"The Three Musketeers" of Princess Patricia's Own.
(Painted by S. Begg from material supplied by an officer of Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry present at the action. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
"Princess Pat's Own" first went into the firing line on 5th January. The trenches in which they received their baptism of fire were only about a hundred yards away from those of the Germans, who subjected them to a very heavy bombardment. About the second or third night three of the men established themselves during the darkness on a mound a little to the rear of the Canadian position. They cut a couple of dug-outs in the base of the mound, and fortified the top with a few bricks, behind which they took cover. At daybreak they discovered that they commanded a very fine view of the German first-line trench, and of its supporting or reserve dug-outs, which were occupied by the Prussian Guard. There was no shell fire from the British at the time, and the Germans, thinking themselves quite safe, were strolling about between the dug-outs and the trench. The "three musketeers" on the mound opened a brisk fire on the Germans; whereupon they scuttled off to their holes like rabbits, but not before nine or ten of them lay on the ground, wounded or killed. All day long the men on the mound were under every kind of fire, but they "stuck it" without flinching, and in their turn kept the enemy from as much as showing a finger. When darkness fell they retired to their trenches. Only one of the men was hurt, and he had only a slight bullet wound in the hand.
Here is a strange story of how some British soldiers foolishly and recklessly risked their lives in order to settle a bet.
"Fighting had been very severe in front of one section, and during a lull an officer was surprised to see a number of khaki-clad figures fully exposed to the German bullets, should the enemy resume firing. They were peering into the trench, and were so deeply interested in what was 'down below' that they did not notice the officer's approach.
"'What have you got there?' he asked.
"'A dead German, sir,' came the reply.
"'A dead German! What on earth are you doing with a dead German?'
"Then he was told the whole story. It appeared that in the course of the attack the British soldiers had noticed a particularly tall and bulky Hun. When the fighting was over they began to discuss his proportions. He was now lying dead in front of the trench, and two of the men made a bet about his height and weight. To settle the bet, they crawled out and risked death in order to drag the dead German in. He was found to be six feet nine inches in height, and to have a waist measurement of fifty-three inches.
"The officer gave the men a severe warning, and then asked how much the bet was. To his amazement he received the following reply: 'A bob, sir!'"
In a dispatch published by Sir John French during February he regretted that it was impossible for him to bring before the notice of the public many acts of gallantry performed by his men. Here is an account of a very brave deed done by a sergeant-major in the North Somerset Yeomanry; the story is told by a corporal of the same regiment:—
"I had a marvellous escape. A German bomb fell in the trench barely a foot from me. I did not see it coming, and nothing could have saved me, or Dick Moody, or the other fellows with us, had not Sergeant-Major Reeves made a dash for it. He picked up the bomb, pulled out the fuse, and threw it out of the trench. It was the bravest thing I have ever seen."
Later on, when our men became more used to grenade fighting, such incidents were of almost everyday occurrence. Over and over again men pounced upon live bombs, and hurled them back towards the enemy's trenches before they had time to explode.
On one part of our line the trenches of friend and foe were so close to each other, and they changed hands so often, that it was difficult to know at any particular moment whether they were held by British or by Germans. One night, after a fight, two British officers set out to discover whether certain trenches were occupied by their own men or by those of the enemy. They soon chanced upon a communication trench which seemed to lead in the desired direction. They walked down it, and came to a dug-out with a candle burning in it and German equipment scattered about. Thinking that the communication trench had been captured, they blew out the candle and pushed on. At length they reached a trench running at right angles to the communication trench. No sooner had they entered it than they were challenged sharply in German. Then came a shower of bullets, and in a moment the officers were rushing back by the way which they had come, with Germans close upon their heels. They floundered through the mud and dodged round the traverses, and, thanks to the darkness, managed to get back to their own lines unhurt, where they told their comrades how they had spent several breathless minutes in the enemy's fire trenches.
Now I must give you an account of one of the most striking deeds of gallantry ever performed by a British soldier. The Gazette of 18th February contained an announcement that the Victoria Cross had been awarded to
Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary, 1st Battalion Irish Guards, for an achievement of such a character that, according to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, "no writer of fiction would dare to fasten it on any of his characters."
At sixteen years of age O'Leary joined the Navy, but was discharged because he suffered with rheumatism. He soon recovered, however, and enlisted in the Irish Guards. After serving his time with the colours and passing into the reserve, he was accepted as a member of the famous North-West Mounted Police of Canada. The hard open-air life was much to his liking. All the patrol work was done on horseback, and he rode on an average thirty miles a day. As a North-West mounted policeman, O'Leary gave a taste of his cool courage in capturing two robbers, armed with revolvers, after a running fight which lasted two hours. For this feat he was presented with a gold ring, which he still proudly wears. The donor of it must have been a prophet, for he said to O'Leary when handing it over, "If you do as well on active service, you will win the Victoria Cross." At the outbreak of war O'Leary rejoined his old regiment in France. He was not then twenty-five years of age.
I am sure you remember the occasion when the Coldstreams were driven from their trenches near Cuinchy, and two counter-attacks failed to recover them. At ten in the morning of 1st February a desperate effort to win them back was made by fifty men of the 2nd Coldstream Guards and thirty men of the Irish Guards, accompanied by sappers with wire and sand-bags. The Coldstreams went first. With fixed bayonets they rushed across the 200 yards that separated them from the German trenches. They were met by a heavy fire, which checked them a little; and then the Irish Guards went forward in support. O'Leary, fleet of foot, outdistanced his comrades. He had not gone far before he felt the ground give beneath his feet, and springing back, he saw a German bomb-thrower in a pit. He shot the man, and hurrying on to the angle of a barricade which he had marked all day, fired five shots and killed the five Germans who were holding it. Leaving his comrades to take possession of the barricade, he dashed towards a second position, sixty yards ahead, where a machine-gun section was frantically trying to turn its weapon upon the stormers. O'Leary, however, was too quick for them. A German officer had his finger on the button of the gun, and was about to release the hail of lead, when "crack" went our hero's rifle, and the officer dropped dead. Again and again O'Leary fired, and two other men fell, while their comrades, with white, scared faces, threw up their hands and begged for mercy. A few moments later and the Guards, with a wild rush through the flying mud, secured the position. "Lance-Corporal O'Leary thus practically captured the enemy's position himself, and prevented the rest of the attacking party from being fired on." He was promoted sergeant on the field.
