“The Lilies of France and our own Red Rose Are twined in a coronal now: At War’s bloody bridal it glitters and glows On Liberty’s beautiful brow.” Gerald Massey. In his despatch to Lord Kitchener, dated September 7th, Sir John French tells of the four-days’ battle at Mons, and traces his masterly, triumphant retreat, in the face of irresistible odds, to Maubeuge, to Cambrai, to Le Cateau, to Landrecies, and so almost to within sight of the walls of Paris. He pays a glowing tribute to the magnificent fighting spirit of the officers and men who carried out these stupendous movements with such complete success, but at present it is to the men themselves you must turn again for detailed information of the horrors and heroisms, the grim and glorious hours that darkened and Letter 41.—From Private Smiley, of the Gordon Highlanders, to his brother, Mr. G.A. Smiley, of Chepstow:On Sunday, 23rd, at Mons, we rose at four a.m. and marched out 1,100 strong. We took up ground on the extreme flank of the British force. Immediately we started to entrench ourselves, and to the good trench work we did we put down our freedom from casualty. Later in the day a hellish tornado of shell swept over us, and with this introduction to war we received our baptism of fire. We were lining the Mons road, and immediately in our front and to our rear were woods. In the rear wood was stationed a battery of R.F.A. The German artillery is wonderful. The first shot generally found us, and to me it looked as if the ranges had been carefully taken beforehand. However, our own gunners were better, and they hammered and battered the Germans all the day long. The Royal Irish Regiment had had an awful smashing earlier on, as also had the Middlesex, and our company were ordered to go along the road as reinforcements. The one and a half mile seemed a thousand. Stormed at all the way, we kept on, and no one was hit until we came to a white house which stood in a clearing. Immediately the officer passed the gap hell was let loose on us, but we got across safely, and I was the only one wounded, and that was with a ricochet shrapnel bullet in the right knee. I knew nothing about it until an hour after, when I had it pointed out to me. I dug it out with a knife. We passed dead civilians, some women, and a little boy with his thigh shattered by a bullet. Poor wee fellow. He lay all the time on his face, and some man of the Irish was When we got to the Royal Irish Regiment’s trenches the scene was terrible. They were having dinner when the Germans opened on them, and their dead and wounded were lying all around. Beyond a go at some German cavalry, the day drew in, and darkness saw us on the retreat. The regiment lost one officer and one man dead, one officer and some men severely wounded. We kept up this sort of game (fighting by day and retiring by night) until we got to Cambrai, on Tuesday night. I dare not mention that place and close my eyes. God, it was awful. Avalanche followed avalanche of fresh German troops, but the boys stuck to it, and we managed to retire to Ham without any molestation. Cambrai was the biggest battle fought. Out of all the glorious regiment of 1,100 men only five officers and 170 of the men answered the roll-call next day. Thank God, I was one of them. Of course, there may be a number who got separated from the battalion through various causes, and some wounded who escaped. I hope * * * * * Letter 42.—From Corporal W. Leonard, of the Army Service Corps (a South African War reservist) to his mother at Huddersfield:I know that you will all excuse me for not receiving a letter from me this long time, but I hope that you will excuse me. Don’t, whatever you do at home, don’t worry about me. If I just thought that you won’t worry at home I shall be all right. You know, mother, I know more about war this time than I did last, and the conditions also. It’s all right when you know the ropes, and my African experiences are serving me in good stead here, so I hope and trust that you at home are not worrying about me; time enough to worry when there is cause. Well, I hope and trust all are well at home, as it is hell out here. Up to this affair I thought that the Germans were a civilised race of people, but they are nothing but savages; niggers would not do what they do. Just fancy mounting * * * * * Letter 43.—From Corporal Edward Hood, to his father, at Taunton:The fighting lately has been hot all round, and the French have had much harder than us in some places, but they’re sticking at it manfully, and they deserve to win a victory that will wipe the Germans off the map. The French make a lot of us in camp, and when we pass each other in the field, no matter how busy the Frenchman may be, they give us hearty cheers to encourage us on our way. There’s plenty of friendly rivalry between us when there’s hard fighting to be done, and when we do get there before the French they don’t grudge us our luck. They’re good sports right through to the core, and the British soldier asks nothing better from allies in the field. * * * * * Letter 44.—From Private William Burgess, of the Royal Field Artillery, to his parents at Ilfracombe:We left our landing place for the front, on the Tuesday, and got there on Saturday night. The Germans had just reached LiÈge then, and we got into action on the Sunday morning. The first thing we did was to blow up a bridge to stop the Germans from crossing. Then we came into action behind a lot of houses attached to the main street. We were there about ten minutes, when the houses started to fall around us. The poor people were buried alive. I saw poor children getting knocked down by bursting shells. The next move was to advance across where there was a Red Cross Hospital. They dropped shells from airships and fired on it until the place was burnt down to the ground. Then they got a big plan on to retire and let the French get behind them. We retired eight miles, but we had to fight until we were forced to move again. We got as far as Le Cateau on Tuesday night. We camped there until two o’clock next morning. Then we all heard there was a big fight coming off, so we all got together and cleared the field for action.... (The letter mentions the I tell you, mother, it was awful to see your own comrades dropping down—some getting their heads blown off, and others their legs and arms. I was fighting with my shirt off. A piece of shell went right through my shirt at the back and never touched me. It stuck into a bag of earth which we put between the wheels to stop bullets. We were there all busy fighting when an airship came right over the line and dropped a bomb, which caused a terrible lot of smoke. Of course, that gave the Germans our range. Then the shells were dropping on us thick. We looked across the line and saw the German guns coming towards us. We turned our two centre guns on them, and sent them yards in the air. I reckon I saw one German go quite twenty yards in the air. Just after that a shell burst right over our gun. That one got me out of action. I had to get off the field the best way I could. The bullets were going all around me on the way off; you see they got completely around us, I went about two Next morning we were put in a ship for dear old England. * * * * * Letter 45.