The charge of the Coldstream Guards at Le Cateau is another bayonet +exploit that ought to be recorded. "It was getting dark when we found +that the Kaiser's crush was coming through the forest to cut off our +force," a sergeant relates, "but we got them everywhere, not a single +man getting through. About 200 of us drove them down one street, and +didn't the devils squeal. We came upon a mass of them in the main +thoroughfare, but they soon lost heart and we actually climbed over +their dead and wounded which were heaped up, to get at the others." +"What a sight it was, and how our fellows yelled!" says another +Coldstreamer, describing the same exploit.</p> + +<p>Tommy Atkins has long been known for his <a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>accurate artillery and rifle +fire, but the bayonet is his favorite arm in battle. Through all our +wars it has proved a deciding, if not indeed the decisive, factor in the +campaign. Once it has been stained in service he fondles it as, next to +his pipe, his best friend. And it is the same with the Frenchman. He +calls his bayonet his "little Rosalie," and lays its ruddy edges against +his cheek with a caress.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a></p> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<p class="center">CAVALRY EXPLOITS</p> + + +<p>"We have been through the Uhlans like brown paper." In this striking +phrase Sir Philip Chetwode, commanding the 5th Cavalry Brigade, +describes the brilliant exploits in the neighborhood of Cambrai when, in +spite of odds of five to one, the Prussian Horse were cut to pieces. Sir +Philip was the first man to be mentioned in despatches, and Sir John +French does not hesitate to confirm this dashing officer's tribute to +his men. "Our cavalry," says the official message, "do as they like with +the enemy."</p> + +<p>There is no more brilliant page in the history of the war than that +which has been furnished to the historian by the deeds of the British +cavalry. They carried everything before them. In a single encounter the +reputation of the much-vaunted Uhlans was torn to shreds.</p> + +<p>The charge of the 9th Lancers at Toulin was a fine exploit. It was +Balaclava over again, <a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>with a gallant Four Hundred charging a battery of +eleven German guns. But there was no blunder this time; it was a +sacrifice to save the 5th Infantry Division and some guns, and the +heroic Lancers dashed to their task with a resounding British cheer. "We +rode absolutely into death," says a corporal of the regiment writing +home, "and the colonel told us that onlookers never expected a single +Lancer to come back. About 400 charged and 72 rallied afterwards, but +during the week 200 more turned up wounded and otherwise. You see, the +infantry of ours were in a fix and no guns but four could be got round, +so the General ordered two squadrons of the 9th to charge, as a +sacrifice, to save the position. The order was given, but not only did A +and B gallop into line, but C squadron also wheeled and came up with a +roar. It was magnificent, but horrible. The regiment was swept away +before 1,000 yards was covered, and at 200 yards from the guns I was +practically alone—myself, three privates, and an officer of our +squadron. We wheeled to a flank on the colonel's signal and rode back. I +was mad with rage, a feeling I cannot describe. But we had drawn their +fire; the infantry were saved."</p> + +<p>"It was the most magnificent sight I ever saw," says Driver W. Cryer, +R.F.A., who wit<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>nessed the Lancers go into action. "They rode at the +guns like men inspired," declares another spectator, "and it seemed +incredible that any could escape alive. Lyddite and melinite swept like +hail across the thin line of intrepid horsemen." "My God! How they +fell!" writes Captain Letorez, who, after his horse was shot under him, +leapt on a riderless animal and came through unhurt. When the men got up +close to the German guns they found themselves riding full tilt into +hidden wire entanglements—seven strands of barbed wire. Horses and men +came down in a heap, and few of the brave fellows who reached this +barrier ever returned.</p> + +<p>The 9th Lancers covered themselves with glory, and this desperate but +successful exploit will live as perhaps the most stirring and dramatic +battle story of the war. The Germans were struck with amazement at the +fearlessness of these horsemen. Yet the 9th Lancers themselves took +their honors very modestly. "We only fooled around and saved some guns," +said one of the Four Hundred, after it was over. He had his horse shot +under him and his saddle blanket drilled through.</p> + +<p>Captain F.O. Grenfell, of the 9th Lancers, was the hero of an incident +in the saving of the guns. All the gunners had been shot down <a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>and the +guns looked likely to fall into the enemy's hands. "Look here, boys," +said Grenfell, "we've got to get them back. Who'll help?" A score of men +instantly volunteered—"our chaps would go anywhere with Grenfell," says +the corporal who tells the story—and "with bullets and shrapnel flying +around us, off we went. It was a hot time, but our captain was as cool +as on parade, and kept on saying, 'It's all right; they can't hit us.' +Well, they did manage to hit three of us before we saved the guns, and +God knows how any of us ever escaped." Later on Captain Grenfell was +himself wounded, but before the ambulance had been brought up to carry +him off he sprang into a passing motor-car and dashed into the thick of +the fighting again.</p> + +<p>The 18th Hussars and the 4th Dragoon Guards were also in these brilliant +cavalry engagements, but did not suffer anything like so badly as the +9th Lancers. Corporal Clarke, of the Remount Depot, which was attached +to the 18th Hussars, thus described their "little scrap" with the German +horsemen near Landrecies: "We received orders to form line (two ranks), +and the charge was sounded. We then charged, and were under the fire of +two batteries, one on each side of the cavalry. We charged straight +through them, and on re<a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>forming we drove the Germans back towards the +1st Lincoln Regiment, who captured those who had not been shot down. We +had about 103 men missing, and we were about 1,900 strong. The order +then came to retreat, and we returned in the direction of Cambrai, but +we did not take any part in the action there."</p> + +<p>History seems to be repeating itself in amazing ways in this war. Just +as the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava has been reproduced by +the 9th Lancers, so the Scots Greys and 12th Lancers have reproduced the +famous charge of the "Greys" at Waterloo. This is the fight which +aroused the enthusiasm of Sir Philip Chetwode, for his brigade went +through the German cavalry just as circus horses might leap through +paper hoops. "I watched the charge of the Scots Greys and 12th Lancers," +writes Sergeant C. Meades, of the Berkshires. "It was grand. I could see +some of the Germans dropping on their knees and holding up their arms. +Then, as soon as our cavalry got through, the Germans picked up their +rifles and started firing again. Our men turned about and charged back. +It was no use the Germans putting up their hands a second time. Our +cavalry cut down every one they came to. I don't think there were ten +Germans left out of about 2,000. I can tell <a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>you they had all they +wanted for that day." An officer of the dragoons, describing the same +charge, says the dragoon guards were also in it, and that his lads were +"as keen as mustard." In fact, he declares, "there was no holding them +back. Horses and men positively flew at the Germans, cutting through +much heavier mounts and heavier men than ours. The yelling and the dash +of the lancers and dragoon guards was a thing never to be forgotten. We +lost very heavily at Mons, and it is a marvel how some of our fellows +pulled through. They positively frightened the enemy. We did terrible +execution, and our wrists were feeling the strain of heavy riding before +sunset. With our tunics unbuttoned, we had the full use of our right +arms for attack and defense."</p> + +<p>Another charge of the Scots Greys is thus described: "Seeing the wounded +getting cut at by the German officers, the Scots Greys went mad, and +even though retreat had been sounded, with a non-commissioned officer +leading, they turned on the Potsdam Guards and hewed their way through, +their officers following. Having got through, the officers took command +again, formed them up, wheeled, and came back the way they went. It was +a sight for the gods."</p> + +<p>Another episode was the capture of the Ger<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>man guns by the 2nd and 5th +Dragoons. An officer of the 5th gives an account of the exploit. "We +were attacked at dawn, in a fog," he relates, "and it looked bad for us, +but we turned it into a victory. Our brigade captured all the guns of +the German cavalry division, fourteen in all; the Bays lost two-thirds +of their horses and many men. The Gunner Battery of ours was annihilated +(twenty left), but the guns were saved, as we held the ground at the +end. This was only a series of actions, as we have been at it all day, +and every day. My own squadron killed sixteen horses and nine Uhlans in +a space of 50 ft., and many others, inhabitants told me, were lying in a +wood close by, where they had crawled. We killed their officer, a big +Postdam Guard, shot through the forehead. L Battery fought their guns to +the last, 'Bradbury' himself firing a gun with his leg off at the knee; +a shell took off his other leg. He asked me then to be carried from the +guns so that the men could not hear or see him."</p> + +<p>One of the 2nd Dragoons, wounded in this engagement, says the Bays were +desperately eager for the order to charge, and exultant when the bugle +sounded. "Off they went, 'hell for leather,' at the guns," is how he +de<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>scribed it. "There was no stopping them once they got on the move."</p> + +<p>"No stopping them." That sums up what every eye-witness of the British +cavalry charges says. The coolness and dash of the men in action was +amazing. Their voices rang out as they spurred their horses on, and when +they crashed into the enemy, the British roar of exultation was +terrific, and the mighty clash of arms rent the air. "Many flung away +their tunics," writes a Yeomanry Officer with General Smith-Dorrien's +Division, "and fought with their shirt sleeves rolled up above the +elbow. Some of the Hussars and Lancers were almost in a horizontal +position on the off-side of their mounts when they were cutting right +and left with bare arms."</p> + +<p>Most intimate details of the fighting at close quarters are given by +another officer. "I shall never forget," he says, "how one +splendidly-made trooper with his shirt in ribbons actually stooped so +low from his saddle as to snatch a wounded comrade from instant death at +the hands of a powerful German. And then, having swung the man right +round to the near side, he made him hang on to his stirrup leather +whilst he lunged his sword clean through the German's neck and severed +his windpipe as <a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>cleanly as —— would do it in the operating theater."</p> + +<p>And here is another incident: "A young lancer, certainly not more than +twenty, stripped of tunic and shirt, and fighting in his vest, charged a +German who had fired on a wounded man, and pierced him to the heart. +Seizing the German's horse as he fell, he exchanged it for his own which +had got badly damaged. Then, his sword sheathed like lightning, he swung +round and shot a German clean through the head and silenced him +forever."</p> + +<p>The soldiers' letters throb with such stories, and the swiftness, vigor, +and power of expression revealed in them is astonishing. Most of them +were written under withering fire, some scribbled even when in the +saddle, or when the writers were in a state of utter exhaustion at the +end of a nerve-shattering day. "'Hell with the lid off' describes what +we are going through," one of the 12th Lancers says of it. But the men +never lose spirit. Even after eighteen or nineteen hours in the saddle +they still have a kindly, cheering message to write home, and a jocular +metaphor to hit off the situation. "We are going on all right," +concludes Corporal G.W. Cooper, 16th Lancers; "but still it isn't +exactly what you'd call playing billiards at the club."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></p> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<p class="center">WITH THE HIGHLANDERS</p> + + +<p>The Highlanders have been great favorites in France. Their gaiety, humor +and inexhaustible spirits under the most trying conditions have +captivated everybody. Through the villages on their route these brawny +fellows march with their pipers to the proud lilt of "The Barren Rocks +of Aden" and "The Cock o' the North," fine marching tunes that in turn +give place to the regimental voices while the pipers are recovering +their breath. "It's a long way to Inveraray" is the Scotch variant of +the new army song, but the Scots have not altogether abandoned their own +marching airs, and it is a stirring thing to hear the chorus of "The +Nut-Brown Maiden," for instance, sung in the Gaelic tongue as these +kilted soldiers swing forward on the long white roads of France.