Finally we come to the epic of Michael O'Leary, of the Irish Guards, which remains the finest and most amazing feat of the war. I remember well that afternoon of Friday, February 19th, 1915, when the announcement of the award of the Victoria Cross to O'Leary was given to the public. It was sent out in the afternoon, so that it first appeared in the evening newspapers. The record was one of a dozen, each of which told a tale of thrilling adventure. Yet all the London evening papers with one accord seized upon the exploit of O'Leary's capture, single-handed, of two enemy barricades--thus saving his comrades from being mowed down by a machine-gun--and killing eight Germans in the process, as the "splash" line for their contents bills. "How Michael O'Leary Won the V.C." "How Michael O'Leary, V.C., Kills Eight Germans and Takes Two Barricades." "The Wonderful Story of Michael O'Leary, V.C." Thus the streets of London flashed and resounded with the name of Michael O'Leary--that name which sounds so musically, and so irresistibly suggests the romance and dare-devildom of the Irish race, and under its spell people rushed to read the story of his deed. What appealed to the imagination was the touch of strangeness and fantasy in the exploit. How curious it all is, when one comes to think of it! As one is walking along a London street a name suddenly emerges out of the unknown, and lo! it is fixed in the memory with a halo for ever. It was in the brickfields at Cuinchy, on February 1st, 1915, that Michael O'Leary won his enduring fame. Taken by surprise, the Coldstream Guards had lost a trench and failed to recapture it. The Irish Guards, who were in reserve, were told to have a try. No. 1 Company, in which O'Leary was Lance-Corporal, formed the storming party. They were only too glad of any excuse to get out of the mud and slush of their trenches. Before the main body advanced across the open ground--a brickfield, with here and there a stack of bricks--O'Leary, who, in fact, was off duty, and need not have joined in the attack at all, slipped away to the left towards a railway cutting. He had set out spontaneously on his own initiative to give the enemy a bit of a surprise. What would be the nature of the surprise, O'Leary himself did not quite know at the moment. It would all depend upon the development of the situation and the actual circumstances when the time came for him to decide. But for days before as he lay in the trenches he had brought his powers of observation into play, and having grasped all the essential details of the geographical situation and the military position, he reasoned out a plan with himself.