How Private
Charles Gudgeon, Of The 1st Battalion Northamptonshire Regiment, Won
the D.C.M. At Ypres
Although the First battle of Ypres is
generally regarded as having terminated with the failure of the attack of the
Prussian Guard on Gheluvelt on November 11th 1914, spasmodic attacks
still continued, and on November 12th, and the two following days,
the position occupied by the 2nd Brigade, of which the 1st
Northampton’s formed part, was so heavily bombarded that telephonic
communication was almost entirely suspended.
As it was, of course imperative for Brigade Headquarters to keep in touch
with the troops in the firing line, messages had to be sent by hand; and on the
evening of the 14th, Charles Gudgeon, who was acting Headquarters
orderly for his battalion, was despatched with one of them.
Gudgeon’s nearest way to our first line trenches lay through a wood, on
the edge of which stood the house, which served as Brigade Headquarters.
But the Germans were so persistently shelling this wood that he
considered it more prudent to skirt it, though this would entail a journey of
more than a mile. For half this
distance he would be in comparative safety, but after that he would come under
the observation of the enemy, and the last two of three hundred yards would be
very dangerous indeed, owing to the risks of shellfire and the activities of the
enemy’s snipers.
Gudgeon travelled at an ordinary pace until he
reached a house which marked the beginning of the danger zone; then, crouching
low, he made a dash for the cover afforded by some machine gun emplacements
about three hundred yards away. There
he paused for a few moments before embarking his next dash, to a ruined house
about one hundred and fifty yards distant.
This was a very hazardous undertaking, as it was hereabouts that the
snipers had brought down many an unfortunate British soldier, while the ground
was dotted with shell holes, among which he had to pick his way, thus rendering
rapid progress difficult. However,
he got safely across, through more than one bullet hummed past his head and took
refuge behind the ruined house to prepare for his last dash of one hundred yards
to the firing line, the most dangerous part of the whole journey, as the ground
was swept by both shell and rifle fire. But
he accomplished it in safety and delivered his message.
He had then to make the return journey and undergo the same nerve racking
experience over again; but this, too, he accomplished without mishap.
The brave fellow made this journey on another occasion, when he
volunteered to conduct some reinforcements who had just lost their way to the
firing line. Private-now Lance
Corporal Gudgeon, who was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for these
valuable services, is twenty-five years of age, and his home is at Northampton.
Extracted from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How Sergeant
David Brunton, Of The 19th Hussars, Won The D.C.M. At Le Bizet
On the
morning of October 15th 1914, our 3rd Corps, under General
Pulteney, who had detrained at St. Omer on the 11th and advanced as
far as Bailleul, driving the enemy before them, were ordered to make good the
line of the Lys from Armentieres to Sailly, and, in the face of considerable
opposition and very foggy weather, they succeeded in doing this, the 6th
Division at Sailly-Bec St. Maur and the 4th Division at Nieppe.
At this time B Squadron of the 19th Hussars was divisional
Cavalry to the 4th Division, and about one hour after noon on the 16th,
while at Romarin, Sergeant Bruntons troop officer, Lieutenant Murray, received
orders to proceed to the village of Le Bizet and reconnoitre it.
He accordingly set off at the head of a patrol consisting of Sergeant
Brunton, another sergeant named Emerson, and six men, and at about 2 p.m.
arrived on the outskirts of the village. The
officer and Brunton proceeded to examine the place through their glasses, and
the sergeant reported two of the enemy outside a house.
This showed that the village must be in possession of the Germans though
in what strength had yet to be ascertained.
The patrol then galloped in open order to a little in some five hundred
yards up the road, where they got under cover, without dismounting.
Leaving Brunton here in charge of the patrol, Lieutenant Murray,
accompanied by sergeant Emerson and a private named Groom, galloped across a
field to the entrance of the village, where he dismounted, and, giving his horse
to Private Groom, walked into the roadway.
At once several rifle shots rang out from houses on his right, and he
officer was seen to fall. Emerson
and Groom rode back at full speed to where their comrades were posted and
reported what had occurred, upon which sergeant Brunton sent Emerson to Romarin
to inform their squadron commander, and, with the rest of the patrol, galloped
towards the village and, dismounting, called for a volunteer to help him. A private named Jerome offered himself, and dismounted with
his rifle; and Brunton having sent the rest of the patrol with the led horses to
the inn, he and Jerome crawled towards the wounded officer in the roadway.
As they raised him up, they came under a heavy
rifle fire at almost point Blanc range, and were obliged to let the lieutenant
go and rush for cover. Happily,
neither of them was hit, most of the bullets whistling harmlessly over their
heads, and, after waiting a little while, they made a second attempt; and,
though again exposed to a hot fire, succeeded in dragging Lieutenant Murray
under cover. Then they found, to their sorrow, that they have risked their
lives to no purpose, as the unfortunate officer was quite dead.
He appeared to have been wounded in three places, in the head, the left
hand, and the region of the heart. Since
they could do nothing more for him, they decided to leave him and endeavour to
reach their horses; and, stooping low, they doubled across some ploughed fields
towards the place where the rest of the patrol was waiting.
The distance they had to traverse was about four hundred yards, and the
ground absolutely devoid of cover; but though they were heavily fired upon, not
only from the rear, but also from some brickfields occupied by the Germans on
their left, they succeeded in getting back safely.
By this time the squadron had arrived from Romarin, and on their
approach, the enemy, who seemed to have numbered about eighty, evacuated the
village and retreated. Sergeant
David Brunton, whose gallantry on this occasion gained him the Distinguished
Conduct Medal, was severely wounded in the right shoulder by shrapnel and
slightly gassed on May 24th 1915, during the Second Battle of Ypres.
He is thirty-four years of age, and his home is at Aldershot. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Lance-Corporal David Finlay, Of The 2nd Battalion The Black Watch,
Royal Highlanders, Won The Victoria Cross Near The Rue Du Bois
On
Sunday May 9th 1915, the French began their great attack on the
German position between La Targette and Carency, the advance of the infantry
being preceded by the most terrific bombardment yet seen in Western Europe,
which simply ate up the countryside for miles.
On the same day, chiefly as an auxiliary to the effort of our Allies in
the Artois, the British took the offensive in the Festubert area; the section
selected that between Festubert and Bois Grenier. The 8th Division, on our left, advanced from
Rouges Bancs, on the upper course of the River des Layes, towards Fromelles and
the northern part of the Aubers Ridge; while, on our right part of the 1st
corps and the Indian Corps advanced from the Rue du Bois, south of Neuve
Chapelle, towards the Bois du Biez. The
8th Division captured the first line of German trenches about Rouges
Bancs, and some detachments carried sections of their second and even third
line. But the violence of the
enemy’s machine gunfire from fortified posts on the flanks rendered the
captured trenches untenable, and practically all the ground the valour of our
men had won had to be abandoned. South
of Neuve Chapelle, the First Corps and the Indian corps met with no greater
success, though they displayed the utmost gallantry in the face of a most
murderous fire, and many acts of signal heroism were performed, notably that
which gained Lance-Corporal David Finlay, of the 2nd Black Watch the
Victoria Cross.
The Bareilly Brigade, of which the 2nd
Black Watch formed part, attacked early in the afternoon; but while our
artillery preparation was still in progress.
Lance-Corporal Finlay advanced at the head of a bombing party of ten men;
with the object of getting as near the enemy’s trenches as they could under
cover of the bombardment. It was a
desperate enterprise, for the German parapet bristled with machine guns, and
each one of the parties knew that his chance of returning in safety was slight
indeed. About fifteen or twenty
yards fro our trenches, which were separated by some one hundred and fifty yards
from the German, was a ditch full of water, ten to twelve feet wide and between
four and five feet deep, spanned by three bridges.
The party had got as far as the ditch before the enemy realized that they
were advancing, when a fierce rifle machine gun fire was at once opened upon
them, and eight out of Finlay’s ten men were put out of action, as all made
for one of the bridges. Two were
shot dead while crossing the bridge, and the others killed or wounded
immediately upon reaching the other side.
