Americas History Concise Edition

Volume 1 9th Edition Edwards Test

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Americas History Concise Edition Volume 1 9th Edition Edwards Test Bank

1. Why did the Five Nations of the Iroquois unite? What were the goals of the
confederation? How successful were the Iroquois in achieving those goals?

2. What were the characteristics of the population of Virginia in the seventeenth century
and what accounted for them?

3. What were the various systems of forced labor that took hold in the Chesapeake
colonies?

4. Compare the Indian uprising in Virginia in 1622 with Bacon's Rebellion in 1675. What
were the consequences of each for Virginia's economic and social development?

5. What were Puritans' grievances against the Church of England? What beliefs made the
Puritans different?

6. The Puritans of Massachusetts Bay had fled an established church and religious
persecution in England. Why, then, did they promptly establish their own church and
persecute dissenters?

7. Describe the political structure that developed in the New England colonies. What was
the relationship between local government and the Puritan churches?

8. Why did the Virginia colony fail to thrive before 1624?

9. Outline the goals of the directors of the Virginia Company and the leaders of the
Massachusetts Bay Company. Where did they succeed? In what ways did they fall
short?

10. Given their very distinct English subcultures, how did Virginians and Puritans tend to
treat the Native Americans differently? Similarly?

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Answer Key
1. Answer would ideally include:

- Reasons for Unity: Disease epidemics brought by the Europeans reduced tribal
populations and the number of tribes in northeastern North America, forcing Indian
refugees to migrate and reconfigure communities along new tribal lines.

- Goals: Fur-trade rivalries created by Europeans' arrival necessitated unification for

economic security through control of the fur trade and physical survival during times of
incessant warfare.

- Analysis of Success: Iroquois' location in central New York allowed them to

dominate the region between the French and the Dutch colonies. Those who survived
the conflicts with the French in the 1660s forged an alliance with the English and
remained a dominant force in Northeast politics for generations afterward.
2. Answer would ideally include:

- Characteristics of Virginia in 1600s: The major characteristics of Virginia society

in the seventeenth century were the high death rate caused by malaria and contaminated
water, and an economy based completely on tobacco cultivation due to the profitability
of the crop and its control by English aristocracy. Other factors also inhibited population
growth: lack of women meant that most men never married; there was a high rate of
death among pregnant women; the number of children per family was low because of a
high infant death rate; and families were often disrupted by the early death of both
parents, resulting in many orphans throughout the communities. Survivors and their
servants established and maintained a monocrop economy based on the cultivation and
sale of tobacco. To attract more settlers, the Virginia Company allowed individuals to
own land and created a system of representative government. The House of Burgesses
passed laws and levied taxes and, by 1622, there was a judicial system based on English
law.
3. Answer would ideally include:

- Indentured Servitude: Poor English young men and women signed labor contracts
in England to work for four or five years in exchange for passage and room and board in
North America. The individuals were free upon completion of their contract but were
considered bound laborers with few rights under their indenture. Indentures were needed
for immigrants to afford their transatlantic journey. Plantation agriculture required a
substantial labor force, and tobacco cultivation occupied most of their miserable time.

- Black Chattel Slavery: Beginning in 1619, African laborers were imported to the
Chesapeake. Some worked as servants for life, while others served labor contracts like
white indentured servants. A few became freeholders and even bought other African
slaves. Over time, white Virginia leaders used the legal system to take rights away from
African workers, making them slaves, or chattel, for life.
4. Answer would ideally include:

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 - 1622 Uprising: The 1622 Indian uprising reduced the population of the colony by
one-third and resulted in great property loss. It accelerated English invasion and
territorial control by increasing English militancy and land-taking as a strategy to defeat
Indians in a “just war.”

- Bacon's Rebellion: The 1675 rebellion motivated landed planters to allow a

political role for yeoman in the colony and to cut taxes of the yeomanry, and supported
expansion of settlement onto Indian lands to provide more land for landless laborers.
Planters also turned away from indentured servitude for fear of more uprisings as
tobacco cultivation increased. They expanded black chattel slavery, making the
Chesapeake a major source of slavery until the Civil War.
5. Answer would ideally include:

- Puritan Grievances: A main problem was the corruption of the Catholic Church in
the form of immorality and ostentatious display of wealth. The Puritans accepted the
theology of John Calvin, believing that God saved only a few chosen people and that it
was not possible to earn or buy salvation. They envisioned a reformed Christian society
with “authority in magistrates, liberty in people, and Purity in the church.” Through
their own lives, they hoped to inspire religious reform throughout Christendom.