</p> + +<p>A charming little letter published in <i>The Times</i> tells how the +Highlanders and their pipers turned Melun into a "little Scotland"<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a> for +a week, and the enthusiastic writer contributes some verses for a +suggested new reel, of which the following have a sly allusion to the +Kaiser's order for the extermination of General French's "contemptible +little army":</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What! Wad ye stop the pipers?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, 'tis ower soon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance, since ye're dancing, William,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dance, ye puir loon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance till ye're dizzy, William,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dance till ye swoon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance till ye're deid, my laddie!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We play the tune!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is all quite in the spirit of the Highland soldiers. A Frenchman, +writing to a friend in London goes into ecstasies over the behavior of +the Scots in France, and says that at one railway station he saw two +wounded Highlanders "dancing a Scotch reel which made the crowd fairly +shriek with admiration." Nothing can subdue these Highlanders' spirits. +They go into action, as has already been said, just as if it were a +picnic, and here is a picture of life in the trenches at the time of the +fierce battle of Mons. It is related by a corporal of the Black Watch. +"The Germans," he states, "were just as thick as the Hielan' heather, +and by weight of numbers (something like twenty-five to one) tried to +force us back. But we had our orders and not a man flinched.<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a> We just +stuck there while the shells were bursting about us, and in the very +thick of it we kept on singing Harry Lauder's latest. It was terrible, +but it was grand—peppering away at them to the tune of 'Roamin' in the +Gloamin'' and 'The Lass o' Killiecrankie.' It's many a song about the +lassies we sang in that 'smoker' wi' the Germans."</p> + +<p>According to another Highlander "those men who couldn't sing very well +just whistled, and those who couldn't whistle talked about football and +joked with each other. It might have been a sham fight the way the +Gordons took it." With this memory of their undaunted gaiety it is sad +to think how the Gordons were cut up in that encounter. Their losses +were terrible. "God help them!" exclaims one writer. "Theirs was the +finest regiment a man could see."</p> + +<p>But that was in the dark days of the long retreat, when the Highlanders, +heedless of their own safety, hung on to their positions often in spite +of the orders to retire, and avenged their own losses ten-fold by their +punishment of the enemy. Private Smiley, of the Gordons, describing the +German attacks, speaks of the devastating effects of the British fire. +"Poor devils!" he writes of the German infantry. "They advanced in +companies of <a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>quite 150 men in files five deep, and our rifle has a flat +trajectory up to 600 yards. Guess the result. We could steady our rifles +on the trench and take deliberate aim. The first company were mown down +by a volley at 700 yards, and in their insane formation every bullet was +almost sure to find two billets. The other companies kept advancing very +slowly, using their dead comrades as cover, but they had absolutely no +chance.... Yet what a pitiful handful we were against such a host!"</p> + +<p>The fighting went on all through the night and again next morning, and +the British force was compelled to retreat. In the dark, Private Smiley, +who was wounded, lost his regiment, and was picked up by a battery of +the Royal Field Artillery who gave him a lift. But he didn't rest long, +he says, for "I'm damned if they didn't go into action ten minutes +afterwards with me on one of the guns."</p> + +<p>Some fine exploits are also given to the credit of the Black Watch. +They, too, were in the thick of it at Mons—"fighting like gentlemen," +as one of them puts it—and the Gordons and Argyll and Sutherlands also +suffered severely. In fact, the Highland regiments appear to have been +singled out by the Germans as the object of their fiercest attacks, and +all the way down to the Aisne they have borne <a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>the brunt of the +fighting. Private Fairweather, of the Black Watch, gives this account of +an engagement on the Aisne: "The Guards went up first and then the +Camerons, both having to retire. Although we had watched the awful +slaughter in these regiments, when it was our turn we went off with a +cheer across 1,500 yards of open country. The shelling was terrific and +the air was full of the screams of shrapnel. Only a few of us got up to +200 yards of the Germans. Then with a yell we went at them. The air +whistled with bullets, and it was then my shout of '42nd forever!' +finished with a different kind of yell. Crack! I had been presented with +a souvenir in my knee. I lay helpless and our fellows retired over me. +Shrapnel screamed all around, and melinite shells made the earth shake. +I bore a charmed life. A bullet went through the elbow of my jacket, +another through my equipment, and a piece of shrapnel found a resting +place in a tin of bully beef which was on my back. I was picked up +eventually during the night, nearly dead from loss of blood."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the most dashing and brilliant episode of the fighting is the +exploit of the Black Watch at the battle of St. Quentin, in which they +went into action with their old comrades, <a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>the Scots Greys. Not content +with the ordinary pace at which a bayonet charge can be launched against +the enemy these impatient Highlanders clutched at the stirrup leathers +of the Greys, and plunged into the midst of the Germans side by side +with the galloping horsemen. The effect was startling, and those who saw +it declare that nothing could have withstood the terrible onslaught. +"Only a Highland regiment could have attempted such a movement," said an +admiring English soldier who watched it, and the terrible gashes in the +German ranks bore tragic testimony to the results of this double charge. +The same desperate maneuver, it may be recalled, was carried out at +Waterloo and is the subject of a striking and dramatic battle picture.</p> + +<p>Though all the letters from men in the Highland regiments speak +contemptuously of the rifle fire of the Germans, they admit that in +quantity, at least, it is substantial. "They just poured lead in tons +into our trenches," writes one, "but, man, if we fired like yon they'd +put us in jail." The German artillery, however, is described as "no +canny." The shells shrieked and tore up the earth all around the +Highlanders, and accounted for practically all their losses.</p> + +<p>Narrow escapes were numerous. An Argyll <a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>and Sutherland Highlander got +his kilt pierced eight times by shrapnel, one of the Black Watch had his +cap shot off, and while another was handling a tin of jam a bullet went +clean into the tin. Jocular allusions were made to these incidents, and +somebody suggested labeling the tin "Made in Germany."</p> + +<p>Even the most grim incidents of the war are lit up by some humorous or +pathetic passage which illustrates the fine spirits and even finer +sympathies of the Highlanders. Lance-Corporal Edmondson, of the Royal +Irish Lancers, mentions the case of two men of the Argyll and +Sutherlands, who were cut off from their regiment. One was badly +wounded, but his comrade refused to leave him, and in a district overrun +by Germans, they had to exist for four days on half-a-dozen biscuits.</p> + +<p>"But how did you manage to do it?" the unwounded man was asked, when +they were picked up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, fine," he answered.</p> + +<p>"How about yourself, I mean?" the questioner persisted in asking.</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up," said the Highlander.</p> + +<p>The truth is he had gone without food all the time in order that his +comrade might not want.</p> + +<p>Then there is a story from Valenciennes of a poor scared woman who +rushed frantically into <a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>the road as the British troops entered the +town. She had two slight cuts on the arm, and was almost naked—the +result of German savagery. When she saw the soldiers she shrank back in +fear and confusion, whereupon one of the Highlanders, quick to see her +plight, tore off his kilt, ripped it in half, and wrapped a portion +around her. She sobbed for gratitude at this kindly thought and tried to +thank him, but before she could do so the Scot, twisting the other half +of the kilt about himself to the amusement of his comrades, was swinging +far along the road with his regiment.</p> + +<p>This is not the only Scot who has lost his kilt in the war. One of the +Royal Engineers gives a comic picture of a Highlander who appears to +have lost nearly every article of clothing he left home in. When last +seen by this letter writer he was resplendent in a Guardsman's tunic, +the red breeches of a Frenchman, a pair of Belgian infantry boots, and +his own Glengarry! "And when he wants to look particularly smart," adds +the Engineer, "he puts on a Uhlan's cloak that he keeps handy!"</p> + +<p>As another contribution to the humor of life in the trenches and, +incidentally, to the discussion of soldier songs, it is worth while +quoting from a letter signed "H.L.," in <i>The</i><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a> <i>Times</i>, this specimen +verse of the sort of lyric that delights Tommy Atkins. It is the work of +a Sergeant of the Gordon Highlanders, and as the marching song in high +favor at Aldershot, must come as a shock to the ideals of would-be army +laureates:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Send out the Army and Navy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send out the rank and file,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">(Have a banana!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send out the brave Territorials,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They easily can run a mile.<br /></span> +<span class="i7">(I don't think!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send out the boys' and the girls' brigade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They will keep old England free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send out my mother, my sister, and my brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for goodness sake don't send me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is doggerel, of course, but it has a certain cleverness as a satire +on the music-hall song of the day, and the Gordons carried it gaily with +them to their battlefields, blending it in that odd mixture of humor and +tragedy that makes up the soldier's life. The bravest, it is truly said, +are always the happiest, and of the happy warriors who have fallen in +this campaign one must be remembered here in this little book of British +heroism. He died bravely on the hill of Jouarre, near La Ferte, and his +comrades buried him where he fell. On a little wooden cross are +inscribed the simple words, "T. Campbell, Seaforths."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a></p> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<p class="center">THE INTREPID IRISH</p> + + +<p>"There's been a divil av lot av talk about Irish disunion," says Mr. +Dooley somewhere, "but if there's foightin' to be done it's the bhoys +that'll let nobody else thread on the Union Jack." That is the Irish +temperament all over, and in these days when history is being written in +lightning flashes the rally of Ireland to the old flag is inspiring, but +not surprising.</p> + +<p>Political cynics have always said that England's difficulty would be +Ireland's opportunity, but they did not reckon with the paradoxical +character of the Irish people. England's difficulty has indeed been +Ireland's opportunity—the opportunity of displaying that generous +nature which has already contributed thousands of men to the +Expeditionary Force, and is mustering tens of thousands more under the +patriotic stimulus of those old political enemies, Mr. John Redmond and +Sir Edward Carson.<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a> The civil war is "put off," as one Irish soldier +expresses it; old enmities are laid aside and Orange and Green are +fighting shoulder to shoulder, on old battlefields whose names are writ +in glory upon the colors.