Told in gallant deeds

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

“Always cheerful, ever thoughtful for others, the best of companions with the kindest of hearts, Jack Noel endeared himself to all who knew him, and those who were privileged to be called his friends were bound to him by ties far stronger than those of common friendship.”

His death was a singularly heroic one, and in wonderful keeping with what we know of his life. A wounded corporal of his regiment, who was near him when he fell, says that “Lieutenant Noel, despite the fact that he was hit in or near his left eye by a shot that broke the half of his field-glasses, promptly picked up his glasses again, and, finding the right half of them still workable, continued to direct the fire of his platoon with his right eye, until a few minutes later he was killed by a shot in his left temple.”

Not the British only fought at Cambrai; deeds of unparalleled valour were done by the French, and also by France’s Arab troops, the Turcos. It was at Cambrai that the Turcos first saw fire. They were singled out, five hundred of them, to do a desperate piece of work on which the fate of thousands of men depended.

Straining as if at a leash, they waited for the order to advance. At last it came. They swung round and faced the foe. Onward they went, right up to the guns, and against what seemed to be an impregnable line of trenches.

Of the five hundred, only twelve survived; of the twelve, only one was unwounded. But the enemy’s guns were silenced, and the Germans had fled from their trenches. The men who fell were buried shoulder to shoulder as they fought.

The French peasant women, as we have seen, are wonderfully brave in the matter of going under fire. One of these showed herself possessed of a quieter type of courage, but courage nevertheless, during the retreat. Hear the tale as told by a British officer:

“After the Battle of Mons we were billeted at a large farmhouse, the occupants of which did not seem very pleased to see us. We had not touched any eatables for several hours, and I made the housewife understand that we wanted some food. She looked at us in a way which was not altogether an expression of friendliness, and, pointing at the table, round which a number of workingmen were gathered, to whom she was serving their meals, she said, ‘Après les ouvriers.’—‘After my work-people.’

“We waited patiently till the men had finished their meal, and then asked once more for food. But the woman merely remarked, ‘Après nous.’ ‘After us.’ And she and her husband subsequently prepared to eat their supper. It is rather trying to see somebody making an attack on a hearty meal while one has not tasted any food for a long time. So I demanded, in the name of the King, that we should be supplied with foodstuff immediately, the more so that the woman seemed so unwilling to grant our wishes. The only answer she made was that, if we were in want of food, we should have to look for it ourselves and try to prepare it.

“The situation was rather awkward, and I was wondering why these French peasantry were so extremely unkind towards British soldiers!

“Suddenly it entered my mind that perhaps she thought we were Germans! At the same time I had something like a happy thought in order to prove that we were not. One of our men, a tall, heavy chap, who was still outside the house, was ordered to substitute a German helmet for his own cap, and to knock at the door. He did, the door was opened, we dashed forward, and made ‘the German’ a prisoner.