- Puritans' Practices: Puritans eliminated levels of church hierarchy, believing in a

democratic church structure controlled by the laity. They saw themselves as forming a
religious experiment of “pure” Christianity that could serve as a “city on a hill” and
demonstrate the virtues in their society as a model for Christians everywhere.
6. Answer would ideally include:

- Reasons for Puritan Theocracy: Puritans established their own church in America
to protect themselves from persecution from rival groups and fulfill a divine mission to
serve as a “City upon a Hill.” The Puritans sought to emulate the simplicity of the first
Christians and placed power in their congregations' members. The fear that God might
not have placed them among the elect caused Puritans great anxiety.

- Puritan Orthodoxy and Approach to Dissent: To maintain God's favor, the Puritans
of North America sought to remove dissenters from their midst. People like Roger
Williams, Anne Hutchinson, and others who threatened Puritan authority and dogma
were ostracized and banished so they would not taint the “City upon a Hill” and weaken
Puritan authority.
7. Answer would ideally include:

- New England Structures: The Puritans created representative political institutions

that were locally based, with the governor as well as the assembly and council elected
by the colony's freemen, who also controlled the Puritan church hierarchy.

- Relationship Between Puritans' Government/Churches: To ensure rule by the

godly, the Puritans limited the right to vote and hold office to men who were also

