On June 8th in the third year of the war the London Gazette contained a list of no less than 29 names of officers and men to whom the King had awarded the Victoria Cross. The stories of “most conspicuous bravery” which followed the names in this list showed that the coveted Cross had never been lightly won. Heroism had now become a habit, but British soldiers seemed to have entered into a rivalry as to the amount of bravery and endurance which they could show.

Take the example of Major Lumsden in his determined efforts to bring away six captured German field guns. At first it was necessary to leave them in dug-out positions about 300 yards in advance of the position held by our troops. The enemy kept the captured guns under heavy fire, but Major Lumsden undertook the duty of bringing them within our lines. It ought not to be necessary to dwell upon the high value of such service.

He got together four artillery teams and a small body of infantry, and led them out into the open. In a short time one of the teams was badly knocked about, so the major left the others in a sheltered place and led the infantry to the spot where the guns were hidden.

In defiance of rifle, machine-gun, and artillery fire he managed to get away three of the guns, which were then attached to the teams and rushed back to our lines. After waiting for a time until other teams could be brought out Lumsden sent back two more guns, although the enemy were now quite near to him and their rifle fire was at very short range. Indeed the Germans were able to make a rush and blew up the breech of the last gun so as to prevent the British from using it against them at a later time. But Lumsden’s men drove them back again and the last of the six guns was brought in triumph within our lines.

Then there was Captain Ball of the Royal Flying Corps who had no less than forty-three German aeroplanes and one balloon to his credit. This officer’s activity and resource in the air were truly marvellous. On one occasion, when flying alone, he fought six enemy machines, on another five, and on another four, and in each fight he brought down at least one of his opponents.

One day the British airmen were engaged in bombing an enemy train when one of their pilots was forced to come down within the enemy’s lines. Lieutenant Macnamara saw German horsemen approaching him and set out to the rescue. He planed down under heavy rifle fire, and in spite of a wound in his thigh landed at about 200 yards from the damaged machine. The pilot quickly climbed on to the lieutenant’s machine and an attempt was made to rise.

Owing to his wound, however, Macnamara was unable to keep his machine straight and it turned over. As soon as it touched the ground, the two men got out from the wreckage, set fire to it, and ran to the first aeroplane, which they were able to start. And although he was weak from loss of blood the lieutenant was able to take the machine a distance of seventy miles to the aerodrome. For this gallant and adventurous rescue he was awarded the Victoria Cross.

Sergeant Harry Cator, of the East Surrey Regiment, was busily making secure the first line which had been captured from the enemy, but was greatly worried by a certain machine-gun. One after another of his men fell dead or wounded until the brave sergeant could endure it no longer. So, with only one companion, in full view of the enemy, and under heavy fire, he went out across the open to attack the machine-gun and put an end to the annoyance.

After a few steps across that fire-swept zone, the sergeant’s companion was killed; but Cator went doggedly on, picking up a Lewis gun and some ammunition on the way. In time he came to one end of the enemy trench and worked himself into a position where he could cover the machine-gun which he had marked out for his own. Nor was it long before the whole of the gun crew as well as the officer were accounted for. Then the sergeant went over to the gun, put it out of action, and brought away the officer’s papers. But before he returned to our own lines he went back to his Lewis gun and covered a bombing party which was able to work along the trench and to capture 100 prisoners and five machine-guns.

Sergeant Sifton of the Canadian Battalion did similar work during a trench attack. He charged a machine-gun single-handed, killing all the crew, and then gave up his life in holding off an enemy attack while his own platoon was gaining a desired position. Another sergeant named Steele of the Seaforths reversed the order by carrying a machine-gun well in advance of our line and was the chief means of keeping it intact during a strong attack by the enemy.

Corporal Cunningham of the Leinster Regiment was in command of a Lewis gun section on the most exposed flank of our attack. His men came under heavy fire and suffered badly, and he was almost alone when at last he was able to bring his gun into action. A party of twenty Germans came on to the attack. Cunningham worked off all his ammunition upon them and then standing up in full view of the enemy commenced throwing bombs. He was wounded and fell to the ground, but picked himself up and went on fighting until his bombs were exhausted. Then he made his way back to our lines with a fractured arm and other wounds. He was taken to hospital, where he died a little later from the effects of his wounds.

Corporal George Jarratt was one of the noble army who during the war directly gave his life to save others. He had been made a prisoner with some wounded men and placed with them in a dug-out. On that same evening the enemy were driven back by our troops and the British bombers began an attack upon the dug-outs. A hand grenade fell into the hollow where Jarratt was lying, and he deliberately placed his feet upon it so as to break the force and direction of the explosion that followed and save the men who were lying at a little distance from him. He succeeded in his intention, but received injuries from which he died before he could be removed with the others who owed their lives to his ready devotion.

