In the firing line, stories of the war by land and sea

%ht jiailg f digraph

WAR BOOKS

IN THE FIRING LINE

Cloth

1/:

net
each

Ike JBatIg f digraph;

IZITiLR BOOKS

Post
free

1/3

each

HOW THE WAR BEGAN

By W. L. COURTNEY. LL.D., and J. M. KENNEDY

THE FLEETS AT WAR

By ARCHIBALD HURD

THE CAMPAIGN OF SEDAN

By GEORGE HOOPER

THE CAMPAIGN ROUND LIEGE

By J. M. KENNEDY

IN THE FIRING LINE

By A. ST. JOHN ADCOCK

GREAT BATTLES OF THE AVORLD

By STEPHEN CRANE
Author of "The Red Badge of Courage."

BRITISH REGIMENTS AT THE FRONT

The story of their Battle Honours.

THE RED CROSS IN WAR

By Miss MARY FRANCES BILLINGTON
FORTY YEARS AFTER

The Story of the Franco-German War. By H. C. BAILEY.
With an Introduction by W. L. COURTNEY. LL.D.

A SCRAP OF PAPER

The Inner History of German Diplomacy.
By E. J. DILLON

HOW THE NATIONS WAGED WAR

A companion volume to " How the War Began." telling how the world faced

Armageddon and how the British Army answered the call to arms.

By J. M. KENNEDY

AIR-CRAFT IN WAR

By S. ERIC BRUCE

FAMOUS FIGHTS OF INDIAN NATIVE

REGIMENTS

THE TRIUMPHANT RETREAT TO PARIS

THE RUSSIAN ADVANCE

OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION

PUBLISHED FOR THE DAILY TELEGRAPH

BY HODDER & STOUQHTON, WARWICK SQUARE

LONDON, E.C.

»N

■f^.4^#^

:] ^' 1

^' I ■

'W'

vf*

f

%r:

^.

i^^B^MwKr^'^^^

^^^

^

^r^.

(T

Drflje^n fty PAi7t> Dadd. Copyright of The Sphere.

Charge of British Hussars against German Cuirassiers in a Village
OF Northern France.

IN THE FIRING

LINE

STORIES OF THE WAR BY LAND mD SEA

BY

A. St. JOHN ADCOCK

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

MCMXIV

/.;

CONTENTS

I. THE BAPTISM OF FIRE - - - - 7

II. THE FOUR days' BATTLE NEAR MONS - 16

III. THE DESTRUCTION OF LOUVAIN - - 73

IV. THE FIGHT IN THE NORTH SEA - - 90
V. FROM MONS TO THE WALLS OF PARIS - III

VI. THE SPIRIT OF VICTORY - - - 185

IN THE FIRING LINE

The Baptism of Fire

" E'en now their vanguard gathers,
E'en now we face the fray."

Kipling. — Hymn before Action,

The War Correspondent has become old-fashioned
before he has had time to grow old ; he was made
by telegraphy, and wireless has unmade him. The
swift transmission of news from the front might
gratify us who are waiting anxiously at home,
but such news can be caught in the air now, or
secretly and as swiftly retransmitted so as to
gratify our enemies even more by keeping them
well-informed of our strength and intentions
and putting them on their guard. Therefore
our armies have rightly gone forth on this the
greatest war the world has ever seen as they went
to the Crusades, with no Press reporter in their

7

8 In the Firing Line

ranks, and when the historian sits down, some
peaceful day in the future, to write his prose
epic of the Titanic struggle that is now raging
over Europe he will have no records of the actual
fighting except such as he can gather from the
necessarily terse official reports, the pubHshed
stories of refugees and wounded soldiers that
have been picked up by enterprising newspaper
men hovering alertly in the rear of the forces,
and from the private letters written to their
friends by the fighting men themselves.

These letters compensate largely for the ampler,
more expert accounts the war correspondent is
not allowed to send us. They may tell little of
strategic movements or of the full tide and
progress of an engagement till you read them in
conjunction with the official reports, but in their
vivid, spontaneous revelations of what the man
in battle has seen and felt, in the intensity of
their human interest they have a unique value
beyond anything to be found in more professional
military or journalistic documents. They so
unconsciously express the personality and spirit
of their writers ; the very homeliness of their
language adds wonderfully and unintentionally
to their effectiveness ; there is rarely any note of
boastfulness even in a moment of triumph ;
they record the most splendid heroisms casually^

The Baptism of Fire 9

sometimes even flippantly, as if it were merely
natural to see such things happening about them,
or to be doing such things themselves. If they
tell of hardships it is to laugh at them ; again
and again there are httle bursts of affection and
admiration for their officers and comrades — they
are the most potent of recruiting literature,
these letters, for a mere reading of them thrills
the stay-at-home with pride that these good
fellows are his countrymen and with a sort of
angry shame that his age or his safe civilian
responsibiUties keep him from being out there
taking his stand beside them.

The courage, the cheerfulness, the dauntless
spirit of them is the more striking when you
remember that the vast majority of our soldiers
have never been in battle until now. Russia
has many veterans from her war with Japan ;
France has a few who fought the Prussian enemy
in 1870 ; we have some from the Boer war ; but
fully three parts of our troops, like all the heroic
Belgians, have had their baptism of fire in the
present gigantic conflict. And it is curiously
interesting to read in several of the letters the
frank confession of their writers' feelings when
they came face to face for the first time with the
menace of death in action. One such note,
published in various papers, was from Alfred

10 In the Firing Line

Bishop, a sailor who took part in the famous
North Sea engagement of August last. His
ship's mascot is a black cat, and :

" Our dear little black kitten sat under our
foremost gun," he writes, " during the whole
battle, and was not frightened at all, only when
we first started firing. But afterwards she sat
and licked herself. . . . Before we started fight-
ing we were all very nervous, but after we joined
in we were all happy and most of us laughing till
it was finished. Then we all sobbed and cried.
Even if I never come back don't think I died a
painful death. Everything yesterday was quick
as lightning."

A wounded Enghsh gunner telling of how he
went into action near Mons owns to the same
touch of nervousness in the first few minutes :

*' What does it feel hke to be under fire ?
Well, the first shot makes you a bit shaky. It's
a surprise packet. You have to wait and keep
on moving till you get a chance." But as soon
as the chance came, his shakiness went, and his
one desire in hospital was '* to get back to the
front as soon as the doctor says I'm fit to man a
gun. I don't want to stop here."

" I have received my baptism of fire," writes
a young Frenchman at the front to his parents

The Baptism of Fire 11

in Paris. " I heard the bullets whistling at my
ears, and saw my poor comrades fall around me.
The first minutes are dreadful. They are the
worst. You feel wild. You hesitate ; you don't
know what to do. Then, after a time, you
feel quite at your ease in this atmosphere of
lead."

''I am in the field hospital now, with a nice
little hole in my left shoulder, through which a
bullet of one of the War Lord's mihtary subjects
has passed," writes a wounded Frenchman to a
friend in London. " My shoulder feels much as
if some playful joker has touched it with a Hghted
cigar. ... It is strange, but in the face of death
and destruction I catch myself trying to make
out where the shell has fallen, as if I were an
interested spectator at a rifle competition. And
I was not the only one. I saw many curious faces
around me, bearing expressions full of interest,
just as if the owners of the respective faces formed
the auditorium of a highly fascinating theatrical
performance, without having anything to do
with the play itself. The impression crossed my
mind in one-thousandth part of a second, and
was followed by numerous others, altogether alien
from the most serious things which were happen-
ing and going to happen. The human mind is a
curious and complicated thing. Now that we
were shooting at the enemy, and often afterwards
in the midst of a fierce battle, I heard som^

12 In the Firing Line

remark made or some funny expression used
which proved that the speaker's thoughts were
far from reahsing the terrible facts around him.
It has nothing to do with heartlessness or any-
thing hke that. I don't know yet what it is.
Perhaps I shall have an opportunity to philoso-
phise on it later on."

There is a curious comment in a letter from
Sergeant Major MacDermott, who writes during
the great retreat from Mons, when everybody
had become inured to the atmosphere of the
battlefield.

" We're wonderfully cheerful, and happy as bare-
legged urchins scampering over the fields," he says,
and adds, " It is the quantity not the quality of
the German shells that are having effect on us,
and it's not so much the actual damage to hfe as
the helHsh nerve-racking noise that counts for so
much. Townsmen who are used to the noise of
the streets can stand it a lot better than the
countrymen, and I think you will find that by far
the fittest are those regiments recruited in the
big cities. A London lad near me says it is no
worse than the roar of motor-buses in the City
on a busy day."

But the most graphic and minutely detailed
picture of the psychic experiences of a soldier

The Baptism of Fire 13

plunged for the first time into the pandemonium
of a modern battle is given in the Retch by a
wounded Russian artillery officer writing from
a St. Petersburg hospital.

" I cannot say where we fought, for we are
forbidden to divulge that, but I will tell you my
own experiences," he says. " In times of peace
one has no conception of what a battle really
means. When war was declared our brigade
was despatched to the theatre of operations.
I went with delight, and so did the others. When
we reached our destination we were told that the
battle would begin in the morning.

" At daybreak positions were assigned to us,
and the commander of the brigade handed us a
plan of the action of our artillery. From that
moment horror possessed our souls. It was not
anxiety for ourselves or fear of the enemy, but
a feeUng of awe in the face of something unknown.
At six o'clock we opened fire at a mark which we
could not distinguish, but which we understood
to be the enemy.

" Towards midday we were informed that the
German cavalry was attempting to envelop our
right wing, and were ordered in that direction.
Having occupied our new position we waited.
Suddenly we see the enemy coming, and at the
same time he opens fire on us. We turn our
guns upon him, and I give the order to fire. I

14 In the Firing Line

myself feel that I am in a kind of nightmare.
Our battery officers begin to melt away. I see
that the Germans are developing their attack.
First one regiment appears, and then another.
I direct the guns and pour a volley of projectiles
right into the thick of the first regiment. Then
a second volley, and a third. I see how they
fall among the men, and can even discern the
severed limbs of the dead flying into the air after
the explosion.

" One of the enemy's regiments is annihilated.
Then a second one. All this time I am pouring
missiles in among them. But now the nervous
feeling has left me. My soul is filled with hate,
and I continue to shoot at the enemy without
the least feeling of pity.

" Yet still the enemy is advancing, rushing
forward and lying down in turns. I do not
understand his tactics, but what are they to me ?
It is enough for me that I am occupying a favour-
able position and mowing him down like a strong
man with a scythe in a clover field.

" During the first night after the battle I could
not sleep a wink. All the time my mind was
filled with pictures of the battlefield. I saw
German regiments approaching, and myself firing
right into the thick of them. Heads, arms, legs,
and whole bodies of men were being flung high into
the air. It was a dreadful vision.

** I was in four battles. When the second began

The Baptism of Fire 15

I went into it like an automaton. Only your
muscles are taxed. All the rest of your being
seems paralyzed. So complete is the suspension
of the sensory processes that I never felt my
wound. All I remember is that a feeling of giddi-
ness came over me, and my head began to swim.
Then I swooned to the ground, and was picked up
by the Medical Corps and carried to the rear."

II

The Four Days* Battle Near Mons

^^ And turning to his men,
Quoth our brave Henry then,
* Though they he one to ten,
Be not amazed.'' "

Michael Drayton.

Most of us are old enough to remember how, when
we entered upon the South African Campaign
(as when we started the Crimean and other of
our wars) the nation was divided against itself ;
passionate, bitter controversies were waged be-
tween anti-Boer and pro-Boer — between those
who considered the war an unjust and those who
considered it a just one. This time there has been
nothing of that. Sir Edward Grey's resolute
efforts for peace proving futile, as soon as Ger-
many tore up her obligations of honour, that
" scrap of paper," and began to pour her huge,
boastedly irresistible armies into Belgium, we
took up the gauge she so insolently flung to us,
and the one feeling from end to end of the

16

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 17

Empire was of devout thankfulness that our
Government had so instantly done the only
right and honourable thing ; all political parties,
all classes flung their differences behind them
unhesitatingly and stood four-square at once
against the common enemy. They were heart-
ened by a sense of relief, even, that the swag-
gering German peril which had been darkly
menacing us for years had materialised and was
upon us at last, that we were coming to grips
with it and should have the chance of ending it
once and for ever.

But immediately after our declaration of war
on August 4th, a strange secrecy and silence fell
like an impenetrable mask over all our military
movements. In our cities and towns we were
troubled with business disorganisations, but that
mystery, that waiting in suspense, troubled us
far more. News came that the fighting con-
tinued furiously on the Belgian frontier ; that
it was beginning on the fringes of Alsace ; that
the Russians were advancing victoriously on
East Prussia ; and still though our own army
was mobilised and we were eagerly starting to
raise a new and a larger one, we rightly learned
no more, perhaps less, than the enemy could of
what our Expeditionary Force was doing or
where it was. Last time we were at war we had

18 In the Firing Line

seen regiment after regiment go off with bands
playing and with cheering multitudes lining the
roads as they passed ; this time we had no gHmpse
of their going ; did not know when they went,
or so much as whether they were gone. One
day rumour landed them safely in France or
Belgium ; the next it assured us that they were
not yet ready to embark ; and the next it had
rushed them, as by magic, right across Belgium
and credited them with standing shoulder to
shoulder in the fighting line with the magnificent
defenders of Liege. But the glory of that de-
fence, as we were soon to find out, belongs to
Belgium alone ; the Germans had hacked their
way through and were nearing Mons before our
men were able to get far enough north to come
in touch with them. Not that they had lost
any time on the road. It took a fortnight to
mobilise and equip them ; they sailed from
Southampton on August 17th, and four days
later were at Mons and under fire. This much
and more you may gather from a diary-letter
that was published in the Western Daily Press :

Letter i. — From Sapper George Bryant, Royal
Engineers, to his father, Mr. J. J. Bryant, of
Fishponds :
Aug. 17. — Sailed from Southampton, on Man-
chester Engineer, 4.45 a.m.

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 19

Aug. i8. — Landed Rouen, 6.20 a.m. Proceeded
to rest camp at the Racecourse, Rouen.

Aug. 19. — Left camp 9 p.m., and entrained to
Aulnoye.

Aug. 20. — Marched to Fiezines.

Aug. 21. — Marched to Mons, and proceeded
to the canal, to obstacle the bridges and
prepare for blowing up. Barricaded the
main streets. Saw German cavalry, and
was under fire.

Aug. 22. — Severe fighting and terrible. Went
to blow up bridges with Lieut. Day, who
was shot at my side through the nose. Unable
to destroy bridges owing to such heavy
firing of the Germans. Sight heart-breaking.
Women and children driven from their
homes by point of bayonet, and marched
through streets in front of Germans, who
fired behind them and through their arm-
pits. Therefore, our fellows were unable to
fire back. They rolled up in thousands,
about 100 to our one. Went from here to
dig trenches for infantry retreating. Was
soon under fire, and had to retreat, and
infantry took our position, and were com-
pletely wiped out (Middlesex).

Aug. 23. — Severe fighting and bombarding of a
town, shells bursting around us. Retreated,
and dug trenches for infantry, but soon had

20 In the Firing Line

fire about us, and retreated again and marched
to take up position for next day, which was
to be a rest, us having had but very httle.

Aug. 24. — Were unable to rest. Germans
pressed us hotly, and fired continually. One
of their aeroplanes followed our route, and
was fired at. One of our lieutenants chased
it, and eventually succeeded in shooting
the aviator through the head, and he came
to earth. Three aeroplanes were captured
this day. We had no close fighting, and
marched away to take up a position for
next day's fighting, which was a hard day's
work.

Aug. 25. — We tried to destroy an orchard, but
drew the Germans' artillery fire, which was
hot and bursting around us. We continued
our work until almost too late, and had
to retire to infantry lines, and had it hot
in doing so. I was stood next to General
Shaw's aide-camp who was badly wounded,
but was not touched myself. We dug
trenches for infantry, and then marched
to join the 2nd Division, but fire was
too hot to enable us to do our work.
Germans were surrounded by us to the
letter '' C," and we were waiting for the
French to come up on our right flank, but
they did not arrive. On returning from the
2nd Division two shells, one after another,

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 21

burst in front of us, first destroying a house ;
the second, I received my wound in left leg,
being the only fellow hit out of i8o. Was
placed on tool cart, and taken to Field
Hospital, but rest there was short, owing
to Germans firing on hospital. Orderlies
ran off and left us three to take our chance.
Germans blew up church and hospital in
same village, and were firing on ours when
I was helped out by the other two fellows,
and on to a cart, which overtook the am-
bulance, which I was put on, and travelled
all night to St. Quentin and was entrained
there at 9.30 a.m. Aug. 26.

Aug. 26. — Travelled all day, reaching Rouen,
Aug. 27, and was taken to Field Hospital
on Racecourse.

We shall have to wait some time yet for full
and coherent accounts of the fierce fighting at
Mons, but from the soldiers' letters and the
stories of the wounded one gets illuminating
glimpses of that terrific four-days' battle.

Letter 2. — From Driver W. Moore, Royal Field
Artillery, to the superinie^ident of the " Corn-
wall " training ship, of which Driver Moore
is an " old boy " still under twenty :

It was Sunday night when we saw the
enemy. We were ready for action, but were

22 In the Firing Line

lying down to have a rest, when orders came to
stand at our posts. It was about four a.m. on
Monday when we started to fire ; we were at
it all day till six p.m., when we started to advance.
Then the bugle sounded the charge, and the
cavalry and infantry charged like madmen at
the enemy ; then the enemy fell back about
forty miles, so we held them at bay till Wednesday,
when the enemy was reinforced. Then they
came on to Mons, and by that time we had
every man, woman, and child out of the
town.

We were situated on a hill in a cornfield and
could see all over the country. It was about
three p.m., and we started to let them have a
welcome by blowing up two of their batteries in
about five minutes ; then the infantry let go, and
then the battle was in full swing.

In the middle of the battle a driver got
wounded and asked to see the colours before he
died, and he was told by an officer that the guns
were his colours. He rephed, " Tell the drivers
to keep their eyes on their guns, because if we
lose our guns we lose our colours."

Just then the infantry had to retire, and the
gunners had to leave their guns, but the drivers
were so proud of their guns that they went and
got them out, and we retired to St. Quentin. We
had a roll-call, and only ten were left out of my
battery. This was the battle in which poor

The Four Days' Battle near Mens 23

Winchester (another old Cornwall boy) lost his
life in txying to get the guns away.

Letter 3. — From Private G. Moody, to his parents
at Beckenham :

I was at Mons in the trenches in the firing-
line for twenty-four hours, and my regiment was
ordered to help the French on the right. Poor
old A Company was left to occupy the trenches
and to hold them : whatever might happen, they
were not to leave them. There were about 250
of us, and the Germans came on, and as fast as
we knocked them over more took their places.

