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TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR

 "The English soldier is the best trained soldier in the world. The English soldier's fire is ten thousand times worse than hell. If we could only beat the English it would be well for us, but I am afraid we shall never be able to beat these English devils. "

 _From a letter found on a German officer. _

TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR

As Told in His Own Letters

by

JAMES A. KILPATRICK

New YorkMcBride, Nast & Company

1914

NOTE

This little book is the soldier's story of the war, with all his vividand intimate impressions of life on the great battlefields of Europe. Itis illustrated by passages from his letters, in which he describes notonly the grim realities, but the chivalry, humanity and exaltation ofbattle. For the use of these passages the author is indebted to thecourtesy and generosity of the editors of all the leading London andprovincial newspapers, to whom he gratefully acknowledges hisobligations. 

J. A. K. 

CONTENTS

 I OFF TO THE FRONT 9

 II SENSATIONS UNDER FIRE 18

 III HUMOR IN THE TRENCHES 30

 IV THE MAN WITH THE BAYONET 39

 V CAVALRY EXPLOITS 46

 VI WITH THE HIGHLANDERS 55

 VII THE INTREPID IRISH 64

VIII "A FIRST-CLASS FIGHTING MAN" 73

 IX OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN 82

 X BROTHERS IN ARMS 91

 XI ATKINS AND THE ENEMY 100

 XII THE WAR IN THE AIR 112

XIII TOMMY AND HIS RATIONS 121

TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR

I

OFF TO THE FRONT

"It is my Royal and Imperial Command that you concentrate your energies, for the immediate present upon one single purpose, and that is that youaddress all your skill and all the valor of my soldiers to exterminatefirst the treacherous English and walk over General French'scontemptible little army. "[A]

While this Imperial Command of the Kaiser was being written, Atkins, innocent of the fate decreed for him, was well on his way to the front, full of exuberant spirits, and singing as he went, "It's a long way toTipperary. " In his pocket was the message from Lord Kitchener whichAtkins believes to be the whole duty of a soldier: "Be brave, be kind, courteous (but nothing more than courteous) to women, and look uponlooting as a disgraceful act. "

Troopship after troopship had crossed the Channel carrying Sir JohnFrench's little army to the Continent, while the boasted German fleet, impotent to menace the safety of our transports, lay helpless--bottledup, to quote Mr. Asquith's phrase, "in the inglorious seclusion of theirown ports. "

Never before had a British Expeditionary Force been organized, equippedand despatched so swiftly for service in the field. The energies of theWar Office had long been applied to the creation of a small but highlyefficient striking force ready for instant action. And now the time foraction had come. The force was ready. From the harbors the troopshipssteamed away, their decks crowded with cheery soldiers, their flagswaving a proud challenge to any disputant of Britain's command of thesea. 

The expedition was carried out as if by magic. For a few brief days thenation endured with patience its self-imposed silence. In the newspaperswere no brave columns of farewell scenes, no exultant send-offgreetings, no stirring pictures of troopships passing out into thenight. All was silence, the silence of a nation preparing for the "ironsacrifice, " as Kipling calls it, of a devastating war. Then suddenly thesilence was broken, and across the Channel was flashed the news that thetroops had been safely landed, and were only waiting orders to throwthemselves upon the German brigands who had broken the sacred peace ofEurope. 

And so the scene changes to France and Belgium. Tommy Atkins is on hisway to the Front. He has already begun to send home some of thosegallant letters that throb throughout the pages of this book. If he feltthe absence of the stimulating send-off, necessitated by officialcaution and the exigencies of a European war, he at least had the newjoy of a welcome on foreign soil. It is difficult to find words with theright quality in them to express the feelings aroused in our men bytheir reception, or the exquisite gratitude felt by the Franco-Belgianpeople. They welcomed the British troops as their deliverers. 

"The first person to meet us in France, " writes a British officer, "wasthe pilot, and the first intimation of his presence was a huge voice inthe darkness, which roared out 'A bas Guillaume. Eep, eep, 'ooray!'" Astransport after transport sailed into Boulogne, and regiment afterregiment landed, the population went into ecstasies of delight. Throughthe narrow streets of the old town the soldiers marched, singing, whistling, and cheering, with a wave of their caps to the women and akiss wafted to the children (but not only to the children!) on theroute. As they swept along, their happy faces and gallant bearing struckdeep into the emotions of the spectators. "What brave fellows, to gointo battle laughing!" exclaimed one old woman, whose own sons had beencalled to the army of the Republic. 

It was strange to hear the pipes of the Highlanders skirl shrillythrough old Boulogne, and to catch the sound of English voices in theclarion notes of the "Marseillaise, " but, strangest of all to Frenchears, to listen to that new battle-cry, "Are we down-hearted?" followedby the unanswerable "No--o--o!" of every regiment. And then the lilt ofthat new marching song to which Tommy Atkins has given immortality:--

 "IT'S A LONG, LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY"[B]

 Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day; As the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ry one was gay, Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square, Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there:

 CHORUS

 It's a long way to Tipperary, It's a long way to go; It's a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know! Good-by Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square. It's a long, long way to Tipperary, But my heart's right there! It's a' there!

 Paddy wrote a letter to his Irish Molly O', Saying, "Should you not receive it, write and let me know! If I make mistakes in spelling, Molly dear, " said he, "Remember it's the pen that's bad, don't lay the blame on me. "

 (_Chorus_)

 Molly wrote a neat reply to Irish Paddy O', Saying, "Mike Maloney wants to marry me, and so Leave the Strand and Piccadilly, or you'll be to blame, For love has fairly drove me silly--hoping you're the same!"

 (_Chorus_)

It may seem odd that the soldier should care so little for martialsongs, or the songs that are ostensibly written for him; but that is notthe fault of Tommy Atkins. Lyric poets don't give him what he calls "thestuff. " He doesn't get it even from Kipling; Thomas Hardy's "Song ofthe Soldiers" leaves him cold. He wants no epic stanzas, no heroicperiods. What he asks for is something simple and romantic, somethingabout a girl, and home, and the lights of London--that goes with a swingin the march and awakens tender memories when the lilt of it is waftedat night along the trenches. 

And so "Tipperary" has gone with the troops into the great Europeanbattlefields, and has echoed along the white roads and over the greenfields of France and Belgium. 

On the way to the front the progress of our soldiers was made one longfête: it was "roses, roses, all the way. " In a letter published in _TheTimes_, an artillery officer thus describes it:

"As to the reception we have met with moving across country it has beensimply wonderful and most affecting. We travel entirely by motortransport, and it has been flowers all the way. One long procession ofacclamation. By the wayside and through the villages, men, women, andchildren cheer us on with the greatest enthusiasm, and every one wantsto give us something. They strip the flower gardens, and the cars looklike carnival carriages. They pelt us with fruit, cigarettes, chocolate, bread--anything and everything. It is simply impossible to convey animpression of it all. Yesterday my own car had to stop in a town forpetrol. In a moment there must have been a couple of hundred peopleround clamoring; autograph albums were thrust in front of me; a perfectdelirium. In another town I had to stop for an hour, and took theopportunity to do some shopping. I wanted some motor goggles, aneye-bath, some boracic, provisions, etc. They would not let me pay for asingle thing--and there was lunch and drinks as well. The further we gothe more enthusiastic is the greeting. What it will be like at the endof the war one cannot attempt to guess. "

Similar tributes to the kindness of the French and Belgians are given bythe men. A private in the Yorkshire Light Infantry--the first Britishregiment to go into action in this war--tells of the joy of the Frenchpeople. "You ought to have seen them, " he writes. "They were overcomewith delight, and didn't half cheer us! The worst of it was we could notunderstand their talking. When we crossed the Franco-Belgian frontier, there was a vast crowd of Belgians waiting for us. Our first greetingwas the big Union Jack, and on the other side was a huge canvas with thewords 'Welcome to our British Comrades. ' The Belgians would have givenus anything; they even tore the sheets off their beds for us to wipe ourfaces with. " Another Tommy tells of the eager crowds turning out to giveour troops "cigars, cigarettes, sweets, fruits, wines, anything wewant, " and the girls "linking their arms in ours, and stripping us ofour badges and buttons as souvenirs. "

Then there is the other side of the picture, when the first battles hadbeen fought and the strategic retreat had begun. No praise could be toohigh for the chivalry and humanity of our soldiers in these dark days. They were almost worshiped by the people wherever they went. 

Some of the earliest letters from the soldiers present distressingpictures of the poor, driven refugees, fleeing from their homes at theapproach of the Germans, who carry ruin and desolation wherever they go. "It is pitiful, pitiful, " says one writer; "you simply can't hold backyour tears. " Others disclose our sympathetic soldier-men sharing theirrations with the starving fugitives and carrying the children on theirshoulders so that the weary mothers may not fall by the way. "Beinvariably courteous, considerate, and kind" were Lord Kitchener's wordsto the Army, and these qualities no less than valor will always belinked with Tommy Atkins' name in the memories of the French and Belgianpeople. 

They will never forget the happy spick-and-span soldiers who sang asthey stepped ashore from the troopships at Boulogne and Havre, eager toreach the fighting line. These men have fought valiantly, desperately, since then, but their spirits are as high as ever, and their songs stillring down the depleted ranks as the war-stained regiments swing alongfrom battle to battle on the dusty road to Victory. 

II

SENSATIONS UNDER FIRE

It is said of Sir John French that, on his own admission, he has "neverdone anything worth doing without having to screw himself up to it. "There is no hint here of practical fear, which the hardened soldier, thefighting man, rarely experiences; but of the moral and mental conflictwhich precedes the assumption of sovereign duties and high commands. Every man who goes into battle has this need. He requires the moralpreparation of knowing why he is fighting, and what he is fighting for. In the present war, Lord Kitchener's fine message to every soldier inthe Expeditionary Force made this screwing-up process easy. But to mengoing under fire for the first time some personal preparation is alsonecessary to combat the ordinary physical terror of the battlefield. 

Soldiers are not accustomed to self-analysis. They are mainly men ofaction, and are supposed to lack the contemplative vision. That was theold belief. This war, however, which has shattered so many acceptedideas, has destroyed that conviction too. Nothing is more surprisingthan the revelation of their feelings disclosed in the soldiers'letters. They are the most intimate of human documents. Here and there ahint is given of the apprehension with which the men go into action, unspoken fears of how they will behave under fire, the uncertainty ofcomplete mastery over themselves, brief doubts of their ability to standup to this new and sublime ordeal of death. 

Rarely, however, do the men allow these apprehensions to depress ordisturb them. Throughout the earliest letters from the front the onepervading desire was eagerness for battle--a wild impatience to get thefirst great test of their courage over, to feel their feet, obtaincommand of themselves. 

"We were all eager for scalps, " writes one of the Royal Engineers, "andI took the cap, sword, and lance of a Uhlan I shot through the chest. "An artilleryman says a gunner in his battery was "so anxious to see theenemy, " that he jumped up to look, and got his leg shot away. Otherstell of the intense curiosity of the young soldiers to see everythingthat is going on, of their reckless neglect of cover, and of thedifficulty of holding them back when they see a comrade fall. "In spiteof orders, some of my men actually charged a machine gun, " an officerrelated. After the first baptism of fire any lingering fear isdispelled. "I don't think we were ever afraid at all, " says anothersoldier, "but we got into action so quickly that we hadn't time to thinkabout it. " "Habit soon overcomes the first instinctive fear, " writes athird, "and then the struggle is always palpitating. "

Of course, the fighting affects men in different ways. Some see theugliness, the horror of it all, grow sick at the sight, and suffer fromnausea. Others, seeing deeper significance in this desolation of life, realize the wickedness and waste of it; as one Highlander expresses it:"Being out there, and seeing what we see, makes us feel religious. " Butthe majority of the men have the instinct for fighting, quickly adaptthemselves to war conditions, and enter with zest into the joy ofbattle. These happy warriors are the men who laugh, and sing, and jestin the trenches. They take a strangely intimate pleasure in the dangeraround them, and when they fall they die like Mr. Julian Smith of theIntelligence Department, declaring that they "loved the fighting. " Allthe wounded beg the doctors and nurses to hurry up and let them returnto the front. "I was enjoying it until I was put under, " writesLance-Corporal Leslie, R. E. "I must get back and have another go atthem, " says Private J. Roe, of the Manchesters. And so on, letter afterletter expressing impatience to get into the firing line. 

The artillery is what harasses the men most. They soon developed acontempt for German rifle fire, and it became a very persistent joke inthe trenches. But nearly all agree that German artillery is "hell letloose. " That is what the enemy intended it to be, but they did notreckon upon the terrors of Hades making so small an impression upon theBritish soldier. There is an illuminating passage in an officialstatement issued from the General Headquarters:

"The object of the great proportion of artillery the Germans employ isto beat down the resistance of their enemy by a concentrated andprolonged fire, and to shatter their nerve with high explosives beforethe infantry attack is launched. They seem to have relied on doing thiswith us; but they have not done so, though it has taken them severalcostly experiments to discover this fact. From the statements ofprisoners, indeed, it appears that they have been greatly disappointedby the moral effect produced by their heavy guns, which, despite theactual losses inflicted, has not been at all commensurate with thecolossal expenditure of ammunition which has really been wasted. By thisit is not implied that their artillery fire is not good. It is more thangood; it is excellent. But the British soldier is a difficult person toimpress or depress, even by immense shells filled with high explosiveswhich detonate with terrific violence and form craters large enough toact as graves for five horses. The German howitzer shells are 8 to 9inches in caliber, and on impact they send up columns of greasy blacksmoke. On account of this they are irreverently dubbed 'Coal-boxes, ''Black Marias, ' or 'Jack Johnsons' by the soldiers. Men who take thingsin this spirit, are, it seems, likely to throw out the calculationsbased on the loss of _moral_ so carefully framed by the German militaryphilosophers. "

Every word of this admirable official message is borne out by the men'sown version of their experiences of artillery fire. "At first the din isterrific, and you feel as if your ears would burst and the teeth fallout of your head, " writes one of the West Kents, "but, of course, youcan get used to anything, and our artillerymen give them a bit of hellback, I can tell you. " "The sensation of finding myself among screamingshells was all new to me, " says Corporal Butlin, Lancashire Fusiliers, "but after the first terrible moments, which were enough to unnerveanybody, I became used to the situation. Afterwards the din had noeffect upon me. " And describing an artillery duel a gunner declares: "Itwas butcher's work. We just rained shells on the Germans until we weredeaf and choking. I don't think a gun on their position could have soldfor old iron after we had finished, and the German gunners would be justodd pieces of clothing and bits of accouterment. It seems 'swanky' tosay so, but once you get over the first shock you go on chewing biscuitsand tobacco when the shells are bursting all round. You don't seem tomind it any more than smoking in a hailstorm. "

Smoking is the great consolation of the soldiers. They smoke wheneverthey can, and the soothing cigarette is their best friend in thetrenches. "We can go through anything so long as we have tobacco, " is apassage from a soldier's letter; and this is the burden of nearly allthe messages from the front. "The fight was pretty hot while it lasted, but we were all as cool as Liffy water, and smoked cigarettes while theshells shrieked blue murder over our heads, " is an Irishman's account ofthe effect of the big German guns. 

