You have already heard something of the courage and devotion of our young artillery officers, who frequently went far in advance of the guns to direct the fire of their batteries. Here is another story[111] of similar heroism:—
"Early in the day our gunners had found it impossible to locate certain German guns which were fast rendering our trenches untenable. The country was so flat that there was no possible point of vantage from which the gunners could 'observe,' except the steeple of a church. But the Germans knew that as well as we did, so the church was being vigorously shelled, and already no less than twelve lyddite shells had been pitched into it.
"It was the duty of Lieutenant Davidson to 'observe,' so he calmly went to the church, climbed the already tottering tower, and, seated on the top, proceeded to telephone his information to the battery. In consequence, German battery after German battery was silenced; the infantry, which at one time was in danger of extermination, was saved; and the position, in spite of an attack in overwhelming force by the enemy, was successfully held. The church was reduced to a scrap-heap, but still Davidson sat tight on the remnants of his tower. For seven solid hours, expecting death every moment, he calmly scanned the country and telephoned his reports.
"At dark his task was done, and he came down to rejoin his battery. As he left the ruins a fall of timber in one of the burning houses lit up everything with a sudden glare. There was the crack of a rifle—the German trenches were only a few hundred yards away—and a bullet passed through the back of his neck and out through the mouth. But without hurrying his pace he walked to his battery, gave them his final information, and then said, 'I think I'd better go and find the field ambulance, for the beggars have drilled a hole in me that needs plugging.' And he walked half a mile to the nearest 'collecting point.'
"In the infantry of the 14th Brigade men can talk of nobody else but 'Davidson of the Gunners.' They themselves face death every hour of the day and night; they themselves do unrecorded deeds of heroism worthy of the 'V.C.'; but with one voice they declare, 'Davidson is the real thing. If he doesn't get the V.C.—well, nobody deserves it.'"
In telling you stories from the battlefield I always try to include one or more which show you the zeal, skill, and devotion of those whose duty it is not to take but to save life. Here is the story of a French doctor who tended the wounded during the bombardment of Ypres.
For four days, with the help of volunteer assistants, he cared for fifty-four German wounded, and the hospital had been frequently struck by shells, one of them intended to set it on fire. The supply of bread was failing, but the doctor and the nurses shared their portion with their patients. The doctor was urged to quit this dangerous post, but he said, "The mission of France is to elevate the Germans to our own level. So I shall remain here and continue to look after wounded Germans, showing them that a French doctor laughs at their shells, and only knows his duty." Unhappily this heroic man was killed by a shell on 13th or 14th November. The surviving wounded, in the sole charge of two nuns, were then removed to a safer place.
Soldiers' letters to their friends at home are full of accounts of the fierce fighting about Ypres. Corporal G. Stuart of the Camerons, one of the regiments which was nearly wiped out, thus describes how he was made a prisoner by the Prussian Guard, and how he escaped:—