Undismayed by the fate of their comrades, Finlay and the two survivors
rushed on, and had covered about eighty yards, when a shell just behind Finlay.
He was uninjured, but so violent was the concussion that it knocked him
flat on his back, and he lost consciousness for some ten minutes.
When he recovered his senses, he saw one of his two men lying on the
ground about five paces to his left, and, crawling to him, he found that he had
been wounded in two places. He
opened his field dressing and bandaged him up, and then, quite regardless of his
own safety, half carried and half dragged him back to the British trench.
Lance-Corporal-now Sergeant-David Finlay who was awarded the Victoria
Cross, “for most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty,” is twenty-two
years of age, and his home is in Fifeshire. Extracted from
'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How Second Lieutenant Cecil Frederick Holcombe Calvert, Of The
3rd Battalion, South Staffordshire Regiment, Attached 179th
Company, Royal Engineers, was Recommended For The D.S.O.
Second
Lieutenant Cecil Frederick Holcombe Calvert, of the 3rd South Staffords,
who was then attached to the 179th Company, Royal Engineers, serving
with the 51st Division, performed a most splendid action, combining
conspicuous gallantry with determination and resourcefulness, on
September 6th 1915. A heavy
bombardment by the enemy had caused one of the mining shafts to fall in
killing two men and burying two others in one of the galleries.
Second Lieutenant Calvert, who was in charge of this isolated
post, at once went to the assistance of the important men, and as, owing
to the close proximity of the enemy, the noise made by the use of tools
would have invited certain death, he worked for three hours under heavy
fire, scraping away the earth with his hands until he had made a hole
large enough to rescue them. For this brave deed the young officer was recommended for the
Distinguished Service Order, but, unhappily, he never lived to receive
this coveted decoration, as eight days later (September 14th)
he lost his life in a most gallant attempt to rescue a man who had been
overcome by gas. The
poisonous fumes caused by the explosion of a German mine in the vicinity
had overtaken the man in a mining gallery before he could effect his
escape, and, although an attempt at rescue was fraught with terrible
risk, Second Lieutenant Calvert, without a moment’s hesitation, went
to his assistance. Before,
however, he could accomplish his task he was overcome by the gas, and
although he was brought out of the shaft and treated at once by the
medical officer on the spot, he was already too far-gone to rally the
seizure, and died without regaining consciousness.
He was buried in the extension reserved for British officers in
the Cemetery of Albert, in the Department of the Somme.
Second Lieutenant Calvert was the eldest son of Mr. Albert
Frederick Calvert, the well-known traveller and author, who received
many letters of sympathy from brother officers, expressing the high
estimation in which his son was held.
His commanding officer wrote: “I feel
sure it will comfort you to know that he died as he had lived, a victim
to his high souled sense of duty. The
Army can ill afford to lose such men.
Although he had only lately joined the 179th
Tunnelling Company, he had already made his mark, and we shall deeply
feel his loss.” “I cannot
tell you,” wrote one of his brother officers, “how we all mourn his
loss, which has cast a gloom over all of us.
During the short time he had been with this company he had
already won the admiration of all his fellow officers, on account of his
absolute fearlessness and coolness on all occasions.
His death will be a severe loss to the Service and particularly
to his friends. Since not
only did his coolness in action inspire confidence in all, but his
cheerfulness had also endeared him to all the officers of his unit.” Extracted
How
Acting Corporal George Dagger, Of The 1st Battalion Duke Of
Cornwall’s Light Infantry Won The D.C.M. At La Bassee
The men of the fair West Country have ever
responded nobly when their Sovereign required their services, whether on
land or sea, and many a mother in the ancient city of Bath is today
mourning the loss of one or more of her sons.
Among them is Mrs. Arthur Dagger, two of whose three soldier
sons, Sergeant Arthur Dagger, of the Somersetshire Light Infantry, and
Corporal George, of the 1st Battalion, Duke of Cornwall’s
Light Infantry, have already given their lives for King and country.
But at least she has the consolation of knowing that they fought
right valiantly, and that the younger, ere he fell, had won for himself
a foremost place on the British roll of honour.
Corporal George Dagger’s D.C.M. was awarded him for gallant
conduct in somewhat unusual circumstances.
During the fighting at La Bassee on December 16th
1914, the company to which he was attached found themselves suffering
many casualties from hand grenades discharged at them from what they had
supposed to be an unoccupied trench, lying between our trenches and
those of the enemy, at a distance of some fifty paces, but into which a
number of German bomb throwers had contrived to crawl.
These enterprising gentry having at length been driven out, the
officer in command of the Cornwall’s decided that the trench must be
filled in without delay, otherwise the bomb throwers would be certain to
return when darkness fell; and he called for volunteers to perform this
dangerous duty. Corporal
George Dagger was the first man to offer himself, and having been placed
in charge of the digging party, he crawled out to the trench and
remained there for three hours until the work was finished, during the
whole of which time he was exposed to a very heavy fire.
Unhappily, Corporal Dagger did not live
very long to wear his well-earned decoration, as he was killed early in
the following April, not long after his return to the front from a brief
visit to his wife at Northfleet, Gravesend.
In an interesting letter to the dead hero’s mother, published
in a Bath Chronicle of April 17th 1915, the widow writes:
“I hope you will try and bear up, as I know you have lost one son
already. It is a terrible
war. I greatly sympathize
with you, as I have lost a brother as well out there.
But I did hope and trust that my husband would come back.
I received a very nice letter from his officer, which gives
George great praise. All
his officers speak well of him. The
chaplain of his regiment buried him, and a cross has been erected over
his grave. The officer has
sent on his D.C.M. ribbon; he had it cut from his tunic.”
A comrade of the deceased in the Cornwall’s Private R. B.
Allen, writing from Flanders, also refers to Corporal Dagger’s death,
and says: “He was killed by a sniper’s bullet o the 7th
of April, and we have laid him to rest in the grounds of a big chateau,
and were are going to get flowers for his grave.”
Corporal Dagger, who was twenty-eight years of age, worked for
some time in Bath before joining the Army.
Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Second Lieutenant Geoffrey Harold Wooley, Of The 9th Country
Of London Battalion, The London Regiment (Queen Victoria’s Rifles) Won
the V.C. At Hill 60
Early in
the eventful August of 1914, a young undergraduate of Queen’s College,
Oxford, the son of a country clergyman, and who, but for the outbreak of
war, would have been by this time a clergyman himself, joined the 5th
Battalion Essex Regiment, and went with them to Drayton, near Norwich,
where that unit was to undergo its training, under the command of
Colonel J. M. Welch. His
stay with the 5th Essex was very brief, however, for on
August 26th he was transferred to the Queen Victoria’s
Rifles. This young man was
second Lieutenant Geoffrey Harold Woolley, who was to have the honour of
being the first territorial officer to win the Victoria Cross.
The Queen Victoria’s Rifles crossed the Channel in November
1914, and in due course proceeded to take their turn in their trenches
with the regular battalions of the 5th Division, to which
they were attached, where they came in on occasion for some pretty
severe shelling. But they
were not employed in attack until the affair at Hill 60 in the following
April, which was an experience none of them is ever likely to forget.
Hill 60-a hill, by the way, only by courtesy, since it is, in
point of fact, merely on earth heap from the cutting of the Ypres-Lille
Railway-lies a little to the west of Klein Zillebeke and just east of
the hamlet of Zwartlehen, the scene of the famous charge of our
Household Cavalry on the night of November 6th 1914.
Its importance was that it afforded an artillery position from
which the whole German front in the neighbourhood of Chateau Hollebeke
could be commanded.
At seven o’clock in the evening of April
17th the British exploded seven mines on the hill, which
played havoc with the defences, blowing up a trench line and 150 men,
after which under cover of heavy artillery fire, the position was
stormed by the 1st West Kent’s and the 2nd
King’s Own Scottish Borderers, who entrenched themselves in the shell
craters and brought up machine guns.
