The transports then sailed up the estuary, passing Abadan on the left

bank, and after a voyage of about thirty-five miles, disembarked,

unopposed, at the Turkish village of Sanijeh,[176] where trenches were

dug. While General Delamain, who commanded the British expedition, was

waiting for reinforcements he was attacked by a force of Turks from

Basra. The Indians quickly checked them, and later in the day showed the

utmost gallantry in turning them out of a village in which they had

established themselves.

On 13th November, soon after daybreak, two Anglo-Indian brigades,

including the 1st Oxford Light Infantry and the 2nd Norfolks, arrived,

under the command of Sir Arthur Barrett, off the bar of the

Shat-el-Arab, and by the 15th were ready to disembark at Sanijeh. It was

no easy task to get men, guns, and stores ashore on the slippery mud

banks of a broad tidal river, but the work was accomplished before

sunset. Meanwhile General Delamain attacked the village of Sahain, four

miles to the north. A short, sharp action took place; but the 2,000

Turks who were posted in a date grove were not entirely cleared out of

it. On the 16th the newly-arrived forces rested, and received the news

that the Turkish garrison of Basra was advancing to give battle. There

were Europeans in Basra, and General Barrett was eager to capture the

place speedily, lest evil should befall the foreign residents.

[Footnote 170: See Vol. I., p. 148.]

[Footnote 171: A name given to all those usages which civilized states

have agreed to observe in their dealings with each other. It is not real

law because there is no superior power to enforce it.]

[Footnote 172: Arabs who wander with their flocks and herds from place

to place. They are found in the Syrian and Egyptian deserts, in

Mesopotamia, and especially in Arabia where they form one-seventh of the

population.]

[Footnote 173: The southern half of the triangular and hilly tract of

country between the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Akabah, northern arms

of the Red Sea.]

[Footnote 174: Osman I., founder of the Ottoman Empire, born 1258, died

1326. Every new Sultan is invested with the sword of Osman, which is

preserved in a mosque at Constantinople.]

[Footnote 175: For some account of the Bagdad railway (shown in the

inset map), see Vol. I, p. 148.]

[Footnote 176: See map on p. 277.]

CHAPTER XXXI.

FIGHTING IN CHALDEA.

On the morning of the 17th the British advanced to the village of

Sahain,[177] only to discover that the Turks had abandoned it. Nine

miles farther up the river, at a place called Sahil, the enemy lay in

force ready to attack. An officer with the expedition thus describes the

Turkish position:--

"Imagine a billiard table, only, of course, thousands of times

bigger, and instead of being green cloth it is sandy desert.

Imagine that one end of the table is high ground held by the

Turks with guns in position, and the infantry entrenched, and

then imagine us attacking them from the other end. Not a scrap

of cover of any kind; absolutely flat and unbroken; no cover for

the guns or infantry advancing, no cover for the hospital or

wounded as we advanced--nothing; simply a wide, flat, sandy

plain!"

To make matters worse, recent rains had made the plain a slough, so that

the cavalry and guns could scarcely proceed at more than a walking pace.

Early on the morning of the 18th our batteries and gun-boats began

bombarding the Turkish trenches. The artillery of the enemy replied, but

the marksmanship was bad, though General Barrett had a narrow escape

from a shrapnel shell which buried itself in the ground at his feet. The

Turkish infantry, however, made excellent practice, and their bullets

swept the front with a withering fire. Nevertheless, our men advanced

with admirable steadiness. The honours of the day went to the 2nd

Dorsets, who, without a moment's wavering, crept nearer and nearer to

the enemy, until they were near enough for the final bayonet charge.

When they leaped to their feet and dashed forward the Turks broke from

their trenches, and, flinging away their arms, ammunition, and even

their clothes, fled to the rear.

Owing to the soggy nature of the ground and to a mirage which screened

the flight of the enemy, pursuit was well-nigh impossible. About 4 p.m.

the little battle was practically over--the trenches, two guns, and the

camp of the enemy were in our possession. The Dorsets lost 130 men in

this engagement out of a total casualty list of 353, which included

three officers and thirty-five men killed. More than 1,500 Turks were

dead or wounded.

[Illustration: Hoisting the Union Jack at Basra.

_Photo, Illustrated London News._]

On the 21st news arrived that the Turks had abandoned Basra, and that

Arabs were looting the place. A British force was at once embarked on

river steamers, while other troops were sent forward across the desert

on foot. About eight miles beyond Sahil the Turks had attempted to

impede the navigation of the river by sinking ships in the fairway; but

the business had been badly done, and our gunboats, after silencing a

battery of Krupp guns on the bank, got past the obstruction. About ten

on the morning of the 22nd the river force entered Basra without

opposition. Later in the day the desert column arrived; the German flag

was hauled down, and the Union Jack was hoisted in its stead. During the

remainder of the month the British prepared a base camp a few miles up

the river.

At the beginning of December news arrived that the Turks had reassembled

at Kurna, some forty-nine miles above Basra, and were about to put their

fortunes to the test once more. The sketch map on page 277 shows you the

position of Kurna, the highest point on the river to which ocean-going

steamers can ascend. You will notice that the old and now

partly-blocked-up channel of the Euphrates unites with the Tigris at

Kurna, and that the town occupies a strong position in the angle between

the rivers, with broad waters on two sides of it. Some people tell us

that Kurna stands on the site of the garden of Eden, though others say

that the abode of our first parents lay to the north-west of Bagdad.

Not much opposition was expected at Kurna, so only a small force,

including a detachment of the Norfolks, was sent upstream on 3rd

December. It was accompanied by three gunboats, a yacht, and two

launches, all armed. Next morning the troops were landed on the eastern

bank about four miles below Kurna, while the gunboats went ahead to

engage the Turkish artillery and to shell the town. By midday the

British force was looking across the three-hundred-yard-wide stream

towards the palm groves which surround Kurna, and was attacking the

village of Mezera, which stands about a mile from the left bank of the

Tigris. The Turks were driven out of the village, and withdrew to the

bank of the river, where they kept up so heavy a fire that our men were

compelled to retire. It was now evident that the Turks were holding the

place in force, and that the task of the British was much harder than

had been supposed.

The attackers dug themselves in, and sent back to Basra for

reinforcements, which arrived on 7th December. On that day the action of

the 5th was fought over again, but with far better results. Mezera was

recaptured, the Turkish trenches on the bank of the river were cleared,

and the survivors escaped across the stream. The gunboats did excellent

work, and several of them were hit.

It was now clear that Kurna could not be taken by a frontal attack. The

only way was to cross the river above the town and fall upon the place

from the rear. Early on 8th December two battalions with two mountain

guns were marched a long way up the river; some daring sappers swam the

stream carrying with them a wire. Snipers fired at them repeatedly, but

they managed to get across safely, and construct a sort of flying

bridge. By this means, and also by the use of a dhow which had been

seized, our troops and their guns crossed the river. By evening they had

entrenched themselves amidst the trees to the north of Kurna. All was

ready for the final assault.

It was never delivered. On the night of the 8th

"a small steamer came down from Kurna showing all her lights, so

we did not fire on her. She turned out to be carrying three

Turkish officers who had come to offer the surrender of Kurna!

Of course we knew we could get into the town, but thought most

of the garrison would escape up the river Euphrates. They wanted

to be allowed to march out with their arms, but, of course, we

would not agree to that, and after about an hour they agreed to

an unconditional surrender."

Thus Kurna fell into British hands. The whole garrison surrendered, and

the Turkish officers gave up their swords; but as a compliment to the

commander his sword was returned to him. Chaldea was now in our

possession, and we were well placed to beat off attacks from the north.

There were still, however, many Turkish troops in the neighbourhood, but

they did not make any serious attack on us. We had achieved our purpose,

and had built up a strong barricade against an enemy advance to the

Persian Gulf and a threat to the security of India.

[Illustration: Basra and Kurna.]

"We are now," wrote an officer on December 13th, "in a big

entrenched camp outside Kurna. . . . Although this is my own

regiment, and one is naturally proud of it, I must say they have

behaved splendidly. They are a jolly good lot, always merry and

bright, and never any trouble. By the way, I heard a rather

funny remark last night by one of the men. The mosquitoes are

rather bad here, and in the middle of the night, about 1 a.m., I

woke up and heard the man say to his neighbour: ''Ere, Bill, if

this is the garden of Eden, I wonder what Adam and Eve did with

these 'ere mosquitoes a-buzzin' around them.'"

[Footnote 177: See map on page 277.]

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE CAMPAIGN IN THE CAUCASUS.