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had to buy a new stock of cotton, but she was a good sort and was as
much amused as the soldiers."
 CHAPTER XIX
W G
I has been said that war is a game at which kings would not play if their
subjects were wise, and the German nation was certainly not wise when
it allowed its Emperor to make war against the world. Germans,
however, do not think of war as a game at all, but as a most serious, even
moral thing, and they are indignant with our soldiers for applying to its
grim experiences the common terms of sport, and especially of football.
It is this sporting spirit of our soldiers that enables them to fight gamely
and to die gamely. Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield) said of the House of
Commons that it was "dull with some great moments." The same may be
said of war, and our men forgive its dangers and dullness for the sake of
its great moments.
In one engagement the Royal Highlanders jumped out of the trenches
and charged "as if they were kicking off in a Cup-tie final." They
commenced to shout, "On the ball, Highlanders!" and "Mark your men!"
They continued yelling to one another until they had driven the Germans
back. Who can say that "Mark your men!" did not have a stimulating
effect upon the Highlanders?
"Dodging shells and bullets," wrote Sapper Anderson, R.E., "is far more
exciting than dodging footballers."
A subaltern wrote: "I adore war. It is like a big picnic; I have never been
so well or so happy. We are enjoying all the benefits of a Continental
holiday. It has done me a world of good coming out here."
A private of the 3rd Worcester Regiment wrote: "In the trenches the
British are excelling themselves as men of stamina, for, believe me, it is
killing work; perfect murder, in fact. Yet they hardly ever complain. Six
men and an officer had to go into hospital with frostbite, and my feet
have not got the circulation back yet. Never mind, we must keep up our
reputation as British soldiers, and stick it. The snow has gone again, and
it is up to your neck in mud in the trenches. I have had one or two pack
ponies to look after, but I have thrown up the job, as it was too tame. I
prefer being with the company in the firing line, as I felt lost being with
the transport and no shells flying over it. It makes you long for your
chums after being with them all the time. We play football with German
helmets, which are all over the place."
A young officer who had been fighting ever since the beginning of the
war was ordered a month's leave for the sake of his health. "I've got a
month," he said to a correspondent, "but I rather fancy I shall be back in
a week. It's fine to be at home again—and—and—all that. But when
you've once been in the thick of the game it holds you like a magnet. I'm
only a few miles away from the hot stuff now, but I am already
beginning to feel the pull of that magnet. I'm off to bed. Funny sensation
going upstairs! We've been diving into bed for weeks and weeks—rabbit
holes for cots and straw (if you are lucky) for counterpanes, and the only
chambermaids we've had to knock us up in the morning have been the 12
lb. shells. Good-night!"
Some of our men were defending a café at the battle of Mons. In the café
there was an automatic piano, and when they first saw the enemy coming
one soldier said to another: "Put a penny in the slot. Jack, and give them
some music to dance to." So every time there was a German attack after
that the "band" struck up. They fought, eye-witnesses declared, as
though it was a new and delightful kind of game they had discovered.
Lieutenant C.A.E. Chudleigh, who is serving with the Indian Force, says
in a letter: "One usually spends most of one's slack hours in terrific
efforts to dig oneself out of several layers of grime, and it is a job, too,
with nothing but scrubbing soap and cold water out of a ditch. It sounds
awful to you I expect, but it isn't really as bad as it sounds. For one thing
we are getting so used to it, and if approached in the true holiday spirit it
really becomes quite a sort of picnic. No rotting! I really have thoroughly
enjoyed the last few weeks since we have been here. I don't think I have
had so many jolly good laughs in my life. It is a funny thing that, on
looking back, I think I have spent most of my life in search of
excitements and interesting scenes and people, and now I have found
them in profusion. It is as good as a cinematograph."
Speaking of dispatch-riding in the war, a motor-cyclist said to a reporter,
"I've never really lived till I came to the war. We have to rough it at
times, but the fun we have is simply gorgeous. Yesterday a shell (he
laughed much when he said this) came down about fifty yards from me,
but I got through with my dispatches without a scratch. This is splendid
work for the nut who wants an outlet for his high spirits."
And our Indian troops get equal enjoyment from the game. A dusky
warrior being asked how he liked being in action replied, "Sahib, all
wars are beautiful, but this one is heavenly."
At the beginning of winter at the front, games were arranged for leisure
days and evenings. There were to be inter-trench and inter-army football
matches. A Battle Hunt Club was formed, and a pack of foxhounds
brought over from England. A phonograph company sent songs, which,
with the aid of field telephones, could be "turned on" to any trench at any
time.
We suspect that it is chiefly young soldiers and new arrivals at the front
who think of war as a game. The game must seem to be played out when
winter days have to be passed in cold wet trenches, when frost bites,
when wounds are inflicted, when food and other supplies are delayed.
Many poor soldiers must echo the sentiment of one of their number who
wrote at the end of a letter, "I must admit that I shall not be sorry when