During the night several of the enemy’s counter attacks were
repulsed with heavy loss, and fierce hand-to-hand fighting took place;
but in the early morning the Germans succeeded in forcing back the
troops holding the right of the hill to the reverse slope, where,
however they hung on throughout the day.
In the evening the West Kent’s and the King’s Own Scottish
Borderers were relieved by the 2nd West Ridings and the 2nd
Yorkshire Light Infantry, who again stormed the hill, under cover of
heavy artillery fire, and drove the enemy off with the bayonet.
But Hill 60 was of vital importance to the enemy if they intended
to maintain their Hollebeke ground, and on the 19th another
fierce attack was made on it, with the support of artillery and
asphyxiating bombs. T was
repulsed, but the hill formed a salient, which exposed our men to fire
from three sides, and all through the 19th and 20th
a terrific cannonade was directed against them. In the evening of the latter day came another determined
infantry attack, while all the night parties of the enemy’s bomb
throwers kept working their way up to our trenches.
At 9.30 that night two companies of the queen Victoria’s under
Major Rees and Captain Westby, received orders to advance from their
trenches and take up a position close to the top of the hill.
Although the distance to be traversed was only some 200 yards, so
terrible was the fire to which they were exposed, that it took them two
hours to reach the post assigned to them, where they dug themselves in
close to a huge crater made by one of the British mines which had been
exploded on the 17th.
Towards
midnight Sergeant E. H. Pulleyn was ordered to take sixteen men to the
very crest of the hill, some twenty yards away, to fill a gap in our
trenches line there. A
withering fire was immediately opened upon the party by the enemy, who
were not thirty yards distant, and only the sergeant and eleven of his
men reached the position, while of the survivors five fell almost
immediately. Pulleyn and
the remaining six maintained there ground for a few minutes, when,
recognizing the impossibility of holding it longer, they retired and
rejoined their comrades, carrying their wounded with them.
Both Major Rees and Captain Westby had already been killed, and
of 150 riflemen who had followed them up that fatal hill, two-thirds had
fallen. The remainder held
on stubbornly, however and so accurate was their fire that the Germans
did not dare to advance over the crest.
But the crossfire to which our men were exposed was terrible;
never for a moment did it slacken, and man after man went down before
it. When day began to break
there were but thirty left.
It was at this critical moment that an
officer was seen making his way up the hill towards them.
The men in the trench held their breath; it seemed to them
impossible that anyone could come alive through the midst of the fearful
fire which was sweeping he slope; every instant they expected to see him
fall to rise no more. But
on he came, sometimes running, sometimes crawling, while bullets buzzed
past his head and shells burst all about him, until at last he climbed
the parapet and stood amongst them, unharmed.
Then they saw that he was second Lieutenant Woolley, who learning
that their officers ad been killed, had left the security of his own
trench and run the gauntlet of the enemy’s fire to take charge of that
gallant little band. His
arrival put fresh heart into the Queen Victoria’s, and there, in that
trench, choked with their dead and wounded comrades, shelled and bombed
and enfiladed by machine guns, this Oxford undergraduate, the two brave
N.C.O.’s, Pulleyn and Peabody, and their handful of Territorial, held
the German hordes at bay hour after hour, repelling more than one
attack, in which the young lieutenant rendered excellent service by the
accuracy of his bomb throwing, until at last relief came.
Of 4 officers and 150 N.C.O.’s and men who had ascended the
hill the previous night, only 2 N.C.O.’s and 24 men answered the roll
call. But, though they had suffered grievously, the battalion had
gained great honour, both for themselves and the whole Territorial
Force. Second
Lieutenant-now Captain-Woolley had the proud distinction of being the
first Territorial officer to be awarded the Victoria Cross; while
Sergeant Pulleyn and Corporal Peabody each received the Distinguished
Conduct Medal for “the great gallantry and endurance displayed, and
for the excellent service rendered, in the flight for the possession of
Hill 60. Other decorations, which
have fallen to the share of the Queen Victoria’s Rifles up to, the end
of 1915 are: Lieutenant-Colonel R. B. Shipley-C.M.G.; Captain S. J.
Sampson-Military Cross; Sergeant E. G. Burgess-D.C.M. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Private H. J. Hastings, Of The 2nd Battalion Oxfordshire And
Buckinghamshire Light Infantry, Won The D.C.M. Near Zonnebeke
If,
on July 23rd 1914, anyone had informed Mr H. J. Hastings,
then pursuing the peaceful occupation of a telegrapher at the Central
Telegraph Office, Newgate Street, that on that day three months it would
be his destiny to take the lives of no less than nine of his fellow men,
and to feel not the least compunction for so doing, he would have
enjoyed a hearty laugh at the prophet’s expense.
But then, on July 23rd 1914, no one in Newgate Street
dreamed that we were on the verge of the greatest war of modern times,
and that in less than a fortnight the British Empire would be fighting
for its very existence.
On the outbreak of war, Mr. Hastings was
one of the first to answer Lord Kitchener’s call for men, enlisting in
the 2nd Oxfordshire Light Infantry.
He went to France with one of the first drafts, saw service at
the Battles of the Marne and the Aisne, had his trousers ripped above
the knee by a fragment of shell and his water bottle smashed by a
shrapnel bullet, and on the evening of October 23rd found
himself with his battalion entrenched near Zonnebeke, some five to the
northeast of Ypres. It
had been a day of desperately hard fighting; the Germans, for the most
part new levies, though mown down in swathes by our fire, coming on
again and again with the utmost courage and determination, and it was
not expected that the night would pass without a renewal of their
attacks. Private Hastings
had already made something of a name for himself by his cool courage and
the excellence of his marksmanship, and he and two other men entrusted
with the task of holding a culvert over a brook and a narrow footpath
connecting the enemy’s line with ours, From which screened the mouth
of the culvert in direct front, but they had to hold the gaps on each
bank. Hastings, having been
given a free hand, put up some barbed wire over their side and across
the brook and built a sod barricade.
Scarcely had these preparations been completed, when two
companies of the enemy advanced to the attack.
He waited until they were almost level with him and he had them
black against the sky, and then opened fire.
One of his comrades stood by to keep him supplied with
ammunition, but by the time he had fired twenty-six rounds, the Germans
had had enough of it and retreated.
On going out to ascertain the loss he had inflicted on them, he
found nine Huns, one of whom was an officer. Lying dead and another
wounded. They were all from
the 223rd and 235th Regiments-two corps raised
since the outbreak of war-and most of them mere lads, in new uniforms.
With the assistance of another man he carried the wounded German
into the British lines next day, together with five others, who had
fallen in a previous attack. They
were very grateful, and one of them called him: “Kind Kamerad!”
Their friends in the German trenches were much less appreciative,
for they fired upon Hastings and the other soldier.
The next night the enemy made another
attack, this time from a slightly different direction.
As the advance was beginning, Hastings saw two men approaching
along the side of the brook, and under the impression that they were
from his own battalion, he allowed them to come quite close, when he
called out: “Hullo! How
many of you are out?” One
of the men looked up in surprise and said something in German, upon
which Hastings fired at him; but, being so close, the bullet passed over
his head. The German
immediately levelled his rifle, and he and Hastings fired together.
The Hun’s aim was bad, his bullet striking the bridge above,
but the Englishman’s bullet took effect; and with an oath, his
adversary fell and rolled into the brook, where he was drowned.
His comrade made off. The
enemy’s attack that night was a very determined one, and they advanced
to within twenty yards of our trenches before the withering fire, which
they encountered, drove them back.
Hastings, on his part, accounted for a dozen, four of whom were
killed; for, after the attack had been broken up, he crawled out to
where the dead men were lying and got their shoulder straps with
regimental numbers for information.
His “bag” in two nights thus totalled twenty-three, fourteen
of whom would never see the Fatherland again, and he had thus taken a
spacious revenge for the loss of a great friend and fellow telegraphers.
