Within the last four years we have seen three campaigns of some importance which have added several V.C.’s to the roll. In 1902-3 was the punitive expedition against the Mad Mullah in Somaliland, bringing distinction to Captain Cobbe and others; in 1903 the rising in Nigeria, where, at Sokoto, Captain Wallace Wright (of the Royal West Surrey Regiment), with only one officer and forty men, made a gallant stand for two hours against the repeated charges of 1000 of the enemy’s cavalry and 2000 infantry, eventually putting this large force to rout; and in 1904 the Sikkim-Tibet Mission, which yielded a V.C. to a young lieutenant of Ghurkas named Grant. Of these campaigns that in Somaliland heads the list with six Crosses, and the story of how they were won well deserves to be told at length.

The first act of distinction was performed by Captain (now Lieutenant-Colonel) A. S. Cobbe, D.S.O., at Erego, on October 6th, 1902. In the fight at this place some of the companies were ordered to retire, and Captain Cobbe suddenly found himself left alone in the firing line with a Maxim. He saved the gun from capture by the enemy, and bringing it back worked it single-handed with such good effect that he may be said to have turned the fortunes of the day at a critical moment in the action. Later on he went to the rescue of an orderly who had fallen under the Somalis’ bullets, exposing himself not only to the enemy’s fire but to that of his own men, who were replying vigorously. For his gallantry Captain Cobbe was gazetted V.C., receiving the decoration from the hands of General Manning at Obbia, some four months later.

With the fighting at Jidballi two V.C.’s are associated. One is proudly worn by Lieutenant Herbert Carter for saving the life of Private Jai Singh in the face of a determined rush of dervishes; and the other by Lieutenant Clement Leslie Smith, of the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry. The latter was serving with the 5th Somali Mounted Infantry at the time. In an onslaught made by the enemy from the bush our men got broken up, and the combat resolved itself into a hand-to-hand affair. Fighting desperately to recover themselves, the Mounted Infantry rallied bravely to their leader’s call, but little could be done to stave off defeat. The loyal Somalis were driven back, leaving many dead and wounded on the ground, among the latter being one Rahamat Ali, a Hospital-Assistant. Observing this man’s plight, Lieutenant Smith and Dr. Welland of the R.A.M.C. made a desperate attempt to save him.

They had almost succeeded in getting the wounded man on to a horse when one of the many bullets that rained upon them found him, and he was killed. The Somalis now hemmed in the two officers on all sides, so the lieutenant sought to bring out Dr. Welland, hastily helping him to mount again. The doctor’s horse was shot, however, as was a mule which was next seized, and immediately after there was a rush, and Welland was speared. Smith stood by him to the end, endeavouring to keep off the enemy with his revolver, but he had done all that mortal man could do, and it was time to think of his own safety. At that time the dervishes were swarming round him, and, as the Gazette notes, it was marvellous indeed that he escaped with his life.

But, notable as were these acts of bravery, it is for the heroic attempt to rescue poor Captain Bruce that the Somaliland campaign will perhaps be best remembered. In that drama of savage warfare, which brings home to us most vividly the difficulties and dangers of bush fighting, three Crosses were gained, inscribing the names of Rolland, Walker, and Gough upon the roll of glory. This is the story of it.

On April 22nd, 1903, Major Gough’s flying column, which had been operating in the Daratoleh district, began to fall back upon Danop, owing to shortness in ammunition and the large number of wounded on its hands. All around the little force, in the dense bush, the enemy swarmed thickly, maintaining a harassing fire upon the troops. During the afternoon the rearguard became cut off from the main body, and dropped considerably into the rear. With this section were Captain Bruce, R.A., Major Gough’s staff officer, and Captains Rolland and Walker of the Intelligence Department, and when in a little time Bruce fell badly wounded, the look-out for the little party seemed bad indeed.

Having fired at and killed a savage whom he believed to have aimed the fatal shot, Captain Rolland ran to his comrade’s assistance and dragged him to one side of the forest path, where he would be less exposed to the enemy’s fire. It was very evident that the wound was mortal, but Rolland—who, by the way, was an old Harrow boy, like Bruce—determined to make every effort to save his friend’s body if he could not save his life. While he attended to him two Yaos (men of the King’s African Rifles), a Sikh and a loyal Somali of the Camel Corps, bravely stood by them, covering them with their rifles and holding the enemy in check, the latter shouting to each other in joyful anticipation of a speedy victory.

Captain Bruce was a very heavy man, of nearly fourteen stone, and Captain Rolland, who turned the scale at nine and a half, found he could not lift the other. None of the four men could stop firing to help him, or the Somalis would have made a rush, so the despairing officer shouted to the disappearing column in front to halt. But the winding path soon hid it from sight, and Rolland saw that he was left to his fate. The enemy, becoming enboldened, now pressed closer in, and the captain had to leave the wounded man’s side and use his carbine and revolver to drive the Somalis back into the bush again. It was hot work, for the natives were in strong force and armed with rifles in addition to their broad-bladed throwing spears.

Suddenly Bruce got to his feet, and Rolland rushed to hold him up; but it was the last flicker of life. The wounded man lurched forward again and fell on his face, dragging Rolland down with him. As the latter turned him over on to his back, Bruce opened his eyes and spoke for the last time. “They’ve done for me this time, old man!” he said, and a moment or two afterwards relapsed into unconsciousness.

To Rolland’s great relief, he looked up from his friend’s body to see Captain Walker “trekking” towards him. His shout had been heard, after all. Together the two tried to carry poor Bruce between them, but it was no use; so Rolland decided to make a dash for the rearguard to get help. It was a terribly long run, and he thought he must get hit every moment, as the bullets pinged about him. He got through safely, however, and seized a Bikanir camel. As he was leading this back he met Major Gough, who asked what was the matter, and on being told at once hastened to Bruce’s aid.