peace comes. A little of the game of war goes a long way. At first it is
interesting, but the horror and foolishness of it I shall never get over."
The following extract from a letter of a young officer to his parents
suggests that the pleasures of war, depending as they do on excitement,
are, to say the least, fleeting. "People at home, and even other corps out
here, do not realize what the infantry have to go through. Such things as
many nights out in the open, rain or no rain, long marches over roads
which have almost become bogs, perhaps no food all day, not because
the A.S. Corps don't bring it up, but because you have a lot too much to
do to eat it, and when you haven't got anything to do, you are too
exhausted to eat it.... We manage to keep our spirits up and are quite
cheery; one feels very down when one loses a pal, but we feel it is
impossible to turn aside the wheels of fate. So we leave them to their rest
behind us, forget about them and cheer up."
Another officer wrote: "If there is such a thing as hell on earth this must
surely be it. I have been in the firing-line for four days; in the trenches
for three, and just behind in support to-day, which isn't much better. They
shell us nearly all day, and you have to creep into the farthest corner of
the trench expecting the infernal things to burst on you. At present we
are holding back thousands compared to our hundreds. They attacked
yesterday and to-day in masses, but were driven back. I haven't washed
or had my boots off since I got here, and am mud almost from head to
foot, including hair."
 CHAPTER XX
T C B
T courage that bears and the courage that dares are really one and the
same.
At a certain period of the night it became exceedingly important that the
enemy should have no indication of the position of a detachment of
British infantry which had been moved up towards him. Unhappily a
stray shot shattered an arm of one of our men. In his agony the poor
fellow allowed a cry to escape him. Next moment, seizing a piece of turf
with his uninjured hand he thrust it into his mouth, where he held it in
position until he was able to crawl back through the lines.
Not less of the courage that bears was shown by Corporal Lancaster, of
the Coldstream Guards. He received an agonising wound, but was
warned by his comrades that if he groaned he would disclose their
position to the Germans. He endured in silence for six hours and then
died.
If patience is a form of courage, those men were very brave who went
through the days and nights of marching that had to be done during the
retreat after the battle of Mons. "We were told if we fell out it was at our
own risk as we would be captured by the advancing Germans. My feet
were bleeding, the blood coming through the laceholes of my boots."
Even when they were marching men fell asleep. The Army Service
Corps had, at times, to work twenty-two hours out of twenty-four to get
food up to the men.
A Royal Medical Corps man who worked on hospital trains wrote:
"Some of the wounds are terrible, but the patients are very plucky. I
asked in one carriage how they were. The reply, though not a man could
move, was, 'We're all right, chum, our wounds are going on fine.' A few
had lain where they fell on wet ground for four days, as they could not be
taken away because of artillery fire. A man whose nose had been hit said
that it always had been too big. A chap who had been wounded twenty-
five times, said to a chum when the train was starting, 'Buck up, Jack, I'll
meet you in Berlin for Christmas dinner.'"
Soldiers who have got bad wounds often speak of them as "mere
scratches." They are plucky and do not want to annoy other people. If
indeed they groaned and whimpered they would be told by their
comrades to "shut up" and "make less row." A friend of the writer who is
a Chaplain to the Forces, speaking of the wounded after a battle, wrote:
"But, oh, the patient endurance of these men. I would not have conceived
it possible that they should have borne what they did bear so absolutely
without complaint—nay, not only without complaint or murmuring, but
with an unaffected gratefulness for not being worse, and for having
escaped at all. They get their wounds dressed, take chloroform, give
consent to have their limbs amputated just as if they were going to have
their hair cut."
"Give them a cigarette and let them grip the operating table, and they
will stick anything until they practically collapse," wrote Corporal
Stewart, R.A.M.C., in a letter from the front referring to the British
wounded.
A private of the Royal Munster Fusiliers did not mind a shrapnel wound
in his left arm, but deeply repined that it had taken off a tattooed
butterfly, which had long been his pride and joy. He consoled himself
with the elaborate tattoos on the other arm—"But the loike of that
butterfly I shall niver see agin," was his sad reflection.
"What gets over me," a soldier who had been shot in the foot remarked,
"is how it ain't done more damage to my boot!"
And wounded soldiers are most grateful for any attention that is shown
to them. An Irishman who was brought into a hospital a mere wreck,
after being washed, shaved and put between sheets told his nurse that he
could not "sleep for comfort," and then asked, "How can I thank you
enough for what you have done for me? There's no use praying for you,
for there is a place in Heaven reserved for the likes of you."
Of a nurse in a French hospital, which was a church, a British soldier
wrote: "If ever anyone deserved a front seat in Heaven she did. God
bless her! She has the prayers and all the love the remnants of the Fourth
Division can give her."
How Ruskin would have appreciated the gratitude of a man of the
Lancashire Fusiliers of whom a sergeant of the 5th Lancers wrote: "He
had two ghastly wounds in his breast, and I thought he was booked