Well, out of 250 men only eighty were left,
and we had to surrender. They took away every-
thing, and we were lined up to be shot, so as to
be no trouble to them. Then the cavalry of the
French made a charge, and the Germans were cut
down like grass. We got away, and wandered
about all night, never knowing if we were walking
into our chaps or the Germans. After walking
about some time we commenced falling down
through drinking water that had been poisoned,
and then we were put into some motor-wagons
and taken to Amiens.

24 In the Firing Line

Letiey 4. — From a Lincolnshire Sergeant to his

brother :

It came unexpectedly. The first inkling we

had was just after reveille, when our cavalry

pickets fell back and reported the presence of the

enemy in strength on our front and sHghtly to

the left. In a few minutes we were all at our

posts without the sHghtest confusion, and as we

lay down in the trenches our artillery opened

fire. It was a fine sight to see the shells speeding

through the air to pay our respects to Kaiser

Bill and his men. Soon the Germans returned

the compliment ; but they were a long time in

finding anything approaching the range, and they

didn't know of shelters — a trick we learned from

the Boers, I believe. After about half an hour

of this work their infantry came into view along

our front. They were in soUd square blocks

standing out sharply against the skyUne, and we

couldn't help hitting them. We lay in our

trenches with not a sound or sign to tell them of

what was before them. They crept nearer and

nearer, and then our officers gave the word.

Under the storm of bullets they seemed to stagger

like drunken men, after which they made a run

for us shouting some outlandish cry that we

could not make out. Half way across the open

another volley tore through their ranks, and by

this time our artillery began dropping shells

around them. Then an officer gave an order, and

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 25

they broke into open formation, rushing Hke
mad things towards the trenches on our left.
Some of our men continued the volley firing, but
a few of the crack shots were told off to indulge
in independent firing for the benefit of the
Germans. That is another trick taught us by
Brother Boer, and our Germans did not hke it
at all. They fell back in confusion and then lay
down wherever cover was available.

Letter 5. — From Private Levy, Royal Mtinster
Fusiliers :

We were sent up to the firing line to try and
save a battery. When we got there we found that
they were nearly all killed or wounded. Our
Irish lads opened fire on the dirty Germans, and
you should have seen them fall. It was like a
game of skittles. But as soon as you knocked
them down up came another thousand or so.
We could not make out where they came from.
So, all of a sudden, our officers gave us the order
to charge. We fixed bayonets and went like
fire through them. You should have seen them
run !

We had two companies of ours there against
about 3,000 of theirs, and I tell you it was warm.
I was not sorry when night-time came, but that

26 In the Firing Line

was not all. You see, we had no horses to get
those guns away, and our chaps would not leave
them.

We dragged them ourselves to a place of
safety. As the firing line was at full swing we
had with us an officer of the Hussars. I think
he was next to me, and he had his hand nearly
blown off by one of the German shells. So I and
two more fellows picked him up and took him
to a place of safety, where he got his wound cared
for. I heard afterwards that he had been sent
home, poor fellow.

Letter 6. — From Sergeant A. J. Smith, ist Lincoln-
shire Regiment :

We smashed up the Kaiser's famous regi-
ment — the Imperial Guards — and incidentally
they gave us a shaking. They caught me napping.
I got wounded on Sunday night, but I stuck it
until Thursday. I could then go no further,
so they put me in the ambulance and sent me
home. It was just as safe in the firing line as in
the improvised hospital, as when our force moved
the Germans closed up and shelled the hospitals
and burned the villages to the ground.

We started on Sunday, and were fighting
and marching until Thursday. Troops were

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 27

falling asleep [on the roadside until the shells
started dropping, then we were very much
awake.

I feel proud to belong to the British Army
for the way in which they bore themselves in
front of the other nations. No greater tribute
could be paid us than what a German officer, who
was captured, said. He said it was inferno to
stand up against the British Army.

Letter 7. — From Private J. R. Tait, of the 2nd
Essex Regiment :

We were near Mons when we had the order
to entrench. It was just dawn when we were
half-way down our trenches, and we were on
our knees when the Germans opened a murderous
fire with their guns and machine guns. We opened
a rapid fire with our Maxims and rifles ; we let
them have it properly, but no sooner did we
have one lot down than up came another lot, and
they sent their cavalry to charge us, but we were
there with our bayonets, and we emptied our
magazines on them. Their men and horses were
in a confused heap. There were a lot of wounded
horses we had to shoot to end their misery. We
had several charges with their infantry, too.
We find they don't like the bayonets. Their

28 In the Firing Line

rifle shooting is rotten ; I don't believe tKey could
hit a haystack at loo yards. We find their
Field Artillery very good ; we don't like their
shrapnel ; but I noticed that some did not burst ;
if one shell that came over me had burst I should
have been blown to atoms ; I thanked the Lord
it did not. I also heard our men singing that
famous song : " Get out and get under." I know
that for an hour in our trench it would make
anyone keep under, what with their shells and
machine guns. Many poor fellows went to their
death like heroes.

Letter 8. — From an Oldham Private to his wife
at Waterhead :

We have had a terrible time, and were in
action for three days and nights. On Wednesday
the officers said that Spion Kop was heaven to
the fighting w^e had on that day. It is God
help our poor fellows who get wounded in the
legs or body and could not get off the battle-
field, as when we retired the curs advanced and
shot and bayonetted them as they tried to
crawl away. They are rotten shots with the
rifles. If they stood on Blackpool sands I don't
believe they could hit the sea, but they are very
good with the shrapnel guns, and nearly all our

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 29

wounded have been hit with shrapnel bullets.
Each shrapnel shell contains about 200 bullets
which scatter all around, so just think what
damage one shell can do when it drops among a
troop of soldiers.

On the Tuesday our regiment went to the
top of a hill which had a big flat top. An outpost
of a Scotch regiment reported to us on our way
up that all was clear, and we thought the enemy
were about five miles away. We formed up in
close formation — about 1,200 strong. Our com-
manding officer told us to pull our packs off, and
start entrenching, but this was the last order
he will ever give, for the enemy opened fire at
us with five Maxim guns from a wood only 400
yards in front of us. They mowed us down like
straw, and we could get no cover at all. Those
who were left had to roll off the hill into the
roadway — a long straight road — but we got it
worse there. They had two shrapnel guns at the
top of the road, and they did fearful execution to
us and the Lancashire Fusiliers, who were also
in the roadway. Any man who got out of that
hell-hole should shake hands with himself.

This all happened before six o'clock in the
morning. I have only seen about sixty of our
regiment since. Our Maxim gun officer tried
to fix his gun up during their murderous fire,
but he got half his face blown away. We re-
tired in splendid order about 300 yards, and

30 In the Firing Line

then lined a ridge. Up to then we hardly fired a
shot. They had nearly wiped three regiments
out up to then, but our turn came. We gave
them lead as fast as we could pull the triggers,
and I think we put three Germans out to every
one of our men accounted for. Bear in mind, they
were about 250,000 strong to our 50,000. We got
three Germans, and they said their officers told
them that we were Russians and that England
had not sent any men to fight.

They made us retire about five miles, and
then we got the master of them, because our
guns came up and covered the ground with dead
Germans. The German gunners are good shots,
but ours are a lot better. After we had shelled
them a bit we got them on the run, and we drove
them back to three miles behind where the battle
started. We did give it them. I will say this,
none of our soldiers touched any wounded Ger-
mans, though it took us all our time to keep
our bayonets out of their ribs after seeing what
they did with our wounded. But, thank God,
we governed our tempers and left them alone.

I said we got the Germans on the run. And
they can run ! I picked up a few trophies and
put them in my pack, but I got it blown off my
back almost, so I had to discard it. I got one in
the ribs, and then a horse got shot and fell on top
of me, putting my shoulder out again and crushing
my ribs. Otherwise I am fit to tackle a few

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 31

more Germans, and I hope I shall soon be back
again at the front to get a bit of my own back.

Letter 9. — From a private of the 1st Lincoln s to
friends at Barton-on-Humber :

Just a line to tell you I have returned from
the front, and I can tell you we have had a very
trying time of it. I must also say I am very
lucky to be here. We were fighting from Sun-
day, 23rd, to Wednesday evening, on nothing to
eat or drink — only the drop of water in our
bottles which we carried. No one knows— only
those that have seen us could credit such a sight,
and if I live for years may I never see such a
sight again. I can tell you it is not very nice
to see your chum next to you with half his head
blown off. The horrible sights I shall never for-
get. There seemed nothing else only certain
death staring us in the face all the time. I can-
not tell you all on paper. We must, however,
look on the bright side, for it is no good doing
any other. There are thousands of these
Germans and they simply throw themselves at
us. It is no joke fighting seven or eight to one.
I can tell you we have lessened them a little, but
there are millions more yet to finish.

32 In the Firing Line

Letter lo.— From one of the gth Lancers to friends at
Alfreton :

I was at the great battle of Mons, and got a few
shots in me. Once I was holding my officer's
horse and my own, when, all of a sudden, a
German shell came over and burst. Both horses
were killed. I got away with my left hand split
and three fingers blown in pieces. I am recovering
rather quickly. I shall probably have to lose
one or two of my fingers. I had two bullets
taken from my body on Tuesday, and I can tell
you I am in pain. I think I am one of the luckiest
men in the world to escape as I did. War is a
terrible thing. It is a lot different to what most
of us expected. Women and children leaving
their homes with their belongings — then all of a
sudden their houses would be in ashes, blown to
the ground. I shall be glad to get well again.
Then I can go and help again to fight the brutal
Germans. The people in France and Belgium
were so kind and good to our soldiers. They
gave everything they possibly could do.

I have not heard from Jack (his brother, also at
the front). I do so hope he will come back.

Draxn by I'. Matuma. Copyright of The Sphere.

TriE British Expeditionary Force Lands in France, August, 1914.

f

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 33

Letter ii. — From a wounded Gordon Highlander to
his father t Mr. Alexander Buchan, of Mony-
musk *]

We had a pretty stiff day of it last Sunday.
The battaUon went into small trenches in front
of a wood a few miles to the right of Mons, and
the Germans had the range to a yard. I was on
the right edge of the wood with the machine guns,
and there wasn't half some joy.

The shells were bursting all over the place. It
was a bit of a funny sensation for a start, but you
soon got used to it. You would hear it coming
singing through the air over your head ; then it
would give a mighty big bang and you would see
a great flash, and there would be a shower of
lumps of iron and rusty nails all around your ears.
They kept on doing that all Sunday ; sometimes
three or four at the same time, but none of them
hit me. I was too fly for them.

Their artillery is pretty good, but the infantry
are no good at all. They advance in close column,
and you simply can't help hitting them. I opened
fire on them with the machine gun and you could
see them go over in heaps, but it didn't make any
difference. For every man that fell ten took his
place. That is their strong point. They have
an unUmited supply of men.

They think they can beat any army in the
world simply by hurling great masses of troops
against them, but they are finding out their

34 In the Firing Line

mistake now that they are put up against British
troops. The reason for the British retreat is
this — all up through France are great lines of
entrenchments and fortresses, and as they have
not enough men to defeat the Germans in open
battle, they are simply retiring from position to
position — holding the Germans for a few days
and then retiring to the next one. All this is just
to gain time. Our losses are pretty severe, but
they are nothing to the Germans, whose losses
are ten to every one of ours.

Letter 12. — From Private J. Willis, of the Gordon
Highlanders ;

You mustn't run away with the notion that
we stand shivering or cowering under shell fire,
for we don't. We just go about our business in
the usual way. If it's potting at the Germans
that is to the fore we keep at it as though nothing
were happening, and if we're just having a wee
bit chat among ourselves we keep at it all the
same.

Last week when I got this wound in my leg
it was because I got excited in an argument with
wee Georgie Ferriss, of our company, about
Queen's Park Rangers and their chances this
season. One of my chums was hit when he

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 35

stood up to light a cigarette while the Germans
were blazing away at us.

Keep your eyes wide open and you will have
a big surprise sooner than you think. We're all
right, and the Germans will find that out sooner
than you at home.

Letter 13. — From Private G. Kay, of the 2nd
Royal Scots, to his employer, a milkman, at
Richmond :

You will be surprised to hear I am home
from Belgium in hospital with a slight wound
in my heel from shrapnel. I had a narrow
escape in Wednesday's battle at or near Mons,
as I was with the transport, and it was surrounded
twice.

The last time I made holes in the stable
wall, and had a good position for popping them
off — and I did, too ; but somehow they got
to know where we were, and shelled us for three
hours. Off went the roof, and off went the roof
of other buildings around us. At last a shell
exploded and set fire to our cooking apparatus
and our stables. We had twenty-two fine horses,
and all the transport in this stable yard. We
hung on for orders to remove the horses. None
came. At last a shell like a thunderbolt struck

36 In the Firing Line

the wall, and down came half the stables, and
as luck would have it, as we retired — only about
six of us — my brother-in-law, the chap you
were going to start when we were called up,
went to the right and I went to the left. Just
then a shell burst high and struck several down
in the yard — it was then I got hit — smashed the
butt of my rifle, and sent me silly for five minutes.
Then I heard a major say, " For yourselves,
boys." I looked for my brother-in-law, but he
Vv^as not to be seen, and I have not heard of
him since. During all this time the fire was
spreading rapidly. I was told to go back and
cut the horses loose. I did so, and some of
them got out, but others were burnt to death.

Then God answered my prayer, and I had
strength to run through a line of rifle fire over
barbed wire covered by a hedge, and managed
to get out of rifle range, three hundred yards
or four hundred yards away, and then I fell
for want of water. I just had about two tea-
spoonfuls in my bottle, and then I went on
struggling my way through hedges to a railway
line.

When I got through I saw an awful sight
— a man of the Royal Irish with six wounds
from shrapnel. He asked me for water, but
I had none. I managed to carry him about
half a mile, and then found water. I stuck to
him though he was heavy and I was feeling

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 37

weak and tired. I had to carry him through a
field of turnips, and half way I slipped and both
fell. I then had a look back and could see the
fire mountains high.

I then saw one of my own regiment, and
called to him to stay with this man while I went
for a shutter or a door, which I got, and with
the help of two Frenchmen soon got him to a
house and dressed him. We were being shelled
again from the other end of the village then. We
were about fifteen strong, as some shghtly wounded
came up and some not wounded. We got him
away, and then met a company of Cameron
Highlanders, and handed him over to them.

I think I marched nearly sixty-three miles,
nearly all on one foot, and at last I got a horse
and made my way to Mons, where I was put in
the train for Havre.

Letter 14. — From Sergeant Taylor, of the R.H.A. :

Our first brush with the enemy was on
August 2ist, about thirty miles from Mons,
but Mons, my goodness, it was just like Brock's
benefit at Belle Vue, and you would have thought
it was haiUng. Of course, we were returning
the compliment. The Germans always found the
range, which proved they had good maps, yet

38 In the Firing Line

in their anxiety they tried to fire too many shells,
the consequence being that a lot of them were
harmless, and they did not give themselves time
to properly fuse them. Only on one day —
from the 21st to my leaving — did we miss an
action. In General French's report you will,
no doubt, see where the 5th Brigade accounted
for two of the German cavalry regiments, of
which only six troopers were taken prisoners ;
the rest bit the dust. One of these regiments
was the Lancers, of which the late Queen was
honorary colonel.

Letter 15. — From Private J. Atkinson, of the
Duke of Wellington's West Riding Regiment,
to his wife at Leeds ;

Talk about a time ! I would not like to go
through the same again for love or money.

It is not war. It is murder. The Germans
are murdering our wounded as fast as they come
across them. I gave myself up for done a week
last Sunday night, as we were in the thick of
the fight at Mons. Our regiment started fighting
with 1,009 ^^^ finished with 106 and three
officers. That made 109, as we just lost 900.
It was cruel. At one place we were at there
were six streets of the town where all the

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 89

women were left widows, and were all wearing
the widows' weeds. The French regiment that
fought there was made up in the town and they
got wiped out.

Letter i6. — From Private Robert Robertson, of the
Argylls, to his parents at Musselburgh :

The poor Argylls got pretty well hit, but
never wavered a yard for all their losses. The
Scots Greys are doing great work at the front
— in fact they were the means of putting ten
thousand Germans to their fate on Sunday
morning. I will never forget that day, as our
regiment left a town on the French frontier on
Saturday morning at 3 o'clock and marched till
3 a.m. on Sunday into a Belgian town. I was
about to have an hour in bed, at least a lie down
in a shop, when I was wakened to go on guard at
the General's headquarters, and while I was on
guard a Captain of the crack French cavalry
came in with the official report of the ten thousand
Germans killed. The Scots Greys, early that
morning, had decoyed the Germans right in front
of the machine guns of the French, and they just
mowed them down. There was no escape for
them, poor devils, but they deserve it the way
they go on. You would be sorry for the poor

40 In the Firing Line

Belgian women having to leave their homes with
young children clinging to them. One sad case
we came across on the roadside was a woman
just out of bed two days after giving birth to a
child. The child was torn from her breast, and
her breast cut off that the infant was sucking.
Then the Germans bayoneted the child before the
mother's eyes. We did the best we could for her,
but she died about six hours after telling us her
hardships.

Letter 17. — From Private Whitaker, of the Cold-
stream Guards :

You thought it was a big crowd that streamed
out of the Crystal Palace when we went to see the
Cup Final. Well, outside Compi^gne it was just
as if that crowd came at us. You couldn't miss
them. Our bullets ploughed into them, but still
they came for us. I was well entrenched, and my
rifle got so hot I could hardly hold it. I was
wondering if I should have enough bullets, when
a pal shouted, "Up, Guards, and at 'em ! " The
next second he was rolled over with a nasty
knock on the shoulder. He jumped up and
hissed, " Let me get at them ! " His language
was a bit stronger than that.

When we really did get the order to get at

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 41

them we made no mistake, I can tell you. They
cringed at the bayonet, but those on our left wing
tried to get round us, and after racing as hard as
we could for quite five hundred yards we cut up
nearly every man who did not run away.

You have read of the charge of the Light Brigade.
It was nowt to our cavalry chaps. I saw two
of our fellows who were unhorsed stand back to
back and slash away with their swords, bringing
down nine or ten of the panic-stricken devils.
Then they got hold of the stirrup-straps of a
horse without a rider, and got out of the melee.
This kind of thing was going on all day.

In the afternoon I thought we should all get
bowled over, as they came for us again in their
big numbers. Where they came from, goodness
knows ; but as we could not stop them with
bullets they had another taste of the bayonet.
My captain, a fine fellow, was near to me, and as
he fetched them down he shouted, "Give them
socks, my lads ! " How many were killed and
wounded I don't know ; but the field was covered
with them.

