The British soldier

by E. J. Hardy

Another soldier, though mortally wounded himself, felt so much for a wounded pal that he said to the doctor, "See to that poor bloke first. He is going home; he will be home before me."

Some of the Irish Dragoons 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. "They knew that," said the trooper who related 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 Red Cross chaps'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, anny-how.'"

Private F. Bruce, of the Suffolk Regiment, acted in this self-forgetting way when wounded. After much hesitation he told the story to a newspaper interviewer: "The bullet that hit me prevented me from shooting. I said to a mate, 'I'm no good, so I'll make room for a better man.' He said, 'Don't go in this lot, you'll get riddled with bullets.' I said, 'Neck or nothing, mate; I'm keeping out somebody who could do more good than me.' I got up and ran about twenty yards, and a lyddite-shell burst about five or six yards in front of me, nearly bringing me down with the suffocating fumes. I regained my footing, and ran further, until I came to two artillery men. One was wounded in five places, and the other was all right. After giving the wounded man water, I tried to get to another fellow. Every time I made a start the Germans began firing at me, as they were closing round my company. But I was determined to go, and I made a dash for it. I ran about twenty yards, and dived into some standing corn. I got to the poor fellow. A live shell had burst and hit him in the lower part of the body. I asked him if I could do anything for him, and he said, 'Yes; have you got a rifle?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Well,' he said, 'for God's sake shoot me out of my misery.' I told him I could not do that, so I gave him water. A Highlander came up with a wound straight through the elbow. I bandaged him up. At that time the Germans were only about 60 yards away. We had to make a dash for our lives. I saw my company captured just at our rear, but we managed to get to safety."

Even for one of the enemy self was bravely put aside. Seeing a wounded German lying between the German and British trenches, a British officer ordered the "Cease Fire," and himself went out to pick up the man. He was struck by several bullets before the Germans saw what he was doing and ceased firing. Thereupon the British officer staggered to the fallen man and carried him to the German lines. A German officer received him with a salute, and, calling for cheers, pinned upon the breast of the British hero an Iron Cross. Then the Britisher returned to his own trenches. He was recommended for the Victoria Cross, but succumbed to his wounds.

A soldier wrote: "I saw a handful of Irishmen throw themselves in front of a regiment of cavalry, who were trying to cut off a battery of horse artillery. It was one of the finest deeds I ever saw. Not one of the poor lads got away alive, but they made the German devils pay in kind, and, anyhow, the artillery got away to account for many more Germans."

A private told the following to a newspaper correspondent: "A picket of our regiment posted on a hill overlooking our left was surprised in the early morning by a party of German infantry who had crept up under cover of a mist. Our men refused to surrender, and all were shot down but one, who was overpowered by the Germans. They wanted to get information about our strength from him, and thought they had only to offer him his life in return. He refused to tell anything, and then they were going to shoot him, when he made a dash for it. At that moment a party of our men, alarmed by the firing, came up, and the Germans were cut off."

A sergeant wrote: "There was a man of the Buffs who carried a wounded chum for over a mile under German fire, but if you suggested a Victoria Cross for that man he would punch your head, and as he's a regular devil when roused the men say as little as they can about it. He thinks he didn't do anything out of the common, and doesn't see why his name should be dragged into the papers."

So, too, an English colonel who had saved the life of a French private kept the deed a secret for fear of "a beastly fuss" being made about it.

Similar modesty was shown by a Highlander who helped a wounded comrade for four days through a country full of Germans. "When I found them," wrote a lance-corporal, "they had only a few biscuits between them. I pressed the unwounded man to tell me how they managed to get through the four days on six biscuits, but he always got angry and told me to shut up. He had gone without anything; and had given the biscuits to the wounded man."