While Anglo-Indian troops were winning easy victories on the desert

sands of Chaldea, Russians and Turks were locked in deadly combat amidst

the rocky uplands of the broad isthmus that extends between the Black

Sea and the Caspian Sea. The most striking natural feature of this

region is the great chain of the Caucasus, the most stupendous mountain

mass of Western Eurasia. It strikes from north-west to south-east right

across the country like a huge frowning wall, and in this respect

resembles the Pyrenees, though its peaks are vastly higher and much of

it is crowned with perpetual snow. So formidable and complete is this

great natural barrier that no railway crosses it, and only two main

roads have been constructed over its passes. The railway which carries

the traveller from the north to the south of the chain has to creep

round by way of the strip of low land between its eastern end and the

Caspian Sea.

One would suppose that this huge barrier would mark off race from race,

civilization from civilization, and religion from religion; that Europe

would stop short on its northern slopes, and Asia begin on its southern

side. This is true in a general sense, but the whole tangled region of

lofty mountains, with its maze of spurs and plateaus and foothills, with

towns and villages five or six thousand feet above sea-level, is

inhabited by many more or less Christian tribes, and is part of Russia.

It forms the government of the Caucasus, and its southern boundary

marches with Turkey on the west and with Persia on the east. The Turkish

fortress of Erzerum is only about seventy miles from the Russian

frontier.

This mountainous region has been a cockpit of struggle from very early

times, but the difficult nature of the country has enabled the wild and

turbulent highlanders to maintain their independence against Turk and

Persian and Russian alike. Not until 1835 did Russia begin to annex the

country; she did not come into full possession of it until more than

forty years later.

Before I describe the actual fighting let us look a little closer at

this Russian government of the Caucasus.[178] Its main features are the

great block of the Caucasus range and the lower mountain region to the

south, known as Georgia. Between the two, at a distance of about sixty

miles from the high ridge of the Caucasus, is a natural trench which

rises gradually from the Black Sea for 3,000 feet to the watershed, and

then slopes down to the Caspian Sea. Along this depression from Batum,

on the Black Sea, to the great oil town of Baku, on the Caspian Sea,

runs the railway which I have already mentioned. On it, about half-way

between Batum and Baku, and also on the chief road which crosses the

Caucasus, is Tiflis, the capital. It stands on the valley floor,

surrounded by gray heights rising from twelve to fifteen hundred feet

above it, and occupies both banks of the river Kur.

The fighting which I am going to describe all took place to the south of

Tiflis, between the depression mentioned above and the Turkish border.

You will notice that a railway runs south from Tiflis amidst the

Georgian mountains, and then swings eastwards to the frontier. This

railway has to climb two ridges of fairly high mountains, and at its

railhead of Sarikamish it is 6,000 feet above sea-level. The whole

country through which it passes is a wild confusion of high hills with

summits of 10,000 feet in elevation, and deep gorges, leading up to the

Armenian plateau which I mentioned on page 270. It is impossible to get

from one valley to another, except by the railway, without climbing

steep and snow-clad ridges. You can scarcely conceive of a more

difficult country in which to carry on the operations of war.

[Illustration: The Campaign on the Caucasian Frontier.

(Inset--The Turkish Advance.)]

For the Caucasus campaign which the Turks were now about to begin they

collected at Erzerum an army of 150,000 men with which to oppose the

Russian army, which was not more than 100,000 strong. The object of the

Turks was to capture the fortress of Kars, and thus open the way to

Tiflis and to the Caspian oil fields at Baku. In order to do this they

proposed to entice the Russians from Sarikamish across the frontier, and

hold them at some point as far from the railhead as possible. While the

Russian front was thus held, the Turks intended to make a wide

encircling movement with their left centre and fall upon Sarikamish. At

the same time, their left was to push up the Choruk River, cross the

mountains to Ardahan, follow the road to Kars, and thus take the

fortress in the rear.

Fighting began in the first fortnight of November. The Russians advanced

from Sarikamish, and crossed the frontier to within about forty or fifty

miles of Erzerum. Now that they were sufficiently far from their

railhead, the great Turkish plan was put into operation. You will

understand more clearly what the plan was if you study the little inset

map on the opposite page. The 11th Corps was ordered to hold the

Russians in the direction of Erzerum, while the 10th Corps, at Id, was

to follow a bad mountain road which crosses the passes and comes down to

the railway between Sarikamish and Kars. Between the 10th Corps and the

11th Corps a third corps, the 9th, was also to strike across the

mountains directly at the railhead.

Meanwhile the 1st Corps was carried in transports to Trebizond, on the

Black Sea. It was to follow the valley of the Choruk until it came to a

mountain road which climbs a pass of more than eight thousand feet, and

runs to the town of Ardahan, from which there is a fairly easy road to

Kars.

About the middle of December the 11th Corps took the offensive, and,

after fierce fighting, pushed back the Russians for about a dozen miles.

On Christmas Day the Russians made a stand. At that time they were

strung out along the railway and the road that runs by the side of it

for about thirty miles. Meanwhile the 9th and 10th Corps had struggled

over the high hills, and were descending upon Sarikamish and the railway

to the east of it; while the 1st Corps, on the extreme Turkish left, had

climbed the mountains at the head of the Choruk valley in the teeth of

fierce blizzards, and had reached a position from which in the pauses of

the storms they could look down on Ardahan. On 28th December it seemed

as if the Turkish plan had succeeded.

But the forces which had toiled over the mountains and had battled with

the furious storms and the deep snow were worn out and utterly incapable

of meeting the Russians. Their transport and big guns could not follow

them over the rocky steeps; so they were without artillery, ammunition,

and a proper supply of food. Many of the men were starving, and their

hands and feet were frost-bitten, while thousands of others could only

crawl along in a dazed and numb condition. It was impossible for these

hungry, cold, and toil-worn men to make a great united attack, and the

Russians were therefore able to deal with them piecemeal.

First they dealt with the 10th Corps. On January 1, 1915, after three

days of hard fighting on the railway, they forced this corps to retreat

into the hills. This retreat left the 9th Corps unsupported. The

Russians had pushed forward their right in pursuit of the retreating

enemy, and at the same time their left had advanced, so that the 9th

Corps was taken on both flanks. It fought with the fury of despair, and

on January 3, 1915, when it had almost been wiped out, the remnants laid

down their arms. It is said that the Turks yielded rather to cold and

hunger than to the onset of the Russians; that they surrendered as much

to the Russian field kitchens as to Russian steel.

Meanwhile the 1st Corps had entered Ardahan, but could not advance any

farther. The Russian force which had been detached to cope with it drove

the worn-out Turks from the town, and thrust them back in complete rout

into the mountains and towards the Choruk valley, by which they had

advanced. The 10th Corps, now in flight, was also heading in the same

direction. The 11th Corps, which had been holding up the Russians on the

road from Erzerum to Sarikamish, now made a big effort to save the

situation. It had been unable to rescue the 9th Corps, but it might do

something to cover the retreat of the 10th Corps. Accordingly it

attacked vigorously, and pushed back the Russians to within twenty miles

of Sarikamish, where three days' heavy fighting took place amidst the

snowdrifts. By January 17, 1915, the 11th Corps had also been broken,

and was forced to retreat on Erzerum, with a great loss of men and guns.

While this struggle was going on, the Russian right was pursuing the

1st Corps and the remnant of the 10th and was driving them towards

Trebizond. The Turkish navy attempted to bring reinforcements and stores

to these harried corps; but Russian warships sank several of the

transports and provision vessels, and hunted the _Breslau_ and the

_Hamidieh_, which accompanied them, back to Constantinople. The _Goeben_

had already been crippled and put out of action for several weeks.

So, in hopeless and utter failure, ended the great adventure in the

Caucasus. The plan of campaign had been prepared by German generals, who

worked from the map without any actual knowledge of the terribly

difficult country in which the troops were to operate. They did not

foresee that the mountains and gorges, the broken tracks, the fierce

storms, the deep snow, and the biting cold were of themselves sufficient

to defeat any army, however brave and determined. Neither did they

foresee that the Turks would have to fight when worn out with marching

and privation. They set their allies an impossible task; but the Turks

fought like heroes. More than 50,000 of them were killed or wounded, or

led away into captivity. For many months to come, Russia had nothing to

fear from the Turks in the Caucasus.

* * * * *

Immediately war was declared on Turkey several of our submarines were

sent to the Dardanelles, to destroy, if possible, some of the Turkish

warships. Submarine B11 was most successful in this work, and its

commander, Lieutenant Norman Douglas Holbrook, R.N., was awarded the

Victoria Cross for a conspicuous act of bravery on 13th December. On

that day he entered the Dardanelles, and, notwithstanding the difficult

current, dived his vessel under five rows of mines, and then torpedoed

the Turkish battleship _Messudiyeh_, which was guarding the mine-field.

