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  Volume I of this book "THE FIRST BATTALION" can be found in Project
  Gutenberg at: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64638




THE IRISH GUARDS IN THE GREAT WAR


[Illustration:

  _ITINERARY
  of the
  SECOND BATTALION IRISH GUARDS_

  _AUGUST 1915—DECEMBER 1918_

_Emery Walker Ltd. del. et sc._]

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY EMERY WALKER LTD., LONDON




                           THE IRISH GUARDS
                           IN THE GREAT WAR

                       EDITED AND COMPILED FROM
                       THEIR DIARIES AND PAPERS
                                  BY
                           RUDYARD KIPLING

              [Illustration: (decorative diamond icon)]


                             _VOLUME II_

                         THE SECOND BATTALION
                                 AND
                              APPENDICES


                      GARDEN CITY      NEW YORK
                      DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
                                 1923




        [Illustration: (personal colophon of Rudyard Kipling)]

                         COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY

                           RUDYARD KIPLING

          ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
          INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

                     PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES
                                  AT
              THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.

                           _First Edition_




                               CONTENTS


                           1915

  LOOS AND THE FIRST AUTUMN                                    1


                           1916

  SALIENT AND THE SOMME                                       49


                           1917

  RANCOURT TO BOURLON WOOD                                   119


                           1918

  ARRAS TO THE END                                           182


  APPENDICES                                                 217


  INDEX                                                      285




                             LIST OF MAPS

  Itinerary of the Second Battalion Irish Guards        _Frontispiece_

  Actions and Billets. Second Battalion          _Facing page_      48

  The Ypres Salient. Second Battalion Actions          ”            66

  The Somme. Second Battalion             _Between pages_     126, 127




THE IRISH GUARDS IN THE GREAT WAR




1915

LOOS AND THE FIRST AUTUMN


Officially, the formation of the 2nd Battalion of the Irish Guards
dates from the 15th July 1915, when it was announced that His Majesty
the King had been “graciously pleased to approve” of the formation of
two additional Battalions of Foot Guards—the 4th Grenadier Guards,
and the 2nd Battalion Irish Guards, which was to be made up out of
the personnel of the 2nd (Reserve) Battalion. And, officially, on
July 18 that formation took place. But those who knew the world in
the old days, and specially the busy part of it that had Warley
Barracks for its heart, know that the 2nd Battalion was born in
spirit as in substance, long ere the authorities bade it to be.
The needs of the war commanded it; the abundance of the reserves
then justified it; and, though Warley Barracks had been condemned
as unfit for use by the Honourable the East India Company a trifle
of fifty odd years ago, this was not the hour to stand on ancient
tradition. So the old, crazy barracks overflowed; the officers’ damp
and sweating dog-kennels were double-crammed; and, by sheer good-will
and stark discipline, the work went forward to the creation. Officers
and men alike welcomed it, for it is less pleasing to be absorbed in
drafts and driblets by an ever-hungry 1st Battalion in France, than
to be set apart for the sacrifice as a veritable battalion on its own
responsibility, with its own traditions (they sprang up immediately)
and its own jealous esprit-de-corps. A man may join for the sake of
“King and Country” but he goes over the top for the honour of his
own platoon, company, and battalion; and, the heart of man being
what it is, so soon as the 2nd Battalion opened its eyes, the first
thing that it beheld was its 1st Battalion, as an elder brother
to measure its stature against in all things. Yet, following the
ancient mystery of all armies, there were not two battalions, but one
regiment; officers and men interchangeable, and equally devoted to
the battalion that they served for the time, though in their deeper
minds, and sometimes confessing it, more devoutly attached to one or
the other of the two.

By summer of ’15 the tide of special reserve officers was towards
its flood, and the 2nd Battalion was largely filled by them. They
hailed from every quarter of the Empire, and represented almost every
profession and state of life in it, from the schoolboy of eighteen to
the lawyer of forty odd. They had parted long ago with any delusion
as to the war ending that year or the next. The information that came
to them by word of mouth was not of the sort dispensed in the Press,
and they knew, perhaps a little more than the public, how inadequate
were our preparations. One and all they realised that humanly
speaking, unless fortune favoured them with permanent disablement
they were doomed men; since all who recovered from their wounds were
returned to the war and sooner or later despatched. He was lucky
in those days who survived whole for three months; and six without
hurt was almost unheard of. So the atmosphere of their daily lives,
underneath the routine and the carefully organised amusements that
the world then offered to its victims, had an unreality, comparable
in some degree, to the elaborately articulated conversation and
serious argument over utterly trivial matters that springs up among
officers in that last hour of waiting under the thunder of the
preliminary bombardment before the word is given that hoists all
ranks slowly and methodically into a bone-naked landscape.

Lieut.-Colonel the Earl of Kerry, M.V.O., D.S.O., who commanded the
reserve and whose influence over the men was unbounded, began the
work of making the 2nd Battalion, and, later on, Major G. H. C.
Madden was recalled from duty in France to be its senior major.
Captain the Hon. T. E. Vesey was the first adjutant and, with a
tight hand which was appreciated afterwards, showed all that young
community how to take care of itself. It was a time for understanding
much and overlooking little. “Or else,” as the sergeants explained,
“ye’ll die before ye’ve killed a Jerry.”

On the 27th of July, Major and Brevet-Lieut.-Colonel the Hon. L. J.
P. Butler took over command, and on August the 6th the Battalion with
full transport, and packs, paraded as such for its first route-march,
of sixteen miles in the flat country, filled with training troops,
that lies round Warley. The weather was very hot, nor did that
officer who had bethought him to fill his “full pack” with a
full-blown air-cushion, take much reward of his ingenuity when his
unlucky fraud betrayed him by bursting almost under the adjutant’s
eye. Men said that that was their real introduction to the horrors of
war.

They were inspected on the 10th August by Major-General Sir
Francis Lloyd, commanding the London District who, after the usual
compliments on their physique and steadiness, told them they were due
for France in a few days. Lord Kitchener came down and addressed them
on the 13th of the month, was photographed with a group of all the
officers of the 2nd Battalion and Reserve Battalions, and expressed
his belief that they would be a credit to the Guards Division then,
as we know, being formed in France.

On the 16th they left Brentwood Station, that has seen so many
thousands depart; and that evening were packed tightly at Southampton
in the _Anglo-Canadian_ and the _Viper_. Duly escorted by destroyers,
for the seas were troubled by submarines, both ships tied up at Havre
in stillness and strange “foreign” smells at midnight. The city and
its outskirts for miles round had long since been turned wholly to
the monotonous business of expediting troops and supplies; and the
camps that ringed it spread and linked on almost daily. The French
were used, now, to our armed Empire at large flooding their streets.
Wonder and welcome had passed. No pretty maids met them with wine or
garlands, and their route inland to their work was as worn and smooth
as the traffic-burnished metals from Brentwood to the sea. But the
country and its habits were new to all those new hands, trained in
a strict school; and it filled them with joy to behold the casual
manner in which a worn and dusty French sentry was relieved while
they were marching to their first wonderful camp outside the city.

They entrained for Lumbres on the 18th August and were bidden, next
day, to march to billets at Acquin, a little village on a hill-side
a few miles from St. Omer, in a fold of the great Sussex-like downs.
It is a place both steep and scattered, cramped and hot, and when the
air-war was in full swing had its small share of bombs intended for
Army Headquarters at St. Omer, and the adjacent aerodromes. The men
were billeted in barns forty and fifty at a time which, specially for
a new battalion, was rather unhandy, as offering many ups and downs
and corners, which afford chances for delays and misunderstandings.
But it was to be their first and only experience of comfort for any
consecutive time, and of French life a little untouched by war. They
most deeply enjoyed the simple kindliness of the village-folk, and
the graceless comments of the little sharp-faced French children
at the halting attempts of the Irish to talk French; the glimpses
of intimate domestic days, when sons and brothers of their hosts,
returned on a few days’ leave from far-away battlefields in the
Argonne or beyond, were shown with pride to the visitors who were
helping the villagers to cart their corn—“precisely as our own sons
would have done.” They talked, too, with veterans of ’70 met in the
fields and at the cafés, who told them in set and rounded phrases
that war was serious. And the French men and women upon whom they
were billeted liked them well and remembered them long. Said one,
years after, with tears in the eyes: “Monsieur, if you drew a line in
the air and asked those children not to cross it, it was as a wall
to them. They played, monsieur, like infants, without any thought of
harm or unkindness; and then they would all become men again, very
serious—all those children of yours.”

So things were gracious and kindly about them in that little village
where every one had suffered loss, and was making their resolute,
curt, French best of it; and the 2nd Battalion settled down to an
eleventh-hour course of instruction in everything that the war of
that day might call for—except, it may be, how to avoid their own
cavalry on the march.

The historic first meeting between the 1st and 2nd Battalions took
place on the 30th August on a march out to St. Pierre, when the
units of the different Guards Brigades were drawing in together for
combined work preparatory to the Battle of Loos. The veterans of the
1st were personal in their remarks, deriding the bright cap-stars
of the 2nd Battalion, and telling them that they would soon know
better than to advertise their rank under fire. The 2nd Battalion
Diary notes a point that the 1st, doubtless through delicacy,
omits—that when the merry gathering under the trees in the field
was at an end, after dinner, the 2nd Battalion fell in and marched
off the ground “before the critical eyes of their older comrades,
and the 1st followed.” No fault was found, but it was a breathless
business, compared, by one who took part, to the performances of
rival peacocks. (“There was not any one else, that we considered; but
we knew that, if we put a foot wrong _that_ parade in front of _them_
we’d be in the road to hear tell of it the rest of our lives.”) And
it was on this great day, too, that the Rev. Father Knapp joined as
R.C. Chaplain to the Battalion, and thereafter proved himself as far
forward on all fields as any of the rest of his brethren.


LOOS

They began to learn something about service conditions when, on the
1st September, they joined up with their Brigade, the 2nd Guards
Brigade, and shared a wet day of advancing, on parallel roads, with
three Guards Brigades, for practice at coming up into the line.
Otherwise, they dug trenches by day and night, developed, more or
less, their own system of laying them out in the dark, and their
brigade’s idea of storming trenches with the help of bombers who had
had very little practice with the live bomb; and kept their ears
open for any news about conditions on the front. The “smoke-helmets”
issued on the eve of the Battalion’s departure from England were new
also. Many of the talc eye-pieces had cracked in transit, and had to
be replaced, and the men instructed how to slip them on against time.
This was even more important than the “attack of villages,” which
was another part of their curriculum at Avroult, Wismes, Wavrans,
Tatinghem, Wisques, Dohem, and the like in that dry autumn weather
that was saving itself to break filthily at Loos.

On the 5th September, knowing extremely well what they were intended
for, after battalion drill, Lieut.-General Haking, commanding the
Eleventh Corps, addressed all the Officers of the 2nd Guards Brigade
at the 1st Coldstream Mess at Lumbres. The summary is set down in the
Diary with no more comment than three exclamation points at the end.

He told them that an attack on the German lines was close at hand;
that the Germans had but forty thousand men at the selected point to
oppose our two hundred thousand; and that behind their firing-line
and supports were only six divisions as a reserve to their whole
western front. This may or may not have been true at the time. What
follows has a more direct bearing, perhaps, on the course of events,
so far as the Battalion was concerned. General Haking said that
almost everything depended on the platoon leaders, and “he instructed
them always to push on boldly whenever an opportunity offered, even
at the expense of exposing and leaving unguarded their flanks.”
Hence, perhaps, the exclamation points. From the civilian point of
view the advice seems hardly safe to offer to a battalion of at
least average courage a few days before they are to meet singularly
well-posted machine-guns, and carefully trained bombers.

Ceremonial drill of the whole of the 2nd Guards Brigade followed
the next day, when they were inspected by Major-General the Earl of
Cavan, marched past in column of double platoons, returned to line
in mass, complimented on their appearance and so forth, after which,
in the evening the C.O. of the Battalion with General Feilding (1st
Guards Brigade) Captain Viscount Gort (B.M. 1st Guards Brigade),
and Colonel Corry commanding the 3rd Grenadier Guards, went off in
a car to “see the country south-east of Béthune.” This was not a
sector that improved on acquaintance; and in the days that followed
all senior officers looked at and pondered over the unwholesome open
scarred ground over which “the greatest battle in the history of the
world,” as General Haking said, was to take place. Meantime, among
the drills held at Acquin appear orders, presumably for the first
time, that every one was to fire ten rounds “from his rifle while
wearing his smoke-helmet.” The result on the targets of this solitary
experiment is not recorded; but it takes some time for a man to get
used to sighting through dingy talc eye-pieces. Nor is it likely to
be known in this world whether the “six young officers” who attended
riding-school just before the march towards Loos, derived much
benefit from their instruction.

They moved on the evening of the 22nd September and marched to Dohem
where they picked up their Brigade Headquarters and some other units,
and thence, next day, in heavy rain to billets in Linghem. General
Haking delivered another speech at the Corps Conference on the 24th,
explaining the broad outlines of the “greatest battle, etc.” which
at that moment was opening. He dwelt specially on the part to be
played by the Eleventh Corps, as well as the necessity for speed and
for the use of reserves. It may have occurred to some of his hearers
that they were the reserves, but that speed was out of the question,
for the roads were clotted with cavalry, and there did not seem to
be any great choice of those “parallel roads” on which they had been
exercised, or any vast crush of motor-buses. When they got away from
Linghem on the early morning of the 25th and marched with their
brigade to Burbure and Haquin, they enjoyed continuous halts, owing
to the cavalry going forward, which meant, for the most part, through
them, and the wounded of the battle being brought back—all on the
same road. They billeted (this was merely a form) at Haquin “very wet
and tired” about one on the morning of the 26th, having been on their
feet standing, marching, or variously shifted about, for twenty odd
hours. The men’s breakfasts were issued at half-past four that same
dawn “as there was a possibility of an early move.”

No orders, however, came, the world around them being busied with
the shifting phases of the opening of Loos, which had begun with
an advance at some spots along the line, and at others was hung up
among wire that our two or three hours’ bombardment did not seem
to have wholly removed. The 2nd Guards Brigade, then, waited on
at Haquin till shortly after noon, and moved via Nœux-les-Mines,
Sailly-Labourse, Noyelles, and Vermelles, large portions of which
were then standing and identifiable, to trenches in front of Le
Rutoire. Here the German lines had been driven back a little, and
Captains Alexander and Hubbard commanding the two leading companies
of the Battalion were sent on to look at them in daylight. The
results of the Captains’ adventure, when it is recalled that one set
of trenches, at the best of times, looks remarkably like another,
and that this was far from being a good time, were surprisingly
satisfactory. “There was no one to tell them exactly which trenches
were to be taken over, but, from instructions given on the map, and
in consultation with the 1st Scots Guards who had to occupy ground
on their right, they arranged which set of them to inhabit. Owing to
congestion of roads, and having to go across much broken country,
etc., it was nearly midnight before the Battalion got into the
selected spot—an old line of captured German trenches in front of
Lone Tree.” This, as is well known to all regimental historians, was
a mark of the German guns almost to the inch, and, unfortunately,
formed one of our dressing-stations. At a moderate estimate the
Battalion had now been on foot and livelily awake for forty-eight
hours; the larger part of that time without any food. It remained
for them merely to go into the fight, which they did at half-past
two on the morning of the 27th September when they received “verbal
instructions to push forward to another line of captured German
trenches, some five hundred yards, relieving any troops that might
happen to be there.” It was nearly broad daylight by the time that
this disposition was completed, and they were much impressed with
the permanence and solidity of the German works in which they found
themselves, and remarked jestingly one to another, that “Jerry must
have built them with the idea of staying there for ever.” As a matter
of fact, “Jerry” did stay within half a mile of that very line for
the next three years and six weeks, less one day. They had their
first hint of his intentions when patrols pushed out from Nos. 2 and
3 Companies in the forenoon, reported that they were unable to get
even a hundred yards ahead, on account of rifle-fire. Men said, long
afterwards, that this was probably machine-gun fire out of the Bois
Hugo; which thoroughly swept all open communications, for the enemy
here as elsewhere had given ground a little without losing his head,
and was hitting back as methodically as ever.

The attack of their Brigade developed during the course of the day.
The four C.O.’s of the Battalions met their Brigadier at the 1st
Grenadier Guards Headquarters. He took them to a point just north of
Loos, whence they could see Chalk-Pit Wood, and the battered bulk
of the colliery head and workings known as Puits 14 bis, together
with what few small buildings still stood thereabouts, and told them
that he proposed to attack as follows: At half-past two a heavy
bombardment lasting for one hour and a half would be delivered on
that sector. At four the Second Irish Guards would advance upon
Chalk-Pit Wood and would establish themselves on the north-east
and south-east faces of it, supported by the 1st Coldstream. The
1st Scots Guards were to advance echeloned to the right rear of
the Irish, and to attack Puits 14 bis moving round the south side
of Chalk-Pit Wood, covered by heavy fire from the Irish out of the
Wood itself. For this purpose, four machine-guns of the Brigade
Machine-gun Company were to accompany the latter battalion. The 3rd
Grenadiers were to support the 1st Scots in their attack on the
Puits. Chalk-Pit Wood at that time existed as a somewhat dishevelled
line of smallish trees and brush running from north to south along
the edge of some irregular chalk workings which terminated at their
north end, in a deepish circular quarry. It was not easy to arrive
at its precise shape and size, for the thing, like so much of the
war-landscape of France, was seen but once by the men vitally
concerned in its features, and thereafter changed outline almost
weekly, as gun-fire smote and levelled it from different angles.

The orders for the Battalion, after the conference and the short
view of the ground, were that No. 3 Company (Captain Wynter) was to
advance from their trenches when the bombardment stopped, to the
southern end of Chalk-Pit Wood, get through and dig itself in in the
tough chalk on the farther side. No. 2 Company (Captain Bird), on the
left of No. 3, would make for the centre of the wood, dig in too, on
the far side, and thus prolong No. 3’s line up to and including the
Chalk-Pit—that is to say, that the two companies would hold the whole
face of the Wood.

Nos. 1 and 4 Companies were to follow and back up Nos. 3 and 2
respectively. At four o’clock the two leading companies deployed
and advanced, “keeping their direction and formation perfectly.”
That much could be seen from what remained of Vermelles water-tower,
where some of the officers of the 1st Battalion were watching,
regardless of occasional enemy shell. They advanced quickly, and
pushed through to the far edge of the Wood with very few casualties,
and those, as far as could be made out, from rifle or machine-gun
fire. (Shell-fire had caught them while getting out of their
trenches, but, notwithstanding, their losses had not been heavy till
then.) The rear companies pushed up to thicken the line, as the fire
increased from the front, and while digging in beyond the Wood, 2nd
Lieutenant Pakenham-Law was fatally wounded in the head. Digging was
not easy work, and seeing that the left of the two first companies
did not seem to have extended as far as the Chalk-Pit, at the north
of the Wood, the C.O. ordered the last two platoons of No. 4 Company
which were just coming up, to bear off to the left and get hold of
the place. In the meantime, the 1st Scots Guards, following orders,
had come partly round and partly through the right flank of the
Irish, and attacked Puits 14 bis, which was reasonably stocked with
machine-guns, but which they captured for the moment. Their rush
took with them “some few Irish Guardsmen,” with 2nd Lieutenants W.
F. J. Clifford and J. Kipling of No. 2 Company who went forward not
less willingly because Captain Cuthbert commanding the Scots Guards
party had been adjutant to the Reserve Battalion at Warley ere the
2nd Battalion was formed, and they all knew him. Together, this rush
reached a line beyond the Puits, well under machine-gun fire (out of
the Bois Hugo across the Lens-La Bassée road). Here 2nd Lieutenant
Clifford was shot and wounded or killed—the body was found later—and
2nd Lieutenant Kipling was wounded and missing. The Scots Guards also
lost Captain Cuthbert, wounded or killed, and the combined Irish and
Scots Guards party fell back from the Puits and retired “into and
through Chalk-Pit Wood in some confusion.” The C.O. and Adjutant,
Colonel Butler and Captain Vesey went forward through the Wood to
clear up matters, but, soon after they had entered it the Adjutant
was badly wounded and had to be carried off. Almost at the same
moment, “the men from the Puits came streaming back through the Wood,
followed by a great part of the line which had been digging in on the
farther side of it.”

Evidently, one and a half-hour’s bombardment, against a country-side
packed with machine-guns, was not enough to placate it. The Battalion
had been swept from all quarters, and shelled at the same time, at
the end of two hard days and sleepless nights, as a first experience
of war, and had lost seven of their officers in forty minutes. They
were re-formed somewhat to the rear along the Loos-Hulluch road.
(“Jerry did himself well at Loos upon us innocents. We went into it,
knowing no more than our own dead what was coming, and Jerry fair
lifted us out of it with machine-guns. That was all there was to it
_that_ day.”) The watchers on the Vermelles water-tower saw no more
than a slow forward wave obscured by Chalk-Pit Wood; the spreading
of a few scattered figures, always, it seemed, moving leisurely;
and then a return, with no apparent haste in it, behind the wood
once more. They had a fair idea, though, of what had happened, and
guessed what was to follow. The re-formed line would go up again
exactly to where it had come from. While this was being arranged,
and when a couple of companies of the 1st Coldstream had turned up
in a hollow on the edge of the Loos-Hulluch road, to support the
Battalion, a runner came back with a message from Captain Alexander
saying that he and some men were still in their scratch-trenches on
the far side of Chalk-Pit Wood, and he would be greatly obliged if
they would kindly send some more men up, and with speed. The actual
language was somewhat crisper, and was supplemented, so the tale
runs, by remarks from the runner addressed to the community at large.
The demand was met at once, and the rest of the line was despatched
to the near side of the Wood in support. The two companies of the
Coldstream came up on the left of the Irish Guards, and seized
and settled down in the Chalk-Pit itself. They all had a night’s
energetic digging ahead of them, with but their own entrenching tools
to help, and support-trenches had to be made behind the Wood in case
the enemy should be moved to counter-attack. To meet that chance,
as there was a gap between the supporting Coldstream Companies and
the First Guards Brigade on the left, the C.O. of the 2nd Battalion
collected some hundred and fifty men of various regiments, during the
dusk, and stuffed them into an old German communication-trench as
a defence. No counter-attack developed, but it was a joyless night
that they spent among the uptorn trees and lumps of unworkable chalk.
Their show had failed with all the others along the line, and “the
greatest battle in the history of the world” was frankly stuck. The
most they could do was to hang on and wait developments. They were
shelled throughout the next day, heavily but inaccurately, when 2nd
Lieutenant Sassoon was wounded by a rifle bullet. In the evening
they watched the 1st Coldstream make an unsuccessful attack on Puits
14 bis, for the place was a well-planned machine-gun nest—the first
of many that they were fated to lose their strength against through
the years to come. That night closed in rain, and they were left to
the mercy of Providence. No one could get to them, and they could
get at nobody; but they could and did dig deeper into the chalk,
to keep warm, and to ensure against the morrow (September 29) when
the enemy guns found their range and pitched the stuff fairly into
the trenches “burying many men and blowing a few to pieces.” Yet,
according to the count, which surely seems inaccurate, they only lost
twenty dead in the course of the long day. The 3rd Guards Brigade on
their right, sent in word that the Germans were massing for attack
in the Bois Hugo in front of their line. “All ranks were warned,”
which, in such a situation, meant no more than that the experienced
among them, of whom there were a few, waited for the cessation of
shell-fire, and the inexperienced, of whom there were many, waited
for what would come next. (“And the first time that he is under
_that_ sort of fire, a man stops his thinking. He’s all full of
wonder, sweat, and great curses.”) No attack, however, came, and
the Gunners claimed that their fire on Bois Hugo had broken it up.
Then the Brigade on their left cheered them with instructions that
Chalk-Pit Wood must be “held at all costs,” and that they would not
be relieved for another two days; also, that “certain modifications
of the Brigade line would take place.” It turned out later that
these arrangements did not affect the battalions. They were taken
out of the line “wet, dirty, and exhausted” on the night of the 30th
September when, after a heavy day’s shelling, the Norfolks relieved
them, and they got into billets behind Sailly-Labourse. They had
been under continuous strain since the 25th of the month, and from
the 27th to the 30th in a punishing action which had cost them, as
far as could be made out, 324 casualties, including 101 missing. Of
these last, the Diary records that “the majority of them were found
to have been admitted to some field ambulance, wounded.” The number
of known dead is set down officially as not more than 25, which must
be below the mark. Of their officers, 2nd Lieutenant Pakenham-Law had
died of wounds; 2nd Lieutenants Clifford and Kipling were missing,
Captain and Adjutant the Hon. T. E. Vesey, Captain Wynter, Lieutenant
Stevens, and 2nd Lieutenants Sassoon and Grayson were wounded, the
last being blown up by a shell. It was a fair average for the day of
a debut, and taught them somewhat for their future guidance. Their
commanding officer told them so at Adjutant’s Parade, after they
had been rested and cleaned on the 2nd October at Verquigneul; but
it does not seem to have occurred to any one to suggest that direct
infantry attacks, after ninety-minute bombardments, on works begotten
out of a generation of thought and prevision, scientifically built
up by immense labour and applied science, and developed against all
contingencies through nine months, are not likely to find a fortunate
issue. So, while the Press was explaining to a puzzled public what
a far-reaching success had been achieved, the “greatest battle in
the history of the world” simmered down to picking up the pieces on
both sides of the line, and a return to autumnal trench-work, until
more and heavier guns could be designed and manufactured in England.
Meantime, men died.


THE HOHENZOLLERN AND TRENCH WORK

The Battalion, a little rested, and strengthened by four officers
from the 1st Irish Guards (Lieutenant and temporary Captain
FitzGerald, Lieutenants Rankin and Montgomery, and 2nd Lieutenant
Langrishe) as well as a draft of a hundred men under Lieutenant
Hamilton, was introduced to the trenches on the 3rd October, when
they moved to Vermelles and hid themselves in the ruins and cellars
of as much as the enemy had allowed to remain of it. It was an
unpleasant experience. The following comment covers it, and the many
others of the same sort that followed: “We was big men for the most
part, and this creeping and crawling in and out of what’s left of
houses, was not our ways of living. Maybe some of the little fellows
in the Line would have found it easier. And there’s a smell to that
kind o’ billet worse than graves—a smell off the house-plaster where
it lies, and the wall-paper peelin’ off the walls, and what’s in
the sand-bags that we build acrost the passages an’ the sculleries,
ye’ll understand, and the water on the floors stinkin’ and rottin’.
Ye hear it drip like dhrums through ceilings in the night. And ye go
in an’ out of them dark, stinkin’ places always stoopin’ an’ steppin’
on bits o’ things. Dead houses put the wind up a man worse than
trenches.”

Next day they were turned down into the multitude of trenches,
established or in the making, which lay between Vermelles and
the great Hohenzollern redoubt that swept every line of approach
with its sudden fires. They were led out (October 5) at dusk
across a muddy field beside a dead town, and entered that endless
communication-trench called Central Boyau, whose length was reckoned
by hours. It led them to the line held by the East Yorks Regiment
and two companies of the K.O.Y.L.I. they were relieving. Men
forget much, but no man of any battalion ever forgets his first
introduction to the stable, deadly fire-line, as distinguished from
the casual field-trench. An hour or so before they moved off, a 5.9
burst in a ruined cottage where all the Battalion Staff was sitting,
and might well have destroyed the sergeant-major, drill-sergeants and
signallers, etc. The only casualty, however, was one pioneer killed,
while the officers of the Battalion Staff in the next mound of ruins
escaped unhurt.

Then began the slow and repeatedly checked sidle in the dusk, of
single men up Central Boyau, which was also a thoroughfare for
other units falling, tripping, and cursing among festoons of stray
telephone wires. From Vermelles to their trenches was a mile and a
quarter. They began at seven at night and completed the relief at six
in the morning. Not much shelling greeted them, but the darkness was
“tickled up,” as one man put it, with bullets from all angles, and
while No. 3 Company was settling in to reserve trenches just at the
point of grey dawn, 2nd Lieutenant Hine showed himself by getting up
on to the parapet, and was shot through the head at once, probably by
a sniper. Over and above the boy’s natural fearlessness, by which he
had already distinguished himself at Loos (for he had helped Captain
Alexander to hold the men in Chalk-Pit Wood after the failure of
Coldstream attack on Puits 14 bis), he was utterly convinced he would
not be killed in the war. Others of his companions had presentiments
of their own death more than once, and yet survived to the end with
nothing worse than a wound or gassing. It may be worth noting, as far
as this sort of information goes, that a man who felt that he was
“for it” on the eve of an engagement was seldom found to be wrong.
Occasionally, too, it would come over a man in the trenches that that
day or night would be his last. Indeed the very hour would sometimes
forespeak itself as with an audible voice, and he, chosen, would go
forward to the destined spot—so men have said who saw it—already
divorced from this world.

But at the beginning, before nerves wore down, there was hope and
interest for every one. The enemy had probably learned of the fresh
material before them, for they filled the day of the 6th October
with alternate whizz-bangs and large-size H.E. howitzers; the crack
and gravel-like smash of the small stuff alternating with the grunt,
vomit, and stamp of the Jack Johnsons. Every one was hit by the
flying dirt, and well-nigh choked by the stench, and some officers
visiting the front line had their first experience of crawling in
cold blood across bits of broken trench, where the débris of corpses
was so mingled with the untidy dirt that one could not be sure till
later what hand or foot had met. It struck some of the young officers
as curious that they were not more impressed. Others were frankly
sick; while others found that the sights lifted from them the dread
fear of being afraid which waits at every generous man’s shoulder.
But they all owned, according to their separate temperaments, that
they were quite sufficiently frightened for working purposes, and
so—went on with their work.

Between the 5th and the 7th October the Battalion lost one officer
(2nd Lieutenant Hine) and six other ranks killed and twenty-one
wounded. Their trenches were moderately good, and had been regularly
used, and they discovered dug-outs here and there, which enabled some
of them to doze lying down instead of propped against the side of
a trench full of moving men. This was great luxury to them, though
their revolvers punched holes in their hips and their boots drew like
blisters. The more imaginative wrote home that the life was something
like camping out. The truthful merely said that they were having an
interesting time, and gave their families peace. There was no need
to explain how their servants brought them up their meals, dodging,
balancing, and ducking along a trench as the fire caught it, or how,
even while the hungry youngsters waited and watched, both food and
servant would be wiped out together, with a stretch of the parapet
under which they had decided to eat.

Just where the Battalion lay, our front line was two hundred yards
from the enemy—too far for hand-bombing, but deadly for artillery
and machine-gun work. Our artillery was declared to be more numerous
and powerful than the German, which generally showered our supports
and reserves with shrapnel, while machine-guns kept down the heads
of the front line with small-arm fire. Orders had been issued at
that moment that recesses should be built, at twenty-five yard
intervals in our fire-trench parapets, for mounting gas-cylinders,
and the Battalion worked at this new fatigue under the direction of
an Engineer Officer, Lieutenant Ritchie. The recesses meant nothing
in particular, but gave people a pleasant feeling that there was
abundance of gas somewhere in the background. They were regularly
shelled, but, mankind being infinitely adaptable, had come in the
few days of this new life to look on it as almost normal, and to
alleviate it with small shifts and contrivances. “I think,” says one
of the beginners, “that in those days we were as self-centred as a
suburban villa-residence. The fact of not being able to put your
head up without having a shot through it kept us from worrying about
our neighbours.” Their first experience of external trouble in their
underground world began on the afternoon of the 8th October, when
loud bombing and shelling broke out two battalions down the line to
the right, and some one from the 3rd Grenadiers came charging round
the traverses asking for all available bombers, because the Germans
had got into their line and were making rather a hash of things.
Bombers were accordingly sent, though their experience with the live
bomb was limited, and the two companies on the right got to work on
sand-bags to bulkhead their right flank in case of a break through.
No one really thought that they would be attacked, possibly for the
reason that such a thing had not happened to them personally before.
“You see, we had lost count of time—even of the days of the week.
Every day seemed as long as a year, and I suppose we considered
ourselves like aged men—prisoners of Chillon, you know. We didn’t
think anything could happen.” On that occasion they were correct. The
riot died down and they fell back into normal night routine, every
second man in the fire-trench on sentry, every fifth man in support
seventy or eighty yards behind, and relief every hour; one officer
sitting, between rounds, on one particular spot of the fire-step
(so that every one knew where to find him), discussing life, death,
Very lights, and politics with his C.S.M. and at intervals peering
over the parapet; another officer pervading the support-trench where
bayonet charges are supposed to be supplied from, and where the
men grumble that they are always set to make fancy improvements.
Meantime, the dim dark on every hand is marked with distant
pin-pricks and dots, or nearer blurs or blasts of fire, that reveal
the torn edges of the shell-holes like wave-crests of a petrified
ocean. Yet, after a few nights, the men in the front line said their
chief difficulty was to avoid dozing off “because there was nothing
to do.”

They lost three killed and nineteen wounded from all causes between
the 7th and 8th October, but completed the recesses for the
gas-cylinders, and cleaned out an indescribably old trench, needed
for future operations, of its stale corpses mixed with bomb-boxes.
While this delicate job was in progress, the enemy started shelling
that section with high explosives and shrapnel. They had to shift
twenty boxes of bombs under, first, a particular and next a general
bombardment, which was connected with a German attack a little
farther down the line. Their relief came that same day, on the 12th
October, after their first full week in the trenches. It was not a
cheerful affair. Three battalions were involved in the chaos, as
far as the 2nd Irish Guards was concerned. What befell the rest of
their Brigade may be left to the imagination. A reconnoitring party
of the 1st Monmouths—four officers and eight other ranks—turned
up at a quarter past five to look over the Irish Guards’ trenches
before their own men came. They were sitting just outside Battalion
Headquarters when a 5.9 killed one of the officers and three of
the other ranks, wounded the three other officers, and buried the
whole party. The Diary, rightly regardful of the interests of the
Battalion, observes: “Another lucky escape for our Battalion H.Q.
Staff. For this was the spot in the trench normally occupied by
the senior drill-sergeant and all the orderlies.” Even so, the
Monmouths were the only relieving unit that had any idea where they
were or what they were to take over. The others, the 4th and 5th
Leicesters, lost themselves on the way and wandered blasphemous among
trenches. “The consequent confusion was deplorable.” The Battalion
were chaperoning themselves and others from half-past ten to a
quarter past four in the morning. Then began the mile and a half of
nightmare-like crawl up the seven-foot-deep communication-trench,
whose sides took strange Egyptian-desert-like colours in the
dawn-light, and whose bends and windings bewildered all sense of
direction. They shuffled in file behind each other like migrating
caterpillars, silently except for the grunt and jerk of a tired man
slipping in mud, and whispers along the echoing cut bidding them
always “close up.” They were all out, in every way, at five o’clock.
The relief had begun at eight. After this, they marched three or four
hours to billets at Vaudricourt and Drouvin, within sound but out
of reach of the guns, where they dropped and slept and shaved and
washed, and their officers were grateful to pig down, six together,
on the floor of a loft, and none troubled them till four in the
afternoon when they were ordered to parade “clean.”

Only two nights were allowed for rest and refit, during which time a
draft of fifty men under Lieutenant Kinahan joined, and the Battalion
bombers were “organised” (they had not thrown very well lately) and
made up to eight per platoon. That was on the 14th October. Next
morning the Brigadier called up the C.O.’s of all four battalions
and instructed them that every bomber was, as far as possible, to
be given the chance of throwing a live bomb before going into the
trenches again. He added that “again” meant next morning. On the
morning of the 15th October, then, each one of those one hundred
and twenty-eight organised bombers did, at practice, throw one live
bomb. Says the Diary, without even a note of exclamation: “With the
knowledge, experience, and confidence thus gained, they had to face
trained German bombers a few days later.” They might have had to
face them that same evening when they took over some Brigade Reserve
trenches, directly behind those of their first tour, from the 7th and
8th Sherwood Foresters; but they were merely shelled as they settled
in, and the bombing fell farther down the line. Their new trenches
were dirty and badly knocked about, but, by some obscure forethought
or other, well provided with small and fairly safe dug-outs which
gave cover to almost all. Though they were heavily shelled their
first two days, and many direct hits fell on the parapet itself, and
many men were buried, only two were killed outright and thirty-two
wounded. The sensation of being pinned, even when one has one’s
head above ground, by a weight of pressing earth, added to natural
speculation as to whether the next shell may complete the burial, is
a horror that returns to a man in his dreams, and takes the heart out
of some even more than dysentery. (“There’s something in being held
tight that makes you lose hold of yourself. I’ve seen men screamin’
and kickin’ like wired hares, and them no more than caught by one leg
or two. ’Tis against Nature for a man to be buried with his breath in
him.”)


A RAID

On the 18th October they relieved the 1st Coldstream in the front
line on the west face of Hohenzollern redoubt, which, were there
choice, might be reckoned the very warmest sector of all the
neighbourhood. Both battalions knowing their business, the relief
was effected in two and a half hours under heavy shelling without
casualty, though the Irish lost two killed and three wounded in the
earlier part of the day. Their new position ran without definite
distinction, except sand-bagged barricades, into the German system,
and one might at any time crawl into nests of enemy sentries and
bombers. This, again, was a fresh experience to them. Loos had been
clean-cut in its boundaries. Their week in Left and Right Boyau
from the 8th to the 15th October had not led to undue intimacies
with anything worse than Jack Johnsons, but now they were promised
a change of methods. Since the great break-through had failed that
was to carry our triumphant arms to Lille, the authorities seemed to
attach immense importance to the possession of a few score yards of
enemy trench, commanded, when won, by a few thousand yards of other
trenches, and were willing to expend much blood upon the captures.
Doubtless there was deep design at the back of the detailed work,
but, from the point of view of those who had to carry it through, it
was a little wearisome. They were warned that bombing attacks would
be the order of the day, and on the 10th October their Brigadier
visited them and, as a preliminary, ordered that a trench should be
run to connect Guildford Street, on the left of the redoubt as they
faced it, with West Face Trench, a matter of some “sixty yards over
ground fully exposed to hostile fire at a range of sixty yards.”
In this manner, then, was the trench dug. Beginning in the dark at
eight o’clock 2nd Lieutenant A. Pym, with a party of No. 1 Company,
crept out of West Face, Lance-Sergeant Comesky leading, and the
whole chain crawling behind him “extended” (on their stomachs) along
the line to be dug. They had noted the bearing very carefully in
the daytime, and a party in Guildford Street under 2nd Lieutenant
T. Nugent were trying to help them to keep it, in a subdued tone.
One must not shout when there are rifles and machine-guns, hands on
triggers, fifty yards away. As the party lay they dug and scratched,
first with their entrenching implements, and then with picks and
shovels passed along the line; and Lance-Sergeant Comesky, the curve
of whose labouring back in the darkness was their guide, had to
keep his direction through broken wire, what had been broken men,
shell-holes, and the infinite tangle and waste of war. The Irish have
some small reputation for digging when there is need. They dug that
night as not even the 1st Battalion had dug, and when light came the
new trench was four and a half feet deep, and the sole casualty was
Lance-Sergeant Comesky, slightly wounded. They had been suspected and
“slated” by machine-gun fire in their direction from time to time,
but were not actually located till they were well down. As a point of
vantage the new line had its defects. By daylight no periscope could
live there half a minute ere it was knocked to shivers by rifle-fire.

Meantime a couple of little reconnaissances had been sent out.
Private Horton (he had already shown his gifts in this direction),
“supported by a corporal and another man,” made his way along an
old blown-in trench that ran up the centre of the mass of the
Hohenzollern works, till he heard Germans talking at the far end of
it, and so reported. The second reconnaissance by Lance-Sergeant
G. McCarthy and Private Kingston of No. 2 Company explored along
another blown-in trench to the left of Private Horton’s line, which,
before our guns had wrecked it, had been a continuation of West Face
Trench and had run into Little Willie of unsavoury reputation, which
latter in its turn trended almost due north into the German works.
They found this trench barricaded just at its junction with Little
Willie, were fired on by a German sentry, and came away. So far good.
The Brigadier’s instructions next morning were for a night-attack
to be made along both these trenches which lay parallel to each
other; for barricades to be run up at the far end of the lengths
gained; and, later, the two points to be joined up by a fresh cut.
This, it was hoped, would pinch out about fifty yards of occupied
German trench opposite the one which had been dug that night by 2nd
Lieutenants A. Pym’s and Nugent’s party from Guildford Street to
West Face. What might arrive after that was a question of luck,
comparable to ferreting in a populous warren. The Battalion spent the
day under shell-fire that killed one man and wounded nine, in making
arrangements for bombs and sand-bags for the barricades, and decided
that the chain of men working up the trenches, which barely allowed
one and a half men abreast, should consist of two bombers, two
riflemen; two bombers and two riflemen again; and four men to carry
spare bombs. These were to drive the enemy back and hold them while
new barricades were being built in the annexed territory. Then would
come an officer and four more bombers to “hold the new barricade in
event of the leading bombers being rushed while it was being built,
then two men to build the barricade; then a chain of riflemen at
two-yard intervals reaching back to the point of departure who would
pass up more bombs or sand-bags as need arose,” and would clean up
the old trench along which our advance was made, “so as to give us
free access to our new barricade in daylight.” It is to be borne in
mind that, at that time, the bombers of the 2nd Irish Guards had
thrown just one live bomb apiece at training. (“We went in great
dread of our rear-ranks that night. A bomb’s no thing—more than fixed
bayonets—to go capering up trenches with at _anny_ time. And the
first time least of all.”)

The attack was confided to No. 4 Company (Captain Hubbard), who
chose 2nd Lieutenants T. F. Tallents and Hamilton for the left and
right attacks respectively. They led out at one in the morning, very
carefully, for the men were cautioned to stalk the enemy as much as
possible, but the moment they were discovered, to rush him back up
the trench. So he had to be listened for in the dark, with a sky
full of noises overhead. As soon as “contact had been obtained”—that
is to say, as soon as the first crack of a bomb and the yell that
accompanies it were heard down the cutting—the Very lights were
sent up for a signal for our guns and the troops on either side to
annoy and divert. Bombing affairs of the year ’15 were on the most
simple lines and unaccompanied by barrage. The left attack, when it
had toiled some sixty yards from its starting-point, met a party of
German bombers. What followed was inevitable. “Our bombers, who had
never had an opportunity of throwing more than one live bomb each at
training, were easily out-classed by the German bombers, and they
were all either killed, wounded, or driven back immediately on to
2nd Lieutenant Tallents.” He was coming up twenty or thirty yards
behind them, and had just reached some old smashed girders that had
been part of a bridge or a dug-out, and back to this tangle the
attack was driven. There a stand was made for a while by Tallents
and two privates, Higgins and Brophy, till Brophy was killed and
the officer and other private wounded. The Germans bombed their way
on down to the barricades whence the attack had been launched, and
for twenty minutes it was touch and go whether the Irish could hold
it even there. All this while Tallents, though wounded, headed the
resistance, urged the men to strengthen the barrier, and then got
atop of it, “so as to make a longer or more accurate shot with a
bomb.” Bombs ran short, as they usually do on such occasions; the
bombers were down and between men’s feet among the wreckage. 2nd
Lieutenant Coxon, who was sending up fresh men and bombs as best he
might over broken ground in darkness down blind trappy trenches,
indented on Battalion Headquarters for more, and the 1st Coldstream
whirled their bombers in till, by means that no one can quite
recall, the German rush was stayed long enough for a steady supply
of munitions to arrive. This was about four in the morning, after a
couple of hours of mixed rough-and-tumble that had died out for the
moment to snaps of rifle-fire round corners, and the occasional glare
of a bomb lobbed over some cover in the obstructed trench. Tallents
had kept his place at the barrier all the time, and, at what turned
out to be the psychological moment, launched a fresh attack down
the trench, headed by Lance-Corporals J. Brennan and C. Anstey and
backed by Lance-Corporal Cahill. It gave time for the men behind
to further strengthen the defence, while more bombs were coming up.
Then Tallents collapsed and “was removed to the dressing-station,”
and 2nd Lieutenant F. Synge was sent up to relieve him. He was hit in
the head almost at once, but remained at his post, and “never relaxed
his efforts to get the position consolidated and tenable,” until he
too was withdrawn to the dressing-station after dawn. By this time
the barricade was completed, and the communication-trench back to the
main body was sufficiently cleared to enable work to be continued in
daylight.

The smooth official language, impersonal as the account of an
operation in a medical journal, covers up all the horror and sweat of
the night, the desperate labour with anything that came to hand to
make good the barrier, the automatic measurements of time and space
as the struggle up the trench swayed nearer or farther, as well as
the unspeakable absurdities that went sometimes with the very act and
agony of a man’s death between the feet of his comrades. The things
that cannot be recorded are those that are never forgotten. (“And a
man can go missing in such kind of doings more easy than anything
except direct hits from heavy stuff. There’s everything handy scraped
up against a barricade that will stop a bullet, and in the dark how
can one see or—what does one care? Bits of all sorts, as the saying
is. And a man will take the wrong turn in a trench and then three
or four bombs on him, and that shakes the side of it, the like of
deep drains. Then the side all shuts down on what’s left, ye’ll
understand, and maybe no living thing’ll come that way again till the
war’s end. No! There will _not_ be much left over to a bomber that’s
missing.”)

The right attack, commanded by Captain Hubbard, which was down the
old blown-in trench that ran straight towards the centre of the
Hohenzollern, was a much tamer affair than the left. The enemy were
not struck till our advance was some eighty yards up the cut. They
fell back after a few bombs had been exchanged, and our men were able
to build a new barricade across the trench fifty yards from their
starting-point, with no serious opposition. Their chief difficulty
was to clear the newly gained stretch of the hideous mess that choked
it, and forced them into the open where the bullets were coming from
three sides at once. The men are described as “slow” in settling to
this navvy-work, which, considering their distractions, was quite
possible. Dawn caught them “with just enough cover to enable them to
continue work in a crouching position, and before very many hours
of daylight had passed they made it all good.” But their officer,
2nd Lieutenant Hamilton, was shot through the jaw while he was
superintending the work (it is impossible to direct and give orders
without standing up) and he died an hour later. He was buried on the
afternoon of the same day at the lonely, flat little cemetery of
Vermelles, which is now so full of “unknown British soldiers killed
in action.” As the expert has already pointed out, “there’s not much
left over to a bomber that’s missing.”

The total loss in the night’s fray was Hamilton killed, Tallents
and Synge wounded, and about sixty other ranks killed, wounded, and
missing. The net gain was a few score yards of trench, of which the
enemy held both ends, with a “No Man’s Land” on either flank of
about as far as one could throw a bomb over a barricade. In front,
not a hundred yards off, a most efficient German trench with lavish
machine-guns sniped them continuously between the breathing-spaces
of our shell-fire. Our own big stuff, bursting on and near that
trench, shook and loosened the sides of our own. The entire area had
been fought over for months, and was hampered with an incredible
profusion, or so it struck the new hands at the time, of arms,
clothing, and equipment—from shreds, wisps, and clods of sodden
uniforms that twist and catch round the legs, to loaded rifles that
go off when they are trodden on in the mud or prised up by the
entrenching tools. The bottom and sides of the cuts were studded with
corpses whose limbs and, what was worse, faces stuck out of the mixed
offal, and were hideously brought to light in cleaning up. However,
as one youngster wrote home triumphantly, “I was never _actually_
sick.”

The affair could hardly be called a success, and the Battalion did
not pretend that it was more than a first attempt in which no one
knew what was expected of them, and the men were not familiar with
their weapons.


A REST AND LAVENTIE

On the evening of the 21st October they were relieved by the 1st
Coldstream, and were grateful to go into Brigade Reserve in the
trenches beside the Vermelles railway line, where they were out of
direct contact with the enemy and the nerve-stretching racket of
their own artillery shelling a short hundred yards ahead of them.
(“The heavies are like having a good friend in a fight behind
your back, but there’s times when he’ll punch ye in the kidneys
trying to reach the other fella.”) They were put to cleaning up
old communication-trenches, and general scavenging, which, though
often in the highest degree disgusting, has a soothing effect on the
mind, precisely as tidying out a room soothes a tired woman. For the
first time in a month the strain on the young Battalion had relaxed,
and since it was their first month at the front, they had felt the
strain more than their elders. They had a general impression that the
German line had been very nearly broken at Loos; that our pressure
upon the enemy was increasingly severe; that their own artillery
were much better and stronger than his, and that, taking one thing
with another, the end might come at any moment. Since there were but
a limited number of Huns in the world, it was demonstrable that by
continually killing them the enemy would presently cease to exist.
This, be it remembered, was the note in the Press and the public mind
towards the close of 1915—the War then redly blossoming into its
second year.

As to their personal future, it seemed to be a toss-up whether they
would be kept to worry and tease Huns in trenches, or moved off
somewhere else to “do something” on a large scale; for at the back
of the general optimism there lurked a feeling that, somehow or
other, nothing very great had been actually effected. (Years later
the veterans of twenty-five, six, and seven admitted: “We were a bit
young in those days, and, besides, one had to buck up one’s people
at home. But we weren’t quite such fools as we made ourselves out to
be.”)

They were taken away from that sector altogether on the 23rd
October, marched to Noyelles, thence to Béthune on the 25th, where
they entrained for Lillers and billeted at Bourecq. This showed
that they had done with the chalk that does not hide corpses, and
that the amazing mud round Armentières and Laventie would be their
portion. At that date the Battalion stood as follows, and the
list is instructive as showing how very little the army of that
epoch had begun to specialise. It was commanded by Lieut.-Colonel
Hon. L. Butler; Adjutant Captain (temporary) J. S. N. FitzGerald;
Transport Officer Lieutenant C. Moore; Bomb Officer 2nd Lieutenant
R. E. Coxon; Quartermaster 2nd Lieutenant J. Brennan. Companies:
No. 1, Captain Witts, Lieutenant Nugent, 2nd Lieutenant Pym; No. 2,
Captain (temporary) Parsons, 2nd Lieutenants Hannay and James; No. 3,
Captain (temporary) R. Rankin, Lieutenant Montgomery, 2nd Lieutenant
Watson; No. 4, Captain (temporary) Hubbard, Lieutenant Kinahan, 2nd
Lieutenant Brew.

Drafts of eighty-five men in all had come in since they went into
Brigade Reserve, and Captain Alexander, who had been sick with
influenza and fever for the past fortnight, during which time the 1st
Battalion had demanded him urgently, went over to it as Temporary
C.O. and Temporary Major.

So they settled down at Bourecq, which in peace time has few merits,
and devoted themselves to eating and to talking about food between
meals. In the trenches they had not eaten with discrimination. Out of
them, they all demanded variety and abundance, sweets, solids, and
savouries devoured at any hour, and sleep unlimited to settle it all.

Lord Cavan came on the last day of the month and addressed them as
their Divisional Commander; which meant a parade in wet weather. He
congratulated them on their fine work of the preceding fortnight
(the trench-affairs round Hohenzollern) and on “the fine fighting
spirit which had enabled them to persevere and accomplish their task
in spite of an initial rebuff.” (“He knew as well as we did that
if we hadn’t hoofed the Hun out of the trench the Hun would have
hoofed us,” was one comment.) He assured the Battalion that the lives
unfortunately lost in the undertaking had not been lost in vain,
and that it was only by continually harassing him that we would
eventually defeat the German. He said that the Battalion had begun
well, and he only wished for it that it might do as well as the 1st,
“than which no finer example of a Guards Battalion existed.” “And
that,” said one of those who were young when the speech was made, and
lived to be very old and wise, “was at a time when we had literally
no troop railways, and relatively no artillery. And they told us we
were going to break through every time we had cleared fifty Jerries
out of a front-line trench!”

Two Lewis-guns, which were then new things, had been supplied to
the Battalion, and teams were made up and instructed in the working
by 2nd Lieutenant Hannay, while the Bomb Officer, 2nd Lieutenant
Coxon, had his bombing-teams out daily, and it is recorded that on
one afternoon the bombers of Nos. 1 and 2 Companies, thirty-two in
all, threw fifty live bombs at practice. Then it rained drearily and
incessantly for days and nights on end, and there was nothing to do
but to eat and attend lectures. A fresh draft of fifty men turned
up. Second Lieutenant Keenan, who had been sick, and 2nd Lieutenant
Synge, who had been wounded in the bombing attack, rejoined a few
days before they marched with the 2nd Guards Brigade to new billets
at La Gorgue in mud. Here they had huge choice of mixed discomforts,
for the whole sad landscape was sodden with autumn rain. They were to
take over from the 60th Brigade at Laventie a peaceful semi-flooded
sector, with every promise, for which they were not in the least
grateful, of staying in that part of the world the winter long.

The seasonal pause had begun when men merely died without achieving
visible result, even in the Press. The C.O.’s and Adjutants of
the Brigade, accompanied by the Brigadier-General, made wet and
melancholy reconnaissances to their destined stamping ground—an
occasion when every one is forgiven for being in the worst of
tempers. The one unpardonable offence was false and bustling
optimism. The Battalion’s line ran from Winchester road on the left
to South Moated Grange on the right, all “in very bad order owing to
the recent rain.”

Next day, the 12th November, the medical officer and the four company
commanders were added to the reconnaissance parties. (“It was like
going into a cold bath, one toe at a time. And I don’t see how
looking at it for a week in advance could have made it any better.”)
Wet days followed the wet nights with Hunnish precision. A wretched
Lieutenant (Montgomery) was sent out like Noah’s dove to “arrange the
route for leading his company in,” the communication-trenches being
flooded; and on the 14th November, after Divine Service, the men were
paraded in billets and “rubbed their feet with anti-frostbite grease
preparatory to going into the trenches.” It seems a small matter, but
the Battalion had been in the way of hearing a good deal about the
horrors of the previous winter in the Ypres Salient, when men were
forbidden to stand for more than twelve hours at a time belly-deep
in water without relief—“if possible.” (“That foot-greasing fatigue,
with what the old hands told us was in store, put the wind up us
worse than Loos. We was persuaded we would be drowned and frost-bit
by whole platoons.”)

They paraded that afternoon and marched down to their dreary
baptism. Boots—“gum, thigh, long”—had been supplied limitedly to the
companies, and they changed into them in a ruined cottage behind
the lines, leaving their marching boots to be picked up on return.
“Thus some men were able to wade without getting wet,” says the
Diary. It was not so with others. For example, the whole of No. 3
Company was taken along one thoroughly flooded communication-trench
half-way up their thighs. A platoon of No. 2 was similarly treated,
only their guide lost his way, and as all the support-trenches were
flooded, 2 and 3 had to be packed in the fire-trenches. Nos. 4 and
1 got off without a complete soaking, and it is pathetic to see how
the Battalion, to whom immoderate and omnipresent dampness was still
a new thing, record their adventures in detail. But it was not so
much water as the immensely sticky mud that oppressed them, with the
consequent impossibility of being able to lie down even for a moment.
Then it froze of nights. All which are miseries real as wounds or
sickness.

They were kept warm for the whole of their tour by repairing the
fallen parapets. Shelling was light and not important, but some
shrapnel wounded Captain G. Hubbard, and enemy snipers killed three
and wounded six men in the forty-eight hours. When the Coldstream
relieved them on the evening of the 16th November, which they did in
less than four hours, they felt that they could not face the flooded
communication-trenches a second time, and made their way home across
the open in the dark with no accident. Avoidable discomfort is ever
worse than risk of death; for, like the lady in the _Ingoldsby
Legends_, they “didn’t mind death but they couldn’t stand pinching.”

On relief, they went into Brigade Reserve in close billets near Rouge
Croix, No. 1 Company furnishing an officer and platoon as garrison
for the two posts Rouge Croix East and West. Life was reduced to
watching the rain drive in swathes across the flat desolation of the
land, improving billets under the supervision of the Engineers, which
is ever a trial, and sending parties to flounder and dig in the dark
at new works behind the firing-line.

Snipers on both sides began to find each other’s range and
temperament, and “put in good work” according to their lights and
opportunities. The enemy developed a taste for mining, and it was
necessary to investigate by patrol some craters that appeared
spottily on the Battalion’s front, and might hide anything. The
Germans met these attempts with grenades (minenwerfers not being yet
in existence), which fell short; but their burst and direction gave
our rifles their line. The days passed with long, quiet intervals
when one caught the drawing scrape of a spade or the thicker note
of a hammer on revetting stakes—all difficult to locate exactly,
for sound runs along trenches like water. A pump would gurgle,
a bucket clink, or a shift of the rare sunlight sparkle on some
cautiously raised periscope. That crumb of light drawing a shot
from an over-keen watcher, half a dozen single shots would answer
it. One or other of the four Battalion Lewis-guns would be moved to
spray the sector of tumbled dirt which it commanded. In the midst of
the stuttered protest, without whoop or wail of warning, a flight
of whizz-bangs would call the parapet to order as emphatically as
the raps of the schoolmaster’s cane silence the rising clamour of a
class-room. The hint would be taken, for none were really anxious to
make trouble, and silence would return so swiftly that, before the
spades had ceased repairing the last-blown gap in the head-cover, one
heard the yawn of an utterly bored private in the next bay fretting
under his kit because there was no possibility of sneaking a “lay
down.”

It was pettifogging work for both sides, varied with detestable
cleaning out “the height of the muck,” wrestling with sodden
sand-bags and throwing up breast-works on exposed ground, so
that men might smuggle themselves along clear of the flooded
communication-trenches.

The first idea of raiding on a system was born out of that dull time;
the size of the forces is noteworthy.

On the 20th November, a misty day when things were quiet, the
C.O.’s of the two front-line Battalions (3rd Grenadiers and 2nd
Irish Guards) together with the commandants of artillery brigades
and batteries in the vicinity were assembled “to select passages
to be cut by artillery fire at certain places, and for these to
be kept constantly open, while raids one or two companies strong
paid surprise visits to the German lines, killing or capturing
and returning.” Three such places were thus chosen on the brigade
front, one of which was in the line of the centre company of the 2nd
Irish Guards. Having neatly laid out that much trouble for their
successors, they were relieved by the 3rd Coldstream, marched to
billets at La Gorgue and came into Divisional Reserve at 10.30 P. M.
They expected, as they were entitled to, a long night in the Girls’
School which they occupied. But, for reasons which have long since
passed with dead policies, it was important that the late Mr. John
Redmond, M.P., should inspect them next morning. So their sleep was
cut and they and their 1st Battalion marched a mile out of La Gorgue,
and hung about for an hour on a muddy road in morning chill, till Mr.
Redmond, blandly ignorant of his deep unpopularity at the moment,
walked down the lines and shook hands after the manner of royalty
with each officer. One of these chanced to be an ex-R.I.C. who, on
the last occasion they had met, was engaged in protecting Mr. Redmond
from the attentions of Mr. O’Brien’s followers in a faction-fight
at Mallow. Mr. Redmond did not remember this, but the tale unholily
delighted the Battalion, on their way to Divine Service afterwards.

Lieutenant T. Nugent left them on the 21st November to join the
1st Battalion with a view to appointment as Adjutant. This was a
season, too, when a little leave might be counted on as within the
possibilities. Nothing was breathed about it officially, but hopeful
rumours arose that they were likely to be in billets well back of the
firing-line for the next few weeks. The mere chance of five or six
days’ return to real life acts as unexpectedly as drink or drugs
on different temperaments. Some men it fills with strenuous zeal.
Others it placates so that the hardiest “bad character” can take
advantage of them; and there are yet those who, fretting and yearning
beneath the mask of discipline, are hardly fit to approach on light
matters till their date for home has been settled. Moreover, one’s
first service-leave is of a quality by itself, and in those days was
specially precious to parents and relatives, who made themselves
cling to the piteous belief that the War might, somehow, end at any
moment, even while their beloved was safe with them.

Bomb practice was taken up seriously while at La Gorgue, and the
daily allowance of live bombs increased to sixty. Drums and fifes
had been sent out from the Regimental Orderly-Room, together with a
few selected drummers from Warley. The Battalion promptly increased
the number from its own ranks and formed a full corps of drums and
fifes, which paraded for the first time on the 23rd November, when
they exchanged billets with the 1st Coldstream at Merville. The
first tune played was the Regimental March and the second “Brian
Boru,” which goes notably to the drums. (In those days the Battalion
was overwhelmingly Irish in composition.) Captain the Hon. H. R.
Alexander, who had been in hospital with influenza for a week,
rejoined on the 23rd as second in command.

Merville was a mixed, but not too uncomfortable, experience. The
Battalion with the rest of the Guards Division was placed temporarily
at the disposal of the Forty-fifth Division as a reserve, a position
which meant neither being actually in the trenches nor out of them.
They were beyond reach of rifle-fire and in a corner not usually
attended to by artillery. There was a roof to the officers’ mess,
and some of the windows did not lack glass. They ate off tables with
newspapers for cloth and enjoyed the luxury of chairs. The men lived
more or less in trenches, but were allowed out, like well-watched
poultry, at night or on misty mornings. All this was interspersed
with squad drill, instruction, baths, and a Battalion concert;
while, in view of possibilities that might develop, Captain Alexander
and the four company commanders “reconnoitred certain routes from
Merville to Neuve Chapelle.” But every one knew at heart that there
was nothing doing or to be done except to make oneself as comfortable
as might be with all the blankets that one could steal, at night, and
all the food one could compass by day. Leave was going on regularly.
Captain and Adjutant J. S. N. FitzGerald left on the 26th for ten
days and Lieutenant A. Pym took over his duties. When adjutants can
afford to go on leave, life ought to be easy.

Then they shifted to Laventie in a full blizzard, relieving the 2nd
Scots Guards in Brigade Reserve. Their own Brigade, the 2nd, was
taking over from the 3rd Guards Brigade, and Captain Alexander, who
not unnaturally caught a fresh attack of influenza later, spent the
afternoon reconnoitring the trenches which he would have to occupy
on the 28th. The No Man’s Land to be held in front of them was marsh
and ditch, impassable save when frozen. It carried no marks in the
shape of hedges or stumps to guide men out or back on patrol, and
its great depth—three hundred yards in places from wire to wire—made
thorough ferreting most difficult. In this war, men with small-arms
that carried twenty-eight hundred yards, hardly felt safe unless they
were within half bow-shot of their enemy.

The Battalion’s entry into their forlorn heritage was preceded by
a small house-warming in the shape of an artillery bombardment on
our side. This, they knew, by doleful experience, would provoke
retaliation, and the relief was accordingly delayed till dark, which
avoided all casualties. Their general orders were to look out for
likely spots whence to launch “small enterprises” against the enemy.
It meant patrols wandering out in rain and a thaw that had followed
the stiff frost, and doing their best to keep direction by unassisted
intellect and a compass. (“Ye’ll understand that, in those days,
once you was out on your belly in that muck, ye knew no more than
a babe in a blanket. Dark, wet and windy it was, with big, steep,
deep ditches waiting on ye every yard. All _we_ took of it was a
stiff neck, and all _we_ heard was Jerry gruntin’ in his pigstye!”)
A patrol of No. 4 Company under Lieutenant Brew managed to get up
within ear-shot of the German wire on the night of the 29th, crossing
a drain by a providential plank. While they lay close, listening to
the Huns hammering stakes in their trenches, they saw a German patrol
slip home by the very bridge which they themselves had used. Hope
ran high of catching the same party next night in the same place,
but it rained torrentially, and they found it impossible to move
a man out across the bog. They spent their time baling their own
trenches as these filled, and were happy to wade only ankle-deep.
But their professional lives were peaceful. Though the enemy shelled
mechanically at intervals not a soul was even wounded when on the
30th November they came back for the short rest in billets in
Laventie.

On their return to the “Red House” where they relieved the 1st
Coldstream on the 2nd December, their night patrols discovered,
apparently for the first time, that the enemy held their front line
very thinly and their support in strength. As a matter of later
observation, it was established that, on that sector, the front
line mostly withdrew after dark and slept at the back till our
unsympathetic guns stirred them up. Our custom seemed always to crowd
the front line both with men and responsibility.

The main of the Battalion’s work was simple aquatics; draining off
of waters that persisted in running uphill, and trying to find
the bottom of fluid and unstable ditches where things once lost
disappeared for ever. They had not yet seen a man choking in mud, and
found it rather hard to believe that such things could happen. But
the Somme was to convince them.

The organization of the Front evolved itself behind them as time
passed, and batteries and battalions came to understand each other.
Too much enemy shelling on a trench led to a telephone-call, and
after a decent interval of from two to six minutes (the record was
one minute fifty-five seconds) our batteries would signify their
displeasure by a flight of perhaps thirty shells at one drench,
or several separate salvoes. As a rule that was enough, and this,
perhaps, led to the legend that the enemy artillery was weakening.
And, with organisation, came the inevitable floods of paper-work that
Authority insists on. There was a conference of the four C.O.’s of
the Brigade on the subject on the 6th December, where suggestions
were invited for “reducing correspondence” and “for saving company
officers as much as possible,” which seemed, like many other
conferences, to have ended in more paper-work and resolutions on
“the importance of keeping a logbook in the trenches by each company
officer.” The logbook handed over by every company commander to his
relief is essential to the continuity of trench-war life, though nine
tenths of the returns demanded seemed pure waste.

Yet there is another point of view. (“Looking back on it, one sees
that that everlasting having to pull yourself together to fill in
tosh about raspberry jam, or how men ought to salute, steadies one a
good deal. We cursed it at the time, though!”)

On the 7th December, patrols reported the enemy with full trenches
working on their front-line wire, upon which our artillery cut it
up, and the enemy turned out in the evening to repair damages. The
local Battery B, 76th Brigade R.F.A., was asked “to fire again.” They
fired two salvoes at 10.15 P. M., and two more one hour later. One
Lewis-gun of No. 1 Company “also fired at this point.” So simple and
homœopathic was war in that age!

On the 8th their sister battalion took over from them at Red House,
in a relief completed in ninety minutes, and the drums of the 1st
Battalion played the companies through Laventie, while the drums of
the 2nd played them into billets at La Gorgue. For the first time
since they had been in France all the officers of both battalions
messed together, in one room, for all the time that they were there;
and, as supplies from friends at home were ample and varied, the
tales of some of the meals at La Gorgue endure to this day.

The system of the Guards’ company training always allowed large
latitude to company officers as long as required results were
obtained; and they fell back on it when bombers and Lewis-gun teams
were permanently added to the organization. With the reservation
that bombing-practice with live bombs was only to take place under
the battalion bombing officer, company commanders were made entirely
responsible for the training both of their bombers and Lewis-gunners.
It made an almost immediate difference in the handiness and
suppleness of the teams, and woke up inter-company competition. The
teams, it may have been pointed out, were surprisingly keen and
intelligent. One officer, finding a nucleus of ex-taxi drivers among
his drafts, treated the Lewis-gun as a simple internal-combustion
engine, which simile they caught on to at once and conveyed it in
their own words and gestures to their slower comrades.

On the 12th December, the Battalion was paraded while the C.O.
presented the ribbon of the D.C.M. to Lance-Corporal Quinn for
gallantry in Chalk-Pit Wood at the battle of Loos, that now seemed to
all of them a century distant.

On the 14th they moved to a more southerly sector to take over
from the Welsh Guards, and to pick up a company of the 13th
R.W. Fusiliers; one platoon being attached to each company for
instruction, and the Fusiliers B.H.Q. messing with their own. There
is no record what the Welshmen thought of their instructors or they
of them, except the fragment of a tale of trench-fatigues during
which, to the deep disgust of the Irish, who are not loudly vocal by
temperament, “the little fellas sang like canary-birds.”

Their new lines, reached across mud, from Pont du Hem, were the
old, well-known, and not so badly looked-after stretch from North
Moated Grange Street to Erith Street at the lower end of the endless
Tilleloy Road which faced south-easterly towards the Aubers
Ridge, then held by the enemy. The relief was finished without
demonstrations beyond a few shrapnel launched at one of the posts,
Fort Erith.

On the 15th 2nd Lieutenant Brew went out with a patrol to investigate
some mine-craters in front of the German firing-line and found
them empty, but woke up an enemy machine-gun in the background.
Other patrols reported like slackness, but when they tried to take
advantage of it, they met the same gun awake, and came home upon
their bellies. The ground being so flat, however, the German machines
could not get well down to their work of shaving the landscape,
and fifteen inches will clear a prostrate man if he lies close. A
snipers’ team had been organised, and the deep peace of that age
may be seen from the fact that, at the end of a quiet day, the only
claim put in was for “one victim who was passing a gap between two
mine-craters.”

They were relieved by the 1st Coldstream on the 16th December and
went into billets, not more than two miles back, at Pont du Hem and
La Flinque Farm, with scattered platoons and single officers holding
posts in the neighbourhood of the Rue du Bacquerot. A draft of
forty-seven men, which should have been fifty, turned up that same
day. The odd three had contrived to mislay themselves as only men on
draft can, but were gathered in later with marvellous explanations at
the tips of their ready tongues. Officers sent out from Warley also
got lost _en route_, to the wrath of company commanders clamouring
for them. One writer home complains: “it seems that they are waylaid
by some unknown person at the base and sent off for quite long
periods to take charge of mysterious parties which dig trenches
somewhere unknown.” This was the origin, though they knew it not
at the Front, of the divisional entrenching battalion—a hated and
unpopular necessity.

On the 18th December, Captain Eric Greer joined on transfer from
the 3rd Reserve Battalion as Second in Command, and a couple of
companies (Nos. 1 and 2) had to start the relief at Winchester Farm
by daylight. The authorities had ordered the trenches should be kept
clear that evening for a number of gas-cylinders to be placed in the
parapets. It meant running the heavy cylinders up a light, man-power
railway to the front line, when they were slung on poles, carried to
the recesses that had been dug out for them, and there buried beneath
sand-bags. (“There was all sorts and manners of gadgets made and done
in those days. We was told they was all highly scientific. All us
Micks ever took by any of them was fatigues. No! We did _not_ like
them gas-tanks.”)

The next day a shell lit within five yards of a recess apparently
stocked with extra gas-tanks. The officer of No. 2 Company at once
telephoned for retaliation. “After a slight lapse during which the
gunners shelled our trench, and were told by the O.C. No. 2 that
that was not _exactly_ what he wanted, the retaliation was quite
satisfactory.” They could easily count the number of shells that fell
in those days and piously entered them in the company logbooks.

Here follows an appreciation, compiled at first-hand, of their
surroundings, and the methods by which they kept themselves more or
less dry. “Drains are a very difficult problem as there is probably
only a fall of three feet in as many miles behind the line. The
system is that the men drain the water in the actual trenches or
redoubts into a drain slightly in rear. Then there are a number
of drains, two or three per company-area, running straight back.
Three men are told off to these and do nothing but patrol them,
deepening and clearing where necessary.... From about two hundred
yards in rear, the R.E. take and run off the water by larger drains
and ditches already in existence into a river some miles in rear.
At least that is the theory. The line is now wonderfully dry to
live in as the profuse supply of trench-boards has made an enormous
difference. Thus men can walk dry-shod up Winchester Street, our
main communication-trench, on a path of floor-boards built up on
piles over, perhaps, three feet of water. Of course, it hits both
ways, as you are taken out of the water, but also out of the ground
above your waist, and parapets must be built accordingly.... The
front line, which is also the only one, as the labour of keeping it
habitable absorbs every available man, is composed of a sand-bag
redoubt about seven or eight feet high, and very thick. It is
recessed and traversed. About ten or fifteen yards in rear runs the
‘traffic trench,’ a boarded path which sometimes runs along the top
of black slime, and sometimes turns into a bridge on piles over
smelly ponds. Between the redoubt and traffic-trench, rising out of
slime, are a weird collection of hovels about three feet high, of
sand-bags and tin. They are the local equivalents of ‘dug-outs’—cover
from rain but not from shells. Everywhere there are rats.”

Having added gas to their local responsibilities, they suffered
from the enthusiasms of the specialists attached to, and generals
who believed in, the filthy weapon. As soon as possible after
the cylinders, which they feared and treated with the greatest
respect, were in position, all the talk was of a real and poisonous
gas-attack. They were told on the 19th December that such a one would
be launched by them on the first night the wind should favour it,
and that their patrols would specially reconnoitre the ground that,
by the blessing of fortune, the gas would waft across. Then the moon
shone viciously and all special patrols were ordered off.

On the 20th the Gunner Officer, Major Young, paid a breakfast call,
with the pleasant news that he was going to open an old repaired gap
in the enemy wire, and cut two new ones, which, on the established
principle of “throwing stones at little brother,” meant the infantry
would be “retaliated on.” He did it. The C.O.’s of the Battalion
and the 1st Coldstream, and the Brigade-Major, made a most careful
periscope reconnaissance of the ground, with particular attention
to the smoking gaps that Major Young had blasted, and arranged for
a joint reconnaissance by the 1st Coldstream and 2nd Irish Guards
for that very evening. The two subalterns told off to that job
attended the conference. Second Lieutenant Brew, who had gifts
that way, represented our side, for the affair naturally became an
inter-regimental one from the first, and 2nd Lieutenant Green the
Coldstream. That afternoon everybody conferred—the brigade commanders
of the 2nd and 3rd Guards Brigade, with their Staffs, all four C.O.’s
of the 2nd Brigade, and the C.O. of the 1st Welsh Guards; and between
them they arranged the attack in detail, with a simplicity that in
later years almost made some of the survivors of that conference weep
when they were reminded of it. The gas was to be turned on at first,
while machine-guns and Lewis-guns would make a joyous noise together
for five minutes to drown the roar of its escape. The artillery
would start heavy fire “at points in rear” simultaneously with
the noisy gas. At five minutes past Zero machine-guns would stop,
and the artillery would slow down. But thirty-five minutes later
they would “quicken up.” Three quarters of an hour after Zero “gas
would be turned off,” and, five minutes after that, the attacking
parties would start “with gas-helmets on their heads but rolled up”
and, penetrating the enemy’s second line, would “do all possible
damage before returning.” Then they arranged to reassemble next day,
after inspecting the ground. The Battalion was relieved that same
evening by the 1st Coldstream, whom they expected to have for their
confederates in the attack, and lay up at Pont du Hem.

On the 21st December, Brew, who had been out the night before
reconnoitring with Green of the Coldstream, started on yet another
investigation of the enemy wire at 3 A. M. They got right up to
the wire, were overlooked by a German patrol, and spotted by a
machine-gun on their way home. “But they lay down and the bullets
went over them.” There was another conference at Winchester House in
the afternoon, where all details were revised, and the day ended with
a message to the troops who would be called upon, that the “attack
had been greatly modified.”

On the 22nd December the notion of following up the gas by a
two-company attack was washed out, and the assailants cut down to
a select party, under the patient but by now slightly bewildered
Brew, of bombers and bludgeoneers, who were to enter the German
trench after three quarters of an hour of mixed gas and artillery,
“collect information and do all possible damage.” If the gas
and guns had produced the desired effect, five more bombers and
bludgeonists, and a machine-gunner with one crowbar would follow as
a demolishing-party, paying special attention to telephones, the
bowels of machine-guns and, which was really unkind, drains. The R.E.
supplied the bludgeons “of a very handy variety,” and everything
was present and correct except the favouring breeze. (“And, all the
while, ye’ll understand, our parapet stuffed with these dam gas-tanks
the way they could be touched off by any whizz-bang that was visiting
there, and the whole Brigade and every one else praying the wind ’ud
hold off long enough for some one else to have the job of uncorking
the bottle. Gas is no thrick for beginners!”)

They called the attack off once more, and the Battalion, with only
one night left of their tour, in which to “uncork the bottle,” wired
to the 1st Coldstream at Pont du Hem, “Latest betting, Coldstream
2 to 1 on (T. and O.) Irish Guards, 6 to 4 against.” Back came the
prompt answer, “Although the first fence is a serious obstacle,
it should not take more than twenty-four hours with such fearless
leapers. Best luck and a safe return. No betting here. All broke. We
think we have caught a spy.” He turned out to be a perfectly innocent
Frenchman “whose only offence was, apparently, that he existed in the
foreground at the moment when a bombing-school, some miles in rear,
elected to send up some suspicious blue lights.”

On the 23rd December, after a very quiet night, an entirely new plan
of attack came in from an unnamed specialist who suggested that the
gas (words cannot render their weariness of the accursed thing at
this stage!) should be let off quite quietly without any artillery
fire or unusual small-arm demonstration, at about four in the
morning, when the odds were most of the enemy would be asleep, and
that of those on duty few would ever have heard the sound of escaping
gas. As the expert noted, “It requires a quick decision and a firm
determination to give an alarm at 4 A. M., unless one is certain that
it is not a false alarm, especially to a Prussian officer.” The hope
was that the slow-waking and highly-to-his-superiors-respectful Hun
would be thus caught in his dug-outs. The artillery would, gas or
no gas, only give a general warning, and the suggested barrage (the
first time, oddly enough, that the word is employed in the Diary) in
rear of the enemy trenches would prevent his reserves from coming up
into the gas-zone, “where there is always a chance that they may be
gassed in spite of their gas-helmets.” So all the commanders held
yet another conference, and agreed that the gas should be loosed
at 4.30, that the barrage in the rear should be abandoned and a
bombardment of the enemy’s parapet substituted for it, and that no
patrols should be sent out. The companies were duly warned. The wind
was not. The enemy spent the day shelling points in the rear till our
guns retaliated on their front line, which they returned by shelling
our parapet with small stuff. One piece they managed to blow in, and
turned a machine-gun on the gap. They also made one flooded dug-out
a shade less habitable than before. The wind stayed true south all
night, and the rain it brought did more damage to the hovels and huts
than any enemy shells; for the Chaplain and the Second in Command
were half buried by “the ceiling of their bedroom becoming detached.
The calamity was borne with beautiful fortitude.” (Even a second in
command cannot express all his sentiments before a Chaplain.)

Christmas Eve was officially celebrated by good works; for the
Battalion, its gas still intact, was warned to finish relief by eight
o’clock, because, for the rest of the night, our guns would bombard
German communication-trenches and back-areas so as to interfere
as much as possible with their Christmas dinner issues. The 1st
Coldstream filed in, and they filed out back to their various billets
and posts at Pont du Hem, La Flinque Farm, and the rest. Christmas
Day, their first at the front, and in the line, was officially washed
out and treated as the 25th of December, dinners and festivities
being held over till they should be comfortably settled in reserve.
Some attempts at “fraternisation” seem to have been begun between
the front-line trenches in the early morning, but our impersonal
and impartial guns shelled every moving figure visible, besides
plastering cross-roads and traffic lines at the back. Lieut.-Colonel
McCalmont, Lord Desmond FitzGerald, and Captain Antrobus rode over
from the 1st Battalion for lunch, and in the afternoon Lord Cavan
spoke to the officers of his approaching departure from the Guards
Division to command the Fourteenth Corps; of his regrets at the
change, and of his undisguised hopes that the Guards Division might
be attached to his new command. “He finished by telling us that we
were following in the steps of our great 1st Battalion, which, as he
has told the King and Sir Francis Lloyd, was as fine a battalion as
ever trod.” Then there was a decorated and becandled Christmas tree
brought out from England by Captain Alexander, which appeared at
dinner, and, later, was planted out in the garden at the back of the
mess that all might admire. Likewise, No. 1 Company received a gift
of a gramophone, a concertina, and mouth-organs from Miss Laurette
Taylor. The Irish take naturally to mouth-organs. The gramophone was
put under strict control at once.

On boxing day, the whole 2nd Guards Brigade were relieved by the 1st
Brigade, and went back out of reach of the shells to Merville _via_
La Gorgue, passing on the road several companies of the 1st Battalion
on their way to relieve the 1st Scots Guards. (“When the like of that
happens, and leave is given for to take notice of each other, ye may
say that the two battalions cheer. But ’tis more in the nature of a
running roar, ye’ll understand, when we Micks meet up.”)

Merville billets were thoroughly good, and the officers’ mess ran to
a hard-worked but quite audible piano. Best of all, the fields around
were too wet for anything like drill.

The postponed Christmas dinners for the men were given, two companies
at a time, on the 28th and 29th, whereby Lieutenant Moore, then
Acting Quartermaster, distinguished himself by promptitude, resource,
and organisation, remembered to his honour far beyond mere military
decorations. At the eleventh hour, owing to the breweries in the
back-area being flooded, there was a shortage of beer that should
wash down the beef and the pounds of solidest plum-pudding. “As it
would have been obviously preferable to have had beer and no dinners
to dinners and no beer, Lieutenant Moore galloped off to Estaires
pursued by a waggon, while the Second in Command having discovered
that some of the Eleventh Corps (it is always sound to stand well
with the corps you hope to join) also wanted beer, promised to get
it for them if supplied with a lorry, obtained same and bumped off
to Hazebrouck. Lieutenant Moore succeeded in getting 500 litres in
Estaires and got back in time.” So all was well.

Festivities began a little before two, and lasted till eight. They
sat at tables and ate off plates which they had not done since
leaving England. Food and drink are after all the only vital matters
in war.

The year closed with an interesting lecture on the principles of
war, delivered at La Gorgue, which dealt with the “futility of ever
surrendering the initiative,” and instanced some French operations
round Hartmannsweillerkopf on the Alsace front, when a German
general, heavily attacked, launched a counter-attack elsewhere along
the line, forcing his enemy to return to their original position
after heavy loss. Another example from the German gas-attack on St.
Julien, when the English confined themselves to desperately attacking
the captured section, whereby they only lost more men instead of
counter-attacking farther down the ridge. This led to the conclusion
that “to sit passively on the defensive with no idea of attacking
was so fatuous as not to be worth considering as an operation of
war.” At present, said the lecturer, we were on the defensive, but
purely to gain time until we had the men and materials ready for a
great offensive. Meantime the correct action was to “wear down the
enemy in every way.” Whence the conclusion that the attitude of the
Guards Division for the past seven weeks had been eminently proper;
since our guns had bombarded “all the time,” and had cut the German
wire in many places, so that the enemy never knew when he would
be attacked. Further, our troops had thrice entered his trenches,
besides twice making every preparation to do so (when, finding he
was ready, we “very rightly abandoned the enterprise”). Not once, it
was shown, had the enemy even attempted to enter our trenches. In
fact, he was reduced “to a state of pulp and blotting-paper.” The
lecture ended with the news that our motor-buses and lateral railways
could concentrate one army corps on any part of the British front
in twenty-four hours, and two corps in forty-eight. Also that the
Supreme Command had decided it was useless to break through anywhere
on a narrower front than twenty kilometres.

And on this good hearing the year ’15 ended for the 2nd Battalion
of the Irish Guards; the War, owing to the lack of men and material
which should have been trained and prepared beforehand, having just
two years, ten months, and eleven days more to run.

[Illustration: _SECOND BATTALION_

_Actions & Billets._

_Emery Walker Ltd. del. et sc._]

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY EMERY WALKER LTD., LONDON




1916

SALIENT AND THE SOMME


The mild and rainy weather loosed floods on all the low-lying fields
round Laventie. The 2nd Guards Brigade relieved the 3rd in the
Laventie sector, and the 2nd Battalion Irish Guards marched seven
miles in wind and wet from La Gorgue, of the battered little church,
to its old ground and old routine—first at the north end of Laventie
where it took over Dead End, Picantin, and Laventie East posts, from
the 4th Grenadiers; and, on the evening of the 3rd January, into the
well-kept trenches beyond Red House. They relieved the 1st Coldstream
here, and their leading company, in column of route behind Red House,
lost six men on the road from a savage, well-timed burst of H.E. One
man had an extraordinary double escape. A fragment of shell first hit
his ammunition which exploded, leaving him, for some absurd reason,
unhurt. Even as he was trying to find out what had happened, a big
shell dove directly under his feet, and, as he said, if it had burst
“they wouldn’t have found the nails to my boots.” But it plumped
harmlessly in the muddy ground. The same kind Providence looked after
the orderly-room kitten. Her faithful orderly was carrying the little
lady up to war on rats, when two blind shells pitched, one on each
side of him.

