Never before in the history of the world has war been waged on such a
gigantic scale. Never before have such vast armies been gathered
together, or so many different nations and races been drawn into
conflict. It is no exaggeration to say that the ultimate result of this
great war will affect the future of every people on the face of the
globe.
Great Britain and her allies are fighting in defence of human freedom
and the rights of small nations, and also to secure the blessings of an
enduring peace. For many years Germany engaged in making elaborate
military and naval preparations to crush rival Sates and found a
world-wide empire which would bring her immense power and riches. Her
leaders have openly boasted that the Germans are the most cultured and
capable people in the world, and on that assumption based the claim
that they have a right to control other nations. This war has revealed
the violent methods by which they hoped to realize their ambitions. The
Government of the Kaiser has broken international laws and at least one
international treaty, while the German soldiers have committed terrible
atrocities with intent to terrorize their opponents. In Belgium, for
instance, they have destroyed beautiful, ancient buildings, laid waste
towns and villages, and ruthlessly slain, not only unarmed men, but
even women and children.
The immediate cause of the war was the attempt made by Germany's ally,
Austria, to coerce the little kingdom of Serbia. Russia intervened so
as to secure peace and an honourable agreement, whereupon Germany
declared war against Russia and its ally, France. To strike a sudden
and heavy blow at France a German army invaded Belgium, expected to
sweep through it with little delay. But the Belgian forces set up a
gallant and unexpected resistance which greatly hampered the operations
of the Kaiser's soldiers.
It was because Belgium was invaded that Great Britain declared war. The
neutrality and independence of that small nation had been guaranteed by
a treaty signed by Britain and Germany among others. It was a
dishonourable act on the part of Germany to break this treaty, and it
was the duty of our country to take up arms against the guilty Power.
Great Britain was not prepared on the outbreak of war for military
operations on a large scale. We could send only a comparatively small
army to the Continent to assist the Belgians and French to retard the
advance of the German millions; but the courage and skill displayed by
our soldiers served to baffle and delay the huge forces to which they
found themselves opposed. From the outset they have proved themselves
superior fighting-men to the Germans. In consequence, time has been
gained to gradually increase our Expeditionary Force so as to ensure
ultimate victory. Meanwhile our fleet has maintained Britain's command
of the sea, and completely suspended Germany's overseas mercantile
trade.
As soon as war was declared the entire British Empire rallied to
support the Home Government. Offers of men, food supplies, and treasure
were at once made by the various dependencies and dominions, and ere
long transports began to convey troops to the seat of war from India,
Australia, New Zealand, and Canada, while in South Africa effective
measures were taken to suppress a revolt which was fostered by German
intrigues. Thus in the hour of trial the Empire was more closely united
by the spirit of loyalty that prevails among its freedom-loving peoples.
A wave of intense patriotism swept over the British Isles, and all
classes were moved by the common desire to resist the military
ambitions of Germany and to take adequate measures which would ensure
peace in the future, so that the highest ideals of humanity might be
realized. Political differences were set aside, and a deep sense of
public duty was everywhere aroused. Young men responded eagerly to the
call to arms, and began to enlist in their thousands to fight and
suffer and die for their native land. The wealthy abandoned their
duties, traders and workers hastened from warehouse and yard,
agriculturists turned from harvest-fields, and actors, artists,
musicians, and writers became the military comrades to labourers and
others in humble walks of life, eager and proud to serve their King and
country. Women volunteered as nurses, or engaged in various forms of
emergency work, while large sums of money were subscribed spontaneously
to provide comforts for fighting-men and assist all those to whom war
brings hardship and suffering.
To arouse the sympathy and interest of the readers, the romantic and
heroic deeds of those taking part in the great war on land and sea are
here set forth. Four of the prominent leaders are dealt with, and
accounts provided of their careers and adventures. These are all known
as silent men - "Silent Kitchener", "Silent Joffre", "Silent French",
and "Silent Jellicoe". The first two were in boyhood somewhat unruly,
and each was influenced by the consequences of acts of disobedience to
prepare for the serious duties of life. French, on the other hand, was
a nervous, gentle lad, who was greatly given to preaching like a
clergyman; while Jellicoe inclined to play pranks, and early felt the
fascination of life at sea, which offered to him the opportunities for
adventure he so greatly sought. But all were similar in one respect. As
they grew up, they applied themselves with exemplary diligence to their
studies, and won distinctions among their fellows, realizing that
success is the reward of hard work and adequate preparation. Kitchener
and Joffre received their first military experiences in the
Franco-Prussian War, and the careers of both were afterwards of
strenuous effort.
The French general spent much of his life in strengthening the defences
of his country and improving the methods of training and leading its
fighting-men.
Kitchener attained wide experience in foreign service, both as a
soldier and administrator. His name will ever be associated with the
inauguration of a new age of progress in Egypt, the cradle of world
civilization, which had long suffered from oppressive and reactionary
government. After it came under the control of Great Britain its
welfare and security were continually menaced by the conditions which
prevailed in the Sudan. That vast area of the ancient empire of the
Pharaohs had been overrun by robber hordes, whose operations enabled
the Mahdi to establish a fierce and fanatical tyranny at Omdurman.
Kitchener was selected to perform the noble and arduous work of
reconquering the Sudan and rescuing it from the barbarism, so that the
masses of the people might enjoy the benefits of just and good laws,
and the entire Nile valley be made once again a land of golden harvest
and peaceful and progressive communities. After achieving successful
conquest, Kitchener devoted himself to various schemes for the
education and welfare of the people, and showed special concern for the
needs of the small agriculturists.
As War Secretary, Kitchener's name is likely to be associated also with
the revival of civilization in that other ancient land, Babylonia,
which in days of old was "the garden of Western Asia" and one of the
centres of world commerce. A British army, strongly reinforced from
India, is in occupation of that desolated region between the Tigris and
Euphrates Rivers, which has for long centuries suffered from the
oppression and neglect of Turkey. There is every prospect that
Babylonia may once again become what it was in Biblical times, "a land
of corn and wine, a land of bread and vineyards, a land of oil olive
and honey."
One of the notable features of the great war is the prominent part
taken in it by India, which, for the first time in history, has sent
its native soldiers to fight on European battlefields. These brave and
loyal men, like their high-souled ancestors, have proved themselves
undoubted heroes, skilled in the art of warfare and unafraid of death.
They know they are fighting for a good cause, and that when victory
crowns the efforts of the Allies the world will be no longer
overshadowed by the peril of German militarism which has threatened the
liberties and rights of many peoples. In no other country in the world
is the desire for a real and lasting peace more warmly supported than
in India. Its people, in common with their fellow-subjects of the
Empire and those of the allied nations, feel that when the war is ended
humanity will be brought nearer to the happier time dreamt of by the
poet who sang:
The world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return.
The great and just cause for which our country is striving is an
inspiration to our soldiers and sailors who are -
Gentle in peace, in battle bold,
As were their sires in days of old.
These heroes are adding fresh lustre to the fame of Great Britain, not
only by their courage and fortitude in battle, but also by their
chivalrous and humanitarian treatment of fallen enemies. Our soldiers
risk their lives to alleviate the sufferings of wounded foemen, and our
sailors are ever ready to rescue from drowning the crews of hostile
war-ships shattered in fierce conflict. Such noble deeds are worthy of
a great people who have taken so prominent a part in advancing the
cause of civilization throughout the world, and make us feel proud that
British blood runs in our veins.
(Typed by Tammy Bosher)
Chapter 1 - Lord Kitchener
Lord Kitchener is a soldier of striking appearance, being over 6 feet
in height and as straight as a lance. His face is stern and resolute
and thoughtful, and he has sharp blue eyes that look intently at what
is going on and seem also to look ahead.
When he was appointed Secretary of State for War it was felt all
through the British Empire that the best choice had been made. He has
proved himself a leader of strong character and great ability, one who
knows his business thoroughly and inspired confidence in those who
serve under him.
Now Lord Kitchener did not earn his high reputation without preparing
himself thoroughly and performing much hard work. He has ever devoted
himself whole-heartedly to his profession; he has ever striven to learn
all there is to be learned in connection with it. The story of his life
shows that he discovered how to succeed by realizing, in the first
place, his own defects, so that he might do his best to correct them,
and then by making up his mind to acquire as much knowledge and
experience as possible.
In his early days he was just like many other boys - sometimes careless
and sometimes unruly. But the time came when he received a sharp
reminder that a boy must take the consequences of his actions and make
up his mind, once and for all, whether or not he is to do well.
Lord Kitchener was born in Gunsborough House, near the little town of
Listowel, in County Kerry, Ireland, but the greater part of his boyhood
was spent at Crotta House, Kilflynn, in the same district. His father,
who was a retired Indian army colonel, was of Suffolk and
Leicestershire stock, and had purchased a large estate in Limerick and
Kerry which he developed and improved; his mother was the daughter of a
Suffolk clergyman. The other members of the family were Chevallier,
Arthur, Walter, and Millie; Kitchener, the second son, was named
Horatio Herbert, but was usually called Herbert.
It is told that at home young Herbert "never could be kept quiet". He
often got into scrapes, but was lucky in getting out of them. Among
strangers he is said to have been shy and awkward, and, as he had a
habit of wandering about alone, some people looked upon him as a
dreamer. He was never good at games, but he learned to swim with his
brothers at Bannastrand, on the sea coast, 7 miles from Crotta House.
There big waves come tumbling in from the Atlantic, and only strong
swimmers can venture to bathe when a heavy "ground swell" is running.
