Part 6

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.--

“They bowed their necks the death to feel. Who follows in their train?”

THE WORK OF THE MINE-SWEEPERS

The British Isles are surrounded by very shallow seas in which are taken enormous quantities of fish that are good for food. In the work of catching these fish large numbers of men are employed, especially in the North Sea fishing-ground known as the Dogger Bank, where the water is very shallow.

These North Sea fishermen come from the East Coast counties not only of England but also of Scotland, right away to the most northerly parts. Their work is very hard and dangerous, but it makes them strong, brave, self-reliant, and able “to go anywhere and do anything.” It is from the families of such men as these that we get most of our merchant sailors and the “Jack Tars” of our great Navy.

When the chiefs of our Navy wanted men and boats for mine-sweeping and for catching submarines they turned to our North Sea fishermen. They took great numbers of the fishing trawlers and their crews and set them to perform these very dangerous tasks. Some of them were sent far away to the Eastern Mediterranean on the same duty. Other trawlers were drawn from the West Coast fisheries, and the men of Devon share with the men of the Eastern counties the credit for much dangerous work well done.

Two of these trawlers would set out side by side to “sweep” the sea in a part where mines were supposed to have been laid. A rope was attached to the vessels and when a mine was brought to the surface it was exploded by gunfire. The aeroplane was often of great use in work of this kind. It ought not to be necessary to insist on the dangerous character of this work. It required all the courage which might have won the V.C. and this was shown during every hour of the day and night. As a West Country skipper said one day, as he stood on the bridge of his trawler in the Eastern Mediterranean, “What would King Garge ’ave done without these ’ere trawlers?” What indeed?

“These ’ere trawlers” were also largely used for netting submarines. The nets used were made of steel and some of them were about a hundred miles long! They were run out from trawler to trawler so as to make a kind of open-work steel wall below the surface of the water. Each trawler carried a gun both fore and aft; and when a submarine was caught in the net it was raised to the surface and promptly dealt with by the expert naval gunners who had been allotted to each trawler or by an attendant destroyer or seaplane.

A well-known writer and poet tells a story which shows what dangers the submarine hunters were called upon to face:

“On a few occasions, the hunters have themselves been trapped. Three men, taken off a trawler by a submarine, endured an eighty hours’ nightmare under the sea that shattered the mind of one and left lasting traces on the other two. Again and again, revolvers were put to their heads and they were ordered, on pain of death, to tell all they knew of our naval plans.

“They saw a good deal of the life on a German submarine and noted that the German crew on this boat at any rate were very ‘jumpy,’ too jumpy even to take a square meal. They munched biscuits at odd moments at their stations.

“On the third morning they heard guns going overhead, and watched the Germans handing out shells to their own guns. Finally a torpedo was fired and they heard it take effect. Then they emerged into the red wash of dawn, and saw only the floating wreckage of the big ship that had been sunk; and amongst the wreckage a small boat. They were bundled into this; told they were free to go to England or Nineveh; and the submarine left them--three longshore fishermen, who had passed through the latest invention of the modern scientific devil, two who could still pull at the oars, but the other too crazy to steer.”[5]

[5] Mr. Alfred Noyes in the _Daily Telegraph_, with acknowledgments.

* * * * *

Here is a skipper’s account of his exciting experience in a mine-sweeper off the entrance to the Dardanelles:

“One night we went with lights out up to the Narrows. They let us get right in and as we turned round to take our sweeps up, one of our number was blown up. Then they peppered us from each side from 1½ to 2 miles.

“We heard cries for help. I said, ‘We shall have to do the best we can and go back and pick up.’ There was no waiting, no saying, ‘Who shall go?’ As soon as I called for volunteers three jumped in. I kept the vessel as close as I could to shelter the boat. I did not think any would come back, but they did come back. No one was hit and I said, ‘Now we’ll get the boat in.’ Just as we got the boat nicely clear of the water, along came a shot and knocked it to splinters.

“I shouted, ‘All hands keep under cover as much as you can,’ and I got on the bridge and we went full steam ahead. I could not tell you what it was like with floating and sunken mines and shots everywhere. We got knocked about, the mast almost gone, rigging gone, and she was riddled right along the starboard side. One of the hands we picked up had his left arm smashed with shrapnel.”[6]

[6] From the _Times History of the War_, with acknowledgments.