</p> + +<p>No more cheerful regiments than the Irish are to be found in the firing +line. Their humor in the trenches, their love of songs, and their dash +in action are manifested in all their letters. An English soldier, +writing home, says that even in the midst of a bayonet charge an +Irishman can always raise a laugh. "Look at thim divils retratin' with +their backs facin' us," was an Irish remark about the Germans that made +his fellows roar. And when the Fusiliers heard the story of the Kaiser's +lucky shamrock, one of them said: "Sure, an' it'll be moighty lucky for +him if he doesn't lose it"; adding to one of three comrades, "There'll +be a leaf apiece for us, Hinissey, when we get to Berlin."</p> + +<p>In the fighting the Irish have done big things and their dash and +courage have filled their British and French comrades with admiration. +Referring to the first action in which the Irish Guards took part, and +the smart businesslike way in which they cut up the Germans, Private +Heffernan, Royal Irish Fusiliers, says they had a great reception as +<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>they marched back into the lines: "Of course, we all gave them a cheer, +but it would have done your heart good to see the Frenchmen (who had a +good view of the fighting) standing up in their trenches and shouting +like mad as the Guards passed by. The poor chaps didn't like the idea +that it was their first time in action, and were shy about the fuss made +of them: and there was many a row in camp that night over men saying +fine things and reminding them of their brand new battle honors."<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></p> + +<p>A fine story is told of the heroism of two Irish Dragoons by a trooper +of that gallant regiment. "One of our men," he says, "carried a wounded +comrade to a friendly farm-house under heavy fire, and when the retreat +was ordered both were cut off. A patrol of a dozen Uhlans found them +there and ordered them to surrender, but they refused, and, tackling the +Germans from behind a barricade of furniture, killed or wounded half of +them. The others then brought up a machine gun and threatened the +destruction of the farm: but the two dragoons, remembering the kind<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>ness +of the farm owners and unwilling to bring ruin and disaster upon them, +rushed from the house in the wild hope of tackling the gun. The moment +they crossed the doorway they fell riddled with bullets." Another story +of the Irish Dragoons is told by Trooper P. Ryan. One of the Berkshires +had been cut off from his regiment while lingering behind to bid a dying +chum good-by, when he was surrounded by a patrol of Uhlans. A troop of +the Irish Dragoons asked leave of their officer to rescue the man, and +sweeping down on the Germans, quickly scattered them. But they were too +late. The plucky Berkshire man had "gone under," taking three Germans +with him. "We buried him with his chum by the wayside," adds Trooper +Ryan. "Partings of this kind are sad, but they are everyday occurrences +in war, and you just have to get used to them."</p> + +<p>The Dragoons also went to the assistance of a man of the Irish Rifles +who, wounded himself, was yet kneeling beside a fallen comrade of the +Gloucester Regiment, and gamely firing to keep the enemy off. The +Dragoons found both men thoroughly worn out, but urgency required the +regiment to take up another position, and the wounded men had to be left +to the chance of being picked up by the Red<a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a> Cross corps. "They knew +that," says the trooper who relates the incident, "and weren't the men +to expect the general safety to be risked for them. 'Never mind,' said +the young Irishman, 'shure the sisters 'll pick us up all right, an' if +they don't—well, we've only once to die, an' it's the grand fight we've +had annyhow.'"</p> + +<p>One of the most stirring exploits of the war—equaled only by the +devotion and self-sacrifice of the Royal Engineers in the fight for the +bridge—is that of the Irish Fusiliers in saving another regiment from +annihilation. The regiment was in a distant and exposed position, and a +message had to be sent ordering its retirement. This could only be +accomplished by despatching a messenger, and the fusiliers were asked +for volunteers. Every man offered himself, though all knew what it meant +to cross that stretch of open country raked with rifle fire. They tossed +for the honor, and the first man to start-off with the message was an +awkward shock-headed chap who, the narrator says, didn't impress by his +appearance. Into the blinding hail of bullets he dashed, and cleared the +first hundred yards without mishap. In the second lap he fell wounded, +but struggled to his feet and rushed on till he was hit a second time +and collapsed.<a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a> One man rushed to his assistance and another to bear the +message. The first reached the wounded man and started to carry him in, +but when nearing the trenches and their cheering comrades, both fell +dead. The third man had by this time got well on his way, and was almost +within reach of the endangered regiment when he, too, was hit. +Half-a-dozen men ran out to bring him in, and the whole lot of this +rescuing party were shot down, but the wounded fusilier managed to crawl +to the trenches and deliver the order. The regiment fell back into +safety and the situation was saved, but the message arrived none too +soon, and the gallant Irish Fusiliers certainly saved one battalion from +extinction.</p> + +<p>In one fierce little fight the Munster Fusiliers (the "Dirty Shirts") +had to prevent themselves from being cut off, and in a desperate effort +to capture the whole regiment the Germans launched cavalry, infantry and +artillery upon them. "The air was thick with noises," says one of the +Munsters in telling the story, "men shouting, waving swords, and blazing +away at us like blue murder. But our lads stood up to them without the +least taste of fear, and gave them the bayonet and the bullet in fine +style. They crowded upon us in tremendous numbers, but though it was +hell's own <a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>work we wouldn't surrender, and they had at last to leave +us. I got a sword thrust in the ribs, and then a bullet in me, and went +under for a time, but when the mist cleared from my eyes I could see the +boys cutting up the Germans entirely." The losses were heavy, and the +comment was made in camp that the Germans had cleaned up the "Dirty +Shirts" for once. "Well," said an indignant Fusilier, "it was a moighty +expensive washin' for them annyway."</p> + +<p>How Private Parker of the Inniskilling Fusiliers escaped from four +Uhlans who had taken him prisoner is an example of personal daring. His +captors marched him off between them till they came to a narrow lane +where the horsemen could walk only in single file—three in front of him +and one behind. He determined to make a bid for liberty. Ducking under +the rear horse he seized his rifle, shot the Uhlan, and disappeared in +the darkness. For days he lay concealed, and on one occasion German +searchers entered the room in which he was hidden, yet failed to find +him.</p> + +<p>Private Court, 2nd Royal Scots, pays a tribute to the gallantry of the +Connaught Rangers, and tells how they saved six guns which had been +taken by the enemy. The sight of British guns in German hands was too +much <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>for the temper of the Connaughts, who came on with an irresistible +charge, compelling the guns to be abandoned, and enabling the Royal +Field Artillery to dash in and drag them out of danger. Another soldier +relates that the Connaughts were trapped by a German abuse of the white +flag and suffered badly when, all unsuspecting, they went to take over +their prisoners; but they left their mark on the enemy on that occasion, +and "when the Connaught blood is up," as one of the Rangers expresses +it, "it's a nasty job to be up agin it."</p> + +<p>Stories of Irish daring might be multiplied, but these are sufficient to +show that the old regiments are still full of the fighting spirit. "Now +boys," one of their non-commissioned officers is reported to have said, +"no surrender for us! Ye've got yer rifles, and yer baynits, and yer +butts, and after that, ye divils, there's yer fists." A drummer of the +Irish Fusiliers who had lost his regiment, met another soldier on the +road and begged for the loan of his rifle "just to get a last pop at the +divils." Sir John French is himself of Irish parentage—Roscommon and +Galway claim him—and there is no more ardent or cheerful fighter in the +British army.</p> + +<p>"It beats Banagher," says a jocular private in the Royal Irish, "how +these Germans always <a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>disturb us at meal times. I suppose it's just the +smell of the bacon that they're after, and Rafferty says we can't be too +careful where we stow the mercies." From all accounts the Germans taken +prisoner are about as ill-fed as they are ill-informed. Private Harkness +of the same regiment, says the captives' first need is food and then +information. One of them asked him why the Irish weren't fighting in +their own civil war. "Faith," said he, "this is the only war we know +about for the time being, and there's mighty little that's <i>civil</i> about +it with the way you're behaving yourselves." The German looked gloomy, +and, added Harkness, "I don't think he liked a plain Irishman's way of +putting things."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></p> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<p class="center">"A FIRST-CLASS FIGHTING MAN"</p> + + +<p>"If ever I come back, and anybody at home talks to me about the glory of +war, I shall be d——d rude to him." That is an extract from the letter +of an officer who has seen too much of the grim and ugly side of the +campaign to find any romance in it. Yet out of all the horror there +emerge incidents of conspicuous bravery that strike across the +imagination like sunbeams, and cast a glow even in the darkest corners +of the stricken field.</p> + +<p>Valor is neither a philosophy nor a calculation. The soldier does not +say to himself, "Look here, Atkins,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'One crowded hour of glorious life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is worth an age without a name.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He goes into the business of war determined to get it over as quickly as +possible,<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> and when <a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>he does something stupendous, as he does nearly +ever day, it is just because the thing has to be done, and he is there +to do it. Tommy Atkins doesn't stop to think whether he is doing a brave +thing, nor does he wait for orders to do it; he just sets about it as +part of the day's work, and looks very much abashed if anybody applauds +him for it.</p> + +<p>For instance, there is a man in the Buffs (the story is told by a driver +of the Royal Marine Artillery), who picked up a wounded comrade and +carried him for more than a mile under a vicious German fire that was +exterminating nearly everything. It was a fine act of heroism. "Yet if +anybody were to suggest the V.C. he'd break his jaw," says the writer, +"and as he's a man with a 4.7 punch the men of his regiment keep very +quiet about it."</p> + +<p>Some fine exploits are recorded of the Artillery. When the Munster +Fusiliers were surrounded in one extended engagement a driver of the +R.F.A. named Pledge, who was shut up with them, was asked to "cut +through" and get the assistance of the Artillery. Lance-Corporal John +McMillan, Black Watch, thus <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>describes what happened: "Pledge mounted a +horse and dashed through the German lines. His horse was brought to the +ground, and, as we afterwards discovered, he sustained severe injuries +to his legs. Nothing daunted, he got his horse on its feet, and again +set off at a great pace. To get to the artillery he had to pass down a +narrow road, which was lined with German riflemen. He did not stop, +however, but dashed through without being hit by a single bullet. He +conveyed the message to the artillery, which tore off to the assistance +of the Munsters, and saved the situation."</p> + +<p>The saving of the guns is always an operation that calls for +intrepidity, and many exploits of that kind are related. Lance-Corporal +Bignell, Royal Berks, tells how he saw two R.F.A. drivers bring a gun +out of action at Mons. Shells had been flying round the position, and +the gunners had been killed, whereupon the two drivers went to rescue +the gun. "It was a good quarter of a mile away," says the witness, "yet +they led their horses calmly through the hail of shell to where the gun +stood. Then one man held the horses while the other limbered up. It +seemed impossible that the men could live through the German fire, and +from the trenches we watched them with great anxiety. But they came +through all right, and <a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>we gave them a tremendous cheer as they brought +the gun in."</p> + +<p>Sir John French in one of his despatches records that during the action +at Le Cateau on August 26th the whole of the officers and men of one of +the British batteries had been killed or wounded with the exception of +one subaltern and two gunners. These continued to serve one gun, kept up +a sound rate of fire, and came unhurt from the battlefield.