Letter i8. — From a private in the Coldstr&am
Guards to his mother :

First of all I sailed from Southampton on
August I2th on a cattle boat called the Cawdor

42 In the Firing Line

Castle. We sailed at 9.30 at night, and after
a passage of 14^ hours landed at Le Havre, on
the coast of France. We went into camp there,
and then left on August 14th, getting into a train,
not third class carriages, but cattle trucks. We
were on the train eighteen and a half hours,
and I was a bit stiff when I got out at a place
called Wassigny. Then we marched through
pouring rain to a village, where we slept in some
barns. The next day being Sunday, August i6th,
we got on the march to a place called Grooges,
a distance of about nine miles. We stayed there
till Thursday.

Then we started to march to get into Belgium.
We got there on Sunday, the 23rd, just outside
Mons. We dug trenches, from which we had to
retire, and then we got into a position, and there
I saw the big battle, but could not do anything,
because we were with the artillery. We
retreated into France, being shelled all the way,
and on the Tuesday, the 25th, we marched into
Landrecies. We arrived there about one o'clock
and were thinking ourselves lucky. We con-
sidered we were going to have two days' rest,
but about five o'clock the alarm was raised.
The Germans got to the front of us and were trying
to get in the town. So we fixed our bayonets,
doubled up the road, and the fight started. The
German artillery shelled us, and some poor chaps
got hit badly. The chap next to me got shot,

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 43

and I tried to pull him out of the road, so that
I could get down in his place, as there was not
room for us all in the firing line. We had to lay
down behind and wait our chance. I had got on my
knees, and just got hold of his leg, when some-
thing hit my rifle and knocked it out of my hand,
and almost at the same time a bullet went right
through my arm. It knocked me over, and I
must have bumped my head, for I do not re-
member any more till I felt someone shaking me.
It was the doctor — a brave man, for he came
right up amongst the firing to tend the wounded.
He bandaged my arm up, and I had to get to
hospital, a mile and a half away, as best I could.

The beasts of Germans shelled the building all
night long without hitting it. We moved next
morning, and by easy stages left for England.
I am going on fine ; shall soon be back and at
it again I expect. Keep up your spirits, won't
you ? I believe it was only your prayers at home
that guarded me that Tuesday night, simply awful
it was.

Letter 19. — From a wounded English Officer, in a
Belgian hospital , to his mother :

I do not know if this letter will ever get
to you or not, but I 9TO writing on the chance

44 In the Firing Line

that it will. A lot has happened since I last
wrote to you. We marched straight up to
Belgium from France, and the first day we
arrived my company was put on outposts for
the night. During the night we dug a few
trenches, etc., so did not get much sleep. The
next day the Germans arrived, and I will try
and describe the fight. We were only advanced
troops of a few hundred holding the line of
a canal. The enemy arrived about 50,000
strong. We held them in check all day and killed
hundreds of them, and still they came. Finally,
of course, we retired on our main body. I will
now explain the part I played. We were guarding
a railway bridge over a canal. My company
held a semicircle from the railway to the canal.
I was nearest the railway. A Scottish regiment
completed the semicircle on the right of the
railway to the canal. The railway was on a
high embankment running up to the bridge, so
that the Scottish regiment was out of sight
of us. We held the Germans all day, killing
hundreds, when about five p.m. the order to
retire was eventually given. It never reached
us, and we were left all alone. The Germans
therefore got right up to the canal on our right,
hidden by the railway embankment, and crossed
the railway. Our people had blown up the
bridge before their departure. We found our-
selves between two fires, and I realized we had

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 45

about 2,000 Germans and a canal between myself
and my friends.

We decided to sell our lives dearlyj I
ordered my men to fix bayonets and charge,
which the gallant fellows did splendidly, but
we got shot down like nine-pins. As I was
loading my revolver after giving the order to
fix bayonets I was hit in the right wrist. I
dropped my revolver, my hand was too weak
to draw my sword. This afterwards saved
my life. I had not got far when I got a bullet
through the calf of my right leg and another
in my right knee, which brought me down.
The rest of ray men got driven round into the
trench on our left. The officer there charged
the Germans and was killed himself, and nearly
all the men were either killed or wounded. I
did not see this part of the business, but from
all accounts the gallant men charged with the
greatest bravery. Those who could walk the
Germans took away as prisoners. I have since
discovered from civilians that around the bridge
5,000 Germans were found dead and about 6o
English. These 60 must have been nearly all
my company, who were so unfortunately left
behind.

As regards myself, when I lay upon the
ground I found my coat sleeve full of blood,
and my wrist spurting blood, so I knew an
artery of some sort must have been cut. The

4:6 In the Firing Line

Germans had a shot at me when I was on the
ground to finish me off ; that shot hit my sword,
which I wore on my side, and broke in half
just below the hilt ; this turned the bullet off
and saved my life. I afterwards found that
two shots had gone through my field glasses,
which I wore on my belt, and another had gone
through my coat pocket, breaking my pipe
and putting a hole through a small collapsible
tin cup, which must have turned the bullet off me.
We lay out there all night for twenty-four hours.
I had fainted away from loss of blood, and when I
lost my senses I thought I should never see any-
thing again. Luckily I had fallen on my wounded
arm, and the arm being slightly twisted I think
the weight of my body stopped the flow of blood
and saved me. At any rate, the next day
civilians picked up ten of us who were still alive,
and took us to a Franciscan convent, where we
have been splendidly looked after. All this
happened on August 23rd, it is now September
3rd. I am ever so much better, and can walk
about a bit now, and in a few days will be quite
healed up. It is quite a small hole in my wrist,
and it is nearly healed, and my leg is much
better ; the bullets escaped the bones, so that
in a week I shall be quite all right. Unfortunately
the Germans are at present in possession of this
district, so that I am more or less a prisoner
here. But I hope the English will be here

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 47

in a week, when I shall be ready to rejoin
them.

Letter 20. — From W. Hawkins, of the yri Cold-
stream Guards :

I have a nasty little hole through my right
arm, but I am one of the lucky ones. My word,
it was hot for us. On the Tuesday night when I
got my little lot, what I saw put me in mind of a
farmer's machine cutting grass, as the Germans
fell just like it. We only lost nine poor fellows,
and the German losses amounted to 1,500 and
2,000. So you can guess what it was like. As
they were shot down others took their place, as
there were thousands of them. The best friend
is your rifle with the bayonet. But I soon had
mine blown to pieces. How it happened I don't
know. ... I got a bullet through the top of my
hat. I will bring my hat home and show you.
I felt it go through, but it never as much as
bruised my head. I had then no rifle, so I was
obliged to keep down my head. The bullets
were whirling over me by the hundred. I stopped
until they got a bit slower, and then I got up and
was trying to pull a fellow away that had been
shot through the head when I managed to receive
a bullet through my arm. When I looked in
the direction of the enemy I could see them

4:8 In the Firing Line

coming by the thousand. Off I went. I bet I
should easily have won the mile that night. I
got into the hospital at Landricca amid shot and
shell, which were flying by as fast as you like.
I got my arm done, and was put to bed. All
that night the enemy were trying to blow up the
hospital, where they had to turn out the lights
so that the Germans could not get the correct
range. Then we were taken away in R.A.M.C.
vans to Guise, where we slept on the station
platform after a nice supper which the French
provided.

Letter 21. — From Sergeant Griffiths, of the Welsh
Regiment, to his parents at Swansea :

The fighting at Mons was terrible, and it was
here that our 4th and 5th Divisions got badly
knocked, but fought well. Our artillery played
havoc with them. About 10 o'clock on Monday
TVe were suddenly ordered to quit, and quick, too,
and no wonder. They were ten to one. Then
began that retreat which will go down in history
as one of the greatest and most glorious retire-
ments over done. Our boys were cursing because
our backs were towards them ; but when the
British did turn, my word, what a game ! The
3rd Coldstreams should be named " 3rd Cold

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 49

steels," and no error. Their bayonet charge was
a beauty.

Among numerous other such letters that have
been published up and down the country is this
in which a corporal of the North Lancashire
Regiment gives a graphic Httle picture of his
experiences to the Manchester City News :

When we got near Mons the Germans were
nearer than we expected. They must have been
waiting for us. We had little time to make
entrenchments, and had to do the digging lying on
our stomachs. Only about 300 of the 1,000 I
was with got properly entrenched. The Germans
shelled us heavily, and I got a splinter in the leg.
It is nearly right now, and I hope soon to go back
again. We lost fairly heavily, nearly all from
artillery fire. Altogether I was fighting for
seventy-two hours before I was hit. The Ger-
man forces appeared to be never-ending. They
were round about us like a swarm of bees, and
as fast as one man fell, it seemed, there were
dozens to take his place.

There is one in which James Scott, reservist,
tells his relatives at Jarrow that British soldiers
at Mons dropped like logs. The enemy were shot
down as they came up, but it was like knocking
over beehives — a hundred came up for every
one knocked down. He thought the Germans

50 In the Firing Line

were the worst set of men he had ever seen.
Their cavalry drove women and children in front
of them in the streets of Mons so that the British
could not fire.

A wounded non-commissioned officer of the
Pompadours, whose regiment left Wembley Park
a week before the fighting began, says that in
the four days* battle commencing at Mons on
the Sunday, August 23rd, and lasting until
August 26th, they were continually under fire :

We had to beat off several cavalry attacks as
well as infantry, and when the trouble seemed to
be over the Germans played on us with shrapnel
just like turning on a fire hose. Several of our
officers were hit on Wednesday. Heavy German
cavalry charged us with drawn sabres, and we
only had a minute's warning " to prepare to receive
cavalry." We left our entrenchments, and rallying
in groups, emptied our magazines into them as
they drew near. Men and horses fell in confused
heaps. It was a terrible sight. Still, on they
came. They brought their naked sabres to the
engage, and we could distinctly hear their words
of command made in that piercing, high tone of
voice which the Germans affect.

The enemy had a terrible death roll before
their fruitless charge was completed, a thick line
of dead and wounded marking the ground over
which they had charged. We shot the wounded

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 51

horses, to put them out of their misery, whilst our
ambulances set to work to render aid to the
wounded. Our Red Cross men make no distinc-
tion. Friend and foe get the same medical
treatment, that's where we score over the
Germans.

If they had been Uhlans we should not have
spared them, as we owe them a grudge for round-
ing up some Tommies who were bathing. They
took their clothes away, and tied the men to trees.
We swore to give them a warm time wherever we
met them.

A wounded corporal writes :

It looked as if we were going to be snowed
under. The mass of men that came at us was an
avalanche, and every one of us must have been
simply trodden to death and not killed by bullets
or shells when our cavalry charged into them on
the left wing, not 500 yards from the trench I was
in, and cut them up. Our lads did the rest, but
the shells afterwards laid low a lot of them.

The following is an extract from a letter
received by a gardener from his son :

You complained last year of the swarms of
wasps that destroyed your fruit. Well, dad,
they were certainly not larger in number than
the Germans who came for us. The Germans are
cowards when they get the bayonets at them.
A young lieutenant, I don't know his name, was

52 In the Firing Line

one of the coolest men I have ever seen, and didn't
he encourage our chaps ! I saw him bring down
a couple of Germans who were leading half a
company.

A fact that stands out continually in these
tales of eye-witnesses is the overwhelming num-
bers in which the Germans were hurled upon
them. One says they seemed to be rising up
endlessly out of the very ground, and as fast as
one mass was shot down another surged into
its place ; the innumerable horde is compared
by various correspondents to *' a great big bat-
tering-ram," to a gigantic swarm of wasps, to
a swarm of bees, to a flock of countless thousands
of sheep trying to rush out of a field ; to the
unceasing pouring of peas out of a sack. It was
the sheer mass and weight of this onrush that
forced the small British army back on its sys-
tematic, triumphant retreat, and probably the
most striking little sketch of this phase of the
conflict is that supplied by an Irish soldier in-
valided to Belfast, which I include in the follow-
ing selection of hospital stories.

The last few weeks have been like a dream to
me, says a wounded private of the Middlesex
Regiment. After we landed at Boulogne we
were magnificently treated, and everyone was in
the highest spirits. Then we set off on our

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 58

marching. We were all anxious to have a slap
at the Germans. My word ! If they only knew
in our country how the Germans are treating our
wounded there would be the devil to pay.

It was somewhere in the neighbourhood of
Mons, I believe, that we got our first chance. We
had been marching for days with hardly any
sleep. When we took up our position the Ger-
mans were nearer than we thought, because we
had only just settled down to get some rest when
there came the bhnding glare of the searchlight.
This went away almost as suddenly as it appeared,
and it was followed by a perfect hail of bullets.
We lost a good many in the fight, but we were all
bitterly disappointed when we got the order to
retire. I got a couple of bullets through my leg,
but I hope it won't be long before I get back
again. We never got near enough to use our
bayonets. I only wish we had done. Talk
about civiHzed warfare ! Don't you believe it.
The Germans are perfect fiends.

IN HOSPITAL.

(i) At Southampton.

The first batch of wounded soldiers arrived
at Netley on the 28th August, coming from
Southampton Docks by the hospital train. A
Daily Telegraph correspondent was one of a
quiet band of people who had waited silently

54 In the Firing Line

for many long hours on the platform that runs
alongside the hospital for the arrival of the
disabled soldiers who had fought so heroically
at Mons ; and this is his account of what he
saw :

Colonel Lucas and staff were all in readiness.
Here were wheeling chairs, there stretchers. The
preparations for the reception of the broken
Tommies could not have been better, more
elaborate, or more humane. It was the humanity
of it all — the quiet consideration that told of
complete preparedness — that made not the least
moving chapter of the story that I have to tell.
And out of the train stern-faced men began to
hobble, many with their arms in a sling.

Here was a hairless-faced, boyish-looking
fellow, with his head enveloped in snowy-white
bandages ; his cheeks were red and healthy, his
eyes bright and twinkling. There was pain
written across his young face, but he walked erect
and puffed away at a cigarette. One man, with
arms half clinging round the neck of two injured
comrades, went limping to the reception-room,
his foot the size of three, and as he went by he
smiled and joked because he could only just
manage to get along.

When the last of the soldiers able to walk
found his way into the hospital, there to be
refreshed with tea or coffee or soup, before he

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 55

was sent to this or that ward, the more seriously
wounded were carried from the train. How
patient, how uncomplaining were these fellows !
One, stretched out on a mattress, with his foot
smashed, chatted and smoked until his turn
came to be wheeled away. And when the last
of these wounded heroes had been lifted out of the
train I took myself to the reception-room, and
there heard many stories that, though related
with the simplicity of the true soldier, were
wonderful.

The wounded men were of all regiments and
spoke all dialects. They were travel-stained
and immensely tired. Pain had eaten deep lines
into many of their faces, but there were no really
doleful looks. They were faces that seemed to
say : " Here we are ; what does it all matter ;
it is good to be alive ; it might have been worse."

I sat beside a private, named Cox. An old
warrior he looked. His fine square jaw was black
with wire-like whiskers. His eyes shone with the
fire of the man who had suffered, so it seemed,
some dreadful nightmare.

" And you want me to tell you all about it.
Well, believe me, it was just hell. I have been
through the Boxer campaign ; I went through
the Boer War, but I have never seen anything
so terrible as that which happened last Sunday.
It all happened so sudden. We believed that
the Germans were some fifteen miles away, and

56 In the Firing Line

all at once they opened fire upon us with their
big guns.

" Let me tell you what happened to my own
regiment. When a roll call of my company was
taken there were only three of us answered, me
and two others." When he had stilled his
emotion, he wxnt on. " So unexpected and so
terrible was the attack of the enemy, and so
overwhelming were their numbers, that there
was no withstanding it."

Before fire was opened a German aeroplane
flew over our troops, and the deduction made
by Private Cox and several of his comrades,
with whom I chatted, was that the aeroplane
was used as a sort of index to the precise locality
of our soldiers, and, further, that the Germans,
so accurate was their gunnery, had been over
this particular battlefield before they struck a
blow, and so had acquired an intimate knowledge
of the country. Trenches that were dug by our
men served as little protection from the fire.

Said Cox : " No man could have Hved against
such a murderous attack. There was a rain of
lead, a deluge of lead, and, talk about being sur-
prised, well, I can hardly realise that, and still
less beheve what happened."

By the side of Cox sat a lean, fair-haired,
freckle-faced private. " That's right," he said,
by way of corroborating Cox. " They were fair
devils," chimed in an Irishman, who later told

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 57

me that he came from Connemara. " You could
do nothing with them, but I say they are no
d good as riflemen.''

" No, they're not, Mike," ventured a youth.
" We got within 400 yards of them, and they
couldn't hit us."

" But," broke in the man of Connemara, " they
are devils with the big guns, and their aim was
mighty good, too. If it had not been they
wouldn't have damaged us as they have done."

A few yards away was another soldier, also
seated in a wheeling chair, with a crippled leg —
a big fine fellow he was. He told me his corps
had been ambushed, and that out of 120 only
something like twenty survived.

On all hands I heard all too much to show
that the battle of Mons was a desperate affair.
Two regiments suffered badly, but there was no
marked disposition on the part of any of the
soldiers with whom I chatted to enlarge upon
the happenings of last week-end. Rather would
they talk more freely of the awful atrocities
perpetrated by the Germans.

" Too awful for words," one said. '* Their
treatment of women will remain as a scandal
as long as the world lasts. We shall never for-
get ; we shall never forgive. I wish I was back
again at the front. Englishmen have only got
to realise what devilish crimes are being com-
mitted by these Germans to want to go and

58 In the Firing Line

take a hand in the fight. Women were shot, and
so were young girls. In fact, it did not seem to
matter to the Germans who they killed, and they
seemed to take a delight in burning houses and
spreading terror everywhere.

" I have got one consolation, I helped to
catch four German spies."

In Hospital.

(2) At Belfast.

About 120 officers and men arrived in Belfast
on August 31st, direct from the Continent.
They were brought here, says the Daily Telegraph
local correspondent, to be near their friends, for
the men had been in Ulster for a long time before
leaving for the front, being stationed in Belfast
and later in Londonderry. They sailed from
this city for the theatre of war on August 14th,
to the number of 900. It was remarkable to
note how many of them were injured in the
legs and feet. All were conveyed to the hospital
at the Victoria Military Barracks. The men
were glad to see Belfast again, but those to whom
I spoke will be bitterly disappointed if they
do not get another opportunity for paying off
their score against the Germans.

One soldier told me a plain straightforward
story, without any embellishments. What made

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 59

his tale doubly interesting was the fact that he
spoke with the experience of a veteran, having
gone through the South African War.

Where the Germans had the advantage,
he said, was in the apparently endless number
of reserves. No sooner did we dispose of one
regiment than another regiment took its place.
It just put me in mind of the Niagara Falls —
the terrible rush threatening to carry everything
before it.

No force on earth could have withstood that
cataract, and the fact that our men only fell
back a little was the best proof of their strength.
At one stage there were, I am sure, six Germans
to every one of us. Yet we held our ground, and
would still have held it but for the fact that
after we had dealt with the men before us another
force came on, using the bodies of their dead
comrades as a carpet.