An unexpected diversion turned up in the front line in the shape of
a cinema operator who unlimbered his camera on the parapet behind
the sand-bags and took pictures of our guns shelling enemy wire a
hundred yards ahead. Then he demanded “scenes in the trenches,” which
were supplied him, with all the Irish sense of drama, but, as local
opinion thought, a little too much “arranged.” Notably one picture
of a soldier tending a grave. An officer correspondent writes grimly,
“We have quite enough work digging graves to mind about tending
them.” The film duly appeared in the halls and revues, sometimes
before the eyes of those who would never again behold in life one
particular face there.

It turned out a quiet tour of duty; the two lines were so close
together that much shelling was inexpedient, and snipers gave no
trouble. So all hands were free to attend their own comforts, notably
the care and discharge of drains. The R.E. who, contrary to popular
belief, sometimes have bowels, had added wooden floors to many of the
little huts behind the redoubts. Company Headquarters were luxurious,
with real windows, and even window-curtains; the slimy trenches were
neatly boarded over and posted, and men went about their business
almost dry-shod. It was, as we know, the custom of those parts that,
before entering the line, troops should dump their ankle-boots at
a farm-house just behind Red House, and go on in the long trench
boots. For no earthly reason that the Irish could arrive at, the
Hun took it into his methodical head one night to shell their huge
boot-dump where, as a matter of course, some regimental shoemakers
were catching up with repairs. The shoemakers bolted like ferreted
rabbits, and all the world, except those whose boots were buried,
laughed at them. So long as a man comes through it alive, his agonies
and contortions in the act of dodging death are fair game.

On the nights of the 4th and 5th January they began to engineer the
detail of a local raid which marked progress in the art. Patrols went
out from each company in the front line to hunt for weak places. The
patrol from the right company worked to within fifteen yards of the
enemy, got into boggy ground, noisy with loose wire, listened an
hour to the Germans working and talking, and came back. The right
centre company patrol slopped up a ditch for a full furlong, then
ran into a cross-ditch fifteen feet wide, with a trip-wire (the
enemy disliked being taken unawares), and also returned like the
dove of old. Similarly the left-centre patrol, which found more
ditch and trip-wires leading them to a singularly stout section of
trench where two Germans looked over the edge of the parapet, and the
general landscape was hostile. The left company had the luck. It was
an officer’s patrol commanded again by 2nd Lieutenant Brew. Their
crawl led them along a guiding line of willows, and to within six
feet of a salient guarded by a three-foot wire belt. But a few yards
farther down, they came across a gap our guns had made—not clean-cut,
but easy enough, in their opinion, to “negotiate.” As far as men
on their bellies could make out, the line seemed held by sentries
at wide intervals who, after the manner of single sentries, fired
often at nothing and sent up lights for the pleasure of seeing their
support-line answer them. (“As we was everlastingly telling the new
hands, the fewer there are of ye _anny_where, the less noise should
ye be after making _anny_how. But ’tis always the small, lonely,
miserable little man by himself that gives forth noises like large
platoons.”) Then they were relieved by the 1st Coldstream, and their
Acting C.O. (Captain Eric Greer) was instructed to produce a scheme
for a really good raid from the left of their line on the weak place
discovered. The Coldstream would attend to it during their tour, if
the Irish furnished the information. Greer worked it out lovingly
to the last detail. Three riflemen and three bombers were to lead
off on the right, and as many on the left followed by a “killing and
demolition party,” armed with bludgeons, of an officer and eight
other ranks. A support party of one N.C.O. and five other ranks,
with rifles and bayonets, and a connecting party of two signallers
with telephones and four stretcher-bearers brought up the rear of
what the ribald afterwards called “our mournful procession.” It
was further laid down that a wire-cutting party (and the men hated
wire-cutting) would “improve the gap in the enemy’s wire” for the
space of one hour. The raiders were to work quietly along the line
of the providential willows till they found the gap; then would
split into two gangs left and right, and attend to the personnel in
the trench “as quickly and silently as possible, never using bombs
when they can bayonet a man.” The rest were to enter afterwards, and
destroy and remove all they could find. “If possible and convenient,
they will take a prisoner who will be immediately passed back to our
trench by the supporting-party. Faces to be blacked for the sake of
‘frightfulness,’ mutual recognition, and invisibility,” and electric
torches carried. The officer in charge was to be a German linguist,
for the reason that a prisoner, hot and shaken at the moment of
capture, and before being “passed back” was likely to exude more
information than when cold and safe in our own lines.

There was nothing special on at the Front just then; and the 2nd
Battalion and the Coldstream discussed and improved that raid at
every point they could think of. One authority wanted a double
raid, from left and right fronts simultaneously, but they explained
that this particular affair would need “so much quietness” in
combined stalking that it would be “inconvenient to run it on a
time schedule.” Then our guns were given word to cut wire in quite
other directions from the chosen spot which was no more to be
disturbed till the proper time than a pet cover. That was on the 7th
January. On the night of the 8th the Twentieth Division on their
left announced that they were “going to let off gas” at 2 A. M., and
follow up with a raid. The Battalion had to stand to arms, stifling
in its respirators, during its progress; and by the glare of the
enemy’s lights could see our gas drifting low in great grey clouds
towards the opposite lines. They observed, too, a number of small
explosions in the German side when the gas reached there, which
seemed to dissipate it locally. The enemy guns were badly served,
opening half an hour late and pitching shell in their own wire and
trenches, but they hardly annoyed the Battalion at all. The affair
was over in a couple of hours. (“There is nothing, mark you, a man
hates like a division on his flank stirring up trouble. Ye know the
poor devils have no choice of it, but it looks always as if they was
doing it to spite their neighbours, and not Jerry at all.”)

But the pleasure of the Twentieth Division was not allowed to
interfere with the business of their own private raid. Before the gas
was “let off” 2nd Lieutenant Brew again chaperoned two scouts of the
Coldstream to show them the gap in the wire in case they cared to try
it on their tour. It was found easily and reported to be passable in
single file.

But, as they said wrathfully afterwards, who could have guessed
that, on the night of the 10th, after the Coldstream’s wire-cutting
party had worked for two hours, and their raiders had filed through
the gap, and met more wire on the parapet which took more time to
cut—when they at last dropped into the trench and searched it for
three long hours they—found no sign of a German? The Coldstream’s
sole trophies were some bombs, a box of loaded M.G. belts, and one
rocket!

When they relieved the Coldstream on the 11th January, they naturally
tried their own hand on the problem. By this time they had discovered
themselves to be a “happy” battalion which they remained throughout.
None can say precisely how any body of men arrives at this state.
Discipline, effort, doctrine, and unlimited care and expense on
the part of the officers do not necessarily secure it; for there
have been battalions in our armies whose internal arrangements
were scandalously primitive, whose justice was neolithic, and yet
whose felicity was beyond question. It may be that the personal
attributes of two or three leading spirits in the beginning set a
note to which the other young men, of generous minds, respond: half
a dozen superior N.C.O.’s can, sometimes, raise and humanise the
soul of a whole battalion; but, at bottom, the thing is a mystery
to be accepted with thankfulness. The 2nd Battalion of the Irish
Guards was young throughout, the maker of its own history, and the
inheritor of the Guards’ tradition; but its common background was
ever Warley where they had all first met and been moulded—officers
and men together. So happiness came to them and stayed, and with it,
unity, and, to use the modern slang, “efficiency” in little things as
well as big—confidence and joyous mutual trust that carries unspoken
through the worst of breakdowns.

The blank raid still worried them, and there may have been, too, some
bets on the matter between themselves and the Coldstream. At any rate
2nd Lieutenant Brew reappears—his C.O. and the deeply interested
battalion in confederacy behind him.

On the night of the 11th of January, Brew took out a small patrol and
entered the German trench that they were beginning to know so well.
He re-cut the wire, made a new gap for future uses, explored, built
two barricades in the trench itself; got bogged up among loose wire,
behind which he guessed (but the time was not ripe to wake up that
hornet’s nest) the German second line lay, and—came back before dawn
with a periscope as proof that the trench was occupied by daylight.
“The enterprise suffered from the men’s lack of experience in
patrolling by night,” a defect that the C.O. took care to remedy.

As a serious interlude, for milk was a consideration, “the cow at Red
House calved successfully. Signallers, orderlies, and others were
present at the accouchement.” Doubtless, too, the orderly-room kitten
kept an interested eye on the event.

In the afternoon the Brigadier came round, and the C.O. and the
2nd Lieutenant discussed a plan of the latter to cross the German
line and lie up for the day in some disused trench or shell-hole.
It was dismissed as “practical but too risky.” Moreover, at that
moment there was a big “draw” on hand, with the idea of getting
the enemy out of their second line and shelling as they came up.
The Battalion’s private explorations must stand over till it was
finished. Three infantry brigades took part in this game, beginning
at dusk—the Guards on the left, the 114th Brigade in the centre,
and the left battalion of the Nineteenth Division on the right. The
114th Brigade, which was part of the Thirty-eighth Division, had
just relieved the 1st Guards Brigade. Every one stood to arms with
unlimited small-arm ammunition handy, and as daylight faded over
the enemy’s parapets the 114th sent up a red rocket followed by one
green to mark Zero. There was another half minute to go in which a
motor machine-gun got overtilted and started to gibber. Then the
riot began. Both battalions of the 2nd Guards Brigade, the left
half-battalion of the 114th Brigade, and the left of the Nineteenth
Division opened rapid fire with rifles, machine-, and Lewis-guns. At
the same time, our artillery on the right began a heavy front and
enfilade bombardment of the German line while our howitzers barraged
the back of it. The infantry, along the Winchester Road, held their
fire, but simulated, with dummies which were worked by ropes, a line
of men in act to leave the trenches. Last, the artillery on our left
joined in, while the dummies were handled so as to resemble a second
line attacking.

To lend verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing
narrative, the guns on the right lifted and began shelling back-lines
and communication-trenches, as though to catch reinforcements, while
the dummies jigged and shouldered afresh on their energetic ropes.
The enemy took the thing in quite the right spirit. He replied with
rifle-fire; he sent up multitudes of red lights, which always soothed
him when upset; and his artillery plastered the ground behind our
centre with big shells that could be heard crumping somewhere in the
interior of France till our own guns, after a ten minutes’ pause,
came down once more. Over and above the annoyance to him of having to
rush up supports into the front line, it was reasonable to suppose
that our deluges of small-arm stuff must have done him some damage.
“The men were all prepared and determined to enjoy themselves, the
machine-gunners were out to show what a lot of noise they could
really make, and the fire must have been infinitely uncomfortable
for German quartermaster-sergeants, cookers, and others, wandering
about behind the line with rations—if they walk about as much as we
do. One of the companies alone loosed off 7000 rounds, including
Lewis-guns, during the flurry.”

They were back at La Gorgue again on the 13th January, in divisional
rest; the 3rd Guards Brigade relieving them. While there the C.O.
launched a scheme for each subaltern to pick and train six men
on his own, so as to form the very hard core of any patrols or
bombing-parties he might have to lead hereafter. They were specially
trained for spotting things and judging distance at night; and the
tales that were told about them and their adventures and their
confidences would fill several unprintable books. (There was an
officer who did not so much boast as mount, with a certain air, a
glass eye. One night, during patrol, he was wounded in the shoulder,
and brought in by his pet patrol-leader, a private of unquestioned
courage, with, by the way, a pretty taste for feigning abject fear
when he wished to test new men with whom he was working in No Man’s
Land. He rendered first aid to his officer whose wound was not
severe, and then invited him to “take a shquint” at the result. The
officer had to explain that he was blind on that side. Whereupon, the
private, till the doctor turned up, drew loud and lively pictures of
the horror of his wife at home, should it ever come to her knowledge
that her man habitually crawled about France in the dark with an
officer “blinded on the half of him.”)

They rested for nearly a fortnight at La Gorgue, attended a
lecture—“if not instructive, at least highly entertaining”—by Max
Abbat, the well-known French boxer, on “Sport and what England had
done for France,” and had a regimental dinner, when ten of the
officers of the First Battalion came over from Merville with their
brigadier and the Staff Captain, and Lieutenant Charles Moore who had
saved the Battalion Christmas dinners, looked after them all to the
very end which, men say, became nebulous. Some one had been teaching
the Battalion to bomb in style, for their team of thirty returned
from Brigade Bombing School easy winners, by one hundred points in
the final competition. (“Except that the front line is mostly quieter
and _always_ more safe, there is no differ betwixt the front line and
Bombing School.”)

They went back into line and support-billets on the 26th relieving
the 3rd Guards Brigade; and the Battalion itself taking over from the
1st Grenadiers on the Red House sector, Laventie. Apparently, the
front line had been fairly peaceful in their absence, but they noted
that the Grenadier Headquarters seemed “highly pleased to go,” for
the enemy had got in seven direct hits that very day on Red House
itself. One shell had dropped in “the best upstairs bedroom, and two
through the roof.” They took this as a prelude to a Kaiser’s birthday
battle, as there had been reports of loyal and patriotic activities
all down that part of the line, and rumours of increased railway
movement behind it. A generous amount of tapped German wireless lent
colour to the belief. Naturally, Battalion Headquarters at Red House
felt all the weight of the war on their unscreened heads, and all
hands there, from the adjutant and medical officer to the orderlies
and police strengthened the defences with sand-bags. A battalion
cannot be comfortable if its headquarters’ best bedrooms are turned
out into the landscape. No attacks, however, took place, and night
patrols reported nothing unusual for the 26th and 27th January.

A new devilry (January 28) now to be tried were metal tubes filled
with ammonal, which were placed under enemy wire and fired by
electricity. They called them “Bangalore torpedoes” and they were
guaranteed to cut all wire above them. At the same time, dummies,
which had become a fashionable amusement along the line, would be
hoisted by ropes out of our trenches to the intent that the enemy
might be led to man his parapets that our guns might sweep them. It
kept the men busy and amused, and they were more excited when our
snipers reported that they could make out a good deal of movement
in the line in front of Red House, where Huns in small yellow caps
seemed to be “rolling something along the trench.” Snipers were
forbidden to pot-shot until they could see a man’s head and shoulders
clearly, as experience had proved that at so long a range—the lines
here were full two hundred yards apart—“shooting on the chance of
hitting half a head merely made the enemy shy and retiring.” One gets
the impression that, in spite of the “deadening influence of routine”
(some of the officers actually complained of it in their letters
home!) the enemy’s “shyness,” at that moment, might have been due
to an impression that he was facing a collection of inventive young
fiends to whom all irregular things were possible.

They went into brigade reserve at Laventie on the 30th of the month,
with genuine regrets, for the trenches that they had known so long.
“We shall never be as comfortable anywhere else,” one boy wrote; and
the C.O. who had spent so much labour and thought there lifts up a
swan-song which shows what ideal trenches should be. “Handed over in
November in a bad state, they are now as nearly perfect as a line in
winter can be. The parapets are perfect, the fire-steps all wooden
and in good repair. The dug-outs, or rather the little huts which
answer to that name in this swampy country, their frameworks put up
by the engineers and sand-bagged up by the infantry, are dry and
comfortable. The traffic-trench, two boards wide in most places, is
dry everywhere. Wherever trench-boards ran on sand-bags or mud they
have been painted and put on piles. The wire in front of the line is
good.”

They were due for rest at Merville, farther out of the way of fire
than La Gorgue, for the next week or so, but their last day in
Laventie was cheered by an intimate lecture on the origin, nature,
and effects of poison-gas, delivered by a doctor who had seen the
early trials of it at Ypres. He told them in cold detail how the
Canadians slowly drowned from the base of the lung upwards, and
of the scenes of horror in the ambulances. Told them, too, how
the first crude antidotes were rushed out from England in a couple
of destroyers, and hurried up to the line by a fleet of motor
ambulances, so that thirty-six hours after the first experience, some
sort of primitive respirators were issued to the troops. The lecture
ended with assurances that the ’15 pattern helmets were gas-proof for
three quarters of an hour against any gas then in use, if they were
properly inspected, put on and breathed through in the prescribed
manner.

Their only diversion at Merville was a fire in the local chicory
factory close to the messes. Naturally, there was no adequate
fire-engine, and by the time that the A.S.C. turned up, amid the
cheers of the crowd whom they squirted with an extincteur, the place
was burned out. “When nothing was left but the walls and some glowing
timbers we heard, creeping up the street, a buzz of admiration and
applause. The crowd round the spot parted, and in strode a figure,
gaunt and magnificent, attired in spotless white breeches, black
boots and gaiters, a blue jacket and a superb silver helmet. He was
the Lieutenant of Pompiers, and had, of course, arrived a bit late
owing to the necessity of dressing for the part. He stalked round
the ring of urban dignities who were in the front row, shook each by
the hand with great solemnity, stared gloomily at the remains of the
house and departed.”

There was no expectation of any imminent attack anywhere, both sides
were preparing for “the spring meeting,” as our people called it; and
leave was being given with a certain amount of freedom. This left
juniors sometimes in charge of full companies, an experience that
helped to bring forward the merits of various N.C.O.’s and men; for
no two company commanders take the same view of the same private;
and on his return from leave the O.C. may often be influenced by the
verdict of his _locum tenens_ to give more or less responsibility to
a particular individual. _Thus: Locum Tenens._ “I say, Buffles, while
you were away, I took out Hasken—No, not ‘Bullock’ Hasken—‘Spud’—on
that double-ditch patrol, out by the dead rifle-man. He didn’t strike
_me_ as a fool.”

_Buffles._ “Didn’t he? _I_ can’t keep my patience with him. He talks
too much.”

_L. T._ “Not when he’s outside the wire. And he doesn’t see things
in the dark as much as some of ’em.” (Meditatively, mouth filled
with fondants brought from home by Buffles.) “Filthy stuff this
war-chocolate is.” (Pause.) “Er, what do _you_ think? He’s lance
already.”

_Buffles._ “I know it. I don’t think he’s much of a lance either.
Well ...”

_L. T._ “Anyhow, he’s dead keen on night jobs. But if you took him
once or twice and tried him.... He _is_ dead keen.... Eh?”

_Buffles._ “All right. We’ll see. Where is that dam’ logbook?” Thus
the matter is settled without one direct word being spoken, and
“Spud” Hasken comes to his own for better or for worse.

On the 7th February, they were shifted, as they had anticipated,
to the left of the right sector of the divisional front, which
meant much less comfortable trenches round Pont du Hem, and badly
battered Headquarters at Winchester House. They relieved the 1st
Coldstream in the line on the 9th, and found at once plenty of work
in strengthening parapets, raising trench-boards, and generally
attending to their creature comforts. (“Never have I known _any_
battalion in the Brigade that had a good word to say for the way the
other battalions live. We might all have been brides, the way we went
to our new housekeepings in every new place—turnin’ up our noses at
our neighbours.”)

And while they worked, Headquarters were “briefly but accurately”
shelled with whizz-bangs. On the 11th February the pace quickened
a little. There was mining along that front on both sides, and our
miners from two mines had reported they had heard work going on
over their heads only a hundred and twenty yards out from our own
parapets. It might signify that the enemy were working on “Russian
saps”—shallow mines, almost like mole-runs, designed to bring a
storming party right up to our parapets under cover. The miners
were not loved for their theories, for at midnight along the whole
Battalion front, pairs of unhappy men had to lie out on ground-sheets
listening for any sound of subterranean picks. The proceedings, it
is recorded, somewhat resembled a girls’ school going to bed, and
the men said that all any one got out of the manœuvres was “blashts
of ear-ache.” But, as the Diary observes, if there were any mining
on hand, the Germans would naturally knock off through the quietest
hours of the twenty-four.

In some ways it was a more enterprising enemy than round the Red
House, and they felt, rather than saw, that there were patrols
wandering about No Man’s Land at unseemly hours. So the Battalion
sent forth a couple of Lewis-gunners with their weapon, two bombers
with their bombs, and one telephonist complete with field telephones.
These, cheered by hot drinks, lay up a hundred yards from our
parapets, installed their gun in an old trench, and telephoned
back on prearranged signals for Very lights in various directions
to illumine the landscape and invite inspection. “The whole scheme
worked smoothly. In fact, it only wanted a few Germans to make it a
complete success.” And the insult of the affair was that the enemy
could be heard whistling and singing all night as they toiled at
their own mysterious jobs. In the evening, just as the Battalion
was being relieved by the Coldstream, a defensive mine, which was
to have been exploded after the reliefs were comfortably settled
in, had to go up an hour before, as the officer in charge, fearing
that the Germans who were busy in the same field might break into
his galleries at any moment, did not see fit to wait. The resulting
German flutter just caught the end of the relief, and two platoons
of No. 1 Company were soundly shelled as they went down the Rue du
Bacquerot to Rugby Road. However, no one was hurt. The men of the 2nd
Battalion were as unmoved by mines as were their comrades in the
1st. They resented the fatigue caused by extra precautions against
them, but the possibilities of being hoisted sky-high at any moment
did not shake the Celtic imagination.

While in Brigade Reserve for a couple of days No. 1 Company amused
itself preparing a grim bait to entice German patrols into No Man’s
Land. Two dummies were fabricated to represent dead English soldiers.
“One, designed to lie on its back, had a face modelled by Captain
Alexander from putty and paint which for ghastliness rivalled
anything in Madame Tussaud’s. The frame-work of the bodies was wire,
so they could be twisted into positions entirely natural.” While they
were being made, on the road outside Brigade Headquarters at Pont du
Hem, a French girl came by and believing them to be genuine, fled
shrieking down the street. They were taken up to the front line on
stretchers, and it chanced that in one trench they had to give place
to let a third stretcher pass. On it was a dead man, whom no art
could touch.

Next night, February 15, between moonset and dawn, the grisliest
hour of the twenty-four, Lieutenant Pym took the twins out into No
Man’s Land, arranging them one on its face and the other on its
back in such attitudes as are naturally assumed by the old warped
dead. “Strapped between the shoulders of the former, for the greater
production of German curiosity, was a cylinder sprouting india-rubber
tubes. This was intended to resemble a flammenwerfer.” Hand- and
rifle-grenades were then hurled near the spot to encourage the theory
(the Hun works best on a theory) that two British patrols had fought
one another in error, and left the two corpses. At evening, the
Lewis-gun party and a brace of bombers lay out beside the kill, but
it was so wet and cold that they had to be called in, and no one was
caught. And all this fancy-work, be it remembered, was carried out
joyously and interestedly, as one might arrange for the conduct of
private theatricals or the clearance of rat-infested barns.

On the 16th they handed over to the 9th Welsh of the Nineteenth
Division, and went back to La Gorgue for two days’ rest. Then the 2nd
Guards Brigade moved north to other fields. The “spring meeting” that
they talked about so much was a certainty somewhere or other, but it
would be preceded, they hoped, by a period of “fattening up” for the
Division. (“We knew, as well as the beasts do, that when Headquarters
was kind to us, it meant getting ready to be killed on the hoof—but
it never put us off our feed.”) Poperinghe, and its camps, was their
immediate destination, which looked, to the initiated, as if Ypres
salient would be the objective; but they had been promised, or had
convinced themselves, that there would be a comfortable “stand-easy”
before they went into that furnace, of which their 1st Battalion
had cheered them with so many quaint stories. Their first march was
of fifteen miles through Neuf and Vieux-Berquin—and how were they
to know what the far future held for them there?—to St. Sylvestre,
of little houses strung along its typical pavé. Only one man fell
out, and he, as is carefully recorded, had been sick the day before.
Thence, Wormhoudt on the 22nd February, nine miles through a heavy
snow-storm, to bad billets in three inches of snow, which gave the
men excuse for an inter-company snowball battle. The 1st Battalion
had thankfully quitted Poperinghe for Calais, and the 2nd took
over their just vacated camp, of leaky wooden huts on a filthy
parade-ground of frozen snow at the unchristian hour of half-past
seven in the morning. On that day 2nd Lieutenant Hordern with a
draft of thirty men joined from the 7th Entrenching Battalion. (“All
winter drafts look like sick sparrows. The first thing to tell ’em
is they’ll lose their names for coughing, and the next is to strip
the Warley fat off ’em by virtue of strong fatigues.”) They were
turned on to digging trenches near their camp and practice-attacks
with live bombs; this being the beginning of the bomb epoch, in which
many officers believed, and a good few execrated. At a conference
of C.O.’s of the Brigade at Headquarters the Brigadier explained
the new system of trench-attack in successive waves about fifteen
yards apart. The idea was that if the inevitable flanking machine-gun
fire wiped out your leading wave, there was a chance of stopping the
remainder of the company before it was caught.

A lecture on the 1st March by the Major-General cheered the new
hands. He told them that “there was a great deal of work to be
done in the line we were going into. Communication-trenches were
practically non-existent and the front parapet was not continuous.
_All_ this work would have to be done by the infantry, as the
Divisional R.E. would be required for a very important line along the
Canal and in front of the town of Ypres.” One of the peculiarities of
all new lines and most R.E. corps is that the former is always out of
condition and the latter generally occupied elsewhere.

Their bombing-practice led to the usual amount of accidents, and
on the 2nd March Lieutenant Keenan was wounded in the hand by a
premature burst; four men were also wounded and one of them died.

Next day, when their Quartermaster’s party went to Calais to take
over the 1st Battalion’s camp there, they heard of the fatal accident
at bomb-practice to Lord Desmond FitzGerald and the wounding of
Lieutenant Nugent and Father Lane-Fox. They sent Captains J. S. N.
FitzGerald and Witts, and their Sergeant-Major and Drum-Major to
FitzGerald’s funeral.

On the 6th March they entrained at Poperinghe for Calais, where the
whole Brigade lay under canvas three miles out from the town beside
the Calais-Dunkirk road. “The place would have been very nice, as
the Belgian aviation ground, in the intervals of dodging the Belgian
aviators, made a fine parade and recreation ground, but life in tents
was necessarily marred by continued frost and snow.” More intimately:
“The bell-tents are all right, but the marquees leak in the most
beastly manner. There are only a few places where we can escape the
drips.”

Here they diverted themselves, and here Sir Douglas Haig reviewed
them and some Belgian artillery, which, as it meant standing about
in freezing weather, was no diversion at all. But their “Great
Calais First Spring Meeting” held on Calais Sands, in some doubt as
to whether the tide would not wipe out the steeple-chase course, was
an immense and unqualified success. Every soul in the Brigade who
owned a horse, and several who had procured one, turned out and rode,
including Father Knapp, aged fifty-eight. There were five races, and
a roaring multitude who wanted to bet on anything in or out of sight.
The Battalion bookmaker was a second lieutenant—at home a barrister
of some distinction—who, in fur coat, brown bowler of the accepted
pattern, and with a nosegay of artificial flowers in his buttonhole,
stood up to the flood of bets till they overwhelmed him; and he and
his clerk “simply had to trust to people for the amounts we owed them
after the races.” Even so, the financial results were splendid. The
mess had sent them into the fray with a capital of 1800 francs, and
when evening fell on Calais Sands they showed a profit of 800 francs.
The star performance of the day was that of the C.O.’s old charger
“The Crump,” who won the steeple-chase held an hour after winning
the mile, where he had given away three stones. His detractors
insinuated that he was the only animal who kept within the limits
of the very generous and ample course laid out by Captain Charles
Moore. There followed a small orgy of Battalion and inter-Battalion
sports and amusements—football competitions for men and officers,
with a “singing competition” for “sentimental, comic, and original
turns.” Oddly enough, in this last the Battalion merely managed to
win a consolation prize, for a private who beat a drum, whistled, and
told comic tales in brogue. It may have been he was the great and
only “Cock” Burne or Byrne of whom unpublishable Battalion-history
relates strange things in the early days. He was eminent, even among
many originals—an elderly “old soldier,” solitary by temperament,
unpredictable in action, given to wandering off and boiling tea,
which he drank perpetually in remote and unwholesome corners of
the trenches. But he had the gift, with many others, of crowing
like a cock (hence his _nom-de-guerre_), and vastly annoyed the
unhumorous Hun, whom he would thus salute regardless of time, place,
or safety. To this trick he added a certain infinitely monotonous
tom-tomming on any tin or box that came handy, so that it was easy
to locate him even when exasperated enemy snipers were silent. He
came from Kilkenny, and when on leave wore such medal-ribbons as he
thought should have been issued to him—from the V.C. down; so that
when he died, and his relatives asked why those medals had not been
sent them, there was a great deal of trouble. Professionally, he
was a “dirty” soldier, but this was understood and allowed for. He
regarded authority rather as an impertinence to be blandly set aside
than to be argued or brawled with; and he revolved in his remote
and unquestioned orbits, brooding, crowing, drumming, and morosely
sipping his tea, something between a poacher, a horse-coper, a gipsy,
and a bird-catcher, but always the philosopher and man of many queer
worlds. His one defect was that, though difficult to coax on to the
stage, once there and well set before an appreciative audience,
little less than military force could haul “Cock” Byrne off it.

They celebrated St. Patrick’s Day on the 14th March instead of the
17th, which was fixed as their date for removal; and they wound up
the big St. Patrick dinners, and the Gaelic Football Inter-company
Competition (a fearsome game), with a sing-song round a bonfire in
the open. Not one man in six of that merry assembly is now alive.


THE SALIENT FOR THE FIRST TIME

They marched out of Calais early on the 17th March, through Cassel,
and Major the Hon. A. C. S. Chichester joined on transfer from
the 1st Battalion as Second in Command. Poperinghe was reached
on the afternoon of the 18th, a sixteen-mile march in suddenly
warm weather, but nobody fell out. The town, crowded with troops,
transport, and traffic of every conceivable sort, both smelt and
looked unpleasant. It was bombed fairly regularly by enemy planes,
so windows had long since ceased to be glazed; and at uncertain
intervals a specially noxious gun, known as “Silent Susy,” sent into
its populated streets slim shells that arrived unfairly before the
noise of their passage. But neither bombs nor shells interfered with
the cinemas, the “music hall,” the Y.M.C.A. or other diversions, for
every one in “Pop” was _ipso facto_ either going into the Salient or
coming out, and in both cases needed the distraction of the words and
pictures of civilised life. They lay there for a few days, and on
the 26th March about midnight, in a great quiet, they entered Ypres,
having entrained, also with no noise whatever, from Poperinghe. The
Diary, rarely moved to eloquence, sets down: “It was an impressive
sight not to be forgotten by those who were present, as we threaded
our way through the wrecked and shattered houses. Those of the
Battalion who knew it before had not seen it since the dark days of
November ’14, when with the 1st Battalion they played their part in
the glorious First Battle of Ypres, a fight never to be forgotten in
the annals of the Irish Guards.”

[Illustration: _THE YPRES SALIENT_

_Second Battalion Actions_

_Emery Walker Ltd. del. et sc._]

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY EMERY WALKER LTD., LONDON


The impression on the new hands, that is, the majority of men and
officers, struck in and stayed for years after. Some compared their
stealthy entry to tip-toeing into the very Cathedral of Death itself;
and declared that heads bowed a little and shoulders hunched, as in
expectation of some stroke upon the instant. Also that, mingled with
this emotion, was intense curiosity to know what the place might look
like by day. (“And God knows Ypres was no treat to behold, then or
after—day or night. The way most of us took it, was we felt ’twas
The Fear itself—the same as meeting up with the Devil. I do not
remember if ’twas moonlight or dark when we came in that first time.
Dark it must have been though, or we felt it was, and there was a
lot of doings going on in that darkness, such as Military Police,
and men whispering where we was to go, and stretchers, and parties
carrying things in the dark, in and out where the houses had fallen
by lumps. And there was little blue lights showing here and there and
around, and the whole stink of the Salient, blowing back and forth
upon us, the way we’d get it up our noses for ever. Yes—and there was
transport on the pavé, wheels going dam’ quick and trying, at the
same time, not to make a noise, if ye understand.

“And I remember, too, voices out of holes low down betwixt the
rubbish-heaps. They would be the troops in cellars over against the
Cloth Hall, I expect. And ye could hear our men breathing at the
halts, and the kit squeaking on their backs, and we marching the way
we was striving not to break eggs. I know _I_ was.”)

At the time no one seemed to have noticed the peculiarity of the
Salient, which, like Verdun, appears at night surrounded by a ring
of searchlights and artillery; so that on going forward one feels
as though one were altogether cut off from the rest of the front, a
target open to every fire.

They were welcomed on the morning of the 27th March by three shells
well and truly placed, one after the other, in the courtyard of
the Convent where Battalion H.Q. stood. Six N.C.O.’s and men were
wounded, of whom Sergeant McGuinn died a few hours later. This was
the prelude to a night-long bombardment from a battery evidently told
off for the job, which opening at eleven kept it up till ten of the
morning of the 28th, when it ceased, and the remainder of the day was
quiet. One must remember that the enemy used Ypres through the years
as their gunnery school officers’ training-ground.

The 29th March was also a quiet day for the Battalion. There was,
naturally, no walking about, or any distraction from the wonder
where the next blast of fire would choose to fall, a sensation of
helplessness which is not good for the nerves. They were the right
Reserve Battalion of the Right Brigade, which, elsewhere, would
have been equivalent to being in the front line, but Ypres had its
own scale of sufferings. They worked quietly on repairs from dusk
till the first light of dawn in their trenches beyond the Canal.
From daylight to dusk again they lay up in dug-outs for the most
part, and all fires that showed smoke were forbidden. But a race
accustomed to peat can miraculously make hot tea over a few fragments
of ammunition-boxes or a fistful of stolen coke, even in the inner
bowels of a sealed dug-out. Any signs of life were punished by visits
from observation-planes or a shelling from one flank or the other;
for the enemy commanded practically all their trenches, and this
implied a constant building and repair of traverses and blindages. It
took them three hours to relieve the 1st Coldstream in the front line
on the night of the 30th March, and during relief the reserve trench
which was being taken over by No. 4 Company under Captain Eric Greer
(he had reverted to Company Officer on Major Chichester’s arrival as
Second in Command) was shelled and badly knocked about. There were
only eight men wounded, however, and the company was “perfectly cool
throughout.” (“When you know ye may be for it every minute, you can
_not_ be more frightened than frightened. The same as getting drunk,
_I_ think. After a while—dead-drunk ye get, and dead-drunk ye stay.
Ah, but they was genteel trenches and pleasant-spoken Jerries down at
Laventie where we’d come from, in front of Red House and all!”)

The last day of March brought them for one breathless half-hour
the heaviest shelling they had yet undergone; but it ended, as so
many such outbursts did, in nothing but a few slight wounds, and a
searching of the Menin road by night with big stuff that roared and
rattled on what remained of the tortured stones. One could always
know when Ypres city had been shelled afresh, by the pools of blood
on the pavé in the raw morning or some yet undisposed-of horse which
told that the night-hawking processions of the transport had caught
it once again. Their daily lives in the front and reserve line were
dark, confined, and unsavoury. One officer was ill-advised enough
to pry into the vitals of his dug-out. (“When I arrived, it did not
look so bad, as the floor was covered with sand-bags as usual.”) A
strong-stomached orderly turned in to remove a few. He found no less
than six layers of them, progressively decaying; then floor-boards
of a fabulous antiquity, and last the original slime of ’14’s
corruption. It was neglectful, but men who may be blown out of this
life any hour of the twenty-four do not devote themselves to the
continuities of house-cleaning.

In Ypres city that spring not one single building was habitable,
though many of them still retained the shapes of human dwellings. The
Battalion messes were all underground in cellars, a couple of which,
with a hole knocked through the dividing walls, make a good anteroom;
but their sole light came from a small window which also gave passage
to the stove-pipe. A tired man could doze down there, in gross fuggy
warmth and a brooding stillness broken only by the footsteps of small
parties moving without ostentation till the triple whistle of the
aeroplane-watchers sent feet scurrying loudly to cover.

Those who have known of both terrains say Verdun Salient, by reason
of its size, contours, and elevation was less of a permanent tax on
the morale than the flatness and confinement of Ypres. One could
breathe in certain spots round Verdun; look out over large horizons
from others; and solid, bold features of landscape interposed between
oneself and the enemy. The thickness and depth, too, of all France
lay behind for support. In the Salient it was so short a distance
from Calais or Boulogne that one could almost hear the Channel
threatening at one’s back, and wherever wearied eyes turned, forwards
or flank wise, the view was closed by low, sullen rises or swells of
ground, held and used in comfort and at leisure by an established
enemy.

They reckoned time in the trenches by the amount of shelling that
fell to their share. A mere passage of big stuff overhead seeking its
butts in the town did not count any more than excited local attacks
to left or right of the immediate sector; and two or three men
wounded by splinters and odds-and-ends would not spoil the record
of “a quiet day.” Occasionally, as the tides and local currents of
attack shifted, our guns behind them would wake up to retaliation or
direct punishment. Sometimes the enemy’s answer would be immediate;
sometimes he accepted the lashing in silence till nightfall, and
then the shapeless town would cower and slide still lower into
its mounds and rubbish-heaps. Most usually a blow on one side or
the other would be countered, it seemed to the listeners in the
trenches between, exactly as in the prize-ring. But the combatants
were heavy-, middle-, and light-weight guns, and in place of the
thump of body blows, the jar and snap of jabs and half-hooks, or
the patter of foot-work on the boards, one heard the ponderous Jack
Johnsons arrive, followed by the crump of the howitzers, and then
the in-and-out work of field artillery quickening to a clinch, till
one side or the other broke away and the silence returned full of
menaces of what would happen next time “if you hit my little brother
again.” A local and concentrated shelling of the Battalion’s second
line one day, which might have developed bloodily, was damped down
in three minutes, thanks to a telephone and guns that worked almost
simultaneously. Nobody but themselves noticed it in the big arena.

Suddenly on the morning of the 9th April (it was due, perhaps,
to some change of troops on the front) the enemy snipers and
machine-guns woke up; and Lieutenant Kinahan, a keen, well-trusted,
and hard-working officer, was shot through the head by a sniper, and
died at once. By next day, Captain Greer of No. 4 Company had the
pleasure to report that his C.S.M.’s little party of snipers had
“accounted” for the killer. Sniping on that front just then was of a
high order, for the local enemy had both enterprise and skill, with
rifle and bomb.

Their trenches were a little below the average of those parts, that
is to say, almost impossible. A consoling local legend had it,
indeed, that they were so vile that a conference of generals had
decided to abandon them, but that, hearing the Guards Division
were under orders for the Salient, forebore, saying: “We’ll put the
Guards in ’em and if _they_ can’t make ’em decent we’ll give ’em
away to Jerry.” And in addition to repairs and drainage (“County
Council work,” as one sufferer called it) there were the regular
fatigues which, as has been pointed out many times, more than any
battle break down and tire the body and soul of the soldier. Here is
one incidental, small job, handed out as all in a night’s work. The
officer speaks. “It was particularly beastly. We were supposed to
make a dummy machine-gun emplacement for the enemy to shell. I took
forty men to meet the R.E. officer at a pleasant little rendezvous
‘two hundred yards north-west from Hell Fire Corner.’ Of course, we
were sent to the wrong place to look for that Sapper; and, of course,
the Boche was shelling the road on both sides of us. That was about
half-past nine. Then we drew our stuff to carry up. There were two
sheets of iron, each 12 by 6, and any quantity of sand-bags, shovels,
and timber. We had to travel a mile and a half by road, then up a
communication-trench, and then a few hundred yards across the open.
That was all. Well, it took four men to carry each of those cursed
pieces of iron on the level, open road. You couldn’t get ’em up a
trench at all. But we hung on to ’em, and about one o’clock we had
covered the road-bit of the journey and were half-way from the road
to the place where we had to build our blasted dummy. Then we got on
to ground absolutely chewed up by shell-holes and old trenches. You
couldn’t go a foot without falling. When we’d struggled a bit longer
with those sheets, we simply had to chuck ’em as unshiftable; and
make the best dummy we could of sand-bags only. Imagine two parties
of four tottering Micks apiece trying to sweat those tin atrocities
across that sort of country! And then, of course, a mist got up and
we were lost in the open—lovely!—and our guide, who swore he knew
the way, began to lead us round in circles. The R.E. and I spotted
what he was doing, because we kept an eye on the stars when we could
see ’em. So, after any amount of bother, we all got home. There were
bullets flying about occasionally (that’s part of the job), and we
ran into some shelling on our way back at four in the morning when
the Huns could see. But what I mean to say is that if it hadn’t been
for those two dam’ sheets which weren’t really needed at all, a dozen
men could have done the whole business straight off. And that was
just one small fatigue!”

Nothing of all this worried the morale of the men. They took it all
as a part of the inexplicable wonder of war, which orders that the
soldier shall do what he is told, and shall stay where he may be put.

A platoon was being inspected that month in Ypres. Suddenly shelling
opened some distance off, at first, but methodically drawing nearer
to dredge the town, till at last the shrapnel burst almost directly
overhead. The men stood rigidly to attention without moving a
muscle, till the officer gave them orders to take cover. Then they
disappeared into the nearest cellar. Later on, it occurred to the
officer that the incident “though commonplace was not without its
interesting aspect.”

They lay at Poperinghe in divisional rest from the 13th till the
19th April, during which time Lieutenant Nutting, and 2nd Lieutenant
Reford from the 11th Notts and Derby Regiment, joined for duty.
Thence they shifted over to camp near Vlamertinghe in Brigade Reserve
as left Battalion of the left Brigade.

On the 21st April Lieutenant R. McNeill joined, and on the 24th
they went into the line to relieve the 1st Coldstream in the left
sector—as unpleasing a piece of filth as even the Salient could
furnish. Five days before their entry it had been raided and blown
in, till it was one muddled muck-heap of wreckage and corpses.
Front-line repairs, urgently needed, could only be effected in the
dark; traffic- and communication-trenches had to be spasmodically
cleaned out between “crumps,” and any serious attack on them during
their first turn would have meant ruin.

The enemy tried a bombing raid on the night of the 28th-29th,
which was beaten off, without casualty, by our bombs, rifles, and
machine-guns. Nothing worse overtook them, and the bill for their
five days’ turn was one man killed and ten wounded, of whom three did
not quit duty. But the mere strain was poisonous heavy. They handed
over thankfully to their opposite number, the Coldstream, on the
29th, and lay up in Ypres Gaol. “The prison is a fine example of the
resistance to shell-fire of brick walls if they are thick enough.”
Verdun forts, at the far end of the line, were learning by now that
the best and thickest stone-facings fly and flake beneath the jar of
the huge shell that the enemy used against them, while ancient and
unconsidered brick-work over deep earth cores, though it collapses
into lumps hardly distinguishable from mould, yet gives protection to
the men in the galleries beneath.

May-Day at Ypres opened with “a good exhibition” of German shooting.
The enemy spent the whole day shelling the water-tower—a metal tank
on a brick pedestal—close to the prison. Every shell fell within
fifty yards, till the sole object that escaped—for a while—was the
tower itself. The “weather being hot and dry,” some of our officers
thought good to bathe in the Canal, but, not being water-towers,
found it better to come out before a flight of “crumps” found them.
Looking back upon this, one of the bathers counted that bath as his
own high-water mark of heroism. (“There were things in the Canal, you
know.”)

They went up on the 2nd May, relieving the Coldstream in the same
evil sector, and the enemy machine-guns filling the dark with bullets
as effectively as and more cheaply than artillery, killed one of
our corporals and wounded a couple of the Coldstream. A hint of the
various companies’ works shows what they had to contend with nightly.
No. 2, which held the right front line “where enough of the trench
had been already reclaimed to accommodate the whole company” (it was
not superior accommodation), borrowed two platoons from No. 1 and
worked till dawn at finishing a traffic-trench behind the blown-in
front and at making parapets till “by morning it was possible to
get all along this trench, even with a good deal of crawling.” No. 4
were out wiring a post against flank and rear attack. It stood out
in a wilderness of utterly smashed trenches, which fatigue-parties
from the reserve battalions dealt with, by the help and advice of the
Sappers, and constructed a new trench (Wieltje Trench) running out on
the left flank of the weak and unsupported Wieltje salient. Here was
another desert of broken trenches, linked by shallow or wet sketches
of new ones. No. 3 Company worked at its own trench, and at the
repair of Cardoen Street which “had recently been blown in in several
places.” An improved trench could be walked along, without too much
stooping. Unimproved dittoes demanded that men should get out and run
in the open, steeple-chasing across wreckage of tinware and timber,
the bramble-like embraces of stray wire-ends, and that brittle and
insecure foothold afforded by a stale corpse, while low flights of
machine-gun bullets hastened their progress, or shrapnel overhead
hunted the party as hawks hunt small birds in and out of hedges. The
labour was as monotonous and barren to perform as it seems to record;
but it made the background of their lives and experiences. Some say
that, whatever future war may bring forth, never again can men be
brought to endure what armed mankind faced in the trenches in those
years. Certain it is that men, nowadays, thinking upon that past,
marvel to themselves that they could by any means have overcome it at
the time, or, later, have put it behind them. But the wonder above
all wonders is that, while they lived that life, it seemed to them
sane and normal, and they met it with even temper and cool heads.

On the 3rd May, Major Chichester, who had been suffering for some
time from the effects of a wound by a H.E. that burst within a
few feet of him, had to go sick, and Captain E. B. Greer was left
temporarily in command. Their own Commanding Officer, the Hon. L.
J. P. Butler, who had come out with them at the first and taken all
that the Gods had sent since, was on the 5th May translated to the
command of a Kitchener Brigade. Here is a tribute of that time, from
within the Battalion, where they were not at all pleased by the calls
of the New Army for seasoned brigadiers. “Butler, more than any
other man, has made this Battalion what it is. Also we all love him.
However, I am glad he has got a less dangerous job. He is too brave a
man ever to be safe.”

On that same day they were relieved and went into one of the
scattered wooden camps near Brandhoek for a whole week, which was
spoiled by cold weather and classes in wiring under an R.E. corporal
attached to them for that purpose. (“We were _not_ clever with our
hands at first go-off, but when it came to back-chat and remarks on
things, and no officers near, begad there was times when I could have
pitied a Sapper!”)

By the 12th May the Battalion was in reserve, their Brigade in the
line, Major P. L. Reid had assumed command and Lieutenant F. Pym and
2nd Lieutenants A. Pym and Close had joined. Then they began again to
consider raids of a new pattern under much more difficult conditions
than their Laventie affairs. The 2nd Grenadiers and the 1st
Coldstream were to do the reconnoitring for them, and “live Germans
were badly needed for purposes of intelligence.” The authorities
recommended, once more, two simultaneous raids symmetrically one from
each flank. Their C.O. replied, as at Laventie, that live Germans
meant stalking, and wished to know how it was possible to stalk to
a time-table, even had the ground been well reconnoitred, and if
several nights instead of one, and that a relief-night, had been
allowed for preparations. Neither of the raids actually came off,
but the projected one on the left flank ended in a most typical and
instructive game of blind-man’s buff. The idea was to rush a German
listening-post known to be held just north of the railway line on the
left of Railway Wood, and the point of departure for the Coldstream
reconnoitring patrol had been from a listening-post of our own, also
on the railway. The patrol’s report was perfectly coherent. They
had left our listening-post, gone up the railway line, turned half
right, crawled fifty yards, found German wire, worked along it,
discovered a listening-post “empty but obviously in recent use,” had
hurried back, recrossed the railway about a hundred yards above our
own listening-post, and fifty yards to the north of their crossing
had noted the outline of another German listening-post where men
were talking. (It is interesting to remember that the entire stage
of these tense dramas could almost be reconstructed in a fair-sized
garden.) This latter, then, was the post which the Battalion was to
attack. Accordingly, they rehearsed the play very carefully with ten
men under Lieutenant F. Pym, who had strict orders when they should
rush the post, to club the Germans, “trying not to kill them (or one
another).” They were to “collar a prisoner and hurry him back if well
enough to walk,” and, incidentally, as illustrating the fashion of
the moment, they were all to wear “brown veils.”

With these stage-directions clear in their mind, they went into the
line on the 16th May, after a quiet relief, and took over from the
Coldstream the sector from Railway Wood, the barricades across the
railway, the big dug-out which had been an old mine, under Railway
Wood, and disposed their reserves near Hell Fire Corner and the
Menin road. It was ground they knew and hated, but since they had
last eaten dirt there, our own listening-post, which had been the
point of departure for the Coldstream patrol, on whose reports the
raid would be based, had been withdrawn one hundred and fifty yards
down the railway line. Apparently no one had realised this, and the
captain (Platt) of the Coldstream Company, who had this sector when
the 2nd Irish Guards relieved, had been killed while out wiring a
couple of nights before. Consequently, that patrol had reconnoitred
_inside_ our own front; had mistaken our own wire for the German,
had followed it to one of our own disused posts, and had seen and
heard a listening-post of the 2nd Grenadiers which they, quite
logically, assumed to be German and reported as such. Everything
fitted in like a jigsaw puzzle, but all was based on a line which had
been shifted—as the Battalion perceived the moment they took over
the sector. So there was no attack with clubs and brown veils by
the 2nd Irish Guards on the 2nd Grenadiers’ listening-post then, or
afterwards, and the moral of the story was “verify your data.” (“No
living man could tell from one day to the next—let alone nights—which
was our line and which was Jerry’s. ’Twas broke an’ gapped and turned
round every way, and each battalion had its own fancy-trenches dug
for to make it worse for the next that took over. The miracle was—an’
how often have I seen it!—the miracle was that we did not club each
other in the dark every night instead of—instead of when we did.”)

The Battalion went on, sadly, with its lawful enterprises of running
wire and trench from the high ground under Railway Wood toward the
shifted barricade on the railway itself; and digging saps to unstable
mine-craters that had, some way or other, to be worked into their
ever-shifting schemes of defence. All this under machine-gun fire
on bright nights, when, as the cruel moon worked behind them, each
head showing above ground-level was etched in black for the snipers’
benefit. On their right flank, between their own division and the
Canadians, lay a gap of a quarter of a mile or so, which up till then
had been imperfectly looked after by alternate hourly patrols. (“And
in the intervals, any Germans who knew the way might have walked into
Ypres in quest of souvenirs.”) It had to be wired and posted, and, at
the same time, a huge, but for the moment dry, mine-crater directly
in front of the right company’s shattered trench, needed linking up
and connecting with another crater on the left. Many dead men lay in
the line of that sap, where, at intervals, enemy rifle-grenades would
lob in among the sickened workers. The moonlight made the Germans
active as rats every night, and, since it was impossible to wire
the far sides of the craters in peace, our people hit upon the idea
of pushing “knife-rests”—ready wired trestles—out in the desired
direction with poles, after dark. Be it noted, “This is a way, too
much neglected, of wiring dangerous places. Every description of
‘puzzy-wuzzy’ can be made by day by the eight company wirers, and
pushed out. Then on the first dark night, a few metal pegs and a
strand or two of wire passed through the whole thing, makes an
entanglement that would entangle a train.” (The language and emotions
of the fatigue-parties who sweated up the unhandy “knife-rests”
are not told.) Half the Battalion were used to supply the wants of
the other half; for rations and water could only creep to within a
couple of hundred yards of Hell Fire Corner, where the parties had
to meet them and pack them the rest of the way by hand. The work of
staggering and crawling, loaded with sharp-angled petrol-tins of
water along imperfect duck-boards, is perhaps a memory which will
outlast all others for the present generation. “The fatigues kill—the
fatigues kill us”—as the living and the dead knew well.

On the 18th May they were drenched with a five hours’ bombardment
of 4.2’s and “woolly bears.” It blew in one of their trenches (West
Lane) and killed two men and wounded an officer of the Trench Mortar
Battery there. But the height of the storm fell, as usual, round Hell
Fire Corner, never a frequented thoroughfare by daylight, and into
an abandoned trench. “They could hardly have put down so much shell
anywhere else in our line and have got so small a bag. Only one man
in the company was wounded.” The race is not always to the swift,
nor the battle to the strong; but a battalion that works strenuously
on its parapets and traffic-trenches gets its reward, even in the
Salient in ’16. Battalion Headquarters, always fair target for a
jest, is derided as taking “a severe fright from a shell that pitched
twenty yards away, but it was an obvious error in bowling, and was
not repeated.” Our guns fired throughout the next day, presumably
in retaliation, but, like all troops in trenches, the Battalion had
no interest in demonstrations that did not directly affect their
food and precious water-tins. They were relieved on the 21st of May
by the 6th Oxford and Bucks of the Twentieth Division, and went off
to camp near Proven for ten days’ Corps Reserve, when “almost the
entire Battalion was on fatigue, either building military railways or
cleaning up reserve-lines of trenches.”


AFTER HOOGE

On the 1st June they moved out of that front altogether, to billets
at the back of Wormhoudt fourteen miles away, and thence on the next
day, June 2, to Bollezeele westward, while the enemy were making
their successful attack on the Canadians at Hooge. (“Have ye noticed
there is always trouble as soon as you come out of the line; or,
maybe, being idle you pay the more attention to it. _Anny_way, the
minute _we_ was out of it, of course Jerry begins to play up and
so Hooge happened, and that meant more fatigue for the Micks.”)
Meantime, they were in “G.H.Q. Reserve” for a fortnight, busy on a
rehearsal-line of English and German trenches which the R.E. had laid
down for them to develop. Our G.H.Q. were thinking of the approaching
campaign on the Somme. The enemy were intent on disarranging our
plans just as our guns were moving southward. Hooge was their spoke
in our wheel. It came not far short of success; for it pinned a
quantity of shellable troops to weak ground, directly cost the lives
of several thousands of them and added a fresh sore to the Salient’s
many weaknesses in that it opened a fortnight’s fierce fighting,
with consequent waste, as well as diversion, of supplies. While that
battle, barren as the ground it won and lost, surged back and forth,
the Battalion at Bollezeele gained a glory it really appreciated by
beating the 3rd Grenadiers in the ring, six fights out of nine, at
all weights. Specially they defeated Ian Hague (late heavy-weight
champion of England) whom Corporal Smith of the Battalion settled
“on points.” There would be time and, perhaps, warning to attend to
Death when He called. Till then, young and active life was uppermost,
and had to be catered for. Indeed, their brigadier remarked of the
social side of that boxing entertainment that “it reminded him of
Ascot.”

But at the back of everything, and pouring in hourly by official or
unofficial word, was the news of the changing fortunes of Hooge.
Would that postpone or advance the date of the “spring meeting,” not
in the least like Ascot, that they had discussed so long? Whichever
way war might go, the Guards would not be left idle.

On the evening of the 13th June the order came “telling us that
we would move up next day to Hooge and take over a section of the
line from a Canadian brigade.” They went off in motor lorries,
and by the evening of the 15th the Battalion was once more in the
packed Infantry Barracks of Ypres where the Canadian officers made
Battalion Headquarters their guests till things could be sorted out.
Our counter-attack of the 13th June had more or less come to rest,
leaving the wrecked plinths of the houses of Hooge, and but very
little more, in the enemy’s hands, and both sides were living on the
last edge of their nerves. Proof of this came on the night of the
16th, when the Battalion in barracks was waiting its turn. An SOS.
went up in the dark from somewhere north of the Menin road, that
stony-hearted step-mother of calamity; some guns responded and, all
in one instant, both sides’ artillery fell to it full-tongued, while
“to make everything complete a gas-signal was given by one of our
battalions. A terrific bombardment ensued. Later in the night, the
performance was repeated, less the gas-alarm.”

The explanation was as simple as human nature. Both sides had
taken bad knocks in the past fortnight. Both artilleries, largely
increased, were standing by ready for trouble, and what else could
one expect—save a detonation? But local rumour ran that the whole
Gehenna had been started by one stray ration-party which, all
communication-trenches being blown in, was toiling to the front
line in the open and showed against the sky-line—quite enough, at
that tension, to convince the enemy that it was the head of a fresh
infantry attack. The rest came of itself: but the gas-alarm was the
invention of the Devil himself. It upset the dignity of all the
staffs concerned, for the Brigadier himself, the H.Q. Staff of the
Coldstream as well as the C.O. and company officers of the 2nd Irish
Guards who were visiting preparatory to taking over the sector, found
themselves in one tiny room beneath a brick-kiln, all putting on
their helmets at once, and, thereafter, all trying to explain their
views of the crisis through them. Some have since compared that
symposium to a mass-meeting of unemployed divers; others to a troupe
of performing seals.

They relieved the 1st Coldstream, very quietly, on the night of
the 18th June in an all but obliterated section of what had been
the Canadians’ second line and was now our first, running from the
Culvert, on the Menin road, west of Hooge, through Zouave Wood, and
into the north end of Sanctuary Wood. Four to eight hundred yards
lay between them and the enemy, who were settling down in the old
Canadian front line across the little swampy valley. The left of the
Irish Guards’ sector was, even after the Coldstream had worked on
it for three days, without dug-outs, and blown in in places, but it
offered a little cover. Their right line, for nearly half a mile,
was absolutely unrecognizable save in a few isolated spots. The
shredded ground was full of buried iron and timber which made digging
very difficult, and, in spite of a lot of cleaning up by their
predecessors, dead Canadians lay in every corner. It ran through what
had once been a wood, and was now a dreary collection of charred and
splintered stakes, “to the tops of which, blown there by shells,
hung tatters of khaki uniform and equipment.” There was no trace of
any communication-trenches, so companies had to stay where they were
as long as the light lasted. Battalion H.Q. lived in the brick-kiln
aforementioned, just west of the Zillebeke road, and company
commanders walked about in the dark from one inhabited stretch to the
next, trusting in Providence. So, too, did the enemy, whom Captain
Alexander found, to the number of six, ambling promiscuously in the
direction of Ypres. They challenged, he fired, and they blundered
off—probably a lost wiring-party. In truth, neither front line knew
exactly where the other lay in that chaos; and, both being intent
upon digging themselves in ere the guns should begin again, were glad
enough to keep still. Our observation-parties watched the Germans as
they crept over the ridge at dusk and dropped into the old Canadian
line, where their policies could be guessed at from the nature of the
noises they made at work; but no one worried them.

On the 20th June an unlucky shell pitched into No. 1 Company, killing
three, wounding two, and shocking five men; otherwise there was
quiet, and their brigadier came round the support-trenches that day
and complimented all hands on their honesty as craftsmen. As he said,
it would have been easy for them to have slacked off on their last
night in a position to which they were not returning, whereas they
had worked like beavers, and so the battalion which relieved them
(the Royal Canadian Regiment resting at Steenvoorde since Hooge where
it had lost three hundred men) found good cover and fair wire all
along the sector. The Canadians were late, for their motor-buses went
adrift somewhere down the road, and the Battalion only “just caught
the last train” out of Ypres and reached camp near Vlamertinghe at
dawn on the 21st June.

It had been a strange interlude of ash-pits and charnel-houses,
sandwiched between open-air preparations, for that always postponed
“spring meeting.” No troops are the better for lying out, unrelieved
by active reprisals, among shrivelled dead; and even the men, who
love not parades, were pleased at a few days of steady barrack-square
drill, when a human being walks and comports himself as though he
were a man, and not a worm in the mire or a slave bound to bitter
burdens and obscene tasks. At Vlamertinghe they found, and were glad
to see him, Captain FitzGerald, recovered after three weeks’ sickness
in England, and joyfully back before his time; and Lieutenant R.
McNeill, who had acted as Adjutant, returned to the command of No. 2
Company in the absence of Captain Bird, gone sick. They were busied
at Battalion H.Q. with the preparation of another raid to be carried
out on the night of the 2nd July “as part of the demonstration
intended to occupy the attention of the Germans in this locality
while more important events were happening elsewhere.” Lieutenant F.
Pym, a bold, daring, and collected officer, was chosen to command
the little action, and each company sent up eight volunteers and one
sergeant, from whom thirty men and one sergeant were finally picked
and set to rehearsing every detail.

On the 28th June they moved up to within four miles of the front and
lay at Elverdinghe—two companies and Battalion H.Q. in the château
itself, where they were singularly comfortable, and two in the canal
bank, in brick and sand-bag dug-outs. It was true that all furniture
and pictures had gone from the château with the window-glass, and
that swallows nested in the cornices of the high, stale-smelling
rooms, but the building itself, probably because some trees around
blocked direct observation, was little changed, and still counted
as one of the best places in the line for Brigade reserves. Their
trenches, however, across the battered canal presented less charm.
The front line was “dry on the whole,” but shallow; the support quite
good, but the communication-trenches (it was the Battalion’s first
experience of Skipton Road) were variously wet, blown in, swamped,
or frankly flooded with three feet of water. Broken trenches mean
broken companies and more work for company commanders, but some of
the platoons had to be scattered about in “grouse butts” and little
trenches of their own, a disposition which tempts men to lie snug,
and not to hear orders at the first call.


THE RAID OF THE 2ND JULY

All through the 1st of July our guns bombarded their chosen front
with the object of cutting, not too ostentatiously, the wire where
our raid was going to take place, and of preparing the way on the
right for an attack by the 3rd Guards Brigade on a small German
salient that had to be reduced. The enemy answered with a new type
of trench-mortar shell, nine inches in diameter, fired from a rifled
mortar of high trajectory at a thousand yards’ range. The shock
and smash of it were worse than a 5.9, and did much damage to Nile
Trench, but caused no casualties. The 2nd July was the day for the
raid itself, and just as Battalion Headquarters were discussing the
very last details, an urgent message from Brigade Headquarters came
in to them—“Please hasten your report on pork and bean rations.”

The notion was that our 18-pounders and 4.5 hows. with a couple of
trench-mortars, would open heavily at twenty minutes to ten. Ten
minutes later, the Stokes mortars were to join in. At ten the guns
would lift and make a barrage while the Stokes mortars attended to
the flanks of the attack. It was a clear evening, so light, indeed,
that at the last minute the men were told to keep their jackets
on lest their shirts should betray them. (It was _then_, men said
later, that the raid should have been postponed.) Everything was
quite quiet, and hardly a shot was being fired anywhere, when the
party lined up under Lieutenant F. Pym. Our bombardment opened
punctually, but drew no answer from the enemy for ten minutes. Then
they put down a barrage behind our front line, which was the origin
of all the trouble to come. At the last minute, one single unrelated
private, appearing from nowhere in particular, was seen to push his
way down the trench, climbing over the raiders where they crouched
waiting for the life-or-death word. Said an officer, who assumed that
at the least he must bear vital messages: “Who are you?” “R.F.A.
trench-mortar man, sir,” was the reply. Then, “Where the devil are
you going?”—“Going to get my tea, sir.” He passed on, mess-tin in
hand, noticing nothing that was outside of his own immediate show;
for of such, mercifully, were the armies of England.

Meantime the enemy barrage increased on Nile Trench, and the front
trenches began to gap badly. There was still light enough to give
a good view of the German parapets when our raiders went over the
top, and several machine-guns opened on them from the enemy second
line. This was a bad kick-off, for, with our leading raiders out in
the open, it would have been murder to have held the rest back. They
all went on into the barrage and the machine-gun fire, and from that
point the account of what actually, or supposedly, happened must, as
usual, be collected from survivors. The whole attack seems to have
reached the German wire which was “well cut in places.” Here our
men were checked by machine-gun fire (they probably ran up to the
muzzles of them) and some bombing. They stopped and began to bomb
back. Pym rushed forward through the leading men, jumped into the
trench, landed in an empty German bay, shouting to them to follow,
turned left with a few men, reached the door of a machine-gun dug-out
with its gun in full blast, broke in, found two men at work, knocked
one of them off the gun and, with the help of Private Walshe, made
him prisoner. Our bombers, meantime, had spread left and right, as
laid down, to hold each end of the captured section, but had further
to block a communication-trench which entered it about the middle,
where the enemy was trying to force his way in. It is difficult
to say whether there was not an attack on both flanks as well. At
any rate, a general bomb-scuffle followed, in which our men held
up the enemy and tried to collect prisoners. The captured section
of trench only contained one dead and five living. One of these
“proved unmanageable and had to be killed.” Four were hurried back
under escort for samples, but two of these were killed by their own
shell-fire on the road. The R.E. officer looked round, as his duty
was, to find things to demolish, but the trench was clean and empty.
He was hit twice, but managed to get back. Three gas-experts had
also been attached to the expedition. Two of them were wounded on
the outward run. The third searched the trench but found no trace
of gas engines. Some papers and documents were snatched up from the
dug-outs, but he who took charge of them did not live to hand over.
The barrage grew heavier; the machine-gun fire from the enemy second
line never ceased; and the raiders could see the home-parapet going
up in lumps. It was an exquisitely balanced choice of evils when, at
about ten past ten, Lieutenant Pym blew his horn for the withdrawal.
A minute or two later, men began to trickle over our parapet through
the barrage, and here the bulk of the casualties occurred. Our guns
ceased fire at twenty past ten, but the enemy battered savagely at
our front line with heavies and trench-mortars till eleven. The
result was that “the front line, never very good, became chaotic, and
the wounded had to be collected in undamaged bays.” It was hopeless
to attempt to call the roll there, so what raiders could stand, with
the two surviving prisoners, were sent up to Brigade Headquarters
while the wounded were got across the open to Lancashire Farm and
the trolley-line there. Pym was nowhere to be found, and though some
men said, and honestly believed, that they had seen him re-enter our
lines, he was not of the breed which would have done this till he had
seen the last of his command out of the German trenches. He may have
got as far as the German wire on his way back and there, or in that
neighbourhood, have been killed; but he was never in our trench again
after he left it. Others, too, of that luckless party bore themselves
not without credit. For example, a signaller, name not recorded,
who laid his telephone wire up to the trench across No Man’s Land
and had it cut by a shell while he was seeking for Lieutenant Pym.
On his return he came across a man shot in the legs, and bore him,
under heavy shell and machine-gun fire, to our wire which was not
constructed for helpless wounded to get through. The signaller
dropped into the trench, calling on Sergeant O’Hagan, a busy man
that night, for stretcher-bearers, but these had all been hit. The
Sergeant suggested that he should telephone to Battalion Headquarters
and draw some from there. The telephonist—perhaps because a doctor
rarely uses his own drugs—preferred to put the case directly to a
couple of men in No. 2 Company, at the same time indicating the
position of the wounded man, and those three handed him down into the
very moderate safety that our front line then offered. And again,
when Sergeant Austen, the sergeant of the raid, was hit and fell in
German wire, one of the raiders stayed with him awhile, and finally
dragged him to our line, with the usual demand for bearers. This
time they were all busy, but he found Lieutenant F. Greer and that
officer’s servant, whom he had led forth, and “in spite of heavy
machine-gun fire,” they brought in the Sergeant. Unluckily, just
at the end of the German bombardment, Lieutenant Synge was very
badly hit while in the front line. The raid had been a fair, flat,
but heroic failure, due, as most men said, to its being loosed in
broad daylight at a fully prepared enemy. Outside the two prisoners,
nothing, not even a scrap of paper, was gained except the knowledge
that the Battalion could handle such affairs as these in their day’s
work, put it all equably behind them, and draw fresh lessons for
fresh to-morrows. (“We lost one dam’ good officer, and more good men
than was worth a thousand Jerries, but, mark you, we might have lost
just that same number any morning in the front line, as we _have_
lost them again and again, under the expenditure of half a dozen,
maybe one, shell the devil happened to be riding that time. And them
that it took would never have had even the exercise, let alone the
glory, of all them great doings of ours. So, ye see, everything in
war is good luck or bad.”)

Their brigadier had a little talk with the raiding-party next day
on the Canal Bank, when he made much of them, and told them that
he was very pleased with “their gallant behaviour under adverse
circumstances.” It was gratifying, because they had done all that
they could. But after every raid, as indeed after every action,
there follows interminable discussion from every point of view of
every rank, as to the “might-have-beens”—what would have happened
had you been there, or they been here, and whether the bay where
the raid wrecked itself against the barricade none suspected might
have been turned by a dash across the top, in the pauses of the
shifting and returning overhead machine-gun fire. The messes discuss
it, the estaminets where the men talk pick up those verdicts from
the mess-waiters and go over them again and again; the front line
scratches diagrams on the flank of sand-bags with bits of burned
stick, and the more they explain, argue, and asseverate, the deeper
grows the confusion out of which the historian in due time weaves the
accepted version—at which all who were concerned scoff.

The 4th July was a quiet day after a bombardment the night before
that had further enlarged the gap of untenable trench which the
furious reprisals for the raid had created. They spent their hours
repairing damage as much as possible till they were relieved by the
1st Coldstream, and a half of them got into billets at Elverdinghe
Château, and the rest in Canal Bank. By this time the enemy had
begun to turn their attention to the château, in spite of its
screening trees, and were in the habit of giving it a daily ration of
whizz-bangs, which disturb drill-formations. Troops of the Division
being fairly thick on the ground, one morning’s work (July 7) managed
to wound two machine-gunners of the 1st Coldstream and another of the
1st Irish Guards.

On the 5th July Major C. A. Rocke arrived and took over the duties of
Second in Command. On the 7th Captain R. McNeill left the Battalion
sick, and Lieutenant R. Nutting took over command of No. 2 Company.

On the 8th they moved up to their old position, relieving the 1st
Coldstream across the canal without casualties, three companies in
the front line that had been a little repaired since their raid,
and the fourth (No. 2) in support in Nile Trench. Three quiet days
and nights followed, when they could work undisturbed. On the 11th
July a happy party was chosen to attend the 14th July celebrations
at Paris. The adjutant, Captain J. S. N. FitzGerald, commanded them,
all six, and their names were: Drill-Sergeant Harradine, Sergeants
Reid, Glennon, and Halpin, and Privates Towland and Dunne. Rumour,
which respects naught, said that they were chosen with an eye to
the credit of the Battalion at any inter-allied banquets that might
be obligatory, and that they did not fail. On the 12th, after a
quiet night, forty large-size shells were sent into Canal Bank,
as retaliation, they presumed, for some attentions on the part of
our 9.2’s, the afternoon before. The Battalion was unhurt, but the
1st Scots Guards had several casualties. Their tour ended next day
without trouble, and they were back by Elverdinghe Château for two
days’ light and mostly ineffective shelling preparatory to their move
on the 15th July to Camp P. some three miles north of Poperinghe.
During this time, 2nd Lieutenant Mylne arrived and was posted to No.
4 Company, and 2nd Lieutenants C. Hyne and Denson to No. 2 Company.
Second Lieutenant Hordern also rejoined and was posted to No. 1.
Every one understood, without too much being said, that that sector
would see them no more till after the great “spring meeting,” now
set for the autumn, which many believed would settle the war. It
was a small interlude of “fattening up” before the Somme, which
included Battalion sports and company-drill competitions. There was,
too, a dinner on the anniversary of the raising of the Battalion,
16th of July, when General Ponsonby dined with the Battalion. (In
those ancient days men expected everything in the world except its
disbandment as soon as war should be over.)

On the 18th July Captain J. S. N. FitzGerald and his detachment
returned from Paris after one joyous week, and took over the
adjutancy again from the second in command; and Captain Greer, who
had sprained his ankle badly during the raid, was sent down to the
base for cure.

It is noted that on the 21st Captain Lord Castlerosse, wounded in the
far-off days at Villers-Cotterêts with the 1st Battalion, joined the
Battalion from G.S. Ninth Corps. The wild geese were being called in
preparatory to their flight for the Somme.


THE SOMME

It began in the usual way, by definite orders to relieve a battalion
in the front line. These were countermanded next day and, the day
after, changed to orders to move to Bollezeele, where on the 25th
they “received a great welcome from the inhabitants,” doubtless for
old sakes’ sake. Then came the joining up of the last subalterns, and
three days’ steady route-marching to toughen tender feet. Lieutenant
Montgomery rejoined, and was posted to No. 2 Company, and, with him,
2nd Lieutenant Budd; Lieutenant Brew, not without experience in
raiding, also arrived and was posted to No. 4 Company. This finished
the tale, and on the 29th, the last Sunday of the month, they cleared
personal accounts at mass and Church of England services; and on the
30th marched out to Esquelbecq, where they entrained all together,
with their first-line transport, and were shifted, _via_ Hazebrouck,
Berguette, and St. Pol, to Petit Houvain five miles south of the
latter town, or, broadly speaking, from the left to the right of
the British line. That small trip lasted till evening, after which
they marched fourteen miles to Lucheux on the Grouches River above
Doullens, into a new world of camps and hutments, at midnight. The
Diary says—on such points diaries are always particular, because
it touches the honour of company officers—“the Battalion marched
splendidly, only six men having to be carried for the last few miles.
These were mostly old or previously wounded men.” And the month of
July ends with the words, “There is nothing to record.”

There was, perhaps, not so very much after all.

The battle of the Somme had been in full blaze now from Maricourt
to Hébuterne and Gomiecourt, for one month; and after the
expenditure of no one had time to count how many men, our front
from Ovillers-la-Boisselle to Fricourt and below Montauban had been
advanced in places to the depth of three miles on a front of ten. It
was magnificent, for the whole of the Press said so; and it was also
extensively advertised as war.

From Ovillers-la-Boisselle to the north the German line, thanks to
its clouds of machine-guns, had not been shifted by our attack, and
the Battalion came, for the time being, under the orders of the
Twenty-fifth Division (7th Brigade) which lay against the southern
shoulder of the Gomiecourt salient just where the sweeping bare
uplands break back to the valley of the Authies. They were turned in
to dig trenches on the sector, four or five miles from their bivouac
in the little wood to the south of Mailly-Maillet. They left the
crowded Lucheux camp in lorries at three on the afternoon of the 1st
August (“In those days we knew we were for it, but we did not know
what the Somme was going to be”), reached bivouac at eight, marched
to their trenches and came back at daybreak with one N.C.O. and four
men wounded. It was a most gentle introduction to the scenes of their
labours. The enemy were using shrapnel mostly part of the 3rd August;
2nd Lieutenant Hordern was dangerously and eight men were slightly
wounded by one shell while at work. Second Lieutenant Vaughan joined
on this date and was posted to No. 2 Company. Whether, as some said,
the authorities did not know what to do with them for a few days,
or whether they were part of a definite scheme of attack, no one
cared. The machine had taken possession of their lives and fates, and
as they went from trench to bivouac and back again they could both
see and hear how extremely little a battalion, or for that matter
a brigade, mattered in the present inferno. The fortnight’s battle
that had opened on the 14th of July had finished itself among erased
villages and woods that were already all but stumpage, while the big
guns were pounding the camps and bivouacs that held our reserves, and
one stumbled on old and fresh dead in the most unlikely and absurd
places.

On the 6th August their turn ended, and they came back, for a
couple of days, to the 2nd Guards Brigade in the Bois du Warnimont
hutments—none too good—outside Authie. Here His Majesty the King
visited them on the 9th August, and, after three “quiet” days
spent in reconnoitring the trenches in front of Mailly-Maillet and
Auchonvillers, the Battalion on the 13th relieved the 1st Coldstream
in the front line.

It was a featureless turn of duty, barring some minenwerfer work by
the enemy once or twice in the dawns, which affected nothing.

They were relieved by a battalion of the K.O.Y.L.I. on the 15th,
and hutted in the wood near Mailly-Maillet. Here began their more
specialised training for the work that lay ahead of them. It included
everything that modern warfare of that date could imagine, from
following up drum-barrages at twenty-five yards’ distance, to the
unlovely business of unloading ammunition at railheads.

Domestically, there were not many incidents. Captain E. B. Greer
rejoined from the base on the 15th August. The Second in Command and
the Adjutant went sick on the 18th and 19th respectively. (These
ranks are not in the habit of noticing their personal complaints
when regimental life is crowded. They were back in ten days.) Second
Lieutenants Lysaght and Tomkins arrived from the base on the 30th,
and 2nd Lieutenant Zigomala on the 31st August.

One little horror of a life where men had not far to look for such
things stands out in the record of preparations that went on through
the clangour and fury of the Somme around them. On a windy Sunday
evening at Couin, in the valley north of Bus-les-Artois, they saw
an observation-balloon, tethered near their bivouacs, break loose
while being hauled down. It drifted towards the enemy line. First
they watched maps and books being heaved overboard, then a man in
a parachute jumping for his life, who landed safely. “Soon after,
something black, which had been hanging below the basket, detached
itself and fell some three thousand feet. We heard later that it
was Captain Radford (Basil Hallam). His parachute apparently caught
in the rigging and in some way he slipped out of the belt which
attached him to it. He fell near Brigade Headquarters.” Of those who
watched, there was not one that had not seen him at the “Halls” in
the immensely remote days of “Gilbert the Filbert, the Colonel of the
Nuts.”

Before the end of the month, they had shifted from their congested
camp near Bus-les-Artois to Méricourt under Albert, which they
reached circuitously by train, and there lay in Corps Reserve.
The weather was against drills. It rained almost every day, and
they slipped and swore through their rehearsals, wave-attacks, and
barrage-huntings across the deepening mud.

On the 9th September, at Happy Valley, they had their first sight
of the tanks, some thirty of which were parked, trumpeting and
clanking, near their camp. At that date the creatures were known as
“creepy-crawlies” or “hush-hush birds” and were not as useful as they
learned to become later. Then came the Battalion’s last dispositions
as to the reserve of officers, who were to be held till needed with
the first-line transport. The C.O., Lieut.-Colonel Reid, was down in
hospital with _pukka_ trench-fever and a temperature to match, and
Lieutenant Nutting, sick with dysentery, had to be sent to England.
Lieutenant Dollar, who had rejoined a few days before on recovery of
the same disease, Captain Greer, and Lieutenant Brew represented the
Reserve, and even so (for the Somme was merciless throughout) Captain
Witts, who had fallen ill at Carnoy, had to change places with
Lieutenant Brew. Captain Alexander had rejoined the Battalion after
two days’ (jealously noted as “three nights”) Paris leave.

The field-wastage began at once. They relieved the 4th Grenadiers
on the evening of the 12th September in the new, poor, and shallow
trenches dug a few days before, as our troops had worked their way
into the German system, in the salient east of Ginchy; but ere that
relief was completed, 2nd Lieutenant Zigomala and ten men had been
wounded. Next day saw forty casualties from shrapnel and snipers, and
2nd Lieutenant Vaughan and several men in No. 1 Company were killed
by a single shell. The enemy, well aware of what was intended, did
all that they could to cripple, delay, and confuse, and waste the men
and material on our side. Their chief reliance was their “pocketed”
machine-guns with which the whole ground was peppered; and their
gunners’ instructions, most gallantly obeyed, were, on the withdrawal
of any force, to remain and continue killing till they themselves
were killed. Consequently it was necessary at frequent intervals to
hunt up these pests by hand rather as one digs out wasps’ nests after
dark.

On the night of the 13th September, it fell to the lot of the
Battalion to send out No. 2 Company upon a business of this
nature—machine-guns in a strong trench on their right. After a
bombardment supposed to have cut the wire, the company had to file
across a stretch of the open Ginchy-Morval road, and there were
enfiladed by machine-gun fire which killed 2nd Lieutenant Tomkins,
who had joined less than a fortnight before, and wounded a good
many of the men. This was while merely getting into position among
the cramped trenches. Next, it was discovered that our bombardment
had by no means cut enough wire, and when the attack was launched,
in waves of two platoons each, undisturbed machine-guns in a few
dreadful minutes accounted for more than three quarters of the little
host. Almost at the outset, Lieutenant Montgomery was killed close
to our own parapet, and those who were left, under 2nd Lieutenant
Hely-Hutchinson, lay down till they might crawl back after dark.
That wiped out No. 2 Company, and next day, its thirty survivors were
sent back to the first-line transport—a bleak prelude to the battle
ahead. But it passed almost unnoticed in the failure of an attack
launched at the same time by the 71st and 16th Infantry Brigades in
the direction of Leuze Wood. Names of villages and salient points
existed beautifully on such maps as were issued to the officers, and
there is no doubt that the distances on these maps were entirely
correct. The drawback was that the whole landscape happened to be one
pitted, clodded, brown and white wilderness of aching uniformity, on
which to pick up any given detail was like identifying one plover’s
nest in a hundred-acre bog.


GINCHY

But the idea of the battle of the 15th September was, as usual,
immensely definite. Rawlinson’s Fourth Army was to attack between
Combles and Martinpuich and seize Morval, Lesbœufs, Gueudecourt, and
Flers; the French attacking at the same time on the right, and the
Reserve Army on the left. Immediately after our objective had been
won the cavalry would advance and, apparently, seize the high ground
all round the Department, culminating at Bapaume. The work of the
Guards Division, whose views of cavalry at that particular moment
are not worth reproducing, was to support the cavalry “on the above
lines.” The 2nd Guards Brigade would take the right of the attack
on Lesbœufs; the 1st the left, with the 3rd Brigade in Reserve, and
the 71st Infantry Brigade on the right of the 2nd Guards Brigade.
The 3rd Grenadiers and 1st Coldstream were respectively right and
left leading battalions, with the 1st Scots Guards and the 2nd Irish
Guards as right and left supporting battalions; each advancing in
four waves of single rank; two machine-guns accompanying each leading
battalion and four each the supporting ones. Three other machine-guns
were to bring up the rear flanked, on either side, by two Stokes
mortar-guns. The Brigade’s allotted front was five hundred yards to
the north-east of Ginchy, and since the normal enemy barrage between
Guillemont and Ginchy was a thing to be avoided if possible, they
were assembled east of the latter village and not behind it. Their
objectives were duly laid down for them in green, brown, blue, and
red lines on the maps, or as one young gentleman observed, “just
like a game of snooker except that every one played with the nearest
ball as soon as the game began.” But every one understood perfectly
the outlines of the game. Their predecessors had been playing it by
hundreds of thousands since the 1st of July. They knew they would all
go on till they were dropped, or blown off the face of the earth.

They dug themselves in on the night of the 14th in shallow trenches
about ten paces apart, a trench to each wave which was made up of
two half companies. The 2nd Irish Guards having expended one (No. 2)
company on the 13th September, their No. 3 Company was distributed
between Nos. 1 and 4 who accordingly went over in two enlarged waves.

The Brigade lost hardly a man from enemy bombardment during the
long hours that passed while waiting for the dawn. At six o’clock
on the 15th our heavies opened; and, as far as the 2nd Brigade was
concerned, brought down the German barrage exactly where it was
expected, between Guillemont and Ginchy, which, by German logic,
should have been crowded with our waiting troops. Thanks, however,
to the advice of Major Rocke and Captain Alexander as to the
massing-point, that blast fell behind our men, who thus lived to
progress into the well-laid and unbroken machine-gun fire that met
them the instant they advanced. Their first objective (green line)
was six hundred yards away through the mists of the morning and
the dust and flying clods of the shells. A couple of hundred yards
out, the 3rd Grenadiers and 1st Coldstream came upon a string of
shell-holes which might or might not have started life as a trench,
filled with fighting Germans, insufficiently dealt with by our guns.
This checked the waves for a little and brought the Irish storming
into the heels of the leading line, and as the trench lay obliquely
across the advance, swung the whole of the 2nd Brigade towards the
left, and into the 1st Brigade, who had already met a reasonable
share of trouble of their own. Indeed, during this first advance,
one party of the 2nd Irish Guards, under Major Rocke and Lieutenant
G. Bambridge and 2nd Lieutenant Mylne found themselves mixed up
among the men of the 1st Battalion. Moreover, the attack of the
Sixth Division which was taking place on the right of the 2nd Guards
Brigade had been held up, and it seemed as though the whole of the
machine-gun fire from the low fortified quadrilateral dominating that
end of the line was sweeping like hail into the right of the 2nd
Guards Brigade. This still further, though they were not aware of it
at the time, turned them towards the left.