“I am afraid,” said an English statesman in the House of Commons, “that I cannot do justice to all that I feel about the work of these men. It is little known to the public. They do not work in the presence of great bodies of men, to admire and applaud them for their gallantry. Small crews in stormy seas suddenly brought face to face with unexpected peril, they never seem to me to fail. No danger, no difficulty is too great for them. The debt of this country to them cannot be counted.”

“THE PADRE”

The army or navy chaplain was usually known as “the padre,” and the use of the familiar name (which means “the father”) shows how these brave men had won the hearts of the soldiers. This is not surprising for the chaplains were not only to be found at “the back of the front,” but shared many of the dangers faced so bravely by the fighting men of the first line.

“We have a chaplain,” wrote one, “who comes up into the front line every day no matter how dangerous and rough things may be; in fact he always makes for the most dangerous places on principle.

“One day, during a very hot bombardment, instead of leaving the trenches, the ‘padre,’ as he is called, strode up and down the line, cheering and helping.... All the men worship him. I shall try to find out his name, but at present he is ‘the padre,’ the simplest, finest gentleman I have ever met, and he has stood the test.”

The presence of a man whose religion made him absolutely fearless must have been very helpful to those whose duty it was to do the fighting. One of the chaplains, at least, laid down his life while engaged in this work of encouragement. He was in the danger zone for some time doing all he could to cheer his men. Then he made his way to the ambulance car and sat down near to it to say good-bye to some of his comrades, for he was going home for a time on leave. Suddenly a great shell burst close by and he was so badly wounded that he died shortly afterwards.

Another chaplain, the Reverend Edward Noel Mellish of Deptford, won the V.C. for deeds of great heroism. Our men had made a push and had captured a portion of the German front trench. But the German fire made the space between the two lines a very field of death. For three days there was heavy fighting in this quarter, and there were many casualties among the British soldiers.

The chaplain took upon himself a duty which was not part of his regular work. He had watched man after man fall wounded in that fire-swept belt of land, and he made it his business to go out to help them. During the first day he brought in no less than ten men who had been wounded. As soon as he reached them he did what he could to dress their awful wounds and to revive them. Three men were killed as he tended them. But he brought in the others to a place of safety.

That night the company to which he was attached was relieved and another took its place. But the chaplain did not leave his post. During the next day he went on with his work and brought in no less than twelve men! When night had fallen on the third day, he got together a party of volunteers and led them out to rescue the wounded. Many poor fellows were brought into a place of safety.

Chaplain Parham won the Military Cross for work of a similar character in Gallipoli during August 1915. He was attached to a brigade which took part in an attack on the Turks at Suvla during which the shrubs on the battlefield were fired by shells. With the help of his servant he rescued many wounded men and carried them to a place of safety beyond reach of the flames. On the next day he got together from his own brigade a party of volunteers to act as stretcher bearers; and the devoted little band did excellent work in bringing in the wounded under heavy fire.

Another chaplain, Father Finn, lost his life at the Battle of the Landing on the 25th of April 1915.

“Father Finn,” wrote a correspondent, “was one of the first to give his life in the landing at Sedd-ul-Bahr. In answer to the appeals that were made to him not to leave the ship (the _River Clyde_), he replied, ‘A priest’s place is beside the dying soldier,’ whereupon he stepped on to the gangway, immediately receiving a bullet through the chest.

“Undeterred, he made his way across the lighters, receiving another bullet in the thigh, and still another in the leg. By the time he reached the beach he was riddled with bullets, but in spite of the great pain he must have been suffering he went about his duties speaking words of consolation to the dying men. It was while in the act of helping one of his men that he was killed by the bursting of a shell.”[7]

[7] From a letter published in the _Times History of the War_, with acknowledgments.

LIEUTENANT ROBINSON AND THE ZEPPELIN

Warneford caught his Zeppelin in Belgium because it was flying low just before getting near to its shed. In the late summer of 1916, a young English airman brought down another of these airships when it was flying high over London to avoid the fire from the anti-aircraft guns.