For a time Herbert took little interest in his lessons. This annoyed
his father, who knew the boy was quite clever and just required to
apply himself. With his brothers he attended a private school, and one
day, just before an examination, his father took him to task for his
carelessness, and said: "If you do not pass I will put you to the Dame
School." When the results came out it was found that Herbert had
failed. His father kept his word and sent the boy to the Dame School,
saying "If you do not attend to your lessons there I'll have you
apprenticed to a hatter." Herbert felt keenly the disgrace he had
fallen into. He made up him mind to study seriously. In time he made
splendid progress and became good at arithmetic. By attending to his
school work he gave himself the chance he required, and learned how
important it was to value time and be industrious in acquiring
knowledge that would help him when he grew older.
For a period after school life in Ireland the Kitchener boys studied in
Switzerland, residing at the house of their tutor, on the eastern shore
of Lake Geneva. They greatly enjoyed their new surroundings, and in
their leisure hours engaged in bathing, boating, and mountain-climbing.
Having early expressed the desire to become a soldier, like his father,
Herbert subsequently removed to London, where he studied for the
examination which admits pupils to the Royal Military Academy at
Woolwich. He passed successfully in January, 1868, and proved himself
to be an excellent student.
By this time his mother had died, and his father, having sold his Irish
estate, went to live at Dinan in Brittany. There Kitchener spent his
holidays, and waited, after his academy course was finished, for a
commission in the army. In 1870 war broke out suddenly between Germany
and France. Being anxious to gain experience as a soldier, Kitchener
enlisted as a private in the French army. He served, under General
Chanzy, in the force which tried in vain to relieve Paris when it was
surrounded by Germans. His "baptism of fire" was thus received in
France.
Kitchener proved himself a courageous young soldier. Once he made a
dangerous ascent in a war-balloon with two French officers to obtain
information regarding the enemy's movements.
The military experience he gained in France proved to be most valuable
to him. The French army had not been properly equipped, and everything
was badly managed. Chanzy's force has scarcely received any training.
Kitchener saw how important it was that soldiers should be thoroughly
drilled, well organized, and furnished with sufficient supplies of
weapons, ammunition, and food. The French suffered defeat because the
Germans were prepared for war and they themselves were not.
When the young soldier returned to London he was reprimanded for
joining a foreign army without permission from the War Office. He was
taken before the Duke of Cambridge, the Commander-in-Chief, who was in
doubt whether or not he should receive a commission. With a frown the
Duke asked: "What have you to say for yourself? Why did you join the
French army?"
Kitchener answered: "Please, sir, I thought I would not be wanted for a
time. I was anxious to learn something."
The Duke was satisfied with the young man because he was so frank and
showed such great interest in his profession. "I saw," he said
afterwards, "that there was real grit in him, and I decided he should
have his commission."
So it came about that, at twenty, Kitchener was gazetted as a
lieutenant in the Royal Engineers. From the outset he showed great
promise as a diligent and painstaking officers. After three years'
service at home he joined the staff of the Palestine Exploration Fund,
with purpose to gain practical experience in surveying work.
His duties in the Holy Land were of an arduous kind. He had to assist
in preparing accurate maps of the country, showing every town and
village and natural feature in detail, and was consequently kept
continually "on the move". Much of his time was spent in desolate
places. High mountains had to be climbed, and long, slow journeys made
across bleak deserts in burning sunshine. Life in the sleepy villages
and unhealthy towns offered few attractions and hardly any comforts to
a European. Kitchener endured considerable hardships, suffering now
from heat and now from cold, and had several attacks of fever. On one
occasion, he was struck with snow blindness - a painful eye trouble
caused by the dazzling reflection of bright sunlight on wastes of
mountain snow; and another he had a touch of sunstroke.
Being brought into contact with the natives, some of whom were always
attached to the party as servants, Kitchener learned Arabic, and was
consequently able to talk with them and study their manners and
customs. He found it convenient sometimes to wear native costume, and
when he allowed his beard to grow, and his face was tanned by the sun,
he is said to have been mistaken for some great Arab chief on making
appearance for the first time in a lonely village, mounted on a camel.
"Camels", he once wrote, "are bad beasts for survey work. I used to
keep mine at a good trot for a bit, until he got cross, which he showed
by roaring, and then suddenly shutting up all four legs and coming to
the ground with a thud, at the same time springing up again and darting
off in an opposite direction."
Now and again exciting adventures were met with. One of these occurred
in the vicinity of Ascalon. This ancient city of the Philistines is
referred to in the Bible as Askelon. Samson visited it, and slew there
thirty of the enemies of his country. It is of special interest to a
soldier because it was occupied in 1492 by King Richard I of England,
"the Lion Heart", after he had defeated Saladin, a Khurd who had become
King of Egypt. The battle took place during the course of the long
struggle between the Christian Crusaders and the Moslems for the
possession of the Holy Land.
Ascalon is situated on the shores of the blue Mediterranean, and, the
afternoon being very sultry, Kitchener and Lieutenant Conder, his
senior officer, decided to bathe. They were not long in the water when
Condor was carried toward dangerous broken water by a strong current.
Struggle as he might, he was unable to return to the shore. It was well
for Kitchener that he had learned to swim among the great billows on
the south-western coat of Ireland. Perceiving that his friends was in
peril, he struck out boldly to rescue him from certain death. After a
desperate struggle he was able to assist Conder to dry land.
He saved Conder's life on yet another occasion. They were engaged at
the time-it was on 10th July, 1875-beside the little town of Safed, in
Galilee, not far from the place where Christ performed the miracle of
feeding over 4000 people with seven loaves and a few little fish.
Suddenly the surveyors' camp was attacked by a mob, who shouted: "Kill
the Christian dogs!" Neither the officers nor their native servants
carried weapons. Conder was stuck on the head by a man who wielded a
club. "I must inevitably have been murdered", he wrote afterwards, "but
for the cool and prompt assistance of Lieutenant Kitchener, who managed
to get to me and engaged one of the club men, thereby covering my
retreat. A blow descending on the top of his head he parried with a
cane, which was broken. A second blow wounded his arm." Kitchener,
however, held his ground until the rest of his party had retreated,
after which he made his escape. A musket was fired, and the bullet
whizzed past his ear like a bee in flight. Then a native ran after him,
brandishing wickedly a naked scimitar, but was unable to get to close
quarters. Stones were thrown by the mob of cowards, and Kitchener was
struck by a big one on the left thigh. Fortunately a party of Turkish
soldiers came on the scene and the attackers were put to flight.
After six years of hard work, which was very thoroughly done, Kitchener
was able to hand over to the Palestine Fund Committee a complete map of
Western Palestine on the scale of 1 inch to a mile.
When the war between Russia and Turkey came to a close, the island of
Cyprus was occupied by Britain. Kitchener organized the new courts
there and conducted the surveying work. He also acted for a time as
British Vice-Consul in Asia Minor, and did much to restore order and
improve the condition of the natives who had been ruined by the war.
His next opportunity came when Britain had to occupy Egypt, which was
in a state of rebellion and bankruptcy owing to bad government. It was
found necessary to reorganize and train a native army under British
officers. General Sir Evelyn Wood became Sirdar, or Commander-in-Chief,
of the Egyptian forces, and, as Kitchener knew Arabic, he was appointed
second in command to Colonel Taylor of the 19th Hussars. Taylor was not
long in recognizing the young officer's abilities. "He's quiet," he
said to a friend in 1883, "and he clever."
There had arisen in the Sudan a religious pretender, called "The
Mahdi"; his chief disciple was a man who afterward became "The
Khalifa". The Mahdi's forces took possession of some of the southern
provinces, and Colonel W. Hicks, known as Hicks Pasha, who led a native
army against the rebels, was cut off and perished with his whole force.
Then General Gordon was sent from Long to Khartoum to restore order in
the Sudan. This gallant soldier soon found, however, that the Egyptian
troops under his command were no match for the rebels, so he appealed
for British reinforcements. But, unfortunately, the Home Government did
not fully grasp the situation until it was too late. By July, 1884,
Khartoum was surrounded by the armed followers of the Mahdi, and before
the relief expedition arrived the city fell and Gordon was slain. The
garrison had held out for 337 days, and were overcome of 26th January,
1885.
Kitchener acted as an Intelligence officer with the relieving-force.
Disguised as an Arab, he managed to send messages to Gordon during the
siege. In Gordon's journal there is an entry: "If Kitchener would take
the place he would be the best man to put in as Governor-General". The
story of how Gordon watched daily for the coming of the British troops,
and how in the end he was struck down by a Dervish's spear, was related
in Kitchener's official report.
After Khartoum fell Kitchener came home, and was sent to Zanzibar as
one of the Commission appointed to fix the new boundary between German
and British East Africa.
In 1886 he returned to the Nile valley as Governor-General. The
rebellion had spread northward, and he took energetic measures to
restore order in the area under his control. At Suakin he defeated with
heavy losses the notorious Osman Digna, a Turkish slave-dealer who had
espoused the cause of the Mahdi. During the battle he sustained a
serious wound, a bullet having entered his jaw and lodged in his neck.
He was sent to hospital and then invalided home. By this time Kitchener
had attained the rank of Colonel. Soon afterwards he became
Adjutant-General of the Egyptian Army.
The Dervishes in the Sudan were now becoming more and more daring and
aggressive, and seemed determined to extend their power into Egypt
proper. Preparations had therefore to be made to crush them. In 1892
Kitchener was appointed Sirdar, or Commander-in-Chief, and did his
utmost to improve the Egyptian army, which was being trained by capable
British instructors. His head-quarters were at Cairo, within sight of
the three greatest pyramids and the wonderful sphinx. There he planned
his campaign against the Dervishes, and began the construction of a
railway towards the south, so that the army, as it advanced, might be
well supplied with food and ammunition and reinforced when necessary
without delay. The work he undertook required great skill in management
and constant and anxious attention to the minutest details.