The Battalion, without landmarks to guide, did what they could.
Under Captain Alexander and 2nd Lieutenant Greer, the Germans in
the first unexpected trench were all accounted for. Greer also shot
down and put out of action an enemy machine-gun, and the thinned
line went on. There had been instructions, in Brigade Orders, as
to the co-operation of nine tanks that were to assist the Guards
Division that day and would, probably, “start from each successive
line well in advance of the attacking troops.” Infantry were warned,
however, that their work “would be carried out whether the tanks are
held up or not.” It was. The tanks were not much more in evidence
on that sector than the cavalry which, cantering gaily across the
shell-holes, should have captured Bapaume; and long before the
Brigade were anywhere near their first objective, companies and
battalions were mixed up, in what with other troops would have been
hopeless confusion; but the Guards are accustomed to carry on without
worrying whether with their own units or not. In due time, and no
man can say what actually happened outside his own range of action,
for no man saw anything coherently, their general advance reached
the German trench which was their first objective. Its wire had not
been cut properly by our guns, and little gasping, sweating parties
dodged in and out and round the wings of it, bombing enemies where
they sighted them. There were many Germans, too, in the shell-holes
that they overpassed who fired into their backs, and all the while
from their right flank, now wholly in the air, came the lashing
machine-gun fire of the quadrilateral which was so effectively
holding the Sixth Division. So the wrecked trench of the first
objective was, as one man said, “none too bad a refuge even if we had
to bomb ourselves into it.”

They tumbled in, as they arrived, about a hundred and twenty of all
units of the Brigade with Captain Alexander of the Battalion, Captain
F. J. Hopley, 3rd Grenadiers, Lieutenant Boyd-Rochfort, Scots Guards,
Lieutenant M. Tennant, Scots Guards, attached to the machine-guns,
and 2nd Lieutenants Greer and Lysaght, of the Battalion. A few
minutes later Colonel Claude de Crespigny of the 2nd Grenadiers of
the 1st Brigade arrived with about fifty men. They had fairly lost
the rest of their Brigade in the dust and smoke, and had fetched up,
fragmentarily, among the 2nd Brigade, at what was fast becoming a
general rendezvous. Finding that the first objective still needed
a great deal more combing out, the mixed parties of officers and
men divided and began to bomb left and right along the trench. Then
Colonel Godman of the Scots Guards appeared (it was all one whirling
vision of breathless men and quickly passing faces), and took over
general command of the Brigade. With him were Lieutenant Mackenzie
and Captain the Hon. K. Digby, the adjutants of the 1st Scots Guards
and 1st Coldstream; while Captain FitzGerald, Lieutenant Keenan,
and 2nd Lieutenant Close of the Battalion were bombing and taking
prisoners up an offshoot of the trench in the direction of Lesbœufs.
The Germans who had fought so well among the shell-holes did not seem
to be represented here for they surrendered with ease. Their own
people machine-gunned them so purposefully as they scuttled towards
our lines that sometimes they bolted back to the comparative decency
of the trench whence they had been digged.

Meantime the situation did not clear itself. The uncut wire of the
first objective and the general drift of the whole attack to the left
had made a gap between the two front battalions of the 2nd Brigade’s
attack, that is to say, the 3rd Grenadiers and the 1st Coldstream. A
party of a hundred of the former battalion were pushed up into it,
and seem to have disappeared into the general maelstrom. At the same
time, the 3rd Grenadiers were trying to get touch with the Sixth
Division, on their sorely hammered right. Major Rocke, Lieutenant
Bambridge, and 2nd Lieutenant Mylne and their party of the 2nd Irish
Guards, were far out towards the left where the 2nd Brigade’s advance
had outrun that of the 1st, so much that the 1st Coldstream’s left
flank was in the air and there was a gap between the two brigades.
Here Major Rocke’s party found Colonel Guy Baring (he was killed a
little later) commanding the 1st Coldstream, and at his suggestion
formed a defensive flank on the left of the Coldstream until the 1st
Brigade drew level. This precaution was rewarded by a satisfactory
bag estimated at over two hundred Huns who, being incommoded by the
2nd Brigade’s action, were trying to slip through the gap between the
two brigades and escape round the rear of the 2nd Brigade, and who
were mostly killed by small-arm fire.

More men kept dribbling in to the first objective trench from time
to time (“Like lost hounds, only they’d been fighting every yard of
their way home”), and the remnants of the battalions of the Brigade
were sorted out and apportioned lengths of trench to hold. Thus:
“Grenadier Guards, 60 on the right; Scots Guards, 60 next; Irish
Guards, 40 next; Coldstream Guards, 10, on the left in touch with the
1st Brigade,” or, at least, as far as any touch could be made. The
fighting, of course, continued all round them, and various parties
devoted themselves to this as need arose. Everything was in the air
now, left and right flanks together, but the Guards Division, as an
extremely mixed whole, had pushed forward and taken the ground it had
been ordered to take, while the enemy, attacking here, bombing there,
and bolting across the shell-holes elsewhere, seemed to be desirous
to pull out of action and break away towards Bapaume. Our guns, of
which the fighting infantry were unconscious at the time, had helped
them towards this decision. There was some question and discussion
in the trench as to whether they should now push on to their second
objective or whether our artillery would, as originally laid down,
bombard that before a fresh move. But signs of German withdrawal
across the bare down and the sight of some of their field-guns
trotting back suggested a sporting chance of pushing on towards
Lesbœufs, which Captain Ian Colquhoun of the Scots Guards and Captain
Lyttelton of the 3rd Grenadiers thought worth taking. Their view
was shared by Major Rocke, Captain Alexander, and Lieutenant Mylne
of the Battalion, so between them they amassed some hundred men and
went out nearly half a mile into an unoccupied trench in a hollow,
with standing crops in front. Here they halted and sent back demands
for reinforcements. As they were utterly detached from an already
detached force, they might as well have indented for elephants. The
day went on, and the enemy, realising that our push had come to an
end, began to steal forward in small bodies which first outflanked
and then practically surrounded the detachment. At last a whole
company, hidden in the tall crops, made a rush which should have
killed or captured every one in the position. Somehow or other—and
again no coherent account was ever rendered, but it was probably
due to our controlled rapid fire—they failed. Our men fought their
way out and back to the main body with surprisingly few casualties;
and the enemy excitedly following them, came under a limited but
well-directed machine-gun fire from the main trench. The Diary enters
it as “a weak attack from Lesbœufs easily driven off, Lieutenant
M. Tennant doing good work with his machine-gun which was well
placed on the right.” But nothing is more difficult than to dissect
and sift out the times and the values of linked or over-lapping
episodes throughout one desperate day, where half a dozen separated
detachments are each profoundly certain that they, and they alone,
bear the weight or turn the tide of the local war. The minuteness
of the field of action adds to the confusion, when one remembers
that the distance from Ginchy to Lesbœufs was about the extreme
range of a service rifle and that the whole of that day’s work had
won them about eight hundred yards. For that advance they had paid
three hundred casualties among the men, and the following officers:
Captain Parsons, Lieutenants Purcell and Walters, both the latter
attached to the machine-gun company, killed; Major Rocke, Lieutenant
Brew (seriously), and 2nd Lieutenants M. R. FitzGerald, Mylne, and
Cutcliffe Hyne wounded. In addition 2nd Lieutenants Vaughan and
Tomkins, and Lieutenant Montgomery had been killed in the preliminary
work on the 13th September. A total of six officers dead and five
wounded.

A partially successful attempt on a German trench ahead of them by a
battalion of the Durham Light Infantry a little after dark brought
the very long day to an end. The night was quiet, while some units of
the Twentieth Division came up and dug themselves in outside their
parapet in readiness for the fresh attack which was to begin the next
morning. Men could not help admiring, even at the time, the immense
and ordered inhumanity of the system that, taking no count of aught
except the end, pushed forward through the dead and the débris of
war the fresh organisations which were to be spent next day as their
predecessors had been. (“Atop of it all, when a man was done with
he felt that he was in the road of the others. The same with the
battalions. When they was used they was heaved out of the road like a
broke lorry, and only too glad of it. But, as I was saying, when we
was expended, we all felt ashamed of blocking the traffic with our
wounds and our carcases. The only fun for us afterwards was telling
them that came up what was awaiting them. But they knew—they knew it
already!”)

The 16th September was an almost continuous bombardment of
whizz-bangs and 5.9’s on the trench where they still lay; but in
the intervals of the shelling men kept turning up and reporting
themselves with tales of adventure and extremity among the
shell-holes outside. They were relieved a little before midnight
and left their battered lair eighty-eight strong, _via_ Ginchy,
Guillemont, and Trônes Wood for the Citadel, which, when they reached
their total, had been increased by strays to one hundred and six.
Lieutenant Bainbridge, eminently capable of looking after himself
and his party, turned up later with another sixty. Next day, the
weary work of re-making the Battalion began. Lieutenant Dollar had to
be sent down to hospital with a return of the dysentery from which
he had reported himself recovered. This further reduced the few
available officers on their feet. A draft of a hundred and fifty men
came in. By absorbing the still effective digging-platoon into the
active line, a battalion of four companies of a hundred each was put
together and turned out for the next week in the Carnoy mud to drill
under new company commanders.


MUD-FIGHTING ON THE SOMME

The second move of the Guards Division opened on the 25th September,
and this time the ball was with the 1st Battalion. The work on the
15th of the month had carried the Fourteenth Division’s front on to
the naked ridge towards Morval and Lesbœufs where it had been held,
but without advance, for the past ten days. Now brigade orders came
“to renew the attacks” over what remained untaken of the ground.
“The Guards Division will capture Lesbœufs. The 1st Guards Brigade
will attack on the right, the 3rd on the left,” while the Fifth
Division was to attack Morval on the right of the Guards Division
and the Twenty-First Division (62nd Brigade) would take Gueudecourt
on the left. The 2nd Guards Brigade would be in reserve; and the
Battalion hoped, as men may who know what war means, that they would
not be needed. Nor were they till the evening of the 26th September,
when they moved from Trônes Wood and its dead, to relieve the 1st
Battalion, used and broken for the second time in ten days, the day
before, with the 2nd Grenadiers who “after the attack on Lesbœufs
had dug themselves in to the east of that town.” Cæsar himself does
not equal the sublime terseness of the Diary. All their world from
the King downwards was to crown them with praise later on, but in
the meantime reliefs must be orderly conducted and touch must be
kept through the shell-tormented darkness with the battalions on
either side, while they themselves settled in the reeking front
line under certainty of vicious bombardment and the possibility of
suddenly launched counter-attack. They were shelled all that night
from their relief on and throughout the next day (the 27th) “by every
type of shell, but mostly by 5.9’s.” In the afternoon when it became
necessary to help an attack on their left by launching a creeping
barrage from in front of Lesbœufs towards Le Transloy, the enemy
retaliated with a barrage on the Battalion’s front that blew the
line in in several places. They received the same attentions on the
28th, and this in an uptorn isolated land where water was scarce;
but, on their demand, retaliation arrived in the shape of heavies
and some aeroplanes. “This had the effect of stopping the enemy’s
fire completely except for a few whizz-bangs.” For the rest of the
day they merely took their share of the general necessary shellings
on a vast and disputed front. Men grow quick to differentiate
between the punishment they should accept without complaint, and the
personal direct “hate” which sets the newly strung telephones buzzing
to Brigade Headquarters for the guns. But, even so, it is said, a
hypnotic sense of helplessness comes over troops which are being
shelled continuously, till sometimes they will sit and suffer, the
telephone under their hand, while parapets fly up and fall down on
them. Yet, one single small casualty may break that spell as suddenly
as it was cast, and the whole line, grumbling and uneasy, wants to
know whether their artillery are dead too.

The 1st Coldstream relieved them late at night and without one
single casualty on the 28th September, and they lay up in bivouac
in Trônes Wood on the 30th, their old C.O., Colonel, now General,
Butler lunched with them in the Headquarters dug-out, where they
compared experiences. The 3rd Londons relieved them, and an enemy
aeroplane bombed them, but without effect, on their way back to camp
in Carnoy Valley; and four officers, Lieutenant Gunstone and 2nd
Lieutenants Heard, Crawford, and Black, arrived on that uneventful
day. Naturally, in a district alive with troops, German aeroplanes
did all the harm they could in our back-areas, and nothing will
persuade harried infantry on the ground that our aircraft are
properly protecting them. A draft of fifty men came in on the 1st
October, a Sunday, and on the 2nd they withdrew altogether with the
Division out of the battle for intensive training. Their own camp
was Méricourt-en-Vimeux west of Amiens, but—more important than all
else—the leave-season opened.

It was an ordinary month of the ordinary work demanded by the war
conditions of the age. Steady drill was the background of it, and
specialist classes for Lewis-gunners, bombers, intelligence, and gas
filled the hours, varied by night and day outpost and wire work as
well as map-reading for officers. Company commanders, whose men were
taken from lawfully ordained parade, swore and complained, and not
without justification; for the suave, un-get-at-able shirker has a
much better chance of evading the burdens of mere battalion routine
when every one is a “specialist,” than when, as a marching unit, he
is under the direct eye of his own unimaginative N.C.O.’s. (“There
was times, if you will believe me, when we was sorry for platoon
sergeants. What with this and that and the other special trick, every
mother’s son of us Micks had the excuses of his life to his hands all
the time.”) Hence the disgraceful story of the sergeant who demanded
whether “those somethinged spe-_shy_-lists” could “lend him as much
as three wet-nurses, just to make a show with the platoon.”

Rewards began to come in. Captain Harvey, their M.O., was awarded the
Military Cross for a little more than the usual bravery that a doctor
has to exhibit in the ordinary course of his duty, and 2nd Lieutenant
Greer received the same honour for, incidentally, dealing with enemy
machine-guns in the advance of the 15th. General Feilding, on the
6th, also distributed ribbons of medals won, and said what he thought
of the work of the Guards Division during the previous month. The
formal acknowledgment of the commander of the Fourth Army (General
Rawlinson) arrived on October 17. He said that the “gallantry and
perseverance of the Guards Division in the battles of the 15th and
25th were paramount factors in the success of the operations of the
Fourth Army on those days.” Of the 15th September, specially, he
observed, “The vigorous attacks of the Guards in circumstances of
great difficulty, with both flanks exposed to the enfilade fire of
the enemy, reflect the highest credit on all concerned, and I desire
to tender to every officer, N.C.O., and man, my congratulations and
best thanks for their exemplary valour on that occasion.” They knew
that they had not done so badly, though every one above the rank of
drummer could say now how it could have been done much better; but
the official word was grateful to those who had lived, and cheering
for those about to die.

On the 23rd October they route-marched to a fair field south of
Aumont with their cookers and their water-carts (all the Division
more or less was being trained in that neighbourhood), met their 1st
Battalion, dined well together, and embarked on a football match
which the 1st won by two goals to nothing. “The men thoroughly
enjoyed meeting each other, and spent a very happy day.” It might be
a Sunday-school that the Diary describes, instead of two war-used
battalions drawing breath between engagements.

H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught was to inspect the Division on the 1st
of November, which meant rehearsals for the ceremonial—a ritual of
value for retaining a hold on “specialists,” and taken advantage of
by company officers and N.C.O.’s who held that it did men no harm
to disport themselves occasionally in slow time with a properly
pointed foot. The rain and break-up of autumn made training very
difficult, but, the Diary notes, though many denied it at the time,
“We endeavoured to make every man a bomber rather than to concentrate
on the production of a number of specialists.” The inspection
rewarded the trouble taken—there was nothing their sternest critics
could lay a finger on—and at the end of it, those officers and men
who had won decorations in the war lined up before the Duke who
addressed them. Méricourt days ended with a Battalion dinner in
the 1st Battalion billets at Hornoy to General Butler, their old
commandant whose brigade was in rest near by. Somehow the memory
of such dinners remains with the survivors long after more serious
affairs, as it seemed then, have faded. (“It’s a curious thing that,
on those occasions, one was drunk before one sat down—out of sheer
good-fellowship, I suppose, and the knowledge that we were all for
it, and had all come through it so far. The amount of liquor actually
consumed has nothing to do with the results. I’ve put away four times
as much since Armistice and only got the deuce of a head.”)

On the 10th and 11th of November the Division returned to school.
They were to take over a stretch of the Fourteenth Corps’ front
near Gueudecourt and Lesbœufs. For tactical purposes the Division
was now divided into two “groups” of six battalions each. The right
group was made up of the 1st Guards Brigade as a whole, with the 1st
Coldstream and the 2nd Irish Guards additional. The left was the 3rd
Guards Brigade plus the 3rd Grenadiers and the 1st Scots Guards,
so that the 2nd Brigade was absorbed for the while. The Battalion
left Méricourt-en-Vimeux “with considerable regret” for it was good
billets and was packed into a large fleet of French motor-buses, many
of which were driven by Senegalese—“an example of the Frenchman’s
ability in saving up their men. A particularly engaging ape was
the conductor of the officers’ bus. He was fed by the adjutant on
chicken legs which he greatly appreciated and entirely devoured. He
appeared to speak no word of any human language.” Medals should have
been awarded for this affair; to be driven forty miles by Senegalese
chauffeurs is an experience deadly almost as warfare. Méaulte, their
destination, was then an “entirely unattractive town.” Gangs of Hun
prisoners shovelled mud from roads a foot deep in grey reeking slime.
Every road was blocked with limbers and lorries that offered no way
to the disgusted infantry wedged up impatiently behind them. Their
billets were crowded and bad, and they regretted the flesh-pots
of Méricourt while they cleaned them or froze in tents beside the
Carnoy-Fricourt road where they kept warm by trying to make roads out
of frosty mud.

Mud, filth, cold, exposure, and the murderous hard work necessary to
mere existence, were their daily and nightly fare from now on. It
must be duly set down for that reason, and that the generations to
come may judge for themselves what the war of a people unprepared,
against a race that had made provision for war, cost in the mere
stage-setting and scene-shifting of actual warfare.

On the 18th November they were shifted from their chill tents at
“Mansell Camp” to Camp A, only four miles off, at Trônes Wood.
The roads which were not roads and the traffic that was trying to
treat them as such, made this a matter of three and a half hours’
continuous marching, mainly in single file. They found themselves at
last in dark and pouring rain, hunting across a morass for holes in
the ground inadequately covered with pieces of tarpaulin and five
hundred yards away from any firm foothold. This was the “camp.” The
cookers frankly dared not leave the road and the men had to flounder
across the bog to get their teas. For that reason, the next day being
fine and all hands, “thoroughly wet and uncomfortable,” they “sang
loudly as they slopped about in the mud.”

Their wholly unspeakable front line was five miles distant from this
local paradise. You followed a duck-board track of sorts through
Trônes Wood, between ghastly Delville and the black ruins of Ginchy,
and across the Ginchy ridge where the chances of trouble thickened,
through a communication-trench, and thereafter into a duck-boarded
landscape where, if you were not very careful, the engulfing mud
would add you to its increasing and matured collection of “officers
and other ranks.” These accidents overcome, you would discover that
the front line was mud with holes in it. If the holes were roundish
they were called posts; if oblong they were trenches with names, such
as Gusty Trench and Spectrum Trench. They connected with nothing
except more mud. Wiring peered up in places, but whether it was
your own or the enemy’s was a matter of chance and luck. The only
certainty was that, beyond a point which no one could locate, because
all points were wiped out by a carpet-like pattern of closely set
holes, you would be shelled continuously from over the bleak horizon.
Nor could you escape, because you could never move faster than a man
in a nightmare. Nor dared you take cover, because the mud-holes that
offered it swallowed you up.

Here, for instance, is what befell when No. 1 Company went up to
relieve a grenadier company on the night of the 19th November. They
started at 3 P. M. in continuous mud under steady shelling. Only
three out of their four platoon guides turned up. The other had
collapsed. Ten men were hit on the way up; a number of others fell
out from sheer exhaustion or got stuck in the mud. The first man who
set foot in the front-line trench blocked the rest for a quarter
of an hour, while four of his comrades were hauling him out. This
was five hours after they had begun. The two Lewis-guns and some
stragglers, if men hip-deep in mud and water can straggle, were still
unaccounted for. Lance-Sergeant Nolan brought them all in by hand at
three in the morning under shell-fire. Then they were heavily shelled
(there was hardly any rifle-fire), and three men were wounded.
Luckily shells do not burst well in soft dirt. It was Private
Curran’s business to shift two of them who were stretcher-cases to
Battalion Headquarters one mile and a half distant. This took two
relays of eight men each, always under shell-fire, and Curran’s round
trip was completed in nine hours. When they were relieved by the
soft-spoken Australians, on the evening of the 21st, they spent the
whole of the night, from 8 P. M. to 6 A. M., getting back to camp,
where it is not surprising that they arrived “utterly exhausted.”
Owing to an orderly losing his way, one isolated trench or hole held
by Sergeant Murphy, Lance-Sergeant Nolan and seven men, was not
relieved, and they stayed on for another twenty-four hours. No. 2
Company, a few hundred yards away, were fairly dead to the world by
the time they had worked their way to their line, which possessed,
nominally, a trench and some posts. The trench was a gutter; their
posts had no protection at all from shells, and when they arrived
they found that no sand-bags had been sent up, so they had nothing to
work with. They also spent their time pulling men out of the mire.
Supervision of any sort was impossible. It took the officer three
hours to get from the left to the right of his short line. The posts
could not be reached by daylight at all, and during bombardments of
the trench “it often seemed as though what little there was must
disappear, and (the Battalion, as we know, was mostly new hands)
the coolness of the young N.C.O.’s was invaluable in keeping up the
spirits of the men.” There was one time when a sergeant (Lucas)
was buried by a shell, and a brother sergeant (Glennon) “though he
knew that it meant almost certain death” went to his aid, and was
instantly killed, for the enemy, naturally, had the range of their
own old trenches to the inch. To be heroic at a walk is trying
enough, as they know who have plowtered behind the Dead March of a
dragging barrage, but to struggle, clogged from the waist down, into
the white-hot circle of accurately placed destruction, sure that if
you are even knocked over by a blast you will be slowly choked by
mud, is something more than heroism. Equally, to lie out disabled
on an horror of shifting mud is beyond the sting of Death. One of
our corporals on patrol heard groaning somewhere outside the line.
It proved to be a grenadier, who had lain there twenty-four hours
“suffering from frost-bite and unable to move.” They saved him. Their
stretcher-bearers were worn out, and what sand-bags at last arrived
were inadequate for any serious defence. “We were fighting purely
against mud and shells, as the German infantry gave us no trouble.”
When No. 2 was relieved at the same time as No. 1 Company, they
dribbled into camp by small parties from two till ten in the morning,
and three of the men never turned up at all. The Somme mud told no
tales till years later when the exhumation parties worked over it.
The Australians, of whom it is reported that the mud dragged every
national expletive out of them by the boots, relieved the Division
as a whole on the 22nd November, and, pending the new arrangements
for taking over more of the French line, the Guards were transferred
first to a camp between Carnoy and Montauban, which for those parts
was fairly comfortable. At all events, the huts though stoveless were
water-tight, and could be “frowsted up” to something like warmth. For
ten days they worked, two days out of three, on the Carnoy-Montauban
road in company with a labour battalion surnamed “The Broody Hens,”
owing to their habit of scuttling at the very last moment from under
the wheels of the multitudinous lorries. “On off days we made paths
through the mud for ourselves.” But these were dry, and by comparison
clean.

The trench-line taken over by the Guards Division ran, roughly, from
Morval to Sailly-Saillisel (locally “Silly-Sally”) when their groups
were split into two (right and left) sections. The right, to which
the Battalion was attached, was made up of themselves, their sister
battalion, and the 2nd Grenadiers. A spell of hard winter weather had
frozen the actual trenches into fairly good condition for the minute,
but there were no communications, nor, as they observed, much attempt
at fire-steps. The French trusted more to automatic rifles—the
battalions the Irish relieved had thirty-two each—and machine-guns
than to infantry, and used their linesmen mainly as bombers or
bayoneteers. Accommodation was bad. When not on tour, two companies
were billeted in old dug-outs that contained the usual proportion
of stale offences, on the west side of Combles; one in cellars and
dug-outs in the town itself; and one in dug-outs in Haie Wood three
thousand yards behind the front. Their front line ran along the
east edge of the obliterated village, their support a hundred yards
or so behind it through the mounds of brick and earth of the place
itself, while the reserve company lay up in mildewy dug-outs in a
chalk quarry three quarters of a mile back. (One peculiarity of the
Somme was its most modestly inconspicuous cave-dwellings.) For the
rest, “The whole area was utterly desolate. West of the village,
rolling ground, the valleys running east and west a waste of mud
with shell-holes touching one another. Here and there the charred
stumps of trees. Equipment, French and German, dotted the ground,
and rifles, their muzzles planted in the mud, showed where, in some
attack, wounded men had lain. The village was just mounds of earth or
mud and mere shell-holes.” Later on even the mounds were not suffered
to remain, and the bricks were converted into dull red dust that in
summer blew across the dead land.

The Battalion was not in position till the 11th December, when it
relieved the 2nd Grenadiers after three or four days’ rain which
wiped out what communication-trenches had been attempted, and pulped
the front line. As to the back-breaking nature of the work—“Though
the first company (on relief) passed Haie Wood about 4 P. M. it was
11.30 before they had floundered the intervening 3000 yards.” One
of the grenadiers whom they relieved had been stuck in the mud for
forty-three hours. Unless the men in the trenches, already worn out
with mud-wrestling to get there, kept moving like hens on hot plates,
they sank and stuck. (“It is funny, maybe, to talk about now, that
mud-larking of ours; but to sink, sink, sink in the dark and you not
sure whether they saw ye or could hear you, puts the wind up a man
worse than anything under Heaven. Fear? Fear is not the word. ’Twas
the Somme that broke our hearts. Back, knees, loins, acrost your
chest—you was dragged to pieces dragging your own carcase out of the
mud. ’Twas like red-hot wires afterwards—and all to begin it again.”)

A mystery turned up on the night of the 12th December in the shape
of a wild-looking, apparently dumb, Hun prisoner, brought before
Captain Young of the Support Company, who could make naught of him,
till at last “noticing the likeness between his cap and that affected
by Captain Alexander”[1] he hazarded “Russky.” The prisoner at once
awoke, and by sign and word revealed himself as from Petrograd. Also
he bolted one loaf of bread in two counted minutes. He had been
captured at Kovel by the Huns, and brought over to be used by them
to dig behind their front line. But how he had escaped across that
wilderness that wild-eyed man never told.

They got back on the 13th December to a hideous tent-camp near Trônes
Wood. Thence, thoroughly wet, they were next day solemnly entrained
at Trônes Wood, carted three miles by train to Plateau and thence,
again, marched two more to Bronfay. There, done to the last turn,
chilled to the marrow, and caked with mud, they found the huttage
allotted them already bursting with a brigade of artillery. Short of
turning out themselves, the gunners did their kindest to help the
men dry and get their food, while the various authorities concerned
fought over their weary heads; some brilliant members of the Staff
vowing that the camp intended for them had not even been built; which
must have been vast consolation to the heavy-eyed, incurious sick,
of whom there were not a few after the last tour, as well as to the
wrathful and impeded cooks and sergeants. They got their sick away
(the Adjutant, Captain, J. S. N. FitzGerald and Lieutenant D. Gunston
among them), and somehow squashed in all together through another day
of mere hanging about and crowded, cold discomfort, which does men
more harm and develops more microbes than a week’s blood and misery.

On the 16th December they returned afoot through eight miles of
snow-storm to “some of the most depressing scenery in Europe.” The
“men had had but little rest and few of them had got any of their
clothes in the least dry.” But they were left alone for one blessed
night at Combles and Haie Wood in their cellars and their dug-outs,
and they slept where they lay, the stark, corpse-like sleep of men
too worn out even to mutter or turn.

Except that shelling was continuous over all back-areas and
approaches, the enemy as a fighting force did not enter into their
calculations. Or it might be more accurate to say, both sides were
fighting ground and distance. The sole problem of the lines was
communication; for every stick, wire, and water-tin had to be backed
up by brute bodily labour across the mud. All hands were set to
laying trench-boards from the support and reserve-lines and Haie
Wood. Without these, it had taken two and a half hours to carry a
load eight hundred yards. With them, the same party covered the
same distance under an equal burden in twenty minutes. The enemy
used their prisoners and captives for these ends. Ours were well
tended, out of harm’s range, while His Majesty’s Foot Guards took
their places. The front line—they relieved the 2nd Grenadiers there
on the 17th—was “mere canals of mud and water with here and there a
habitable island.” The defences had been literally watered down to a
string of isolated posts reached over the top across stinking swamp,
and the mounds and middens called parapets spread out dismally and
collapsed as they tinkered at them.

All dirt is demoralising. The enemy’s parapets had melted like ours
and left their working-parties exposed to the waist. Since the lines
were too close to be shelled by either artillery, the opposing
infantry on both sides held their hands till there grew up gradually
a certain amount of “live and let live,” out of which, but farther
down the line, developed attempts at fraternisation, and, in front
of the Guards, much too much repair work and “taking notice” on the
part of the enemy. The Hun never comprehends unwritten codes. Instead
of thanking Heaven and the weather for a few days’ respite, he began
to walk out on the top of his mounds and field-glass our wire.
Therefore, on the 19th December, the dawn of a still freezing day,
two obviously curious Germans were “selected and shot” by a sniper
who had been detailed for that job. “The movement then ceased,”
and doubtless our action went to swell the wireless accounts of
“unparalleled British brutalities.”

Their next tour, December 23, which included Christmas Day, saw them
with only seven officers, including the C.O. and the Acting-Adjutant,
Lieutenant Denson, fit for duty. Captain Bambridge and Lieutenant
Hely-Hutchinson had to be left behind sick at the Q.M. stores in
Méricourt, and two officers had been detached for special duties.
The M.O. also had gone sick, and those officers who stood up,
through the alternations of biting frost and soaking thaw, were
fairly fine-drawn. Whether this was the vilest of all their war
Christmases for the Battalion is an open question. There was nothing
to do except put out chilly wire and carry stuff. A couple of men
were killed that day and one wounded by shells, and another laying
sand-bags round the shaft of a dug-out tripped on a telephone wire,
fell down the shaft and broke his neck. Accidents in the front line
always carry more weight than any three legitimate casualties, for
the absurd, but quite comprehensible, reason that they might have
happened in civilian life—are outrages, as it were, by the Domestic
Fates instead of by the God of War.

The growing quiet on the sector for days past had led people to
expect attempts at fraternisation on Christmas. Two “short but very
severe bombardments” by our artillery on Christmas morning cauterised
that idea; but a Hun officer, with the methodical stupidity of his
breed, needs must choose the top of his own front-line parapet on
Christmas Day whence to sketch our trench, thus combining religious
principles with reconnaissance, and—a single stiff figure exposed
from head to foot—was shot. So passed Christmas of ’16 for the 2nd
Battalion of the Irish Guards. It had opened with Captain Young of
No. 1 Company finding, when he woke in his dug-out, “a stocking
stuffed with sweets and the like, a present from the N.C.O.’s and the
men of his company.”

They were relieved by the 1st Battalion on Christmas night, but
returned on the 29th to celebrate New Year’s Day by bailing out
flooded trenches and slapping back liquid parapets as they fell in.
The enemy had most accurately registered the new duck-board tracks
from the support-lines, and shelled the wretched carrying-parties
by day and night. (“If you stayed on the track you was like to be
killed; if you left it, you had great choice of being smothered.”)
The Acting-Adjutant (Lieutenant Denson) and the Bombing Sergeant
(Cole) attended a consultation with the Brigade Bombing Officer on
the morning of the 30th at Support Company’s Headquarters in the
Quarry. Business took them to the observation post in the wreckage of
the church; and while there, the enemy opened on the support-line.
They tried to get to the support company’s dug-out; but on the way
a shell pitched in among them, wounding the Brigade Bombing Officer
(Lieutenant Whittaker), the Sergeant and Lieutenant Denson. The
other two were able to walk, but Denson was hit all over the body.
Hereupon Lieutenant Black and his orderly, Private Savage, who were
in the Support dug-out, ran to where he lay, and, as they lifted him,
another shell landed almost on them. They did not dare to risk taking
Denson down the nearly vertical dug-out stairs, so Private Savage,
with a couple more men from No. 3 Company, in case of accidents,
carried him on his back six hundred yards to the dressing-station.
Thrice in that passage their track was blown up, but luckily none
of the devoted little party were hit. To be hunted by shell down
interminable lengths of slimy duck-board is worse than any attempt
on one’s life in the open, for the reason that one feels between the
shoulder-blades that one is personally and individually wanted by
each shouting messenger.

Another escaped prisoner, C.S.M. J. B. Wilson of the 13th East Yorks,
managed to get into our lines that night. He had been captured at
Serre on the 13th November, and had got away from a prisoners’ camp
at Honnecourt only the night before. He covered sixteen kilometres
in the darkness, steered towards the permanent glare over the front,
reached the German line at dawn, lay up in a shell-hole all through
the day and, finally, wormed across to us by marking down an N.C.O.
of ours who was firing some lights, and crawling straight on to him.
Seeing his condition when he arrived, the achievement bears out the
Diary’s tantalisingly inadequate comment: “In private life he was
a bank accountant, and seemed to be very intelligent as well as a
man of the greatest determination. We fed him and warmed him before
sending him on to Haie Wood whence an ambulance took him to Brigade
H.Q.”

So the year ended in storm and rain, the torn, grey clouds of the
Somme dissolving and deluging them as they marched back to Maltz Horn
camp, across an insane and upturned world where men of gentle life,
unwashen for months at a stretch, were glad to lie up in pigsties,
and where ex-bank-accountants might crawl out of shell-holes at any
hour of the hideous twenty-four.




1917

RANCOURT TO BOURLON WOOD


The new year changed their ground, and, if possible, for the worse.
It opened with black disappointment. They were entrained on the
evening of the 2nd January for Corbie in a tactical train, whose
tactics consisted in starting one hour late. On the two preceding
days the Germans had got in several direct hits on its rolling
stock; so that wait dragged a little. But they were uplifted by the
prospect, which some one had heard or invented, of a whole month’s
rest. It boiled down to less than one week, on the news that the
Division would take on yet another stretch of French line. There was
just time to wash the men all over, their first bath in months, and
to attend the divisional cinema. By this date Lieutenant Hanbury
had joined, the adjutancy was taken over by Captain Charles Moore,
Lieutenant-Colonel P. L. Reid had to go down, sick, and the command
of the Battalion had devolved on Major E. B. Greer.

By the 10th January they were at Maurepas, ready to move up next day
_via_ Combles and Frégicourt into their new sector, which lay the
distance of one divisional front south of the old Sailly-Saillisel
one. It lay on the long clean-cut ridge, running north from Rancourt,
to which the French had held when they were driven and mined out
of St. Pierre Vaast Wood, facing the north-west and west sides of
that forest of horrors. It was of so narrow a frontage that but one
brigade at a time went into the line, two battalions of that brigade
up to the front, and but one company of each battalion actually to
the front-line posts. These ran along the forward slope of the ridge,
and were backed by a sketchy support-line a hundred yards or so on
the reverse with the reserve five or six hundred yards behind it.
“Filthy but vital” is one description of the sector. If it were lost,
it would uncover ground as far back as Morval. If held, it screened
our ground westward almost as far as Combles. (Again, one must bear
in mind the extreme minuteness of the setting of the picture, for
Combles here was barely three thousand yards from the front line.)

The reports of the Eighth Division who handed it over were not
cheering. The front-line posts had been ten of ten men apiece, set
irregularly in the remnants of an old trench. The only way to deal
with them was to dig out and rebuild altogether on metal framings,
and the Sappers had so treated four. The other six were collapsing.
They needed, too, a line of efficient support-posts, in rear, and had
completed one, but wire was scarce. All support and reserve trenches
were wet, shallow, and badly placed. A largish dug-out a hundred
yards behind the front had been used as Battalion Headquarters by
various occupants, German and French, and, at one stage of its
career, as a dressing-station, but it seemed that the doctors “had
only had time to pull upstairs the men who died and dump them in
heaps a few yards away from the doorway. Later, apparently, some
one had scattered a few inches of dirt over them which during our
occupation the continual rain and snow washed away. The result was
most grisly.” The French have many virtues, but tidiness in the line
is not one of them.

The whole situation turned on holding the reverse of the ridge,
since, if the enemy really meant business, it was always open to
him to blow us off the top of it, and come down the gentle descent
from the crest at his ease. So they concentrated on the front
posts and a strong, well-wired reserve line, half-way down the
slope. Luckily there was a trench-tramway in the sector, running
from the Sappers’ dump on the Frégicourt road to close up to the
charnel-house-ex-dressing-station. The regular trains, eight trucks
pushed by two men each, were the 5, 7, and 9 P. M., but on misty
days a 3 P. M. might also be run, and of course trains could run in
the night. This saved them immense backaches. (“But, mark you, the
easier the dam’ stuff gets up to the front the more there is of it,
and so the worse ’tis for the poor devils of wiring-parties that
has to lay it out after dark. Then Jerry whizz-bangs ye the rest of
the long night. All this fine labour-saving means the devil for the
Micks.”)

The Germans certainly whizz-banged the working-parties generously,
but the flights as a rule buried themselves harmlessly in the soft
ground. We on our side made no more trouble than could be avoided,
but worked on the wire double tides. In the heat of the job, on the
night of the 11th January, the Brigadier came round and the C.O.
took him out to see Captain Alexander’s party wiring their posts.
It was the worst possible moment for a valuable brigadier to wander
round front lines. The moon lit up the snow and they beheld a party
of Germans advancing in open order, who presently lay down and were
joined by more. At eighty yards or so they halted, and after a short
while crawled away. “We did not provoke battle, as we would probably
have hurt no one, and we wanted to get on with our wiring.” But had
the Brigadier been wasted in a mere front-line bicker, the C.O., not
to mention Captain Alexander, would have heard of it.

By the time that the 1st Coldstream relieved them on the 14th
January, the Battalion had fenced their private No Man’s Land and
about six hundred yards of the line outside the posts, all under the
come-and-go of shell-fire; had duck-boarded tracks connecting some of
the posts; systematised their ration- and water-supply, and captured
a multitude of army socks whereby companies coming down from their
turn could change and be dry. Dull as all such detail sounds, it is
beyond question that the arrangement and prevision of domestic works
appeals to certain temperaments, not only among the officers but
men. They positively relish the handling and disposition of stores,
the fitting of one job into the next, the race against time, the
devising of tricks and gadgets for their own poor comforts, and all
the mixture of housemaking and keeping (in which, whatever may be
said, the male animal excels) on the edge of war.

For the moment, things were absurdly peaceful on their little
front, and when they came back to work after three still days at
Maurepas, infantry “fighting” had become a farce. The opposing big
guns hammered away zealously at camps and back-areas, but along that
line facing the desolate woods of St. Pierre Vaast there was mutual
toleration, due to the fact that no post could be relieved on either
side except by the courtesy of their opponents who lay, naked as
themselves, from two hundred to thirty yards away. Thus men walked
about, and worked in flagrant violation of all the rules of warfare,
beneath the arch of the droning shells overhead. The Irish realised
this state of affairs gradually—their trenches were not so close to
the enemy; but on the right Battalion’s front, where both sides lived
in each others’ pockets, men reported “life in the most advanced
posts was a perfect idyll.” So it was decided, now that every one
might be presumed to know the ground, and be ready for play, that the
weary game should begin again. But observe the procedure! “It was
obvious it would be unfair, after availing ourselves of an unwritten
agreement, to start killing people without warning.” Accordingly,
notices were issued by the Brigade—in English—which read: “_Warning.
Any German who exposes himself after daylight to-morrow January 19
will be shot. By order._” Battalions were told to get these into the
enemy lines, if possible, between 5 and 7 A. M. They anticipated a
little difficulty in communicating their kind intentions, but two
heralds, with three rifles to cover them, were sent out and told to
stick the warnings up on the German wire in the dusk of the dawn.
Now, one of these men was No. 10609 Private King, who, in civil life,
had once been policeman in the Straits Settlements. He saw a German
looking over the parapet while the notice was being affixed, and,
policeman-like, waved to him to come out. The German beckoned to King
to come in, but did not quit the trench. King then warned the other
men to stand by him, and entered into genial talk. Other Germans
gathered round the first, who, after hesitating somewhat, walked to
his side of the wire. He could talk no English, and King, though he
tried his best, in Chinese and the kitchen-Malay of Singapore, could
not convey the situation to him either. At last he handed the German
the notice and told him to give it to his officer. The man seemed to
understand. He was an elderly person, with his regimental number in
plain sight on his collar. He saw King looking at this, and desired
King to lift the edge of _his_ leather jerkin so that he in turn
might get our number. King naturally refused and, to emphasise what
was in store for careless enemies, repeated with proper pantomime:
“Shoot! Shoot! Pom! Pom!” This ended the palaver. They let him get
back quite unmolested, and when the mirth had ceased, King reported
that they all seemed to be “oldish men, over yonder, and thoroughly
fed up.” Next dawn saw no more unbuttoned ease or “idyllic”
promenades along that line.

As the days lengthened arctic cold set in. The tracks between the
posts became smears of black ice, and shells burst brilliantly on
ground that was as pave-stones to the iron screw-stakes of the
wiring. One shell caught a carrying-party on the night of the 20th
January, slightly wounding Lieutenant Hanbury who chanced to be
passing at the time, and wounding Sergeant Roddy and two men. The
heavies behind them used the morning of the 21st to register on their
left and away to the north. By some accident (the Battalion did not
conceive their sector involved) a big shell landed in the German
trench opposite one of their posts, and some thirty Huns broke cover
and fled back over the rise. One of them, lagging behind the covey,
deliberately turned and trudged across the snow to give himself up to
us. Outside one of our posts he as deliberately knelt down, covered
his face with his hands and prayed for several minutes. Whereupon
our men instead of shooting shouted that he should come in. He was
a Pole from Posen and the east front; very, very sick of warfare.
This gave one Russian, one Englishman, and a Pole as salvage for six
weeks. An attempt at a night-raid on our part over the crackling
snow was spoiled because the divisional stores did not run to the
necessary “six white night-shirts” indented for, but only long canvas
coats of a whitey-brown which in the glare of Very lights showed up
hideously.

A month of mixed fatigues followed ere they saw that sector again.
They cleaned up at Morval on the 22nd, and spent a few days at the
Briquetterie near Bernafay Corner, where three of the companies
worked at a narrow-gauge line just outside Morval, under sporadic
long-range shell-fire, and the fourth went to Ville in divisional
reserve. The winter cold ranged from ten to twenty degrees of frost
in the Nissen huts. Whereby hangs this tale. The mess stove was like
Falstaff, “old, cold, and of intolerable entrails,” going out on the
least provocation. Only a few experts knew how to conciliate the
sensitive creature, and Father Knapp, the R.C. chaplain, was _not_
one of them. Indeed, he had been explicitly warned on no account
whatever to attempt to stoke it. One bitter morning, however, he
found himself alone in the mess with the stove just warming up, and
a sand-bag, stuffed with what felt like lumps of heaven-sent coal,
lying on the floor. Naturally, he tipped it all in. But it was the
mess Perrier water, which had been thus swaddled to save it from
freezing—as the priest and the exploding stove found out together.
There were no casualties, though roof and walls were cut with glass,
but the stove never rightly recovered from the shock, nor did Father
Knapp hear the last of it for some time.

From the close of the month till the 19th of February they were in
divisional reserve, all together at Ville in unbroken frost. While
there (February 1), Lieutenant F. St. L. Greer, one of the best of
officers and the most popular of comrades, was wounded in a bombing
accident and died the next day. In a battalion as closely knit
together as the 2nd Irish Guards all losses hit hard.

Just as the thaw was breaking, they were sent up to Priez Farm, a
camp of elephant huts, dug-outs and shelters where the men were
rejoiced to get up a real “frowst” in the confined quarters.
Warriors do not love scientific ventilation. From the 16th to the
25th February, the mud being in full possession of the world again,
they were at Billon, which has no good name, and on the 25th back at
St. Pierre Vaast, on the same sector they had left a month before.
Nothing much had been done to the works; for the German host—always
at its own time and in its own methodical way—was giving way to the
British pressure, and the Battalion was warned that their business
would be to keep touch with any local withdrawal by means of patrols
(_Anglice_, small parties playing blind-man’s buff with machine-gun
posts), and possibly to do a raid or two. But it is interesting to
see that since their departure from that sector all the ten posts
which they had dug and perspired over, and learned to know by their
numbers, which automatically come back to a man’s memory on his
return, had been re-numbered by the authorities. It was a small
thing, but good men have been killed by just such care.

They watched and waited. The air was full of rumours of the Germans’
shifting—the home papers called it “cracking”—but facts and news do
not go together even in peace. (“What annoyed us were the newspaper
reports of how we were getting on when we weren’t getting on at all.”)

The Twenty-ninth Division on their left were due to put in a
two-Battalion attack from Sailly-Saillisel on the dawn of the 28th
February, while the battalion in the front line was to send up a
smoke-screen to distract the enemy and draw some of his barrages
on to themselves. So front-line posts were thinned out as much as
possible, and front companies sent out patrols to see that the Hun in
front of them was working happily, and that he had not repaired a
certain gap in his wire which our guns had made and were keeping open
for future use. All went well till the wind shifted and the smoke was
ordered “off,” and when the Twenty-ninth Division attacked, the tail
of the enemy barrage caught the Battalion unscreened but did no harm.
A heavy fog then shut down sarcastically on the whole battle, which
was no success to speak of. Through it all the Battalion kept guard
over their own mouse-holes and the gap in the wire. Sudden activities
of our guns or the enemies’ worried them at times and bred rumours,
all fathered on the staff, of fantastic victories somewhere down the
line. They saw a battalion of Germans march by platoons into St.
Pierre Vaast Wood, warned the nearest artillery group, and watched
the heavies searching the wood; heard a riot of bombing away on their
left, which they put down to the situation at Sailly-Saillisel (this
was on the 1st of March), and got ready for possible developments;
and when it all died out again, duly sent forth the patrols, who
reported the “enemy laughing, talking, and working.” There was no
sign of any withdrawal there.

On the 6th March, in snow and frost, they took over from the 1st
Coldstream a new and unappetising piece of front on the left which
the Coldstream had taken over from the Twenty-ninth Division. It
consisted of a line of “about twelve so-called posts which were
practically little more than shell-holes.” The Coldstream had
worked like beavers to get them into some sort of shape, but their
predecessors had given the local snipers far too much their head;
and the long, flat-topped ridge where, under an almost full moon,
every moving man offended the sky-line, was as unwholesome as
could be desired. The Coldstream had lost six men sniped the night
before their relief, and it was impossible to reach two of the
posts at all. Another post was practically untenable, as the enemy
had direct observation on to it, and one sniper who specialised in
this neighbourhood had accounted for fourteen men in one tour. The
Battalion settled down, therefore, to fire generously at anything
that fired. It was noisy and, maybe, wasteful, but it kept the
snipers’ heads down.

[Illustration: _THE SOMME_

_Second Battalion_

_Emery Walker Ltd. del. et sc._]

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY EMERY WALKER LTD., LONDON


On the 7th March it was clear that the troops in front of them
had been replaced by a more cautious and aggressive enemy. So
the Battalion turned a couple of their most untenable posts into
listening-posts, occupied by night only, and some one suggested that
the new artillery which had just come in behind them might put down
a creeping barrage for the greater discouragement of snipers. They
cleared out a post or two first, in anticipation of stray shots, and
lost one man killed and one wounded; but when the barrage arrived it
was weak and inaccurate. Guns need time to learn to work in well with
their brethren ahead, and the latter are apt to be impatient when
they think they are being experimented on.


THE GERMAN WITHDRAWAL

Not till towards mid-March did the much-written-of German “crack”
affect their chilly world. The C.O.’s of the battalions conferred at
Brigade Headquarters on the 13th to discuss the eventuality, and in
the middle of it the Major-General came in and announced there was
good reason to think that the retirement in front of them would begin
that night. In which case, so soon as scouts had reported that the
enemy trenches were held very lightly or had been abandoned (“But
Jerry never abandoned his dam’ machine-guns till we was on top of
’em”), two patrols from each company in the front line, of an officer
and twelve men apiece, would go forward on schedule time and occupy.
They would be followed by the two front companies, who would make
good the enemy’s old front and support lines. With two battalions in
the front line to draw from, this made a force of four companies, all
of whom were to be under the command of the Senior Lieut.-Colonel
in the battalions engaged. He would be known as “O.C. Situation
Centre,” and would issue all orders, acting as in command of an
advanced guard. _But_ the two reserve companies of the battalions
in line would be with the main body of the brigade and would not
move without the Brigadier’s direct orders. In other words, no one
was to be drawn into anything like a vulgar brawl. And on the 14th
March, from a hill near by, a vast fire could be seen far off, which
was Péronne a-burning. That same afternoon the enemy began shelling
their own front line along the western edge of St. Pierre Vaast Wood.
The situation betrayed itself. An officer’s patrol out from the 1st
Scots Guards reported the enemy gone from in front. Whereupon the
battalions in the line, the 2nd Irish Guards and the 1st Coldstream,
moved out cautiously at dusk and established themselves partly in
the first of the enemies’ abandoned trenches, with supports, more
or less, in our old front line. When their relief came it was a
pitch-black night, and the Coldstream had pushed out some patrols
into bits of the German trench beyond the chaos of No Man’s Land,
who, naturally, did not even themselves know where in France they
might be, but had to be discovered and relieved just the same,
which took the relieving battalion till two o’clock in the morning.
At three o’clock the C.O. of the 2nd Irish Guards—Colonel E. B.
Greer—was warned that “Situation Centre”—the two advanced companies
who were to beat out hidden snipers—would be formed at 7 A. M. By the
accident of Lieut.-Colonel Godman of the Scots Guards being sick,
it fell to Greer to command that advanced force. Captain Alexander
took our two forward companies, and Captain Sir Ian Colquhoun the
two companies of the Scots Guards. The general advance was to begin
all along the divisional front at 10 A. M. By that hour the German
shelling was intense. They used 5.9’s and larger, as they were firing
from a long way back. The trouble for the 2nd Irish Guards companies
developed almost at once on their left, where their patrol was fired
at by machine-guns from a German trench on the edge of the wood.
Their own 1st Battalion, trying to push out of Sailly-Saillisel, was
hung up, too—they heard and saw it—for the same reason. The Division
could have driven through at the cost of fairly heavy casualties,
but nothing was to be gained by wasting men in rushes on hidden
machine-guns that can lay out thirty good lives in two minutes. The
Scots Guards got on into the wood without much trouble at first,
till they, too, ran on snipers between tree-stumps and up and down
the defaced trenches, or opened some single machine-gun slinking
from cover to cover. It was all slow “feeling,” with alternating
advances at walking pace, and long checks—“something like drawing a
gorse for wolves instead of foxes.” The shelling through the day was
heavy, but ineffective. With such a broken line as ours advancing,
the enemy could not tell where any portion was in strength. The
force lay up where they happened to stop, and before dawn on the
16th March were told to feel ahead, while the Scots Guards on their
right got into touch with the Eighth Division. Progress was slow
as the day before, under heavy shelling—sometimes considered and
dealt out with intention—at others evidently from a battery using up
ammunition before going back. As they worked their way more into St.
Pierre Vaast Wood came the sensation, which there was no mistaking,
that they were being played with by the Hun, and losing touch as he
intended them to do. Certain vital trenches would be controlled by
a few snipers and machine-guns; a sunk road offering shelter would
be plastered with heavies, and a full company would be held in it,
digging for more cover, by dead accurate long-range fire; while
far and far behind the orderly German withdrawal of the main body
continued in peace.

On the 17th March, for example, “we were never really in touch with
the enemy’s rear-guard during the day except for one or two snipers.”
On the 18th, “by daybreak we were out of touch with the enemy, and
cavalry patrols of King Edward’s Horse and the 21st Lancers went
through us.” Here is the comment of the time and the place on our
advance: “The German retreat was conducted very skilfully. One cannot
say that we caused them to leave one position an hour before they
intended. They inflicted upon us a considerable number of casualties
(twenty in this battalion, while on our left the 1st Battalion lost
considerably more). On the other hand, we saw no evidence that in the
actual retirement we had even damaged one German. They left little or
nothing behind.”

And the professional judgment is equally fair. “But of course it
must be remembered that the task of the (German) regimental officers
was an easy one, however difficult it may have been for the Staff.
Given time, there is no difficulty in withdrawing battalions from
trenches by night, for a few snipers and machine-gunners, knowing the
ground, and retreating from trench to trench, can hang up an advance
indefinitely unless the troops advancing have strong reserves and are
prepared for heavy losses.”

This last was not our situation. The Fourteenth Corps had no
divisions in immediate reserve; the sector the Guards Division
was working on had been greatly thinned out, and their artillery
was relatively small. With tremendous losses in the past and the
certainty of more to come, things had to be done as cheaply as
possible. “Hence our mode of advance.” It led them into a stale
hell which had once been soil of France but was now beyond grace,
hope, or redemption. Most of the larger trees in St. Pierre Vaast
were cut down, and the smaller ones split by shell or tooth-brushed
by machine-gun fire. The ground was bog, studded with a few
island-like formations of fire-trench, unrevetted, unboarded, with
little dug-outs ten or twelve feet deep, all wet and filthy. There
were no regular latrines. Numberless steel helmets and heaps of
stick-bombs lay about under foot. The garrisons must have been
deadly uncomfortable, and there was good evidence that the enemy had
economised men beyond anything that we dared. The ground had been cut
to bits by our fire, and in one place yawned what had been a battery
position wiped out, unseeing and unseen, weeks ago, as the dead teams
round it testified. Very few booby-traps were left behind. The
Battalion lost only five men in all through this cause.


FATIGUES ON THE SOMME

And on March 19 they came away from the filth and the multitudes of
scattered, distorted dead who grimaced at them over their victory,
and were laid off at Montauban next day, to be railway navvies
for a few weeks. Their camp had last been occupied by a “labour”
battalion. “It would be quite impossible to exaggerate the state
of filth in which we found this place. No tins had apparently been
burned or buried for months, and rotting matter lay all over the
ground.” Something like this has been observed before by other
battalions about labour corps. However, they mucked it out into
moderate decency, and went daily with the 3rd Grenadiers and the
4th Coldstream to make the broad-gauge line from Trônes Wood to
Rocquigny and eventually into Ypres. Eventually, when the Sappers
had taught them a little, they slapped it down at the rate of more
than half a mile a day. It meant at the last four hours’ marching
to reach railhead, and as many hours of strenuous work when they
got there. But “the men were quite happy in spite of the long
hours and the absolutely vile weather.” They could acquire all the
fuel they needed, and had no drills or parades. To toil with your
belts or braces disposed as you please; and to wear your cap at
outrageous civilian angles; to explain to your desk-bred N.C.O. (with
reminiscences, till he cuts you short) that you have had experience
on this job in civil life, repairing Dublin trams; to delve in a
clean dirt uncumbered by stringy bundles that have once been the
likes of yourself; to return, singing, down the road to bountiful
meals and a satisfactory “frowst” afterwards, are primitive pleasures
far above pay or glory.

Their navvying at one camp or another along the rail lasted till
almost the end of April. They were rather pleased with the country
round them near Rocquigny, because there was grass on it, and
they found passable football grounds. It was a queer, part rural,
part mechanical, part military life, in which people grew fat and
jovial, and developed sides of their character that the strain of
responsibility had hid. The Battalion made friendships, too, with
troops in the railway trade—men whom they met day after day at the
same place and job, just as though people on the Somme lived for
ever. They were taught how to ballast permanent ways, or lever the
eternally derailed troop- and construction-trains back on to the
sprawling metals.

On the 27th April they were all called in from their scattered
labours, reminded that they were guards once more, and promised a
long programme of field-training. Inevitably, then, the evening
after, came orders to strike their camp at Bois de Hem, pitch it on
the Lesbœufs road and get back to road-work between Ginchy, Lesbœufs,
and Le Transloy. The march was hot and dusty; which impressed them,
for they had forgotten heat. Camp lay close to where the right of the
2nd Guards Brigade had reached, in the battle of September 15, 1916.
Here is the picture. The site “had been under severe shell-fire all
the winter, so little burying could be done. Before we could pitch
the camp we had to get rid of several dead men, and all the country
between Lesbœufs and Le Transloy, as well as towards Morval, was
dotted with corpses. In one morning, No. 4 Company, incidental to its
work on the roads, buried no less than seventy Germans, English, and
French. On Ginchy crest we found the body of Lieutenant Montgomery.
He had been killed commanding No. 2 Company on September 13 of last
year” (that was when No. 2 was wiped out on the eve of the battle of
the 15th), “but we had never been able to find him. He was buried on
the crest.”

The desolation struck them with continuous horror. Most of the troops
had been moved on into the comparatively unspoiled country to the
eastward, but the Battalion was forced to sit down among the dead
in “mile on mile of tumbled earth, collapsing trenches with their
fringe of rotting sand-bags, tangles of rusted wire, and everywhere
little crosses. For variety, an occasional wood, in which the trees
were mere skeletons, shattered stumps with charred branches.” It is
a perfect etching of the Somme. They were impressed, too, by the
fiendish forethought and thoroughness with which all signs of civil
life and work, and, as far as might be, all means of reviving them,
had been wiped out, burned up, blasted off, cut down, or removed by
the Hun. Details of destruction and defilement, such as would only
occur to malignant apes, had been attended to as painstaking and
lovingly in the most unlikely corner of some poor village, as in the
fields and among the orchards and factories. They had to fill all
shell-holes in camp to make even standing ground for themselves, and,
of course, a football “field” came next. Every man returning from
work brought back his load of timber or iron out of the pitiful old
trenches, not to mention flowers from wrecked gardens, and “we built
a regular village.” Their road-mending consisted in digging out the
shell-holes till they reached firm ground, filling up with timber
and brick (“easy to find).” By this time specialisation had run its
course by rail. And thus they worked till the 9th May. But this was
the last that was required of them in that form.

They were turned down to training camp at Curlu, almost on the
banks of the Somme, in a clean and cleaned-up country where “dead
men, even, were hard to find.” By this time specialization had run
its course through our armies till the latest platoon-organisation
acknowledged but one section that was known as a “rifle” section. The
others, although behung with the ancient and honourable weapons of
their trade, were bomb, Lewis-gun, and rifle (sniper) sections. But
the Battle of Arras had proved what angry company commanders had been
saying for months past—that infantry lived or died by their knowledge
of the rifle. These Somme officers were accordingly told that most
of their time should be given to platoon-training, fire direction,
and musketry. (“We did what we were told, but we always found out
when it came to a pinch—suppressing machine-guns in a pill-box and
stuff of that kind—if you could rush your men into proper position,
good shooting did the rest.”) And just as they were buckling down to
the new orders, word came, on Sunday, May 13, that they had better
prepare for an inspection by the King of the Belgians on Tuesday, May
15. The Brigade put up one long “agony” of rehearsal, and to its own
surprise managed to achieve a creditable parade. Unlimited British
generals attended the royal visitor, and for the first time in the
Battalion’s history their pipers in their Celtic kilts were present.
These had arrived about a fortnight before, when the Battalion
solemnly invited Captain Hugh Ross of the Scots Guards to tea in his
capacity of a “pipe expert” to pronounce on their merits. And civil
war did not follow!

On the 17th May they set out _via_ Billon Farm camp to Méricourt
l’Abbé, where for the first time in six months, barring a few days
at Corbie in January, they were billeted in real houses such as
human beings use. Méricourt in summer is quite different from the
cramped, windy, damp Méricourt of winter. All the land smiled with
the young crops that the old, indefatigable French women and men were
cramming it with. Here, while the Guards Division was concentrating
preparatory to their move into war again, the battalions were trained
hard but _not_ as specialists.

General Ivor Maxse, commanding the Sixteenth Corps (none but corps
generals can say certain things in public), lectured on some of the
teachings of the Battle of Arras. He gave instances of what comes
of divorcing the soldier from his rifle. On one occasion, said he,
men were met sidling down a road with the simple statement that the
Germans were advancing to counter-attack them, and that they were
retiring “because their own supply of bombs had run out.” Patrols
sent up to verify, found the counter-attack was being made by four
Huns furiously trying to surrender to some one. Again, a company
was heavily fired on from a wood about two hundred yards off. Not
a man returned the fire. They simply shouted down the trench, “Pass
the word for the snipers.” All of which proves what every company
commander knows, that the human mind under stress of excitement
holds but one idea at a time, or, as the drill books of forty years
ago laid down, “men will instinctively act in war as they have been
trained to act in peace.”

In spite of the growing crops and intense agriculture, the Battalion
found rifle ranges and did “a great deal of much-needed musketry.”

They wound up their stay at Méricourt in great glory at the Brigade
sports, sweeping off everything in sight—flat races, steeple-chase,
tug-of-war, and the rest, and winning their brigadier’s trophy to
the corps with the greatest number of firsts by a clear “possible”
against the whole Guards Division. (“’Tis this way. A good battalion
will do what is wanted; but a happy battalion, mark you, takes on
from that. Did we work at the Sports? Remember, we was all in the
pink, trained on that dam’ railway an’ fatted up for Boesinghe. What
chance had the rest of the Division against us at all?”)


THIRD YPRES AND BOESINGHE

They entrained on the 30th May as part of the vast concentration
that was crystallising itself for the Third Battle of Ypres, and,
after twelve hours, breakfasted at Arques, near St. Omer, and
marched all day to their crowded billets, which, like the rest of
the landscape, were loaded up with crops and difficult to train in.
They knew nothing of what was expected of them till 11th June, when
C.O.’s were told at Brigade Headquarters that they were to practise
assaults from trench to trench instead of “open warfare.” A battle,
including earthquakes, had taken place at Messines which had unkeyed
the situation to a certain extent, and the Guards Division would be
needed to develop it.

The screw would be applied next in the Salient, and they would go
up to Elverdinghe, on a sector that had long been notoriously quiet.
But they were assured that as soon as “Jerry” had word of their
arrival they would not feel neglected. All this on the top of their
open-warfare exercise was disappointing. They knew more than they
wanted to about the Ypres areas, and had hoped that something was
going to crack on the high and windy Somme and let them triumphantly
into Cambrai. “Fatted troops” are ever optimistic.

Their march towards their new ground was a hot and villainously dusty
one, with packs and steel helmets, of eleven miles and the wind at
their backs, so they moved in a sweating pillar of cloud. Not a man
of theirs fell out, and the Brigade knew it, for the C.O. of the
3rd Grenadiers, who were bringing up the rear, sent along written
congratulations with word that he had not seen one single Irish
guardsman panting by the wayside. To have won that little record had
meant the hardest sort of work for officers and N.C.O.’s.

On the 15th June they lay at Cardoen Farm, in shelters and huts round
the place on which the enemy had no direct observation, though it
was not four miles behind the line. Brigade Headquarters was more or
less underground at Elverdinghe Château, and the enemy attended to it
the instant the Guards Division relieved the Thirty-eighth Division.
The front lines, as usual hereabouts, were too close together for
unrestricted artillery work; but supports, communications, railways,
and battery positions were open to him, and he dosed them by day and
night. The divisional sector had a frontage of about twelve hundred
yards, which ran from the point where our line bending back from the
Ypres salient, turned across the Yser Canal some five thousand yards
north-north-west of Ypres itself, and thence straight along the canal
bank to where the Belgians took on. The Battalion relieved the 1st
Coldstream on the 18th June, and found their front, which was on top
of the canal embankment and within fifty yards of the enemy’s, fairly
good. Owing to water showing at two feet, trenches were protected by
breast-works and well revetted, but liable, from their make, to be
badly blown by direct hits when, since it crowned the breast-works,
their own wire would hamper the occupants. The canal bed, empty
and overgrown with high grass and weeds, was all dead ground. The
most that could be said for the position was that it gave fair
protection against shell, but might be awkward to hold, as support
and back-lines were much too much under direct observation. Battalion
Headquarters were regularly shelled, and in Boesinghe village itself,
the most dangerous area of all, there was no cover, and one had to
skirmish about in the open, with both eyes and ears on what might
be coming next. The front, as usual, under these conditions was the
safest. They were so close to the enemy that they were not shelled
at all. What little stuff fell near them was the enemy’s own shorts,
upon receipt of which the German front line would loose protesting
rockets. Support and reserve companies were regularly shelled, with
the ration and water parties pushing supplies up the railway in
trucks from Elverdinghe to B.H.Q. The Battalion’s normal work was
repairing blown head-cover and breast-work, and reporting, with
oaths, that it was impossible to dig on account of subsoil water.
They indulged the enemy every early morning with five minutes’
“rapid” of Lewis-guns or rifles, and their Stokes mortars were busy
day and night. Machine-guns (nothing can keep a machine-gunner quiet
long) sprayed enemy dumps intermittently all night long. It was an
intimate, uneasy dog’s life of dodging and ducking; yet with reliefs
and all it only cost them twenty-four casualties, mostly slight, in
the four days’ turn. Their rest at Cardoen Farm afterwards meant
fatigues of carrying sand-bags and six casualties to show for it;
a brisk shelling of the camp; and a brawl between their Lewis-gun
battery and one of the wandering Hun planes with which the camps were
so infested that they were hardly noticed in reports or letters.

Their next tour, June 27 to 29, was in support behind the canal, in
dug-outs round Bleuet Farm; Battalion Headquarters in the remnants
of the farm itself. Our own artillery seemed, from the infantry
point of view, to be devoting its attention to building up dumps and
bringing in more guns; so the enemy had it rather their own way in
shelling working-parties and communications. The relief was a bad
one, and that tour worked out at nineteen casualties, of whom six
were dead.

They ended June in wet bivouacs at a camp near International Corner,
which had an unsavoury reputation for being shelled, and under the
shadow of a specially heavy fatigue of burying a cable in a forward
area. But—army fashion—nothing happened. No shells arrived; it was
too wet even for parades, and some other lucky battalion had that
cable-picnic all to itself.

On the 2nd July they were marched off twelve miles to Herzeele,
where as no billets were ready they dined in a field, and shook down
afterwards among a crowd of gunners. Many tales have been told of
happy Herzeele, for it boasted at that time no less than three town
majors, every one of them a colonel! Hence some small muddle as to
billets.

The immense preparations for what was to be the Third Battle of the
Ypres included, for the Guards Division, ten days’ special training
over trenches such as they would have to deal with when their turn
came. These were duly dug by fatigue-parties in an open stretch of
country near the town, and “the whole model was on the same scale
as the actual German front-line system.” Although the existing
features of the ground were puzzling at first, the model proved to be
extremely useful as teaching all ranks the lie of the land.

The only features not included were the hidden concrete “pill-boxes”
supporting each other behind his line, on which the enemy was basing
his new and unpleasant system of elastic defence. But, allowing
for inevitable unrealities, there is no doubt that training “on
the model” supplies and brings a battalion to hand better than any
other device. The men grow keen as they realise by eye what is to
be expected; talk it over afterwards (there are certain analogies
between trench-to-trench attack and “soccer”); the N.C.O.’s discuss
with the officers, and the battalion commander can check some
preventable errors before the real thing is loosed.

His Majesty the King came on the 6th July to watch a brigade attack
in the new formation. It was a perfect success, but the next week saw
them sweated through it again and again in every detail, till “as far
as the Battalion was concerned the drill of the attack was reduced
almost to perfection.” In their rare leisure came conferences, map-
and aeroplane-study, and, most vital of all, “explaining things
to the N.C.O.’s and men.” They wound up with a model of a foot
to a hundred yards, giving all the features in the Battalion’s
battle-area. The men naturally understood this better than a map, but
it was too small. (“’Twas like a doll’s-house garden, and it looked
you would be across and over it all in five minutes. But we was not!
We was not!”)

On the 14th, in hot weather, the move towards the cockpit began.
They bivouacked in certain selected woods that gave cover against
searching planes, who knew as much about it as the enemy staff did,
and bombed all movements on principle.

On the 17th they went into line “for a tour which proved to be one
of the most unpleasant and most expensive” since the Battalion came
to France. They held the whole of the 2nd Guards Brigade frontage,
with a battalion of the 3rd Guards Brigade on their left, so the
companies were necessarily broken up, as their platoons were detached
to the separate trenches. All No. 4 Company and two platoons of No.
3 were in the front line, and a platoon of No. 3 and Company H.Q. in
the support-line near Hunter Street. In Walkrantz Trench was another
platoon of No. 3; No. 1 Company was in an unwholesome support-trench;
and working with it, one platoon of No. 2. In Bleuet Farm were the
remaining three platoons of No. 2 Company; and Battalion Headquarters
were in Chasseur Farm, about a hundred and fifty yards behind No.
1 Company. Altogether, it might fairly be called a “hurrah’s nest”
to relieve, hold, or get away from. The enemy, even without being
stirred up by our first series of preliminary bombardments, which had
opened on the 15th, were thoroughly abreast of things. They began
by catching No. 2 Company coming up to Bleuet Farm in a barrage
of gas-shells, which meant putting on box-respirators in the dark
and going ahead blind. Only one man was knocked out, however. The
transport was gassed late at night on the Elverdinghe road, and
held up for two hours under fumes of lachrymatory and phosgene. But
transport is expected to get in, whatever happens, and the fact that
Lieutenant R. Nutting, its officer, was badly gassed, too, was an
incident. From the official point of view he should have put on his
respirator at the first, which is notoriously easy when rounding up
hooded men and panicky horses. So he suffered. But as he was the
only person who knew where Bleuet Farm might be in that poisonous
blackness, he lay on the mess-cart, and between upheavals, guided the
convoy thither. Next morn, after spending the night in a dug-out,
he had to be carried back to the dressing-station. That same night
2nd Lieutenant Lofting, while on patrol along the canal bank, was
slightly wounded in the leg.

The next three days were one nightmare of stores of all kinds for
the battle-dumps pouring into the front line while the platoons
there stacked and sorted them out, under continuous fire. Our hourly
increasing force of heavies (the field-guns were not yet called upon)
took as much of the burden off our men as they could, but the enemy
were well set and knew just what they had to bowl at. The front-line
companies’ work was to repair a very great deal of trench damage;
make assembly-trenches for the coming attack; pile up the dumps,
praying that the next salvo would not send them all sky-high, and
keep the crawling communication-lines clear of corpses, wreckage,
wounded and traffic blocks.

The Diary puts it all in these cold words: “Some of the
carrying-parties under N.C.O.’s did very fine work under fire. In no
case did any party fail to perform the work set it.” Other pens have
described that tour as “house-moving in Hell.” They lost men in the
dark who were not missed till morning. On the night of the 18th,
probably through a misreading of the many lights which were going up
everywhere and might have been read as SOS’s, our big guns suddenly
put down a bitter barrage just behind the German front line. They
replied by one just behind ours, and a searching bombardment round
our wretched Battalion Headquarters. One shell went through the roof
of an officer’s dug-out in No. 1 Company trench and killed Lieutenant
James (he had joined the Battalion, for the second time, not a month
ago) and 2nd Lieutenant Wilson, only a few weeks joined. Lieutenant
Paget was also wounded in the knee. The casualties among the men
were heavy also; and next night, as our field-guns came into play, a
“short” from one of them killed an irreplaceable C.S.M.—Grimwood of
No. 4 Company—which on the eve of engagement is equivalent to losing
an officer.

On the morning of the 20th, No. 4 Company sent out four raiding
parties across the canal bank to see how strongly the enemy was
holding things, and, quaintly enough, to “accustom them to our
temporary occupation of their front line.” The inventive Hun had
managed to raise the water level of the canal, and two of the parties
had to abandon the attempt altogether. The others, led by their
sergeants, floundered across, sometimes up to their chins, found the
enemy line held, and came back with useful news and no casualties,
for which their corps commander and their brigadier congratulated
them. On the afternoon of the same day, the C.O. (Byng-Hopwood) and
Second in Command (Stephen Bruton) of the 1st Coldstream came up
to look at the line, and were both killed by the same shell in a
communication-trench.

On the 21st, at the discomfortable hour before earliest dawn, our
R.E. Company began to send over gas from four-inch Stokes mortars
and projectors, and our own two-inch Stokes in the front line strove
to cover the noise by separate rapid fire. Thanks to past practice
with the box-respirators, in which our perspiring men had at last
learned to work, there were no casualties when a gas “short” burst
just behind the front line. It was their first acquaintance with
gas-shells but, all told, only one officer and five men were gassed,
nearly all of whom returned to duty in a few days. The relief was a
small action in itself, for the companies had to be extricated one by
one, and “the dispositions of the relieving battalions were different
from ours.” Nor was it a clean departure, since the back-lines were
more and more crowded with fatigue-parties, each claiming right of
way, and the Battalion was held up in Hunter Street, which at its
widest was perhaps four feet and a half, by a couple of hundred men
shifting trifles such as mats and bridges towards the firing-line.
When they were getting away between Bleuet and Marguerite Farms,
Lieutenant Keenan was hit in the thigh by a splinter of shell.

That tour cost the Battalion six officers killed or wounded and
sixty casualties in other ranks. Considering the shelling, the
heavy traffic and the back-line “furniture removals,” the wonder
was that they had not suffered thrice as much; but for the eve of a
first-class engagement it was ample.

Their last preparations for the attack were put in in bivouac in
the wooded area about half a mile north-west of De Wippe Cabaret,
where half the Battalion was requisitioned for long, heavy, and
unpleasant fatigues across shelled ground into forward areas, which
led to a small group of casualties. Accommodation in the woods was
insufficient, and many slept where they could under the trees (no
bad thing with wandering planes at large); but the weather held fine
and hot. And then, with everything ready to loose off, the attack
was delayed. The reason given was that the French were to spend a
few days more in making sure of success before carrying out their
end of it. A battalion takes the smallest interest in its neighbours
at any time, and on the edge of battle less than usual. All that the
men knew was that the French were on their left, where the Belgians
had been, and they hoped that they were strong in .75’s. (“Ye can
hear the French long before ye can see them. They dish out their
field-gun fire the way you’d say it was machine-guns. A well-spoken,
quiet crowd, the French, but their rations are nothing at all.”)

There is pathetic interest on the entry of the 26th July that the
C.O. (Eric Greer) “wrote out Operation Orders for Father Knapp”—a
dead man, as the Fates were to decree it, for a dead man. Those
orders were as simple as the problem before the Battalion. They
had to advance straight to their front, with the 1st Scots Guards
on their right, the latter Battalion’s right being neatly bounded
by the Langemarck-Staden railway which again was the dividing line
between the Guards and the Thirty-eighth Division. If luck held, and
pill-boxes did not turn out to be too numerous, they would all fetch
up eventually on the banks of the Steenbeek River, three thousand
five hundred yards north-east by east from their starting-point.

A happy mixture of chance and design had shown that the enemy were
in the habit of abandoning their front line along the canal during
daylight, and of manning it lightly at night. General Feilding,
commanding the Guards Division, promptly took advantage of the
knowledge to throw the 3rd Coldstream across and establish them on
the far bank. The coup was entirely successful, and it saved the
Division the very heavy casualties that would have followed a forcing
of the canal had that been held in strength.

On the 27th, at a conference of C.O.’s, they were told that the
enemy had further withdrawn on that sector, about five hundred
yards up the stage, so to speak, and were resting their front line
on a system known to us as Cariboo and Cannon trenches. One of our
scouting-aeroplanes had been searching the ground at two or three
hundred feet level, and was of opinion there was nobody there who
cared to shoot back. It was a curious situation, for though the
Battalion had rehearsed and rehearsed what they were to do till,
as men said, they could have done it in their sleep, nobody was
at ease. (This, by the way, disproves the legend that battalions
know by instinct whether they are going to win or lose.) Late that
night a hostile plane came over the forest area and woke them up
with bombs. Lieutenant Arthur Paget, attached to the M.G.C., was
slightly wounded. On the same day a draft of ninety men arrived as
reinforcements. Their position was that of supers, for in a corps
trained as the 2nd Irish Guards had been to carry out this one affair
in a certain way, no amateurs were allowed. Greer had seen to it that
every soul over whom he had authority should study the glass, sand,
tin, and twig model of the ground till he knew it by heart, and had
issued, moreover, slips of paper with a few printed sentences (“like
home post cards”) to serve for unit commanders’ reports in action. On
the back of these was a map of the sector itself, and “every one was
instructed to mark his position with an X.” The results were superb,
though Greer did not survive to see them.

The Division had its battle-patrols out and across the canal on the
night of the 28th July, pressing forward gingerly, digging themselves
in or improving existing “slits” in the ground against shell-fire.
The Battalion did much the same thing at the back, for all the world
where they walked with cautious shoulders was very unwholesome, and
the barrages clanged to and fro everlastingly. Yet, had they been
asked, they would have said, “Our guns were doing nothing out of the
way.” Men were so broke to the uproar they hardly noticed it.

On the 29th July two companies (1 and 2) of the Battalion moved
out to relieve the leading companies of the 3rd Coldstream, who
had been for some time on the far side of the canal. All went well
in the summer afternoon till a hostile aeroplane saw them filing
across, and signalled a barrage which killed or wounded forty men,
wounded Lieutenant Hannay of No. 2 Company, and killed Captain Synge
in command of No. 1. Synge was perhaps one of the best company
commanders that the Battalion had ever known, and as popular as he
was brave.

Colonel Greer went up into the line directly afterwards with
Captain D. Gunston as his second in command, and Lieutenant Hanbury
as adjutant. They were cruelly short of combatant officers—past
casualties had reduced the number to ten; and the only ones left in
reserve were Major Ferguson and Lieutenant Hely-Hutchinson. The day
and night were spent by the two companies in digging in where they
were, while Nos. 3 and 4 waited on.

Early on the morning of the 30th July the French on their left and
the whole of the Fifth Army put down a half-hour barrage to find
out where the enemy would pitch his reply. He retaliated on the
outskirts of Boesinghe village and the east bank of the canal, not
realising to what an extent we were across that obstacle. In the
evening dusk the remaining two companies of the Battalion slipped
over and took up battle positions, in artillery (“pigtail”) formation
of half-platoons, behind Nos. 1 and 2 Companies, who had shifted from
their previous night’s cover, and now lay out in two waves east of
the Yper Lea. By ten o’clock the whole of the Guards Division was in
place. The 2nd and 3rd Guards Brigades were to launch the attack,
and the 1st, going through them, was to carry it home. A concrete
dug-out in the abandoned German front line just north of the railway
was used as a Battalion Headquarters. It was fairly impervious to
anything smaller than a 5.9, but naturally its one door faced towards
the enemy and had no blind in front of it—a lack which was to cost us
dear.

July 31st opened, at 3.30 A. M., with a barrage of full diapason
along the army front, followed on the Guards sector by three minutes
of “a carefully prepared hate,” during which two special companies
projected oil-drums throwing flame a hundred yards around, with
thermit that burned everything it touched. The enemy had first shown
us how to employ these scientific aids, and we had bettered the
instruction.

His barrage in reply fell for nearly an hour on the east bank of the
canal. Our creeping barrage was supposed to lift at 4 A. M. and let
the two leading battalions (2nd Irish Guards and 1st Scots Guards)
get away; but it was not till nearly a quarter of an hour later
that the attack moved forward in waves behind it. Twelve minutes
later, Nos. 1 and 2 Companies of the Battalion had reached the first
objective (Cariboo and Cannon trenches) “with only one dead German
encountered”; for the enemy’s withdrawal to his selected line had
been thorough. The remaining companies followed, and behind them
came the 1st Coldstream, all according to schedule; till by 5.20 A.
M. the whole of the first objective had been taken and was being
consolidated, with very small loss. They were pushing on to the
second objective, six hundred yards ahead, when some of our own guns
put a stationary barrage on the first objective—Cariboo trenches
and the rest. Mercifully, a good many of the men of the first and
second waves had gone on with the later ones, where they were of the
greatest possible service in the annoying fights and checks round
the concreted machine-gun posts. Moreover, our barrage was mainly
shrapnel—morally but not physically effective. No. 2 Company and
No. 4 Company, for example, lay out under it for a half and three
quarters of an hour respectively without a single casualty. But no
troops are really grateful for their own fire on their own tin hats.

About half-past five, Colonel Greer, while standing outside advanced
Battalion Headquarters dug-out in the first objective line, was
killed instantly by shrapnel or bullet. It was his devoted work, his
arrangement and foresight that had brought every man to his proper
place so far without waste of time or direction. He had literally
made the Battalion for this battle as a steeple-chaser is made for a
given line of country. Men and officers together adored him for his
justice, which was exemplary and swift; for the human natural fun of
the man; for his knowledge of war and the material under his hand,
and for his gift of making hard life a thing delightful. He fell on
the threshold of the day ere he could see how amply his work had been
rewarded. Captain Gunston took command of the Battalion, for, of the
seniors, Captain Alexander was out ahead with No. 4 Company, and
Major Ferguson was in Regimental Reserve. Headquarters were moved up
into Cariboo trench, and by six o’clock the second objective had been
reached, in the face of bad machine-gun fire from Hey Wood that had
opened on us through a break in our barrage.

No. 3 Company on the right of our line, next to the Scots Guards,
found themselves at one point of this advance held up by our
own barrage, and had the pleasure of seeing a battery of German
field-guns limber up and “go off laughing at them.” Then they came
under oblique machine-gun fire from the right.

Lieutenant Sassoon,[2] commanding No. 3, got his Lewis-gun to cover
a flank attack on the machine-gun that was doing the damage, took it
with seven German dead and five wounded prisoners, and so freed the
advance for the Scots Guards and his own company. As the latter moved
forward they caught it in the rear from another machine-gun which had
been overlooked, or hidden itself in the cleaning-up of Hey Wood.

Sassoon sent back a couple of sections to put this thing out of
action (which they did) and pushed on No. 4 Company, which was
getting much the same allowance from concrete emplacements covering
machine-guns outside Artillery Wood. Captain Alexander launched an
attack at these through a gap in our barrage, outflanked them and
accounted for three machine-guns and fourteen Germans. There was
some slight difficulty at this point in distinguishing between our
barrage, which seemed to have halted, and the enemy’s, which seemed
to be lifting back. So Captain Alexander had to conduct his advance
by a series of short rushes in and out of this double barrage, but
somehow or other contrived to consolidate his position without undue
delays. (“Consolidatin’ positions at Boesinghe meant being able to
lie down and get your breath while the rest of ye ran about the
country hammerin’ machine-gun posts an’ damnin’ our barrages.”)
Thus occupied, he sent back word to Captain Gunston that in the
circumstances he waived his seniority and placed himself under the
latter’s command. “The pace was too good to inquire.”

This was in the interval before Ferguson, acting Second in Command,
who by regulation had been left behind, could get word of Greer’s
death, reach Battalion Headquarters and take over, which he did a
little later. On his way up, their brigadier (Ponsonby) told him that
“he could not find words strong enough to express his appreciation
of the way in which the Battalion had behaved, and for its dash and
devotion to duty.” Indeed, they admitted among themselves—which is
where criticism is fiercest—that they had pulled the scheme off
rather neatly, in spite of their own barrages, and that the map and
model study had done the trick. By ten o’clock of the morning their
work was substantially complete. They had made and occupied the
strong points linking up between their advanced companies and the
final objectives, which it was the business of the other brigades to
secure. As they put it, “everything had clicked”; and, for a small
reward, Fate sent to Battalion Headquarters the commanding officer
and adjutant of the 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers who had been captured
near the second objective, and who wore in gold braid on their left
sleeve the word “Gibraltar” in commemoration of the siege when that
regiment, as Hanoverian, fought on the English side. The adjutant
spoke English well, and thought that the U.S.A., coming into the war
at last, would be bad for Germany. When they asked him if he wanted
peace he replied: “The country wants peace. The men want peace, but
_I_ am an officer, and an officer never wants peace.” Herein he spoke
more truly concerning his own caste than was ever realised by the
British politician.

