“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. THE MEN OF THE FIRST LINE It was the pick of the British Army which was selected for the work of the firing line. Among these men there were deeds done daily and at times almost hourly which were deserving of the highest reward. And only a small number of these deeds of daring and devotion were ever reported to those whose duty it was to recommend the granting of medals. Apart from the actual fighting it was a severe trial of strength, nerve, and endurance to stay for any length of time in the front system of trenches at all. Let us never forget the heroism of endurance in paying our tribute to the heroism of “the crowded hour of glorious life.” During the first winter months of the war the life in the trenches which were made across open country was almost unbearable; and it was only made possible by continual use of the pumps. Within and without the ditch men sank to the knees and sometimes to the waist in water and slime. A few shelters of corrugated iron were set up here and there which gave a little protection and made possible the lighting of a fire. One of the civilian visitors to the Western Front thus described the trench system:-- “The trenches are immense labyrinths, miles in extent, branching in every direction, a guide being always required in entering their mazes. Unpleasant surprises crop up at every point. The sniper is a constant danger, and cover from the enemy’s bullets is scanty enough. I myself passed through one of the communication trenches behind a long double wall of sand-bags from 3 to 4 feet high. “This trench runs in serpentine fashion for miles through fields, roads, villages, houses, bedrooms, the latter mostly in ruins though much of the furniture is still there. The height of the sand-bag wall renders it advisable to proceed in a stooping fashion, bent almost double. “Many of the passages cannot be safely used by day. I saw in one place the body of a horse which had lain in the same position for a long time; and yet it could not be taken away, for it was certain death for any one to attempt to move it.