“Lieutenant O’Donovan led us all the time, and was himself just where the battle was hottest.  I shall never forget his heroism.  I can see him now, revolver in one hand and sword in the other.  He certainly accounted for six Germans on his own, and inspired us to the effort of our lives.  He has only been six months in the service, is little more than a boy, but the British Army doesn’t possess a more courageous officer.”

The Scottish Borderers speak proudly of Major Leigh, who was hit during a bayonet charge, and when some of his men turned to help him, shouted “Go on, boys; don’t mind me.”  A lieutenant of A Company, 1st Cheshires:  “I only know his nickname,” says Private D. Schofield—­though wounded in two places, rushed to help a man in distress, brought him in, and then went back to pick up his fallen sword.  Captain Robert Bruce, heir of Lord Balfour of Burleigh, distinguished himself in the fighting at Mons. One of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders relates that, in spite of wounds, Captain Bruce took command of about thirty Highlanders who had been cut off, and throwing away his sword, seized a rifle from one of the killed, and fought side by side with his men.

How the guns were saved at Soissons is told in a letter, published in The Times, from Sergeant C. Meades, of the Berkshire Regiment.  “We had the order to abandon our guns,” he writes, “but our young lieutenant said, ‘No, boys; we’ll never let the Germans take a British gun,’ and with a cheer we fought on....  The Staffords came up and reinforced us.  Then I got hit, and retired....  But the guns were saved.  When the last of the six got through every one cheered like mad.”  One of the West Kents also described the daring action of an officer.  In the midst of terrific fire, he walked calmly down the artillery line, putting our lost guns out of action so that they would be useless to the Germans.

Even into the letters describing these gallant incidents there creep frequent evidences of Atkins’s unconquerable spirit and sense of humor.  Private R. Toomey, Royal Army Medical Corps, tells of an officer of the Royal Irish shouting at the top of his voice, “Give ’em hell, boys, give ’em hell!” He had been wounded in the back by a lump of shrapnel, but, says Toomey, “it was a treat to hear him shouting.”

Most of these accounts refer to the weary days of the retirement from Mons to Compiegne, a test of endurance that brought out the splendid fighting qualities of officers and men alike.  That retirement is certainly one of the most masterly achievements of a war already glorious for the exploits of British arms.  Day after day our men had to fall back, tired and hungry, exhausted from want of sleep, yet fighting magnificently, and only impatient to begin the attack.  This eagerness for battle is in marked contrast to the spirit of the German troops, of whom there is abundant evidence that the men have often to be driven into action by the threatening swords and revolvers of their officers.