He was immensely interested, too, in our “Zero” hour and its
arrangements, but seemed unable to grasp the system. “How,” he asked,
“do you manage your—love hour, your nought hour—how do you call
it?” He appeared to think it was something like lawn-tennis, and
they explained to him in the wet-floored dug-out, which had already
received two direct high-explosive souvenirs, that there was, as he
might have observed, very little of “love” about a British Zero.

Then there fell, most naturally, a great thirst upon all the world,
for bottles had been drained long ago, and a carrying-party of the
3rd Grenadiers had gone astray in that wilderness, and word had come
in from Brigade Headquarters that the pontoon bridge over the canal
was not yet finished, so they would have to draw on the water-dump
on its west bank. Fatigue parties were sent off at once from the
two companies panting there. The other two in the second objective
further on would ... but orders had scarcely been issued when
Lieutenant Nutting pushed up with a string of pack-beasts and made
a forward water-dump just behind the first objective, which saved
trouble and that exposure which means men’s lives. (“All that time,
of course, the battle was ragin’—that is to say, we was being shelled
and shot over as usual—but, ye’ll understand, we wanted water more
than we minded the shells. Thirst is stronger than death with the
need on ye.”)

They disposed themselves for the afternoon, Nos. 1 and 2 Companies
taking over from the 1st Scots Guards in the first objective, and
Nos. 3 and 4 in the second, with linked strong posts connecting
both lines. They also withdrew a couple of platoons sent forward
from Nos. 1 and 2 Companies to the final objective (all objectives
had now been reached) to rejoin their companies. At three o’clock
Father Knapp appeared at Battalion Headquarters—that most insanitary
place—and proposed to stay there. It was pointed out to him that
the shelling was heavy, accommodation, as he could see, limited,
and he had better go to the safer advanced dressing-station outside
Boesinghe and deal with the spiritual needs of his wounded as
they were sent in. The request had to be changed to a reasonably
direct order ere he managed to catch it; for, where his office was
concerned, the good Father lacked something of that obedience he
preached. And a few hours after he had gone down to what, with any
other man, would have been reasonable security, news arrived that he
had been mortally wounded while tending cases “as they came out” of
the dressing-station. He must have noticed that the accommodation
there was cramped, too, and have exposed himself to make shelter for
others. Captain David Lees, the Battalion M.O., seems to have been
equally careless, but luckier. He walked through what is described
as “an intensely hostile” barrage (there were not very many friendly
ones falling that day) to the corner of Artillery Wood, where he
found a batch of wounded exposed to barrages and machine-guns. He was
shelled all the time he was dressing them, and when he had finished,
he carried, in turn, Lieutenant Buller, Sergeant McNally, and Private
Donoghue to a safe trench just outside the barrage zone. To do this
he had to go four times through the barrage before he could continue
his round of professional visits which took him through it yet a
fifth time.

During the afternoon, though there was a general bombardment by
the enemy of the first and second objectives for ten minutes every
half-hour, the bulk of the shelling was aimless and wandering, as
though the gunners could not hang on to any target. Men were killed,
but not with intention, and the living could feel that the sting
had gone out of the affair. They finished the interminable day
under a barrage of gas-shells and H.E., which suggested at first a
counter-attack behind it. At that moment, Nos. 2 and 4 Companies
were holding an advanced position near Captain’s Farm towards the
last objective; and it looked as though they would have to be left
there all night, but by eleven o’clock the shelling had died out,
the mopping-up companies of the 1st Coldstream relieved our outlying
two, and a quarter of an hour later, dripping and muddy, the whole
Battalion got away to a low, wet, and uncomfortable camp in the
Roussel area, whose single mitigation was a rum-issue.

They had lost in the past three days three officers (Greer, their
C.O.; Synge, by shrapnel, on the 29th; and Lieutenant Armfield,
found shot on the 31st, not far from the dug-out they had converted
into Battalion Headquarters). Lieutenants Crawford, Buller, and
Vaughan-Morgan were the wounded. Casualties in other ranks came
to 280, a large part due to machine-gun fire. It was a steadying
balance-sheet and, after an undecided action, would have been fair
excuse for a little pause and reconstruction. But a clean-cut all-out
affair, such as Boesinghe, was different, though it had been saddened
by the loss of an unselfish priest who feared nothing created, and
a commanding officer as unselfish and as fearless as he. The elder
and the younger man had both given all they had to the Battalion,
and their indomitable souls stayed with it when, next day (August
1), the authorities inquired whether it felt equal to going into the
line again for what would certainly be an unusually abominable “sit
and be hit” tour. The Battalion replied that it was ready, and spent
the day cleaning up and putting in recommendations for awards for the
battle. Among these were Lieutenant Black, the intelligence officer
who in the course of his duties had had to wander for eighteen
hours over the whole position captured by the Battalion, reporting
situations, meeting crises as they arose, and keeping his head and
his notes under continuous barrages. His right-hand man had been
Sergeant Milligan, who “succeeded in establishing advanced Battalion
Headquarters in the first objective five minutes after it had been
captured, in spite of the fact that the barrage fell on that line for
the next half-hour.” He then found a company, all of whose officers,
save one, had been wounded, helped to “reorganise it” with a strong
hand and a firm voice, went on with it, assisted in outflanking
three machine-gun positions, and kept communication unbroken between
the front and back of their attack. Be it remembered that the right
sector over which the 2nd Irish Guards and the Scots Guards moved was
much more blinded with houses, woods, and the like than the left; and
there was room for every sort of trouble if the sectors did not work
together. But Greer’s insistence that the men should know the model
of the ground, and their officers the aeroplane maps of it, and his
arrangements whereby all units could report lucidly at any moment
where they were, had brought them success. So, with 50 per cent. of
their strength gone, and the dismal wet soaking the stiff survivors
to the bone, they hobbled about, saying, “If _he_ were only here now
to see how he has pulled this off!”

Their work on the 2nd August was to take over from a 1st Brigade
Battalion on the left of the divisional front next to the French.
The latter’s front here ran several hundred yards in rear of the
Guards, and since their centre was well forward again, the re-entrant
angle was an awkward and unsafe pocket, which necessitated any
battalion that lay on the French right spending men and trouble in
making a defensive left flank. The advance at this point had been
carried forward to within a few hundred yards of the Steenbeek River.
Indeed, on the right of the divisional front the 2nd Grenadiers were
across and established. The Battalion moved up in rain across the
water-logged, shell-pitted ground at dusk, to be welcomed by news
that the enemy were massing. The enemy would surely have stuck in
the mud had they attempted any counter-attack, but the Thirty-eighth
Division on the right seemed to see them advancing in battle-array
and sent up urgent demands for a barrage, which at once brought
the hostile barrage down all along the line. Under this quite
uncalled-for demonstration the companies floundered to their shallow
trenches, which were a foot deep in mud. They had no particular
idea where they or their rendezvous might be, but, obviously, the
first thing was to get into touch with the French and beg them to
straighten up their line where it nicked into ours. This was done
in the dawn of the 3rd August, and before the end of the day our
allies had attended to the matter and advanced up to the line of the
Steenbeek. Then they, in turn, asked us to supply a standing-patrol
to link up their right to our left at Sentier Farm on the extreme
edge of the ground won. It was not a locality, however, where any
move could be attempted in daylight. The 3rd Coldstream had some
men there, but these, for good reason, were lying low till we could
relieve them. Captain Alexander and Lieutenant Hanbury had been
sent down for a rest after their heavy work; and the Battalion,
under Ferguson, was divided into two wings, the right commanded by
Sassoon, with Lieutenants Van der Noot and Kane; the left by Captain
Gunston, with Lieutenant Rea and, temporarily, Lieutenant Black.
The 1st Coldstream turned up just on the edge of dusk to take over
from the Battalion which was to relieve the 3rd Coldstream in the
front line. Here, for once, efficiency did not pay. The handing
over was completed all too well before the light had gone, and as
they moved forward a burst of shrapnel killed one man and seriously
wounded Lieutenant Van der Noot and five men. They disposed two
companies in snipe-bogs at Signal Farm, and the other two, in like
conditions, at Fourché Farm. There was practically no shelter against
heavy shelling. Battalion Headquarters was an eight-by-four concrete
dug-out with three inches of water on the floor, and the only people
who kept warm seem to have been Lieutenant Rea and a couple of
platoons who got into touch with the French and spent the night
making a strong standing-patrol of two sections and a Lewis-gun at
Sentier Farm, which was where the French wanted it. For the rest,
“practically no shelter, incessant rain, continuous shell-fire, and
mud half-way up the legs, but casualties comparatively few, and the
spirit of all ranks excellent.”

The Welsh Guards relieved them on the night of the 4th, and they got
hot tea (the adjutant had gone down on purpose to see to that) at
Bleuet Farm, entrained at Elverdinghe for Proven, and at Porchester
Camp, which they reached on the morning of the 5th, found a dry camp
that had been pitched before the rain, more hot tea, a change of
clothes, socks, _and_ rum waiting for them. They breakfasted “before
retiring to bed.” (“We was dead done, but ye’ll understand, ’twas
nothing more than that. Our hearts was light—except for Father Knapp
an’ Greer; but if they had not been taken that day ’twould have been
later. That sort of men they are not made to live. They do an’ they
die.”)

The general impression at Porchester Camp was that the Guards
Division would be out of the line for the next two weeks or so,
while the Twenty-ninth Division took over their work and secured
a jumping-off place on the far side of the Steenbeek, with a new
advance, in which the Guards would take part, towards Houthulst
Forest. Meantime, sufficient to the day was the camp’s daily small
beer—rows, for instance, with company cooks about diet-sheets (this
was a matter Greer had been deep in just before his death), an
inspection which kept them standing-to for nearly a couple of hours
and was then cancelled; a farmer who, meaning to be kind, cut his
crops early so that they might have a nice stubbly parade-ground,
which no one in the least wanted; a lecture on Boesinghe by the
C.O. to Captains Ward and Redmond and Lieutenants FitzGerald and De
Moleyns, and all the N.C.O.’s who had come up with the last drafts
that were making good the Battalion losses and giving the old hands a
deal of trouble. For the enemy had developed at Boesinghe a defensive
system of shell-holes filled with a few men and a machine-gun, and
further protected by modest flanking machine-gun pill-boxes, over a
depth of fifteen hundred or two thousand yards before one got to his
main-line system of triple trenches. It was wholly damnable because,
as the Guards and the Twentieth and Twenty-ninth Divisions had found
out, artillery was not much use against holes in the ground, even
when the field-guns could be brought close enough across the morasses
to reach them. Warley knew little about the proper forms of attack on
such positions, and the new hands had to be taught it under menace of
the daring planes. The Hun never threw away an opportunity of doing
evil to his enemy, and while they lay at Bedford Camp (August 13) a
number of the A.S.C. horses died owing to steel shavings having been
cunningly mixed in their baled hay by some pro-Boche agent in the
far-off lands where it was purchased.

On the 18th August orders came to move up the line to a camp west of
Bleuet Farm, where aeroplanes were more vicious than ever. There they
had to construct the camp almost from the beginning, with tents and
shelters as they could lay hands on them, while most of the Battalion
was busy making and mending roads; and a draft of one hundred and
fifty new men, under Lieutenant Manning, came in, so that nothing
might be lacking to the activity of the days.

On the 20th August, owing to the aeroplanes, they had to spread out
and camouflage the shelters for the men, which were too bunched
together and made easy targets. Lieutenants D. FitzGerald, Dalton
and Lysaght joined that afternoon, and in the evening there was a
heavy air-raid along the east edge of the camp. Lieutenant Bellew,
who had only joined with his draft ten days before, went to see the
result, was hit and mortally wounded; and Lieutenant de Moleyns,
who accompanied him, was also hit. The trouble was a couple of
twelve-inch howitzers near our camp which were greatly annoying the
enemy, and their machines rasped up and down like angry hornets
hunting for them.

The 2nd Coldstream relieved the Battalion on the 21st August, when
they returned to Elverdinghe, and were shifted to Paddington Camp—no
improvement on its predecessor from the overhead point of view.
Here the awards for Boesinghe came in: Captain Lees, who had been
recommended for the V.C., getting the D.S.O. with Captain Alexander;
Lieutenant Sassoon the M.C.; and Sergeant Milligan, that reorganiser
of officerless companies, the D.C.M.

On the 22nd August Father Browne, who had taken Father Knapp’s place
as chaplain, held a short service over Lieutenant Bellew’s grave,
while the drums played the Last Post. His platoon, and a platoon
has every opportunity for intimate knowledge, reported him “A grand
little officer.” (“There was so many came and went, and some they
went so soon that ’tis hard to carry remembrance of them. And, d’ye
see, a dead man’s a dead man. But a platoon will remember some better
than others. He’ll have done something or said something amongst his
own men the way his name’ll last for a while in it.”)

On the 25th of the month they were told that the Guards Division
offensive was cancelled for the time being; that they would probably
be used in the line till about the 20th September, and that the final
attack on Houthulst Forest would be carried out by a couple of other
divisions. Meantime, they would be shifted from camp to camp, which
they rather detested, and lectured and drilled. As an earnest of
this blissful state they were forthwith shifted to Abingley Camp, in
the Elverdinghe area and on the edge of trouble, in cold, driving
wet, to find it very dirty and the tentage arrangements abominably
muddled. Naturally, when complaints might have been expected, the
men were wildly cheerful, and wrestled with flapping, sodden canvas
in a half gale as merrily as sailors. The house-keeper’s instinct,
before mentioned, of primitive man always comes out best at the worst
crisis, and, given but the prospect of a week’s stay in one place,
a Guards Battalion will build up a complete civilisation on bog
or bare rock. The squally weather was against aeroplane activity
till the 2nd of September, when the neighbourhood of the camp was
most thoroughly searched with bombs, but nothing actually landed
on them. Next midnight, however, they had all to flee from their
tents and take refuge in the “slits” provided in the ground. This
is ever an undignified proceeding, but the complaint against it is
not that it is bad for the men’s nerves, but their discipline. The
Irish appreciate too keenly the spectacle of a thick officer bolting,
imperfectly clad, into a thin “slit.” Hence, sometimes, unfortunate
grins on parade next morning, which count as “laughing.” Vastly
more serious than the bombing, or even their occasional sports and
cricket matches, was that their C.O. inspecting the Pipers “took
exception to the hang of their kilts.” It ended in his motoring over
to the Gordons at Houbinghem and borrowing the pipe major there to
instruct them in this vital matter, as well as in the right time for
march music. They were then sent to the master tailor to have some
pleats taken out of the offending garments and fetched up, finally,
on parade wearing their gas-helmets as sporrans! But they looked
undeniably smart and supplied endless material for inter-racial
arguments at mess.

These things and their sports and boxing competitions, where
Drill-Sergeant Murphy and Private Conroy defeated two black N.C.O.’s
of a West Indies battalion, were interludes to nights of savage
bombing; carrying and camouflage parties to the front line, where
they met a new variety of mustard gas; and the constant practice of
the new form of attack. The real thing was set down now for the 14th
September but was cancelled at the last moment, and the Battalion was
warned for an ordinary trench tour on the night of the 12th-13th.
Unluckily, just before that date Captain Sassoon and Lieutenant Kane
and twenty-seven men of a big fatigue a day or two before, were badly
burned and blistered by the new mustard gas shells. It put them down
two officers at the time when every head was needed.

They were to take over from the 3rd Coldstream on the 12th September
on what was practically the old Boesinghe sector. That battalion
which lay next the French had just been raided, and lost nine men
because their liaison officer had misunderstood the French language.
Hence an order at the eleventh hour that each battalion in the sector
should attach a competent linguist to the liaison-post where the two
armies joined. The advance across the Steenbeek, after Boesinghe,
had only gone on a few hundred yards up the Staden railway line and
was now halted three thousand yards sou’west of Houthulst Forest,
facing a close and blind land of woods, copses, farms, mills, and
tree-screened roads cut, before any sure advance could be made, less
than a quarter of a mile from the Guards divisional front by the
abominable Broembeek. This was more a sluit than a river. Its banks
were marsh for the most part; and every yard was commanded by hostile
fire of every kind. On the French right and our extreme left was a
lodgement of posts the far side of the Broembeek which the Coldstream
had been holding when they were raided. These lay within a hundred
yards of the enemy’s line of strong posts (many lectures had been
delivered lately on the difference between lines of trenches and
lines of posts), and were backed by the stream, then waist-deep and
its bed plentifully filled with barbed wire. Between Ney Copse and
Ney Wood, say five hundred yards, they could only be reached by one
stone bridge and a line of duck-boards like stepping-stones at the
west corner of Ney Copse.

The Battalion went up in the afternoon of the 12th September, none
the better for a terrific bombardment an hour or two before from a
dozen low-flying planes which sent every one to cover, inflicted
twenty casualties on them out of two hundred in the neighbourhood,
and fairly cut the local transport to bits. The relief, too—and
this was one of the few occasions when Guards’ guides lost their
way—lasted till midnight.

Six platoons had to be placed in the forward posts above mentioned,
east of the little river whose western or home bank was pure swamp
for thirty yards back. Says the Diary: “This position could be
cut off by the enemy, as the line of the stream gives a definite
barrage-line, and, if any rain sets in, the stone bridge would be the
only possible means of crossing.”

A battalion seldom thinks outside of its orders, or some one might
have remembered how a couple of battalions on the wrong side of a
stream, out Dunkirk way that very spring, had been mopped up in the
sands, because they could neither get away nor get help. Our men
settled down and were unmolested for three hours. Then a barrage
fell, first on all the forward posts, next on the far bank of the
stream, and our own front line. The instant it lifted, two companies
of Wurtembergers in body-armour rushed what the shells had left of
the forward posts. Lieutenant Manning on the right of Ney Wood was
seen for a moment surrounded and then was seen no more. All posts
east of Ney Copse were blown up or bombed out, for the protected
Wurtembergers fought well. Captain Redmond commanding No. 2 Company
was going the rounds when the barrage began. He dropped into the
shell-hole that was No. 6 post, and when that went up, collected its
survivors and those from the next hole, and made such a defence in
the south edge of Ney Copse as prevented the enemy from turning us
altogether out of it. Most of the time, too, he was suffering from
a dislocated knee. Then the enemy finished the raid scientifically,
with a hot barrage of three quarters of an hour on all communications
till the Wurtembergers had comfortably withdrawn. It was an
undeniable “knock,” made worse by its insolent skill.

Losses had not yet been sorted out. The C.O. wished to withdraw
what was left of his posts across the river—there were two still in
Ney Copse—and not till he sent his reasons in writing was the sense
of them admitted at Brigade Headquarters. Officer’s patrols were
then told off to search Ney Copse, find out where the enemy’s new
posts had been established, pick up what wounded they came across
and cover the withdrawal of the posts there, while a new line was
sited. In other words, the front had to fall back, and the patrols
were to pick up the pieces. The bad luck of the affair cleaved, as
it often does, to their subsequent efforts. By a series of errors
and misapprehensions Ney Copse was not thoroughly searched and one
platoon of No. 3 Company was left behind and reported as missing. By
the time the patrols returned and the Battalion had started to dig in
its new front line it was too light to send out another party. The
enemy shelled vigorously with big stuff all the night of the 13th
till three in the morning; stopped for an hour and then barraged
the whole of our sector with high explosives till six. During this,
Lieutenant Gibson, our liaison officer with the French, was wounded,
and at some time or another in a lull in the infernal din, Sergeant
M’Guinness and Corporal Power, survivors of No. 2 Company, which had
been mopped up, worked their way home in safety through the enemy
posts.

The morning of the 14th brought their brigadier who “seems to think
that our patrol work was not well done,” and had no difficulty
whatever in conveying his impression to his hearers. Major Ward went
down the line suffering from fever. There were one or two who envied
him his trouble, for, with a missing platoon in front—if indeed any
of it survived—and a displeased brigadier in rear, life was not
lovely, even though our guns were putting down barrages on what were
delicately called our “discarded” posts. Out went another patrol that
night under Lieutenant Bagot, with intent to reconnoitre “the river
that wrought them all their woe.” They discovered what every one
guessed—that the enemy was holding both river-crossings, stone bridge
and duck-boards, with machine-guns. The Battalion finished the day in
respirators under heavy gas-shellings.

Then came a piece of pure drama. They had passed the 15th September
in the usual discomfort while waiting to be relieved by the 1st
Coldstream. Captain Redmond with his dislocated knee had gone down
and Lieutenants FitzGerald and Lysaght had come up. The talk was all
about the arrangements for wiring in their new line and the like,
when at 4.30, after a few hours’ quiet, a terrific barrage fell on
their front line followed by an SOS from somewhere away to the left.
A few minutes later five SOS rockets rose on the right apparently
in front of the 1st Scots Guards. Our guns on the Brigade front
struck in, by request; the enemy plastered the landscape with H.E.;
machine-guns along the whole sector helped with their barrages to
which the enemy replied in kind, and with one searching crash we
clamped a big-gun barrage on the far bank of the Broembeek, till it
looked as if nothing there could live.

When things were at their loudest a wire came in from the Brigade
to say that a Hun captured at St. Julien reported that a general
advance of the enemy was timed for 6.30 that very morning! By five
o’clock the hostile barrage seemed to have quieted down along our
front, but the right of the Brigade sector seemed still to be at odds
with some enemy; so the Brigadier kept our local barrage hard-on
by way of distraction. And at half-past six, tired, very hungry,
but otherwise in perfect order, turned up at Brigade Headquarters
Sergeant Moyney with the remainder of No. 3 Company’s platoon which
had been missing since the 12th. He had been left in command of an
advanced shell-hole post in Ney Copse with orders neither to withdraw
nor to let his men break into their iron ration. The Wurtembergers’
raid had cut off his little command altogether; and at the end of it
he found a hostile machine-gun post well established between himself
and the duck-board-bridge over the river. He had no desire to attract
more attention than was necessary, and kept his men quiet. They had
forty-eight hours’ rations and a bottle of water apiece; but the
Sergeant was perfectly definite as to their leaving their iron ration
intact. So they lay in their shell-hole in the wood and speculated
on life and death, and paid special attention to the commands of
their superior officer in the execution of his duty. The enemy knew
they were somewhere about, but not their strength nor their precise
position, and having his own troubles in other directions, it was not
till the dawn of the 16th that he sent out a full company to roll
them up. The Sergeant allowed them to get within twenty-five yards
and then ordered his men to “jump out and attack.” It was quite a
success. Their Lewis-gun came into action on their flank, and got off
three drums into the brown of the host while the infantry expended
four boxes of bombs at close quarters. “Sergeant Moyney then gave
the order to charge through the Germans to the Broembeek.” It was
done, and he sent his men across that foul water, bottomed here with
curly barbed-wire coils while he covered their passage with his one
rifle. They were bombed and machine-gunned as they floundered over to
the swampy western bank; and it was here that Private Woodcock heard
cries for help behind him, returned, waded into the water under bombs
and bullets, fished out Private Hilley of No. 3 Company with a broken
thigh and brought him safely away. The clamour of this fierce little
running fight, the unmistakable crack and yells of the bombing and
the sudden appearance of some of our men breaking out of the woods
near the German machine-gun emplacement by the river, had given the
impression to our front of something big in development. Hence the
SOS which woke up the whole touchy line, and hence our final barrage
which had the blind good luck to catch the enemy as they were lining
up on the banks of the Broembeek preparatory, perhaps, to the advance
the St. Julien prisoner had reported. Their losses were said to be
heavy, but there was great joy in the Battalion over the return of
the missing platoon, less several good men, for whom a patrol went
out to look that night in case they might be lying up in shell-holes.
But no more were found. (“’Twas a bad mix-up first to last. We
ought never to have been that side the dam’ river at that time at
all. ’Twas not fit for it yet. And there’s a lot to it that can’t
be told.... And _why_ did Moyney not let the men break into their
ration? Because, in a tight place, if you do _one_ thing against
orders ye’ll do _annything_. An’ ’twas a dam’ tight place that that
Moyney man walked them out of.”)

They were relieved with only two casualties. The total losses of the
tour had been—one officer missing (Lieutenant Manning), one (2nd
Lieutenant Gibson) wounded; one man wounded and missing; eighty
missing; fifty-nine wounded and seventeen killed. And the worst of it
was that they were all trained hands being finished for the next big
affair!

Dulwich Camp where they lay for a few days was, like the others, well
within bombing and long gun-range. They consoled themselves with an
inspection of the drums and pipes on the 17th, and received several
six-inch shells from a naval gun, an old acquaintance; but though one
shell landed within a few yards of a bivouac of No. 2 Company there
were no further casualties, and the next day the drums and pipes
went over to Proven to take part in a competition arranged by the
Twenty-ninth Division (De Lisle’s). They played beautifully—every
one admitted that—but what chance had they of “marks for dress”
against line battalions whose bands sported their full peace-time
equipment—leopard skins, white buckskin gloves, and all? So the 8th
Essex won De Lisle’s prize. But they bore no malice, for when, a few
days later, a strayed officer and forty men of that battalion cast up
at their camp (it was Putney for the moment) they entertained them
all hospitably.

They settled down to the business of intensive training of the new
drafts that were coming in—2nd Lieutenant Murphy with ninety-six men
one day, and 2nd Lieutenants Dame and Close the next with a hundred
and forty-six, all to be put through three weeks of a scheme that
included “consolidation of shell-holes” in addition to everything
else, and meant six hours a day of the hardest repetition work.
Sports and theatrical shows, such as the Coldstream Pierrots and
their own rather Rabelaisian “Wild West Show,” filled in time till
the close of September when they were at Herzeele, warned that they
would be “for it” on or about the 11th of the next month, and that
their attack would not be preceded by any artillery registration.
This did not cheer them; for experience had shown that the chances of
surprising the enemy on that sector were few and remote.

The last day of September saw the cadres filled. Three 2nd
Lieutenants, Anderson, Faulkner, and O’Connor, and Lieutenant Levy
arrived; and, last, Lieut.-Colonel the Hon. H. R. Alexander, who took
over the command.

Rehearsals for the coming affair filled the next few days at Herzeele
camp, and their final practice on the 4th before they moved over
to Proven was passed as “entirely satisfactory.” Scaled against
the tremendous events in progress round them, the Broembeek was
no more than a minor action in a big action intended to clear a
cloudy front ere the traitorous weather should make all work on the
sector impossible, and, truly, by the time it was done, it cost the
Division only two thousand casualties—say four battalions of a peace
establishment.

The battle they knew would depend on the disposition of the little
Broembeek. If that chose to flood it would be difficult to reach
across its bogs and worse to cross; and, under any circumstances,
mats and portable bridges (which meant men having to halt and bunch
under fire) would be indispensable.

The existing line was to be held by the 3rd Guards Brigade till the
9th of October, when the attack would be put through by the 1st
and 2nd Brigades on the right and left respectively. In brigade
disposition this would lay the 2nd Irish Guards next to the French on
their left, and the 1st Scots Guards on their right. The usual three
objectives were set for the Division; making an advance in all of
rather more than three thousand yards from the Broembeek to the edge
of the Houthulst Forest; and equally, as usual, when the leading
battalions had secured the first two objectives, the remaining
battalions of each brigade would go through them and take the final
one.

With the idea of concealing the attack, no preliminary work was
undertaken, but on the morning of the 6th the light bridges and mats
were issued, and the Battalion practised fixing and laying them over
a piece of ground marked to represent the river. They moved from
Putney Camp to the front line on the 7th, when Nos. 3 and 4 Companies
relieved the 2nd Scots Guards who had been getting ready the mats
and bridges for the real thing. The last day concerned itself with
disposing the companies in the trenches so that they should be able
to have a good look at the ground ahead while it was yet light.
No one could pretend that the sweeping of the small-featured,
ill-looking, and crowded landscape would be an easy job, and at the
far end of the ominous perspectives lay the dull line of Houthulst
Forest upon which rain shut down dismally as the day closed. The
enemy made no signs beyond occasional shelling, in which Battalion
Headquarters, a collection of three concrete block-houses, was hit
once or twice with 5.9’s, but no harm followed.

At dusk Nos. 3 and 4 Companies laid out the tapes parallel to the
Broembeek that were to make forming-up easier. For some reason
connected with the psychology of war, this detail has always a
depressing influence on men’s minds. An officer has observed that
it reminded him of tennis-courts and girls playing on them at home.
A man has explained that their white glimmer in the dusk suggests a
road for ghosts, with reflections on the number of those who, after
setting foot across on dead-line, may return for their rum-ration.

The rain gave over in the night and was followed by a good drying
wind. Zero of the 9th October was 5.20 A. M. which gave light enough
to see a few hundred yards. An intense eighteen-pounder barrage
was our signal to get away. Four barrages went on together—the
creeping, a standing one, a back-barrage of six-inch howitzers and
60-pounders, and a distant barrage of the same metal, not to count
the thrashing machine-gun barrages. They moved and halted with the
precision of stage machinery or, as a man said, like water-hoses at
a conflagration. Our two leading companies (3 and 4) crossed the
river without a hitch, met some small check for a few moments in Ney
Wood where a nest of machine-guns had escaped the blasts of fire,
and moved steadily behind the death-drum of the barrage to the first
objective a thousand yards from their start. There the barrage hung
like a wall from the French flank, across the north of Gruyterzaele
Farm, over the Langemarck road and Koekuit, and up to Namur Crossing
on the battered railway track, while the two leading companies set to
work consolidating till it should roll back and the rear companies
pass on behind it. The dreadful certainty of the job in itself masked
all the details. One saw and realised nothing outside of one’s own
immediate task, and the business of keeping distances between lines
and supports became a sort of absurd preoccupation. Occasionally a
runner passed, very intent on his errand, a free man, it seemed,
who could go where he chose at what pace suited his personal
need to live; or the variously wounded would lurch by among the
shell-holes, but the general impression in the midst of the din was
of concentrated work. The barrage held still for three quarters of an
hour, and about half-past seven the 2nd Coldstream came up through
our Nos. 3 and 4 Companies who were lying down, curiously unworried
by casualties, to carry on the advance to the last objective which
was timed to take place about eight. No. 3 Company was told to move
up behind the Coldstream and dig in a couple of hundred yards behind
Nos. 1 and 2 as a support to them, where they lay behind the second
objective, in event of counter-attacks. Unluckily a French gun on the
left began to fire short, and that company had to be withdrawn with
some speed, for a “seventy-five” that makes a mistake repeats it too
often to be a pleasant neighbour. Battalion Headquarters came up as
methodically as everything else, established themselves behind the
first objective, strung their telephones, and settled down to the
day’s work. So far as the Battalion was concerned they suffered no
more henceforward than a few occasional shells that do not seem to
have done any damage, and at six in the evening their two leading
companies were withdrawn, with the leading companies of the 1st Scots
Guards, and marched back to Dulwich Camp. The remaining two companies
of the Scots Guards passed under the command of the C.O. of the Irish
(Alexander), who had been slightly wounded in the course of the
action. The four companies then were in direct support of the troops
at the third objective waiting on for counter-attacks which never
came.

On the dawn of the 10th October, Battalion Headquarters moved forward
again to the second objective line, but except for some low-flying
enemy planes, the day passed quietly till the afternoon when the same
French “seventy-five,” which had been firing short the day before,
took it into its misdirected head to shell No. 1 Company so savagely
that that had to be shifted to the left in haste. There was no
explanation, and while the company was on the move the enemy put down
a two hours’ barrage just behind the second objective. It has often
been remarked that when the Hun leads off on the wrong foot, so to
say, at the beginning of a fray, he keeps on putting his foot into it
throughout. Luckily, the barrage did not do much harm.

The Welsh Guards relieved in the late evening, and by eleven o’clock
the whole Battalion was safe in Dulwich Camp with an amazingly small
casualty list. The only officer killed had been Captain Hanbury.
Lieutenants Close and Bagot were wounded and also Alexander and
Father Browne, these last two so slightly that they still remained on
duty. Of other ranks they had but twenty dead, eighty-nine wounded,
and two missing. The Wurtembergers’ raid had cost them more. And
that, too, was the luck of war.

None of them knew particularly how the fight outside their limited
vision had gone. The Scots Guards were comfortably on their
right, keeping step for step; and the French on the left, barring
their incontinent gun, had moved equally level. But they were all
abominably stiff from negotiating the slippery-sided shell-holes and
the mud, and it took them two days’ hard work to clean up.

On the 13th October they relieved the 1st Scots Guards for
fatigue-parties to the front, and lay in a camp of sand-bag and
corrugated iron hovels where the men had to manufacture shelter for
themselves, while a long-range German gun prevented that work from
being too dull. But again there was no damage. They were relieved on
the 16th October from these duties by a battalion of the Cheshires
and marched to Elverdinghe, leaving the Pioneers behind for a little
to put up crosses over the graves of the newly dead. That closed
the chapter and they lapsed back to “the usual routine,” of drill,
inspections, and sports. They were at Houlle Camp near Watten on
the 21st when the 2nd Guards Brigade was inspected by H.R.H. the
Duke of Connaught, and the Battalion, in walking-out order, lined
the roads and cheered. Sir Douglas Haig, too, inspected them on
the 25th October with the whole of their Division, dealt them all
those compliments on past work which were their undeniable right,
and congratulated them on their turn-out. The Battalion then was
specially well set up and hard-bitten, running to largish men even
in No. 2 Company. Their new drafts had all been worked up and worked
down; the new C.O.’s hand and systems were firmly established;
company cooks and their satellites had been re-formed, and—which puts
a bloom on men as quickly as food—they were “happy” under a justice
which allowed an immense amount of honest, intimate, domestic fun.

Of the tales which ran about at that period there is one perhaps
worth recording. During the fatigues on the Boesinghe front it
fell to them to relieve some battalion or other which, after much
manœuvring in the mud, at last drew clear of its trenches to let in
the wet and impatient Irish. The latter’s C.O., wearied to the bone,
was sitting in the drizzling dark beside the communication-trench,
his head on his hand and on his wrist his campaign watch with its
luminous dial. Suddenly, as the relieved shadows dragged themselves
by, he felt his wrist gently taken, slightly turned, and after an
instant’s inspection, loosed again. Naturally, he demanded by all
the Gods of the Army what the unseen caitiff meant by his outrageous
deed. To him, from the dark, in irresistible Cockney, “Beg pardon,
Sir, but I thought it was a glow-worm,” and the poor devil who had
been cut off from all knowledge of earthly time for the past three
days shuffled on, leaving behind him a lieut.-colonel of the Brigade
of Guards defeated and shaken with mirth.

Their rest lasted till the 9th November, during which time 2nd
Lieutenants Cary-Elwes and A. F. Synge joined, and Captain Sassoon
came up from the base and took over No. 3 Company. Lieut.-Colonel
Pawlett of the Canadian Army was attached to the Battalion from the
6th of the month, and Captain the Hon. H. A. V. Harmsworth rejoined
from the staff where, like a brother-officer in the entrenching
battalion, his heart was not. On the 9th, too, Lieutenant Lysaght and
Sergeant R. Macfarlane were decorated with the Croix de Guerre by
General Antoine commanding the First French Army.

On the 10th of November they were ordered out into the St. Pol area
which, as a jumping-off place, offered as many possibilities as
Charing Cross station on a Bank holiday. One knows from the record
of the 1st Battalion that the whole Division now on the move were
prepared for and given to believe anything—even that they might be
despatched to Italy, to retrieve October’s disaster of Caporetto.
But it is known now that the long series of operations round the
Salient—Messines, the two months’ agony of the Third Battle of
Ypres, and the rest—had drawn the enemy forces and held them more
and more to the northward of our front; and that Sir Julian Byng had
been entrusted to drive at the Hindenburg Line on the Somme with
the Sixth, Fourth, Third, and Seventh Army Corps, from Bullecourt
southward to a little south of Gonnelieu.

It was to be a surprise without artillery preparation, but very many
tanks were to do the guns’ work in rooting out trenches, barbed wire,
and machine-gun nests.

The main attack was on a front of six miles, and, as has been noted
elsewhere, the official idea was not to make the capture of Cambrai,
behind the Hindenburg Line, a main feature of the affair, but to get
as far into the enemy’s ground as could be, and above all, to secure
a clean flank for ourselves to the north-east of Bourlon Wood near
Cambrai where the lie of the Somme Downs gave vital observation and
command. The Guards Division, as usual, would wait upon the results.
If the thing was a success they would advance on Cambrai. If not,
they would assist as requisite.

It was late in the year, and the weather was no treat as the 2nd
Battalion Irish Guards marched out in the wet from Houlle on the
10th November to Ecques, and, in billets there, made its first
acquaintance with a battalion of Portuguese troops. Two days more
brought them to Ostreville’s bad billets and a draft of a hundred
new hands with Lieutenant M. R. Hely-Hutchinson and 2nd Lieutenant
F. C. Lynch-Blosse. Not a man had fallen out on the road, but they
were glad of a four days’ halt and clean-up, though that included
instruction in outpost companies and positions.

On the 17th they continued their march south to Ambrines over the
large, untouched lands of the high water-shed between the Scarpe and
the little streams that feed the Authies River. The next day carried
them no longer south, but east towards the noise of the unquiet Somme
guns, and had they any doubts as to their future, it was settled by
one significant gas-helmet drill. (“But we knew, or at least, _I_
did, having done my trick here before, that we were for it. Ye could
begin to smell the dam’ Somme as soon as ye was across that Arras
railway.”)

They heard the opening of Cambrai fight from Courcelles in the early
morn of the 20th November—a sudden and immense grunt, rather than
roar, of a barrage that lasted half an hour as the tanks rolled out
through the morning mists, and for the first time the Hindenburg Line
was broken.


BOURLON WOOD

They held on, under two hours’ notice, through Achiet-le-Grand,
Bapaume, and Riencourt to Beaulencourt in icy rain and mud. The
wreckage of battle was coming back to them now, as they moved in
the wake of the Fifty-first Division that was pressing on towards
Flesquières, and passed a number of prisoners taken round Noyelles
and Marcoing. Here were rumours of vast captures, of Cambrai fallen,
and of cavalry pushing through beyond. The 24th November brought
them, in continuous drizzle, to the smoking and ruined land between
Trescault and Ribecourt, which was crowded with infantry and the
Second Cavalry Division near by; and they lay out in a sound
unoccupied trench, once part of the Hindenburg Line. Our tanks had
left their trails everywhere, and the trodden-down breadths of
wire-entanglements, studded here and there with crushed bodies,
suggested to one beholder “the currants in the biscuits one used
to buy at school.” Suddenly news of Cambrai fight began to change
colour. They were told that it had “stuck” round Bourlon Wood, a
sullen hundred-acre plantation which commanded all the ground we
had won north of Flesquières, and was the key to the whole position
at the northern end of the field. Seldom had woodland and coppice
cost more for a few days’ rental, even at the expensive rates then
current on the Somme. Here are some of the items in the account: On
the 21st November the Fifty-first Division, supported by tanks, had
captured Fontaine-Notre-Dame village which lay between Bourlon Wood
and Cambrai, and, till beaten out again by the enemy, had worked
into the Wood itself. Fontaine was lost on the 22nd, and attacked
on the 23rd November by the Fifty-first Division again, but without
definite result. The Fortieth Division were put in on the evening of
the same day and managed to take the whole of the Wood, even reaching
Bourlon village behind it. Here they held up a fierce counter-attack
of German Grenadiers, but, in the long run, were pushed out and back
to the lower ground, and by the evening of the 25th were very nearly
exhausted. Five days of expensive fighting had gained everything
except those vital positions necessary to security and command
of gun-fire. Hence the employment of the Guards Division, to see
what could be fished out of the deadlock. The decision was taken
swiftly. The 1st and 3rd Guards Brigade had been sent up on the 23rd
November to relieve two brigades of the Fifty-first Division round
Flesquières, and also to assist the Fortieth then battling in the
Wood. It was understood that the whole of the Guards Division would
now be employed, but no one knew for sure in which direction.

As far as the 2nd Guards Brigade was concerned, their brigadier was
not told of the intended attack on Bourlon till the afternoon of the
26th; the C.O.’s of battalions not till four o’clock, and company
commanders not till midnight of that date. No one engaged had seen
the ground before, or knew anything about the enemy’s dispositions.
Their instructions ran that they were to work with the 186th Brigade
on their left “with the object of gaining the whole of Bourlon Wood,
La Fontaine, and the high ground behind it.” As a matter of fact,
they were to be brought up in the dark through utterly unknown
surroundings; given a compass-bearing, and despatched at dawn into a
dense wood, on a front of seven hundred yards, to reach an objective
a thousand yards ahead. This pleasing news was decanted upon them at
Brigade Headquarters in the dusk of a November evening hailstorm,
after the C.O., the Assistant Adjutant, and all company commanders
had spent the day reconnoitring the road from Trescault to the front
line by Anneux and making arrangements for taking over from the 2nd
Scots Guards, who were supporting the Fortieth Division outside the
Wood.

The official idea of the Brigade’s work was that, while the 3rd
Grenadiers were attacking La Fontaine, the 2nd Irish Guards should
sweep through Bourlon Wood and consolidate on its northern edge;
the 1st Coldstream filling any gap between the Irish Guards and the
Grenadiers. When all objectives had been reached, the 1st Scots
Guards were to push up and get touch with the 3rd Grenadiers who
should have captured La Fontaine. (It may be noted that the attack
was to be a diverging one.) They would advance under a creeping
barrage, that jumped back a hundred yards every five minutes, and
they would be assisted by fourteen tanks. Above all, they were to be
quick because the enemy seemed to be strong and growing stronger,
both in and behind the Wood.

The Battalion spent the night of the 26th working its way up to the
front line, through Flesquières where bombs were issued, two per
man; then to La Justice by Graincourt; and thence, cross-country,
by companies through the dark to the Bapaume-Cambrai road, where
they found the guides for their relief of the Scots Guards. Just as
they reached the south edge of Bourlon Wood, the enemy put down a
barrage which cost forty casualties. Next it was necessary for the
C.O. (Alexander) to explain the details of the coming attack to his
company commanders, who re-explained it to their N.C.O.’s, while the
companies dressed in attack-order, bombs were detonated and shovels
issued. (“There was not any need to tell us we were for it. We knew
that, and we knew we was to be quick. But that was all we _did_
know—except we was to go dancin’ into that great Wood in the wet,
beyond the duck-boards. The ground, ye’ll understand, had been used
by them that had gone before us—used and messed about; and at the
back, outside Bourlon, all Jerry’s guns was rangin’ on it. A dirty
an’ a noisy business was Bourlon.”)

By five in the morning, after a most wearing night, the Battalion
was in position, the 2/5th West Riding of the 1st Brigade on its
left and the 1st Coldstream on its right; and the Wood in front alive
with concealed machine-guns and spattered with shells. They led off
at 6.20 behind their own barrage, in two waves; No. 1 Company on
the right and No. 2 Company on the left, supported by No. 3 Company
and No. 4. Everything was ready for them, and machine-guns opened
on well-chosen and converging ranges. Almost at the outset they met
a line of enemy posts held in strength, where many of the occupants
had chosen to shelter themselves at the bottom of the trenches under
oil-sheets, a protection hampering them equally in their efforts
to fight or to surrender. Here there was some quick killing and a
despatch of prisoners to the rear; but the Wood offered many chances
of escape, and as our guards were necessarily few, for every rifle
was needed, a number broke away and returned. Meantime, the Battalion
took half a dozen machine-guns and lost more men at each blind step.
In some respects Bourlon was like Villers-Cotterêts on a large scale,
with the added handicap of severe and well-placed shelling. A man
once down in the coppice, or bogged in a wood-pool, was as good as
lost, and the in-and-out work through the trees and stumpage broke
up the formations. Nor, when the affair was well launched, was there
much help from “the officer with the compass” who was supposed to
direct the outer flank of each company. The ground on the right of
the Battalion’s attack, which the Coldstream were handling, was
thick with undestroyed houses and buildings of all sorts that gave
perfect shelter to the machine-guns; but it is questionable whether
Bourlon Wood itself, in its lack of points to concentrate upon, and
in the confusion of forest rides all exactly like each other, was
not, after all, the worst. Early in the advance, No. 2 Company lost
touch on the left, while the rest of the Battalion, which was still
somehow keeping together, managed to get forward through the Wood
as far as its north-east corner, where they made touch with the 1st
Coldstream. Not long after this, they tried to dig in among the wet
tree-roots, just beyond the Wood’s north edge. It seemed to them
that the enemy had fallen back to the railway line which skirted
it, as well as to the north of La Fontaine village. Officially, the
objective was reached, but our attacking strength had been used up,
and there were no reserves. A barrage of big stuff, supplemented
by field-guns, was steadily threshing out the centre and north of
the Wood, and, somewhere to the rear of the Battalion a nest of
machine-guns broke out viciously and unexpectedly. Then the whole
fabric of the fight appeared to crumble, as, through one or other of
the many gaps between the Battalions, the enemy thrust in, and the
2nd Irish guards, hanging on to their thin front line, realized him
suddenly at their backs. What remained of them split up into little
fighting groups; sometimes taking prisoners, sometimes themselves
being taken, and again breaking away from their captors, dodging,
turning, and ducking in dripping coppices and over the slippery soil,
while the shells impartially smote both parties. Such as had kept
their sense of direction headed back by twos and threes to their
original starting-point; but at noon Battalion Headquarters had lost
all touch of the Battalion, and the patrols that got forward to
investigate reported there was no sign of it. It looked like complete
and unqualified disaster. But men say that the very blindness of
the ground hid this fact to a certain extent both from us and the
enemy, and the multiplied clamours in the Wood supplied an additional
blindage. As one man said: “If Jerry had only shut off his dam’ guns
and _listened_ he’d ha’ heard we was knocked out; but he kept on
hammer—hammering an’ rushin’ his parties back and forth the Wood, and
so, ye see, them that could of us, slipped back quiet in the height
of the noise.” Another observer compared it to the chopping of many
foxes in cover—not pleasant, but diversified by some hideously comic
incidents. All agreed that it was defeat for the Guards—the first
complete one they had sustained; but the admitted fact was that they
had been turned on at a few hours’ notice to achieve the impossible,
did not spoil their tempers. The records say that the 2nd Guards
Brigade with the rest of the Division “fell back to its original
line.” Unofficially: “We did—but I don’t know how we did it. There
wasn’t any Battalion worth mentioning when the Welsh Guards relieved
us in the dark, but stray men kept on casting up all night long.”
The losses were in proportion to the failure. Of officers, two were
killed—Cary-Elwes, just as they reached their objective, by a bullet
through the head, and A. F. Synge shot down at the beginning of the
attack, both of them men without fear and with knowledge. Three were
missing, which is to say, dead—2nd Lieutenants N. D. Bayly of No. 2
Company, W. G. Rea of No. 3, and N. F. Durant of No. 4 who was also
believed to have been wounded. Four were wounded—Captain the Hon.
H. A. V. Harmsworth, No. 1; Captain Reford, No. 3, bullet through
the shoulder; and Lieutenant S. S. Wordley, of the same company,
in the head. Also 2nd Lieut. F. C. Lynch-Blosse of No. 2 blown up,
but able to get back. The C.O. (Colonel the Hon. H. R. Alexander),
the Second in Command (Captain the Hon. W. S. Alexander), Captain
Nugent, Adjutant, 2nd Lieutenant W. D. Faulkner, Assistant Adjutant
Captain Sassoon and Lieutenant O’Connor, these last two being company
officers in reserve who were kept with Battalion Headquarters, were
unhurt. Twenty-five men were known to be dead on comrades’ evidence;
one hundred and forty-six were missing, of whom a number would
naturally be dead; and one hundred and forty-two were wounded and
brought back. Total, three hundred and twenty-two.

They came out of the Wood on the evening of the 27th one hundred and
seventeen strong; lay, nominally in reserve, but actually finished
for the time being, along the La Justice-Graincourt road till one
company of the 2/5th Leicesters took over. Their losses seemed to be
enough to justify their resting a little, which they did at Ribecourt
and, next day, the 29th November, moved on to a camp, at Bertincourt,
of Nissen huts, crowded but comfortable, where they thought to relax
and take full stock of their hurts, and fill their ranks again from
the divisional reserve. [It is to be remembered that battalions went
into action with only three officers per company and platoons reduced
to practically half strength.] They had been warned by prisoners
that the enemy had at least three battalions ready with which they
intended to attack, but put the matter out of their collective minds
as one to be attended to by their neighbours. All they desired were
the decencies of a rest-billet far behind the infernal noise of the
guns. But on the dawn of the 30th that irregular noise turned into
the full-mouthed chorus which heralds a counter-attack. The Third
Army Corps was being hammered somewhere towards Gonnelieu a few
miles to the southward, and the orders were for the whole of the
Guards Division to get thither with every speed; for it looked as
though the bottom were all out of the Cambrai fight. The 2nd Guards
Brigade were away from Bertincourt ere noon, and, preceded by the
1st Scots Guards, moved in artillery formation straight across the
country-side to the ridge in front of Gouzeaucourt Wood—there are
two ridges between Metz and Gouzeaucourt village—where they were
told to dig in and lie up as reserve. They noticed in their progress
that the landscape was fairly full of retiring troops to whom they
occasionally addressed remarks of an encouraging nature. (“After
what we had took in bloody Bourlon ’twas great comfort to see that
there was others not making any picnic of it either.”) But they also
observed with satisfaction that the 1st and 3rd Guards Brigades were
ahead of them, making almost a parade movement of their advance
against the machine-guns of the village. It was abominably cold,
they were without greatcoats for the most part, and they had to dig
in in frozen chalk, and whenever there was a block on the road, the
enemy shelled it. Occasionally, the shells got in among their own
prisoners, of whom small detachments were already being gathered, and
sent back. The Battalion had been made up to four hundred rifles at
that time, and when on the evening of the 1st December they moved to
the western outskirts of Gouzeaucourt they relieved one company of
the 2nd Coldstream and a company of the 1st Battalion Irish Guards in
the support-line beyond Gouzeaucourt railway station. Gouzeaucourt,
and the situation, had been saved by the Guards Division. The 1st
and 3rd Guards Brigade had attacked and, as we know, captured Gauche
Wood to the east of Gouzeaucourt on the 1st, and the supporting
brigade was not called upon to do more than sit in its trenches and
take a not too heavy overflow of enemy’s shelling. Altogether the
Battalion’s casualties were under half a dozen. An attack, which they
were told would be sprung on them on the 2nd, did not arrive, and on
the 4th December the 1st South African Infantry Regiment relieved
the whole of the 2nd Brigade without a hitch, and the men moved off
to bivouac in Gouzeaucourt Wood. Their bitter cold shelters lay
among our vociferous batteries, which worked all night. At three in
the morning 4.2’s began to fall among the officers’ tents so that
the disgusted inmates had to move. One officer’s pillow was blown
away almost immediately after he had quitted it, and it is reported
that the C.O. and Adjutant “took refuge” behind a tent where they
delivered their minds about the horrors of “sleeping with the guns.”
The incoming brigade relieved them of their last responsibilities on
the night of the 5th, and they would have rested at Fins, whose field
railways they had helped to build in the pleasant summer days, but
that a long-range gun was attending to the hutments there, and it was
judged safer to push on several more weary miles to Etricourt which
they reached at one in the morning.

Battles are like railway journeys in that the actual time of transit
is as nothing compared to that wasted in getting from door to door.
They were marched off to Etricourt Station at eight on the morning
of their arrival, where they waited till eleven for a train that had
run off the line, and it was late in the dark of the evening when,
after passing Ginchy and the old battlefield of Transloy and Lesbœufs
which they fought over on the 15th and the 26th of September the year
before, and through Trônes Wood, of immortal and unhappy memories,
they reached at last Beaumetz close to their billets at Simencourt
where, with one day’s rest, the companies were “handed over to
company commanders for reorganisation, inspection, etc.”

On review the last tour (everything between rests was a “tour” in
those days) had not been very glorious, but there was no denying
it was very much up to Somme pattern. One came out of line and was
fatted up; one was “messed about,” thrown in, used up and thrown out
again, to be refatted for the next occasion with apparently small
results, except, always, the saving of the situation at Gouzeaucourt.
(“If that thing had happened one day later an’ the Division in rest
miles back instead of being on top of it, Saints know the whole line
might have gone.”) Otherwise the Somme seemed as large, as sticky,
and as well-populated with aggressive enemies as ever before. The
bodies and the uniforms of the dead of past years had withered down
somewhat on the clawed and raked fields; but to the mere soldier’s
eye, uninfluenced by statements of the Press, there was no reason
under the grey heavens why their past performances should not be
repeated, as part of the natural order of things for ever and ever.
Cambrai may have given hope and encouragement in England, but those
who had been through it remained Sadducees.

There were those who said that that hour was the psychological one
to have gone on and taken advantage of the moral effect of breaking
the Hindenburg Line, but this theory was put forward after the event;
and a total of eleven thousand prisoners and a hundred and forty-five
German guns for three weeks’ fighting seems small foundation for such
large hopes. Every one on the field seems to have been agreed as to
the futility of trying to work with, and making arrangements for
the keep of, masses of cavalry on the chance that these might break
through and overrun the enemy in the background.

That autumn Russia deliquesced and began to pass out of civilisation,
and the armed strength of Germany on that front was freed to return
and rearrange itself on the western border, ready for the fourth
spring of the War. We are told with emphasis that that return-wave
was foreseen, and to some extent provided for, by increasing the
line for which our armies were responsible, and by reorganising
those armies so that divisions stood on a ten-battalion as against
a thirteen-battalion basis.[3] We may once more quote Sir Douglas
Haig’s despatches on this head. “An unfamiliar grouping of units was
introduced thereby, necessitating new methods of tactical handling
of the troops and the discarding of old methods to which subordinate
commanders had been accustomed.” But the change was well supported in
the home Press.

Meantime, as far as possible, the war stood still on both sides. The
Battalion was encouraged to put on fat and to practise cleanliness,
kit inspections, and inter-regimental and company football matches
till the end of the year. During the month of December, at
Simencourt, Captain the Hon. H. B. O’Brien arrived and took over No.
1 Company; Lieutenant B. Levy, M.C., joined from the 4th Army School,
and 2nd Lieutenants J. C. Maher and T. Mathew also joined. The
Christmas dinners were good and solid affairs of pork, plum-pudding,
plum-dough (a filling and concrete-like dish), three bottles of Bass
per throat and a litre of beer, plus cigars and tobacco. The C.O.
had gone into Amiens to make sure of it and of the Headquarters’
Christmas trees which, next day, were relighted and redecorated with
small gifts and sweets for the benefit of the village children.

A moral victory over Eton crowned the year. The officers of the 2nd
Battalion played the officers of the 1st Coldstream at Eton football
at Wanquetin. They lost by a goal to two goals and a rouge, but their
consolation was that their C.O., an Harrovian, scored their goal and
that half the Coldstream’s goals were got by Harrow. It was a small
thing but it made them very happy in their little idleness after
“Bloody Bourlon.”




1918

ARRAS TO THE END


Assuming that the information of our Intelligence Department was
correct, the weight of the coming German attack would be delivered
to the south of Arras; and that town would be the hinge on which it
would turn. Elsewhere along the Somme front, ground might be given
if required, but between Arras and Amiens the line, at all costs,
must stand; and we are told that, months before the spring of the
year, attention was given to strengthening the systems of defence in
the rear. It is difficult to discover how many of the precautions
taken were made with serious expectation of trouble, and how many
were, so to say, fitted into statements published after the events.
Men who were on that front speak of most of the back-trenches and
reserve-lines as inadequate. The truth may be that no one believed
the British collapse would be so swift or so catastrophic as it was.

On New Year’s Day, Colonel Alexander, commanding, went on leave, and
was succeeded by Major R. H. Ferguson. The Battalion, reconstituted
and replenished, marched to Arras Gaol, which was always regarded
as a superior billet in cold weather, as the only shelling that
mattered took the south-east end of the town. Their work for the
next few weeks was to occupy and prevent the enemy from raiding
into the system of trenches and posts on the Scarpe to the east of
Arras at and round Fampoux and Rœux. Their experiences there were
precisely the same as those of the 1st Battalion. It was, as we know,
a variegated, swampy, and in places overlooked, stretch of works
which had been used as a front line almost since the beginning of
the War, and was paved with odds and ends of ancient horrors as
well as thoroughly soaked with remains of tear and other gas in the
support-lines. Their first turn began on the 2nd January when they
relieved a battalion of Gordon Highlanders in bitter cold weather,
and settled down to the business of wiring and cleaning-up. A small
excitement was the shelling of the left company by trench-mortars,
to which our guns replied but in their zeal cut our own wire. The
frost so far kept the trenches standing up, but, as none of them were
revetted, it was obvious that the next thaw would bring them all
down. Then the duck-boards froze and turned to ice, and the C.O.,
slipping on them, fell and strained himself so badly that he had
to go to hospital. Food apart, there was little comfort or decency
in that work of shovelling and firming dirt, and shivering day and
night in their dry or sodden clothing. Their rests at Arras were
complicated by the necessity of looking out for enemy aeroplanes,
which forbade them drilling more than one company at a time; and men
grow vastly wearied of standing about and fiddling with small duties
in a constricted town. The Battalion was so reduced in strength,
too, that two companies together made little more than an ordinary
platoon. However, in spite of knowing each other to the limits of
boredom, they found a certain amount of amusement in respirator drill
for all cooks, Headquarters details and the like (one cannot afford
to have cooks and storemen gassed) under the company gas N.C.O. At
the end of it, the Sergeant-Major, without mask, drilled them where
they stood, when their boomings and bellowings as they numbered off
delighted every one. Gas was always a nuisance. Broadly speaking,
a good scenting day would be good for gas, both old and new; but,
without direct orders, the men loathed casing themselves in their
masks, and company officers, sniffing the faint familiar flavour of
ether or rotting leaves in Northumberland or Shaftesbury Avenue, had
to chase them into the apparatus.

Then came a time when, on most of the sectors, the wet trenches went
out of commission altogether, and both sides, if they wished to move
about, had to climb out in full view of each other. At last, they
practically abandoned the front line and fell back on the support.
It made little difference, since the enemy was quiet except for
occasional salvoes of trench-mortar gas-bombs. Even when a dummy raid
on their left caused him to put down a hot barrage for an hour, there
were no casualties. The main trouble was the gas-shells in which the
enemy, with an eye to the near future, specialised and experimented
freely.

So passed January ’18, and on the 10th February began the transfer
of the newly formed 4th Guards Brigade, of three lean battalions
(2nd Irish Guards, 3rd Coldstream, and 4th Grenadiers), to their new
division and companions.

The officers of the Brigade were conducted to Vimy Ridge that they
might well look over the rear-line defences, in case it should
be necessary to fall back there. It took them into the territory
of the First Corps and a world where they were divorced from all
their tired associates and had to learn the other ways that suited
the other people among whom their lot would be cast. All Battalion
Headquarters dined together at the Hôtel de l’Univers next day, after
Brigadier-General Sergison-Brooke, commanding their old brigade, had
said good-bye and thanked them all for all they had done while they
had been with him. They were played out of barracks at Arras by the
regimental band and the drums of the Welch Guards. “The Battalion
marched past our late Brigadier at the Rond Point in column of route.
Thus we left the Guards Division.” No one was overelated at the
change; and none could foresee that they were within a few weeks of
their death as a battalion.

Their first destination was at Bray beneath the little hill above
the Scarpe south of the long pavé to Villers-au-Bois, and their
first duty was rehearsal for ceremonial parade on St. Valentine’s
Day before their new corps commander. He complimented them on
their looks and expressed his sense of the honour of having a
Guards Brigade with him. After which came immediate conference on
taking over the new ground assigned them, from troops of the Line.
It was a sector of the line between Lens and Arras that had never
shifted since the War was young—the Bailleul-Willerval stretch,
about five miles north of their old sector at Fampoux, that ran
up to Arleux-en-Gohelle and looked directly towards inaccessible
Douai. It was worked on a different system from the old pattern—the
brigade front of 2000 yards being lightly held by widely spaced
fortified posts; with a strong support-trench known as the Arleux
Loop a thousand yards in the rear. Their brigade went up in the
night of the 17th, the 2nd Irish Guards in support. The enemy, quite
aware there were new troops up, began to fish for samples. The 4th
grenadiers held the front line on the 19th February. The C.O. of the
2nd Irish Guards had been up that afternoon to look at the lie of
the land as the Battalion were going to take it over in a couple of
days. Everything was quiet—too quiet to be healthy, indeed, till late
in the evening when a heavy bombardment preluded a scientifically
thought-out German raid for identification purposes. It failed,
for the Grenadiers dealt rudely with the raids; but it lasted for
a couple of hours from the time that the first SOS was sent up,
and served the battalion, who stood to, but were not needed, as an
excellent rehearsal for emergencies. Likewise, the enemy barrage
knocked the front-line trenches about, and in the confusion of things
an SOS went up from too far on the left of the assaulted line, so
that our protective barrage came down where there was no enemy and
had to be shifted.

When the Battalion took over from the 4th Grenadiers (they could
relieve all but two of the posts in daylight, thanks to the formation
of the ground) Brigade Headquarters in its turn wanted samples
from the German lines where had been recent reliefs. Nos. 1 and 2
Companies of the Battalion accordingly sent patrols unavailingly
into No Man’s Land to see if they could catch any one. By the sheer
luck of the Irish, an enemy deserter in full uniform must needs come
and give himself up to our line in the afternoon. He was despatched
at once to Brigade Headquarters with the single word: “Herewith.”
The quarter-mile of chaos between the lines was so convenient that
they used quiet nights to train their young officers and N.C.O.’s in
patrolling; and as the brigades on their flanks were nearly half a
mile away, the young also received much instruction in night-liaison
work.

They were relieved, for the last time, in February by the 3rd
Coldstream and sent into Brigade Reserve to their division at Ecurie
Camp till the 2nd March, when they were despatched to dig and improve
a trench-line near Farbus under Vimy Ridge while the rest of their
brigade went into divisional reserve at Villers-Brulin. It cost a
week of heavy work, after dark, under intermittent shell-fire, varied
with fierce snow-storms, and ended in a return to the excellent
billets of Villers-Brulin for half the Battalion, while the other
half lay at Béthonsart near by—a dozen miles at the back of Arras.
Here they were cleaned up, drilled and lectured while the great storm
gathered along the fronts. St. Patrick’s Day passed with the usual
solemnities and sports, the extra good dinner, and the distribution
of the shamrock. This last was almost superfluous as a large
proportion of the Battalion had ceased to be Irish, and they were
filled up with drafts from the Household Brigade and elsewhere.

On the 21st March they finished the finals in the divisional
sports—tug-of-war and boxing against the 15th West Yorkshires. At one
o’clock in the morning came word that the Battalion would probably
move by bus at eight directly into the battle, which promised to be
hot. As a matter of fact, they and their brigade found themselves
on the outskirts of it almost as soon as they left billets. The
enemy had begun a comprehensive shelling of all back-areas and they
could hear the big stuff skying above them all round St. Pol. Their
buses picked them up at St. Pol Fervent and headed for Beaumetz
where they were met by a member of the General Staff who explained
the local situation so far as they had been able to overtake it.
Clearer information was supplied by the sight of the burning canteen
stores at Boisleux-au-Mont, which, with vast food supplies, had
been set alight as a precautionary measure, though the enemy did
not arrive till some days later. There was no accurate news but any
amount of rumour, none comforting. The upshot, however, was that the
Thirty-first Division was to get into the line at once and hold the
ground west of St. Léger, which village was already in the enemy’s
hands. There would be an army line in the neighbourhood dug to a
depth of three feet—hardly what might be called a trench; but, such
as it was, they would go forth into the night (it was now past 11
P. M.) and occupy it. The column departed with these instructions,
marched through Hamelincourt, found the line, and settled down in
the face of an agitated and noisy landscape under a sky illumined
by strange lights and quivering to the passage of shell. The 4th
Battalion Grenadiers was on their right and they themselves, with the
3rd Coldstream in support, held a thousand yards of front running
down to the little Sensée River. Somewhere behind them was the
Arras-Bapaume road being generously shelled; and somewhere in front
and on the flank, felt to be all Germany with all its munitions.
The shelling, moreover, was mixed, big and little stuff together,
proving that the enemy field-guns were amazingly well forward. This
orchestra was enlivened with blasts and rips of machine-gun fire
from every unexpected quarter. All the 23rd of March was confusion,
heavy shelling, and contradictory orders from brigades and divisions
that lay near them; and a certain amount of shelling from our own
artillery, varied by direct attacks on the trenches themselves. In
these the enemy failed, were cut down by our directed musketry, and
left many dead. At the end of the day the Battalion was told to shift
to the right of the 4th Grenadiers and so relieve the 13th Yorkshire
and the 21st Middlesex who had suffered a good deal. They had hardly
got into their new place when firing was heard from Mory on their
right, and men were seen streaming down the road, with word that the
enemy were through at Mory Copse and in full cry for Ervillers. This
left the Battalion largely in the air and necessitated making some
sort of flank to the southward, as well as collecting what remained
of the Yorkshires and Headquarters details, and using them for the
same purpose, much as it had been with the 1st Battalion at First
Ypres, centuries ago. (“Yes, you may say that we made defensive
flanks to every quarter of the world. We was _all_ defensive flank
and front line at once and the same time. But if any one tells you
that any one knew what was done, or why ’twas done, in these days,
ye will have strong reason to doubt them. We was anywhere and Jerry
was everywhere, and our own guns was as big a nuisance as Jerry.
When we had done all we could we fell back. We did not walk away
by platoons.”) They worked, then, at their poor little defensive
flanks, and, between shellings, saw the enemy streaming down into
the valley towards Béhagnies and Ervillers. Mory seemed to have gone
altogether, and north and south of the cut and pitted hills they
could hear the enemy’s riot all over the forlorn Somme uplands. At
evening came orders to fall back on the high ground from Courcelles
to Moyenneville, three or four miles to their rear. This was none the
less welcome because a battery of our own big guns had been dutifully
shelling Battalion Headquarters and the Sensée valley at large for
some hours past. Lieutenant Dalton and Captain the Hon. H. B. O’Brien
were both wounded. There must have been a good deal of unnecessary
slaughter on the Somme during those days. Gunners, of course, could
not always tell whether our people had evacuated a position or were
holding on; and at a few thousand yards’ range in failing lights,
mistakes are bound to happen.

Their new position, on a front of three thousand yards, had no
trenches. The C.O. himself sited for them and the men began digging
at midnight on the 26th. At five in the morning they were ordered
to move back at once to Ayette and leave what they had sketched out,
for a couple of other brigades to occupy. They next set about digging
in at the southerly end of Ayette village, but as they were few, and
their frontage was perilously long, could but hold the line in spots
and trust to the massed fire of machine-guns on the slopes behind it,
to dam back attacks.

On the afternoon of the 26th the enemy were in Moyenneville to
the north-east of them; so a company had to be despatched to dig
in at the other end of Ayette and were badly machine-gunned while
they worked, losing one officer and sixteen other ranks. At eleven
o’clock on the morning of the 27th the enemy barraged two retiring
brigades in the trenches which the Battalion had so kindly begun for
their use. At mid-day the enemy “attacked these two brigades, who
soon afterwards passed, leaving the 4th Guards Brigade once more
in the line.” Delicacy of diction could hardly go further. But the
situation was very curious. The enemy came up; our battered troops
went away. That was all there was to it. Panic and confusion broke
out occasionally; but the general effect upon a beholder who was
not withdrawing was that of the contagious “rot” that overtakes
cricket and football teams. Effort ceased, but morale in some queer
way persisted. The enemy after the “passing” of the two brigades
massed the two battalions by the aerodrome there, to press on the
attack. Our guns had due word of it, waited till the force was
well assembled and destroyed it so utterly in a few minutes that
there was no advance. Our line at Ayette was strengthened by the
arrival of two companies of Grenadier Guards and one hundred men
of the East Lancashires, which were all that could be got hold of.
Then—but nothing really seemed to matter in that scale of gigantic
disaster—Colonel Alexander, their C.O., had to take command of the
Brigade, as the Brigadier, Lord Ardee, had been gassed and forced to
go sick. Major P. S. Long-Innes arrived at midnight of the 27th and
took over command of the Battalion. On the 28th the enemy were well
into Ayette and sniping viciously, and our line, intact here, be it
remembered, drew back to the line of the Bucquoy-Ayette road while
our howitzers from behind barraged Ayette into ruin. One Hun sniper
in that confused country of little dips and hollows and winding
roads walked straight into our lines and was captured—to his intense
annoyance, for he expected to go on to London at least.

On the 31st of March they were relieved and went to rest-billets.
They had dug, wired, fought, and fallen back as ordered, for ten
days, and nights heavier than their days, under conditions that more
than equalled their retreat from Mons. Like their 1st Battalion
in those primeval days, they had lost most things except their
spirits. Filthy, tired, hoarse, and unshaven, they got into good
billets at Chelers, just ripe for clean-up and “steady drills.”
The enemy rush on the Somme had outrun its own effective backing
and was for the while spent. Our line there had given to the last
limits of concession and hung now on the west fringe of all that
great cockpit which it had painfully won in the course of a year and
lost in less than a fortnight. As far as the front could see, the
game was now entirely in Hun hands. Our business, possibly too long
neglected among our many political preoccupations, was to get more
troops and guns into France. A draft of two hundred and twenty-four
men reached the Battalion at Chelers on the 4th of April, under
Lieutenant Buller, who went on to join the 1st Battalion, and 2nd
Lieutenant Kent. A further draft of sixty-two, nearly all English,
came in on the 7th. Colonel Alexander resumed command after his turn
as brigadier, and Captain Charles Moore and Lieutenant Keenan also
arrived. The former was posted to No. 1 Company for a time, pending
action as Second in Command, and the latter attached to Battalion
Headquarters for the comprehensive duties of sniping, bombing and
intelligence. It was a hasty reorganisation in readiness to be used
again, as soon as the Battalion got its second wind.


VIEUX-BERQUIN

On the 9th of April was a brigade rehearsal of “ceremonial” parade
for inspection by their major-general next day. A philosopher of
the barracks has observed: “When there’s ceremonial after rest and
fat-up, it means the General tells you all you are a set of heroes,
and you’ve done miracles and ’twill break his old hard heart to
lose you; and _so_ ye’ll throt off at once, up the road and do it
all again.” On the afternoon of that next day, when the Brigade had
been duly complimented on its appearance and achievements by its
major-general, a message came by motor-bicycle and it was “ordered
to proceed to unknown destination forthwith.” Buses would meet it on
the Arras-Tinques road. But the Battalion found no buses there, and
with the rest of its brigade, spent the cool night on the roadside,
unable to sleep or get proper breakfasts, as a prelude next morn to
a twelve-hour excursion of sixty kilometres to Pradelles. Stripped
of official language, the situation which the 4th Guards Brigade
were invited to retrieve was a smallish but singularly complete
debacle on Somme lines. Nine German divisions had been thrown at our
front between Armentières and La Bassée on the 9th April. They had
encountered, among others a Portuguese division, which had evaporated
making a gap of unknown extent but infinite possibilities not far
from Hazebrouck. If Hazebrouck went, it did not need to be told that
the road would be clear for a straight drive at the Channel ports.
The 15th Division had been driven back from the established line we
had held so long in those parts, and was now on a front more or less
between Merville and Vieux-Berquin south-east of Hazebrouck and the
Forest of Nieppe. Merville, men hoped, still held out, but the enemy
had taken Neuf Berquin and was moving towards Vierhoek. Troops were
being rushed up, and it was hoped the 1st Australian Division would
be on hand pretty soon. In the meantime, the 4th Guards Brigade would
discover and fill the nearest or widest gap they dropped into. It
might also be as well for them to get into touch with the divisions
on their right and left, whose present whereabouts were rather
doubtful.

These matters were realised fragmentarily, but with a national
lightness of heart, by the time they had been debussed on the
night of the 11th April into darkness somewhere near Paradis and
its railway station, which lies on the line from the east into
Hazebrouck. From Paradis, the long, level, almost straight road runs,
lined with farmhouses, cottages, and gardens, through the villages
of Vieux-Berquin, La Couronne, and Pont Rondin, which adjoin each
other, to Neuf Berquin and Estaires, where, and in its suburb of
La Gorgue, men used once to billet in peace. The whole country is
dead flat, studded with small houses and cut up by ten-foot ditches
and fences. When they halted they saw the horizon lit by distant
villages and, nearer, single cottages ablaze. On the road itself
fires of petrol sprang up where some vehicle had come to grief or
a casual tin had ignited. As an interlude a private managed to
set himself alight and was promptly rolled in some fresh plough.
Delayed buses thumped in out of the night, and their men stumbled
forth, stiff-legged, to join the shivering platoons. The night air
to the east and southward felt singularly open and unwholesome. Of
the other two battalions of the Brigade there was no sign. The C.O.
went off to see if he could discover what had happened to them,
while the Battalion posted sentries and were told to get what rest
they could. “Keep a good look-out, in case we find ourselves in
the front line.” It seemed very possible. They lay down to think
it over till the C.O. returned, having met the Brigadier, who did
not know whether the Guards Brigade was in the front line or not,
but rather hoped there might be some troops in front of it. Battle
order for the coming day would be the Battalion in reserve, 4th
Grenadiers on their left, and 3rd Coldstream on the right. But as
these had not yet come up, No. 2 Company (Captain Bambridge) would
walk down the Paradis-Vieux-Berquin road southward till they walked
up, or into, the enemy, and would also find a possible line for
the Brigade to take on arrival. It was something of a situation to
explain to men half of whom had never heard a shot fired off the
range, but the personality behind the words conveyed it, they say,
almost seductively. No. 2 Company then split in two, and navigated
down the Vieux-Berquin road through the dark, taking special care
to avoid the crown of it. The houses alongside had been abandoned,
except that here and there an old woman still whimpered among her
furniture or distracted hens. Thus they prowled for an hour or so,
when they were fired at down the middle of the road, providently left
clear for that purpose. Next they walked into the remnants of one
or two North Country battalions lying in fresh-punched shell-holes,
obviously trying to hold a line, who had no idea where they were
but knew they were isolated and announced they were on the eve of
departure. The enemy, a few hundred yards away, swept the road afresh
with machine-gun fire, but made no move. No. 2 Company lay down in
the shell-holes while Bambridge with a few men and an officer went
on to find a position for the Brigade. He got it, and fell back with
his company just as light was breaking. By this time the rest of the
Battalion was moving down towards Vieux-Berquin and No. 2 Company
picked them up half an hour later. The Grenadiers and Coldstream
appeared about half-past three, were met and guided back by Bambridge
more or less into the position originally chosen. There had been some
notion originally of holding a line from Vieux-Moulin on the swerve
of the Vieux-Berquin road where it straightens for Estaires, and the
college a little north of Merville; but Merville had gone by now,
and the enemy seemed in full possession of the ground up to Vierhoek
and were spreading, as their machine-gun fire showed, all round the
horizon. The two battalions adjusted themselves (they had hurried
up in advance of their rations and most of their digging tools) on
a line between the Le Cornet Perdu, a slight rise west of the main
Vieux-Berquin road, and L’Epinette Farm. The 2nd Irish Guards lay
behind them with Battalion Headquarters at Ferme Gombert—all, as has
been said in dead flat open country, without the haziest notion of
what troops, if any, lay within touch.

The morning of April 12th broke hot and sunny, under a sky full of
observation-balloons that seemed to hover directly above them. These
passed word to the German guns, and the bombardment of heavies and
shrapnel began—our own artillery not doing much to keep it down—with
a careful searching of all houses and shelters, and specially for
Battalion Headquarters. The Battalion, imperfectly dug in, or to the
mere leeward of cottages and fences, suffered; for every movement was
spotted by the balloons. The officers walking about between cottage
and cottage went in even greater peril; and it was about this time
that Lieutenant M. B. Levy was hit in the head by shrapnel and killed
at once.

Meantime, the Coldstream on the right and the Grenadiers on the left,
the former trying to work south towards Vierhoek and the latter
towards Pont Rondin through the houses along the Vieux-Berquin road,
were being hammered and machine-gunned to pieces. The Grenadiers in
particular were enfiladed by a battery of field-guns firing with
open sights at three hundred yards down the road. The Coldstream
sent back word about ten o’clock that the 50th Division, which
should have been on their right, was nowhere in view and that their
right, like the Grenadiers’ left, was in the air. Two companies were
then told from the 2nd Irish Guards, No. 3 Company, under Captain
Maurice FitzGerald, in support of the Grenadiers, and No. 2, Captain
Bainbridge, to the Coldstream. No. 3 Company at first lay a little
in front of Ferme Gombert, one of the Battalion Headquarters. It
was wiped out in the course of that day and the next, with the 4th
Grenadiers, when, of that battalion’s nineteen officers, but two
(wounded) survived and ninety per cent of the rank and file had gone.

No. 2 Company’s road to the Coldstream lay across a couple of
thousand yards of ploughed fields studded with cottages. Their
officer left his people behind in what cover offered and with a
few men made a preliminary reconnaissance to see how the passage
could be run. Returning to find his company intact, he lectured
them shortly on the situation and the necessity of “adopting an
aggressive attitude”; but explained that the odds were against
their reaching any destination unless they did exactly as they
were told. So they advanced in four diamonds, working to word and
whistle (“like sporting-dog trials”) under and among and between
shrapnel, whizz-bangs that trundled along the ground, bursts of
machine-gun fire and stray sniping. Their only cover was a few
willows by the bank of the Bourre River which made their right
flank, an occasional hedge or furrow, and cottages from which they
noticed one or two old women called out. They saw, in the intervals
of their earnest death-dance (“It must have looked like children’s
games—only the sweat was dripping off us all”), cows and poultry
at large, some peasants taking pitiful cover behind a fence, and a
pair of plough-horses dead in their harness. At last the front was
reached after only four killed and as many wounded; and they packed
themselves in, a little behind the Coldstream.

The enemy all this while were well content with their artillery
work, as they had good right to be; and when morning, checked it
with machine-gun fire. One account of this period observes “there
seemed to be nobody on the right or left of the Brigade, but all
the morning we saw men from other divisions streaming back.” These
headed, with the instinct of animals, for Nieppe Forest just behind
the line, which, though searched by shell and drenched by gas, gave
a semblance of shelter. Curiously enough, the men did not run. They
walked, and before one could question them, would ask earnestly for
the whereabouts of some battalion or division in which they seemed
strangely interested. Then they would hold on towards cover.

(“They told us the Huns were attacking. They weren’t. _We_ were. We
told ’em to stop and help us. Lots of ’em did. No, they didn’t panic
a bit. They just seemed to have chucked it quietly.”)

About two-thirty the enemy attacked, in fairly large numbers, the
Coldstream and the division on its right which latter gave—or had
already given. No. 2 Company of the Irish Guards had made a defensive
flank in view of this danger, and as the enemy pressed past punished
them with Lewis-gun fire. (The German infantry nowhere seemed
enthusiastic, but the audacity and bravery of their machine-gunners
was very fine.) None the less they got into a little collection of
houses called Arrewage, till a counter-attack, organised by Bambridge
of the 2nd Irish Guards, and Foster of the Coldstream, cleared them
out again. In this attack, Bambridge was wounded and Captain E. D.
Dent was killed.

By dusk it would have puzzled any one in it to say where our line
stood; but, such as it was, it had to be contracted, for there were
not men enough for the fronts. Of No. 2 Company not more than fifty
were on their feet. No. 3 Company with No. 4 were still in support
of the 4th Grenadiers somewhere in front of Ferme Gombert (which had
been Battalion H.Q. till shelled out) and the Vieux-Berquin road; and
No. 1 Company, besides doing its own fighting, had to be feeding the
others. Battalion Headquarters had been shifted to a farm in Verte
Rue a few hundred yards back; but was soon made untenable and a third
resting-place had to be found—no easy matter with the enemy “all
round everybody.” There was a hope that the Fifth Division would that
evening relieve the 2nd Irish Guards in the line, but the relief did
not come; and Captain Moore, Second in Command of the Battalion, went
out from Verte Rue to Arrewage to find that division. Eventually,
he seems to have commandeered an orderly from a near-by battalion
and got its C.O. to put in a company next to the remnants of No. 2.
All the records of that fight are beyond any hope of straightening,
and no two statements of time or place agree. We know that Battalion
Headquarters were shifted, for the third time, to a farm just outside
the village of Caudescure, whose intact church-spire luckily drew
most of the enemy fire. No. 4 Company, under Heard, was ordered to
line along the orchards of Caudescure facing east, and No. 1 Company
lay on the extreme right of the line which, on the night of the 12th
April, was supposed to run northward from Arrewage and easterly
through Le Cornet Perdu, where the 4th Grenadiers were, to the
Vieux-Berquin road. Whether, indeed, it so ran or whether any portion
of it was held, no one knew. What is moderately certain is that on
the morning of the 13th April, a message came to Battalion H.Q. that
the enemy had broken through between the remnants of the Coldstream
and the Grenadiers, somewhere in the direction of Le Cornet Perdu.
Our No. 3 Company (Captain M. FitzGerald) was despatched at once
with orders to counter-attack and fill the gap. No more was heard of
them. They went into the morning fog and were either surrounded and
wiped out before they reached the Grenadiers or, with them, utterly
destroyed, as the enemy’s line lapped round our left from La Couronne
to Verte Rue. The fighting of the previous day had given time, as was
hoped, for the 1st Australian Division to come up, detrain, and get
into the Forest of Nieppe where they were holding the edge of the
Bois d’Aval; but the position of the 4th Guards Brigade outside the
Forest had been that of a crumbling sandbank thrust out into a sea
whose every wave wore it away.

The enemy, after several minor attacks, came on in strength in the
afternoon of the 13th, and our line broke for awhile at Arrewage, but
was mended, while the Brigade Headquarters sent up a trench-mortar
battery under a Coldstream officer, for the front line had only
rifles. They were set between No. 4 and No. 2 Company in the Irish
Guards’ line. Later the C.O. arrived with a company of D.C.L.I. and
put them next the T.M.B. (It was a question of scraping together
anything that one could lay hands on and pushing it into the nearest
breach.) The shelling was not heavy, but machine-gun fire came from
every quarter, and lack of bombs prevented our men from dealing
with snipers in the cottages, just as lack of Very lights prevented
them from calling for artillery in the night. The Australians were
reported to be well provided with offensive accessories, and when
Battalion Headquarters, seeing there was a very respectable chance of
their being surrounded once more, inquired of Brigade Headquarters
how things were going, they were told that they were in strength on
the left. Later, the Australians lent the Battalion some smoke-bomb
confections to clean out an annoying corner of the front. That night,
Saturday 13th April, the men, dead tired, dug in as they could where
they lay and the enemy—their rush to Hazebrouck and the sea barred by
the dead of the Guards Brigade—left them alone.