The South African War was a picnic compared
with this, and on the way home I now and again
recoiled with horror as I thought of the awful
spectacle which was witnessed before we left the
front of piled-up bodies of the German dead.
We lost heavily, but the German casualties
must have been appalling.

You must remember that for almost twenty-
four hours we bore the brunt of the attack, and
the desperate fury with which the Germans
fought showed that they believed if they were

60 In the Firing Line

only once past the British forces the rest would
be easy. Not only so, but I am sure we had
the finest troops in the German army against
us.

On the way out I heard some slighting com-
ments passed on the German troops, and no
doubt some of them are not worth much, but those
thrown at us were very fine specimens indeed.
I do not think they could have been beaten in
that respect.

IN HOSPITAL.

(3) At Birmingham.

About 120 English soldiers who had been
wounded in and around Mons arrived in Bir-
mingham on September ist, and were removed
to the new university buildings at Bournbrook,
where facilities have been provided for deal-
ing with over 1,000 patients. The contingent
was the first batch to arrive. Though terribly
maimed, and looking broken and tired, the men
were cheerful. About twenty had to be carried,
but the majority of them were able to walk with
assistance.

In the course of conversation with a Daily
Telegraph reporter a number of the men spoke
of the terrible character of the fighting. The
Germans, one man said, outnumbered us by

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 61

100 to one. As we knocked them down, they
simply filled up their gaps and came on as
before.

One of the Suffolk men stated that very few
were injured by shot wounds. Nearly all the
mischief was done by shells. The Germans,
he said, fired six at a time, and if you missed
one you got the others.

One poor fellow, whose head was so smothered
in bandages that his features could not be seen,
remarked, " We could beat them with bladder-
sticks if it were not for the shells, which were
appalling. The effect could not be described."

A private of the West Kent Regiment, who
was through the Boer War, said there was never
anything like the fighting at Mons in South
Africa. That was a game of skittles by com-
parison.

They came at us, he said, in great masses.
It was like shooting rabbits, only as fast as you
shot one lot down another lot took their place.
You couldn't help hitting them. We had plenty
of time to take aim, and if we weren't reaching
the Bisley standard all the time, we must have
done a mighty lot of execution. As to their
rifle fire, they couldn't hit a haystack.

A sergeant gunner of the Royal Field Artil-
lery, who was wounded at Tournai, owing to

62 In the Firing Line

an injury to his jaw was unable to speak,
but he wrote on a pad :

I was on a flank with my gun and fired about
sixty rounds in forty minutes. We wanted
support and could not get it. It was about
500 English trying to save a flank attack, against,
honestly, I should say, 10,000. As fast as you
shot them down more came. But for their
aeroplanes they would be useless. I was firing
for one hour at from 1,500 yards down to 700
yards, so you can tell what it was like.

In Hospital.

(4) At London.

All the heroism that has been displayed by
British troops in the present war will never
be known. A few individual cases may chance
to be heard of. Others will be known only to
the Recording Angel. Two instances of extra-
ordinary bravery are mentioned by a couple of
wounded soldiers lying in the London Hospital
in the course of a narrative of their own adven-
tures.

One of them, a splendid fellow of the Royal
West Kent Regiment, told a Daily Telegraph
reporter :

We were in a scrubby position just outside
Mons from Saturday afternoon till Monday

i The Four Days' Battle near Mons 63

morning. After four hours each of our six
big guns was put out of action. Either the
gunners were killed or wounded, or the guns
themselves damaged. For the rest of the time
— that is, until Monday morning, when we
retired — we had to stick the Geiman fire without
being able to retaliate. It was bad enough to
stand this incessant banging away, but it made
it worse not to be able to reply.

All day Sunday and all Sunday night the
Germans continued to shrapnel us. At night
it was just hellish. We had constructed some
entrenchments, but it didn't afford much cover
and our losses were very heavy. On Monday
we received the order to retire to the south
of the town, and some hours later, when the
roll-call was called, it was found that we had
300 dead alone, including four officers.

Then an extraordinary thing happened. Me
and some of my pals began to dance. We
were just dancing for joy at having escaped
with our skins, and to forget the things we'd
seen a bit, when bang ! and there came a shell
from the blue, which burst and got, I should
think, quite twenty of us.

That's how some of us got wounded, as we
thought we had escaped. Then another half-
dozen of us got wounded this way. Some of
our boys went down a street near by, and found
a basin and some water, and were washing their

64 In the Firing Line

hands and faces when another shell burst above
them and laid most of them out.

What happened to us happened to the
Gloucesters. Their guns, too, were put out of
action, and, like us, they had to stand the shell-
fire for hours and hours before they were told
to retire. What we would have done without
our second in command I don't know.

During the Sunday firing he got hit in the
head. He had two wounds through the cap in
the front and one or two behind, and lost a lot
of blood. Two of our fellows helped to bind up
his head, and offered to carry him back, but he
said, "It isn't so bad. I'll be all right soon.*'
Despite his wounds and loss of blood, he carried
on until we retired on Monday. Then, I think,
they took him off to hospital.

A stalwart chap of the Cheshires here broke in.

Our Cheshire chaps were also badly cut
up. Apart from the wounded, several men got
concussion of the brain by the mere explosions.
It was awful ! Under cover of their
murderous artillery fire, the German infantry
advanced to within three and five hundred
yards of our position. With that we were
given the order to fix bayonets, and stood up
for the charge. That did it for the German
infantry ! They turned tail and ran for their
lives.

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 65

Our captain cried out, " Now you've got
'em, men ! " But we hadn't. Their artillery
begins with that to fire more hellish than ever,
and before you could almost think what to do a
fresh lots of the " sausages " came along, and
we had to beat a retreat.

During the retreat one of our sergeants
was wounded and fell. With that our captain
runs back and tries to lift him. As he was
doing so he was struck in the foot, and fell over.
We thought he was done for, but he scrambles
up and drags the sergeant along until a couple
of us chaps goes out to help 'em in. You
should have seen his foot when he took his
boot off — I mean the captain. It wasn't half
smashed.

How a number of British troops made a dash
in the night to save some women and children
from the Germans was told by Lance-corporal
Tanner, of the 2nd Oxfordshire and Bucks
Light Infantry. On the Sunday the regi-
ment arrived at Mons.

We took up our position in the trenches,
he said, and fought for some time. In the
evening the order came to retire, and we marched
back to Conde, with the intention of billeting
for the night and having a rest. Suddenly,
about midnight, we were ordered out, and set
off to march to the village of Douai, some miles

66 In the Firing Line

away, as news had reached us that the Germans
were slaughtering the natives there.

It was a thriUing march in the darkness,
across the unfamihar country. We were Hable
to be attacked at any moment, of course, but
everyone was keen on saving the women and
children, and hurried on. We kept the sharpest
lookout on all sides, but saw nothing of the
enemy.

When we reached Douai a number of the
inhabitants rushed out to meet us. They were
overjoyed to see us, and speedily told what
the Germans had done. They had killed a
number of women and children. With fixed
bayonets we advanced into the village, and
we saw signs all around us of the cruelty of
the enemy.

Private R. Wills, of the Highland Light In-
fantry, who also took part in the march to the
village, here continued the story.

We found that most of the Germans had
not waited for our arrival, and there were only
a few left in the place. However, we made sure
that none remained there.

We started a house-to-house search. Our
men went into all the houses, and every now
and then they found one or two of the enemy
hiding in a corner or upstairs. Many of them
surrendered at once, others did not.

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 67

When we had cleared the village, some of
us lay down on the pavements, and snatched
an hour's sleep. At 3.30 we marched away
again, having rid the place of the enemy, and,
getting back to camp, were glad to turn in.

A sergeant of the Royal Field Artillery, who
was wounded by shrapnel just outside Mons
village, said that the German artillery-fire was
good ; once the enemy's gunners got the range
they did well.

Their shooting was every bit as good as
ours, and although our battery made excellent
practice, three of our men were killed, and
twenty out of thirty-six were wounded. I lay
on the field all night, and was rescued the next
morning. Fortunately, the Germans did not
come and find me during those long hours of
loneliness.

In such tales of these men in hospital, and in
the letters they have written home, there is a
common agreement that the German rifle shoot-
ing is beneath contempt — " they shoot from the
hip and don't seem to aim at anything in par-
ticular ; " but their artillery practice is spoken of
with respect and admiration. The German
artillery is very good, writes Private Geradine,
of the 1st Northumberland Fusiliers, but their
aeroplanes help them a lot. It is a pretty sight

68 In the Firing Line

to see the shells burst in the night, he adds—
it's like Guy Fawkes Day !

I like too, such robust cheerfulness and gay
good-humour in face of the horrors of death as
sounds through the letter of Sapper Bradley :

I have never seen our lads so cheery as they
are under great trials. You couldn't help being
proud of them if you saw them lying in the
trenches cracking jokes or smoking while they
take pot shots at the Germans. . . . We have
very little spare time now, but what we have we
pass by smoking concerts, sing-songs, and story-
telling. Sometimes we have football for a change,
with a German helmet for a ball, and to pass the
time in the trenches have invented the game of
guessing where the next German shell will drop.
Sometimes we have bets on it, and the man who
guesses correctly the greatest number of times
takes the stakes.

And surely no less do I like the equally courage-
ous but more sombre outlook of the Scottish
Private who complained of the famous retreat
from Mons, It was " Retire ! retire ! retire ! "
when our chaps were longing to be at them. But
they didn't swear about it, because being out
there and seeing what we saw makes you feel
religious.

I like that wonderful diary kept by a driver of

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 69

the 4th Ammunition Column, 3rd section, R.F.A.
It was sent over from Paris by Mr. Harold Ashton,
The Daily News correspondent, and is as naively
and minutely realistic as if it were a page out of
Defoe. The driver's interests are naturally
centred in his horses, they hold the first place in
his regard, the excitements of the war coming
second. He records how he went from Hendon
to Southampton on the 21st August :

Got horses on board all right, though the
friskiest of them kicked a lot. Got to Havre
safe. Food good — rabbit and potatoes and
plenty of beer, not our English sort, but the
colour of cyder. Us four enjoyed ourselves with
the family, had a good time, and left ten o'clock
next day well filled up. Our objective was
Compi^gne. We got through all right, watering
our horses on the way from pumps and taps at
private houses. The people were awful kind,
giving us quantities of pears, and filling our water-
bottles with beer. That was all right. Our
welcome was splendid everywhere. At Com-
pi^gne we got into touch with the Germans.
Very hot work. We marched from Compi^gne
about eleven o'clock on the 31st, which was Sun-
day. The way was hard. Terrible steep hills
which knocked out our older and weaker horses.
CoUick broke out among them, too, and that was
bad. We lost a good many . . . Slept until

70 In the Firing Line

5 a.m. and then marched on again, still retreating.

Hot as . Nothing to eat or drink. Plenty

of tea, but nothing to boil it with. At last we got
some dry biscuits and some tins of marmalade.

Bill , whose teeth were bad, went near mad

with toothache after the jam. . . . No dead
horses, thank God, to-day. I hope we have

checked that collick, but my horse fell into

a ditch going through the wood and could not get
out for over an hour. I couldn't go for help,
because the Germans had got the range of the
place and their shells were ripping overhead like
blazes. Poor old Dick (the horse), he was that
fagged out by the long march. At last I got
him out and went on, and by luck managed
to pick up my pals. . . . The Germans were
lambing in at us with their artillery, and poor old
Dick got blowed up. I thank God I wasn't on
him just then. Sept. 2. — More fighting and worser
than ever. I don't believe we shall ever
get to Paris. . . . Now we come to Montagny,
and fighting all the time. Rabbits and apples
to eat gallore, but still no money, and no
good if we had because we carnt spend it.
Sept. 3. — We progressed this day four miles
in twelve hours. Took the wrong road, and had
to crawl about the woods on our stummoks like
snakes to dodge the German snipers. We had one
rifle between four of us, and took it in turns to
have goes. We shot one blighter and took another

The Four Days' Battle near Mons 71

prisoner. They was both half starved and covered
with soars. Then the rifle jammed, and we had
nothing to defend ourselves with. At last we
found the main body again. They wanted more
horses, and we were just bringing them up and
putting them to the guns when a German areyplane
came over us and flue round pretty low. The
troops tried to fetch him down, and some bullets
wxnt through the wings, but then he got too high.
He dropped a bomb in the middle of us, but it
exploded very weak and nobody was hurt. Next
day we started on a night march, and got to
Lagny Thorigny, and camped outside the town,
where the people fed us on rabbits again. I said
I was sick of rabbits, and me and Bill walked
acrost to a farmhouse and borrowed three chickens,
which we cooked. It was fine. . . . Outside
Lagny there was more fierce fighting — 20 miles of
it — and the Germans were shot down like birds.
Sept. 3 (continued). — Firing is still going on, but
it is not so fierce, though scouts have come in and
told us there are 10,000 Germans round us this
day. To-night I got two ounces of Navy Cut.
It was prime. Sept. 8. — We are marching on
further away from Paris. We shall never get
there, I guess. Sept. 12. — In the village of Crecy.
Plenty of food and houses to sleep into. Here we
have got to stay until further orders. Collick still
very bad.
The cairn matter-of-fa,ct air with which he

72 In the Firing Line

encounters whatever comes to him, the keen joy
he takes in small pleasures by the way ; his
philosophic acceptance of the fate of " poor old
Dick " — the whole thing is so unruffled, so self-
possessed, so Pepysian in its egoism and so
artlessly humorous that one hopes this phlegmatic
driver will keep a full diary of his campaignings,
and that Mr. Ashton will secure and publish it.

Ill

The Destruction of Louvain

'* Such food a tyranfs appetite demands.''''

Wordsworth.

The stupid arrogance of the German military
caste has always made them ridiculous in the
eyes of decent human creatures ; it was sur-
prising, amusing, and yet saddening, too, to
see an intelligent people strutting and playing
such war-paint-and-feathers tricks before high
heaven, but it appears that the primitive impulses
that survive in their character are stronger and
go deeper than we had suspected. There are
brave and chivalrous spirits among Germany's
officers and men ; that goes without saying ;
but the savage and senseless barbarities that
have marked her conduct of the present war
will make her name a byword for infamy as long
as it is remembered. There seems no doubt —
the charges are too many and too widely spread —
that her troops have murdered the wounded,
have shot down women and children, have even

78 C*

74 In the Firing Line

used them as shields, driving them in front of
their firing Une ; they have ruthlessly murdered
unarmed civiUans, and have blasted farmsteads
and villages into ashes on the flimsiest provo-
cation ; sometimes, so far as one can learn,
without waiting for any provocation whatever.
Even if their hands were clean of that innocent
blood, the wanton, insensate destruction of such
a city as Louvain is sufficient of itself to put
them outside the pale of civilised societies. No
doubt they were smarting with humiliation that
they had been so long delayed breaking through
the stubborn opposition of the Belgians at Li^ge ;
but Louvain was an unfortified city and they
were allowed to take peaceable possession of it.
Nevertheless, on August 25th whilst the fighting
round Mons was at its hottest and Russia was
sweeping farther and farther over the frontiers
of East Prussia, in some sort of burst of vengeful
frenzy they laid one of the loveliest old cities
of the world in ruins, burnt or shattered most of
its priceless art treasures, and left its citizens
homeless. Of course they have been busy ever
since trying to cover up their shame with excuses,
but such a wanton crime is too great and too
glaringly obvious to be hidden or excused.

Four impressively realistic descriptions of what
happened when the Germans thus went mad in

The Destruction of Louvain 75

Louvain have been published in the Daily Tele-
graph :

I. From a Daily Telegraph Folkestone Corre-
spondent, Saturday, August 29th :

Among the refugees arriving here to-day were
women and children from Louvain and soldiers
from Liege, all narrating thrilling adventures.
Some of the refugees had obviously hurriedly
deserted their homes, wrapping a few of their
belongings in sheets of newspaper.

One woman from Louvain tore down the
curtains from her windows, wrapped them round
some wearing apparel, and ran from her house
with her two children. In the street she became
involved in a stampede of men, women, and
children tearing away from the burning town,
whither she knew not. This woman's story was
so disjointed, so interspersed with hysterical sobs
and exclamations, that it is impossible to make a
full and coherent narrative of it. Periodically
she clasped her children, gazed round upon the
Enghsh faces, and thanked God and bemoaned
her fate alternately.

Although suffering from extreme nervous ex-
citement, another woman had intervals of com-
parative calmness during which she described
her experiences as follows :

" Ah ! m'sieu," she exclaimed, " I will tell

76 In the Firing Line

you, yes, of the burning of Lou vain. We had
pulled down some of the buildings so that the
Germans should not mount guns on them when
they came. I believe that was the reason. We
were in a state of terror because we had heard of
the cruelties of the Germans."

Every time the poor woman referred to the
Germans she paused to utter maledictions upon
them.

"Well," she proceeded, "they came, and all
we had heard about them w^as not so bad as we
experienced. In the streets people were cruelly
butchered, and then on all sides flames began to
rise. We were prepared for what we had regarded
as the worst, but never had we anticipated that
they would burn us in our homes.

" People rushed about frantic to save their
property. Pictures of relatives were snatched
from the walls, clothing was seized, and the
people were demented.

" What was the excuse given ? Well, they
said our people had shot at them, but that was
absolutely untrue. The real reason was the pull-
ing down of the buildings. My house was burning
when I left it with my three children, and here
I am with them safe in England, beautiful England.
But what we have suffered ! We were part of a
crowd w4iich left the burning town, and kept
walking without knowing where we were going.
Miles and miles we trudged, I am told we walked

The Destruction of Louvain 77

over seventy miles before we came to a railway.
I never regarded a railway as I did then. I
wanted to bow down and kiss the rails. I fell
exhausted, having carried my children in turn.
Footsore, broken-hearted, after the first joy of
sighting the railway, I felt my head whirling,
and I wondered whether it was all worth while.
Then I thought of my deliverance, and thanked
God.

" What did Louvain look like ? Like what
it was, a mass of flame devouring our homes, our
property — to some, perhaps, our relatives. It
was pitiful to behold. Most of us women were
deprived of our husbands. They had either
fallen or were fighting for their country. In the
town everybody who offered any opposition was
killed, and everyone found to be armed in any
way was shot. Wives saw their husbands shot
in the streets.

" I saw the burgomaster shot, and I saw
another man dragged roughly away from his
weeping wife and children and shot through the
head. Well, we got a train and reached Boulogne,
and now for the first time we feel really safe."

2. From a Daily Telegraph Rotterdam corre-
spondent, Sunday, August 30th.

78 In the Firing Line

The following account of the appalling and
ruthless sacking of Louvain by the Germans
is given by a representative of the Nieuwe
Rotterdamsche Courant, who himself witnessed
the outrages :

I arrived at Louvain on Tuesday afternoon,
and, accompanied by a German officer, made
my way through the town. Near the station
were the Commander and Staff and many of the
military, for a food and ammunition train had
just arrived. Suddenly shots rang out from
houses in the neighbourhood of the station. In
a moment the shooting was taken up from houses
all over the town.