The noise of battle--especially the roar of artillery--is described inseveral letters. "It is like standing in a railway station with heavyexpresses constantly tearing through, " is an officer's impression of it. A wounded Gordon Highlander dismisses it as no more terrible than a badthunderstorm: "You get the same din and the big flashes of light infront of you, and now and then the chance of being knocked over by abullet or piece of shell, just as you might be struck by lightning. "That is the real philosophy of the soldier. "After all, we are may-be assafe here as you are in Piccadilly, " says another; and when men havecome unhurt out of infinite danger they grow sublimely fatalistic andcheerful. An officer in the Cavalry Division, for instance, writes: "Iam coming back all right, never fear. Have been in such tight cornersand under such fire that if I were meant to go I should have gone bynow, I'm sure. " And it is the same with the men. "Having gone throughsix battles without a scratch, " says Private A. Sunderland, of Bolton, "I thought I would never be hit. " Later on, however, he was wounded. 

Though the artillery fire has proved most destructive to all ranks, byfar the worst ordeal of the troops was the long retreat in the earlystages of the war. It exhausted and exasperated the men. They grew angryand impatient. None but the best troops in the world, with a profoundbelief in the judgment and valor of their officers, could have stood upagainst it. A statement by a driver of the Royal Field Artillery, published in the _Evening News_, gives a vivid impression of how the menfelt. "I have no clear notion of the order of events in the longretreat, " he says; "it was a nightmare, like being seized by a madmanafter coming out of a serious illness and forced towards the edge of aprecipice. " The constant marching, the want of sleep, the restless and(as it sometimes seemed to the men) purposeless backward movement nightand day drove them into a fury. The intensity of the warfare, the fiercepressure upon the mental and physical powers of endurance, might wellhave exercised a mischievous effect upon the men. Instead, however, itonly brought out their finest qualities. 

In an able article in _Blackwood's Magazine_, on "Moral Qualities inWar, " Major C. A. L. Yate, of the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, dealt with the "intensity" of the war strain, of which he himself hadacute experience. "Under such conditions, " he wrote, "marksmen mayachieve no more than the most erratic shots; the smartest corps mayquickly degenerate into a rabble; the easiest tasks will often appearimpossible. An army can weather trials such as those just depicted onlyif it be collectively considered in that healthy state of mind which theterm _moral_ implies. " It is just that _moral_ which the BritishExpeditionary Force has been proved to possess in so rich a measure, andwhich must belong to all good soldiers in these days of nerve-shatteringwar. 

Little touches of pathos are not wanting in the scenes pictured in thesoldiers' letters, and they bring an element of humanity into the cold, well-ordered, practical business of war. Men who will meet any personaldanger without flinching often find the mists floating across their eyeswhen a comrade is struck down at their side. Private Plant, ManchesterRegiment, tells how his pal was eating a bit of bread and cheese when hewas knocked over: "Poor chap, he just managed to ask me to tell hismissus. " "War is rotten when you see your best pal curl up at yourfeet, " comments another. "One of our chaps got hit in the face with ashrapnel bullet, " Private Sidney Smith, First Warwickshires, relates. "'Hurt, Bill?' I said to him. 'Good luck to the old regiment, ' says he. Then he rolled over on his back. " "Partings of this kind are sadenough, " says an Irish Dragoon, "but we've just got to sigh and get usedto it. "

Their own injuries and sufferings don't seem to worry them much. Thesensation of getting wounded is simply told. One man, shot through thearm, felt "only a bit of a sting, nothing particular. Just like a sharpneedle going into me. I thought it was nothing till my rifle dropped outof my hand, and my arm fell. Rotten luck. " That is the feeling of aclean bullet wound. Shrapnel, however, hurts--"hurts pretty badly, "Tommy says. And the lance and the bayonet make ugly gashes. In sensitivemen, however, the continuous shell-fire produces effects that are oftenas serious as wounds. "Some, " says Mr. Geoffrey Young, the _Daily Newsand Leader_ correspondent, "suffer from a curious aphasia, some getdazed and speechless, some deafened"; but of course their recovery isfairly rapid, and the German "Black Marias" soon exhaust their terrors. A man may lose his memory and have but a hazy idea of the day of theweek or the hour of the day, but Tommy still keeps his nerve, and afterhis first experience of the enemy's fire, to quote his own words, "doesn't care one d---- about the danger. "

As showing the general feeling of the educated soldier, independentaltogether of his nationality, it is worth quoting two otherexperiences, both Russian. Mr. Stephen Graham in the _Times_ recites thesensations of a young Russian officer. "The feeling under fire at firstis unpleasant, " he admits, "but after a while it becomes evenexhilarating. One feels an extraordinary freedom in the midst of death. "The following is a quotation from a soldier's letter sent by Mr. H. Williams, the _Daily Chronicle_ correspondent at Petrograd: "One talksof hell fire on the battlefield, but I assure you it makes no moreimpression on me now than the tooting of motors. Habit is everything, especially in war, where all the logic and psychology of one's actionsare the exact reverse of a civilian's. .. . The whole sensation of fear isatrophied. We don't care a farthing for our lives. .. . We don't think ofdanger. In this new frame of mind we simply go and do the perfectlynormal, natural things that you call heroism. "

When the heroic things are done and there comes a lull in the fighting, it is sweet to sink down in the trenches worn out, exhausted, unutterlydrowsy, and snatch a brief unconscious hour of sleep. Some of the menfall asleep with the rifles still hot in their hands, their headsresting on the barrels. Magnificently as they endure fatigue, therecomes a time when the strain is intolerable, and, "beat to the world, "as one officer describes it, they often sink into profound sleep, likehorses, standing. At these times it seems as if nothing could wake them. Shrapnel may thunder around them in vain; they never move a muscle. InMr. Stephen Crane's fine phrase, they "sleep the brave sleep of weariedmen. "

III

HUMOR IN THE TRENCHES

One of the most surprising of the many revelations of this war has beenthat of the gaiety, humor, and good nature of the British soldier. Allthe correspondents, English and French, remark upon it. A new TommyAtkins has arisen, whose cheery laugh and joke and music-hall song haveenlivened not only the long, weary, exhausting marches, but even thegrim and unnerving hours in the trenches. Theirs was not the excitementof men going into battle, nervous and uncertain of their behavior underfire; it was rather that of light-hearted first-nighters waiting in thequeue to witness some new and popular drama. 

"A party of the King's Own, " writes Sapper Mugridge of the RoyalEngineers, "went into their first action shouting 'Early doors this way!Early doors, ninepence!'" "The Kaiser's crush" is the description givenby a sergeant of the Coldstream Guards as he watched a dense mass ofGermans emerging to the attack from a wood, and prepared to meet themwith the bayonet. When first the fierce German searchlights were turnedon the British lines a little cockney in the Middlesex Regimentexclaimed to his comrade: "Lord, Bill, it's just like a play, an' us inthe limelight"; and as the artillery fusillade passed over their heads, and a great ironical cheer rose from the British trenches, he added:"But it's the Kaiser wot's gettin' the bird. "

Many of the wounded who have been invalided home were asked whether thishumor in the trenches is the real thing, or only an affected drollery toconceal the emotions the men feel in the face of death; but they alldeclare that it is quite spontaneous. One old soldier, well accustomedto being under fire, freely admitted that he had never been with such acheery and courageous lot of youngsters in his life. "They takeeverything that comes to them as 'all in the game, '" he said, "andnothing could now damp their spirits. "

Songs, cards and jokes fill up the waiting hours in the trenches; underfire, indeed, the wit seems to become sharpest. A corporal in the MotorCycle Section of the Royal Engineers writes: "At first the Germanartillery was rotten. Three batteries bombarded an entrenched Britishbattalion for two hours and only seven men were killed. The noise wassimply deafening, but so little effect had the fire that the men shoutedwith laughter and held their caps up on the end of their rifles to givethe German gunners a bit of encouragement. " The same spirit of railleryis spoken of by a Seaforth Highlander, who says one of the Wiltshiresstuck out in the trenches a tin can on which was the notice "Business asUsual. " As, however, it gave the enemy too good a target he was cheerilyasked to "take the blooming thing in again, " and in so doing he waswounded twice. 

"The liveliest Sunday I ever spent" is how Private P. Case, LiverpoolRegiment, describes the fighting at Mons. "It was a glorious time, "writes Bandsman Wall, Connaught Rangers; "we had nothing to do but shootthe Germans as they came up, just like knocking dolls down at the fairground. " "A very pleasant morning in the trenches, " remarks one of theOfficers' Special Reserve; and another writer, after being in severalengagements, says, "This is really the best summer holiday I've everhad. "

Nothing could excel the coolness of the men under fire. With a hail ofbullets and shells raining about them they sing and jest with eachother unconcernedly. Wiping the dust of battle from his face and loadingup for another shot, a Highlander will break forth into one of HarryLauder's songs:

 "It's a wee deoch an' doruis, Jist a wee drap, that's a', "

and with a laugh some English Tommies will make a dash at the line "abraw, bricht, minlicht nicht, " with ludicrous consequences to thepronunciation! According to "Joe, " of the 2nd Royal Scots, the favoritesongs in the trenches or round the camp-fire are "Never Mind, " and "TheLast Boat is leaving for Home. " "Hitchy Koo" is another favorite, andwas being sung in the midst of a German attack. "One man near me waswounded, " says a comrade, "but he sang the chorus to the finish. "

It is remarkable how these songs and witticisms steady the soldiersunder fire. In a letter in the _Evening News_ Sergeant J. Baker writes:"Some of our men have made wonderful practise with the rifle, and theyare beginning to fancy themselves as marksmen. If they don't hitsomething every time they think they ought to see a doctor about it. .. . Artillery fire, however, is the deadliest thing out, and it takes a lotof nerve to stand it. The Germans keep up an infernal din from morningtill far into the night; but they don't do half as much damage as youwould think, though it is annoying to have all that row going on whenyou're trying to write home or make up the regimental accounts. "

Writing home is certainly done under circumstances which are apt to havea disturbing effect upon the literary style. "Excuse this scrawl, "writes one soldier, "the German shells have interrupted me six timesalready, and I had to dash out with my bayonet before I was able tofinish it off. " Another concludes: "Well, mother, I must close now. Thebullets are a bit too thick for letter-writing. " To a young engineer theexperience was so strange that he describes it as "like writing in adream. "

Some of the nick-names given by Tommy Atkins to the German shells havealready been quoted, but the most amusing is surely that in a letterfrom Private Watters. "One of our men, " he relates, "has got a rippingcure for neuralgia, but he isn't going to take out a patent for it!While lying in the trenches, mad with pain in the face, a shell burstbeside him. He wasn't hit, but the explosion rendered him unconsciousfor a time, and when he recovered, his neuralgia had gone. His name isPalmer, so now we call the German shells 'Palmer's Neuralgia Cure. '"

The amusing story of a long march afforded some mirth in the trencheswhen it got to be known. A party of artillerymen who had been toilingalong in the dark for hours, and were like to drop with fatigue, ranstraight into a troop of horsemen posted near a wood. "We thought theywere Germans, " one gunner related, "for we couldn't make out the colorsof the uniforms or anything else, until we heard some one sing out'Where the hell do you think you're going to?' _Then we knew we werewith friends. _"

Football is the great topic of discussion in the trenches. Mr. HaroldAshton, of the _Daily News and Leader_, relates an amusing encounterwith a Royal Horse Artilleryman to whom he showed a copy of the paper. "Where's the sporting news?" asked the artilleryman as he glanced overthe pages. "Shot away in the war, " replied Mr. Ashton. "What!" exclaimedTommy, "not a line about the Arsenal? Well, I'm blowed! This _is_ awar!" "We are all in good spirits, " writes a bombardier in the 44thBattery, Royal Artillery, "and mainly anxious to know how football isgoing on in Newcastle now. " "I got this, " said a Gordon Highlander, referring to his wound, "because I became excited in an argument withwee Geordie Ferris, of our company, about the chances of Queen's Parkand Rangers this season. "

An artilleryman sends a description of the fighting written in thejargon of the football field. He describes the war as "the great matchfor the European Cup, which is being played before a record gate, thoughyou can't perhaps see the crowd. " In spite of all their swank, he adds, "the Germans haven't scored a goal yet, and I wouldn't give a brassfarthing for their chances of lifting the Cup. " At the battle of Mons itwas noticed that some soldiers even went into action with a footballattached to their knapsacks!

But there is no end to the humor of Tommy Atkins. Mr. Hamilton Fyfetells in the _Daily Mail_ how he stopped to sympathize with a woundedsoldier on the roadside near Mons. Asking if his injury was very painfulhe received the remarkable reply: "Oh, it's not that. I lost my pipe inthe last blooming charge. " In a letter from the front, published in the_Glasgow Herald_, this passage occurs: "Our fellows have signed thepledge because Kitchener wants them to. But they all say, 'God help theGermans, when we get hold of them for making us teetotal. '"

What a Frenchman describes as the "new British battle-cry" is anothersource of amusement. Whenever artillery or rifle fire sweeps over theirtrenches some facetious Tommy is sure to shout, "Are we downhearted?"and is met with a resounding "No!" and laughter all along the line. 

To those at home all this fun may seem a little thoughtless, but tothose in the fighting line it is perfectly natural and unforced. "Ourmen lie in the trenches and play marbles with the bullets from shrapnelshells, " writes one of the Royal Engineers; "we have been in twocountries and hope to tour a third, " says a letter from a cheeryartilleryman; and Mr. W. L. Pook (Godalming), who is with one of thefield post-offices, declares that things are going so badly with "ourdear old chum Wilhelm" that "I've bet X---- a new hat that I'll be homeby Christmas. "

Bets are common in the trenches. Gunners wager about the number of theirhits, riflemen on the number of misses by the enemy. Daring spirits, before making an attack, have even been known to bet on the number ofguns they would capture. "We have already picked up a good deal in theway of German souvenirs, " says one wag; "enough, indeed, to set adecent-sized army up in business. " The British Army, indeed, is an armyof sportsmen. Every man must have his game, his friendly wager, hisjoke, and his song. As one officer told his men: "You are a lively lotof beggars. You don't seem to realize that we're at war. "

But they do. That is just Tommy's way. It is how he wins through. Healways feels fit, and he enjoys himself. Corporal Graham Hodson, RoyalEngineers, provides a typical Atkins letter with which to conclude thischapter. "I am feeling awfully well, " he writes, "and am enjoying myselfno end. All lights are out at eight o'clock, so we lie in our blanketsand tell each other lies about the number of Germans we have shot andthe hairbreadth escapes we have had. Oh, it's a great life!"

