James Lusk: Letters & Memories

III
FESTUBERT
Chevalier of the Legion of Honour
June—November, 1915

The dark hour came for the 6th Scottish Rifles on June 15th, and in it Captain Lusk found his great opportunity for the service which he was at all times so ready to give. It was for that service that the French Government afterwards honoured him, and for it he is remembered by many in the Regiment and beyond it.

His own account is contained in a letter to Colonel Kay, who was wounded at an early stage of the engagement:—

THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1915.

DEAR COLONEL,

You must be wearying for news of the Battalion, and I seem to have allowed far too long a time to pass without reporting to you what happened after you left. Truth to tell there has been little inclination to write to anyone these last days, and a real shrinking from having to tell all that must be told. First of all let me say how glad I am to hear that you are getting on well. Colville writes to me to say that you and Hill and he are at the same hospital. We have been anxious about Hill, but later news seems better. I don't know what news you have already had about things, so will you forgive me if I repeat things you already know?

It had been arranged that on the night of the fight Hamilton and I would bring up water in dixies to the reserve trenches after dark, and furnish a carrying party for this from the transport men.

I got together thirty men for this, took both watercarts down to the cross roads in the ruined village of ——[1], filled the dixies there, and I reached the reserve trenches with the first lot about 10.45 p.m. How I wished then that we had come earlier, but we had purposely come about one hour later than the usual time. I found the Doctor in his dug-out doing simply splendid work, and it was from him that I learned the state of affairs—how that so many of the Officers had been killed and so many more wounded. The Sergeant-Major was wrestling with an ammunition party, and they were dropping shells pretty thickly round us.

[1] Festubert.

I arranged with Hamilton that he would go back with the transport and its carrying party, and I would go on and see what I could do to help. It took some time to reach the fire trench, as the communication trench was very crowded with stretcher-cases coming back and wounded being helped back on other men's shoulders, and as you know well, it is very narrow.

I got up at last and found the 8th Liverpool Regiment holding the fire trench, with what was left of our men dotted in between them. I made my way along, asking for Officers of the 6th, but for a long time there was not one to be found. I had passed Stewart on the way going out wounded, but he didn't seem to be badly hit. Then at length I found Ralston and later Campbell and Hay. They seemed to be quite certain that there were no other Officers left except Wishart, who had been badly wounded. A great many of our wounded men were being taken out, and it was a difficult business in so narrow a trench. In some parts stretchers were of little use, and waterproof sheets had to be used instead. We soon came upon Wishart being carried along on a sheet. His face was very pale; I gave him a drink from my water bottle, but I scarcely think he knew me. About 3 a.m. I got the reserve trench on the telephone, and tried to get somebody on the Brigade Staff to speak, but there was no one there except a Major of the Liverpool Regiment, who told me that the Brigade had sent a message that the 6th Scottish Rifles and the 'King's Own' were to reform in the reserve trenches, and were to move out via M 6.

It took some time to get them all collected. I started down the communication trench. Ralston led the way and they went in sections, and I waited until everyone I could find had gone,—all except two wounded men whom I left in charge of a Sergeant and two stretcher-bearers, who brought them out in course of time.

It was about 5 a.m. when I reached the reserve trenches. There I found a Brigade message—this time a written one—waiting for me. It bore the hour 4.37 a.m. 16/6/15, and was as follows—'As many Officers and men of your Battalion as can be collected should be taken back to Le T——,[2] where arrangements are being made for food and rest A.A.A. As two Battalions are remaining as trench garrison, you should not crowd trenches by waiting A.A.A. As soon as small parties are collected they should start at once for Le T——.'[2]

[2] Le Touret.

The Doctor was still sitting in his dugout with the blood stains round about him, in the quiet calmness that has been his strength these days. What a night he had had, and what news of the fate of his friends he had had to: listen to in the midst of the strain of that night's work! The shells had not been few, and some had struck the back of his dug-out, but through it all his devotion to duty was beyond all praise.

He had a specially good word to say for the two stretcher-bearers Craig and Hannah, who had brought out Erskine Hill in the afternoon of the 15th. It had been specially difficult work. Sergeant Hillhouse of 'B' Company died beside the 'aid post,' and we buried him near by. By Companies we marched down the road towards Fes——[3] and the last was clear by 6 a.m.

[3] Festubert.

I went back to the Brigade Headquarters and saw the General and some of his staff and told him as much as I had by this time been able to gather of what had happened in the attack.

The Battalion had done superbly! They did what was required of them; they took what they were told to take; and tried hard to hold it alone.... At last an order came to withdraw; it came from the right, but from whom no one knows. Then they came back—all that was left of them.

'A' Company who went over the parapet first have had the heaviest losses, Murray, Macdonald and Kennedy all killed, McLean's nerves completely shattered, and every Sergeant gone save Downie.