From the window of the third floor of an
hotel opposite the station a machine gun opened
fire. It was impossible to know which of the
civilians had taken part in the shooting, and
from which houses they had fired. Therefore
the soldiers went into all the houses, and immedi-
ately there followed the most terrible scenes of
street fighting. Every single civiUan found with
weapons, or suspected of firing, was put to death
on the spot. The innocent suffered with the
guilty.

There was no time for exhaustive inquiry.
Old men, sick people, women were shot. In the
meanwhile, part of the town was shelled by
artillery. Many buildings were set on fire by the

The Destruction of Louvain 79

shells. On others petrol was poured and a match
applied. The German officer advised me to go
away, as several houses being still intact more
firing was expected.

Under a strong escort two groups of men
and women arrived, each a hundred strong.
They were hostages. They were stood in rows by
the station, and every time a soldier was shot in
the town ten of these pitiful civilians were slaugh-
tered. There was no mercy. Tears and plead-
ings were in vain. The good suffered with the
bad. At night the scene was terrible, burning
buildings shedding a lurid glow over this town,
which was running with tears of blood.

This was no time for sleep. The sight of this
terrible awfulness drove away all thoughts and
desire for rest. Towards dawn the soldiers took
possession of all buildings which had not been
destroyed.

With the rising of the sun I walked on the
boulevards, and saw them strewn with bodies,
many of them being of old people and priests.
Leaving Louvain for Tirlemont one passed con-
tinuously through utterly devastated country.

A Dutchman who escaped from Louvain says
that when the German artillery began to de-
molish the houses and the German soldiers

80 In the Firing Line

began looting everything he and his little son
hid in a cellar beneath a pile of pneumatic tyres.
One woman took refuge in a pit, in which water
was up to her v/aist. Such was the terrible
plight of the civilians in Louvain. Peeping out
they saw that neighbours had been driven to
the roof of a burning building, where they perished.

While still concealed in the cellar the Dutch-
man and his son discovered to their horror that
the house above them was in flames. The situa-
tion was terrible, as the people who dared to
leave their houses were shot like rabbits leaving
burrows. They heard floor by floor, and then
the roof, crash down above them. The situation
was desperate. It was impossible to remain in
the cellar. Driven out by dire necessity, they
fled. They were immediately stopped by mili-
tary rifles at the " present."

" Do not fire, I am German," said the Dutch-
man in German, seized with a sudden inspira-
tion. This secured his safe conduct to the rail-
way station. The journey through the town
was, said this refugee, " like walking through
hell." From burning houses he heard agonised
cries of those perishing in the conflagrations.
While he was waiting at the station fifty people
arrived there, driven by troops, who asserted that
they found them hiding in houses from which

Drawn by E. Matania. Copyright of The Sphere.

German Soldiers Driving the Inhabitants of Louvain before them
during the sacking of the town.

The Destruction of Louvain 81

shots had been fired. These people swore by all
they held sacred they were innocent, but not-
withstanding all were shot. The Dutchman is
of opinion that the first firing was not by civi-
lians, but by the German outpost on German
soldiers retreating to Louvain from Malines.

Note : — There is no confirmation whatever of
the Dutch correspondent's assertion with regard
to the firing on the German troops. On the
contrary it has been expressly said by the Belgian
Government that the Germans fired on their own
men by mistake.

3. From a Daily Telegraph Rotterdam Corre-
spondent, Monday, August 31st :

" With a crowd of other men, I was marched
out of Louvain, and at nightfall ordered into a
church," said an escaped Dutchman to a Niemve
Rotter damsche C our ant representative. " All was
dark, till suddenly, through the windows, I saw
the lurid glow of the neighbouring burning houses.
I heard the agonised cries of people tortured by
the flames. Six priests moved among us, giving
absolution. Next morning the priests were shot
— why, I know not. We were released, and
allowed to go to Malines. We were compelled to

82 In the Firing Line

walk with our hands in the air for fear of arms
being concealed/'

A Dutchman who has arrived at Breda from
Louvain gives the Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant
the following account of the massacre :

Several German soldiers were billeted on us,
and just as we were sitting down to the midday
meal on August 25th the alarm was sounded and
the soldiers rushed out. Immediately firing
started, and, knowing the terrible consequences
of civilians appearing in the streets at such times,
we sought refuge in the cellar. Next morning
we attempted to reach the railway station. We
were arrested.

My wife was taken away from me, and the
Mayor, the Principal of the University, and I,
with other men, were taken to a goods shed and
our hands bound. I saw 300 men and boys
marched to the corner of the Boulevarde van
Tienen, and every one was massacred. The
heads of poHce were shot. We were then marched
towards Herent, and on the way the soldiers
thought the enemy was approaching, and ordered
us to kneel down. Then they took cover behind
us. Only after many such hardships were we
permitted to return, to Louvain and escape by
train.

The Destruction of Louvain 83

4* From a Daily Telegraph Rotterdam corre-
pondent, Wednesday, September 2nd:

A Dutchman who has just arrived at Breda
from Louvain gives the following vivid de-
scription of his terrible experiences in Louvain,
where he was present at the burning of the
city :

We Dutchmen in Louvain at first had nothing
to fear from the German soldiers, but all the
houses abandoned by their owners were ransacked,
notwithstanding the warnings from the military
authorities forbidding the troops to pillage. In
Louvain, as in all other towns they have occupied,
the Germans imprisoned as hostages of war the
Burgomaster, two magistrates, and a number of
influential citizens.

Before the Germans entered the town the
Civic Guard had been disarmed, and all weapons
in the possession of the population had to be given
up. Even toy guns and toy pistols and precious
collections of old weapons, bows and arrows, and
other antique arms useless for any kind of modern
warfare had to be surrendered, and all these
things — sometimes of great personal value to
the owner — have since been destroyed by the
Germans. The value of one single private col-
lection has been estimated at about £i,ooo.
From the pulpits the priests urged the people
to keep calm, as that was the only way to prevent
harm being done to them.

84 In the Firing Line

A few days after the entry of the German
troops, the mUitary authorities agreed to cease
quartering their men in private houses, in return
for a payment of 100,000 francs (£4,000) per day.
On some houses between forty and fifty men
had been billeted. After the first payment of
the voluntary contribution the soldiers camped
in the open or in the public buildings. The
beautiful rooms in the Town Hall, where the
civil marriages take place, were used as a stable
for cavalry horses.

At first everything the soldiers bought was
paid for in cash or promissory notes, but later
this was altered. Soldiers came and asked for
change, and when this was handed to them
they tendered in return for the hard cash a piece
of paper — a kind of receipt.

On Sunday, the 23rd, I and some other
influential people in the town were roused from
our beds. We were informed that an order had
been given that 250 mattresses, 200 lbs. of coffee,
250 loaves of bread, and 500 eggs, must be on
the market-place within an hour. On turning
out we found the Burgomaster standing on the
market-place, and crowds of citizens, half naked,
or in their night attire, carrying everything they
could lay hands on to the market, that no harm
might befall their Burgomaster. After this had
been done the German officer in command told

The Destruction of Louvaiii 85

us that his orders had been misinterpreted, and
that he only wanted the mattresses.

On Tuesday, the 25th, many troops left the
town. We had a few soldiers in our house. At
six o'clock, when everything was ready for dinner,
alarm signals sounded, and the soldiers rushed
through the streets, shots whistled through the
air, cries and groans arose on all sides ; but we
did not dare leave our house, and took refuge
in the cellar, where we stayed through long and
fearful hours. Our shelter was lighted up by the
reflection from the burning houses. The firing
continued unceasingly, and we feared that at any
moment our houses would be burnt over our
heads. At break of day I crawled from the
cellar to the street door, and saw nothing but
a raging sea of fire.

At nine o'clock the shooting diminished, and
we resolved to make a dash to the station. Aban-
doning our home and all our goods except what
we could carry, and taking all the money we had,
we rushed out. What we saw on our way to the
station is hardly describable, everything was
burning, the streets were covered with bodies
shot dead and half-burnt. Everywhere proclama-
tions had been posted, summoning every man to
assist in quenching the flames, and the women
and children to stay inside the houses. The
station was crowded with fugitives, and I was
just trying to show an officer my legitimation

86 In the Firing Line

papers when the soldiers separated me from my
wife and children.

All protests were useless, and a lot of us were
marched off to a big shed in the goods yard, from
where we could see the finest buildings of the city,
the most beautiful historical monuments, being
burned down.

Shortly afterwards German soldiers drove
before them 300 men and lads to the corner of
the Boulevard van Tienen and the Maria Theresia
Street, opposite the Cafe Vermalen. There they
were shot. The sight filled us with horror. The
Burgomaster, two magistrates, the Rector of the
University, and all police officials had been shot
already.

With our hands bound behind our backs we
were then marched off by the soldiers, still with-
out having seen our wives or children. We went
through the Juste de Litsh Street, along the
Diester Boulevard, across the Vaart and up the
hill.

From the Mont Cesar we had a full view of
the burning town, St. Peter in flames, while the
troops incessantly sent shot after shot into the
unfortunate town. We came through the village
of Herent — one single heap of ruins — where
another troop of prisoners, including half-a-dozen
priests, joined us. Suddenly, about ten o'clock,
evidently as the result of some false alarm, we
were ordered to kneel down, and the soldiers stood

The Destruction of Louvain 87

behind us with their rifles ready to fire, using us
as a shield. But fortunately for us nothing
happened.

After a delay of half-an-hour, our march was
continued. No conversation was allowed, and
the soldiers continually maltreated us. One
soldier struck me with all his might with the
heavy butt-end of his rifle. I could hardly walk
any further, but I had to. We were choked with
thirst, but the Germans wasted their drinking
water without offering us a drop.

At seven o'clock we arrived at Camperhout,
en route for MaHnes. We saw many half-
burnt dead bodies — men, women, and children.
Frightened to death and half-starved, we were
locked up in the church, and there later joined
by another troop of prisoners from the surrounding
villages.

At ten o'clock the church was lighted up by
burning houses. Again shots whistled through
the air, followed by cries and groans.

At five o'clock next morning, all the priests
were taken out by the soldiers and shot, together
with eight Belgian soldiers, six cyclists, and two
gamekeepers. Then the officer told us that we
could go back to Louvain. This we did, but
only to be recaptured by other soldiers, who
brought us back to Camperhout. From there we
were marched to Malines, not by the high road,
but along the river. Some of the party fell into

88 In the Firing Line

the water, but all were rescued. After thirty-six
hours of ceaseless excitement and danger we
arrived at Malines, where we were able to buy some
food, and from there 1 escaped to Holland. I
still do not know where my wife and children
are. — Reute/s Special Service.

So far as available evidence goes, it seems
clear enough that by some misunderstanding
the German soldiers fired upon each other in the
town, and then made the unhappy townsfolk
pay the price of their tragic blundering. There
are hopes that the beautiful old Hotel de Ville
escaped the general holocaust ; otherwise Lou-
vain and its ancient glories of art and architecture
are things of the past.

" Lou vain is no longer anything but a heap of
cinders. ... In the name of Europe, of which
you have till now been one of the most illustrious
champions," writes the well-known French
noveUst, Romain Roland, in an open letter
addressed to the German dramatist, Gerhart
Hauptmann, " in the name of civilisation, for
which the greatest of men have been fighting for
centuries — in the name of the very honour of the
Germanic race, I adjure you, Gerhart Hauptmann,
and the German intellectual elite, among whom
I count so many friends, to protest against this
crime. If you do not, it can only mean one of

The Destruction of Louvain 89

two things, either that you approve, or that you
are impotent to raise your voice against the Huns
who rule you. In the latter case, how can you
still pretend that you are fighting for the cause of
human liberty and progress ? . . . Are you the
descendants of Goethe, or of Attila ? "

IV

The Fight in the North Sea

" Strong Mother of a Lion line,
Be proud of these strong sons of thine '^

Tennyson.

In the three weeks that followed on the declara-
tion of war, tidings came to us from time to time
of how our ships were chasing and sinking the
enemy's cruisers, capturing his merchantmen
and keeping the ocean-highways clear for our
own and neutral commerce ; but no word reached
us from the great British fleet that was keeping
watch and ward in the North Sea, waiting sleep-
lessly for the German Navy that was sheltered
behind the impregnable fort of Heligoland to
dash out and make its loudly threatened raid
upon our coasts. We heard no word of those
guardian sailormen, but we slept peacefully in
our beds at night, confident in their strength,
their courage, their alertness. Then suddenly,
on the 28th August, whilst the British and French
armies were in the heat of their strategic retreat

90

The Fight in the North Sea 91

from Mons, news of our seamen's dashing fight
and victory in the North Sea flashed through
the land. They had grown weary of waiting,
and as the German was too discreet to venture
forth to the attack they had slipped into his
fastness under cover of the dark and hunted
him out. Until it is possible to compile a con-
nected, orderly narrative, the tale of that brilliant
engagement is best told in the letters of the men
who had part in it :

Letter 22. — From Albert Roper, first-class petty
officer of H.M. cruiser " Talbot,'' to his
brother at Leeds :

I cannot give you any news about our move-
ments. It is against the rules to do so, and it's
a jolly good job, too, for if it was not so, things
would leak out, and that is just what we do
not want. We are waiting patiently for Wilhe's
fleet to come out to enable our chaps to have
a little practice. We try to make ourselves
as happy as we can in the shape of a sing-song
occasionally. These evenings are well appre-
ciated.

Letter 23. — Fro77t Seaman Wilson, of the '* Bac-
chante,** to his wife at Hitnslet :

You will have read of our victory in the

92 In the Firing Line

North Sea. It was fine. Our ship brought the
dead and wounded and the prisoners back. A
grim job it was, too. I only wish the whole
German fleet would come out. We may get a
chance of coming home soon. Their firing is
rotten, whilst our men behind the guns are perfect.
They get a hit every time.

The bounders won't come out. That was
the reason our ships had to try and drive them
out. You see the place is all mined, and if a ship
runs into one of these mines it means destruction.

The commander of the Liberty, a torpedo
boat destroyer, asked his ship's company if
they would volunteer to go up Kiel Harbour
with him, and every man said " Yes," although it
looked certain death. Up they went, and got
under the forts of Heligoland and let rip at the
German cruisers in the harbour. One of the
wounded sailors of the Liberty told me that
the shells fired at them were enough to sink a
fleet. Our ship had only one torpedo and one
round of ammunition left. So they turned round
to come out, when a shrapnel shell struck the
Liberty's mast, killing the gallant commander
and three others. The coxswain, although
wounded, brought the ship safely to our fleet
that was waiting outside. We pray to God
that we may come off victorious, and I am
confident we shall, as every man jack in the
fleet has the heart of a Hon.

The Fight in the North Sea 93

Letter 24. — From a Welsh gunner on the
" Aretkiisa " :

Just a few lines to let you know how the
war is going on. I cannot say much, as corre-
spondence is strictly secret and letters are likely
to be opened. The Commodore turned over to
this ship last Wednesday, and we were in action
on Friday at 7.45 a.m. and finished a stiff eight-
hours* engagement, our loss being eleven killed
and fifteen injured in this ship alone.

We were done after the fight, engines dis-
abled, and had to be towed to Chatham. One
man was all that was left at my gun. But still,
after all, we saw them off. We blew them to

. Three fights we had. As soon as we are

patched up v/e shall be off again.

Letter 25. — From Gunner John Meekly, of Leeds :

Been in battle, and, wonder of wonders, haven't
scored a scratch. My ship, as you know, is the
Arethnsa — "Saucy Arethusa" as history knows
her. She was the first there, and the first that
shot home. It was her that made them come out,
and her that took the most prominent part, as all
the ship's company know only too well. Now wc
are in dry dock.

94 In the Firing Line

We had to sacrifice ourselves almost to do
what we did do — to get them out of their shells.
Not only were submarines and mines a menace,
but also the fire from the forts. We got within
their range, and our ship suffered the most.
We have got a fearless admiral, and at the same
time a decent fellow.

I saw an account in the papers when we
got in dock, and I was very pleased with it,
because another ship had been mistaken for us.
The name of our commodore is Tyrwhitt.

Letter 26. — From Midshipman Hartley, of H.M.
battle-cruiser *' Lion," to his parents at Burton-
on-Trent :

At last we have had a taste of gunfire, but
it was only a taste. We ran into three light
German cruisers. Two of them were sunk, and
one managed to make of^ in a sinking condition
and badly on fire forward and aft. Of course,
their guns had about the same effect on us as
a daisy air-rifle. The funny thing, which you
should have seen, was all the stokers grubbing
about after the action looking for bits of shell.

The Germans fought awfully well and bravely,
but the poor beggars hadn't a dog's chance of

The Fight In the North Sea 95

living through it. The Mainz was the name of one
of those sunk. Two of their destroyers were also
sunk.

Letter 27. — From a Scottish seaman (Published
in " The Scotsman ") :

It was a sight worth seeing. We chased two
German destroyers of the " S " class, one of which
went on fire, and the other was sunk by eight
British destroyers, including the Defender. We
chased them for about four hours, and one showed
great pluck as the crew refused to haul down
the flag, and she sank with the German
flag flying. When she sank, and even before it,
the sailors were swimming towards the British
ships, shouting in broken English that they had
surrendered, and appealing for help. It was a
terrible sight to see the wounded in the water,
and we assisted in throwing out lifebelts and
ropes to them, while the whaler and a skiff were
also lowered, together with small boats from the
other British vessels. While engaged in picking
up the wounded and other survivors, we were
fired on by a big four-funnelled German cruiser,
so that we had to leave our two boats. We
watched the cruiser firing seven or eight ii-inch
guns, which made us keep going well ahead to
keep out of the way.

96 In the Firing Line

A piece of shell struck one of the gun's crew
on the head, and dropped at my feet, and we had
to keep dodging the shells round the bridge. A
light cruiser at last came to the rescue, for the
destroyer's guns were no use against those of the
Germans'. Our cruiser sank the German cruiser,
and a good many of the enemy's boats escaped.
About 12 o'clock on Saturday one of the latest
submarines signalled that she had saved the
boat's crew (9 men and i officer) while following
the big cruiser to torpedo her. It was believed
these fellows had been lost, and their mates on
board never dreamt of seeing them again. Some
German survivors were put aboard a destroyer,
and they were cheered by the British tars who
were anxious to hear the news from them. A
German stoker said they did not want to fight
England, and it was too much Germany fighting
so many countries. It was terrible to hear the
cries of the wounded in the water, and we did
not get a chance to pick them up. The men
on the sinking destroyer stuck to their guns to the
last, and they were firing at their own men who
dived for our ships. Some had lifebelts on, and
the officers tried to frighten them by saying the
British would put them in front of their guns.
We had only two hurt.

