Told in gallant deeds

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

The following little story illustrates the same beautiful qualities of mercy and of kindness, but this time the hero of it is a soldier.

An artilleryman’s battery, after hours of hard work, was at last ordered to retire. As it sullenly retreated, he saw a baby girl toddle from the doorway of one of the houses of the village right into the path of the battery. Amid a rain of shell and shrapnel, this brave fellow went to the baby’s rescue, while his comrades gave him up for lost. As he reached the child a shrapnel shell burst overhead, and, throwing himself down, the man shielded the child’s body with his own. One bullet passed through his back, injuring him so badly that he could not regain his feet. But two of his comrades immediately went to his assistance, and carried him, with his little protégée, to the battery, whence they were removed to hospital.

It has been said that every country has the Jews it deserves. Now Jews have never been quite fairly treated by the Russian Government. But during this war they have shown themselves to be true patriots and brave soldiers, and so we may hope that they will be treated as well as they deserve to be in future.

Very early in the campaign a Jewish soldier, named Pernikow, won the St. George’s Cross for valour. He was charged with the delivery of important secret despatches, and, though very seriously wounded on the way, he struggled on to his journey’s end, and fulfilled his mission.

We must not forget another of our Allies, the country which Russia regards as her small sister—I mean Serbia.

This gallant little country was the greatest help to the Allies, and especially to Russia. She had by no means recovered from the terrible Balkan wars of 1912 and 1913, when Austria fell upon her. But little Serbia not only drove away the enemy, but herself invaded Austrian territory. Thus she engaged and defeated large Austrian forces which would otherwise have been thrown against Russia.

Here is the story of a young Serbian officer who at one time was well known in London and in Paris, for his father is a diplomatist.

Lieutenant Voislav Grashanin was not only a keen soldier, beloved and honoured by his men, but he was also a very clever and many-sided man. A comrade thus described his gallant death:

“It fell to our detachment to lead the attack on Iverak and Golo Tchuk. Grashanin was first in the charge, and after a fierce tussle he reached the height of Golo Tchuk and ranged his men quickly in firing order once more. I saw him passing among the lines, and heard him say: ‘Now, brothers, show how straight you can aim! There is glory in store for us here if we know how to take it. Who cares for life? We’ve all got to die some day!’ Shortly afterwards the enemy began to fall back, and Grashanin called: ‘What did I tell you? See! A battery is offered us. A battery of our own. Forward, and seize their guns!’

“Just then he was shot in the right hand. He bound up the wound where he stood, and lifted the other hand to give the signal, when that hand, too, was struck by a bullet. This time the wound was graver, his fingers being severed. We bound it up for him as well as we could, for he refused to go to the rear. He had taken off his coat for the hasty operation, and now the bandages were so clumsy that he could not pass his arm through the sleeve. We hung it by one button round his neck, and he went on giving orders as before.