Rations and ammunition came up into the line, and from time to time
a few odds and ends of reinforcements. By the morning of April 14th
the Australians were in touch with our left which had straightened
itself against the flanks of the Forest of Nieppe, leaving most of
the Brigade casualties outside it. Those who could (they were not
many) worked their way back to the Australian line in driblets. The
Lewis-guns of the Battalion—and this was pre-eminently a battle of
Lewis-guns—blazed all that morning from behind what cover they had,
at the general movement of the enemy between La Couronne and Verte
Rue which they had occupied. (“They was running about like ants,
some one way, some the other—the way Jerry does when he’s manœuvrin’
in the open. Ye can’t mistake it; an’ it means trouble.”) It looked
like a relief or a massing for an attack, and needed correction as
it was too close to our thin flank. Telephones had broken down, so a
runner was despatched to Brigade Headquarters to ask that the place
should be thoroughly shelled. An hour, however, elapsed ere our guns
came in, when the Germans were seen bolting out of the place in every
direction. A little before noon they bombarded heavily all along our
front and towards the Forest; then attacked the Guards’ salient once
more, were once more beaten off by our Lewis-guns; slacked fire for
an hour, then re-bombarded and demonstrated, rather than attacked,
till they were checked for the afternoon. They drew off and shelled
till dusk when the shelling died down and the Australians and a
Gloucester regiment relieved what was left of the 2nd Irish Guards
and the Coldstream, after three days and three nights of fighting and
digging during most of which time they were practically surrounded.
The Battalion’s casualties were twenty-seven killed, a hundred
missing and a hundred and twenty-three wounded; four officers killed
(Captain E. D. Dent, Acting Captain M. B. Levy, Lieutenants J. C.
Maher and M. R. FitzGerald); three wounded in the fighting (Captain
Bambridge, 2nd Lieutenants F. S. L. Smith and A. A. Tindall) as well
as Captain C. Moore on the 16th, and Lieutenant Lord Settrington and
2nd Lieutenant M. B. Cassidy among the missing.

Vieux-Berquin had been a battle, in the open, of utter fatigue and
deep bewilderment, but with very little loss of morale or keenness,
and interspersed with amazing interludes of quiet in which men found
and played upon pianos in deserted houses, killed and prepared to
eat stray chickens, and were driven forth from their music or their
meal by shells or the sputter of indefatigable machine-guns. Our
people did not attach much importance to the enemy infantry, but
spoke with unqualified admiration of their machine-gunners. The
method of attack was uniformly simple. Machine-guns working to a
flank enfiladed our dug-in line, while field-guns hammered it flat
frontally, sometimes even going up with the assaulting infantry.
Meanwhile, individual machine-guns crept forward, using all shelters
and covers, and turned up savagely in rear of our defence. Allowing
for the fact that trench-trained men cannot at a moment’s notice
develop the instinct of open fighting and an eye for the lie of land;
allowing also for our lack of preparation and sufficient material,
liberties such as the enemy took would never have been possible in
the face of organised and uniform opposition. Physically, those
three days were a repetition, and, morally, a repercussion of the
Somme crash. The divisions concerned in it were tired, and “fed-up.”
Several of them had been bucketed up from the Somme to this front
after punishing fights where they had seen nothing but failure, and
heard nothing but talk of further withdrawals for three weeks past.
The only marvel is that they retired in any effective shape at all,
for they felt hopeless. The atmosphere of spent effort deepened and
darkened through all the clearing-stations and anxious hospitals,
till one reached the sea, where people talked of evacuating the whole
British force and concentrating on the Channel ports. It does not
help a wounded man, half-sunk in the coma of his first injection, to
hear nurses, doctors, and staff round him murmur: “Well, I suppose
we shall have to clear out pretty soon.” As one man said: “’Twasn’t
bad at the front because we knew we were doing something, but the
hospitals were enough to depress a tank. We kept _on_ telling ’em
that the line was holding all right, but, by jove, instead of them
comforting us with wounds all over us, we had to hold _their_ hands
an’ comfort ’em!”

As far as the Guards Division was concerned, no reports of the
fight—company, battalion or brigade—tally. This is inevitable,
since no company knew what the next was doing, and in a three days’
endurance-contest, hours and dates run into one. The essential fact
remains. The 4th Guards Brigade stopped the German rush to the sea
through a gap that other divisions had left; and in doing so lost
two thirds at least of its effectives. Doubtless, had there been due
forethought from the beginning, this battle need never have been
waged at all. Doubtless it could have been waged on infinitely less
expensive lines; but with a nation of amateurs abruptly committed
to gigantic warfare and governed by persons long unused even to the
contemplation of war, accidents must arise at every step of the game.

Sir Douglas Haig, in his despatches, wrote: “The performance of all
the troops engaged in the most gallant stand,” which was only an
outlying detail of the Battle of the Lys, “and especially that of the
4th Guards Brigade on whose front of some 4000 yards the heaviest
attacks fell, is worthy of the highest praise. No more brilliant
exploit has taken place since the opening of the enemy’s offensive,
though gallant actions have been without number.” He goes on to
say—and the indictment is sufficiently damning—that practically
the whole of the divisions there had “been brought straight out of
the Somme battlefield where they had suffered severely, and been
subjected to great strain. All these divisions, without adequate
rest and filled with young reinforcements which they had had no
time to assimilate, were again hurriedly thrown into the fight,
and in spite of the great disadvantage under which they laboured,
succeeded in holding up the advance of greatly superior forces of
fresh troops. Such an accomplishment reflects the greatest credit
on the youth of Great Britain as well as upon those responsible for
the training of the young soldiers sent from home at the time.” The
young soldiers of the Battalion certainly came up to standard; they
were keen throughout and—best of all—the A.P.M. and his subordinates
who have, sometimes, unpleasant work to do at the rear, reported that
throughout the fight “there were no stragglers.” Unofficial history
asserts that, afterwards, the Battalion was rather rude to men of
other divisions when discussing what had happened in the Forest.

On their relief (the night of the 14th-15th April) they moved away
in the direction of Hazebrouck to embus for their billets. There was
a certain amount of shelling from which the Coldstream suffered, but
the Battalion escaped with no further damage than losing a few of
the buses. Consequently, one wretched party, sleeping as it walked,
had to trail on afoot in the direction of Borré, and those who were
of it say that the trip exceeded anything that had gone before. “We
were all dead to the world—officers and men. I don’t know who kicked
us along. Some one did—and I don’t know who _I_ kicked, but it kept
me awake. And when we thought we’d got to our billets we were sent on
another three miles. That was the final agony!”

What was left of the Brigade was next sorted out and reorganised.
The 12th (Pioneer) Battalion of the K.O.Y.L.I., who had borne a
good share of the burden that fell upon our right, including being
blown out of their trenches at least once, were taken into it; the
4th Grenadiers and 3rd Coldstream, of two weak companies apiece,
were, for a few days, made into one attenuated battalion. The 2nd
Irish Guards, whose companies were almost forty strong, preserved
its identity; and the enemy generously shelled the whole of them and
the back-areas behind the Forest on the 16th April till they were
forced to move out into the fields and dig in where they could in
little bunches. Captain C. Moore, while riding round the companies
with Colonel Alexander, was the only casualty here. He was wounded by
shrapnel while he was getting off his horse.

On the 17th and 18th April they took the place, in reserve, of the
3rd Australian Brigade and worked at improving a reserve line close
up to Hazebrouck. The enemy pressure was still severe, no one knew at
what point our line might go next, while at the bases, where there
was no digging to soothe and distract, the gloom had not lightened.
The Australians preserved a cheerful irreverence and disregard for
sorrow that was worth much. The Battalion relieved two companies of
them on the 19th in support-line on the east edge of the Forest of
Nieppe (Bois d’Aval) which was thick enough to require guides through
its woodland rides. Here they lay very quiet, looking out on the old
ground of the Vieux-Berquin fight, and lighting no fires for fear of
betraying their position. The enemy at Ferme Beaulieu, a collection
of buildings at the west end of the Verte Rue-La Couronne road and
on the way to Caudescure, did precisely the same. But, on the 21st
April, they gassed them most of the night and made the wood nearly
uninhabitable. Nothing, be it noted once more, will make men put on
their masks without direct pressure, and new hands cannot see that
the innocent projectile that lands like a “dud” and lies softly
hissing to itself, carries death or slow disablement. Gassing was
repeated on the 22nd when they were trying to build up a post in the
swampy woodlands where the water lay a foot or two from the surface.
They sent out Sergeant Bellew and two men to see if samples could be
gathered from Ferme Beaulieu. He returned with one deaf man who, by
reason of his deafness, had been sent to the Ersatz. The Sergeant had
caught him in a listening-post!

Next night they raided Ferme Beaulieu with the full strength of Nos.
2 and 4 Companies (eighty men) under 2nd Lieutenants Mathew and
Close. It seems to have been an impromptu affair, and their sole
rehearsal was in the afternoon over a course laid down in the wood.
But it was an unqualified success. Barrages, big and machine-gun,
timings and precautions all worked without a hitch and the men
were keen as terriers. They came, they saw, and they got away with
twenty-five unspoiled and identifiable captives, one of whom had been
a North-German Lloyd steward and spoke good English. He told them
tales of masses of reserves in training and of the determination of
the enemy to finish the War that very summer. The other captives
were profoundly tired of battle, but extremely polite and well
disciplined. Among our own raiders (this came out at the distribution
of honours later) was a young private, Neall, of the D.C.L.I. who
had happened to lose his Battalion during the Vieux-Berquin fighting
and had “attached himself” to the Battalion—an irregular method of
transfer which won him no small good-will and, incidentally, the
Military Medal for his share in the game.

Life began to return to the normal. The C.O. left, for a day or two,
to command the Brigade, as the Brigadier was down with gas-poisoning,
and on April the 25th a draft of fifty-nine men came in from home.
Captain A. F. L. Gordon arrived as Second in Command, and Captain
Law with him, from England on the 28th. On the 27th they were all
taken out of D’Aval Wood and billeted in farms round Hondeghem,
north of Hazebrouck on the Cassel road, to strengthen that side of
the Hazebrouck defence systems. Continuous lines of parapet had to
be raised across country, for all the soil here was water-logged. Of
evenings, they would return to Hondeghem and amuse the inhabitants
with their pipers and the massed bands of the Brigade. Except for
the last few days of their stay, they were under an hour’s notice
in Corps Reserve, while the final tremendous adjustments of masses
and boundaries, losses and recoveries, ere our last surge forward
began, troubled and kept awake all the fronts. They were inspected by
General Plumer on the 15th for a distribution of medal-ribbons, and,
having put in a thoroughly bad rehearsal the day before, achieved
on parade a faultless full-dress ceremonial-drill, turn-out and
appearance all excellent. (“The truth is, the way we were put through
it at Warley, we knew _that_ business blind, drunk, or asleep when it
come to the day. But them dam’ rehearsals, with the whole world an’
all the young officers panickin’, they’re no refreshment to drilled
men.”)

On the 20th May, when the line of the Lys battle had come to a
stand-still, and the enemy troops in the salient that they had won
and crowded into were enjoying the full effect of our long-range
artillery, there was a possibility that their restored armies in the
south might put further pressure on the Arras-Amiens front, and a
certain shifting of troops was undertaken on our side which brought
the 4th Guards Brigade down from Hondeghem by train to Mondicourt
on the Doullens-Arras line, where the drums of the 1st Grenadiers
played them out of the station, and, after a long, hot march, to
Barly between Bavincourt and Avesnes. Their orders were, if the enemy
broke through along that front, they would man the G.H.Q. line of
defence which ran to the east of Early Wood, and, for a wonder, was
already dug. There is an impenetrability about the Island temperament
in the face of the worst which defies criticism. Whether the enemy
broke through or not was in the hands of Providence and the valour
of their brethren; but the Battalion’s duty was plain. On the 22nd,
therefore, they were lectured “on the various forms of salutes” and
that afternoon selected, and ere evening had improved, “a suitable
site in the camp for a cricket-pitch.” Cricket, be it noted, is not
a national game of the Irish; but the Battalion was now largely
English. Next day company officers “reconnoitred” the G.H.Q. line.
After which they opened a new school of instruction, on the most
solid lines, for N.C.O.’s and men. Their numbers being so small,
none could later boast that he had escaped attention. At the end
of the month their 1st Battalion borrowed four lieutenants (Close,
Kent, Burke, and Dagger) for duty, which showed them, if they had not
guessed it before, that they were to be used as a feeding battalion,
and that the 4th Guards Brigade was, for further active use, extinct.

On the 9th June, after a week’s work on the G.H.Q. line and their
camp, Captain Nugent was transferred as Second in Command to the 1st
Battalion, and 2nd Lieutenant W. D. Faulkner took over the duties of
Acting Adjutant.

On the 11th they transferred to camp in the grounds of Bavincourt
Château, a known and well-bombed area, where they hid their tents
among the trees, and made little dug-outs and shelters inside them,
when they were not working on the back defences. But for the spread
of the “Spanish influenza” June was a delightful month, pleasantly
balanced between digging and divisional and brigade sports, for
they were all among their own people again, played cricket matches
in combination with their sister battalion, and wrote their names
high on the list of prize-winners. Their serious business was the
manufacture of new young N.C.O.’s for export to the 1st Battalion,
and even to Caterham, “where they tame lions.” Batches of these were
made and drilled under the cold eye of the Sergeant-Major, and were,
perhaps, the only men who did not thoroughly appreciate life on the
edge of the Somme in that inconceivable early summer of ’18.

The men, as men must be if they hope to live, were utterly
unconcerned with events beyond their view. They comprehended
generally that the German advance was stayed for the while, and
that it was a race between the enemy and ourselves to prepare fresh
armies and supplies; but they themselves had done what they were
required to do. If asked, they would do it again, but not being
afflicted with false heroisms, they were perfectly content that other
battalions should now pass through the fire. (“We knew there was
fighting all about an’ about. We knew the French had borrowed four
or five of our divisions and they was being hammered on the Aisne
all through May—that time we was learning to play cricket at Barly,
an’ _that_’ll show you how many of us was English in those days! We
heard about the old Fifth and Thirty-first Divisions retaking all our
Vieux-Berquin ground at the end o’ June (when we was having those
sports at Bavincourt) an’ we was dam’ glad of it—those of us who had
come through that fight. But no man can hold more than one thing at a
time, an’ a battalion’s own affairs are enough for one doings.... Now
there was a man in those days, called Timoney—a runner—an’ begad, at
the one mile and the half mile there was no one could see him when he
ran, etc. etc.”)

The first little ripples of our own returning tide began to be
felt along the Arras-Amiens line when on the 4th of July the
Australians, under Lieutenant-General Monash, with four companies
of the Thirty-third American Division and many tanks, retook our
lost positions round Hamel and by Villers-Bretonneux. The Battalion
celebrated that same day by assisting the American troops with them
(and the Guards Division) at their national game. Here the Second in
Command narrowly escaped serious injury in the cause of international
good-will, for a baseball, says the Diary most ungallantly, “luckily
just missed him and struck a V.A.D. in the face.” The views of the
V.A.D. are not given.

The 14th July, the French celebration at Paris, fell just on the eve
of Marshal Foch’s historical first counter-attacks which, after the
Second Battle of the Marne, staggered the German front, when the same
trees that had hidden the 1st Battalion’s dead at Villers-Cotterêts,
close on four years ago, covered and launched one of the armies that
exacted repayment. And the 2nd Irish Guards, entirely appreciating
the comfort of their situation, despatched to Paris every member of
their bureaucracy who could by any means hatch up passable excuses
for helping to form the composite battalion which should grace the
festivities there. The C.O. (the Second in Command had gone on
already), the Adjutant, the Assistant Adjutant, the Sergeant-Major,
the M.O., the Sick Sergeant, the Orderly-Room Clerk, the Signalling
Sergeant, the Mess-Sergeant, and all the drums managed to get away.
So Captain Nutting chaperoned the remainder down to the pleasant
watering-place of Criel Plage, which is over against Dieppe. This
time they were set up in business as a young officers’ seminary for
the benefit of newly commissioned officers who were to be taken
in hand by the 4th Guards Brigade before passing on. Many of them
had had considerable service in the ranks, which again required a
special form of official education. They were distributed among the
battalions to the number of twenty-five or thirty each, and drilled
as companies. Whatever they learned, they were, beyond question,
worked up to fit physical trim with the others, and, at the Guards
Brigade Sports, the Battalion covered itself with glory. They
won every single event that counted for points, and the Brigade
championship by an overwhelming aggregate. Next day, being the
fourth anniversary of the War, they listened to a serious sermon on
the matter—as they had listened to others—not much crediting that
peace was in sight. Among the specialists who lectured them on their
many businesses was an officer from the G.H.Q. Physical and Bayonet
Training School, who spoke of “recreational training”—boxing for
choice—and had a pretty taste in irony. For he told them how well
some pugilists had done in the War; citing the case of an eminent
professional who had been offered large purses to appear in the ring,
but, feeling his country needed him, declined them all and, when the
War had been going on for rather more than two years, joined a select
body of cavalry, which, after another year, he discovered was not
going to the front. This so wrought on him that he forthwith gave his
services to the G.H.Q. Bayonet School, where he had flourished ever
since, heroically battling against stuffed gunny-bags. The Battalion
held its breath at the record of such bravery; and a few days later
professed loud horror at an indent which came in for a hundred and
fifty men and four officers—a draft for their 1st Battalion. The
Guards Division had been at work again since the 21st August on
the thrice fought-over Moyenneville-St. Léger-Mory ground, in our
northern attack which had followed Rawlinson’s blow round Amiens. The
whole of the 4th Guards Brigade was drawn upon to help make good the
wastage, and its draft of six hundred and seven men was one of the
finest that had ever been furnished—trained to the last ounce, and
taught to the limits of teaching. The young officers attached for
instruction left after a joyous dinner that lasted till late in the
dawn. And it may be that the draft had dined also; for, on the way
to the station, one of our men who had lost his cap and had paraded
in steel-helmet order was met by “a lady from out of a house,” who
solemnly presented him with the missing article. It was an omen of
victory and of the days when steel helmets should become curios.

They returned to their depleted camps until more young officers came
along for instruction, and in the last week of September their
comrades, the 4th Grenadiers and the 3rd Coldstream, were called
away to the moving front—“to fight”—as the horrified Diary puts it!
Actually, the two battalions merely followed the advance in the wake
of the cavalry corps as mobile infantry on lorries, till the 26th of
October. They then returned to their brigade till the 14th November,
when they joined the Guards Division for the march into Germany.

For the next six weeks or so, then, Criel Plage was all the
Battalion’s deserted own during the autumn days that saw the German
armies driven back, but it is interesting to observe that, on the
10th of October, a special order of the day, issued by the G.O.C.
Fourth Army, laid down that “all peace-talk must cease.” As usual,
they seemed to know more in the back-areas than at the front, where
the 1st Battalion certainly did not believe on the chances of any
immediate end.

On the 14th October, their small world was shaken out of all its talk
by the really serious news that their C.O. (Colonel the Hon. H. R.
Alexander) was to transfer to command the 10th Army School. He left
on the 18th, and the whole Battalion turned out to bid him good-bye
with an affection few commanding officers had ever awakened. He wrote
in orders (but he had spoken as well, straight from his heart): “I
wish to express my sincere grief in leaving the Battalion I am so
fond of. We have been through some hard times together, but the
remembrance of those battles in which the 2nd Battalion has taken
such a glorious part will always be a great pride to me. Remember
the great name that this wonderful Battalion has made for itself in
the War. Be proud of it and guard it jealously. I leave you with
complete confidence that its reputation is safe in your hands. I
thank you from the bottom of my heart for the loyalty that you have
always shown me during the whole time that I have had the honour of
commanding you. I wish you all and individually the best possible
luck and success, and a safe return to your homes when the War is
over.”

It is undeniable that Colonel Alexander had the gift of handling
the men on the lines to which they most readily responded; as the
many tales in this connection testify. At the worst crises he was
both inventive and cordial and, on such occasions as they all strove
together in the gates of Death, would somehow contrive to dress the
affair as high comedy. Moreover, when the blame for some incident
of battle or fatigue was his, he confessed and took it upon his own
shoulders in the presence of all. Consequently, his subordinates
loved him, even when he fell upon them blisteringly for their
shortcomings; and his men were all his own.

On the 26th October the 4th Grenadiers and the 3rd Coldstream
returned from their adventures at the front with the cavalry, full of
their impressions that everything was over now except the shouting.
Then there was more “peace-talk” than ever in the camp, and, three
days after the Armistice was declared, the Battalion with the
Brigade rolled statelily out of Criel for Cambrai by a “strategical”
train, which is slower than a sundial. They were clean, polished,
and splendid to behold, and they instantly fought with Brigade
Headquarters and their own trench-mortar battery, who had generous
ideas as to the amount of truckage which they themselves required.

They wandered half round northern France on that queer journey,
halting for hours in a battered world just realising that the weight
of the past four years had lifted. Whereby everybody attended to
everything except his proper job. At this distance one sees how all
men were walking in a mild delirium of reaction, but it annoyed
people at the time. Said one who had experienced it: “Ye would come
on a man an’ ask him for what ye wanted or where you was to go,
an’ the Frenchman, he’d say, ‘_Oui! Oui! Gare finne_,’ an’ smile
an’ rub his hands an’ push off. The Englishman—some dam’ back-area
sergeant-clerk or ticket-collector that had been playin’ ping-pong
at Boulogne since ’14—he’d smile the same way an’ ‘’Tis over, ’tis
over!’ he’d say, clean forgettin’ everything for you that he hadn’t
done wrong-end-up. But we was all like that together—silly, foolish,
an’ goin’ about grinnin’.” At one of their many resting-places,
they found the 4th Grenadiers who had started four hours before
them. The rail ahead was reported mined, and though the Battalion
politely suggested that their friends might hurry on and test the
truth of the rumour for themselves the Grenadiers declined. Men were
beginning to set a value on their lives again. At ruined Cambrai,
forty-eight hours after their start, they were warned to join the
Guards Division, who were going to Cologne, and to travel light,
as no further transport could be taken up. So they dumped surplus
kit, including boots, which was a mistake, at Cambrai, and waited
twenty-four hours till lorries should turn up, as guaranteed. When
these at last appeared no destination was laid down, but the Guards
Division was supposed to be somewhere near Maubeuge. They lost their
way from Cambrai at the outset and managed to mislay no small portion
of their lorries, all the Battalion, less Headquarters, and a good
deal of the 3rd Coldstream, ere they reached Maubeuge, which was
in the full swing of Armistice demonstrations. Their orders were
to march with the 2nd Guards Brigade next day to Vieux Reng, which
they did through a friendly and welcoming country-side, and on the
20th November to Charleroi through Marchienne where they were met
by a mad brass band (entirely composed of men in bowler hats!).
The roads filled as they went on, with returning prisoners even
more compositely dressed than the natives—a general gaol-delivery
of hidden, escaped, released, and all the flotsam and jetsam of
violently arrested war. The customs of His Majesty’s armies were new
to the world, and Charleroi did not in the least understand “saluting
drill” with the drums in the background, and when, to this marvel,
was added the sight of a regiment of Grenadiers at physical drill,
hopping on one foot, they assembled and shouted like the men of
Ephesus.

The next move (November 24th) was to Presles on a frosty day, with
billets for the officers in the superbly comfortable Château, with
its pictures and wallpapers intact on the wall, handles to the doors,
and roofs of flawless integrity. To wake up among surroundings that
had altogether escaped the past four years was curious. (“Somehow or
other, it felt like being in a shop where everything was free, and
one could take down what one wanted. I remember looking at a ceiling
with flowers painted on it one morning and wondering how it hadn’t
been cracked.”) They were landed in the dull and cramped village of
Lesves by November the 25th and rained upon in their utter boredom.
Our national methods of conquest have nothing spectacular. They
were neither talked to, sung to, nor lectured on their victory, nor
encouraged to demonstrate their superiority over the rest of mankind.
They marched and mourned that they had not brought spare boots.
Company physical training and drills were kept up, and the sole thing
approaching war was a football match of the right half-battalion
against the left, which blossomed into an argument, which verged upon
a free fight and, almost, the slaughter of the umpire. At Petit Han,
in the remoter districts of the border where the people had accepted
the Hun from the first, and had profited by his rule, the attitude
of the civilians changed. Here they were prosperous pacifists who
objected to militarism; even cursing and swearing and shaking their
fists at the invaders. So one old lady had to be gently locked up in
her own room for two hours while billets were being arranged and the
officers patiently argued and entreated. Ouffey, another hamlet of
a few sad houses, was of the same unaccommodating temper, and their
transport turned up hours late after being delayed by traffic and bad
roads. A halt was necessary here to sort out the general confusion of
our brigades converging on Cologne. They were held, then, at Ouffey
till the 10th December, another day at Aisomont, an unknown village,
and at last on the 12th crossed into Germany from Stavelot at Pont
Rucken with the Brigade. The Battalion, whose staff never neglected
their interests, had contrived to secure waterproof capes at some
issue or other, which they wore under the approving eyes of the Corps
Commander, who watched the march past in the unending rain. Honsfeld
was their last journey afoot; there they got orders to go south to
Burg and entrain for Cologne, and at Ehrenfeld, on the outskirts of
that city, they dropped into the Pioneer Barracks, fitted with every
luxury from electric-light to drying-rooms and baths, and found the
inhabitants both friendly and intensely curious.

Here some of our men noticed, first, how keenly curious were the
natives to discover exactly what the strangers had in their minds,
and, that point established, exactly how far they might presume
upon their limitations. It was soon felt that our armies boasted no
tradition nor ritual of victory as the Germans understood it—that
the utmost they could devise was some form of polite police-work
and traffic regulation. So, as one observer put it—“There was Jerry
takin’ stock of us, under his hatbrim at the street-corners in the
wet; and there was those little steamers with some of our officers in
charge (an’ the Irish flag flyin’ at the bows of course) convoyin’
prisoners an’ refugees an’ details an’ all, up an’ down that Rhine
River, like pirates play-actin’! An’ there was the Jerry frowlines
so polite an’ anxious for to please, playin’ the ‘Marseillaise’ an’
‘God Save the King’ to the officers in the evenin’, an’ every Jerry
willin’ to sell us everything he thought we’d like to buy. An’ there
was us Micks mountin’ guard on the dumps, an’ patrollin’ the streets
an’ sittin’ on machine-guns acrost bridges in that wet an’ cold
an’—an’ ’twas all like play-actin’. Nothin’ real to it at all, except
the long waitin’ an’ we crazy to get home. Maybe the new hands an’
the cease fire drafts liked the victoriousness of it, but for us,
the old birds, that had come through great doin’s for so long, ’twas
not in nature, ye’ll understand. All false-like, except the dam’
ceremonials.”

The last was quite true. The “smartening-up” that overtook both
battalions in Cologne was of a thoroughness new even to the extended
experience of the “old birds.” Sergeants, sickened by long months of
gritty and dusty hutments that ruin the bloom and port of the ideal
“soldier,” with officers on the rebound from service requirements to
a desperate interest in the haberdashery and appurtenances of real,
and possible, life, fell upon them from either flank; while colonels
in the background and generals on far heights proclaimed the iniquity
of deviating by one hair’s breadth from the highest standards of
propriety in kit, conduct, and bearing while they were among the late
enemy. So they said, with justice, that Jerry managed to give them as
much trouble when they occupied him as when he was occupying them on
the Somme.

It was an insane interval of waiting, as the world did in those days,
for the immediate demobilisation of democratic hosts, all units of
which were convinced that they had the right to go home before all
others. “The prisoner at the Bar,” as men then styled Germany, being
entirely at home, was saving himself to continue the War underground
when time, occasion, and dissension among his conquerors should show
him his chance. But of this there was no foreknowledge. The hearts of
the men who had borne the burden were still pulsing to the thud of
the guns; their minds still obsessed in their leisure by the return
of horrors seen and heard; their souls crying out for something that
should veil them from themselves; and at the hour when the spent
world, like a spent battalion, most needed a few low-voiced, wholly
unsentimental orders and an orderly return to light but continuous
mechanical work, when, above all, it was in no shape to be talked
at or to or over, it was delivered to whirlwinds and avalanches of
allocutions, exhortations, and strenuously conflicting “ideals”
that would have shaken the sanity of the gods themselves. Thus the
barren months passed. The most fortunate people were those who had
their hands full of necessary and obvious work—mere detail to be put
through for immediate needs. “We cursed it enough at the time, but
we would have given a good deal for it afterwards. You see, it kept
one from thinking.”

And in the spring of ’19 came the release, and the return of the
Guards to England, and, on a grey March day, the Division, for
the last time, was massed and moved through London, their wounded
accompanying them on foot, or in the crowded lorries, while their
mascots walked statelily in the intervals.

To see the actual weapons with which great works have been done is
always astonishing. The stream of troops seemed scanty between the
multitudes that banked it. Their faces, too, told nothing, and least
of all the faces of the veterans—the sergeants of twenty-three, and
the commanding officers of twenty-eight, who, by miracle or the mercy
of severe wounds, had come through it all since that first hot August
evening, at the milestone near Harmignies, when the first bullet
fell on the turf, and men said, “This is The War!” The wounded, in
civil kit, having no more fear of their superior officers before
their eyes, occasionally, when they shouted to a friend, gave away by
unguarded tone, or change of countenance, a hint of the hells which
they had shared together. And London, solid on its pavements, looked,
counted over, compared, hailed, but never too loudly, some known
face in the ranks or figure on horseback, and rejoiced or grieved as
the fortune of war had dealt with its men. For the Guards belong to
London, and, by that time, even the Irish Guards were half London
recruits.

The Second Battalion of the Irish Guards was marked to be disbanded
later, with thousands of others. Their loyalty, their long endurance,
their bravery—the ceaseless labour, love, and example that had gone
to their making and upholding, in which work men had died as directly
as any killed by gas or shell—had done all that was called for. They
made no claim to have accomplished or suffered more than others. They
knew what load had been laid upon all.

They were the younger battalion, born in Warley, officered from the
first by special reserve officers, always most intimately bound up
with their sister battalion, yet always most strictly themselves.
They had been a “happy” battalion throughout, and, on the admission
of those whose good opinion they most valued, one that had “done
as well as any” in a war that had made mere glory ridiculous. Of
all these things nothing but the memory would remain. And, as they
moved—little more than a company strong—in the wake of their seniors,
one saw, here and there among the wounded in civil kit, young men
with eyes which did not match their age, shaken beyond speech or
tears by the splendour and the grief of that memory.


COMMANDING OFFICERS

2ND BATTALION

FROM AUGUST 16, 1915

  ---------+--------------------------------------+---------+-------------
  Rank     |              Name                    |  From   |    To
  ---------+--------------------------------------+---------+-------------
  Lt.-Col. | Hon. L. J. P. Butler, C.M.G., D.S.O. | 16.8.15 |   5.5.16
    ”      | P. L. Reid, O.B.E.                   | 12.5.16 |  12.1.17
    ”      | E. B. Greer, M.C.                    | 13.1.17 |  31.7.17
  Major    | R. H. Ferguson                       |  1.8.17 |  1.10.17
  Lt.-Col. | H. R. Alexander, D.S.O., M.C.        | 2.10.17 |  3.11.18
    ”      | A. F. L. Gordon, D.S.O., M.C.        | 6.11.18 | To return to
           |                                      |         |   England.
  ---------+--------------------------------------+---------+-------------




APPENDIX A

OFFICERS KILLED IN ACTION OR DIED OF WOUNDS


1ST BATTALION IRISH GUARDS

  Lieut.-Colonel C. FitzClarence, V.C.
  (Temp. Brigadier-General),
  In Command of 1st Guards Brigade,                           12.11.14

  Lieut.-Colonel G. C. Nugent, M.V.O.
  (Temp. Brigadier-General),
  In Command of 5th London Infantry Brigade,                   31.5.15

  Lieut.-Col. The Hon. J. F. Hepburn-Stuart-Forbes-Trefusis, D.S.O.
  (Temp. Brigadier-General),
  In Command of the 20th Brigade after Commanding 1st Battalion,
                                                              24.10.15

  Lieut.-Colonel The Hon. G. H. Morris,                         1.9.14

MAJORS

  T. M. D. Bailie,                                             15.9.16
  The Lord Desmond FitzGerald, M.C.,                            3.3.16
  The Earl of Rosse,                                           15.6.18
  H. F. Crichton,                                               1.9.14
  H. A. Herbert-Stepney,                                       6.11.14
  G. H. C. Madden (Temp. Lieut.-Col.),                        12.11.15
  G. E. S. Young,                                              31.3.17

CAPTAINS

  H. H. Berners,                                               14.9.14
  The Lord Arthur Hay,                                         14.9.14
  The Hon. A. E. Mulholland,                                   1.11.14
  E. G. Mylne,                                                 12.6.15
  The Hon. P. J. H. Ogilvy, M.C.,                              9.10.17
  E. C. Stafford-King-Harman,                                  6.11.14
  C. A. Tisdall,                                                1.9.14
  V. C. J. Blake,                                              28.1.16
  M. V. Gore-Langton, M.C.,                                   10.10.15
  E. J. F. Gough,                                             30.12.14
  J. N. Guthrie,                                               13.5.15
  The Lord John Hamilton,                                      7.11.14
  L. R. Hargreaves, M.C.,                                      25.9.16

LIEUTENANTS

  A. L. Bain,                                                  4.11.18
  R. St. J. Blacker-Douglass, M.C.,                             1.2.15
  E. Budd, M.C. (Acting Captain),                               8.8.18
  B. S. Close,                                                 27.9.18
  S. E. F. Christy,                                            12.7.16
  H. J. B. Eyre,                                               15.7.17
  J. K. M. Greer, M.C.,                                        3.10.16
  W. E. Hope,                                                  6.11.14
  K. R. Mathieson,                                             1.11.14
  J. H. Nash,                                                  27.8.18
  F. L. Pusch, D.S.O.,                                         27.6.16
  E. H. Shears,                                                 4.7.17
  T. K. Walker,                                                24.4.16
  L. C. Whitefoord,                                            15.9.16
  H. R. Baldwin,                                               29.8.18
  G. Brooke,                                                   7.10.14
  T. Butler-Stoney,                                            1.10.17
  L. S. Coke,                                                 31.10.14
  N. F. Durant,                                               30.11.17
  V. W. D. Fox,                                                18.5.15
  The Lord Guernsey,                                           14.9.14
  G. M. Maitland,                                              1.11.14
  T. Musgrave,                                                  6.2.15
  C. Pease,                                                    18.9.16
  R. J. P. Rodakowski,                                         9.10.17
  C. R. Tisdall, M.C.,                                         15.9.16
  J. N. Ward,                                                  29.8.18

2ND LIEUTENANTS

  T. Allen,                                                    25.2.15
  N. Butler,                                                   15.9.16
  H. A. Connolly,                                              27.8.18
  V. J. S. French,                                            10.10.18
  F. H. N. Lee,                                                 4.7.16
  E. C. G. Lord,                                                8.5.18
  C. S. O’Brien, M.C.,                                         27.9.18
  T. S. V. Stoney,                                             9.10.17
  N. L. Woodroffe,                                             6.11.14
  G. P. Boyd,                                                   3.9.17
  L. H. L. Carver,                                             26.5.18
  H. V. Fanshawe,                                             11.10.17
  H. S. Keating,                                               20.1.15
  L. C. L. Lee,                                                 1.2.15
  H. Marion-Crawford,                                          16.4.15
  J. M. Stewart,                                                1.4.15
  A. L. Wells,                                                 9.10.17

OFFICERS ATTACHED TO 1ST BATTALION

  Capt. Rev. J. Gwynne,                                       11.10.15
  Lieut. C. de B. G. Persse (7th Dragoon Guards),              18.5.15
  Capt. H. J. S. Shields, R.A., M.C.,                         26.10.14
  2nd Lieutenant Davis (U.S.A. Medical Service),               27.9.18


2ND BATTALION IRISH GUARDS

  Major E. B. Greer, M.C. (Acting Lieut.-Colonel),             31.7.17
  Major R. A. French Brewster (died),                          17.2.17

CAPTAINS

  E. D. Dent,                                                  12.4.18
  C. E. R. Hanbury,                                            9.10.17
  The Hon. H. A. V. St. G. Harmsworth, M.C.,                   12.2.18

LIEUTENANTS

  C. H. Brew,                                                 12.10.16
  J. W. M. Dame,                                              27.11.17
  F. St. L. Greer, M.C.,                                        1.2.17
  C. G. H. C. Hyne,                                           21.11.16
  J. Kipling,                                                  27.9.15
  J. C. Maher,                                                 14.4.18
  E. L. Mylne, M.C.,                                           15.9.16
  C. F. Purcell,                                               15.9.16
  F. L. M. Pym,                                                 2.7.16
  A. F. Synge,                                                27.11.17
  G. Y. L. Walters,                                            15.9.16
  W. G. Cary-Elwes,                                           27.11.17
  M. R. Fitzgerald,                                            19.4.18
  D. D. Hudson-Kinahan,                                         9.4.16
  G. L. B. James,                                              18.7.17
  M. B. Levy, M.C. (Acting Captain),                           12.4.18
  H. Montgomery,                                               13.9.16
  D. C. Parsons (Temp. Captain),                               15.9.16
  C. J. Pym,                                                   27.3.17
  A. J. Rowan-Hamilton,                                       21.10.15
  F. P. H. Synge, M.C. (Acting Captain),                       29.7.17
  C. D. Wynter,                                                5.10.15
  R. H. W. Heard, M.C. (died),                                  3.3.19

2ND LIEUTENANTS

  A. S. Armfield,                                              31.7.17
  R. C. Bellew,                                                21.8.17
  M. B. Cassidy,                                               13.4.18
  G. V. B. Hine,                                               6.10.15
  T. Pakenham-Law,                                             27.9.15
  K. C. Vaughan,                                               13.9.16
  N. D. Bayly,                                                27.11.17
  T. A. Carey,                                                 5.12.17
  W. F. J. Clifford,                                           27.9.15
  A. H. O’Farrell,                                             27.9.18
  A. G. Tomkins,                                               13.9.16
  T. B. Wilson,                                                18.7.17

OFFICERS ATTACHED TO 2ND BATTALION

  Captain Rev. S. S. Knapp, D.S.O., M.C.,                      31.7.17

IRISH GUARDS OFFICERS WITH OTHER REGIMENTS

  Lieut. J. N. Marshall, V.C., M.C. (Acting Lieut.-Colonel,
      attached Lancs. Fusiliers),                              4.11.18
  2nd Lieut. C. H. Eiloart (Guards Machine Gun Regiment),      27.9.18
  2nd Lieut. E. H. Fallows (att. Guards Machine Gun Regiment), 27.3.18
  2nd Lieut. A. G. Hunt (Guards Machine Gun Regiment),         4.11.18
  2nd Lieut. N. King (att. Guards Machine Gun Regiment),       26.5.18
  Lieut. C. H. Lord Settrington (died of wounds received in
      action with the Russian Relief Force),                   24.8.19
  Lieut. J. C. Zigomala, M.B.E. (killed whilst serving with
      the Russian Relief Force),                               25.8.19


OFFICERS WOUNDED

  Major Lord D. FitzGerald, M.C. (twice w.)          1.9.14; Oct. 1915
  R. St. Blacker-Douglass, M.C.                                 1.9.14
  Capt. Hon. H. W. Gough, M.C.                                 14.9.14
  Capt. J. N. Guthrie (twice w.)        14.9.14; (v. slightly) 16.4.15
  Lieut.-Col. E. B. Greer, M.C.                               28.10.14
  Capt. W. C. N. Reynolds                                     31.10.14
  Major R. H. Ferguson (twice w.)                    31.10.14; 23.6.17
  Lieut.-Col. Hon. H. Alexander, D.S.O., M.C.,
      L. of H. (twice w.)                           1.11.14; Oct. 1917
  Capt. M. V. Gore-Langton, M.C.                               1.11.14
  Capt. Lord Kingston                                          1.11.14
  Lieut.-Col. Hon. T. Vesey (twice w.)               31.10.14; 27.9.15
  Col. Lord Ardee, C.B.                         7.11.14; gassed 4.4.18
  Major R. S. Webber                                          12.11.14
  Capt. C. R. Harding                                         12.11.14
  Capt. P. H. Antrobus, M.C.                13.11.14; gassed July 1917
  Capt. G. P. Gough                                           25.12.14
  Capt. F. H. Witts, M.C. (three times w.) 25.12.14; Oct.1917; 25.5.18
  J. T. Robyns (accidentally)                                  17.1.15
  Major P. S. Long-Innes, M.C. (twice w.)              1.2.15; 15.9.16
  Capt. A. H. Blom                                1.2.15; S.S. 25.9.16
  Capt. F. F. Graham                                            2.2.15
  Capt. Hon. H. A. V. St. G. Harmsworth (twice w.)     11.2.15; 2.8.15
  Capt. T. E. G. Nugent (accidentally) (twice w.)      24.3.15; 3.3.16
  Capt. C. Pease (twice w.)                           16.5.15; 15.9.16
  Capt. R. B. H. Kemp                                          17.5.15
  Capt. E. G. Mylne                                            17.5.15
  Capt. S. G. Tallents                                         17.5.15
  Lieut.-Col. P. L. Reid                                       18.5.15
  Capt. H. T. A. H. Boyse                                      18.5.15
  Major W. E. Earl of Rosse                                    18.5.15
  Capt. R. S. G. Paget (twice w.)                     18.5.15; 18.7.17
  Major G. E. S. Young (twice w.)                     18.5.15; 16.3.17
  E. W. Campbell                                               18.5.15
  Capt. J. R. Ralli                                            18.5.15
  Capt. Hon. W. S. P. Alexander, D.S.O.                        18.5.15
  J. K. M. Greer, M.C. (twice w.)                     18.5.15; 15.9.16
  Capt. A. W. L. Paget (twice w.)                     19.5.15; 27.7.17
  Capt. Sir G. H. Burke, Bt.                                   19.5.15
  L. S. Straker                                                17.6.15
  K. W. Hogg                                                   31.7.15
  Brig.-Gen. R. J. Cooper, C.B., C.V.O. (M.E.F.)               16.8.15
  W. B. Stevens                                                27.9.15
  Capt. R. E. Sassoon, M.C. (twice w.)        27.9.15; (slight) 8.9.17
  R. H. S. Grayson (twice w.)                       27.9.15; Oct. 1917
  R. H. W. Heard                               7.10.15; gassed 26.4.18
  J. Grayling-Major                                            8.10.15
  Lieut.-Col. G. H. C. Madden                                 11.10.15
  Capt. F. P. H. Synge, M.C. (twice w.)            21.10.15; July 1916
  T. F. Tallents, M.C. (twice w.)                  21.10.15; Oct. 1917
  Capt. G. N. Hubbard                                         16.11.15
  S. E. F. Christy                                            20.12.15
  Capt. R. J. P. Rodakowski (twice w.)                25.3.16; 25.9.16
  F. H. N. Lee                                                 18.6.16
  Temp. Major J. N. Marshall, V.C., M.C., attached
      Lancs. Fus. (twice w.)                        19.6.16; June 1917
  Lieut.-Col. R. V. Pollok, D.S.O. (twice w.)
                                      25.7.16; 28.3.18; gassed 11.4.18
  H. R. Hordern (severely)                                      3.8.16
  Capt. D. C. Parsons                                          13.9.16
  J. C. Zigomala (twice w.)                           13.9.16; 30.3.18
  Capt. A. C. W. Innes, M.C.                                   15.9.16
  Count J. E. de Salis (twice w.)                   15.9.16; July 1917
  H. C. Holmes                                                 15.9.16
  T. Butler-Stoney                                             15.9.16
  D. J. Hegarty                                                16.9.16
  J. N. Ward (twice w.)                                15.9.16; 9.4.18
  Capt. R. Rankin                                              15.9.16
  Major C. E. A. Rocke, D.S.O.                                 15.9.16
  C. H. Brew                                                   15.9.16
  M. R. FitzGerald                                             15.9.16
  C. G. H. C. Hyne                                             15.9.16
  G. V. Williams, M.C. (twice w.)                    25.9.16; 13.10.18
  T. C. Gibson (twice w.)                             25.9.16; 13.9.17
  Capt. P. R. Woodhouse, M.C. R.A.M.C. (attached)
      (twice w.)                                    25.9.16; Oct. 1917
  Rev. F. M. Browne, M.C. (attached) (twice w.)     25.9.16; Oct. 1917
  Capt. L. R. Hargreaves, M.C.                                 25.9.16
  P. G. Denson                                                  1.1.17
  C. E. R. Hanbury                                           Jan. 1917
  J. Orr                                                        2.2.17
  D. S. Browne (twice w.)                             25.2.17; 9.10.17
  W. C. Mumford, M.C.                                          15.3.17
  Capt. J. W. Dalton (twice w.)                        25.3.17; 7.4.18
  N. B. Bagenal (three times w.)           13.7.17; Oct. 1917; 30.3.18
  H. J. Lofting                                                18.7.17
  Capt. J. B. Keenan (twice w.)                      21.7.17; 21.10.18
  H. H. Maxwell (twice w.)                           26.7.17; 10.10.17
  R. L. Dagger                                                 29.7.17
  R. Hannay                                                    29.7.17
  Lieut. G. E. C. Vaughan-Morgan                             July 1917
  N. M. Buller (twice w.)                             31.7.17; 24.5.18
  G. L. Crawford                                               31.7.17
  E. H. Dowler (twice w.)                           31.7.17; Oct. 1917
  Capt. H. F. d’A. S. Law, M.C.                                 1.8.17
  H. E. Van der Noot                                            3.8.17
  Major R. R. C. Baggallay, M.C.                               14.8.17
  A. R. S. Nutting, M.C.                                       17.8.17
  A. F. D. de Moleyns                                          20.8.17
  J. J. Kane (slight)                                           8.9.17
  Capt. T. F. MacMahon, M.C.                                   11.9.17
  C. E. Bagot                                                Oct. 1917
  B. S. Close                                                Oct. 1917
  T. Corry, D.C.M.                                           Oct. 1917
  E. M. Harvey, M.C.                                         Oct. 1917
  Capt. R. B. S. Reford, M.C.                                Oct. 1917
  Capt. Hon. H. V. Harmsworth, M.C.                           27.11.17
  F. C. Lynch-Blosse                                          27.11.17
  S. S. Wordley                                               30.11.17
  J. M. R. Wreford                                            30.11.17
  P. M. Riley (twice w.)                             30.11.17; 24.5.18
  G. K. Thompson, M.C.                                        30.11.17
  G. E. Van der Noot                                          30.11.17
  Capt. W. Joyce (twice w.)                          30.11.17; 29.8.18
  A. F. L. Gordon, M.C.                                        19.1.18
  S. S. Harrison                                               24.3.18
  Capt. the Hon. H. B. O’Brien                                 26.3.18
  D. J. B. FitzGerald                                          27.3.18
  F. G. de Stacpoole                                            2.4.18
  A. S. Stokes                                                  2.4.18
  C. W. Brisley                                                 3.4.18
  J. A. S. Gatti, M.C.                                          3.4.18
  Lieut. F. S. L. Smith, M.C. (twice w.)              12.4.18; 4.11.18
  C. L. Browne                                                 13.4.18
  Capt. G. L. Bambridge                                        14.4.18
  G. J. S. Repton                                              15.4.18
  A. A. Tindall                                                15.4.18
  Capt. C. Moore                                               17.4.18
  E. O. Mackwood (gassed)                                      24.4.18
  C. A. J. Nicholson                                           25.4.18
  P. F. O’Driscoll                                             25.4.18
  G. C. MacLachlan                                             29.4.18
  T. B. Maughan                                                 2.5.18
  Capt. C. W. W. Bence-Jones (twice w.)               24.5.18; 27.9.18
  P. R. J. Barry                                               24.5.18
  D. R. Williams                                               25.5.18
  Lieut. K. E. Schweder (gassed)                               14.8.18
  Lieut. J. A. M. Faraday                                      22.8.18
  Lieut. P. S. MacMahon                                        29.8.18
  G. T. Heaton                                                 29.8.18
  H. Connolly                                                  29.8.18
  A. E. Hutchinson                                             29.8.18
  Lieut. C. A. J. Vernon                       18.9.18; gassed 29.8.18
  Lieut. G. F. Mathieson                                       27.9.18
  A. R. Boyle                                                  27.9.18
  Capt. the Hon. B. A. A. Ogilvy                               27.9.18
  H. M. Henderson                                             10.10.18


OFFICERS MISSING

  Capt. Viscount Castlerosse (wounded and since found)          1.9.14
  Hon. A. Herbert (wounded and since found)                     1.9.14
  Lord R. Innes-Ker (wounded and since found)                   1.9.14
  Brig.-Gen. Hon. L. J. P. Butler, C.M.G., D.S.O. (since found) 8.9.14
  G. M. Maitland                                               1.11.14
  Capt. Lord A. J. Hamilton                                    6.11.14
  J. Kipling (killed in action)                                27.9.15
  F. L. M. Pym (killed in action)                               3.7.16
  B. O. D. Manning                                             13.9.17
  W. G. Rea                                                   27.11.17
  N. D. Bayly (killed in action)                              27.11.17
  M. R. FitzGerald                                             13.4.18
  Lord Settrington                                             13.4.18
  M. B. Cassidy                                                13.4.18


REWARDS

VICTORIA CROSS

  Acting Lieut.-Colonel J. N. Marshall                         13.2.19


C.B.E.

  Brig.-General R. Le N. Lord Ardee (Base Comdt.)               3.6.19
  Colonel Sir J. Hall, Bart                                     3.6.19
  Major R. V. Pollok (Comdt. Sch. of Instr.)                    3.6.19


D.S.O.

  Major H. R. L. G. Alexander                                   1.1.16
  Captain W. S. P. Alexander                                   20.8.17
  Major R. R. C. Baggallay                                      1.1.19
  Colonel the Hon. L. J. P. Butler                           Jan. 1916
  Major Hon. A. C. S. Chichester (Staff)                        3.6.18
  Captain A. F. L. Gordon                                     12.12.19
  Major T. W. B. Greenfield, (Staff)                           18.1.17
  Colonel R. C. A. McCalmont                                    1.1.17
  Major R. V. Pollok                                          28.12.17
  Lieut. F. L. Pusch (19th Bn. London Regiment)             Sept. 1915
  Captain W. A. Redmond                                        28.9.17
  Lieut.-Colonel C. E. A. S. Rocke                            28.12.17
  Major (Temp. Brig.-Gen.)
     Hon. J. F. Hepburn-Stuart-Forbes-Trefusis                 16.2.15
  Captain F. H. Witts (Staff)                                   2.6.19


O.B.E.

  Major Hon. A. C. S. Chichester (Staff)                        3.6.19
  Captain T. C. Gibson              ”
  Major C. R. Harding               ”                           3.6.19
  Major St. J. R. Pigott            ”
  Lieut.-Colonel P. L. Reid         ”                           4.6.18
  Captain W. C. N. Reynolds         ”                           3.6.19
  Captain S. G. Tallents            ”                           3.2.20
  Captain B. B. Watson              ”                          10.6.19
  Captain R. G. C. Yerburgh         ”                           3.6.19


M.B.E.

  Captain J. S. N. FitzGerald (Staff)
  Captain and Qr. H. Hickie                                   12.12.10


MILITARY CROSS

  Major H. R. L. G. Alexander                                   1.1.16
  Lieut. E. E. Anderson                                       30.10.17
  Captain P. H. Antrobus                                      28.12.17
  Major R. R. C. Baggallay (Staff)                              1.1.17
  Captain G. L. St. Bambridge                                  13.9.18
  Lieut. P. R. J. Barry                                       10.11.18
  Lieut. J. Black                                             30.10.17
  Lieut. R. St. Blacker-Douglass                               10.3.15
  Captain H. Bracken (att. 20th K.L. Regt.)
  Lieut. P. B. Brown                                              1917
  Lieut. D. S. Browne                                         10.12.19
  Rev. F. S. du Moulin Browne (att. 1st Bn. I.G.)              11.1.19
  Lieut. E. Budd                                                7.4.17
  Lieut. H. A. A. Collett                                     10.11.18
  Lieut. J. A. M. Faraday                                     15.10.18
  Lieut. W. D. Faulkner                                         1.1.19
  Major Lord D. FitzGerald                                     22.6.15
  Captain J. S. N. FitzGerald
  2nd Lieut. R. Gamble                                          1.1.17
  Lieut. J. A. S. Gatti                                        26.7.18
  Captain A. F. L. Gordon                                       1.1.17
  Captain M. V. Gore-Langton                                    6.9.15
  Major H. W. Gough                                             1.1.15
  Lieut.-Colonel E. B. Greer                                   22.6.15
  Lieut. J. K. M. Greer                                     Sept. 1916
  Lieut. F. St. L. Greer                                      14.11.16
  Captain D. W. Gunston                                       28.10.17
  Lieut. C. E. Hammond                                          3.1.18
  Captain L. R. Hargreaves                                    14.11.16
  Captain H. A. V. St. G. Harmsworth                            1.1.18
  Lieut. S. S. Harrison                                         3.1.18
  Lieut. E. M. Harvey                                          5.11.17
  Lieut. D. J. Hegarty                                         10.1.19
  Lieut. M. R. Hely-Hutchinson                                  5.6.17
  Captain and Qr. H. Hickie                                     3.6.18
  Lieut. A. E. Hutchinson                                     15.10.18
  Captain A. C. W. Innes                                       10.3.15
  Captain H. F. d’A. S. Law                                     5.6.17
  Lieut. M. B. Levy                                           30.10.17
  Major P. S. Long-Innes                                      14.11.16
  Lieut. (Acting Lieut.-Col.) J. N. Marshall                   7.11.18
  Captain T. F. MacMahon                                      14.11.16
  Lieut. T. Mathew                                             28.9.18
  Lieut. D. A. B. Moodie                                        3.1.18
  Captain C. J. O’Hara Moore                                   26.9.18
  Captain W. C. Mumford                                       14.11.15
  Lieut. L. D. Murphy                                         10.11.18
  Lieut. E. L. Mylne                                          14.11.16
  Captain T. E. G. Nugent                                      30.9.18
  Captain A. R. S. Nutting                                    31.10.17
  2nd Lieut. C. S. O’Brien                                     30.9.18
  Captain Hon. H. B. O’Brien (Staff)                           26.7.18
  Captain Hon. P. J. H. Ogilvy                                14.11.16
  Lieut. Hon. B. A. A. Ogilvy                                 10.11.18
  Captain A. W. L. Paget                                      15.10.18
  Lieut. R. H. M. Park                                         5.11.17
  Lieut. R. B. S. Reford                                       23.4.18
  Captain R. E. Sassoon                                        20.8.17
  Lieut. F. S. L. Smith                                        26.7.18
  Lieut. F. P. H. Synge                                         3.6.16
  Captain T. F. Tallents                                        3.6.16
  Captain G. K. Thompson                                       15.3.16
  Lieut. C. R. Tisdall                                            1916
  Captain C. A. J. Vernon                                     10.11.18
  Lieut. G. V. Williams                                        2.10.16
  Capt. F. H. Witts                                             1.1.17
  Captain Randal Woodhouse, R.A.M.C. (att. 1st Bn. I.G.)       31.5.16


CROIX DE GUERRE

  Major Hon. C. A. S. Chichester (Staff)                       16.5.19
  Lieut. J. L. Lysaght                                         6.11.17
  Major R. V. Pollok                                          28.12.17
  Lieut.-Colonel T. E. Vesey                                   17.8.18
  Captain R. G. C. Yerburgh (Staff)                            21.8.19


EXTRACTS FROM LONDON _GAZETTE_

  The compiler gives below as many of the accounts of acts of bravery
  that won decoration, as he understands were published in the London
  _Gazette_ on various dates. These are what were known as “immediate
  rewards.” The details of services acknowledged by decorations which
  did not come under this category were not given in the _Gazette_.

_10th March 1915._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant A. C. W. Innes, 1st
Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and ability at
Cuinchy on 1st February 1915. When all the officers of the attacking
company had been put out of action, this officer was sent forward to
take command. Leading his men he captured the enemy’s post, and then
advancing a further 60 yards captured another.”

_10th March 1915._ M.C. to Lieutenant R. St. J. Blacker-Douglass,
late 1st Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty in continuing to lead an attack after he had been
wounded. He was killed in this attack.”

_6th September 1915._ M.C. to Lieutenant (Temp. Captain) Montague
Vernon Gore-Langton, 1st Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous
gallantry on the night of 10th August 1915, at Cuinchy, when with
an orderly and one bomber, he carried out a successful and daring
reconnaissance. He crawled out across a crater and discovered another
crater reaching to within a few yards of the enemy’s trenches. Here
he was seen by a German on patrol, who came within 8 yards, when he
was killed by the orderly. He still lay out, aided by Very’s pistol
lights fired from his own trenches for the purpose; he examined
carefully the whole of the enemy’s wire-entanglements and trenches
hidden behind the craters.”

_31st May 1916._ M.C. to Temporary Captain Philip Randal Woodhouse,
M.B., R.A.M.C. (attached 1st Battalion, Irish Guards): “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. He tended the wounded
under heavy shell-fire, and, though himself wounded, continued his
work. On another occasion he went across the open under shell-fire to
attend to the wounded.”

_24th June 1916._ M.C. to Lieutenant Charles Richard Tisdall, Special
Reserve (attached 1st Battalion, Irish Guards): “For conspicuous
gallantry. When on patrol with two men he discovered a strong enemy
patrol, who evidently intended to rush an isolated post. With great
determination he dispersed the enemy patrol with one of his men,
after sending the other for reinforcements. His promptness in all
probability saved the post.”

_20th October 1916._ D.S.O. to Captain the Hon. Harold Rupert Leofric
George Alexander, M.C., 2nd Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous
gallantry in action. He was the life and soul of the attack, and
throughout the day led forward not only his own men but men of all
regiments. He held the trenches gained in spite of heavy machine-gun
fire.”

_11th May 1917._ M.C. to Lieutenant Edward Budd, Irish Guards,
Special Reserve (attached 1st Battalion): “For conspicuous gallantry
and devotion to duty. He carried out a dangerous reconnaissance under
very heavy fire, and brought back most valuable information. He has
on many occasions done fine work.”

_8th January 1918._ D.S.O. to Lieutenant (Acting Captain) the Hon.
William Sigismund Patrick Alexander, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous
gallantry and devotion to duty. Whilst leading his company in
an attack he came under heavy machine-gun fire from a concrete
emplacement. He immediately led a successful attack through a gap
in our barrage, and outflanked three gun positions, capturing three
machine-guns and fourteen men. He then continued the attack, and
seized his objective within the scheduled time, in spite of having to
pass through our own barrage as well as that of the enemy. He set a
splendid example of fearlessness and resource.”

_8th January 1918._ Bar to M.C. to Lieutenant Edward Budd, M.C.,
Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty. After a personal reconnaissance of an enemy
blockhouse which was harassing his front line, he made sound and
skilful disposition for its capture which was effectively carried
out. The capture of the blockhouse not only relieved the front line
from annoyance and loss, but enabled the whole line in this vicinity
to be advanced about 200 yards. He showed very great initiative and
military skill.” (M.C. gazetted 11th May 1917).

_8th January 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant Reginald Ellice Sassoon, Irish
Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion
to duty. During an attack, when his company was held up by hostile
machine-gun fire, he organised and led a party to the capture of a
concrete strong point and of a machine-gun and trench mortar. He was
then subjected to machine-gun fire from another strong point, which
he promptly and successfully attacked from the flank, capturing
another machine-gun and killing and capturing several of the enemy.
His dash and initiative at a critical moment were worthy of the
highest praise.”

_7th March 1918._ D.S.O. to Captain William Archer Redmond, Irish
Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion
to duty when in command of a company holding a line of posts. When,
following a heavy barrage, the enemy attacked in strength and a bomb
fell in his post, knocking out half the occupants, he immediately
led the survivors out and drove the enemy back, which enabled him
to establish a new defensive line and to hold it against repeated
attacks until day broke.”

_6th April 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant Arthur Ronald Stansmore Nutting,
Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. In
spite of heavy shell-fire at night he brought up the rations to
Battalion Headquarters in the second objective, and remained there
until his duty was finished. He has never failed to supply his
battalion with rations in most dangerous situations.”

_6th April 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Eric Edwin Anderson,
Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty when in command of his platoon. He attacked a
machine-gun position, capturing the two guns, and killed all the
garrison. He was responsible for capturing two more machine-guns at
the first objective. He had previously carried out a very valuable
reconnaissance.”

_6th April 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant James Black, Irish Guards,
Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty
as Adjutant during three days’ operations. When the trenches of
one of the support companies were being blown to pieces he went
from Battalion Headquarters and led the company forward into a new
position.”

_23rd April 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Ronald Hubert Mungo
Park, Irish Guards, Special Reserve, attached M.G. Corps: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty when in charge of a
section of machine-guns which he established in a well-chosen
position from which to bring in direct fire upon the enemy’s
approaches. He worked untiringly to establish a large reserve of
ammunition, and when the enemy counter-attacked they were twice
subjected to a heavy fire from his guns.”

_23rd April 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Captain) Robert Bruce
Stephen Reford, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion
to duty. He was in command of the right flank company in an attack,
and maintained the direction of the Battalion under very difficult
conditions. Though encountering many ‘pill-boxes’ and strong points,
he reached his final objective.”

_23rd April 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Edward Murray Harvey,
Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty when in charge of the platoon guides and the marking
out of the assembly areas, which he successfully carried out under
shell-fire and the most trying weather conditions. He led his platoon
with skill and judgment in the attack, until wounded at the final
objective.”

_5th July 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant Stewart Sandbach Harrison, Irish
Guards, Special Reserve, attached M.G. Corps: “For conspicuous
gallantry and devotion to duty in an attack. Whilst he was in charge
of a section of forward machine-guns the right flank of the line was
held up by a party of enemy with several machine-guns. He rushed
forward with one of his guns in front of the leading infantry under
very heavy rifle and machine-gun fire and enfiladed the enemy, thus
enabling the line to go forward again.”

_5th July 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Donald Arthur Birbeck
Moodie, Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty. On the company commander becoming a casualty, he
took command and successfully checked several enemy attempts to get
round the flank of his company, which was for some hours critically
situated. Later, when the trenches held by his company were attacked
and entered by the enemy, he directed his men with great skill and
judgment, and himself fought with splendid courage and determination.”

_5th July 1918._ Second Bar to M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Captain)
Edward Budd, M.C., Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous
gallantry and devotion to duty. He led his company with great skill
and judgment, and during the subsequent consolidation displayed
marked ability and disregard of danger, reorganising his own company
and rendering great assistance to neighbouring company commanders.
Later, when, during an enemy attack, all communications were cut, he
volunteered to go up to the front line and clear up the situation. He
successfully accomplished this task, in spite of continuous sniping
and machine-gun fire. Throughout the operations his coolness was
most marked, and his sound judgment was of the greatest help to his
battalion commander.”

_5th July 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Cyril Elmore Hammond,
Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty. During an attack, at a time when the position was
most obscure, he was sent forward on patrol. Though under fire for
the whole time, and in spite of suffering several casualties, he
kept his battalion commander in touch with the situation, furnishing
accurate and valuable information.”

_18th July 1918._ M.C. to Captain the Hon. Harold Alfred Vyvyan St.
George Harmsworth, Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For conspicuous
gallantry and devotion to duty in an attack. He led his company
forward under heavy fire, and himself put out of action two enemy
machine-guns. It was entirely due to his splendid example that his
company reached their objective.”

_26th July 1918._ M.C. to Captain the Hon. Henry Barnaby O’Brien,
2nd Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion
to duty. When the enemy broke the line on the right, this officer,
collecting all the available men, formed a defensive bank under heavy
machine-gun and rifle-fire, saving the situation.”

_26th July 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant Frederick Sydney Leslie Smith,
2nd Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion
to duty. Whilst in process of relief the enemy broke through on
his right. Promptly realising the situation, this officer formed
a defensive flank, supervising the placing of his men under heavy
machine-gun fire.”

_26th July 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant John Augustin Stephano
Gatti, 2nd Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty. After an attack by his platoon, this officer walked
along the line within 200 yards of the enemy, encouraging his men
in their work of consolidation, under very heavy fire, until he was
wounded.”

_26th July 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant Robert Henry Warren Heard, 2nd
Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to
duty. Whilst he was relieving another unit in the front line, the
enemy attacked and broke through on the right, leaving the flank
of this officer’s company exposed. He immediately placed the men
himself, under heavy machine-gun fire, to form a defensive flank, and
rectified the situation.”

_26th July 1918._ M.C. to Captain Joseph Illingworth Lawson, R.A.M.C.
(Scottish Rifles), attached 2nd Battalion, Irish Guards: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty in bringing in wounded
under heavy shell-fire, with no one between him and the enemy,
thereby saving them from being made prisoners.”

_16th September 1918._ M.C. to 2nd Lieutenant Theobald Mathew, Irish
Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. This officer
led a raid with dash and ability, its success being largely due to
his leadership and example. When one of his sections was held up by a
machine-gun he rushed it from a flank, putting the gun out of action
and killing the gunner.”

_16th September 1918._ M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Captain) George
Louis St. Clair Bambridge, Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. When the enemy, attacking
in great strength, succeeded in driving a wedge into our line,
this officer immediately led a counter-attack which was entirely
successful, the enemy being driven back with loss and the line
re-established. It was entirely due to his initiative and dash that
the line was maintained.”

_16th September 1918._ M.C. to Captain Charles Joseph Henry O’Hara
Moore, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty.
In a situation of extreme gravity, when the troops on the right had
been forced out of their trenches by the intensity of the fire, this
officer collected them, leading them back through a heavy barrage
to the original line, when he stayed with them, walking down the
line under sniping and machine-gun fire, until their confidence had
returned. His courage and coolness were an example to all.”

_16th September 1918._ M.C. to Captain Terence Edmund Gascoigne
Nugent, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to
duty, in going forward into the open through an extremely heavy
barrage to rally some men who were falling back. He led them back
into the line, and by his fearless example encouraged the troops to
stiffen their resistance. His conduct throughout the operations was
of a high order.”

_16th September 1918._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Charles Stuart
O’Brien, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to
duty in charge of a raiding-party. When the party was formed up
he found that the barrage that came down at Zero hour was for the
greater part just beyond the enemy post. He therefore ordered his
party to crawl forward until they were quite close to the post and
then to charge exactly as the barrage lifted, with the result that
every man of the garrison was captured without much resistance. Had
he not noticed that the barrage was a little too far, and remained
where he was, his party would not have arrived at exactly the right
moment, and the success of the raid entirely depended upon this.”

_7th November 1918._ Bar to M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Major)
John Neville Marshall, M.C., Irish Guards, Special Reserve: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty during an advance. He was
ordered to take a company and two platoons and fill a gap and capture
a position in the hands of the enemy. He succeeded splendidly, and,
advancing further than the unit on his left, he formed a defensive
flank and beat off a hostile attack. Though wounded early in the
attack, his courage and fine leadership were chiefly responsible for
the success of the operation.” (M.C. gazetted 1st January 1917.)

_2nd December 1918._ Bar to M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Major) Thomas
Francis Tallents, M.C., Irish Guards, Special Reserve, attached 4th
Guards M.G.C.: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty.
When part of the line was held up and troops were finally obliged
to retire to avoid being cut off, this officer carried out, at
great risk, a reconnaissance, which enabled the machine-gunners to
move forward with their guns and equipment. The result was that
the hostile fire against the infantry was much neutralised, and a
movement to cut them off stopped, with heavy loss to the enemy.”
(M.C. gazetted 3rd June 1916.)

_11th January 1919._ M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Captain) Daniel
Joseph Hegarty, 1st Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous
gallantry in an attack. He led his company with great determination
through intense artillery barrage and machine-gun fire, and finding
the leading battalion held up he established and consolidated posts,
thus protecting their flanks. Throughout the operations he showed
marked courage and devotion to duty.”

_11th January 1919._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Alan Edward
Hutchinson, Irish Guards (Special Reserve), attached 1st Battalion:
“For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. He reconnoitred
and occupied with his platoon an enemy trench, which was to be
the Battalion’s objective the next morning, thus assisting a tank
which had to cross the railway at Zero hour. Later, in an attack,
he led his platoon skilfully in face of intense machine-gun fire,
and although wounded gained his objective and remained during
consolidation. He set a fine example of courage and cheerfulness to
all under him.”

_11th January 1919._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant John Alexander Mulloy
Faraday, Irish Guards (Special Reserve), attached 1st Battalion: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. He led a patrol forward
some 800 yards, gained touch with the enemy, and, after pushing on
a little further, consolidated his position. Two platoons were sent
to support him, but were later ordered to withdraw. Under heavy
artillery and machine-gun fire he maintained his position for some
hours, and covered the withdrawal of the platoons before withdrawing
his own party in perfect order. Though the enemy tried to cut him
off, and he was badly wounded, he got his party safely back to his
lines, together with four prisoners. Throughout he showed fine
courage and leadership under most difficult circumstances.”

_11th January 1919._ M.C. to Rev. Francis Stanislaus du Moulin
Browne, Army Chaplain Department, attached 1st Battalion, Irish
Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty during an
attack. He went forward with the battalion under very heavy fire and
spent the whole day tending wounded and helping stretcher-bearers
to find them under machine-gun fire. He showed splendid zeal and
disregard of danger.”

_11th January 1919._ M.C. to Captain Arthur Wyndham Louis Paget,
Irish Guards (Special Reserve), attached 1st Battalion: “For
conspicuous gallantry during an attack. He led his company to their
objective through intense artillery barrage, showing great courage
and coolness under heavy machine-gun fire while organising his
company and consolidating his position. He also went out and helped
in a wounded officer. He set a very fine example to his men.”

_11th January 1919._ M.C. to Captain Cuthbert Avenal John Vernon,
Irish Guards (Special Reserve), attached 1st Battalion: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty on 26th to 27th September
1918, during the attack on Flesquières. In the evening he laid the
tapes to mark out the assembly positions for the battalion, only 250
yards from the front line, and directed the companies in the dark to
their places. The next morning, when some confusion was caused by the
intense hostile barrage, he collected stragglers and reorganised the
battalion on its objective.”

_1st February 1919._ M.C. to Second Lieutenant Patrick Redmond Joseph
Barry, 1st Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty on 27th September 1918, near St. Léger. Throughout
the fighting he was calm and collected, acting as Adjutant, making
all arrangements and assisting in the reorganisation. The next day,
when there was some confusion owing to the hostile barrage at the
crossing of the Hindenburg Line, he did fine work in reorganizing the
men and giving them the right direction.”

_1st February 1919._ M.C. to Lieutenant Henry Archibald Arthur
Collett, 1st Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and
devotion to duty on 27th September 1918, at the attack on Flesquières
he commanded his company with skill and dash. The start was over
difficult ground, the Hindenburg Line having to be crossed under
heavy barrage. Although it was barely light he steadied his men and
gave them the right direction, capturing the objective in spite of
strong opposition.”

_1st February 1919._ M.C. to Lieutenant Lawrence Derek Murphy, 1st
Battalion, Irish Guards: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to
duty on 27th September 1918, during the attack on Flesquières. Very
soon after the start he was the only officer left with his company,
but grasping the situation he led the men on to their objective,
where he reorganised at once under deadly shell-fire, and established
touch with the enemy on his right. He then collected stragglers and
reorganised them, showing great coolness and disregard of danger.”

_1st February 1919._ M.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Captain) the Hon.
Bruce Arthur Ashley Ogilvy, 1st Battalion, Irish Guards: “For
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty, on 27th September 1918,
during the capture of Flesquières and the ridge beyond. He was in
command of the company that had to take the furthest objective, and
got across both the Hindenburg lines and the canal without losing
direction or getting behind time. He was in front the whole time,
personally reconnoitring a machine-gun position and organising its
capture. He was wounded while working forward with a few men against
a machine-gun nest in the Sugar Factory.”

_13th February 1919._ V.C. to Lieutenant (Acting Lieut.-Colonel) John
Neville Marshall, M.C., late Irish Guards (Special Reserve), attached
16th Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers: “For most conspicuous bravery,
determination and leadership in the attack on the Sambre-Oise Canal,
near Catillon, on the 4th November 1918, when a partly constructed
bridge came under concentrated fire and was broken before the
advanced troops of his battalion could cross. Lieut.-Colonel Marshall
at once went forward and organised parties to repair the bridge.

“The first party were soon killed or wounded, but by personal example
he inspired his command and volunteers were instantly forthcoming.
Under intense fire and with complete disregard of his own safety, he
stood on the bank encouraging his men and assisting in the work, and
when the bridge was repaired, attempted to rush across at the head
of his battalion and was killed while so doing.

“The passage of the canal was of vital importance, and the gallantry
displayed by all ranks was largely due to the inspiring example set
by Lieut.-Colonel Marshall.”




APPENDIX B

  ALPHABETICAL LIST OF W.O.’S, N.C.O.’S, AND MEN KILLED IN ACTION OR
  DIED OF WOUNDS OR DISEASE, 1914-1918.