</p> + +<p>Another daring act is described by W.E. Motley, R.F.A. "Things became +very warm for us," he says, "when the Germans found the range. In fact +it became so hot that an order was passed to abandon the guns +temporarily. This is the time when our men don't obey orders, so they +stuck to their guns. They ceased their fire for a time. The enemy, +thinking our guns were out of action, advanced rapidly. Then was the +time our men proved their worth. They absolutely shattered the Germans +with their shells."</p> + +<p>Some gallant stories are told of the Royal Engineers. One especially +thrilling, is given in the words of Darino, a lyrical artist of the +Comédie Française, who joined the Cuirassiers, and was a spectator of +the scene he describes. A bridge had to be blown up, and the whole place +was an inferno of mitrailleuse and rifle <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>fire. "Into this," he relates, +"went your Engineers. A party of them rushed towards the bridge, and, +though dropping one by one, were able to lay the charge before all were +sacrificed. For a moment we waited. Then others came. Down towards the +bridge they crept, seeking what cover they could in their eagerness to +get near enough to light the fuse. Ah! it was then we Frenchmen +witnessed something we shall never forget. One man dashed forward to his +task in the open, only to fall dead. Another, and another, and another +followed him, only to fall like his comrade, and not till the twelfth +man had reached the fuse did the attempt succeed. As the bridge blew up +with a mighty roar, we looked and saw that the brave twelfth man had +also sacrificed his life."</p> + +<p>During the long retreat from Mons the Middlesex Regiment got into an +awkward plight, and a bridge—the only one left to the Germans—had to +be destroyed to protect them. This was done by a sergeant of the +Engineers, but immediately afterwards his own head was blown away by a +German shell. "The brave fellow certainly saved the position," writes +one of the Middlesex men, "for if the Germans had got across that night +I'm afraid there would have been very few of us left."</p> + +<p>Other daring incidents may be told briefly.<a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a> One of the liveliest is +that of seven men of the Worcesters, who were told they could "go for a +stroll." While loitering along the road they encountered a party of +Germans, and captured them all without firing a shot. "We just covered +them with our rifles," writes Private Styles; "so simple!" Sir John +French relates a similar exploit of an officer who, while proceeding +along the road in charge of a number of led horses, received information +that there were some of the enemy in the neighborhood. Upon seeing them +he gave the order to charge, whereupon three German officers and 106 men +surrendered! On another occasion a portion of a supply column was cut +off by a detachment of German cavalry and the officer in charge was +summoned to surrender. He refused, and starting his motors off at full +speed dashed safely through.</p> + +<p>Hairbreadth escapes are related in hundreds of letters, and they have a +dramatic quality that makes the ineffectual fires of imaginative fiction +burn very low. Sergeant E.W. Turner, West Kents, writes to his +sweetheart: "The bullet that wounded me at Mons went into one breast +pocket and came out of the other, and in its course passed through your +photo." Private G. Ryder vouches for this: "We were having what you +might call a dainty <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>afternoon tea in the trenches under shell fire. The +mugs were passed round with the biscuits and the 'bully' as best they +could by the mess orderlies, but it was hard work messing through +without getting more than we wanted. My next-door neighbor, so to speak, +got a shrapnel bullet in his tin, and another two doors off had his +biscuit shot out of his hand." Lieutenant A.C. Johnstone, the Hants +county cricketer, after escaping other bullets and shells which were +dancing around him, was hit over the heart by a spent bullet, which on +reaching hospital he found in his left-hand breast pocket. Private +Plant, Manchester Regiment, had a cigarette shot out of his mouth, and a +comrade got a bullet into his tin of bully beef. "It saves the trouble +of opening it," was his facetious remark.</p> + +<p>One of the Royal Scots Fusiliers was saved by a cartridge clip. He felt +the shock and thought he had been hit, but the bullet was diverted by +the impact owing to a loose cartridge. Had it been struck higher up all +the cartridges might have exploded. Another letter mentions a case where +a man got two bullets; one struck his cartridge belt, and the other +entered his sleeve and passed through his trousers as far as the knee, +without even scratching him. Drummer E. O'Brien, South<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a> Lancashires, had +his bugle and piccolo smashed, his cap carried away by a bullet, and +another bullet through his coat before he was finally struck by a piece +of shrapnel which injured his ankle; and another soldier records thus +his adventures under fire: (1) Shell hit and shattered my rifle; (2) Cap +shot off my head; (3) Bullet in muscle of right arm. "But never mind, my +dear," he comments, "I had a good run for my money." Staff-Sergeant J.W. +Butler, 1st Lincolns, was saved by a paper pad in his pocket book; the +bullet embedded itself there.</p> + +<p>Sapper McKenny, Royal Engineers, records the unique experience of a +comrade whose cap was shot off so neatly that the bullet left a groove +in his hair just like a barber's parting! He thinks the German who fired +the shot is probably a London hairdresser.</p> + +<p>Private J. Drury, 3rd Coldstream Guards, also had a narrow escape, being +hit by a bullet out of a shell between the left eye and the temple. "It +struck there," he relates, "but one of our men got it out with a safety +pin, and now I've got it in my pocket!"</p> + +<p>The amusing escapade of "wee Hecky MacAlister," is told by Private T. +McDougall, of the Highland Light Infantry. Hecky went into a burn for a +swim, and suddenly found <a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>the attentions of the Germans were directed to +him. "You know what a fine mark he is with his red head," says the +writer to his correspondent, and so they just hailed bullets at him. +Hecky, however, "dooked and dooked," and emerged from his bath happy but +breathless after his submarine exploit.</p> + +<p>But while the men in the trenches applaud all the brilliant exploits of +their fellows, and laugh and jest over the lively escapes of the lucky +ones who, in Atkins's phraseology, "only get their hair parted," there +are other fine deeds done in the quiet corners of hospitals and out of +the glamour of battle that move the strongest to tears. Such is the +incident related by a member of the Royal Army Medical Corps, and it is +a fitting story with which to close this chapter. One soldier, mortally +wounded, was being attended by the doctor when his eye fell on a dying +comrade. "See to him first, doctor," he said faintly, "that poor bloke's +going home; he'll be home before me."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a></p> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<p class="center">OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN</p> + + +<p>"He died doing his duty like the officer and gentleman he was." Could +any man have a finer epitaph? It is an extract from a letter written by +Private J. Fairclough, Yorkshire Light Infantry, to General A. Wynn, and +refers to the death of the General's son, Lieutenant G.O. Wynn, killed +in action at Landrecies. The letter goes on to tell of the affection in +which the young officer was held by his men, and this story of courage +and unselfishness in the field is the simple but faithful tribute of a +devoted soldier.</p> + +<p>The war has brought out in a hundred ways the admirable qualities of all +ranks in the British Expeditionary Force; but the relations of officers +and men have never been revealed to us before with such friendly candor +and mutual appreciation. Over and over again in these letters from the +front the soldiers are found extolling the bravery and self-sacrifice +<a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>of their officers. "No praise is too great for them," "our officers +always pull us through," "they know their business to the finger-tips," +"as cool as cucumbers under fire," "magnificent examples," "absolutely +fearless in the tightest corners"—these are some of the phrases in +which the men speak proudly of those in command.</p> + +<p>One officer in the 1st Hampshire Regiment read <i>Marmion</i> aloud in the +trenches, under a fierce maxim fire, to keep up the spirits of his men; +and they "play cards and sing popular songs to cheer us up," adds +another genial soldier. Not that the men suffer much from depression. On +the contrary, the commanders agree that their spirits have been +splendid. "Our men are simply wonderful," writes an officer in the +cavalry division; "they will go through anything."</p> + +<p>The most surprising thing in the soldiers' letters is that they should +show such an extraordinary sense of the dramatic. They throb with +emotion. Take this account of the death of Captain Berners as written by +Corporal S. Haley, of the Brigade of Guards, in a letter published by +the <i>Star</i>:</p> + +<p>"Captain Berners, of the Irish, was the life and soul of our lot. When +shells were bursting over our heads he would buck us up with his <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>humor +about Brock's displays at the Palace. But when we got into close +quarters it was he who was in the thick of it. And didn't he fight! I +don't know how he got knocked over, but one of our fellows told me he +died a game 'un. He was one of the best of officers, and there is not a +Tommy who would not have gone under for him."</p> + +<p>Among those who fell at Cambrai was Captain Clutterbuck, of the King's +Own (Lancaster) Regiment. He was killed while leading a bayonet charge. +"Just like Clutterbuck," wrote a wounded sergeant, describing the +officer's valor, and adding, "Lieutenant Steele-Perkins also died one of +the grandest deaths a British officer could wish for. He was lifted out +of the trenches wounded four times, but protested and crawled back again +till he was mortally wounded."</p> + +<p>A sergeant of the Coldstream Guards, in an account given to the <i>Evening +News</i>, speaks of the death of Captain Windsor Clive. "We were sorry to +lose Captain Clive, who," he says, "was a real gentleman and a soldier. +He was knocked over by the bursting of a shell, which maddened our +fellows I can tell you." The utmost anger was also aroused in the men of +the Lancaster Regiment by the death of Colonel Dykes. "Good-by, boys," +he exclaimed as he <a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>fell; and "By God, we avenged him," said one of the +"boys" in describing the fight.</p> + +<p>Many instances are given of the devotion shown by the soldiers in saving +their officers. Private J. Ferrie, of the Royal Scots Fusiliers, wounded +while defending a bridge at Landrecies, tells in the <i>Glasgow Herald</i> +how Sergeant Crop rescued Lieutenant Stephens, who had been badly hit +and must otherwise have fallen into the enemy's hands: "The sergeant +took the wounded lieutenant on his back, but as he could not crawl +across the bridge so encumbered he entered the water, swam the canal, +carried the wounded man out of line of fire, and consigned him to the +care of four men of his own company. Of a platoon of fifty-eight which +was set to guard the bridge only twenty-six afterwards answered to the +roll call."</p> + +<p>On the other hand, there are many records of the tremendous risks taken +by officers to rescue wounded men. Private J. Williams, Royal Field +Artillery, had two horses shot under him and was badly injured "when the +major rushed up and saved me." "I was lying wounded when an artillery +major picked me up and took me into camp, or I would never have seen +England again," writes Lance-Corporal J. Preston, Inniskilling +Fusiliers. Lieutenant Sir Alfred Hickman was wounded <a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>in the shoulder +while rescuing a wounded sergeant under heavy fire. How another disabled +man was brought in by Lieutenant Amos, is told by Private George +Pringle, King's Own Scottish Borderers. "Several of us volunteered to do +it," he says, "but the lieutenant wouldn't hear of anybody else taking +the risk." Captain McLean, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, saved one +of his men under similar circumstances. All the letters are full of +praise of the officers who, in the words of Private James Allan, Gordon +Highlanders, "seem to be mainly concerned about the safety of their men, +and indifferent to the risks they take upon themselves."