Here is another war picture of a stirring kind, the central figure of which was Private Michael Heaviside of the Durham Light Infantry. In the early dawn a wounded man was seen in a shell-hole in No Man’s Land about forty yards from the enemy’s line. He was making signals of distress and holding up his empty water-bottle.

It was impossible at the moment to send out a stretcher party, for this particular spot was unusually “unhealthy”; but Heaviside at once volunteered to carry food and drink to the wounded man, in spite of the heavy fire. So he set out on his heroic errand and managed to reach the shell-hole unhurt to find the wounded man almost mad with thirst and suffering great pain from a severe wound. He had lain there for four days and three nights and the arrival of Heaviside was the means of saving his life. Later in the day the rescuer was able to finish his work of mercy by taking out a stretcher party and bringing the wounded man into a place of safety.

There are many stories of thirst on the battlefield, but few so touching and appealing as this. Surely our men will never forget that early dawn and the faint cries from the figure in the shell-hole weakly waving a water-bottle as a signal of dire distress. The scene would make a splendid subject for a great painter.

Private Jensen of the Australian Imperial Forces suddenly appeared before a party of 45 Germans behind a barricade which also sheltered a machine-gun. He had a bomb in one hand, and taking another from his pocket with his other hand he drew out the pin with his teeth. With both arms raised he threatened the party of cowering men before him and managed to convey to them the fact that they were surrounded. By this bold front he induced the party to surrender. He then sent one of his prisoners to another party of Germans “with orders to surrender,” which, strange to say, were promptly obeyed.

Meanwhile, another party of British troops came up and began to fire upon the captured Germans, not knowing that they had surrendered. Thereupon Jensen stood on the barricade regardless of danger and waved his helmet to prevent unnecessary slaughter of his prisoners. Then the Australian’s company of captives was brought in, to the great delight of his comrades.

Second-Lieutenant Baxter of the Liverpool Regiment spent two nights engaged in the very useful and dangerous work of cutting barbed wire before the German trenches. He was so close to the enemy’s line that he could hear the men speaking; but as he went on with his work he held a bomb in his left hand, ready to throw at the first sign that he had been discovered.

On one occasion, his bomb slipped and fell as he was cutting the wire with his left hand. He picked it up although he knew that it might explode at any moment, for the pin was out, unscrewed the base plug, took out the detonator, and smothered it in the soil. In this way, at the risk of losing his own life, he prevented an alarm being given and saved many lives among his own party.

When all was ready, Baxter led the left wing of the storming party and was the first man to leap into a German trench. He spent some time in bombing dug-outs and then he was lost sight of. He was given up as dead and the V.C. was afterwards handed to his relatives.

Lance-Corporal Welch of the Royal Berkshire Regiment won the coveted medal not only for bravery but also for making good use of his wits. He was first of a party to leap into a trench which was captured largely owing to his dogged fighting. Four of the Germans got away and raced across country at breakneck speed. Welch leapt out of the trench and gave chase with an empty revolver in his hand. Under the influence of the weapon the men were persuaded to give themselves up. What they said when they learnt that the revolver was unloaded is not reported.

Private White of the Royal Lancashire Regiment made excellent use of a telephone wire and won the V.C. by his skill and resource. An attempt was being made to cross a certain river with three British pontoons—flat-bottomed boats used for transport or for placing end to end to form a bridge. The boats came under very heavy fire and the men of the first two were bowled over one after the other. The third in which White was standing fared no better, and when it reached mid-stream every man except himself was either dead or wounded.

White now found that he was not able to control the pontoon single-handed; so he tied a telephone wire to the forepart, jumped into the water and towed the boat to the shore. In this way he saved the life of an officer and brought to the other side of the river a number of rifles as well as valuable stores.

There were countless instances of the capture of machine-guns by men who rushed forward from our ranks and shot the German gunners. One of these daring men was Sergeant-Major E. Brooks of the Oxford Light Infantry who on one occasion was taking part in a raid on the enemy’s trenches.

The front rank was checked by a German machine-gun at close quarters. Brooks was in the second rank, but he made his way through the first, rushed towards the gun, killed one of the gunners with his revolver and the other with his bayonet, and so terrified the rest of the crew that they made off without loss of time. Then Brooks turned the German machine-gun on the retreating foe, and used it with good effect for some time. When he had done all the useful work he could do, he carried off the gun to the British lines.