MONS
Then came the village of Harmigné--just a few cottages on either side of
the road, and soon the companies debouched from the village to take up
the positions allotted to them.
In war it is well known that he who sees most is likely to take least
away. It was not the soldier's duty to gaze about him to see what was
happening. He must enlarge his bit of trench, and be ready to meet the
enemy when he himself is attacked. Therefore, if you ask a veteran of
Mons about the battle, all he will be able to tell you as likely as not
is, "Marching, and digging, and then marching mostly, sir."
The Company on the left was astride a railway embankment in front of a
large mine. The Subaltern's Company was directly in front of the village
itself; another Company to the right, the fourth in local reserve. The
work of entrenchment began immediately. There was not time to construct
a trench, as laid down in the Manual of Field Engineering. Each man had
to scrape with his entrenching tool as big a hole as he could before the
enemy came upon him.
The Subaltern had many things to arrange. The "field of fire" had to be
"cleared," any refuge behind which the enemy might lurk within two
hundred yards of the trenches had to be, if possible, cut down. Sheaves
of corn standing upright presented the first problem for the defence.
Should he burn as many of them as he could, or overturn them, or beat
them down? No, sheaves were not bullet-proof. A man could be shot behind
them just as easily as in the open. Moreover, they would serve to hide
from the enemy artillery the exact lie of his lines. The position of his
trenches, or rather holes, was about a hundred yards in front of the
village, as it would be the first thing that the German artillery would
"search." The Range-taker took the ranges from the trenches to all
prominent objects in front, with an instrument called the "Barr and
Stroud." He then made these figures known to the four section commanders
of the platoon, who in turn communicated them to their men.
Then he had to get in touch with the commanders on either side, and to
send off a small party to improve what natural obstacles--in this case
wire fences--lay in front. He next went to arrange for the methods of
effecting a retirement, if it should be necessary, breaking through one
or two fences so that this could be effected in perfect order. As some
of the houses were still occupied, he went to the owners, and not
knowing the French for pick and shovel, said: "Monsieur, voulez vous me
prêter des choses pour faire des troux dans la terre?" illustrating it
with pantomime. "Ah, oui, Monsieur, des pioches!" As many of these as
possible were sent forward to the men, together with many pounds of
biscuits which he brought from a shop, and buckets of water for the
wounded.
So busy had he been that he had almost been unable to interest himself
in the battle which was already beginning to develop on the left. While
he was in the village a stretcher was carried through. The body on it
was covered with a mackintosh sheet, but the man's face was visible, and
if he had not been so busily occupied, the ashen face might have upset
him a little. It was absolutely calm, and its expression was contorted
neither by pain nor hate nor fear--the face of one who was indifferent,
and very, very weak.
With that he returned to the trenches. "'Ere yer are, sir, I've started
this 'un for yer," one man shouted. He threw off his equipment, and
began to dig as he had never dug before. Each spadeful was safety for
another inch of his body. It was fighting against time for protection of
life and limb. The work was engrossing, exhilarating. Some of the men
were too tired, too apathetic, too lazy to dig trenches as deep as they
might have done. They had to be urged, cajoled, enticed, ordered.
The day was beautiful, hotter a great deal than those the men were
accustomed to. The Senior Subaltern had been occupying a small hut as an
advanced post. The enemy came within his range in some force, but having
the presence of mind to restrain his men from firing, he managed to
withdraw without loss. All the while the cavalry were being rapidly
driven in.
This was about three o'clock, and the sound of a terrific bombardment
could be heard from some miles to the left. This puzzled them, as it was
naturally expected that the battle would develop from the north-east.
The regiment on the right had been occupying a small copse; this was set
alight to the rear of them, and they were forced to draw back through
it, which must have been a terrible operation.
Fresh meat, in the form of a stew, was brought out to the trenches at
about three o'clock. The bombardment on the left, like a terrific
thunderstorm, rolled on till dusk. A few aeroplanes flew overhead,
looking like huge birds in the blue sky. As yet the troops found it very
hard to distinguish the Germans from the English, although several
pamphlets had been issued on the subject.
As evening drew on, the trenches began to assume a more workmanlike
aspect, although when one got down deeper than three feet the ground was
like chalk and very difficult to cut.
Thus ended that memorable Sunday, when the English line, the last hope
of the French, was pierced at Mons, when the appearance of a huge force,
above all strong in cavalry, appeared on the left of the English line,
and rendered the whole strategic position of the Allies so dangerous,
that there was nothing for it but to fall back in order to avert a
terrible catastrophe.
To ensure against surprise, he posted three sentry groups to his front.
They had not been out more than half-an-hour before a huge fusillade
broke out along the whole line. The groups had the greatest difficulty
in crawling back to the trenches without being shot down in mistake for
the enemy. He saw that this "peace method" would have to be given up;
sentries in future would have to remain in the trenches.
Intermittently throughout the whole night firing continued. A
searchlight had been played continually on the lines, and if anything,
the artillery duel began before it was light.
This was his first opportunity to watch shell fire. The shells sailed
overhead so slowly that he half expected to see them in their flight.
The noise they made was very difficult to describe. They hurtled, they
whizzed, they shrieked, they sang. He could imagine the thing spinning
in its flight, creating a noise something like steam escaping jerkily
from an engine.
An English battery was firing from somewhere unseen on the right, to
meet an attack apparently launched on the left. Furious messages were
passed up the line that the artillery were firing on their own men, and
whether this was true or not, soon afterwards the attack ceased.
At about seven o'clock the Major gave orders to withdraw his Platoon
when the Company on his right should retire. This surprised him; for,
knowing nothing of the general situation, he had felt that they would
hang on, and fight the battle out then and there, to the last gasp. He
gave orders to his section commanders, and then lay down to await the
development of events.
At about nine o'clock a general retirement seemed to be taking place on
the right. It is a very difficult thing to pick upon exactly the right
moment to retire. If you retire too early, you allow the enemy to
advance without having inflicted sufficient loss, i.e. you allow him
to succeed too cheaply, to say nothing of rendering the position of
units on your flanks precarious. On the other hand, if you hang on to
your position too long, you become committed to a close fight, from
which it is almost impossible to withdraw without the most serious
losses.
There are no hedges in Belgium; the ground was perfectly open, and the
Subaltern could easily see what was happening on the right. It seemed to
him that some unit delayed too long, for the rest of the line showed
signs of envelopment. Eventually, however, the retirement to the village
was effected quietly, and without loss. He led his Platoon to a second
defensive position about a mile behind the village, but already shells
were beginning to drop around, and even beyond it.