</p> + +<p>Every Tommy knows he is being finely led. The officers are a constant +source of inspiration and encouragement. Private Campbell, Irish +Fusiliers, writes:</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant O'Donovan led us all the time, and was himself just where +the battle was hottest. I shall never forget his heroism. I can see him +now, revolver in one hand and sword in the other. He certainly accounted +for six Germans on his own, and inspired us to the effort of our lives. +He has only been six months in the service, is little more than a boy, +but the British Army doesn't possess a more courageous officer."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>The Scottish Borderers speak proudly of Major Leigh, who was hit during +a bayonet charge, and when some of his men turned to help him, shouted +"Go on, boys; don't mind me." A lieutenant of A Company, 1st Cheshires: +"I only know his nickname," says Private D. Schofield—though wounded in +two places, rushed to help a man in distress, brought him in, and then +went back to pick up his fallen sword. Captain Robert Bruce, heir of +Lord Balfour of Burleigh, distinguished himself in the fighting at Mons. +One of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders relates that, in spite of +wounds, Captain Bruce took command of about thirty Highlanders who had +been cut off, and throwing away his sword, seized a rifle from one of +the killed, and fought side by side with his men.</p> + +<p>How the guns were saved at Soissons is told in a letter, published in +<i>The Times</i>, from Sergeant C. Meades, of the Berkshire Regiment. "We had +the order to abandon our guns," he writes, "but our young lieutenant +said, 'No, boys; we'll never let the Germans take a British gun,' and +with a cheer we fought on.... The Staffords came up and reinforced us. +Then I got hit, and retired.... But the guns were saved. When the last +of the six got through every one cheered like mad." One of <a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>the West +Kents also described the daring action of an officer. In the midst of +terrific fire, he walked calmly down the artillery line, putting our +lost guns out of action so that they would be useless to the Germans.</p> + +<p>Even into the letters describing these gallant incidents there creep +frequent evidences of Atkins's unconquerable spirit and sense of humor. +Private R. Toomey, Royal Army Medical Corps, tells of an officer of the +Royal Irish shouting at the top of his voice, "Give 'em hell, boys, give +'em hell!" He had been wounded in the back by a lump of shrapnel, but, +says Toomey, "it was a treat to hear him shouting."</p> + +<p>Most of these accounts refer to the weary days of the retirement from +Mons to Compiègne, a test of endurance that brought out the splendid +fighting qualities of officers and men alike. That retirement is +certainly one of the most masterly achievements of a war already +glorious for the exploits of British arms. Day after day our men had to +fall back, tired and hungry, exhausted from want of sleep, yet fighting +magnificently, and only impatient to begin the attack. This eagerness +for battle is in marked contrast to the spirit of the German troops, of +whom there is abundant evidence that the men have often to be driven +into action <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>by the threatening swords and revolvers of their officers.</p> + +<p>Francis Ryan, Northumberland Fusiliers, tells in the <i>Scotsman</i> how +young lieutenant Smith-Dorrien pleaded to be allowed to remain with his +men in the trenches after a retirement had been ordered. The South +Staffordshires thought they were "getting along splendidly," says one of +the men, "until the General came and told us we must retreat or we would +be surrounded." The officer spoke very encouragingly, and praised his +men; but they were all so unwilling to yield ground that one of them, +expressing impatience, made a comment he would never have thought of +doing in peace time. The General only smiled.</p> + +<p>This impatience pervaded all arms of the service. Some of the Highland +regiments began to grow grim and sullen, in spite of their play with the +bayonet; and the Irish corps became "unaisy." It was then that the +officers' fine spirit brought reassurance. This is how the King's Royal +Rifles were cheered up, according to Private Harman: "The officers knew +we were disappointed, because on the fifth day of retirement our +commanding officer came round and spoke to us. 'Stick it, boys, stick +it,' he said; 'To-morrow we shall go the other way and advance—Biff, +biff!' The <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>way he said 'Biff, biff,' delighted the men, and after that +we frequently heard men shouting, 'Biff, biff!'"</p> + +<p>General Sir John French, who is a great favorite with all ranks, and +spoken of with affection by every Tommy, makes frequent tours of the +lines and has a cheery word for every regiment. Driver W. Cryer, Royal +Field Artillery, relates in the <i>Manchester Guardian</i> that, at St. +Quentin, Sir John French visited the troops, "smiling all over his +face," and explained the meaning of the repeated retirements. Up to +then, says Cryer, the men had almost to be pulled away by the officers, +but after the General's visit they fell in with the general scheme with +great cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>Summing up his impressions of the nerve-strain of these weary rearguard +actions, a famous cavalry officer writing home, says: "We had a hell of +a time.... But the men were splendid. I don't believe any other troops +in the world could have stood it."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></p> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<p class="center">BROTHERS IN ARMS</p> + + +<p>There is a fine fraternity between the British and the French soldiers. +They don't understand very much of each other's speech, but they "muddle +through," as Atkins puts it, with "any old lingo." The French call out, +"Bravo, Tommee!" and share cigarettes with him: and Atkins, not very +sure of his new comrades' military Christian name, replies with a cheery +"Right, Oh!" Then turning to his own fellows he shouts, "Are we +downhearted?" and the clamorous "No!" always brings forth a rousing +French cheer.</p> + +<p>Having seen each other in action since they first met on the way to +battle they have grown to respect each other more and more. There is not +much interchange of compliments in the letters from the trenches, but +such as there is clearly establishes the belief of Atkins that he is +fighting side by side with a brave and generous ally.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>"We always knew," writes one soldier, "that the French were swift and +dangerous in attack, but we know now that they can fight on the +stubbornly defensive." One of the South Lancashires is loud in his +praise of their behavior under fire. "Especially the artillery," +Sergeant J. Baker adds; "the French seem to like the noise, and aren't +happy unless it's there."</p> + +<p>One of <i>The Times</i> correspondents mentions that the German guns have a +heavy sound "boum," and the French a sharper one, "bing"; but neither of +them is very pleasant to the ear, and it requires a cultured military +taste like that of the French to enjoy the full harmony of the music +when the British "bang" is added to the general cannonading. The French +artillery is admitted to be fine, the deadly accuracy of the gunners +being highly praised by all who have watched the havoc wrought in the +German lines.</p> + +<p>For the French soldier, however, the path of greatest glory lies in the +charge. Dash and fire are what he possesses in the highest degree. His +highly-strung temperament chafes under delays and disappointments. He +hasn't the solid, bull-dog courage that enables the British soldier to +take hard knocks, even severe punishment, and come up smiling again to +renew <a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>the battle that he will only allow to end in one way, and that +way victory.</p> + +<p>In the advance, as one writer describes it, the French dash forward in +spasmodic movements, making immediately for cover. After a brief +breathing space they bound into the open again, and again seek any +available shelter. And so they proceed till the charge is sounded, when +with gleaming bayonets and a cry of "<i>pour la gloire</i>" upon their lips +they sweep down upon the enemy at a tremendous pace. The whole thing is +exhilarating to watch, and to the men engaged it is almost intoxicating. +They see red and the only thing that can stop them is the sheer dead +weight of the columns in front. To the French the exploit of the 9th +Lancers, already described in this volume, is the greatest thing in the +war. They would have died to have accomplished it themselves. The fine +heroics of such an exploit gives them a crazy delight. Then there are +the forlorn hopes, the bearing of messages across a zone of withering +fire, the fights for the colors. One incident which closely resembles +the exploit of the Royal Irish Fusiliers is recorded. A message had to +be borne to another regiment and volunteers sprang forward eagerly to +the call. The enemy's fire was particularly deadly at this point, and it +seemed impossible for a <a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>messenger to get through, but no man hesitated. +The first fell dead before he had traveled many yards, the second had a +leg shot off, the third by amazing luck got through without a scratch. +Deeds of this kind have endeared the French soldier to Tommy Atkins more +than all his extravagant acts of kindness, and the sympathetic bond of +valor has linked them together in the close companionship of +brothers-in-arms.</p> + +<p>Having shown what the British soldier thinks of the French as fighting +men, it is pleasant to turn to our Ally's opinion of Tommy Atkins. Here +the letters deal in superlatives. M. Duchene, French master at +Archbishop Holgate's School, York, who was wounded with his regiment at +Verdun, writes in glowing terms of his comrades' praise. "Ah, those +English soldiers!" he says. "In my regiment you only hear such +expressions as <i>'Ils sont magnifiques,' 'Ils sont superbs,' 'Quels +soldats!'</i> No better tribute could be given." Another Frenchman with the +army of the Republic is stirred into this eulogy in a letter to a friend +in England: "How fine they are, how splendidly they behave, these +English soldiers! In their discipline and their respect for their +officers they are magnificent, and you will <a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>never know how much we have +applauded them."</p> + +<p>Another Frenchman, acting as interpreter with a Scottish regiment, +relates with amazement how the Highlanders go into action, "as if they +were going to a picnic, with laughing eyes and, whenever possible, with +a cigarette between their lips. Their courage is a mixture of +imperturbability and tenacity. One must have seen their immovable calm, +their heroic sang-froid, under the rain of bullets to do it justice." +Then he goes on to describe how a handful of Scots were selected to hold +back a large body of Germans in a village to enable the main body of the +British to retire in good order. They took up a position in the first +house they came to and fired away at the invaders, who rained bullets on +the building. Some of the gallant little party fell, but the others kept +up the fight. Then there came a pause in the attack, the German fire +ceased, the enemy was seeking a more sheltered position. During this +brief respite the sergeant in command of the Scots surveyed the building +they had entered. It was a small grocer's shop, and on an upper shelf he +found a few packets of chocolate. "Here, lads," he shouted, "whoever +kills his man gets a bit o' this."<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a> The firing began again, and as each +marksman succeeded, the imperturbable Scot shouted "Got him," and handed +over the prize amid roars of laughter. "Alas," comments the narrator, +"there were few prize-winners who lived to taste their reward."</p> + +<p>The same eulogist, whose narrative was obtained by Reuter's +correspondent, also speaks of the fastidious Scot's preoccupations. He +has two—to be able to shave and to have tea. "No danger," the Frenchman +declares, "deters them from their allegiance to the razor and the +teapot. At ——, in the department of the Nord, I heard a British officer +of high rank declare with delicious calm between two attacks on the +town: 'Gentlemen, it was nothing. Let's go and have tea.' Meanwhile his +men took advantage of the brief respite to crowd round the pump, where, +producing soap and strop, they proceeded to shave minutely and +conscientiously with little bits of broken glass serving as mirrors."</p> + +<p>The same sense of order and method also struck another Frenchman, who +speaks of the "amazing Englishmen," who carry everything with them, and +are never in want of anything, not even of sleep!</p> + +<p>Certainly there is much truth in these tributes to the British military +organization, but <a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>that is another story and for another chapter. The +opinion of an English cavalry officer, however, may be quoted as to the +relative merits of the French and English horses. "The French horses," +he writes, "are awful. They look after them so badly. They all say, +'What lovely horses you have,' to us, and they do look fine beside +theirs, but we look after ours so well. We always dismount and feed them +on all occasions with hay and wheat found on the farms and in stacks in +the fields, also clover. The French never do."