John Holder, who had been killed at his side a little while
before. Private Hastings,
who a few days later was wounded in the arm, though only slightly, was
awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, “for conspicuous
gallantry.” Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Squadron Sergeant Major Harry Croft, Of The 5th Dragoon
Guards, Won The D.C.M. At Zillebeke
At the end
of February 1915, the 5th Dragoon guards were in the trenches
near Zillebeke, performing more or less cheerfully, the work of
infantry, as they had been doing all through that long and dreary
winter. Meantime,
they themselves were receiving a lesson on the imprudence of yielding to
a temptation to admire the landscape, where the enemy’s trenches were
not a hundred yards from their own, and there happens to be a wood
affording admirable cover for snipers in between.
For whenever one of them chanced to raise his head above the
parapet, a rifle, and as often as not two or three together, cracked.Among the trees, and if he escaped with a bullet hole through his
cap or an ugly furrow along his cheek, he might consider himself
fortunate. The unwelcome
attentions of the marksmen in the word were becoming a serious nuisance,
and Squadron Sergeant Major Croft made up his mind to put a stop to it.
He did not believe that the shots came from isolated snipers,
since it is seldom that two or more snipers fire almost simultaneously,
as so frequently happened in this instance, and came to the conclusion
that the Germans must have an advanced post somewhere in the wood.
Accordingly, on the afternoon of February 27th, he
went out to endeavour to locate it; but before he had penetrated more
than a few yards into the wood he was seen and fired upon by the
Germans, and obliged to return. However,
he had noted the direction from which the shots came, and that night he
crept over the parapet of the British trench and crawled into the wood
again. The task in which he
had undertaken always very dangerous work-was rendered the more
hazardous by the fact that there was a bright moon. But, on the other hand the wood had been so damaged by
shellfire, that fallen trees and broken branches were lying everywhere,
and on a dark night it would have been almost impossible for him to move
about without making a noise which would have attracted the enemy’s
attention.
Slowly and cautiously, Croft made his way
through the wood, and had come within thirty yards of the German
entanglements, without seeing any signs of an advanced post, when
suddenly he heard voices quite close to him; and there, only a few paces
ahead, was a trench filled with Germans.
Croft had not brought his rifle with him, since it would have
hampered his movements; but he had provided himself with a couple of
revolvers, and drawing these, he took cover behind a tree and began
blazing away at the astonished Germans.
Shrieks and curses told him that some at least of his shots had
not been wasted, and in a minute or two the enemy, evidently under the
impression that they had been surprised by a party of our men, got out
of the trench and made off to their own lines as quickly as they could.
Nor do they appear to have returned it; anyway the 5th
Dragoon Guards had no longer any reason to complain of their unwelcome
attentions.
Squadron Sergeant Major Croft was awarded
the D.C.M. for “conspicuous gallantry,” the official announcement of
this honour adding that “he had been noted for courage and enterprise
on previous occasions.” The brave sergeant major is a Warwickshire man, his home
being at Saltley, Birmingham.
Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Private Henry Devenish Skinner, Of The 14th South Otaga
Regiment, N.Z.R., Won The D.C.M. At Chunuk Bair, Gallipoli
At the
beginning of august 1915, the British Headquarters Staff at Gallipoli,
having received intelligence that the Turks were massing forces for a
new attack, resolved to anticipate them by a great offensive movement.
The plan adopted involved four separate actions.
In the first place, a feint was to be made at the head of the
Gulf of Saros, as if to take the Bulair lines in both flank and rear.
Next a strong offensive would be assumed by the troops in the
Cape Helles region against their old objective, Achi Baba.
These two movements were intended to induce the Turks to send
their reserves to Krithia, and enable the left wing of the Anzac Corps
to gain the heights of Koja Chemen and the seaward ridges, and a great
new landing to be effected at Suvla Bay.
If the Anafarta hills could be captured, and the right of the new
landing force succeed in linking up with the Australasian left, with any
reasonable good fortune, it could be a mater of time before the western
end of the peninsula would be in our hands, and the European defences of
the Narrows at our mercy.
The great movement began
in the afternoon of August 6th, with a general attack by the
Allied forces at Cape Helles upon the Turkish position at Achi Baba.
At 4.30 p.m.; when this action had well started the 1st
Australian Brigade advanced to the attack of the formidable Turkish
trenches on the Lone pine Plateau, a position which commanded one of the
main sources of the enemy’s water supply, and rushing across the open,
amidst a veritable hail of shell and bullets from the front and from
either flank with irresistible dash and daring, carried them with the
bayonet, and what is more, maintained their grip upon them like a vice
during six days of counter attacks!
Magnificent as was this achievement, it was in essence only a
feint to cover the movements of General Godley’s New Zealand and
Australian Division on the left, which, as night was falling, began its
march up the coast towards the heights of Koja Chemen.
This force was divided into right and left covering columns and
right and left columns of assault.
With the right column of assault, which was under the command of
Brigadier General Johnston, and was to push up the ravines against the
Chunuk Bair ridge, were the 14th South Otagos, and in the
ranks of the South Otagos marched Private Henry Devenish Skinner, the
hero of the gallant deed which we are about to relate.
By ten o’clock on the morning of the 7th-a day of
blistering heat-the gallant New Zealanders had carried the hog’s back
known as the Rhododendron Ridge, just to the west of Chunuk Bair, and a
dawn on the 8th, having been reinforced by the 7th
Gloucester’s and the 8th Welsh (Pioneers)-two of the
battalions of the New Army-the Maori contingent and the Auckland Mounted
Rifles, they advanced to the assault of the crest of Chunuk Bair, and,
after a desperate struggle, carried that also, and through a gap in the
hills were able to catch a glimpse of the blue waters of the
Dardanelle’s. But our
losses had been very great, the Wellington Battalion, which had marched
out of the Anzac lines on the 6th seven hundred strong, being
now reduced to fifty-three, while the 7th Gloucester’s, in
the words of Sir Ian Hamilton, “consisted of small groups of men
commanded by junior non-commissioned officers and privates,” every
single officer and senior N.C.O. having been either killed or wounded.
That night the 14th South Otagos
received orders to take over the trenches just on the reverse side of
the crest of Chunuk Bair, and scrambled up the slopes in the dark,
through the midst of the dead and wounded who littered them.
Immediately on reaching the trenches, Private Skinner was sent by
a captain of the Sherwood Foresters to find the headquarters of the
South Otagos and deliver a message.
On the way he was three times stopped and covered in mistake for
a Turk, but he delivered his message and returned safely, stumbling
repeatedly over the dead as he walked.
During the night the battalion repulsed a counter attack and dug
themselves deeper in. Towards
dawn Skinner caught sight of a small fire just in front of our lines,
which he though might be attracting the enemy’s fire, and having
passed the word down the trench several times that he was going out to
extinguish it, in order to prevent his comrades shooting him under the
impression that he was a Turk, he crawled out, accompanied by his chum,
Gus Levett. On reaching the fire
they found that it was a dead man burning-the head thrown back towards
them, the eyes staring, the white face covered with dust, and the fists
tightly clenched above the chest, which was burning with a small livid
flame. At that moment one
of their own comrades fired at them at a range of ten or fifteen yards,
the bullet grazing Levett’s check and striking the ground between
Skinner’s hands and knees, throwing up sand and dust.
They crawled back and worked until dawn, strengthening their
defences. Then came a
violent bomb attack, during which skinner crawled out of the trench and
lay just behind the parados. This
was followed by an infantry charge, which the New Zealanders drove back
with rifle fire. A wounded
man, who was lying exposed to the fire of the enemy’s snipers a
hundred yards from the trench, lost his reason and attempted to shoot
himself; but one of the Anzacs, at great risk to himself, most gallantly
ran out and took his rifle from him.
An elderly man in a trench behind them also lost his senses and
kept firing wildly over their heads.
The Turkish artillery shelled them heavily, and shrapnel about
four inches above the knee tore the left leg of Skinner’s knickers,
and his leg grazed. A
sniper, some sixty yards off, who had already killed about a dozen of
the New Zealanders, fired at him, the bullet smashing his bayonet, which
lay across his temple, knocking him down, and wounding him on the top of
the head. The wound, though
a slight one, bled a good deal.
