CHAPTER XIV.

TALES OF HEROES.

Before I proceed with the story of the critical day in the great struggle for Ypres, let me give you a few soldiers' stories of the fighting which took place during the month of October. Hundreds of attacks and counter-attacks were made and repelled during that terrible month, and a thousand deeds of the utmost gallantry were performed. Some of them won the highest award of valour, as we shall learn at the close of this chapter; but hundreds of others, equally splendid, went unrecorded and unrecognized, probably because they were not witnessed by superior officers. We must always remember, when we read accounts of gallant deeds done in battle, that they are but few out of many which deserve to be inscribed on the roll of fame. It has been well said that during the month of October 1914 the Victoria Cross was won a dozen times every day.

Here is a story of a boy hero, a private in the D Company of the 2nd Manchesters, of whose exploits you have already read. His name was Preston; he was eighteen years of age, and was known as the "baby" of his regiment. On 20th October the Manchesters were surrounded, and their trenches were enfiladed by German fire. First the lieutenant was wounded, then the sergeant, and the company was left without a single officer in command. While the men were wondering what to do, Private Preston threw up his cap and shouted, "Fix bayonets, lads!" The company obeyed his order, and he led them in a wild and successful charge against the enemy. Six days later this gallant and resourceful boy was killed in action.

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A private of the South Wales Borderers tells how some Germans disguised as gravediggers attempted to rush a British trench. "We knew that the Germans had a recognized corps of gravediggers," he says, "but we found that the supposed gravediggers now advancing were armed not only with picks and shovels, but with rifles also. When they came within range they fired. We did likewise, and soon saw their backs. Later we caught three of them--an officer and two privates. The officer was a tall, brawny fellow, six feet in his stockings. A little Cockney in our regiment went up to the German officer, and, not supposing that he would be understood, said fiercely, 'For two pins I'd knock your blooming head off.' Imagine his surprise when the German giant, looking down upon him, replied in perfect English, 'Don't! I can't help this war. Like yourself, I must fight for my country.'"

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You have already heard from Mr. C. Underwood of the fine work done by Lieutenant Jardine of the R.A.M.C. on the Gheluvelt-Menin road during 29th October. An eye-witness says: "There was a man of small stature, Lieutenant Jardine, of the 21st Field Ambulance, who made frequent journeys from the shelter of a château at Gheluvelt to the trenches. He continually faced a hurricane of fire, and to see the little man coming back with a heavy burden on his shoulders was a sight not to be forgotten. After he had visited the trenches a number of times he had the appearance of a butcher straight from the slaughter-house. Many men owe to him the fact that they are alive to-day." Nor must we forget the Field Ambulance men, who "time after time came into the open to carry the more seriously wounded from the trenches."

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Don't forget that there is plenty of opportunity for the display of courage, even behind the firing line. The following little story illustrates the steadfastness and resource of a man in the Army Ordnance Corps--that is, the branch of the service which conveys ammunition to the places where it is needed. Five motor lorries conveying ammunition had been cut off by the Germans. The men in charge of them blew up the ammunition and made off across country. One, however, refused to leave, and remained hidden in a wood near the side of the road. The Germans, finding the ammunition destroyed, passed on, and the hidden soldier came out of his hiding-place. Finding the wheels of the lorries intact, he managed to start one of the motors. He then hitched the other four lorries behind, and slowly brought the convoy safely into the British camp.

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Major Viscount Dalrymple, of the Scots Guards, the first member of Parliament to be taken prisoner, gives the following account of his adventures:--

"We came out in a great hurry in the dark and pouring rain on the night of 25th October, having heard that a trench held by Major Willie Holbeck and a platoon on the right flank had been overwhelmed. It was a beastly trench, next to the one I was in on the previous day, and by nightfall the Germans were entrenched only 100 yards in front of it. Willie was shelled and shot at in it all day, and they rushed him in large numbers in the dark of the evening. He and Corporal Maclean and a few others bolted back a hundred yards or so, and then tried to retake it with the bayonet, but failed. Major Hugh Fraser and I, with the remainder of the right flank and the left flank under Captain Fox, hurried off to the village, and when we got there we heard that a lot of Germans--more than 1,000--were marching along the street away from us.

