Theirs but to do and die!”
They responded, and rushed for about half a mile under the battering rain of shrapnel, going for two hundred yards without cover.
“Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Ran the Six Hundred!”
Shrapnel showered thick and hot in front of them, and on their right flanks the Bavarians poured bullets upon them from rifles and machine guns. In crossing the two hundred yards without “cover” they had one hundred casualties. But what did death or danger matter to the Worcesters? What have they ever cared for shots that have sped their brave souls to Heaven? They pressed on, up on the left of the splendidly stubborn Welsh, and opened fire with so much success that the foe was forced to retreat. The effect of their action was such that the position was entirely changed—the Germans fell back and the British line was reinstated. In Sir John French’s despatch it is written:—
“The recapture of the village of Gheluvelt at such a time was fraught with momentous consequences. If any one unit can be singled out for special praise it is the Worcesters.”
Quite recently, a British General, whose name, for some occult reason or other, was withheld from the public by the newspaper reporter, gave an enthusiastic account of the fine deeds of the Worcestershire Regiment on the Somme.
“The Worcesters have a wonderful record,” he said. “They have seen some of the hardest fighting of this war, and they have won new honours for a fine regiment, which already boasts some of the most glorious records on our military history.”