It was now about three o’clock in the
afternoon. At 10 a.m.
reinforcements had arrived, but since that time no one had been able to
cross the fire swept ground between the troops on the crest of Chunuk
Bair and their supports at Apex. A
second detachment had been set up, but had vanished under the terrible
shrapnel, machine gun and rifle fire concentrated upon them into a
hollow on the right of the slope, where it was supposed they were still.
The New Zealanders had no water and were suffering terribly from
thirst, and were exhausted by their desperate exertions of the past two
days, and, unless reinforcements reached them, their prospect of
retaining the ground they had won was very slight. The officer commanding the South Otagos wished to send back a
dispatch to Divisional Headquarters at Apex, and a captain wanted a
message conveyed to the reinforcements who were believed to be in the
hollow. He called for a
volunteer, and Skinner at once afforded himself.
Crawling to the end of the trenches, he made a dash across a
stretch of fairly level ground, which ended in a gully, where he would
be comparatively safe. The
sniper, whose bullets had so nearly cut short his career a little while
before, was on the alert, and immediately let drive at him, but failed
to hit him, and he reached the shelter of the gully with no worse
mischief than the loss of his hat. This gully, in which our men had suffered terrible losses,
was so choked with dead and wounded that he had to pick his way amongst
them. The Ghurkas, three
days dead, were ghastly sight. Skinner
saw a New Zealander in a sitting position, but quite dead.
He met a friend there, shot through the leg and through the
lungs, but still cheerful. Many
of the wounded were delirious; one cried for warm milk; almost all were
calling for help. He took
one man’s water bottle to get water from a well.
Lower down some of the wounded told him that he could not leave
the gully, as the Turks held its lower end and had snipers on the watch
for anyone who attempted to climb out.
He took the water bottle back unfilled, and began to climb up the
long, steep slope, which led to the hollow.
About half way up the snipers opened fire upon him, and he
started to run, bounding along so as to dodge the bullets, and reaching
the hollow, where the reinforcements to whom he was to deliver his
message were supposed to be, and flung himself flat on the ground.
On recovering his breath, he looked about him for the
reinforcements, but the only troops he saw were an officer and some
twenty or thirty men belonging t an English regiment-all stone dead!
A couple of milk cans filled with water for the firing line lay
amongst them. As he lay
there alone with the dead, shrapnel burst just above him, and he knew it
would be unsafe to remain longer. So
leaving this gruesome hollow, he began to run down the slope towards
Apex. Scarcely had he shown
himself than a Turkish machine gun opened fire and played upon him for
the whole of the one hundred and fifty yards which lay between him and
safety, while he was also exposed to a heavy rifle fire.
But, marvellous to relate, he was not touched, and Divisional
Headquarters presently beheld a hatless young man, with a blood stained
bandage round and over his head, his face streaked with dry blood, and
the left leg of his knickers torn almost to shreds, come panting up with
a torn scrap of paper-the all important dispatch for which this heroic
New Zealander had so readily risked his life clutched tightly in his
right hand. Private Henry
Devenish Skinner was awarded a most richly deserved Distinguished
Conduct Medal, the official announcement adding, “his bravery and
devotion to duty had been most marked.”
He is twenty-nine years of age, and his home is at Wellington. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Bandsman Thomas Edward Rendle, Of The 1st Duke Of
Cornwall’s Light Infantry, Won The Victoria Cross At Wulverghem
By
the middle of November 1914, the first battle of Ypres was over, and the
tide of the German attack had receded and lay grumbling and surging
beyond the defences which it had so lately threatened to overwhelm. But if the infantry on either side were now comparatively
inactive, the artillery bombardment still continued with varying
intensity, and day and night hundreds of shells were bursting along the
length of each line, and scores of men were being killed and wounded.
It was a fine frosty morning at the beginning of a cold
“snap” which had succeeded several days of snow and rain, and the 1st
Cornwalls, in their trenches near Wulverghem, were beginning to
congratulate themselves that they were at length able to keep dry.
“It is an ill wind,” however, and the one good point about
the recent bad weather was that it had made the ground so soft that the
enemy’s high explosive shells sank deeply in it before they detonated,
and expended most of their energy in an upward direction, throwing up
pyramids of mud, but doing comparatively little damage.
Now, however, on falling on the frozen earth, they carried
destruction far and wide, as the Cornwallis learned, to their cost, when
presently a battery of heavy howitzers began to shell them fiercely.
Bandsman Thomas Edward Rendle was engaged
in attending to one of the wounded, whose number was increasing every
minute, when a huge shell struck the parapet not far from him, blowing
the top completely in and burying several wounded men beneath the
debris. Without waiting to
look for a spade or to summon assistance, for he knew that there was not
a moment to be lost, the bandsman ran to the rescue, and began digging
away furiously with his hands, and burrowing through the fallen earth to
reach his unfortunate comrades. Soon
his fingers were raw and bleeding from such unaccustomed work, while he
laboured at the imminent risk of his life, since the fall of the parapet
had, of course exposed him to the fire of the enemy’s snipers, and
every time he rose to throw away the soil bullets hummed past his head.
But he toiled on heroically until every man was got out, and even
then, though utterly exhausted by his exertions, he remained on duty,
administrating what relief he could to the sufferers.
Bandsman Rendle was awarded the Victoria Cross, “for
conspicuous bravery,” and well indeed did he deserve to have his name
inscribed upon the most glorious roll of honour!
Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Corporal James Upton, Of The 1st Battalion Sherwood
Foresters, Won The V.C. At Rouges Bancs
On Sunday May 9th
1915, in conjunction with a forward movement of the French troops
between the right of our line and Arras, our 1st Corps and
the Indian Corps attacked the German position between Neuve Chapelle and
Givenchy, while the 8th Division of the 4th corps
attacked the enemy’s trenches in the neighbourhood of Rouges Bancs to
the northwest of Fromelles. Our
artillery preparation at Rouges Bancs began shortly before 5 a.m., and
half an hour later our infantry advanced to the assault of the German
trenches, which were separated from ours by a distance of some 250
yards, the intervening ground being destitute of every vestige of cover.
The East Lancashire and two companies of the 1st Sherwood
Foresters started the attack; but the artillery preparation had been
altogether inadequate, and our men came up against unbroken wire and
parapets. Many casualties
occurred during the advance, and many more during the subsequent
retirement. About
7 a.m., after a second bombardment of the enemy’s position, the
remaining two companies of the 1st Sherwood foresters scaled
the parapet and lined up about thirty yards in front of it, where they
lay down in a shallow trench, to await the order to advance.
With them was a young Lincolnshire man, corporal James Upton, who
on that day was destined to win the most coveted distinctions of the
British soldier. The
ground in front of the Sherwood’s was strewn with the wounded, some of
them terribly mutilated, and their cries for help were heartrending.
At last Corporal Upton could listen to them no longer; come what
might, he was resolved to go to their succour.Crawling
out of the trench, he made his way towards the enemy’s lines, and had
not gone far when he came upon a sergeant of the Worcester, who was
wounded in the thigh, the leg being broken.
Upton bandaged him up as well as he could an old flag and put his
leg in splints, which done, he carried him on his back to out trench and
consigned him to the care of some comrades.
Then, discarding his pack and the rest of his equipment, which
included a couple of jam tin bombs, he went out again and found another
man, who had been hit in the stomach.
As this man was too big and heavy to carry, he unrolled his
waterproof sheet, placed him on it, and dragged him in.
Going out for the third time, e was proceeding to carry in a man
with both legs shattered, and had got within ten yards of the trench,
when a high explosive shell burst close to them.
A piece of it struck the wounded man in the back, killing him
instantaneously, and giving Upton, though he escaped unhurt, a bad
shock. This obliged him to
rest for a while, but soon as he felt better the heroic non-commissioned
officer resumed his work of mercy, and venturing out again into the fire
swept open, succeeded in rescuing no less than ten more wounded men.