1ST BATTALION IRISH GUARDS

  Abbey, John, 3913, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                          8.8.15
  Adams, Henry, 8555, Pte., k. in a.                            2.8.17
  Ahern, Patrick, 5888, Pte., k. in a.                         17.9.16
  Ahern, William, 6045, Pte., k. in a.                         18.6.16
  Allen, Charles, 1535, Pte., k. in a.                        18.11.14
  Allgood, Henry, 5600, L.-Cpl., d.                            16.2.15
  Allingham, Edward V., 11433, Pte., k. in a.                  27.8.18
  Anstis, Robert, 6390, Pte., d. of w.                         27.9.16
  Antrobus, Fred, 8399, Pte., d. of w.                         5.11.18
  Appleby, Francis, 8571, Pte., k. in a.                       14.1.18
  Arlow, Samuel J., 7905, Pte., d. of w.                      30.11.15
  Armstrong, Thomas, 1200, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Aspell, Michael, 9116, Pte., k. in a.                        17.9.16
  Atherton, Leonard, 12180, Pte., k. in a.                     27.3.18
  Bailey, Abraham, 1627, Sgt., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Bailey, Herbert, C., 11865, Pte., k. in a.                  30.11.17
  Baines, James, 12235, Pte., k. in a.                         12.4.18
  Bannon, John, 8333, Pte., k. in a.                           9.10.17
  Barry, William, 2413, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Barter, Joseph, 5962, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      25.1.16
  Bass, Joseph, 6401, Pte., k. in a.                           2.12.15
  Bates, Oliver, 4686, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Beardmore, George E., 12345, Pte., d. of w.                  26.7.19
  Beazley, Christopher, 11551, Pte., k. in a.                  11.9.17
  Beggen, John, 10962, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Beirne, John, 1596, L.-Cpl., d.                              2.11.14
  Bell, John A., 3568, Pte., k. in a.                           1.9.14
  Bell, John, 12343, Pte., k. in a.                            27.8.18
  Bell, Patrick, 5195, Pte., k. in a.                          5.12.17
  Bell, Robert, 2872, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                         1.2.15
  Benbow, Edwin J., 2783, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Bigger, Robert J., 12090, Pte., k. in a.                    30.11.17
  Biggins, Richard, 2375, Pte., k. in a.                       14.9.14
  Birmingham, Patrick, 3802, Pte., k. in a.                    6.11.14
  Birney, John, 2942, Pte., k. in a.                           6.11.14
  Black, George, 4301, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Black, Peter, 3168, Pte., d. of w.                          16.11.16
  Blakely, John F., 7673, Pte., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Blood, Michael, 2925, Pte., d. of w.                          6.9.14
  Boland, Henry, 9528, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Boland, John, 9775, Pte., k. in a.                           9.10.17
  Boland, Patrick, J., 3358, Pte., k. in a.                    15.9.14
  Boland, William, 5779, Pte., k. in a.                       10.10.15
  Bolger, William, 4412, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Boner, James, 10453, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Boothman, George T., 12246, Pte., k. in a.                   27.8.18
  Bourke, William, 9965, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      8.9.18
  Bourne, George H., 12621, Pte., k. in a.                    20.10.18
  Bowyer, Edward A., 11838, Pte., k. in a.                     27.8.18
  Boyce, Patrick C., 8206, Pte., d. of w.                       1.7.18
  Boylan, Michael, 8274, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Boyle, Francis, 5282, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      11.9.16
  Bracken, Samuel, 4596, Pte., k. in a.                       20.10.14
  Brady, Edward, 12315, Pte., d.                               15.3.19
  Brady, James, 10070, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Brady, Joseph, 12573, Pte., d. of w.                         28.3.18
  Bray, Edward, 4956, Pte., k. in a.                            1.2.15
  Brazill, John, 11051, Pte., d. of w.                         1.12.17
  Breen, James, 5387, Pte., k. in a.                           18.5.15
  Brennan, Christopher, 4961, Pte., d. of w.                    1.2.15
  Brennan, Edward, 9793, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Brennan, George P., 3536, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                  9.11.14
  Brennan, John, 7476, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                       27.4.18
  Brennan, John, 8441, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Brennan, Michael, 4048, Pte., k. in a.                       6.11.14
  Brennan, Nicholas, 8836, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    3.8.17
  Brennock, William, 3258, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Breslin, Andrew, 3103, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Brett, John, 9408, Pte., k. in a.                           10.10.17
  Brewster, John C., 5008, Pte., k. in a.                      11.7.15
  Brien, Charles, 3790, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                      10.5.17
  Brien, Cornelius, 6336, Pte., k. in a.                       17.9.16
  Brien, James, 9435, Pte., d. of w.                           26.9.16
  Brine, Michael, 3975, L.-Cpl., D.C.M., d. of w.               5.5.15
  Britt, Rody, 2663, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Broderick, John, 11156, Pte., d. of w.                      29.12.16
  Brogan, Edward, 5999, Pte., d. of w.                         12.1.16
  Brogan, Philip, 2761, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Brosnahan, Timothy, 5963, Pte., d. of w.                      1.1.16
  Brown, Albert E., 9262, Pte., k. in a.                       25.9.16
  Brown, John, 2913, Pte., k. in a.                            14.9.14
  Brown, John, 3582, Pte., k. in a.                            1.11.14
  Brown, John, 9566, Pte., k. in a.                            17.9.16
  Brown, Samuel W., 5370, Pte., d.                              6.8.15
  Browne, David, 4558, Pte., d. of w.                          5.11.14
  Browne, Michael, 1655, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Browne, William, 4533, Pte., k. in a.                         8.8.15
  Bruce, William J., 4446, Pte., k. in a.                      29.6.17
  Bruton, Charles, 7859, Pte., d. of w.                        22.9.16
  Buckley, Patrick, 10249, Pte., k. in a.                     10.10.17
  Buggy, William, 11333, Pte., d.                              18.2.17
  Burgess, Francis, C., 4838, Pte., d. of w.                   18.9.16
  Burke, Edmund, 4406, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Burke, James, 1228, Pte., k. in a.                           18.5.15
  Burke, Joseph, 10878, Pte., k. in a.                        30.11.17
  Burke, John, 11052, Pte., d. of w.                          16.12.17
  Burke, Michael, 5244, Pte., d. of w.                          1.8.15
  Burke, Michael, 9437, Pte., d. of w.                         5.10.16
  Burke, Richard B., 9002, Pte., d. of w.                      29.3.18
  Burne, Maurice, 4237, Pte., k. in a.                          4.8.15
  Burns, Patrick, 4189, Pte., k. in a.                          4.9.14
  Butler, William, 558, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Byrne, Edward, 3049, Pte., k. in a.                          2.11.14
  Byrne, George, 4108, Pte., k. in a.                          8.11.14
  Byrne, James, 4867, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Byrne, John, 1462, Pte., d. of w.                           30.10.14
  Byrne, John, 3849, Pte., k. in a.                            2.11.14
  Byrne, John, 4836, Pte., d. of w.                            19.9.16
  Byrne, Leo J. P., 12051, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   27.8.18
  Byrne, Malachy, 7691, Pte., d. of w.                         11.4.18
  Byrne, Michael J., 12273, Pte., k. in a.                     27.9.18
  Byrne, Patrick, 9921, Pte., d. of w.                        15.10.17
  Byrne, Terence, 6376, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     30.11.17
  Byrne, Thomas, 7851, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Byrne, Thomas, 9758, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      10.10.17
  Byrne, William, 2894, Pte., k. in a.                         1.12.14
  Byrne, William, 3564, Pte., k. in a.                        26.10.14
  Byrnes, Denis, 4195, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Caffrey, John J., 11306, Pte., k. in a.                      23.2.17
  Cahill, Patrick, 4340, Pte., d. of w.                       30.12.14
  Cahill, Patrick, 7714, Pte., d. of w.                       23.10.15
  Callaghan, Patrick, 5474, Pte., k. in a.                     18.5.15
  Campbell, James, 4121, Pte., k. in a.                        11.3.15
  Campbell, Michael, 4371, Pte., d. of w.                      27.5.15
  Campbell, Patrick, 516, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Campbell, Thomas, 5619, Pte., k. in a.                      22.10.15
  Canavan, Michael, 5872, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     8.8.15
  Carberry, Thomas, 2742, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Carey, Daniel, 9440, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Carey, Edward, 3490, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Carey, Michael, 3262, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      14.2.15
  Carey, Thomas, 5563, Pte., d. of w.                          24.3.15
  Carlisle, Herbert, 4106, Pte., k. in a.                      14.9.14
  Carr, John, 3332, Pte., k. in a.                             6.11.14
  Carr, Patrick, 3848, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Carroll, James, 3483, L.-Cpl., d.                           15.12.16
  Carroll, John, 3868, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Carroll, John, 4716, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Carroll, Thomas, 4449, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Carson, Thomas, 4418, Pte., d. of w.                         17.5.15
  Carton, Hugh, 3132, Sgt., M.M., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Carton, Joseph, 2987, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Casey, William, 1765, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Cassidy, Thomas, 3452, Pte., d. of w.                        9.11.14
  Caulfield, Patrick, 5321, Pte., d. of w.                      1.4.18
  Caves, Thomas R., 2068, Pte., k. in a.                       6.11.14
  Cawley, Michael, 6659, Pte., k. in a.                         8.5.18
  Clancy, William, 4882, Pte., k. in a.                         3.8.17
  Clarke, Cornelius, 4581, Pte., k. in a.                       4.9.14
  Clarke, Joseph, 4260, Pte., d. of w.                          4.3.17
  Clarke, John, 9550, Pte., d. of w.                           6.12.17
  Clarke, Patrick, 1813, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     1.12.17
  Clarke, Patrick, 5267, Pte., d. of w.                        19.5.15
  Clarke, Richard, 2297, Pte., k. in a.                         4.9.17
  Cleeve, John, 1453, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Cleland, Richard, 740, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Clenaghan, William, 5286, Pte., k. in a.                     29.1.16
  Clerkin, Owen, 9441, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Coalpoise, Frank, 4586, Pte., d. of w.                      17.11.14
  Coffey, John, 4582, Pte., k. in a.                            8.5.18
  Coffey, Maurice, 3844, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Coghlan, Charles, 8039, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.18
  Coghlan, Michael, 3663, Sgt., k. in a.                       17.9.16
  Coldwell, Christopher J., 6278, Pte., k. in a.              12.10.15
  Colfer, Patrick, 7762, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                     22.4.17
  Collins, Michael, 5979, Pte., d. of w.                       31.5.15
  Comerford, John, 2802, Pte., k. in a.                       26.10.14
  Conaboy, John, 6439, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                       27.9.18
  Conboy, Bernard, 3732, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Concannon, Patrick, 4646, Pte., d. of w.                     14.5.15
  Condell, John H., 9563, Pte., k. in a.                       26.9.16
  Condon, David, 10076, Pte., k. in a.                         15.3.17
  Condon, John, 5222, Pte., d. of w.                           13.9.17
  Conlon, John, 7912, Pte., k. in a.                            9.9.17
  Conlon, Patrick W., 5673, Pte., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Connell, Michael, 6621, Pte., k. in a.                      25.10.15
  Connell, Thomas, 1938, Pte., d. of w.                         4.8.15
  Connolly, Alexander, 5991, Pte., d. of w.                    3.11.16
  Connolly, John, 2003, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                     28.12.14
  Connolly, John, 4861, Pte., k. in a.                          6.2.15
  Connolly, Patrick J., 1397, Pte., k. in a.                   6.11.14
  Connolly, Patrick, 10040, Pte., k. in a.                     9.10.17
  Connor, John, 4778, Pte., k. in a.                            8.5.18
  Connor, Patrick, 706, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     23.10.14
  Connor, Thomas, 4977, Pte., k. in a.                         12.9.16
  Conron, Patrick, 12259, Pte., k. in a.                       30.3.18
  Conroy, John, 9238, Pte., d. of w.                           26.9.16
  Considine, Thomas, 11569, Pte., k. in a.                     9.10.17
  Convay, Edward, 1395, Pte., k. in a.                         10.1.15
  Conway, Edward J., 4881, Pte., d. of w.                      25.4.16
  Conway, George, 1688, Pte., k. in a.                        27.12.14
  Conway, Hugh, 7554, Pte., k. in a.                          14.11.16
  Conway, Thomas, 10660, Pte., k. in a.                       14.11.16
  Cook, Robert J., 11094, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   20.10.18
  Cooney, Frank, 5549, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.19
  Cooper, William V., 10161, L.-Cpl., D.C.M., k. in a.         9.10.17
  Copeland, James, 11679, Pte., d. of w.                       29.9.18
  Corcoran, William, 4523, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    1.9.14
  Cornally, Joseph, 2696, Pte., k. in a.                        1.2.15
  Cornally, Patrick, 10729, Pte., k. in a.                     12.9.17
  Corrigan, Patrick, 5367, Pte., k. in a.                      26.5.18
  Cosgrave, Denis, 4920, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Cosgrave, Hugh, 10570, Pte., k. in a.                        30.3.18
  Cox, James J., 1972, Pte., d. of w.                         28.10.14
  Coyle, Michael, 9402, Pte., d. of w.                         28.9.16
  Coyle, Peter, 4570, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                       25.11.14
  Crawley, Martin, 5177, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Croft, Victor, 8600, Pte., k. in a.                          26.7.17
  Crompton, Leonard, 12655, L.-Cpl., k. in a.
      (formerly 3842, Household Battalion)                     4.11.18
  Crone, David, 5366, Pte., k. in a.                           12.7.16
  Cronin, Robert, 6602, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.18
  Croskerry, Patrick, 11575, Pte., d. of w.                    7.12.17
  Crosson, William, 3720, Pte., d. of w.                       2.11.14
  Crowe, Michael, 7753, Pte., k. in a.                        12.10.15
  Cruikshank, Stafford, 5110, Pte., d. of w.                   22.2.15
  Cullen, Edward, 9481, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Cullen, John, 4322, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Cullen, Maurice, 6901, Pte., k. in a.                         9.9.18
  Cullen, Michael, 2193, Pte., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Cullen, Nicholas, 4700, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Cullen, Patrick, 4321, Pte., k. in a.                         6.9.14
  Cullen, William, B., 11293, Pte., k. in a.                   9.10.17
  Culleton, Martin, 1458, Pte., k. in a.                       6.11.14
  Cummins, Michael, 6321, Pte., k. in a.                      11.10.15
  Cunningham, Hugh, 10097, Pte., k. in a.                     16.10.17
  Cunningham, James, F., 2114, L.-Cpl., d. of w.              20.11.14
  Cunningham, John, 1398, Pte., k. in a.                       6.11.14
  Cunningham, John, 1651, Pte., k. in a.                       3.11.14
  Cunningham, Patrick, 10995, Pte., k. in a.                   30.3.18
  Cunningham, William, 6280, Pte., k. in a.                    12.9.16
  Curnan, Thomas, 10384, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                     24.2.17
  Curry, Michael, 2508, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Curtin, Martin, 11392, Pte., d. of w.                         7.9.18
  Curtis, Patrick, 3351, Pte., k. in a.                        5.11.14
  Custy, Edward, 5203, Pte., k. in a.                          19.5.15
  Dagg, Michael, 4338, Pte., k. in a.                         17.10.14
  Dalton, John, 11953, Pte., k. in a.                          27.3.18
  Dalton, Peter, 4564, Pte., d. of w.                         15.11.14
  Daly, Edward, 4298, Pte., k. in a.                          25.10.14
  Daly, James, 4701, Pte., k. in a.                           10.10.17
  Daly, Jeremiah, 9304, Pte., k. in a.                         28.6.16
  Daly, John C., 392, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       26.10.14
  Daly, John E., 6463, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                       25.9.16
  Daly, John, 9022, Pte., k. in a.                             17.9.16
  Daly, Joseph, 11687, Pte., d. of w.                           6.6.18
  Daly, Michael, 1926, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Daly, Michael, 4471, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Daly, Patrick, 1301, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Daly, Richard, 4916, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Darcy, Patrick, 4672, Pte., d. of w.                          4.2.15
  Daughton, Richard, 1478, Pte., k. in a.                     31.10.14
  Day, Patrick, 3923, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Deacey, John, 10709, Pte., k. in a.                          30.3.18
  Dean, Cecil, P. W., 3329, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                  18.5.15
  Deignan, Michael F., 4614, Pte., d. of w.                     6.5.15
  Delaney, James, 9443, Pte., d. of w.                          1.4.18
  Delaney, Michael, 10623, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   22.5.18
  Delaney, Patrick, 6281, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    26.7.17
  Delphanque, Charles, 1807, Pte., k. in a.                   21.10.14
  Dempsey, Simon, 6282, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       9.6.15
  Dennehy, James, 9537, Pte., k. in a.                          3.9.17
  Devaney, Bernard, 3798, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.18
  Dever, Patrick, 6979, Pte., d. of w.                        14.10.16
  Devereux, Michael, 3927, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Devine, Andrew, 4019, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Devins, Owen, 2981, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Digan, Edward, 10102, Pte., d. of w.                          6.1.19
  Dillon, Robert L., 6389, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   30.9.16
  Dixon, John, 12170, Pte., d. of w.                           17.4.18
  Docherty, James, 1645, Pte., k. in a.                       17.11.14
  Dolan, Edward, 2199, Pte., k. in a.                         26.10.14
  Dolan, John, 2581, Pte., k. in a.                            1.11.14
  Dolan, Patrick, 1180, Pte., d. of w.                         6.11.14
  Donagher, Michael, 4543, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Donaldson, Patrick, 4737, Pte., k. in a.                      1.2.15
  Donelan, Michael, 543, Pte., d.                              20.1.15
  Donnelly, Thomas, 5298, Pte., k. in a.                       17.9.16
  Donoghue, John, 8746, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Donoghue, Michael, 12213, Pte., k. in a.                    10.10.18
  Donoghue, Patrick, 8193, Pte., k. in a.                       3.8.17
  Donohoe, Joseph, 1659, Pte., k. in a.                        15.5.15
  Donohoe, Patrick, 3056, Sgt., M.M., k. in a.                 30.3.18
  Donovan, Cornelius, 10459, Pte., d. of w.                     9.4.18
  Donovan, David, 7042, Pte., d. of w.                         21.7.16
  Donovan, Michael, 982, Pte., k. in a.                       27.10.14
  Doonan, John, 6101, Pte., k. in a.                           28.3.18
  Dooney, Edward, 8046, L.-Cpl., M.M., k. in a.                30.3.18
  Doran, John, 4729, Pte., d. of w.                             1.2.16
  Doran, Patrick, 11026, Pte., d. of w.                        1.12.17
  Doran, Roger, 8643, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Dore, John, 3307, Pte., d. of w.                             13.2.16
  Dorgan, Peter, 7841, Pte., d. of w.                           1.9.18
  Dougan, James, 1844, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Dowd, James, 5101, Pte., k. in a.                            8.10.15
  Dowler, John, 10524, Pte., d. of w.                          9.10.17
  Dowler, Michael, 7128, Pte., k. in a.                       10.12.16
  Dowling, Bernard, 1978, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    18.5.15
  Dowling, Edward, 2648, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Doyle, Denis, 4003, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Doyle, Edward, 4077, Pte., k. in a.                          18.2.15
  Doyle, James, 9918, Pte., k. in a.                           9.10.17
  Doyle, Michael, 2269, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Doyle, Michael, 2875, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Doyle, Thomas, 3973, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      15.10.16
  Doyle, William, 4932, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      1.12.15
  Drumm, Frank, 2667, Pte., d. of w.                          10.11.14
  Duane, Stephen C., 2191, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   6.11.14
  Ducey, Martin, 5834, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Duff, Edward, 3015, Pte., k. in a.                           16.1.14
  Duffy, Martin, 7806, Pte., k. in a.                          28.5.18
  Duffy, Owen, 10263, Pte., k. in a.                           27.9.18
  Duggan, Joseph, 5505, Pte., k. in a.                         26.3.16
  Duggan, Patrick, 5893, Pte., k. in a.                        25.9.16
  Duncan, William, 11239, Pte., k. in a.                        1.8.17
  Dunleavy, James, 5038, Pte., k. in a.                        18.2.15
  Dunleavy, Michael, 3850, Pte., k. in a.                       1.9.14
  Dunne, John T., 2272, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Dunne, Joseph, 7783, Pte., d. of w.                         30.11.15
  Dunne, Patrick, 3450, Pte., k. in a.                          1.2.15
  Dunne, Patrick, 4132, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Dunne, William P., 1053, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  Dunne, William, 4390, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Dunwoody, Robert A., 2805, Pte., k. in a.                    6.11.14
  Earl, Daniel, 4228, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Echlin, Richard, 4431, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Edens, Thomas, 2611, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Edgar, Thomas, 3537, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Egan, James, 4161, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                         22.2.15
  Egan, Michael, 3829, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Egan, Michael, 4255, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Elliot, James, 5623, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                       27.3.16
  Ellis, James, 6814, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                         8.9.18
  Ellis, William S., 6131, Pte., d. of w.                      20.9.16
  Emerson, Thomas, 11473, Pte., k. in a.                      10.10.17
  Emery, George J. E., 12762, Pte., d. of w.                   1.10.18
  Emmett, John P., 3856, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  English, Theobald F., 5618, Pte., k. in a.                  30.11.17
  Enright, John, 6158, Pte., k. in a.                          12.9.16
  Eogan, John F., 3038, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       6.9.14
  Fagan, John, 2992, Pte., k. in a.                            6.11.14
  Fallon, William, 2400, Pte., k. in a.                         8.5.18
  Farrell, Edward, 3999, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Farrell, Luke C., 4915, Pte., k. in a.                        1.2.15
  Farrelly, Patrick, 6160, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Farry, Patrick, 4504, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Faulkener, Thomas, 1885, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  Feeley, Peter, 10428, Pte., k. in a.                         26.7.17
  Fennessy, William, 4694, Pte., k. in a.                      27.6.16
  Fenning, Thomas, 3143, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Ferguson, Andrew, 327, Sgt., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Ferris, Charles, 2416, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    25.10.14
  Ferris, Joseph, 10045, Pte., d. of w.                        2.12.17
  Fingleton, Thomas, 3408, Pte., k. in a.                     29.12.14
  Finn, Patrick, 10174, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Finn, Timothy M., 12690, Pte., k. in a.                      27.8.18
  Finnegan, John, 12030, Pte., d. of w.                        1.12.17
  Finnegan, Tobias, 5808, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Fisher, John, 4198, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Fitzgibbon, Michael, 10921, Pte., d. of w.                    1.7.18
  Fitzgibbon, Patrick, 6519, Pte., k. in a.                    15.9.16
  Fitzmaurice, John, 9951, Pte., k. in a.                      30.3.18
  Flanagan, James J., 3560, Pte., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Flanagan, James, 5664, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Flanagan, James, 12002, Pte., k. in a.                       25.9.18
  Flanagan, Patrick, 3407, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Fleming, David, 7814, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      11.9.17
  Fleming, William, 1370, Sgt., d. of w.                       4.11.14
  Flynn, Christopher, 10103, Pte., k. in a.                    28.7.17
  Flynn, Denis, 4913, Pte., k. in a.                           27.6.18
  Flynn, Edward, 3425, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Flynn, John, 1235, Pte., k. in a.                            6.11.14
  Flynn, Michael, 3572, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Flynn, Patrick, 11233, Pte., d. of w.                         4.9.17
  Flynn, Thomas, 4179, Pte., k. in a.                          14.9.14
  Foley, Michael, 3545, Pte., d. of w.                          6.7.15
  Foley, Patrick, Pte., k. in a.                               9.10.17
  Foran, John, 9605, Pte., k. in a.                            30.3.18
  Forbes, Timothy, 8963, Pte., k. in a.                       15.11.16
  Ford, William, 354, Pte., d. of w.                           25.2.15
  Ford, William W. M. C. W., 12736, Pte., k. in a.             27.9.18
  Forde, William, 7733, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Forrestal, David, 3517, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Foster, John, 11507, Pte., d. of w.                          27.2.18
  Fovargue, John, 12508, Pte., d. of w.                       30.10.18
  Fox, Patrick, 5861, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Foynes, Timothy, 4158, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Frankish, Alfred, 12866, Pte., d.                             7.7.18
  Franklin, John, 5490, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      25.9.16
  Freeman, Joseph, 794, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.17
  French, William, 8741, Pte., d. of w.                         8.2.16
  Frize, John, 5513, Pte., k. in a.                            17.4.15
  Fry, William, 1245, Pte., d. of w.                          15.11.14
  Fulton, William, 380, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Gaffney, Joseph, 4067, Pte., d. of w.                         2.7.15
  Gallacher, Daniel, 5591, Pte., d. of w.                       9.8.15
  Gallacher, John, 5066, Pte., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Gallagher, James, 5739, Pte., d. of w.                       19.5.15
  Gallagher, James, 9595, Pte., k. in a.                       1.12.17
  Gallagher, James, 11770, Pte., k. in a.                     30.11.17
  Gallagher, John, 2769, Pte., k. in a.                        27.3.18
  Gallagher, Martin, 1581, Pte., k. in a.                     26.10.14
  Gallagher, Michael, 4394, Pte., d.                           21.2.19
  Gallagher, Patrick, 5317, Pte., k. in a.                      4.8.15
  Gallagher, Teague, 6504, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   9.10.17
  Gallagher, Thomas, 2860, Pte., k. in a.                      14.9.14
  Gallagher, William, 2631. Pte., k. in a.                     1.11.14
  Galvin, Richard, 4542, Pte., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Galway, Thomas, 9953, Pte., k. in a.                         15.3.17
  Gardiner, Thomas, 3812, Pte., k. in a.                       12.7.16
  Gardiner, Walter J., 6139, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 27.9.18
  Garvey, David, 917, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Gaye, James, 3141, Pte., k. in a.                            6.11.14
  Geaney, William, 1823, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Geary, Patrick, 3760, Pte., k. in a.                        22.10.15
  Geelan, John, 4452, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Geraghty, James, 5012, Pte., d. of w.                        4.12.17
  Geraghty, Patrick, 5140, Pte., k. in a.                      22.5.18
  Gerrard, Samuel, 3522, Pte., k. in a.                         8.9.14
  Gibson, Patrick, 4465, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Gibson, William, 4635, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Gibson, William, 10013, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Gilhooly, Patrick, 5860, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  Gill, Frank, 3148, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Gilligan, Michael, 6393, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   15.9.16
  Gilmartin, John, 11032, Pte., d. of w.                       19.3.17
  Gleeson, John, 7679, Pte., d. of w.                          17.9.16
  Glenn, William D., 2599, Pte., k. in a.                       1.2.15
  Glynn, Michael, 3162, Pte., D.C.M., k. in a.                 6.11.14
  Gonnelly, Patrick, 6285, Pte., k. in a.                      17.9.16
  Gough, Michael, 11431, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.18
  Gough, William, 8459, Pte., k. in a.                         26.9.16
  Grace, Simon, 7918, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.15
  Grace, Thomas, 1856, Pte., d. of w.                          19.5.15
  Grady, Richard, 3972, C.Q.M.S., M.M., d. of w.               16.9.16
  Graham, John, 2057, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                         1.9.14
  Graham, John, 7902, Pte., k. in a.                          10.10.15
  Graham, Robert, 7018, Pte., d. of w.                         31.5.16
  Graham, William, 4531, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Graham, William, 5389, Sgt., k. in a.                        22.4.15
  Graves, John, 5698, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Gray, John, 1812, Pte., k. in a.                             18.5.15
  Gray, Owen, 10345, Pte., k. in a.                            25.9.16
  Greene, Daniel, 11287, Pte., k. in a.                        15.3.17
  Greene, William, F. S., 3762, Pte., k. in a.                 5.11.14
  Greenlee, James, 2328, Pte., k. in a.                        26.7.17
  Greer, John, 1821, Pte., k. in a.                            14.9.14
  Grey, Edward, 4283, Pte., k. in a.                           12.9.14
  Griffin, Francis, 4351, Pte., d. of w.                        6.9.14
  Griffin, James, 4629, Pte., k. in a.                         19.3.15
  Griffin, Patrick, 10031, Pte., d. of w.                      8.10.18
  Griffith, George, 4457, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Grogan, James, 1946, Pte., k. in a.                           1.9.14
  Grogan, John M., 9444, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Guckien, Peter, 8393, Pte., d. of w.                         4.10.16
  Guina, Edward, 4000, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Guinan, John, 5685, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       30.11.17
  Gwilt, Jesse, 11827, Pte., d. of w.                         20.10.18
  Haggerty, Jeremiah, 5344, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                  18.5.15
  Hall, Thomas, 7633, Pte., k. in a.                           6.10.15
  Halligan, Michael, 4897, Pte., d. of w.                      20.5.15
  Halton, Mathew, 1850, Pte., d. of w.                          6.8.16
  Hamill, James, 5033, Pte., k. in a.                           1.2.15
  Hamilton, Frederick, C., 509, Pte., k. in a.                  1.9.14
  Hamilton, James, 3886, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Hamilton, John, 5594, Pte., k. in a.                         10.5.15
  Hamilton, William, 1673, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Hamilton, William, 2673, Pte., k. in a.                       17.5.1
  Hannan, James M., 4495, Pte., k. in a.                       14.9.14
  Hannan, Martin, 8244, Pte., k. in a.                         28.3.18
  Hannaway, Patrick J., 9571, Pte., k. in a.                   30.3.18
  Hannigan, Denis, 11395, Pte., k. in a.                        3.9.17
  Hanningan, Thomas G., 2969, Sgt., k. in a.                    4.9.14
  Hannon, Martin, 11471, Pte., d. of w.                         1.5.18
  Hanrahan, Matthew, 4664, Pte., d. of w.                      19.5.15
  Hanton, John C., 5141, Pte., d. of w.                        17.6.16
  Haran, James, 4655, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                         1.2.15
  Hardiman, John, 12146, Pte., d. of w.                         6.6.18
  Harding, George, 2720, Sgt., d. of w.                         6.7.17
  Hare, Frederick, 9716, Pte., d. of w.                       12.10.16
  Harkin, James, 5947, Pte., d. of w.                           7.8.15
  Harney, Denis, 3712, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Harpur, Walter, 4539, Pte., k. in a.                          6.2.15
  Harrington, Ernest, 4407, Pte., k. in a.                     6.11.14
  Harrington, Michael, 8872, Pte., d. of w.                    26.7.17
  Harris, James, 4185, Sgt., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Harris, John, 3784, Pte., k. in a.                            4.9.14
  Harris, William, 6597, Pte., k. in a.                         8.8.15
  Harrison, Robert, 2249, Pte., d. of w.                       19.5.15
  Hart, Thomas, 5677, Pte., k. in a.                           25.4.15
  Hart, William, 79, Pte., k. in a.                            16.9.14
  Harte, George, 11320, Pte., d. of w.                        11.10.17
  Harte, James, 8339, Pte., k. in a.                            9.4.18
  Haughney, Patrick, 11559, Pte., d. of w.                    10.10.17
  Hawkes, James W., 9298, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.18
  Hay, Joseph A., 9670, Pte., d. of w.                         21.3.18
  Hayden, Harold, 12706, Pte., k. in a.                        27.8.18
  Hayden, William, 4479, Pte., k. in a.                        13.4.15
  Hayes, James, 5332, Pte., d. of w.                            7.7.17
  Hayes, John E., 6309, Pte., k. in a.                         17.9.16
  Hayes, Patrick, 4505, Pte., d. of w.                         25.7.17
  Healy, John J., 4852, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Healy, Joseph, 3317, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                       18.5.15
  Healy, Michael, 5550, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Heaney, Edward, 2438, Sgt., k. in a.                        30.11.17
  Heary, Thomas, 4676, Pte., k. in a.                          10.1.15
  Heatherington, Nathaniel, 2070, Pte., k. in a.               6.11.14
  Heenan, Martin, 12055, Pte., k. in a.                        1.12.17
  Heffernan, Patrick, 11743, Pte., k. in a.                    9.10.17
  Heffernan, Robert, 9682, Pte., k. in a.                      27.9.18
  Heggarty, Patrick, 4576, Pte., k. in a.                       6.2.15
  Hennessy, James, 5054, Pte., d. of w.                         8.8.15
  Heslin, Patrick, 2440, Pte., d. of w.                        13.7.18
  Heydon, Patrick J., 2206, Pte., k. in a.                      4.9.14
  Hickey, James, 10764, Pte., d. of w.                         30.3.18
  Hickey, Michael P., 4099, Pte., d. of w.                    20.11.14
  Hickmann, Alfred, 12341, Pte., k. in a.                      26.5.18
  Higgins, John, 6947, Pte., k. in a.                          27.9.15
  Higginson, Richard, 2533, Pte., k. in a.                     18.5.15
  Higgiston, James, 5584, Pte., k. in a.                       17.9.16
  Hinds, Patrick J., 4506, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Hoare, Joseph, 3544, Pte., k. in a.                          5.12.17
  Hoarey, Edward, 4745, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.16
  Hoban, Michael, 11882, Pte., d. of w.                        1.12.17
  Hoey, James, 5045, Pte., k. in a.                            25.4.16
  Hogan, James, 8447, Pte., k. in a.                           9.10.17
  Hogan, Joseph W., 2192, Pte., d. of w.                       8.11.14
  Hogan, Michael, 11090, Pte., k. in a.                         4.9.17
  Hogan, Patrick, 10589, Pte., d. of w.                       10.10.17
  Holloran, Thomas, 4960, Pte., k. in a.                      25.10.15
  Holloway, Reginald, 3246, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  6.11.14
  Holloway, Thomas, 5544, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Holmes, William B., 5848, Pte., k. in a.                     18.5.15
  Holmes, William J., 5816, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 31.12.15
  Holton, John, 8848, Pte., d.                                 5.11.16
  Hood, James, 9352, Pte., k. in a.                           12.11.16
  Horrigan, Garrett, 11131, Pte., k. in a.                     27.8.18
  Howie, Walter, 4434, Pte., k. in a.                          3.11.14
  Hughes, Bernard, 4376, Pte., d. of w.                        29.4.15
  Hughes, Peter, 11590, Pte., k. in a.                          8.5.18
  Humphreys, Thomas T., 3311, Pte., d. of w.                   8.11.14
  Hunt, John, 5825, Pte., k. in a.                             18.5.15
  Hunt, Patrick, 9486, Pte., k. in a.                          26.7.17
  Hunter, Hugh, 3116, Pte., k. in a.                          25.10.14
  Hunter, James, 4272, Pte., k. in a.                          3.11.14
  Hyland, John, 9619, Pte., d. of w.                           24.9.16
  Igoe, Herbert, 9873, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Ireland, Henry, 4803, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Irwin, George, 1623, Sgt., d. of w.                          11.9.14
  Izzard, Seymour A., 4557, Pte., k. in a.                     27.8.18
  Jackson, Thomas, 3862, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     15.3.17
  Jackson, William, 8738, Pte., k. in a.                       19.6.18
  Jackson, William, 9448, Pte., k. in a.                       25.4.16
  Jacob, Peter, 305, Pte., k. in a.                             4.9.14
  Jameson, William J., 3105, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 6.11.14
  Jervois, Eugene W., 4210, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                  7.11.14
  Johnston, James, 3985, Sgt., d. of w.                        1.12.17
  Johnston, Joseph, 8416, Pte., d. of w.                       25.9.16
  Johnston, Stephen, 5871, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  Johnstone, Howard, 5348, Pte., k. in a.                      17.9.16
  Jones, William, 7121, Pte., k. in a.                         16.3.17
  Jordan, Nicholas, 7299, Pte., d. of w.                        1.2.16
  Joyce, Stephen, 6636, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      30.9.15
  Kane, Alexander, 10475, Pte., k. in a.                        6.7.17
  Kane, Peter, 2819, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                          9.4.16
  Kavanagh, Francis, 8361, Pte., k. in a.                      24.1.18
  Kavanagh, James, 4050, Pte., k. in a.                        3.11.14
  Kavanagh, James, 5546, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Kavanagh, Patrick, 3509, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Kavanagh, Patrick, 10329, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   3.5.18
  Kavanagh, Thomas, 7325, Pte., k. in a.                       26.2.17
  Kavanagh, William, 1258, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Kavanagh, William P., 4058, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                1.11.14
  Keane, William, 2545, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Kearney, James, 9875, Pte., k. in a.                         15.3.17
  Kearney, Patrick, 4957, Sgt., M.M., k. in a.                30.11.17
  Keating, Andrew, 5251, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Keating, Joseph, 6505, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     5.12.17
  Keating, Thomas, 1424, Pte., k. in a.                         4.9.14
  Keaveny, John, 12514, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       8.5.18
  Keegan, Frederick, 4904, Pte., k. in a.                      19.3.15
  Keegan, Matthew, 3751, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     6.11.14
  Keith, Robert, 5393, Pte., k. in a.                         10.10.17
  Kelleher, Daniel, 6288, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    16.9.16
  Kelly, Edward, 11364, Pte., k. in a.                         29.7.17
  Kelly, Francis, 2777, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Kelly, James, 1888, Pte., k. in a.                           14.9.14
  Kelly, James, 2075, Pte., d. of w.                           21.5.18
  Kelly, James, 5346, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Kelly, James, 5410, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                       18.12.16
  Kelly, James, 6255, Pte., d.                                 24.6.16
  Kelly, James, 12809, Pte., k. in a.                         20.10.18
  Kelly, John, 1697, Pte., d. of w.                            6.11.14
  Kelly, John, 8779, Pte., k. in a.                           13.12.16
  Kelly, John, 11460, Pte., k. in a.                            2.8.17
  Kelly, John J., 4876, Pte., d. of w.                         25.2.15
  Kelly, Michael, 3800, Pte., d. of w.                         14.1.15
  Kelly, Michael, 1936, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Kelly, Patrick, 11832, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.18
  Kelly, Thomas, 1889, Pte., d. of w.                          9.11.14
  Kelly, William, 2983, Pte., k. in a.                         22.9.14
  Kelly, William, 7306, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Kelly, William, 11446, Pte., k. in a.                         3.8.17
  Keneally, Charles, 1130, Pte., k. in a.                     30.12.14
  Kenneally, John, 9495, Pte., d. of w.                        26.9.16
  Kennedy, Charles, 7382, Pte., k. in a.                       28.6.16
  Kennedy, Percy, 3982, Pte., k. in a.                         2.11.14
  Kennedy, Patrick, 5349, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Kennedy, Robert T., 2610, Pte., k. in a.                    17.10.14
  Kennedy, Thomas E., 10168, Pte., k. in a.                    9.10.17
  Kennelly, Michael, 6640, Sgt., k. in a.                       3.9.17
  Kenny, Francis, 12735, Pte., k. in a.                         2.8.18
  Kenny, Michael, 4608, Pte., d. of w.                         29.6.16
  Kenny, Patrick, 8568, Pte., k. in a.                         26.9.16
  Kenny, Thomas, 3306, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Kent, Patrick J., 9232, Pte., d. of w.                       24.9.16
  Keogh, James, 10818, Pte., k. in a.                          26.2.18
  Keogh, Thomas, 1621, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Kerr, Patrick, 8305, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Kerrigan, Thomas, 4197, Pte., d. of w.                       10.9.14
  Kiely, Patrick, 10970, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      4.9.17
  Kiely, William, 3541, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Kiernan, Thomas, 11482, Pte., d. of w.                       31.3.18
  Kilbane, Michael, 6291, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    15.9.16
  Kilbride, Edward, 4520, Pte., k. in a.                      29.10.14
  Kilduff, Patrick, 4088, Pte., k. in a.                        9.1.15
  Kilpatrick, James, 12535, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  8.10.18
  Kinder, Arthur, 6132, Pte., k. in a.                         26.9.16
  King, James, 12075, Pte., k. in a.                           1.12.17
  Kinsella, James F. J., 2350, Pte., k. in a.                   1.9.14
  Kinsella, James, 2469, Pte., k. in a.                        15.3.17
  Kinsella, Lawrence, 3129, Pte., k. in a.                     1.11.14
  Kinsella, Matthew, 1848, Pte., k. in a.                      30.3.18
  Kinsella, Patrick, 8114, Pte., d. of w.                      30.9.16
  Kirk, Edmund, 2511, Sgt., d. of w.                          18.11.14
  Kirk, John, 108, Sgt.-Major, M.C., d. of w.                   2.4.16
  Kirk, Thomas, 6361, Pte., k. in a.                           23.7.16
  Lacey, Maurice, 8498, Pte., d. of w.                         11.9.17
  Lacey, William, 10770, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.18
  Lafferty, Bernard, 9454, Pte., k. in a.                      9.10.17
  Lafferty, George, 5392, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Laffey, Bernard, 4304, Pte., k. in a.                         4.9.14
  Lally, Peter, 3281, Pte., k. in a.                           18.5.15
  Lambert, Thomas, 12096, Pte., k. in a.                       1.12.17
  Lamont, William, 11191, Pte., k. in a.                       15.3.17
  Lane, Sydney, 3526, Pte., d. of w.                           30.5.15
  Lane, Timothy J., 4872, Sgt., k. in a.                       7.12.15
  Lanegan, William, 3900, Pte., d. of w.                       18.9.16
  Lang, Francis W., 11297, Pte., k. in a.                      27.8.18
  Langford, Francis D., 7234, Pte., d.                         13.2.17
  Langley, John, 11843, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Langrill, Henry, 3345, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     3.11.14
  Larkin, James, 9969, Pte., k. in a.                          27.9.18
  Larkin, Thomas, 9340, Pte., k. in a.                         15.3.17
  Lavin, James, 7069, Pte., k. in a.                          14.11.16
  Lawless, George, 5451, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Lawless, Michael, 4112, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  Lawlor, Michael, 6934, Pte., d. of w.                        28.8.18
  Lawlor, Patrick J., 11932, Pte., d. of w.                    27.9.18
  Lawson, Thomas, 8563, Pte., k. in a.                         25.9.16
  Lawton, Michael, 2207, Pte., k. in a.                        26.7.17
  Lawton, Peter F., 3957, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Leahy, John, 2699, Pte., d. of w.                            15.9.14
  Leahy, William, 4155, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Leak, Ernest W., 8673, Pte., d. of w.                        19.4.16
  Lee, Patrick J., 4254, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                     28.9.18
  Leggett, Ernest, 5094, Pte., k. in a.                        17.5.15
  Lehane, Michael, 9293, Pte., d. of w.                        30.3.18
  Lennon, James, 4859, Pte., k. in a.                          26.7.17
  Lennon, William H., 8169, Pte., k. in a.                      9.9.17
  Lennox, George, 9157, Pte., k. in a.                         26.5.18
  Lernan, Ronald, 5467, Pte., k. in a.                         27.8.18
  Levey, John F., 4270, Pte., k. in a.                         3.11.14
  Lewis, Michael, 10028, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                  14.7.17
  Leydon, Frank, 9765, Pte., k. in a.                          17.9.16
  Liddane, Thomas J., 9456, Pte., k. in a.                     15.3.17
  Listan, John, 1194, Pte., k. in a.                            8.3.15
  Lockhart, William H., 4062, Pte., k. in a.                  16.11.14
  Logan, Robert, 2466, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Loghan, Malachy, 4760, Pte., d. of w.                        10.1.15
  Logue, Thomas, 10285, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Lonergan, Daniel, 11603, Pte., k. in a.                      27.8.18
  Lonergan, Edward, 4853, Pte., k. in a.                        1.4.15
  Lonergan, Jeremiah, 4774, Pte., k. in a.                     10.1.15
  Long, Patrick, 9799, Pte., d. of w.                          1.11.18
  Long, William, 7861, Pte., k. in a.                          17.9.16
  Longmore, Wilson, 2700, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                    19.3.15
  Loobey, Edward, 6191, Pte., k. in a.                         26.9.16
  Looney, James, 10138, Pte., k. in a.                          2.6.18
  Loughlin, William, 3650, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Loughren, Leslie J., 3192, L.-Sgt., d.                       13.5.15
  Lowndes, Thomas, 9714, Pte., d. of w.                        24.9.16
  Love, Thomas A., 6209, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     8.10.15
  Loye, Patrick, 5928, Pte., d. of w.                          24.4.16
  Lucey, Timothy, 8268, Pte., k. in a.                         17.9.16
  Lucitt, Edward, 2225, Pte., d. of w.                         14.9.14
  Lucitt, John, 3947, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Luttrell, Ernest, 4515, Pte., k. in a.                       6.11.14
  Lydon, James, 4821, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Lydon, John, 12331, Pte., k. in a.                           27.8.18
  Lynam, John, 10986, Pte., k. in a.                            3.8.17
  Lynch, Edward, 10953, Pte., k. in a.                        15.11.16
  Lynch, John, 3304, Pte., k. in a.                            6.11.14
  Lynch, Patrick, 4458, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Lyons, Peter, 4602, Pte., k. in a.                           25.9.16
  Macken, John, 5558, Pte., k. in a.                           18.5.15
  Macken, Patrick F., 6163, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                 11.10.17
  Madden, Thomas, 6731, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.18
  Magee, William J., 3139, Pte., k. in a.                       4.9.14
  Maher, Denis, 870, Pte., k. in a.                            1.11.14
  Maher, James, 865, Pte., k. in a.                            18.5.15
  Maher, James, 4475, Pte., k. in a.                           2.11.14
  Maher, Lawrence, 3971, Pte., d. of w.                        18.5.15
  Mahon, John, 10707, Pte., k. in a.                           4.11.18
  Mahoney, James, 4786, Pte., d. of w.                         21.5.15
  Mahoney, John M., 5455, Pte., d. of w.                       19.3.15
  Mahoney, John, 11092, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Mahoney, Timothy, 5883, Pte., k. in a.                       18.5.15
  Malone, Edward, 10080, Pte., d. of w.                       27.12.16
  Mann, Joseph, 2763, Pte., d. of w.                           19.5.15
  Mansfield, Joseph, 2845, Pte., D.C.M., k. in a.              27.9.18
  Marley, John, 19763, Pte., k. in a.                           2.8.17
  Marnell, Walter, 6414, Pte., d. of w.                         1.7.16
  Martin, Christopher, 11782, Pte., k. in a.                   27.8.18
  Martin, Michael, 6314, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Martin, William, 2632, Pte., d.                              26.9.14
  Mason, James, 4489, Pte., k. in a.                           6.11.14
  Massey, John J., 4202, Pte., d. of w.                       10.11.14
  Masterson, Andrew, 4306, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  Masterson, Michael, 5597, Pte., k. in a.                    23.10.15
  Mathews, Roger, 4160, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      22.9.15
  Matthews, Edmund C., 12865, Cpl., M.M., k. in a.             27.8.18
  Matthews, Edward, 9627, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                    13.9.17
  Matthews, Henry, 6392, Pte., k. in a.                       30.11.17
  Meagher, John, 3243, Pte., k. in a.                           4.9.14
  Meehan, Hugh, 3251, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Meehan, Lawrence, 5021, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    18.5.15
  Meehan, Peter, 2841, Pte., d. of w.                         17.11.14
  Merrick, William, 10111, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  30.11.17
  Mescal, Mark S., 11452, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    1.12.17
  Mills, Alexander, 1994, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Mills, John, 11398, Pte., k. in a.                           9.10.17
  Minihane, William, 8816, Pte., k. in a.                       2.8.17
  Mitchell, Michael, 6297, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Mitchell, Reginald E., 12439, Pte., k. in a.                20.10.18
  Moffatt, Thomas, 5185, Pte., k. in a.                        11.9.16
  Molloy, Arthur B., 3525, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Molloy, Denis, 1604, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  Molloy, Robert, 1545, Pte., k. in a.                          1.9.14
  Montague, John, 5465, Pte., k. in a.                         25.4.16
  Montgomery, Irvine, 10344, Pte., k. in a.                    25.9.16
  Moody, William T., 12921, Pte., k. in a.                     27.9.18
  Mooney, John, 7391, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Mooney, Peter, 4129, Pte., k. in a.                           6.9.14
  Moore, William, 4015, Pte., d. of w.                        24.11.14
  Moore, William, 9701, Pte., k. in a.                         24.9.16
  Moran, John, 3498, Pte., k. in a.                            6.11.14
  Moran, Michael, 1934, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Moran, Michael, 3632, C.S.M., D.C.M., d. of w.               20.9.16
  Moran, Patrick, 1991, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Moran, Patrick, 11560, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Morgan, John, 1276, Pte., k. in a.                          23.10.14
  Morgan, John, 3622, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Morgan, Thomas H., 11096, Pte., k. in a.                    16.10.17
  Morley, John, 9581, Pte., k. in a.                           9.10.17
  Moroney, Martin, 11600, Pte., k. in a.                      10.10.17
  Morris, John, M., 12716, Pte., d. of w.                      28.8.18
  Morrissey, James, 10438, Pte., d.                             2.6.18
  Mulgrew, James, 5245, Pte., d.                               23.6.15
  Mullaney, James, 4788, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Mullen, Charles, 9420, Pte., k. in a.                        25.9.16
  Mullholland, William P., 2280, Pte., k. in a.                6.11.14
  Mulqueen, Jack, 8565, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Mulvihill, William, 11916, Pte., d. of w.                    3.12.17
  Munns, Arthur, 552, C.S.I.M., D.C.M., k. in a.              17.11.14
  Murphy, Andrew, 11440, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Murphy, Bernard, 10105, Pte., k. in a.                       30.8.17
  Murphy, Daniel, 12287, Pte., k. in a.                        27.8.18
  Murphy, James, 5199, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        6.3.15
  Murphy, James, 5666, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Murphy, Jeremiah, 8957, Pte., d. of w.                      21.10.16
  Murphy, John, 4364, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Murphy, John, 5233, Pte., k. in a.                           18.5.15
  Murphy, John T., 6036, Pte., k. in a.                       23.11.15
  Murphy, Joseph, 9940, Pte., d. of w.                          4.8.17
  Murphy, Joseph P., 6430, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   30.3.18
  Murphy, Michael, 6133, Pte., k. in a.                        28.6:16
  Murphy, Michael, 8466, Pte., k. in a.                        25.9.16
  Murphy, Michael J., 10166, Pte., d. of w.                     8.3.18
  Murphy, Michael J., 12005, Pte., k. in a.                    1.12.17
  Murphy, Michael, 12428, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.18
  Murphy, Myles, 5402, Pte., k. in a.                         23.10.18
  Murphy, Patrick, 4410, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Murphy, Richard, 11334, Pte., d. of w.                       27.9.18
  Murphy, Thomas, 6364, Pte., k. in a.                        16.11.16
  Murphy, William, 5142, Pte., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Murphy, William, 10337, Pte., k. in a.                        9.9.17
  Murray, James, 2924, Pte., k. in a.                         29.10.14
  Murray, Patrick, 7887, Pte., k. in a.                        27.8.18
  Murrin, Patrick, 2247, Pte., k. in a.                         5.4.15
  Murtagh, Patrick, 4356, Pte., d.                             23.4.16
  Murtagh, William, 3291, Pte., k. in a.                       17.2.15
  Murtagh, William, 4411, Pte., k. in a.                      30.11.17
  McAdoo, Samuel, 9462, Pte., d.                               21.9.16
  McAviney, James, 3694, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  McAviney, Thomas, 5586, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  McCall, James, 5662, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  McCann, Bernard, 5051, Pte., d. of w.                        31.3.15
  McCarroll, Francis, 4598, Pte., k. in a.                     25.5.18
  McCarte, Charles, 10526, Pte., d. of w.                       9.4.18
  McCarthy, Charles, 3775, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  McCarthy, Charles E. M., 2728, Sgt., d. of w.               15.11.14
  McCarthy, Daniel, 10918, Pte., d. of w.                     14.12.16
  McCarthy, Daniel T., 12089, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                22.9.18
  MacCarthy, Harry, 4370, Pte., k. in a.                      26.10.14
  McCarthy, James, 4640, Pte., k. in a.                       10.10.17
  McCarthy, James, 11432, Pte., k. in a.                       26.7.17
  McCarthy, Joseph, 4675, Pte., k. in a.                       25.4.16
  McCarthy, Michael, 4670, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  McClinton, Samuel, 4381, Pte., d. of w.                     18.11.14
  McClory, John, 5155, Pte., k. in a.                           6.2.15
  McCloskey, James J., 6167, Pte., k. in a.                    28.8.18
  McCluskey, Joseph, 1959, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  McCluskey, Thomas, 4031, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  McColgan, Robert, 2437, Pte., k. in a.                      26.10.14
  McConaty, Patrick, 3173, Pte., k. in a.                     26.10.14
  McConnell, Charles, 3428, Pte., k. in a.                     1.11.14
  McConnell, Philip, 507, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   29.10.14
  McConnell, Walter, 6343, L.-Cpl., M.M., d. of w.             19.9.18
  McConniff, Terence, 11972, Pte., k. in a.                    5.12.17
  McConnon, Matthew J., 5162, Pte., k. in a.                   16.3.15
  McCormac, Thomas, 8125, Pte., k. in a.                      30.11.17
  McCormack, Joseph, 4094, Pte., d. of w.                      1.11.14
  McCormack, Robert, 10692, Pte., k. in a.                     3.11.18
  McCrory, Thomas, 5927, Pte., d. of w.                         4.2.16
  McCue, Patrick, 10991, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  McDermott, Robert, 4429, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   6.11.14
  McDevitt, Patrick, 10018, Pte., d. of w.                     25.9.16
  McDonagh, James, 10706, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    30.3.18
  McDonagh, Thomas, 3156, Pte., d. of w.                        8.9.14
  McDonald, Bartholomew, 4093, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                4.9.14
  McDonnell, John, 3458, Pte., k. in a.                       31.10.14
  McDonnell, Loftus J., 11245, Pte., k. in a.                 30.11.17
  McDonough, John, 3310, Pte., d. of w.                       28.10.14
  McDonough, Patrick, 10975, Pte., d. of w.                     4.7.17
  McDonough, Richard, 3432, Sgt., d.                           13.5.18
  McDonough, Stephen, 7343, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  11.9.16
  McErlean, James, 10017, Pte., k. in a.                       27.3.18
  McEvoy, Joseph, 9082, Pte., d. of w.                         17.7.16
  McEvoy, Thomas, 3930, L.-Sgt., M.M., d. of w.                3.12.17
  McFadden, George, 4834, Pte., d. of w.                        3.6.15
  McGan, Thomas, 3356, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  McGarrigal, John J., 5672, Pte., k. in a.                    12.7.17
  McGee, James, 11612, Pte., d. of w.                          10.9.17
  McGill, William J., 5246, Pte., d. of w.                     19.5.15
  McGinn, James, 2487, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  McGonigal, Charles, 4738, Pte., k. in a.                     14.2.15
  McGourty, John, 9377, Pte., k. in a.                          3.6.18
  McGrane, William, 5450, Pte., k. in a.                       16.3.15
  McGrath, Denis, 9560, Pte., k. in a.                         11.9.16
  McGrath, John, 4594, Sgt., d. of w.                          3.10.15
  McGrath, John, 8688, Pte., k. in a.                          17.9.16
  McGrattan, John, 10482, Pte., d.                              6.1.17
  McGuckion, Thomas, 2422, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  McGuinness, John, 3099, Pte., k. in a.                       29.3.18
  McGuinness, Joseph, 10575, Pte., d. of w.                   30.11.17
  McGuinness, Stephen, 12919, Pte., k. in a.                   27.9.18
  McGuinness, William, 6136, Pte., d. of w.                   23.11.15
  McGuinness, William, 11039, Pte., d. of w.                    9.9.17
  McQuire, Hugh, 5891, Pte., k. in a.                          1.12.17
  McQuirk, Thomas, 3294, Pte., d.                              30.7.17
  McQuirk, Charles, 2873, Pte., k. in a.                        4.9.14
  McHugh, Martin, 5902, Pte., d. of w.                          6.4.18
  McHugh, Richard, 4804, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  McInerney, 4078, Pte., k. in a.                              15.4.16
  McIntee, Arthur, 2187, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     6.11.14
  McIntosh, John, 5289, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.15
  McIntyre, Alexander, 326, Sgt., d. of w.                      5.8.17
  McKenna, John, 9978, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  McKenna, Patrick, 3661, Pte., k. in a.                        6.2.15
  McKenna, Peter, 10334, L.-Cpl., d.                           22.1.17
  McKenna, Richard, 1121, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  McKeon, James, 2459, Pte., k. in a.                          6.11.14
  McKeon, Michael J., 10440, Pte., k. in a.                   20.10.18
  McKeown, Peter, 9098, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  McKittrick, Peter, 3874, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  McLean, Henry, 2396, Pte., k. in a.                          10.9.17
  McLester, James, 1533, Pte., k. in a.                        22.6.15
  McLaughlin, Bernard, 4045, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                 2.11.14
  McLaughlin, John, 3331, Pte., k. in a.                       3.11.14
  McLoughlin, Patrick, 12951, Pte., k. in a.                   27.9.18
  McLoughlin, William, 1473, Pte., d. of w.                    20.9.16
  McMahon, Daniel, 3936, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  McMahon, Martin, 11283, Pte., k. in a.                      10.10.17
  McManus, Hugh M., Pte., k. in a.                             18.5.15
  McManus, Robert, 12183, Pte., k. in a.                       27.8.18
  McManus, Eugene, 4850, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     17.9.16
  McMillan, Robert, 2327, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  McMonagle, Francis, 3093, Pte., k. in a.                      1.9.14
  McNally, William J., 10967, Pte., k. in a.                   25.9.16
  McParland, John J., 5865, Pte., k. in a.                     25.9.16
  McRoberts, James, 3009, Pte., k. in a.                       14.1.15
  McSharry, John, 6086, Pte., k. in a.                        23.11.15
  McVeigh, William, 3024, Pte., k. in a.                      29.10.14
  McWilliams, Donald, 11840, Pte., d. of w.                    28.3.18
  McWilliams, John, 9642, Pte., k. in a.                       25.9.16
  Nancollas, George, 2816, Sgt., d. of w.                      12.9.17
  Neely, James G., 8785, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.16
  Neill, James, 4771, Pte., k. in a.                            6.2.15
  Neill, Michael, 4802, Pte., k. in a.                          1.2.15
  Nichols, Richard, 1822, Pte., k. in a.                      26.10.14
  Nicholas, Thomas H., 3880, Pte., k. in a.                    1.11.14
  Nicholson, John, 7276, Pte., d. of w.                         6.9.17
  Nixon, Edward, 3086, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Noble, John, 3326, Pte., k. in a.                           10.10.17
  Nolan, James, 4696, Sgt., d. of w.                           8.10.16
  Nolan, John, 3649, Pte., d. of w.                            9.11.14
  Nolan, Lawrence, 3497, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                     19.9.16
  Nolan, Patrick, 4862, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Nolan, Patrick, 5196, Pte., k. in a.                         26.3.18
  Nolan, Thomas, 8934, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Noonan, Joseph, 3017, Pte., k. in a.                         17.6.15
  Noonan, Matthew, 5395, Pte., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Norris, Thomas, 3647, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Norris, Thomas, 9562, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Nowlan, William, 2430, Pte., k. in a.                         1.9.18
  Nugent, Thomas H., 3524, Pte., k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Nyhan, Thomas, 8158, Pte., d. of w.                          26.9.16
  O’Boyle, William, 10491, Pte., d. of w.                      2.11.17
  O’Brien, Daniel, 8808, Pte., k. in a.                        8.11.17
  O’Brien, Denis, 7468, Pte., k. in a.                          5.4.18
  O’Brien, Edmond, 8362, Pte., k. in a.                        17.9.16
  O’Brien, Henry, 4637, Sgt., k. in a.                         28.6.16
  O’Brien, James, 4699, Pte., k. in a.                          8.1.15
  O’Brien, James, 11755, Pte., d. of w.                         2.4.18
  O’Brien, John, 2290, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  O’Brien, John, 4016, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  O’Brien, John, 8871, Pte., d. of w.                          16.9.16
  O’Brien, Thomas, 11502, Pte., d. of w.                        7.5.18
  O’Connell, Patrick J., 2434, L.-Sgt., k. in a.               1.11.14
  O’Connell, Peter, 9412, k. in a.                            20.10.18
  O’Connor, Francis, 1930, Pte., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  O’Connor, Jeremiah, 5198, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                  31.7.18
  O’Connor, John, 7604, Pte., k. in a.                        16.11.16
  O’Connor, John, 9092, k. in a.                                9.7.17
  O’Connor, Michael, 4839, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  O’Connor, Michael, 5735, Pte., d. of w.                      8.10.15
  O’Connor, Stephen, 11106, Pte., k. in a.                     22.5.18
  O’Connor, Thomas, 5347, Pte., k. in a.                       28.6.17
  O’Connor, Thomas, 5593, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.15
  O’Doherty, Denis, 7427, Pte., k. in a.                       27.8.18
  O’Donnell, John, 1319, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                     16.3.15
  O’Donnell, Joseph, 2320, Pte., d. of w.                      20.5.15
  O’Donnell, John, 3838, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  O’Donnell, Michael, 5854, Pte., k. in a.                     17.9.16
  O’Donnell, William, 9891, d.                                 28.4.19
  O’Driscoll, Jeremiah, 9849, Pte., k. in a.                  20.10.18
  O’Dwyer, Denis, 9156, Pte., k. in a.                         17.9.16
  O’Flaherty, Arthur, 6261, Pte., k. in a.                     26.3.16
  O’Flynn, Cornelius, 5894, Pte., k. in a.                     14.9.17
  O’Grady, Timothy, 10864, Pte., k. in a.                      9.10.17
  O’Halloran, Bernard, 12194, Pte., d. of w.                   26.5.18
  O’Halloran, John, 1736, L.-Cpl., d.                           7.4.15
  O’Hara, James, 1763, Pte., k. in a.                          8.10.15
  O’Hara, Patrick, 9398, Pte., k. in a.                        12.7.16
  O’Keeffe, Michael, 3687, Sgt., d. of w.                      26.7.17
  O’Keeffe, Michael, 5827, Pte., k. in a.                     23.10.15
  O’Keeffe, Patrick, 3757, Pte., d.                            3.12.17
  O’Leary, Cornelius, 7575, Pte., k. in a.                      7.7.17
  O’Leary, Daniel S., 10144, Pte., k. in a.                    25.9.16
  O’Leary, Henry, 5607, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  O’Loughlin, James, 3123, Sgt., d. of w.                       6.9.14
  O’Loughlin, Patrick, 4762, Pte., k. in a.                   29.12.14
  O’Mahoney, Jeremiah, 4070, Pte., d.                           1.7.15
  O’Malley, Patrick, 9174, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   5.12.17
  O’Neil, Patrick, 7952, Pte., d. of w.                        26.6.16
  O’Neill, Bernard, 4966, Pte., k. in a.                       31.3.18
  O’Neill, James, 1191, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      6.11.14
  O’Neill, James, 7898, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  O’Neill, James, 12192, Pte., k. in a.                       10.10.18
  O’Neill, Michael, 2960, Pte., k. in a.                       6.11.14
  O’Neill, Thomas, 9761, Pte., k. in a.                       10.12.16
  O’Reilly, Christopher, 6366, L.-Cpl., d. of w.               28.3.18
  O’Reilly, Peter, 3828, Pte., k. in a.                         6.9.14
  O’Reilly, Thomas, 7854, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                    28.8.18
  Ormsby, John, 2050, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  O’Rourke, James, 2820, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  O’Rourke, Michael, 7507, Pte., k. in a.                      17.9.16
  O’Rorke, Thomas, 10877, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Osborne, Harry, 12519, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.18
  O’Shaughnessy, Michael, 3308, Pte., k. in a.                 5.10.14
  O’Shea, Charles, 4440, Pte., k. in a.                         4.9.14
  O’Shea, Daniel, 7656, Pte., k. in a.                          2.4.16
  O’Shea, John, 11921, Pte., k. in a.                           1.4.18
  O’Sullivan, Bartholomew, 3646, Pte., d. of w.                22.5.15
  O’Sullivan, Daniel, 10513, Pte., k. in a.                    9.10.17
  O’Sullivan, David, 12125, Pte., d. of w.                    31.10.18
  O’Sullivan, John, 4669, Pte., d. of w.                       27.5.19
  O’Sullivan, Michael, 3709, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 18.5.15
  O’Toole, John J., 1761, Sgt., k. in a.                       4.11.14
  Owen, John, 9226, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                          25.9.16
  Owens, William, 4847, Pte., d. of w.                          3.1.15
  Parish, Albert, 1118, Pte., d. of w.                         23.5.15
  Parisotti, Joseph, 12322, Pte., d. of w.                      2.4.18
  Parr, Francis, 4229, Pte., d. of w.                          6.11.14
  Paton, Henry, 3773, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Payne, Henry, 999, Drill Sgt., k. in a.                     10.10.17
  Payne, Robert, 151, Sgt., k. in a.                           6.11.14
  Peakin, Thomas, 5972, Pte., k. in a.                         16.5.15
  Pearson, Thomas, 12740, Pte., d. of w.                       29.8.18
  Perry, Frank, 5048, Pte., k. in a.                           30.3.18
  Phair, Edward, 10490, Pte., d. of w.                        10.10.17
  Phelan, Francis A., 11945, Pte., k. in a.                    1.12.17
  Phelan, James, 4764, Pte., k. in a.                           6.2.15
  Phelan, Thomas, 1514, Pte., k. in a.                         19.5.15
  Phibbs, Thomas, 3843, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Philips, John H., 12798, Pte., k. in a.                      27.9.18
  Pitman, Percy, 2972, Drummer, k. in a.                       4.12.14
  Plenderleith, David, 4978, Pte., k. in a.                     9.1.15
  Porter, George D., 4051, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   1.11.14
  Power, John, 10035, Pte., d. of w.                           27.9.16
  Power, Martin, 10362, Pte., k. in a.                        10.10.17
  Power, Michael, 2260, Pte., k. in a.                         17.2.15
  Power, Michael, 10188, Pte., d. of w.                         7.5.18
  Power, William, 6043, Pte., d. of w.                         17.6.16
  Prendergast, Bartholomew, 8617, Pte., k. in a.               31.7.17
  Proudfoot, Richard, 4296, Pte., k. in a.                     15.3.17
  Purcell, Stephen, 7526, Pte., d. of w.                       29.3.18
  Quigley, Samuel, 3631, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Quinn, Charles, 11277, Pte., k. in a.                         1.9.18
  Quinn, John, 5408, Pte., k. in a.                           23.10.15
  Quinn, Joseph, 2885, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Quinn, Michael, 1810, Pte., d.                               24.2.19
  Quinlan, Patrick J., 4687, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 8.10.15
  Quirke, John, 10464, Pte., k. in a.                          15.3.17
  Rafferty, Daniel, 4799, Pte., k. in a.                        5.2.15
  Rafter, John, 3185, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        9.11.14
  Raftery, Guy, 3763, Pte., d. of w.                           22.5.15
  Ralph, Michael, 3777, Pte., k. in a.                        25.10.14
  Rankin, Thomas, 805, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Reardon, Edward, 2403, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Reardon, James S., 6033, Pte., k. in a.                      30.4.15
  Redden, Patrick, 4860, Pte., k. in a.                        11.9.16
  Redmond, James, 6445, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      16.3.17
  Regan, John, 11808, Pte., k. in a.                           20.1.18
  Reid, Albert, 5802, Pte., k. in a.                           29.1.16
  Reid, Joseph, 436, Pte., d.                                  20.2.15
  Reilly, Francis, 3642, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     17.9.16
  Reilly, James, 1068, Pte., k. in a.                          8.10.15
  Reilly, James, 5740, Pte., d. of w.                          9.10.17
  Reilly, John, 3754, Pte., k. in a.                           31.7.17
  Reilly, John, 4086, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Reilly, John, 11007, Pte., d. of w.                          9.10.17
  Reilly, William, 2635, Sgt., k. in a.                         4.8.17
  Reynolds, John J., 2042, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   12.9.14
  Reynolds, John, 4976, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Richardson, Ernest, 551, C.S.M., k. in a.                     1.9.14
  Riordan, Jerom, 3728, Pte., d. of w.                         1.11.14
  Riordan, Maurice, 2618, Sgt., D.C.M. and bar, k. in a.       15.9.16
  Riordan, Timothy, 6058, Pte., k. in a.                       17.9.16
  Ritchie, David, 5551, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Roane, John, 5159, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        30.11.17
  Roberts, Jonathan, 8695, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   15.9.16
  Roberts, Patrick, 4398, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Robinson, James, 1236, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Roe, Joseph, 10534, Pte., d. of w.                           24.8.16
  Rogers, James, 5133, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Rogers, John, 1448, Pte., k. in a.                           6.11.14
  Rogers, Patrick, 3048, Pte., k. in a.                        14.9.14
  Rogers, Thomas, 9424, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Ronan, Daniel, 3799, Pte., d.                                19.2.19
  Rooker, Charles W. H., 9090, L.-Sgt., d. of w.               28.8.18
  Rooney, Francis, 1521, Pte., k. in a.                        6.11.14
  Rooney, Thomas, 1703, d.                                    14.11.14
  Rose, James, 2880, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                         27.7.16
  Rowlands, John, 2189, Pte., k. in a.                         6.11.14
  Roy, John, 5989, Pte., k. in a.                              18.5.15
  Ruane, Garrett, 3561, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Ruffley, John, 7910, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Russell, Gilbert W., 5449, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                 21.3.17
  Russell, Peter, 8677, Pte., k. in a.                         17.9.16
  Russell, Thomas, 3944, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Ryall, Charles, 2105, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.17
  Ryan, Edward, 3738, Pte., k. in a.                           6.11.14
  Ryan, Francis, 5590, Pte., k. in a.                           8.8.15
  Ryan, James, 12129, k. in a.                                26.11.17
  Ryan, John, 2698, Pte., k. in a.                             16.9.14
  Ryan, John, 3216, Pte., k. in a.                              1.9.14
  Ryan, John, 5382, Pte., d.                                    6.8.15
  Ryan, Joseph, 5543, Pte., d. of w.                           16.4.15
  Ryan, Patrick, 3385, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Ryan, Thomas, 3441, Pte., k. in a.                            4.9.14
  Ryan, William, 2594, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Ryan, William, 5807, Pte., k. in a.                          18.5.15
  Ryan, William, 10592, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Sales, John, 2261, Sgt., k. in a.                            18.5.15
  Salter, Peter, 3382, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Sammons, Henry H., 12674, Pte., k. in a.                     27.8.18
  Sangster, William, 5005, Pte., k. in a.                      15.7.15
  Sargent, Robert, 5264, Pte., k. in a.                        25.9.16
  Saunders, John, 11944, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.18
  Scally, Joseph, 3608, Sgt., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Scally, Joseph, 5044, Pte., k. in a.                        30.11.17
  Scanlon, James, 10981, Pte., k. in a.                        26.7.17
  Scott, William, 10004, Pte., k. in a.                        25.9.16
  Scully, Michael, 4480, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Sedge, Percy G., 12709, Pte., k. in a.                      20.10.18
  Sexton, Cornelius, 8512, Pte., d. of w.                      23.7.16
  Shanahan, William, 642, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Sharp, John T. B., 12524, Pte., d. of w.                     29.5.18
  Shaw, William J., 10272, Pte., k. in a.                      9.10.17
  Shea, John, 4309, Pte., d. of w.                             16.5.15
  Sheehan, Michael, 12088, Pte., d. of w.                      28.3.18
  Sheehy, John, 11491, Pte., d. of w.                           1.8.17
  Sheppard, Robert, 1262, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    18.5.15
  Sheridan, Nicholas J., 5090, Pte., d. of w.                  13.4.15
  Sheridan, Patrick, 7977, Pte., k. in a.                      11.9.16
  Sheridan, William, 5949, Pte., k. in a.                      18.5.15
  Sherlock, Mathew, 6042, Pte., k. in a.                        3.8.15
  Sherwood, William R., 3752, Pte., k. in a.                   5.11.14
  Sherry, Matthew, 5365, Pte., d.                              17.6.18
  Shields, Henry, 11615, Pte., k. in a.                        27.5.18
  Shields, Terence, 4517, Pte., k. in a.                       1.11.14
  Shotton, John, 12756, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     20.10.18
  Simpson, Edward, 2025, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Simpson, Robert, 2607, Pte., k. in a.                         8.9.14
  Singleton, Isaiah, 3400, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   1.11.14
  Sloane, John, 1176, Pte., k. in a.                            4.9.14
  Slowey, Patrick, 1299, Pte., d. of w.                        22.4.15
  Smith, Benjamin J., 12603, Pte., k. in a.                    27.9.18
  Smith, John, 2213, Pte., k. in a.                            1.11.14
  Smith, Richard, 8837, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      17.9.16
  Smyth, Gerald C., 4568, Pte., k. in a.                      27.10.14
  Smyth, John, 4231, Pte., k. in a.                            6.11.14
  Smyth, Patrick, 10655, Pte., k. in a.                        1.12.17
  Smyth, Samuel, 10068, Pte., k. in a.                         24.9.16
  Smythe, Albert, 4480, Pte., k. in a.                         1.11.14
  Snow, Joseph, 2778, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                        26.9.16
  Spillane, John, 6055, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Sprowle, Robert, 3387, Pte., d. of w.                        2.11.14
  Spragg, William, 4951, Pte., k. in a.                        26.3.18
  Stanton, John, 11166, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Starr, Denis, 3951, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Stedman, William, 3872, Pte., d.                             12.4.15
  Steepe, William, 4438, Pte., k. in a.                         1.2.15
  Stiven, James, 11066, Pte., k. in a.                         15.7.17
  Stokes, John, 1778, Pte., d. of w.                           19.5.15
  Stokes, John, 1873, Pte., k. in a.                            1.9.14
  Streatfield, Walter T., 12909, Pte., M.M., k. in a.         21.10.18
  Strickland, John F., 4988, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  1.2.15
  Stuart, Eugene, 6092, Pte., d. of w.                        10.12.15
  Stuart, John, 3044, Pte., k. in a.                           1.11.14
  Styles, Albert, 5995, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                  20.10.18
  Sullivan, Cornelius, 4812, Pte., d. of w.                    22.5.15
  Sullivan, Edward J., 4921, Pte., k. in a.                    12.3.15
  Sullivan, John, 3749, Pte., d. of w.                         28.7.15
  Sullivan, John, 8646, Pte., d. of w.                         8.10.18
  Sullivan, Michael, 11906, Pte., d. of w.                     5.12.17
  Sullivan, Philip, 1903, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    1.11.14
  Sullivan, William, 4783, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   25.9.16
  Sutton, John, 1365, Pte., k. in a.                           6.11.14
  Swanton, Charles, 4098, Pte., d. of w.                       17.4.16
  Sweeney, Edward, 9471, Pte., d. of w.                        16.3.17
  Sweeney, John, 5013, Pte., k. in a.                         12.10.15
  Sweeney, John, 8120, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                    9.10.17
  Sweeney, Patrick, 6437, Pte., k. in a.                       26.9.16
  Sycamore, Ernest, 12525, Cpl., d. of w.                      18.5.18
  Synnott, James, 4677, Pte., k. in a.                         23.3.15
  Taaffe, John, 371, Pte., d. of w.                            6.11.14
  Taaffe, William, 5617, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Taggart, Edward, 12451, Pte., k. in a.                       19.8.18
  Taylor, Daniel, 5994, Pte., d. of w.                          3.8.15
  Teanby, Harry, 1046, Pte., k. in a.                           4.9.14
  Tether, Arthur R. C., 12734, Pte., k. in a.                 10.10.18
  Thompson, James, 9551, Pte., k. in a.                        23.2.17
  Thorneycroft, John F., 12340, Pte., d. of w.                 22.5.18
  Thynne, Patrick, 3179, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     17.5.15
  Tighe, Patrick, 5470, Pte., k. in a.                         17.9.16
  Timoney, James, 6556, Pte., k. in a.                          3.9.17
  Tobin, Francis, 12003, Pte., k. in a.                        1.12.17
  Tobin, Patrick, 1743, Pte., k. in a.                         14.9.14
  Togher, James, 6171, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Toomey, William, 5769, Pte., k. in a.                        18.5.15
  Topping, John, 4164, Sgt., k. in a.                           5.2.15
  Townsend, Patrick, 4530, Pte., k. in a.                      14.9.14
  Tracey, William, 5148, Pte., k. in a.                        25.2.15
  Travers, William, 5521, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                    15.3.17
  Troy, James J., 3889, Pte., d. of w.                        15.12.17
  Tuohey, Michael, 11319, Pte., k. in a.                       30.4.18
  Tuohey, William, 4566, Pte., k. in a.                         1.9.14
  Tyrrell, Patrick, 9927, L.-Sgt., M.M., d. of w.              28.9.18
  Underhill, Ernest J., 12685, Pte., k. in a.                  27.8.18
  Underwood, Harry, 12758, Pte., d. of w.                     22.10.18
  Vancroft, Evan, 2335, Pte., k. in a.                         3.11.14
  Walker, Alfred, 5958, Pte., d. of w.                         28.5.15
  Walker, Patrick, 6080, Pte., d. of w.                        28.9.15
  Walker, Thomas, 12569, Pte., k. in a.                        26.3.18
  Wallace, James F., 1575, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  25.10.14
  Wallace, James, 1605, Pte., k. in a.                          4.9.14
  Wallace, Mark, 10425, Pte., d. of w.                         31.3.18
  Wallace, Patrick J., 8455, k. in a.                          11.9.16
  Walpole, George H., 12272, Pte., d. of w.                   20.10.18
  Walsh, Daniel, 3030, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Walsh, Edward, 3409, Pte., k. in a.                         18.11.14
  Walsh, James, 4562, Pte., k. in a.                          26.10.14
  Walsh, Martin, 4572, Pte., k. in a.                          1.11.14
  Walsh, Nicholas, 10775, Pte., k. in a.                        2.8.17
  Walsh, Patrick, 10061, Pte., d. of w.                        24.9.16
  Walsh, Patrick J., 10900, Pte., k. in a.                     26.7.17
  Walsh, Richard, 4250, Pte., d. of w.                        18.12.14
  Walsh, Thomas, 7738, Pte., k. in a.                          13.7.17
  Walsh, William, 5901, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Walsh, William, 9636, Pte., d. of w.                        14.12.16
  Walshe, Thomas, 9259, Pte., d. of w.                        10.10.17
  Warde, William, 2032, Pte., k. in a.                         18.5.15
  Warner, William, 5653, Sgt., d. of w.                        1.12.17
  Webb, Leonard, 3890, Pte., d. of w.                          11.9.14
  Wellspring, Owen, 5099, Sgt., k. in a.                        2.8.17
  Whelan, Edward, 12309, Pte., k. in a.                         8.5.18
  Whelan, John P., 5095, Pte., d. of w.                        17.9.16
  Whelan, Martin, 3323, Pte., d. of w.                         20.1.15
  Whelan, Richard, 6094, Pte., k. in a.                        28.6.16
  Whelan, Thomas, 5679, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                      1.12.17
  White, John, 2695, L.-Cpl., M.M., k. in a.                  10.10.17
  White, William, 8192, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Whitty, John, 10942, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Williams, John, 5464, Pte., k. in a.                         6.10.15
  Wilmott, William, 5524, Pte., k. in a.                       26.3.16
  Willoughby, Charles, 1729, Pte., k. in a.                    18.5.15
  Willoughby, Charles, 9266, Pte., k. in a.                    17.6.16
  Woods, Joseph H., 10221, Pte., k. in a.                      23.2.17
  Woods, Robert, 5990, Pte., k. in a.                          17.9.16
  Woodcock, Ernest E., 12571, Pte., d. of w.                   30.3.18
  Woodroffe, Robert, 3268, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   1.11.14
  Woulfe, Michael, 2486, Pte., k. in a.                        1.11.14
  Wright, William, 988, Drummer, k. in a.                      1.11.14
  Wylie, Charles, 4188, Sgt., k. in a.                        10.12.16
  Wynee, Christopher, 10850, Pte., k. in a.                    30.3.18
  Wynne, John, 9611, Pte., k. in a.                            12.9.17
  Yates, Edward H., 11315, Pte., d. of w.                      15.4.17
  Young, Algernon A. L., 5116, L.-Cpl., d. of w.               22.2.15
  Younge, Anthony, 4182, Pte., D.C.M., k. in a.                20.6.16


