This wounding is for homeland—
For Britain’s winsome weal—
Through all the years advancing,
A theme for song, a peal
That swings in jubilation—
How Ulster met the steel!
How Ulster claimed the expected,
Already-given cheer;
How Ulster’s hand directed
The torch which yet shall sear
The remnant of the Prussian,
And make the future clear!
William J. Gallagher.
Galdonagh, Manorcunningham,
Co. Donegal.
10th July, 1916.
(Published by permission of the Author.)
[PART III.]
In a specially written account of the part taken in the big advance of July 1st by the Tyrone Battalion of the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, Lieut.-Col. Ricardo, D.S.O., commander of the battalion, says:—Just now it is a hard struggle between pride and sorrow, and every moment the latter surges up, and it takes a mighty effort to keep our chins up; but we shall see it through and begin again, however hard. Out of 19 officers who went over, 12 have gone, the very best, and all dear pals; four came back untouched, and three wounded got back—one of these lay out for 24 hours, and one for 48—whilst the casualties in the rank and file were numerous. Early on the 1st July (the boys were convinced the date had been chosen for their especial benefit) the battle began. Every gun on both sides fired as fast as it could, and during that din our dear boys just walked out of the wood and up gaps we had cut through our parapet, and out through lanes in our wire. I shall never forget for one minute the extraordinary sight. The Derrys, on our left, were so eager they started a few minutes before the ordered time, and the Tyrones were not going to be left behind, and they got going without delay—no fuss, no shouting, no running; everything orderly, solid, and thorough, just like the men themselves. Here and there a boy would wave his hand to me as I shouted “good-luck” to them through my megaphone, and all had a happy face. Many were carrying loads. Fancy advancing against heavy fire carrying a heavy roll of barbed wire on your shoulders! The leading battalions suffered comparatively little getting out, but when they came close to the German front line they came under appalling machine-gun fire, which obliterated whole platoons. And alas! for us, the division on our right could not get on, and the same happened to the division on our left, so we came in for the concentrated fire of what would have been spread over three divisions. But every man who remained standing pressed on, and without officers or N.C.O.’s they “carried on,” faithful to their job. Not a man turned back, not one. Eventually, small knots belonging to all the battalions of the Division (except two) gathered into the part of the German line allotted to the Division and began to consolidate it. Major John Peacocke, a cousin of Lady Carson, a most gallant and dashing officer, was sent forward after the advance to see how matters stood. He took charge, and gave to the representatives of each unit a certain task in the defence. The situation after the first few hours was indeed a cruel one for the Ulster Division. There they were, a wedge driven into the German line, only a few hundred yards wide, and for 14 hours they bore the brunt of the German machine-gun fire and shell fire from the sides; and even from behind they were not safe. The parties told off to deal with the German first and second lines had in many cases been wiped out, and the Germans sent parties from the flanks in behind our boys. The Division took 800 prisoners, and could have taken hundreds more, but could not handle them. Major Peacocke sent back many messages by runners. They asked for reinforcements, for water, and for bombs, but no one had any men in reserve, and no men were left to send across. We were told reinforcements were at hand and to hold on, but it was difficult, I suppose, to get fresh troops up in time. At any rate, the help did not come. I sent off every man I had—my own servant, my shorthand clerk, and so on—to get water out of the river; the pipes had long before been smashed. On their way, many, including both above-named, were killed by shell fire. At 10-30 p.m. the glorious band had to come back; they had reached the third line. At 8-30 a.m. they fought to the last, and threw their last bomb, and were so exhausted that most of them could not speak; and shortly after they came back, help came, and the line they had taken and held was re-occupied without opposition, the Germans, I suppose, being as exhausted as we were. Our side eventually lost the wedge-like bit, after some days. It was valueless, and could only be held at very heavy cost. We were withdrawn late on Sunday evening, very tired and weary. There are many instances of outstanding gallantry, but it is almost impossible to collect evidence. We may hear more of it when some of our wounded come back.