In The Firing Line 16

In The Firing Line 16

Letter 60.--From Corporal T. Trainor:_

 

Have you ever seen a little man fighting a great, big, hulking giant

who keeps on forcing the little chap about the place until the giant

tires himself out, and then the little one, who has kept his wind,

knocks him over? That’s how the fighting round here strikes me. We are

dancing about round the big German army, but our turn will come.

 

Last Sunday we had prayers with shells bursting all around us, but the

service was finished before it was necessary for us to grapple with the

enemy. The only thing objectionable I have seen is the robbing of our

dead and wounded by German ghouls. In such cases no quarter is given,

and, indeed, is never expected.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 61.--From an Artilleryman, to his wife at Sheerness:_

 

I am the only one left out of my battery; we were blown to pieces by

the enemy on Wednesday at Le Cateau. We have been out here twenty-eight

days all told, and have been through the five engagements. I have

nothing; only the jacket I stand up in--no boots or putties, as I was

left for dead. But my horse was shot, and not me. He laid down on me.

They had to cut my boots, etc., off to get me from under my horse.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 62.--From Lance-Corporal J. Preston, of the 2nd Battalion

Inniskilling Fusiliers, to his wife at Banbridge:_

 

I did not get hit at Mons. I got through it all right. We encountered

the Germans on Sunday at Mons, and fought on till Monday night. It

was on the retreat from Mons that I was caught. They had about one

hundred guns playing on us all the time we were retiring. We had a

battery of artillery with us. They were all blown to pieces, men and

guns and all. It was a most sorrowful sight to see the guns wiped out,

and the gunners and men lying around them. The whole plain was strewn

with dead and wounded. I hope my eyes will never look on anything so

horrid again. Our section brought in six prisoners, all wounded, and

they told us we had slain hundreds of them. We captured a German spy;

he was dressed in a Scotsman’s uniform, and was knocking around our

camp, but we were a bit too quick for him. I think the hardest battles

are fought; the German cannot stand it much longer, his food supply is

getting done.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 63.--From a Corporal in the Motor Cycle Section of the Royal

Engineers:_

 

Last night the enemy made an attempt to get through to our base in

armed motors. Myself and two other motor-cyclists were sent out to look

for them. It was a pitch-black night, with a thick fog. One of our men

got in touch with them, and was pursued. He made for a bridge which had

been mined by the engineers, and that was the end of the Germans....

The German artillery is rotten. Last Saturday three batteries bombarded

an entrenched British battalion for two hours, and only seven men were

killed. The noise was simply deafening, but so little effect had the

fire that the men shouted with laughter, and held their caps up on the

end of their rifles to give the German gunners a bit of encouragement.

 

This is really the best summer holiday I have had for a long time.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 64.--From Corporal J. Bailey:_

 

It’s very jolly in camp in spite of all the drawbacks of active

service, and we have lively times when the Germans aren’t hanging

around to pay their respects. It’s a fine sight to see us on the march,

swinging along the roads as happy as schoolboys, and singing all the

old songs we can think of. The tunes are sometimes a bit out, but

nobody minds so long as we’re happy. As we pass through the villages

the French come out to cheer us and bring us food and fruit. Cigarettes

we get more of than we know what to do with. Some of them are rotten,

so we save them for the German prisoners, who would smoke anything

they can lay their hands on. Flowers also we get plenty of, and we are

having the time of our lives.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 65.--From a Sergeant in the Royal Field Artillery:_

 

If the French people were mad about us before we were on trial, they

are absolutely crazy over us now when we have sort of justified our

existence. In the towns we pass through we are received with so much

demonstration that I fancy the French soldiers must be jealous. The

people don’t seem to have eyes for anybody but us, and they do all they

can to make us comfortable. They give us the best they can lay hold of,

but that’s not much after the Germans have been around collaring all

they could. It’s the spirit that means so much to us, and even though

it was only an odd cup of water they brought us we would be grateful.

Most of us are glad to feel that we are fighting for a nation worth

fighting for, and after our experience there can be no question of

trouble between us and France in the future.

