STORIES OF WAR FLAGS.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CV, Issue 12536, 25 June 1901, Page 2

STORIES OF WAR FLAGS.

The flags of the Army no longer play the very important part they formerly did in time of war (observes Robert Mackray, in an article in the “Royal”). Like everything else calculated to attract the attention of an enemy, they have disappeared from the field, and are seen no more except on parades. The last great war in which the flags were carried was the Crimea, but the Queen’s colour ’and the black regimental colour of the 58th (now 2nd Battalion Northamptonshire), waved over them at Laing’s Nek in the Boer War of 1881. Here is a taje of the Royal Scots:—The regiment, then known as the “Royal Regiment,” was hotly engaged at Steenkirk in 1692 —a battle, the incidents of which are not generally known, but which is imperishably associated with devotion to the flag. The men, who were commanded by Sir Robert Douglas, were hard pressed—so much so that the first battalion bad lost one of its colours. Douglas, who was as courageous as a lion, had given many proofs of his extraordinary personal courage, and constantly cheered on. his wearied men to greater exertions. In the press, and confusion of the struggle he suddenly saw the lost colour on the other side of the hedge. There it waved in the hands of an enemy, and the sight maddened him. Plunging through a gap in the hedge he leaped into the thickest of the ranks of the foe, beat them back to right and left and in front of him, slew the French officer who was carrying the captured colour, and, with a mighty effort, threw it over the hedge to his own men. The enemy closed around him, but again he beat them off 1 , only to fall, however, when he was in the act of repassing the hedge.

A somewhat different, but hardly less splendid, story is told of a private of the Bth Light Dragoons (now Hussars), of the name of Michael Maneely, One of the standards of his regiment was in his care at the battle of Rousbeck, during the campaign in Holland, in 1794. These were the days of terrible hand-to-hand encounters, when soldiers had to stand up to each other —not of long-range firing and of smokeless powder, such as we have now, with the troops on either side as “invisible” as possible. Maneely, as befits an Irishman, was in the thick of the fray, bearing aloft his standard. He was a conspicuous object, and naturally came in for a good deal of attention at the hands of the enemy. In the course of the engagement he was wounded several times, and his horse was killed under him. Lying on the ground he still clung to his flag, but he was sore spent from loss of blood and all the travail of the battle. He felt that it would be soon over as far as he was concerned—but what was to be done with the standard? The poor, brave fellow, half-delirious with pain, but, perhaps, with, something of. a madman’s strength coming to him in that supreme moment, dug a hole in the earth and buried the flag as.in a grave. Then he fainted, and when consciousness returned he found himself a prisoner—but the standard was saved from being taken. The thrilling stories of our war flags arc not all attached to the battlefield. In Norwich Cathedral there hangs a set of colours, with a" singularly heroic story, though it is not a story of war. The flags are those of the 54th Regiment (now 2nd Battalion Dorset). The regiment was on the ocean in the transport Sarah Sands. The ship caught fire, and the colours—those now in Norwich Cathedral—were rescued from the burning vessel with the greatest difficulty. The flags were fastened against the end of the saloon, which was so full of smoke that it was almost impossible to move in it. Two lieutenants tried to enter to get the colours, but they were beaten back by the smoke. Then the quartermaster of the ship, wrapping his head in a wet cloth, rushed into the saloon with, a hatohet. Moring the cloth a little from his face, he succeeded in cutting down the flags, but had, no sooner done so than the smoke overpowered him, and he swooned away. Several attempts to rescue him were made, and finally, a private of the name of Wills got both him and the colours from the room.