After this exploit he brought his vessel back safely, though it was

fiercely attacked by gun fire and torpedo boats. So beset was he that on

one occasion he had to submerge the submarine for nine hours.

[Footnote 178: See map on next page.]

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE BATTLE OF THE SERBIAN RIDGES.

During some hundreds of pages I have told you nothing about the part

which gallant little Serbia was playing in the great struggle. On page

76 of our second volume I briefly summed up the situation at the end of

August 1914. At that time the first Austrian invasion had failed, and

the country was almost clear of the enemy. The Austrians had suffered a

serious set-back.

Early in September they prepared a second army of invasion. Before I

follow its fortunes, I want you to look closely at the little map on the

opposite page. You notice that from the railway uniting the Lower Drina

with Shabatz on the Save, right away to the southern frontier, the

country is criss-crossed in all directions by great uplands, almost as

difficult for an army to traverse as those of Georgia. The river valleys

alone give access to the interior, and afford railway routes. There are

a few good government highways, but most of the roads are mere tracks,

which in wet weather become quagmires. When once the autumn rains set

in, the work of transport in Serbia is greatly hampered.

All the lowland parts of Serbia lie along the right bank of the Save and

the Danube. This district is open, though hilly. East of Shabatz the

lowlands form a rough triangle, with the course of the river Save as its

base, and the highland town of Valjevo, on the river Kolubara, as its

apex. It was across this triangle of easy country that the Austrians

made their second invasion.

The Serbians did not wait for the Austrian attack, but pushed over the

plain, and in the darkness of night on 6th September crossed the Save at

several points, and made a dash on the Hungarian town of Semlin,

opposite Belgrade. They occupied the place on the 10th, but were unable

to hold it, and were driven back with heavy losses into the Tser

Mountains, which you see marked on the map.

The Austrian commander-in-chief proposed to turn the Serbian left, and

at the same time hurry forward mountain troops to Valjevo, and thus cut

off the retreat of the Serbian army. During September and October

attacks and counter-attacks were constant, but neither side made much

headway. The Austrians could not drive the Serbians off the crests of

the mountains, and the Serbians could not drive back the Austrians, who

were advancing up the Drina to turn the Serbian left. At length,

however, the Serbian ammunition began to fail, and the Austrian numbers

began to tell. On 6th November the enemy won the summits of the Tser

Mountains, and the Serbians, in order to avoid being enveloped, were

forced to retreat eastwards. This they did in perfect order.

[Illustration: Map to illustrate the Campaign of November and December

1914.]

The Austrians pushed on, and occupied Valjevo on 14th November. While

the Serbians retired to the summit of a range south of Valjevo, the

invaders pillaged the whole Kolubara valley and their line of march was

marked by fire and massacre. Belgrade was abandoned, and on 2nd December

the Austrians made a state entry into the undefended capital. Telegrams

of congratulation were sent to old Franz Josef, and Vienna was full of

rejoicing. The Austrians boldly declared that the campaign was over,

that the Serbians were finally defeated, and that the fruits of victory

were about to be reaped. So certain of success was the Austrian general

that he sent back three of his corps to help his fellow-countrymen, who

were now about to begin their attack on the Carpathian passes from the

south.

For a whole fortnight the Austrians dallied in Valjevo and on the skirts

of the ridges occupied by the enemy. During this period the Serbians

were by no means idle. Every available man was brought up, gun positions

were prepared, and trenches were dug and strengthened. Best of all, the

Western Allies sent them ammunition for big guns and small arms, and

these supplies now reached the hard-pressed Serbians, despite the

efforts of Turkish and Bulgarian bands to capture them.

[Illustration]

Serbia was about to make her last stand. Everything had to be staked on

the issue of the coming battle. If the Serbians should be driven back

they would be almost certain to lose Kragujevatz,[179] their arsenal and

chief industrial centre, and without it they could scarcely continue the

struggle. They would also lose Nish, the old capital, now the sojourning

place of the government. The Serbians, however, held a very strong

position on the Maljen ridge, to the west of the main road leading from

Valjevo to Kragujevatz, and were also posted on the still higher Rudnik

ridge to the east of this road.

The plan of the enemy was to advance its centre against the Rudnik ridge

along the single-line railway which runs up the valley of the Lig, a

tributary of the Kolubara. At the same time the right was to move up the

head waters of the Kolubara and attack the Maljen ridge, while the left

was to swing round in a wide sweep, and thus enclose the Serbian army.

By 3rd December the Austrian centre had gained the western part of the

Rudnik ridge, and the wings were making good progress.

The critical hour has struck; the fate of Serbia hangs in the balance.

Old King Peter rises from a sick-bed and joins his soldiers, to die, if

need be, with them. He addresses them in burning words which recall the

speech of King Henry before Agincourt[180] and that of Robert Bruce

before Bannockburn. He recalls the bitter struggles of their

forefathers, recounts the ancient glories of their race, and paints the

bright future which waits upon victory. Thus nobly he concludes:--

"Heroes, you have taken two oaths--one to me, your King, and the

other to your country. I am an old, broken man, on the edge of

the grave,[181] and I release you from your oath to me. From

your other oath no one can release you. If you feel you cannot

go on, go to your homes, and I pledge my word that after the

war, if we come out of it, nothing shall happen to you. But I

and my sons stay here."

Every Serbian feels himself uplifted by the noble words of his leader;

not a man leaves the ranks; all are ready to do and die with their king.

The weary and ragged soldiers pledge their faith anew, and steel their

hearts to sweep the cruel hordes of invaders from the soil which they

have profaned.

At sunrise on 3rd December the two centre divisions of the Serbian army

begin to advance across the bare, sharp ridges, now thinly powdered with

snow. Fog hides them from the Austrian battalions which are descending

from the plateau which they occupy to attack the Rudnik ridge. The sun

shines out and dissipates the fog. Suddenly the Serbian guns, which have

been dumb for many days, begin to speak, and the soldiers, fired with

new courage, dash forward. So fierce is the onset that the Austrians,

unable to deploy, fall into confusion. Panic seizes them, and they fly

back a terrified mob to the plateau from which they advanced a few

minutes ago full of confidence.

Fresh Austrian troops are hurried up, and for three days the battle

rages fiercely. On the afternoon of 5th December the left centre breaks,

and crowds of discomfited men stream northward down the Lig valley. The

fugitives think only of their own safety; they fling away arms and

equipment, and on the mountain roads and in the deep ravines abandon

their artillery and baggage. Then the Austrian centre suffers the same

fate, and the road to Valjevo is crowded with beaten troops hurrying

into safety. There is good news, too, from the Serbian left, where a

great victory has been won, and the enemy is in full retreat along the

head waters of the Kolubara. By the dawn of the 6th the Austrian centre

and right have everywhere given way, and the routed enemy is a mere

panic-stricken mob, hot-foot for the frontier.

The Serbians follow up the pursuit with great vigour, and sweep the

Austrians over the Drina and the Save with fearful slaughter and the

capture of thousands of prisoners and many guns. The Austrian left tries

to make a stand, but all to no purpose. It is thrust back to a position

already prepared on the crescent of hills to the south of Belgrade. Here

it holds out till the 13th, when it, too, is broken, and its remnants

strew the streets of Belgrade with rifles and equipment, and stampede

wildly over the Danube bridges whipped by the merciless flail of the

Serbian guns. A rearguard sacrifices itself in the northern suburbs to

cover the retreat, but all is over; and on the 15th old King Peter is on

his knees in the cathedral, giving thanks for the great victory

vouchsafed to his arms. A few days later, and the Serbians are able to

boast that not a single armed Austrian remains on their soil.

[Illustration: King Peter watching the Battle of the Ridges.]

[Footnote 179: _Krar-goo´ye-vatz._]

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE BATTLE OFF THE FALKLAND ISLANDS.

The disastrous battle off Coronel took place on 1st November. Ten days

later, in silence and secrecy, the _Invincible_ and the _Inflexible_,

the first two battle cruisers built by Britain, left Plymouth, and

steamed at full speed across the Atlantic to the West Indies. On board

the _Invincible_ was Vice-Admiral Sir Doveton Sturdee, who was to take

command of the avenging squadron. On his voyage to the Falklands he

picked up the three armoured cruisers the _Carnarvon_, the _Kent_, and

the _Cornwall_; also the light cruiser _Bristol_, the _Glasgow_, now

repaired, and the _Macedonia_, an armed liner. He was thus in command of

a very formidable force. Each of his two battle cruisers carried eight

12-inch guns, so mounted that they could be fired on either broadside.