"We were not sure whether to try to clear the village first, or whether to try to retake the lost trench. Eventually Major Fraser and Major Holbeck started up the track straight to the lost trench. When Fraser got fairly near the trench he found it full of Germans. He shouted, 'Have a go at them!' and charged practically by himself. He was shot at once, as were, I think, most of his men. Major Willie Holbeck had his right thigh bone broken by a bullet. I did not hear much firing, and had no idea of what had happened until Holbeck crawled back.

"Meanwhile I had discovered that a house near by us was full of Germans, so I sent Captain Fox along the road nearly opposite, and advanced on it myself with a platoon and a few more men. When we got within twenty yards or so they started firing at us. I shouted to the men to charge, and rushed over the hedge at the enemy. I was just going to bayonet an officer, when my men shot him, and he pulled me over by the leg as he fell. Then the Germans came out of the house, swarms of them. Some gave themselves up, while others fired at us out of a wood alongside, only about five yards away; until I got hold of a prisoner, and, pushing him round in front of me, told him to tell the others to surrender. He did so, and they surrendered to the number of 188 men and seven officers. Two of their officers had been killed, and a good many of their men; but I had two of my best sergeants and I don't know how many men killed and wounded. It took the whole left flank company to take the prisoners away, and I was not left with enough to attack the lost trench.

"About 7 a.m. on the 26th the shelling began, and there was a lot of sniping from the village at my right rear. Presently I saw about sixty Germans, who had been hiding, bolting across our rear, and I think, between our fire and the German shelling, they must have been wiped out. Then the shelling got terrific, absolutely all over us. At one time for two consecutive minutes I counted over sixty shells a minute bursting within fifty yards or so of my trench. I was twice hit by pieces, which, however, did no harm, and none of my little section were touched. Our trench got pretty uninhabitable--fired at from front and rear and on one flank, the shells coming thick all the time.

"Then word came from the trench on my left, held by a mixture of Staffords and Grenadiers and my men, that the Grenadiers on the left had retired. I shouted back that it was nonsense, and to stick to the trenches and fire whenever opportunity offered. I did not think there could be any genuine attack until they stopped shelling us.

"About 3.30 I suddenly heard a bugle sounding 'Cease fire,' or something or other, on our right, and saw the next trench on the right full of Germans, and our people surrendering. . . . The Germans were all round except on the left, and I think our people had gone from there; so I told our men to lie low in the trenches, in case the Germans did not come so far, which they unfortunately did." Viscount Dalrymple and his little force were surrounded and forced to surrender. "I was marched off with about sixty men, mostly Staffordshires and King's Company Grenadiers, only about eight of my own, and one Staffordshire subaltern. At a village some way off I found the rest of our people.

"Eight of us were in a second-class compartment for forty-eight hours--that is, every seat full--and were not allowed to lie down, stand up, or look out of the windows. If we opened a window it was generally shut again. After we had been in this compartment for about thirty hours we were given a plateful of potato soup with a little meat in it. We had not had anything to eat or drink for twenty-four hours previous to being captured, and had been under heavy fire the whole of the time."

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Private G. Owen of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, who was mentioned in dispatches for conspicuous bravery on the field, thus describes the incident which won him the proud distinction:--"You will be surprised to hear about me getting mentioned in dispatches for helping a wounded comrade who had been shot in the leg and had had his thigh broken. I will tell you shortly how it happened. We had been warned to draw rations from a farmhouse just on the other side of our trenches, which was being shelled, and had a Maxim playing on it. Well, we had drawn tea for our comrades, and we had to go back for some eatables. We made a run for it. I was first, and got through the gate into the field, when I heard a shout of 'O Jerry, I'm hit!'

"I ran back, and saw my mate lying in the road with his thigh broken by a bullet from the sniper with the Maxim. I caught hold of him the best way I could, and got him to safety with the help of the officer in charge, while the bullets and shells were screaming round for more victims."

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A newspaper correspondent tells us of a little Welshman who made a great reputation as a sniper[70] during the fighting in front of Ypres. "If there is one thing," he says, "that the German soldier is beginning to be an adept in it is sniping. He has learnt many tricks, and the British soldier in the trenches pays him the utmost respect. He climbs trees, he worms along the ground, sometimes as stealthily as a Gurkha; in a field of roots he sticks a turnip on the spike of his helmet, and, thus disguised, sends quick death among an incautious enemy. He shoots straight, and is not afraid. But this little Welshman is claimed by his comrades to be king of them all. He spends each night at it, and his regiment's trenches are now rarely disturbed by even the most venturesome German sharpshooters. He steals forward as lightly as a cat, fires, and, slipping aside, awaits the enemy's reply. The flashes of their rifles give him a mark. He shoots at the nearest, and repeats the performance as often as the enemy will oblige him by disclosing their positions.

