“All Right!”
After being under the deadliest of shell fire for eight days I was hit, but, thank God, no bones broken. I shall never forget my poor chum. He had his leg broken with the bone sticking out, and also a great gash in the thigh. But the one glorious thing about it is, as soon as we realized we were hit, we joined in prayer to our Father, after which we helped one another to bandage ourselves up. I haven’t seen him since they carried us out of the trenches, but I am sure he is all right: Pte. W. Marshall, 1st Devonshire Regiment.
Keepsakes!
The shortest will I have ever heard of was made one night by a chap of the Royal Scots. He was bowled over in a rush at the German trenches, and, with what must have been his dying breath, he shouted after his chum, “Jock, ye can hae ma fags.” Later we came on him dead, and Jock got the fags all right in his breast pocket; but I don’t think he would part with them if he wanted a smoke ever so, and none of us would have asked him to do it: A Cameron Highlander.
Nellie’s Anxiety
I suppose Nellie is very anxious over me, but tell her I am going on grand, and am delighted I am living and able to use my rifle. As long as I can account for a German life every time I get the chance, that is all I care about, and every other British soldier is just the same. It is marvellous the pluck of our officers; they would face anything, and where they go we follow them, and would follow them anywhere. We have a lot of our officers killed; and it is a pity, poor fellows, for they are brave men. When we get close to the Germans they run like hell from our rifle fire, and then we get a grand chance at them: Sergt. E. F. Eagar, Royal Irish Regiment.
The Dog It Was!
There was a big, awkward, gawky lad of the Camerons who took a fancy to a Scotch collie that had followed us about a lot, and one day the dog got left behind when we were falling back. The big lad was terribly upset, and went back to look for it. He found it, and was trudging along with it in his arms, making forced marches to overtake us, when he fell in with a party of Uhlans on the prowl. He and his dog fought their best, but they hadn’t a chance, and both were killed: A Private of the Highland Light Infantry.
The Trail of the Sword
It is a shame to see the lovely homes that have been deserted, the people trekking along the roads with any belongings they can manage to carry with them or wheel on barrows, and women with little babies in arms flying for their lives, and perhaps an old mother being helped along behind. These sights make lumps come in your throat, and make you think what it would be if a similar thing were to happen at home. When we first came here we went right through into Belgium, and as we were retiring the Germans were setting fire to all villages. It was a common thing to see two or three villages alight at the same time: A British Gunner.