In The Firing Line 17

In The Firing Line 17

I was very sorry to have to leave the other chaps who were wounded, but

as I could only just limp along I could not help them in any way. They

were brought in later by stretcher bearers.

 

A man who was at Paardeburg and Magersfontein, in South Africa, said

they were nothing to what we got that Sunday. Out of 240 men of my

company only about twenty were uninjured.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 69.--From an Infantryman in hospital_ (_Published in the

“Aldershot News”_):

 

I found myself mixed up with a French regiment on the right. I wanted

to go forward with them, but the officer in charge shook his head

and smiled, “They will spot you in your khaki and put you out in no

time,” he said in English; “make your way to the left; you’ll find your

fellows on that hill.” I watched the regiment till it disappeared; then

I made my way across a field and up a big avenue of trees. The shells

were whistling overhead, but there was nothing to be afraid of. Halfway

up the avenue there was a German lancer officer lying dead by the side

of the road. How he got there was a mystery, because we had seen no

cavalry. But there he lay, and someone had crossed his hands on his

breast, and put a little celluloid crucifix in his hands. Over his face

was a beautiful little handkerchief--a lady’s--with lace edging. It was

a bit of a mystery, because there wasn’t a lady for miles that I knew

of.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 70.--From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E., to his mother at

Uckfield:_

 

We met the Germans at Landrecies on Sunday. We had a fifteen-hour

battle. It was terrible. There were 120,000 Germans and only 20,000 of

us, but our men fought well. We blew up six bridges. Laid our charges

in the afternoon, and the whole time we were doing it were not hit.

After we had got everything ready we got back into cover and waited

until 1.30 on Monday morning, until our troops had got back over the

river, and then we blew up the bridges. We retired about thirty miles.

The town where we stopped on Sunday was a beautiful place, but the

Germans destroyed it. Close to where I was a church had been used as a

hospital, and our wounded were coming by the dozens. But, terrible to

say, the Germans blew the place up. They have no pity. They kill our

wounded and drive the people before them.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 71.--From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E._ (_Second letter,

published in the “Sussex Daily News”_):

 

We were laying our gun cotton--ten of us were the last to leave, and

the Germans stopped us. We had to run for it down the main street of

the town of Landrecies, and, being dark, we could not see where we

were going. We got caught in some telegraph wires which had been put

across the street. We had to cut them away with our bayonets. On Monday

morning, when things were quieter, we went nearly into the German

lines. We could hear them giving orders. Our job was to put barbed wire

across the road. I was thankful to get out of it. We could see the

Germans burning their dead. They must have lost a few thousand men, as

our troops simply mowed them down.

 

I saw one sergeant kill fourteen Germans, one after the other. They

came up in fifties, all in a cluster, and you couldn’t help hitting

them. They were only 400 yards from us all day on Sunday. They are very

cruel. Our people used a church for a hospital, and it was filled with

our wounded, but the place was shelled and knocked down. They stabbed

a good many of our men while lying on the battlefield. They have no

respect for the Red Cross. To see women and children driven from home

and walking the roads is terrible--old men and women just the same.

At the town where we were we got cut off from our people--eighteen of

us--and the houses were being toppled over by the German artillery.

The people clung around us, asking us to stay with them, but it was no

good. When we left, the town was in flames. But our men did fight well.

You never saw anything so cool in your life. Anyone would have thought

it was a football match, for they were joking and laughing with one

another.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 72.--From John Baker, of the Royal Flying Corps, to his

parents at Boston, Lincolnshire:_

 

While flying over Boulogne at a height of 3,000 feet, something went

wrong with the machine, and the engine stopped. The officer said,

“Baker, our time has come. Be brave, and die like a man. Good-bye,”

and shook hands with me. I shall always remember the ten minutes

that followed. The next I remembered was that I was in a barn. I was

removed to Boulogne, and afterwards to Netheravon, being conveyed from

Southampton by motor ambulance.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 73.--From Private G. Rider:_

 

The Germans are good and bad as fighters, but mostly bad so far as I

have seen. They are nearly all long distance champions in the fighting

line, and won’t come too near unless they are made to. Yesterday we had

a whole day of it in the trenches, with the Germans firing away at us

all the time. It began just after breakfast, and we were without food

of any kind until we had what you might call a dainty afternoon tea

in the trenches under shell fire. The mugs were passed round with the

biscuits and the “bully” as best they could by the mess orderlies, but

it was hard work getting through without getting more than we wanted

of lead rations. My next-door neighbour, so to speak, got a shrapnel

bullet in his tin mug, and another two doors off had his biscuit shot

out of his hand when he was fool enough to hold it up to show it to a

chum in the next trench.