An early success was the capture of the province of Dongola, which had
been overrun by hordes of desert robbers, who murdered and enslaved the
Egyptians and turned a fertile district into a wilderness.
By constructing a railway across the desert from Wadi Halfa to Abu
Hamed, between places the Nile curves like the letter U, Kitchener was
able to shorten his advance southward. Then Berber was occupied, the
Dervishes having fled from it in panic. About 200 miles distant lay
Khartoum and the city of Omdurman, built by the Mahdi on the opposite
side of the river.
The Khalifa's advanced force took up position beside the Atbara River
which flows into the Nile. Kitchener prepared to attack it, and was
able to bring up a brigade of British troops along his new railway to
reinforce the Egyptian army. It consisted of Warwicks, Lincolns,
Seaforths, and Camerons.
On 7th April, 1898, Kitchener was only 7 miles distant from the Dervish
army, which lay behind a zareba-an obstruction made of piled-up thorns.
A rapid night march brought the army into close contact with the enemy,
and at daybreak the British guns opened fire. Before eight o'clock the
infantry charged and took the zareba, the Egyptian soldiers displaying
much courage and skill in friendly rivalry with their British comrades.
Three-quarters of an hour sufficed to destroy the Khalifa's army, which
lost about 3000 in killed alone.
Kitchener next prepared for the final blow at Omdurman. The railway was
extended southward, and Atbara became a great centre for supplies.
The Khalifa had an army of over 40,000, and the British and Egyptian
troops did not exceed 22,000. On 2nd September the opposing forces met
in conflict outside Omdurman.
Kitchener had taken up position the night before and the battle
commenced at six o'clock in the morning. This time the Dervishes made
the attack while the British artillery shelled them. On they swept,
like foaming billows, until at the 2000-yards range they met the thick
and accurate shower of rifle bullets which cut them down as corn is cut
down by a scythe. Again and again they tried to reach the British
lines. Then the Lancers charged to clear the way to Omdurman. They met
and broke up a concealed force of swordsmen, and Kitchener advanced on
the city to prevent the enemy occupying it and so prolonging the
struggle.
While this movement was being carried out, a reserve force of 15,000
Dervishes attacked the Egyptian wing of the army. This native brigade
was commanded by General Hector MacDonald, who showed magnificent
coolness and bravery. He re-arranged his troops and opened fire,
scattering the advancing host and completing the victory.
Kitchener had halted and sent reinforcements to MacDonald, but success
was assured before they arrived. Then he occupied Omdurman and
Khartoum. The power of the Khalifa was thus shattered after long years
of hard work under the wise direction of Kitchener. In time the whole
of the Sudan was rendered peaceful. It is a vast country, about a
million square miles in extent-nearly as big as France and Germany
combined. When it was controlled by the Mahdist power Egypt was never
secure.
For his great services the Sirdar was raised to the peerage of Lord
Kitchener of Khartoum and of Aspall and given a grant of L30,000. Both
Houses of Parliament thanked him cordially. "He was written a new page
of British history," declared a prominent statesman, "and has blotted
out an old one."
When the Boer War broke out, on 9th October, 1899, Lord Kitchener, as
Governor-General and Commander-in-Chief of the Sudan, was engaged in
schemes for the good of the people who had come under our care. But
towards the end of the year, he was called to South Africa. The Boers
had proved to be powerful opponents, and the British forces had met
with disasters at Colenso and Magersfontein. Strong reinforcements were
dispatched across the seas, and Lord Roberts was appointed to the
supreme command. Kitchener was asked if he would act as chief o staff
to this great soldier, and his reply by telegram was: "Delighted to
serve in any capacity under Lord Roberts". He gave loyal assistance to
his superior officer. When Lord Roberts was returning to this country,
after the capture of Pretoria, he said "I am glad to take this
opportunity of publicly expressing how much I owe to his wise counsels
and ever-ready help. No one could have laboured more incessantly, or in
a more self-effacing manner, than Lord Kitchener has done." Kitchener
has always been ready to do his duty for the sake of the Empire.
The tide of battle turned soon after the arrival of Roberts and his
assistant in South Africa. Kitchener reorganized the transport service
and planned the relief of the besieged town of Kimberley and the
capture of Cronje and his army at Paardeberg. In time the British
troops swept northward and occupied first Bloemfontein, the capital of
the Orange Free State, and then Pretoria, the capital of the Transvaal.
Afterwards Lord Roberts returned to this country, and Lord Kitchener
was given supreme command.
The Boers no longer fought pitched battles, but waged what is known as
guerrilla warfare. They scattered all over the country in small forces,
striking at the British where opportunity offered. As they were well
mounted they were difficult to "round up". But Kitchener, by the
exercise of skill and persistence, at length overcame all difficulties,
and, having opened up negotiations with his opponents, brought the war
to a close by the Peace of Vereeniging. On his return home he was
created a Viscount and decorated by King Edward with the new and
distinguished Order of Merit.
He next went to India as Commander-in-Chief of the Indian Army. For
seven years he served in this capacity and introduced many reforms. He
greatly improved the system of training and completely re-organized the
various forces. When he left India its army was ready for any sudden
call, and was stronger than ever it had been.
Afterwards Kitchener was sent to Australia, where he examined the
defences, and worked out a scheme for training the Dominion's new army
of 80,000 men. Then he paid a visit to New Zealand, the Government of
which he provided with a similar scheme for its citizen forces. From
New Zealand he travelled to Canada, where also he was consulted
regarding military preparations.
In September, 1911, he returned to Egypt as the British Agent, and thus
became chief administrator of that country. He threw himself heart and
soul into the work. Like the great Egyptian kings of ancient days he
did his utmost to make the country prosperous and contented. New laws
were established to improve the lot of the fellah, or peasant, who
tills the little farms in the Delta and Nile valley.
"Lord Kitchener"', wrote a native in 1913, "is the most popular figure
in Egypt to-day. He has made all the Egyptians realize that he is the
friend of the Egyptians and understands their needs." One of the many
schemes he has favoured is to reclaim a large portion of desert land by
irrigation, and to give free gifts of 5-acre farms to native settlers.
When the present world war broke out, our great soldier and stateman
was in London consulting the Government regarding his plans to develop
and improve Egypt for the benefit of its people. He was about to
return, but his services were required at home. He was asked, and
consented, to undertake the duties of the War Secretary.
It then seemed as if his whole life-work has been directed to prepare
him for this responsible post. Our soldiers were to fight beside those
of our great ally, France: Kitchener had himself served in the French
army. Those dominions of the British Empire-Australia, New Zealand, and
Canada-which resolved to send contingents to aid in the struggle, were
familiar to him; he had helped to reorganize their forces and their
system of training. He understood the needs of South Africa. Turkey,
too, declared war, and Kitchener knew Turkey. Egypt was threatened: no
one knew Egypt better than Kitchener; he was familiar also with the
area through which the troops attacking it must march, having surveyed
that very land. From India came offers of help which were accepted. Our
army was then strengthened by those brave native soldiers whom
Kitchener had striven to make more efficient when acting as their
Commander-in-Chief. And last, but not least, the young men of the home
country who admired and trusted the great soldier responded to his call
for recruits in the hour of peril, with the result that "Kitchener's
Army" came into being.
One is reminded of the stirring little speech he made to a gathering of
representative soldiers in South Africa after peace was signed. In the
course of it he said:
"What have you learned during the war? Some have learned to ride and
shoot; all of you have learned discipline, to be stanch and steadfast
in the hour of danger, to attack with vigour, to hold what you have
gained.
"You can never forget the true friends and comrades by whose side you
have stood in a hundred fights. Even the hardships which you have so
cheerfully endured will in the remembrance be only pleasures.
"Teach the youths that come after you what you have learned.
"Keep your horses and rifles ready, and your bodies physically fit, so
that you may be prepared at any time to take your part in the great
Empire which unites us all."
Here we have the Kitchener motto, which should never be forgotten - BE PREPARED.
(Typed by Tammy Bosher)
Chapter 2 - General Joffre
General Joffre, the French Commander-in-Chief, is usually referred to
among his country-men as "Silent Joffre". He never utters an
unnecessary word, but what He does say is worth listening to. In
appearance he is not very soldierly, and certainly not at all like
Kitchener. He is of short stature and some-what stout, and he has a
habit of thrusting his hands into his pockets. In civilian attire one
might mistake him for a shrewd and prosperous city business man who has
spent much of his time at a desk. His jaw is broad and resolute, his
nose prominent, with wide nostrils, and his grey-blue eyes are as
kindly as they are penetrative. He has heavy, pondering lips, over
which droops a large white moustache, and deep lines seam his broad
forehead. You can see at a glance that he is a man accustomed to think
deeply and long. When he smiles his face beams with unaffected good
humour.
There is nothing about him to suggest the popular idea that all
Frenchmen are gay and light-hearted. The grave, silent Joffre is a
modest man of simple habits and manners. But he is "as hard as nails",
as the saying goes, and always "wide awake".
The great general is a man of humble origin. It is said that one of his
ancestors, a century ago, was a travelling pedlar in the Eastern
Pyrenees, who used to go from village to village driving a van with all
kinds of household wares. Because he was in the habit of shouting
"Joffre", which signifies "I offer", he became known as "Joffre", and
his descendants adopted the nickname as a surname. If this story is
true, the Joffre family must have had no cause to be ashamed of their
connection with the honest broker of village fame.