2ND BATTALION IRISH GUARDS

  Agnew, Charles, 7890, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Ahern, Joseph, 6728, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Akerman, Fred A., 12350, Pte., k. in a.                      14.4.18
  Ardick, Daniel, 4942, Pte., d. of w.                        27.11.17
  Arkins, Bernard, 3931, Pte., d. of w.                         1.8.17
  Armstrong, James H., 6882, Pte., d. of w.                    2.10.15
  Armstrong, William, 6157, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                3.5.18
  Artes, George, 8800, Pte., d.                                 9.1.19
  Ashmore, Luke, 8815, Pte., d.                                 3.9.15
  Attridge, Bart, 8614, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Aylward, Edward, 2255, Pte., d.                             28.10.18
  Baines, James, 12235, Pte., k. in a.                         12.4.18
  Bannon, John, 9809, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.17
  Bannon, Michael, 6880, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Barran, Herbert P., 12620, Pte., d. of w.                    29.3.18
  Barry, John, 7579, Pte., k. in a.                            17.3.17
  Barry, Patrick, 7125, Pte., d. of w.                         9.10.15
  Barter, Richard W., 7463, Pte., k. in a.                     8.10.15
  Beglan, Michael, 7108, Pte., k. in a.                       14.10.15
  Bell, George R., 6270, Pte., k. in a.                        21.1.18
  Bell, Henry, 8628, Pte., k. in a.                            15.9.16
  Bell, James, 8003, Pte., k. in a.                            25.6.17
  Benn, Arthur, 9254, Pte., d. of w.                           26.9.16
  Bennett, Edward, 12334, Pte., d. of w.                        8.5.18
  Bennett, William, 12813, Pte., d. of w.                      28.4.18
  Benson, John, 8161, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        13.4.18
  Birmingham, Thomas, 10811, Pte., k. in a.                    31.7.17
  Blackwood, Joseph, 8021, Pte., d. of w.                      30.3.18
  Bodie, Thomas, 8200, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Boland, John, 7310, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Boulton, Percy, 10658, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Boyd, John, 2641, Pte., d.                                    3.3.18
  Boyd, William, 6453, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                       6.10.15
  Boyle, Thomas J., 6666, Pte., k. in a.                       13.9.16
  Boyton, Robert, 7967, Pte., M.M. and bar, k. in a.           23.4.18
  Bradley, John, 6454, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                       4.10.15
  Brady, James, 3881, L.-Sgt., d.                             10.10.18
  Brady, Michael, 9219, Pte., k. in a.                        27.11.17
  Brady, Simon, 5255, Pte., k. in a.                           17.3.17
  Branagan, Eugene, 10041, Pte., k. in a.                      25.7.17
  Branigan, Henry, 4633, d.                                   15.12.15
  Bransfield, Richard, 8918, Pte., k. in a.                   27.11.17
  Bridges, William D., 7368, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 28.9.15
  Brien, John J., 6268, Pte., k. in a.                         29.3.18
  Brien, John, 7028, Pte., d. of w.                             8.9.17
  Brophy, James, 7212, Pte., k. in a.                         21.10.15
  Brown, James, 5589, Pte., d. of w.                          23.10.15
  Browne, Michael, 7171, Pte., k. in a.                        16.4.18
  Buckley, Jeremiah, 8293, Pte., d. of w.                      17.9.16
  Bullen, Robert, 6341, Pte., k. in a.                         30.9.15
  Burchill, George T., 12650, Pte., d. of w.                   14.4.18
  Burke, Edward, 9315, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Burke, John, 6039, Pte., k. in a.                            30.9.15
  Burke, Peter, 9186, Pte., d. of w.                           10.8.17
  Burney, Daniel J., 8015, Pte., k. in a.                      13.9.17
  Butler, William, 7404, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Buttimer, William, 10455, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                  30.6.17
  Byers, Thomas, 7207, Pte., d. of w.                         24.11.15
  Byrne, John M., 6374, Pte., k. in a.                         28.9.16
  Byrne, John, 8789, Pte., k. in a.                            23.3.18
  Byrne, John, 11192, Pte., d. of w.                            2.8.17
  Byrne, John, 11664, Pte., k. in a.                           31.7.17
  Byrne, Peter, 6723, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        20.6.16
  Byrne, Robert, 7033, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       27.9.16
  Cafferty, Patrick, 6553, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   15.9.16
  Cagney, Cornelius, 8084, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Cahill, Maurice, 6494, Pte., k. in a.                        5.11.15
  Cahill, Michael, 6950, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Caldwell, Stephen, 6175, Pte., d. of w.                      17.9.16
  Callaghan, John, 7422, Pte., k. in a.                       18.10.15
  Callaghan, Thomas, 7711, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.17
  Callaghan, Thomas, 9914, Pte., k. in a.                      22.5.18
  Callaghan, William, 11167, Pte., k. in a.                    12.4.18
  Cantwell, Henry, 9438, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Carley, Joseph, 6380, Pte., d.                               3.10.16
  Carolan, Terence, 5531, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    31.7.17
  Carr, Edmund H., 6098, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Carroll, Edward F., 6495, Pte., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Carroll, Edward, 7178, Pte., d. of w.                        1.10.16
  Carson, John, 7170, Pte., k. in a.                           27.9.16
  Casey, John, 2810, Pte., d. of w.                             3.7.16
  Casey, John E., 5225, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      30.9.15
  Casey, Thomas, 3267, Pte., k. in a.                          14.9.16
  Cassidy, Thomas, 4990, Pte., k. in a.                         2.7.16
  Cavanagh, John, 8159, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Cavanagh, John H., 10578, Pte., d. of w.                     23.7.17
  Cawley, John, 3659, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Cawley, Michael, 11266, Pte., k. in a.                       27.3.18
  Cawley, Patrick, 9708, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Chapman, William, 11680, Pte., k. in a.                     27.11.17
  Childs, James, 9912, Pte., k. in a.                          27.9.16
  Chism, Patrick, 4800, Pte., k. in a.                        27.11.17
  Clarke, John, 6870, Pte., k. in a.                           13.9.16
  Clarke, John, 7811, Pte., k. in a.                           13.9.16
  Clarke, Michael, 8473, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Clarke, Thomas, 7114, Pte., k. in a.                         30.9.15
  Clarke, Thomas, 9125, Pte., d.                               13.6.17
  Clarkin, Patrick, 6719, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  Clyne, James, 8043, Pte., k. in a.                          19.10.15
  Coghlin, Michael, 7546, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    14.3.17
  Colclough, Henry W., 5768, Pte., k. in a.                    14.9.17
  Colclough, Michael, 6908, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                  1.10.15
  Collins, Thomas, 9724, Pte., d. of w.                         1.8.17
  Collis, John, 7885, Pte., d. of w.                           22.9.16
  Coman, Michael, 10460, Pte., k. in a.                        25.6.17
  Conachy, Thomas, 12199, Pte., k. in a.                       26.3.18
  Connell, Lawrence, 6948, Pte., k. in a.                      27.9.15
  Connolly, James, 6452, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     23.3.18
  Connolly, James, 9035, Pte., k. in a.                        10.4.16
  Connolly, Peter, 11622, Pte., k. in a.                       12.4.16
  Connolly, Peter, 11974, Pte., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Connor, Thomas, 6679, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Conroy, Michael, 7313, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Conroy, Michael, 7322, Pte., k. in a.                        14.4.18
  Conway, Martin, 541, Pte., k. in a.                          30.9.15
  Cooke, John, 5445, Pte., d. of w.                            31.7.17
  Corbett, James, 10386, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Corcoran, Richard, 10735, Pte., d. of w.                     28.9.16
  Corcoran, Thomas, 6687, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Corcoran, Thomas, 10189, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                  28.11.17
  Corhill, Robert H., 11817, Pte., k. in a.                   27.11.17
  Corr, Simon, 9079, Pte., k. in a.                           27.11.17
  Corrigan, John, 4590, Sgt., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Costello, Hugh, 8870, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Costello, John, 9034, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Costley, Edmund, 8594, Pte., k. in a.                         9.4.16
  Cotter, Harry, 7268, Pte., d. of w.                         11.10.15
  Coulter, Alexander, 3473, Pte., k. in a.                     21.7.17
  Courtney, Patrick, 11902, Pte., k. in a.                     12.4.18
  Cox, Eugene, 11519, Pte., d. of w.                          15.12.17
  Cox, Frank, 11845, Pte., k. in a.                           27.11.17
  Cronin, John, 5011, Pte., k. in a.                           13.9.16
  Cronin, John, 7505, Pte., k. in a.                           7.10.15
  Cryan, Patrick, 2679, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Culhane, Timothy, 10532, Pte., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Cullen, John, 10711, Pte., d. of w.                         11.10.17
  Cullen, John, 2670, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.17
  Cullen, Sidney H., 7703, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Culver, Joseph, 10601, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Cummins, Denis, 5492, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Cummins, John, 8139, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.16
  Cunningham, John, 8309, Pte., k. in a.                       5.11.15
  Cunningham, William, 10917, Pte., k. in a.                   23.3.18
  Curran, Lawrence, 9372, Pte., k. in a.                       31.7.17
  Curran, Michael, 6619, Pte., d. of w.                        15.9.16
  Curtayne, Richard, 7649, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Curtin, Lawrence, 8510, Pte., d. of w.                      27.11.17
  Cusack, Patrick J., 10220, Pte., d. of w.                   17.10.17
  Daley, Thomas J., 11635, Pte., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Dalkin, William H., 8521, Pte., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Daly, James, 6523, Pte., M.M., d. of w.                      30.3.18
  Daly, Michael, 6623, L.-Cpl., d.                              2.1.17
  Daly, Michael, 8291, Pte., d. of w.                          29.5.18
  Daly, Michael, 8984, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                       16.3.17
  Daly, Patrick, 8857, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.17
  Dannaher, William, 7529, Pte., d.                            19.7.17
  Darmody, Jeremiah, 7329, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   13.9.16
  Davin, Thomas, 10568, Pte., k. in a.                         31.7.17
  Davis, John G., 11640, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Delahunty, John, 8073, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Delahunty, John, 10793, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Delaney, Morgan, 7197, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     18.5.16
  Dempsey, Michael, 1818, Pte., k. in a.                       30.7.17
  Dempsey, Patrick, 9548, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  De Renzy, Richard, 8804, Pte., k. in a.                      12.9.17
  Devine, William, 10607, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.16
  Deviney, William, 7824, Pte., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Devlin, James, 8683, Pte., k. in a.                          12.9.17
  Diamond, James, 12139, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Docherty, Michael, 6491, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   27.9.15
  Docherty, Rodger, 6721, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    15.9.16
  Docherty, William, 6388, Pte., d. of w.                      19.9.17
  Doherty, James, 6918, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      12.4.18
  Doherty, William J., 8449, Pte., k. in a.                    15.9.17
  Donnellan, John, 8489, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Donnelly, Miles, 10844, Pte., k. in a.                       12.4.18
  Donohoe, Francis, 8379, Pte., k. in a.                        6.3.17
  Donohoe, John, 11253, Pte., k. in a.                         21.7.17
  Donohoe, Thomas, 11353, Pte., d. of w.                        7.8.17
  Donohue, John J., 10741, Pte., k. in a.                     22.11.17
  Donovan, Michael, 2646, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    13.9.16
  Donovan, Patrick, 8879, Pte., k. in a.                        2.7.16
  Doonan, James L., 6896, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                    13.9.16
  Dooley, James, 9075, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Dooley, John, 2331, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Dooley, John, 10479, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Dowd, Patrick, 5102, L.-Cpl., d.                             29.7.16
  Dowling, Albert M., 10130, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 9.10.17
  Dowling, Edward, 7077, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Dowling, Michael, 6221, Pte., d.                            10.12.17
  Doyle, John, 5907, Pte., k. in a.                            26.9.16
  Doyle, Martin, 6547, Pte., k. in a.                          28.9.15
  Doyle, Michael, 7793, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.15
  Doyle, Thomas, 6622, Pte., k. in a.                          8.10.15
  Dreeling, Nicholas, 7071, Pte., k. in a.                     9.10.17
  Drennan, Joseph, 9795, Pte., k. in a.                        24.7.19
  Duffy, Patrick, 8849, Pte., k. in a.                         24.3.18
  Duffy, Patrick, 10814, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.17
  Duffy, Thomas, 5965, Pte., k. in a.                         27.11.17
  Duggan, Patrick, 11662, Pte., k. in a.                       13.9.17
  Duncan, Kiernan, 8329, Pte., d. of w.                        20.6.17
  Dunlea, John, 8531, Pte., k. in a.                           28.3.18
  Dunleavy, Patrick, 10664, Pte., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Dunne, Edward, 11574, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.17
  Dunne, James, 6353, Pte., k. in a.                           27.9.18
  Dunne, John, 7180, Pte., k. in a.                            31.7.17
  Dunne, Thomas, 9506, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Dwyer, Edward, 9508, Pte., k. in a.                         20.11.16
  Dyra, John, 6765, Pte., k. in a.                             15.9.16
  Early, John J., 10355, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Eagleton, Thomas, 6379, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                    5.12.17
  Edney, Bernard, 4878, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      30.9.15
  Egan, Thomas, 6399, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Egan, William C., 7462, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   27.11.17
  Egan, William, 7884, Pte., d. of w.                         21.10.15
  Elliott, Andrew, 11205, Pte., k. in a.                        7.3.17
  Elliott, John B., 12628, Pte., k. in a.                      27.3.18
  Ellis, Thomas, 6438, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Ennis, James, 7470, Pte., k. in a.                          19.10.15
  Ennis, Patrick, 4983, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Eustace, Robert, 8608, Pte., k. in a.                        14.9.16
  Evans, John, 6031, Pte., k. in a.                           27.11.17
  Fagan, John, 8124, Pte., k. in a.                            16.9.16
  Fanning, James, 4075, Pte., k. in a.                         14.4.18
  Fanning, William, 10868, Pte., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Farrell, Francis, 6698, Sgt., M.M., d. of w.                 19.4.18
  Feenick, James, 10261, Pte., d. of w.                        25.4.18
  Ferguson, William, 7480, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Finlay, Owen M., 10182, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    13.4.18
  Fitzgerald, John, 9824, Pte., k. in a.                       27.6.17
  Fitzgerald, Michael, 7556, Pte., d. of w.                   21.10.15
  Fitzhenry, Thomas, 7110, Pte., d.                            18.8.18
  Fitzpatrick, Christopher, 6961, Pte., d. of w.               30.9.15
  Fitzpatrick, James, 7601, Pte., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  Fitzpatrick, Peter, 7146, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 27.11.17
  Flanders, Walter, 12751, Pte., k. in a.                      12.4.18
  Fleming, Patrick C., 10912, Pte., k. in a.                   12.1.17
  Flood, Thomas, 10901, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Flynn, Joseph, 6257, Pte., d. of w.                         24.10.15
  Flynn, James, 11257, Pte., d. of w.                          4.12.17
  Flynn, Michael, 7080, Pte., d. of w.                          2.3.16
  Flynn, Patrick, 6923, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      14.9.16
  Flynn, Thomas, 10278, Pte., d. of w.                         13.8.17
  Fogarty, John, 8863, Pte., d. of w.                         25.10.16
  Foley, Timothy, 8218, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      13.4.18
  Foster, Thomas M., 10205, Pte., k. in a.                     27.6.17
  Fox, Thomas, 6520, Pte., d. of w.                           21.10.15
  Freeman, James, 1962, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Freyne, Patrick, 8236, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.16
  Frizelle, William R., 9573, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                13.4.18
  Gallagher, George, 9128, Pte., k. in a.                      22.6.17
  Gallagher, Thomas, 7595, Pte., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Gannon, Thomas, 9898, Pte., k. in a.                         22.6.17
  Garven, Peter, 8450, Pte., d.                                 1.3.17
  Garner, Hugh, 8518, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Gaughan, John, 8610, Pte., k. in a.                          27.3.18
  Gault, Hugh, 6142, Pte., k. in a.                            28.3.18
  Gennoy, Michael, 9727, Pte., k. in a.                        25.6.17
  Gibbie, Robert, 9245, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  Gilbert, Charles, 6422, Pte., d.                             18.3.16
  Gilbert, Henry N., 9763, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   16.4.18
  Gilmore, Boyce M., 6770, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   30.9.15
  Gilroy, James, 12393, Pte., k. in a.                         13.4.18
  Glennon, Thomas H., 6771, Sgt., k. in a.                    20.11.16
  Glynn, John J., 3303, Sgt., D.C.M., k. in a.                 16.9.16
  Goggan, James, 12219, Pte., k. in a.                         12.4.18
  Goggin, Michael, 8649, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Golding, William, 10946, Pte., d. of w.                      27.3.18
  Gooding, John S., 5194, Pte., k. in a.                       19.7.17
  Gordon, John, 6996, Pte., k. in a.                           8.10.15
  Gorham, Owen, 10387, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Gould, Patrick, 6949, Pte., k. in a.                         29.9.15
  Grace, James, 4794, Pte., d.                                 20.7.17
  Graham, Andrew, 11524, Pte., d. of w.                         1.5.18
  Grainger, Maurice J., 7972, Pte., k. in a.                  21.10.15
  Grant, Patrick, 7482, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Gray, Thomas, 8583, Pte., d.                                 2.12.18
  Green, James, 6677, Pte., k. in a.                           27.9.15
  Green, John, 5838, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Griffin, John, 3644, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                        5.9.16
  Grimwood, William, 3081, C.S.M., k. in a.                    20.7.17
  Guilfoyle, John, 6691, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Guy, William, 11691, Pte., k. in a.                          9.10.17
  Hagan, Edward, 5119, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Hagerty, James, 8197, Pte., d. of w.                         14.9.16
  Hain, Robert, 12057, Pte., k. in a.                          12.4.18
  Halliday, John, 6866, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                       5.4.16
  Hamilton, Charles, 11393, Pte., d. of w.                      4.4.18
  Hamilton, James, 4372, Pte., d. of w.                        6.10.15
  Hanley, John, 9665, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        29.1.18
  Hannon, Frank, 6984, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.17
  Hanrahan, John, 11002, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Harfitt, Henry, 11302, Pte., d.                               1.8.17
  Harrold, William, 6772, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  Harte, John J., 6773, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     19.11.15
  Harty, John, 7469, Pte., k. in a.                            30.7.17
  Haughey, John, 8890, Pte., k. in a.                          13.4.18
  Hawe, Michael, 4730, Sgt., k. in a.                         27.11.17
  Hayes, James, 7818, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                         1.3.17
  Hayes, Patrick, 6245, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Hays, Archibald, 8204, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                     31.7.17
  Healey, Francis, 11093, Pte., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Healey, Joseph, 4742, Pte., d. of w.                         21.4.16
  Healy, Michael J., 7970, Pte., k. in a.                      13.9.16
  Heaphy, William H., 3236, Pte., d. of w.                      7.5.16
  Henaghan, Patrick, 10158, Pte., k. in a.                      3.8.17
  Heneghan, Simon, 8306, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     9.10.17
  Henry, John, 4906, Pte., D.C.M., d. of w.                   27.11.17
  Henry, Peter, 8227, Pte., d. of w.                            1.8.17
  Heydon, Aloysius, 8453, Pte., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Hickey, John, 8427, Pte., d. of w.                            9.7.17
  Higgins, Michael, 7493, L.-Cpl., M.M., k. in a.              15.9.16
  Higgins, William, 2445, Sgt., k. in a.                      21.10.15
  Hill, Joseph L. F., 7780, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                  13.4.18
  Hill, William, 6900, Pte., k. in a.                          7.10.15
  Hilley, Patrick, 6015, Pte., d.                              7.11.18
  Hinds, John J., 11153, Pte., d. of w.                         1.8.17
  Hoban, Gregory, 11671, Pte., k. in a.                        13.9.17
  Hogan, Frank, 7269, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Hogan, William, 10396, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Holden, Henry, 12786, Pte., k. in a.                         13.4.18
  Horan, William, 6924, Pte., k. in a.                          2.7.16
  Horgan, William, 6391, Pte., k. in a.                       16.11.15
  Houlihan, Michael, 7835, Pte., d. of w.                      18.9.16
  Howard, William, 12753, Pte., k. in a.                       12.4.18
  Howlett, Martin, 9142, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Hudson, George, 12591, Pte., k. in a.                        27.3.18
  Hughes, Patrick, 6555, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    19.10.15
  Hughes, Patrick, 9297, Pte., k. in a.                        13.9.16
  Hughes, William, 8445, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Humphreys, James, 8818, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  Hurley, Patrick, 6722, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     30.9.15
  Hussey, John, 7863, Pte., k. in a.                           13.9.16
  Hutchinson, Martin, 6982, Pte., k. in a.                     13.9.16
  Hutchinson, William, 6778, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                 27.9.15
  Hutton, John, 10886, Pte., k. in a.                         27.11.17
  Hyde, John, 7600, L.-Cpl., d.                                5.11.15
  Irwin, Thomas, 5595, Pte., k. in a.                           3.8.17
  Jeffs, Arthur, 12085, Pte., d. of w.                         25.4.18
  Jennings, Thomas, 8010, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    15.9.16
  Jolly, Thomas, 7116, Pte., k. in a.                          27.9.15
  Jordan, Stephen, 8248, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Joyce, Michael, 9296, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Keaney, Terence, 9694, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.16
  Kearney, John, 9384, Pte., d. of w.                           1.8.17
  Kearns, John, 7816, Pte., d. of w.                           15.9.16
  Keating, Arthur, 6289, Pte., k. in a.                        28.9.15
  Keating, John, 6316, Pte., k. in a.                          30.9.15
  Keaveny, Patrick, 11495, Pte., k. in a.                     27.11.17
  Keegan, John, 9801, Pte., k. in a.                           13.4.18
  Keelan, Joseph, 11545, Pte., k. in a.                        28.3.18
  Kelleher, Denis, 5103, Pte., k. in a.                        12.1.16
  Kelleher, Denis, 8323, Pte., d.                              24.3.16
  Kelleher, Mortimer, 7545, Pte., k. in a.                      2.7.16
  Kelly, Edward, 11034, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      12.4.18
  Kelly, Henry, 5457, Pte., k. in a.                           31.7.17
  Kelly, Joseph, 11522, Pte., d. of w.                         31.3.18
  Kelly, Martin, 8905, Pte., k. in a.                         27.11.17
  Kelly, Patrick J., 10266, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  27.6.17
  Kelly, Simon, 10703, Pte., k. in a.                          26.9.16
  Kelly, Thomas, 4084, Pte., k. in a.                          28.9.15
  Kelly, Thomas, 8407, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Kelly, William, 7405, Pte., k. in a.                         30.9.15
  Kenefick, Edward, 8110, Pte., d. of w.                      25.12.16
  Keniry, John, 2746, Sgt., M.M., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Kennedy, Michael, 12362, Pte., k. in a.                      12.4.18
  Kenny, Cornelius, 8320, Pte., d. of w.                       15.9.17
  Kenny, John, 4955, Pte., k. in a.                            12.9.17
  Keogan, Horace J., 6998, Pte., k. in a.                      27.9.15
  Keogh, James, 6542, Pte., k. in a.                           20.5.16
  Keogh, James, 7384, Pte., k. in a.                           13.9.16
  Keogh, Joseph, 7518, Pte., k. in a.                          19.5.16
  Keppel, Edward, 9095, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.17
  Kerr, Thomas, 2323, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.17
  Kerrigan, Francis, 8596, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                   27.3.18
  Kerslake, Walter G., 12593, Pte., k. in a.                   26.3.18
  Kiernan, James, 6884, Pte., d. of w.                          8.9.17
  Kilgallon, William O., 7755, Pte., k. in a.                   1.7.16
  Killerlane, Patrick, 10333, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                13.4.18
  Kinahan, Edward, 8278, Pte., k. in a.                       23.12.15
  King, John, 9972, Pte., k. in a.                             31.7.17
  King, Peter, 10429, Pte., k. in a.                           13.4.18
  Kinsella, James, 11303, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  Kinsella, Michael, 10558, Pte., d. of w.                     13.9.17
  Kirwan, John T., 6954, Pte., k. in a.                        30.9.15
  Kirwan, William, 7661, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Kirwin, Matthew, 7230, Pte., d. of w.                        19.5.16
  Kivlan, Patrick, 6564, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Lally, Thomas, 9455, Sgt., d.                               27.10.18
  Larkin, Patrick, 6971, Pte., k. in a.                        26.9.16
  Larkin, Peter, 6842, Pte., k. in a.                          30.9.15
  Lawrence, Lewis, 10117, Pte., k. in a.                       28.9.16
  Lawson, Horace, L. M., 7219, L.-Cpl., k. in a.               27.9.15
  Leahy, Daniel, 7425, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Leahy, Denis F., 7591, Pte., k. in a.                        8.10.15
  Leahy, James, 7426, Pte., k. in a.                          17.10.15
  Leech, James, 10292, Pte., k. in a.                          20.7.17
  Leggett, Robert, 10804, Pte., d. of w.                       31.7.17
  Leitch, William, 1909, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Lenihan, Edward, 6820, Pte., k. in a.                        30.9.15
  Lennon, Daniel, 8331, Pte., k. in a.                         31.7.17
  Lennon, Patrick, 8904, Pte., d. of w.                        2.12.16
  Lennon, Philip, 4636, Pte., k. in a.                         20.6.16
  Leonard, William, 9390, Pte., d. of w.                       27.6.17
  Lewis, Charles, 6404, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.15
  Lewis, George, 2902, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                       27.9.15
  Lewis, George, 8313, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Lewis, Michael, 6891, Pte., k. in a.                        21.10.15
  Linehan, Charles, 6727, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  Little, Michael, 3563, Sgt., d. of w.                        29.9.15
  Lockington, William, 3113, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 27.9.16
  Lonergan, John F., 10682, Pte., d. of w.                      2.8.17
  Long, Frank H., 7948, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      15.9.16
  Lowe, Arthur, 7157, Pte., k. in a.                           30.9.15
  Lucas, Albert J., 6684, Sgt., k. in a.                      20.11.16
  Lynch, Michael J., 7655, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   13.9.16
  Lynn, Charles F. C., 11920, Pte., k. in a.                   28.3.18
  Lyons, Daniel, 7090, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Mackay, Thomas, 7553, Pte., k. in a.                         11.7.16
  Madgwick, Percival J., 7135, Pte., k. in a.                  13.4.18
  Magee, James, 10545, Pte., k. in a.                         27.11.17
  Magill, John, 3586, Pte., k. in a.                           14.4.18
  Maguire, Dominic, 9358, Pte., k. in a.                       12.9.17
  Maguire, Redmond, 6308, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   15.10.17
  Maguire, Thomas, 10089, Pte., k. in a.                       30.3.18
  Maher, Matthew, 7323, Pte., k. in a.                          2.7.16
  Mahon, Henry, 7508, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Mahon, Matthew J., 12151, Pte., k. in a.                     23.3.18
  Mahoney, William, 11078, Pte., d.                            16.6.18
  Maloney, Michael, 8396, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  Manning, Francis, 8437, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  Mara, Daniel, 4638, Pte., k. in a.                           23.3.18
  Marcham, James F., 12717, Pte., d. of w.                     15.4.18
  Marsh, Albert J., 10377, Pte., k. in a.                      13.4.18
  Martin, David, 8794, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Martin, Denis, 8167, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.17
  Martin, Edward, 6709, Pte., k. in a.                         30.9.15
  Martin, Joseph, 8886, Pte., k. in a.                          2.7.16
  Martin, Michael, 6188, Pte., d. of w.                        28.1.16
  Matear, Henry, 6939, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                   27.11.17
  Matthers, Samuel G., 8293, Pte., d. of w.                    18.9.16
  Matthews, James I., 8520, Pte., d. of w.                     14.4.18
  Mawhenny, Andrew, 8841, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    31.7.17
  Maye, John, 10064, Pte., k. in a.                            13.9.17
  Meehan, Bernard, 8016, Pte., k. in a.                        13.9.16
  Merryweather, James, 11402, Pte., k. in a.                    1.3.17
  Millsopp, James, 6572, Pte., k. in a.                        30.9.15
  Moan, Hugh, 4521, Pte., k. in a.                            23.12.16
  Mohan, Andrew, 6655, Pte., k. in a.                          26.7.17
  Molloy, Martin, 6649, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Moloney, Martin, 11243, Pte., d. of w.                        1.8.17
  Monahan, John, 7395, Pte., k. in a.                          7.10.15
  Moody, Thomas, 10156, L.-Cpl., d.                           27.11.17
  Moore, Arthur, 12614, Pte., k. in a.                         23.4.18
  Moore, George, 6295, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                       29.9.15
  Moore, John, 10202, Pte., d. of w.                          13.10.17
  Moran, Patrick, 6665, Pte., d. of w.                        22.10.15
  Morley, John E., 10990, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Morrow, Alexander, 3035, Pte., k. in a.                      27.9.15
  Moss, David, 6671, Pte., k. in a.                            23.3.18
  Moss, James, 11358, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.17
  Moynan, Alfred, 8057, Pte., k. in a.                          5.5.16
  Muir, Albert, 6481, Pte., k. in a.                           16.9.16
  Mulhearn, John, 10548, Pte., d. of w.                       14.10.17
  Mulhill, Arthur, 10304, Pte., k. in a.                       15.3.17
  Mullaly, Miles, 9733, Pte., k. in a.                         8.10.17
  Mullaney, Laurence, 11546, Pte., d. of w.                     3.8.17
  Mullen, Albert C., 7117, Pte., k. in a.                      30.9.15
  Mulligan, Christopher, 11270, L.-Cpl., k. in a.              8.10.17
  Mullin, John, 12161, Pte., d.                                 2.8.19
  Mulvehill, Dennis, 10517, Pte., k. in a.                     31.7.17
  Mulvihill, Edward, 9289, Pte., k. in a.                      13.9.16
  Murphy, Cornelius, 7660, Pte., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Murphy, James, 4985, Pte., k. in a.                         18.10.15
  Murphy, Martin, 7618, Pte., k. in a.                        21.10.15
  Murphy, Patrick, 9488, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Murphy, Stephen, 7901, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     14.9.16
  Murray, John V., 6865, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Murray, Patrick, 6497, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Murray, Patrick, 8868, Pte., d. of w.                        16.9.16
  Murray, Philip, 11342, Pte., k. in a.                        14.4.18
  Murray, William, 7437, Pte., k. in a.                       21.10.15
  McAnany, John, 11649, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     27.11.17
  McAteer, John, 10443, L.-Cpl., M.M., k. in a.                13.4.18
  McAughley, John, 8511, Pte., k. in a.                        13.9.17
  McAuley, Archibald, 11695, Pte., k. in a.                    9.10.17
  McAuley, John, 6711, Pte., d. of w.                          28.9.15
  McAuley, John, 7411, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  McAuliffe, Peter, 8318, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    15.3.17
  McBride, Charles, 10487, Pte., d. of w.                     22.10.17
  McBride, Charles, 11657, Pte., d. of w.                      1.10.17
  McCabe, Daniel, 7432, Pte., k. in a.                         30.9.15
  McCaffrey, Thomas, 12202, k. in a.                           14.4.18
  McCallum, John, 6739, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.15
  McCann, John, 7577, Pte., d. of w.                           29.3.18
  McCann, Joseph, 8956, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  McCarthy, James, 9288, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  McCarthy, Patrick, 8045, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  McCarthy, Robert, 6528, Sgt., M.M., k. in a.                 15.9.16
  McClennan, James, 5376, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.15
  McCole, Daniel, 5988, Pte., k. in a.                         13.4.18
  McConnell, Henry, 9015, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.16
  McConnell, Patrick, 4796, Pte., k. in a.                     31.7.17
  McCormack, John, 6707, Pte., k. in a.                        30.9.15
  McCourt, John, 2694, Pte., d. of w.                          13.7.17
  McCoy, Arthur, 11436, Pte., k. in a.                        27.11.17
  McDaid, William, 9810, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  McDermott, Philip, 3234, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  McDonagh, James, 7115, Pte., d. of w.                        18.9.16
  McDonald, Peter, 6493, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  MacDonald, Patrick J., 11639, Pte., k. in a.                 29.1.18
  McEnery, Thomas D., 10922, Pte., k. in a.                   27.11.17
  McEnroe, John, 4221, Pte., k. in a.                          30.9.15
  McEvoy, Edward, 11208, Pte., d. of w.                        21.9.17
  McEvoy, Patrick, 6397, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    16.10.15
  McEvoy, Patrick J., 7849, Pte., d. of w.                    19.10.15
  McFadden, William, 12032, Pte., k. in a.                     14.4.18
  MacFarlane, Patrick, 8094, Pte., k. in a.                    15.9.16
  McGeeney, Peter, 12140, Pte., d. of w.                       29.2.18
  McGeough, John, 11357, Pte., k. in a.                        13.4.18
  McGiff, Peter, 7994, Pte., k. in a.                          7.10.15
  McGinnis, Charles, 5532, Pte., M.M., d. of w.               13.10.17
  McGladdery, Thomas, 8833, Pte., k. in a.                     15.3.17
  McGlinchy, Francis, 5529, Pte., k. in a.                    21.10.15
  McGlone, Edward, 10756, Pte., k. in a.                       31.7.17
  McGoldrick, Michael, 8301, Pte., k. in a.                    13.9.16
  McGookin, Thomas J., 9117, Pte., k. in a.                    13.9.16
  McGowan, Charles, 11396, Pte., k. in a.                      9.10.17
  McGregor, James, 4929, Pte., d. of w.                        1.10.17
  McGrorty, Patrick, 7208, Pte., k. in a.                      30.9.15
  McGuinn, John F., 5097, Sgt., d. of w.                       27.3.16
  McGuire, Charles J., 6521, Pte., d. of w.                   17.10.15
  McGuire, Francis, 6745, Pte., k. in a.                        2.7.16
  McGuire, John, 9635, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.17
  McHale, Michael, 8944, Pte., k. in a.                         2.7.16
  McHugh, James J., 11899, Pte., k. in a.                      9.10.17
  McHugh, Patrick, 7106, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  McKay, James, 8087, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  McKenna, John, 8013, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.16
  McKenna, John, 9249, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  McKeon, James, 8472, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.17
  McKeown, William, 6607, Pte., d. of w.                       17.4.18
  McKernin, Frank, 11326, Pte., k. in a.                       31.7.17
  McKnight, Thomas, 3198, Sgt., k. in a.                       13.9.16
  McLeish, Peter, 10195, Pte., k. in a.                        22.1.18
  McLoughlin, James, 9427, Pte., k. in a.                      13.4.18
  McMahon, James, 6650, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.15
  McManus, William, 2785, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  McMenamy, Thomas S., 8419, Pte., k. in a.                    12.9.17
  McMullan, Daniel, 8444, Pte., d. of w.                       29.9.16
  McMullan, William, 10271, Pte., d. of w.                     22.7.17
  McNamara, Joseph, 7259, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  McNamee, Patrick, 6613, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  McNicholas, Michael, 11181, Pte., k. in a.                   31.7.17
  McPartland, Matthew, 7985, Pte., k. in a.                   18.10.15
  McPartland, Peter, 10094, Pte., k. in a.                     31.7.17
  McPete, James M., 813, Pte., d. of w.                        30.9.15
  McQuiggan, Henry, 5931, Pte., k. in a.                      21.10.15
  McQuinn, Patrick J., 6914, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  2.7.16
  Nash, 7416, Pte., d. of w.                                  14.10.17
  Neafsy, Patrick, 6534, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Nealon, Daniel, 6785, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Nealon, Patrick J., 11350, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                27.11.17
  Neary, Peter, 6225, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Neill, Robert, 8123, Pte., d. of w.                          24.9.16
  Nelson, Andrew, 8877, Pte., k. in a.                         13.9.16
  Newton, Richard, 12639, Pte., d. of w.                       13.4.18
  Nicholson, William, 7710, Pte., k. in a.                     13.9.17
  Niland, Joseph, 6224, Pte., d. of w.                         19.7.17
  Nolan, Patrick, 8541, Pte., k. in a.                          2.7.16
  Nolan, Peter, 6484, Sgt., D.C.M., M.M. and Bar, k. in a.    27.11.17
  Nolan, Peter, 7298, Pte., k. in a.                           13.9.16
  Nolan, Philip, 6786, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                       20.6.16
  Noonan, Patrick, 9425, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Nowlan, William, 7232, Pte., k. in a.                       17.10.15
  O’Beirne, William, 11564, Pte., k. in a.                     13.4.18
  O’Brien, James J., 199, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  O’Brien, James, 11720, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  O’Brien, Michael, 4656, Pte., d.                            26.12.17
  O’Brien, Peter, 9338, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  O’Brien, Peter, 10048, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  O’Brien, William, 6229, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                27.11.17
  O’Brien, William, 7815, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  O’Brien, William, 7831, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    13.9.16
  O’Connell, Jeremiah, 7671, Pte., k. in a.                     2.7.16
  O’Connell, Timothy, 7589, Pte., k. in a.                     30.9.15
  O’Connor, Fergus, 9769, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   26.11.16
  O’Connor, Hugh, 6999, Pte., k. in a.                        21.10.15
  O’Connor, James, 4424, Pte., k. in a.                        30.9.15
  O’Connor, James, 6845, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  O’Connor, James, 10164, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   27.11.17
  O’Connor, John, 7771, Pte., d. of w.                        22.10.17
  O’Connor, Patrick, 4936, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                  17.10.15
  O’Connor, William, 10572, Pte., d. of w.                     16.4.18
  O’Dea, Timothy, 10231, L.-Cpl., M.M., k. in a.              27.11.17
  Odlum, William, 6378, Pte., k. in a.                         9.10.17
  O’Donnell, Charles, 6516, Pte., k. in a.                     15.9.16
  O’Donnell, Denis, 5846, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  O’Donnell, Peter, 9326, Pte., k. in a.                       15.3.17
  O’Donnell, Peter, 11554, Pte., d. of w.                      27.4.18
  O’Donohue, John, 11158, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  O’Donovan, Martin, 8059, Pte., k. in a.                      27.3.18
  O’Driscoll, John, 11075, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   23.7.17
  O’Farrell, Patrick, 7716, Pte., d.                           16.1.18
  O’Grady, James, 11229, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  O’Hagan, John J. C. F., 11121, Pte., k. in a.                22.6.17
  O’Kane, Darby, 6695, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  O’Mahony, John, 7790, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  O’Neil, Owen, 12238, Pte., k. in a.                          13.4.18
  O’Neill, Edward F., 6805, Pte., k. in a.                     30.9.15
  O’Neill, Patrick, 10562, Pte., k. in a.                      27.6.17
  O’Neill, Thomas, 10063, Pte., k. in a.                       3.12.17
  O’Regan, John, 9151, Pte., d. of w.                          31.3.18
  O’Regan, Terence, 7649, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   26.10.17
  O’Rourke, Peter, 2811, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                     27.9.15
  Orr, John, 11670, Pte., k. in a.                             31.7.17
  Orr, William, 8481, Pte., d.                                 1.10.16
  O’Shea, Patrick, 3501, Pte., d.                             14.11.17
  O’Sullivan, Daniel J., 11000, Pte., k. in a.                 27.6.17
  O’Sullivan, Denis, 7458, Pte., k. in a.                     23.12.16
  O’Sullivan, John, 9735, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                     2.8.17
  O’Sullivan, Patrick, 6699, Pte., k. in a.                     2.7.16
  O’Sullivan, Patrick, 9236, Pte., d. of w.                    30.9.16
  O’Sullivan, Thomas, 11752, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                 23.3.18
  O’Toole, Joseph, 11643, Pte., k. in a.                       13.9.17
  Palmer, Joseph M., 6922, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   13.9.16
  Parkinson, Thomas, 6867, Pte., k. in a.                      28.9.15
  Parker, Thomas, 4595, Pte., k. in a.                         13.4.18
  Pender, Andrew J., 2267, Pte., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Peoples, William, 9253, Pte., d. of w.                       19.9.16
  Peppard, William, 9253, Pte., d. of w.                        3.8.17
  Phelan, Edward, 7765, Pte., k. in a.                         31.7.17
  Phelan, Lawrence, 6676, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  Philips, John, 8166, Pte., d. of w.                          21.1.17
  Pickett, William, 11176, Pte., d. of w.                       2.8.17
  Plunkett, Hugh, 10860, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Pope, Edward, 9251, Pte., d. of w.                           25.4.18
  Potter, Charles, 5941, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Power, Joseph, 7626, Pte., d. of w.                          27.9.16
  Power, Michael, 5824, Pte., d. of w.                        23.10.15
  Quigley, William, 11620, Pte., k. in a.                      9.10.17
  Quinlan, Joseph, 10215, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.16
  Quinn, James P., 11828, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  Quinn, Jeremiah, 10391, Pte., k. in a.                       9.10.17
  Quinn, Patrick J., 6232, Pte., k. in a.                     27.11.17
  Quinn, Patrick, 9107, Pte., k. in a.                         16.9.16
  Quinn, Peter, 6552, Pte., k. in a.                           30.9.15
  Quirke, James, 11727, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      31.3.18
  Quirke, Michael, 11530, Pte., k. in a.                       12.9.17
  Rafferty, Owen, 6596, Pte., k. in a.                        21.10.15
  Rainey, William J., 9482, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   4.5.16
  Reddy, Joseph, 8091, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                       31.7.17
  Redmond, Joseph, 3836, L.-Sgt., M.M., d. of w.                8.9.17
  Redmond, Nicholas, 10648, Pte., d. of w.                     19.8.17
  Redmond, Thomas, 3795, Pte., d. of w.                        18.9.16
  Regan, Thomas, 3795, Pte., d. of w.                          13.4.18
  Reid, Edgar, 7111, Pte., d. of w.                            8.10.15
  Reilly, James, 6804, Pte., k. in a.                          30.9.15
  Reilly, John, 6886, Pte., k. in a.                           17.9.16
  Reilly, John, 7409, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Reilly, Joseph, 10752, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Reilly, Patrick, 8624, Pte., k. in a.                        13.9.16
  Reilly, Thomas, 11532, Pte., d. of w.                        20.4.18
  Renney, Thomas, 8678, Pte., d. of w.                        27.12.16
  Rice, Joseph, 3426, Pte., d.                                  9.2.16
  Richmond, Leo C., 8855, Pte., k. in a.                      19.11.16
  Riley, Patrick, 8048, Pte., d. of w.                        23.10.15
  Rivill, Patrick, 6736, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Robertshaw, Harry, 7159, Pte., d. of w.                      28.3.18
  Robinson, James, 7378, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.16
  Roche, John, 6334, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                         7.12.15
  Rogers, James, 4265, Pte., k. in a.                          27.9.15
  Rogers, Patrick, 6976, Pte., d. of w.                       10.10.15
  Roland, Frederick, 7725, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                   14.1.17
  Rooney, Bernard, 11989, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  Ross, Robert H., 8892, Pte., d. of w.                        29.9.17
  Rossiter, James, 6846, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                    21.10.15
  Rowan, Patrick, 9503, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.16
  Rowe, Michael, 11050, Pte., k. in a.                        27.11.17
  Rowe, Oliver A., 6436, Pte., k. in a.                        31.7.17
  Royle, Andrew, 11884, Pte., k. in a.                        27.11.17
  Ryan, Denis, 4817, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Ryan, John, 5472, Pte., k. in a.                             15.9.16
  Ryan, John P., 7804, Pte., k. in a.                         21.10.15
  Ryan, Michael, 6652, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Ryan, Patrick, 3074, Pte., k. in a.                          5.10.15
  Ryan, Patrick, 7326, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                        2.5.16
  Ryan, Patrick, 10318, Pte., k. in a.                         28.3.18
  Rynard, James, 10843, Pte., k. in a.                         12.9.17
  Rynn, Myles, 11164, Pte., d. of w.                           16.8.17
  Saich, Charles M., 9316, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                  27.11.17
  Sanders, James, 9749, Pte., d. of w.                         18.7.18
  Sarsfield, Timothy, 8821, Pte., k. in a.                     13.4.18
  Savage, Hugh, 9783, Pte., M.M., k. in a.                     14.4.18
  Savage, William, 7204, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      9.4.16
  Seaney, Archibald, 8284, Pte., k. in a.                      15.9.16
  Shanks, Charles, 8492, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                      5.7.16
  Shannon, John Francis, 3327, Pte., d. of w.                  15.9.17
  Sharkey, Charles, 5956, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.15
  Sharkey, Edward, 7283, Pte., d. of w.                        20.9.16
  Sharkey, Edward, 7764, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Shawlin, Anthony, 11886, Pte., k. in a.                      27.3.18
  Shea, Patrick, 7430, Pte., k. in a.                          29.4.16
  Sheehy, James, 7653, Cpl., k. in a.                          16.9.16
  Sheerin, Thomas, 9483, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Sherwood, William H., 6791, Pte., k. in a.                   27.9.15
  Shine, Peter, 6792, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.17
  Sholdis, Thomas, 5507, Pte., d. of w.                        29.5.18
  Smith, Christopher, 10782, Pte., k. in a.                    31.7.17
  Smith, Lewis, 12247, Pte., k. in a.                          14.4.18
  Smith, Michael J., 11722, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                  13.4.18
  Smith, Patrick, 10641, Pte., k. in a.                        23.3.18
  Smith, Thomas, 4992, Pte., k. in a.                          17.9.16
  Smith, Thomas, 6856, Pte., k. in a.                          30.9.15
  Smyth, Alexander, 9351, Pte., d. of w.                       31.7.17
  Smyth, William, 7827, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                      15.3.17
  Smythe, Robert, 10501, Pte., k. in a.                        13.4.18
  Somers, Daniel, 7256, Pte., d. of w.                        28.10.15
  Somers, Lawrence, 8112, Pte., M.M., d. of w.                28.10.16
  Somers, Patrick, 10426, Pte., k. in a.                       26.9.16
  Southren, John, 12604, Pte., d.                              22.4.18
  Speakman, James, 9161, Pte., k. in a.                        15.9.17
  Spiby, Thomas, 12715, Pte., k. in a.                         13.4.18
  Spring, Harry, 3672, Pte., k. in a.                         27.11.17
  Staddon, Arthur, 11892, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  Stanley, Edward, 10441, Pte., k. in a.                       23.3.18
  Staunton, John, 10294, Pte., d. of w.                        5.12.17
  Stephenson, George, 8560, Pte., k. in a.                     12.9.17
  Stevens, Frank, 12749, Pte., k. in a.                        13.4.18
  Stewart, William, 7365, Pte., d. of w.                      15.11.15
  Sullivan, Eugene, 7504, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.15
  Sullivan, James, 6176, Pte., d.                              26.8.17
  Sullivan, James, 7734, Pte., k. in a.                        30.9.15
  Sullivan, James, 9111, Pte., k. in a.                       27.11.17
  Sullivan, John, 7574, Pte., k. in a.                         14.2.16
  Sutton, Elijah, 2054, Pte., k. in a.                         30.9.15
  Sutton, Geoffrey A., 11686, L.-Cpl., k. in a.               27.11.17
  Sutton, Michael, 7258, Pte., k. in a.                        27.9.15
  Sweeney, Michael J., 10951, Pte., k. in a.                   25.3.18
  Sweeney, William H., 7066, Pte., d. of w.                    15.4.18
  Sweetland, Michael, 3109, Pte., k. in a.                     27.9.15
  Talbot, Joseph, 6533, Pte., k. in a.                         27.9.16
  Talbot, William, 12059, Pte., k. in a.                      27.11.17
  Thompson, Joseph, 7039, Pte., k. in a.                       30.9.16
  Thompson, William J., 2537, Pte., k. in a.                   27.3.18
  Tierney, Bernard, 10244, Pte., d.                            12.2.17
  Toher, Martin, 6958, Pte., k. in a.                          13.9.16
  Torpey, Frank, 12179, Pte., k. in a.                         27.3.18
  Torsney, Thomas, 7882, L.-Sgt., d. of w.                     13.9.18
  Towey, Martin, 8973, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Towland, Edward, 3861, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Tracey, Henry, 12608, Pte., k. in a.                         27.3.18
  Tudenham, Maurice, 6898, Pte., k. in a.                      30.9.15
  Twomey, Humphrey, 7247, Pte., k. in a.                       15.9.16
  Walkden, Albert, 8187, Pte., d. of w.                         1.8.17
  Walker, Christopher, 10307, Pte., d. of w.                   24.4.18
  Walker, John, 11403, Pte., k. in a.                          31.7.17
  Wall, John, 6396, Pte., k. in a.                             27.9.16
  Wall, Patrick, 2726, Pte., k. in a.                         10.10.17
  Wallace, Michael J., 9757, Pte., d. of w.                   27.11.17
  Wallace, Richard C., 7722, Pte., k. in a.                    13.9.17
  Walsh, Hugh, 6194, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                          3.8.17
  Walsh, James, 7561, Pte., k. in a.                           15.9.16
  Walsh, John, 11190, L.-Cpl., d. of w.                       27.11.17
  Walsh, Michael, 6056, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Walsh, Thomas, 9649, Pte., d. of w.                          17.4.18
  Walsh, Thomas, 12821, Pte., d. of w.                         28.3.18
  Walsh, William, 7532, Pte., k. in a.                         15.9.16
  Walshe, Richard, 7748, Pte., k. in a.                        9.10.17
  Walshe, Thomas, 7074, Pte., k. in a.                         7.10.15
  Ward, Simon, 9732, Pte., k. in a.                            9.10.17
  Ward, William H., 12822, Cpl., k. in a.                      13.4.18
  Warlow, Andrew, 10284, Pte., d. of w.                       11.10.17
  Waters, Denis, 11098, Pte., k. in a.                         31.7.17
  Watson, William H., 8083, Pte., k. in a.                     13.4.18
  Watson, William, 9256, L.-Sgt., k. in a.                    27.11.17
  Watt, Herbert, 11772, Pte., k. in a.                        27.11.17
  Wellwood, Samuel, 12044, Pte., k. in a.                     27.11.17
  Whelan, Nicholas, 7736, Pte., d.                            19.12.16
  Whelan, Peter, 6965, Pte., k. in a.                          15.9.16
  Whelan, Richard, 9356, Pte., k. in a.                        12.9.17
  Whelehan, Patrick, 10078, Pte., k. in a.                     10.3.17
  Whelton, John, 11555, Pte., k. in a.                         29.1.18
  White, John, 6658, Pte., k. in a.                            30.9.15
  White, Joseph, 8843, Pte., d. of w.                          15.4.18
  Whyte, Valentine, 9897, Pte., k. in a.                       13.4.18
  Wiggall, John H., 9024, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                    13.9.17
  Williams, William J., 9487, L.-Cpl., k. in a.               10.10.17
  Wilson, James, 8769, Pte., k. in a.                          12.9.17
  Wilson, Thomas, 8289, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                      31.7.17
  Wilson, William, 9986, Pte., d. of w.                        14.9.17
  Woodcock, Thomas, 8387, L.-Cpl., V.C., k. in a.              27.3.18
  Woods, Thomas, 12178, Pte., d. of w.                        13.10.18
  Woore, Frederick, 11822, Pte., k. in a.                      13.4.18
  Worthington, Hugh, 6980, Pte., k. in a.                      27.9.16
  Wren, Edward, 6797, Pte., k. in a.                          27.11.17
  Wright, James, 7953, Pte., k. in a.                           9.2.16
  Wright, William J., 6489, L.-Cpl., k. in a.                   4.9.17
  Yabsley, Richard, 7133, Pte., k. in a.                       27.9.15
  Younger, Robert, 12206, Pte., d. of w.                       25.4.18


RESERVE BATTALION IRISH GUARDS

  Barry, Edward, 9218, Pte., d.                                 8.8.15
  Byrne, James F., 7011, Pte., d.                              29.4.15
  Carroll, Owen, 3907, Pte., d.                                20.2.15
  Cleary, James, Pte., M.M., d.                                28.7.17
  Cooke, Michael, 6279, L.-Sgt., d.                           10.10.18
  Deasy, Timothy, 6811, Pte., d.                               26.3.15
  Doyle, Dominick, 6834, d.                                     9.1.16
  Doyle, James, 9243, Pte., d.                                17.10.15
  Doyle, John, 9311, Pte., d.                                   7.9.15
  Duggan, Bernard, 8277, Pte., d.                               8.1.16
  Dunne, John, 9785, Pte., d.                                   3.9.16
  Farrell, Michael J., 4145, L.-Sgt., d.                       18.5.17
  Flaherty, Martin, 6040, Pte., d.                            10.10.18
  Foreman, John H., 5716, d.                                   12.5.17
  Halligan, Patrick, 7938, Pte., d.                           10.10.18
  Hogan, Francis J., 8623, Pte., d.                            27.3.18
  Jay, Harry, 5814, Pte., d.                                   9.12.15
  Joyce, Frank J., 6598, Pte., d.                               3.3.17
  Kenna, Robert A., 6290, Pte., d.                             3.11.16
  Kilduff, Michael, 7265, Pte., d.                            11.11.18
  Longhurst, James, 5650, Pte., d.                              8.6.16
  Lyons, Joseph, 11481, Pte., d.                              10.10.18
  Moore, Louis, 8364, Pte., d.                                 24.4.16
  Murphy, Edward, 9255, Pte., d.                               23.2.18
  Murphy, William, 14116, Pte., d.                            10.10.18
  Murray, John, 56, Pte., d.                                    6.8.15
  McEvoy, Richard, 9396, Pte., d.                               8.1.16
  McMichael, William, 6070, Pte., d.                           31.1.17
  Nolan, Michael, 4953, Pte., d.                              17.11.14
  Nunan, James, 9723, L.-Cpl., d.                              13.5.16
  O’Donnell, Anthony, 5968, Pte., d.                           3.12.14
  O’Rourke, Francis, 1339, Sgt., d.                             8.6.16
  Pentleton, Joseph, 14103, Pte., d.                          10.10.18
  Plunkett, Thomas, 7119, Pte., d.                             17.5.17
  Rowe, John, 3668, Pte., d.                                    1.9.17
  Scully, Patrick, 5343, Pte., d.                               1.8.16
  Sheerin, Hugh, 12284, Pte., d.                              10.10.18
  Wallace, James, 4226, Pte., d.                               17.9.16




APPENDIX C

REWARDS

W.O.’S, N.C.O’S, AND MEN


VICTORIA CROSS

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  7708    L.-Sgt.      Moyney, J.
  3556    L.-Cpl.      O’Leary, M.
  8387    L.-Cpl.      Woodcock, T.


MILITARY CROSS

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  108     S.M.         Kirk, J.


DISTINGUISHED CONDUCT MEDAL

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  7218    Sgt.         Anstey, C. E.
  5722    Pte.         Barry, H.
  12501   Sgt.         Bishop, T.
  5841    Pte.         Boyd, J.
  10133   L.-Sgt.      Bray, H.
  3975    Pte.         Brine, M.
  3221    Sgt.         Burling, D.
  7321    L.-Sgt.      Butler, T.
  918     S.M.         Cahill, T.
  525     Pte.         Cannon, J.
  10161   Pte.         Cooper, W.
  2384    C.S.M.       Corry, T.
  3507    Sgt.         Curtin, J.
  4455    Sgt.         Daly, P.
  2195    L.-Cpl.      Deacons, J.
  2853    L.-Cpl.      Delaney, W.
  4039    Pte.         Dempsey, B.
  4116    L.-Sgt.      Dignan, J.
  6193    Sgt.         Dolan, P.
  2372    Sgt.         Feighery, W.
  9210    Pte.         Finnegan, J.
  11712   L.-Cpl.      Flanagan, M.
  1226    Sgt.         Foley, J.
  7570    L.-Sgt.      Frawley, J.
  12124   Pte.         Gallagher, M.
  2793    Pte.         Geon, R.
  3303    Sgt.         Glynn, J.
  2535    C.S.M.       Harradine, C.
  4613    Pte.         Hennigan, P.
  4906    Pte.         Henry, J.
  1155    Sgt.         Hiscock, H.
  55      C.S.M.       Holmes, W.
  2807    Sgt.         Keown, F.
  10210   L.-Cpl.      Lecky, W.
  5973    Pte.         Lynch, M.
  2845    Pte.         Mansfield, J.
  8149    Pte.         McCarthy, T.
  2385    Sgt.         McClelland, T.
  3726    Sgt.         McGoldrick, P.
  8384    Sgt.         McGuinnes, J.
  5741    Pte.         McKendry, W.
  7830    Pte.         McKinney, P.
  4432    L.-Sgt.      McMullen, T.
  2112    C.S.M.       McVeigh, H.
  3567    Pte.         Meagher, W.
  3235    Sgt.         Milligan, J.
  7683    L.-Sgt.      Mohide, P.
  4015    Pte.         Moore, W.
  3632    C.S.M.       Moran, M.
  1664    Sgt.         Moran, C.
  9500    Pte.         Morrison, P.
  552     C.S.M.       Munns, A.
  3655    C.S.M.       Murphy, G.
  3006    Sgt.         Murphy, F.
  8828    Sgt.         Murray, T.
  6484    Sgt.         Nolan, P.
  5743    Pte.         O’Brien, D.
  2760    Pte.         O’Connor, J.
  4389    Sgt.         O’Hara, E.
  4612    Sgt.         Pearce, W.
  10757   Pte.         Priesty, J.
  6311    L.-Cpl.      Quinn, P.
  6301    Pte.         Regan, J.
  2506    Sgt.         Reilly, T.
  2618    Sgt.         Riordan, M.
  5446    Pte.         Roche, J.
  5279    Pte.         Rochford, J.
  3072    Pte.         Russell, W. G.
  8255    L.-Cpl.      Smith, R.
  2623    Sgt.         Spicer, W.
  2303    Sgt.         Usher, W.
  2767    Sgt.         Voyles, D.
  5910    Sgt.         Wain, F.
  1033    C.S.M.       Walsh, J.
  8050    Sgt.         Walsh, W.
  3987    Sgt.         Wilkinson, J.
  4182    Pte.         Younge, A.


BAR TO DISTINGUISHED CONDUCT MEDAL

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  4432    L.-Sgt.      McMullen, T.
  2760    Pte.         O’Connor, J.
  4389    Sgt.         O’Hare, E.
  6301    Pte.         Regan, J.
  2618    Sgt.         Riordan, M.
  2303    Sgt.         Usher, W.


MILITARY MEDAL

   No.     Rank.       Name.
  7218    Sgt.         Anstey, C.
  6157    Pte.         Armstrong, W.
  8922    Pte.         Arthor, S.
  9093    L.-Sgt.      Baker, C.
  4512    Sgt.         Balfe, J.
  5132    Sgt.         Barrett, J.
  6351    Pte.         Barry, P.
  11794   L.-Cpl.      Bishop, M.
  6276    L.-Sgt.      Black, P.
  6402    L.-Cpl.      Bonham, J.
  6273    L.-Cpl.      Boyle, F.
  10732   Pte.         Boyle, P.
  7967    Pte.         Boyton, R.
  4751    Pte.         Brabston, M.
  6332    Sgt.         Brennan, J.
  6202    L.-Cpl.      Brien, P.
  6271    L.-Sgt.      Browne, M.
  5115    Pte.         Bruton, P.
  9632    Pte.         Buckley, S.
  8106    Pte.         Byrne, J.
  1730    Sgt.         Byrne, J. G.
  6186    Pte.         Byrnes, P.
  6457    Sgt.         Cahill, T.
  9309    Pte.         Callaghan, P.
  1985    Cpl.         Campbell, D.
  4435    Pte.         Carberry, M.
  4009    Pte.         Carroll, J.
  3483    Pte.         Carroll, J.
  3132    Sgt.         Carton, H.
  7043    Pte.         Caulfield, W.
  3659    Pte.         Cawley, J.
  1579    Pte.         Cleary, J.
  8395    L.-Cpl.      Coard, J.
  6196    Sgt.         Cole, M.
  11099   L.-Sgt.      Collins, M.
  12234   Pte.         Collins, R.
  6277    L.-Sgt.      Comesky, J.
  3515    Sgt.         Connor, G.
  9014    L.-Cpl.      Conroy, M.
  7109    Pte.         Corliss, J.
  6044    L.-Cpl.      Cousins, A.
  6583    Pte.         Courtney, J.
  3146    Pte.         Coyne, F.
  6509    L.-Cpl.      Cronin, J.
  9349    Pte.         Cunnane, J.
  11321   Pte.         Curley, M.
  3507    Sgt.         Curtin, J.
  4529    L.-Cpl.      Daly, J.
  6523    Pte.         Daly, J.
  1999    Sgt.         Denn, A.
  7958    Pte.         Devine, J.
  5752    Pte.         Docherty, G.
  11271   L.-Cpl.      Doherty, C. M.
  9376    L.-Cpl.      Dollar, W.
  2922    Sgt.         Donnelly, J.
  3056    Sgt.         Donohoe, P.
  2786    Pte.         Doolan, J.
  2867    Sgt.         Doolan, P.
  8046    L.-Cpl.      Dooney, E.
  7750    Pte.         Driscoll, T.
  3003    L.-Cpl.      Duff, J.
  4488    Pte.         Dunne, D.
  4658    Cpl.         Dunne, J.
  4944    Pte.         Durkin, J.
  11858   L.-Sgt.      English, S.
  10521   Pte.         Erwin, R.
  8773    Pte.         Evans, T.
  9794    Pte.         Farley, P.
  6698    Sgt.         Farrell, F.
  4166    Sgt.         Fawcett, J.
  2372    Sgt.         Feighery, W.
  4993    L.-Cpl.      Fitzgerald, M.
  6768    L.-Sgt.      Flaherty, J.
  11712   L.-Cpl.      Flanagan, M.
  5797    Sgt.         Flynn, J.
  6266    Pte.         Fox, A.
  10358   Pte.         Furlong, M.
  8743    L.-Cpl.      Galbraith, J.
  11985   Pte.         Gardiner, H.
  10436   Pte.         Gault, J.
  7954    Pte.         Glacken, C.
  6970    Pte.         Gorbey, R.
  8229    Pte.         Gowan, F.
  3972    C.Q.M.S.     Grady, R.
  3847    Sgt.         Greany, M.
  2858    L.-Cpl.      Green, A.
  7032    Pte.         Greene, L.
  7695    Sgt.         Griffin, J.
  3477    Cpl.         Gunning, M.
  12958   Sgt.         Hamill, R.
  6632    Cpl.         Hanlon, W.
  5004    Pte.         Hannan, J.
  10449   L.-Cpl.      Hannan, L.
  6135    L.-Sgt.      Harris, T.
  7739    Pte.         Hawthorne, J.
  8572    L.-Cpl.      Heaney, J.
  7493    L.-Cpl.      Higgins, M.
  6471    Sgt.         Hillock, E.
  4068    Sgt.         Hodgson, W.
  4632    Pte.         Horan, J.
  7475    Pte.         Horton, A.
  10848   L.-Cpl.      Hunt, J.
  10059   Pte.         Hurley, M.
  11681   Pte.         Hynes, J.
  11501   L.-Sgt.      Jenkins, D.
  8517    L.-Cpl.      Jenkins, J.
  11956   Pte.         Johnson, S.
  1767    Sgt.         Joyce, P.
  10039   Pte.         Kane, H.
  4957    L.-Sgt.      Kearney, P.
  10595   L.-Cpl.      Keenan, E.
  8228    Pte.         Keenan, P.
  7871    Pte.         Kelleher, D.
  11034   L.-Cpl.      Kelly, E.
  2746    Sgt.         Keniry, T.
  8702    Pte.         Kennedy, M.
  11008   L.-Cpl.      Kennedy, W.
  112     Sgt.         Kenny, M.
  5939    Pte.         Kenny, M.
  8465    Sgt.         Kenny, T.
  2807    Sgt.         Keown, F.
  5319    Pte.         Kilkenny, A.
  7628    Pte.         King, H.
  12233   Sgt.         Larkin, J.
  6474    Pte.         Lavelle, J.
  10028   Pte.         Lewis, M.
  3686    Pte.         Looney, D.
  3272    Pte.         Looran, J.
  3734    Sgt.         Lowe, D.
  5764    L.-Sgt.      Luby, T.
  3948    Pte.         Lydon, J.
  7075    Pte.         Madden, P.
  6648    Pte.         Maguire, J.
  9458    Pte.         Maguire, T.
  12681   Pte.         Manning, J.
  6078    Pte.         Martin, J.
  2194    L.-Cpl.      Mason, T.
  6939    Pte.         Matear, H.
  12856   Sgt.         Matthews, E.
  10443   L.-Cpl.      McAteer, J.
  5237    Pte.         McCabe, J.
  7866    Pte.         McCaffrey, S.
  5096    Sgt.         McCarthy, G.
  9754    Pte.         McCarthy, P.
  6258    Sgt.         McCarthy, R.
  8662    L.-Sgt.      McConnell, R.
  6343    L.-Cpl.      McConnell, W.
  3224    Cpl.         McCullagh, E.
  1910    Sgt.         McCusker, F.
  4386    Sgt.         McDonald, J.
  7937    Cpl.         McDonnell, M.
  6643    Pte.         McElroy, J.
  6448    Sgt.         McFarlane, R.
  5532    Pte.         McGinnis, C.
  5728    Pte.         McGowan, T.
  7053    Pte.         McGurrin, W.
  10171   L.-Cpl.      McHale, S.
  7777    L.-Sgt.      McKiernan, M.
  9230    Pte.         McKinney, I.
  8078    Pte.         McNulty, J.
  5806    Pte.         McNulty, P.
  6021    Pte.         McQuillan, T.
  6782    L.-Sgt.      Mehegan, D.
  10020   B’dsman      Mills, F.
  7586    L.-Sgt.      Moran, J.
  12747   Pte.         Morgan, E.
  7763    Pte.         Moore, P.
  1964    Pte.         Morrison, J.
  10354   L.-Sgt.      Morissey, M.
  11659   Pte.         Murphy, J.
  6211    Sgt.         Murphy, M.
  6892    Sgt.         Murphy, M.
  4140    Pte.         Murphy, T.
  8720    Pte.         Naylor, H.
  10823   Pte.         Neagle, T.
  6484    Sgt.         Nolan, P.
  4029    Pte.         Nolan, P.
  11888   Pte.         Nott, P.
  7520    Pte.         Nulty, S.
  2727    Pte.         O’Brien, M.
  10437   Pte.         O’Brien, M.
  6229    Pte.         O’Brien, W.
  3261    L.-Sgt.      O’Byrne, J.
  2289    Pte.         O’Connor, J.
  4256    Sgt.         O’Connor, M.
  10251   L.-Cpl.      O’Dea, T.
  11897   Pte.         O’Farrell, J.
  11425   Pte.         O’Flaherty, J.
  8810    Pte.         O’Flynn, W.
  7167    Sgt.         O’Hagan, J.
  6184    Sgt.         O’Neill, J.
  8122    Pte.         O’Neill, J.
  5786    Sgt.         O’Reilly, J.
  3969    Sgt.         O’Shea, C.
  7541    Pte.         O’Sullivan, T.
  9565    Pte.         Patton, T.
  5508    Sgt.         Pennington, J.
  3096    Sgt.         Pogue, A.
  10550   Pte.         Power, G.
  2596    L.-Cpl.      Purdy, McD.
  9882    Pte.         Quinn, J.
  3836    Cpl.         Redmond, J.
  7295    L.-Cpl.      Redmond, T.
  3122    Sgt.         Reid, L.
  2506    Sgt.         Reilly, T.
  10826   Pte.         Richerby, G.
  5279    Pte.         Rochford, J.
  776     Pte.         Roche, P.
  7400    Cpl.         Rolls, E.
  3638    Pte.         Rowe, M.
  8552    Pte.         Ruth, J.
  4817    Pte.         Ryan, D.
  9188    L.-Cpl.      Ryan, M.
  9783    Pte.         Savage, H.
  12523   Sgt.         Savin, J.
  8096    Sgt.         Scully, J.
  7327    Pte.         Shanahan, W.
  6653    Pte.         Shannon, T.
  8932    Pte.         Sharkey, P.
  4548    L.-Cpl.      Sheehan, P.
  6860    Pte.         Sheil, P.
  6701    Pte.         Slattery, P.
  2640    L.-Sgt.      Smith, J.
  8112    Pte.         Somers, L.
  12400   Pte.         Southern, N.
  5995    Pte.         Styles, A.
  7223    Sgt.         Sussex, H.
  9084    Pte.         Sweeney, D.
  8120    Pte.         Sweeney, J.
  5837    Pte.         Taylor, G.
  2955    Sgt.         Taylor, R.
  1725    C.S.M.       Toher, D.
  12339   Pte.         Tomlyn, F.
  7381    Pte.         Troy, W.
  10180   Pte.         Tuffy, P.
  2208    L.-Sgt.      Tynan, P.
  9927    L.-Cpl.      Tyrrell, P.
  4133    L.-Cpl.      Vanston, J.
  6508    Pte.         Waldron, P.
  11765   Pte.         Walsh, E.
  2759    Sgt.         Weedon, W.
  12691   Sgt.         Westbrook, A.
  3494    Pte.         Whearty, J.
  2695    Pte.         White, J.


BAR TO MILITARY MEDAL

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  11794   L.-Cpl.      Bishop, M.
  7967    Pte.         Boyton, R.
  1999    Sgt.         Denn, A.
  2786    Pte.         Doolan, J.
  4993    L.-Cpl.      Fitzgerald, M.
  12958   Sgt.         Hamill, R.
  10354   L.-Sgt.      Morrissey, M.
  6484    Sgt.         Nolan, P.
  5279    Pte.         Rochford, J.


FOREIGN DECORATIONS

CROIX DE GUERRE

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  918     S.M.         Cahill, T.
  4107    C.S.M.       Farrell, J.
  6467    Pte.         Gallagher, J.
  6448    Sgt.         Macfarlane, R.
  3006    Sgt.         Murphy, F.
  4884    Pte.         O’Brien, D.
  3987    Sgt.         Wilkinson, J.


MÉDAILLE MILITAIRE

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  6193    Sgt.         Dolan, P.
  7708    L.-Sgt.      Moyney, J.
  1800    C.S.M.       Proctor, J.
  1073    C.S.M.       Rodgers, J.


MÉDAILLE D’HONNEUR

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  4751    Pte.         Brabston, M.


ITALIAN BRONZE MEDAL

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  3235    Sgt.         Milligan, J.


RUSSIAN DECORATIONS

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  3556    L.-Cpl.      O’Leary, M.   Cross of the Order of St. George,
                                       3rd Class.
  2303    Sgt.         Usher, W.     Medal of the Order of St. George,
                                       2nd Class.


MERITORIOUS SERVICE MEDAL

   No.     Rank.         Name.
  4874    O.R. Sgt.    Ashton, A.
  2900    C.Q.M.S.     Curtis, P.
  10374   Sgt.         Donovan, P.
  4215    Sgt.         Halpin, G.
  4707    Sgt.         Hogan, P.
  6631    Pte.         Hurley, J.
  1175    Sgt.         King, W.
  1134    Q.M.S.       Mathews, P.
  3374    Q.M.S.       McCarthy, T.
  1699    Cpl.         McFadden, J.
  121     S.C.         McKenna, J.
  7525    Pte.         Millett, L.
  6892    Sgt.         Murphy, M.
  2098    Sgt.         O’Brien, J.
  216     O.R.Q.M.     O’Gorman, R.
  4972    S.M.         Price, G.
  1158    Sgt. Dr.     Smith, G.
  2087    O.R.Q.M.     Smythe, J.
  1549    Q.M.S.       Thompson, W.
  2103    Sgt.         Walsh, J.




INDEX




INDEX


  Abbat, Max, ii. 56

  Abbeville, i. 26, 211

  Abingley Camp, i. 231; ii. 156-157

  Ablaincourt, i. 197

  Ablainzevelle, i. 197, 202, 288

  Abraham Heights, i. 229

  Abri Wood, i. 231

  Accidents more disturbing than casualties, ii. 115-116

  Achiet-le-Grand, ii. 171

  Achiet-le-Petit, i. 197

  Acquin, i. 104; ii. 4-5, 7

  Adinfer, i. 295

  Adinfer Wood, i. 274, 276, 295

  Agnez-les-Duisans, i. 261

  Air-cushion as “full pack,” ii. 3

  Air warfare:
    British activity on the Somme, i. 159, 196-197
    German ’planes in the Salient, i. 36, 74-75, 133, 149, 151; ii.
        155-156, 157, 158-159;
    over Amiens, i. 262, 282

  Aire-La Bassée Canal, i. 57, 58

  Aisne, River:
    (1914) advance over, i. 14-18;
    (1918) surprise offensive, i. 282; ii. 206

  Aisomont, ii. 212

  Albert, H. R. H. Prince, i. 131

  Albert, King of the Belgians, ii. 134

  Albert-Bapaume road, advance along, i. 197

  Alexander, Lieut.-Col. Hon. H. R. L. G., D.S.O., M.C., i. 2, 14, 31,
        39, 120, 123, 190, 204, 214, 334; ii. 8, 12, 16, 29, 35, 46,
        47, 62, 83, 94, 97, 99, 101, 113, 164, 167, 168, 172, 173, 176,
        179, 180, 182, 185, 188, 189, 190, 192, 202, 204, 207, 209,
        216, 220, 223, 224, 227

  Alexander, Major Hon. W. S. P., D.S.O., i. 69, 81, 85; ii. 121, 127,
        146, 147-148, 153, 156, 176, 220, 223, 227

  Alexandra, H. M. Queen, i. 50, 73

  Allen, 2nd Lieut. T., i. 65, 68; ii. 218

  Ambrines, ii. 170

  American troops:
    in action, i. 280, 282, 309, 310, 321, 322;
    baseball match with, ii. 207

  Amiens, i. 26, 211;
    (1918) i. 262, 266, 282, 283, 284; ii. 182

  Ancre, Battle of the, i. 195, 198-199, 206-207, 210

  Andechy, i. 285

  Anderson, Lieut. E. E., M.C., ii. 164, 224, 228

  Angres, i. 112

  Annequin, i. 58, 91, 94

  Anneux, i. 301; ii. 172

  Anniversary dinner, 1916, ii. 90

  Anstey, Sgt. C., M. M., ii. 25, 280

  Antoine, General, i. 237; ii. 169

  Antrobus, Capt. P. H., M.C., i. 19, 44, 49, 81, 88, 128, 171; ii. 46,
        220, 224

  Antwerp, fall of, i. 26, 27

  Arbuthnot, Major (Scots Guards), i. 50

  Ardee, Brig.-Gen. Lord, C.B., C.B.E. (Grenadier Guards), i. 19, 35,
        39, 258, 334; ii. 189, 204, 220, 223

  Arleux-en-Gohelle, ii. 185

  Arleux Loop, the, ii. 185

  Armagh Wood, i. 211

  Armentières, i. 28, 269, 309; ii. 29, 191

  Armfield, 2nd Lieut. A. S., ii. 151, 219

  Armistice, the, i. 327-328; ii. 211, 212

  Army Line, the, i. 261, 288; ii. 187

  Arques, ii. 135

  Arras, i. 211; ii. 182, 183, 184;
    football at, i. 250;
    prison billets at, i. 252, 258, 259; ii. 182;
    battles round (1917), ii. 133, 134;
    (1918) i. 253-260; ii. 182-184;
    evacuated, i. 260-261

  Arras-Le Transloy Salient, i. 197-199, 200, 201, 202

  Arrewage, ii. 196, 197, 198

  Artillery, British: early inadequacy of, i. 4, 20, 22, 25, 36, 37, 38;
    British casualties caused by, i. 15, 52, 117, 179-180, 264, 281,
        296; ii. 28, 122, 146, 188-189

  Artillery Wood, ii. 147, 150

  Assevant, i. 327

  Aubers Ridge, i. 70

  Auchonvillers, ii. 93

  Aumont, ii. 106

  Aunelle river, i. 316, 325

  Austen, Sgt., ii. 88

  Australian forces in action:
    the Somme, i. 157, 206; ii. 111, 112;
    Ypres Salient, i. 228, 229;
    Vieux-Berquin, ii. 191, 192, 198, 202;
    Villers-Bretonneux, i. 271; ii. 206;
    offensive from Amiens, i. 281-282, 285

  Authie, i. 159; ii. 93

  Authies valley, ii. 92

  Avesnes, ii. 205

  Avroult, i. 107; ii. 6

  Ayette, i. 264, 265, 272, 273, 275, 295; ii. 189, 190


  Bagenal, Lieut. N. B., i. 205, 214, 231, 234, 265, 266; ii. 221

  Baggallay, Lieut.-Col. R. R. C., D.S.O., M.C., i. 208, 214, 236, 239,
        268, 275, 276, 291, 293, 310, 320, 332, 334; ii. 222, 223, 224

  Bagot, Lieut. C. E., ii. 160, 167, 222

  Bailie, Major T. M. D., i. 79, 86, 88, 117, 129, 163, 166, 173; ii.
        217

  Bailleul, i. 107, 269

  Bailleul-les-Pernes, i. 107

  Bailleul-Willerval sector, ii. 185-186

  Bain, Lieut. A. L., i. 185, 204, 324; ii. 182

  Bain, Capt. L. W. (R.A.M.C.), i. 87, 88

  Baldwin, Lieut. H. R., i. 278, 290, 294; ii. 218

  Baldwin, 2nd Lieut. O. R., i. 303, 305, 317, 320

  Balfe, Sergeant J., M.M., i. 225; ii. 280

  Bambridge, Capt. G. L. St. C., M.C., i. 298, 314, 317, 320; ii. 98,
        100, 103, 115, 193, 194, 196, 199, 222, 224, 230

  Band, Regimental, its three-months’ tour, i. 155

  Bandaghem, i. 222

  “Bangalore torpedoes,” ii. 57

  Bapaume, i. 197, 206; ii. 96, 171

  Barastre, i. 240

  Barclay, Lieut. (R.E.), i. 78

  Baring, Colonel G. (Coldstream), ii. 100

  Barisis, i. 252, 253

  Barly, ii. 205, 206

  Barnewall, 2nd Lieut. Hon. C. A., i. 310, 314

  Barry, 2nd Lieut. P. R. J., M.C., i. 269, 274; ii. 222, 224, 232

  Baseball match at Bavincourt, ii. 206

  Basse Forêt de Coucy, i. 10

  Bavai, i. 6, 7, 325, 326

  Bavincourt, i. 277; ii. 205, 206

  Bayenghem-les-Eperlecques, i. 236

  Bayly, 2nd Lieut. N. D., ii. 176, 219, 223

  Bayreuth Trench, i. 205

  Bazentin, i. 157

  Beaucourt, i. 196, 201

  Beaufort, i. 238

  Beaulencourt, ii. 171

  Beaumetz-les-Loges, i. 249, 250; ii. 179, 187

  Beaumont-Hamel, i. 195, 196, 197, 198

  Beautor, i. 9

  Beauvais-en-Cambrensis, i. 312

  Beauval, i. 159

  Bedford Camp, ii. 155

  Bedfordshire Regt., 8th, i. 147

  Béhagnies, i. 262; ii. 188

  Belgian troops on Yser front, i. 213, 214; ii. 136

  Bellew, Sgt., ii. 203

  Bellew, 2nd Lieut. R. C., ii. 155, 156, 219

  Bellewaarde Beck, i. 142

  Bellewaarde Lake, i. 43

  Bence-Jones, Capt. G. W. W., i. 265, 274, 303, 304, 308; ii. 222

  Bengal Lancers, i. 246

  Berguette, ii. 91

  Berles-au-Bois, i. 288

  Bermerain, i. 322, 323

  Bernafay, i. 157

  Bernafay Corner, ii. 124

  Bernafay Wood, i. 163, 173, 181, 199

  Berners, Capt. H. H., i. 2, 3, 17; ii. 217

  Berneville, i. 249

  Berny-en-Santerre, i. 197

  Bertaucourt, i. 9, 10

  Berthenicourt, i. 9

  Bertincourt, ii. 176, 177

  Bertrancourt, i. 156

  Béthonsart, ii. 186

  Béthune, i. 27, 57, 58, 69, 73, 77, 79, 91, 93, 97, 101; ii. 29

  Bettignies, i. 329

  Betz, i. 6, 13

  Beugny, i. 206

  Beuvry, i. 58, 107

  Bévillers, i. 312, 315

  Bienvillers, i. 271

  Billon, i. 204; ii. 125, 134

  Binche, i. 329

  Bird, Colonel, D.S.O. (Irish Rifles), i. 6

  Bird, Major J. B., ii. 10, 84

  Bixschoote, i. 29, 32, 222

  Black, Capt. J., M.C., ii. 105, 117, 151, 153, 224, 228

  Blacker-Douglass, Lieut. R. St. J., M.C., i. 3, 11, 58, 59, 60; ii.
        218, 219, 224, 226

  Blaireville, i. 238, 271

  Blake, Capt. V. C. J., i. 87, 88, 129, 131; ii. 217

  Blendecques, i. 146

  Bleuet Farm, i. 213, 217; ii. 137, 140, 142, 154, 155

  Blom, Capt. A. H., i. 59, 176, 179; ii. 220

  Bluff, The, i. 133, 134

  Boeschepe, i. 26

  Boesinghe, i. 213, 214 _sqq._, 224, 231; ii. 135, 137 _sqq._, 154, 158

  Boesinghe Château, i. 214, 219

  Boiry-St. Martin, i. 267, 270, 280, 286, 288

  Bois Carré, i. 112

  Bois d’Aval, ii. 197, 202, 204

  Bois de la Haie, i. 190

  Bois de Hem, ii. 132

  Bois de Warnimont, ii. 93

  Bois Farm, i. 226

  Bois Hugo, ii. 9, 11, 13

  Bois la Haut, i. 5

  Boisleux-au-Mont, ii. 187

  Boisleux-St. Marc, i. 261, 263, 264, 265

  Boitron Wood, i. 15

  Bollezeele, ii. 80, 91

  Bombing accidents, i. 56-57, 77, 99, 135, 150, 224; ii. 64, 124, 125

  Bombing School competition won by 2nd Battalion, ii. 57

  Bombs, early patterns, i. 49, 73

  Bonavis Ridge, i. 239

  Booby-traps, left by Germans, i. 297, 323; ii. 130, 131

  Boot-dump, Laventie, ii. 32, 50

  Borré, ii. 202

  Bouchavesnes, i. 197

  Boue, i. 4

  Boulogne, i. 26, 211

  Bouque-Maison, i. 155

  Bourecq, ii. 29

  Bourlon Village, i. 241; ii. 172, 173

  Bourlon Wood, i. 239, 240, 241, 242, 247, 296, 304, 306; ii. 170,
        171, 173, 174-176, 177

  Bourne, Cardinal, i. 1

  Bourre River, ii. 195

  Boursies, i. 239, 252, 297

  Boussières, i. 315

  Bout Deville, i. 124

  Boxing competitions, i. 69, 147; ii. 80, 157, 186

  Boyd, 2nd Lieut. G. P., i. 225, 227, 228; ii. 218

  Boyd, Pte. J., D.C.M., i. 183; ii. 279

  Boyd-Rochford, Lieut. (Scots Guards), ii. 99

  Boyelles, i. 263

  Boyle, 2nd Lieut. A. R., i. 304, 308; ii. 223

  Boyse, Capt. H. T. A. S. H., i. 82, 85, 184; ii. 220

  Brabazon, Staff-Capt. Hon. E. W. (Coldstream Guards), i. 90

  Bracken, Capt. H., M.C., i. 55; ii. 224

  Bradley, Armr. Q.M.S.S., i. 129

  Brady, 2nd Lieut. J. J. B., i. 305, 314

  Braisne, i. 24-25

  Brandhoek, i. 137; ii. 76

  Bray-sur-Somme, i. 285; ii. 184

  Brennan, Lieut. J., ii. 29

  Brennan, Sgt. J., M.M., ii. 25, 28

  Brew, Lieut. C. H., ii. 29, 37, 40, 43, 44, 51, 53, 54, 91, 94, 102,
        219, 221

  Brewster, Major R. A. F., ii. 218

  Brick-stacks, the, fighting round, i. 57, 58-69, 97

  Brielen, i. 147

  Brine, Pte. M., i. 78

  Briquetterie, the, ii. 124

  Brisley, 2nd Lieut. C. W., ii. 222

  Broembeek, the, crossing of, i. 229-233; ii. 158, 159, 161, 162,
        164-167

  Bronfay, i. 191, 207; ii. 113-114

  Broodseinde, i. 229

  “Broody Hens, the,” ii. 111

  Brooke, Lieut. G., i. 19, 24; ii. 218

  Brophy, Pte., ii. 25

  Broughton, Capt. Sir D., Bart., i. 2, 3

  Brown, Lieut. P. B., M.C., ii. 224

  Browne, 2nd Lieut. C. L., i. 272; ii. 222

  Browne, Capt. D. S., M.C., i. 204, 231, 234; ii. 221, 224

  Browne, Capt. Rev. Father F. M., M.C., i. 132, 136, 140-141, 144,
        165, 176; ii. 167, 221

  Browne, Capt. Rev. Father F. S. du M., M.C., i. 132, 257, 294; ii.
        224, 232

  Bruton, Capt. S. (Coldstream Guards), ii. 141

  Bucquoy, i. 197, 267; ii. 190

  Budd, Capt. E., M.C., i. 185, 205, 208, 219, 224, 268, 273; ii. 91,
        218, 224, 227, 229

  “Budging,” the “crime” of, i. 93, 145, 149

  Bullecourt, i. 206, 252; ii. 170

  Bullen Trench, i. 302

  Buller, Lieut. N. M., i. 269, 274; ii. 150, 151, 190, 221

  Bullet Cross-roads, i. 206

  Burbure, ii. 8

  Burg, ii. 213

  Burke, 2nd Lieut. E. H. R., i. 304, 305; ii. 205

  Burke, Capt. Sir G. H., Bart., i. 3, 52, 81, 86; ii. 220

  Bus-les-Artois, ii. 93

  Butler, Brig.-Gen. Hon. L. J. P., C.M.G., D.S.O., i. 186; ii. 3, 11,
        14, 29, 56, 58, 75-76, 105, 107, 216, 223

  Butler, 2nd Lieut. N., i. 155, 173; ii. 218

  Butler-Stoney, Lieut. T., i. 155, 173; ii. 218, 221

  Butte de Warlencourt, i. 197

  Byng, Gen. Sir Julian, G.C.B., ii. 169

  Byng-Hopwood, Col. (Coldstream Guards), ii. 141

  Byrne, “Cock,” ii. 65-66


  Cahill, Drill-Sergeant T., D.C.M., i. 129; ii. 279

  Cahill, Lance-Cpl., ii. 25

  Calais, i. 26, 135-137; ii. 64-66

  Cambrai:
    (1917) offensive on, i. 238-249; ii. 136, 170, 171-180;
    (1918) i. 260, 309; ii. 210, 211

  Cambrin, i. 89, 90

  Cameron Highlanders, 5th, i. 249

  Camp A, Trônes Wood, ii. 108

  Camp P, near Poperinghe, ii. 90

  Camp 108, Bronfay, i. 191; ii. 113-114

  Campagne, i. 102

  Campbell, Lieut. E. W., i. 81, 85; ii. 220

  Campbell, Colonel J. V. (Coldstream Guards), i. 169

  Canadian forces in action:
    Ypres, i. 143; ii. 58, 80, 81, 82, 83;
    the Somme (1917), i. 195;
    1918 offensive, i. 285, 295, 304, 306

  Canal du Nord, the, i. 238, 240, 241;
    crossing of, i. 300-304, 311

  Canaples, i. 159

  Cannes Farm, i. 231

  Cannon Trench, ii. 143, 146

  Cantaing, i. 239, 240, 241, 301

  Canteen, Expeditionary Force, at Louvencourt, i. 156

  Capelle, i. 315

  Capelle-sur-Lys, i. 108

  Captain’s Farm, ii. 151

  Cardoen Farm, i. 214; ii. 136, 137

  Cardoen Street, ii. 75

  Carey, 2nd Lieut. T. A., i. 236, 248, 249; ii. 219

  Cariboo Camp, i. 227

  Cariboo Trench, ii. 143, 146, 147

  Cariboo Wood, i. 221

  Carmelite Convent, Ypres, i. 141, 142

  Carney, Pte., i. 17

  Carnières, i. 319, 321

  Carnoy, i. 163, 175, 187, 200; ii. 94, 103, 105, 111

  Carroll, Pte. J., i. 149; ii. 280

  Carroll, Lance-Cpl. J., M.M., i. 193; ii. 280

  Carroll, C.S.M.P.A., i. 129

  Carton, C.S.M. H., i. 59, 81, 169

  Carver, 2nd Lieut. L. H. L., i. 257-258, 276; ii. 218

  Cary-Elwes, Lieut. W. G., ii. 169, 176, 219

  Casey, Capt. Rev. Father, i. 176

  Cassel, i. 211; ii. 66

  Cassidy, 2nd Lieut. M. B., ii. 199, 219, 223

  Castlerosse, Capt. Viscount, i. 3, 11; ii. 91, 223

  Caterham, i. 181, 190; ii. 206

  Caterpillar Wood, i. 157

  Cattenières, i. 311

  Caudescure, ii. 197

  Cavalry, British:
    at Ypres, i. 25, 29, 36, 39, 40, 41, 45;
    at Loos, i. 107;
    on the Somme, i. 164, 239, 244, 245, 246; ii. 98, 99, 129

  Cavan, Major-Gen. the Earl of, K. P., K.C.B., i. 23, 39, 48, 54, 86,
        91, 92, 93, 107, 128, 132, 159, 160, 162, 175, 182; ii. 7, 30,
        46

  Central Boyau, ii. 16

  Ceylon Avenue, i. 255

  Chalk-Pit, the, Loos, i. 107, 109, 111

  Chalk-Pit Wood, Loos, ii. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16

  Charleroi, i. 329; ii. 211

  Charly, Marne crossed at, i. 16

  Chasseur Farm, i. 220; ii. 139

  Chatillon, i. 9

  Chaulnes, i. 197

  Chavonne, i. 23

  Chelers, ii. 190

  Chérisy, i. 260

  Cherry, Sgt. Drummer W., i. 129

  Cheshire Regt., ii. 168

  Chichester, Major Hon. A. C. S., D.S.O., O.B.E., i. 132; ii. 66, 69,
        75, 223, 224, 226

  Chocques, i. 87, 121

  Christmas celebrations:
    (1914) i. 51;
    (1915) i. 128; ii. 45-46, 47;
    (1916) i. 191, 199, 332; ii. 115, 116;
    (1917) i. 250; ii. 180;
    (1918) i. 332

  Christy, Lieut. S. E. F., i. 111, 127, 129, 152; ii. 218, 221

  Cinema films taken in front line, ii. 49-50

  Citadel Camp, i. 174, 175, 181; ii. 103

  Cité St. Auguste, i. 107

  Cité St. Elie, i. 107

  Clairmarais, Forest of, i. 211

  “Clarges Street,” i. 231

  Clerk’s Keep, i. 120

  Cléry, i. 262

  Clifford, 2nd Lieut. W. F. J., ii. 11, 14, 219

  Close, Lieut. B. S., i. 304, 308; ii. 76, 99, 163, 167, 203, 205,
        218, 222

  Close, Capt. P. H. J., i. 87, 88

  Cointicourt, i. 16

  Cojeul valley, the, i. 273, 280, 288

  Coke, Lieut. L. S., i. 19, 37; ii. 218

  Coldstream Guards:
    1st Battalion:
      (1915) Loos, the Hohenzollern trenches, ii. 9, 12, 21, 28, 35;
        Laventie, ii. 37, 42, 43, 44, 46
      (1916) Laventie, ii. 49, 51, 52, 53, 54, 60;
        Ypres, ii. 69, 74, 76, 77, 82, 89, 90;
        the Somme: Ginchy, ii. 93, 96, 97, 99, 100, 105, 107
      (1917) the Somme: Rancourt, ii. 121, 126, 128;
        Yser Canal, i. 216, 221; ii. 136, 146, 151, 152, 153;
        the Somme: Bourlon Wood, i. 241; ii. 173, 174
      (1918) the March Push, i. 263, 266;
        the offensive, i. 289
      Eton football played by, ii. 180
      Pierrot troupe of, ii. 163
    2nd Battalion:
      (1914) i. 1, 4;
        Mons, i. 5, 7;
        the retreat and the advance to the Aisne, i. 14, 15, 16;
        Ypres, i. 26, 30, 31, 51
      (1915) La Bassée, the Brickfields, Cuinchy, i. 54, 57, 58, 59
        _sqq._, 89, 94;
        Neuve Chapelle, i. 73;
        Loos, i. 109, 115, 116, 120
      (1916) i. 146;
        the Somme: Ginchy, Lesbœufs, i. 156, 164, 165 _sqq._, 181
      (1917) the Somme: Sailly-Saillisel, i. 205;
        Yser Canal and the Broembeek, i. 213, 231; ii. 156, 166;
        the Somme: Gouzeaucourt, i. 244; ii. 178
      (1918) the Scarpe, the March Push, i. 258, 264, 273, 274, 279;
        the Somme offensive, St. Léger, i. 286, 289, 290, 294;
        the advance on Maubeuge, i. 311, 317, 318, 323
    3rd Battalion:
      (1914) i. 4;
        Mons, i. 5, 7;
        Landrecies, i. 7;
        the advance to the Aisne, i. 16, 19, 21, 23;
        Ypres, i. 35, 46
      (1915) La Bassée, the Brickfields, Cuinchy, i. 54, 58, 61, 62, 67;
        Neuve Chapelle, i. 70;
        Givenchy, i. 80;
        Loos, i. 110, 115, 118;
        Laventie, ii. 32, 34
      (1916) Ypres, i. 152;
        the Somme: Ginchy, Lesbœufs, i. 156, 164, 165 _sqq._, 178, 180,
        81
      (1917) the Somme: Sailly-Saillisel, i. 220;
        Yser Canal and the Broembeek, i. 214, 218, 220, 231, 232; ii.
        143, 144, 153, 158;
        the Somme: Gouzeaucourt, Gauche Wood, i. 244, 246
      (1918) in Fourth Guards Brigade, i. 208; ii. 180 _n._, 184;
        the Somme: March Push, ii. 187;
        Vieux-Berquin, ii. 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 202;
        the advance, ii. 209, 210
        Pantomime produced by, i. 208

  Cole, Sgt., ii. 116, 117

  Collett, Lieut. H. A. A., M.C., i. 250, 254, 303, 305; ii. 224, 233

  Cologne, advance to and occupation of, i. 329-332, 333; ii. 211-214

  Colquhoun, Capt. Sir I. (Scots Guards), ii. 101, 128

  Colt Reserve trench, i. 259

  Combles, i. 161, 190, 191, 206; ii. 96, 112, 114, 119, 120

  Comesky, Lance-Sgt., ii. 22

  Commanding Officers, 1st Battalion Irish Guards, list of, i. 333

  Commanding Officers, 2nd Battalion Irish Guards, list of, ii. 216

  Communal College, Arras, i. 261

  Communication-trench, the first, i. 18

  Conaboy, Sgt., i. 305, 306

  Concrete block-houses, German, i. 217, 219; ii. 138, 155

  Connaught, Field-Marshal H.R.H. the Duke of, K.G., i. 186, 236, 278;
        ii. 107, 168

  Connaught Rangers, i. 23, 35

  Connolly, 2nd Lieut. H. A., i. 295; ii. 218, 223

  Conroy, Pte., ii. 157

  Contalmaison, i. 157, 262

  Convent, the, Ypres, ii. 68

  Cook, 2nd Lieut. (4th Connaught Rangers), i. 155

  Cooper, Brig.-Gen. R. J., C.B., C.V.O. (M.E.F.), ii. 220

  Cooper, Lance-Cpl. W., D.C.M., i. 225; ii. 279

  Corbie, ii. 119, 134

  Cordite Reserve trench, i. 254, 255

  Corry, Colonel (Grenadier Guards), ii. 7, 34

  Corry, Lieut. T., D.C.M., i. 112, 226, 234; ii. 222

  Cortecan, i. 13

  Cotterel-Dormer, Lieut. (Coldstream Guards), i. 17

  Coucy-le-Château, i. 10

  Couin, ii. 93

  Cour l’Avoine Farm, i. 83, 84-85

  Courcelette, i. 195, 262

  Courcelles, i. 16, 288; ii. 171, 188

  Courtrai, i. 28

  Cousins, Lance-Cpl. A., M.M., i. 183; ii. 280

  Couteleux, i. 75

  Coxon, Lieut. R. E., ii. 25, 30

  Coyne, Lance-Cpl. F., M.M., i. 225; ii. 281

  Craonne Farm, i. 234

  Crawford, Lieut. G. L., ii. 105, 151, 222

  Creil, i. 26

  Crépy-en-Valois, i. 6

  Crespigny, Gen. C. R. C. de, i. 228; ii. 99

  Crewdson, Capt. B. F., i. 250

  Crichton, Major H. F., i. 2, 4, 11; ii. 217

  Cricket matches, Barly, ii. 205, 206

  Criel Plage, ii. 207-210

  Croisilles, i. 206, 288

  “Crump, The,” ii. 65

  Crump Trench, i. 254, 255

  Cuinchy, fighting round, i. 50, 57, 58 _sqq._, 93 _sqq._, 106, 112

  Cunningham, Capt. A. F. S. (Grenadier Guards), i. 169

  Curlu, i. 209; ii. 133

  Curran, Sgt., ii. 110

  Curry, C.S.M. T., i. 81

  Curtis, Sgt. P. J., i. 129

  Cuthbert, Capt. (Scots Guards), ii. 11


  Dagger, Lieut. R. L., i. 305; ii. 205, 221

  Dalton, Lieut. J. W., ii. 155, 188, 221

  Dame, 2nd Lieut. J. W. M., ii. 163, 219

  Dames-Longworth, Lieut. T. R., i. 205

  Dancing-lesson, a tragic, in Gouzeaucourt, i. 245-246

  Davis, 2nd Lieut. Rhys (U. S. A. Medical Service), i. 306-307; ii. 218

  Dawson, Capt. H. (Coldstream Guards) i. 46

  Dead End, i. 126; ii. 49

  Decorations awarded to Irish Guards: Officers, ii. 224-234
    W.O.’s, N.C.O.’s, and men, ii. 279-284
    1st Battalion, i. 48, 49, 53, 60, 64, 78, 146, 149, 183-184,
        224-225, 228, 237, 278, 287
    2nd Battalion, ii. 39, 106, 156