Of the other Companies, Brown killed, J. H. Keith twice buried in shell holes and dug out with shattered nerves, and Capes in much the same condition. Poor Pat Keith killed, Stewart, Brown and Logan all wounded. Young J. B. Wilson killed, Wishart very badly hit, died later, and Major MacKenzie wounded.

Poor Major Shaw! it is so sad about him, Ralston bound up his first wound on the chin, and still he cheered on the men, and got well forward when he was shot dead. Ralston succeeded in getting one of his guns planted right in the German lines, when it was put out of action by shell fire. His other gun under Sergeant Thompson got into difficulties at a ditch, and was splendidly led on by J. B. Wilson, who came across it after being cut off from his own men. Wilson did splendidly in taking that gun forward till he was shot dead. Sergeant Thompson was also killed, and the gun is reported to have been smashed by bombs.

In a field opposite the Transport lines the men were fed and rested, and that same morning before noonday the Companies held their roll-call. Out of the total number of Officers and men who went into the trenches on Sunday night, 13/14th June, exactly half answered their names.

That same afternoon orders came for the Battalion to move back to the same billets at Le C—— M——[4] as had been occupied before the fight. That was Wednesday afternoon.

[4] Le Cornet Malo.

What haunted me most was the thought of those still lying out in front. Another attack had been ordered for Wednesday night, and that made a search party out of the question for that night. The attack took place with much the same result as on Tuesday night. The Battalion that attacked was cut to pieces like one man. On Thursday afternoon I asked permission from the Brigade to take up a party of volunteers to try to bring in wounded. Leave was granted and there was no lack of willing men to go. We set out in the early evening and Ralston and Hay came too. Fifty men had been selected, i.e., ten from each Company and ten from Transport, &c.

On the way we stopped at Brigade Headquarters to ask permission for Hay to go, and the General said that before going down to the trenches we must present his compliments to the Brigadier-General of the Brigade in occupation of the trenches, and get his sanction for the effort. On we went and halted at the moated farm and saw the General. He said we might try if we liked, but that an attack had been ordered for 9.30 that night and another for 3 a.m., preceded by bombardment, and that we must be clear of trenches before the second one began, and in any case we must see the Commanding Officers of the Battalions holding the trenches, to be sure that we did not interfere with any of their arrangements. So on we went to the reserve trenches, and there we saw the Commanding Officers of the two Battalions in the fire trench. They were not encouraging. They had ration parties in the communication trenches and water parties, and a certain amount of ammunition had to be taken up before the second attack began. The first attack was said to be going on at the moment, and there was certainly a good deal of rifle fire, but they could get no news of its progress as the wires were cut. Three working parties had already been told off by them to go out between the first and second attack, should the first prove unsuccessful (as they seemed to think it would), and bridge the ditches, &c., preparatory to the second show, and it was expected that these parties would do all they could to bring in wounded.

All this was most unsatisfactory. Everything seemed against us. Ralston and Hay and I went up the communication trench a short way, and we then very reluctantly decided that we must abandon the attempt. It was hard to have to give up. Our hope of being able to bring in any of our own men had never been very strong, as we knew only too well that the same front as the Battalion had attacked over had yet again been swept with fire in the attack that had followed ours on the next night. But faint though the hope was, no stone must be left unturned to try to realize it, and now even that last hope was taken away. They lie where they fell.

And yet in the midst of the bitterness and the sadness one cannot keep back the feeling of pride that it should be so with our comrades.

We carried the packs of the Battalion back to the transport that we had brought with us, and after a long march reached our billets again about 5 a.m. Our mission had been unfulfilled but we had tried. I thanked the men on your behalf, Sir, for coming.

Next day General Hibbert came to see us, and got a description of what had happened—chiefly from Ralston, Hay and Campbell.

By this time Graham had returned from hospital and had taken command. He has done splendidly since, and has made every effort to pull what was left of the Battalion together, and to keep them from thinking that all further need for effort was over for them.

General Hibbert inspected the Battalion on Saturday, 19th, and Major-General Sir R. Bannatine-Allason on Monday, 21st. They both thanked the Regiment for the good work they had done. They deeply regretted the very heavy losses, and said that although the attack by the Battalion had not been in the end entirely successful, yet it had had an important influence on the operations at other portions of the Allies' lines.

But the work was not yet finished, there can be no stopping, and we must refit and 'carry on.'

I am trying to carry out the duties of acting Adjutant. J. C. Wilson has reported for duty with the Battalion till further instructions from the Royal Flying Corps, and we are glad of his help.

On Tuesday, 22nd, we moved forward again to what the Division called an 'intermediate position,' and on Monday a working party of 200 men with full proportion of Officers was called for.

We just managed to furnish this with the equipment available and sent all four Officers with it. It returned at about 4.30 a.m. in safety.

To-day, Thursday, 20th, a message has come that the Brigade is to be prepared to move to a new area about 8 p.m.

