The Post of Honour. Richard Wilson

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      All true hearts go out to the man who risks his life to save a comrade. There were numberless instances of this supreme act of unselfish courage in the Great War; and one of the best of the earlier stories is that of Corporal Holmes.

He belonged to the 2nd Battalion of the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, and he won the Cross for rescue work under heavy fire. He was only twenty-three years of age when his great chance came. Let him tell his own story1:—

1 As reported in the Daily Graphic, with acknowledgments.

      “We were at Le Cateau and the order had been passed to reinforce us at 11 a.m.; but the men were delayed, and we were still on the spot at 4.30 in the afternoon. Then the order to retire was given, but this did not reach my own particular detachment. We went on for another half-hour, and then one of our officers said that we must get back if there were to be any more of us left, for the Germans were very close to us and in much greater force.

      “Just as I was jumping out, I saw a wounded man on the top of the trenches, and noticed that he was a comrade. ‘For Heaven’s sake, Freddie, save me if you can!’ he said. I looked at him and my heart stood still; for at that moment I had little hope of saving myself, let alone anybody else.

      “Then I thought I must have a try, somehow. So I picked him up. But my equipment hurt him, for he was badly wounded. So I slung it off as fast as I could, gave him the fireman’s hold, and somehow carried him about 200 yards, with shrapnel spraying round us all the time. I thought over and over again that I was done, but I had to go on.

      “After a bit we came to a few houses, and at the door of one of them a young woman was standing. When she saw my burden she said, ‘Put him in here,’ and I did so. I rested a few minutes and then went back towards the firing line. At first I saw nobody, but very soon I made out the Germans coming on in extended order. All the time shells were coming from their batteries behind. I reached the crest of a hill and saw a gun with its horses isolated.

      “All around the gunners were lying—dead as far as I could see. But another man, a trumpeter, was not dead; so I took him up and stuck him on the limber. Then I started to drive off the gun.

      “By this time the Germans had seen me and were advancing, shooting at me as they came. I struck at the horses with my bayonet, and off we went, and I never slackened until the sound of the German guns had died down. Then the horses dropped from exhaustion, and I found that the trumpeter was gone. I have never heard of him again.

      “At the moment a few artillerymen came up, and I handed over the gun; and they took charge of me too. And that’s all there is to it. Lots of others deserve the V.C. as much as ever I did, and a good deal more.”

      The reader must not take this modest hero at his own value.