—From a Corporal in the King’s Royal Rifles, now at Woolwich Hospital:I was in three engagements, Mons, Landrecies, and Cambrai, but the worst of all was Mons. It was on Sunday, the 23rd of August, and I shall never forget the date. They were easily twenty-five to one, and we eventually had to retreat with just over a thousand casualties, but heavens, they must have had a jolly sight more. At Landrecies, where we arrived at 7.30, we thought we were going to have a night’s rest, though we were wet through and no change, but we hadn’t been there long before they (the Germans) started firing; they seemed to be in every place we went to. The only thing we heard then was, “turn out at once.” It was about 10.15 when we turned out, and the Colonel’s orders were that we had to take a bridge On our way to the bridge we met the regiment who had tried and failed, bringing back its wounded and killed in scores. (I thought more encouragement for the corps.) I was carrying my pal, the rifle, with my right hand. Well, we got near the bridge and found out from our scouts that there were 10,000 German troops on each side of the bridge and we were 1,300 strong. (More encouragement.) So we lined a long hedge about two yards apart so as to make a long line and harder for them to hit. We lay here till daybreak just before 4 a.m., and we could hear them talking all night about 300 yards away. We could see them quite clearly by this time; so we started to fire and rolled them over by dozens. It wasn’t long, though, before the bullets were whizzing past my ears on each side, and I began to get my head lower and lower till I think I should have buried it in the mud if it had got much lower. Their superior numbers began to tell and we had to retire as fast as we could. I couldn’t go fast enough with my pack on (it weighs 84 lbs.), so I threw it away as * * * * * Letter 46.—From Lieutenant O.P. Edgcumbe, of 1st Battalion D.C.L.I., to his father, Sir Robert Edgcumbe, Commandant at Newquay:29th August, 1914. For the last week or ten days we have been fighting hard and are now for one day resting. Altogether, during five days and five nights, I got six hours’ sleep, and so am rather weary. However, bullets and a real enemy are a wonderful stimulant, and I feel as fit as anything. Do all of you write as often as possible, and send me some newspapers. It does not matter whether there is any news—the sight of a letter from home is very cheering. All our men are somewhat fatigued, but are very keen and full of fight. My regiment has had a bad time, and I am dreadfully afraid that they have been badly cut up, although I can as yet get no details. They were caught in a village by Germans in the houses, who had managed to get there by wearing our uniforms. The weather is good, for which we are thankful. Everything is so peaceful now, and it is such a perfect day that were it not for the continuous growl of the guns, which never cease, one would hardly believe one was in the midst of a huge war. * * * * * Letter 47.—From Private D. White:German airships we seldom see now, though we used to have them every day over our heads. They are finding the French more than a match for them, and they most likely prefer to rely on their ordinary spies, of whom they have thousands. They are found often among the men engaged for transport work, but they are such clumsy bunglers that they give themselves away sooner or later. Some of us who haven’t the heart to drown a cat never turn a hair when we see these * * * * * Letter 48.—From Private Spain, of the 4th Guards Brigade (late police-constable at Newry):We have had three engagements with the Germans since I arrived, and I came out quite unhurt. The two first were fought on Sunday and Monday following. You see I cannot give date or place. Secrecy is our motto re war and movement of troops for international purposes, etc. Our third engagement was nearly fatal. We arrived at the town of ——, very much fatigued, and fully intending to have a good rest. It was a fine town, about as big as Newry, but more compact, with many fine buildings. We were just about five minutes billeted in the various houses, and just stretching our weary legs, when an officer came running in, shouting “The Germans are upon us; outside everyone.” We came out, magazine loaded, bayonets fixed, and eager to get a good bayonet fight with them. It appears they do not like it. But we found none. They had not yet arrived. * * * * * Letter 49.—From Corporal Sam Moorhouse, of the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, to his wife at Birkby:Our company were reserves, and came under fire about noon. We were in a ditch—as we thought safe—when “Ping! ping!” came the bullets, and off we shot across the open, under a railway embankment. On the way we passed four artillery horses shot dead with shrapnel. Then we took up a position on a hillside, when round the corner, 700 yards away, came a German maxim gun. They were busy getting it ready for firing on us, and we were firing at them, when our artillery—which was only half a mile away—sent two shots and blew up the gun and all the men. Then we cleared off and marched till twelve midnight. Up again at two and off for what was called a rest camp. Still wet clothes, and filthy; had no boots off for days. Instead of “rest” camp we marched nearly thirty miles, arriving at 8 p.m. Here I had a good meal of jam, cheese, and bread—first bite of bread for days. Next day we were up before daylight and taking up position. We dug trenches, and were fired on before we had finished. We were at the back—a sort of last firing line. So we lay down I picked up my gun and ran up the hill and dropped on one side of the road to rest. Then I had to get across the road, so got up and was half-way across when a shell burst and knocked me flat on my face. It must have fused at the wrong time, as I got only a cut on my thumb from a fragment. Then I got across and dropped in a trench where a fellow was lying dead. I stayed there only a minute, and then ran off over the hill and safe. The bullets were flying in all directions and shells were bursting four at a time. South Africa was nothing compared to this. I had had no sleep for nights, so decided to go back to a little village we had just passed, where I sat on a doorstep till I fell asleep, and woke up one hour later wet through and chilled to the bone. It was still dark when I got back to where I left our regiment, and they were off. So I trekked away alone, and got on the wrong road. * * * * * Letter 50.—From Private E.W. Dyas, of the 11th Hussars, to his parents at Mountain Ash:We landed at Havre, and travelled up country. We were under fire for about twenty minutes on the first day, and the shells were bursting like rain all around us. We got away with only one horse killed. It was marvellous. We are continually under fire by day and travelling by night. It is awful to hear the artillery booming death night and day. We were fighting day and night for three days. The slaughter was * * * * * Letter 51.—From Lieut. Oswald Anne, of the Royal Artillery, to his father, Major Anne, of Burghwallis Hall:Dear Dad.