I was posted in a house, with about twelve others, firing on the enemy, when the house was shelled, and fell in on us. It was a marvellous escape for all of us. I can just remember falling through the roof; but I am more than pleased to tell you I was not hurt—only shaken up a bit. Two days after we had another go: then the shells were bursting all round us; but we managed to get over that with very little loss. We had another go about a week later. My company was ordered to go in a wood to try and capture some German snipers. No sooner had we entered the wood when the bullets started singing all round us. I had one go right through my cap, and it cut my hair; I have still got the hat, and if I am spared I am going to bring it home with me as a memento: Pte. Marsh, 1st Bedfordshire Regiment.

Warm Work

The warmest bit of work I was ever in was when I was injured. Some seven or eight of us and about the same number of Hussars were on patrol in a village. We had dismounted, and were talking over matters when quite unexpectedly some shrapnel shells burst over our heads and brought down some of the cottages. Our officer hurried up to us and ordered us to mount and retire. When we had all mounted he shouted, “Gallop away; every man for himself!” I just remember being hit in the left thigh first. At the same moment the old mare seemed to falter a little. The enemy had our range to a yard, and again and again the shells burst among and above us, bringing some of the fellows down, man and horse. Then something struck me in the right hip, but we kept on, and after five or ten minutes’ ride we came on our own regiment dismounted for action. I think about seven or eight of us got through: A Private of the 12th Lancers.

“Breath-stoppers”

There was a farmhouse up the hill, and from this a Maxim gun was pouring out a continuous stream of little “breath-stoppers.” The British fixed bayonets and charged the house. On the farm were found about a score of the enemy, who made absolutely no resistance. On the contrary they laughed, and were thankful it was all over and that they were safe. On searching the bushes it was found that several of the enemy had taken refuge—some were dead and others wounded. One feigned having been shot, but after being carried down the hill by a British soldier and finding he was safe, he was all right. He confirms the stories that have come to hand from many sources that the Germans fear the British bayonet: Pte. V. Wells, Worcestershire Regiment.

Ghostly!

One night we were lying quietly in some woods when we heard the rattle of hoofs all along the road making enough noise to wake the whole dead in all the graveyards of the world. There was a regiment of the Kaiser’s pets, the Uhlans, coming along as lively as larks on a summer morning. We waited for them at the bend of the road, just close to the cemetery, and when we crashed into them I think they imagined we were ghosts. Very tough we were, to be sure, and a ghost that feels for your ribs with a lance at midnight is an ugly customer to deal with. Those chaps didn’t half howl with rage and fear when we went into them, and as soon as they could turn their horses they were off down the road like blue murder. We captured half of them, and cut up the rest: Sergt. Diamond, of the Lancers.

Blue with Lead

There is no doubt about the personal bravery of the Germans. I saw a file of them coming down a slight hillock, and twenty or so were hit and toppled down over each other, exactly the same as ninepins. The wonderful thing is that any of us came out of it alive. As I looked up from the trenches, the sky was blue with flying lead. After the fighting had gone on for five hours a bullet passed through the lobe of my left ear, and, after scarring the back of my neck, tore a piece off my coat collar, which was up at the time. The same bullet killed the man behind me. I felt myself growing faint, and gave my name and the name of my mother to my mate next to me, and then I seem to have fainted. When I recovered consciousness my mate was dead: A Sergeant of the South Lancashire Regiment.

Don’t Mind!