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By Root 1808 0

two officers of the regiment who had been killed on the top of the hill. I told him that it was out of the question, but he replied that he knew exactly where the officers had fallen and that he and his men proposed to get as near the spot as possible by daylight, creep out at night, and bring in the bodies. I explained that it was impossible, but he said, ‘Well, sir, we couldn’t go back and face the Regiment when we hadn’t even tried to bury the officers, so we’ll be getting along and make the best try we can. Thank you kindly for warning us all the same.’ His men, who had been listening intently, gave unmistakable murmurs of agreement and the party prepared to move off. I said, ‘Now, look here, Sergeant, it’s really quite useless. You’ll only lose your lives, and we can’t afford to lose men like you. I’m not going to allow you to go to certain death. I forbid you to go, and I am ordering you back to your regiment.’ The NCO, evidently very disappointed, said, ‘Well, sir, if you order me to go back I must go, but I can’t face the Colonel and say I haven’t carried out his orders unless I show him in writing the order you’ve given me. I must also ask you, sir, if you’ll excuse me, to give me a note with your name, rank, and regiment on it.’ I gave him the documents, and saw him and his party, very reluctantly, turn about and go down the road towards Mazin-garbe.

I don’t think I have ever been more impressed with the spirit of any men than I was with that of those eight or nine Scotsmen. The NCO appeared to be an old regular soldier, but his men were all youngsters and the story doesn’t show half the difficulty I had in turning them back.

It was true that Hill 70 was now back in the hands of the Germans. Even the illustrious Guards had not succeeded in taking it.

The plan was for the 2nd Guards Brigade to recapture the Chalk Pit, circling to approach it from the north, and to carry on to storm the pithead buildings of Puits 14 bis before the 3rd Guards Brigade struck from the west to assault Hill 70. It was late in the day. The light was failing but the Irish Guards of the 2nd Brigade reached their objective and thrust the Germans out of the Chalk Pit and Chalk Pit Wood just as they had planned and, just as it was planned, the Scots Guards swept up behind them to press on to Puits 14 bis. The Irish Guards had not been intended to go with them, but somehow, in the enthusiasm of this first success, they were swept up and carried along across the long stretch of open ground between Chalk Pit Wood and Puits 14 bis.

Just up the slope across the Lens—la Bassée road German machine-gunners were posted at intervals round three edges of Bois Hugo. As the Guards came running across their front they presented a target that was a machine-gunner’s dream. They were cut down as they ran. The advance ground to a halt and withered away, and as the 3rd Guards Brigade began moving towards Hill 70 their comrades were already in retreat. It was not a rout. They were the Guards, and although for many it was a first experience of battle they had been trained and disciplined in a hard school. Later some guardsmen insisted that they had heard a shouted order to retire. If they had it had been a ruse by the Germans and, true or false, their retirement was so determined that it took all the efforts of their few remaining officers to stop and steady them.

A handful stood fast in the Chalk Pit. One of them was the son of Rudyard Kipling, an eighteen-year-old Lieutenant in the Irish Guards. A year previously his father had pulled strings and used his considerable influence to wangle John Kipling a commission at the age of seventeen. Now he was shot in the mouth. And there, in the Chalk Pit, he died.*

Despite the fact that Bois Hugo and Chalet Wood had not been captured, the 3rd Guards Brigade went straight in to attack Hill 70. It was almost dark by now, the enemy was on the alert and even the invincible Guards could not get forward.

They stuck it out for three days, repulsing counter-attacks, suffering shelling – and gas shelling too, for the enemy