—Just got yours of the 13th inst. Battling yesterday and the day before. I had a pal killed in another battery—five bullets in him. I have just seen the first Sausage-maker prisoner in hands of some infantry. They had the greatest difficulty in stopping the French populace from knifing him. The German shrapnel is very dangerous stuff, having high explosive August 29th. The boom of French guns is now in full swing, and we are standing easy for the moment. Did you get my other letter three days back? Just after I had finished it, we had the alarm, which proved false, but that night Germans marched into the town, thinking we had left it. So they say! A gruff German voice answered a challenge, and 15 rounds rapid fire from rifles and maxims behind the main road barricade, laid out every man. Eight hundred were picked up next morning in this one street. An R.E. told me on the canal bridge a maxim fired 9,000 rounds and laid out another 1,000. The first Germans arriving in one end of this town were in French uniforms. Luckily, those in the rear were seen and fired on, stampeding the ammunition mules, scattering the “Sausages,” who were almost laid out in a few rounds of fire. Lots of “espions” here, male and female. I have hardly seen a German, except prisoners. Poor Soames, of the 20th Hussars, was sparrowed first fight. W. Silvertop (20th Hussars) is hard at it “biffing” Sausages, and a N.C.O., “Cigs.” all arrived, and saved my life, also load of chocolate. Screaming women rush everywhere during conflicts howling “Trahie,” “Perdue,” “Sauve qui peut.” One of “D” battery, R.H.A., N.C.O., told us they had mowed “Sausage-makers” down for ten minutes in one action as hard as they could load and still they came in masses, till at last the shrieking men ran all ways, not knowing where, leaving heaps of semi-moving remnants on the ground. Our crowd, having so far escaped untouched, are very lucky. Several Brigades have had the devil’s own hail of shot over them. Please send me some newspapers sometimes, as we have not seen one since I left, bar some old French Petit Parisiens. The Scots Greys from York and the 12th Lancers did great work yesterday on hostile cavalry, and about wiped out those opposed to them. The “Guardies” are in great form. Very little sleep nowadays, up at dawn almost always, very often before that hour. A German regiment, dressed in English uniforms, the other day billetted with an English regiment (at the other end of the town), and * * * * * Letter 52.—From a reservist in the Royal Field Artillery (Published in the “Glasgow Herald”):I got a nasty hit with a shell on the thick of the leg. The Germans caught us napping on Wednesday, and what slaughter! It was horrible to witness. The Germans came along the village, killing the poor women and children and burning all the houses. Our division could not hold out. We were expecting the French troops to meet us, but they were two days late. Our battery had a lucky escape of being cut up. We entrenched our guns to come into action next The officer in charge of my section had his head blown off. I was carried off under heavy fire on a fellow’s back, and it is to him I owe my life. It was a long way to hospital, shells bursting all round us. We dropped behind some corn stacks, then on we went again. I had no sooner got bandaged up when a chap came galloping up and said the Germans were in sight. I was the second last man to leave the hospital, and ten minutes later it was blown up. You cannot imagine what things were like. The women and children of England can think themselves lucky, for the poor women here had to walk from village to village, young children in their arms. It touched my heart to see the sight. The Germans did not use rifles, but big guns, against our infantry’s rifles. They are most brutal, killing all wounded in a most horrible fashion. * * * * * Letter 53.—Front Trooper S. Cargill:The Germans let all hell loose on us in their mad attempt to crush us and so win their way to Paris. They didn’t succeed, and they won’t succeed. I saw one ghastly affair. A German cavalry division was pursuing our retiring infantry when we were let loose on them. When they saw us coming they turned and fled, at least all but one, who came rushing at us with his lance at the charge. I caught hold of his horse, which was half mad with terror, and my chum was going to run the rider through when he noticed the awful glaze in his eyes and we saw that the poor devil was dead. * * * * * Letter 54.—Front an Irish soldier, to his sister in County Cork:I am writing this on a leaf out of a field service pocket-book, as notepaper and envelopes are very scarce, and we are not allowed to send picture postcards of places as they give away where we are. Well, this is a lovely country. The climate suits me very well. Everything grows like mad here. It is rather like Ireland, only At the present time I am billeted in a farmhouse. I sleep in their best bed-room—that is when I can go to bed at all—and they give me home-made cider, cognac, and coffee, apples, plums, etc., and lovely home-made cheese for nothing, though they need not supply any food, as the rations are served out by the regiment every day. ’Tis great fun trying to talk French to them and I am picking it up gradually. It is wonderful how words and sentences that I learned at school come back to me now, and I can generally make myself understood all right. It is an awful pity to see this beautiful country spoiled by war, and it is no wonder the people are so eager to fight for it. I don’t think there is a single house that has not sent out one or more men to fight with the French Army, and their mothers, sisters, wives, etc., are very proud of it. There are two gone out of this house. * * * * * Letter 55.—From Private Carwardine, to the father of a comrade-in-arms:I am very sorry, but I don’t know for sure about your Joe. You see, although he was in the same company as me, he was not in the same section. I only wish he had been. The last I saw of him was when we were in the firing line making trenches for ourselves. He was about 600 yards behind us, smoking, and I waved to him. Then all of a sudden we had to get down in our trenches, for bullets started coming over our heads, and shells dropped around us. We were fighting twelve hours when I got one in the back from a shell. After that I knew no more until I found myself in hospital, and I asked one of our chaps how our company went on, and he told me there were only seventeen of us left out of 210. I hope Joe is among them. You will get to know in the papers in a bit when they call the roll. So cheer up and don’t be downhearted, for if Joe is killed he has died a soldier of honour on the field. Excuse writing, as I am a bit shaky, and I hope to God Joe is safe, for both your sakes. * * * * * Letter 56.