In boyhood General Joffre was regarded as being of rather daring and
reckless character. Bathing was his favourite recreation, and he won
among his fellows a great reputation as a diver and swimmer. But his
feats alarmed his parents, and especially his mother, who feared he
would some day meet with a grave mishap. It was his custom to have a
plunge in a river near his home every morning before breakfast. He was
ordered to discontinue it, because he could not be prevailed upon to
keep out of danger. "Some morning you'll be drowned," his mother
exclaimed nervously. "I have never heard of such a foolhardy boy as you
are."
The lad fretted under the restriction, and at length began to steal out
of the house before anyone was up. So he was put to sleep in a room in
a second story of the old-fashioned country house, and his mother
locked him in every night. The river was strictly forbidden. "He can't
be trusted," declared his mother; "he seems to enjoy risking his life."
But young Joffre was difficult to restrain. He soon hit on a plan to
have his morning dip unknown to anyone. Securing an old sheet, he tore
it up and made a "rope ladder" of it. He went early to bed, and woke
with the lark. In the grey dawn he lowered his ladder from the window,
clambered down it, and ran to the river-side. Then he had a cool plunge
in a deep pool, diving headlong from a jutting rock, and swam about
where the current was strongest as nimbly as a seal. Those who had
occasional glimpses of him in the water were not surprised that his
mother should feel nervous. After his bathe he did not wait to dry
himself, but scampered home across the fields and climbed up his ladder
to his bedroom before anyone in the house had wakened up.
These exploits went on for a time, until one morning the frail ladder
snapped, and the boy fell heavily into the garden and broke his leg. He
lay there for nearly two hours before he was discovered. "Oh, my dear,
foolish boy," exclaimed his mother, "I knew something terrible would
happen to you one day! Will you never be warned?"
His mother's tears hurt him more than his injury. So he resolved to be
obedient to her wishes in future. To please her he began to study
seriously, and when he was going about on crutches he got into the
habit of reading a good deal.
"After all," his mother remarked to a friend one day, "this accident he
has had may be a blessing in disguise."
At the same time she felt that her son had better have experience of
strict discipline. He had been so wayward and determined and cunning
that she feared he would return to his bathing exploits again. So the
boy was sent to a college sooner than was intended, and before he had
ceased to limp as he walked. He made good progress, and was looked upon
as a lad of great promise. In time he decided to study for the army,
and, like Kitchener, showed a preference for the Engineers. The
ambitious spirit he had displayed in rivalling the feats of other boys
in river bathing wasthen given a more serious turn. He determined to
acquit himself with distinction in his military studies, and he
certainly did so. Young Joffre was pointed out as an example to his
comrades.
Before he was nineteen the war of 1870 broke out between Germany and
France. He took part in the defence of Paris, and learned much by
bitter experience regarding the military needs of his country. After
the French capital fell, and peace was declared, he did useful work in
connection with the reconstruction of the city defences, and was
promoted to the rank of captain at the age of twenty-two. He was
already marked out as a young soldier of great promise. It is of
special interest to know that as an Engineer officer he had to do with
the rebuilding of the famous fortifications of Verdun.
Subsequently he saw much active service in the French colonies. He took
part in expeditions in Cochin-China, where he overlooked the erection
of forts, and in West Africa. He also performed important duties in
Madagascar and Algeria.
His promotion was rapid and well deserved. Ultimately, after his return
home, he became the youngest general in the French army. His interests
were entirely bound up in profession. He studied the art of warfare
continually, preparing himself for the struggle with Germany, which, he
felt fully convinced, was bound to come in his own lifetime. In
politics he took no part. When he appeared on a public platform he
spoke simply as a soldier, and never feared to be frank regarding the
seriousness of the coming conflict. In the army he was known as a
reformer. He cared nothing for display. He worked hard for efficiency.
His belief was that French soldiers were too apt to trust to their
daring and fearless methods of attack. He wanted to have them trained
to maintain a tenacious and enduring defensive, so that they might wear
down the enemy and strike hard when they got them at a disadvantage. At
manoeuvres he displayed great ability as a strategist who did the
unexpected and outwitted his opponents. Nobody ever knew what Joffre's
next move would be. He always showed himself strongest where his
opponents thought he was weakest. Everyone admired the clever manner in
which he handled large forces of men. The army and the public learned
to place entire confidence in the silent, determined, and watchful
General Joffre. His character has been well summed tip by one of our
own public men who paid him a visit at the seat of war. "General
Joffre", he said,"is not only a great soldier; he is also a great man."
(scanned by Art Middlekauff)
Chapter 3 - Field-Marshal
Sir John French
It is interesting to note that Sir John French is able to claim kinship
not only with the English, Scottish, and Irish under his command, but
also with our French allies. On his father’s side he is descended from
the Norman-French family of De Freigne, or De Fraxinis, which settled
in Ireland. One of his ancestors, Patrick French, was a burgess of the
town of Galway in the sixteenth century, and Patrick’s grandson was
popularly known as “Tierna More”, which in Gaelic means “the great
landlord”. This was John French of French Park, who commanded a troop
in the Inniskilling Dragoons at the battle of Aughrim. Our marshal’s
great-grandfather purchased the estate of Ripplevale, in Kent, and his
grandfather became a resident English landlord. Through his mother he
can claim a connection with Scotland. Her name was Margaret Eccles, and
she was the daughter of a wealthy West Indian merchant in Glasgow. Sir
John’s father was a captain in the navy. After his death a Scottish
uncle, Mr. William Smith, became the guardian of the family, which
consisted of one son the future great soldier and five daughters, one
of whom is Mrs. Charlotte Despard, of the “Women’s Freedom League”.
Sir John was born in Kent on 28th September, 1852. When he was quite a
little boy no one imagined he would become a stern and dashing soldier.
He was somewhat shy and nervous, and it seemed for a time as if he
would elect to be a clergyman, because he so often dressed up as one at
home and preached long sermons to his sisters. Nowadays he is known as
“Silent French”. But one trait of his youthful character he still
retains, and that is consideration for others. Soldiers admire him
because he is not one of those iron-hearted officers who seem to care
little how they waste human lives, and because he always concerns
himself greatly regarding their comfort. A pretty story is told about
him by one of the old house-servants who knew him as a child. “One
morning in the depth of winter,” she has said, “when I went downstairs
I found Master Johnnie kneeling on the dining-room hearth trying his
best to light the fire. He said in a tone of disappointment: ‘I meant
to have a good fire for you, but the wretched coal won’t burn’.”
His father and mother died when he was quite young, and “Master
Johnnie” came under the care of his guardian. As he grew up he became
fond of reading about wars. His favourite hero was Napoleon Bonaparte.
But he did not neglect his lessons. He was always very studious, and
early showed a desire to master a subject to which he applied himself.
Following his father’s example, he first chose the navy as a career,
and went to Eastman’s Naval Academy at Portsmouth to study for the
examinations. In time he became a midshipman on H.M.S. Warrior. The
ironclads of these days were in the transition stage: they were fitted
with engines and propellers, but also carried sails like Nelson’s
ships. A new type of vessel, which was named the Captain, was
introduced when French was a middy. Its sides rose only 9 feet out of
the water, and it had a raised “hurricane deck”, with two revolving
turrets carrying six guns. The crew consisted of about 600 men.
Great things were expected of the Captain. It was capable of powerful
gun-fire, and afforded a small target to an enemy. But it proved to be
thoroughly unseaworthy. Having been attached to the same squadron as
the Warrior, on which French was serving, it entered the Bay of Biscay
in rough weather. An anxious night went past, and when day dawned the
Captain was nowhere to be seen.
It had “turned turtle” and gone down with the entire crew. This
disaster, which happened on 7th September, 1870, greatly impressed
Midshipman French among others.
After four years’ life in the navy the young officer left the sea and
joined the 8th Hussars, in which he received a commission as a
lieutenant. A month later, on 11th March, 1874, he was transferred to
the 19th Hussars. His fellow-officers were not greatly impressed by
him. “Why,” exclaimed one of them, “he looks like a soda-water bottle.”
For a long time they nicknamed him “Soda-water-bottle French”.
But the shy lad of low stature soon showed his worth. He was a most
painstaking and studious soldier. He was quick to learn, and never
forgot what he learned. Besides, he always did his duty promptly and
thoroughly. His promotion was rapid, and he deserved it, for he worked
hard.
He first saw active service in Egypt in 1884-5, when he took part in
the operations against the Mahdi. He was then a major, and served under
General Sir Herbert Stewart, who was pressing southward towards
Khartoum to rescue Gordon with a force of less than 2500 men. At Abu
Rica, Stewart was attacked by an army of 11,000 Dervishes, and a fierce
battle was fought. The little British army formed a square, and
although it was penetrated by the enemy, the savage desert warriors
were driven back with great slaughter. It was in this action that
Colonel Burnaby, a famous British cavalry officer who was fighting as a
volunteer, met his death from an Arab spear.
The British pressed on, and next day fought another action, in which
Sir Herbert Stewart was slain. About three weeks later Sir Revers
Buller arrived with reinforcements, and enabled the column Stewart had
commanded to retire after a message had been received from Gordon
saying he was not able to hold out much longer. Buller made special
mention of French in his dispatches, adding that the force owed much to
him. Shortly afterwards French was promoted to the rank of
lieutenant-colonel, having proved himself an able and distinguished
leader of cavalry. He commanded the 19th Hussars for six years, and
then went to India as Assistant-Adjutant-General of Cavalry on the
staff. Two years later he was transferred to the War Office, and
carried out important reforms. He created a revolution in the training
and tactics of cavalry.