During the remainder of the day until eight at night he was
engaged in dressing the serious cases in front of our trenches, exposed
the whole time to a heavy artillery and rifle fire, from which, however,
he emerged without a scratch.
Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Sergeant John Crane, Of The 2nd Royal Munster Fusiliers,Won
The D.C.M. At Festubert
Early
on the morning of December 19th 1914, Sir John Willcocks
commanding the Indian corps, decided to take advantage of what appeared
to him a favourable opportunity to attack the advanced trenches of the
enemy. The British position
at the time on this part of our front extended from Cuinchy on the
south, to the west of Neuve Chapelle on the north, passing through
Givenchy and a little to the east of Festubert.
That attack was at first successful, but by the evening
determined counter attacks had driven the Indian corps back to its
original line; and by ten o’clock the next morning, the Germans,
following up their advantage, had captured a large part of Givenchy and
driven a wedge north of the town which exposed the right flank of the
Dehra Dun Brigade, stationed to the northeast of Festubert. All the afternoon of the 20th these troops
suffered severely, being, in the words of Sir John French, “pinned to
the ground by artillery fire.” But,
towards evening, strong reinforcements, which included the 2nd
Munsters, were hurried up to their support; and in the early hours of
the 21st this battalion was ordered to recapture a line of
distant trenches, from which the Indians had been driven on the previous
day. Just
before the order came, a young sergeant of the Munsters, John Crane, had
been sent with a message to the 2nd Brigade on their right,
and when he returned, he heard that his battalion had charged though no
one knew where it had gone or what had happened to it.
The darkness had simply swallowed it up. The sergeant reported himself to Major Ryan, D.S.O., of the
Munsters-a gallant officer who, unhappily, fell a victim to a sniper’s
bullet a few weeks later-at the Brigade Headquarters, and when the
forenoon passed without bringing any news of the lost battalion, Major
Ryan, becoming very anxious, asked Crane if he would go out and try to
locate it before darkness set in, telling him that he might take anyone
with him whom he wished. Lance-Corporal,
now Sergeant, Eccles at once agreed to accompany him, and about three
o’clock in the afternoon they set off having first taken off all their
equipment, in order not to impede their movements.
The ground in front of the British lines
was so swept by shell and rifle fire that they found it necessary to
make a wide detour, until they came to an old trench of ours, along
which they advanced for some five hundred yards, when, not having seen
any signs of the Munsters, they got out again, and, with bullets humming
all around them, made their way, by short rushes, for some distance
across the open ground until they came upon their battalion, or rather
remnants of it. For it had
been badly cut up, and was besides in a very precarious position, having
lost its way and being completely isolated.
They returned to their Brigade Headquarters and reported
accordingly, and were asked to go out again and guide their comrades
back, while arrangements were being made for troops to cover the sorely
tried battalion’s withdrawal. And
this task they successfully accomplished, under a heavy fire and through
a very difficult country, displaying, says the Gazette, “great
courage, endurance and marked resource.”
Subsequently, notwithstanding the fatigue,
which they must have been suffering, they took out stretcher-bearers and
brought in a number of wounded, including the colonel and the adjutant. Sergeant
Crane, who is only twenty-three years of age, was awarded the
Distinguished Conduct Medal, “for conspicuous gallantry and
ability,” and a similar honour was conferred upon Lance-Corporal
Eccles. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Lieutenant Smyth, Of The 15th Sikhs, Won The V.C. And Ten
Brave Indians The Indian Distinguished Service Medal, At The Ferme Du
Bois
There are no
finer fighting men in our Indian Army than the Sikhs, the descendants of
those fierce, long haired warriors who fought so stubbornly against us
at Firozshah and Chilianwala, and afterwards stood so loyally by the
British Raj in the dark days of the Mutiny.
And there are no finer officers in the world than the men who
lead them, for no youngster stands a chance of being gazetted to a Sikh
regiment who has not shown that he possesses in a marked degree all the
qualities which are likely to ensure the confidence and devotion of
those whom he aspires to command. When
the first Indian contingent disembarked at Marseilles in the early
autumn of 1914 there were some arm chair critics who expressed doubts as
to whether, under conditions of warfare so totally different from those
with which he was familiar, the native soldier might not be found
wanting. But these sceptics
were speedily confounded for, however strange and terrifying might be
the sight of the destruction wrought by hand grenades and high explosive
shells, however trying the long vigils in trenches knee deep in mud and
water, the Sepoy accepted t all with Oriental stoicism, and wherever his
officer led, he cheerfully followed, though it was into the very jaws of
death. And on many a desperate
enterprise, on many a forlorn hope, did these officers lead him, but
surely on none more so than that on which Lieutenant Smyth, of the 15th
Sikhs, led his little band of dark skinned heroes on May 18th
1915! On the previous night a
company of the 15th, under Captain Hyde Cates, had relieved a
part of the 1st Battalion Highland Light Infantry in a
section of a trench known as the “Glory Hole,” near the Ferme du
Bois, on the right front of the Indian Army corps.
Here for some fighting of a peculiarly fierce and sanguinary
character had been in progress; and the position of affairs at the
moment when the Sikhs replaced the Highlanders was that our men were in
occupation of a section of a German trench, the remaining portion being
still held by the enemy, who had succeeded in erecting a strong
barricade between themselves and the British.
Towards dawn Captain Cates observed that
the Germans were endeavouring to reinforce their comrades in the trench,
as numbers of men were seen doubling across the open towards its further
extremity. He immediately
ordered the Sikhs to fire upon them, but in the dim light they presented
exceedingly difficult targets; and when morning broke, it was
ascertained that the German trench was packed with men, who were
evidently meditating an attack. Shortly
afterwards, in fact, a perfect hail of bombs began to fall among the
Indians, who replied vigorously and, to judge from the shrieks and
curses which came from the other side of the barricade, with
considerable effect, until towards noon their supply of bombs began to
fail, many of them having been so damaged by the rain which had fallen
during the night as to quite useless.
The situation was a critical one; only the speedy arrival of a
bombing party from the reserve trenches could enable them to hold out.
The reserve trenches were some 250 yards distant, and the ground
between so exposed to the fire of the enemy as to render the dispatch of
reinforcements a most desperate undertaking.
Twice had the Highland Light Infantry made the attempt, and on
both occasions the officer in command had been killed and the party
practically wiped out. Nevertheless,
the Sikhs were resolved to take their chance, and on volunteers being
called for such was the magnificent spirit of the regiment that every
man stepped forward, though no one doubted that, if his services were
accepted, almost certain death awaited him.
Ten men were selected and placed under the command of Lieutenant
Smyth, a young officer of one and twenty, who had already distinguished
himself on more than one occasion by his dashing courage.
The names of these ten heroes deserve to be remembered.
They were: Sepoys Fatteh Singh, Ganda Singh, Harnam Singh, Lal
Singh, Naik Mangal Singh, Sarain Singh, Sapooram Singh, Sucha Singh,
Sunder Singh, and Ujagar Singh. At
two o’clock in the afternoon Lieutenant Smyth and his little band set
out on their perilous enterprise, taking with them two boxes containing
ninety-six bombs. The
ground, which they had to traverse, was absolutely devoid of all natural
cover. The only approach to shelter from the terrific fire which
greeted them the moment they showed their heads above the parapet of our
reserve trenches was an old partially demolished trench, which at best
of times was hardly knee deep, but was now in places literally choked
with the corpses of Highland Light Infantry, Worcester, Indians and
Germans. Dropping over the
parapet, they threw themselves flat on the ground and painfully wriggled
their way through the mud, pulling and pushing the boxes along with
them, until they reached the scanty shelter afforded by the old trench,
where they commenced a progress which for sheer horror can seldom have
been surpassed. By means of
pagris attached to the boxes the men in front pulled them along over and
through the dead bodies that encumbered the trench, while those behind
pushed with all their might. The
danger was enough to have appalled the stoutest heart.
Rifle and machine gun bullets ripped up the ground all around
them, while the air above was white with the puffs of shrapnel.
If a single bullet, a single fragment of shell, penetrated one of
these boxes of explosives, the men propelling it would infallibly be
blown to pieces.