</p> + +<p>As a result of these observations the French appear to have been +applying themselves to the study of the British fighting force. "I know +for a fact," says Trooper G. Douglas, "that French officers have been +moving amongst us studying our methods. The French Tommies try to copy +us a lot, and they like, when they have time, to stroll into our lines +for a chat or a game; but it's precious little time there is for that +now."</p> + +<p>But it is in character and temperament that the chief differences of the +allies lie. "Brigadier" Mary Murray, who went to the front with other +members of the Salvation Army, records a conversation she had with a +French soldier over a cup of coffee. "Ah," he said, "we lose heavily, we +French. We haven't the <a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>patience of the English. They are fine and can +wait: we must rush!" And yet Tommy Atkins can do a bit of rushing too. +Private R. Duffy, of the Rifle Brigade, sends home a lively account of +the defense of the Marne in which a mixed force of British and French +was engaged. The object to be achieved was to drive back the Germans who +were attempting to cross the river. "About half a mile from the banks," +writes Duffy, "we came out from a wood to find a French infantry +battalion going across in the same direction. We didn't want to be +behind, so we put our best foot forward, and one of the most exciting +races you ever saw followed. We got in first by a head, as you might +say, and we were just in time to tackle a mob of Germans heading for the +crossing in disorder. We went at them with the bayonet, but they didn't +seem to have the least heart for fighting. Some of them flung themselves +in the stream and tried to swim to safety, but they were heavily +accoutered and worn out so they didn't go very far. Of about three +hundred men who tried this not more than half a dozen succeeded in +reaching the other bank."</p> + +<p>In spite of all the hatreds the war has engendered—and one of the Royal +Lancasters declares that the sign manual of friendship <a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>between the +French and the English soldier is "a cross on the throat indicating +their wish to the Kaiser"—there is still room for passages of fine +sympathy and chivalry. One young French lieutenant distinguished himself +by carrying a wounded Uhlan to a place of safety under a heavy German +fire, English soldiers have shown equal generosity and kindness to +injured captives, and the tributes to heroic and patient nurses shine +forth in letters of gold upon the dark pages of this tragic history. +Here is a touching letter from one of the King's Own Royal Lancasters. +"In one hospital, which was a church," he writes, "there was a young +French girl helping to bandage us up. How she stood it I don't know. +There were some awful sights, but she never quailed—just a sad sweet +smile for every one. If ever any one deserved a front seat in Heaven +this young angel did. God bless her! She has the prayers and all the +love the remnants of the Fourth Division can give her."</p> + +<p>And another pretty little tribute is paid to the kindness of a French +lady to four English soldiers billeted at her house. "She was wondrous +kind," writes one of the grateful soldiers, "and when we left for the +front Madame and her mother sobbed and wept as if we had been their own +sons."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<p class="center">ATKINS AND THE ENEMY</p> + + +<p>In one of his fine messages from the front, Sir John French, whom the +<i>New York World</i> has described as the "best of war correspondents," +referred to the British soldier as "a difficult person to impress or +depress." He meant, of course, that it was no use trying to terrify +Tommy Atkins. Nothing will do that. His stupendous sense of humor +carries him, smiling, through every emergency.</p> + +<p>But Atkins is a keen observer, and he takes on very clear and vivid +impressions of men and affairs. He hates compromises and qualifications, +and just lets you have his opinion—"biff!" as one officer expresses it.</p> + +<p>"Bill and I have been thinking it over," says one letter from the +trenches, "and we've come to the conclusion that the German army system +is rotten." There you have the concentrated wisdom of hundreds of +soldier critics who talk of the Kaiser's great military machine <a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>as they +know it from intimate contact with the fighting force it propels. They +admit its mechanical perfection; it is the human factor that breaks +down.</p> + +<p>Nothing has impressed Tommy Atkins more than the lack of <i>morale</i> in the +German soldiers. "Oh, they are brave enough, poor devils; but they've +got no heart in the fighting," he says. That is absolutely true. +Hundreds of thousands of them have no notion of what they are fighting +for. Some of the prisoners declared that when they left the garrisons +they were "simply told they were going to maneuvers"; "others," says a +Royal Artilleryman, "had no idea they were fighting the English"; +according to a Highland officer, surrendering Germans said their fellows +had been assured that "America and Japan were fighting on their side, +and that another Boer war was going on"; and a final illusion was +dispelled when those captured by the Royal Irish were told that the +civil war in Ireland had been "put off!"</p> + +<p>It is not only that the men lack this moral preparation for war. Their +system of fighting is demoralizing. "They come on in close formation, +thousands of them, just like sheep being driven to the slaughter," is +the description that nine soldiers out of every ten give of <a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>the Germans +going into action. "We just mow them down in heaps," says an +artilleryman. "Lord, even a woman couldn't miss hitting them," is the +comment from the Infantry. And as for the cavalry: "Well, we just makes +holes in them," adds one of the Dragoons. At first they didn't take +cover at all, but just marched into action with their drums beating and +bands playing, "like a blooming parade," as Atkins puts it. After the +first slaughter, however, they shrank from the attack, and there is +ample evidence of eyewitnesses that the German infantry often had to be +lashed into battle by their officers. "I saw a colonel striking his own +men with his sword to prevent them running away," is one of the many +statements. Revolvers, too, were freely used for the same purpose.</p> + +<p>But, generally speaking, there is iron discipline in the Kaiser's army. +The men obey their officers implicitly. Trooper E. Tugwell, of the +Berwicks, tells this little story of a cavalry charge from which a +German infantry regiment bolted—all but one company, whose officers +ordered them to stand: "They faced round without attempting to fire a +shot, and stood there like statues to meet the onslaught of our men. Our +chaps couldn't help admiring their fine discipline, but there's not much +room for <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>sentiment in war, and we rode at them with the lance, and +swept them away." "They are big fellows, and, in a way, brave," writes +Private P. Case of the King's (Liverpool) Regiment, describing one of +their attacks; "they must be brave, or they would not have kept +advancing when they saw their dead so thick that they were practically +standing up." "Their officers simply won't let them surrender," says +another writer, "and so long as there's an officer about they'll stand +like sheep and be slaughtered by the thousand." The essential difference +between the German soldiers and our own is in the officering and +training, and it is admirably expressed by Private Burrell, +Northumberland Fusiliers. "<i>We</i> are led; <i>they</i> are driven,"<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> is +Burrell's epigram.</p> + +<p>According to other letter writers, the German soldiers are absolutely +tyrannized over by their officers. They are horribly ill-used, badly +fed,<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> overworked, constantly under the lash. "They hate their officers +like poison, and fear them ten times more than they fear death," says +Private Martin King. "Most of the prisoners that I've seen are only fit +for <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>the hospital, and many of them will never be fit for anything else +this side of the grave. Their officers don't seem to have any +consideration for the men at all, and we have a suspicion that the heavy +losses of German officers aren't all due to our fire. There was one +brought in who had certainly been hit by one of their own bullets, and +in the back too." Other soldiers say the same, and add that if it +weren't for dread of their officers the Germans would surrender +wholesale. "Take the officers away, and their regiments fall to pieces," +is the dictum of one of the Somerset Light Infantry, "and that's why we +always pick off the German officers first."</p> + +<p>There is not the slightest divergence of opinion in the British ranks as +to the German infantry fire. "Their shooting is laughable," "they +couldn't hit a haystack in an entry," and "asses with the rifle," are +how our men dispose of it. The Germans fire recklessly with their rifles +planted against their hips, while Tommy Atkins takes cool and steady +aim, and lets them have it from the shoulder. "We just knocked them over +like nine-pins," a Highlander explained. As to the German cavalry, one +Tommy expressed the prevailing opinion to nicety. "I don't want to be +nasty," he said, "but what we all pray for is just half-an-hour <a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>each +way with three times our number of Uhlans."</p> + +<p>When it comes to artillery, however, Atkins has nothing but praise for +the enemy. Their aeroplanes flutter over the British positions and give +the gunners the exact range, and then they let go. "I can only figure it +out as being something worse than the mouth of hell," declares Private +John Stiles, 1st Gloucesters, and it may be here left at that, as the +devastating effects of artillery have already been dealt with in a +previous chapter. One thing which has puzzled and sometimes baffled our +men is the way the Germans conceal their guns. They display +extraordinary ingenuity in this direction, hiding them inside haystacks, +in leaf-covered trenches, and sometimes, unhappily, in Red Cross wagons.</p> + +<p>Stories of German treachery are abundant, and official reports have +dealt with such shameful practises as driving prisoners and refugees in +front of them when attacking, abusing the protection of the White Flag, +and wearing Red Cross brassards in action. The men have their own +stories to tell. An Irish Guardsman records a white flag incident during +the fighting on the Aisne: "Coldstreamers, Connaughts, Grenadiers, and +Irish Guards were all in this affair, and the fight was going on <a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>well. +Suddenly the Germans in front of us raised the white flag, and we ceased +firing and went up to take our prisoners. The moment we got into the +open, fierce fire from concealed artillery was turned on us, and the +surrendered Germans picked up their rifles and pelted us with their +fire. It was horrible. They trapped us completely, and very few +escaped." The German defense of these white flag incidents was given to +Trooper G. Douglas by a prisoner who declared that the men were quite +innocent of intention to deceive, but that whenever their officers saw +the white flag they hauled it down, and compelled them to fight.</p> + +<p>Many British soldiers suffered from the treachery of the Germans in +wearing English and French uniforms, and their letters home are full of +indignation at the practises of the enemy. It was in the fighting +following such a ruse at Landrecies that the Honorable +Archer-Windsor-Clive, of the Coldstream Guards, met his death. "Another +time," an artillery officer relates, "they ran into one of our regiments +with some of their officers dressed in French uniforms. They said 'Ne +tirez-pas, nous sommes Français,' and asked for the C.O. He came up, and +then they calmly blew his brains out!" A similar act of treachery is +recorded by Lieutenant Oswald<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a> Anne, R.A., in a letter published in the +<i>Leeds Mercury</i>: "At one place where the Berkshire Regiment was on guard +a German force arrived attired in French uniforms. To keep up the +illusion, a German called out in French from the wire entanglements that +they wanted to interview the commanding officer. A major of the +Berkshires who spoke French, went forward, and was immediately shot +down. This sort of thing is of daily occurrence." Lieutenant Edgcumbe, +son of Sir Robert Edgcumbe, Newquay, tells of another instance of +treachery in which British uniforms were used, and declares, in common +with many other officers, that he "will never again respect the Germans; +they have no code of honor!"