 

We are ready for anything that comes our way, and nothing would

please us better than a good big stand-up fight with the Germans on

any ground they please. We are all getting used to the hard work of

active service, and you very seldom hear complaints from anybody. The

grousers, who are to be found in nearly every regiment, seem to be on

holiday for the war.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 74.--From Private Martin O’Keefe, of the Royal Irish Rifles,

to his friends at Belfast:_

 

Our part in the fighting was limited almost entirely to covering the

retreat by a steady rifle fire from hastily-prepared trenches. We were

thrown out along an extended front, and instructed to hold our ground

until the retiring troops were signalled safe in the next position

allotted them. When this was done our turn came, and we retired to a

new position, our place being taken by the light cavalry, who kept

the Germans in check as long as they could and then fell back in

their turn. The Germans made some rather tricky moves in the hope of

cutting us off while we were on this dangerous duty, but our flanks

were protected by cavalry, French and English, and they did not get

very far without having to fight. When they found the slightest show of

resistance they retreated, and tried to find an easier way of getting

in at us. The staff were well pleased with the way we carried out the

duty given to us, and we were told that it had saved our Army from

very serious loss at one critical point. We put in some wonderfully

effective shooting in the trenches, and the men find it is much easier

making good hits on active service than at manœuvres. The Germans

seemed to think at first that we were as poor shots as they are, and

they were awfully sick when they had to face our deadly fire for the

first time.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 75.--From Sergeant W. Holmes:_

 

We are off again, this time with some of the French, and it’s enough

to give you fits to hear the Frenchmen trying to pick up the words of

“Cheer Boys, Cheer,” which we sing with great go on the march. They

haven’t any notion of what the words mean, but they can tell from

our manner that they mean we’re in good heart, and that’s infectious

here. We lost our colonel and four other officers in our fight on

Tuesday. It was the hottest thing we were ever in. The colonel was

struck down when he was giving us the last word of advice before we

threw ourselves on the enemy. We avenged him in fine style. His loss

was a great blow to us, for he was very popular. It’s always the best

officers, somehow, that get hit the first, and there’s not a man in

the regiment who wouldn’t have given his life for him. He was keen on

discipline, but soldiers don’t think any less of officers who are that.

The German officers are a rum lot. They don’t seem in too great a hurry

to expose their precious carcasses, and so they “lead” from the rear

all the time. We see to it that they don’t benefit much by that, you

may be sure, and when it’s at all possible we shoot at the skulking

officers. That probably accounts for the high death rate among German

officers. They seem terribly keen on pushing their men forward into

posts of danger, but they are not so keen in leading the way, except

in retreat, when they are well to the fore. Our cavalry are up to that

little dodge, and so, when they are riding out to intercept retreating

Germans, they always give special attention to the officers.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 76.--From Corporal J. Hammersley:_

 

The Germans in front of us are about done for, and that’s the truth of

it. They have got about as much fighting as humans can stand, and it is

about time they realised it. I don’t agree with those who think this

war is going to last for a long time. The pace we go at on both sides

is too hot, and flesh and blood won’t stand it for long. My impression

is that there will be a sudden collapse of the Germans that will

astonish everybody at home; but we are not leaving much to chance, and

we do all we can to hasten the collapse. The Germans aren’t really cut

out for this sort of work. They are proper bullies, who get on finely

when everybody’s lying bleeding at their feet, but they can’t manage at

all when they have to stand up to men who can give them more than they

bargain for.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 77.--From Lance-Corporal T. Williams:_

 

We are now getting into our stride and beginning to get a little of our

own back out of the Germans. They don’t like it at all now that we are

nearer to them in numbers, and their men all look like so many “Weary

Willies”; they are so tired. You might say they have got “that tired

feeling” bad, and so they have. Some of them just drop into our arms

when we call on them to surrender as though it were the thing they’d

been waiting for all their lives.

 

One chap who knows a little English told us he was never more pleased

to see the English uniform in all his life before, for he was about fed

up with marching and fighting in the inhuman way the German officers

expect their men to go on. When we took him to camp he lay down and

slept like a log for hours; he was so done up.

 

That’s typical of the Germans now, and it looks as though the Kaiser

were going to have to pay a big price for taxing his men so terribly.

You can’t help being sorry for the poor fellows. They all say they were

told when setting out that it would be child’s play beating us, as our

army was the poorest stuff in the world. Those who had had experience

in England didn’t take that in altogether, but the country yokels and

those who had never been outside their own towns believed it until they

had a taste of our fighting quality, and then they laughed with the other side of their faces.

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.

In The Firing Line 15

In The Firing Line 15

August 29th.

 

The boom of French guns is now in full swing, and we are standing easy

for the moment. Did you get my other letter three days back? Just after

I had finished it, we had the alarm, which proved false, but that night

Germans marched into the town, thinking we had left it. So they say! A

gruff German voice answered a challenge, and 15 rounds rapid fire from

rifles and maxims behind the main road barricade, laid out every man.

