The same honour fell to Trooper H. E. Ramsden in this fight, for carrying his brother out of danger in very similar circumstances. The list of those who figured in gallant actions of this kind, indeed, is a long one. There was Second-Lieutenant John Norwood (now a captain), of the 5th Dragoon Guards, who while in charge of a small patrol party outside Ladysmith, in October 1899, was nearly cornered by the Boers. In retiring one of the troopers fell, whereupon the lieutenant, galloping back, dismounted, lifted the wounded man on to his shoulder, and with his horse’s bridle over his arm walked back to rejoin his comrades. And there was Lieutenant Sir John Milbanke of the 10th Hussars, who saved the life of one of his men while out on a reconnaissance near Colesberg. The lieutenant himself was badly wounded with a ball in his thigh, but disregarding this, he went to the aid of the wounded man, who was exposed to the Boer fire, and successfully brought him out of range.
Both these heroes gained the V.C., as, too, did Private Bisdee and Lieutenant Wylly, of the Tasmanian Imperial Bushmen, for gallantry of a like order. Having run into an ambuscade, the scouting party of which the Tasmanians were members had to get out of it as best they could. The Boers from their cover kept up a hot fire, and men and horses dropped quickly. Out of the eight in the party all but two were hit, and one of the officers had his horse shot beneath him. Seeing his predicament, Private Bisdee offered him a stirrup leather to hold on to, but the other was more badly wounded than he had supposed. Jumping off his horse, therefore, he put his officer into the saddle, and mounting behind him, galloped out of action. Lieutenant Wylly in his turn gave up his horse to a wounded private, afterwards taking up a position behind a rock, and using his rifle to good purpose to cover the retreat of the little party.
It does one good to read of heroism such as this, for it helps to keep alive our faith in those fine qualities which have made Englishmen what they are. If we still find something inspiring in the records of the old sea-dogs, such as Benbow, who was carried on deck in a basket after he had lost his leg, so that he might continue to direct the fight, we may treasure in our memories with no less reverence the deeds of many humbler heroes. There is about them, too, often enough, a truly British touch of dare-devilry, cheek, pluck—call it what you will—that cannot but strike one’s imagination.
Take the story of Sergeant T. Lawrence of the 17th Lancers, the “Death or Glory Boys.” He was in charge of a patrol in the neighbourhood of Lindley, in August 1900, while the Lancer Brigade was chasing De Wet. Suddenly attacked by a body of fourteen Boers, the patrol was obliged to retire. In the gallop for safety Private Hayman’s horse was bowled over, and down came its rider to the ground with a dislocated shoulder and broken collar-bone. In a twinkling the sergeant saw what had happened. The Boers were hard upon their heels, but taking his chance, Lawrence rode back to Hayman’s assistance. The private’s horse being useless, Lawrence dismounted and raised the wounded man on to his own steed, a dun pony, it is recorded. Then, setting the animal’s head for the picket and bidding Hayman hold on for his life, the sergeant gave the pony a vigorous kick and started him off. This done, Lawrence made his way back on foot, keeping up a warm fire with his carbine; and for two miles he retired thus, successfully holding off the Boers, until a party which had ridden out in search of him brought the plucky fellow into our lines.
There is a true British ring about Sergeant Lawrence’s action which is unmistakable, and few South African heroes more deserved the V.C. which was eventually bestowed upon him. He, thanks to his skill with the carbine, and perhaps owing something to luck, escaped without a scratch, but not all were so fortunate. Writing of Lawrence reminds me of another hero, Lieutenant and Adjutant G. H. B. Coulson, of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, who won glory and death at the same time.
It was during the rearguard action near Lambrecht Fontein, in May 1901. A corporal of the Mounted Infantry was wounded and helpless, so the lieutenant pulled him up on to his own horse. As they rode along the animal was itself struck, and it became evident that a double burden was more than it could carry. There was only one thing to be done. Slipping off the horse, Coulson told the corporal to “hang on” and save himself; then, revolver in hand, he stayed behind, in the faint hope that he might win back to safety on foot. It was a vain hope. The Boers rode down upon him, and—one man against a hundred—he fell riddled with bullets. Afterwards, when the corporal had told his story, they gazetted Lieutenant and Adjutant Coulson V.C., as one to whom the decoration would have been awarded had he lived.
Among other dead heroes of the South African War, place must be found for Lieutenant Parsons of the Essex Regiment and Sergeant Atkinson of the Yorkshires. At Paardeberg, where a fierce battle was fought in February 1900, many poor wounded fellows lay in the sweltering heat suffering for want of water. Water there was within reach, in the river that wound round by the enemy’s trenches, but the task of fetching it was attended with considerable danger. Some four or five men made the attempt, only to fall under the hail of Boer bullets. Nothing daunted, however, both Parsons and Atkinson made several dashes for the precious water, the former venturing twice, and rendering much-needed relief to those wounded near him.
Atkinson, who had distinguished himself in the fight by rescuing Lieutenant Hammick of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry, went down to the river no fewer than seven times, being under fire all the while. At the seventh venture his fate found him. A bullet struck him in the head, and the brave Yorkshireman fell mortally wounded. He was a son of Farrier-Major James Atkinson, of the Royal Artillery, who is stated to have been one of the party who captured the original Sebastopol cannon from which the Victoria Crosses are now cast. Although Lieutenant Parsons survived Paardeberg, he never lived to receive his Cross, being killed later at Driefontein.
For bravery that distinguishes itself in the storming of apparently impregnable positions and in the leading of forlorn hopes, the Highland regiments perhaps bear the palm. One remembers their deeds in the Mutiny days and, more recently, at Dargai. In South Africa they wrote their names large, at Magersfontein, Paardeberg, and in many a minor action.
One of their most dashing exploits was the capture of Thaba Mountain, in April 1900, by the Gordons. In this engagement Captain E. B. Towse, with but a dozen men at his back, charged in the face of a hundred and fifty Boers, who had climbed the hill from the opposite side, and routed them. The position was won and held, for the Highlanders—and especially the Gordons—are men who like to have their own way, but their brave leader paid dearly for his victory. During the brief but fierce encounter he was shot through both eyes and blinded for life. This action at Thaba Mountain, together with his well-remembered gallantry at Magersfontein, where in the very fore-front of the battle he was seen helping Colonel Downman, who was mortally wounded, gained Captain Towse the V.C. Little wonder is it that as she pinned it on the hero’s breast Queen Victoria was moved to tears of sympathy and pity.