"A London scoutmaster was sent out one night to ascertain the enemy's intentions. He found the Welshman ahead, and in whispers explained his object. The sniper bade him follow, and the scoutmaster quickly found himself less than twenty yards from the German trenches, undiscovered and unsuspected. This little Welshman in private life is a revivalist preacher."

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An American correspondent who witnessed the British monitors[71] shelling the German trenches tells us the following story of a gallant British naval officer who fell while trying to aid the stricken Belgians. "As we watched the fighting we were joined by a Belgian captain, who told us the story of an English lieutenant[72] who had landed that morning. This officer came ashore from the monitor _Severn_ with twenty men and three machine guns. Reaching Nieuport, he saw that the Belgians by losing a farm that morning had weakened their position. Accordingly he started with his twenty men across the bullet-swept area right to the trenches. Men who saw him say he walked as calmly as if on a tour of inspection, calling orders to his men, and signalling with his hands. In vain the Belgian officers shouted that their position was already occupied by Germans. Either he did not hear or he was determined to accomplish the task at all costs. When fifty yards from the coveted goal the young officer fell dead, a bullet having struck him between the eyes. The men retreated, carrying with them the guns and the memory of a hero worthy in all respects of the high traditions of the British navy."

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A lance-corporal of the 2nd South Lancashire Regiment describes how he and his comrades saved a gun which they were working in the loft of a cottage. Some 200 Germans having broken through the British lines, tried to rush the cottage. "I crept on my stomach," says the lance-corporal, "and made for my gun, which was nicely pointed at them, fetching them down like sheep, thinking every minute they would get at me, especially when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Two of my comrades now came to my assistance. When they saw who it was they patted me on the back, and one of them said, 'Let's have a go at the gun, Len;' which I was glad of, as I was nearly done up. My chum did splendid work, fetching the remainder down. While he was firing Lieutenant Fulcher went downstairs just in time, as five Germans had got round without being seen. The brave officer killed the five, and returned to us in the loft. . . . Then, seeing we were all right, he once more returned to headquarters.

"Half an hour later we were surrounded with shells . . . A piece struck the sergeant. Without delay we carried him into the house and did our very best for him. It was a pity that he should come to his end, as only the day before he received a telegram congratulating him on his splendid previous work, for which he was mentioned in dispatches.

"We gave the alarm to the men down the cellar. It must have been God who told me to shout them up. In one more minute there would have been another seven killed, as no sooner had they got up than a shell burst in the cellar. I told the men to make for headquarters, which they did under heavy shell fire. How they got there without being hit I do not know. Myself and two others stopped, as we had our best friend in the roof (the gun). Another shell came and took the two men off their feet, luckily doing no harm; only I got a few splinters after the falling of the house. I found that I was the last, so I crawled out in the smoke and the dust, and made for headquarters. I reported to Lieutenant Fulcher that the sergeant was killed, and had died in my arms, and that I had been forced to leave the gun. There were tears in his eyes. He told me to lie down, but I could not, and he asked where I had left the gun. I told him, and said, 'I expect it is smashed.' He then asked for volunteers to go and fetch it, and two other lance-corporals at once offered to go with me. We saved the gun, everything else being smashed, and got back without being hit. General Haldane congratulated us, and granted us six days' special leave to England."

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The following story comes from the German side. There are three characters in it--a Bavarian lieutenant, Sepp his servant, and Caro his dog. "Sepp could play the mouth organ[73] beautifully, rendering folk songs, dances, etc., and we had many a pleasant hour with his music. One day, when the shells were bursting not far from us, the lieutenant said to his servant, 'Sepp, if I am ever hit, play my burial song for me, as you know how, and send my mother a remembrance. Everything else, including money, you can keep.' The dog Caro was not allowed to go into action, but had to march all day with the baggage, and at night slept at his master's door, allowing no one save Sepp to enter. Often he managed to get loose from the baggage carts, and, in spite of the colonel's scolding, reached the firing-line, where he shared the danger with his master.

