With A Yell The Inniskillings
Sprang Out, Carried With A Rush The First Trench, And Charged
Desperately Onwards For The Second One.
It was a supremely dashing
attack against a supremely steady resistance, for among all their
gallant deeds the Boers have never fought better than on that
February evening.
Amid such a smashing shell fire as living mortals
have never yet endured they stood doggedly, these hardy men of the
veld, and fired fast and true into the fiery ranks of the Irishmen.
The yell of the stormers was answered by the remorseless roar of
the Mausers and the deep-chested shouts of the farmers. Up and up
surged the infantry, falling, rising, dashing bull-headed at the
crackling line of the trench. But still the bearded faces glared at
them over the edge, and still the sheet of lead pelted through
their ranks. The regiment staggered, came on, staggered again, was
overtaken by supporting companies of the Dublins and the
Connaughts, came on, staggered once more, and finally dissolved
into shreds, who ran swiftly back for cover, threading their way
among their stricken comrades. Never on this earth was there a
retreat of which the survivors had less reason to be ashamed. They
had held on to the utmost capacity of human endurance. Their
Colonel, ten officers, and more than half the regiment were lying
on the fatal hill. Honour to them, and honour also to the gallant
Dutchmen who, rooted in the trenches, had faced the rush and fury
of such an onslaught!
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