French Officers examining a German Prisoner.
(Photo, Central News.)
A lance-corporal of the 2nd South Lancashire Regiment describes how he and his comrades saved a gun which they were working in the loft of a cottage. Some 200 Germans having broken through the British lines, tried to rush the cottage. "I crept on my stomach," says the lance-corporal, "and made for my gun, which was nicely pointed at them, fetching them down like sheep, thinking every minute they would get at me, especially when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Two of my comrades now came to my assistance. When they saw who it was they patted me on the back, and one of them said, 'Let's have a go at the gun, Len;' which I was glad of, as I was nearly done up. My chum did splendid work, fetching the remainder down. While he was firing Lieutenant Fulcher went downstairs just in time, as five Germans had got round without being seen. The brave officer killed the five, and returned to us in the loft. . . . Then, seeing we were all right, he once more returned to headquarters.
"Half an hour later we were surrounded with shells . . . A piece struck the sergeant. Without delay we carried him into the house and did our very best for him. It was a pity that he should come to his end, as only the day before he received a telegram congratulating him on his splendid previous work, for which he was mentioned in dispatches.
"We gave the alarm to the men down the cellar. It must have been God who told me to shout them up. In one more minute there would have been another seven killed, as no sooner had they got up than a shell burst in the cellar. I told the men to make for headquarters, which they did under heavy shell fire. How they got there without being hit I do not know. Myself and two others stopped, as we had our best friend in the roof (the gun). Another shell came and took the two men off their feet, luckily doing no harm; only I got a few splinters after the falling of the house. I found that I was the last, so I crawled out in the smoke and the dust, and made for headquarters. I reported to Lieutenant Fulcher that the sergeant was killed, and had died in my arms, and that I had been forced to leave the gun. There were tears in his eyes. He told me to lie down, but I could not, and he asked where I had left the gun. I told him, and said, 'I expect it is smashed.' He then asked for volunteers to go and fetch it, and two other lance-corporals at once offered to go with me. We saved the gun, everything else being smashed, and got back without being hit. General Haldane congratulated us, and granted us six days' special leave to England."
The following story comes from the German side. There are three characters in it—a Bavarian lieutenant, Sepp his servant, and Caro his dog. "Sepp could play the mouth organ[73] beautifully, rendering folk songs, dances, etc., and we had many a pleasant hour with his music. One day, when the shells were bursting not far from us, the lieutenant said to his servant, 'Sepp, if I am ever hit, play my burial song for me, as you know how, and send my mother a remembrance. Everything else, including money, you can keep.' The dog Caro was not allowed to go into action, but had to march all day with the baggage, and at night slept at his master's door, allowing no one save Sepp to enter. Often he managed to get loose from the baggage carts, and, in spite of the colonel's scolding, reached the firing-line, where he shared the danger with his master.
"One fine day on the Yser a hostile bullet struck our dear young lieutenant in the forehead, so that he never moved again. On his face there was a pleasant smile, such as we had never before seen on the dead. Our grief was great; but a soldier never has much time for weeping. We dug his grave in a small pleasure garden, and laid the young hero to rest. We doffed our helmets, while some one said a brief prayer. On the mound we laid a last rose, and the soldiers made a cross. When the captain had said the last word Sepp at once began to play, more beautifully than we had ever heard before. No organ music had ever pleased me so much. Tears stood in the eyes of us all. Again and again he played funeral hymns and soldiers' songs, until we had to go.
"We could not get Sepp away from his master's grave. He continued to sit there, weeping and playing on his mouth organ all the songs his master had loved best. Just as we were going, up came the dog Caro from somewhere, as though he knew of his master's death. He whined and howled, while all about this farewell scene the guns thundered and rifle bullets whistled. Deeply moved, we went away. The English made an attack, but still in the twilight Sepp continued to play, until he had to be removed forcibly to prevent him from falling into the enemy's hands. Only Caro remained; he would not budge.
"When, two days later, we had beaten the English and came back past the same spot, there lay the faithful Caro, dead on his master's grave. We knew not whether he had perished of hunger and grief, or whether a fragment of shell had struck him, but we found no wound on his body. We buried the faithful animal at his master's feet. Since that day Sepp has never played another tune."
I will conclude this chapter by giving you a brief account of the heroes who were awarded the Victoria Cross between October 1 and 30, 1914. They are as follows:—
Private Henry May, 1st Battalion the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles). On October 22, 1914, at a village about four miles south-west of Armentières, he went out of his own free will, and under a heavy cannonade tried to rescue a wounded man who was, unhappily, killed before he could save him. Later, on the same day, he carried a wounded officer a distance of 300 yards into safety, while exposed to very severe fire.
Drummer William Kenny, 2nd Gordon Highlanders. On 23rd October, near Ypres, Drummer Kenny, an Irishman, whose parents live at Drogheda, showed wonderful bravery in rescuing wounded men on five different occasions. Each time he carried his life in his hand, and showed the most fearless courage. Twice previously he had saved machine guns by carrying them out of action, and frequently he had conveyed urgent messages over fire-swept ground. Like all true heroes, Drummer Kenny showed himself the most modest of men. Here is his own account of his repeated acts of bravery: "There were men lying about wounded, and I simply brought them in. The Maxims had to be fetched, and I did it—that's all."
Lieutenant Arthur Martin-Leake, R.A.M.C. This gallant officer was the first man in the British army to be awarded the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty in two separate campaigns. During the South African War he went out into the firing-line to dress a wounded man while forty Boers, who were only 100 yards off, rained bullets on the position. When he had done all he could for the stricken soldier he went over to a badly wounded officer, and while trying to place him in a more comfortable position was shot three times. He only gave up his merciful work when thoroughly exhausted, and even then he refused water until other wounded men had been served. For this splendid self-sacrifice and steadfast bravery he was rightly awarded the Victoria Cross. During the Balkan War he served with a British Red Cross contingent, and throughout the present war, and especially at Zonnebeke between October 29 and November 8, 1914, he repeatedly went out under heavy fire to bring in wounded men, some of whom were lying close to the enemy's trenches. Again the coveted distinction was awarded to him, and a clasp was added to the Cross which he had won in South Africa.
Lieutenant James Leach and Sergeant John Hogan, 2nd Battalion the Manchester Regiment. Lieutenant Leach had only received his commission a few days before he won the Victoria Cross on October 29. "When I joined the Manchesters," he said in an interview, "there were only six officers and forty-five men, whereas the proper strength of the battalion was 30 officers and 1,100 men. The regiment had been badly cut up at Le Cateau and La Bassée. On joining the regiment I was immediately put in command of a company which was in an advanced trench near Festubert.[74] The trench was large enough to hold thirty-five men; it was about 150 yards from the main trench, and 120 yards from the German trenches.
"At seven o'clock on the morning of 29th October I had just started to have my breakfast, when a man to the right of me shouted, 'Look out, sir, look out; they're coming,' and began firing as fast as he could. I looked over the parapet, and saw about 250 of the enemy with fixed bayonets approaching the trench at the double, firing as they came on, and making a peculiar wailing noise. Before the Germans reached the trench we shot down something like 150 of them. With only such a short distance to cross from their trenches to ours, about 100 of the enemy managed to reach our trench and jump into it. By sheer weight of numbers they carried the trench, and killed about twelve of my men.
