The German soldier posing for a photograph in his uniform, 1914. Colourised by Benoît Vienne.

 The German soldier posing for a photograph in his uniform, 1914. Colourised by Benoît Vienne.

The following is excerpts of Danish-German soldier Hans Christian Brodersen's account of the Battle of Mons on August 23th or 24th, 1914, today 108 years ago, which he first published in 1933. Translated by myself.

"We stormed the English trench, where 'Tommy' engaged us with attached bayonets. I suddenly found myself standing alone opposite 2 big and strong Englishmen, who looked to sell their lives as expensive as possible.

Following a couple of powerful thrusts, I succeeded at knocking the rifle out of the hand on one of them, who ran off. 

There were now two of us, and after the course of a few minutes our lungs were toiling as if it were a trumpet. The sweat ran down our faces and into our eyes. 

The knowledge of he who surrendered was destined to die gave us strength we didn't previously knew we had.

It was a terrible, bitter fight for that single life. He was lucky enough to stick his bayonet into my thigh, at I could feel the warm, sticky blood trickle down my leg. 

Shortly after, he received a slit on his left hand, so that the blood ran down his fingers and through to the rifle.

It is impossible to describe how I felt, but I remember that suddenly, terrified of dying, I became possessed by a terrible rage. I thought: "Now, or never", and assembled my last energy for a decisive thrust. 

Without dropping my rifle with my left hand, I delivered a hit. He parried immediately and powerfully, but thereby exposed his left side.

That was the moment I had been waiting for. With clenched teeth and through the buildup of my last reserves, I delivered the last, decisive thrust - and connected. 

With my bayonet between his ribcage, he collapsed with a groan. 

I didn't see what happened next, for I too collapsed like a wet rag. It was over