</p> + +<p>They strip the uniforms from the dead, come on in night attacks shouting +"Vive, l'Angleterre!" and sound the British bugle-call "Cease fire" in +the thickest of the fight. Twice in one engagement the Germans stopped +the British fire by the mean device of the bugle, and twice they charged +desperately upon the silent ranks. But in nearly every case their +punishment for these violations of the laws of civilized warfare has +been swift and terrible, and no mercy has been shown them.</p> + +<p>Charges of barbarity are also common in letters from the battlefields. +One officer, who <a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>says he "never before realized what an awful thing war +is," writes: "We have with us in the trenches three girls who came to us +for protection. One had no clothes on, having been outraged by the +Germans. I have given her my shirt and divided my rations among them. In +consequence I feel rather hungry, having had nothing for thirty-two +hours, except some milk chocolate. Another poor girl has just come in, +having had both her breasts cut off. Luckily I caught the Uhlan officer +in the act, and with a rifle at 300 yards killed him. And now she is +with us, but, poor girl, I am afraid she will die. She is very pretty +and only about nineteen."<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a></p> + +<p>Captain Roffey, Lancashire Fusiliers, tells how he was found wounded, +and handed over his revolver to the Germans, whereupon his captor used +it to shoot him again, and left him for dead. There is no end to the +stories of this kind, and one of the wounded vehemently declared that +the "devilry of the Germans cannot be exaggerated."</p> + +<p>There are others amongst the wounded however, who have received nothing +but kindness from the enemy. Lieutenant H.G.W. Irwin, South Lancashire +Regiment, pays a tribute to <a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>the treatment he met with in the German +lines; Captain J.B. George, Royal Irish, "could not have been better +treated had he been the Crown Prince;" and one of the Officer's Special +Reserve says the stories of "brutality are only exceptions, and there +are exceptions in every army."</p> + +<p>And here it is worth quoting a happy example of German chivalry. It is +taken from one of Sir John French's messages. A small party of French +under a non-commissioned officer was cut off and surrounded. After a +desperate resistance it was decided to go on fighting to the end. +Finally, the N.C.O. and one man only were left, both being wounded. The +Germans came up and shouted to them to lay down their arms. The German +commander, however, signed to them to keep their arms, and then asked +for permission to shake hands with the wounded non-commissioned officer, +who was carried off on his stretcher with his rifle by his side.</p> + +<p>After this account of what British soldiers think of the enemy, it is +interesting to read what is the German opinion of Tommy Atkins. +Evidently the fighting men do not share the Kaiser's estimate of +"French's contemptible little army." Three very interesting letters, +written by German officers, and found in the pos<a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>session of the +captives, were published in an official despatch from General +Headquarters. Here are extracts from each:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>(1) "With the English troops we have great difficulties. They have +a queer way of causing losses to the enemy. They make good +trenches, in which they wait patiently. They carefully measure the +ranges for their rifle fire, and then they open a truly hellish +fire on the unsuspecting cavalry. This was the reason that we had +such heavy losses."</p> + +<p>(2) "The English are very brave and fight to the last.... One of +our companies has lost 130 men out of 240."</p> + +<p>(3) "We are fighting with the English Guards, Highlanders and +Zouaves. The losses on both sides have been enormous. The English +are marvelously trained in making use of the ground. One never sees +them, and one is constantly under fire. Two days ago, early in the +morning, we were attacked by immensely superior English forces (one +brigade and two battalions) and were turned out of our positions. +The fellows took five guns from us. It was a tremendous +hand-to-hand fight. How I escaped myself I am not<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a> +clear.... If we first beat the English, the French resistance will +soon be broken."</p></div> + +<p>The admissions of prisoners that the Germans were amazed at the fighting +qualities of the British soldier, and had acquired a wholesome dread of +meeting him at close quarters, may have been colored by a trifling +disposition to be amiable in their captivity; but letters such as those +just quoted are honest statements for private reading in Germany, and +were never intended to fall into British hands.</p> + +<p>Although Tommy Atkins makes occasional jocular allusions to the enemy as +"Sausages" there is no doubt that he considers the German army a very +substantial fighting force. "The German is not a toy terrier, but a +bloodhound thirsting for blood," is one description of him; "getting to +Berlin isn't going to be a cheap excursion," says another; and, to quote +a third, "in spite of all we say about the Teuton, he is taking his +punishment well, and we've got a big job on our hands."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<p class="center">THE WAR IN THE AIR</p> + + +<p>Mr. H.G. Wells did not long anticipate the sensations of an aerial +conflict between the nations. Six years after the publication of his +<i>War in the Air</i> the thing has become an accomplished fact, and for the +first time in history the great nations are fighting for the mastery not +only upon land but in the air and under the sea.</p> + +<p>Fine as have been the adventures of airmen in times of peace, and +startling as spectators have found the acrobatic performance of "looping +the loop," these tricks of the air appear feeble exploits compared with +the new sensation of an actual battle in the clouds. Soldiers, +scribbling their letters in the trenches, have been fascinated by the +sudden appearance at dusk of a hostile aeroplane, and have gazed with +pleasurable agitation as out of the dim, mysterious distance a British +aviator shot up in pursuit.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>"It is thrilling and magnificent," says one officer, "and I was filled +with rapture at the spectacle of the first fight in the clouds. The +German maneuvered for position and prepared to attack, but our fellow +was too quick for him, and darted into a higher plane. The German tried +to circle round and follow, and so in short spurts they fought for +mastery, firing at each other all the time, the machines swaying and +oscillating violently. The British airman, however, well maintained his +ascendency. Then suddenly there was a pause, the German machine began to +reel, the wounded pilot had lost control, and with a dive the aeroplane +came to earth half a mile away. Our man hovered about for a time, and +then calmly glided away over the German lines to reconnoiter."</p> + +<p>Nothing could excel the skill and daring shown by the men of the Royal +Flying Corps. They stop at nothing. Some of their machines have been so +badly damaged by rifle and shell fire that on descending they have had +to be destroyed.</p> + +<p>"Fired at constantly both by friend and foe," Sir John French writes, +"and not hesitating to fly in every kind of weather, they have remained +undaunted throughout." The highest praise is bestowed upon +Brigadier-Gen<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>eral Sir David Henderson, in command of the Corps, for the +high state of efficiency this young branch of the service has attained. +It has been on its trial, and has already covered itself with glory. +General Joffre, the French Commander-in-Chief, has sent a special +message singling out the British Flying Corps "most particularly" for +his highest eulogies. Several English airmen have already been made +Chevaliers of the Legion of Honor.</p> + +<p>That the nervous strain of aerial warfare is severe is shown by +expression in several airmen's letters. Not only have they to fight +their man, but they have to manage their machines at the same time. This +means that if an airman ascends alone he is unable to use a rifle and +must depend for attack on revolver fire only. This is illustrated by a +passage in one of the official reports: "Unfortunately one of our +aviators, who has been particularly active in annoying the enemy by +dropping bombs, was wounded in a duel in the air. Being alone on a +single-seated monoplane, he was not able to use a rifle, and whilst +circling above a German two-seater in an endeavor to get within pistol +shot was hit by the observer of the latter, who was armed with a rifle. +He managed to fly back over our lines, and by great good luck descended +close to a motor <a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>ambulance, which at once conveyed him to hospital."</p> + +<p>This appears to be only the second instance recorded during the first +two months of the war in which our airmen have suffered mishap, yet +half-a-dozen German machines have been brought down and their navigators +either killed or wounded. Private Harman, King's Royal Rifles, describes +an exciting pursuit in which a German aeroplane was captured. The +British aviator, who had the advantage in speed and was a good revolver +shot, evidently greatly distressed the fugitive, for, surrendered, he +planed down in good order, and on landing was found to be dead.</p> + +<p>According to an officer in the Royal Flying Corps the worst aerial +experience in war is to go up as a passenger. "It is 'loathly,'" he +says, "to sit still helplessly and be fired at." In one flight as a +spectator his machine was "shelled and shot at about a hundred times, +but luckily only thirteen shots went through the planes and neither of +us was hit." An interesting account of a battle seen from the clouds is +given in a letter published by <i>The Times</i>. "I was up with —— for an +evening reconnaissance over this huge battle. I bet it will ever be +remembered as the biggest in history. It extends from Compiègne right +away <a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>east to Belfort. Can you imagine such a sight? We flew at 5 p.m. +over the line, and at that time the British Army guns (artillery, heavy +and field) all opened fire together. We flew at 5,000 feet and saw a +sight which I hope it will never be my lot to see again. The woods and +hills were literally cut to ribbons all along the south of Laon. It was +marvelous watching hundreds of shells bursting below one to right and +left for miles, and then to see the Germans replying."</p> + +<p>Another officer of the Flying Corps describes his impression of the +Battle of Mons, seen from a height of 5,000 feet. British shells were +bursting like little bits of cotton wool over the German batteries. A +German attack developed, and the airman likens the enemy's advance +formation to a "large human tadpole"—a long dense column with the head +spread out in front.</p> + +<p>Evidently the anti-aircraft guns, though rather terrifying, do very +little damage. Airmen have had shells burst all round them for a long +time without being hurt. Of course they are careful to fly at a high +altitude. When struck by shrapnel, however, an aeroplane (one witness +says) "just crumples up like a broken egg." On the other hand, bombs +dropped from aeroplanes do great damage, if <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>properly directed. A petrol +bomb was dropped by an English airman at night into a German bivouac +with alarming results, and another thrown at a cavalry column struck an +ammunition wagon and killed fifteen men. A French airman wiped out a +cavalry troop with a bomb, and the effect of the steel arrows used by +French aviators is known to be damaging. The German bombs thrown by +Zeppelins and Taube aeroplanes on Antwerp and Paris do not appear to +have much disturbed either the property or equanimity of the +inhabitants. So far as aerial excursions are concerned the most +brilliant exploit is undoubtedly that of Flight-Lieutenant C.H. Collet, +of the Naval Wing of the British Flying Corps, who, with a fleet of five +aeroplanes swept across the German frontier and, hovering over +Düsseldorf, dropped three bombs with unerring effect upon the Zeppelin +sheds.</p> + +<p>Bomb-dropping, however, has not been indulged in to any great extent by +either of the combatants, and the chief use to which air machines have +been put is that of scouting. The Germans use them largely for range +finding, and they seem to prove a very accurate guide to the gunners. +"We were advancing on the German right and doing splendidly," writes +Private Boardman (Bradford) "when <a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>we saw an aeroplane hover right over +our heads, and by some signaling give the German artillery the range. +The aviator had hardly gone when we were riddled with shot and shell." A +sergeant of the 21st Lancers says the signaling is done by dropping a +kind of silver ball or disc from the aeroplanes, and the Germans watch +for this and locate our position to a nicety at once.</p> + +<p>As scouts—and that, meantime, is the real practical purpose of +aeroplanes in war—the British aviators have done wonders. Their +machines are lighter and faster than those of the Germans, and as they +make a daily average of nine reconnaissance flights of over 100 miles +each it will be understood that they keep the Intelligence Department +well supplied with accurate information of the enemy's movements.