IV

THE MAN WITH THE BAYONET

Some military writers have declared that with the increasing range ofrifle and artillery fire the day of the bayonet is over. Battles, theysay, must now be fought with the combatants miles apart. Bayonets are asobsolete as spears and battle axes. Evidently this theory had the fullsupport of the German General Staff, whose military wisdom was in somequarters believed to be infallible--before the war. 

As events have proved, however, there has been no more rude awakeningfor the German soldiery than the efficacy of the bayonet in the hands ofTommy Atkins. In spite of the employment of gigantic siege guns andtheir enormous superiority in strength, though not in handling, ofartillery, the Germans have failed to keep the Allies at the theoreticalsafe distance. They have been forced to accept hand-to-hand fighting, and in every encounter at close quarters there has never been a moment'sdoubt as to the result. They have shriveled up in the presence of thebayonet, and fled in disorder at the first glimpse of naked steel. It isnot that the Germans lack courage. "They are brave enough, " our soldiersadmit with perfect frankness, "but the bayonet terrifies them, and theycry out in agony at the sight of it. "

Admittedly, it requires more than ordinary courage to face a bayonetcharge, just as it calls for a high order of valor to use that deadlyweapon. Instances are given of young soldiers experiencing a sinkingsensation, a feeling of collapse, at the order "Fix Bayonets!" theirhands trembling violently over the task. But when the bugle sounds thecharge, and the wild dash at the enemy's lines has begun, with the skirlof the pipes to stir up the blood, the nerves stiffen and the hands gripthe rifle with grim determination. "It was his life or mine, " said ayoung Highlander describing his first battle, "and I ran the bayonetthrough him. " There is no time for sentiment, and there can be nothought of chivalry. Just get the ugly business over and done with asquickly as possible. One soldier tells what a sense of horror swept overhim when his bayonet stuck in his victim, and he had to use all hisstrength to wrench it out of the body in time to tackle the next man. 

Many men describe the effects of the British bayonet charges and the waythe Germans--Uhlans, Guards, and artillerymen--recoil from them. "If yougo near them with the bayonet they squeal like pigs, " "they beg formercy on their knees, " "the way they cringe before the bayonet ispitiful"--such are examples of the hundreds of references to this methodof attack. 

Private Whittaker, Coldstream Guards, gives a vivid account of thefighting around Compiègne. "The Germans rushed at us, " he writes, "likea crowd streaming from a Cup-tie at the Crystal Palace. You could notmiss them. Our bullets plowed into them, but still on they came. I waswell entrenched, and my rifle got so hot I could hardly hold it. I waswondering if I should have enough bullets, when a pal shouted, 'UpGuards and at 'em. ' The next second he was rolled over with a nastyknock on the shoulder. When we really did get orders to get at them wemade no mistakes, I can tell you. They cringed at the bayonets. Those onthe left wing tried to get round us. We yelled like demons, and racingas hard as we could for quite 500 yards we cut up nearly every man whodid not run away. "

One of the most graphic pictures of the war is that of attack in thenight related by a sergeant of the Worcester Regiment, who was woundedin the fierce battle of the Aisne. He was on picket duty when the attackopened. "It was a little after midnight, " he said "when the men aheadsuddenly fell back to report strange sounds and movements along thefront. The report had just been made when we heard a rustling in thebushes near us. We challenged and, receiving no reply, fired into thedarkness. Immediately the enemy rushed upon us, but the sleeping camphad been awakened by the firing, and our men quickly stood to arms. Asthe heavy German guns began to thunder and the searchlights to play onour position we gathered that a whole Army corps was about to be engagedand, falling back upon the camp, we found our men ready. No sooner hadwe reached the trenches than there rose out of the darkness in front ofus a long line of white faces. The Germans were upon us. 'Fire!' camethe order, and we sent a volley into them. They wavered, and darkpatches in their ranks showed that part of the white line had beenblotted out. But on they came again, the gaps filled up from behind. Ata hundred yards' range, the first line dropped to fix bayonets, thesecond opened fire, and others followed. We kept on firing and we sawtheir men go down in heaps, but finally they swarmed forward with thebayonet and threw all their weight of numbers upon us. We gave them oneterrible volley, but nothing could have stopped the ferocious impetus oftheir attack. For one terrible moment our ranks bent under the deadweight, but the Germans, too, wavered, and in that moment we gave themthe bayonet, and hurled them back in disorder. It was then I got abayonet thrust, but as I fell I heard our boys cheering and I knew wehad finished them for the night. "

This is one of the few accounts that tell of the Germans using thebayonet on the offensive, and their experience of the businesslike wayin which Tommy Atkins manipulates this weapon has given them a wholesomedread of such encounters. Private G. Bridgeman, 4th Royal Fusiliers, tells of the glee with which his regiment received the order to advancewith the bayonet. "We were being knocked over in dozens by the artilleryand couldn't get our own back, " he writes, [C] "and I can tell you wewere like a lot of schoolboys at a treat when we got the order to fixbayonets, for we knew we should fix them then. We had about 200 yards tocover before we got near them, and then we let them have it in the neck. It put us in mind of tossing hay, only we had human bodies. I wasseparated from my neighbors and was on my own when I was attacked bythree Germans. I had a lively time and was nearly done when a comradecame to my rescue. I had already made sure of two, but the third wouldhave finished me. I already had about three inches of steel in my sidewhen my chum finished him. "

The charge of the Coldstream Guards at Le Cateau is another bayonetexploit that ought to be recorded. "It was getting dark when we foundthat the Kaiser's crush was coming through the forest to cut off ourforce, " a sergeant relates, "but we got them everywhere, not a singleman getting through. About 200 of us drove them down one street, anddidn't the devils squeal. We came upon a mass of them in the mainthoroughfare, but they soon lost heart and we actually climbed overtheir dead and wounded which were heaped up, to get at the others. ""What a sight it was, and how our fellows yelled!" says anotherColdstreamer, describing the same exploit. 

Tommy Atkins has long been known for his accurate artillery and riflefire, but the bayonet is his favorite arm in battle. Through all ourwars it has proved a deciding, if not indeed the decisive, factor in thecampaign. Once it has been stained in service he fondles it as, next tohis pipe, his best friend. And it is the same with the Frenchman. Hecalls his bayonet his "little Rosalie, " and lays its ruddy edges againsthis cheek with a caress. 

V

CAVALRY EXPLOITS

"We have been through the Uhlans like brown paper. " In this strikingphrase Sir Philip Chetwode, commanding the 5th Cavalry Brigade, describes the brilliant exploits in the neighborhood of Cambrai when, inspite of odds of five to one, the Prussian Horse were cut to pieces. SirPhilip was the first man to be mentioned in despatches, and Sir JohnFrench does not hesitate to confirm this dashing officer's tribute tohis men. "Our cavalry, " says the official message, "do as they like withthe enemy. "

There is no more brilliant page in the history of the war than thatwhich has been furnished to the historian by the deeds of the Britishcavalry. They carried everything before them. In a single encounter thereputation of the much-vaunted Uhlans was torn to shreds. 

The charge of the 9th Lancers at Toulin was a fine exploit. It wasBalaclava over again, with a gallant Four Hundred charging a battery ofeleven German guns. But there was no blunder this time; it was asacrifice to save the 5th Infantry Division and some guns, and theheroic Lancers dashed to their task with a resounding British cheer. "Werode absolutely into death, " says a corporal of the regiment writinghome, "and the colonel told us that onlookers never expected a singleLancer to come back. About 400 charged and 72 rallied afterwards, butduring the week 200 more turned up wounded and otherwise. You see, theinfantry of ours were in a fix and no guns but four could be got round, so the General ordered two squadrons of the 9th to charge, as asacrifice, to save the position. The order was given, but not only did Aand B gallop into line, but C squadron also wheeled and came up with aroar. It was magnificent, but horrible. The regiment was swept awaybefore 1, 000 yards was covered, and at 200 yards from the guns I waspractically alone--myself, three privates, and an officer of oursquadron. We wheeled to a flank on the colonel's signal and rode back. Iwas mad with rage, a feeling I cannot describe. But we had drawn theirfire; the infantry were saved. "

"It was the most magnificent sight I ever saw, " says Driver W. Cryer, R. F. A. , who witnessed the Lancers go into action. "They rode at theguns like men inspired, " declares another spectator, "and it seemedincredible that any could escape alive. Lyddite and melinite swept likehail across the thin line of intrepid horsemen. " "My God! How theyfell!" writes Captain Letorez, who, after his horse was shot under him, leapt on a riderless animal and came through unhurt. When the men got upclose to the German guns they found themselves riding full tilt intohidden wire entanglements--seven strands of barbed wire. Horses and mencame down in a heap, and few of the brave fellows who reached thisbarrier ever returned. 

The 9th Lancers covered themselves with glory, and this desperate butsuccessful exploit will live as perhaps the most stirring and dramaticbattle story of the war. The Germans were struck with amazement at thefearlessness of these horsemen. Yet the 9th Lancers themselves tooktheir honors very modestly. "We only fooled around and saved some guns, "said one of the Four Hundred, after it was over. He had his horse shotunder him and his saddle blanket drilled through. 

Captain F. O. Grenfell, of the 9th Lancers, was the hero of an incidentin the saving of the guns. All the gunners had been shot down and theguns looked likely to fall into the enemy's hands. "Look here, boys, "said Grenfell, "we've got to get them back. Who'll help?" A score of meninstantly volunteered--"our chaps would go anywhere with Grenfell, " saysthe corporal who tells the story--and "with bullets and shrapnel flyingaround us, off we went. It was a hot time, but our captain was as coolas on parade, and kept on saying, 'It's all right; they can't hit us. 'Well, they did manage to hit three of us before we saved the guns, andGod knows how any of us ever escaped. " Later on Captain Grenfell washimself wounded, but before the ambulance had been brought up to carryhim off he sprang into a passing motor-car and dashed into the thick ofthe fighting again. 

The 18th Hussars and the 4th Dragoon Guards were also in these brilliantcavalry engagements, but did not suffer anything like so badly as the9th Lancers. Corporal Clarke, of the Remount Depot, which was attachedto the 18th Hussars, thus described their "little scrap" with the Germanhorsemen near Landrecies: "We received orders to form line (two ranks), and the charge was sounded. We then charged, and were under the fire oftwo batteries, one on each side of the cavalry. We charged straightthrough them, and on reforming we drove the Germans back towards the1st Lincoln Regiment, who captured those who had not been shot down. Wehad about 103 men missing, and we were about 1, 900 strong. The orderthen came to retreat, and we returned in the direction of Cambrai, butwe did not take any part in the action there. "

History seems to be repeating itself in amazing ways in this war. Justas the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava has been reproduced bythe 9th Lancers, so the Scots Greys and 12th Lancers have reproduced thefamous charge of the "Greys" at Waterloo. This is the fight whicharoused the enthusiasm of Sir Philip Chetwode, for his brigade wentthrough the German cavalry just as circus horses might leap throughpaper hoops. "I watched the charge of the Scots Greys and 12th Lancers, "writes Sergeant C. Meades, of the Berkshires. "It was grand. I could seesome of the Germans dropping on their knees and holding up their arms. Then, as soon as our cavalry got through, the Germans picked up theirrifles and started firing again. Our men turned about and charged back. It was no use the Germans putting up their hands a second time. Ourcavalry cut down every one they came to. I don't think there were tenGermans left out of about 2, 000. I can tell you they had all theywanted for that day. " An officer of the dragoons, describing the samecharge, says the dragoon guards were also in it, and that his lads were"as keen as mustard. " In fact, he declares, "there was no holding themback. Horses and men positively flew at the Germans, cutting throughmuch heavier mounts and heavier men than ours. The yelling and the dashof the lancers and dragoon guards was a thing never to be forgotten. Welost very heavily at Mons, and it is a marvel how some of our fellowspulled through. They positively frightened the enemy. We did terribleexecution, and our wrists were feeling the strain of heavy riding beforesunset. With our tunics unbuttoned, we had the full use of our rightarms for attack and defense. "

Another charge of the Scots Greys is thus described: "Seeing the woundedgetting cut at by the German officers, the Scots Greys went mad, andeven though retreat had been sounded, with a non-commissioned officerleading, they turned on the Potsdam Guards and hewed their way through, their officers following. Having got through, the officers took commandagain, formed them up, wheeled, and came back the way they went. It wasa sight for the gods. "

Another episode was the capture of the German guns by the 2nd and 5thDragoons. An officer of the 5th gives an account of the exploit. "Wewere attacked at dawn, in a fog, " he relates, "and it looked bad for us, but we turned it into a victory. Our brigade captured all the guns ofthe German cavalry division, fourteen in all; the Bays lost two-thirdsof their horses and many men. The Gunner Battery of ours was annihilated(twenty left), but the guns were saved, as we held the ground at theend. This was only a series of actions, as we have been at it all day, and every day. My own squadron killed sixteen horses and nine Uhlans ina space of 50 ft. , and many others, inhabitants told me, were lying in awood close by, where they had crawled. We killed their officer, a bigPostdam Guard, shot through the forehead. L Battery fought their guns tothe last, 'Bradbury' himself firing a gun with his leg off at the knee;a shell took off his other leg. He asked me then to be carried from theguns so that the men could not hear or see him. "

One of the 2nd Dragoons, wounded in this engagement, says the Bays weredesperately eager for the order to charge, and exultant when the buglesounded. "Off they went, 'hell for leather, ' at the guns, " is how hedescribed it. "There was no stopping them once they got on the move. "

"No stopping them. " That sums up what every eye-witness of the Britishcavalry charges says. The coolness and dash of the men in action wasamazing. Their voices rang out as they spurred their horses on, and whenthey crashed into the enemy, the British roar of exultation wasterrific, and the mighty clash of arms rent the air. "Many flung awaytheir tunics, " writes a Yeomanry Officer with General Smith-Dorrien'sDivision, "and fought with their shirt sleeves rolled up above theelbow. Some of the Hussars and Lancers were almost in a horizontalposition on the off-side of their mounts when they were cutting rightand left with bare arms. "

Most intimate details of the fighting at close quarters are given byanother officer. "I shall never forget, " he says, "how onesplendidly-made trooper with his shirt in ribbons actually stooped solow from his saddle as to snatch a wounded comrade from instant death atthe hands of a powerful German. And then, having swung the man rightround to the near side, he made him hang on to his stirrup leatherwhilst he lunged his sword clean through the German's neck and severedhis windpipe as cleanly as ---- would do it in the operating theater. "

And here is another incident: "A young lancer, certainly not more thantwenty, stripped of tunic and shirt, and fighting in his vest, charged aGerman who had fired on a wounded man, and pierced him to the heart. Seizing the German's horse as he fell, he exchanged it for his own whichhad got badly damaged. Then, his sword sheathed like lightning, he swunground and shot a German clean through the head and silenced himforever. "

The soldiers' letters throb with such stories, and the swiftness, vigor, and power of expression revealed in them is astonishing. Most of themwere written under withering fire, some scribbled even when in thesaddle, or when the writers were in a state of utter exhaustion at theend of a nerve-shattering day. "'Hell with the lid off' describes whatwe are going through, " one of the 12th Lancers says of it. But the mennever lose spirit. Even after eighteen or nineteen hours in the saddlethey still have a kindly, cheering message to write home, and a jocularmetaphor to hit off the situation. "We are going on all right, "concludes Corporal G. W. Cooper, 16th Lancers; "but still it isn'texactly what you'd call playing billiards at the club. "

VI

WITH THE HIGHLANDERS

The Highlanders have been great favorites in France. Their gaiety, humorand inexhaustible spirits under the most trying conditions havecaptivated everybody. Through the villages on their route these brawnyfellows march with their pipers to the proud lilt of "The Barren Rocksof Aden" and "The Cock o' the North, " fine marching tunes that in turngive place to the regimental voices while the pipers are recoveringtheir breath. "It's a long way to Inveraray" is the Scotch variant ofthe new army song, but the Scots have not altogether abandoned their ownmarching airs, and it is a stirring thing to hear the chorus of "TheNut-Brown Maiden, " for instance, sung in the Gaelic tongue as thesekilted soldiers swing forward on the long white roads of France. 