Tuesday night, 29th.—I shall carry on the tale from where I left off.

It was the greatest possible satisfaction to the Battalion to learn that the new area was very close indeed to the district it last served in under its old Division. Nothing could be more grateful to all of us, than to leave the places that had been associated with so much unhappiness and misfortune, and return to places that had brighter memories for us.

We moved by night march to a large town and billeted in a factory near a river, as we had done once before. Next day we moved again, this time to a deserted village with a much battered church. We knew the village well by name, but had never before been billetted in its streets. Here we stayed till Sunday morning, when a message came that C.O. and Adjutant were to report to Headquarters 23rd Infantry Brigade along with Brigade Major of 154th Brigade, to make arrangements for taking over a section of trenches that night. Strange that eventful days should almost always be Sundays! Our strength for the firing line is a C.O.; Acting Adjutant; 5 Subalterns and 330 other ranks. We took over the section from a Regular Battalion on Sunday night, and carried out the relief (including three posts) in less than an hour.

The trenches are good ones and the front is quiet. We shall probably do six days and perhaps nine days. They can tell us very little about it, but we are getting on famously. Two new Vickers Machine Guns were issued to us, and they are very light and a great improvement on the older pattern.

We hold a section to the right of the one we occupied when Lawrie was killed. Trench headquarters is in a house that has had all the roof tiles knocked off, and, in spite of some well meaning tarpaulins spread on the rafters, it leaks when it rains. Hamilton is doing the work of Transport Officer as well as his own work, and comes up to trenches cheerily every night as of old. I have been trying to write up the Adjutant's War Diary, but know that I cannot do justice to the tale of that attack.

The Battalion has been re-organized as far as was considered necessary, and a good many promotions among N.C.O's have been given effect to. Just now it is doing duty in the trenches as two Companies under Campbell and Hay, with Ralston as Machine Gun Officer.

It is rumoured that a draft of Officers is on the way out to us, but of this we have no official intimation.

The men are quite cheerful, and seem to be rapidly getting over the ill effects of their experiences of the 15th.

We know that you have crossed the Channel, and so I shall send this to your own home. I do hope the shoulder is not giving you much pain. Best wishes for a good recovery.

I am,
Your obedient Servant,
        J. LUSK.

A few extracts from letters to his Mother will reveal in a more intimate way what he experienced on the night of the 15th, and during the strenuous days which followed it. The first of them illustrates his readiness for the post of greatest danger, and the chivalry of his devotion to his friends:—

TUESDAY MORNING, JUNE 15, 1915.

When I was up in the trenches last night, I asked the Colonel if he would let me take John's place in 'A' Company, as the Quartermaster had said he would be quite willing to do his own work and the work of the Transport Section if required.... But the Colonel would not let me do it, and the Adjutant was of the same opinion, so I had to come back again.

THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 17, 1915.

My news is not so good to-night. The Battalion attacked the enemy on Tuesday night and did splendidly, but our losses have been very heavy indeed.... A party is going up to-night to try to get some of our wounded back. I am very well, but these days have been trying ones. God has helped me wonderfully at every turn of the way, and will still lead on.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON, JUNE 18, 1915.

I am quite well though tired. I was out all night with a party at the trenches, but we all got back safely.

What is left of the Battalion is being re-organized. Captain Graham is in command meantime, and I come next, and so shall act as Adjutant.

SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 1915.

Will you please excuse only short hurried notes just now? There is a tremendous lot of work to be done in connection with the recent fight. Reports of all sorts are being called for and are all wanted at once. I am acting Adjutant and must do all I can. I don't know when I shall be able to give you any description of what took place on Tuesday night, but I shall do so as soon as I can.

They have taken us back a bit to rest and re-fit, and will likely re-inforce us from the 2nd/6th Battalion at home. We shall need a good many Officers and men, and we don't know whether they may still require us,—short though we are of both. I had a good sleep last night and am quite well though rather tired out. The weather is very good, and we have much to be thankful for. I haven't even written to the Colonel yet to tell him what happened to his Battalion after he left it, but I must try to do so to-day if I can.... I am being greatly helped.

SABBATH, JUNE 20, 1915.

The events of the last week are upper-most in our minds, and seem to overshadow everything else. By this morning probably, the friends of those whose lives have been lost will get the letters telling them of it, and it will be sad news for them.... I cannot feel thankful enough that John got his slight hit before that fateful charge on Tuesday evening.

MONDAY, JUNE 21, 1915.

We are getting on as well as we can, and the men are resting. Our Divisional General inspected us this morning, and thanked what was left of the Regiment for what they had done.

TUESDAY, JUNE 22, 1915.

I haven't got a minute to spare to-day to write to you properly. We are moving to new billets in the afternoon, and I have to make all billeting arrangements as well as do the Adjutant's work, but I am getting through it. Fortunately the weather is still good.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 23, 1915.