 

We lost terribly in the retreat from Mons, of which you have heard by

now, but artillery always stands to lose in retreats, because we play

such a big part in getting the other men away and we quite made up our

minds that we would have to pay forfeit then. Without boasting, I can

say that it was the way the guns were handled that made it so easy

for our lads to get out of the German trap. There was once or twice

when it looked as though it were all up with us, and some of our chaps

were fair down in the mouth over it; but I think now they didn’t make

sufficient allowance for the steadiness of all arms of our service;

and, between ourselves, I think they had got the usual notions about

the splendid soldiering qualities of the German army. They know better

now, and though it’s bad to get chesty about that sort of thing, we are

all pretty confident that with a sporting chance we stand to win all

the time.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 66.--From Private J. Toal:_

 

It’s tired we all were when we got through that week of fighting and

marching from Mons; but after we’d had a taste of rest for a day or

two, by the saints, we were ready for the ugly Germans again, and we’ve

been busy ever since drilling holes in them big enough to let out the

bad that’s in them. You wouldn’t believe the way they have burned and

destroyed the holy churches everywhere they went, and there’s many an

Irish lad betwixt here and the frontier has registered a vow that he

will not rest content till he’s paid off that score against the men who

would lay hands on God’s altars.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 67.--From Private W. Green:_

 

We see more Germans than you could count in the day, but they are now

very funky about it, and they will never wait for a personal interview

with one of our men, especially if he has a lance or a bayonet handy,

and naturally you don’t go out German-hunting without something of

the kind with you, if only just for luck. When they must face us they

usually get stuck away somewhere where they are protected by more guns

than you ever set eyes on, and likewise crowds of machine guns of the

Maxim pattern, mounted on motors. These are not now so troublesome, for

they are easy to spot out in the open, and our marksmen quickly pick

off the men serving them, so the Germans are getting a bit shy about

displaying them. Something we heard the other day has put new life into

us; not that we were downhearted before, but what I mean shows that we

are going to have all we wished for very soon, and though we can’t tell

you more you may be sure that we are going on well.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 68.--From Private G. A. Turner, to his father, Mr. J. W.

Turner, of Leeds_ (_Published in the “Leeds Mercury”_):

 

I am still living, though a bit knocked about. I got a birthday present

from the Kaiser. I was wounded on the 23rd. So it was a near thing, was

it not? I got your letter at a place called Moroilles, in France, about

five miles from Landrecies, where our troops have retired.

 

On Sunday, 23rd, we had rifle inspection at 11 a.m., and were ordered

to fall in for bathing parade at 11.30. While we were waiting for

another company to return from the river the Germans commenced to shell

the town. We fell in about 1.0 p.m., an hour and a half afterwards, to

go to the scene of the attack. Shells were bursting in the streets as

we went. We crossed a bridge over the canal under artillery fire, and

stood doing nothing behind a mill on the bank for some time.

 

Then someone cried out that the Germans were advancing along the canal

bank, and our company were ordered to go along. We thought we were

going to check the Germans, but we found out afterwards that a company

of our own regiment were in position further along on the opposite side

of the canal, and we were being sent out to reinforce them.

 

There was no means of crossing the canal at that point, so it was an

impossibility. As soon as we started to move we were spotted by the

Germans, who opened fire with their guns at about five hundred yards

with shrapnel, and the scene that followed beggars description. Several

of us were laid full length behind a wooden fence about half an inch

thick. The German shells burst about three yards in front of it. It was

blown to splinters in about ten minutes. None of us expected to get out

alive.

 

They kept us there about an hour before they gave us the word to

retire. I had just turned round to go back when I stopped one. It hits

you with an awful thump, and I thought it had caught me at the bottom

of the spine, as it numbed my legs for about half an hour.

 

When I found I could not walk I gave it up. Just after, I got my first

view of the Germans. They were coming out of a wood about 400 yards

away all in a heap together, so I thought as I was done for I would get

a bit of my own back, and I started pumping a bit of lead into them.

 

I stuck there for about three-quarters of an hour, and fired all my own

ammunition and a lot belonging to two more wounded men who were close

to me--about 300 rounds altogether, and as it was such a good target I

guess I accounted for a good lot of them.

 

Then I suddenly discovered I could walk, and so I set off to get back.

I had to walk about 150 yards in the open, with shrapnel bursting

around me all the way, but somehow or other I got back without catching

another. It was more than I expected, I can assure you, and I laughed

when I got in the shelter of the mill again.