Told in gallant deeds

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

It would be a great mistake to suppose that the enemy was content only to fight in the cockpit of Europe. The far-flung battle line reached at last from Belgium to Switzerland, something like three hundred miles, and all along there was constant fighting. The struggle swayed backwards and forwards—indeed, for weeks it seemed like a joust between two determined wrestlers, each of whom, if he gave way an inch one day, got back an inch the next.

Particularly violent was the struggle round and for Arras. This quaint town has been described as the most picturesque in Northern Europe. This was partly owing to the fact that it still retained great traces of the old Spanish occupation. One square in Arras looked as if it had been lifted bodily out of Spain. Like so many north of France and Belgian towns, it also had a singularly beautiful town hall and belfry. Alas! all this beauty, including the little Spanish square, was bombarded and destroyed. But, sad as was the fate of Arras, it was shared by many other historic towns.

All along the battle line deeds of valour, of daring, and of quiet, unostentatious heroism were daily performed. Many of our soldiers and airmen earned not only the Legion of Honour, but the Médaille Militaire, which is only awarded for deeds of exceptional daring performed on active service.

Private F. W. Dodson, of Meadowwell, North Shields, serving with the 2nd Coldstream Guards, was recommended for the V.C. for saving a wounded comrade under fire. When writing to his wife on their wedding anniversary an account of what had happened he said:

“You will know by the time you receive this that I have been recommended for the V.C., an honour I never thought would come my way. I only took my chance, and did my duty to save my comrade. It was really nothing, but I shall never forget the congratulations and praise I received from our officers, my comrades, and our Brigadier-General. I shall ever remember them.”

Mrs. Dodson must have been a proud woman when she read this modest, manly letter, as also when she received yet another letter from the wife of her husband’s commanding officer, Captain Follett. Lady Mildred Follett sent her the following extract from a letter received from her husband:

“A thick fog came down, so I sent a group of three men out 100 yards to our front to warn us of an attack from the enemy. After they had been there an hour, the fog suddenly lifted, and they were fired on at close range by the Germans. One man was killed, one was wounded badly, and one crawled back. I didn’t know how to get the wounded man back, so I had to call for a volunteer, and a reservist, Dodson, at once responded, and went out and fetched him. He was heavily fired at, but not hit. He is quite all right.”

It is comforting to know that the bravest, even the most reckless, men constantly have marvellous escapes. Take the case of Lieutenant A. C. Johnston, the Hampshire county cricketer. The day before he was wounded, the nose of a shell hit a wall six inches above his head. Shortly after that a bullet hit the ground half a yard in front of him, bounded up, and hit him on the body, bruising his ribs. Then a bullet hit him over the heart, but was “spent” before reaching him. Finally, while he was sitting on the steps of a house, half the building was blown up, and he was not even touched!

You will often hear contemptuous allusions to “amateurs” and their doings. But amateurs have proved, especially in this war, that they often are just as good as those who have been carefully trained to do a special job.

One of the finest “amateur” corps in this war was that of the British Volunteer Despatch-riders. Thanks to their work the generals commanding were able to keep in constant touch with one another, a matter of vital importance in warfare.