In The Firing Line 14

In The Firing Line 14

On our way to the bridge we met the regiment who had tried and failed,

bringing back its wounded and killed in scores. (I thought more

encouragement for the corps.) I was carrying my pal, the rifle, with my

right hand. Well, we got near the bridge and found out from our scouts

that there were 10,000 German troops on each side of the bridge and

we were 1,300 strong. (More encouragement.) So we lined a long hedge

about two yards apart so as to make a long line and harder for them to

hit. We lay here till daybreak just before 4 a.m., and we could hear

them talking all night about 300 yards away. We could see them quite

clearly by this time; so we started to fire and rolled them over by

dozens. It wasn’t long, though, before the bullets were whizzing past

my ears on each side, and I began to get my head lower and lower till

I think I should have buried it in the mud if it had got much lower.

Their superior numbers began to tell and we had to retire as fast as we

could. I couldn’t go fast enough with my pack on (it weighs 84 lbs.),

so I threw it away as did hundreds more, and I finished bridge-taking

with my old pal only (the rifle).

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 46.--From Lieutenant O. P. Edgcumbe, of 1st Battalion

D.C.L.I., to his father, Sir Robert Edgcumbe, Commandant at

Newquay:_

 

29th August, 1914.

 

For the last week or ten days we have been fighting hard and are now

for one day resting. Altogether, during five days and five nights, I

got six hours’ sleep, and so am rather weary. However, bullets and a

real enemy are a wonderful stimulant, and I feel as fit as anything. Do

all of you write as often as possible, and send me some newspapers. It

does not matter whether there is any news--the sight of a letter from

home is very cheering.

 

All our men are somewhat fatigued, but are very keen and full of fight.

My regiment has had a bad time, and I am dreadfully afraid that they

have been badly cut up, although I can as yet get no details. They

were caught in a village by Germans in the houses, who had managed

to get there by wearing our uniforms. Never again shall I respect

the Germans, or any of them I may meet. They have no code of honour,

and there have been several cases of their wearing French and British

uniforms, which is, of course, against the Geneva Convention.

 

The weather is good, for which we are thankful.

 

Everything is so peaceful now, and it is such a perfect day that were

it not for the continuous growl of the guns, which never cease, one

would hardly believe one was in the midst of a huge war.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 47.--From Private D. White:_

 

German airships we seldom see now, though we used to have them every

day over our heads. They are finding the French more than a match for

them, and they most likely prefer to rely on their ordinary spies, of

whom they have thousands. They are found often among the men engaged

for transport work, but they are such clumsy bunglers that they give

themselves away sooner or later. Some of us who haven’t the heart to

drown a cat never turn a hair when we see these scum shot, for they

richly deserve what they get and a soldier’s death is too good for them.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 48.--From Private Spain, of the 4th Guards Brigade (late

police-constable at Newry):_

 

We have had three engagements with the Germans since I arrived, and I

came out quite unhurt. The two first were fought on Sunday and Monday

following. You see I cannot give date or place. Secrecy is our motto

_re_ war and movement of troops for international purposes, etc. Our

third engagement was nearly fatal. We arrived at the town of ----,

very much fatigued, and fully intending to have a good rest. It was

a fine town, about as big as Newry, but more compact, with many fine

buildings. We were just about five minutes billeted in the various

houses, and just stretching our weary legs, when an officer came

running in, shouting “The Germans are upon us; outside everyone.” We

came out, magazine loaded, bayonets fixed, and eager to get a good

bayonet fight with them. It appears they do not like it. But we found

none. They had not yet arrived. It was 10 p.m. before they did so.

In the meantime the poor people were leaving the town in crowds, with

as much goods and chattels as they could carry away, and it was well

for them, too. It was a dark night when we formed up in the streets,

and the lamps but dimly burned. The noises of rifles and field guns

were terrific. We rushed to the heads of the various streets, where

our German foe would advance. Our Field Artillery and the Coldstream

Guards went out to delay their advance whilst we stripped off our coats

and commenced to tear up the square setts, gather carts--in fact,

everything that would build a barricade to keep back our numerous

German foe, and we did so under perfect showers of shrapnel shell that

struck and fell around us, and struck the houses about us, but we were

undaunted, and so succeeded. Firing ceased, and we advanced out towards

the Coldstream Guards’ position. They had given them a good fight, but

many of them lay for ever silent upon the ground. The Germans would not

advance upon us, so we retired.