We are carrying on very short indeed of Officers, and are trying to make the best of it.... It is only too true that young Jack Wilson has been killed. He did splendidly in the attack, and his father and sister have every reason to be proud of him. I shall write to Mr. Wilson when I can get a spell to do it properly. I must be off to attend a Court Martial several miles away.

THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1915.

They are moving us again by night march to-night to a new area, and we don't know what they are going to do with us. There is a good deal of work involved in re-organizing a Battalion that has lost so heavily, and we can only do it up to the capacity of the personnel we have got left. They do not appear to consider it necessary to take us really far back to do this, as we had four Officers (all we could spare) and 200 men out working near the trenches last night.

SABBATH EVENING, JUNE 27, 1915.

I am sorry I missed our Church Parade this morning. We got a message early that we were to go to a place to make arrangements for taking over a section of trenches to-night, so Captain Graham and I went and made the necessary arrangements.

We feel so glad that they have taken us away from the section of trenches that has such unhappy associations. Graham and I went into the trenches this morning to see the section that we are taking over to-night. They are well made, and are quite close to the section we held many weeks ago under our last Division that we liked so well. Things are quite quiet, and there is no suggestion of anything more than just the holding of the line. This we are very thankful for.

In the Colonel's letter to Captain Lusk in reply to the long letter given above, the following sentence occurs:—'I want to thank you, my dear fellow, for the absolutely splendid way in which you took hold of things under very, very trying circumstances. The Regiment will never forget it.'

The mother of one of the fallen Officers wrote to Mrs. Lusk on June 20th:—

'Your dear son is still spared to be a comfort and help to others, and he so bravely led the party who tried to find our dead and wounded, but alas! they had fallen, I fear, within the German lines. It would have brought comfort to know that our dear son was buried by loving hands, and that they knew his grave, and I'm sure they nobly tried to reach the place. I read yesterday a letter from one of the men (spared, though his brother is "missing"); he said "Our Captain wept, I think, when the General told him it would be certain death to venture." I felt sure this was your dear son. God bless him.'

The official statement of the matter is found in the Divisional Orders which mention the award as being 'for gallantry displayed at Rue d'Ouvert on 15th June, 1915; when a large number of Officers had been killed he voluntarily proceeded to the firing line, took command of what was left of the Battalion and successfully brought the troops out of action.'

Captain Lusk was gazetted Adjutant of the Battalion shortly after the Battle of Festubert, and continued to act in that capacity to the end. During Major Graham's absence on leave, he acted as Commanding Officer as well.

The Battalion was moved south to the neighbourhood of Albert and the Somme[5] about the end of July:—

[5] They occupied lines near Aveluy and Authuille.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON, JULY 23, 1915.

I missed sending you a letter yesterday. I had to go off on my horse a distance of some six miles or so to find new billets for the Battalion. This work is usually done by the Senior Major and the Interpreter, but as the Interpreter is on leave and the Major is killed, I did it.

We are being relieved in our Posts to-night by an English Regular Regiment and are going back six or seven miles by route march. We expect to set out from here at about 10 p.m. and should reach our new Billets in about two hours or so by night march.

The method of allotting billets to a Battalion is as follows. The Brigade gives each Battalion under it a certain area on the map, and the Battalion Billeting Officers go to that area in advance as I did yesterday, and select the most suitable farms or houses or other buildings, and chalk the name of the Regiment on the doors, and tell the inhabitants that troops will occupy their premises on a certain day. When the Battalion leaves these billets the owners are given a certificate with the number of Officers and men accommodated, signed by the Commanding Officer; this is counter-signed by the Mayor of the district, and later on the owner receives payment at a fixed rate for Officer or man.

I left here at about 2 p.m. and returned at about 7 p.m. pretty tired.

This move of ours to-night is a part of a greater move. Our whole Division is being taken by a train journey sometime next week to a part of the line a great many miles further South. This will probably mean helping the French with a portion of their line.

So that the next week or so should be a change of surroundings for us all. A train journey after a spell of four months without ever seeing one will be rather strange.

FRIDAY MORNING, JULY 30, 1915.