There were many air raids on the capital during 1915 and 1916 and a great deal of damage was done. The time chosen for these visits was usually the dead of night, when there was no moon and very little wind. People got used to saying to each other, with a kind of thrill, “This is a good night for a raid.” And at one time most people went to bed fully expecting to be called up some time after midnight for an adventure of a kind which was quite new to London and to peaceful England.

The authorities gave instructions to the people what to do if a raid should take place. They were very careful to tell them to keep indoors and not to gather in crowds. But when the airships came many people felt that they must get out of the house to see what was going on; and one morning in September 1916 great crowds of Londoners saw a sight which had never before been seen in the long and varied history of the great city.

They saw a burning Zeppelin fall from the sky like a meteor. And it was not until some days later that they learnt that it had been brought down by Lieutenant W. L. Robinson, who received the Victoria Cross for his skill and bravery, which were indeed of a very special kind.

About midnight on Saturday, September 2nd, London airmen were warned that Zeppelins were on their way to the city. At once a number of them went up in the pitch-black darkness and circled round and round in search of the “terror that flieth by night,” Lieutenant Robinson was one of the number and all were keen to do something great for the honour of their corps. For the British airman does not work to win praise for himself, but to make a fine tradition for that branch of the military service to which he belongs.

The airmen had been up for quite two hours flying about among the darting searchlights before the Zeppelins arrived. There were two of the airships at first and it was known at the time that others were on the way; but the rest did not appear for a reason which will be evident when this story has been told.

The defenders of London relied upon three things: (1) the large number of anti-aircraft guns which had been placed on the high places round about the city; (2) the searchlights which gave the gunners their chance to aim properly; (3) the airmen who had learnt a great deal about this strange kind of fighting since Warneford brought down the airship in Belgium.

The task of these airmen was a very difficult one and they were exposed to more dangers and risks than many people imagined. It was, in the first place, a severe trial of strength and nerve-power to remain in the air so long before the Zeppelins arrived. Then they were in danger from the guns of the airships which had often sent aeroplanes toppling nose foremost to the ground, while they usually carried only one machine-gun apiece, as well as a small supply of bombs.

It was further necessary that an airman should rise to a very great height to get above a Zeppelin; for without getting some distance above it he could not make any use of his bombs at all. At this great height it is very cold even on a summer morning, and this increases the difficulty of the airman’s task.

Moreover, it was a fight between the skill and endurance of one man against about twenty-eight, which was the usual number of a Zeppelin crew.

Robinson was, however, equal to the task. He boldly attacked the first monster which came within his range, but had no success for several reasons. So he turned to the other, and by skilful management of his machine contrived to get above it in such a position that he could drop a bomb on the envelope. By this time many thousands of people were gathered together in the open spaces round about London; but the fight took place at such a great height that they only saw the effect of Robinson’s work.

What they saw, however, was stirring and exciting enough. Suddenly a light appeared on the Zeppelin. At first some of the watchers thought it was the searchlight of the airship. But as they gazed they saw the light grow larger; and soon they were aware that the envelope of the ship was in flames.

A tongue of fire swept up the structure which then turned on end and fell to earth in a curve like that of a meteor. And as it fell there rose from thousands of British throats such a cheer as man had never heard before. It was a sound to be remembered to one’s dying day; a shout of triumph mingled with awe and wonder, as if men watched the very judgment of God.

The airship fell into a field at Cuffley, not far from London, and it was fortunate that the blazing mass did not come down in a crowded district. It burnt for nearly two hours, watched by a crowd of people, and every few moments there was an explosion as the flames reached a store of machine-gun cartridges.

There was some danger of greater explosions, for the bombs might take fire at any moment; but this did not prevent the men who were watching from trying to put out the fire. The last of the flames were extinguished with water from the village well. Such was the end of Count Zeppelin’s splendid ship, one of the fleet with which he had vowed he would destroy London.

After a time the watchers saw an aeroplane wheeling round in graceful flight above their heads. It came to earth some distance away, and the airman alighting, walked quickly to the place where the wreck of the Zeppelin was lying. He looked carefully at the wreckage and then turned away. And no one knew at the moment that this was Lieutenant Robinson himself.

THE CANADIANS AT VIMY RIDGE