A Hand-shake!
The officer said, “Baker, our time has come. Be brave, and die like a man. Good-bye.” He shook hands with me. I shall always remember the minutes that followed: A Mechanic of the English Flying Corps.
Unhurt!
I saw one of the Bays, a lance-corporal, run towards the enemy with a machine gun on his shoulders. He fired several rounds at them, and escaped without a scratch. He was promoted to the rank of sergeant for that: Pte. Fill, 5th Dragoon Guards.
What the Irish Did
I saw a handful of Irishmen throw themselves in front of a regiment of cavalry trying to cut off a battery of Horse Artillery. Not one of the poor lads got away alive, but they made the German devils pay in kind, and anyhow the artillery got away: Private A. McGillivray.
“A Regular Devil”
There was a man of the Buffs who carried a wounded chum for over a mile under German fire, but if you mentioned recommending that chap for the Cross he’d punch your head, and as he’s a regular devil the men of his regiment say as little as they can about it: A Driver of the Royal Field Artillery.
“Into ’Em, Lads!”
Your son and I had fought side by side, and he missed me. The noble lad came back through fires of hell and carried me to safety. He was wounded, but not dangerously. We are all proud of that boy; he is always in the thick of it. All over the line you could hear him: “Into ’em, lads; the sooner we get through, the sooner we’ll get home”: Gunner Batey, Royal Garrison Artillery.