We arrived at the station of de-training about 5 p.m. on Wednesday, after a railway journey that we all enjoyed. It was a great change for all of us, and the country was looking at its best. From the station we had to march for about six miles to a billeting area where we are now. The headquarters is in a very nice old French Château, owned by an old lady, but ruled by her manservant. The house has not been properly cared for and is falling to pieces, but there is a beautiful garden and beautiful trees round it. The orchards in this country abound in fruits—apples, pears, plums and peaches—but chiefly apples and pears. Of course nothing is ripe yet. There is a pond literally covered with water-lilies and green stuff, and alive with green frogs with black spots on them. If you run your stick along the edge of the pond a dozen of them will jump into the water. We have had the luxury of beds with sheets on them these last two nights. I have not experienced that all the time we have been in this country, and that is over four months now. We leave this place this evening immediately after an inspection by our Army Commander, and that takes place at 4 p.m. to-day. We go to a forward area, and spend the night in Billets there (it is about six miles away from here), and then on Saturday night we take over our portion of the trench line from the French Army. Our Battalion is just immediately behind the front line in support of other Battalions. We shall be in 'dug-outs' probably for a week or ten days, I expect, and just a few hundred yards behind the front line. Since Graham left I command the Battalion, and this taking over from the French Army is a little more difficult to arrange than usual, and of course the country is new to all of us. It is much more pleasant country to look at than the country we have left. It is more hilly and much more closely wooded. The harvest is getting ripe, and in some parts is cut already. Old men and boys do the reaping of it, and in some cases, where even these are not available, soldiers are set to do it.

SABBATH EVENING, AUGUST 1, 1915.

On Wednesday night we moved away from our nice Château at 10.30 p.m., and at 1.30 a.m. reached the village where we were to stay the night. The moon was good, and the march was a good one of about seven miles or so. At 2.15 that morning I lay down on the top of a bed with just my boots and jacket off, and slept till 6 a.m. Then I got up and shaved, and drank a cup of cocoa that my servant made, and was in the saddle again by 7 a.m., and rode about five miles to the headquarters of a French General in a Château. Officers Commanding Battalions were ordered to go there at 8 a.m., and we were provided with French guides who could speak English, and went over the trenches that our Battalions were to take over on Saturday night. This we did, and were much pleased with the construction of them and the general conditions of everything; so last night we marched off from our Billets in the village to the trenches, and we are here now. Our Battalion is not actually in the front line just now, but is in 'dug-outs' just behind the first line. It is in a wood, and is so picturesque in places that one would never connect it with war, were it not for occasional shells that come over our heads.

MONDAY, AUGUST 2, 1915.

I am well, and busy all day with many varied things. I am acting just now both as Commanding Officer and Adjutant, but we are getting on nicely. We are a few hundreds of yards behind the front line just now, and, beyond a little shelling now and again, we are very quiet.

We are living in a wood with high trees and undulating ground, and the French Army, who have just vacated the place have constructed most elaborate shelters from shell-fire. They are much more palatial places than any 'dug-outs' we have seen or made elsewhere. They go so deep down into the ground, or are built up with such thick sides and roofs, that they are considered quite safe things to be in, even if they do get a direct hit upon them with a big shell. We are going to make application for leave for other two Officers.... Then perhaps it will be my turn to come. Yes, I am waiting till all the others have had leave, as I would rather be the last to go.

SABBATH NIGHT, SEPT. 19, 1915.

To-day has been my birthday and I am getting very old, but I don't feel it, so it doesn't matter, and the best thought is that we grow old all together. And I have more to be thankful for than most. Our mails have been delayed one day, and that has had this result, that to-day's mail brought me no fewer than eight letters, and six of these were partly written for my birthday, and if the mails had not been delayed I would likely have had all these birthday letters one day too soon! So that I am quite content to see a purpose in all that concerns me, and I am especially rich in real friends.

SAME DATE.

I am thirty-seven to-day.... but I don't feel old, and pray that I may be given more strength to give more and do more, and to keep nothing back that should be given.

There is an inspiration in giving, and in being spent for the greatest things, that knows no limits and never knows what it is to give too much.

He was disappointed several times of the leave which he was looking forward to, but he never grumbled. When it came at last in October it was spent chiefly in seeing his many friends and especially the relatives of his comrades in the Battalion. One friend has seen in this a new instance of the fact that he 'always thought first of others.'

It was in November that the unlooked for honour came to Captain Lusk:—

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1915.

I have got a little piece of news for you to-night that will cheer you. Intimation came to us this morning that a French decoration was to be given to your first-born son. It is called 'Chevalier, 5th Class, Legion of Honour.' I don't know what it is for, but someone—I don't know who—has been so kind as to recommend me for it, and it is to be given to-morrow, Sabbath, by the Commander of the Third Army at a little village behind the lines.

I don't know what there has been in the work of each day that has seemed to those in authority to be worthy of some mark of approval.... It has come as a complete surprise to us all, and I try to say that it is an honour more to the Battalion than to me.... It is exactly one year to-day since I took up my duties as Staff Captain of the Scottish Rifle Brigade at Falkirk.

NOVEMBER 9, 1915.