Drawn by Philip Dadd, from a sketch
by G. H. Davis.

Copyright of The Sphere.

Rescued bv Submarine. A Strange Incident during the Navai
Action off Heligoland.

The Fight in the North Sea 97

Letter 28. — From a gun-room officer on H.M,
battle-cruiser " Invincible,'^ to his parents
at Hove 5

The particular ship we were engaged with was
in a pitiful plight when we had finished with her.
Her funnels shot away, masts tottering, great
gaps of daylight in her sides, smoke and flame
belching from her everywhere. She speedily
heeled over and sank like a stone, stern first.
So far as is known none of her crew was saved.
She was game to the last, let it be said, her flag
flying till she sank, her guns barking till they
could bark no more. Although we suffered no
loss we had some very narrow escapes. Three
torpedoes were observed to pass us, one, it is said,
within a few feet. Four-inch shells, too, fell
short, or were ahead of us. The sea was alive
with the enemy's submarines, which, however,
luckily did no damage. They should not be
under-rated, these Germans. They've got " guts."
That cruiser did not think apparently of sur-
render.

98 In the Firing Line

Letter 29. — From a Bhiejacket in the North Sea,
to his friends at J arrow ;

On August 24th we made a dash for the
German coast and were lucky enough to come
across two German cruisers. Then the fun started.
We pursued one, and when I tell you we can do
thirty knots, you can imagine what chance she
had of getting away. She was a heavier boat
than us, and the engagement lasted four hours.
At the end of that time she was a terrible sight.
She was on fire from stem to stem ; the Germans
were jumping overboard, and at the finish only
seventeen out of 400 were saved. It is a fact
that the Germans only stayed at their guns under
the orders of their officers, who stood over them
with revolvers. Three dozen of their bodies,
which were picked up, bore marks of revolver
shots. Five days every week for the last four
weeks we have swept the North Sea, and all we
discovered were the aforesaid two cruisers and
about a dozen trawlers, which we sank. There
is no sign of the big German Navy. They are in
Kiel Harbour, and if they come out — well, there
will be no German Navy left. The only things
they are using are mines and submarines. In
fact, the so-cadled German Navy is a *' wash-out.'*

The Fight in the North Sea 99

We have been within ten miles of their base and
they will not come out.

Letter 30. — From Seaman-Gunner Brown, to his
-parents at Newport, Isle of Wight ;

We and another ship in our squadron came
across two German cruisers. We outed one and
started on the second, but battle-cruisers soon
finished her off. Another then appeared, and
after we had plunked two broadsides into her
she slid off in flames. Every man did his bit, and
there was a continuous stream of jokes. We
pencilled on the projectiles. "Love from Eng-
land," " One for the Kaiser," and other such
messages.

The sight of sinking German ships was
gloriously terrible ; funnels and masts lying about
in all directions, and amidships a huge furnace,
the burning steel looking like a big ball of sulphur.
There was not the slightest sign of fear, from the
youngest to the oldest man aboard.

100 In the Firing Line

Letter 31. — From a man in a warship* s engine-
room :

We stayed down there keeping the engines
going at their top speed in order to cut of£ the
Germans from their fleet. We could hear the
awful din and the scampering of the tars
on the deck as they rushed about from point to
point. We could hear the shells crashing against
the side of the ship or shrieking overhead as
they passed harmlessly into the water, and we
knew that at any moment one might strike us
in a vital part, and send us below never to come
up again. It is ten times harder on the men whose
duty is in the engine-room than for those on
deck taking part in the fighting, for they at least
have the excitement of the fight, and if the ship
is struck they have more than a sporting chance
of escape. We have none, and the medals and
pats on the back when the fight is won are not
for us, who are only common mechanics.

Letter 32. — From Seaman Jack Diggett, of West
Bromwich, to his brother :
You will have heard of our little job in the
North Sea. We sank five ships and ran a few off.

The Fight in the North Sea 101

Of course it was only a trial spin. We kicked
off last Friday about six in the morning, and we
won 5 — nil. Not bad, considering we are playing
" away." Their goalkeepers could not hold us,
we were so hot. Our forwards shot beautifully,
and our defence was sound. We agreed to play
extra time if we had not finished, but we had
done in time. It must not be thought that we
had it all our own way, for they were very
brave, and fought until one of our boys
fired a shot at the last gun in the Mainz and
blew the whole gun and crew as well into the sea.
One of our officers had both his legs blown off,
and still shouted out to give the Germans another.
We are all getting ready for the big match of the
season now when their battle fleet chooses to come
out. One German officer we got out of the water
asked, '* Are you British ? " When our officer
replied, " Yes,'' he said, " God help us ! '* They
thought we were the French fleet.

Letter 33. — From a seaman on H.M.S. " Hearty "

The destroyer Laurel seems to have suffered
the most. She had one funnel carried right away

102 In the Firing Line

and the others riddled Uke a pepper-box. One
shell struck her right forward, went through her
bulkhead, through one galley door, and out
through the other. The cookie was in there at
the time, but it missed him and cut through the
other side of the ship. That cook was born
under a lucky star. It's on the bridge and
around the guns where they suffered most.
On the Liberty's bridge, everybody except one
was killed ; in fact they say they were never seen
since. Poor devils, they must have been carried
right overboard. The skipper of the Laurel
had both his legs shot away.

The scout Arethusa came in last. She brought
100 Germans picked up oft the cruiser Mainz, We
didn't see them ; they were landed down at
Sheerness. They've got one keepsake off her.
They picked up a German officer, but he died, and
they buried him at sea. They've got his uniform
hanging up. The cooks on the Arethusa were
not so lucky. Two cooks were in the galley,
just having their rum, when a shell killed one
and blew the other's arm off. A funny thing,
they've got a clock hanging up ; it smashed the
glass and one hand, but the blooming thing's still
going.

The Fight in the North Sea 103

Letter 34. — From a seaman on H.M, destroyer
" Lurcher," to a friend at Bradford :

We had orders to pick up prisoners. As we
steamed up dead bodies were floating past the
ship. We went up alongside the German cruiser
Mainz just before she sank, and it was an awful
sight. We got 224 prisoners in a most terrible
state, and most of them died. It is impossible
to describe it all on paper. Our decks were red
with blood, and you see we are only a destroyer,
so you may tell what a mess we were in.

All the Germans seemed quite happy when we
got them on board. The worst job of all was
getting them out of the sea. Some of them had
legs and arms shot away, battered to pieces. I
was in our boat just below when their vessel sank,
and there seemed to be many who were helpless
on board her. The captain remained behind,
having had both legs shot away.

Letter 35. — From a Naval Lieutenant to a friend :

That was all. Remains only little details,
only one of which I will tell you. The most

104 In the Firing Line"

romantic, dramatic, and piquant episode that
modern war can ever show. The Defender,
having sunk an enemy, lowered a whaler to pick
up her swimming survivors ; before the whaler
got back an enemy's cruiser came up and chased
the Defender, and thus she abandoned her whaler.
Imagine their feelings — alone in an open boat
without food, 25 miles from the nearest land, and
that land the enemy's fortress, with nothing but
fog and foes around them. Suddenly a swirl
alongside and up, if you please, pops his Britannic
Majesty's submarine E 4, opens his conning
tower, takes them all on board, shuts up again,
dives, and brings them home 250 miles ! Is not
that magnificent ? No novel would dare face
the critics with an episode like that in it, except,
perhaps, Jules Verne ; and all true !

Letter 36. — From a seaman on one of the British
destroyers :

We have at last had an innings at the Ger-
mans. It was a go. Fully seven hours we fought
shot for shot. I had the pleasure of seeing four
German ships go down. We never knew but it

The Fight in the North Sea 105

might be our turn next, as great shells were
falling all around us. Several shells went just
over our heads, whistling just like a needle on a
broken record. Would you believe it, one of our
boats had actually stopped to pick up German
wounded when the Germans fired on her ?

I think all our men took it just as though
we were having our annual battle practice —
cool, laughing, and cracking jokes, with shell
all around them. All the thought was just of
shooting it into them — and they got it ! I was
told they lost 1,500 men. I shall never under-
stand how it was our ship was not hit, for we
were within range of their cruisers and the
Heligoland forts. We are ready for another
smack at them.

Letter 37. — From a seaman on H.M,S, " New
Zealand " to his uncle in Halifax 2
The torpedo craft had rather a hot time
with the enemy in the early morning, but
suddenly we appeared out of the mist. To say
that they were surprised is to put it mildly,
because before they knew where they were we
were playing our light cruisers, and the destroyers

106 In the Firing Line

worried them like terriers. Then for us to
come along and give them the coup de grace was
absolutely It,

Two of their ships, I am convinced, would
have been floating to-day, but as our small ships
gathered round them to take off their survivors —
all their flags were struck — they opened fire, only
to be sent to Davy Jones's locker a little quicker
than they could shoot. Well, we succeeded in
sending some good ships and some unfortunate
men to the bottom in something like fourteen
minutes. Not a bad score for the cricket season^
is it?

Letter 38. — From a seaman on hoard the flagship of
the first destroyer squadron, to his friends at
Wimbledon ;

We had a very decent splash last week of!
Heligoland, as doubtless you have read. Our
ship was not hit at all, though some shots were
pretty near. It was a fine sight to see the Lion
demolish one cruiser. We could see her (the
cruiser's) shots falling short, but still the Lion
did not fire. For fully ten minutes the cruiser

The Fight in the North Sea 107

belted away without getting a hit. Then the
Lion, who was leading the line, hoisted " open
fire," turned slowly and majestically round and
fired her broadside — once. It was quite sufficient.
Up went a cloud of smoke and steam from the
target, and when it cleared her aft funnel was at a
rakish angle, and a huge rent appeared the length
of her side.

After a few more " salvoes " she was rapidly
sinking by the stern. Shortly afterwards she
half-hauled down her ensign, and as we were
steaming up to stand by and rescue her sur-
vivors, she hoisted it again and opened fire. It
was a dirty trick, but they got their deserts.
Once again the Lion turned, and this time fired
but five shots from her huge turrets. Amidst a
shower of splinters, smoke, and fire she dis-
appeared. We steamed over the spot, but
although there was plenty of wreckage, not a
single living thing was to be seen. This incident
only lasted about forty-five minutes, although the
whole battle was raging for eight hours.

108 In the Firing Line

Letter ^g.—From leading telegraphist H. Francis,
of Croydon :

We had the first taste of blood on Friday,
and I can tell you it was O.T. The battle lasted
from 6.30 a.m. till one p.m., going at it hammer
and tongs all the time.

We came back with sixty prisoners, one of
them being Admiral von Tirpitz's son, who was
second-lieutenant in the Mainz. We were within
twenty yards of her when she went down, and I
can tell you it was a grand sight.

Their officers were shooting the men as they
jumped overboard, and one chap on the bridge
was beckoned to by our commander to come off.
But there was " nothing doing." He simply
folded his arms, shook his head, and as the ship
rolled over he never moved. The captain also
went down in her. He had both his legs blown off.
For a quarter of an hour the sea was simply
alive with Germans, all singing out most piteously,
and, as we pulled them on board, we marvelled
how they managed to swim with the wounds they
had, some with feet off, some with one or two legs
off, some with their arms gone.

The Kaiser has been stuffing his men up
that the English cannot shoot. They know
differently now. They were greatly surprised

The Fight in the North Sea 109

when we picked them up and looked after
them.

Pleased to say I am enjoying myself, and
longing for more.

Letter 40. — From Gunner T. White 5

We didn't waste more shots than was neces-
sary on the Germans off Heligoland. One of
their destroyers was knocked over first shot. It
was one of the cleanest shots you ever saw, and
the man who fired it is the proudest man in our
ship to-day.

Next time I fancy the Germans will want to
make it a rule of the fight that a German ship
must be allowed at least ten shots to one of ours
before the knock-out is fired. Of course, it's
very hard on the rest of us, because it simply
means that the gunner who gets first shot does the
trick, and we may be in a dozen fights and never
get a shot at the enemy once, because there's
nothing left to hit.

Since that first engagement, the British Fleet
has been waiting alert for the enemy to come

110 In the Firing Line

out of hiding and give them a second chance ;
and has incidentally been busy sweeping the sea
of floating mines and prowling after mine-layers
that, disguised as Grimsby trawlers, have suc-
ceeded in putting in some deadly work.

An interesting account of the efficiency of this
poHcing of the North Sea was related by two
trawler skippers, a week after the fight, to a
Daily Telegraph Correspondent who remarks
that the modus operandi necessitates a con-
tinuous vigilance, mostly under cover of the
darkness, and entails a strain upon the naval
officers and men that can only be appreciated
by those who witness it.

The first skipper stated that he had just come
from Iceland :

At one point up north there was, he said,
a solid wall of warships, which made it im-
possible for any foe to break through undetected.
The scrutiny did not end with a mere examination
at the point mentioned. After being released
our boat was followed by a couple of torpedo
destroyers until we reached our destination. In
this way we were not only convoyed, but the
warships made absolutely certain that we were

The Fight in the North Sea 111

British trawlers. The experience, being novel
to us, was very inspiring.

The other skipper's story was even more in-
teresting. He is in charge of a North Sea boat,
and anchored each night near the shore.

We were laid imder the land, he said, when
about two in the morning a cruiser suddenly
appeared alongside of us. All his Ughts were
extinguished, and the quiet way in which he came
up and the clever tactics he showed in getting
alongside without doing any damage was astonish-
ing.

Talk about cats seeing in the dark, these
naval officers are wonderful. When the cruiser
reached us all we could see was a huge black
object hemming us in. A voice shouted out,
" Who are you ? *' and I answered back, " A
British trawler." " What is your name ? " he
asked, and I repHed. '* When did you leave ? "
he next asked. I told him. " What were your
orders when you left ? " he next asked. I told him
and in a flash the commander of the cruiser
shouted back, " All right."

It was a fine piece of work, beHeve me, but
there was something even more astonishing.
Directly the commander had finished talking

112 In the Firing Line

to me another voice from the stem of our vessel
sung out, " The name is quite correct, sir." A
submarine had crept up behind to verify our
name and number, and although all the crew had
come on deck to see what was happening, not
one of the men aft had seen the submarine appear.
The whole episode only occupied a few minutes,
and the cruiser, after wishing us good morning
and plenty of fishing, disappeared in the darkness.
I have seen the British Navy in times of peace,
but to see it in war time makes you feel proud
of it. No swank, simply good old Nelson's motto
all the time.

V

From Mons to the Walls of Paris

" The Lilies of France and our own Red Rose
Are twined in a coronal now :
At War's bloody bridal it glitters and glows
On Liberty's beautiful brow."

Gerald Massey.

In his despatch to Lord Kitchener, dated Sep-
tember 7th, Sir John French tells of the four-
days' battle at Mons, and traces his masterly,
triumphant retreat, in the face of irresistible odds,
to Maubeuge, to Cambrai, to Le Cateau, to
Landrecies, and so almost to within sight of the
walls of Paris. He pays a glowing tribute to the
magnificent fighting spirit of the officers and men
who carried out these stupendous movements with
such complete success, but at present it is to the
men themselves you must turn again for detailed
information of the horrors and heroisms, the
grim and glorious hours that darkened and

113

114 In the Firing Line

lightened through those tumultuous days . ' ' What
we did in that three weeks English people at
home will never loiow," writes Private J. Harris,
of the Worcestershire Regiment : " We were
marching and fighting day and night for three
weeks without a break/'

Letter 41. — From Private Smiley, of the Gordon
Highlanders, to his brother, Mr. G. A . Smiley,
of Chepstow :

On Sunday, 23rd, at Mons, we rose at four
a.m. and marched out 1,100 strong. W^e took
up ground on the extreme flank of the British
force. Immediately we started to entrench
ourselves, and to the good trench work we did
we put down our freedom from casualty. Later
in the day a hellish tornado of shell swept over
us, and with this introduction to war we received
our baptism of fire. We were lining the Mons
road, and immediately in our front and to our
rear were woods. In the rear wood was stationed
a battery of R.F.A. The German artillery is
wonderful. The first shot generally found us, and
to me it looked as if the ranges had been carefully
taken beforehand. However, our own gunners
were better, and they hammered and battered
the Germans all the day long.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 115

They were at least three to our one, and
our artillery could not be in fifty places at once,
so we just had to stick it. The German infantry
are bad skirmishers and rotten shots, and they
were simply mowed down in batches by our chaps.
They came in companies of, I should say, 150
men in file five deep, and we simply rained bullets
at them the live-long day. At about five p.m.
the Germans in the left front of us retired, and
we saw no more of them.

The Royal Irish Regiment had had an awful
smashing earlier on, as also had the Middlesex,
and our company were ordered to go along the
road as reinforcements. The one and a half mile
seemed a thousand. Stormed at all the way, we
kept on, and no one was hit until we came to a
white house which stood in a clearing. Immedi-
ately the officer passed the gap hell was let loose
on us, but we got across safely, and I was the only
one wounded, and that was with a ricochet
shrapnel bullet in the right knee.

I knew nothing about it until an hour after,
when I had it pointed out to me. I dug it out
with a knife. We passed dead civilians, some
women, and a little boy with his thigh shattered
by a bullet. Poor wee fellow. He lay all the
time on his face, and some man of the Irish was

116 In the Firing Line

looking after him, and trying to make him com-
fortable. The devils shelled the hospital and
killed the wounded, despite a huge Red Cross
flag flying over it.

When we got to the Royal Irish Regiment's
trenches the scene was terrible. They were
having dinner when the Germans opened on
them, and their dead and wounded were lying
all around. Beyond a go at some German
cavalry, the day drew in, and darkness saw us on
the retreat. The regiment lost one officer and
one man dead, one officer and some men severely
wounded.

We kept up this sort of game (fighting by
day and retiring by night) until we got to Cambrai,
on Tuesday night. I dare not mention that place
and close my eyes. God, it was awful. Avalanche
followed avalanche of fresh German troops, but
the boys stuck to it, and we managed to retire
to Ham without any molestation. Cambrai was
the biggest battle fought. Out of all the glorious
regiment of i,ioo men only five officers and 170
of the men answered the roll-call next day.
Thank God, I was one of them.

Of course, there may be a number who got
separated from the battalion through various
causes, and some wounded who escaped. I hope

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 117

so because of the heavy hearts at home. I saw
the South Lanes, and they were terribly cut up,
only a remnant left of the regiment.