Eight hundred were picked up next morning in this one street.

 

An R.E. told me on the canal bridge a maxim fired 9,000 rounds and laid

out another 1,000. The first Germans arriving in one end of this town

were in French uniforms. Luckily, those in the rear were seen and fired

on, stampeding the ammunition mules, scattering the “Sausages,” who

were almost laid out in a few rounds of fire. Lots of “espions” here,

male and female. I have hardly seen a German, except prisoners. Poor

Soames, of the 20th Hussars, was sparrowed first fight. W. Silvertop

(20th Hussars) is hard at it “biffing” Sausages, and a N.C.O.,

yesterday, who had lost the Regiment, told me 48 hours ago he was well.

 

“Cigs.” all arrived, and saved my life, also load of chocolate.

Screaming women rush everywhere during conflicts howling “Trahie,”

“Perdue,” “Sauve qui peut.” One of “D” battery, R.H.A., N.C.O., told

us they had mowed “Sausage-makers” down for ten minutes in one action

as hard as they could load and still they came in masses, till at last

the shrieking men ran all ways, not knowing where, leaving heaps of

semi-moving remnants on the ground.

 

Our crowd, having so far escaped untouched, are very lucky. Several

Brigades have had the devil’s own hail of shot over them. Please send

me some newspapers sometimes, as we have not seen one since I left, bar

some old French _Petit Parisiens_.

 

The Scots Greys from York and the 12th Lancers did great work yesterday

on hostile cavalry, and about wiped out those opposed to them. The

“Guardies” are in great form. Very little sleep nowadays, up at dawn

almost always, very often before that hour.

 

A German regiment, dressed in English uniforms, the other day billetted

with an English regiment (at the other end of the town), and when

the latter marched out they were about broken up by maxim fire from

the bedroom windows. A German force arrived elsewhere, the Berkshire

regiment were on guard, and the former, in French uniforms, called out

from the wire entanglements that they waited to interview the C.O. A

major went forward who spoke French, and was shot down immediately.

This sort of thing is of daily occurrence, and only makes matters worse

for the “Sausage-makers” when our infantry get into them.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 52.--From a reservist in the Royal Field Artillery (Published

in the “Glasgow Herald”):_

 

I got a nasty hit with a shell on the thick of the leg. The Germans

caught us napping on Wednesday, and what slaughter! It was horrible to

witness. The Germans came along the village, killing the poor women and

children and burning all the houses. Our division could not hold out.

We were expecting the French troops to meet us, but they were two days

late. Our battery had a lucky escape of being cut up. We entrenched our

guns to come into action next day, but somehow or other we cleared

out, and had only gone ten minutes before the place was blown up.

 

The officer in charge of my section had his head blown off. I was

carried off under heavy fire on a fellow’s back, and it is to him I

owe my life. It was a long way to hospital, shells bursting all round

us. We dropped behind some corn stacks, then on we went again. I had

no sooner got bandaged up when a chap came galloping up and said the

Germans were in sight. I was the second last man to leave the hospital,

and ten minutes later it was blown up. You cannot imagine what things

were like. The women and children of England can think themselves

lucky, for the poor women here had to walk from village to village,

young children in their arms. It touched my heart to see the sight.

The Germans did not use rifles, but big guns, against our infantry’s

rifles. They are most brutal, killing all wounded in a most horrible

fashion.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 53.--Front Trooper S. Cargill:_

 

The Germans let all hell loose on us in their mad attempt to crush us

and so win their way to Paris. They didn’t succeed, and they won’t

succeed. I saw one ghastly affair. A German cavalry division was

pursuing our retiring infantry when we were let loose on them. When

they saw us coming they turned and fled, at least all but one, who came

rushing at us with his lance at the charge. I caught hold of his horse,

which was half mad with terror, and my chum was going to run the rider

through when he noticed the awful glaze in his eyes and we saw that the

poor devil was dead.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 54.--Front an Irish soldier, to his sister in County Cork:_

 

I am writing this on a leaf out of a field service pocket-book, as

notepaper and envelopes are very scarce, and we are not allowed to

send picture postcards of places as they give away where we are. Well,

this is a lovely country. The climate suits me very well. Everything

grows like mad here. It is rather like Ireland, only ten times as

rich. All that I have seen yet--and that is a good lot--is far and away

better than the best part of the county Limerick. I think it would be a

pleasure to farm here.

 

At the present time I am billeted in a farmhouse. I sleep in their

best bed-room--that is when I can go to bed at all--and they give me

home-made cider, cognac, and coffee, apples, plums, etc., and lovely

home-made cheese for nothing, though they need not supply any food, as

the rations are served out by the regiment every day.