When the Boer War broke out French was made a full major-general and
given the command of the Cavalry Brigade in the Natal field force. He
proved himself to be a superb and dashing leader. His first success was
at Elandslaagte, where the Boers had cut the railway line and taken up
a strong position. He commanded a mixed force, and after a stiff
struggle drove back his opponents and captured their artillery and camp.
The main force of the Boer army afterwards pressed forward and began to
surround Ladysmith. General Sir George White resolved to defend the
town, and gave French important dispatches to carry to Sir Redvers
Buller, then the Commander-in-Chief. He travelled by the last train
which left the town. It was attacked by the Boers, but French escaped
the showers of bullets that swept through the carriages by lying under
a seat of a compartment, where he made himself as comfortable as
possible and calmly smoked a cigar.
He afterwards fought several actions which retarded the advance of the
Boers, and showed remarkable skill in adapting himself to the new
conditions of warfare.
Early in 1900, after the arrival in South Africa of Lords Roberts and
Kitchener, General French was placed in command of a mounted force
between 4000 and 5000 strong, including seven batteries of horse
artillery. His orders were to relieve the town of Kimberley, which had
been surrounded and besieged by the Boers since October of the previous
year. On 12th February he set out from Ramdan. “I promise faithfully”,
he said to Kitchener, “to relieve Kimberley at six o’clock on the
evening of the 15th if I am alive.” De Wet was watching this great
mobile force and attempted to intercept it. As French was crossing a
ford of the Riet River a shell burst near him, and he had a narrow
escape from death. It seemed that he bore a charmed life. Strange to
relate, French has never been wounded, although oft-times in danger.
In advancing upon Kimberley, French made quite a new use of cavalry. He
attacked strongly entrenched positions held by infantry and artillery
and passed right through between them. In doing so he opened out his
squadrons into very widely extended formation, so that the Boer fire
could not be concentrated against them, and clashed on at the gallop.
Before his opponents quite realized what was happening, the great
cavalry leader had passed behind and beyond them on his way to
Kimberley.
The weather was burning hot, and this mobile relieving-force suffered
alternately from dust storms and veldt fires. Still the advance was
continued according to French’s “time-table”. On the 14th Klip Drift,
an important strategic position, was successfully occupied. Next
morning the men were up early and in the saddle, riding forward at a
brisk pace. Kimberley was sighted at half-past two in the afternoon and
messages were sent to it by heliograph. The Boers occupied two kopjes,
and French, again extending his squadrons, charged through and round
his entrenched opponents, with the result that they found it necessary
to abandon the siege and effect a safe retreat. At six o’clock in the
evening the gallant general entered the town with a small force and
received a stirring welcome.
On the following evening, after engaging in several hours’ heavy
fighting, French received orders to hasten eastward so as to head off
General Cronje’s army, which was retiring from its strong position at
Magersfontein, and making for Bloemfontein. This difficult task was
performed with skill and success. The Boers were held up at Paardeberg
while Kitchener advanced with infantry and artillery and completely
surrounded them. After a brave and desperate resistance, against
overpowering numbers, Cronje and his army of about 2000 surrendered.
On the march to Bloemfontein, and afterwards to Pretoria, General
French distinguished himself as a cavalry leader. It was greatly due to
his rapid and clever movements that the Boers had to evacuate position
after position. The hardest fighting took place with General Botha, who
proved himself a leader of great resource and daring.
After Pretoria was occupied, Kitchener planned his wide sweeping
movements, which were called “drives”, to clear the various districts
of their mobile bands of fighting Boers. The greatest “drive” was
carried out by French in the Eastern Transvaal. Afterwards he operated
in the disturbed parts of Cape Colony. When the peace treaty was
signed, on 31st May, 1902, it was recognized that French was without
doubt the most original and brilliant leader of cavalry in the British
army. Both Roberts and Kitchener praised him on several occasions, but
none thought more highly of him than the soldiers under his command.
They learned to trust him with absolute confidence, and they loved him
because of his unassuming and kindly manner. He was always so cool, so
resourceful, so simple and quiet. The brilliant general never posed, as
it were, “to the gallery”. A boastful word never escaped his lips, and
he was generous to a fallen foeman. He always showed great concern
about the men under his command, and went about his work as coolly and
efficiently as a city man in his office or warehouse. The really great
and clever men are often the most humble and considerate. Sir John held
various high military positions at home after the Boer War. In 1913 he
was raised to the rank of Field-Marshal. When war broke out with
Germany he was appointed to command the British Expeditionary Force.
With Kitchener at the War Office and French at the front it was felt
throughout the British Empire that its military resources would be used
to the fullest advantage. No army in the world has leaders of greater
ability and distinction.
(scanned by Art Middlekauff)
Chapter 4 - Matchless Fighting-men
One thing which has been proved by the great war with Germany is that
the soldiers of the British Empire are unsurpassed as fearless and
determined fighting-men. At first the Germans despised them. In an
order said to have been issued to his troops, the Kaiser made reference
to "the contemptible little British army". But, soon after the fighting
commenced, our gallant soldiers showed they were as bold and brave in
battle as their heroic ancestors in days gone by.
The first meeting of British and German troops was in the vicinity of
Mons in southern Belgium. Our soldiers were extended along a line about
28 miles long.
The conflict began on a Sunday afternoon, and, owing to the rapid
advance of the Germans, it opened suddenly and unexpectedly.
Among the early arrivals at the position selected by General French
were the West Kents. The weather was warm, and after digging trenches
the men felt tired and hungry. While dinner was being got ready, a
number of the jolly Englishmen proposed to have a bath in a canal which
was in the vicinity. In a few minutes afterwards they were splashing
merrily in the cool waters.
"I say, this is just fine," you could hear a man exclaim as he sprayed
a comrade. "After that long march and digging the trenches, I wanted a
dip badly. How do you feel?"
"A bit all right now," came the usual answer.
At first some shouted challenges to swim with friends for a hundred
yards. But as more and more men entered the water, raising torrents of
spray, the canal became too crowded for competitions.
"Come on now, you men who have had your dip," shouted a sergeant on the
bank; "get out and allow some others to get in."
It was a lively scene. Dozens scrambled up the slope to run for towels,
and others dived in with splash and splutter and shout. One might think
the men were on holiday and not out to fight against fearful odds.
Those who had bathed, and got dressed, seized pannikins and filed
towards the camp kitchen to obtain their rations. Ere long groups of
hungry men were squatted about devouring a hot meal with relish, some
of them at the same time watching the cantrips of the bathers in the
canal.
Then suddenly the storm of war broke forth. Several German batteries of
artillery had crept up through a wood in front of the British lines,
and opened fire with shrapnel. The shells burst over the West Kents in
dozens, and immediately there was excitement and confusion. Just as
people scamper from the streets when a thunder-plump of rain comes
down, so did the bathers and diners scamper for cover. Some soon got
into position in their trenches; others had to snatch up towels and
clothes and then race for their rifles, drying and dressing themselves
afterwards in the narrow ditches they had excavated.
In other parts of the long British line, troops came under fire as soon
as they arrived. "They had to dig their trenches as they lay flat on
the ground—not an easy task—but they did the work all the same. Late
arrivals had no opportunity of using the spade at all, and took cover
where it could be found : behind hedges, bushes, or boulders, or simply
in shallow depressions formed by floods.
The bright sunshine was dimmed by the drifting smoke of the guns on
either side. Bullets and splinters from the German shells came whizzing
downwards, after each shell burst with a crash overhead. But the
British soldiers remained cool and collected. They even made merry
about the surprise they had received.
"What a dirty trick!" called one man. "They might have waited until I
had finished my dip. I wonder where's my cap!"
"And my tunic," another exclaimed.
"The Germans have no manners," remarked a third. "They chucked a dirty
bullet into my pannikin and spilt my soup."
"What a mess I'm in," growled a big-fellow who was but half dressed. "I
had just dried myself after a nice wash, when a shrapnel landed in a
pot of potatoes and spattered me all over with mash and skins. My, but
I do feel sticky!"
"They wanted to give you a German lightning lunch," a friend suggested,
with a grin. "Don't you know there are hundreds of waiters in front of
you?"
"Here they come," shouted man to man. "Aren't they pretty? Glad to see
you, my lads!"
The German infantry had begun to advance, believing that the British
had been demoralized by the artillery. But the shrapnel had been less
effective than they realized.
On came the enemy, charging in close order and in numbers far greater
than the British. Their blue-grey uniforms made their dense masses look
like waves sweeping over the green fields. And like waves they broke
when they came into range of the rifles. Hundreds fell before the
shower of well-directed bullets. For a few moments the attackers paused
after the first shock. But their officers urged them forward, and they
poured on again. In front of them the British troops were invisible,
crouching in their trenches, disdaining the crash and scream of
shrapnel, and taking sure and accurate aim. Whole companies of the
Germans were mowed down.
"This minds me of harvest work," a British soldier said. "It's like
reaping a field of barley."
"We'll soon have the whole crop cut," answered another.
On came the Germans, shouting and singing to keep up their courage,
over ground strewn with the dead and dying. Many crouched up their
shoulders and turned their faces sideways, as if they were walking
against a fierce shower of hailstones. But they could make no headway
against the bullet-storm. So quickly did they fall that in some places
the dead were piled up 5 feet high. Still the German officers cried : "
Vorwarts !" ("Forward!"), and the dazed men in the blue-grey uniforms
attempted to climb over the "walls" of the dead.
"Disgusting, I call it," remarked a British soldier.
"It's not fighting," a comrade said; "it's like shooting game."