Letter 42. — From Corporal W. Leonard, of the
Army Service Corps (a South African War
reservist) to his mother at Huddersfield :

I know that you will all excuse me for not
receiving a letter from me this long time, but
I hope that you will excuse me. Don't, what-
ever you do at home, don't worry about me. If
I just thought that you won't worry at home I
shall be all right. You know, mother, I know
more about war this time than I did last, and
the conditions also. It's all right when you
know the ropes, and my African experiences are
serving me in good stead here, so I hope and
trust that you at home are not worrying about
me ; time enough to worry when there is cause.
Well, I hope and trust all are well at home, as
it is hell out here. Up to this affair I thought
that the Germans were a civilised race of people,
but they are nothing but savages ; niggers
would not do what they do. Just fancy mounting

118 In the Firing Line

maxim guns on ambulance wagons bearing the
Red Cross, cutting the right hand off prisoners
and turning them loose afterwards minus a
hand. By jingo, mother, the boys (our boys)
are absolutely all in. We did give the Boers
a chance now and again, but these devils we
don't give them a cat in hell chance ; we're
playing the game to the finish. I would not
care to write so much, as I had better tell you
when I come home. The Boer War was a tame
affair. We are moving off again to-night. I
don't know where, and we don't care either ;
it's a do to a finish this time. I hope you got
my postcards from Rouen in France, as there
was some doubt as to whether they would let
them through or not. I will write home as op-
portunity occurs, and I hope you won't worry
about me, because you all know at home that
I shall always be where I'm wanted, and my
duty every time, so don't worry. Tell anyone
who enquires I am O.K., lost a bit of weight
perhaps, but not the worse so far, and above
all don't believe all you see in the papers, as
they know practically nothing, as everything is
done under sealed orders, which never leak out.
We are not even allowed to say in our letters
where we are, as they are opened and read by

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 119

the captain before they leave here, so you can
judge for yourselves how things are. And I
might say, mother, that we are very busy.

Letter 43. — From Corporal Edward Hood, to his
father, at Taunton :

The fighting lately has been hot all round, and
the French have had much harder than us in
some places, but they're sticking at it manfully,
and they deserve to win a victory that will wipe
the Germans off the map. The French make a
lot of us in camp, and when we pass each other in
the field, no matter how busy the Frenchman may
be, they give us hearty cheers to encourage us
on our way. There's plenty of friendly rivalry
between us when there's hard fighting to be done,
and when we do get there before the French
they don't grudge us our luck. They're good
sports right through to the core, and the British
soldier asks nothing better from allies in the
field.

120 In the Firing Line

Letter 44, — From Private William Burgess, of the
Royal Field Artillery , to his parents at
Ilfracomhe j

We left our landing place for the front, on
the Tuesday, and got there on Saturday night.
The Germans had just reached Li^ge then, and
we got into action on the Sunday morning. The
first thing we did was to blow up a bridge to
stop the Germans from crossing. Then we
came into action behind a lot of houses attached
to the main street. We were there about ten
minutes, when the houses started to fall around
us. The poor people were buried alive. I saw
poor children getting knocked down by bursting
shells.

The next move was to advance across where
there was a Red Cross Hospital. They dropped
shells from airships and fired on it until the place
was burnt down to the ground. Then they got
a big plan on to retire and let the French get
behind them. We retired eight miles, but we
had to fight until we were forced to move again.
We got as far as Le Cateau on Tuesday night.
We camped there until two o'clock next morning.

Then we all heard there was a big fight com-
ing off, so we all got together and cleared the field
for action (The letter mentions the

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 121

numbers of men engaged, and states that the
Germans were in the proportion of three to one.)
. . . We cut them down Hke rats. We could
see them coming on us in heaps, and dropping
Uke hail. The Colonel passed along the line,
and said, " Stick it, boys."

I tell you, mother, it was awful to see your
own comrades dropping down — some getting their
heads blown off, and others their legs and arms. I
was fighting with my shirt off. A piece of shell
went right through my shirt at the back and never
touched me. It stuck into a bag of earth which
we put between the wheels to stop bullets.

We were there all busy fighting when an air-
ship came right over the Hne and dropped a bomb,
which caused a terrible lot of smoke. Of course,
that gave the Germans our range. Then the shells
were dropping on us thick. We looked across the
line and saw the German guns coming towards us.
We turned our two centre guns on them, and sent
them yards in the air. I reckon I saw one German
go quite twenty yards in the air.

Just after that a shell burst right over our gun.
That one got me out of action. I had to get off
the field the best way I could. The bullets were
going all around me on the way off ; you see they
got completely around us. I went about two

122 In the Firing Line

miles, and met a Red Cross cart. I was taken to
St. Quentin*s Hospital. We were shelled out of
there about two in the morning, and then taken
in a train, and taken down to a plain near Rouen.
Next morning we were put in a ship for dear
old England.

LettcY 45. — From a Corporal in the King's Royal
Rifles, now at Woolwich Hospital ;

I was in three engagements, Mons, Landrecies,
and Cambrai, but the worst of all was Mons. It
was on Sunday, the 23rd of August, and I shall
never forget the date. They were easily twenty-
five to one, and we eventually had to retreat with
just over a thousand casualties, but heavens, they
must have had a jolly sight more. At Landrecies,
where we arrived at 7.30, we thought we were
going to have a night's rest, though we were wet
through and no change, but we hadn't been there
long before they (the Germans) started firing ;
they seemed to be in every place we went to. The
only thing we heard then was, *' turn out at once."
It was about 10.15 when we turned out, and the
Colonel's orders were that we had to take a bridge

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 123

if every man was killed. (I thought that sounded
a wee bit healthy.) I had my last drink out of
a dirty glass of beer. I says, " good health Billy,'*
and off we went with bayonets fixed.

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 num-
bers 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

124 In the Firing Line

did hundreds more, and I finished bridge-taking
with my old pal only (the rifle).

Letter 46. — From Lieutenant 0. P, Edgcumbe,
of 1st Battalion D.C.L.I., to his father, Sir
Robert Edgcumbe, Commandant at Newquay a

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. How-
ever, 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.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 125

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

126 In the Firing Line

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 pur-
poses, 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 Uke it.
But we found none. They had not yet arrived.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 127

It was 10 p.m. before they did so. In the mean-
time 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 of£
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.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 129

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.

130 In the Firing Line

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 cafe. We had
some coffee and rum (Guy paid, as I had no
money). I played the piano and sang " Mrs.
HuUaby." Lucky job they could not understand
EngHsh, or they would have been shocked.

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 travel-
ling 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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 131

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
BurghwalUs 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 shrap-
nel is very dangerous stuff, having high explosive

132 In the Firing Line

in it. It bursts backwards, and so nullifies our
frontal shield. No more time or news.

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.,

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 133

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 every-
where during conflicts howling " Trahie," " Per-
due," " Sauve qui pent." 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

134 In the Firing Line

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 CO. 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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 135

day, but somehow or other we cleared out, and
had only gone ten minutes before the place was
blown up.

The ofi&cer in charge of my section had his head
blown ofi. 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.

136 In the Firing Line

Letter 53. — From Trooper S. Car gill:

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 in-
fantry 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. — From 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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 137

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 farm-
house. 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.

138 In the Firing Line

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.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 139

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 an-
other through my middle finger against the top
joint. I was wounded at Cambrai last Wednes-
day. 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 Wednes-
day, 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

140 In the Firing Line

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
Irifle 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 soldiery 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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 141

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

142 In the Firing Line

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 2nd South
Lancashire Regiment , to his wife i

I shall never forget this lot. Men fell dead
just Hke 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 Hft 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).

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 143

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 roimd here strikes me. We
are dancing about round the big German army,
but our turn will come.

Last Sunday we had prayers with she Us burst-
ing all around us, but the service wa 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

144 In the Firing Line

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 /. 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 pris-
oners, 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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 145

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-cycHsts 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.

146 In the Firing Line

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.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 147

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 com-
fortable. 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

148 In the Firing Line

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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 149

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 some-
where 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

150 In the Firing Line

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

II 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 i.o p.m., an hour and a half after-
wards, 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.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 151

Then someone cried out that the Germans were
advancing along the canal bank, and our com-
pany 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 regi-
ment 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.

152 In the Firing Line

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.

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 Magers-
fontein, in South Africa, said they were nothing
to what we got that Sunday. Out of 240 men
of my company only about twenty were unin-
jured.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 153

Letter 69. — From an Infantryman in hospital
(Published in the " Alder shot 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
EngHsh ; " 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 beau-
tiful Httle 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.

154 In the Firing Line

Letter 70. — From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E., to
his mother at Uckfleld :

We met the Germans at Landrecies on Sun-
day. 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 ever5d;hing 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.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 155

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

156 In the Firing Line

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 foot-
ball 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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 157

Boulogne, and afterwards to Netheravon, being
conveyed from Southampton by motor ambu-
1 ance.

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 imder shell fire. The mugs were
passed round with the biscuits and the " bully '*
as best they could by the mess orderHes, 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 of! 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

158 In the Firing Line

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 hmited almost
entirely to covering the retreat by a steady rifle
fire from hastily-prepared trenches. We were
thrown out along an extended front, and in-
structed to hold our ground until the retiring
troops were signalled safe in the next position
allotted them. W^hen 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 th^n
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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 159

English, and they did not get very far without
having to fight. When they found the sHghtest
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 manoeuvres. 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 trjdng 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

160 In the Firing Line

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 hfe 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 httle dodge, and so, when
they are riding out to intercept retreating
Germans, they always give special attention to the
officers.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 161

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 reahsed 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 Hke it at all now
that we are nearer to them in numbers, and

F

162 In the Firing Line

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

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 163

That's the Germans all over, to " kid " them-
selves into the belief that they have got a soft
thing, and then when they find it's too hard, to
run away from it. Our lads have made up their
minds to give them no rest once we get on to
them, and they'll get as much of the British
Army as they can stand, and maybe a little more.
The French are greatly pleased with the show
we made in the field, and are in much better
spirits than they were.

Letter 78. — From a Non-commissioned Officer of
Dragoons :

All our men — in fact, the whole British Army
— are as fit as a fiddle, and the lads are as keen
as mustard. There is no holding them back.
At Mons we were under General Chetwode, and
horses and men positively flew at the Germans,
cutting through much heavier mounts and heavier
men than ours. The yelhng and the dash of the
Lancers and Dragoon Guards was a thing never
to be forgotten. We lost very heavily at Mons,
and it is a marvel how some of our fellows pulled
through and positively frightened the enemy.
We did some terrible execution, and our wrists

164 In the Firing Line

were feeling the strain of heavy riding before
sunset. With our tunics unbuttoned, we had
the full use of our right arm for attack and
defence.

After Mons I went with a small party scout-
ing, and we again engaged about twenty cavalry,
cut off from their main body. We killed nine,
wounded six, and gave chase to the remaining
five, who, in rejoining their unit, nearly were
the means of trapping us. However, our men
dispersed and hid in a wood until they fell in with

a squadron of the , and so reached camp in

safety. After that a smart young corporal
accompanied me to reconnoitre, and we went
too far ahead, and were cut off in a part of the
country thick with Uhlans. As we rode in the

direction of two wounded men were limping

along, both with legs damaged, one from the
Middlesex and the other Lancashire Fusiliers,
and so we took them up.

Corporal Watherston took one behind his
saddle and I took the other. The men were
hungry, and tattered to shreds with fighting, but
in fine spirits. We soon came across a small
village, and I found the cure a grand sportsman
and full of pluck and hospitality. He seemed
charmed to find a friend who was English, and

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 165

told me that the Germans were dressed in the
uniforms of British soldiers, which they took
from the dead and from prisoners in order to
deceive French villagers, who in many places
in that district had welcomed these wolves in
sheep's clothing. We were warned that the
enemy would be sure to track us up to the village.
The cure said he could hide the two wounded men
in the crypt of his church and put up beds for
them. It has a secret trapdoor, and was an
ancient treasure-house of a feudal lord, whose
castle we saw in ruins at the top of the hill close by.
Then he hid away our saddlery and uniforms
in the roof of a barn, and insisted upon our making
a rest-chamber of the tower of his church, which
was approached by a ladder, which we were to
pull up to the belfry as soon as we got there.
He smuggled in wine and meat and bread and
cakes, fruit and cigarettes, with plenty of bedding
pulled up by a rope. We slept soundly, and the
owls seemed the only other tenants, who resented
our intrusion. No troops passed through the
village that night. In the morning the cur^
came round at six o'clock, and we heard him say
Mass. After that we let down the ladder, and
he came up with delicious hot chocolate and a
basket of rolls and butter.

166 In the Firing Line

Our horses he had placed in different stables
a mile apart, and put French " fittings " on them,
so as to deceive the enemy. He thinks we are
well away from the main body of the German
army moving in the direction of Paris, but will
not hear of our leaving here for at least three days.
But I cried, " Cur^, we are deserters ! " The old
man wept and said, " Deserters, no, no — saviours,
saviours ; you have rescued France from the
torments of slavery."

However, we have now secured complete
disguises as French cultivateurs — baggy corderoy
trousers, blue shirts, boots, stockings, belt, hat,
cravat, everything to match — and as we have not
shaved for two weeks, and are bronzed with the
sun, I think that the corporal and myself can pass
anywhere as French peasants, if only he will
leave all the talking to me.

The two wounded soldiers don't wish us to
leave them, because I am interpreter, and not a
soul speaks English in the village. So we have
explained to the cur^ that we shall stay here until
our comrades are able to walk, and then the party
of four will push our way out somewhere on horse-
back and get to the coast. The sacristan at once
offered to be our guide, and it is arranged that
we take a carrier's wagon which travels in this

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 167

district and drive our own horses in it, and pick
up two additional mounts at a larger village on
the way to the coast.

We must get back as soon as ever we can.
Nothing could be kinder than the people here,
but this is not what we came to France for, and
hanging about in a French village is not exactly
what a soldier calls " cricket."

You cannot imagine how complete the
Germans are in the matter of rapid transport.
Large automobiles, such as the railway companies
have for towns round Harrogate and Scarborough,
built like char-a-bancs, carry the soldiers in
batches of fifty, so that they are as fresh as paint
when they get to the front. But in point of
numbers I think one of our side is a fair match
for four of the enemy. I hope that the British
public are beginning to understand what this
war means. The German is not a toy terrier,
but a bloodhound absolutely thirsty for blood.

Letter 79. — From Private Tom Savage, to his

relatives at Lame :

At Sea.

Just a line to let you know that we are

landing outside . They kept us without

168 In the Firing Line

any knowledge of how and where we were going
till the last moment. I am quite well and extra
specially fit. It is good fun on a troopship,
and we are going to have a nice little holiday
on the Continent. I'll be able to " swank French "
when I come back. I'll write a good long letter
when I settle down. I'm writing this at tea time
just before we land. I have got two very nice
chums, Jack Wright, the footballer, who has
seen service before, and Billy Caughey, both of
Belfast.

In France.

I am writing this note while on outpost
duty. I can't say where we are, or anything
like that, but I am in the best of health and
enjoying the life. I am getting a fine hand at
French. There is plenty of food and the people
are all very nice. It's great fun trying to under-
stand them. Plenty of fruit here, pears and
apples galore, and as for bread big long rolls and
rings of it, and all very cheap. When you happen
to be riding through a town the people give you
cigarettes, fruit, chocolates, and cider.

If you are all extra good I'll bring you home
a pet German. How is Home Rule getting on ?
Send me a paper, but I don't know when I'll
get it or you'll get this. I suppose the papers are

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 169

full of this ruction. I can write no more as I'll
soon have to go on guard.

Letter 80. — From Mons. E. Hovelange, of Paris,
written on August -^oth, to Sir William Collins
{Published in the " Sussex Daily News ") :

How serious the situation is here it is hard
for you to realize in London. We may be en-
circled at any moment by these hordes of savages.
Such murderous cruelty has never been seen in
the annals of war. The Turks and the Bulgarians
were no worse. It is the rule to fire on ambulances
and slaughter the wounded. I know it from eye-
witnesses. The Germans are drunk with savagery.
It is an orgy of the basest cruelty. They are
rushing Paris at all costs, squandering their men
recklessly in overwhelming numbers. Our troops
are submerged and can only retreat, fighting
desperately, but the spirit of our soldiers is
splendid. All the wounded I have seen laugh
and joke over their wounds and are burning to
have another go at the barbarians. Victory is
certain. But what disastrous changes shall we
know before it comes. I am prepared for the
worst — another month of hopeless struggle

170 In the Firing Line

perhaps. But we will fight to the last man. The
tide will turn, and then — woe to them. I know
you will stand by us in the cause of civilization,
common honest truth till the bitter end. But
if you want to help us you must hasten.

Letter 8i. — From a young officer who has been
through the whole campaign, from the landing
of the British at Boulogne :

I wish you would try to make the people
in England understand that they should be
most exceedingly thankful that they are living
on an island and not in the midst of the
dreadful things which are happening on the Con-
tinent. Do enforce upon the public that Eng-
land must fight this thing out, and must conquer
even if it has to spend the blood of its young men
like water. It will be far better that every family
throughout England should have to sorrow for
one of its members than that England should
have to go through similar ordeals to those which
Continental countries are suffering.

The sight of old women and men fleeing
from village to village ; young mothers with
babies in arms, with their few personal effects

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 171

on their backs, or in some more fortunate cases
with their goods and chattels surrounding the
aged grandmother stowed away in an old farm
cart, drawn by a nag too venerable to be of
service to the State ; this is what one has seen
daily. Picture to yourself our night marches
with the burning villages on all sides set fire
to by German shells — and the Germans have
been rather careless whether their shells struck
fortified and defended positions, or open ones.
In some cases the fires were caused intentionally
by marauding patrols.

Do not imagine that things are not going
well with us. We are all satisfied and confident
of the end ; but at the same time the only pos-
sible end can be gained by sacrifice on the part
of those at home only. All is well with me
personally ; I have a busy time, but it is most
interesting work.

IN HOSPITAL.

(i) At Salisbury.

A non-commissioned officer of the Royal Field
Artillery, invalided home with shrapnel wounds
in the thigh, from which he hopes soon to re-
cover, has given this vivid description of his

172 In the Firing Line

experiences at the front after passing north of
Amiens, to a Daily Telegraph correspondent :

Pushing forward from our rest camp, cover-
ing from twenty to thirty miles a day, with the
infantry marching in front and cavalry protect-
ing us on either flank, we received information
that we were within a few hours' march of
the enemy. Needless to say, this put us on
the alert. There was no funk about us, for we
were all anxious to have a go at the Germans,
about whom we had heard such tales of cruelty
that it made our blood run cold.

Our orders were to load with case shot, for
fear of cavalry attack, as shrapnel is of little
use against mounted troops. The order was
soon obeyed, and after passing the day on the

road, we moved across country north of ,

where the infantry took up a strong position.
We saw the French troops on our right as we
moved up to gun positions which our battery
commanders had selected in advance. It was
Sunday morning when the attack came, and the
sun had already lit up the beautiful country,
and as I looked across at the villages which
lay below in the valley with their silent belfries
I thought of my home on the Cotswolds and of

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 173

the bells ringing for morning service. I pictured
dad and my sister Nell going to church.