How to get into touch with the German squadron was the problem that

Sturdee set himself to solve. It is said that he managed it by means of

a remarkable piece of "bluff." While his ships were steaming south he

sent off a wireless message ordering the _Canopus_ to proceed to

Stanley, where she would be perfectly safe under the new guns which had

been sent out to strengthen the forts. This message was picked up by the

Germans, as it was meant to be. They believed that it was a trick

intended to mislead them as to the safety of the _Canopus_, and that all

the talk about forts and new guns was simple nonsense. But one thing the

message did tell them, and that was that the _Canopus_ was proceeding to

Stanley Harbour, where she would have only the remnants of Cradock's

beaten squadron to support her. Von Spee thought she would be an easy

prey. He therefore resolved to capture her, and while Sturdee's

squadron, all unknown to him, was speeding towards the Falkland Islands,

he headed for Cape Horn, and steered towards Stanley.

The British squadron arrived in Stanley Harbour on the morning of 7th

December, and coaling at once began. Within the inner harbour lay the

_Canopus_, _Glasgow_, and _Bristol_; in the outer gulf were the battle

cruisers and the remaining vessels of the squadron. All were perfectly

hidden from an enemy in the open sea.

At 7.30 on the morning of 8th December the look-out on Sapper's Hill

reported as follows: "Eight ships sighted about twelve miles off,

south-east, all making for Stanley." It was von Spee's squadron

descending upon Stanley to smash up the unprotected _Canopus_ and

destroy the wireless station. The German admiral proposed, when that was

done, to dash across the Atlantic to the coast of German South-West

Africa, and prevent the landing of a force from Cape Town.

Speedily the great good news that von Spee was walking straight into the

trap laid for him reached the British warships. Officers were roused

from sleep, and the flag-lieutenant of the _Invincible_, so the story

goes, dashed down to the Admiral's cabin clad only in pyjamas. Sturdee

was shaving, and he received the information with the utmost calmness.

"Well," he said drily, "you had better go and get dressed. We'll see

about it later." I hope this story is true, because it recalls the

famous incident when Drake was informed that the Spanish Armada was in

sight.

Screened by the land, Sturdee waited for the Germans to draw nearer, so

as to make victory doubly secure. At about a quarter to nine the _Kent_

steamed down the harbour, and took up a position at the entrance. The

advance ships of the enemy came boldly on, anticipating an easy victory

against the feeble force which they imagined to be in the harbour. Then

they turned broadside on, with the intention of destroying the wireless

station. Directed by officers on the hills above the town, the _Canopus_

from her moorings opened fire over the narrow neck of land, and five

shots in quick succession fell around the German ships, which

immediately hoisted their colours and wheeled round to close in with the

other three vessels of their squadron. Soon the British admiral knew

that the ships in the offing were the _Scharnhorst_, _Gneisenau_,

_Leipzig_, _Nürnberg_, and _Dresden_. He could hardly believe his good

luck. He had come out to seek this very squadron, and it had come to

find him instead.

A few minutes later the two leading cruisers of the enemy altered their

course and made directly for the harbour mouth, where the _Kent_ was

ready to engage them. Meanwhile the British battle cruisers were rapidly

raising steam by means of oil fuel, and while doing so were sending up

dense clouds of smoke with which to shroud themselves. Nearer and nearer

came the leading ships of von Spee's squadron, and soon their commanders

and crews had the surprise of their lives. They could now see the masts

and funnels of the battle cruisers, and they knew for the first time

that the British were waiting for them in great strength. Van Spee was

well aware that he could not cope with such a force. The British ships

were faster, and their guns were heavier and of longer range. He had

played into the enemy's hands, and only a miracle could save him.

Immediately the ships of his vanguard changed direction and hurried back

to their consorts.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and

the sea was calm--one of those rare days which come to the foggy,

wind-swept islands like angels' visits, few and far between. Leaving the

_Canopus_ in harbour, Admiral Sturdee about ten o'clock ordered the

chase to begin, and the _Glasgow_, followed by the _Kent_, _Invincible_,

_Cornwall_, _Inflexible_, and _Carnarvon_, steamed out to sea. The

colliers and supply ships of the German squadron at once retreated to

the south, and the _Bristol_ and _Macedonia_ followed them up. The

remainder of van Spee's ships turned tail, and at top speed hurried away

eastward. Their only hope lay in flight.

The great gray warships tore through the sunlit seas, the white foam

streaming from their bows as they furrowed the waves. The _Invincible_

and the _Inflexible_ soon drew ahead, but had to slacken off to enable

the slower cruisers to keep up with them. At about eleven o'clock the

position of the ships was as shown in the diagram on the next page.

Von Spee now saw that he was being slowly but surely overtaken, and that

he could not escape by flight. He therefore detached his three light

cruisers, the _Leipzig_, _Nürnberg_, and _Dresden_, which made off

towards the south, followed by the _Kent_, _Cornwall_, and _Glasgow_,

while the two British battle cruisers and the _Carnarvon_ steadily

gained on the _Gneisenau_ and the _Scharnhorst_. They were soon within

striking distance; 15,000 or 16,000 yards of sea separated them from the

enemy. Admiral Sturdee however, was in no hurry to engage, and ordered

his men to dinner. He even gave them time for a comfortable smoke after

their meal. Just after a quarter to one he made this signal: "Open fire

and engage the enemy."

The men flew to their stations, and with the utmost eagerness obeyed the

short, sharp orders. The ranges were signalled, the big guns were aimed,

and suddenly the air quivered with the thunder of their discharge. There

was a gleam of fire at their muzzles, followed by dense clouds of smoke,

as the shells screamed over the sea. The morning promise of a fine day

had gone. The sky became overcast, and the air was thick with a drizzle

of rain.

[Illustration: Battle off the Falkland Islands, December 8, 1914.]

We will first follow the fortunes of the British battle cruisers now

engaged in a fierce duel with the _Gneisenau_ and the _Scharnhorst_.

About two o'clock it was discovered that the British vessels were

diverging from the enemy, who, seeing this, turned to starboard, in the

hope of getting away. At once the British ships turned starboard too,

and this brought them again within effective range. The smoke was now

impeding the firing, so Admiral Sturdee worked up to top speed, and got

on the other side of the enemy, from which position the _Scharnhorst_

was pounded mercilessly. You can picture the scene for yourselves: the

roar of the guns, the scream of the shells, the loud crashes as shots

went home, the wash of the waves, the whistle of the rising breeze, the

grinding of the hydraulic machinery as the turrets swung round, the

throb of the engines--all uniting in a chorus of deafening and incessant

noise.

The _Scharnhorst_ was soon in the throes of her last agony. Clouds of

smoke rose from her, and spurts of bright flame. Shot after shot struck

her, and though she returned the fire, the British vessels were too far

away for her shells to do much damage. Her 8.2-inch guns could not cope

with the 12-inch monsters of the battle cruisers. At three o'clock

Admiral Sturdee, seeing that the end of the _Scharnhorst_ was near, sent

out this signal to his ships: "God save the King." By 3.30 the masts and

funnels of the enemy had been shot away, and at five minutes past four

she listed to port and turned bottom upwards. In a cloud of steam and

smoke she disappeared amidst the swirling waters, her propellers still

going and her flag still flying. Seven hundred and sixty brave men and

their gallant admiral had gone to their doom.

Fire was now concentrated on the _Gneisenau_, and soon she was done for.

At half-past five, when her upper works were a total wreck, when one of

her turrets had been blown overboard and flames were raging, she ceased

firing. Several times her flag had been shot away, but every time it had

been replaced. The three British vessels now closed in on her; her

engines were smashed to fragments, but with one gun she still fought on.

Soon after six o'clock she began to settle down, and Admiral Sturdee

signalled to his consorts, "Cease fire." Six hundred of her crew had

been killed, and the survivors were now lined up on deck waiting for the

end. Then she suddenly heeled over, her stern rose high in the air, and

a few moments later she too disappeared. The sea was dotted with men

battling for life amidst the waves.

An officer on board the _Invincible_ thus describes the errand of mercy

on which the British were soon engaged:--

"Now came the awful part. The _Inflexible_, _Carnarvon_, and

ourselves hurried up to where she had disappeared, shown by

slightly discoloured water, and on coming up close saw a good

amount of wreckage with men clinging to it. Never shall I forget

it: they were mostly calling out, and it sounded like a wail to

us. We all lowered boats as quickly as possible, and picked up

as many as possible; but heaps must have sunk, as the water was

40 degrees and they were all numb. It was awful being on the

ship, because when all the boats were away they kept floating

past, some swimming, some unconscious, just beneath the water.

We lowered people down on bow-lines, and hauled them up the

ship's side; some of them were quite dead when they came in.

Altogether this ship saved about 115, of which fourteen were

dead."

