War! How terrible the word sounds, but our British spirit in us makes us view things from the bright side. I do not mean to imply that the troops do not think it a serious concern—far from it—but all seem quite confident. When under heavy fire there seems to exist a jubilant sort of spirit, each and all steady and ready to sacrifice themselves for the honour of England: A Private of the Scottish Rifles.
Mad!
You feel pretty shaky going into battle at first. When you are going along the road and see dead lying here and there and hear the groaning of the wounded you do feel rather queer, but once you see what you are getting at, all that feeling disappears and your one desire is to get at them. In fact, when the bullets begin to fly you turn mad for the time being: Pte. Lightfoot, Cameron Highlanders.
Know nor Care
You don’t realize that you are in danger until some of the men around you get knocked over by shells and bullets, but afterwards you have the feeling that you don’t care. You know you have to be there, and you don’t care a hang whether you get knocked over or not. In a way you are only too glad when you can get to close quarters with the Germans. As to the sensation caused by being struck by a bullet, it is just like being hit by a stone thrown at you: A Sergeant of the Irish Rifles.
An “Infernal Din”
Artillery fire is the deadliest thing out, and it takes a lot of nerve to stand it. The Germans keep up an infernal din from morning until far into the night; but they don’t do half as much damage as you would think, though it is annoying to have all that row going on when you’re trying to write home or make up the regimental accounts. The French seem to like the noise, and don’t seem at all happy unless it’s there. There’s no accounting for tastes: Sergeant J. Baker.
Splendid but Awful
The order was given, “Retire! Every man for himself!” It was a splendid but awful sight to see horses, men, and guns racing for life with shells bursting among them. The Germans rushed up, and I lay helpless. A German pointed his rifle at me for me to surrender. I refused, and was just on the point of being put out when a German officer saved me. He said, “Englishman brave fool.” He then dressed my wound, and he gave me brandy and wine and left me: Gunner B. Wiseman, Royal Artillery.