A charming little letter published in _The Times_ tells how theHighlanders and their pipers turned Melun into a "little Scotland" fora week, and the enthusiastic writer contributes some verses for asuggested new reel, of which the following have a sly allusion to theKaiser's order for the extermination of General French's "contemptiblelittle army":

 "What! Wad ye stop the pipers? Nay, 'tis ower soon! Dance, since ye're dancing, William, Dance, ye puir loon! Dance till ye're dizzy, William, Dance till ye swoon! Dance till ye're deid, my laddie! We play the tune!"

This is all quite in the spirit of the Highland soldiers. A Frenchman, writing to a friend in London goes into ecstasies over the behavior ofthe Scots in France, and says that at one railway station he saw twowounded Highlanders "dancing a Scotch reel which made the crowd fairlyshriek with admiration. " Nothing can subdue these Highlanders' spirits. They go into action, as has already been said, just as if it were apicnic, and here is a picture of life in the trenches at the time of thefierce battle of Mons. It is related by a corporal of the Black Watch. "The Germans, " he states, "were just as thick as the Hielan' heather, and by weight of numbers (something like twenty-five to one) tried toforce us back. But we had our orders and not a man flinched. We juststuck there while the shells were bursting about us, and in the verythick of it we kept on singing Harry Lauder's latest. It was terrible, but it was grand--peppering away at them to the tune of 'Roamin' in theGloamin'' and 'The Lass o' Killiecrankie. ' It's many a song about thelassies we sang in that 'smoker' wi' the Germans. "

According to another Highlander "those men who couldn't sing very welljust whistled, and those who couldn't whistle talked about football andjoked with each other. It might have been a sham fight the way theGordons took it. " With this memory of their undaunted gaiety it is sadto think how the Gordons were cut up in that encounter. Their losseswere terrible. "God help them!" exclaims one writer. "Theirs was thefinest regiment a man could see. "

But that was in the dark days of the long retreat, when the Highlanders, heedless of their own safety, hung on to their positions often in spiteof the orders to retire, and avenged their own losses ten-fold by theirpunishment of the enemy. Private Smiley, of the Gordons, describing theGerman attacks, speaks of the devastating effects of the British fire. "Poor devils!" he writes of the German infantry. "They advanced incompanies of quite 150 men in files five deep, and our rifle has a flattrajectory up to 600 yards. Guess the result. We could steady our rifleson the trench and take deliberate aim. The first company were mown downby a volley at 700 yards, and in their insane formation every bullet wasalmost sure to find two billets. The other companies kept advancing veryslowly, using their dead comrades as cover, but they had absolutely nochance. .. . Yet what a pitiful handful we were against such a host!"

The fighting went on all through the night and again next morning, andthe British force was compelled to retreat. In the dark, Private Smiley, who was wounded, lost his regiment, and was picked up by a battery ofthe Royal Field Artillery who gave him a lift. But he didn't rest long, he says, for "I'm damned if they didn't go into action ten minutesafterwards with me on one of the guns. "

Some fine exploits are also given to the credit of the Black Watch. They, too, were in the thick of it at Mons--"fighting like gentlemen, "as one of them puts it--and the Gordons and Argyll and Sutherlands alsosuffered severely. In fact, the Highland regiments appear to have beensingled out by the Germans as the object of their fiercest attacks, andall the way down to the Aisne they have borne the brunt of thefighting. Private Fairweather, of the Black Watch, gives this account ofan engagement on the Aisne: "The Guards went up first and then theCamerons, both having to retire. Although we had watched the awfulslaughter in these regiments, when it was our turn we went off with acheer across 1, 500 yards of open country. The shelling was terrific andthe air was full of the screams of shrapnel. Only a few of us got up to200 yards of the Germans. Then with a yell we went at them. The airwhistled with bullets, and it was then my shout of '42nd forever!'finished with a different kind of yell. Crack! I had been presented witha souvenir in my knee. I lay helpless and our fellows retired over me. Shrapnel screamed all around, and melinite shells made the earth shake. I bore a charmed life. A bullet went through the elbow of my jacket, another through my equipment, and a piece of shrapnel found a restingplace in a tin of bully beef which was on my back. I was picked upeventually during the night, nearly dead from loss of blood. "

Perhaps the most dashing and brilliant episode of the fighting is theexploit of the Black Watch at the battle of St. Quentin, in which theywent into action with their old comrades, the Scots Greys. Not contentwith the ordinary pace at which a bayonet charge can be launched againstthe enemy these impatient Highlanders clutched at the stirrup leathersof the Greys, and plunged into the midst of the Germans side by sidewith the galloping horsemen. The effect was startling, and those who sawit declare that nothing could have withstood the terrible onslaught. "Only a Highland regiment could have attempted such a movement, " said anadmiring English soldier who watched it, and the terrible gashes in theGerman ranks bore tragic testimony to the results of this double charge. The same desperate maneuver, it may be recalled, was carried out atWaterloo and is the subject of a striking and dramatic battle picture. 

Though all the letters from men in the Highland regiments speakcontemptuously of the rifle fire of the Germans, they admit that inquantity, at least, it is substantial. "They just poured lead in tonsinto our trenches, " writes one, "but, man, if we fired like yon they'dput us in jail. " The German artillery, however, is described as "nocanny. " The shells shrieked and tore up the earth all around theHighlanders, and accounted for practically all their losses. 

Narrow escapes were numerous. An Argyll and Sutherland Highlander gothis kilt pierced eight times by shrapnel, one of the Black Watch had hiscap shot off, and while another was handling a tin of jam a bullet wentclean into the tin. Jocular allusions were made to these incidents, andsomebody suggested labeling the tin "Made in Germany. "

Even the most grim incidents of the war are lit up by some humorous orpathetic passage which illustrates the fine spirits and even finersympathies of the Highlanders. Lance-Corporal Edmondson, of the RoyalIrish Lancers, mentions the case of two men of the Argyll andSutherlands, who were cut off from their regiment. One was badlywounded, but his comrade refused to leave him, and in a district overrunby Germans, they had to exist for four days on half-a-dozen biscuits. 

"But how did you manage to do it?" the unwounded man was asked, whenthey were picked up. 

"Oh, fine, " he answered. 

"How about yourself, I mean?" the questioner persisted in asking. 

"Oh, shut up, " said the Highlander. 

The truth is he had gone without food all the time in order that hiscomrade might not want. 

Then there is a story from Valenciennes of a poor scared woman whorushed frantically into the road as the British troops entered thetown. She had two slight cuts on the arm, and was almost naked--theresult of German savagery. When she saw the soldiers she shrank back infear and confusion, whereupon one of the Highlanders, quick to see herplight, tore off his kilt, ripped it in half, and wrapped a portionaround her. She sobbed for gratitude at this kindly thought and tried tothank him, but before she could do so the Scot, twisting the other halfof the kilt about himself to the amusement of his comrades, was swingingfar along the road with his regiment. 

This is not the only Scot who has lost his kilt in the war. One of theRoyal Engineers gives a comic picture of a Highlander who appears tohave lost nearly every article of clothing he left home in. When lastseen by this letter writer he was resplendent in a Guardsman's tunic, the red breeches of a Frenchman, a pair of Belgian infantry boots, andhis own Glengarry! "And when he wants to look particularly smart, " addsthe Engineer, "he puts on a Uhlan's cloak that he keeps handy!"

As another contribution to the humor of life in the trenches and, incidentally, to the discussion of soldier songs, it is worth whilequoting from a letter signed "H. L. , " in _The_ _Times_, this specimenverse of the sort of lyric that delights Tommy Atkins. It is the work ofa Sergeant of the Gordon Highlanders, and as the marching song in highfavor at Aldershot, must come as a shock to the ideals of would-be armylaureates:

 "Send out the Army and Navy, Send out the rank and file, (Have a banana!) Send out the brave Territorials, They easily can run a mile. (I don't think!) Send out the boys' and the girls' brigade, They will keep old England free: Send out my mother, my sister, and my brother, But for goodness sake don't send me. "

It is doggerel, of course, but it has a certain cleverness as a satireon the music-hall song of the day, and the Gordons carried it gaily withthem to their battlefields, blending it in that odd mixture of humor andtragedy that makes up the soldier's life. The bravest, it is truly said, are always the happiest, and of the happy warriors who have fallen inthis campaign one must be remembered here in this little book of Britishheroism. He died bravely on the hill of Jouarre, near La Ferte, and hiscomrades buried him where he fell. On a little wooden cross areinscribed the simple words, "T. Campbell, Seaforths. "

VII

THE INTREPID IRISH

"There's been a divil av lot av talk about Irish disunion, " says Mr. Dooley somewhere, "but if there's foightin' to be done it's the bhoysthat'll let nobody else thread on the Union Jack. " That is the Irishtemperament all over, and in these days when history is being written inlightning flashes the rally of Ireland to the old flag is inspiring, butnot surprising. 

Political cynics have always said that England's difficulty would beIreland's opportunity, but they did not reckon with the paradoxicalcharacter of the Irish people. England's difficulty has indeed beenIreland's opportunity--the opportunity of displaying that generousnature which has already contributed thousands of men to theExpeditionary Force, and is mustering tens of thousands more under thepatriotic stimulus of those old political enemies, Mr. John Redmond andSir Edward Carson. The civil war is "put off, " as one Irish soldierexpresses it; old enmities are laid aside and Orange and Green arerighting shoulder to shoulder, on old battlefields whose names are writin glory upon the colors. 

No more cheerful regiments than the Irish are to be found in the firingline. Their humor in the trenches, their love of songs, and their dashin action are manifested in all their letters. An English soldier, writing home, says that even in the midst of a bayonet charge anIrishman can always raise a laugh. "Look at thim divils retratin' withtheir backs facin' us, " was an Irish remark about the Germans that madehis fellows roar. And when the Fusiliers heard the story of the Kaiser'slucky shamrock, one of them said: "Sure, an' it'll be moighty lucky forhim if he doesn't lose it"; adding to one of three comrades, "There'llbe a leaf apiece for us, Hinissey, when we get to Berlin. "

In the fighting the Irish have done big things and their dash andcourage have filled their British and French comrades with admiration. Referring to the first action in which the Irish Guards took part, andthe smart businesslike way in which they cut up the Germans, PrivateHeffernan, Royal Irish Fusiliers, says they had a great reception asthey marched back into the lines: "Of course, we all gave them a cheer, but it would have done your heart good to see the Frenchmen (who had agood view of the fighting) standing up in their trenches and shoutinglike mad as the Guards passed by. The poor chaps didn't like the ideathat it was their first time in action, and were shy about the fuss madeof them: and there was many a row in camp that night over men sayingfine things and reminding them of their brand new battle honors. "[D]

A fine story is told of the heroism of two Irish Dragoons by a trooperof that gallant regiment. "One of our men, " he says, "carried a woundedcomrade to a friendly farm-house under heavy fire, and when the retreatwas ordered both were cut off. A patrol of a dozen Uhlans found themthere and ordered them to surrender, but they refused, and, tackling theGermans from behind a barricade of furniture, killed or wounded half ofthem. The others then brought up a machine gun and threatened thedestruction of the farm: but the two dragoons, remembering the kindnessof the farm owners and unwilling to bring ruin and disaster upon them, rushed from the house in the wild hope of tackling the gun. The momentthey crossed the doorway they fell riddled with bullets. " Another storyof the Irish Dragoons is told by Trooper P. Ryan. One of the Berkshireshad been cut off from his regiment while lingering behind to bid a dyingchum good-by, when he was surrounded by a patrol of Uhlans. A troop ofthe Irish Dragoons asked leave of their officer to rescue the man, andsweeping down on the Germans, quickly scattered them. But they were toolate. The plucky Berkshire man had "gone under, " taking three Germanswith him. "We buried him with his chum by the wayside, " adds TrooperRyan. "Partings of this kind are sad, but they are everyday occurrencesin war, and you just have to get used to them. "

The Dragoons also went to the assistance of a man of the Irish Rifleswho, wounded himself, was yet kneeling beside a fallen comrade of theGloucester Regiment, and gamely firing to keep the enemy off. TheDragoons found both men thoroughly worn out, but urgency required theregiment to take up another position, and the wounded men had to be leftto the chance of being picked up by the Red Cross corps. "They knewthat, " says the trooper who relates the incident, "and weren't the mento expect the general safety to be risked for them. 'Never mind, ' saidthe young Irishman, 'shure the sisters 'll pick us up all right, an' ifthey don't--well, we've only once to die, an' it's the grand fight we'vehad annyhow. '"

One of the most stirring exploits of the war--equaled only by thedevotion and self-sacrifice of the Royal Engineers in the fight for thebridge--is that of the Irish Fusiliers in saving another regiment fromannihilation. The regiment was in a distant and exposed position, and amessage had to be sent ordering its retirement. This could only beaccomplished by despatching a messenger, and the fusiliers were askedfor volunteers. Every man offered himself, though all knew what it meantto cross that stretch of open country raked with rifle fire. They tossedfor the honor, and the first man to start-off with the message was anawkward shock-headed chap who, the narrator says, didn't impress by hisappearance. Into the blinding hail of bullets he dashed, and cleared thefirst hundred yards without mishap. In the second lap he fell wounded, but struggled to his feet and rushed on till he was hit a second timeand collapsed. One man rushed to his assistance and another to bear themessage. The first reached the wounded man and started to carry him in, but when nearing the trenches and their cheering comrades, both felldead. The third man had by this time got well on his way, and was almostwithin reach of the endangered regiment when he, too, was hit. Half-a-dozen men ran out to bring him in, and the whole lot of thisrescuing party were shot down, but the wounded fusilier managed to crawlto the trenches and deliver the order. The regiment fell back intosafety and the situation was saved, but the message arrived none toosoon, and the gallant Irish Fusiliers certainly saved one battalion fromextinction. 