  Delaney, Lance-Cpl. W., D.C.M., i. 53; ii. 279

  De Lisle, Gen. Sir H., K.C.B., D.S.O., ii. 163

  Delville Wood, i. 157, 161; ii. 109

  Demicourt, i. 239, 240, 260, 362, 309, 310

  De Moleyns, Lieut. A. F. D., ii. 154, 155, 222

  Dempsey, Pte., i. 99

  Denson, Lieut. P. G., ii. 90, 115, 116, 117, 221

  Dent, Capt. E. D., ii. 196, 199, 218

  Dernancourt, i. 267

  De Salis, Lieut. Count J. E., i. 174; ii. 221

  Destremont Farm, i. 195

  Deuillet, i. 10

  De Wippe Cabaret, ii. 142

  Digby, Capt. Hon. K. (Coldstream Guards), ii. 99

  Divisional Entrenching Battalion, ii. 40

  Divisions in the line, differences in behaviour among, i. 144

  Dohem, ii. 6, 7

  Doignies, i. 239, 240

  Dolan, Sgt., D.C.M., Méd. Mil., i. 287; ii. 279, 283

  Dollar, Lieut. J. B., ii. 94, 103

  Donoghue, Pte., ii. 150

  Donohoe, a/C.S.M. P., M.M., i. 224; ii. 281

  Donolly, a/C.S.M., J., i. 129

  Doolan, Sgt. P., M.M., i. 183; ii. 281

  Dormer, Capt. K. E., i. 87, 88, 129

  Double Crassier, Le, i. 106, 107

  Douchy, i. 295

  Doullens, i. 265, 271

  Douteuse House, i. 218

  Dowler, Lieut. E. H., i. 234; ii. 222

  Draibach, i. 229

  Drainage system in trenches, ii. 41-42

  Drionville, i. 105

  Drocourt-Quéant Switch broken, i. 295

  Dromesnil, i. 186

  Drouvin, ii. 20

  Drums:
    1st Irish Guards, i. 8, 136, 137, 186, 204, 320, 329, 331; ii. 38;
    2nd Irish Guards, ii. 35, 38, 93, 163

  Drunkenness infrequent in the ranks, i. 122

  Drury-Lowe, Captain (Grenadier Guards), i. 180

  Duck’s Bill Trench, i. 75

  Dug-outs, first mention of, i. 44

  Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, i. 171; ii. 198

  Dulwich Camp, i. 226; ii. 163, 167

  Dummies, use of, in front line, ii. 55, 57, 62

  Dumps, destruction of, in March Push, i. 262, 309; ii. 187

  Dunne, Pte., ii. 90

  D’Untal, General, i. 112

  Durant, Lieut. N. F., i. 87, 88, 245, 249; ii. 176, 218

  Durham Light Infantry, ii. 102


  Earle, Capt. J. W. A., i. 147

  East Anglian Field Coy., R. E., i. 85

  East Lancashire Regt., i. 255; ii. 189

  East Yorkshire Regt., ii. 15

  Eaucourt l’Abbaye, i. 195

  Ebenezer Farm, i. 130

  Ecoust-St. Mein, i. 289, 292, 296

  Ecques, i. 237; ii. 170

  Ecurie Camp, ii. 186

  Edinburgh Support Trench, i. 298

  Egypt House, i. 232

  Ehrenfeld, ii. 213

  Eiloart, 2nd Lieut. C. H., ii. 219

  Elverdinghe, i. 148, 213, 217, 222, 224, 225, 230, 231, 235; ii. 84,
        136, 137, 154, 156, 168

  Elverdinghe Château, i. 148; ii. 84, 89, 90, 136

  Englebelmer, i. 156

  Eperlecques, i. 104, 236

  Epluches, i. 26

  Erith Street, ii. 40

  Ermenonville, i. 13

  Ervillers, i. 288; ii. 188

  Esbly, i. 13

  Escarmain, i. 315

  Esquelbecq, ii. 91

  Essars, i. 51

  Essex Regt., 11th, i. 147;
    8th, ii. 163

  Estaires, i. 125; ii. 47, 192, 193

  Etaples, i. 26

  Eton dinner, the, i. 89, 147

  Eton football match, ii. 180

  Etreux, i. 4, 7, 8

  Etricourt, i. 209, 249; ii. 178

  Everard, Capt. W. J. J. E. M., i. 42, 44

  Eyre, Lieut. H. J. B., i. 216; ii. 218


  F post on the Scarpe, i. 254, 268

  Fallows, 2nd Lieut. E. H., ii. 219

  Fampoux, ii. 182, 185

  Fampoux Trench, i. 259

  Fanshawe, 2nd Lieut. H. V., i. 207, 234; ii. 218

  Faraday, 2nd Lieut. J. A. M., M.C., i. 278, 287; ii. 222, 224, 232

  Farbus, ii. 186

  Farrell, C.S.M., i. 164

  “Fatigues,” moral effect of, i. 98, 116, 192-193, 222, 237; ii. 72, 79

  Faulkner, 2nd Lieut. W. D., M.C., ii. 164, 176, 205, 207, 224

  Fawcett, Sgt. J., i. 129

  Feilding, Maj.-Gen. Sir G., C.M.G., D.S.O., i. 92, 94, 103, 124, 128
        _n._, 130, 185, 189, 220, 296, 300; ii. 7, 9, 20, 22, 31, 106,
        143

  Ferguson, Major R. H., i. 19, 21, 31, 33, 37; ii. 145, 147, 148, 153,
        154, 157, 159, 182, 183, 216, 220

  Fergusson, Maj.-Gen. Sir C., K.C.M.G., D.S.O., ii. 180 _n._, 191, 213

  Ferme Beaulieu, ii. 203

  Ferme Gombert, ii. 194, 196

  Ferme le Cas Rouge, i. 15

  Fesmy, i. 4

  Festubert, i. 50, 57, 106;
    Battle of, i. 82-86

  Fins, i. 208, 249; ii. 178

  Fish Avenue, i. 299

  Fismes, i. 26

  FitzClarence, Brig.-Gen. C., V.C., i. 43; ii. 217

  Fitzgerald, Capt. A. H. B., i. 16

  FitzGerald, Major Lord Desmond, M.C., i. 2, 11, 46, 50, 81, 88, 93,
        98, 112, 117, 118, 120, 127, 128, 132, 135, 136; ii. 46, 64,
        217, 219, 224

  FitzGerald, Lieut. D. J. B., i. 129, 236, 250, 265; ii. 154, 155,
        161, 222

  FitzGerald, Capt. J. S. N., M.B.E., M.C., i. 2, 17, 42, 72, 81, 86,
        88, 114, 153; ii. 15, 29, 36, 64, 84, 90, 93, 99, 114, 224

  FitzGerald, Capt. M. R., ii. 102, 194, 197, 199, 219, 223

  Flag Ravine, i. 247

  Flammenwerfer demonstrations, i. 133

  Flanders, British forces moved to, i. 25-26, 27

  Fleming, Major C. F., i. 153

  Flers, i. 168, 169, 201; ii. 96

  Flesquières, i. 242, 243, 252, 301, 305, 307, 310; ii. 171, 172, 173

  Foch, Marshal, i. 112, 265, 270, 283; ii. 207

  Folembray, i. 10

  Follett, Lieut.-Col. G. B. S., i. 240

  Fontaine-au-Tertre, i. 313

  Fontaine-Notre-Dame, i. 239, 240, 241, 242, 301; ii. 171, 172, 173,
        175

  Fontenay, i. 14

  Fontenoy, a manœuvre of, i. 327

  Football matches, i. 69, 185, 250, 320; ii. 65, 66, 106, 180-181, 212

  “Forked Tree” camp, i. 189

  _Formidable_, H.M.S., signal from, i. 2

  Fort Rouge, i. 211

  Foster, Capt. (Coldstream Guards), ii. 196

  Fourché Farm, ii. 53

  Fowkes, Major (R.E.), i. 62

  Fowler, Lieut. (R.F.A.), i. 294

  Fox, Lieut. V. W. D., i. 65, 81, 85; ii. 218

  Frasnoy, i. 324

  Frégicourt, i. 206; ii. 119

  French, Field-Marshal Sir John, G.C.B., i. 29, 46, 102, 104

  French, 2nd Lieut. V. J. S., i. 310, 312, 314; ii. 218

  French forces in action:
    Ypres (1914), i. 31, 32, 34, 37, 39, 40;
    Cuinchy, i. 61, 62, 67, 68, 113;
    Loos, i. 109;
    Arras, i. 112;
    the Somme, i. 161, 162, 189, 195; ii. 96, 112;
    Ypres (1917) i. 213, 218, 230, 237; ii. 142, 145, 152, 153, 154,
        166, 168;
    (1918 offensive), i. 282, 283, 284; ii. 207

  Fresnoy, i. 285

  Frezenberg, i. 222

  Fricourt, i. 154; ii. 92


  Gamble, 2nd Lieut. R., M.C., ii. 224

  Gas, first use of, at Ypres, i. 79-80; ii. 58

  Gas-attack, Laventie, arrangements for, ii. 41, 42-45

  Gas-helmets:
    their subduing effect, i. 124;
    unpopularity of, ii. 183, 203

  Gatti, 2nd Lieut. J. A. S., M.C., ii. 222, 224, 230

  Gauche Wood, i. 246, 247, 248; ii. 178

  Gavrelle, i. 252

  George V., H. M. King, i. 47, 49, 121, 156; ii. 93, 104, 139

  Germaine, i. 206

  Germany, entry into, i. 331; ii. 212

  Gheulvelt, i. 35

  Gibraltar, a German battle-honour, ii. 148

  Gibraltar Post, i. 56

  Gibson, Lieut. T. C., O.B.E., i. 159, 164, 177; ii. 160, 163, 221, 224

  Ginchy, i. 161, 162, 163, 165-174, 175; ii. 95, 96, 97-103, 109, 132,
        178

  Givenchy, i. 71, 73, 77, 90

  Givenchy-en-Gohelle, i. 113

  Givet, i. 329

  Glennon, Sgt., ii. 90, 110

  Gloucestershire Regt., ii. 199

  Glynn, Sgt. J., D.C.M., i. 48, 129; ii. 279

  Goat, the mascot, in Metz cellars, i. 242-243 _n._

  Godley, Maj.-Gen. Sir A. J., K.C.B., K.C.M.G., i. 212

  Godman, Colonel (Scots Guards), ii. 99, 128

  Gomiecourt, i. 197, 201, 202, 238; ii. 92

  Gonnelieu, i. 238, 239, 243, 246-247, 248, 250, 251, 252; ii. 170, 177

  Gordon, Lieut.-Col. A. F. L., D.S.O., M.C., i. 87, 88, 99, 129, 136,
        181, 184, 228, 255, 256, 257, 268, 273, 277, 310, 314, 320; ii.
        204, 216, 222, 223, 225

  Gordon Camp, i. 259

  Gordon Highlanders, i. 36, 37, 294; ii. 183;
    advice on pipers’ kilts sought from, ii. 157

  Gore-Langton, Capt. M. V., M.C., i. 24, 39, 87, 88, 97, 99, 116, 122;
        ii. 217, 220, 225, 226

  Gort, Lieut.-Col. Viscount, V.C. (Grenadier Guards), i. 307, 308; ii.
        7

  Gotha Trench, i. 205

  Gough, Capt. E. J. F., i. 2, 19, 24, 44, 50, 52; ii. 217

  Gough, Capt. G. P., i. 46, 50, 51; ii. 220

  Gough, Capt. Hon. H. W., M.C., i. 3, 53; ii. 219, 225

  Gouzeaucourt, i. 242-246, 250, 251, 252, 260, 309; ii. 177-178, 179

  Gouzeaucourt Wood i. 247, 249; ii. 177, 178

  Grady, C.Q.M.S.R., i. 81, 129

  Graham, Lieut. F. F., i. 55, 60; ii. 220

  Graincourt, i. 240, 301, 307, 308; ii. 173, 176

  Grand Loge Farm, i. 14

  Grandcourt, i. 197, 198, 200

  Gravenstafel spur, the, i. 229

  Grayling-Major, Lieut. J., i. 87, 88, 111, 129; ii. 220

  Grayson, Lieut. R. H. S., i. 235; ii. 14, 220

  Greaney, Sgt. M., i. 129

  Green, 2nd Lieut. (Coldstream Guards), ii. 43

  Greenfield, Major T. W. B., D.S.O., ii. 224

  Greer, Lieut.-Col. E. B., M.C., i. 2, 17, 35, 58, 190; ii. 40, 51,
        69, 75, 91, 94, 119, 128, 143, 145, 146, 147 _n._, 151, 152,
        154, 216, 218, 220, 225

  Greer, Lieut. F. St. L., M.C., ii. 88, 98, 99, 106, 124, 219, 225

  Greer, Lieut. J. K. M., M.C., i. 85, 147, 164, 167; ii. 218, 220, 225

  Grenadier Guards:
    1st Battalion:
      (1915) Laventie, ii. 57
      (1917) Yser Canal and the Broembeek, i. 220, 233-234
      (1918) Arras, i. 257;
        Prémy Chapel, i. 307, 308
      Drums of, ii. 204
    2nd Battalion:
      (1914) i. 1, 4;
        Mons, i. 5, 7;
        Soupir, i. 16, 19, 20, 23;
        Ypres, i. 26, 30, 33, 35, 36, 39, 43, 45, 51
      (1915) La Bassée, Cuinchy, i. 54, 58, 61, 64, 89, 94;
        Neuve Chapelle, i. 71;
        Festubert, i. 83, 84;
        Loos, i. 109, 114, 115, 116
      (1916) Ypres, i. 139, 142, 145, 152, 153; ii. 76, 77, 78;
        the Somme: Ginchy, Lesbœufs, i. 156, 164, 169, 179, 180, 181,
        182; ii. 99, 104
      (1917) the Somme: Sailly-Saillisel, i. 190; ii. 112, 115;
        Yser Canal and the Broembeek, i. 231, 232, 233, 234; ii. 152;
        the Somme: Gouzeaucourt, Gauche Wood, i. 244, 246
      (1918) the Scarpe: the March Push, i. 254, 256, 257, 259, 266,
        276, 279;
        St. Léger, i. 289, 290, 294;
        the Canal du Nord, i. 307;
        the advance on Maubeuge, i. 311, 317, 318-319, 323, 325, 328
      Boxing matches with 1st Irish Guards, i. 69
      Brigade Platoon Competition won by, i. 208
    3rd Battalion:
      (1914) i. 1
      (1915) Cuinchy, i. 61;
        Loos, the Hohenzollern, Laventie, ii. 10, 18, 34
      (1916) the Somme: Ginchy, ii. 96, 97, 100, 107-108
      (1917) Yser Canal, i. 221; ii. 136, 149;
        the Somme: Bourlon Wood, i. 241; ii. 173
      (1918) the Scarpe, i. 243;
        the advance on Maubeuge, i. 324, 327
      Boxing competitions, ii. 80
    4th Battalion:
      (1915) formation, ii. 1;
        Laventie, i. 125
      (1916) Laventie, ii. 49;
        the Somme, ii. 94-95
      (1917) the Somme: Sailly-Saillisel, i. 205;
        Bourlon Wood, i. 241;
        Gouzeaucourt, i. 244
      (1918) in Fourth Guards Brigade, i. 253; ii. 180 _n._, 184;
        Arleux, ii. 185;
        the Somme: March Push, ii. 187, 188;
        Vieux-Berquin, ii. 193-194, 195, 196, 201;
        the advance, ii. 208, 210

  Grenay, i. 106, 112

  Grévillers, i. 197, 262

  Gricourt, i. 309

  Grimwood, C.S.M., ii. 141

  Grougis, i. 4

  Gruyterzaele Farm, ii. 166

  Guards Brigade:
    4th (Guards) Brigade, i. 1, 4, 5-6, 8, 9 _sqq._, 103, 283;
      becomes 1st Guards Brigade of Guards Division, i. 101, 102
    4th Guards Brigade created, i. 253, 258; ii. 180 _n._, 184;
      its stand at Vieux-Berquin, ii. 197, 201;
      as a training corps, ii. 205, 207.

  Guards Division, formation of, i. 101;
    (1919) march through London, ii. 215-216, 222

  Guards Machine-Gun Regt., i. 290, 292, 303, 307

  Guernsey, Lieut. Lord, i. 3, 17; ii. 218

  Gueudecourt, i. 162, 180, 202; ii. 96, 104, 107

  Guildford Street, ii. 22, 23

  Guillemont, i. 161, 163, 190; ii. 97, 103

  Gunston, Major D. W., M.C., i. 55, 321; ii. 114, 145, 147, 148, 153,
        225

  Gurkha Regt., 9th, i. 51

  Gusty Trench, ii. 109

  Guthrie, Capt. J. N., i. 2, 17, 81, 85; ii. 217, 219

  Gwynne, Capt. Rev. Father J., i. 46, 50, 54, 63, 73, 81, 87, 94-95,
        117, 118, 119, 132; ii. 218


  Hague, Ian, ii. 80

  Haie Wood, ii. 113, 114, 117

  Haig, Field-Marshal Sir Douglas, G.C.B., i. 47, 102, 103, 237, 253,
        269; ii. 64, 168, 180, 201

  Haisnes, i. 106, 107, 108

  Haking, Lieut.-Gen. Sir R., G.B.E., K.C.B., i. 105; ii. 6, 7

  Hall, Lieut.-Col. Sir J. R., Bart, C.B.E., ii. 223

  “Hallam, Basil,” ii. 94

  Halligan, 2nd Lieut. J. (2nd Leinster Regt.), i. 105, 146

  Hally Avenue, i. 289

  Halpin, Sgt., ii. 90

  Ham, i. 6, 262

  Hamel, i. 282; ii. 206

  Hamel Switch, i. 288, 295

  Hamelincourt, i. 263, 286, 287; ii. 187

  Hamilton, Capt. Lord John, i. 2, 41; ii. 217, 223

  Hammond, 2nd Lieut. C. E., M.C., i. 236; ii. 225, 229

  Hampshire Regt., i. 233

  Hanbury, Capt. C. E. R., i. 129, 135; ii. 119, 123, 145, 153, 167,
        218, 221

  Hanbury-Tracy, Capt. Hon. W. C., i. 42, 44

  Hannay, Capt. R., ii. 29, 30, 144, 221

  Hanoverian Fusiliers, 73rd, ii. 149

  “Happy” Battalions, the mystery of, ii. 53, 168, 216

  Happy Valley, ii. 94

  Haquin, ii. 8

  Hardecourt, i. 157

  Harding, Capt. C. R., O.B.E., i. 19, 43; ii. 220, 224

  Hargnies, i. 4

  Hargreaves, Capt. L. R., M.C., i. 42-43, 44, 50, 52, 87, 88, 105,
        159, 163, 164, 169, 176, 180, 181; ii. 217, 221, 225

  Harmignies-Mons road, i. 5, 6; ii. 215

  Harmsworth, Capt. Hon. H. A. V. St. G., M.C., i. 47, 50, 98; ii. 169,
        176, 218, 220, 222, 225, 229

  Harpies River, i. 318

  Harradine, C.S.M., D.C.M., i. 38, 53, 81; ii. 90, 279

  Harrington, Pte. i. 17

  Harrison, 2nd Lieut. S. S., M.C., ii. 222, 225, 228

  Hartmannsweillerkopf operations, lecture on, ii. 47

  Harveng, i. 5.

  Harvey, Capt. E. M., M.C., i. 185, 234, 278, 314, 317, 319; ii. 222,
        225, 228

  Harvey, Capt. F. M., M.C. (R.A.M.C.) ii. 106, 115

  Harvey, Colonel J. (Post Office Rifles), i. 74

  Haussy, i. 315

  Haute Rièze, i. 121

  Haviland, Lieut.-Col. R. S. de (Eton O.T.C.), i. 76

  Havre, Le, i. 3; ii. 3

  Havrincourt, i. 310

  Havrincourt Wood, i. 239

  Hay, Capt. Lord Arthur, i. 3, 17; ii. 217

  Haydon, 2nd Lieut. J. C., i. 269, 314

  Haymarket, the, Ypres, i. 138

  Hazebrouck, i. 26, 27, 133, 270, 283; ii. 47, 91, 191, 198, 201, 202,
        204

  Heard, Lieut. R. H. W., M.C., i. 82, 86, 88, 115; ii. 105, 197, 219,
        220, 230

  Heaton, 2nd Lieut. G. T., i. 290, 294; ii. 223

  Hébuterne, ii. 92

  Hegarty, Capt. D. J., M.C., i. 147, 290, 291, 314; ii. 221, 225, 231

  Hell Fire Corner, i. 138, 142; ii. 77, 79

  Hely-Hutchinson, Capt. M. R., M.C., ii. 95, 115, 145, 170, 225

  Hendecourt-les-Ransart, i. 278, 286

  Henderson, 2nd Lieut. H. M., ii. 223

  Hénin-sur-Cojeul, i. 261, 264

  Hennigan, Lance-Cpl. P., D.C.M., i. 64, 153; ii. 279

  Henry, Pte. J., D.C.M., i. 97; ii. 279

  Herbert, Capt. Hon. A. N. H. M., M.P., i. 2, 11; ii. 223

  Herbert-Stepney, Major H. A., i. 2, 9, 14, 15, 19, 34, 42, 334; ii.
        217

  Hermies, i. 238, 239

  Herts Territorials, 1st (“Herts Guards”), i. 51, 54, 58, 63, 71, 85,
        90, 92, 93, 102

  Herzeele, i. 217, 230; ii. 138, 164

  Heudicourt, i. 243

  Hey Wood, ii. 147

  Hickie, Capt. and Quartermaster H., M.B.E., M.C., i. 2, 4, 44, 50,
        81, 88, 128, 191, 212, 330; ii. 224, 225

  Higgins, Pte., ii. 25

  High Wood, i. 161

  Highland Light Infantry, i. 56;
    15th, i. 278

  Hill 60, i. 77

  Hill 69, i. 107

  Hill 70, i. 107, 109, 112

  Hilley, Pte., ii. 162

  Hindenburg Line, the, i. 197, 206, 210, 238, 239, 249;
    attacked and broken, i. 295, 300-309; ii. 170, 171

  Hine, 2nd Lieut. G. V. B., ii. 16, 17, 219

  Hogg, Capt. K. W., i. 87, 88; ii. 220

  Hohenzollern Redoubt, the, i. 107, 108, 113, 114-119, 120; ii. 15
        _sqq._

  Hollebeke, i. 29, 37, 222, 228

  Holmes, Lieut. H. C., i. 173; ii. 221

  Hondeghem, i. 147; ii. 204

  Honnecourt, ii. 117

  Honsfeld, ii. 213

  Hooge, i. 32; ii. 80, 81

  Hooge Château, i. 33, 44

  Hope, Lieut. W. E., i. 2, 41; ii. 218

  Hopley, Capt. F. J. (Grenadier Guards), ii. 99

  Hordern, Lieut. H. R., ii. 63, 90, 92, 221

  Horne, General Sir H. S., G.C.B., K.C.M.G., i. 87, 100, 103, 104

  Hornoy, i. 185, 186; ii. 107

  Horse-shows, Brigade, i. 211, 278

  Horton, Pte., ii. 23

  Houbinghem, ii. 157

  Hougoumont, Laventie, i. 126

  Houlle Camp, ii. 168, 170

  Household Battalion disbanded, i. 259; ii. 186

  Household Cavalry, i. 41

  Houthulst Forest, i. 225, 229, 231, 232, 235; ii. 154, 156, 158, 164

  Hubbard, Capt. G. N., i. 49; ii. 8, 24, 26, 29, 32, 221

  Hudson-Kinahan, Lieut. D. D., ii. 20, 29, 71, 219

  Hughes-Onslow, Capt. O., i. 2

  Hulluch, i. 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 112, 113, 116, 117, 118

  Hunt, 2nd Lieut. A. G., ii. 219

  Hunter Street, ii. 139, 142

  Hutchinson, 2nd Lieut. A. E., M.C., i. 278, 294; ii. 223, 225, 231

  Hyderabad Support Trench, i. 258

  Hyne, Lieut. C. G. H. C., ii. 90, 102, 219, 221


  Indian troops in France, i. 51

  Innes, Lieut. A. C. W., M.C., i. 47, 50, 60, 62, 173; ii. 221, 225,
        226

  Innes-Ker, Major Lord Robert, i. 3, 11; ii. 223

  International Corner, ii. 138

  Irish Guards:
    1st Battalion:
      Commanding Officers of, i. 333
      (1914) mobilization, i. 1;
        Havre, i. 3:
        Vadencourt, i. 4;
        march towards Mons, i. 4-5;
        Mons, i. 5-6;
        the retreat, Villers-Botterets, i. 6-14:
        advance to the Aisne, Boitron Wood, i. 14-18;
        Soupir, i. 18-25:
        the Salient and First Battle of Ypres, i. 26, 30-46; ii. 67-68:
        Meteren, i. 46-51;
        Cuinchy, i. 50-52
      (1915) Cuinchy, the Brick-stacks, i. 53, 54-56, 57, 58-69;
        Neuve Chapelle, Givenchy, i. 69, 70, 75, 76, 77, 78-79, 81-82;
        Festubert, i. 82-86;
        Nœux-les-Mines, i. 88-89:
        Sailly-Labourse, i. 89-91:
        Annequin, i. 91, 94;
        Béthune, i. 91-93;
        Cuinchy, the Brick-stacks i. 93-100;
        St. Omer, i. 102:
        Thiembronne, i. 104-105, 107;
        meet 2nd Battalion at St. Pierre, i. 105; ii. 5-6;
        Loos, Vermelles, i. 110-112;
        Hohenzollern Trenches, i. 113-119;
        Vermelles, i. 120-121;
        Laventie, i. 123-129; ii. 38;
        La Gorgue, i. 125, 128
      (1916) Merville, i. 130, 131; ii. 46, 56;
        Laventie, i. 127;
        Ypres Salient, i. 132-134;
        Calais, i. 134-135; ii. 64;
        Ypres Salient, i. 137-150, 152-155;
        the Somme: Vauchelles-les-Authies, i. 155-156, 159;
        Louvencourt, i. 156-157:
        Méaulte, i. 160;
        Ginchy, i. 163-174, 175, 176, ii. 97;
        Lesbœufs, i. 177-182; ii. 104;
        Hornoy, i. 185-186;
        meet 2nd Battalion at Aumont, ii. 106:
        Méaulte, i. 187, 188-190;
        Lesbœufs, Sailly-Saillisel, Combles, i. 187, 189-192; ii.
        111-112, 119
      (1917) the Somme: Méricourt l’Abbé, i. 199-200;
        Rancourt, i. 200, 203-4;
        Sailly-Saillisel, i. 205, 206; ii. 128, 130;
        Le Transloy, i. 207;
        Bronfay, i. 207;
        Etricourt, i. 209;
        Curlu, i. 209;
        St. Omer, i. 311;
        Ypres Salient: Boesinghe, i. 213-223;
        Third Battle of Ypres, crossing of the Broembeek, Houthulst
        Forest, i. 224, 225-226, 230-235;
        the Somme: Bayenghem-les-Eperlecques, i. 236-237:
        Cambrai offensive, i. 238-241:
        Gouzeaucourt Gonnelieu, i. 242-249; ii. 177-178;
        Beaumetz-les-Loges, i. 249, 250
      (1918) Arras and the Scarpe, i. 252, 253-259;
        March Push: Boisleux-St. Marc, Hamelincourt, Boiry-St. Martin,
        i. 261-269;
        Saulty, Ayette, i. 271, 273-276:
        Monchy, Bavincourt, Saulty, i. 276, 277-278;
        Hendecourt, i. 278, 286;
        Hamelincourt, i. 287-288;
        St. Léger, i. 289-294:
        Lagnicourt, Mœuvres, i. 296-297, 298, 299;
        the Canal du Nord, Flesquières, i. 300, 301-309:
        Demicourt, i. 308, 310;
        Seranvillers, Beauvais-les-Cambrensis, Bévillers, Quiévy, i.
        311-315:
        the rivers round Maubeuge, i. 316-317;
        St. Python, i. 317-321:
        the Rhônelle crossing, i. 323-325:
        Vavai to Assevant, i. 325-327:
        the Armistice, i. 327-328;
        Maubeuge, i. 328-329;
        the journey to Cologne, i. 329, 332, 333
    2nd Battalion:
      a “happy” Battalion, ii. 53-54, 168, 216
      Commanding Officers of, ii. 216
      (1915) formation, ii. 1-3;
        leaves England, i. 101; ii. 3;
        Havre, ii. 3;
        Acquin, ii. 4, 7;
        meet 1st Battalion at St. Pierre, i. 104: ii. 5;
        Linghem, Haquin, ii. 8;
        Le Rutoire, ii. 8-9;
        Loos, Chalk-Pit Wood, ii. 9-15;
        Verquigneul, ii. 14;
        Vermelles, the Hohenzollern, i. 119, 120; ii. 15-28, 30;
        Bourecq, ii. 29-30;
        La Gorgue, ii. 30, 34;
        Laventie, ii. 31-33;
        Merville, ii. 35;
        Laventie, ii. 36-38, 39-46;
        La Gorgue, Merville, ii. 38-40, 46-47
      (1916) Laventie, ii. 49-55, 57-58, 60-62;
        La Gorgue, ii. 56, 62-63;
        Merville, ii. 59-60;
        Wormhoudt, Poperinghe, ii. 63, 66-67;
        Calais, ii. 64-66;
        Ypres Salient, ii. 66-74, 75-79;
        Poperinghe, ii. 73;
        Brandhoek, ii. 76;
        Proven, Bollezeele, ii. 80-81, 91;
        Hooge, ii. 81-83;
        Vlamertinghe, ii. 83-84;
        Elverdinghe, the Yser Canal, ii. 84-89;
        Camp P., ii. 90;
        the Somme: Lucheux, Mailly-Maillet, Couin, ii. 92-94;
        Méricourt l’Abbé, ii. 105;
        Ginchy, ii. 95-96, 97-103;
        Carnoy, ii. 103;
        Lesbœufs, i. 181; ii. 103-104;
        Trônes Wood, Carnoy, Méricourt-en-Vimeux, ii. 105-107;
        meet 1st Battalion at Aumont, ii. 106;
        Méaulte, Trônes Wood, ii. 108;
        Lesbœufs, Sailly-Saillisel, Combles, Haie Wood, i. 190, 191;
        ii. 111-112, 114-118;
        Bronfay, ii. 113-114
      (1917) the Somme: Corbie, Maurepas, ii. 119;
        Rancourt, ii. 119-124, 125-127;
        Morval, Ville, Priez Farm, Billon, ii. 124;
        St. Pierre Vaast Wood, i. 203; ii. 128-131;
        railway and road-work, ii. 131-133;
        Curlu, Méricourt l’Abbé, ii. 134-135;
        Ypres Salient: Elverdinghe, the Yser Canal, ii. 136-137,
        140-146;
        Herzeele, ii. 138-139;
        Third Battle of Ypres, Boesinghe, ii. 145-152;
        the Steenbeek, ii. 152-154;
        Porchester Camp, Paddington Camp, Abingley Camp, ii. 154-156;
        the Broembeek, Houthulst Forest, ii. 158-162, 164-167;
        Dulwich Camp, Putney Camp, Herzeele, Houlle Camp, ii. 163-164,
        167-170;
        the Somme: Cambrai offensive, Bourlon Wood, i. 241, 304; ii.
        171-176;
        Gouzeaucourt, ii. 177-179;
        Simencourt, ii. 179-181
      (1918) Arras and the Scarpe, ii. 182-184;
        transferred to 4th Guards Brigade, i. 253, 258; ii. 184, 185;
        Bray, ii. 184-185;
        Arleux, ii. 185;
        Villers-Brulin, Béthonsart, ii. 186;
        March Push: Hamelincourt, Moyenneville, Ayette, ii. 186-189;
        Chelers, ii. 190;
        Vieux-Berquin, i. 270; ii. 191-202;
        Bois d’Avaal, Ferme Beaulieu, ii. 202-203;
        Hondeghem, ii. 204;
        Barly, Bavincourt, ii. 205-206;
        Criel Plage, ii., 207-209;
        after the Armistice: Cambrai, Maubeuge, Charleroi, ii. 210-211;
        the journey to Cologne, ii. 211-214
      (1919) the march through London, ii. 215-216

  Irish Rifles, i. 6.

  Irish Star made at Ypres, i. 142;
    at Le Transloy, i. 207

  Irles, i. 202, 262

  Iron Cross Captured, i. 64

  Iron Cross Kortikaar-Cabaret road, i. 220, 226

  Iseghem, i. 28


  James, Lieut. G. L. B., ii. 29, 141, 219

  Jamrack, 2nd Lieut. A. W. G., i. 250, 258

  Jeffreys, Brig.-Gen. G. D., C.B., i. 227

  Jewel Trench, i. 289

  Joffre, Marshal, i. 13, 15

  Johnson Avenue, i. 255

  Joyce, Capt. W. J. P., i. 212, 245, 250, 269, 290, 294; ii. 222


  Kane, Lieut. J. J., i. 185, 192; ii. 153, 157, 222

  Keating, 2nd Lieut. H. S., i. 47, 50, 53, 56; ii. 218

  Keenan, Capt. J. B., i. 273, 314, 319, 320; ii. 30, 64, 99, 142, 190,
        221

  Keep, the, i. 62

  Kemmel, i. 269

  Kemmel Hill, i. 284

  Kemp, Capt. R. B. H., i. 55, 81, 84; ii. 220

  Kenny, Pte. M., M.M., i. 183; ii. 281

  Kent, 2nd Lieut. G. R., ii. 190, 205

  Kerry, Lieut.-Col. the Earl of, M.V.O., D.S.O., ii. 2

  Khartum, Bishop of, i. 69

  King Edward’s Horse, ii. 129

  King, Pte., ii. 122-123

  King, 2nd Lieut. N., ii. 219

  King’s Liverpool Regt., i. 71;
    1st, i. 277;
    5th, i. 84;
    8th, i. 298

  King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, ii. 15, 93;
    12th, ii. 202

  King’s Royal Rifles, i. 53, 104

  Kingston, Capt. the Earl of, i. 37, 55, 184, 190; ii. 220

  Kingston, Pte., ii. 23

  Kipling, Lieut. J., ii. 11, 14, 219, 223

  Kirk, Sgt.-Major J., i. 55, 129, 139

  Kitchener, Field-Marshal Earl, K. G., i. 49, 51, 73, 107, 132; ii. 3

  Klein Zillebeke, i. 36, 44, 213

  Kluck, General von, i. 8

  Knapp, Capt. Rev. Father A. H. A., i. 129

  Knapp, Capt. Rev. Father S. S., D.S.O., M.C., i. 87, 88, 94, 119,
        132; ii. 5, 45, 65, 124, 143, 150, 151, 154, 219

  Koch de Gooreynd, 2nd Lieut. A. L. W., i. 310, 314

  Koekuit, i. 234; ii. 166


  La Bassée, i. 28;
    fighting round, i. 57, 58 _sqq._; ii. 191

  La Brique, i. 145

  La Cour de Soupir Farm, i. 16, 18

  La Couronne, i. 270; ii. 192, 198

  La Crosse, i. 211

  La Fère, i. 6, 260

  La Flinque Farm, ii. 40, 46

  La Gorgue, i. 125, 128, 132; ii. 30, 34, 35, 38, 46, 47, 49,
        56-57, 63, 192

  La Justice, i. 240, 242; ii. 173, 176

  La Longueville, i. 4, 7

  Labour Battalions:
    the “Broody Hens,” ii. 111;
    the Montauban camp, ii. 131

  Labour Corps at Gouzeaucourt, i. 243-245

  Lagnicourt, i. 296, 302

  Lagny, i. 13

  Lancashire Farm, i. 148; ii. 87

  Lancashire Fusiliers:
    10th, i. 133;
    20th, i. 235;
    24th, i. 271

  Lancer Avenue, i. 253-254

  Lancers, 12th, i. 147;
    21st, ii. 129

  Landrecies, i. 6, 7, 8;
    the Drum at, i. 8, 136

  Lane-Fox, Capt. Rev. Father P. J., i. 132, 135, 136, 185; ii. 64

  Langemarck, i. 28, 32, 79;
    attack on (1917), i. 224, 228, 229

  Langrishe, 2nd Lieut. T. H., i. 105, 111

  Lapugnoy, i. 86, 87, 121, 123

  Laventie, i. 82, 115, 123-128; ii. 28, 31 _sqq._, 36 _sqq._, 49, 58,
        69

  Laventie East post, ii. 49

  Law, Capt. H. F. D’A. S., M.C., i. 98, 111, 127, 186, 219, 221, 224;
        ii. 204, 222, 225

  Lawson, Capt. J. I., M.C. (R.A.M.C.), ii. 230

  Le Bertrand, i. 14

  Le Cateau, i. 6, 8

  Le Cornet Perdu, ii. 194, 197

  Lee, 2nd Lieut. F. H. N., i. 148; ii. 218, 221

  Lee, 2nd Lieut. L. C. L., i. 47, 50, 59, 60; ii. 218

  Lees, Capt. D., D.S.O., M.C. (R.A.M.C.), ii. 150, 156

  Leicestershire Regt., ii. 20, 176

  Le Mesnil-en-Arrouaise, i. 205, 206

  Le Murger Farm, i. 10

  Lens, i. 112, 252, 309

  Le Plessis, i. 14

  Le Préol, i. 72, 79

  L’Epinette Farm, ii. 194

  Le Quesnoy, i. 6, 321, 322

  Le Quesnoy-en-Santerre, i. 197

  Le Rutoire Farm, i. 112; ii. 8

  Le Sars, i. 195

  Lesbœufs, i. 161, 162, 164; ii. 107, 132, 178;
    attack and capture of, i. 178-182, 194-195; ii. 96, 101, 102,
        103-104, 178

  Lesves, i. 330; ii. 212

  Le Touquet, i. 204, 212

  Le Touret, i. 51, 56, 83, 86

  Le Transloy, i. 161, 189, 197, 207; ii. 104, 132, 178

  Le Transloy-Arras Salient, i. 197-199, 200, 201, 202

  Le Transloy-Loupart line, i. 202

  Leuze Wood, i. 161, 162; ii. 96

  Levy, Capt. M. B., M.C., i. 121, 129; ii. 164, 180, 194, 199, 225

  Lewis, Pte. M., M.M., i. 184; ii. 281

  Lierneux, i. 331

  Liévin, i. 112

  Life Guards:
    1st, i. 41;
    2nd, i. 40, 41

  Lille, i. 70, 321; ii. 22

  Lillers, i. 107; ii. 29

  Lincolnshire Regt., i. 173

  Linghem, ii. 8

  Little Willie Trench, ii. 23

  Livingstone-Learmonth, 2nd Lieut. J., i. 2

  Lloyd, Maj.-Gen. Sir Francis, K.C.B., D.S.O., i. 300; ii. 3, 46

  Locon, i. 56, 58

  Lofting, 2nd Lieut. H. J., i. 269; ii. 145, 227

  London Regt., 3rd, ii. 108;
    15th, i. 75, 77

  London Territorial Artillery, 2nd, i. 76

  Lone Tree, Loos, i. 108, 112; ii. 9

  Long-Innes, Major P. S., M.C., i. 55, 59, 129, 164, 173, 183; ii.
        189, 220, 225

  Longuenesse, i. 146

  Longueval, i. 157

  Loos:
    preparations for, i. 101-102, 105-106; ii. 5-7, 8;
    the battle, i. 106, 119; ii. 7, 8-15.

  Lord, 2nd Lieut. E. C. G., i. 236, 273; ii. 218

  Loupart Woods, i. 197

  Louvencourt, i. 156-157

  Louvois Farm, i. 234

  Lovenich, i. 331

  Lowry, C.Q.M.S., J. G., i. 81

  Loyal North Lancashire Regt., 1/5th, i. 298

  Lucas, Sgt., ii. 110

  Lucheux, ii. 92

  Lumbres, ii. 4, 6

  Lynch-Blosse, 2nd Lieut. F. C. L., ii. 170, 176, 222

  Lys, River, German offensive and defeat on, i. 269-271, 281, 282,
        283, 285; ii. 201

  Lysaght, Lieut. J. L., ii. 93, 99, 155, 161, 169, 226

  Lyttelton, Capt. O. (Grenadier Guards), ii. 101


  McCalmont, Lieut.-Col. R. C. A., D.S.O., i. 123, 128, 135, 181, 190,
        204, 334; ii. 46, 224

  McCarthy, Lieut.-Col. A. H. L., D.S.O., M.C. (R.A.M.C.), i. 34, 50,
        56, 81, 87, 94, 117, 178

  McCarthy, Lance-Sgt. G., ii. 23

  McCullagh, Cpl. E., M.M., i. 224; ii. 282

  McCusker, a/C.S.M. F., M.M., i. 224; ii. 282

  Macdonald, Sgt., M.M., i. 225; ii. 282

  Macfarlane, Sgt. R., ii. 169, 283

  McGoldrick, C.Q.M.S. P., D.C.M., i. 48, 81, 129; ii. 279

  MacGuinn, Sgt., ii. 68

  M’Guinness, Sgt., ii. 160

  McHale, Lance-Cpl. S., M.M., i. 225; ii. 282

  Mackenzie, Lieut. (Scots Guards), ii. 99

  Mackwood, 2nd Lieut. E. O., ii. 222

  MacLachlan, 2nd Lieut. G. C., i. 269, 272; ii. 222

  MacMahon, Lieut. P. S., i. 290, 294; ii. 222

  MacMahon, Capt. T. F., M.C., i. 173, 177, 179, 183, 184, 227, 228;
        ii. 222, 225

  McMullen, C.S.M., D.C.M., i. 183; ii. 279

  McNally, Sgt., ii. 150

  McNeill, Capt. R., ii. 73, 84, 89

  McVeigh, C.S.M. H., i. 81, 129

  Madden, Lieut.-Col. G. H. C., i. 19, 20, 87, 101, 105, 117, 118, 334;
        ii. 2, 217, 221

  Magnicourt-le-Comte, i. 237

  Maher, Lieut. J. C., ii. 180, 199, 219

  Mailly-Maillet, i. 156; ii. 92, 93

  Maitland, Lieut. G. M., i. 19, 38, 39; ii. 218, 223

  Malgarni, i. 7

  Malplaquet, i. 326

  Maltz Horn Camp, i. 189; ii. 117

  Mametz, i. 157

  Manancourt, i. 206

  Manning, Lieut. B. O. D., ii. 155, 159, 163, 223

  Mansell Camp, ii. 108

  Mansfield, Pte. J., D.C.M., i. 78

  March Push, the, 1918, i. 259-263; ii. 182, 187-190, 200

  Marchienne, ii. 211

  Marcoing, i. 301, 309; ii. 171

  Mareuil-sur-Ourcq, i. 26

  Marguerite Farm, ii. 142

  Maricourt, i. 200; ii. 92, 115

  Marion-Crawford, 2nd Lieut. H., i. 47, 50, 69, 73, 77; ii. 218

  Marne River:
    battle and crossing of, i. 16;
    second battle (1918), i. 282, 283-284; ii. 207

  Maroilles, i. 4

  Marshall, Lieut. J. N., V.C., M.C., i. 147, 148, 153; ii. 219, 221,
        223, 225, 231, 233-234

  Martin, Pte. J., M.M., i. 225; ii. 281

  Martinpuich, i. 162, 164; ii. 96

  Mary, H. M. Queen, i. 51

  Mary, H. R. H. Princess, i. 52

  Masnières, i. 239, 311

  Matheson, Colonel (Herts Regt.), i. 71

  Matheson, General T. G., C.B., i. 300, 329, 331

  Mathieson, Lieut. G. F., i. 278, 304, 308; ii. 223

  Mathieson, Lieut. K. R., i. 39; ii. 218

  Mathew, 2nd Lieut. T., M.C., ii. 180, 203, 225, 230

  Matthews, O. R. Cr. Sgt. P., i. 129

  Matthews, Lance-Sgt. R., i. 108

  Maubeuge:
    advance on, i. 309 _sqq._, 316-317, 326-327;
    entry into, i. 327, ii. 1;
    ceremony in, i. 328-329

  Maughan, 2nd Lieut. T. B., i. 269; ii. 222

  Maurepas, i. 200, 203; ii. 119, 122

  Maxse, Gen. Sir Ivor, K.C.B., D.S.O., ii. 134

  Maxwell, Lieut. H. H., i. 185, 217, 234; ii. 221

  Mazingarbe, i. 113, 114

  Méan, i. 330

  Méaulte, i. 160, 188, 189, 199, 204, 262; ii. 108

  Meaux, i. 13

  Menin, i. 28, 32

  Menin road, the, i. 28, 32, 33, 138, 228, 229; ii. 69, 77, 81

  Méricourt-en-Vimeux, ii. 105-107, 108

  Méricourt l’Abbé, i. 160, 199; ii. 94, 134-135

  Merville, i. 123, 130, 131, 269; ii. 35, 36, 47, 59, 191, 193

  Messines, i. 269; ii. 135, 169

  Messines Ridge, i. 210, 211

  Meteren, i. 46-47, 48

  Metz-en-Couture, i. 242

  Meuse Line, German, i. 328-329

  Meuse River, crossing of, i. 330

  Michael, H.I.H. Grand Duke, i. 46

  Middlesex Regt., 21st, ii. 187

  Milligan, Sgt., D.C.M., ii. 151-152, 156, 279

  Mills bomb, the, i. 73, 89

  Mining operations:
    Givenchy, i. 77-79;
    Cuinchy, i. 98;
    Laventie, ii. 63, 64;
    Messines Ridge, i. 211

  Miraumont, i. 201, 202, 262

  Models of battle-area used in training for attack, i. 217, 230; ii.
        138-139, 144, 148, 152

  Mœuvres, i. 239, 297

  Monash, Lieut.-Gen. Sir J., K.C.B., ii. 206

  Monchy-au-Bois, i. 197, 272, 273, 276, 296

  Mondicourt, ii. 204

  Monmouthshire Regt., 1st, ii. 19, 20

  Monro, General Sir Charles, G.C.B., i. 73

  Mons:
    situation at, i. 4-5;
    retreat from, i. 5-14

  Mont d’Origny, i. 8

  Mont Plaisir, i. 14

  Montauban, i. 157, 187, 190; ii. 92, 131

  Montdidier, i. 262, 283

  Montgomery, Mag.-Genl. Sir Archibald, K.C.M.G., i. 285

  Montgomery, Lieut. H., i. 114; ii. 15, 29, 31, 91, 95, 102, 132, 219

  Moodie, Lieut. D. A. B., M.C., i. 186, 257; ii. 225, 229

  Moore, Capt. C. J. O’H., M.C., ii. 29, 47, 56, 65, 190, 196, 199,
        202, 222, 225, 230

  Moore, Pte. W., D.C.M., i. 53; ii. 280

  Moran, Cpl. C., D.C.M., i. 53; ii. 280

  Moran, C.S.M. M., D.C.M., i. 5, 129, 183; ii. 280

  Moringhem, i. 212

  Mormal, Forest of, i. 316

  Morris, Lieut.-Col. Hon. G. H., i. 1, 2, 8, 10, 11, 334; ii. 217

  Morval, i. 161-162, 190, 207; ii. 95, 103, 112, 120, 124, 132

  Mory, i. 289; ii. 188, 208

  Mory Switch, i. 289-290

  Moufflers, Dr. and Mme., i. 12

  Mouquet Farm, i. 161

  Moy, i. 9

  Moyenneville, i. 286, 288; ii. 188, 189, 208

  Moyles, C.S.M. D., i. 81

  Moyney, Sgt. J., V.C., ii. 161-162, 163, 279

  Mulholland, Capt. Hon. A. E., i. 19, 39; ii. 217

  Mumford, Capt. W. C., M.C., i. 168, 169, 183, 205, 207, 219, 224; ii.
        221, 225

  Munns, C.S.M., D.C.M., i. 45, 48; ii. 280

  Munster Fusiliers, i. 43, 278

  Murphy, Drill-Sgt., ii. 110, 157

  Murphy, Pte., i. 45

  Murphy, Lieut. J. J. V. F., i. 185, 190

  Murphy, Lieut. L. D., M.C., ii. 163, 225, 233

  Murphy, C.Q.M.S. T., i. 129

  Musgrave, Lieut. T., i. 62, 64; ii. 218

  Mylne, Capt. E. G., i. 50, 69, 81, 84; ii. 217

  Mylne, Lieut. E. L., M.C., ii. 90, 98, 100, 101, 102, 219, 225


  Namur, fall of, i. 6

  Namur Crossing, ii. 166

  Nanine, i. 330

  Nash, Lieut. J. H., i. 185, 212, 265; ii. 218

  Naval party visits the line, i. 137.

  Neall, Pte., M.M. (D.C.L.I.), ii. 203

  Nedon, i. 108

  Nesle, i. 6

  Neuf Berquin, ii. 63, 192

  Neuve Chapelle, i. 69-75

  Neuve Eglise, i. 269

  New Zealand troops in action, i. 195, 229, 311, 313

  New Copse, ii. 158, 159, 160, 161

  Ney Wood, ii. 158, 159, 166

  Nicholson, 2nd Lieut. C. A. J., i. 250; ii. 222

  Nieppe, Forest of, ii. 191, 195, 197, 198, 199, 201, 202

  Nile Trench, ii. 85, 86, 90

  Nippes, i. 332

  Nœux-les-Mines, i. 88, 89, 107, 108; ii. 8

  Nolan, Lance-Sgt., ii. 110

  Noordschoote, i. 213, 229

  Nordemhoek, i. 229

  Norfolk Regt., i. 118; ii. 14

  North Moated Grange Street, ii. 39

  Northumberland Avenue, ii. 183

  Notre Dame de Lorette, i. 106

  Noyales, i. 8

  Noyelles, ii. 8, 29, 171

  Noyelles-sur-l’Escaut, i. 239, 301, 308; ii. 171

  Noyon, i. 6, 262, 283

  Nugent, Brig.-Gen. G. C., M.V.O., i. 73; ii. 217

  Nugent, Sgt. R., i. 129

  Nugent, Major T. E. G., M.C., i. 69, 74, 128, 132, 135, 136; ii. 22,
        23, 29, 34, 64, 176, 205, 220, 225, 230-231

  Nulty, Pte. S., M.M., i. 224-225; ii. 282

  Nutting, Capt. A. R. S., M.C., ii. 73, 89, 94, 140, 149, 207, 222,
        225, 228


  Oblinghem, i. 87, 88

  O’Brien, 2nd Lieut. C. S., M.C., i. 275, 278, 303, 304, 308; ii. 218,
        225, 231

  O’Brien, 2nd Lieut. Hon. D., i. 185

  O’Brien, Pte. D., D.C.M., i. 153; ii. 280

  O’Brien, Pte. D., i. 225; ii. 283

  O’Brien, Capt. Hon. H. B., M.C., i. 87, 88, 121, 129, 130, 189; ii.
        180, 188, 222, 225

  O’Connor, Lieut. A. E., i. 278; ii. 164, 176

  O’Connor, Pte. J., M.M., i. 183; ii. 182

  O’Driscoll, Lieut. P. F., ii. 222

  O’Farrell, 2nd Lieut. A. H., i. 278, 305, 308; ii. 219

  O’Hagan, Sgt., ii. 88

  O’Hara, C.S.M., i. 290

  O’Leary, Lance-Cpl. M., V.C., i. 60; ii. 279

  O’Loughlin, Sgt., i. 15

  O’Shaughnessy, Pte., i. 24

  Officers of the Brigade of Guards:
    discipline of, i. 95;
    their relations with their men, i. 95, 188, 235

  Officers, Special Reserve, ii. 2

  Ogilvy, Capt. Hon. B. A. A., M.C., i. 269, 303, 305, 308; ii. 223,
        225, 233

  Ogilvy, Capt. Hon. P. J. H., M.C., i. 148, 164, 176, 183, 231, 234;
        ii. 217, 225

  “Old Kent Road” Trench, i. 66

  Orival Wood, i. 306, 307, 308

  Ormoy, i. 26

  Orr, Capt. J., i. 186, 200; ii. 221

  Orr-Ewing, Capt. N., D.S.O. (Scots Guards attached), i. 19, 39 _n._,
        42, 44, 48

  Ostreville, ii. 170

  Ouderzeele, i. 212

  Ouffey, ii. 212

  Oulchy-le-Château, i. 16

  Ovillers-la-Boisselle, i. 157; ii. 92

  Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry, i. 37, 43, 69; ii. 80


  Pacaut, i. 123

  Paddington Camp, ii. 156

  Paget, Capt. A. W. L., M.C., i. 79, 86, 278, 291, 292-293, 317, 319;
        ii. 141, 144, 220, 225, 232

  Paget, Capt. R. S. G., i. 79, 85; ii. 141, 220

  Pakenham-Law, 2nd Lieut. T., ii. 11, 14, 219

  Paper-work, official; its possible value, ii. 38;
    untimely request for, ii. 85

  Paradis, ii. 192

  Paris, July 14th celebrations in, i. 153; ii. 90, 207

  Park, Lieut. R. H. M., M.C., ii. 225, 228

  Parsons, Lieut. D. C., i. 68, 81; ii. 29, 102, 219, 221

  Pasly, i. 6, 10

  Passchendaele, i. 34

  Pawlett, Lieut.-Col. (Canadian Army), ii. 169

  Payne, C.Q.M.S. H., i. 129

  Payne, Q.M.S. J. M., i. 129

  Pease, Capt. C., i. 65, 81, 129, 164, 173; ii. 218, 220

  Pepper Trench, i. 259

  Perceval, Major A. A., i. 3, 42

  Pereira, Brig.-Gen. Sir C. E., K.C.B., i. 128 _n._, 174, 181-182, 191

  Perles, i. 26

  Péronne, i. 206; ii. 128

  Persse, 2nd Lieut., C. de B. G. (Dragoon Guards), i. 81, 85; ii. 218

  Petit Han, ii. 212

  Petit Houvain, ii. 91

  Petit Morin, the, i. 15

  Picantin post, i. 126; ii. 49

  Pierre Levée, i. 14

  Pierrepont, i. 285

  Pierrots, the Coldstream, ii. 163

  Pigott, Capt. St. J. R., O.B.E., i. 1, 43, 44; ii. 224

  “Pill-boxes,” i. 217; ii. 138, 155

  Pioneer Barracks, Ehrenfeld, ii. 213

  Pipers, Irish Guards, i. 209, 273; ii. 134, 157, 163, 204

  Pisseleux, i. 11

  Pit 8, Loos, i. 107, 108, 118

  Pit 14, Loos, i. 108, 109, 111

  Plateau, ii. 113

  Platoon Competition, Brigade, Bronfay, i. 208

  Platt, Capt. (Coldstream Guards), ii. 77

  Plessier, i. 285

  Plugstreet, i. 210, 211

  Plumer, General Sir H., G.C.B., ii. 204

  Poelcappelle, i. 229

  Poison gas, first use of, i. 80

  Polderhoek, i. 35

  Polish prisoner, escaped, ii. 123-124

  Poll Hill Camp, i. 222, 223, 227, 230

  Pollok, Lieut.-Col. R. V., C.B.E., D.S.O., i. 154, 190, 228, 237,
        265, 268, 72, 276, 334; ii. 221, 224, 226

  Polygon Wood, i. 32, 33, 228

  Pommier, i. 273

  Ponsonby, Maj.-Gen. C.B., ii. 90, 148, 160, 161

  Pont d’Arcy, i. 16

  Pont du Hem, ii. 39, 40, 43, 44, 46, 60, 62

  Pont Fixe, i. 57

  Pont Rondin, ii. 192, 194

  Pont Rucken, ii. 212

  Pont-sur-Sambre, i. 4

  Poperinghe, i. 123, 140, 144, 147, 150, 154; ii. 63, 64, 66, 73

  Porchester Camp, ii. 154

  Pork and Bean returns, untimely demand for, ii. 85

  Portuguese troops, i. 237; ii. 170, 191

  Post Office Rifles (8th City of London), i. 74, 77

  Potijze, i. 46, 138

  Power, Cpl., ii. 160

  Pozières, i. 157, 262

  Pradelles, ii. 191

  Prémy Chapel, i. 301, 307, 308

  Presentiments of death, ii. 16

  Presles, ii. 211

  Preux-au-Sart, i. 325

  Priestman, Capt. J. H. T. (Lincolnshire Regt.), i. 98

  Priests, Regimental:
    self-devotion of, i. 94-95, 140-141, 144;
    influence of, i. 118, 122, 135

  Priez Farm, ii. 125

  Prison billets:
    Arras, i. 252, 258; ii. 187;
    Ypres, i. 145; ii. 74

  Proven, i. 155, 212, 217, 225, 227, 236; ii. 80, 154, 163, 164

  Prussian Guards, i. 43

  Pudding Trench, i. 259

  Pugilist, a courageous professional, ii. 208

  Puiseux, i. 10

  Puisieux-au-Mont, i. 201, 202, 267

  Puits 8, Loos, i. 107, 108, 118

  Puits 14, Loos, i. 108, 109, 111

  Puits 14 bis, Loos, ii. 10, 11, 12, 13, 16

  Purcell, Lieut. C. F., ii. 102, 219

  Pusch, Lieut. F. L., D.S.O., i. 149; ii. 218, 224

  Putney Camp, ii. 163

  Pym, Capt. A. R., ii. 22, 23, 29, 36, 62, 76

  Pym, Lieut. C. J., ii. 219

  Pym, Lieut. F. L. M., ii. 76, 77, 84, 85, 86, 87, 219, 223

  Pys, i. 201, 202, 262


  Quadrilateral, the, i. 162, 166, 167, 169; ii. 98, 99

  Quarry, the, ii. 116

  Queen’s Regt., 2nd, i. 41

  Quentin Mill, i. 244

  Quevy le Petit, i. 5, 7

  Quiévy, i. 313, 314, 315

  Quinn, Lance-Cpl. D.C.M., ii. 39, 280

  Quinque Rue, i. 84


  Race-course Wood, i. 33, 35

  Racing at Calais, ii. 65

  Radford, Capt. (“Basil Hallam”), ii. 94

  Raiding, inter-regimental collaboration and competition in, ii.
        42-44, 51-55

  Railway Triangle, the, i. 59

  Railway Wood, i. 142, 144; ii. 76, 77, 78

  Ralli, Capt. J. R., i. 55, 62, 81, 85; ii. 220

  Rancourt, i. 197, 200, 203; ii. 119 _sqq._

  Rankin, Capt. R., i. 68, 87, 88, 114, 163, 164, 173; ii. 15, 29, 221

  Ransart, i. 286

  Rat and Rabbit Avenue, i. 299

  Rawlinson, General Sir H., K.C.M.G., i. 152; ii. 106, 208

  Rea, Lieut. W. G., ii. 153, 176

  Rebais, i. 15

  Recht, i. 331

  Red House, Laventie, i. 125; ii. 37, 38, 49, 54, 57-58, 69

  Redmond, Cpl., i. 148

  Redmond, John, M. P., i. 124; ii. 34

  Redmond, Capt. W. A., D.S.O., ii. 154, 159, 224, 227-228

  Reford, Capt. R. B. S., M.C., i. 184, 228, 231, 234; ii. 73, 176,
        222, 225, 228

  Regan, Sgt., i. 275, 305

  Reid, Sgt., ii. 90

  Reid, Lieut.-Col. P. L., O.B.E., i. 46, 50, 81, 85; ii. 76, 82, 94,
        115, 119, 121, 216, 220, 224

  Renescure, Horse-show at, i. 211, 212

  Reninghelst, i. 26

  Reorganization of units and extension of front before the March Push,
        i. 252-253, 263; ii. 180

  Requiem Mass for Irish Guards, i. 189

  Retreat from Mons, the, i. 5-14

  Reutel, i. 33, 229

  Repton, 2nd Lieut. C. J. S., ii. 222

  Rewards, _see_ Decorations

  Reynolds, Capt. W. C. N., O.B.E., i. 3, 31; ii. 220, 224

  Rheims, i. 284

  Rhônelle River, i. 316, 322, 323, 324

  Ribecourt, i. 241, 242, 252, 311; ii. 171, 176

  Richebourg l’Avoué, i. 51, 54, 82, 83

  Richebourg St. Vaast, i. 54

  Riencourt, ii. 171

  Riez Bailleul, i. 124

  Riez de l’Erelle, i. 4

  Rifle, the, the essential weapon, i. 137; ii. 133, 134, 135

  Rifle Brigade, 9th, i. 169

  Riley, Lieut. P. M., i. 245, 250, 274; ii. 222

  Riordan, Sgt., D.C.M., i. 48, 169, 183; ii. 280

  Ritchie, Lieut. (R.E.), ii. 18

  Roberts, Lady Aileen, i. 1

  Roberts, Field-Marshal Earl, K. G., i. 1, 22-23, 45

  Roberts, 2nd Lieut. J. T. P., i. 3

  Robyns, 2nd Lieut. J. T., i. 55, 87, 88; ii. 220

  Rochford, Pte. J., D.C.M., M.M., i. 225, 228; ii. 280, 282

  Rocke, Lieut.-Col. C. E. A. S., D.S.O., i. 214, 334; ii. 89, 93, 98,
        100, 101, 102, 221, 224

  Rocket-lights, faults of, i. 89

  Rocquigny, i. 197, 202, 207; ii. 131

  Rodakowski, Capt. R. J. P., i. 87, 88, 129, 139, 145, 164, 177, 178,
        203, 212, 218, 234; ii. 218

  Roddy, Sgt., ii. 123

  Rodgers, Drill-Sgt., Méd. Mil., i. 48; ii. 283

  Rœux, i. 252, 253; ii. 182

  Rogers, C.S.M., i. 45

  Rond de la Reine, i. 11

  Ross, Capt. H. (Scots Guards), ii. 134

  Rosse, Major the Earl of, i. 68, 69, 81, 85; ii. 217, 220

  Rouge Croix, ii. 32

  Roulers, i. 28, 29, 32

  Roussel Farm, i. 213

  Rowan-Hamilton, Lieut. A. J., ii. 15, 24, 27, 219

  Royal Canadian Regt., ii. 83

  Royal Engineers, i. 9, 23, 62, 207, 219, 225; ii. 32, 50, 64, 76, 141

  Royal Fusiliers, 24th, i. 319

  Royal Irish Constabulary (late) in Irish Guards, i. 72; ii. 34

  Royal Scots, i. 272

  Royal Scots Fusiliers, i. 44, 113

  Royal Warwickshire Regt., i. 41, 154

  Royal Welsh Fusiliers, i. 41, 126; ii. 39

  Roye, i. 262, 285

  Rozoy, i. 14

  Rue de Malines, Ypres, i. 141

  Rue du Bacquerot, ii. 40, 61

  Rue du Bois, i. 83

  Rue Tilleloy, i. 125; ii. 39

  Rugby Camp, i. 225-226, 234

  Rugby football at Hornoy, i. 185

  Rugby Road, ii. 61

  Ruisseau Farm, i. 231

  Russell, Pte., D.C.M., i. 48; ii. 280

  Russia, collapse of, i. 249, 250, 253; ii. 179-180

  Russian prisoner, escaped, ii. 113

  “Russian saps,” ii. 61


  Sailly-Labourse, i. 89, 109, 120; ii. 8, 14

  Sailly-Saillisel, i. 161, 189, 195, 200, 205; ii. 112, 126, 128

  Sains-en-Gohelle, i. 107

  St. Denis, i. 26

  St. Elie Avenue, i. 114

  St. Floris, i. 130

  St. Hilaire, i. 102

  St. Hilaire-les-Cambrai, i. 313, 315, 319, 321, 322

  St. Jean, i. 145

  St. Julien, i. 224; ii. 47, 161

  St. Kokebeele, i. 26

  St. Léger, i. 288, 289, 290, 291-295, 296; ii. 187, 208

  St. Léger Trees, i. 292, 293-294

  St. Mard, i. 16

  St. Omer, i. 26, 27, 45, 102, 147, 211

  St. Patrick’s Day, i. 73, 137; ii. 66, 186

  St. Pierre, i. 104; ii. 5-6

  St. Pierre Divion, i. 196

  St. Pierre Vaast, i. 161

  St. Pierre Vaast Wood, i. 195, 199, 200, 203; ii. 119, 122, 125,
        126, 128, 129, 130-131

  St. Pol, i. 155, 327; ii. 91, 169, 186

  St. Pol Fervent, ii. 186

  St. Python, i. 313, 315-321

  St. Quentin, i. 6

  St. Quentin Canal, i. 309, 310

  St. Simeon, i. 15

  St. Sylvestre, ii. 63

  “Salient, the,” i. 27. _See_ Ypres

  Sambre Canal, i. 321

  Sanctuary Wood, ii. 82

  Sandpits Camp, i. 192, 199

  Sanvic, i. 3

  Sart-St. Laurent, i. 330

  Sassoon, Capt. R. E., M.C., ii. 13, 14, 147, 153, 156, 157, 169, 172,
        176, 178, 220, 225, 227

  Sauchy-Cauchy, i. 300

  Sauchy-Lestrée, i. 300

  Saulty, i. 271, 277

  Saunders Keep, i. 304

  Savage, Pte., ii. 117

  Scabbard Alley and Support, i. 254

  Scanlon, a/C.Q.M.S. J., i. 129

  Scarpe River, posts on, i. 253-259, 268, 274; ii. 182-184

  Schwaben Redoubt, the, i. 156, 195

  Schweder, Lieut. K. E., ii. 222

  Scots Guards, i. 57
    1st Batt.:
      Loos, ii. 10, 11;
      Ypres, ii. 90;
      the Somme, ii. 96, 100, 108;
      on Yser Canal, i. 222, 227;
      Rancourt, ii. 128, 129;
      Ypres, Boesinghe the Broembeek, ii. 143, 146, 147, 149, 161, 167,
        168;
      Bourlon Wood, i. 241; ii. 173, 177;
      in March Push, i. 264;
      in 1918 offensive, i. 297, 299, 302, 303, 304, 313, 323
    2nd Batt., football with, i. 250;
      Laventie, ii. 36;
      Ginchy, i. 171;
      the Broembeek, ii. 165;
      Bourlon Wood, ii. 172;
      in 1918 offensive, i. 299

  Scott, Capt. Lord Francis, D.S.O. (Grenadier Guards attached), i. 19,
        37, 48

  Scouts, Special Battalion, i. 280

  Selle River, i. 314, 315, 316, 318

  Senegalese motor-bus drivers, i. 185; ii. 108

  Sensée River valley, i. 289, 300; ii. 187, 188

  Sentier Farm, ii. 153, 154

  Sequehart, i. 310

  Seranvillers, i. 311

  Sergison-Brooke, Brig.-Gen., C.M.G., D.S.O., ii. 184

  Serre, i. 154, 157, 158, 196, 197, 198, 200, 201, 202

  Servais, i. 10

  Settrington, Lieut. Lord, ii. 199, 219, 223

  Shaftesbury Avenue, ii. 183

  Shark Support Trench, i. 299

  Shears, Lieut. E. H., i. 203, 214; ii. 218

  Sheridan, Cpl., i. 17

  Sherwood Foresters, i. 156; ii. 21

  Shields, Capt. H. J. S. (R.A.M.C.), i. 2, 11, 34, 35; ii. 218

  Shrewsbury Forest, i. 222

  Siegfried Line, the, i. 197

  Signal Farm, ii. 153

  Silver Street, i. 305, 306, 307

  Simencourt, ii. 179, 180

  Skipton Road, Ypres, i. 148; ii. 84

  Sleep, Irish Guardsman’s couplet on, i. 74

  Smith, Cpl., ii. 80

  Smith, Lieut. F. S. L., M.C., i. 169, 181, 192, 314, 324; ii. 199,
        222, 225, 229-230

  Smith, Capt. M. B. (Brigade-Major), i. 178

  Smith-Dorrien, General Sir H., G.C.B., i. 8

  Snipers:
    German, i. 19, 148, 149;
    Irish Guards, their reports, i. 145

  Soissons, i. 6

  Solder economy campaign, its results, i. 299

  Solesmes, i. 6, 313, 315

  Somerset Light Infantry, i. 159

  Somme, The:
    (1916) preparations for, i. 147, 151-152; ii. 91;
      the position on, i. 150-151, 161-162;
      the battle, i. 154, 157-158, 161 _sqq._; ii. 92 _sqq._
    (1917) i. 235-251; ii. 170 _sqq._, 179
    (1918) March Push and recovery on, i. 261, 262-263, 267, 283; ii.
        187-190, 206

  Sorée, i. 330

  Sorinne-la-Longue, i. 330

  Souchez, i. 109, 112

  Soucy, i. 10, 11

  Soupir, i. 16-17, 18-25;
    spies in, i. 20, 22

  South African Infantry Regt., 1st, ii. 178

  South Moated Grange, ii. 31

  South Staffordshire Regt., i. 41, 71;
    2nd, i. 104;
    8th, i. 187

  South Wales Borderers, i. 42, 44

  Spafford, Lieut. E. B., i. 278

  “Spanish fever,” outbreak of, i. 276, 278, 330; ii. 205

  Specialization in the Army, i. 199, 223; ii. 105, 107, 133

  Spectrum Trench, ii. 109

  Spies, German, i. 20, 22, 29, 68, 127

  Sports, Brigade, Divisional, etc., i. 277, 278; ii. 65, 90, 135, 186,
        205-207

  Sprat Post, i. 299

  Stacpoole, 2nd Lieut. F. G. de, i. 236, 256, 266; ii. 222

  Stafford Alley, i. 304

  Stafford-King-Harman, Lieut. E. C., i. 40, 41; ii. 217

  Stavelot, ii. 212

  Steenbeek River, i. 220; ii. 143, 152, 153, 154, 158

  Steenstraate, i. 213

  Steenvoorde, i. 132; ii. 83

  Stevens, Capt. W. B., i. 87, 88, 105; ii. 14, 220

  Stewart, 2nd Lieut. J. M., i. 52, 75; ii. 218

  Stirling Camp, i. 260

  Stirling Castle, i. 222

  Stokes, 2nd Lieut. A. S., i. 257, 265; ii. 222

  Stoney, 2nd Lieut. T. S. V., i. 228, 234; ii. 218

  Stove-explosion, Father Knapp’s, ii. 124

  Straker, Lieut. L. S., i. 43, 50, 54, 81, 85, 88, 90; ii. 221

  Stuff Redoubt, the, i. 195

  Sussex Regt., i. 44

  Swearing, rare in Irish regiments, i. 135

  Synge, Lieut. A. F., ii. 169, 176, 219

  Synge, Capt. F. P. H., M.C., ii. 26, 27, 30, 88, 144, 151, 219, 221,
        225


  Tait, Pte., i. 287

  Tallents, Capt. S. G., O.B.E., i. 58, 81, 84, 85; ii. 220, 224, 231

  Tallents, Major T. F., M.C., ii. 24, 25, 27, 221, 225

  Tanks, the first, i. 160-161; ii. 94

  Taped assembly lines, depressing effect of, i. 231; ii. 165

  Tatinghem, ii. 6

  Taylor, Pte. G., M.M., i. 183; ii. 283

  Taylor, Miss Laurette, ii. 46

  Taylor, 2nd Lieut. R. E., i. 310, 314

  Telescopic-sighted rifle, the Earl of Kingston’s, i. 55-56

  Temporary rank, first grants of, i. 105

  Tennant, Lieut. M. (Scots Guards), ii. 99, 102

  Terny, i. 10

  Territorial Regiments reach the line, i. 75, 76, 77

  Thérouanne, i. 237

  Thiembronne, i. 104, 105, 107

  Thiepval, i. 156, 161, 195, 262

  Thompson, Capt. G. K., M.C., i. 236, 245, 250, 290; ii. 222, 225

  Tilleloy road, i. 125; ii. 39

  Timoney, Pte., ii. 206

  Tindall, 2nd Lieut. A. A., ii. 199, 222

  Tisdall, Capt. C. A., i. 3, 11; ii. 217

  Tisdall, Lieut. C. R., M.C., i. 146, 173; ii. 218, 225, 226-227

  Todd, 2nd Lieut. G. T., i. 314

  Toher, Sgt.-Major, i. 306

  Tomkins, 2nd Lieut. A. G., ii. 93, 95, 102, 219

  Touquin, i. 15

  Tournai, i. 321

  Towland, Pte., ii. 90

  Trefusis, Brig.-Gen. Hon. J. F. H., D.S.O., i. 19, 44, 49, 69, 81,
        85, 87, 94, 98, 100, 111, 334; ii. 217, 224

  Trench construction, early, i. 18, 22, 23-24;
    drainage system (1915), ii. 41-42

  Trench feet, i. 55, 56; ii. 31-32

  Trench Mortar Battery, 1st Guards, i. 303, 305, 306

  Trench-relief system, early, i. 18-19, 20, 23

  Trenel, i. 16

  Trescault, i. 242, 243; ii. 171, 172

  Trônes Wood, i. 157, 163, 169; ii. 103, 104, 105, 108, 109, 113, 131,
        179

  Troy, Pte., M.M., i. 184; ii. 283

  Tunnelling Companies, R.E., 170th and 176th, i. 104

  Tupigny, i. 8

  Tylden-Wright, 2nd Lieut. G. M., i. 310


  Vadencourt, i. 4, 6, 8

  Vailly-sur-Aisne, i. 23, 24

  Vaire Wood, i. 282

  Valenciennes, i. 321

  Van der Noot, Lieut. G. E. F., i. 245, 250, 310, 314; ii. 222

  Van der Noot, Lieut. H. E., i. 310, 314; ii. 222

  Vanston, Lance-Cpl. J., M.M., i. 224; ii. 283

  Vauchelles-les-Authies, i. 155

  Vaudricourt, ii. 20

  Vaughan, 2nd Lieut. K. C., ii. 92, 95, 102, 219

  Vaughan-Morgan, Lieut. G. E. C., ii. 151, 221

  Veldhoek, i. 33, 44-45

  Vendeuil, i. 9

  Vendhuille, i. 248, 253, 309

  Vénérolles, i. 8

  Verdun, i. 131-132, 139, 143, 150, 198; ii. 70, 74

  Vermelles, i. 57, 106-107, 108, 110, 112, 114, 116-117, 121; ii. 8,
        10, 12, 15, 27

  Vernon, Capt. C. A. J., M.C., i. 278, 280, 281, 294, 299, 315, 320;
        ii. 223, 225, 232

  Verquigneul, ii. 14

  Verquin, i. 118, 119, 120

  Vertain, i. 318, 320

  Verte Rue, ii. 196, 197, 198

  Vesey, Lieut.-Col. Hon. T. E., i. 3, 39, 185, 187; ii. 3, 11, 14, 220

  Vieille Chapelle, i. 53, 54

  Vielsalm, i. 331

  Vierhoek, i. 270; ii. 191, 194

  Vieux-Berquin, i. 270; ii. 63, 191-200, 201, 206

  Vieux-Moulin, ii. 193

  Vieux Reng, ii. 211

  Ville-sous-Corbie, i. 199; ii. 124-125

  Villeneuve, i. 14-15

  Villers-au-Bois, ii. 184

  Villers-Bretonneux, i. 271; ii. 206

  Villers-Brulin, i. 270; ii. 186

  Villers-Cotterêts, i. 6, 10-12, 283-284; ii. 94, 207

  Villers Hill, i. 246

  Villers-Pol, i. 323

  Villers-St. Gertrude, i. 331

  Villers Sire-Nicole, i. 329

  Villiers-sur-Marne, i. 16

  Vimy Ridge, i. 109, 112-113, 206; ii. 184

  Vivières, i. 11

  Vlamertinghe, i. 26, 137-138; ii. 73, 83, 84

  Voyles, C.S.M., i. 129, 147, 164


  Wagnies-le-Petit, i. 324

  Wales, H.R.H. the Prince of, i. 68, 74, 91, 93, 124-125

  Walker, Major C. A. S., i. 2, 19, 44, 50

  Walker, Lieut. T. K., i. 105, 111, 144; ii. 218

  Walkrantz Trench, ii. 139

  Walshe, Pte., ii. 86

  Walters, Lieut. G. Y. L., ii. 102, 219

  Wancourt, i. 261

  Wanquetin, ii. 180

  Ward, Lieut. J. N., i. 159, 250, 268, 272, 290, 294; ii. 218, 221

  Ward, Major H. F., ii. 154, 160

  Warley, i. 88, 101, 136, 175, 184; ii. 1, 54

  Warlus, i. 252

  Warning of resumption of hostilities at Rancourt, ii. 122-123

  Wassigny, i. 3

  Watson, Lieut. (R.A.M.C.), i. 17

  Watson, Capt. B. B., O.B.E., ii. 29, 224

  Watten, i. 236

  Weather, the, as an ally of the Germans, i. 198, 217, 222-223, 269,
        316, 321

  Webber, Major R. S., i. 42, 43; ii. 220

  Weeks, Drill-Sgt. G., i. 129

  Welford Reserve Trench, i. 254

  Wells, 2nd Lieut. A. L., i. 234; ii. 218

  Welsh Guards, i. 219, 242, 299, 307; ii. 39, 154, 167, 176, 184

  Welsh Regt. 9th, ii. 62-63

  West Face Trench, ii. 22, 23, 24

  West Indies battalion, boxing competition with, ii. 157

  West Lane Trench, ii. 79

  West Riding Regt., 2/5th, ii. 173-174

  West Yorkshire Regt., 15th, ii. 186

  Westhoek, i. 222

  Whearty, Pte., M.M., i. 184; ii. 283

  White, Pte. J., M.M., i. 183; ii. 283

  White flag, German abuse of, i. 17

  White House Trench, i. 76, 78

  Whitefoord, Lieut. L. C., i. 87, 88, 129, 164, 168, 169, 173; ii. 218

  Whittaker, Lieut. (Brigade Bombing Officer), ii. 117

  Wieltje, i. 142, 145-146; ii. 75

  Wieltje Trench, ii. 75

  Wijden Drift road, i. 226

  “Wild West Show,” Irish Guards’, ii. 164

  Willerval-Bailleul sector, ii. 185

  Williams, 2nd Lieut. D. R., i. 274; ii. 222

  Williams, Lieut. G. V., M.C., i. 153, 168, 183; ii. 221, 225

  Wilson, C.S.M. J. B. (13th East Yorks), ii. 117

  Wilson, 2nd Lieut. T. B., ii. 146, 219

  Winchester Farm, ii. 40

  Winchester House, ii. 43, 60

  Winchester Road, ii. 31, 41, 55

  Windy Corner, i. 75

  Winspear, Drill-Sgt. A. (2nd Lieut. Connaught Rangers), i. 35

  Wismes, ii. 6

  Wisques, ii. 6

  Witts, Capt. F. H., D.S.O., M.C., i. 50, 51, 87, 88, 105; ii. 29, 94,
        220, 224, 225

  Woesten, i. 213

  Woodcock, Pte. T., V.C., ii. 162, 279

  Woodhouse, Major P. R., D.S.O., M.C. (R.A.M.C.), i. 129, 141, 144,
        233, 234, 256, 257, 268, 272; ii. 221, 225, 226

  Woodroffe, 2nd Lieut. N. L., i. 2, 38, 41; ii. 218

  Worcestershire Regt., i. 14, 23, 33-34, 54, 69

  Wordley, Lieut. S. S., ii. 176, 222

  Wormhoudt, i. 136-137, ii. 63, 80

  Wreford, Lieut. J. M. R., ii. 222

  Wurtembergers, raid by the, ii. 159-160, 161, 167

  Wylie, Sgt., i. 190

  Wynter, Lieut. C. D., i. 69, 81, 86, 88, 105; ii. 10, 14, 219

  Wytschaete, i. 50, 210, 211


  Yerburgh, Capt. R. G. C., O.B.E., i. 58, 81, 86, 88, 111, 117, 129,
        185, 189; ii. 224, 226

  Yorkshire Regt., i. 187; ii. 187-188

  Young, Major (R.A.), ii. 42

  Young, Major G. E. S., i. 65, 81, 85, 204, 205, 207; ii. 113, 116,
        217, 220

  Younge, Pte. A., D.C.M., i. 146, 147; ii. 280

  Ypres and the Salient, i. 26
    (1914) First Battle, i. 27-48; ii. 31, 58
    (1915) Second Battle, i. 79-80, 82
    (1916) i. 132-134, 137-146, 147-150, 152-154; ii. 67, 68, 69, 70
        _sqq._, 82-83, 85-91
    (1917) i. 210, 211;
      Third Battle, i. 211-223, 224, 225, 226, 228-235; ii. 135, 138,
        139, 140 _sqq._
    (1918) i. 269, 282, 309

  Ypres-Staden railway, fighting round, i. 217, 219, 220, 221, 226,
        229, 231, 232

  Yser Canal, fighting on, i. 213, 223; ii. 84, 88, 89, 90, 136, 140,
        141, 143, 146 _sqq._

  Ytres, i. 206


  Zandvoorde, i. 28, 32, 36

  Zeebrugge, i. 25

  Zero hour arrangements, German officer’s questions on, ii. 149

  Zigomala, Lieut. J. C., M.B.E., i. 250, 266; ii. 83, 95, 219, 221

  Zillebeke, i. 32, 38, 41

  Zonnebeke, i. 28, 29, 30, 31

  Zouave Wood, ii. 82


THE END




FOOTNOTES:

[1] This was pure prophecy. Captain, as he was then, Alexander was
credited with a taste for strange and Muscovitish headgear, which
he possibly gratified later as a general commanding weird armies
in Poland during the spasms of reconstruction that followed the
Armistice.

[2] In those peaceful days when the Division was “fattening” for the
fight, Greer had kept a sympathetic eye on Sassoon, who had gone down
very sick some time before Greer came to command the 2nd Battalion,
and was convalescing in the Entrenching Battalion where his heart
was not. Greer, who had a keen eye for good officers, said of him:
“He writes me pitiful letters protesting that he is now completely
fit, and asking that he should be allowed to come up to this
Battalion.... He is a stout-hearted savage, and a life-sentence with
the Entrenching Battalion would certainly be an awful prospect.” So
Sassoon was rescued, and Greer’s faith in his “stout-hearted savage”
abundantly justified.

[3] On this basis, as is noted in the history of the 1st Battalion, a
Fourth Brigade of the Guards Division was created by the lopped off
battalions: viz., the 4th Grenadiers, 3rd Coldstream, and 2nd Irish
Guards, which as a brigade was attached to the thirty-first Division,
Thirteenth Corps (Major-General Sir Charles Fergusson).




  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
  the text and consultation of external sources.

  Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added,
  when a predominant preference was found in the original book.

  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
  and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

  Pg 14: ‘Sailly-Lebourse’ replaced by ‘Sailly-Labourse’.
  Pg 107: ‘the Divison returned’ replaced by ‘the Division returned’.
  Pg 224: ‘10.6.29’ replaced by ‘10.6.19’.
  Pg 239: ‘5110, Pte., d. in w.’ replaced by ‘5110, Pte., d. of w.’.
  Pg 247: ‘Kapanagh, Patrick, 3509’ replaced by
          ‘Kavanagh, Patrick, 3509’.
  Pg 274: ‘9253’ occurs twice; one perhaps should be 9258.