"Are there any left?" asked a little man, reaching up to peer over his
rifle.
"Thousands of them! thousands of them!' someone answered. "They seem to
be rising out of the ground—coming out like rabbits from their holes."
The Germans were trying to overwhelm the British, but the khaki-clad
troops never flinched. Hour after hour went past and the terrible
slaughter continued. Battalions rushed forward and were shattered, and
the survivors scampered away. But other battalions hastened to attempt
the crossing of the blood-drenched ground. At some parts of the line
the pressure was terrible and constant. Now and again British cavalry
went out and set hosts of Germans scampering. Here and there the
machine-guns made gaps in the massed troops "like red-hot iron thrust
through packing-paper", as a British soldier put it.
Desperate fighting took place at a cross-road held by English,
Scottish, and Irish soldiers. Sometimes, after thinning out an
attacking German force, they leaped from cover and charged with the
bayonet. The sight of the glittering steel made the enemy run.
It was only once at Mons that the Germans faced the British attackers.
They had almost reached the trenches of the South Lancashires when out
leaped these fearless Englishmen and dashed on the closed ranks of the
Kaiser's warriors. They stood it for a few minutes, and frightful havoc
was done. The Germans, however, were no match for the Lancashires and
fled before them as fast as they could run.
"Rabbits don't like ferrets," a laughing Englishman exclaimed.
"And puppies hate running up against hedgehogs," added another.
All this time, and until darkness came on, the artillery roared on
either side without ceasing. The noise was deafening. Maxim guns
rattled like sewing-machines, howitzers bellowed like thunder, rifles
snapped out their fire like thousands of riding-whips snapping
together. In the distance the big-guns sounded like slamming doors.
Shells crashed in the air, on the ground, and dropped into the trenches
or burst in front of them, causing them to collapse and bury brave men
alive.
Aeroplanes skimmed below the clouds like giant eagles, spotting guns
and trenches and signalling the range. Sometimes one of the machines
was struck by shrapnel, and tumbled down like a bird with a broken wing.
Meanwhile the courageous members of the British Medical Staff Corps
attended to the wounded and removed them to the rear. When the disabled
warriors related their experiences in hospital they had many thrilling
stories to tell.
On the third day of the fighting a magnificent charge was made by the
2nd British Cavalry Brigade, consisting of Lancers, Hussars, and
Dragoons. Nothing like it has occurred since the Light Brigade won
great glory at Balaclava. They rode out to silence the German big guns,
which were doing frightful havoc at one particular point in the British
lines, but before they could reach them they had to pass through the
fire of about twenty machine-guns, which emptied many a saddle. Their
advance was also hampered by barbed-wire entanglements. But they rode
onward fearless and resolute and unstayed. When they reached the guns
they cut down the gunners; then they damaged the guns so that no
further fire might come from them. Having accomplished this they rode
back—"all that was left of them".
Both on their way out and on their return they encountered German
cavalry. One of the Germans who was taken prisoner said : " We were
stronger in numbers than the Lancers, and thought we would hold them
back, but they cut through us like cutters snipping barbed wire. I am
sure each one of them speared an opponent. We were thrown into
confusion, and just when we were trying to rally they wheeled round and
dashed at us again. I can hear them shouting still. Our men and horses
were cut down right and left. Ach! it was dreadful, indeed. Back they
came once more, and they did not leave us until we were all scattered.
Never again do I wish to meet a charge of the terrible Lancers."
A Middlesex company engaged in a most extraordinary struggle with the
enemy. The men were engaged digging a trench, and while doing so an
aeroplane flew overhead.
"I wish I had my rifle here," exclaimed one of the Englishmen, "so that
I might have a pop at that fellow."
The company had left their arms behind: they were to be brought up by
their comrades who were getting ready to take up position. It was hot
and sultry, and they worked hard.
Suddenly the sergeant saw advancing a force of German infantry with
fixed bayonets. The airman had signalled for them.
They were close at hand before they were noticed, and came on at a
rush. The trenchdiggers had no time to retire. Some stood up to defend
themselves with shovels; others used their fists. A good many fell,
dying like heroes; but a remnant kept the Germans at bay, and those who
got possession of the enemies' weapons set up a desperate fight until a
British force came to the rescue. This was the Connaught Rangers. The
dashing Irishmen attacked the Germans as Irishmen can, and drove them
back, slaying many and making prisoners of those who had thrown down
their arms and were unable to escape.
In another district the South Wales Borderers were hastening into
action when they came against a regiment of Uhlans attacking a convoy.
The gallant Welshmen at once took up position and opened fire, causing
many a horse and man to fall. As the fight developed, however, the
German cavalry was reinforced and an attempt was made to surround the
Welshmen and cut them up. It was a desperate situation.
"They have cornered us this time," a private exclaimed.
"They'll get it hot till the bitter end," remarked a companion.
But it seemed when he spoke that the end was not far off. The Welshmen
were out-numbered by their swiftly moving opponents. Then suddenly the
glad news was whispered along the lines: "Reinforcements are coming!"
"Who are they? Who are they?" many asked.
"Look! look!" exclaimed a sergeant; "here are the Scots Greys and the
1st Lancers."
It was a splendid sight to see how the British cavalrymen dashed
against the enemy, wheeling round, striking on left and right, retiring
and charging again. The Welsh infantry fought with renewed vigour. But
still the British force was outnumbered. For six hours the fight was
waged with great fury. Gradually, however, the Germans' encircling
movement was shattered. Here the Uhlans were compelled to retreat;
there they were thrown into confusion. Englishmen, Scotsmen, and
Welshmen fought as fearlessly and as well as their sires of old. In the
end the Germans were put to flight, after about 1500 had been either
killed or wounded.
Outnumbered—in some places by ten to one —the British army had to
retreat from Mons and district and fight what are known as rear-guard
actions, so as to prevent the Germans and mowed them down in scores.
The survivors fled confusedly, leaving the Guards in possession of the
ground they had so gallantly defended. Over 1400 Germans were put out
of action, most of them having been killed out-right, on that night of
carnage and slaughter.
A single man may sometimes perform a deed of heroism which will save
the lives of many. A canal was crossed by the Middlesex regiment, who
had to keep back the advance of a horde of Germans strongly supported
by heavy artillery. The bridge which spanned it had, however, to be
blown up. If the enemy succeeded in rushing over it they might be able
to overwhelm the gallant defenders. A charge of gun-cotton was placed
beneath a girder and the fuse set alight. This work was carried out by
a few members of the Royal Engineers, who suffered greatly from the
attention paid to them by German snipers. But, as luck would have it,
the fuse burnt out, having been severed by a bullet, and the bridge
remained intact.
Perceiving this, a sergeant of the Engineers rushed forward to relight
the stump of fuse which remained. It was a perilous task, because he
might not be able to run back far enough before the charge exploded.
But he never hesitated. He knew many British lives would be saved if he
successfully performed his duty.
The Germans opened fire on him with rifles and field-guns. A shrapnel
burst overhead as he caught the shortened fuse and ignited it. Then he
turned round and ran a few paces. A shell swept over the canal and
struck off his head, and in another second the gun-cotton exploded and
blew the bridge into fragments. The Middlesex soldiers were thus
enabled to hold their position, and before the time came to retreat
they punished the enemy severely. So confident were the Germans of
victory that a message was telegraphed to Berlin, saying: "The British
army is surrounded". There were rejoicings in the German capital, but
these did not last long. Step by step the dauntless soldiers of our
country retreated, fighting with courage and success, until the tide of
battle turned and the Germans were driven back pell-mell towards the
River Aisne.
C751 FIRING THE BRIDGE - An heroic eighteen-year-old Belgian corporal
firing a bridge at Termonde, amid a hail of bullets. A similar incident
is described on page 63.
Chapter 6 - Brave French Boys
When the great war broke out, all the able-bodied men of France who had
received a military training were called upon to join the army to fight
against the German invaders. Many French boys then wished they were old
enough to assist in defending their native land.
In every town and village you could hear them saying one to another:
"Our soldiers are sure to beat the 'Boches'." That is the nickname they
have given to the Germans. "My father left home this morning," a boy
would declare proudly; "he has promised to bring me back a German
helmet for a souvenir. I am going to keep watch over the house and
protect mother."
"Playing at soldiers" at once became the favourite game everywhere. The
young folks stuck little flags in their caps and armed them-selves with
wooden swords and guns. They drilled very smartly, just like real
soldiers, in the playgrounds, and marched through the streets as if
they were going to the war, keeping step to the music of their fifes
and drums. When they began to fight sham battles they had to pretend,
however, that their enemies were hiding somewhere in the woods. None of
the French boys would take the part of the 'Boches' even in a game.
They all wanted to be soldiers of France, so that they might return
home in the evening, shouting proudly: "We have defeated the 'Boches';
they are all running away."
When real soldiers marched through the streets on their way to the
battle-field, all the boys and girls of a town or village gathered to
cheer them and shout "Vive la France!" The fighting-men waved their
hands to them, smiling and well pleased.
Not only did they delight to honour their own countrymen. They also
welcomed gladly the brave British soldiers whom they soon learned to
love, because these khaki-clad warriors treated the young so kindly,
carrying some on their shoulders and grasping others by the hand as
they marched along.
At some railway stations the young people stood in crowds on the
platforms when they heard that British soldiers were to pass through by
train. Loudly they cheered as the engine slowed up to take in water.
