But while the men in the trenches applaud all the brilliant exploits of their fellows, and laugh and jest over the lively escapes of the lucky ones who, in Atkins’s phraseology, “only get their hair parted,” there are other fine deeds done in the quiet corners of hospitals and out of the glamour of battle that move the strongest to tears.  Such is the incident related by a member of the Royal Army Medical Corps, and it is a fitting story with which to close this chapter.  One soldier, mortally wounded, was being attended by the doctor when his eye fell on a dying comrade.  “See to him first, doctor,” he said faintly, “that poor bloke’s going home; he’ll be home before me.”

IX

OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

“He died doing his duty like the officer and gentleman he was.”  Could any man have a finer epitaph?  It is an extract from a letter written by Private J. Fairclough, Yorkshire Light Infantry, to General A. Wynn, and refers to the death of the General’s son, Lieutenant G.O.  Wynn, killed in action at Landrecies.  The letter goes on to tell of the affection in which the young officer was held by his men, and this story of courage and unselfishness in the field is the simple but faithful tribute of a devoted soldier.

The war has brought out in a hundred ways the admirable qualities of all ranks in the British Expeditionary Force; but the relations of officers and men have never been revealed to us before with such friendly candor and mutual appreciation.  Over and over again in these letters from the front the soldiers are found extolling the bravery and self-sacrifice of their officers.  “No praise is too great for them,” “our officers always pull us through,” “they know their business to the finger-tips,” “as cool as cucumbers under fire,” “magnificent examples,” “absolutely fearless in the tightest corners”—­these are some of the phrases in which the men speak proudly of those in command.

One officer in the 1st Hampshire Regiment read Marmion aloud in the trenches, under a fierce maxim fire, to keep up the spirits of his men; and they “play cards and sing popular songs to cheer us up,” adds another genial soldier.  Not that the men suffer much from depression.  On the contrary, the commanders agree that their spirits have been splendid.  “Our men are simply wonderful,” writes an officer in the cavalry division; “they will go through anything.”

The most surprising thing in the soldiers’ letters is that they should show such an extraordinary sense of the dramatic.  They throb with emotion.  Take this account of the death of Captain Berners as written by Corporal S. Haley, of the Brigade of Guards, in a letter published by the Star: 

“Captain Berners, of the Irish, was the life and soul of our lot.  When shells were bursting over our heads he would buck us up with his humor about Brock’s displays at the Palace.  But when we got into close quarters it was he who was in the thick of it.  And didn’t he fight!  I don’t know how he got knocked over, but one of our fellows told me he died a game ’un.  He was one of the best of officers, and there is not a Tommy who would not have gone under for him.”