Succouring the Wounded
Three of my comrades were sent out on patrol, when they were fired on by the Germans. One got back to the trenches, though I was told two had returned. One I saw was wounded, and I volunteered to save him. I went out and was heavily fired at, but I made up my mind to get him—and you know I very seldom change that. Well, I persevered and got to one who was past human aid. I had missed the wounded one, who was lying nearer the trenches. I came back to the trench and reported the one dead. I then went out again to the wounded man and, with the help of Corporal Brown, brought him safely back: Pte. Dobson, Coldstream Guards.
Up the Hill
My regiment was acting advance guard, and my company was well in advance, when we came to a hill covered with thick brushwood. Some French cavalry were sent out to do a bit of scouting. They came back and reported the hill clear. Well, we continued our march along the road, but, just as we came under the hill, the Germans opened a terrible fire on us. The hill was entrenched from top to bottom, but the trenches were well hidden in the brush. The first line was only about ninety yards from us, and the first volley bowled over a lot of my company. There were also two companies of the Camerons attached to us. There was nothing for it but the bayonet, and before you could say “Jack Robinson” we were in their first line of trenches. They ran like rabbits. Then we got reinforced by the remainder of the regiment, and the hill was taken: A Private of the Black Watch.
Harry Lauder’s Songs
I want to let the public know how the Black Watch went through it. Well, it was a terrible bit of work, but our fellows stuck to their ground like men—the men of the bulldog breed the kiddies sing about at school. The Germans were as thick as the “Hielan” heather, and by sheer weight forced us back step by step. But we had our orders, and every man stuck to them, and until the order came not a livin’ man flinched. We stuck there popping off the Germans as fast as we could, and all around us the German shells were bursting. And in the thick of it all we were singing Harry Lauder’s latest. Aye, laddie, it was grand; all around us were the dead and dying, and every now and then the German shells would burst, and as we peppered away at ’em we sang about “Roamin’ in the gloamin’” and “The Lass of Killiecrankie”: A Corporal of the Black Watch.
Didn’t Know Defeat
After the firing had lasted for two and a half hours the order to retire was given and we retired through a wood. Then General Davis came along and said, “Turn about, men—you must save the guns at all costs.” There were only about fifty of us. We made a series of short rushes under a heavy shrapnel fire until we were up to the guns. The Germans were not more than eight hundred yards away, but we were getting very few burst shells, while we could see the Germans going down in scores. Every shot of ours told, as it was impossible to miss the enemy, who had formed from six to ten deep. We could see our artillery shells simply mowing the Germans down. Still they came on. Presently the order rang out to abandon the guns, but gallant young Lieut. Hibbert said, “No, boys; we will never let a German take a British gun!” Then our chaps raised a cheer, and resumed rapid firing. Presently we were reinforced by the South Staffords. The guns’ crews stuck to their task most heroically, and, amid cheering, we rescued the whole of them: Sergt. Meads, Royal Berks.
Duty and—Death
We occupied an exposed position on the left of the Aisne, and one night we only escaped being wiped out by mere chance, combined with as fine a deed of heroism as I have ever heard of. There was a man of the Manchester Regiment who was lying close to the German lines terribly wounded. He happened to overhear some conversation between German soldiers, and, being familiar with the language, he gathered that they intended to attack the position we held that night. In spite of his wounds he decided to set out to warn us of the danger, and he set out on the weary tramp of over five miles. He was under fire from the moment he got to his feet, but he stumbled along in spite of that, and soon got out of range. Later he ran into a patrol of Uhlans, but before they saw him he dropped to earth and shammed being dead. They passed by without a sign, and then he resumed his weary journey. By this time the strain had told on him and his wound began to bleed, marking his path towards our lines with thin red streaks. In the early morning, just half an hour before the time fixed for the German attack, he staggered into one of our advanced posts, and managed to tell his story to the officer in charge before collapsing in a heap. Thanks to the information he gave, we were ready for the Germans when they came, and beat them off; but his anxiety to warn us had cost him his life. The doctors said that the strain had been too much for him, and next day he died: A Corporal of the Northumberland Fusiliers.