Sometimes they tried to sing the soldiers' songs, and although they
could not understand the words they learned the tunes and rendered them
by repeating "La la-la, la-la la-la." They gave the soldiers presents
of sweets and fruits, and were thanked with smiles and handshakes. As
the train steamed away, the young folks shouted "Goo'neet, goo'neet,"
thinking that our "good-night" means exactly the same thing as their
"au revoir". The young French folks cried out "Goo'neet" whether it was
morning, or afternoon, or evening.
Quite a number of stories arc told of brave French boys who have taken
part in fighting, or shown that they were not afraid of the Germans who
invaded their towns. The people of France are very proud of their
"little heroes". One of these is named Gustave Chatain. At the
beginning of the war he was just fifteen years old. He was employed as
a herd-boy on a farm in north-eastern France, not very far from the
River Oise, which flows into the Seine. Most of the farm-workers had
been trained as soldiers, and were called up to fight for their
country. Gustave envied them greatly. "They are lucky fellows," he
said; "I wish I were big enough to go and fight the 'Boches' also."
Day after day he heard thrilling stories of battles in Belgium and
along the western frontier. "The 'Boches' are coming nearer," the
people began to say; "we have not yet got enough men together to keep
them back. Once our armies are at full strength, however, we will
defeat them. Besides, the brave British soldiers have come to fight for
us."
Gustave fretted to see the women growing more and more alarmed, while
Belgian and French refugees hastened westward. It was pitiful to see
these poor people as they fled before the Germans along the highways.
Old men and women and children had to walk many miles, carrying bundles
of clothing and articles of furniture. Some pushed wheelbarrows or
perambulators heaped up with the few things they could save, and others
had little carts drawn by dogs. When night came on they slept in the
fields or in barns, and they were thankful indeed when they reached a
village and were taken into houses. They told terrible stories of their
sufferings and the cruel deeds performed by the invaders. "Our homes
are burned," Gustave heard them say, with tears in their eyes; "many of
our friends have been killed; others have died by the wayside. Oh! give
us a little food. We are weak with hunger. Our little ones are crying
for milk."
Every day the crowds of refugees came along. "The 'Boches' are not far
off," they said. "Thousands and thousands of them are hastening through
France. They are trying to reach Paris."
At length, on a bright autumn morning, Gustave heard the German guns.
Their harsh booming, which sounded like distant thunder, came from the
direction of Senlis, a small town not far from the farm, with a
beautiful little cathedral and the ruins of an ancient castle in which
the kings of France used to reside in times long past.
The herd-boy listened for a time to the far-off roar of battle,
watching with sad eyes the puffs of dark smoke that appeared when
shells burst in the air. Then he said to himself: "Although I am only
fifteen I am big and strong for my age. I will run off and join the
army."
He slipped away without anybody noticing him. The women were gathered
together in groups, gazing towards Senlis, and wondering if they would
soon have to leave their homes. He walked across the fields as if he
were going to look after the cows, until he was out of sight of the
farm-house. Then he turned towards the highway and set off, walking as
fast as he could, in the direction of Senlis. Ere long he came to a
spot where three roads meet, and to his joy he saw marching towards him
a company of those hardy French soldiers, the Alpine Chasseurs, who
were on their way to the front. Gustave ran after them, and, taking up
the pace, went swinging along with manly strides.
"Hallo, boy!" shouted one of the soldiers; "where are you going? You
mustn't come this way.
Said Gustave: "I want to march with you to battle."
"You are a plucky little fellow," the soldier told him, "but you are
too young. The "Boches' would swallow you."
"If you will allow me to march with you," Gustave pleaded, "I will run
errands and make myself very useful. I am not afraid of the Boches'."
Several of the soldiers laughed, and one said: "Come along then. You
have a brave heart, and it's a pity you are not a little older."
Gustave was greatly delighted. He marched on, chatting with the
soldiers, and at length he said: "I see you have some spare rifles in
that cart behind there. I wish I had one."
Again the soldiers laughed, and one said to the other: "He's a real
Frenchman. But it would be a shame to take him into the fighting-line.
He might get killed."
"I am not afraid to die for France," Gustave told them.
"Give him a rifle," one of the soldiers said.
The boy turned towards the driver of the cart, holding out his right
hand and smiling. "Can you shoot?" the man asked.
"I have brought down hundreds of crows," Gustave answered, "so surely I
can bring down "Boches'."
"The man hauled out a rifle and handed it to the boy, saying: "You're
small, and can easily take cover. Just keep as cool as when you are
shooting crows."
"The 'Boches' are so much bigger than crows," Gustave said, "and I'll
thin them out. See if I don't."
"Come on, little hero," a soldier called merrily. "Fall in, and don't
boast till after you have done something."
Gustave went marching along, feeling very proud of himself, chatting
and exchanging jokes with the Chasseurs. But at length an officer saw
him and asked: "Who is this boy? He mustn't come with us. Send him home
at once."
"Please, sir," said Gustave, saluting, "I wish to fight for France like
my father and my brothers. Do let me go with you."
"You are just a child," the officer answered; "you must run away home."
The officer took the rifle from Gustave, and, seeing tears in the boy's
eyes, patted him on the back and said: "When you are a big lad come and
join the Alpine Chasseurs, and we'll all be proud of you. Au revoir."
Gustave had to fall out, and for a time he watched the soldiers
marching away in front of him along the dusty highway. But he did not
turn towards home. He soon saw the warriors of another famous regiment
approaching, and when they came up he fell into step and accompanied
them.
"You mustn't follow us, little fellow," a soldier warned him; "we are
going to battle."
"I can shoot well," said Gustave, "and I am a splendid walker. I want
to fight the 'Boches'."
"Do you hear what he says?" one soldier remarked to another. "He wants
to fight, and he's just a boy."
"What would your mother say if she knew?" a solder asked.
Said Gustave: "She would say she has now four sons at the front instead
of three. How proud she would be, too!"
"What is your name?" one of the men asked.
"Gustave Chatain," answered the boy.
"A brave name, indeed," another soldier re-marked, as they marched
along.
"I will run errands for you. I will be very useful," Gustave assured
the men near him. "Besides, I can hide easily, and, as I said, I shoot
well."
"If you promise to do what you are told, and keep out of sight," a
soldier answered, "you can come with us."
"Thank you very much!" cried the delighted boy. "I hope you have a
rifle to spare for me."
"If I gave you my rifle," remarked a smiling soldier, "I should have to
sit down and watch you shooting. That would never do. You have promised
to do what you are told, so I'll order you to lie down in a trench
until we have need of you."
"It would be better to send him home," another soldier declared.
"He has come too far," his companion answered. "It might be dangerous
for him to return now. We had better look after him until darkness
comes on."
A few minutes later the soldiers reached a bend in the highway, and
someone called out that Uhlans were approaching. An officer shouted a
sharp command, and the soldiers spread out and took cover. Gustave
crept up an embankment and saw about twenty German cavalrymen riding
across a field. His companions opened a brisk fire and the enemy turned
and fled, leaving nearly a dozen killed and wounded men behind. It was
all over in a few seconds.
Another order was then given, and the French soldiers changed position.
A German armed motor-car had come in sight, racing along the highway,
and its machine-gun began to sound its "rat-tat-tat" like a blacksmith
working very fast with his hammer. Several Frenchmen were killed, but
the car was driven away. Gustave picked up from beside a dead soldier a
rifle with fixed bayonet and several rounds of ammunition, and, seeing
the company he had joined were advancing to a new position, he followed
them. No one took any notice of him. In less than twenty, minutes he
came under fire. His company halted and took cover, keeping up a brisk
fusillade towards the east. Gustave saw about 200 "Boches" advancing.
They were clad in blue-grey uniforms, and marched close together. A
thrill of joy passed through his veins because he had-got a chance to
fight for his native land, and lying behind a bush he took careful aim
and fired several rounds. Before long the invaders began to retreat. As
they did so the French soldiers advanced steadily, rushing from bush to
bush and mound to mound, and firing briskly. Gustave did likewise. He
went on fighting until the "Boches" were out of sight. Then he looked
round to see where his company was next to move to. But to his
astonishment he found that he was alone. He had been so much concerned
about chasing "Boches" that he had not observed the Alpine soldiers
taking up a new position. Greatly disappointed he returned to the
highway. There he saw a dead soldier who was not much bigger than
himself, and took off his uniform and cap and put them on.
"Now everyone will think I am a real soldier," he said to himself. "I
will avenge the man whose uniform I am wearing." He heard firing in
front of him and hastened onwards. Evening was coming on, and he joined
a regiment which had just arrived at the front.
"I have got lost," he said to one of the soldiers. "I was fighting and
advanced too far.
It was observed that the uniform he wore was too big for him, and one
of the men said: "If an officer sees you he will put you under arrest."
"But I wish to fight," pleaded the boy. "To-day I have slain many
"Boches'." "That's more than any one of us has done yet," they told
him. "You had better fall in and come with us."
They made room for the brave lad between two men of short stature. "You
will never be noticed beside us," one of them said.
If Gustave was pleased before he was more pleased than ever now. He
felt that he was a real soldier at last, marching in the midst of brave
men.
That night he slept in a trench. His new regiment came into touch with
the enemy on the banks of the Marne. He awoke at day-break and made a
hurried breakfast of meat-sandwiches and coffee; but he felt little
desire for food, because a battle began to be waged with great fury. In
front of him the Germans had massed in great strength. They were
determined to press on towards Paris, and the strong armies of the
French and British were as determined that they would never get there.
The air was filled with the sound of guns of all sorts and sizes.