—From Private G. Dunton, of the Royal Engineers, to his family at Coventry:I am in hospital, having been sent home from France, wounded in my left hand. I have got one shrapnel bullet right through my hand, and another through my middle finger against the top joint. I was wounded at Cambrai last Wednesday. I have been in four hospitals in France, but had to be removed on account of the Germans firing on the hospitals. I do not think much of them, for if it was not for their artillery they would be wiped out in quick time. No doubt our losses are great, but theirs are far more. The famous cavalry of theirs, the Uhlans, are getting cut up terribly. All that have been captured have said that they are short of food. I must say we have had plenty to eat. I was near Mons a week last Saturday and we were attacked the same day. We have been on the retire ever since last Wednesday, when I got wounded, but we shall soon be advancing, for they will never reach Paris. I am very pleased to see that the Germans are being forced back by the Russians. I hope they will serve Berlin the same as the Germans have done to Belgium. The 9th Brigade was cut up badly; in fact, my Division was, but more are wounded than killed. There are 1,000 wounded in this * * * * * Letter 57.—From a Manchester soldier, in a French hospital:There was a young French girl helping to bandage us up. How she stood it I don’t know. There were some awful sights, but she never quailed—just a sweet, sad smile for everyone. If ever anyone deserved a front seat in Heaven, this young angel does. God bless her. She has the prayers and the love of the remnants of our division. All the French people are * * * * * Letter 58.—From Private A. McGillivray, a Highlander, to his mother:Of my company only 10 were unhit. I saw a handful of Irishmen throw themselves in front of a regiment of cavalry who were trying to cut off a battery of horse artillery. It was one of the finest deeds I ever saw. Not one of the poor lads got away alive, but they made the German devils pay in kind, and, anyhow, the artillery got away to account for many more Germans. Every man of us made a vow to avenge the fallen Irishmen, and if the German cavalrymen concerned were made the targets of every British rifleman and gunner they had themselves to thank. Later they were fully avenged by their own comrades, who lay in wait for the German cavalrymen. The Irish lads went at them with the bayonet when they least expected it, and the Germans were a sorry sight. Some of * * * * * Letter 59.—From Private W. Bell, of the South Lancashire Regiment, to his wife:I shall never forget this lot. Men fell dead just like sheep. Our regiment was first in the firing line, and we were simply cut up. Very few escaped, so I think I was very lucky, for I was nearly half-a-mile creeping over nothing but dead men. In the trenches, bullets and shells came down on us like rain. We even had to lift dead men up and get under them for safety. When we got the order to retire an officer was just giving the order to charge when he was struck dead, and it is a good job we didn’t charge, or we would have all been killed. I passed a lot of my chums dead, but I didn’t see Fred Atkinson (a friend of the family). * * * * * Letter 60.—From Corporal T. Trainor:Have you ever seen a little man fighting a great, big, hulking giant who keeps on forcing the little chap about the place until the giant tires himself out, and then the little one, who has kept his wind, knocks him over? That’s how the fighting round here strikes me. We are dancing about round the big German army, but our turn will come. Last Sunday we had prayers with shells bursting all around us, but the service was finished before it was necessary for us to grapple with the enemy. The only thing objectionable I have seen is the robbing of our dead and wounded by German ghouls. In such cases no quarter is given, and, indeed, is never expected. * * * * * Letter 61.—From an Artilleryman, to his wife at Sheerness:I am the only one left out of my battery; we were blown to pieces by the enemy on Wednesday at Le Cateau. We have been out here twenty-eight days all told, and have been through the five engagements. I have nothing; only the * * * * * Letter 62.—From Lance-Corporal J. Preston, of the 2nd Battalion Inniskilling Fusiliers, to his wife at Banbridge:I did not get hit at Mons. I got through it all right. We encountered the Germans on Sunday at Mons, and fought on till Monday night. It was on the retreat from Mons that I was caught. They had about one hundred guns playing on us all the time we were retiring. We had a battery of artillery with us. They were all blown to pieces, men and guns and all. It was a most sorrowful sight to see the guns wiped out, and the gunners and men lying around them. The whole plain was strewn with dead and wounded. I hope my eyes will never look on anything so horrid again. Our section brought in six prisoners, all wounded, and they told us we had slain hundreds of them. We captured a German spy; he was dressed in a Scotsman’s uniform, and * * * * * Letter 63.—From a Corporal in the Motor Cycle Section of the Royal Engineers:Last night the enemy made an attempt to get through to our base in armed motors. Myself and two other motor-cyclists were sent out to look for them. It was a pitch-black night, with a thick fog. One of our men got in touch with them, and was pursued. He made for a bridge which had been mined by the engineers, and that was the end of the Germans.... The German artillery is rotten. Last Saturday three batteries bombarded an entrenched British battalion for two hours, and only seven men were killed. The noise was simply deafening, but so little effect had the fire that the men shouted with laughter, and held their caps up on the end of their rifles to give the German gunners a bit of encouragement. * * * * * Letter 64.—From Corporal J. Bailey:It’s very jolly in camp in spite of all the drawbacks of active service, and we have lively times when the Germans aren’t hanging around to pay their respects. It’s a fine sight to see us on the march, swinging along the roads as happy as schoolboys, and singing all the old songs we can think of. The tunes are sometimes a bit out, but nobody minds so long as we’re happy. As we pass through the villages the French come out to cheer us and bring us food and fruit. Cigarettes we get more of than we know what to do with. Some of them are rotten, so we save them for the German prisoners, who would smoke anything they can lay their hands on. Flowers also we get plenty of, and we are having the time of our lives. * * * * * Letter 65.—From a Sergeant in the Royal Field Artillery:If the French people were mad about us before we were on trial, they are absolutely crazy over us now when we have sort of justified our existence. In the towns we pass through we are received with so much demonstration that I fancy the French soldiers must be jealous. The people don’t seem to have eyes for anybody but us, and they do all they can to make us comfortable. They give us the best they can lay hold of, but that’s not much after the Germans have been around collaring all they could. It’s the spirit that means so much to us, and even though it was only an odd cup of water they brought us we would be grateful. Most of us are glad to feel that we are fighting for a nation worth fighting for, and after our experience there can be no question of trouble between us and France in the future. We lost terribly in the retreat from Mons, of which you have heard by now, but artillery always stands to lose in retreats, because we play such a big part in getting the other men away and we quite made up our minds that we would have to pay forfeit then. Without boasting, I can say that it was the way the guns were handled * * * * * Letter 66.