Now I must tell you some British stories. Lance-Corporal Nolan of the Scots Greys, who formed one of a reconnoitring party, was preparing to engage a German patrol when a scout came up to say that a whole division of the enemy was at hand. The Greys attacked the patrol; but our hero had his horse shot under him, and he received a bullet in the right arm. A sergeant gave him a lift on his horse, and together they tried to gallop into safety. As they dashed on through the streets of a village, the Germans fired at them from the windows, killing the horse and wounding the sergeant. Both men were captured, and the Germans stripped them of everything but their trousers and shirts. One man snatched from Nolan the revolver which he had taken from a German officer, and was about to rob him of his shirt, when the very German officer from whom he had taken the revolver appeared, and said, "You are the man who took my revolver. Let me have it back instantly." Nolan replied, "I haven't got it. One of your own men has taken it." "Then come with me," said the officer, "and find the man who took it, and I will have him shot." "I went round with him," said Nolan, "as a matter of form; but I was not having any. Even if I had found the chap who had taken the revolver, I should not have peached on him, as I knew what his fate would have been." Nolan was afterwards taken to hospital, and was left behind when the Germans were driven off by a British cavalry brigade. Finally his comrades took him back to his own lines.
Many stories are told of brave fellows who have gallantly dashed through a storm of bullets to carry important messages to their comrades in other trenches. A wounded corporal of the Gloucester Regiment gives us an instance which occurred during the retreat. "Orders had been given to a battalion holding an advanced position to fall back. The only way to get the order through was for a man to run the gauntlet of a murderous fire. Volunteers were called for from the Royal Irish Fusiliers. All wanted to go, but by tossing for it a choice was made. The man on whom the lot fell was a shock-headed fellow, who didn't look as if there was much in him; but he had grit. Ducking his head in a way that made us laugh, he rushed into the hail of shot and shell. He cleared the first hundred yards without being hit, but in the second hundred they brought him down. He rose again and struggled on for a few minutes, but was hit once more, and then collapsed.