Before they had advanced a score of yards
on their terrible journey Fatteh Singh fell, severely wounded; in
another hundred, Sucha Singh, Ujagar Singh and Sunder Singh were down,
thus leaving only Lieutenant Smyth and six men to get the boxes along.
However, spurred on by the thought of the dire necessity of their
comrades ahead, they by superhuman efforts, succeeded in dragging them
nearly to the end of the trench, when, in quick succession, Sarain Singh
and Sapooram Singhh were shot dead, while Ganda Singh, Harnam Singh and
Naik Mangal Singh were wounded. The
second box of bombs had therefore to be abandoned, and for the two
remaining men to hal even one box along in the face of such difficulties
appeared an impossible task. But nothing was impossible to the young lieutenant and the
heroic Lal Singh, and presently the anxious watchers in the trench ahead
saw them wriggling their way yard by yard into the open, dragging with
them the box upon the safe arrival of which so much depended.
As they emerged from the comparative shelter of the trench a
veritable hail of lead burst upon them; but, escaping it as though by a
miracle, they crawled on until they found themselves confronted by a
small stream, which at this point was to deep to wade.
They had, therefore, to turn aside and crawl along the bank of
the stream until they came to a place, which was just fordable.
Across this they struggled with their precious burden, the water
all about them churned into foam by the storm of bullets, clambered up
the further bank, and in a minute more were amongst their cheering
comrades. Both were unhurt, though their clothes were perforated by
bullet holes; but it is sad to relate that scarcely had they reached the
trench than the gallant Lal Singh was struck by a bullet and killed
instantly. For his “most
conspicuous bravery” Lieutenant Smyth received the Victoria Cross, and
each of the brave men who accompanied him the Indian Distinguished
Service Medal, and we may be very certain that “ne’er will their
glory fade” from the proud record of our Indian Army.
It is, we may mention, the universal opinion of the men of the 15th
Sikhs Sahib bears a charmed life, since again and again he has escaped
death by a hair’s breadth, on one occasion a match with which he was
lighting a cigarette being taken out of his fingers by a bullet.
Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Lance-Corporal O’Leary, Of The Irish Guards, Won The V.C. At Cuinchy
Before
the Great War was a month old the critics and all the experts had
formally decided that men had ceased to count.
They were never tried of telling us that it was purely an affair
of machines of scientific destruction, and that personal courage was of
no avail. Gone were the
days of knightly deeds, of hair’s breadth adventures, of acts of
individual prowess. They
told us so often and with such persistence that we all began to believe
them, and then one day the world rang with the story of Michael
O’Leary’s great exploit, and we knew that the age of heroes was not
yet passed. Once more
science had been dominated and beaten by human nerve and human grit.
The school for heroes is not a bed of roses and O’Learys was no
exception. He was in the
Navy, then he served his time in the Irish Guards, and after his seven
years he went to Canada and joined the Northwest Mounted Police.
By this time he was twenty-five he had sampled most of the
hardships that this soft age still offers to the adventurous and given
proof of the qualities which were to make him one of the outstanding
figures of the “Great Age.” A
long and desperate fight with a couple of cutthroats in the Far West had
revealed him to himself and shown his calibre to his friends.
The “Hun-tamer” was in the making.
On mobilization in August O’Leary hastened to rejoin his old
regiment, and by November he found himself in France with the rank of
lance corporal. His splendid health, gained in the open air life of the
Northwest, stood him in good stead during the long and trying winter;
but the enemy, exhausted by their frantic attempt to “hack away”
through to Calais, gave little trouble, and O’Leary had no chance to
show his metal. With the
spring, however, came a change, and there was considerable
“liveliness” in that part of the line held by the Irish Guards.
The regiment was holding important trenches at Cuinchy, a small
village in the dull and dreary country dotted with brickfields, which
lies south of the Bethune-La Bassee Canal.
On the last day of January the Germans attempted a surprise
against the trenches neighbouring those of the Irish Guards.
The position was lost and was to be retaken so that the line
should be re-established. There
was much friendly rivalry between the Irish Guards and the Coldstreams,
who had lost the ground; but at length it was decided that the latter
should lead the attack, while the Irish followed in support.
The morning of February 1st, a
day destined to be a red-letter day in the history of the British
soldier broke fine and clear, and simultaneously a storm of shot and
shell descended on the German trenches, which were marked down for
recapture. For the wretched
occupants there was no escape, for as soon as a head appeared above the
level of the sheltering parapet it was greeted by a hail of fire from
the rifles of our men. O’Leary,
however, was using his head as well as his rifle.
He had marked down the spot where a German machine gun was to be
found, and registered an inward resolve that that gun should be his
private and peculiar concern when the moment for the rush came.
After a short time the great guns ceased as suddenly as they had
began, and with a resounding cheer the Coldstreams sprang from the
trenches and made for the enemy with their bayonets.
The Germans, however, had not been completely annihilated by the
bombardment, and the survivors gallantly manned their battered trenches
and poured in a heavy fire on the advancing Coldstreams.
Now was the turn of the Irish, and quick as a flash they leapt up
with a true Irish yell. Many
a man bit the dust, but there was no holding back that mighty onslaught
which swept towards the German lines.
O’Leary, meanwhile, had not forgotten his machine gun.
He knew that it would have been dismantled during the bombardment
to save from being destroyed, and it was a matter of lie and death to
perhaps hundreds of his comrades that he should reach it in time to
prevent its being brought into action.
He put on his best pace and within a few seconds found himself in
a corner of the German trench on the way to his goal.
Immediately ahead of him was a barricade. Now a barricade is a formidable obstacle, but to O’Leary,
with the lives of his company to save, it was no obstacle, and its five
defenders quickly paid with their lives the penalty of standing between
an Irishman and his heart’s desire.
Leaving his five victims, O’Leary started off to cover the
eighty yards that still separated him from the second barricade where
the German machine gun was hidden.
He was literally now racing with death.
His comrade’s lives were in his hand, and the thought spurred
him on to superhuman efforts. At every moment he expected to hear the sharp burr of the gun
in action. A patch of boggy
ground prevented a direct approach to the barricade, and it was with
veritable anguish that he realized the necessity of a detour by the
railway line. Quick as
thought he was off again. A
few seconds passed, and then the Germans, working feverishly to remount
their machine gun and bring it into action against the oncoming Irish,
perceived the figure of fate in the shape of Lance-Corporal O’Leary, a
few yards away on their right with his rifle levelled at them.
The officer in charge had no time to realize that his finger was
on the button before death squared his account.
Two other reports followed in quick succession and two other
figures fell to the ground with barely a sound.
The two survivors had no mind to test O’Leary’s shooting
powers further and threw up their hands.
With his two captives before him the gallant Irishman returned in
triumph, while his comrades swept the enemy out of the trenches and
completed one of the most successful local actions we have ever
undertaken. O’Leary was
promoted sergeant before the day was over.
The story of his gallant deed was spread all over the regiment,
then over the brigade, then over the army.
Then
the official “Eye-witness” joined in and told the world, and finally
came the little notice in the Gazette, the award of the Victoria Cross,
and the homage of all who know a brave man when they see one. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Lance-Corporal Jacka Won The V.C. By Capturing A Trench Single
Handed
On
May 10th 1915, the Turks outside the parapet, all the men who
were throwing bombs being wounded, overwhelmed a small party of the 14th
Australian Battalion, who were holding a short section of trench at
Courtney’s Post. Seven or
eight Turks then jumped in, and this section o the trench was for the
moment left only to a wounded officer, who went to see the situation.
This officer, coming back through the communication trench said:
“They have got me; the Turks are in the trench.”
Lance-Corporal Jacka immediately jumped
from the communication trench up to the step, or bench, behind the last
traverse of the section of the fire trench, which had not yet been
reached by the Turks. He was exposed for a moment to the Turks rifles at a distance
of three yards. The Turks
were afraid to cross round the traverse, and he held them there for a
considerable time alone. Meanwhile
the word had gone back, “Officer wanted.”