"One fine day on the Yser a hostile bullet struck our dear young lieutenant in the forehead, so that he never moved again. On his face there was a pleasant smile, such as we had never before seen on the dead. Our grief was great; but a soldier never has much time for weeping. We dug his grave in a small pleasure garden, and laid the young hero to rest. We doffed our helmets, while some one said a brief prayer. On the mound we laid a last rose, and the soldiers made a cross. When the captain had said the last word Sepp at once began to play, more beautifully than we had ever heard before. No organ music had ever pleased me so much. Tears stood in the eyes of us all. Again and again he played funeral hymns and soldiers' songs, until we had to go.

"We could not get Sepp away from his master's grave. He continued to sit there, weeping and playing on his mouth organ all the songs his master had loved best. Just as we were going, up came the dog Caro from somewhere, as though he knew of his master's death. He whined and howled, while all about this farewell scene the guns thundered and rifle bullets whistled. Deeply moved, we went away. The English made an attack, but still in the twilight Sepp continued to play, until he had to be removed forcibly to prevent him from falling into the enemy's hands. Only Caro remained; he would not budge.

"When, two days later, we had beaten the English and came back past the same spot, there lay the faithful Caro, dead on his master's grave. We knew not whether he had perished of hunger and grief, or whether a fragment of shell had struck him, but we found no wound on his body. We buried the faithful animal at his master's feet. Since that day Sepp has never played another tune."

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I will conclude this chapter by giving you a brief account of the heroes who were awarded the Victoria Cross between October 1 and 30, 1914. They are as follows:--

Private Henry May, 1st Battalion the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles). On October 22, 1914, at a village about four miles south-west of Armentières, he went out of his own free will, and under a heavy cannonade tried to rescue a wounded man who was, unhappily, killed before he could save him. Later, on the same day, he carried a wounded officer a distance of 300 yards into safety, while exposed to very severe fire.

Drummer William Kenny, 2nd Gordon Highlanders. On 23rd October, near Ypres, Drummer Kenny, an Irishman, whose parents live at Drogheda, showed wonderful bravery in rescuing wounded men on five different occasions. Each time he carried his life in his hand, and showed the most fearless courage. Twice previously he had saved machine guns by carrying them out of action, and frequently he had conveyed urgent messages over fire-swept ground. Like all true heroes, Drummer Kenny showed himself the most modest of men. Here is his own account of his repeated acts of bravery: "There were men lying about wounded, and I simply brought them in. The Maxims had to be fetched, and I did it--that's all."

Lieutenant Arthur Martin-Leake, R.A.M.C. This gallant officer was the first man in the British army to be awarded the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty in two separate campaigns. During the South African War he went out into the firing-line to dress a wounded man while forty Boers, who were only 100 yards off, rained bullets on the position. When he had done all he could for the stricken soldier he went over to a badly wounded officer, and while trying to place him in a more comfortable position was shot three times. He only gave up his merciful work when thoroughly exhausted, and even then he refused water until other wounded men had been served. For this splendid self-sacrifice and steadfast bravery he was rightly awarded the Victoria Cross. During the Balkan War he served with a British Red Cross contingent, and throughout the present war, and especially at Zonnebeke between October 29 and November 8, 1914, he repeatedly went out under heavy fire to bring in wounded men, some of whom were lying close to the enemy's trenches. Again the coveted distinction was awarded to him, and a clasp was added to the Cross which he had won in South Africa.

Lieutenant James Leach and Sergeant John Hogan, 2nd Battalion the Manchester Regiment. Lieutenant Leach had only received his commission a few days before he won the Victoria Cross on October 29. "When I joined the Manchesters," he said in an interview, "there were only six officers and forty-five men, whereas the proper strength of the battalion was 30 officers and 1,100 men. The regiment had been badly cut up at Le Cateau and La Bassée. On joining the regiment I was immediately put in command of a company which was in an advanced trench near Festubert.[74] The trench was large enough to hold thirty-five men; it was about 150 yards from the main trench, and 120 yards from the German trenches.