—From Private J. Toal:It’s tired we all were when we got through that week of fighting and marching from Mons; but after we’d had a taste of rest for a day or two, by the saints, we were ready for the ugly Germans again, and we’ve been busy ever since drilling holes in them big enough to let out the bad that’s in them. You wouldn’t believe the way they have burned and destroyed the holy churches everywhere they went, and there’s We see more Germans than you could count in the day, but they are now very funky about it, and they will never wait for a personal interview with one of our men, especially if he has a lance or a bayonet handy, and naturally you don’t go out German-hunting without something of the kind with you, if only just for luck. When they must face us they usually get stuck away somewhere where they are protected by more guns than you ever set eyes on, and likewise crowds of machine guns of the Maxim pattern, mounted on motors. These are not now so troublesome, for they are easy to spot out in the open, and our marksmen quickly pick off the men serving them, so the Germans are getting a bit shy about displaying them. Something we heard the other day has put new life into us; not that we were downhearted before, but what I mean * * * * * Letter 68.—From Private G.A. Turner, to his father, Mr. J.W. Turner, of Leeds (Published in the “Leeds Mercury”):I am still living, though a bit knocked about. I got a birthday present from the Kaiser. I was wounded on the 23rd. So it was a near thing, was it not? I got your letter at a place called Moroilles, in France, about five miles from Landrecies, where our troops have retired. On Sunday, 23rd, we had rifle inspection at 11 a.m., and were ordered to fall in for bathing parade at 11.30. While we were waiting for another company to return from the river the Germans commenced to shell the town. We fell in about 1.0 p.m., an hour and a half afterwards, to go to the scene of the attack. Shells were bursting in the streets as we went. We crossed a bridge over the canal under artillery fire, and stood doing nothing behind a mill on the bank for some time. There was no means of crossing the canal at that point, so it was an impossibility. As soon as we started to move we were spotted by the Germans, who opened fire with their guns at about five hundred yards with shrapnel, and the scene that followed beggars description. Several of us were laid full length behind a wooden fence about half an inch thick. The German shells burst about three yards in front of it. It was blown to splinters in about ten minutes. None of us expected to get out alive. They kept us there about an hour before they gave us the word to retire. I had just turned round to go back when I stopped one. It hits you with an awful thump, and I thought it had caught me at the bottom of the spine, as it numbed my legs for about half an hour. When I found I could not walk I gave it up. Just after, I got my first view of the Germans. I stuck there for about three-quarters of an hour, and fired all my own ammunition and a lot belonging to two more wounded men who were close to me—about 300 rounds altogether, and as it was such a good target I guess I accounted for a good lot of them. Then I suddenly discovered I could walk, and so I set off to get back. I had to walk about 150 yards in the open, with shrapnel bursting around me all the way, but somehow or other I got back without catching another. It was more than I expected, I can assure you, and I laughed when I got in the shelter of the mill again. I was very sorry to have to leave the other chaps who were wounded, but as I could only just limp along I could not help them in any way. They were brought in later by stretcher bearers. A man who was at Paardeburg and Magersfontein, in South Africa, said they were nothing to what we got that Sunday. Out of 240 men of my company only about twenty were uninjured. * * * * * Letter 69.—From an Infantryman in hospital (Published in the “Aldershot News”):I found myself mixed up with a French regiment on the right. I wanted to go forward with them, but the officer in charge shook his head and smiled, “They will spot you in your khaki and put you out in no time,” he said in English; “make your way to the left; you’ll find your fellows on that hill.” I watched the regiment till it disappeared; then I made my way across a field and up a big avenue of trees. The shells were whistling overhead, but there was nothing to be afraid of. Halfway up the avenue there was a German lancer officer lying dead by the side of the road. How he got there was a mystery, because we had seen no cavalry. But there he lay, and someone had crossed his hands on his breast, and put a little celluloid crucifix in his hands. Over his face was a beautiful little handkerchief—a lady’s—with lace edging. It was a bit of a mystery, because there wasn’t a lady for miles that I knew of. * * * * * Letter 70.—From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E., to his mother at Uckfield:We met the Germans at Landrecies on Sunday. We had a fifteen-hour battle. It was terrible. There were 120,000 Germans and only 20,000 of us, but our men fought well. We blew up six bridges. Laid our charges in the afternoon, and the whole time we were doing it were not hit. After we had got everything ready we got back into cover and waited until 1.30 on Monday morning, until our troops had got back over the river, and then we blew up the bridges. We retired about thirty miles. The town where we stopped on Sunday was a beautiful place, but the Germans destroyed it. Close to where I was a church had been used as a hospital, and our wounded were coming by the dozens. But, terrible to say, the Germans blew the place up. They have no pity. They kill our wounded and drive the people before them. * * * * * Letter 71.—From Sapper H. Mugridge, R.E. (Second letter, published in the “Sussex Daily News”):We were laying our gun cotton—ten of us were the last to leave, and the Germans stopped us. We had to run for it down the main street of the town of Landrecies, and, being dark, we could not see where we were going. We got caught in some telegraph wires which had been put across the street. We had to cut them away with our bayonets. On Monday morning, when things were quieter, we went nearly into the German lines. We could hear them giving orders. Our job was to put barbed wire across the road. I was thankful to get out of it. We could see the Germans burning their dead. They must have lost a few thousand men, as our troops simply mowed them down. I saw one sergeant kill fourteen Germans, one after the other. They came up in fifties, all in a cluster, and you couldn’t help hitting them. They were only 400 yards from us all day on Sunday. They are very cruel. Our people used a church for a hospital, and it was filled with our wounded, but the place was shelled and knocked down. They stabbed a good many of our men while lying on the battlefield. They have no * * * * * Letter 72.—From John Baker, of the Royal Flying Corps, to his parents at Boston, Lincolnshire:While flying over Boulogne at a height of 3,000 feet, something went wrong with the machine, and the engine stopped. The officer said, “Baker, our time has come. Be brave, and die like a man. Good-bye,” and shook hands with me. I shall always remember the ten minutes that followed. The next I remembered was that I was in a barn. I was removed to * * * * * Letter 73.