In one fierce little fight the Munster Fusiliers (the "Dirty Shirts")had to prevent themselves from being cut off, and in a desperate effortto capture the whole regiment the Germans launched cavalry, infantry andartillery upon them. "The air was thick with noises, " says one of theMunsters in telling the story, "men shouting, waving swords, and blazingaway at us like blue murder. But our lads stood up to them without theleast taste of fear, and gave them the bayonet and the bullet in finestyle. They crowded upon us in tremendous numbers, but though it washell's own work we wouldn't surrender, and they had at last to leaveus. I got a sword thrust in the ribs, and then a bullet in me, and wentunder for a time, but when the mist cleared from my eyes I could see theboys cutting up the Germans entirely. " The losses were heavy, and thecomment was made in camp that the Germans had cleaned up the "DirtyShirts" for once. "Well, " said an indignant Fusilier, "it was a moightyexpensive washin' for them annyway. "

How Private Parker of the Inniskilling Fusiliers escaped from fourUhlans who had taken him prisoner is an example of personal daring. Hiscaptors marched him off between them till they came to a narrow lanewhere the horsemen could walk only in single file--three in front of himand one behind. He determined to make a bid for liberty. Ducking underthe rear horse he seized his rifle, shot the Uhlan, and disappeared inthe darkness. For days he lay concealed, and on one occasion Germansearchers entered the room in which he was hidden, yet failed to findhim. 

Private Court, 2nd Royal Scots, pays a tribute to the gallantry of theConnaught Rangers, and tells how they saved six guns which had beentaken by the enemy. The sight of British guns in German hands was toomuch for the temper of the Connaughts, who came on with an irresistiblecharge, compelling the guns to be abandoned, and enabling the RoyalField Artillery to dash in and drag them out of danger. Another soldierrelates that the Connaughts were trapped by a German abuse of the whiteflag and suffered badly when, all unsuspecting, they went to take overtheir prisoners; but they left their mark on the enemy on that occasion, and "when the Connaught blood is up, " as one of the Rangers expressesit, "it's a nasty job to be up agin it. "

Stories of Irish daring might be multiplied, but these are sufficient toshow that the old regiments are still full of the fighting spirit. "Nowboys, " one of their non-commissioned officers is reported to have said, "no surrender for us! Ye've got yer rifles, and yer baynits, and yerbutts, and after that, ye divils, there's yer fists. " A drummer of theIrish Fusiliers who had lost his regiment, met another soldier on theroad and begged for the loan of his rifle "just to get a last pop at thedivils. " Sir John French is himself of Irish parentage--Roscommon andGalway claim him--and there is no more ardent or cheerful fighter in theBritish army. 

"It beats Banagher, " says a jocular private in the Royal Irish, "howthese Germans always disturb us at meal times. I suppose it's just thesmell of the bacon that they're after, and Rafferty says we can't be toocareful where we stow the mercies. " From all accounts the Germans takenprisoner are about as ill-fed as they are ill-informed. Private Harknessof the same regiment, says the captives' first need is food and theninformation. One of them asked him why the Irish weren't fighting intheir own civil war. "Faith, " said he, "this is the only war we knowabout for the time being, and there's mighty little that's _civil_ aboutit with the way you're behaving yourselves. " The German looked gloomy, and, added Harkness, "I don't think he liked a plain Irishman's way ofputting things. "

VIII

"A FIRST-CLASS FIGHTING MAN"

"If ever I come back, and anybody at home talks to me about the glory ofwar, I shall be d----d rude to him. " That is an extract from the letterof an officer who has seen too much of the grim and ugly side of thecampaign to find any romance in it. Yet out of all the horror thereemerge incidents of conspicuous bravery that strike across theimagination like sunbeams, and cast a glow even in the darkest cornersof the stricken field. 

Valor is neither a philosophy nor a calculation. The soldier does notsay to himself, "Look here, Atkins, 'One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name. '"

He goes into the business of war determined to get it over as quickly aspossible, [E] and when he does something stupendous, as he does nearlyever day, it is just because the thing has to be done, and he is thereto do it. Tommy Atkins doesn't stop to think whether he is doing a bravething, nor does he wait for orders to do it; he just sets about it aspart of the day's work, and looks very much abashed if anybody applaudshim for it. 

For instance, there is a man in the Buffs (the story is told by a driverof the Royal Marine Artillery), who picked up a wounded comrade andcarried him for more than a mile under a vicious German fire that wasexterminating nearly everything. It was a fine act of heroism. "Yet ifanybody were to suggest the V. C. He'd break his jaw, " says the writer, "and as he's a man with a 4. 7 punch the men of his regiment keep veryquiet about it. "

Some fine exploits are recorded of the Artillery. When the MunsterFusiliers were surrounded in one extended engagement a driver of theR. F. A. Named Pledge, who was shut up with them, was asked to "cutthrough" and get the assistance of the Artillery. Lance-Corporal JohnMcMillan, Black Watch, thus describes what happened: "Pledge mounted ahorse and dashed through the German lines. His horse was brought to theground, and, as we afterwards discovered, he sustained severe injuriesto his legs. Nothing daunted, he got his horse on its feet, and againset off at a great pace. To get to the artillery he had to pass down anarrow road, which was lined with German riflemen. He did not stop, however, but dashed through without being hit by a single bullet. Heconveyed the message to the artillery, which tore off to the assistanceof the Munsters, and saved the situation. "

The saving of the guns is always an operation that calls forintrepidity, and many exploits of that kind are related. Lance-CorporalBignell, Royal Berks, tells how he saw two R. F. A. Drivers bring a gunout of action at Mons. Shells had been flying round the position, andthe gunners had been killed, whereupon the two drivers went to rescuethe gun. "It was a good quarter of a mile away, " says the witness, "yetthey led their horses calmly through the hail of shell to where the gunstood. Then one man held the horses while the other limbered up. Itseemed impossible that the men could live through the German fire, andfrom the trenches we watched them with great anxiety. But they camethrough all right, and we gave them a tremendous cheer as they broughtthe gun in. "

Sir John French in one of his despatches records that during the actionat Le Cateau on August 26th the whole of the officers and men of one ofthe British batteries had been killed or wounded with the exception ofone subaltern and two gunners. These continued to serve one gun, kept upa sound rate of fire, and came unhurt from the battlefield. 

Another daring act is described by W. E. Motley, R. F. A. "Things becamevery warm for us, " he says, "when the Germans found the range. In factit became so hot that an order was passed to abandon the gunstemporarily. This is the time when our men don't obey orders, so theystuck to their guns. They ceased their fire for a time. The enemy, thinking our guns were out of action, advanced rapidly. Then was thetime our men proved their worth. They absolutely shattered the Germanswith their shells. "

Some gallant stories are told of the Royal Engineers. One especiallythrilling, is given in the words of Darino, a lyrical artist of theComédie Française, who joined the Cuirassiers, and was a spectator ofthe scene he describes. A bridge had to be blown up, and the whole placewas an inferno of mitrailleuse and rifle fire. "Into this, " he relates, "went your Engineers. A party of them rushed towards the bridge, and, though dropping one by one, were able to lay the charge before all weresacrificed. For a moment we waited. Then others came. Down towards thebridge they crept, seeking what cover they could in their eagerness toget near enough to light the fuse. Ah! it was then we Frenchmenwitnessed something we shall never forget. One man dashed forward to histask in the open, only to fall dead. Another, and another, and anotherfollowed him, only to fall like his comrade, and not till the twelfthman had reached the fuse did the attempt succeed. As the bridge blew upwith a mighty roar, we looked and saw that the brave twelfth man hadalso sacrificed his life. "

During the long retreat from Mons the Middlesex Regiment got into anawkward plight, and a bridge--the only one left to the Germans--had tobe destroyed to protect them. This was done by a sergeant of theEngineers, but immediately afterwards his own head was blown away by aGerman shell. "The brave fellow certainly saved the position, " writesone of the Middlesex men, "for if the Germans had got across that nightI'm afraid there would have been very few of us left. "

Other daring incidents may be told briefly. One of the liveliest isthat of seven men of the Worcesters, who were told they could "go for astroll. " While loitering along the road they encountered a party ofGermans, and captured them all without firing a shot. "We just coveredthem with our rifles, " writes Private Styles; "so simple!" Sir JohnFrench relates a similar exploit of an officer who, while proceedingalong the road in charge of a number of led horses, received informationthat there were some of the enemy in the neighborhood. Upon seeing themhe gave the order to charge, whereupon three German officers and 106 mensurrendered! On another occasion a portion of a supply column was cutoff by a detachment of German cavalry and the officer in charge wassummoned to surrender. He refused, and starting his motors off at fullspeed dashed safely through. 

Hairbreadth escapes are related in hundreds of letters, and they have adramatic quality that makes the ineffectual fires of imaginative fictionburn very low. Sergeant E. W. Turner, West Kents, writes to hissweetheart: "The bullet that wounded me at Mons went into one breastpocket and came out of the other, and in its course passed through yourphoto. " Private G. Ryder vouches for this: "We were having what youmight call a dainty afternoon tea in the trenches under shell fire. Themugs were passed round with the biscuits and the 'bully' as best theycould by the mess orderlies, but it was hard work messing throughwithout getting more than we wanted. My next-door neighbor, so to speak, got a shrapnel bullet in his tin, and another two doors off had hisbiscuit shot out of his hand. " Lieutenant A. C. Johnstone, the Hantscounty cricketer, after escaping other bullets and shells which weredancing around him, was hit over the heart by a spent bullet, which onreaching hospital he found in his left-hand breast pocket. PrivatePlant, Manchester Regiment, had a cigarette shot out of his mouth, and acomrade got a bullet into his tin of bully beef. "It saves the troubleof opening it, " was his facetious remark. 

One of the Royal Scots Fusiliers was saved by a cartridge clip. He feltthe shock and thought he had been hit, but the bullet was diverted bythe impact owing to a loose cartridge. Had it been struck higher up allthe cartridges might have exploded. Another letter mentions a case wherea man got two bullets; one struck his cartridge belt, and the otherentered his sleeve and passed through his trousers as far as the knee, without even scratching him. Drummer E. O'Brien, South Lancashires, hadhis bugle and piccolo smashed, his cap carried away by a bullet, andanother bullet through his coat before he was finally struck by a pieceof shrapnel which injured his ankle; and another soldier records thushis adventures under fire: (1) Shell hit and shattered my rifle; (2) Capshot off my head; (3) Bullet in muscle of right arm. "But never mind, mydear, " he comments, "I had a good run for my money. " Staff-Sergeant J. W. Butler, 1st Lincolns, was saved by a paper pad in his pocket book; thebullet embedded itself there. 

Sapper McKenny, Royal Engineers, records the unique experience of acomrade whose cap was shot off so neatly that the bullet left a groovein his hair just like a barber's parting! He thinks the German who firedthe shot is probably a London hairdresser. 

Private J. Drury, 3rd Coldstream Guards, also had a narrow escape, beinghit by a bullet out of a shell between the left eye and the temple. "Itstruck there, " he relates, "but one of our men got it out with a safetypin, and now I've got it in my pocket!"

The amusing escapade of "wee Hecky MacAlister, " is told by Private T. McDougall, of the Highland Light Infantry. Hecky went into a burn for aswim, and suddenly found the attentions of the Germans were directed tohim. "You know what a fine mark he is with his red head, " says thewriter to his correspondent, and so they just hailed bullets at him. Hecky, however, "dooked and dooked, " and emerged from his bath happy butbreathless after his submarine exploit. 

But while the men in the trenches applaud all the brilliant exploits oftheir fellows, and laugh and jest over the lively escapes of the luckyones who, in Atkins's phraseology, "only get their hair parted, " thereare other fine deeds done in the quiet corners of hospitals and out ofthe glamour of battle that move the strongest to tears. Such is theincident related by a member of the Royal Army Medical Corps, and it isa fitting story with which to close this chapter. One soldier, mortallywounded, was being attended by the doctor when his eye fell on a dyingcomrade. "See to him first, doctor, " he said faintly, "that poor bloke'sgoing home; he'll be home before me. "

IX

OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

"He died doing his duty like the officer and gentleman he was. " Couldany man have a finer epitaph? It is an extract from a letter written byPrivate J. Fairclough, Yorkshire Light Infantry, to General A. Wynn, andrefers to the death of the General's son, Lieutenant G. O. Wynn, killedin action at Landrecies. The letter goes on to tell of the affection inwhich the young officer was held by his men, and this story of courageand unselfishness in the field is the simple but faithful tribute of adevoted soldier. 

The war has brought out in a hundred ways the admirable qualities of allranks in the British Expeditionary Force; but the relations of officersand men have never been revealed to us before with such friendly candorand mutual appreciation. Over and over again in these letters from thefront the soldiers are found extolling the bravery and self-sacrificeof their officers. "No praise is too great for them, " "our officersalways pull us through, " "they know their business to the finger-tips, ""as cool as cucumbers under fire, " "magnificent examples, " "absolutelyfearless in the tightest corners"--these are some of the phrases inwhich the men speak proudly of those in command. 