Meanwhile what had happened to the _Dresden_, _Nürnberg_, and _Leipzig_,

which were being chased by the _Glasgow_, _Kent_, and _Cornwall_? The

battle between these light cruisers was more equal than the fight which

I have just described. All day the struggle continued. The _Kent_, which

was chasing the _Nürnberg_, got far out of sight of land, and lost touch

with her consorts. It was feared that she had been lost, especially as

no reply was received to the numberless calls sent out to her. Late in

the afternoon of the next day she returned safely to Stanley with her

wireless shot away, and showing every mark of fierce combat. Her silk

ensign and Jack, presented by the ladies of the county of Kent, had been

torn to ribbons.

The _Nürnberg_ could steam a knot faster than the _Kent_, but the

British stokers and engineers worked like heroes. They piled her

furnaces high with fuel, and strained her engines to the utmost. When

the engineers reported that coal was running short, the captain replied,

"Very well, then; have a go at the boats." Accordingly the boats were

broken up, the wood was smeared with oil and passed into the furnaces.

Shortly afterwards the wooden ladders, doors, and almost everything that

would burn followed the boats. She managed to work up to 25 knots--a

knot and a half more than her registered speed--and slowly but surely

came within range of the enemy.

[Illustration: The Sinking of the Nürnberg by the British Light Cruiser

Kent.

(_Drawn by Montagu Dawson from a sketch by an eye-witness. By permission

of The Sphere._)]

The _Nürnberg_ was well fought, and the _Kent_ was hit several times. A

bursting shell set fire to some cordite charges, and a flash of flame

went down the hoist into the ammunition passage. Sergeant Charles Mayer

instantly picked up a charge of cordite and hurled it into safety. He

then seized a fire hose, and by flooding the compartment averted all

danger. But for this heroic action there would have been an explosion,

and the _Kent_ would probably have been put out of action, if not

destroyed altogether. By about seven o'clock the _Nürnberg_ was in

flames, and less than half an hour later she sank, her guns firing to

the last. As she disappeared some of her crew waved the German ensign

from the quarter-deck.

The _Glasgow_ and the _Cornwall_ came within range of the _Leipzig_

about three in the afternoon, and for six hours they engaged her. From

time to time she turned and fired a salvo at her pursuers; but though

shells fell fast and thick around the _Glasgow_, there were few

casualties, though many narrow escapes. Not till nine o'clock was the

_Leipzig_ finally disposed of. As the darkness of a wet night closed in,

she heeled over and went down. The German transports and colliers had

been sunk and their crews saved earlier in the day by the _Bristol_ and

the _Macedonia_. Of von Spee's squadron, only the _Dresden_ and the

armed liner _Eitel Friedrich_[182] remained.

The battered _Dresden_ had managed to escape early in the fight, and she

was lost sight of for many weeks. Ultimately she was cornered by the

_Kent_ and the _Cornwall_ off Juan Fernandez[183] on March 18, 1915, and

after a five minutes' action was forced to hoist the white flag. When

her crew were taken off she was in flames. Finally her magazine

exploded, and she sank.

* * * * *

Such was the first decisive naval battle of the war. It was a triumph

not only for the officers and men of the British squadron, but also for

the Admiralty, which had so skilfully and secretly planned the whole

enterprise. The British victory was well-nigh complete; only one warship

escaped, and our loss was small. The _Invincible_ had no casualties; the

_Inflexible_ had one man killed. The _Kent_, which fought the most

stubborn engagement, lost four men killed and twelve wounded; while the

_Glasgow_ had nine killed and four wounded. The German loss was

terrible. Some 3,000 men must have perished, including von Spee and two

of his sons. Let us do honour to those of our foes who sank beneath the

waves on that dread day. "The German admiral fought as Cradock had

fought; the German sailors died as Cradock's men had died. There can be

no higher praise."

[Footnote 180: See Shakespeare's _Henry V._, Act iv., Scene 3.]

[Footnote 181: King Peter was born in 1844.]

[Footnote 182: She was afterwards interned at Newport News, on the

northern shore of the estuary of the James River, Virginia.]

[Footnote 183: Rocky island belonging to Chile, 400 miles off the coast

of that country. Alexander Selkirk lived four years on this island, and

his story formed the basis of De Foe's _Robinson Crusoe_.]

CHAPTER XXXV.

NAVAL RAIDS ON THE EAST COAST OF ENGLAND.

Every British boy and girl remembers Campbell's stirring lines:--[184]

"Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep."

In these days of fast warships, aeroplanes, and airships, we can no

longer say that "Britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along the

steep." While it is probably true that no invasion of Great Britain

could be successful while the British Navy remains undefeated, it is

likewise true that the Navy in war time cannot guarantee that an enemy

with bases on the North Sea will not be able to make sudden swoops upon

certain parts of the British coast. During the darkness of night or

amidst the obscurity of fog, fast warships can dash across the North

Sea, turn their guns on seaside towns for a short time, and then hurry

back to the safety of their own waters before a British fleet can catch

them. Aeroplanes and airships can also fly across by day and drop bombs

on coast towns by night. Of course, such attacks can never decide the

war. At the best they can only cause panic and spread dismay amongst the

people. The British, however, are not easily frightened or dismayed.

Those who know the British temper best will tell you that such naval

raids and air attacks can only make our people more determined than ever

to defeat the enemy.

Perhaps you think that the Navy ought to protect coast towns from sudden

raids. You must remember that the business of the Navy is to destroy the

fleets of the enemy, and that it must always be ready to give battle

whenever occasion offers. Were our warships to be strung out along the

coast for the protection of towns, they would be an easy prey; they

would be quite unable to concentrate rapidly in order to meet the enemy

when he came out in strength or to fall upon him in the open sea on his

way to or from an attack on our coasts.

During the month of October, when the German guns thundering against

Ypres could be heard across the Channel, we began to prepare seriously

against raids and even invasion. Mine fields were laid along the

threatened shores, and within easy reach of all possible landing-places

Yeomanry and Territorials were stationed, trenches were dug, wire

entanglements were erected, and anti-aircraft guns were mounted. Over

and over again there were false alarms that the enemy were coming. In

the early days of November he made his first appearance.

Late on the afternoon of 2nd November eight German warships steamed out

of the mouth of the Elbe, and cleared for action, ready for a descent

upon the east coast of England. Probably some of the many German spies

who then swarmed in the eastern counties had reported that the coast was

clear, and that a sudden swoop had every prospect of success. The

squadron consisted of the _Seydlitz_, the _Moltke_, and the _Von der

Tann_, battle cruisers; the _Bluecher_ and the _Yorck_, armoured

cruisers; and the _Kolberg_, the _Graudenz_, and the _Strassburg_, light

cruisers. All but the _Yorck_ could steam 25 knots an hour, and the

battle cruisers mounted 11-inch guns. Early on the morning of the 3rd

they ran through the nets of a fishing fleet about eight miles east of

Lowestoft, and sighted an old coast patrol boat, the _Halcyon_. Shots

were fired at her, but she managed to get away unpursued, with her

wireless apparatus, bridge and funnel damaged, and one man wounded.

By eight in the morning the German ships were ten miles off Yarmouth,

and had begun to aim their guns at the wireless station and the naval

air station. Their shells ploughed the beach or plumped harmlessly into

the sea. For a quarter of an hour they kept up their cannonade without

doing any damage. Then they retired, and while doing so threw out mines

to prevent pursuit. Later in the day a British submarine, D5, ran on one

of these mines and was blown up. Before the voyage ended the engineer

was hoisted on his own petard.[185] The _Yorck_ collided with another of

the mines, and went to the bottom with all her crew.

The destruction of von Spee's squadron off the Falkland Islands aroused

much anger and bitterness in Germany, and many Germans loudly complained

that their great and expensive fleet did nothing but skulk in its ports.

Stung by these reproaches, and eager to avenge the defeat in the

Southern Seas, the German naval authorities now prepared a raid upon the

Yorkshire coast. The distance between Heligoland and Scarborough is

about 320 miles. A ship leaving Heligoland at five in the evening, and

steaming between 20 and 25 knots an hour, can easily reach Scarborough

about eight in the morning, spend an hour in shelling the town, and be

back again at its base before midnight.

On the evening of 15th December, seven days after the Battle off the

Falkland Islands, a German raiding force steamed westward from

Heligoland. We do not yet know exactly what ships were included in it,

but probably Rear-Admiral Funke had with him most of the vessels which

took part in the former raid, as well as the _Derfflinger_. Before

daybreak, when a thick, cold mist lay low on the coast, the squadron

arrived off the mouth of the Tees. There the forces were divided. The

_Derfflinger_ and the _Von der Tann_, with another vessel, probably the

_Bluecher_, were sent north against the Hartlepools; while two light

cruisers, along with, probably, the _Seydlitz_ and the _Graudenz_,

sailed south against Scarborough.

