The 7th Northumberland Fusiliers suffered very heavily. We lost a great number of our men, our casualties for this afternoon’s work being about 470 killed and wounded. This added to our former casualties brought our total number of dead and wounded for the two and a half days up to about 620. We were fortunate, however, in the large number of only wounded in proportion to the number killed. Our officer casualties were: Second Lieutenant Kent killed, and Captains Archer (Adjutant), Wright, Welsh, and Lambton, and Lieutenants and Second Lieutenants J. Merivale, Frank Merivale, Herriott, Fenwicke-Clennell, and myself wounded. On the previous day we had lost, wounded, Captain Flint and Second Lieutenants Adams and Donkin.
The other battalions in the brigade all suffered heavily, and our Brigadier himself (Brigadier-General Riddell) was killed. On all this, we can only comment that it was the ‘fortune of war,’ and what does it matter who dies, if only England lives?
It is satisfactory to note that Lieutenant Bruce Ramsay, who was so instrumental in saving my life, has since been awarded the Military Cross for general good work, and also largely, I hear, for the devotion he showed in rescuing me. Sergeant Renwick was mentioned in despatches and recommended for the D.C.M., which, however, he was unfortunate to miss. Among other honours since awarded to members of the 7th, the D.S.O. of Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson and the C.M.G. of Major Mackay have been deservedly popular, as well as the M.C.s of Captains Ball and Vernon Merivale.
I have one comment to make, however, on all these operations. The shortage of artillery ammunition was most apparent, and we received hardly any support from our artillery. The enemy’s shells burst in hundreds all round and among us, and we could barely reply. The gunners were wringing their hands, and watching the infantry being mowed down—infantry whom they were supposed to protect. The great agitation sprang up soon after in the Press, and many prominent men, including the Bishop of Pretoria, wrote very strongly from the Front. Whatever the causes, the fact remains that a great disaster nearly occurred through lack of shells, and that it was only the almost superhuman courage of the British infantry which saved Ypres, and did almost alone what should have been their joint work with the gunners. It was a case of human flesh and courage against German steel and preparedness. It was not till the great efforts made in England to rectify this succeeded that the warfare on the Western Front began to be waged on terms of more equality.
On the arrival of the ambulance at Poperinghe I was, as I have already mentioned, placed inside the large church which adorns this town. It was packed with all sorts of wounded, including Indians. Belgian ladies kindly brought tea to the sufferers, and chaplains came and wrote out field postcards for the men. I was feeling fairly easy, and the tea much refreshed me. I heard a familiar voice near me, and it was Frankie Merivale, who had luckily received only a slight wound. I could not move round and so was unable to see him, but we conversed for a little. I directed some field postcards, the chaplain doing the writing of course.
I cannot tell how long I stayed there, but I may have slept a night there. At any rate I remember being suddenly taken out of the church in broad daylight, and then, to my horror, found German shells bursting everywhere. I was left alone in the open for some minutes, and a shell burst within a few yards of me and shook me uncomfortably. At last, however, I was put into an ambulance, and taken to Hazebrouck, a town a few miles on the French side of the frontier.
I spent a month in this town, in No. 10 Casualty Clearing Station. The weather was extremely hot, and the wards small and stuffy. At first I was very ill indeed, being in a critical condition, and receiving frequent injections. A visit from my father, however, greatly cheered me up, and everybody showered kindness on me. The Staff were terribly overworked, as the wounded and gassed cases were pouring in from the great battle, which was still raging, and the issue of which was so doubtful that we hardly knew if Hazebrouck would continue to be safe. I was much troubled by an incessant cough, and suffered a great deal of pain. Nevertheless I made progress, and must pay a high tribute to the kindness and devotion shown on all sides, by doctors, nurses, orderlies, and military chaplains. The orderlies were as gentle as angels and would sit for hours at my bedside. There was one lad of about seventeen, Private McIntyre, of Glasgow, who used to spend practically whole nights procuring me milk etc. General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien came and visited me, and greatly pleased and cheered me by saying how well we had all done. Colonel Rutherford, R.A.M.C., of our Division, and my cousin Major-General Stopford also came and saw me, and the latter was most kind in procuring me various things. The Senior Chaplain, Archdeacon Southwell, was most thoughtful, and a kinder man it would be hard to find. He would write letters for me, and when I got a bit better I much amused him by dictating a letter to Monsieur Albin in French. He richly deserves the C.M.G. which he has been awarded.
For a time I had a young Belgian R.A.M.C. officer as my companion, who had suffered from a concussion, apparently by a fall from his horse. He spoke hardly any English, and feeble as my voice was I had often to try to do the necessary interpreting on his behalf. He thought I was a French officer, and had to be assured that I was not! Parcels and letters from home were a source of delight to me.
After about a month I was able to be moved to No. 7 Stationary Hospital at Boulogne, where I remained till June 25. Again I became very ill, as blood-poisoning supervened and nearly ended my life. I had an operation to get the empyema out of my chest, and another one to draw the abscess which formed on my leg and which fortunately collected and threw off the septicæmia. I was one of the lucky 25 per cent. who recover from this terrible form of blood-poisoning. I was much cheered, however, by the presence of my father, who remained at the French port for about three weeks, and brought me much fruit, strawberries being my especial favourite.
Sister Dodds, who nursed me very devotedly, brought a splendid gramophone into my room, and my father used to manipulate this for me very efficiently. I was especially fond of ‘By the silvery, silvery sea,’ ‘Girls, girls everywhere,’ and ‘Let’s all go down the Strand.’ Music did me a great deal of good, and brought smiles back to my face, which for some weeks past had been more often twisted with pain. Private C. G. Brown, A.S.C., also visited me and brought me some lovely fresh eggs. As at Hazebrouck, so at Boulogne, I became impatient towards night-time for my injection, which had the most soothing effect, and, banishing for the moment pain and restlessness, allowed my brain to think calmly in peace.