Rolland’s camel was desperately frightened at the firing and shouting, and the captain had another bad quarter of an hour as he coaxed it and urged it along the bush path, but he reached the others without mishap. With Gough and Walker he now lifted Captain Bruce on to the kneeling camel, and as they did so a third Somali bullet struck the wounded man, almost immediately after which he died. At the same time the Sikh, who had done his duty nobly in protecting his officers, had his arm smashed by a fourth bullet.

The little party were not left alone until 5.30 p.m., when, after some scattering shots, the enemy at last drew off. “It was the hardest day of my life,” adds Captain Rolland, in his account of the affair, and we may well believe him. “I fired and fired in that fight till my rifle was boiling hot; even the woodwork felt on fire. Up to 3 a.m. a few biscuits and cocoa, then a 25-mile ride, a seven hours’ fight, and 25 miles back to camp; i.e. 50 miles that day; 25 hours without food of any kind, from the 3 a.m. biscuits and cocoa on the 22nd to the 4 a.m. dinner on the 23rd. Oh, the thirst of that day! I had two water-bottles on my camel, and drained them both. Hunger I did not feel.”

They buried Captain Bruce the next morning, side by side with another officer who had been killed, Captain Godfrey, laying them to rest just as they were, in their stained khaki uniforms. The silent African bush has many such graves in its keeping.

It was not until some time later that the part Major Gough had played in the rescue of Captain Bruce’s body was brought to light. He had promptly reported the heroic conduct of Captains Rolland and Walker, but modestly omitted all mention of his own share in the incident. And when the late Mr. W. T. Maud, the artist-correspondent of the Graphic, attempted to send home to his paper a full account of the affair, the Major rigidly censored the despatch so that his name did not occur therein. His heroism, however, could not be overlooked, and as soon as he was free from Major Gough’s censorship Mr. Maud made public the true story of the action, whereupon the V.C. was bestowed upon the Major as well as upon Captains Rolland and Walker.

It is interesting to note that Major John Edmond Gough (now Lieutenant-Colonel) is a son of General Sir C. J. S. Gough, V.C., and a nephew of that other distinguished Indian veteran, General Sir H. H. Gough, V.C. He thus establishes a record, for no other family has ever yet possessed three members entitled to wear the decoration.

To Lieutenant John Duncan Grant, of the 8th Ghurka Rifles, belongs the distinction of winning the last Cross that has been awarded. The scene of his exploit was Tibet, and the date July 6th, 1904. On that day the storming of the Gyantse-jong, the most formidable of the Tibetan strongholds, was successfully carried out, the Ghurkas, as on many a previous occasion, being called on to perform the most ticklish part of the business.

The jong, or fort, at Gyantse is perched high up on a hill, the approach being rendered difficult for an enemy by the bare and almost precipitous nature of the rock-face. There is scarcely any cover available, and an attacking party is exposed to the fire from the curtain and the flanking towers on both sides. All day the artillery had been thundering at the walls with little success, but at last a small breach was made in the curtain, and it became possible for a storming party to force its way through. It became possible, I say, but the task was a truly hazardous one. So little room was there that only one man could go up at a time, crawling on his hands and knees to the hole in the curtain.

Lieutenant Grant, however, with his brave little Ghurkas, was not to be daunted by such heavy odds. Leaving the cover of the village at the foot of the hill, he led the advance up the steep slope. Immediately behind him came Havildar Karbir Pun, as eager to come to close quarters with the enemy as was his leader. Up the slippery face of the cliff they scrambled, while a shower of rocks and stones poured down on them from the Tibetans above, to say nothing of occasional volleys of jingal bullets; and as they neared the top the lieutenant fell back wounded. Nor did the havildar escape, being hurled back down the rock for thirty feet or more.

Despite their injuries the intrepid couple made another attempt after a brief pause. Covered by the fire of their men, they dashed for the breach, and this time succeeded in their purpose. Grant was the first through, with the faithful Karbir Pun at his heels, their rifles clearing a path for them as they scrambled inside the jong. Then the rest of the Ghurkas quickly poured in, and the issue of the assault was no longer in doubt.

Lieutenant Grant was gazetted in January of the year following. Havildar Karbir Pun—the sepoys of our Indian army not being eligible for the V.C.—received the Indian Order of Merit, which is its equivalent, being conferred for conspicuous bravery in the field.

And so this record of the Victoria Cross and its heroes comes to a close. It is a brave record, indeed, from Lucas down to Grant, and we may well be proud of the gallant fellows, soldiers and sailors, British and Colonials, whose names figure therein. Of late years there has been some complaint that the decoration is in danger of being cheapened by a too liberal distribution, but I cannot think that such is the case. The right to wear the coveted Cross is most jealously guarded; only for acts of conspicuous bravery is it granted; and he would be a bold man who dared to place his finger on any one of the 522 names in the list and say, “That man was not worthy.” How jealously the recipients guard the honour of the decoration for their part is shown by the fact that Rule 15 of the original Warrant has never had to be enforced. No wearer of the V.C. has been struck off the roll for “treason, cowardice, felony, or any infamous crime.” And if at times we read of a Victoria Cross being sold (almost invariably for a large amount) to some collector, we may be sure that another V.C. hero has joined the great majority. The instances in which a recipient of the Cross has parted with his decoration in his lifetime are very rare, and this despite the most tempting offers for the same that are known to have been made. For no medal that can be won by the officers and men of either Service is so highly prized when gained as the little bronze Maltese cross bearing the golden words, “For Valour.”