Saturday night was a busy one; I think I only got a few hours' sleep altogether. We were to be relieved in trenches on Sabbath morning. It was a day sooner than we had expected, and there were many arrangements to make, besides the ordinary routine-work of messages and telephones and counter-messages. I got up before 6 to lead a working party up to the front trench, and when I had done that I lay down again for less than an hour; then got up and washed and shaved, for this was a great day for my Mother and my Sister, and through them for me! The orders for the relief reached us at 8 a.m., and I had much arranging to do in the hour that followed before I had to be off on my errand. I got something to eat, put on a pair of cleaner boots, and tried to take at least some of the mud from my clothes. My grey mare was waiting for me in the wood, and I rode about three miles back to Hamilton's billet in his little village. I met him in the middle of the street. He had just heard about it the night before, and was very kind about it and extremely pleased. He is such a keen soldier. I took off my web equipment, and borrowed his leather cross-belts, which he always keeps polished to the last degree, and dug out my new glengarry from my valise that was in his keeping what time we were in the trenches.

A motor-bus had been arranged for the rest of the journey; it was one of the old London Omnibus Company's ones, painted khaki and with its side windows boarded up. There are lots of them used here for taking troops about hurriedly. This took me back another five or six miles, and by 11 a.m. we had reached a little village where there was a charming old French Château, that was being used as the Headquarters of a certain 'Division'—a Regular Division. In front of the Château was a beautiful park with trees covered with autumn leaves. It was a perfect winter day. The sun shone, and opposite the centre of the Château at the other side of the park stood a great gateway with high pillars and a great gate. A parade ground was marked off in this park, and a certain Regiment of Regulars was drawn up to form three sides of a square. When every one was in his place the order was given 'Fix Bayonets,' and like one man they flashed in the sun-light. There was a little table at the fourth side of the square with a coloured rug laid over it. In the centre of the square nine Officers and about thirty Non-Commissioned Officers and men stood to attention in line.

General Sir E. H. H. Allenby, K.C.B., Commanding the Third Army, accompanied by his Staff and several French Officers in blue and gold, came to the little table. The Commander of the Troops gave the command 'GENERAL SALUTE, PRESENT ARMS,' and they did it well, while the Army Commander stood at the salute. One by one names were called by the Chief of his Staff, and each one in the centre row came forward and saluted. No word was spoken save this,—'Legion d'Honneur, Chevalier,—I congratulate you.' Each again saluted in silence and withdrew to the centre line, with something in his hand. Then to the other ranks was handed either 'Medaille Militaire' or 'Croix de Guerre.' Again the band in rear of the troops played 'The Marseillaise,' while all stood at the salute. That was all. The troops marched off the ground, the centre row fell out, and it was over. No speech. The Army is not given to making speeches; and in the circumstances that made the setting, it seemed entirely fitting that it should be so, for we could still hear the guns in the distance. I went back to the trenches, but why I was one of those nine I do not know or understand.

Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur

'I am asking James to enclose this with his to-day's letter to you just to say how charmed and delighted we all are that he has been selected to have the Légion d'Honneur conferred upon him. The award brings great honour on him and on the Regiment, and the fact that he has been chosen as, I believe, the only Officer in the Brigade[6] to receive the Cross, shows that those in high places know and recognize what splendid service he has done not only at Festubert, but before and since. In his own good modest way he insists that it is a recognition to the Regiment, but I want specially to say that that is nonsense. It is an absolutely personal award for gallant and strenuous service.... I can never thank him sufficiently for all he has done and is doing, and my earnest prayer is that God may restore him to you and all who love him in due time, and that he may be long spared to enjoy the honours he is so worthily earning.'

[6] In Routine Order No. 375 by G.O.C. 51st (Highland) Division, dated Thursday, 11th November, 1915, under 'Honours and Rewards,' the name of Captain Lusk appears as the only officer in the Division decorated then.

'Poor Lusk was hit shortly after noon on Christmas Day. He had come up to the trenches[1] for his usual morning tour along with Major Graham. He had looked into Keith's and my 'dug-out,' and then gone along into 'A' Company's lines himself, the C.O. (Major Graham) having preceded him by a few minutes, when the trench-mortar came that laid him out.

[1] This was near Thiepval.

'He apparently did not hear or see the mortar coming. It was one of these infernal 'oil cans' (a cylindrical shaped object about two feet long and nine inches in diameter, filled with explosive); it landed on the parapet, and blew him against the corner of a communication trench which he was just passing. His ear was badly lacerated, and he was buried up to the shoulders in the falling debris (sand-bags, mud, &c.). It was only a matter of seconds before there was somebody there digging him out, which was done in five or ten minutes. The M.O., who was in the trenches at the time, bandaged him up, and he was carried out. I believe he was more or less conscious all the time, though he didn't appear to hear properly. Either the shock of the explosion, or his fall against the trench, broke the vertebrae of his neck. He passed away in Hospital at Amiens on the evening of the 28th December.

'Major Graham, the Padre and our M.O., myself and twenty men were present at his funeral which took place at 3.30 p.m. on the 30th. He is buried a mile and a half or so out of Amiens.

