We do not know with any certainty the character or military qualifications of their first Colonel, Thomas Farrington, who raised the Regiment in 1694, but we do know many of their brilliant exploits since that far-off day, especially in India, such as the carrying of the Delhi Gate and the storming and capture of Bangalore, which helped to bring about the vanquishment of that notable rebel, Tippoo Sahib; and though the overladen pages of historians find little space for special mention of special companies of soldiers, the Duke of Wellington’s praise of the Regiment after Badajos has not slipped notice, nor is it likely to be forgotten:-- “It is the best Regiment in this Army, has an admirable internal system and excellent non-commissioned officers.” But the laurels of the past, thickly showered as they were on the “Worcesters,” are little to compare with those of the present, when valour is put to its utmost test, and when war weapons contrary to all international usage, more deadly and treacherous than ever were known before, are employed by the most inhuman and dishonourable of foes. We have only to recall the dramatic scenario of the village of Gheluvelt during the battle of Ypres, when the Worcesters literally saved the day. No page of romance was ever more thrilling! The Germans had carried the village, but the Welsh, true sons of “Gallant Little Wales,” remained, firing, holding their ground and refusing to admit any sort of defeat. Even when they had been given the order to retreat, they hung on with the grim tenacity of their Celtic ancestors, and it depended on the merest chance as to whether any company of men could advance to their assistance under the deadly fire of shrapnel which covered and cut them off from the rest of their line. But rescue was forthcoming--a mere handful of Worcesters--six hundred of them, were stationed but a mile off Gheluvelt. Their commanding officer gave the order--“Advance without delay and deliver counter-attack.” “Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die!” They responded, and rushed for about half a mile under the battering rain of shrapnel, going for two hundred yards without cover. “Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Ran the Six Hundred!” Shrapnel showered thick and hot in front of them, and on their right flanks the Bavarians poured bullets upon them from rifles and machine guns. In crossing the two hundred yards without “cover” they had one hundred casualties. But what did death or danger matter to the Worcesters? What have they ever cared for shots that have sped their brave souls to Heaven? They pressed on, up on the left of the splendidly stubborn Welsh, and opened fire with so much success that the foe was forced to retreat. The effect of their action was such that the position was entirely changed--the Germans fell back and the British line was reinstated. In Sir John French’s despatch it is written:--