through. He was quietly reading a little edition of Ruskin's 'Crown of
Wild Olive,' and seemed to be enjoying it immensely. As I chatted with
him for a few minutes he told me that this little book had been his
companion all through, and that when he died he wanted it to be buried
with him. His end came next day, and we buried the book with him."
War is not always exciting, but frequently monotonous, tedious and
painful. All this is taken as in the day's work. "Sore feet are the great
trouble, most of us being a bit lame. We also get sore hips from sleeping
and lying so much on the ground.... But don't imagine there are funkers.
The first time we were in action most of us were a bit trembly, but soon
the nerves got in hand, and our officers hadn't much use for their 'Steady,
boys.' What gets at you is not being able to come to close quarters and
fight man to man. As a fact, we see very little of the enemy, but blaze
away at the given range and trust to Providence. For that matter we see
very little of our own fellows, and only know by the ambulance men
passing through our lines what regiments are near us. For hours we stick
on one spot, and see nothing but smoke, and something like a football
crowd swaying half a mile off. Our grub department works well, as we
have not moved very rapidly, but it sometimes happens that outlying
companies, and even regiments, lose touch of their kitchens for a day or
even more. There has been some trouble caused by one lot collaring the
rations meant for another, but that is bound to happen, even on
manœuvres. It is all in a lifetime. Keep smiling. That's the way to win the
game."
One of the 3rd Hussars wrote: "The work out here is very stiff; in fact,
the Shop Hours Act doesn't come anywhere near it. We go out early in
the morning and about the following week we think of coming in for a
sleep. You would be surprised if you were to see how cheerful all our
troops are."
A soldier wrote to his wife: "After what I have gone through if I ever get
home from the war I shall never grumble at meals or care where I sleep."
Surely the thought of the hardships and wounds which our soldiers bore
so bravely should cure our "nerves" and give us a little of their courage
to bear.
Writing from an ambulance, Percy Higgins, of the Royal Medical Corps,
said: "It is surprising to me that anybody should ever complain of
ordinary aches and pains when you see men here with legs and parts of
their bodies plastered up in plaster of paris, quietly reading and telling
you they feel grand."
 CHAPTER XXI
I M H
W there is war a military hospital is a microcosm of its miseries, but
the heroism of our soldiers greatly mitigates them. On the field of battle
soldiers show the courage that dares, and when they are brought into
hospital it is found that they have also the courage that bears.
"It's a treat," wrote a R.A.M.C. man, "to see the 'Tommies' when their
wounds are being dressed. You may ask them twenty times if they are
feeling pain, and they will say 'No,' or 'Only a trifle,' until at last they
collapse."
The self-forgetfulness of some of the wounded is sublime. Writing of
patients who had passed through No. 14 Clearing Hospital 5th Division,
in France, Dr. Ludwig Tasker said: "We had one poor fellow whose
tongue was actually on his neck, as the result of having had his left jaw
blown off. Of course, he could not speak, and when, at a sign from him, I
gave him a sheet of paper, all he wrote on it was that his captain was
worthy of the Victoria Cross."
When Private H.S. Funnell, of the 2nd Sussex Regiment, died in a
French Military Hospital, a nurse wrote this to his wife: "Your husband
was apparently thinking about the battle a good deal, for quite at the last
he called out: 'Come on, boys, at 'em again. I don't mind if they are six or
a hundred to one. Last fight. I'm done. Good-bye, lads. The good old
Sussex."
A medical man serving with the R.A.M.C. at the front, in a letter to a
friend, said: "Our Tommy is a grand fellow. There was one—a Notts and
Derby man—brought in last night. He was peppered all over, and I said
to him as he lay on the table, 'What happened to you?' and he said, 'I got
three damned coal-boxes'—the name we give to the big Black Maria
German Shells. I said to him, 'Why did you try to stop three?' and he
said, 'I couldn't get out of the way.' We dressed him in the head, the back,
the right shoulder and the buttock, mostly nasty wounds. Then I said,
'Are you hit anywhere else?' and he said, 'Well, I think there are two or
three on my right leg, but they don't matter. Will you give me a
cigarette?' I gave him one, and he said, 'I'm used to this. I'm a collier, and
I've been twice in pit accidents, but I'd sooner go through those than run
up against another coal-box.'"
To have been wounded in eleven places is the remarkable record of
Private E. Johnson, of the Yorkshire Light Infantry, now in the Duchess
of Westminster's Hospital at La Toquet. He tells his wife in a letter that
he has pains in the head that nearly make him mad; but forgetting
himself and thinking of his children he continues: "It nearly breaks my
heart to think I cannot send little Violet and Bessie and Lillie something
for Christmas; but never mind, let us hope we shall live for another
Christmas."
A Highlander who had been maimed for life was asked afterwards in
Hospital if he regretted becoming a soldier. He replied, "No, because I've
had a good home and a man with a good home should fight for it."
An English artilleryman, who before the war was a professional
footballer in the North of England, died in hospital. He had previously
undergone amputation of both legs. Up to the end he chatted with two
visitors who had come to solace his last moments. The dying man, who
in his time had been a great centre forward, told them he did not fancy
living with his two legs off while all the other "boys" were out playing,
