The words of the old soldiers’ hymn must often have come into the minds of our brave men as they fought and died to win freedom for the world. And, indeed, they were doing no less than this; for all men knew that if the Germans were not beaten there would be no more real freedom for mankind.

There was one day in the month of September of the year 1916 when the King granted no less than twenty Victoria Crosses. Some of them could not be worn by the brave men who had won them for they had been “faithful unto death”; and their medals were sent to those whom they had left behind to mourn for them and to rejoice when they forgot their sorrow that they had died so nobly.

The newspaper on the following morning was a matter for gladness and sadness; for it contained a splendid record of heroic deeds which made one feel proud to be a Briton.

There was the brave story of Major Loudoun Shand of a Yorkshire regiment. He led an attack upon an enemy trench and his men were met by such a severe machine-gun fire that at first they were dazed and hesitated. But the major leapt first upon the parapet of the trench, and then turning helped some of his men to scramble up. The others followed and then fought bravely and well, the major calling words of cheer to them as they pressed on, driving the foe before them.

Then he received a fatal wound. “Prop me up,” he said to one of his men, and they supported him against the wall of a trench. There he sat, bleeding to death; but his voice was heard loud and clear to the last, urging and cheering on his men, that they might play their part as he himself had done.

Then there was Lieutenant Cather of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, who seemed to covet honour as some men wish for gold. After a severe fight he searched the wide space between the front lines of trenches which was known as “No Man’s Land,” looking for wounded men. All the time the space was swept by the guns of the enemy and at each step he risked his own life.

But on he went, searching, and listening for the groans of the wounded. He found three men and brought them in, one after the other. Then he gave up the task for it was midnight and even he needed rest. But at eight o’clock the next morning he was at work again.

He brought in yet another man who had spent the night in the open, wounded and lonely; and he carried water to others though the ground was again swept by the enemy’s terrible fire. At half-past ten that morning he went out yet again to carry water to a wounded man, and this time he was killed.

“Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Second-Lieutenant Bell of a Yorkshire regiment found that a certain machine-gun troubled his company greatly during an attack. So he crept up a trench with two other daring men, rushed across the open under heavy fire, and made for the machine-gun. The gunner was shot and the three men then threw bombs at the gun until it was completely wrecked. A little later Bell met his death in the course of duty, and laid down his arms like a “very gallant gentleman.”

Sergeant-Major Carter of the Royal Sussex was eager to be in the post of honour. With a few men as keen as himself he worked his way to the enemy’s second line of trenches. The men were all forced back to the first line, but on the way they captured and destroyed a machine-gun which was worrying their comrades. Then Carter looked about for more work and was soon busily engaged in carrying wounded men to places of safety. As he was performing this work of mercy he was mortally wounded and died in a few minutes.

Corporal Sanders of a West Yorks regiment was another eager spirit who was cut off with a company of thirty men from the rest of the regiment. He quickly placed his men so that they could defend themselves. Then he made up a bombing party and urged his little band to hold out at all costs and not to give themselves up as prisoners.

The men remained in their position during the whole of the next night, and on the following morning they were attacked by the enemy. The Germans made two bombing attacks in strength, but both were beaten off. Sanders’ men held out all that day, and were not relieved until they had stood their ground for no less than thirty-six hours.

During all that time the men had neither food nor water. The water in their bottles was given to the wounded in the true British manner, which, you may remember, was followed by Sir Philip Sidney. The corporal brought back nineteen of his party to the British trenches when at last he was relieved.

Gunner Cooke of the Australian Infantry showed that he was a true son of Britain, able to fight and to die with the best. He was ordered with his gun and gun-team to a very dangerous part of the line. Putting his horses to the gallop he quickly took up the position allotted to him. He came under heavy fire, as he had expected, and his men soon fell around him one by one. At last he was the only man left, but he “stuck it” like a hero, working his gun single-handed and doing good shooting. Then he was observed and help was at once rushed out to him. His friends found him dead at his post, one more hero of the glorious band who counted honour first and left safety to take care of itself.

Private Faulds, of the South African Infantry, went out with a bombing party under Lieutenant Craig which tried to rush forty yards of open ground between the two front trenches. The men at once came under very heavy rifle and machine-gun fire, and several of them were almost instantly killed or wounded. Lieutenant Craig was badly hurt and lay midway between the trenches in open ground.

Faulds was now back in his own trench, and looking out saw the officer lying on the ground. Without the loss of a moment, he leapt over his own parapet followed closely by two comrades as unselfish as himself. It was full daylight and the open space between the trenches was still swept by heavy fire; but the wounded officer was carefully lifted and carried safely “home.”

Two days later Faulds performed a similar act of unselfish heroism. At this time the fire across the open space between the trenches was so severe that stretcher-bearers were not allowed to go out to pick up the wounded, as it meant certain death for them. But Faulds leapt over the parapet, picked up a man, brought him safely in, and then carried him for half a mile to a dressing station. Private Jackson, of the Australian Infantry, did similar work of the noblest kind, and even went out to help in bringing men under cover after one of his arms had been blown off!

Private McFadzean belonged to the Royal Irish Regiment and gave an example of the most devoted courage and readiness ever reported in the annals of war.

One day he was in a trench with a number of his mates and was opening a box of bombs before an attack. The box slipped down in the crowded trench, some of the bombs fell out, and the safety pins of two of them were dislodged. When the pin is out the bomb goes off after a certain fixed time.

Without a moment’s hesitation, McFadzean threw himself on top of the bombs. There was a loud explosion and the brave man was blown to pieces; but he had fallen in such a way that the explosion spent itself in killing him only. Another man was injured, but McFadzean’s devotion had saved the lives of all the men in the trench.

Then there was Drummer Ritchie of the Seaforth Highlanders who, without instructions, climbed upon the parapet of the enemy’s trench and sounded the “Charge” under heavy machine-gun fire. He did not do this because he wished to make a stirring picture, but because the men with him, having lost their leaders, were beginning to waver and fall back. The sound of the drum-beat rallied them once more and they sprang forward to the attack as though following the lead of the bravest of officers. The same drummer afterwards showed great coolness and courage in carrying messages from one company to another across the fire-swept “No Man’s Land.”

Private Veale of the Devon Regiment heard that a wounded officer was lying between the two front trenches. He went out in search of him, and found him lying amidst growing corn about fifty yards from the enemy’s line. The wounded man was too heavy for Veale to carry, but he dragged him to a shell-hole, went back to his trench for water, and at the risk of his life took it out to the wounded man.

When he came back again he asked for help to carry the wounded man in and two of his comrades volunteered to go out with him. One was killed in a few moments and the fire was so severe that the other men went back to await a better opportunity. At dusk, Veale and two others went out yet again, and saw an enemy patrol approaching. Veale ran back and brought out a Lewis gun with which he covered his companions while they brought the wounded officer “home.”

These are only a few episodes out of numberless examples.—