</p> + +<p>French airmen are particularly daring both in reconnaissance and in +flight, and the well-known M. Védrines, whose achievements are familiar +to English people, has already brought down three German aeroplanes. In +one encounter he fought in a Blériot machine carrying a mitrailleuse, +and the enemy dropped, riddled with bullets. So completely have some of +the aeroplanes been perforated, without mishap, says the <i>Daily +Telegraph's</i> war correspondent, that the pilots have found a new game.<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a> +Each evening after their flights they count the number of bullet holes +in their machine, marking each with a circle in red chalk, so that none +may be included in the next day's total. The record appears to be +thirty-seven holes in one day, and the pilot in question claims to be +the "record man du monde."</p> + +<p>Zeppelins have not maintained their reputation in this war. One sailed +over Sir John French's headquarters and indicated the position to the +enemy, but they are no match for the swift and agile aeroplanes. A +wounded dispatch carrier saw one English and two French machines attack +a Zeppelin and bring it down instantly. A half hour's fight with another +is recorded; among the captured passengers in this, according to a +soldier's letter, was a boy of nine. Private Drury, Coldstream Guards, +saw one huge German aeroplane brought to earth, three of its officers +being killed by rifle fire and one badly injured.</p> + +<p>There is something strange, mysterious, and insubstantial about the war +in the air that the soldiers do not yet feel or comprehend. Often the +feverish activity of aircraft at a high altitude is known only to a very +few practised observers. A gentle purring in the air and the scarcely +audible ping-pong of distant revolver shots may represent a fierce duel +in the <a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>clouds, and often the soldiers are unaware of the presence of a +hostile airman until the projectiles aimed at them burst in the +trenches. One evening, a graphic official message states, the atmosphere +was so still and clear that only those specially on the lookout detected +the enemy's aeroplanes, and when the bombs burst "the puffs of smoke +from the detonating shell hung in the air for minutes on end like balls +of fleecy cottonwool before they slowly expanded and were dissipated."</p> + +<p>Of course, the tactics adopted for dealing with hostile aircraft are to +attack them instantly with one or more British machines, and as in this +respect the British Flying Corps has established an individual +ascendency, Sir John French proudly declares that "something in the +direction of the mastery of the air has already been gained."</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<p class="center">TOMMY AND HIS RATIONS</p> + + +<p>A medical officer at the front declares that the British Expeditionary +Force is, without doubt, the "best fed Army that has ever taken the +field." That is a sweeping statement, but it is true. It is confirmed +over and over again in the letters of Tommy Atkins. It is acknowledged +by the French. Even the most sullen German prisoners agree with it. +There has been universal praise for the quality and abundance of the +food, and the general arrangements for the comfort of the British +soldier.</p> + +<p>One French description of the feeding says that the English troops "live +like fighting cocks," another marvels at "the stupendous pieces of meat, +and bread heavy with butter and jam," a third speaks of the "amazing +Tommees" who "carry everything in their pockets and forget nothing at +all." And so on.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>But the most remarkable tribute of all to the perfect working of the +transport and supply service is that given by the British officers and +men themselves. Captain Guy Edwards, Coldstream Guards, says: "They have +fed our troops wonderfully regularly and well up to the present; we have +had no sickness at all, and every one is in splendid spirits." In +another letter an officer refers to the generosity of the rations. "In +addition to meat and bread (or biscuit)," he says, "we get 1/4lb. jam, +1/4lb. bacon, 3oz. cheese, tea, etc., while the horses have had a good +supply of oats and hay." During the whole of the long retreat from Mons, +says an officer of the Berkshires, "there was only one day when we +missed our jam rations!"</p> + +<p>And it is the same with the men. Here are some brief extracts from their +letters:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Private ——, 20th Field Ambulance:</p> + +<p>"Our food supply is magnificent. We have everything we want and +food to spare. Bacon and tomatoes is a common breakfast for us."</p> + +<p>Driver Finch: "I am in the best of health, with the feeding and the +open-air life. The stars have been our covering for the last few +weeks."</p> + +<p>Sergeant, Infantry Regiment: "The <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a> arrangements are very good—no +worry or hitch anywhere; it is all wonderful."</p> + +<p>Cavalryman: "We live splendidly, being even able to supplement our +generous rations with eggs, milk and vegetables as we go through +the villages."</p> + +<p>Gunner: "Having the time of my life."</p></div> + +<p>Of course, the exigencies of war may not always permit of the perfect +working of the supply machine. Already there have been many hardships to +be endured. Incessant fighting does not give the men time for proper +meals, sleep is either cut out altogether or reduced to an occasional +couple of hours, heavy rains bring wet clothing and wetter resting +places, boots wear out with prolonged marching, and men have to go for +days and even weeks unwashed, unshaven, and without even a chance of +getting out of their clothes for a single hour.</p> + +<p>The officers suffer just as much as the men. After a fortnight or three +weeks at the front one cavalry officer wrote that he "had not taken his +clothes off since he left the Curragh." "For five days," another says, +"I never took off my boots, even to sleep, and for two days I did not +even wash my hands or face. For three days and nights I got just four +hours'<a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a> sleep. The want of sleep was the one thing we felt." Sleep, +indeed, is just the last thing the officers get. Brigadier-General Sir +Philip Chetwode outlines his daily program as "work from 4 a.m. to 11 +p.m., then writing and preparations until 4 a.m. again." To make matters +worse just at the start of the famous cavalry charge which brought Sir +Philip such distinction, his pack-horse bolted into the German lines +carrying all his luggage, and leaving him nothing but a toothbrush!</p> + +<p>One of the Dorsets' officers reports that "owing to the continuous +fighting the 'evening meal' has become conspicuous by its absence," but +in spite of having carried a 1lb. tin of compressed beef and a few +biscuits about with them for several days they are all "most beastly fit +on it." "No one seems any the worse, and I feel all the fitter," writes +an officer of a Highland Regiment, "after long marches in the rain going +to bed as wet as a Scotch mist."</p> + +<p>The men are just as cheerful as their officers. "You can't expect a +blooming Ritz Hotel in the firing line," is how a jocular Cockney puts +it. An artilleryman says they would fare sumptuously if it weren't for +the German shells at meal times: "one shell, for instance, shattered our +old porridge pot before we'd had a <a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>spoonful out of it!" Lieutenant +Jardine, a son of Sir John Jardine, M.P., relates this same incident. +Gunner Prince, R.F.A., has a little joke about the sleeping quarters: +"Just going to bed. Did I say bed? I mean under the gun with an overcoat +for a blanket." There is no sort of grumbling at all. As Lieutenant +Stringer, of the 5th Lancers, expresses it, the A.S.C. "manage things +very well, and our motto is 'always merry and bright.'"</p> + +<p>Occasionally, when there is a lull in the operations, the men dine +gloriously. Stories are told of gargantuan feeds—of majestic stews that +can be scented even in the German lines. Occasionally, too, there is the +capture of a banquet prepared for the enemy's officers as the following +message from the <i>Standard</i> illustrates: "A small party of our cavalry +were out on reconnaissance work, scouring woods and searching the +countryside. Just about dusk a hail of bullets came upon our party from +a small spinney of fir trees on the side of a hill. We instantly wheeled +off as if we were retreating, but, in fact, we merely pretended to +retire and galloped round across plowed land to the other side of the +spinney, fired on the men, and they mounted their horses and flew like +lightning out of their 'supper room.' They left a finely cooked re<a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>past +of beef-steaks, onions and fried potatoes all ready and done to a turn, +with about fifty bottles of Pilsner lager beer, which was an acceptable +relish to our meal. Ten of our men gave chase and returned for an +excellent feed."</p> + +<p>Another amusing capture is that of an enterprising Tommy who possessed +himself of a German officer's bearskin, a cap, helmet, and Jaeger +sleeping bag. He is now regarded as the "toff of the regiment." The +luxury of a bath was indulged in by a company of Berkshires at one +encampment. Forty wine barrels nearly full of water were discovered +here, and the thirsty men were about to drink it when their officer +stopped them. "Well," said one, "if it's not good enough to drink it'll +do to wash in," and with one accord they stripped and jumped into the +barrels! Nothing has been more notable than Tommy's desire for +cleanliness and tidiness. It is something fine and healthy about the +British soldier. One wounded man, driven up to a hospital, limped with +difficulty to a barber's shop for a shave before he would enter the +building. "I couldn't face the doctors and nurses looking like I was," +he told the ambulance attendant.</p> + +<p>Of all the soldiers' wants the most imperative appears to be the +harmless necessary cigarette. All their letters clamor for tobacco in +<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>that form. "We can't get a decent smoke here," says one writer. An army +airman "simply craves for cigarettes and matches." From a cavalryman +comes the appeal that a few boxes of cigarettes and some thick chocolate +would be luxuries. "Just fancy," to quote from another letter, "one +cigarette among ten of us—hardly one puff a-piece."</p> + +<p>In the French hospitals the wounded men are being treated with the +greatest kindness, and during convalescence are being loaded with +luxuries. "Spoilt darlings," one Scottish nurse in Paris says about +them, "but who could help spoiling them?" They are so happy and +cheerful, so grateful for every little service, so eager to return to +the firing line in order to "get the war over and done with." "We've +promised to be home by Christmas," they say, "and that turkey and +plum-pudding will be spoilt if we don't turn up."</p> + +<p>Home by Christmas! That is Tommy Atkins' idea of a "Non-stop run to +Berlin"—the facetious notice he printed in chalk on the troop trains at +Boulogne as, singing "It's a long way to Tipperary," he rolled away to +the greatest battles that have ever seared the face of Europe.</p> + + +<div class="padtop"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Extract from <i>The Times</i> report of the German Emperor's +Army Orders, dated Headquarters, Aix-la-Chapelle, August 19th, 1914.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Copyright Chappell & Co., Ltd., 41 East 34th St., New +York.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> <i>Daily Express</i>, Sept. 25th, 1914.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> The Irish Guards were created entirely on the initiative of +Queen Victoria, and as a recognition of the fine achievements of "Her +brave Irish" in the South African War.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Gunner Batey, Royal Garrison Artillery, writes of a +comrade, Gunner Spencer Mann: "He seems in his glory during the +fighting. He fears nothing, and is always shouting, 'Into them, lads: +the sooner we get through, the sooner we'll get home.'"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> "The German officers are a rum lot," writes Sergeant W. +Holmes; "they lead from the rear all the time."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> "When they are working hardest their rations would not do +for a tom-tit," says Sergeant J. Baker.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> This letter was written to the son of a London vicar, and +published in <i>The Times</i>, Sept. 12th, 1914.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p class="center padtop">VAIL-BALLOU CO., BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16675-h.txt or 16675-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/6/7/16675">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/7/16675</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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