'I can appreciate how great must be the loss to you all. He was out here for one thing, and that was to give his best for the job he was on, and he gave it all the time. He seemed to be everything the average fellow would like to be, but never is. He was the best of all.'

The Rev. Alfred Coutts, the Chaplain of the Battalion, wrote on the evening of Christmas Day:—

'Colonel Kay is home on leave this week, or I feel sure he would have wished to write to you himself, and express the profound sorrow of every Officer and man in the Battalion, that your son Captain Lusk was unfortunately wounded in the trenches this morning. He had not been long there before a German trench-mortar fired the 'oil can' as the soldiers call it, which exploded near the trench along which he was passing at the time. Happily the Medical Officer, Dr. Rawlins, was visiting the trenches, and was at your son's side within two minutes. He was very quickly got down to headquarters in the village, where he was further attended to, and the Doctor afterwards went to the Field Ambulance with him. There it was decided to send the patient to the Hospital at Amiens without delay. He is wounded in the head—about the left ear—but he spoke to the Medical Officer quite calmly and rationally, and asked about the nature of his wound. As you can readily understand, he is suffering considerably from shock, but the Regimental Doctor and the Doctors of the Field Ambulance were unable to say more. A further medical examination would take place at Amiens, where they have X-ray apparatus. He bore the journey by motor to the Field Ambulance well, and we are all hoping to hear good news about him in a day or two. It has been a sad Christmas for his comrades here, for Captain Lusk was the honoured and beloved friend and brother of us all. Absolutely fearless at all times, he has greatly impressed us by his goodness. I shall miss very much his kindly presence—for he has been most helpful to me in my work.'

Captain Lusk's orderly, Private Isaac Devon, has told us that when he was hit, he was in the act of distributing cigarettes to the men in the trenches, and wishing them a Happy Christmas. The following is from a letter which Private Devon wrote to his wife on the night of Christmas Day:—

'It is with a very sore heart I write to you to-night. My dear Captain was wounded to-day very seriously, and I can't tell how much yet. I am in Hospital just now with him; the doctors are operating on him with X-rays.... He is very done. I am so sorry for his poor Mother. This has been a bad Christmas for us. Oh, my poor Captain ... he knew me, and knows I am near him. His wounds are mostly about the head. It was a trench mortar. He was buried and we had to dig him out. But I hope he pulls through; the doctor that dressed him at the trenches told me the shock is the worst; but I am afraid he is disfigured for life. I am waiting to hear how the operation goes on. I can't tell you any more to-night, but I will be with him till he is sent to England if he is spared. I will give you full news to-morrow.... you know how I am upset about him.'

Kind letters came also from the Chaplains, the Doctor and the Sister in the South Midland Casualty Clearing Station at Amiens; and he was at the last laid to rest by the Chaplain and some of his comrades in the Battalion which he had loved so well:—

'JANUARY 10, 1916.

'I shall never forget Christmas Day here, and your brother will always be linked in my memory with it. Sorrow and joy were intermingled during that day in a strange and wonderful way. I dressed as Father Christmas, and went round all the Wards with a present for each man... Then at the close of the day came the summons to see your brother. He had been put to bed and everything possible had been done to restore his circulation. He was very glad I had come. He was too weak to bear much, but I sat by his side for about three-quarters of an hour. The lights had been turned low, but I prayed quietly by his bedside, as is my custom when quietness is an absolute necessity. It was a sad close to Christmas Day, seated by the bedside of one who had been so badly hurt.

'Next morning he had brightened up considerably, and was very grateful that I had seen him the previous night. He gave me his Mother's address, and was most anxious that I should not say too much about his injuries. There seemed a possibility of his recovery; my judgment was in suspense about that, but I was not without hope. Next day I brought a pot of white primulas. He wanted them put where he could see them. So I arranged them high enough where his eyes could always rest upon their white beauty. "These mean that Spring is coming," I said to him, but I did not know then how near Eternal Spring was to him....

'He was most gracious and gentle in his ways, and so thankful for all that was done.'

EDWARD SKILTON, C.F.

'DECEMBER 29, 1915.

'I grieve very much to tell you that your son, Captain Lusk, took a turn for the worse last night. Captain Skilton, the Presbyterian Chaplain who has written to you informing you of the serious wounds your brave son received, would naturally have written to you now, but he is away at the present time. However, he asked me to write and keep you informed about your son's condition in his absence. The turn for the worse which came last night was somewhat unexpected, in spite of the fact that we knew the serious nature of your son's condition.

'We hoped, however, that, please God, his life might be spared. But I grieve to have to tell you that He has ordered otherwise. After your son's collapse the end came very rapidly last night and he passed away....

'If it is of the slightest comfort to you to know it, I should like you to feel that your son, after what he has undergone for his country's sake, spent his last days among friends, for his doctor and his nurse, Miss Bulman, quickly formed a great regard for him. Miss Bulman, I know, is writing to you herself, and I know how she has nursed your son with the greatest tenderness and care.'

