In Flanders Fields And Other Poems [27]
three 100-pound shells
struck the top of the ridge in succession about 50 to 75 yards in front
of the battery line. We began to feel rather shaky.
On looking over the field at this time one could not tell
that anything was occurring except for the long range guns replying
to the fire from the hill. The enemy had opened fire as soon as our advance
was pushed out. With a glass one could distinguish the infantry pushing up
in lines, five or six in succession, the men being some yards apart.
Then came a long pause, broken only by the big guns. At last we got the order
to advance just as the big guns of the enemy stopped their fire.
We advanced about four miles mostly up the slope, which is in all
about 1500 feet high, over a great deal of rough ground
and over a number of spruits. The horses were put to their utmost
to draw the guns up the hills. As we advanced we could see artillery
crawling in from both flanks, all converging to the main hill, while far away
the infantry and cavalry were beginning to crown the heights near us.
Then the field guns and the pompoms began to play. As the field guns
came up to a broad plateau section after section came into action,
and we fired shrapnel and lyddite on the crests ahead and to the left.
Every now and then a rattle of Mausers and Metfords would tell us
that the infantry were at their work, but practically the battle was over.
From being an infantry attack as expected it was the gunners' day,
and the artillery seemed to do excellent work.
General Buller pushed up the hill as the guns were at work,
and afterwards General Hamilton; the one as grim as his pictures,
the other looking very happy. The wind blew through us cold like ice
as we stood on the hill; as the artillery ceased fire the mist dropped over us
chilling us to the bone. We were afraid we should have to spend the night
on the hill, but a welcome order came sending us back to camp,
a distance of five miles by the roads, as Buller would hold the hill,
and our force must march south. Our front was over eight miles wide
and the objective 1500 feet higher than our camp, and over six miles away.
If the enemy had had the nerve to stand, the position could scarcely
have been taken; certainly not without the loss of thousands.
==
For this campaign he received the Queen's Medal with three clasps.
VI
Children and Animals
Through all his life, and through all his letters, dogs and children
followed him as shadows follow men. To walk in the streets with him
was a slow procession. Every dog and every child one met must be spoken to,
and each made answer. Throughout the later letters the names
Bonfire and Bonneau occur continually. Bonfire was his horse,
and Bonneau his dog.
This horse, an Irish hunter, was given to him by John L. Todd.
It was wounded twice, and now lives in honourable retirement
at a secret place which need not be disclosed to the army authorities.
One officer who had visited the hospital writes of seeing him
going about the wards with Bonneau and a small French child following after.
In memory of his love for animals and children the following extracts
will serve:
==
You ask if the wee fellow has a name -- Mike, mostly, as a term of affection.
He has found a cupboard in one ward in which oakum is stored,
and he loves to steal in there and "pick oakum", amusing himself
as long as is permitted. I hold that this indicates convict ancestry
to which Mike makes no defence.
The family is very well, even one-eyed Mike is able to go round the yard
in his dressing-gown, so to speak. He is a queer pathetic little beast
and Madame has him "hospitalized" on the bottom shelf of the sideboard
in the living room, whence he comes down (six inches to the floor)
to greet me, and then gravely hirples back, the hind legs looking
very pathetic as he hops in. But he is full of spirit and is doing very well.
As to the animals -- "those poor voiceless creatures," say you. I wish
you could hear them. Bonneau and Mike are
struck the top of the ridge in succession about 50 to 75 yards in front
of the battery line. We began to feel rather shaky.
On looking over the field at this time one could not tell
that anything was occurring except for the long range guns replying
to the fire from the hill. The enemy had opened fire as soon as our advance
was pushed out. With a glass one could distinguish the infantry pushing up
in lines, five or six in succession, the men being some yards apart.
Then came a long pause, broken only by the big guns. At last we got the order
to advance just as the big guns of the enemy stopped their fire.
We advanced about four miles mostly up the slope, which is in all
about 1500 feet high, over a great deal of rough ground
and over a number of spruits. The horses were put to their utmost
to draw the guns up the hills. As we advanced we could see artillery
crawling in from both flanks, all converging to the main hill, while far away
the infantry and cavalry were beginning to crown the heights near us.
Then the field guns and the pompoms began to play. As the field guns
came up to a broad plateau section after section came into action,
and we fired shrapnel and lyddite on the crests ahead and to the left.
Every now and then a rattle of Mausers and Metfords would tell us
that the infantry were at their work, but practically the battle was over.
From being an infantry attack as expected it was the gunners' day,
and the artillery seemed to do excellent work.
General Buller pushed up the hill as the guns were at work,
and afterwards General Hamilton; the one as grim as his pictures,
the other looking very happy. The wind blew through us cold like ice
as we stood on the hill; as the artillery ceased fire the mist dropped over us
chilling us to the bone. We were afraid we should have to spend the night
on the hill, but a welcome order came sending us back to camp,
a distance of five miles by the roads, as Buller would hold the hill,
and our force must march south. Our front was over eight miles wide
and the objective 1500 feet higher than our camp, and over six miles away.
If the enemy had had the nerve to stand, the position could scarcely
have been taken; certainly not without the loss of thousands.
==
For this campaign he received the Queen's Medal with three clasps.
VI
Children and Animals
Through all his life, and through all his letters, dogs and children
followed him as shadows follow men. To walk in the streets with him
was a slow procession. Every dog and every child one met must be spoken to,
and each made answer. Throughout the later letters the names
Bonfire and Bonneau occur continually. Bonfire was his horse,
and Bonneau his dog.
This horse, an Irish hunter, was given to him by John L. Todd.
It was wounded twice, and now lives in honourable retirement
at a secret place which need not be disclosed to the army authorities.
One officer who had visited the hospital writes of seeing him
going about the wards with Bonneau and a small French child following after.
In memory of his love for animals and children the following extracts
will serve:
==
You ask if the wee fellow has a name -- Mike, mostly, as a term of affection.
He has found a cupboard in one ward in which oakum is stored,
and he loves to steal in there and "pick oakum", amusing himself
as long as is permitted. I hold that this indicates convict ancestry
to which Mike makes no defence.
The family is very well, even one-eyed Mike is able to go round the yard
in his dressing-gown, so to speak. He is a queer pathetic little beast
and Madame has him "hospitalized" on the bottom shelf of the sideboard
in the living room, whence he comes down (six inches to the floor)
to greet me, and then gravely hirples back, the hind legs looking
very pathetic as he hops in. But he is full of spirit and is doing very well.
As to the animals -- "those poor voiceless creatures," say you. I wish
you could hear them. Bonneau and Mike are