" It was, however, no time for sentiment, for
gallopers soon brought the news that the enemy
was advancing, and that a cavalry attack might
be expected at any moment. Infantry had
entrenched themselves along our front, and
there was a strong body posted on our flanks
and rear. These became engaged first with a
large body of Uhlans, who endeavoured to take
them by surprise, the front rank rushing forward
with the lance and the rear using the sword.

We were on slightly higher ground, and
could see the combat, which appeared to be
going in our favour. Our men stuck to their
ground and shot and bayonetted the Uhlans, who,
after ten minutes' fight, made off, but, sad to
say, a dreadful fusilade of shrapnel and Maxim
fire followed immediately, and our guns also
came under fire. To this we readily replied,
and must have done some execution, especially
to the large masses of infantry that were advan-
cing about a mile away.

We got a favourable " bracket " at once, so
our Major said, and we worked our guns for all
we were worth, altering fuses and the ranging
of our guns as the Germans came nearer. Shells

174 In the Firing Line

fell fast around us, some ricocheted, and passed
overhead without bursting, ploughing the ground
up in our rear, but not a few exploded, and made
many casualties. Three of my gun detachment
fell with shrapnel bullets, but still we kept the
guns going, the officers giving a hand.

At one time we came under the fire of the
enemy's machine guns, but two of our i8-pounders
put them out of action after a few rounds. The
order came at length to retire so as to get a more
favourable position, but our drivers failed to
bring back all the gun teams, only sufficient to
horse four of the guns. The remainder of the
animals had been terribly mutilated. These
were limbered up, the remainder being for a time
protected by the infantry. The Gordons and
Middlesex were in the shelter trenches on our
left, and the latter regiment was said at one
time to be almost overwhelmed, but aid came,
and the masses of Prussian infantry were beaten
off.

Still, there was terrible slaughter on both
sides, and the dead lay in long burrows on the
turf. We should have lost our guns to the
Uhlans if the infantry had not persevered with
the rifle, picking off the cavalry at 800 yards.

It was grand shooting. In the afternoon

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 175

we slackened fire, as also did the Germans ; in
fact, we did but little from our new gun positions,
as we were destined to cover the retreat of the
infantry later on.

As the wounded were brought to the rear
we heard of the deeds of heroism from the men
of the Royal Army Medical Corps in the fighting
line — how an officer stood over the body of a
private who had previously saved his life until
he had spent his last shot from his revolver, and
then fell seriously wounded, to be avenged the
next moment by a burly sergeant who plunged
his bayonet into the Prussian.

In the ranks of the South Lancashire Regi-
ment, from what has been heard, many deserve
the Distinguished Conduct Medal, if not the
V.C., for the manner in which they charged
masses of German infantry through the village
to our front. Uhlans got round behind them,
but they did not flinch, although serious gaps
were made in their ranks.

A non-commissioned officer of the Medicals
related how he saw a party of Fusiliers rush to
the aid of their Maxim gun party when Uhlans
swept down on them from behind a wood. They
accounted for over twenty and lost but one man.

At night we were ordered to move on again ^

176 In the Firing Line

and we marched south-west in the direction of

, covering twenty miles in the darkness.

Our unhorsed guns were got through by spHt-
ting up our teams, and with the help of the
brawny arms of the infantry.
. The enemy were aware of our retreat, and
kept up an incessant fire, bringing searchlights
to the aid of their gunners. The moon slightly
favoured us, and, with the help of local guides,
we found our way. I heard of the brilliant work
performed by our battalions, who kept the enemy
at bay whilst we withdrew all our vehicles, and
we gunners felt proud of them. They kept the
enemy busy by counter-attack, and made it
impossible to get round us.

Next morning the enemy were again in the
field endeavouring to force our left flank. Field-
Marshal Sir John French, whom we saw early in
the day, was, however, equal to the occasion, and
so manoeuvred his troops that we occupied a
position from which the Germans could not
dislodge us. The artillery kept up long-range
fire, and that is how I received my wound.
Within a few minutes first aid was rendered, and
I was put in an ambulance and taken of£ with
other wounded to a field hospital, where I met
with every attention.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 177

IN HOSPITAL.

(2) At the London Hospital.
By a Daily Telegraph correspondent.

A description of a thrilling fight in the air,
which had a dramatic climax, was given to
Queen Alexandra when her Majesty paid a visit
to the London Hospital.

Among the wounded soldiers there is a private
of the Royal Engineers, who was himself witness
of the incident.

He said that following a very hard fight on
the day before, he was lying on the ground with
his regiment, resting. Suddenly a German
aeroplane hove in sight. It flew right over the
British troops, and commenced to signal their
position to the German camp.

A minute later, amid intense excitement of
the troops, two aeroplanes, with English and
French pilots, rose into the air from the British
rear. Ascending with great rapidity, they made
for the German aeroplane, with the intention of
attacking it.

At first some of our men, who were very much
on the alert, fired by mistake at the French
aeroplane. Luckily, their shots went wide.

Then the troops lay still, and with breathless

178 In the Firing Line

interest watched the attempts of the French
and British aviators to outmanoeuvre their
opponent, and to cut off his retreat. After a
Uttle time the Franco-British airmen abandoned
this attempt, and then the Enghshman and the
German began to fly upwards, in the evident
desire to obtain a more favourable position for
shooting down from above. Owing to the
protection afforded by the machine, it would have
been of little use for one aviator to fire at his
opponent from below. Once a higher altitude
was attained, the opportunity for effective aim
would be much greater.

Up and up circled the two airmen, till their
machines could barely be distinguished from
the ground. They were almost out of sight
when the soldiers saw that the British aviator
was above his opponent. Then the faint sound
of a shot came down from the sky, and instantly
the German aeroplane began to descend, vol-
planing in graceful fashion. Apparently it was
under the most perfect control. On reaching
the earth the machine landed with no great
shock, ran a short distance along the ground, and
then stopped.

Rushing to the spot, the British soldiers found,
to their amazement^ that the pilot was dead.

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 179

So fortunate had been the aim of the Englishman
that he had shot the German through the head.
In his dying moments the latter had started to
descend, and when he reached the earth his hands
still firmly gripped the controls.

The aeroplane was absolutely undamaged, and
was appropriated by the British aviators.

IN HOSPITAL.

(3) From a *' Daily Telegraph " correspondent
at Rouen :

It was known that there were British wounded
in Rouen — I had even spoken to one of them in
the streets — but how was one to see them ?
The police commissaire sent me to his central
colleague, who sent me on to the etat major, who
was anxious to send me back to him, but finally
suggested that I should see the military commis-
sary at one of the stations. He was courteous,
but very firm — the authorisation I asked for
could not be, and was not, granted to anyone.
At the headquarters of the British General Staff
the same answer in even less ambiguous terms.

It was then that Privates X., Y., Z. came to
my aid. Private Z. had a request to make of me.
It was that I should see to it that the black
retriever of his regiment now at the front should

180 In the Firing Line

be photographed, and that the photograph should
appear in The Daily Telegraph. Private Z. had
a temperature of 102*5, ^.nd looked it, but he was
not worrying about that. He was worrying
about the photograph of the regimental retriever,
which I understood him to say, though dates
make it almost incredible, had gone through the
Boer campaign, and had not yet had his photo-
graph in the papers. So I met by appointment
Privates X., Y., and Z. outside the Hospice
General of Rouen, and by them was franked in
to the hospital, where a few dozen of our wounded
were sunning themselves. It was just time, and
no more, as orders had been received a few
minutes before that the British wounded were
to be transferred from Rouen to London, for
something grave was afoot.

" Do you want to get back to England ? "
someone called out to a soldier whose arm was
in a sling, and the whole sleeve of whose jacket
had been ripped by the fragment of a shell.

" Not I," he shouted ; " I want to go to the
front again and get my sleeve back, and some-
thing more."

I managed to speak with two or three of the
wounded as they were getting ready for the
start. One of them, an artilleryman, had been

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 181

injured by his horses faUing on him at Ligny,
I guessed it was — only guessed, for Tommy
charges a French word as bravely and much less
successfully than he charges the enemy. It was
the same story that one hears from all, of a heroic
struggle against overwhelming odds. " They
were ten to one against us, in my opinion," he
said. " They were all over us. Their artillery
found the range by means of aeroplanes. The
shell fire was terrible."

He says that it was very accurate, but that
fortunately the quality of the shells is not up
to that of the shooting. My informant's division
held out for twenty-four hours against the over-
whelming odds. Then, when the Germans had
managed to get a battery into action behind,
they retired during the night of Wednesday,
steadily and in excellent order, keeping the
German pursuit at bay. The next man I spoke
to really spoke to me. He was anxious to tell his
story.

" I have been in the thick of it," he said ; *' in
the very thick of it. I was one of the chauffeurs
in the service of the British General Staff."

He told me that he was not a Regular soldier,
but a volunteer from the Automobile Club, an
American who had become a naturalised English

182 In the Firing Line

citizen, and had once been a journalist. His own
injury, a burnt arm, was from a back-fire, but
his escape from the German bullets had been
almost miraculous. Three staff officers, one after
another, had been hit in the body of the car behind
him. This is his story :

*' On Friday, the 25th, the British were just
outside Le Cateau. On Saturday morning the
approach of the Germans in force was signalled.
On Sunday morning at daybreak a German
aeroplane flew over our lines, and, although fired
at by the aeroplane gun mounted in the car, and
received with volleys from the troops, managed
to rejoin its lines. Twenty minutes later the
German artillery opened fire with accuracy.
The aeroplane, as so often, had done its work
as range-finder. For twelve hours the cannonade
went on. Then the British forces retreated six
miles. On Monday morning the bombardment
began again, and at two that afternoon the German
forces entered Le Cateau from which the English
had retired. Many of the houses were in. flames.
The Germans, who had ruthlessly bayonetted
our wounded if they moved so much as a finger
as they lay on the ground, were guilty of brutal
conduct when they entered the city.

" On Tuesday, the British, who had retired to

From Mons to the Walls of Paris 183

Landrecies, were again attacked by the Germans.
They beUeved, wrongly, that on their right was
a supporting French force. The range was again
found by aeroplane, and the British were com-
pelled to evacuate. That was on Tuesday. The
British troops had been fighting steadily for four
days, but their morale and their spirits had not
suffered."

As I write, a detachment of the R.A.M.C. is
filing past, and people have risen from their chairs
and are cheering and saluting. Half an hour ago
Engineers passed with their pontoons decorated
with flowers and greenery. The men had flowers
in their caps, and even the horses were flower-
decked. Tommy Atkins has the completest
faith in his leaders and in himself. He quite
realises the necessity for secrecy of operations in
modern warfare. Of course, he has his own
theories. This is one of them textually :

" The Germans are simply walking into it.
Of course, we have had losses, but that was
part of the plan — the sprat to catch the whale.
They are going to find themselves in a square
between four alhed armies, and then," — so far
Private X., but here Private Y. broke in cheer-
fully ; " And then they will be electrocuted."
And at this moment it begins to look as if

184 In the Firing Line

— apart from that detail of the square of four
armies — Privates X. and Y. had known what
they were talking about ; for some few days
ago the great retreat came to an abrupt end,
the British and French forces carrying out
General Joffre's carefully laid plan of campaign,
turned their defensive movement into a com-
bined attack, the Germans fell back before them
and are still retiring. They marched through
Belgium into France with heavy fighting and
appalling losses, only to be held in check at the
right place and time and beaten back by the
road they had come, when Paris seemed almost
at their mercy. But that retirement is another
story.

VI

The Spirit of Victory

" He only knows that not through him
Shall England come to shame.'*

Sir F. H. Doyle.

Even through those three weeks when they
were retreating before the enemy, the whole spirit
of the British troops was the spirit of men who
are fighting to win. There is no hint of doubt or
despondency in any of their letters home. They
talk Hghtly of their hardest, most terrible ex-
periences ; they greet the unseen with a cheer ;
you hear of them cracking jokes, boyishly guying
each other, singing songs as they march and as
they lie in the trenches with shells bursting and
shots screaming close over their heads. They
carried out their retreats grudgingly, but without
dismay, in the fixed confidence that their leaders
knew what they were after, and that in due time
they would find they had only been stooping to

185

186 In the Firing Line

conquer. '' They won't let us have a fair smack
at them/' says " Spratty," of the Army Service
Corps, in a letter home. " I have never seen
such a sight before. God knows whose turn is
next, but we shall win, don't worry." This is
the watchword of them all : " Don't worry —
we shall win."

" Wine is offered us instead of water by the
people," wrote Private S. Browne, whilst his
regiment was marching through France to the
front ; " but officers and men are refusing it.
Some of the hardest drinkers in the regiment
have signed the pledge for the war."

" Tommy goes into battle," a French soldier
told a reporter at Dieppe, " singing some song
about Tip-Tip-Tip-Tipperary, and when he is
hit he does not cry out. He just says ' blast,'
and if the wound is a small one he asks the man
next to him to tie a tourniquet round it and settles
down to fighting again." A corporal of the Black
Watch explained to a hospital visitor, " It was
a terrible bit of work. The Germans were as
thick as Hielan' heather, and by sheer weight
forced us back step by step. But until the
order came not a Hving man flinched. In the

The Spirit ot Victory 187

thick of the bursting shells we were singing Harry
Lauder's latest."

Trooper George Pritchard wrote to his mother
from Netley Hospital the other day : "I got hit
in the arm from a shell. Seven of our officers
got killed last Thursday, but Captain Grenfell
was saved at the same time as me. What do
you think of the charge of the 9th ? It is
worth getting hit for."

*' We are all in good heart, and ready for the
next round whenever it may come," writes
Private J. Scott, from his place in the field ;
and '* South Africa was child's play to what we
have been through," writes Corporal Brogan,
" but we are beginning to feel our feet now,
and are equal to a lot more gruelHng."

*' We are all beat up after four days of the
hardest soldiering you ever dreamt of," Private
Patrick McGlade says in a letter to his mother.
" I am glad to say we accounted for our share of
the Germans. We tried hard to get at them
many a time, but they never would wait for us
when they saw the bright bits of steel at the
business end of our rifles. Some of them squeal
hke the pigs on killing day when they see the
steel ready. Some of our finest lads are now

188 In the Firing Line

sleeping their last sleep in Belgium, but, mother
dear, you can take your son's word for it that
for every son of Ireland who will never come back
there are at least three Germans who will never
be heard of again. When we got here we sang
' Paddies Evermore/ and then we were off to
chapel to pray for the souls of the lads that are
gone."

** Some of us feel very strongly about being
sent home for scratches that will heal," writes
Corporal A. Hands. *' Don't believe half the
stories about our hardships. I haven't seen or
heard of a man who made complaint of anything.
You can't expect a six-course dinner on active
service, but we get plenty to fight on."

Cases of personal pluck were so common that
we soon ceased to take notice of them, a wounded
driver in the Royal Artillery told an interviewer.
" There was a man of the Buffs, who carried a
wounded chum for over a mile under German
fire, but if you suggested a Victoria Cross for that
man he would punch your head, and as he is a
regular devil when roused the men say as little
as they can about it. He thinks he didn't do
anything out of the common, and doesn't see
why his name should be dragged into the papers
over it. Another case I heard of was a corporal

The Spirit of Victory 189

of the Fusilier Brigade — I don't know his regiment
— who held a company of Germans at bay for
two hours by the old trick of firing at them from
different points, and so making them think they
had a crowd to face. He was getting on very well
until a party of cavalry outflanked him, as you
might say, and as they were right on top of him
there was no kidding about his ' strength,' so he
skedaddled, and the Germans took the position
he had held so long. He got back to his mates all
right, and they were glad to see him, for they had
given him up for dead."

" No regiment fought harder than we did, and
no regiment has better officers, who went shoulder
to shoulder with their men," says a non-com-
missioned officer of the Buffs, writing from hos-
pital, "but you can't expect absolute impossibilities
to be accomplished, no matter how brave the boys
are, when you are fighting a force from twenty to
thirty times as strong. If some of you at home who
have spoken sneeringly of British officers could
have seen how they handled their men and shirked
nothing you would be ashamed of yourselves. We
are all determined when fit again to return and
get our own back."

Everywhere you find that the one cry of the
soldiers who are invalided home — they are

190 In the Firing Line

impatient to be cured quickly and get back " to
have another slap at them." We know how our
women here at home share that eager enthusiasm
in this the most righteous war Britain has
ever gone into ; and isn't there something that
stirs you like the sound of a trumpet in such a
passage as this from the letter a Scottish nun
living in Belgium has written to her mother ?

*' I am glad England is aroused, and that the
British lion is out with all his teeth showing.
Here these little lions of Belgians are raging
mad and doing glorious things.

" Tell father I am cheery, and feel sometimes
far too warlike for a nun. That's my Scottish
blood. I hope to goodness the Highlanders, if
they come, will march down another street on
their way to the caserne, or I shall shout and
yell and cheer them, and forget I mustn't look
out of the window."

An extract from Sergeant T. Cahill's letter to
his friends at Bristol gives you a snap-shot of
our women in the firing line, and of the fearless
jolHty and hght-heartedness with which our
Irish comrades meet the worst that their enemies
can do :

The Spirit of Victory 191

" The Red Cross girleens, with their purty
faces and their sweet ways, are as good men
as most of us, and better than some of us. They
are not supposed to venture into the firing
line at all, but they get there all the same, and
devil the one of us durst turn them away," and
he goes on casually, " Mick Clancy is that droll
with his larking and bamboozling the Germans
that he makes us nearly split our sides laughing
at him and his ways. Yesterday he got a stick
and put a cap on it so that it peeped above the
trenches just like a man, and then the Germans
kept shooting away at it until they must have
used up tons of ammunition, and there was us
all the time laughing at them."

But I think there is perhaps nothing in these
letters that is more touching or more finely sig-
nificant than this :

" The other day I stopped to assist a young
lad of the West Kents, who had been badly
hit by a piece of shell," writes Corporal Sam
Haslett. " He hadn't long to live, and knew
it, but he wasn't at all put out about it. I
asked him if there was any message I could
take to any one at home, and the poor lad's
eyes filled with tears as he answered : ' I ran
away from home and 'listed a year ago. Mother

192 In the Firing Line

and dad don't know I'm here, but you tell them
that I'm not sorry I did it.' When I told our
boys afterwards, they cried like babies, but, mind
you, that's the spirit that's going to pull England
through this war. I got his name and the
address of his people from his regiment, and I am
writing to tell them that they have every reason
to be proud of their lad. He may have run away
from home, but he didn't run away from the
Germans."

And if you have caught the buoyant, heroic
ardour that rings through those careless, un-
studied notes our gallant fellows have written
home, you know that there is not a man in the
firing line who will.

lVym€n & Sons Ltd., Printers, London and Reading-

OH

CO
cr»

in

CO

■Pi

o
ci

o

J

DNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY

Do not

remove
the card
from this
Pocket.

Acme Library Card Pocket

Under Pat. " Ref. Index File."
Made by LIBRARY BUREAU