One officer in the 1st Hampshire Regiment read _Marmion_ aloud in thetrenches, under a fierce maxim fire, to keep up the spirits of his men;and they "play cards and sing popular songs to cheer us up, " addsanother genial soldier. Not that the men suffer much from depression. Onthe contrary, the commanders agree that their spirits have beensplendid. "Our men are simply wonderful, " writes an officer in thecavalry division; "they will go through anything. "

The most surprising thing in the soldiers' letters is that they shouldshow such an extraordinary sense of the dramatic. They throb withemotion. Take this account of the death of Captain Berners as written byCorporal S. Haley, of the Brigade of Guards, in a letter published bythe _Star_:

"Captain Berners, of the Irish, was the life and soul of our lot. Whenshells were bursting over our heads he would buck us up with his humorabout Brock's displays at the Palace. But when we got into closequarters it was he who was in the thick of it. And didn't he fight! Idon't know how he got knocked over, but one of our fellows told me hedied a game 'un. He was one of the best of officers, and there is not aTommy who would not have gone under for him. "

Among those who fell at Cambrai was Captain Clutterbuck, of the King'sOwn (Lancaster) Regiment. He was killed while leading a bayonet charge. "Just like Clutterbuck, " wrote a wounded sergeant, describing theofficer's valor, and adding, "Lieutenant Steele-Perkins also died one ofthe grandest deaths a British officer could wish for. He was lifted outof the trenches wounded four times, but protested and crawled back againtill he was mortally wounded. "

A sergeant of the Coldstream Guards, in an account given to the _EveningNews_, speaks of the death of Captain Windsor Clive. "We were sorry tolose Captain Clive, who, " he says, "was a real gentleman and a soldier. He was knocked over by the bursting of a shell, which maddened ourfellows I can tell you. " The utmost anger was also aroused in the men ofthe Lancaster Regiment by the death of Colonel Dykes. "Good-by, boys, "he exclaimed as he fell; and "By God, we avenged him, " said one of the"boys" in describing the fight. 

Many instances are given of the devotion shown by the soldiers in savingtheir officers. Private J. Ferrie, of the Royal Scots Fusiliers, woundedwhile defending a bridge at Landrecies, tells in the _Glasgow Herald_how Sergeant Crop rescued Lieutenant Stephens, who had been badly hitand must otherwise have fallen into the enemy's hands: "The sergeanttook the wounded lieutenant on his back, but as he could not crawlacross the bridge so encumbered he entered the water, swam the canal, carried the wounded man out of line of fire, and consigned him to thecare of four men of his own company. Of a platoon of fifty-eight whichwas set to guard the bridge only twenty-six afterwards answered to theroll call. "

On the other hand, there are many records of the tremendous risks takenby officers to rescue wounded men. Private J. Williams, Royal FieldArtillery, had two horses shot under him and was badly injured "when themajor rushed up and saved me. " "I was lying wounded when an artillerymajor picked me up and took me into camp, or I would never have seenEngland again, " writes Lance-Corporal J. Preston, InniskillingFusiliers. Lieutenant Sir Alfred Hickman was wounded in the shoulderwhile rescuing a wounded sergeant under heavy fire. How another disabledman was brought in by Lieutenant Amos, is told by Private GeorgePringle, King's Own Scottish Borderers. "Several of us volunteered to doit, " he says, "but the lieutenant wouldn't hear of anybody else takingthe risk. " Captain McLean, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, saved oneof his men under similar circumstances. All the letters are full ofpraise of the officers who, in the words of Private James Allan, GordonHighlanders, "seem to be mainly concerned about the safety of their men, and indifferent to the risks they take upon themselves. "

Every Tommy knows he is being finely led. The officers are a constantsource of inspiration and encouragement. Private Campbell, IrishFusiliers, writes:

"Lieutenant O'Donovan led us all the time, and was himself just wherethe battle was hottest. I shall never forget his heroism. I can see himnow, revolver in one hand and sword in the other. He certainly accountedfor six Germans on his own, and inspired us to the effort of our lives. He has only been six months in the service, is little more than a boy, but the British Army doesn't possess a more courageous officer. "

The Scottish Borderers speak proudly of Major Leigh, who was hit duringa bayonet charge, and when some of his men turned to help him, shouted"Go on, boys; don't mind me. " A lieutenant of A Company, 1st Cheshires:"I only know his nickname, " says Private D. Schofield--though wounded intwo places, rushed to help a man in distress, brought him in, and thenwent back to pick up his fallen sword. Captain Robert Bruce, heir ofLord Balfour of Burleigh, distinguished himself in the fighting at Mons. One of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders relates that, in spite ofwounds, Captain Bruce took command of about thirty Highlanders who hadbeen cut off, and throwing away his sword, seized a rifle from one ofthe killed, and fought side by side with his men. 

How the guns were saved at Soissons is told in a letter, published in_The Times_, from Sergeant C. Meades, of the Berkshire Regiment. "We hadthe order to abandon our guns, " he writes, "but our young lieutenantsaid, 'No, boys; we'll never let the Germans take a British gun, ' andwith a cheer we fought on. .. . The Staffords came up and reinforced us. Then I got hit, and retired. .. . But the guns were saved. When the lastof the six got through every one cheered like mad. " One of the WestKents also described the daring action of an officer. In the midst ofterrific fire, he walked calmly down the artillery line, putting ourlost guns out of action so that they would be useless to the Germans. 

Even into the letters describing these gallant incidents there creepfrequent evidences of Atkins's unconquerable spirit and sense of humor. Private R. Toomey, Royal Army Medical Corps, tells of an officer of theRoyal Irish shouting at the top of his voice, "Give 'em hell, boys, give'em hell!" He had been wounded in the back by a lump of shrapnel, but, says Toomey, "it was a treat to hear him shouting. "

Most of these accounts refer to the weary days of the retirement fromMons to Compiègne, a test of endurance that brought out the splendidfighting qualities of officers and men alike. That retirement iscertainly one of the most masterly achievements of a war alreadyglorious for the exploits of British arms. Day after day our men had tofall back, tired and hungry, exhausted from want of sleep, yet fightingmagnificently, and only impatient to begin the attack. This eagernessfor battle is in marked contrast to the spirit of the German troops, ofwhom there is abundant evidence that the men have often to be driveninto action by the threatening swords and revolvers of their officers. 

Francis Ryan, Northumberland Fusiliers, tells in the _Scotsman_ howyoung lieutenant Smith-Dorrien pleaded to be allowed to remain with hismen in the trenches after a retirement had been ordered. The SouthStaffordshires thought they were "getting along splendidly, " says one ofthe men, "until the General came and told us we must retreat or we wouldbe surrounded. " The officer spoke very encouragingly, and praised hismen; but they were all so unwilling to yield ground that one of them, expressing impatience, made a comment he would never have thought ofdoing in peace time. The General only smiled. 

This impatience pervaded all arms of the service. Some of the Highlandregiments began to grow grim and sullen, in spite of their play with thebayonet; and the Irish corps became "unaisy. " It was then that theofficers' fine spirit brought reassurance. This is how the King's RoyalRifles were cheered up, according to Private Harman: "The officers knewwe were disappointed, because on the fifth day of retirement ourcommanding officer came round and spoke to us. 'Stick it, boys, stickit, ' he said; 'To-morrow we shall go the other way and advance--Biff, biff!' The way he said 'Biff, biff, ' delighted the men, and after thatwe frequently heard men shouting, 'Biff, biff!'"

General Sir John French, who is a great favorite with all ranks, andspoken of with affection by every Tommy, makes frequent tours of thelines and has a cheery word for every regiment. Driver W. Cryer, RoyalField Artillery, relates in the _Manchester Guardian_ that, at St. Quentin, Sir John French visited the troops, "smiling all over hisface, " and explained the meaning of the repeated retirements. Up tothen, says Cryer, the men had almost to be pulled away by the officers, but after the General's visit they fell in with the general scheme withgreat cheerfulness. 

Summing up his impressions of the nerve-strain of these weary rearguardactions, a famous cavalry officer writing home, says: "We had a hell ofa time. .. . But the men were splendid. I don't believe any other troopsin the world could have stood it. "

X

BROTHERS IN ARMS

There is a fine fraternity between the British and the French soldiers. They don't understand very much of each other's speech, but they "muddlethrough, " as Atkins puts it, with "any old lingo. " The French call out, "Bravo, Tommee!" and share cigarettes with him: and Atkins, not verysure of his new comrades' military Christian name, replies with a cheery"Right, Oh!" Then turning to his own fellows he shouts, "Are wedownhearted?" and the clamorous "No!" always brings forth a rousingFrench cheer. 

Having seen each other in action since they first met on the way tobattle they have grown to respect each other more and more. There is notmuch interchange of compliments in the letters from the trenches, butsuch as there is clearly establishes the belief of Atkins that he isfighting side by side with a brave and generous ally. 

"We always knew, " writes one soldier, "that the French were swift anddangerous in attack, but we know now that they can fight on thestubbornly defensive. " One of the South Lancashires is loud in hispraise of their behavior under fire. "Especially the artillery, "Sergeant J. Baker adds; "the French seem to like the noise, and aren'thappy unless it's there. "

One of _The Times_ correspondents mentions that the German guns have aheavy sound "boum, " and the French a sharper one, "bing"; but neither ofthem is very pleasant to the ear, and it requires a cultured militarytaste like that of the French to enjoy the full harmony of the musicwhen the British "bang" is added to the general cannonading. The Frenchartillery is admitted to be fine, the deadly accuracy of the gunnersbeing highly praised by all who have watched the havoc wrought in theGerman lines. 

For the French soldier, however, the path of greatest glory lies in thecharge. Dash and fire are what he possesses in the highest degree. Hishighly-strung temperament chafes under delays and disappointments. Hehasn't the solid, bull-dog courage that enables the British soldier totake hard knocks, even severe punishment, and come up smiling again torenew the battle that he will only allow to end in one way, and thatway victory. 

In the advance, as one writer describes it, the French dash forward inspasmodic movements, making immediately for cover. After a briefbreathing space they bound into the open again, and again seek anyavailable shelter. And so they proceed till the charge is sounded, whenwith gleaming bayonets and a cry of "_pour la gloire_" upon their lipsthey sweep down upon the enemy at a tremendous pace. The whole thing isexhilarating to watch, and to the men engaged it is almost intoxicating. They see red and the only thing that can stop them is the sheer deadweight of the columns in front. To the French the exploit of the 9thLancers, already described in this volume, is the greatest thing in thewar. They would have died to have accomplished it themselves. The fineheroics of such an exploit gives them a crazy delight. Then there arethe forlorn hopes, the bearing of messages across a zone of witheringfire, the fights for the colors. One incident which closely resemblesthe exploit of the Royal Irish Fusiliers is recorded. A message had tobe borne to another regiment and volunteers sprang forward eagerly tothe call. The enemy's fire was particularly deadly at this point, and itseemed impossible for a messenger to get through, but no man hesitated. The first fell dead before he had traveled many yards, the second had aleg shot off, the third by amazing luck got through without a scratch. Deeds of this kind have endeared the French soldier to Tommy Atkins morethan all his extravagant acts of kindness, and the sympathetic bond ofvalor has linked them together in the close companionship ofbrothers-in-arms. 

Having shown what the British soldier thinks of the French as fightingmen, it is pleasant to turn to our Ally's opinion of Tommy Atkins. Herethe letters deal in superlatives. M. Duchene, French master atArchbishop Holgate's School, York, who was wounded with his regiment atVerdun, writes in glowing terms of his comrades' praise. "Ah, thoseEnglish soldiers!" he says. "In my regiment you only hear suchexpressions as _'Ils sont magnifiques, ' 'Ils sont superbs, ' 'Quelssoldats!'_ No better tribute could be given. " Another Frenchman with thearmy of the Republic is stirred into this eulogy in a letter to a friendin England: "How fine they are, how splendidly they behave, theseEnglish soldiers! In their discipline and their respect for theirofficers they are magnificent, and you will never know how much we haveapplauded them. "

Another Frenchman, acting as interpreter with a Scottish regiment, relates with amazement how the Highlanders go into action, "as if theywere going to a picnic, with laughing eyes and, whenever possible, witha cigarette between their lips. Their courage is a mixture ofimperturbability and tenacity. One must have seen their immovable calm, their heroic sang-froid, under the rain of bullets to do it justice. "Then he goes on to describe how a handful of Scots were selected to holdback a large body of Germans in a village to enable the main body of theBritish to retire in good order. They took up a position in the firsthouse they came to and fired away at the invaders, who rained bullets onthe building. Some of the gallant little party fell, but the others keptup the fight. Then there came a pause in the attack, the German fireceased, the enemy was seeking a more sheltered position. During thisbrief respite the sergeant in command of the Scots surveyed the buildingthey had entered. It was a small grocer's shop, and on an upper shelf hefound a few packets of chocolate. "Here, lads, " he shouted, "whoeverkills his man gets a bit o' this. " The firing began again, and as eachmarksman succeeded, the imperturbable Scot shouted "Got him, " and handedover the prize amid roars of laughter. "Alas, " comments the narrator, "there were few prize-winners who lived to taste their reward. "

The same eulogist, whose narrative was obtained by Reuter'scorrespondent, also speaks of the fastidious Scot's preoccupations. Hehas two--to be able to shave and to have tea. "No danger, " the Frenchmandeclares, "deters them from their allegiance to the razor and theteapot. At ----, in the department of the Nord, I heard a British officerof high rank declare with delicious calm between two attacks on thetown: 'Gentlemen, it was nothing. Let's go and have tea. ' Meanwhile hismen took advantage of the brief respite to crowd round the pump, where, producing soap and strop, they proceeded to shave minutely andconscientiously with little bits of broken glass serving as mirrors. "

The same sense of order and method also struck another Frenchman, whospeaks of the "amazing Englishmen, " who carry everything with them, andare never in want of anything, not even of sleep!

Certainly there is much truth in these tributes to the British militaryorganization, but that is another story and for another chapter. Theopinion of an English cavalry officer, however, may be quoted as to therelative merits of the French and English horses. "The French horses, "he writes, "are awful. They look after them so badly. They all say, 'What lovely horses you have, ' to us, and they do look fine besidetheirs, but we look after ours so well. We always dismount and feed themon all occasions with hay and wheat found on the farms and in stacks inthe fields, also clover. The French never do. "

As a result of these observations the French appear to have beenapplying themselves to the study of the British fighting force. "I knowfor a fact, " says Trooper G. Douglas, "that French officers have beenmoving amongst us studying our methods. The French Tommies try to copyus a lot, and they like, when they have time, to stroll into our linesfor a chat or a game; but it's precious little time there is for thatnow. "

But it is in character and temperament that the chief differences of theallies lie. "Brigadier" Mary Murray, who went to the front with othermembers of the Salvation Army, records a conversation she had with aFrench soldier over a cup of coffee. "Ah, " he said, "we lose heavily, weFrench. We haven't the patience of the English. They are fine and canwait: we must rush!" And yet Tommy Atkins can do a bit of rushing too. Private R. Duffy, of the Rifle Brigade, sends home a lively account ofthe defense of the Marne in which a mixed force of British and Frenchwas engaged. The object to be achieved was to drive back the Germans whowere attempting to cross the river. "About half a mile from the banks, "writes Duffy, "we came out from a wood to find a French infantrybattalion going across in the same direction. We didn't want to bebehind, so we put our best foot forward, and one of the most excitingraces you ever saw followed. We got in first by a head, as you mightsay, and we were just in time to tackle a mob of Germans heading for thecrossing in disorder. We went at them with the bayonet, but they didn'tseem to have the least heart for fighting. Some of them flung themselvesin the stream and tried to swim to safety, but they were heavilyaccoutered and worn out so they didn't go very far. Of about threehundred men who tried this not more than half a dozen succeeded inreaching the other bank. "

In spite of all the hatreds the war has engendered--and one of the RoyalLancasters declares that the sign manual of friendship between theFrench and the English soldier is "a cross on the throat indicatingtheir wish to the Kaiser"--there is still room for passages of finesympathy and chivalry. One young French lieutenant distinguished himselfby carrying a wounded Uhlan to a place of safety under a heavy Germanfire, English soldiers have shown equal generosity and kindness toinjured captives, and the tributes to heroic and patient nurses shineforth in letters of gold upon the dark pages of this tragic history. Here is a touching letter from one of the King's Own Royal Lancasters. "In one hospital, which was a church, " he writes, "there was a youngFrench 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 sad sweetsmile for every one. If ever any one deserved a front seat in Heaventhis young angel did. God bless her! She has the prayers and all thelove the remnants of the Fourth Division can give her. "

And another pretty little tribute is paid to the kindness of a Frenchlady to four English soldiers billeted at her house. "She was wondrouskind, " writes one of the grateful soldiers, "and when we left for thefront Madame and her mother sobbed and wept as if we had been their ownsons. "

XI

ATKINS AND THE ENEMY

In one of his fine messages from the front, Sir John French, whom the_New York World_ has described as the "best of war correspondents, "referred to the British soldier as "a difficult person to impress ordepress. " He meant, of course, that it was no use trying to terrifyTommy Atkins. Nothing will do that. His stupendous sense of humorcarries him, smiling, through every emergency. 