but declared he would not have missed the excitement of the last battle
for anything. Refusing grapes and chocolate, he took a cigarette and said:
"Have you any newspapers with you? I should like to glance over the
football news before I pass out."
There is an irrepressible Welsh Fusilier at the Stanley Hospital,
Liverpool, who is known as "the Joker of the Regiment." He has three
bad bullet wounds, and yet he is as cheerful as a lion comique, and keeps
his fellows as cheerful as children at a circus.
After telling his mother in a letter that he was "in dock for repairs," a
soldier continued: "This leaves me with a smile on my face, only I'll say
good-bye, lest we should never meet again."
Rifleman P. King, 2nd Battalion King's Royal Rifles, wrote from
Portsmouth Hospital: "Since I have been home I have had a leg
amputated 4 inches below the knee, so now one tin of blacking will last
twice as long, as I shall only have one boot to clean!"
So it is that the brave spirit of our soldiers enables them to joke even at
serious wounds. A hand of a Royal Irish Rifleman was shot off at the
battle of Mons. For some time after being admitted to hospital he was
very despondent about his future. How could he earn his living? One
day, however, he broke out with a laugh. "If all else fails. I'll get a job as
a shorthand writer."
Another Highlander, with arm terribly shattered by a shell, said: "I will
be first-rate for opening taxi doors in the Strand; lucky it was my left
arm."
A soldier told a reporter this about a wounded Highlander. When brought
to hospital he began to swear, and those who had picked him up at great
risk told him that this was a strange sort of gratitude to men who had
most likely saved his life. "Maybe you have, and maybe you haven't
saved my life," he said in his dogged, dour way. "A'm no saying
onnything aboot that; but what A want to hear is what did ye dae wi' me
wee cap. It's loast, it is, an' A'll hae tee pay for anither oot o' me ain
pocket."
At all times a good soldier dislikes to go to hospital; but especially so on
active service. He wants to do all he can for his country and he dreads to
be suspected of "skrimshanking." The reluctance of Colonel Loring, who
commanded the second Battalion of the Royal Warwickshires, to go to
hospital caused his death, which was a great loss to the Army. Wounded
in a foot by a shrapnel bullet he refused to go to hospital, had his foot
bound up in a puttee when unable to wear a boot and led his men on
horseback. This made him a conspicuous mark for sharpshooters, and
after two chargers had been killed under him he was himself shot dead.
Great courage is shown by orderlies and ambulance men connected with
a military hospital. There is the danger of catching infectious diseases
and the danger of collecting the wounded during and after a battle. For
ambulance men there is no excitement, or the stimulus of "hitting back;"
yet they often get hit themselves.
 CHAPTER XXII
R R
I this in the letter of an Army Service man printed in The Evening
News. "There was a Guardsman in hospital in France with me who had
eight bullets in him, besides three ugly bayonet wounds. He had the
constitution of a horse, and after he had his 'rattles,' as he called the
bullets, taken out he swore that he would be back before Christmas to
square accounts with the Germans. All he wanted was to return to the
fighting."
"He lies upon his bed of pain.
Despite of nurses deft and kind
He is unhappy; it is plain
That something weighs upon his mind.
Ask him his dearest wish to name,
And, smiling even on the rack,
He tells, without a trace of shame,
How he is anxious to get back."
In a half humorous way our soldiers took their wounds. They knew from
experience, as a distinguished officer once said to me, that a battle field
is a disagreeable place, but keen soldiers that they were, they thought
that there was one thing worse than a battle, and that was not to be in
one. Many soldiers were quite indignant at being sent home for what
they called "scratches that will heal."
A sergeant was anxious to return to the war because he thought that he
ought not to have been sent away from it. He was hit by five bullets, but
why for this trifling matter should his colonel have ordered him out of
the firing line and into an ambulance?
Men make light of wounds in arms, hands and feet. "They have just
earned us a little rest. We shall soon go back to the trenches again."
A correspondent thus wrote of a second Lieutenant of the Royal Scots:
"Only this morning he drew me a picture of war and its effect upon the
novice. 'Imagine your chaps groaning all around you, your best pal shot
through the heart at your feet; imagine the shrapnel screaming above—I
was knocked down and stunned four times in a few minutes by shells
exploding—imagine houses burning, women shrieking, and all about the
place the mangled bodies of men and horses, and blood, blood, blood. I
suppose I'm chicken-hearted, but I only left school last year.'
"'And your wound?' 'Oh, it's not much; still, I'm going home this
afternoon. Never want to see any more war.'
"Two hours later I saw him leap into a train labelled ——. 'Where are
you off to?' I asked. 'Back to the front. Can't bear the idea of my
regiment being there and me loafing about some health resort.'"
A private of the Royal Sussex Regiment wrote this from a hospital in
France: "My hand is very painful, but it will soon get better, I hope, as
they want us back in the firing line, and every man away means fifty
Germans kept alive and kicking."
Rifleman G. Harper wrote to his brother from a hospital at Paignton: "A
bullet went through the left side of my face, struck my teeth, turned
downwards, and just missed the main artery. The surgeon says I am one
in a thousand to be alive, so it is better to be born lucky than rich. I don't