According to the laws of war, which Germany has undertaken to recognize,

unfortified towns may not be bombarded. Nobody in his senses could

possibly call Scarborough a fortified town. On a green promontory there

are the picturesque ruins of a castle, now crumbling to decay, and

formerly there was a battery below it. But when the German ships

appeared off Scarborough, its only weapon of defence was an old

60-pounder Russian gun captured in the Crimea, and sent to the town as

an interesting relic. True, there was a wireless station on a hill

behind the town, and some battalions of the new army were in the

neighbourhood. Otherwise the Germans had not the shadow of an excuse for

attacking Scarborough.

A few minutes before eight o'clock, when the all-the-year-round bathers

were taking their morning dip, four strange warships were seen looming

through the mist, and a few moments later the booming of guns was heard.

Shells began to crash on the coastguard station and in the castle

grounds, and shortly afterwards the ships steamed in front of the town

to within five hundred yards of the shore. Quite unmolested, they

proceeded to bombard every large object within sight. The Grand Hotel

was struck by three shells; churches, public buildings, and

hospitals--one of them flying the Red Cross flag--were hit, and large

numbers of private houses were wrecked. Many shells were directed

against the wireless station and the gas works.

For forty minutes the bombardment continued, and probably some five

hundred shots were fired. Eighteen persons, chiefly women and children,

were killed, and about seventy were wounded. One house was struck by a

shell which glanced off a railway bridge about twenty yards distant. The

whole place crumpled up as though struck by a giant's hammer, and a

child of nine, another of five, the mother, and a soldier son, were

instantly killed, while the father and another son were severely

wounded. The number of narrow escapes was great. In some cases roofs

were torn off and walls crushed in, yet the occupants remained unharmed.

By a quarter to nine all was over, and the hulls of the raiding vessels

disappeared round the castle promontory.

* * * * *

Some fifteen miles north of Scarborough is the pleasant seaside resort

of Whitby, built on both sides of the estuary of the little river Esk.

Those of you who have spent your holidays in the town will remember the

red-tiled cottages of the fishermen, the gray walls of the quays and

houses, the little bridge, and the ships sailing up the river at high

tide. Most of the town is on the West Cliff, and across the river, on a

high, treeless headland, are the roofless ruins of an abbey on the site

of an older monastic building, which has always been regarded as the

cradle of English song. It was on this spot that the first English poem

composed in England flowed from the lips of Caedmon, a humble man who,

in the seventh century, tended the cows and slept in the byre of the

monastery, which was then under the rule of the abbess Hilda. For this

reason Whitby is sacred all the world over to lovers of English

literature. This quiet seaside place, without a vestige of

fortification, was now to receive a visit of destruction from the

sailors of a nation which has always professed to reverence art,

learning, and literature.

About nine o'clock the coastguard at Whitby saw through the haze two

warships rapidly steaming up from the south. Ten minutes later they

began firing at the coastguard station on West Cliff, where many

townsfolk gathered to watch the bombardment, which continued for a

quarter of an hour. Some of the shots damaged the coastguard station,

destroyed the western gateway of the ancient abbey on the East Cliff,

and wrecked a number of private houses. Shells fell at Ruswarp, a mile

inland, and damaged a school at Meadowfield. Happily, the scholars, who

had just begun their morning lessons, were unhurt. In all, three persons

were killed and two were injured. After the bombardment the cruisers

turned northwards, and were quickly lost to view in the haze.

* * * * *

[Illustration: The Bombardment of Hartlepool, showing shells falling on

the Battery at the end of the Pier.

(_By permission of The Illustrated London News._)]

Meanwhile the other division had visited the Hartlepools, which stand on

Tees Bay, to the north of the wide estuary of the Tees. West Hartlepool

and Hartlepool proper are really one town, with important docks and

shipbuilding yards, which at this time were busily engaged on Government

orders. The port is defended by two small batteries of 6-inch guns, so

the Germans were able to say that they were attacking a fortified place.

West Hartlepool had no defence whatever--it was without a single gun.

There were some companies of the new army in the town, and in the bay a

gunboat, a destroyer, and a submarine were stationed.

About the time when the bombardment of Scarborough began this British

flotilla encountered the _Derfflinger_, the _Von der Tann_, and the

_Bluecher_ about eight miles from the coast, on the north side of the

peninsula on which Old Hartlepool stands. The British flotilla was, of

course, hopelessly outclassed by the German cruisers, but with great

gallantry it tried to close in and torpedo the enemy. Shots were

exchanged, and the British patrol vessels were obliged to run for

safety, with some five men killed and twenty-two wounded. The German

cruisers now approached within 2¼ miles of the shore, and their guns

opened fire. At once the two batteries, which were manned by

Territorials of the Durham Garrison Artillery, who had never before

fired a shot in anger, engaged the German ships with the greatest

gallantry, and fought like veterans; but their 6-inch guns could not

cope with the 8-inch and 11-inch guns of the enemy. Shells from the

German warships burst in and around the "Heugh" battery, and killed

several men.

The _Bluecher_ now engaged the batteries while the other vessels moved

farther north, shelled Old Hartlepool, and fired over the peninsula at

West Hartlepool and the docks. Both the shore batteries claimed to have

made hits. The streets of the old town suffered greatly; many houses and

the gas works were destroyed, churches, hospitals, workhouses,

factories, schools, and private houses were struck, and one of the

shipbuilding yards was damaged. The docks, however, were untouched,

though seven ships in them were injured. The streets were full of people

when the bombardment began, and little children going to school and

mothers with babies in their arms were killed. The total death-roll was

119, including nine men of the King's forces, and over four hundred

persons were injured. Some six hundred houses were damaged or destroyed.

At 8.50 the fire ceased, and the cruisers disappeared, throwing out

mines to prevent pursuit. That night three steamers making for the port

struck some of these mines, and went down, with much loss of life.

The temper of the townsfolk was admirable. There were confusion, of

course, and some panic, but for the most part the people remained calm

and collected. The girls at the Hartlepool Telephone Exchange, for

example, worked on steadily through the cannonade. The moment the danger

was over the work of rescue and relief was begun, and the ordinary

business of the day was resumed. It is said that one old lady, hearing

the crash of the bursting shells, asked what was happening. When she was

told, she remarked, "Hey! is it only Germans? I was frightened it was

thunder!" Many of the little children who had been injured by the

bursting shells or by the fall of houses showed wonderful courage in

their agony.

Between nine and ten o'clock on that December morning the German vessels

came together again, and started on their homeward voyage. Unhappily

they managed to escape, but only by the skin of their teeth. Before the

first shell was fired our Grand Fleet knew that the German squadron was

off the Yorkshire coast, and immediately two battle cruisers and half a

dozen battleships were sent off to engage the enemy. The fog, however,

thickened as they ran south, until it stretched across the waters in a

series of belts. Nevertheless the battle cruisers came within eight

miles of the German vessels, which at once changed course. Just when it

seemed that they were at our mercy the fog grew denser, and in the

obscurity they made good their escape.

Though the German warships had escaped, they had certainly suffered. The

captain of the _Bluecher_ afterwards confessed that he had ten killed

and twenty wounded, and two guns put out of action. The _Von der Tann_

probably suffered even more severely, and the _Seydlitz_ did not go

scot-free.

When the news reached the Fatherland that a German squadron had

bombarded English coast towns and had returned in safety there was great

rejoicing. Soon, however, America and other neutral nations began to

express their horror that undefended towns should have been attacked,

and the Germans tried to excuse themselves by declaring that they had

only attacked fortified places and an important naval signal station. As

you know, the only town of the three with a semblance of defence is

Hartlepool. As a matter of fact, the Germans simply killed unarmed and

peaceful townsfolk in order to terrify the British people, and convince

them of the hopelessness of continuing the struggle with Germany. The

only result was to send a flock of recruits to the colours, and to heap

further disgrace on the German Government. Mr. Winston Churchill summed

up the situation exactly: "Whatever feats of arms the German Navy may

hereafter perform, the stigma of the baby-killers of Scarborough will

brand its officers and men while sailors sail the seas."

[Footnote 184: From _Ye Mariners of England_.]

[Footnote 185: A proverb meaning caught in his own trap. The petard was

a kind of bomb employed for blowing open gates, etc.]

CHAPTER XXXVI.

WINTER IN THE TRENCHES.

We must now return to the Western front and briefly follow the course of

the fighting down to the end of the year. With the failure of the

Kaiser's great and costly effort to break through the thin British lines

before Ypres the critical moment had passed. Thenceforward through the

rain and sleet and snow of winter the armies faced each other in

trenches, and though the guns were rarely silent, and there were attacks

and counter-attacks without number, nothing decisive took place. On both

sides the combatants were more anxious to make their positions secure

than to win new points of vantage.

