In a specially written account of the part taken in the big advance of July 1st by the Tyrone Battalion of the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, Lieut.-Col. Ricardo, D.S.O., commander of the battalion, says:—Just now it is a hard struggle between pride and sorrow, and every moment the latter surges up, and it takes a mighty effort to keep our chins up; but we shall see it through and begin again, however hard. Out of 19 officers who went over, 12 have gone, the very best, and all dear pals; four came back untouched, and three wounded got back—one of these lay out for 24 hours, and one for 48—whilst the casualties in the rank and file were numerous. Early on the 1st July (the boys were convinced the date had been chosen for their especial benefit) the battle began. Every gun on both sides fired as fast as it could, and during that din our dear boys just walked out of the wood and up gaps we had cut through our parapet, and out through lanes in our wire. I shall never forget for one minute the extraordinary sight. The Derrys, on our left, were so eager they started a few minutes before the ordered time, and the Tyrones were not going to be left behind, and they got going without delay—no fuss, no shouting, no running; everything orderly, solid, and thorough, just like the men themselves. Here and there a boy would wave his hand to me as I shouted “good-luck” to them through my megaphone, and all had a happy face. Many were carrying loads. Fancy advancing against heavy fire carrying a heavy roll of barbed wire on your shoulders! The leading battalions suffered comparatively little getting out, but when they came close to the German front line they came under appalling machine-gun fire, which obliterated whole platoons. And alas! for us, the division on our right could not get on, and the same happened to the division on our left, so we came in for the concentrated fire of what would have been spread over three divisions. But every man who remained standing pressed on, and without officers or N.C.O.’s they “carried on,” faithful to their job. Not a man turned back, not one. Eventually, small knots belonging to all the battalions of the Division (except two) gathered into the part of the German line allotted to the Division and began to consolidate it. Major John Peacocke, a cousin of Lady Carson, a most gallant and dashing officer, was sent forward after the advance to see how matters stood. He took charge, and gave to the representatives of each unit a certain task in the defence. The situation after the first few hours was indeed a cruel one for the Ulster Division. There they were, a wedge driven into the German line, only a few hundred yards wide, and for 14 hours they bore the brunt of the German machine-gun fire and shell fire from the sides; and even from behind they were not safe. The parties told off to deal with the German first and second lines had in many cases been wiped out, and the Germans sent parties from the flanks in behind our boys. The Division took 800 prisoners, and could have taken hundreds more, but could not handle them. Major Peacocke sent back many messages by runners. They asked for reinforcements, for water, and for bombs, but no one had any men in reserve, and no men were left to send across. We were told reinforcements were at hand and to hold on, but it was difficult, I suppose, to get fresh troops up in time. At any rate, the help did not come. I sent off every man I had—my own servant, my shorthand clerk, and so on—to get water out of the river; the pipes had long before been smashed. On their way, many, including both above-named, were killed by shell fire. At 10-30 p.m. the glorious band had to come back; they had reached the third line. At 8-30 a.m. they fought to the last, and threw their last bomb, and were so exhausted that most of them could not speak; and shortly after they came back, help came, and the line they had taken and held was re-occupied without opposition, the Germans, I suppose, being as exhausted as we were. Our side eventually lost the wedge-like bit, after some days. It was valueless, and could only be held at very heavy cost. We were withdrawn late on Sunday evening, very tired and weary. There are many instances of outstanding gallantry, but it is almost impossible to collect evidence. We may hear more of it when some of our wounded come back.

A correspondent to the “Times” wrote:—

I am not an Ulsterman, but yesterday as I followed their amazing attack I felt I would rather be an Ulsterman than anything else in the world. My position enabled me to watch the commencement of their attack from the wood in which they formed up, but which long prior to the hour of assault was being overwhelmed with shell fire, so that the trees were stripped and the top half of the wood ceased to be anything but a slope of bare stumps, with innumerable shell holes peppered in the chalk. It looked as if nothing could live in the wood, and indeed the losses were heavy before they started, two companies of one battalion being sadly reduced in the assembly trenches. When I saw the men emerge through the smoke and form up as if on parade, I could hardly believe my eyes. Then I saw them attack, beginning at a slow walk over No Man’s Land, and then suddenly let loose as they charged over the two front lines of the enemy’s trenches, shouting “No surrender, boys!” The enemy’s fire raked them from the left, and machine-guns in a village enfiladed them on the right, but battalion after battalion came out of that awful wood as steadily as I have seen them at Ballykinlar, Clandeboye, or Shane’s Castle. The enemy’s third line was soon taken, and still the waves went on, getting thinner and thinner, but without hesitation. The enemy’s fourth line fell before these men, who could not be stopped. There remained the fifth line. Representatives of the neighbouring corps and division, who could not withhold their praise at what they had seen, said no human man could get to it until the flanks of the Ulster Division was cleared. This was recognised, and the attack on the last German line was countermanded. The order arrived too late, or perhaps the Ulstermen, who were commemorating the anniversary of the Boyne, would not be denied, but pressed on. I could see only a small portion of this advance, but could watch our men work forward, seeming to escape the shell fire by a miracle, and I saw parties of them, now much reduced indeed, enter the fifth line of the German trenches, our final objective. It could not be held, as the Division had advanced into a narrow salient. The Corps on our right and left had been unable to advance, so that the Ulstermen were the target of the concentrated hostile guns and machine-guns behind and on both flanks, though the enemy in front were vanquished and retreating. The order to retire was given, but some preferred to die on the ground they had won so hardly. As I write, they still hold the German two first lines, and occasionally batches of German prisoners are passed back over the deadly zone; over 500 have arrived, but the Ulstermen took many more, who did not survive the fire of their own German guns. My pen cannot describe adequately the hundreds of heroic acts that I witnessed, nor how yesterday a relieving force was organised of men who had already been fighting for 36 hours to carry ammunition and water to the gallant garrison still holding on.

The following letter sent to the “Times,” July 3rd, is a description of the great day by a senior officer:—

The 1st of July should for all time have a double meaning for Ulstermen. The attack carried out by the Ulster Division was the finest thing the new armies have done in this war. Observers from outside the Division who saw it say it was a superb example of discipline and courage. We had to come through a wood which was being literally blown to pieces, form up in successive lines outside of it under a devastating fire, and then advance across the open for 400 yards to the German first line trenches. It was done as if it was a parade movement on the barrack square. The losses were formidable before we ever reached the first line, but the men never faltered, and finally rushed the first line, cheering and shouting, “Boyne” and “No Surrender!” From then onwards they never checked or wavered until they reached the fifth line of German trenches, which was the limit of the objective laid down for us. They captured and brought in many hundred prisoners, and actually captured many more who were either killed by the German fire before they reached our lines, or were able to get away in the maze of trenches owing to the escort being knocked over. I can hardly bring myself to think or write of it. It was magnificent—beyond description. Officers led their men with a gallantry to which I cannot do justice, and the men followed them with equal gallantry; and when the officers went down, the men went on alone. The Division was raked by machine-gun and shell fire from in front and from both flanks, and our losses have been very severe.

Ulster should be very proud of her sons.