 

* * * * *

 

 

_Letter 49.--From Corporal Sam Moorhouse, of the King’s Own Yorkshire

Light Infantry, to his wife at Birkby:_

 

Our company were reserves, and came under fire about noon. We were in

a ditch--as we thought safe--when “Ping! ping!” came the bullets, and

off we shot across the open, under a railway embankment. On the way we

passed four artillery horses shot dead with shrapnel. Then we took up

a position on a hillside, when round the corner, 700 yards away, came

a German maxim gun. They were busy getting it ready for firing on us,

and we were firing at them, when our artillery--which was only half a

mile away--sent two shots and blew up the gun and all the men. Then we

cleared off and marched till twelve midnight. Up again at two and off

for what was called a rest camp. Still wet clothes, and filthy; had no

boots off for days. Instead of “rest” camp we marched nearly thirty

miles, arriving at 8 p.m. Here I had a good meal of jam, cheese, and

bread--first bite of bread for days.

 

Next day we were up before daylight and taking up position. We dug

trenches, and were fired on before we had finished. We were at the

back--a sort of last firing line. So we lay down in the trench, and

waited. Shrapnel and lyddite were flying round us like hail, and our

gunners were firing too. Such a noise! Just like thunder! Well, we

stuck out as long as we could when we got the order to retire. However

I came safely away goodness knows.

 

I picked up my gun and ran up the hill and dropped on one side of the

road to rest. Then I had to get across the road, so got up and was

half-way across when a shell burst and knocked me flat on my face. It

must have fused at the wrong time, as I got only a cut on my thumb from

a fragment. Then I got across and dropped in a trench where a fellow

was lying dead. I stayed there only a minute, and then ran off over the

hill and safe. The bullets were flying in all directions and shells

were bursting four at a time. South Africa was nothing compared to this.

 

I had had no sleep for nights, so decided to go back to a little

village we had just passed, where I sat on a doorstep till I fell

asleep, and woke up one hour later wet through and chilled to the bone.

It was still dark when I got back to where I left our regiment, and

they were off. So I trekked away alone, and got on the wrong road.

 

About nine in the morning I came across some transport, and rode along

with stragglers of other regiments to a camp. There were about sixty

of us, and we went to a large camp, about 2,000 of us--all lost. There

I came across Guy Jessop of Huddersfield, who was also lost, and was

glad to meet a pal. We had a walk in the town together, and called

in a café. We had some coffee and rum (Guy paid, as I had no money).

I played the piano and sang “Mrs. Hullaby.” Lucky job they could not

understand English, or they would have been shocked.

 

* * * * *

 

[Illustration:

 

_Drawn by Christopher Clark. Copyright of The Sphere._

 

HOW THE ROYAL FIELD ARTILLERY FIGHT.]

 

_Letter 50.--From Private E. W. Dyas, of the 11th Hussars, to his

parents at Mountain Ash:_

 

We landed at Havre, and travelled up country. We were under fire for

about twenty minutes on the first day, and the shells were bursting

like rain all around us. We got away with only one horse killed. It

was marvellous. We are continually under fire by day and travelling

by night. It is awful to hear the artillery booming death night and

day. We were fighting day and night for three days. The slaughter was

terrible. I took a dispatch across the battlefield when the Germans

were retiring, and I passed their trenches. The dead were piled up in

the trenches about ten deep, and there were trenches seven miles long.

It was terrible to see. We are collecting the three cavalry brigades

together at the present moment for a massive charge. I am writing this

in the saddle. I may get through this again. One bullet penetrated my

horse’s neck and another one went through the saddle. I have had a

sword-thrust through my sleeve. So I am getting on well.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 51.--From Lieut. Oswald Anne, of the Royal Artillery, to his

father, Major Anne, of Burghwallis Hall:_

 

Dear Dad.--Just got yours of the 13th inst. Battling yesterday and

the day before. I had a pal killed in another battery--five bullets

in him. I have just seen the first Sausage-maker prisoner in hands of

some infantry. They had the greatest difficulty in stopping the French

populace from knifing him. The German shrapnel is very dangerous stuff,

having high explosive in it. It bursts backwards, and so nullifies our

frontal shield. No more time or news.