BASIL ASTON
(Chaplain).

'DECEMBER 29, 1915.

'My heart is very sad as I sit down to write to you again. You will have heard ere this that Captain Lusk passed away last evening,—so quietly he went, it was hard to realize that he had really left us, and there had been such great hopes of his recovery. After his first night with us the improvement seemed to be so steady, and yesterday he spoke so brightly and seemed so much more himself in every way. Several times he spoke of you, and his keen desire that you should not be told that he was seriously injured. He asked not to be moved from here till he was stronger, and remarked how he enjoyed the sounds of the children's voices playing in the Convent garden. Our Hospital is the other half of the Convent. He also asked to see his tunic, which I had brought up, and in examining it we admired the little "piece of ribbon." Then in his gallant way he remarked "Yes, they were very good to give me that; we had a rough time, but they certainly have been good to me." I could only feel how very much more we would do if we could, to save the lives of men like that.'

K. BULMAN
    (Sister-in-Charge).

'JANUARY 5, 1916.

'He was quite conscious until breathing ceased. He never complained of any pain and I believe his suffering at the end was of very short duration....

'In the short time I looked after him I appreciated his noble character, his patience and bravery, and was particularly struck by the gratitude he showed both to myself and the Sisters who looked after him. I attended his funeral and realized what a loss his brother Officers had sustained by his death.'

C. B. BAXTER
    (Captain R.A.M.C.T.)

'DECEMBER 30, 1915.

'I have just returned from Amiens (which is about fourteen miles from here), where I had the sad duty of committing to its resting place the body of your departed son, our highly honoured and greatly loved Adjutant. From enquiries which I made, I learned that he passed away on the evening of the 28th inst. at 8.30. He is interred in the Cimetière de St. Pierre, Amiens, and his grave is No. 4, Officers' Section. A burial party went down from the trenches with Major Graham, Captain Campbell, Dr. Rawlins and Monsieur Viel, the Brigade Interpreter. The scene was very pathetic, and everyone present was deeply moved. The Medical Officer who had your son under his special care at Amiens attended the funeral. He told me that Captain Lusk seemed at first to be doing quite as well as could be expected, and conversed freely with the doctors and nurses. The wound in the head though serious was not considered specially dangerous. There was some injury to the spine, however, which, I understand, caused paralysis. He suffered no pain all the doctors assured me, and was perfectly conscious and very bright to the last. All who nursed him in Hospital were much impressed by the personal charm and attractiveness of your son, and they were greatly touched by his constant gratitude for the smallest services rendered to him. His was a rare and beautiful character, and we all feel enriched by the gracious memories he has left behind him. His Christian life was a testimony to the Master Whom he served, that none could fail to understand, and the men—one and all—felt that in Captain Lusk they knew a man who was a Christian "in deed and in truth."

'On the evening of the 28th December there was a sudden failure of strength. His breathing was affected. It all lasted but a few moments. "Quickly, Quickly" were the words he uttered, before he passed away.'

ALFRED COUTTS,
    (Chaplain, 6th Cameronians).

* * * * * *

In a special supplement to the London Gazette, issued on February 24, 1916, the official announcement appeared that the President of the French Republic, with the approval of His Majesty the King, had bestowed the Croix de Chevalier of the Legion of Honour on Captain Lusk. He was also mentioned in Despatches by the British Commander-in-Chief.

* * * * * *

The tributes with which we conclude are all from Officers of the 6th Cameronians, except the first three which are from the widow of one Officer, and the bereaved parents of two others:—

'I feel I have lost a true dear friend, one who brought comfort to my wounded heart, and whose precious letter and friendship I shall always cherish.'

R. K.

'It was only on Christmas Morning that I received a beautiful letter from your son which greatly cheered my loneliness; this I know was characteristic of his ever mindful nature, and I feel proud to have had the honour of even being in his thoughts.

'How vividly that last Sunday at Falkirk rises before me to-night, and his masterful touch on the organ that day I shall never forget.'

H. B. S.

'You don't know how he has endeared himself to me, first as Allan's friend—then in the way he has looked after and helped my younger son since he went to France.

'I have only seen Captain Lusk once, the evening you were all here, but I was never allowed to forget him, as few letters from both Allan and Vernon did not contain some reference to Captain Lusk. He seems to have been everybody's friend. In a very sad letter which I received from Vernon to-night—written before Captain Lusk's death—he says "I don't know anyone who is so universally loved as Lusk is."'

F. L.

'It was with the greatest sorrow that I heard of your son's death. He was a great friend of mine, and I always looked upon him as a man above other men. His high principles, up to which he acted to the letter, always made me describe him as "God's good man." I looked upon him as a type of ideal manhood far above those with whom he came in contact, and as a rich example of self-denial and uprightness which had a lasting influence upon his brother Officers.'