Shrapnel shells exploded overhead, ripping harshly like sheets of metal
being torn across by giants' hands. The "rat-tat-tat" of machine-guns
was heard on every side, and there was a constant whizzing of rifle
bullets that hummed like great bees and went past with lightning speed,
or spat with a "zip-zip-zip" as they struck the heaped-up earth in
front of the trenches. Occasionally every other noise was drowned for a
full moment by the thundering explosion of a tremendous shell from one
of the monster guns which the Germans had brought into action. Men fell
wounded or dead on every side, yet no one was afraid. Every soldier was
cool and determined and busy fighting against the invaders.
Gustave kept firing in front of him until the order came to advance.
Then he rose with fixed bayonet and rushed forward with the rest to
take up a new position and help to dig trenches. This happened over and
over again, and his heart was filled with pride to think that the
"Boches" were being driven back.
Before many days went past Gustave was looked upon as one of the
pluckiest soldiers in his company. He was given a new uniform which
fitted him better, a haversack, leggings, boots, and an overcoat. "When
my face is spattered with mud flung up by the shells," he said to a
companion, "no one is able to tell my age."
One day when Gustave advanced with the soldiers he reached a German
trench. He fought bravely with the bayonet. Describing this charge he
has said: "The 'Boches' are cowards. Many of them lie down in their
trenches when we advance and pretend to be dead. "That's one of their
tricks. One has to give each body a little kick to find out whether or
not a coward is shamming."
The allied armies won the great battle of the Marne, and the Germans
were compelled to retreat. Gustave's company marched vigorously in
pursuit of them with the others, and occasionally captured stragglers.
The "Boches" were so tired with hurrying up to reach Paris and then
retreating as smartly to escape the French and British bayonets, that
many of them fell down by the roadway or in fields, while others crept
into barns and houses to snatch a few hours of sleep.
Gustave accompanied an advance party for two days searching for these
stragglers, when he came to a farm-house. The soldiers made hurried
search through the rooms, and, not finding anyone, procured some food
and sat down to eat. Gustave meanwhile went to-wards a barn. The door
was closed and locked. "Through a crack, however, he was able to peer
inside. To his joy he saw several haversacks and a good many rounds of
ammunition lying beside a heap of straw. "Here's my chance", he said to
himself, "to take some prisoners". He never thought of calling for
assistance. With the aid of a splinter of wood he prised open the door,
making no noise as he did so. Then he entered stealthily, looking about
him, but could not see anybody on the ground floor. Listening intently,
he heard the sound of heavy snoring coming from the loft above. So he
crept softly up the ladder and saw seven "Boches" lying fast asleep on
the floor, where they had spread out beds of hay for themselves. The
fearless boy brought down the butt-end of his rifle sharply on the
floor and awakened them. Then they all sat up suddenly, looking very
much alarmed.
Gustave was prepared for them, having fixed his bayonet in case they
should show fight; but they threw up their hands above their heads to
signify that they surrendered.
"Follow me, one after another," Gustave said to one of the Germans who
understood French. Having delivered this order with an air of dignity,
he walked down the ladder from the loft and stood with his rifle at his
shoulder ready to fire if one dared to act with treachery.
They gave him no trouble, obeying his command readily. One after
another the "Boches" walked out of the barn, looking quite relieved.
They were all afraid of the brave herd-boy.
Gustave ordered them to stand in a row as if at drill. Then he called
to his companions, who were greatly amused and astonished to see seven
big German soldiers holding their hands above their heads, while the
gallant French boy stood looking at them with a stern, proud face. They
raised a cheer for Gustave and called him a hero.
Soon after this Gustave was sent home for a well-deserved rest. Before
he left the regiment an officer promised that he would receive a
suitable education to equip him for a military career.
Another young hero was Emile Despres, a boy of fourteen, who died the
death of a soldier. He did not have an opportunity of fighting like
Gustave, but he showed himself to be quite as fearless and bold in the
hour of peril. Armed Germans tried to break his courageous spirit. They
threatened him with death and then offered to spare his life if lie
would act the part of a traitor. But Emile preferred to die with honour
rather than live a life of shame.
A few weeks after war had been declared a battle was fought in the
vicinity of Emile's native village of Lourches, which is situated near
Douchy.
The French soldiers displayed great valour, but they were not numerous
enough to hold back the hordes of advancing Germans, and were forced to
retreat, much against their will. Many wounded soldiers came through
the village. Some fell exhausted on the roadway, weak from loss of
blood. Women went out and bandaged their wounds, and helped as many as
they could to take shelter inside the houses, while boys ran about
giving the bleeding soldiers water to quench their thirst. Shrapnel
shells burst overhead and splinters flew about, doing much damage.
Occasionally bullets spattered on the street like a shower of great
hailstones.
At length the Germans entered the village. They burst open doors and
smashed windows, searching everywhere for French soldiers, and were
exceedingly angry with those women who were acting as nurses. In a
miner's cottage lay a non-commissioned officer. He was in great pain,
for he had been wounded in the side by a fragment of a shell; his
cheeks were white as paper, his eyes half-closed, and his lips parched
and dry. The miner's wife was bending over him, doing her best to stop
the bleeding and relieve his suffering. He was very weak from loss of
blood.
A German officer entered, followed by a few of his men, carrying rifles
with fixed bayonets. He pushed aside the woman roughly, and she cried:
"Oh, you coward! Would you treat me like this because I am nursing a
brave man who is bleeding and in pain?"
The officer swore an oath and struck her, and she screamed helplessly.
His brutal behaviour filled the heart of the wounded Frenchman with
indignation. It was terrible to him to see one of his countrywomen who
had treated him so kindly being bullied and struck by a German. Raising
himself on his elbow he seized his revolver and fired. The bullet
entered the officer's brain and he fell dead on the floor. Again the
woman screamed and covered her eyes with horror.
The German soldiers pounced at once on the wounded Frenchman and
dragged him from the couch. "He will die for this," they said.
Emile Despres had been watching the Germans entering house after house,
and, like other boys, was wishing he were big and strong enough to
fight them, when he heard the woman's scream and the report of the
revolver. He ran into the miner's house and there saw a terrible sight.
The dead officer lay on the floor in a pool of blood, in a corner
crouched the terrified woman, while the German soldiers struggled with
the wounded man. Emile looked on helplessly. What could he do? He was
only a boy, and the enemies of his country were armed with deadly
weapons.
After a few moments the French non-commissioned officer ceased
struggling with his captors, and, leaning against the wall, panting
with exhaustion and pain, whispered hoarsely to Emile: "Water, water!
give me a drink of water!" His tongue was parched with thirst.
The Germans did not understand what he said, and, having bound his
arms, turned away from him. Then Emile crept forward with a cup of cold
water and held it to the mouth of the wounded man, who drank it up with
great thankfulness. The boy's action greatly enraged the Germans. They
seized Emile and pounded him with their fists, threw him on the floor,
and kicked him. But although he suffered greatly he neither wept nor
uttered a cry. Another officer who had been sent for had entered the
house just as the soldier was being given the water to drink, and when
he saw how brave this boy was he said: "Shoot him also."
The Germans bandaged the eyes of both the French soldier and Emile and
marched them out to the village street so that all the people might see
them being executed. Both stood up bravely. There was no sign of fear
in the boy's bearing. He was prepared to die for his country.
The German officer was ill pleased when he saw how Emile behaved. No
doubt he felt that he was displaying the spirit which moved all France
to resist the invader. So he thought he would put him to shame and
tempt him with his life to act the part of a coward.
"Take the bandage from the boy's eyes," he commanded, "and bring him
here".
A German private walked forward, snatched off the bandage which blinded
Emile, and pushed him over to the spot where the officer stood. The boy
looked up with astonishment, wondering what was to happen next. But he
never flinched; he was so brave and unafraid.
The officer thrust a rifle into the boy's hands, and, pointing to the
French soldier, who stood blindfolded, waiting to die, spoke in French
and said: "I will spare your life if you will shoot that man." He
smiled grimly, and one or two of the German soldiers laughed. Emile
made no reply. At first he looked with disdain at the officer, then a
smile crossed his pale face.
"When you shoot, you can run away home," the officer told him. As he
spoke he walked backwards a couple of paces.
Emile raised the rifle to his shoulder as if he were about to do as he
was commanded. He laid his finger on the trigger and the Germans
waited. But little did they understand the spirit of the French boy.
Suddenly Emile wheeled round, aimed point-blank at his cowardly
tempter, and fired. The officer fell dead at his feet. It all happened
in the twinkling of an eye.
The German soldiers who were standing near at once sprang upon the boy.
Two thrust their bayonets through him and others discharged their
rifles. Emile died ere he sank to the ground. But while the villagers
who looked on mourned the boy's sad fate, they rejoiced in their hearts
that he died the death of a hero. Emile Despres was a true son of
France. His name will be remembered to the glory of his country and the
shame of his country's enemies.
In some of the towns and villages on the line of battle the women and
children had to conceal themselves for many days in the cellars of
houses. Not a few were buried alive when the walls crumbled down before
exploding shells. Great sufferings were endured in all war-stricken
localities. Those who escaped death were often without food and water
for several days. Stirring stories are told of brave boys who boldly
ventured forth from hiding to procure supplies, so that their mothers
and brothers and sisters might not die of starvation.
At a farm-house near Reims a little boy about ten years old used to go
and fetch food for his mother every morning when the opposing armies
were fighting fiercely for long weeks on end in the neighbourhood. He
was always accompanied by two dogs, and walked a distance of 4 miles to
a village to purchase food. The British soldiers often watched him from
their trenches. When a shrapnel shell burst overhead he ran to take
cover. It was wonderful to see how fearless he was. Fortunately he
never suffered any injury. In time the British advanced beyond the
farm-house, and the plucky boy had no longer to risk his life to run
his mother's errands.