think they will let me go out there after this, but if I get a chance I am off
after their blood again."
A medical officer said to an interviewer, "I am glad to have been through
the hottest part of the battle of the Aisne, and at the hottest corner, and
only hope to get back in time to see the aftermath. The attitude of the
wounded is wonderful, for all those who are not seriously hurt do
nothing but talk about getting well and having another go at 'those ——
Germans.'"
After our King had visited in an hospital soldiers sent back from the war
the spirit of all the wounded was voiced by a man who, describing his
impression of the King's visit, said, "He's real human, that's what he is,
and I, for one, shall be glad to go back and fight for him again."
"So shall I," came in chorus from every bed in the ward.
A corporal of the Coldstream Guards wrote: "If you look over the official
lists of casualties you will see that I was 'killed in action,' so, strictly
speaking, I ought not to tell you anything. I am looking forward to
getting back to the firing line, and hope the Germans will find me a
lively corpse."
For bringing fifty-nine men out of action when all the officers and non-
commissioned officers were killed or wounded, T. Burns, of the
Middlesex Regiment, was made a King's Corporal. At the battle of Mons
a bit of shell hit him between his eyes and he got a bullet through a thigh
and one through a wrist. Even this was not enough of it. "I am going out
again as soon as I am well. I am itching for sweet revenge, or another
coconut shie. 'All you knock down you have.' What a game!"
The Morning Post correspondent wrote: "I saw a colonel yesterday who
has been invalided three times. He had seven bullet wounds, and had lost
two toes by a shell. The last time he was wounded, though he lay
exposed to a murderous fire, he ordered away all rash attempts of his
men to succour him. When his last wounds were healed in an hospital in
the South of France he was so anxious to return to duty at the front that
the only leave he asked for was twenty-four hours in Paris to visit his
wife. Not that the front is exactly pleasant, but because being away from
it is just impossible."
A newspaper correspondent lately wrote that he saw a train full of
officers and soldiers leaving London to go back after a few days' leave to
their "funk holes" at the front. "They were," he wrote, "as cheerful as
boys off to the seaside for a holiday."
Probably, however, some of our soldiers are not now as ready to return to
the war as they were when they knew less about it. They have no desire
again to "wade knee deep through blood." A wounded man who returned
lately to England said when he found himself in a comfortable hospital
bed, "I could do with a rest here until they send for me to make me
Kaiser."
One of the Coldstream Guards, who had been invalided home, was asked
if he was keen to return. He replied, "No, I am not a liar or a lunatic, and
only a liar or a madman would say that he was anxious to return to hell.
Still, I'll go if they want me with a good heart."
When a man has done his "bit" in the war he is sometimes unselfish
enough to wish to give some one else a chance. Once bitten twice shy;
turn about is fair play.
"Send out the Army and Navy,
Send out the rank and file,
(Have a banana!)
Send out the brave Territorials,
They easily can run a mile.
(I don't think!)
 Send out the boys' and the girls' brigade,
They will keep old England free:
Send out my mother, my sister, and my brother,
But for goodness' sake don't send me."
Many soldiers who had retired from the Army were ready to return to it.
It does them credit that they should in this way desire to help their
country. One of these heroic volunteers is Piper Findlater. It will be
remembered that he gained the V.C. at Dargai in October, 1897, when he
continued playing "The Cock o' the North" after being wounded.
 CHAPTER XXIII
F F
S out in the open in all weathers is rough on clothes, and our
soldiers had to treat themselves to new suits whenever they could pick
them up. A Highlander was rigged out in the boots of a Belgian
infantryman killed at Mons, the red trousers of a Frenchman, the khaki
tunic of a Guardsman, and the Glengarry cap of his own corps. When he
wanted to look particularly smart he wore a German cavalryman's cloak.
An Irish soldier complained that the trousers he had got from a dead man
were tighter than his skin. "I can sit down in my skin, but I can't sit down
in them trousers." Another said that he had been almost equally
unfortunate. His nether garments were so short that they made him "look
like a blooming boy scout." A trooper is reported to have said that he did
not get a pair of Uhlans' boots to fit him until he had "knocked out six of
the blighters."
The following is an extract from the letter of an officer in the Army
Veterinary Corps:
"The British soldier has done all right. He is a most curious creature.
When he goes to war he gives away most of his badges and all
distinguishing marks to the nearest girl, loses his hat and replaces it with
a chauffeur's cap or a felt hat, and by not washing or shaving for a week
at a time makes himself look like a tramp or a gipsy, and as unlike a
soldier as can be. He then—without the slightest warning—proceeds to
show that he is the finest fighting man in the world."
The dress worn in the trenches makes us think of Robinson Crusoe. The
"Trench Kit" consists of a short greatcoat of goatskin, with the hair
outside, woolly Balaclava caps, and sandbags filled with straw for the
legs and feet.
Rifleman Roberts wrote to his wife: "We have all got nice fur coats
—'Teddy Bears' we call them—and they are all right, I can tell you. I
have just got a complete change of new underclothing, all swansdown,
and nice thick gloves and a scarf."