—From Private G. Rider:The Germans are good and bad as fighters, but mostly bad so far as I have seen. They are nearly all long distance champions in the fighting line, and won’t come too near unless they are made to. Yesterday we had a whole day of it in the trenches, with the Germans firing away at us all the time. It began just after breakfast, and we were without food of any kind until we had what you might call a dainty afternoon tea in the trenches under shell fire. The mugs were passed round with the biscuits and the “bully” as best they could by the mess orderlies, but it was hard work getting through without getting more than we wanted of lead rations. My next-door neighbour, so to speak, got a shrapnel bullet in his tin mug, and another two doors off had his biscuit shot out of his hand when he was fool enough to hold it up to show it to a chum in the next trench. We are ready for anything that comes our * * * * * Letter 74.—From Private Martin O’Keefe, of the Royal Irish Rifles, to his friends at Belfast:Our part in the fighting was limited almost entirely to covering the retreat by a steady rifle fire from hastily-prepared trenches. We were thrown out along an extended front, and instructed to hold our ground until the retiring troops were signalled safe in the next position allotted them. When this was done our turn came, and we retired to a new position, our place being taken by the light cavalry, who kept the Germans in check as long as they could and then fell back in their turn. The Germans made some rather tricky moves in the hope of cutting us off while we were on this dangerous duty, but our flanks were protected by cavalry, French and * * * * * Letter 75.—From Sergeant W. Holmes:We are off again, this time with some of the French, and it’s enough to give you fits to hear the Frenchmen trying to pick up the words of “Cheer Boys, Cheer,” which we sing with great go on the march. They haven’t any notion of what the words mean, but they can tell from our manner that they mean we’re in good heart, and that’s infectious here. We lost our colonel and four * * * * * Letter 76.—From Corporal J. Hammersley:The Germans in front of us are about done for, and that’s the truth of it. They have got about as much fighting as humans can stand, and it is about time they realised it. I don’t agree with those who think this war is going to last for a long time. The pace we go at on both sides is too hot, and flesh and blood won’t stand it for long. My impression is that there will be a sudden collapse of the Germans that will astonish everybody at home; but we are not leaving much to chance, and we do all we can to hasten the collapse. The Germans aren’t really cut out for this sort of work. They are proper bullies, who get on finely when everybody’s lying bleeding at their feet, but they can’t manage at all when they have to stand up to men who can give them more than they bargain for. * * * * * Letter 77.—From Lance-Corporal T. Williams:We are now getting into our stride and beginning to get a little of our own back out of the Germans. They don’t like it at all now that we are nearer to them in numbers, and One chap who knows a little English told us he was never more pleased to see the English uniform in all his life before, for he was about fed up with marching and fighting in the inhuman way the German officers expect their men to go on. When we took him to camp he lay down and slept like a log for hours; he was so done up. That’s typical of the Germans now, and it looks as though the Kaiser were going to have to pay a big price for taxing his men so terribly. You can’t help being sorry for the poor fellows. They all say they were told when setting out that it would be child’s play beating us, as our army was the poorest stuff in the world. Those who had had experience in England didn’t take that in altogether, but the country yokels and those who had never been outside their own towns believed it until they had a taste of our fighting quality, and then they laughed with the other side of their faces. * * * * * Letter 78.—From a Non-commissioned Officer of Dragoons:All our men—in fact, the whole British Army—are as fit as a fiddle, and the lads are as keen as mustard. There is no holding them back. At Mons we were under General Chetwode, and horses and men positively flew at the Germans, cutting through much heavier mounts and heavier men than ours. The yelling and the dash of the Lancers and Dragoon Guards was a thing never to be forgotten. We lost very heavily at Mons, and it is a marvel how some of our fellows pulled through and positively frightened the enemy. We did some terrible execution, and our wrists After Mons I went with a small party scouting, and we again engaged about twenty cavalry, cut off from their main body. We killed nine, wounded six, and gave chase to the remaining five, who, in rejoining their unit, nearly were the means of trapping us. However, our men dispersed and hid in a wood until they fell in with a squadron of the ——, and so reached camp in safety. After that a smart young corporal accompanied me to reconnoitre, and we went too far ahead, and were cut off in a part of the country thick with Uhlans. As we rode in the direction of —— two wounded men were limping along, both with legs damaged, one from the Middlesex and the other Lancashire Fusiliers, and so we took them up. Corporal Watherston took one behind his saddle and I took the other. The men were hungry, and tattered to shreds with fighting, but in fine spirits. We soon came across a small village, and I found the curÉ a grand sportsman and full of pluck and hospitality. He seemed charmed to find a friend who was English, and Then he hid away our saddlery and uniforms in the roof of a barn, and insisted upon our making a rest-chamber of the tower of his church, which was approached by a ladder, which we were to pull up to the belfry as soon as we got there. He smuggled in wine and meat and bread and cakes, fruit and cigarettes, with plenty of bedding pulled up by a rope. We slept soundly, and the owls seemed the only other tenants, who resented our intrusion. No troops passed through the village that night. In the morning the curÉ came round at six o’clock, and we heard him say Mass. After that we let down the ladder, and he came up with delicious hot chocolate and a basket of rolls and butter. However, we have now secured complete disguises as French cultivateurs—baggy corderoy trousers, blue shirts, boots, stockings, belt, hat, cravat, everything to match—and as we have not shaved for two weeks, and are bronzed with the sun, I think that the corporal and myself can pass anywhere as French peasants, if only he will leave all the talking to me. The two wounded soldiers don’t wish us to leave them, because I am interpreter, and not a soul speaks English in the village. So we have explained to the curÉ that we shall stay here until our comrades are able to walk, and then the party of four will push our way out somewhere on horseback and get to the coast. The sacristan at once offered to be our guide, and it is arranged that we take a carrier’s wagon which travels in this We must get back as soon as ever we can. Nothing could be kinder than the people here, but this is not what we came to France for, and hanging about in a French village is not exactly what a soldier calls “cricket.” You cannot imagine how complete the Germans are in the matter of rapid transport. Large automobiles, such as the railway companies have for towns round Harrogate and Scarborough, built like char-À-bancs, carry the soldiers in batches of fifty, so that they are as fresh as paint when they get to the front. But in point of numbers I think one of our side is a fair match for four of the enemy. I hope that the British public are beginning to understand what this war means. The German is not a toy terrier, but a bloodhound absolutely thirsty for blood. * * * * * Letter 79.