During the closing days of November there were several gallant assaults

on the German trenches by British troops, and in some of them Victoria

Crosses were won. On the 23rd the Germans captured 800 yards of the

trenches held by the 34th Sikh Pioneers, but a desperate counter-attack

across the frosty snow in the darkness won them back again. It was in

this fighting that Naik Darwan Sing Negi, as related on page 170, won

the highest award of valour.

In December the trench fighting was keener and more frequent. In the

first days of the month the French captured the ferryman's house on the

east bank of the Ypres Canal, between Dixmude and Bixschoote. For weeks

they had striven to secure this post, and it was only won by much

bloodshed. Shortly afterwards information was received that the German

lines had been weakened by the withdrawal of troops sent to help von

Hindenburg in the East, and that a good opportunity afforded itself for

an attempt to improve the Allied position, especially where it was

weakest--that is, from Klein Zillebeke to Messines, where the Germans

were posted on low ridges which gave them good gun positions. On 14th

December at seven in the morning, our guns heavily bombarded two wooded

spurs to the north of Messines, which were then in possession of the

enemy. The Royal Scots advanced against one of these spurs, and the

Gordon Highlanders against the other; but though they showed the

greatest gallantry in the attack, only the western edge of one position

was won. Neither we nor the Germans could make headway in this

direction.

It was in the neighbourhood of La Bassée that the most extensive

operations were undertaken. On the first two days of December Maud'huy's

left wing carried the Château of Vermelles,[186] three miles south of

the canal. Guns posted at the château forced the Germans to retire

behind the railway and abandon a village. It was at once occupied, and a

gain of a mile and a half was registered.

[Illustration: The Fighting near La Bassée, December 19, 1914.]

Sir James Willcocks now decided that the time was ripe for an attack by

the Indian Corps on the advanced trenches opposite to them. Two Indian

divisions then held a position from Cuinchy[187] across the railway and

canal through Givenchy, and east of Festubert to Neuve Chapelle. The

brigade on the right attacked at 4.30 on the morning of 19th December,

and carried two lines of trenches, but found at daybreak that it had no

supports on either side. It held on until dark, when it had to retire.

The same fate overtook the brigade on the left. At first successful, it

was finally driven back to its own lines.

Next day, 20th December, the Germans attacked the whole Indian front.

Big guns and trench mortars prepared the way; then the German infantry

swarmed out of their trenches and attacked the brigade which lay north

of Givenchy. The Indians were forced to fall back, and by ten o'clock

the Germans had captured a large part of the village. Farther south our

line stood firm; but the capture of Givenchy was a serious blow, for it

formed the pivot of our front. Reinforcements were hurried up, and to

the 1st Manchesters, the 4th Suffolks, and two battalions of French

Territorials was assigned the task of recovering the lost position. At

five in the evening the Manchesters and Suffolks dashed upon the

village, retook it, and cleared the enemy out of two lines of trenches

to the north-east, though they could not dislodge them to the north.

Meanwhile General Macbean with an Indian force delivered an attack on

the German position; but it failed, and the whole of his troops were

driven back. Farther north there was serious trouble too. The advance of

the Germans north of Givenchy had exposed the right of an Indian

brigade, which included the 1st Seaforth Highlanders. All the afternoon

of the 20th the Germans shelled the Indian left fiercely, and the troops

suffered severely. Sir John French tells us that they were "pinned to

the ground by artillery fire." North of the Seaforths a battalion of the

2nd Gurkhas gave way, and though the 2nd Black Watch managed to close

the gap, there was a dint in our line which became a serious danger.

That afternoon Sir Douglas Haig was ordered to bring up the whole of the

1st Division to the support of the battered line. His troops attacked

with great vigour, and by nightfall on 21st December most of our

original trenches from Givenchy to Festubert had been won back.

Meanwhile the 2nd Brigade was fighting hard farther north, and by 10

p.m. had carried the support trenches of those from which the 2nd

Gurkhas had been driven. The fire trenches which the Gurkhas had

occupied had been utterly destroyed by the enemy's shells, and could no

longer be used. By the evening of 23rd December the whole line had been

restored, and there was no longer any immediate danger. The Indians who

had given way had only done so when worn out with two months' struggle,

and when they had lost some ten thousand men. Thanks to Sir Douglas

Haig's prompt help, the situation had been saved.

[Illustration: The Prince of Wales making a Tour of the British Lines in

Flanders.

(_Photo, Central News._)]

* * * * *

The following Victoria Crosses were awarded for outstanding deeds of

gallantry during December 1914:--

Private Henry Howey Robson, 2nd Battalion Royal Scots (Lothian

Regiment). On December 14, 1914, near Kemmel,[188] during an attack on

the German position, Private Robson gallantly left his trench under a

very heavy fire, and brought in a wounded non-commissioned officer.

Later on he attempted the rescue of another man, and though wounded,

persevered in his efforts until a second shot rendered him helpless.

Private Robson, who belonged to South Shields, subsequently received the

freedom of his native town as a tribute to his splendid bravery.

Private James Mackenzie, 2nd Battalion Scots Guards. On the 19th

December, near Fromelles, about five miles south by west of Armentières,

a stretcher-party tried to reach a wounded man lying in front of the

German trenches, but was compelled to abandon the attempt owing to the

fierce fire of the enemy. Private Mackenzie thereupon went out in the

midst of a storm of bullets and succeeded in bringing the poor fellow

into safety. Later in the day he tried to rescue another wounded man,

but unhappily was killed in the attempt. "Greater love hath no man than

this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

Lieutenant Philip Neame, Royal Engineers. On the same day, near Neuve

Chapelle, Lieutenant Neame, under a very heavy fire and a shower of

bombs, held back the enemy, and succeeded in rescuing all the wounded

men whom it was possible to move. For this display of courage and

devotion he was rightly awarded the highest token of valour.

Private Abraham Acton, 2nd Battalion Border Regiment, and Private James

Smith, 3rd Battalion Border Regiment. These two soldiers on 21st

December, near Fromelles, volunteered to go out and bring in a wounded

man, who for seventy-five hours had been lying exposed close to the

enemy's trenches. They succeeded in rescuing him, and later in the day

again left their trench, in order to bring another wounded man into

cover. While carrying him into safety they were under fire for a full

hour, and every moment of it they ran the risk of being shot down.

* * * * *

On the last day of November our troops were greatly delighted to hear

that his Majesty the King had come to visit them. The Prince of Wales,

who was a student at Oxford, and an enthusiastic member of the Officers'

Training Corps when the war broke out, had already been at the front for

some months as a member of Sir John French's Staff. Britons all over the

world were delighted to know that the heir to the throne had set such a

fine example to the young manhood of the nation, and that he had thrown

himself into his military duties with great zeal and devotion. From the

moment our troops left British shores the King's thoughts had been with

them, and as soon as circumstances permitted he crossed over to France

to cheer them by his presence, to show his personal interest in their

welfare, to visit the wounded, and to pay the highest compliment in his

power to our gallant Allies. Never since George II. had fought at

Dettingen, in 1743, had a British sovereign taken his place among his

troops on the field of battle.

Accompanied by the Prince of Wales, his Majesty first visited the

hospitals, where he spoke with great sympathy to many of the wounded

men, not only British but German. Many a poor fellow lying on his couch

of suffering found himself better able to bear his pain because he knew

that his King had a kindly thought for him. His Majesty also visited the

Indian hospital, and talked with many of the men, who were delighted to

learn that in some cases he knew the circumstances under which they had

been wounded. One Sepoy sprang from his bed as his Majesty appeared, and

called out in the only English that he knew: "God save the King!"

Later on, his Majesty made a tour of the whole British front, and

inspected all the troops who were not actually in the trenches. It is

said that he also visited the bivouacs by night, and in every way made

himself acquainted with the conditions under which the men were living

and fighting. He also presented the Distinguished Service Order and

Distinguished Conduct Medals to a number of soldiers who had been

mentioned in dispatches, and conferred the Victoria Cross on some of

those who had won the award early in the war. An officer of the Royal

Engineers thus describes the inspection of his division:--

"Punctually at 1.30 the sound of distant cheering announced the

arrival of the King. The troops all along the road gave three

cheers, by regiments. . . . The King then walked right round the

line of troops, through mud and slush. I found myself bringing

up the rear with the Prince of Wales just beside me. Not a word

was spoken all the way round; it was really a most impressive

sight--one of those showery days with spells of fine weather and

blue sky; all round the field warriors with fixed bayonets and

drawn swords; in the centre the King and his suite; and up

above, against the blue, two British aeroplanes, purring away,

keeping off the hostile Taubes. . . . After this inspection, the

King presented the medals. The men came up in turn, and the King

pinned the medal on each and said a few words to each with a

smile; they _did_ look proud as they went away. As soon as the

presentation was over the troops gave the 'Royal Salute, Present

Arms,' which the King graciously acknowledged from the middle of

the field. . . . At 2 p.m. all the guns in the line let off a

round in his honour."