But Atkins is a keen observer, and he takes on very clear and vividimpressions of men and affairs. He hates compromises and qualifications, and just lets you have his opinion--"biff!" as one officer expresses it. 

"Bill and I have been thinking it over, " says one letter from thetrenches, "and we've come to the conclusion that the German army systemis rotten. " There you have the concentrated wisdom of hundreds ofsoldier critics who talk of the Kaiser's great military machine as theyknow it from intimate contact with the fighting force it propels. Theyadmit its mechanical perfection; it is the human factor that breaksdown. 

Nothing has impressed Tommy Atkins more than the lack of _morale_ in theGerman soldiers. "Oh, they are brave enough, poor devils; but they'vegot no heart in the fighting, " he says. That is absolutely true. Hundreds of thousands of them have no notion of what they are fightingfor. Some of the prisoners declared that when they left the garrisonsthey were "simply told they were going to maneuvers"; "others, " says aRoyal Artilleryman, "had no idea they were fighting the English";according to a Highland officer, surrendering Germans said their fellowshad been assured that "America and Japan were fighting on their side, and that another Boer war was going on"; and a final illusion wasdispelled when those captured by the Royal Irish were told that thecivil war in Ireland had been "put off!"

It is not only that the men lack this moral preparation for war. Theirsystem of fighting is demoralizing. "They come on in close formation, thousands of them, just like sheep being driven to the slaughter, " isthe description that nine soldiers out of every ten give of the Germansgoing into action. "We just mow them down in heaps, " says anartilleryman. "Lord, even a woman couldn't miss hitting them, " is thecomment from the Infantry. And as for the cavalry: "Well, we just makesholes in them, " adds one of the Dragoons. At first they didn't takecover at all, but just marched into action with their drums beating andbands playing, "like a blooming parade, " as Atkins puts it. After thefirst slaughter, however, they shrank from the attack, and there isample evidence of eyewitnesses that the German infantry often had to belashed into battle by their officers. "I saw a colonel striking his ownmen with his sword to prevent them running away, " is one of the manystatements. Revolvers, too, were freely used for the same purpose. 

But, generally speaking, there is iron discipline in the Kaiser's army. The men obey their officers implicitly. Trooper E. Tugwell, of theBerwicks, tells this little story of a cavalry charge from which aGerman infantry regiment bolted--all but one company, whose officersordered them to stand: "They faced round without attempting to fire ashot, and stood there like statues to meet the onslaught of our men. Ourchaps couldn't help admiring their fine discipline, but there's not muchroom for sentiment in war, and we rode at them with the lance, andswept them away. " "They are big fellows, and, in a way, brave, " writesPrivate P. Case of the King's (Liverpool) Regiment, describing one oftheir attacks; "they must be brave, or they would not have keptadvancing when they saw their dead so thick that they were practicallystanding up. " "Their officers simply won't let them surrender, " saysanother writer, "and so long as there's an officer about they'll standlike sheep and be slaughtered by the thousand. " The essential differencebetween the German soldiers and our own is in the officering andtraining, and it is admirably expressed by Private Burrell, Northumberland Fusiliers. "_We_ are led; _they_ are driven, "[F] isBurrell's epigram. 

According to other letter writers, the German soldiers are absolutelytyrannized over by their officers. They are horribly ill-used, badlyfed, [G] overworked, constantly under the lash. "They hate their officerslike poison, and fear them ten times more than they fear death, " saysPrivate Martin King. "Most of the prisoners that I've seen are only fitfor the hospital, and many of them will never be fit for anything elsethis side of the grave. Their officers don't seem to have anyconsideration for the men at all, and we have a suspicion that the heavylosses of German officers aren't all due to our fire. There was onebrought in who had certainly been hit by one of their own bullets, andin the back too. " Other soldiers say the same, and add that if itweren't for dread of their officers the Germans would surrenderwholesale. "Take the officers away, and their regiments fall to pieces, "is the dictum of one of the Somerset Light Infantry, "and that's why wealways pick off the German officers first. "

There is not the slightest divergence of opinion in the British ranks asto the German infantry fire. "Their shooting is laughable, " "theycouldn't hit a haystack in an entry, " and "asses with the rifle, " arehow our men dispose of it. The Germans fire recklessly with their riflesplanted against their hips, while Tommy Atkins takes cool and steadyaim, and lets them have it from the shoulder. "We just knocked them overlike nine-pins, " a Highlander explained. As to the German cavalry, oneTommy expressed the prevailing opinion to nicety. "I don't want to benasty, " he said, "but what we all pray for is just half-an-hour eachway with three times our number of Uhlans. "

When it comes to artillery, however, Atkins has nothing but praise forthe enemy. Their aeroplanes flutter over the British positions and givethe gunners the exact range, and then they let go. "I can only figure itout as being something worse than the mouth of hell, " declares PrivateJohn Stiles, 1st Gloucesters, and it may be here left at that, as thedevastating effects of artillery have already been dealt with in aprevious chapter. One thing which has puzzled and sometimes baffled ourmen is the way the Germans conceal their guns. They displayextraordinary ingenuity in this direction, hiding them inside haystacks, in leaf-covered trenches, and sometimes, unhappily, in Red Cross wagons. 

Stories of German treachery are abundant, and official reports havedealt with such shameful practises as driving prisoners and refugees infront of them when attacking, abusing the protection of the White Flag, and wearing Red Cross brassards in action. The men have their ownstories to tell. An Irish Guardsman records a white flag incident duringthe fighting on the Aisne: "Coldstreamers, Connaughts, Grenadiers, andIrish Guards were all in this affair, and the fight was going on well. Suddenly the Germans in front of us raised the white flag, and we ceasedfiring and went up to take our prisoners. The moment we got into theopen, fierce fire from concealed artillery was turned on us, and thesurrendered Germans picked up their rifles and pelted us with theirfire. It was horrible. They trapped us completely, and very fewescaped. " The German defense of these white flag incidents was given toTrooper G. Douglas by a prisoner who declared that the men were quiteinnocent of intention to deceive, but that whenever their officers sawthe white flag they hauled it down, and compelled them to fight. 

Many British soldiers suffered from the treachery of the Germansin wearing English and French uniforms, and their letters home arefull of indignation at the practises of the enemy. It was in thefighting following such a ruse at Landrecies that the HonorableArcher-Windsor-Clive, of the Coldstream Guards, met his death. "Anothertime, " an artillery officer relates, "they ran into one of our regimentswith some of their officers dressed in French uniforms. They said 'Netirez-pas, nous sommes Français, ' and asked for the C. O. He came up, andthen they calmly blew his brains out!" A similar act of treachery isrecorded by Lieutenant Oswald Anne, R. A. , in a letter published in the_Leeds Mercury_: "At one place where the Berkshire Regiment was on guarda German force arrived attired in French uniforms. To keep up theillusion, a German called out in French from the wire entanglements thatthey wanted to interview the commanding officer. A major of theBerkshires who spoke French, went forward, and was immediately shotdown. This sort of thing is of daily occurrence. " Lieutenant Edgcumbe, son of Sir Robert Edgcumbe, Newquay, tells of another instance oftreachery in which British uniforms were used, and declares, in commonwith many other officers, that he "will never again respect the Germans;they have no code of honor!"

They strip the uniforms from the dead, come on in night attacks shouting"Vive, l'Angleterre!" and sound the British bugle-call "Cease fire" inthe thickest of the fight. Twice in one engagement the Germans stoppedthe British fire by the mean device of the bugle, and twice they chargeddesperately upon the silent ranks. But in nearly every case theirpunishment for these violations of the laws of civilized warfare hasbeen swift and terrible, and no mercy has been shown them. 

Charges of barbarity are also common in letters from the battlefields. One officer, who says he "never before realized what an awful thing waris, " writes: "We have with us in the trenches three girls who came to usfor protection. One had no clothes on, having been outraged by theGermans. I have given her my shirt and divided my rations among them. Inconsequence I feel rather hungry, having had nothing for thirty-twohours, except some milk chocolate. Another poor girl has just come in, having had both her breasts cut off. Luckily I caught the Uhlan officerin the act, and with a rifle at 300 yards killed him. And now she iswith us, but, poor girl, I am afraid she will die. She is very prettyand only about nineteen. "[H]

Captain Roffey, Lancashire Fusiliers, tells how he was found wounded, and handed over his revolver to the Germans, whereupon his captor usedit to shoot him again, and left him for dead. There is no end to thestories of this kind, and one of the wounded vehemently declared thatthe "devilry of the Germans cannot be exaggerated. "

There are others amongst the wounded however, who have received nothingbut kindness from the enemy. Lieutenant H. G. W. Irwin, South LancashireRegiment, pays a tribute to the treatment he met with in the Germanlines; Captain J. B. George, Royal Irish, "could not have been bettertreated had he been the Crown Prince;" and one of the Officer's SpecialReserve says the stories of "brutality are only exceptions, and thereare exceptions in every army. "

And here it is worth quoting a happy example of German chivalry. It istaken from one of Sir John French's messages. A small party of Frenchunder a non-commissioned officer was cut off and surrounded. After adesperate resistance it was decided to go on fighting to the end. Finally, the N. C. O. And one man only were left, both being wounded. TheGermans came up and shouted to them to lay down their arms. The Germancommander, however, signed to them to keep their arms, and then askedfor permission to shake hands with the wounded non-commissioned officer, who was carried off on his stretcher with his rifle by his side. 

After this account of what British soldiers think of the enemy, it isinteresting to read what is the German opinion of Tommy Atkins. Evidently the fighting men do not share the Kaiser's estimate of"French's contemptible little army. " Three very interesting letters, written by German officers, and found in the possession of thecaptives, were published in an official despatch from GeneralHeadquarters. Here are extracts from each:

 (1) "With the English troops we have great difficulties. They have a queer way of causing losses to the enemy. They make good trenches, in which they wait patiently. They carefully measure the ranges for their rifle fire, and then they open a truly hellish fire on the unsuspecting cavalry. This was the reason that we had such heavy losses. "

 (2) "The English are very brave and fight to the last. .. . One of our companies has lost 130 men out of 240. "

 (3) "We are fighting with the English Guards, Highlanders and Zouaves. The losses on both sides have been enormous. The English are marvelously trained in making use of the ground. One never sees them, and one is constantly under fire. Two days ago, early in the morning, we were attacked by immensely superior English forces (one brigade and two battalions) and were turned out of our positions. The fellows took five guns from us. It was a tremendous hand-to-hand fight. How I escaped myself I am not clear. .. . If we first beat the English, the French resistance will soon be broken. "

The admissions of prisoners that the Germans were amazed at the fightingqualities of the British soldier, and had acquired a wholesome dread ofmeeting him at close quarters, may have been colored by a triflingdisposition to be amiable in their captivity; but letters such as thosejust quoted are honest statements for private reading in Germany, andwere never intended to fall into British hands. 

Although Tommy Atkins makes occasional jocular allusions to the enemy as"Sausages" there is no doubt that he considers the German army a verysubstantial fighting force. "The German is not a toy terrier, but abloodhound thirsting for blood, " is one description of him; "getting toBerlin isn't going to be a cheap excursion, " says another; and, to quotea third, "in spite of all we say about the Teuton, he is taking hispunishment well, and we've got a big job on our hands. "

XII

THE WAR IN THE AIR

Mr. H. G. Wells did not long anticipate the sensations of an aerialconflict between the nations. Six years after the publication of his_War in the Air_ the thing has become an accomplished fact, and for thefirst time in history the great nations are fighting for the mastery notonly upon land but in the air and under the sea. 

Fine as have been the adventures of airmen in times of peace, andstartling as spectators have found the acrobatic performance of "loopingthe loop, " these tricks of the air appear feeble exploits compared withthe new sensation of an actual battle in the clouds. Soldiers, scribbling their letters in the trenches, have been fascinated by thesudden appearance at dusk of a hostile aeroplane, and have gazed withpleasurable agitation as out of the dim, mysterious distance a Britishaviator shot up in pursuit. 

"It is thrilling and magnificent, " says one officer, "and I was filledwith rapture at the spectacle of the first fight in the clouds. TheGerman maneuvered for position and prepared to attack, but our fellowwas too quick for him, and darted into a higher plane. The German triedto circle round and follow, and so in short spurts they fought formastery, firing at each other all the time, the machines swaying andoscillating violently. The British airman, however, well maintained hisascendency. Then suddenly there was a pause, the German machine began toreel, the wounded pilot had lost control, and with a dive the aeroplanecame to earth half a mile away. Our man hovered about for a time, andthen calmly glided away over the German lines to reconnoiter. "

Nothing could excel the skill and daring shown by the men of the RoyalFlying Corps. They stop at nothing. Some of their machines have been sobadly damaged by rifle and shell fire that on descending they have hadto be destroyed. 

"Fired at constantly both by friend and foe, " Sir John French writes, "and not hesitating to fly in every kind of weather, they have remainedundaunted throughout. " The highest praise is bestowed uponBrigadier-General Sir David Henderson, in command of the Corps, for thehigh state of efficiency this young branch of the service has attained. It has been on its trial, and has already covered itself with glory. General Joffre, the French Commander-in-Chief, has sent a specialmessage singling out the British Flying Corps "most particularly" forhis highest eulogies. Several English airmen have already been madeChevaliers of the Legion of Honor. 