—From Private Tom Savage, to his relatives at Larne:At Sea. Just a line to let you know that we are landing outside ——. They kept us without In France. I am writing this note while on outpost duty. I can’t say where we are, or anything like that, but I am in the best of health and enjoying the life. I am getting a fine hand at French. There is plenty of food and the people are all very nice. It’s great fun trying to understand them. Plenty of fruit here, pears and apples galore, and as for bread big long rolls and rings of it, and all very cheap. When you happen to be riding through a town the people give you cigarettes, fruit, chocolates, and cider. If you are all extra good I’ll bring you home a pet German. How is Home Rule getting on? Send me a paper, but I don’t know when I’ll get it or you’ll get this. I suppose the papers are * * * * * Letter 80.—From Mons. E. Hovelange, of Paris, written on August 30th, to Sir William Collins (Published in the “Sussex Daily News”):How serious the situation is here it is hard for you to realize in London. We may be encircled at any moment by these hordes of savages. Such murderous cruelty has never been seen in the annals of war. The Turks and the Bulgarians were no worse. It is the rule to fire on ambulances and slaughter the wounded. I know it from eye-witnesses. The Germans are drunk with savagery. It is an orgy of the basest cruelty. They are rushing Paris at all costs, squandering their men recklessly in overwhelming numbers. Our troops are submerged and can only retreat, fighting desperately, but the spirit of our soldiers is splendid. All the wounded I have seen laugh and joke over their wounds and are burning to have another go at the barbarians. Victory is certain. But what disastrous changes shall we know before it comes. I am prepared for the worst—another month of hopeless struggle * * * * * Letter 81.—From a young officer who has been through the whole campaign, from the landing of the British at Boulogne:I wish you would try to make the people in England understand that they should be most exceedingly thankful that they are living on an island and not in the midst of the dreadful things which are happening on the Continent. Do enforce upon the public that England must fight this thing out, and must conquer even if it has to spend the blood of its young men like water. It will be far better that every family throughout England should have to sorrow for one of its members than that England should have to go through similar ordeals to those which Continental countries are suffering. The sight of old women and men fleeing from village to village; young mothers with babies in arms, with their few personal effects Do not imagine that things are not going well with us. We are all satisfied and confident of the end; but at the same time the only possible end can be gained by sacrifice on the part of those at home only. All is well with me personally; I have a busy time, but it is most interesting work. IN HOSPITAL.(1) At Salisbury. A non-commissioned officer of the Royal Field Artillery, invalided home with shrapnel wounds in the thigh, from which he hopes soon to recover, has given this vivid description of his Pushing forward from our rest camp, covering from twenty to thirty miles a day, with the infantry marching in front and cavalry protecting us on either flank, we received information that we were within a few hours’ march of the enemy. Needless to say, this put us on the alert. There was no funk about us, for we were all anxious to have a go at the Germans, about whom we had heard such tales of cruelty that it made our blood run cold. Our orders were to load with case shot, for fear of cavalry attack, as shrapnel is of little use against mounted troops. The order was soon obeyed, and after passing the day on the road, we moved across country north of ——, where the infantry took up a strong position. We saw the French troops on our right as we moved up to gun positions which our battery commanders had selected in advance. It was Sunday morning when the attack came, and the sun had already lit up the beautiful country, and as I looked across at the villages which lay below in the valley with their silent belfries I thought of my home on the Cotswolds and of It was, however, no time for sentiment, for gallopers soon brought the news that the enemy was advancing, and that a cavalry attack might be expected at any moment. Infantry had entrenched themselves along our front, and there was a strong body posted on our flanks and rear. These became engaged first with a large body of Uhlans, who endeavoured to take them by surprise, the front rank rushing forward with the lance and the rear using the sword. We were on slightly higher ground, and could see the combat, which appeared to be going in our favour. Our men stuck to their ground and shot and bayonetted the Uhlans, who, after ten minutes’ fight, made off, but, sad to say, a dreadful fusilade of shrapnel and Maxim fire followed immediately, and our guns also came under fire. To this we readily replied, and must have done some execution, especially to the large masses of infantry that were advancing about a mile away. We got a favourable “bracket” at once, so our Major said, and we worked our guns for all we were worth, altering fuses and the ranging of our guns as the Germans came nearer. Shells At one time we came under the fire of the enemy’s machine guns, but two of our 18-pounders put them out of action after a few rounds. The order came at length to retire so as to get a more favourable position, but our drivers failed to bring back all the gun teams, only sufficient to horse four of the guns. The remainder of the animals had been terribly mutilated. These were limbered up, the remainder being for a time protected by the infantry. The Gordons and Middlesex were in the shelter trenches on our left, and the latter regiment was said at one time to be almost overwhelmed, but aid came, and the masses of Prussian infantry were beaten off. Still, there was terrible slaughter on both sides, and the dead lay in long burrows on the turf. We should have lost our guns to the Uhlans if the infantry had not persevered with the rifle, picking off the cavalry at 800 yards. It was grand shooting. In the afternoon As the wounded were brought to the rear we heard of the deeds of heroism from the men of the Royal Army Medical Corps in the fighting line—how an officer stood over the