The Sergeant-major of the 1st Leicestershire Regiment said in a letter:
"A barber would do a roaring trade here, no one having shaved for
weeks. Beards vary according to the age of the individual. Mine, for
instance, is something to gaze on and remember. They are not by any
means what the writer of a lady's novelette would describe as a perfect
dream."
In a letter to his mother an officer wrote: "I haven't washed for six days
at all, as we have only one water-bottle each day for drink and all, and I
don't know how long it is since I have had a bath. To-day I had my hair
cut; you would faint if you could see it. It was done by one of the battery
cooks with a pair of very blunt, loose scissors, and an enormous comb
with all the teeth split."
A German bullet once did a little hair-cutting. It took the cap of a soldier
off his head and made a groove in his hair just like a barber's parting. All
thought that the German who fired the shot was a London hairdresser.
A private of the 4th Middlesex Regiment found two pieces of scented
soap in a German haversack, and got greatly chaffed for using scented
soap on active service. The luxury of a bath was indulged in by a
company of Berkshires at one encampment. Forty wine barrels nearly
full of water were discovered, and the thirsty men were about to drink it
when their officer stopped them. "Well," said one, "if it's not good
enough to drink it'll do to wash in," and with one accord they stripped
and jumped into the barrels!
This was told of "wee Hecky MacAlister" by Private T. McDougall, of
the Highland Light Infantry. Hecky went into a burn for a swim, and
suddenly found the attentions of the Germans were directed to him. "You
know what a fine mark he is with his red head," says the writer to his
correspondent, "and so they just hailed bullets at him." Hecky, however,
"dooked and dooked," and emerged from his bath happy but breathless.
A sergeant wrote: "I happened to find a bit of looking-glass. It made a
rare bit of fun. As it was passed from comrade to comrade we said, 'Have
a last look at yourself, my boy, and bid yourself good-bye.' The laugh
went round; then 'Advance!' and we were all at it again."
"One man of the Life Guards was very particular about his appearance
(says Trooper Walter Dale, now at Newcastle-upon-Tyne), and even in
war-time always carried a little hand mirror about in order to take
occasional peeps at himself to see that all was right. I happened to pass
him on the field when he had been badly wounded. There he lay, with the
glass in his hand, curling his moustache. I suppose he was anxious that
when death found him he should be a credit to a smart regiment. I had to
pass on that time, but the next journey we intended to take him to
hospital. It was too late. He was dead, and his glass was still clutched in
his hand. His 'quiff' had been curled till it was a beauty."
A Times correspondent wrote: "Within sight of the spot where these
words are being penned the chauffeur of the General Staff motor-car is
completing his morning toilet in the open. After washing hands and face
in a saucepan, minus the handle, which is balanced on an empty petrol
can, he carefully brushes his hair with an old nailbrush, using the
window of the car in which he has slept as a looking-glass."
Another man had his toilet completed in a French hospital without any
trouble to himself. After being sent to England because of a wound in his
left thigh he told a friend that his finger nails had been manicured.
"'Shocking fingers,' the French nurse said, 'for a young man to go about
with,' so she brought a bowl of soapy water and a box of tools and
manicured (that is what she called it) my finger nails."
A corporal of the Coldstream Guards wrote:
"There was a chap of the Grenadier Guards who was always mighty
particular about his appearance, and persisted in wearing a tie all the
time, whereas most of us reduced our needs to the simplest possible. One
day, under heavy rifle fire, he was seen to be in a frightful fluster. 'Are
you hit?' he was asked. 'No,' he said. 'What is it, then?'
"'This —— tie is not straight,' he replied, and proceeded to adjust it."
A motor-cycle despatch-rider wrote: "I have just had a hot bath and
shave, and complete change of underclothing; the shock may kill me, but
it is a glorious feeling, and I am glad to say I have by the use of iodoform
kept free from vermin, which so many fellows suffer from out here."
"I hung my shirt out all night to dry on a tree," writes Lance-Corporal
Laird, Royal Army Medical Corps. "At daylight I found that a piece of
shell had taken the elbow of it. Good job I wasn't in it."
Some of the shirts wanted washing badly. Seeing a man busily
examining his shirt, an officer asked him had he caught many. "Yes, sir,"
was the reply, "I think there's a new draft come in."
Fashion demanded a clean shirt when an Army Service Corps man went
to a party. "We stayed at —— four days. The inhabitants were delighted
to see us as they felt much safer. Little did they dream of what was in
store for them later on. A lady and a gentleman gave me and my two
mates an invitation to tea. They came down the lines to fetch us. We
made ourselves up as best we could under the circumstances. I put on a
clean shirt, washed, shaved, and had a regular brush-up. We arrived at
the house, or rather mansion, and were quite out of place, as we thought,
walking on polished tiles in the passage, with our big heavy boots. It was
a perfect slide. We took a seat by a big round table, had wine, cakes, tea,
cigars and cigarettes. To our surprise, this lady's father was mayor of
——. The lady, whose husband was with his regiment about eleven
miles away, sang us two songs in English, 'The Holy City' and
'Killarney.' It was a perfect treat to have one's legs under a table to drink
from cups and saucers. Next day we thought it was a dream."