That the nervous strain of aerial warfare is severe is shown byexpression in several airmen's letters. Not only have they to fighttheir man, but they have to manage their machines at the same time. Thismeans that if an airman ascends alone he is unable to use a rifle andmust depend for attack on revolver fire only. This is illustrated by apassage in one of the official reports: "Unfortunately one of ouraviators, who has been particularly active in annoying the enemy bydropping bombs, was wounded in a duel in the air. Being alone on asingle-seated monoplane, he was not able to use a rifle, and whilstcircling above a German two-seater in an endeavor to get within pistolshot was hit by the observer of the latter, who was armed with a rifle. He managed to fly back over our lines, and by great good luck descendedclose to a motor ambulance, which at once conveyed him to hospital. "

This appears to be only the second instance recorded during the firsttwo months of the war in which our airmen have suffered mishap, yethalf-a-dozen German machines have been brought down and their navigatorseither killed or wounded. Private Harman, King's Royal Rifles, describesan exciting pursuit in which a German aeroplane was captured. TheBritish aviator, who had the advantage in speed and was a good revolvershot, evidently greatly distressed the fugitive, for, surrendered, heplaned down in good order, and on landing was found to be dead. 

According to an officer in the Royal Flying Corps the worst aerialexperience in war is to go up as a passenger. "It is 'loathly, '" hesays, "to sit still helplessly and be fired at. " In one flight as aspectator his machine was "shelled and shot at about a hundred times, but luckily only thirteen shots went through the planes and neither ofus was hit. " An interesting account of a battle seen from the clouds isgiven in a letter published by _The Times_. "I was up with ---- for anevening reconnaissance over this huge battle. I bet it will ever beremembered as the biggest in history. It extends from Compiègne rightaway east to Belfort. Can you imagine such a sight? We flew at 5 p. M. Over the line, and at that time the British Army guns (artillery, heavyand field) all opened fire together. We flew at 5, 000 feet and saw asight which I hope it will never be my lot to see again. The woods andhills were literally cut to ribbons all along the south of Laon. It wasmarvelous watching hundreds of shells bursting below one to right andleft for miles, and then to see the Germans replying. "

Another officer of the Flying Corps describes his impression of theBattle of Mons, seen from a height of 5, 000 feet. British shells werebursting like little bits of cotton wool over the German batteries. AGerman attack developed, and the airman likens the enemy's advanceformation to a "large human tadpole"--a long dense column with the headspread out in front. 

Evidently the anti-aircraft guns, though rather terrifying, do verylittle damage. Airmen have had shells burst all round them for a longtime without being hurt. Of course they are careful to fly at a highaltitude. When struck by shrapnel, however, an aeroplane (one witnesssays) "just crumples up like a broken egg. " On the other hand, bombsdropped from aeroplanes do great damage, if properly directed. A petrolbomb was dropped by an English airman at night into a German bivouacwith alarming results, and another thrown at a cavalry column struck anammunition wagon and killed fifteen men. A French airman wiped out acavalry troop with a bomb, and the effect of the steel arrows used byFrench aviators is known to be damaging. The German bombs thrown byZeppelins and Taube aeroplanes on Antwerp and Paris do not appear tohave much disturbed either the property or equanimity of theinhabitants. So far as aerial excursions are concerned the mostbrilliant exploit is undoubtedly that of Flight-Lieutenant C. H. Collet, of the Naval Wing of the British Flying Corps, who, with a fleet of fiveaeroplanes swept across the German frontier and, hovering overDüsseldorf, dropped three bombs with unerring effect upon the Zeppelinsheds. 

Bomb-dropping, however, has not been indulged in to any great extent byeither of the combatants, and the chief use to which air machines havebeen put is that of scouting. The Germans use them largely for rangefinding, and they seem to prove a very accurate guide to the gunners. "We were advancing on the German right and doing splendidly, " writesPrivate Boardman (Bradford) "when we saw an aeroplane hover right overour heads, and by some signaling give the German artillery the range. The aviator had hardly gone when we were riddled with shot and shell. " Asergeant of the 21st Lancers says the signaling is done by dropping akind of silver ball or disc from the aeroplanes, and the Germans watchfor this and locate our position to a nicety at once. 

As scouts--and that, meantime, is the real practical purpose ofaeroplanes in war--the British aviators have done wonders. Theirmachines are lighter and faster than those of the Germans, and as theymake a daily average of nine reconnaissance flights of over 100 mileseach it will be understood that they keep the Intelligence Departmentwell supplied with accurate information of the enemy's movements. 

French airmen are particularly daring both in reconnaissance and inflight, and the well-known M. Védrines, whose achievements are familiarto English people, has already brought down three German aeroplanes. Inone encounter he fought in a Blériot machine carrying a mitrailleuse, and the enemy dropped, riddled with bullets. So completely have some ofthe aeroplanes been perforated, without mishap, says the _DailyTelegraph's_ war correspondent, that the pilots have found a new game. Each evening after their flights they count the number of bullet holesin their machine, marking each with a circle in red chalk, so that nonemay be included in the next day's total. The record appears to bethirty-seven holes in one day, and the pilot in question claims to bethe "record man du monde. "

Zeppelins have not maintained their reputation in this war. One sailedover Sir John French's headquarters and indicated the position to theenemy, but they are no match for the swift and agile aeroplanes. Awounded dispatch carrier saw one English and two French machines attacka Zeppelin and bring it down instantly. A half hour's fight with anotheris recorded; among the captured passengers in this, according to asoldier's letter, was a boy of nine. Private Drury, Coldstream Guards, saw one huge German aeroplane brought to earth, three of its officersbeing killed by rifle fire and one badly injured. 

There is something strange, mysterious, and insubstantial about the warin the air that the soldiers do not yet feel or comprehend. Often thefeverish activity of aircraft at a high altitude is known only to a veryfew practised observers. A gentle purring in the air and the scarcelyaudible ping-pong of distant revolver shots may represent a fierce duelin the clouds, and often the soldiers are unaware of the presence of ahostile airman until the projectiles aimed at them burst in thetrenches. One evening, a graphic official message states, the atmospherewas so still and clear that only those specially on the lookout detectedthe enemy's aeroplanes, and when the bombs burst "the puffs of smokefrom the detonating shell hung in the air for minutes on end like ballsof fleecy cottonwool before they slowly expanded and were dissipated. "

Of course, the tactics adopted for dealing with hostile aircraft are toattack them instantly with one or more British machines, and as in thisrespect the British Flying Corps has established an individualascendency, Sir John French proudly declares that "something in thedirection of the mastery of the air has already been gained. "

XIII

TOMMY AND HIS RATIONS

A medical officer at the front declares that the British ExpeditionaryForce is, without doubt, the "best fed Army that has ever taken thefield. " That is a sweeping statement, but it is true. It is confirmedover and over again in the letters of Tommy Atkins. It is acknowledgedby the French. Even the most sullen German prisoners agree with it. There has been universal praise for the quality and abundance of thefood, and the general arrangements for the comfort of the Britishsoldier. 

One French description of the feeding says that the English troops "livelike fighting cocks, " another marvels at "the stupendous pieces of meat, and bread heavy with butter and jam, " a third speaks of the "amazingTommees" who "carry everything in their pockets and forget nothing atall. " And so on. 

But the most remarkable tribute of all to the perfect working of thetransport and supply service is that given by the British officers andmen themselves. Captain Guy Edwards, Coldstream Guards, says: "They havefed our troops wonderfully regularly and well up to the present; we havehad no sickness at all, and every one is in splendid spirits. " Inanother letter an officer refers to the generosity of the rations. "Inaddition to meat and bread (or biscuit), " he says, "we get 1/4lb. Jam, 1/4lb. Bacon, 3oz. Cheese, tea, etc. , while the horses have had a goodsupply of oats and hay. " During the whole of the long retreat from Mons, says an officer of the Berkshires, "there was only one day when wemissed our jam rations!"

And it is the same with the men. Here are some brief extracts from theirletters:

 Private ----, 20th Field Ambulance:

 "Our food supply is magnificent. We have everything we want and food to spare. Bacon and tomatoes is a common breakfast for us. "

 Driver Finch: "I am in the best of health, with the feeding and the open-air life. The stars have been our covering for the last few weeks. "

 Sergeant, Infantry Regiment: "The arrangements are very good--no worry or hitch anywhere; it is all wonderful. "

 Cavalryman: "We live splendidly, being even able to supplement our generous rations with eggs, milk and vegetables as we go through the villages. "

 Gunner: "Having the time of my life. "

Of course, the exigencies of war may not always permit of the perfectworking of the supply machine. Already there have been many hardships tobe endured. Incessant fighting does not give the men time for propermeals, sleep is either cut out altogether or reduced to an occasionalcouple of hours, heavy rains bring wet clothing and wetter restingplaces, boots wear out with prolonged marching, and men have to go fordays and even weeks unwashed, unshaven, and without even a chance ofgetting out of their clothes for a single hour. 

The officers suffer just as much as the men. After a fortnight or threeweeks at the front one cavalry officer wrote that he "had not taken hisclothes off since he left the Curragh. " "For five days, " another says, "I never took off my boots, even to sleep, and for two days I did noteven wash my hands or face. For three days and nights I got just fourhours' sleep. The want of sleep was the one thing we felt. " Sleep, indeed, is just the last thing the officers get. Brigadier-General SirPhilip Chetwode outlines his daily program as "work from 4 a. M. To 11p. M. , then writing and preparations until 4 a. M. Again. " To make mattersworse just at the start of the famous cavalry charge which brought SirPhilip such distinction, his pack-horse bolted into the German linescarrying all his luggage, and leaving him nothing but a toothbrush!

One of the Dorsets' officers reports that "owing to the continuousfighting the 'evening meal' has become conspicuous by its absence, " butin spite of having carried a 1lb. Tin of compressed beef and a fewbiscuits about with them for several days they are all "most beastly fiton it. " "No one seems any the worse, and I feel all the fitter, " writesan officer of a Highland Regiment, "after long marches in the rain goingto bed as wet as a Scotch mist. "

The men are just as cheerful as their officers. "You can't expect ablooming Ritz Hotel in the firing line, " is how a jocular Cockney putsit. An artilleryman says they would fare sumptuously if it weren't forthe German shells at meal times: "one shell, for instance, shattered ourold porridge pot before we'd had a spoonful out of it!" LieutenantJardine, a son of Sir John Jardine, M. P. , relates this same incident. Gunner Prince, R. F. A. , has a little joke about the sleeping quarters:"Just going to bed. Did I say bed? I mean under the gun with an overcoatfor a blanket. " There is no sort of grumbling at all. As LieutenantStringer, of the 5th Lancers, expresses it, the A. S. C. "manage thingsvery well, and our motto is 'always merry and bright. '"

Occasionally, when there is a lull in the operations, the men dinegloriously. Stories are told of gargantuan feeds--of majestic stews thatcan be scented even in the German lines. Occasionally, too, there is thecapture of a banquet prepared for the enemy's officers as the followingmessage from the _Standard_ illustrates: "A small party of our cavalrywere out on reconnaissance work, scouring woods and searching thecountryside. Just about dusk a hail of bullets came upon our party froma small spinney of fir trees on the side of a hill. We instantly wheeledoff as if we were retreating, but, in fact, we merely pretended toretire and galloped round across plowed land to the other side of thespinney, fired on the men, and they mounted their horses and flew likelightning out of their 'supper room. ' They left a finely cooked repastof beef-steaks, onions and fried potatoes all ready and done to a turn, with about fifty bottles of Pilsner lager beer, which was an acceptablerelish to our meal. Ten of our men gave chase and returned for anexcellent feed. "

Another amusing capture is that of an enterprising Tommy who possessedhimself of a German officer's bearskin, a cap, helmet, and Jaegersleeping bag. He is now regarded as the "toff of the regiment. " Theluxury of a bath was indulged in by a company of Berkshires at oneencampment. Forty wine barrels nearly full of water were discoveredhere, and the thirsty men were about to drink it when their officerstopped them. "Well, " said one, "if it's not good enough to drink it'lldo to wash in, " and with one accord they stripped and jumped into thebarrels! Nothing has been more notable than Tommy's desire forcleanliness and tidiness. It is something fine and healthy about theBritish soldier. One wounded man, driven up to a hospital, limped withdifficulty to a barber's shop for a shave before he would enter thebuilding. "I couldn't face the doctors and nurses looking like I was, "he told the ambulance attendant. 

Of all the soldiers' wants the most imperative appears to be theharmless necessary cigarette. All their letters clamor for tobacco inthat form. "We can't get a decent smoke here, " says one writer. An armyairman "simply craves for cigarettes and matches. " From a cavalrymancomes the appeal that a few boxes of cigarettes and some thick chocolatewould be luxuries. "Just fancy, " to quote from another letter, "onecigarette among ten of us--hardly one puff a-piece. "

In the French hospitals the wounded men are being treated with thegreatest kindness, and during convalescence are being loaded withluxuries. "Spoilt darlings, " one Scottish nurse in Paris says aboutthem, "but who could help spoiling them?" They are so happy andcheerful, so grateful for every little service, so eager to return tothe firing line in order to "get the war over and done with. " "We'vepromised to be home by Christmas, " they say, "and that turkey andplum-pudding will be spoilt if we don't turn up. "

Home by Christmas! That is Tommy Atkins' idea of a "Non-stop run toBerlin"--the facetious notice he printed in chalk on the troop trains atBoulogne as, singing "It's a long way to Tipperary, " he rolled away tothe greatest battles that have ever seared the face of Europe. 

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: Extract from _The Times_ report of the German Emperor'sArmy Orders, dated Headquarters, Aix-la-Chapelle, August 19th, 1914. ]

[Footnote B: Copyright Chappell & Co. , Ltd. , 41 East 34th St. , NewYork. ]

[Footnote C: _Daily Express_, Sept. 25th, 1914. ]

[Footnote D: The Irish Guards were created entirely on the initiative ofQueen Victoria, and as a recognition of the fine achievements of "Herbrave Irish" in the South African War. ]

[Footnote E: Gunner Batey, Royal Garrison Artillery, writes of acomrade, Gunner Spencer Mann: "He seems in his glory during thefighting. He fears nothing, and is always shouting, 'Into them, lads:the sooner we get through, the sooner we'll get home. '"]

[Footnote F: "The German officers are a rum lot, " writes Sergeant W. Holmes; "they lead from the rear all the time. "]

[Footnote G: "When they are working hardest their rations would not dofor a tom-tit, " says Sergeant J. Baker. ]

[Footnote H: This letter was written to the son of a London vicar, andpublished in _The Times_, Sept. 12th, 1914. ]

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