body of a private who had previously saved his life until he had spent his last shot from his revolver, and then fell seriously wounded, to be avenged the next moment by a burly sergeant who plunged his bayonet into the Prussian. In the ranks of the South Lancashire Regiment, from what has been heard, many deserve the Distinguished Conduct Medal, if not the V.C., for the manner in which they charged masses of German infantry through the village to our front. Uhlans got round behind them, but they did not flinch, although serious gaps were made in their ranks. A non-commissioned officer of the Medicals related how he saw a party of Fusiliers rush to the aid of their Maxim gun party when Uhlans swept down on them from behind a wood. They accounted for over twenty and lost but one man. At night we were ordered to move on again, The enemy were aware of our retreat, and kept up an incessant fire, bringing searchlights to the aid of their gunners. The moon slightly favoured us, and, with the help of local guides, we found our way. I heard of the brilliant work performed by our battalions, who kept the enemy at bay whilst we withdrew all our vehicles, and we gunners felt proud of them. They kept the enemy busy by counter-attack, and made it impossible to get round us. Next morning the enemy were again in the field endeavouring to force our left flank. Field-Marshal Sir John French, whom we saw early in the day, was, however, equal to the occasion, and so manoeuvred his troops that we occupied a position from which the Germans could not dislodge us. The artillery kept up long-range fire, and that is how I received my wound. Within a few minutes first aid was rendered, and I was put in an ambulance and taken off with other wounded to a field hospital, where I met with every attention. IN HOSPITAL.(2) At the London Hospital. By a Daily Telegraph correspondent. A description of a thrilling fight in the air, which had a dramatic climax, was given to Queen Alexandra when her Majesty paid a visit to the London Hospital. Among the wounded soldiers there is a private of the Royal Engineers, who was himself witness of the incident. He said that following a very hard fight on the day before, he was lying on the ground with his regiment, resting. Suddenly a German aeroplane hove in sight. It flew right over the British troops, and commenced to signal their position to the German camp. A minute later, amid intense excitement of the troops, two aeroplanes, with English and French pilots, rose into the air from the British rear. Ascending with great rapidity, they made for the German aeroplane, with the intention of attacking it. At first some of our men, who were very much on the alert, fired by mistake at the French aeroplane. Luckily, their shots went wide. Then the troops lay still, and with breathless Up and up circled the two airmen, till their machines could barely be distinguished from the ground. They were almost out of sight when the soldiers saw that the British aviator was above his opponent. Then the faint sound of a shot came down from the sky, and instantly the German aeroplane began to descend, vol-planing in graceful fashion. Apparently it was under the most perfect control. On reaching the earth the machine landed with no great shock, ran a short distance along the ground, and then stopped. Rushing to the spot, the British soldiers found, to their amazement, that the pilot was dead. The aeroplane was absolutely undamaged, and was appropriated by the British aviators. IN HOSPITAL.(3) From a “Daily Telegraph” correspondent at Rouen: It was known that there were British wounded in Rouen—I had even spoken to one of them in the streets—but how was one to see them? The police commissaire sent me to his central colleague, who sent me on to the État major, who was anxious to send me back to him, but finally suggested that I should see the military commissary at one of the stations. He was courteous, but very firm—the authorisation I asked for could not be, and was not, granted to anyone. At the headquarters of the British General Staff the same answer in even less ambiguous terms. It was then that Privates X., Y., Z. came to my aid. Private Z. had a request to make of me. It was that I should see to it that the black retriever of his regiment now at the front should “Do you want to get back to England?” someone called out to a soldier whose arm was in a sling, and the whole sleeve of whose jacket had been ripped by the fragment of a shell. “Not I,” he shouted; “I want to go to the front again and get my sleeve back, and something more.” I managed to speak with two or three of the wounded as they were getting ready for the start. One of them, an artilleryman, had been He says that it was very accurate, but that fortunately the quality of the shells is not up to that of the shooting. My informant’s division held out for twenty-four hours against the overwhelming odds. Then, when the Germans had managed to get a battery into action behind, they retired during the night of Wednesday, steadily and in excellent order, keeping the German pursuit at bay. The next man I spoke to really spoke to me. He was anxious to tell his story. “I have been in the thick of it,” he said; “in the very thick of it. I was one of the chauffeurs in the service of the British General Staff.” He told me that he was not a Regular soldier, but a volunteer from the Automobile Club, an American who had become a naturalised English “On Friday, the 25th, the British were just outside Le Cateau. On Saturday morning the approach of the Germans in force was signalled. On Sunday morning at daybreak a German aeroplane flew over our lines, and, although fired at by the aeroplane gun mounted in the car, and received with volleys from the troops, managed to rejoin its lines. Twenty minutes later the German artillery opened fire with accuracy. The aeroplane, as so often, had done its work as range-finder. For twelve hours the cannonade went on. Then the British forces retreated six miles. On Monday morning the bombardment began again, and at two that afternoon the German forces entered Le Cateau from which the English had retired. Many of the houses were in flames. The Germans, who had ruthlessly bayonetted our wounded if they moved so much as a finger as they lay on the ground, were guilty of brutal conduct when they entered the city. “On Tuesday, the British, who had retired to As I write, a detachment of the R.A.M.C. is filing past, and people have risen from their chairs and are cheering and saluting. Half an hour ago Engineers passed with their pontoons decorated with flowers and greenery. The men had flowers in their caps, and even the horses were flower-decked. Tommy Atkins has the completest faith in his leaders and in himself. He quite realises the necessity for secrecy of operations in modern warfare. Of course, he has his own theories. This is one of them textually: “The Germans are simply walking into it. Of course, we have had losses, but that was part of the plan—the sprat to catch the whale. They are going to find themselves in a square between four allied armies, and then,”—so far Private X., but here Private Y. broke in cheerfully: “And then they will be electrocuted.” And at this moment it begins to look as if—apart |