Their prisoners aren’t near so swanky as they were at first, when they used to move about as though the British soldiers weren’t fit to be seen with. Now they’re glad to fall into our hands, and if they see the uniform at all they surrender without further trouble. They’ve all got Government news-sheets containing all sorts of stories, and they say that these are distributed every day. Perhaps they get them instead of grub, and if that’s the case it would account for the half-fed appearance of so many of the prisoners: Pte. Taylor, Rifle Brigade.
Undaunted
A few days ago I witnessed a most exciting incident. A French staff officer went up in an aeroplane and the Germans opened fire on him. Shots went wide at first and then all around him. He didn’t mind that, but turned about again and once more ran the gauntlet. Then the Germans started again, but that didn’t stop him. He turned once more and came back before making off to headquarters with information as to where the Germans were: Drill-Instructor Anderson.
“Rotten Luck”
We are all putting up in farms on account of our horses being under cover from the aeroplanes, which have done a lot of damage. The 9th had just got in from a good hard day, when a big shell came into their yard and killed ten men and wounded four. Who would have expected that, after getting away from the firing line all safe? Of course, they might have been stray shells trying to find our artillery. But then it is what you may call rotten luck: Pte. Robinson, 18th Hussars.
Near Shaves
I saw some brave things done. “Tanker” Gillespie endeavoured three times, at great risk, to aid a comrade who had been seriously wounded. The first time he got up a bullet grazed his head, and I saw him rubbing it with rather comical grimness, and then seizing hold of his rifle, the barrel of which had nearly all been blown away, and firing; three or four shots at the Germans. He tried a second time to reach his comrade, but again had to duck, and the third time he succeeded, only to find that the poor fellow had died. In returning to his place, “Tanker” was struck by a bullet which took away some of the hair on his head, and he had to retire: Pte. McMahon, Gordon Highlanders.
Custom!
German shell fire is not nearly so effective shot for shot and gun for gun as ours, in spite of all the fine things they claim for it, and where great accuracy in range is necessary they are hopelessly out of it. Their infantry can’t stand half the shelling our men will put up with, and they get awfully panicky under fire from our guns. It is a favourite trick of the Germans to keep a battery well masked for hours, and then when our infantry are deploying within range, without the slightest notion of what is coming, the German shells begin to fall round like the autumn leaves. That’s very trying to the nerves, or was at first, but we are now getting used to it: Gunner T. Wall.