“Boldly They Rode!”
Two drivers of the Royal Field Artillery brought a gun out of action with shells bursting around them. They had noticed that the gunners had been all killed, but calmly and heroically walked their horses down to the gun. One driver held the horses under a terrific fire, while the other limbered up, and the gun was brought safely back, neither men nor horses being hit. They had a miraculous escape. As we watched them from the trenches we thought it impossible for them to escape death: Corpl. Bignell, Royal Berks Regiment.
“Basted” Him!
A private of the South Staffords, named Murphy, performed a gallant deed. They were on outpost duty, and were being continually picked off by snipers. One night Murphy got a wound in the arm, and, in broad Irish, he vowed he would find the sniper. Despite the remonstrances of his officers he kept on hunting for him. Two nights later Murphy was missing from his post, but the sniping had stopped. Later on, search being made for him, he was found lying at the foot of a big tree, close beside the body of the sniper, who was pinned to the ground with Murphy’s bayonet. Murphy told the officer that when he located “the blighter” he was high up in the tree. Getting underneath he threatened to shoot, when the German dropped his rifle and scrambled down. “Then I gave him a good basting with my fists, and finished off by pinning him down”: Pte. J. Smith, 3rd Coldstream Guards.
Help the Others!
There was an English regiment out in front of us who had been getting it pretty hot all the morning, and, towards the evening, we saw a small party of their wounded coming in, among them a young subaltern, just a lad. His coat was off, and he stood bareheaded grasping his revolver in one hand. He had had the other arm blown clean away at the shoulder. Someone had dressed it temporarily for him, but he was anxious to find a doctor, and asked one of our officers where the nearest doctor was. Our officer told him where to find one, but added, “You’re not fit to go alone owing to the blood you’re losing. I shall get some of our men to help,” “Oh, I don’t require help,” he remarked, “and the poor devils have enough to do to carry themselves out of this hell.” With that he went away smiling. Help! He wouldn’t have it at any cost: Pte. A. Russell, 2nd Seaforth Highlanders.
Facing Death
Lieut. Pottinger did one of the pluckiest things that have been done in the war. He and his section were blowing up a bridge under fire. They laid the charge, and the section retired, Lieut. Pottinger and a sapper remaining behind to light the fuse. This they did, but apparently something went wrong with the detonator, and the charge did not explode. The sapper then fired ten rounds with his rifle at the charge without success. Lieut. Pottinger then said, “I’ll make the d—— thing go off,” shook hands with the sapper, and went to the bridge. There he put the muzzle of his revolver to the charge and fired all six cartridges. The charge still did not explode, and they had to leave the bridge still standing, as they were driven back by the Germans. If that charge had gone off the lieutenant would have disappeared, and he knew it as well as I do: A Royal Engineer.
“Scotland for Ever!”
The Scots Greys galloped forward with us hanging on to their stirrups, and it was a sight never to be forgotten. We were simply being dragged by the horses as they flew forward through a perfect cloud of bullets from the enemy’s Maxims. Saddles were being emptied quickly as we closed on the German lines, and tore past their Maxims, which were in the front ranks. We were on the German gunners before they knew where they were, and many of them went down in their gore, scarcely realizing that we were amongst them. Then the fray commenced in deadly earnest. The Black Watch and the Scots Greys went into it like men possessed. They fought like demons. It was our bayonets against the Germans’ swords. The German swords were no use against us. They went down in hundreds, and still the deadly work of the bayonet continued. The enemy began to waver as the carnage amongst them increased, and they soon broke and fled like rabbits: Pte. W. Morton, 1st Batt. Black Watch.