 

’Tis great fun trying to talk French to them and I am picking it up

gradually. It is wonderful how words and sentences that I learned at

school come back to me now, and I can generally make myself understood

all right. It is an awful pity to see this beautiful country spoiled

by war, and it is no wonder the people are so eager to fight for it. I

don’t think there is a single house that has not sent out one or more

men to fight with the French Army, and their mothers, sisters, wives,

etc., are very proud of it. There are two gone out of this house.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 55.--From Private Carwardine, to the father of a

comrade-in-arms:_

 

I am very sorry, but I don’t know for sure about your Joe. You see,

although he was in the same company as me, he was not in the same

section. I only wish he had been. The last I saw of him was when we

were in the firing line making trenches for ourselves. He was about 600

yards behind us, smoking, and I waved to him. Then all of a sudden we

had to get down in our trenches, for bullets started coming over our

heads, and shells dropped around us.

 

We were fighting twelve hours when I got one in the back from a shell.

After that I knew no more until I found myself in hospital, and I asked

one of our chaps how our company went on, and he told me there were

only seventeen of us left out of 210. I hope Joe is among them. You

will get to know in the papers in a bit when they call the roll.

 

So cheer up and don’t be downhearted, for if Joe is killed he has died

a soldier of honour on the field. Excuse writing, as I am a bit shaky,

and I hope to God Joe is safe, for both your sakes.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 56.--From Private G. Dunton, of the Royal Engineers, to his

family at Coventry:_

 

I am in hospital, having been sent home from France, wounded in my

left hand. I have got one shrapnel bullet right through my hand, and

another through my middle finger against the top joint. I was wounded

at Cambrai last Wednesday. I have been in four hospitals in France, but

had to be removed on account of the Germans firing on the hospitals. I

do not think much of them, for if it was not for their artillery they

would be wiped out in quick time. No doubt our losses are great, but

theirs are far more. The famous cavalry of theirs, the Uhlans, are

getting cut up terribly. All that have been captured have said that

they are short of food. I must say we have had plenty to eat. I was

near Mons a week last Saturday and we were attacked the same day. We

have been on the retire ever since last Wednesday, when I got wounded,

but we shall soon be advancing, for they will never reach Paris. I

am very pleased to see that the Germans are being forced back by the

Russians. I hope they will serve Berlin the same as the Germans have

done to Belgium. The 9th Brigade was cut up badly; in fact, my Division

was, but more are wounded than killed. There are 1,000 wounded in this

hospital alone, without other hospitals. I must say that I am in good

health. My hand is giving me pain, but I do not mind that. I only had

four days’ fighting, but it was hard work while it lasted. The Germans,

although four to one, could not break through our lines, and they must

have lost thousands, as our artillery and infantry mowed them down like

sheep. Their rifle fire took no effect at all. All our wounds were done

by shrapnel. My hand is not healing at all, but I must be patient and

give it time. The French and Belgian people were very kind to us and

gave us anything we wanted.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 57.--From a Manchester soldier, in a French hospital:_

 

There was a young French girl helping to bandage us up. How she

stood it I don’t know. There were some awful sights, but she never

quailed--just a sweet, sad smile for everyone. If ever anyone deserved

a front seat in Heaven, this young angel does. God bless her. She has

the prayers and the love of the remnants of our division. All the

French people are wonderfully generous. They gave us anything and

everything. You simply cannot help loving them, especially the children.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 58.--From Private A. McGillivray, a Highlander, to his

mother:_

 

Of my company only 10 were unhit. I saw a handful of Irishmen throw

themselves in front of a regiment of cavalry who were trying to cut off

a battery of horse artillery. It was one of the finest deeds I ever

saw. Not one of the poor lads got away alive, but they made the German

devils pay in kind, and, anyhow, the artillery got away to account for

many more Germans. Every man of us made a vow to avenge the fallen

Irishmen, and if the German cavalrymen concerned were made the targets

of every British rifleman and gunner they had themselves to thank.

Later they were fully avenged by their own comrades, who lay in wait

for the German cavalrymen. The Irish lads went at them with the bayonet

when they least expected it, and the Germans were a sorry sight. Some

of them howled for mercy, but I don’t think they got it. In war mercy

is only for the merciful.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 59.--From Private W. Bell, of the South Lancashire Regiment,

to his wife:_

 

I shall never forget this lot. Men fell dead just like sheep. Our

regiment was first in the firing line, and we were simply cut up. Very

few escaped, so I think I was very lucky, for I was nearly half-a-mile

creeping over nothing but dead men. In the trenches, bullets and shells

came down on us like rain. We even had to lift dead men up and get

under them for safety.

 

When we got the order to retire an officer was just giving the order to

charge when he was struck dead, and it is a good job we didn’t charge,

or we would have all been killed. I passed a lot of my chums dead, but

I didn’t see Fred Atkinson (a friend of the family).