Lieutenant Hamilton saw the Turks jumping into the trench and
began firing with his revolver, but the Turks shot him through the head. A second officer was sent up.
Then Jacka shouted: “Look out, sir, the Turks are in here.”
The officer asked Jacka if he would charge if he (the officer)
got some men to back him up, and Jacka said: “Yes.”
The officer’s platoon was following him, and he called for
volunteers. “It’s a
tough job. Will you back
Jacka up?” One of the
leading men answered: “It’s a sink or swim; we will come, sir,”
and the leading three men went forward.
The moment the leading man put his head round the corner he was
hit in three places and fell back, blocking the trench.
The exit from the trench at this end now
being well held, Jacka jumped back from the fire trench into the
communication trench. The
officer told Jacka that he would hold the exit and give the Turks the
impression that he was going to charge again. Jacka said he would make his way round through a
communication trench to the other end of the fire trench at the rear of
the Turks. This plan worked
excellently. The
officer’s party threw two bombs and fired several shots into the wall
of the trench opposite them. Jacka
made his way round, and a moment after the bombs were thrown he reached
a portion of the trench just behind the Turks.
The party in front shots and charged, but when they reached the
trench only four Turks came crawling over the parapet.
These Turks were shot, and Jacka was found in the trench with an
unlighted cigarette in his mouth and with a flushed face.
“I managed to get the beggars, sir,” he said.
In front of him was a trench literally blocked with Turks.
He had shot five, and had just finished bayoneting the remaining
two. One of them was only
wounded, and was taken prisoner. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Private James William Collins, Of The 1st Battalion Leinster
Regiment, Won The D.C.M. At St. Eloi
It
is the proud boast of the British Army that it never lacks leaders.
Unlike the Germans, whole companies of whom have been known to
throw down their arms when their officers and non-commissioned officers
have fallen, there is always some strong and dominant among the British
rank and file ready to spring into the gap in such an emergency, and, by
his courage and presence of mind, rally his comrades and inspire them to
renewed exertions. Nor do
such leaders always come from among the old campaigners, men who have
under fire more times than they can remember, and who have become so
familiarized with the sight of death that it has long since ceased to
have any terrors for them. Sometimes,
the soldier who so gallantly rises to the occasion is a mere lad, as the
following incident will show.
Early in the afternoon of February 14th
1915, during the desperate fighting at St. Eloi, a party of the 1st
Leinster Regiment, with a machine gun, were defending one of the first
line trenches, which had been subjected for some hours to a terrific
bombardment from the German batteries, in preparation for an infantry
attack. Suddenly they
received that the troops on their left, whose trenches had been blown
almost to atoms by the enemy’s guns, were retiring, and directly
afterwards the Germans began to advance in great force.
Rifle and machine gun spread death amongst the oncoming hordes;
but though the Germans fell in heaps, their numbers were too great to be
denied and they continued to advance.
It was plain that the Leinsters must retire also, for the enemy
outnumbered them by at least twelve to one, and against such odds the
most indomitable courage could be of no avail.
It the trench were rushed, they would be bayoneted to a man.
But it was above all things necessary to effect an orderly
retirement; otherwise their fate would be sealed.
It was at this critical moment that Private James William
Collins, a young soldier of twenty-one happening to glance about him,
perceived that some of the comrades-raw lads who had come out with the
last draft and were now under fire for the first time-were beginning to
loose their heads. Without
a moment’s hesitation, young Collins leaped upon the parados of the
trench and stood there “like a bandmaster on a stool”-as one who was
present expresses it-in full view of the advancing enemy, now not fifty
yards distant, shouting encouragement and abuse at the men in the rich
vocabulary of the British “Tommy.”
A shower of bullets greeted his appearance, but he seemed to bear
a charmed life, for by some miracle not one touched him, and he remained
in his perilous position for some minutes until he had succeeded in
rallying the men, while the Germans, astonished at such reckless daring
and at their failure to bring him down actually came to a halt within
ten yards of the parapet.
Thanks to the gallantry and presence of
mind of this young soldier, the party was able to effect a safe
retirement, without sustaining any further loss.
The trenches captured by the Germans did
not remain long in their possession, for that same night they were
retaken by a dashing counter attack, and a terrible price exacted from
the enemy for his brief success.
Private now Corporal-Collins was awarded
the D.C.M. “for conspicuous gallantry and very great daring.”
He is a West Countryman, his home being at Ford, Devonport.
Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Lance-Corporal Leonard James Keyworth Of The 24th (County Of
London) Battalion The London Regiment (The Queen’s) (T.F.), Won The
V.C. At Givenchy
One
of those acts of almost incredible bravery and contempt for death, the
account of which reads more like a page from the most extravagant of the
romances of adventure than sober fact, was performed during the British
attack on the enemy’s position at Givenchy on the night of May 25th-26th
1915. The hero of it was a
young Territory of twenty-two, Lance Corporal Leonard James Keyworth, of
the 24th Battalion London Regiment.
Keyworth’s battalion having already made
a successful assault on a part of the German line, determined to follow
up this success by a bomb attack. The
bomb throwers, to the number of seventy-five, advanced to the attack
from a small British trench situated on a slight hill, less than forty
yards from the enemy’s first line trenches; but though the distance
was short, the ground between had been so badly cut up by shell fire
that they could not progress very rapidly, and before they were half way
across, the majority of them had already fallen beneath the withering
fire from rifle and machine gun which was opened upon them.
But the rest, undismayed by the fate of their comrades, came
bravely on, and among them was Lance-corporal Keyworth. Extracted
from 'Deeds That Thrill The Empire'
How
Major Charles Allix Lavington Yate, of The 2nd Battalion, The
King’s Own (Yorkshire Light Infantry), Won The V.C. At Le
Cateau
It
may be said, quite fairly that the world has rarely seen an army of such
high rank as that which shouldered the burden of Great Britain during
the first six months of the war in Flanders and Northern France.
Though the army was small in umbers, the men held inviolable the
heritage of their race, great courage and tenacity of purpose. These qualities alone, however, would not have suffered in
view of the tremendous odds to which the men were opposed. Added to superb morale and physical fitness.
To maintain the latter athletics had been widely encouraged in
the army amongst both officers and rank and file.
Further, the methods of training the infantry followed the theory
of fighting in open order, and aimed at making each man an individual
fighter, who was to depend on himself in the battle line.
With so much of first-rate importance combined in the making of
each soldier, it is small wonder that the army, which crossed to France
in August 1914, should have proved so redoubtable a fighting force.
The most conspicuous act of bravery for which Major Charles Allix
Lavington Yate, of the 2nd Battalion, the King’s Own
(Yorkshire Light Infantry) was awarded the V.C. recalls in its dramatic
circumstances the heroic defence of Thermopyle, where Leonidas, the
Spartan king, with three hundred of his men opposed the Persian army of
Xerxes. In the battle of Le
Cateau on august 26th 1914, Von Kluck first tried to break
the British line by frontal attacks and by turning movement against the
left flank. Later on,
however, he used his great hordes of men in an enveloping movement on
both flanks. The position
was extremely critical, and at half past three Sir John French gave the
order for the British to retire. B
Company of the 2nd Battalion.
The King’s Own, which Major Yate commanded, was in the second
line of trenches, where it suffered fearful losses the enemy’s
shellfire, which was directed against one of the British batteries not
far behind. Of the whole
battalion, indeed, no less than twenty officers and six hundred men were
lost during the battle, and when the German infantry advanced with a
rush in the afternoon, there were only nineteen men left unwounded in
Major Yate’s company. But
with splendid courage and tenacity, they held their ground and continued
firing until their ammunition was all exhausted. At the last Major Yate
led his little party of nineteen survivors in a deathless charge against
the enemy. Though courage and discipline prevailed, there could be but
one result. Major Yate
fell, from which he subsequently died, a prisoner of war in Germany, and
his gallant band of men ceased to exist.
Halting a few yards from the parapet,
Keyworth began to throw his bombs.
Then, springing