"At seven o'clock on the morning of 29th October I had just started to have my breakfast, when a man to the right of me shouted, 'Look out, sir, look out; they're coming,' and began firing as fast as he could. I looked over the parapet, and saw about 250 of the enemy with fixed bayonets approaching the trench at the double, firing as they came on, and making a peculiar wailing noise. Before the Germans reached the trench we shot down something like 150 of them. With only such a short distance to cross from their trenches to ours, about 100 of the enemy managed to reach our trench and jump into it. By sheer weight of numbers they carried the trench, and killed about twelve of my men.

"At nine o'clock I called up the communication trench, and asked how far the enemy had got, and found they were occupying three of the four traverses.[75] When I went up again by myself two hours later, I found the Germans were occupying all the four traverses. Well, I thought, if we leave it much longer they will be down the communication trenches into the main trench.

"The same evening we heard we were to be relieved by the Gurkhas, and I felt it would be rather bad on my part to leave the recovery of the trench to them. I therefore determined about two o'clock to regain the trench before dark. Calling for volunteers, Sergeant Hogan and ten others came forward, and we began to crawl up the communication trench. I fired anywhere with my revolver, only exposing my hand, with the intention of pushing back the enemy along the trench as far as we could. The idea was to force them to run back to their own trenches, so that we could shoot them down as they went.

"All along the trench we crawled over dead and wounded Germans, so you see my revolver had been doing some execution. When we got to the left traverse I was surprised to hear an English voice round the corner shout, 'Don't shoot, sir.' I chanced this being a bit of treachery, and was surprised to see one of my own men coming round the corner. He had been captured in the morning rush, and he said a wounded German officer round the corner had asked him to tell me that they wanted to surrender.

"I went round the corner, and found sixteen Germans on their knees with their hands up, shouting, 'Mercy.' I told the officer that he and his men had got to go into the main trench. This they did after they had taken off their equipment, holding up their hands as they went. About twenty wounded Germans crawled in with them. . . . Was I surprised when I heard I had been awarded the Victoria Cross? Yes, I was. I was mentioned in dispatches, and there I thought the matter had ended."

Sergeant Hogan, when interviewed, showed the same pleasing modesty as Drummer Kenny. "I only did," he said, "what others would have done, and what others have done."

A few further details as to this remarkable feat may be added. The following account is taken from the _Manchester Guardian_:--"Lieutenant Leach and Sergeant Hogan left the main trench with ten men, and, crawling along the communicating trench, they established themselves at a point where the trench, which had been captured by the Germans that same morning, turned sharply at right angles. Leach and Hogan then advanced. The aim of the two men was to drive the Germans back along the narrow trench to the opposite end, from which there was no exit. Leach and Hogan commenced from their corner. Leach, being armed with a revolver, could reach his hand round the corner and shoot along the sections without exposing his body; whilst the German soldiers, armed only with rifles, could not fire without exposing part of their bodies.

"While Leach was shooting along the section Hogan watched the parapet to ward off attacks from above, as the Germans might crawl over from the section attacked and shoot them down from above or take them in the rear. Leach had now to fire with his left hand. When the section had been cleared by the two men, they took their stand at the next corner, and repeated the manoeuvre. As they advanced, section by section, Hogan put his hat on the end of his rifle and raised it above the parapet, to indicate to his platoon how far progress had been made, so that his comrades would not fire at that part of the trench that had been retaken." This went on, corner after corner being captured, until the two men heard one of their comrades who had been made prisoner that morning cry out, as described above by Lieutenant Leach.

Lieutenant James Anson Otho Brooke, 2nd Gordon Highlanders. This officer received the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery and great ability near Gheluvelt on 29th October, when he led two attacks on the German trenches under heavy rifle and machine-gun fire, and regained a lost trench at a very critical moment. By his marked coolness and alertness he prevented the enemy from breaking through our line[76] at a time when a general counter-attack could not have been made. Lieutenant Brooke made the supreme sacrifice that day: he gave his life to save his fellows.

[Footnote 70: Sharpshooter, who hides himself outside the trenches and fires on the enemy when occasion offers.]

[Footnote 71: See p. 92.]

[Footnote 72: Lieutenant Wise.]

[Footnote 73: British soldiers are also fond of performing on the mouth organ.]

[Footnote 74: See map, p. 59.]

[Footnote 75: A study of the diagram on p. 128 will explain the meaning of "communication trench" and "traverse." Lieutenant Leach's company was holding a trench such as that marked A on the diagram.]

[Footnote 76: See p. 108.]