Another account tells us that the King was specially interested in the

Leicesters, who had only come out of the trenches the previous midnight.

"They were in a lovely state of mud and unshavedness. The King

simply revelled in them. He stopped and chatted to quite every

one man in three, wanted to know all about trench fighting, and

didn't seem to mind a bit their being covered in mud and

unshaved for days. The Prince was just as interested. He

wandered about at will, chatting with all and sundry. One man

was wearing a pair of German boots, which interested the King

very much. He spent quite twenty minutes with the Leicesters,

and they deserved it. They have done splendidly all through."

During the visit the King was taken to a commanding point on the line

between Gheluvelt and Messines, from which he could see a wide stretch

of Flanders and many of the places associated with the recent fighting.

On his left he saw much-battered Ypres, and could clearly distinguish

the Cathedral and the Cloth Hall. Afterwards he saw the woods east of

Ypres, in which some of the hardest fights had been fought, and where so

many British and their brave allies rest for ever from their heroic

labours. He also met the President of the French Republic, General Foch,

and other French generals, and conferred the Order of Merit upon General

French. His final act before leaving for England was to confer the Order

of the Garter on King Albert. Belgian troops were drawn up to receive

him in the little town of Furnes, and he told them how greatly he

admired the courage and constancy which they and their King had

displayed during their terrible ordeal. So ended a visit which not only

put new heart into our men, but welded the Allies into still closer

friendship. It was felt by all who were present that the enemy's guns

would boom in vain against an alliance so strengthened by the presence

of Britain's King at the battle front.

[Illustration: "Three Cheers for the King!"

His Majesty the King, followed by the Prince of Wales and the Staff,

passing along the lines of British troops drawn up to greet him.

(_Drawn by F. Matania from a sketch by an eye-witness. By permission of

The Sphere._)]

* * * * *

Before I close the record of the year, something must be said of the

fighting between the French and the Germans during the month of

December. We must not forget that the British then held less than

one-tenth of the Allied line in the West, and that the French trenches

extended from La Bassée to the borders of Switzerland. During December,

save for continuous sniping and artillery duels, there was little

fighting except in the Argonne, along the Moselle, and on the steeps of

the Vosges. In the Argonne, the left wing of Sarrail's army of Verdun

and the right wing of the Crown Prince's army struggled in the wooded

country between Varennes and Vienne.[189] You will remember that during

October the Germans had made a bold bid to capture this pass which

enabled Sarrail to join arms with Langle's army in Champagne.

In the wooded country, and in the hamlets north and south of the road

crossing the forest, the Germans made many attacks during the winter,

but all failed, and in the intervals the French showed that dash and

enterprise for which they have long been famous. Some day wonderful

tales will be told of scouting enterprises amidst the dark trees, where

every figure showed up against the white ground; of adventurous snipers

concealed in the branches of lofty firs; and of fierce night assaults

amidst the snowy glens and frosty ravines. Verdun was safer than ever.

Almost every week Sarrail pushed his lines out farther, till on the east

he threatened the railway by which the Germans were supplied, and they

had to build another, out of range. At some places the opposing trenches

were only twenty yards apart. The Germans still clung to the bridgehead

at St. Mihiel, on the west bank of the Meuse, but they could advance no

farther.

The army of Lorraine, strongly entrenched on the east bank of the

Moselle, not only maintained itself, but on the left wing gained ground;

while in the Vosges the Chasseurs Alpins,[190] mounted on skis, made

fierce attacks on the crests amidst the deep snow, and by their

mountaineering skill and dashing enterprise carried many of them. In

this section of the front there was no trench warfare, but open fighting

such as the French love. When they won a German signal station on one of

the crests they advanced with bugles blowing, singing the

_Marseillaise_, and carrying before them the tricolour. Over and over

again the Chasseurs, making sudden descents along mountain tracks, fell

upon the enemy, and caught him unawares. They hauled their guns into

almost impossible positions, and bombarded him from unexpected quarters.

They gave him no rest, day or night.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, however, trench warfare was the order of the day, and

something must be said about its main features before I conclude this

volume. Let us pay a visit to the Flanders front in December. We find

that the hastily-constructed trenches of October have been turned into a

series of strong fortifications. We notice that the advanced firing line

consists for the most part of a number of short, separate trenches,[191]

each of which the enemy must win before he can advance and all of which

he cannot command by flank fire. Many of these advanced trenches, though

at least five feet deep, are not more than two or three feet wide. They

are connected with the next line of trenches by means of zigzag

communication trenches, and are but lightly held, being employed chiefly

as observation posts.

[Illustration: Christmas Greetings from the Trenches.

_Photo, Photopress._]

The stronghold of each series of trenches is the main firing trench in

which the bulk of the defenders live. These trenches are wide and deep,

and are floored with wood or hurdles. Each trench is divided into

sections by means of a wall or traverse, jutting to the rear, and

leaving but a narrow passage round it. By means of these traverses each

section of the trench becomes a separate trench, and the whole of it

cannot be enfiladed. The front towards the enemy consists of a parapet

of sand-bags with loopholes, from which the men fire. As a rule, each

trench is supplied with one or more machine guns.

In many places the trenches are so close, and so keen a watch is kept,

that it is highly dangerous for a man to show his head above the

parapet. The enemy is observed through an arrangement of mirrors called

a periscope. Some of the main trenches are roofed to afford head cover,

and in the walls or in pits a little to the rear are the

"dug-outs"--that is, caves into which the men retire to sleep or to take

shelter when the shelling becomes hot. Some distance in front of the

parapet there is a strong wire entanglement. If the wire has not been

previously destroyed by artillery fire, it must be cut before the enemy

can get into the trench itself.

You notice that the trenches are not a fixture. Both sides "sap" towards

their opponents' line, and drive mines forward until they are close to,

or even under, the opposite trenches. In these mines charges are fired,

and if successful, part of the trenches is blown in, and an infantry

attack follows. More than once the miners of one side have found

themselves separated from the miners of the other side by a mere wall of

soil. Then there is feverish haste to fire a charge before the other

side can do so.

All through the day "snipers" are busy on both sides. They occupy pits,

or craters made by shells, or ensconce themselves in ruins, or hide

amidst the branches of trees, and try to pick off all opponents who show

themselves. At night patrols steal out to the "No Man's Land" between

the lines, and sometimes fall in with an enemy patrol and rush it with

the bayonet. What are called "listening patrols" creep as near as

possible to the opposite trenches, and try to overhear conversation,

and find out what is going on in the enemy's lines. Each side burns

flares to light up the darkness and make visible all movements in "No

Man's Land."

[Illustration: Bomb-throwers at Work.

_By permission of The Sphere._]

In this war every device which science can suggest is in use. In trench

fighting, however, we have gone back to the ways of our forefathers.

Mortars are employed to throw bombs into the enemy's trenches, and hand

grenades, such as those used by the earliest grenadiers, are flung by

each side. A correspondent of the _Times_ thus describes the

bomb-throwers:--

"Around their middle they carry some twenty or thirty bombs,

little cylinders fastened on a long stick, around which fall

streamers of ribbon. The clothing of ribbons suggests a mixed

breed of Scotsmen and Red Indians who have taken to wearing the

Red Indian head-dress as a kilt. In action they are stranger

still. Crouching down among the barbed wire, the bombers, with

their supporting infantrymen with fixed bayonets, raise

themselves a little from the earth, and seizing one of these

rocket-like bombs from their belts, grasp it by the stick and

hurl it high above the parapet. It twists and travels

uncertainly through the air, and then finally the streamers

settle it in its flight, and it plunges straight as a plumb line

down into the trench. There is a noise as though a gigantic

Chinese cracker were jumping along the zigzag trench, and clouds

of greenish smoke rise up, through which hurtle lumps of earth

and stone and fragments of the outer iron ring of the bomb which

constitute its shrapnel."[192]

Life in the trenches must always be uncomfortable, and may be very

trying indeed. During the winter West Flanders was a huge bog; the

canals and rivers overflowed their banks, and many of the trenches were

always knee-deep in slime and icy water. Large numbers of our men

suffered from frost-bite in the feet. Though they were clad in sheepskin

coats, and everything possible was done for their comfort, they had to

bear trials and hardships such as few troops have ever endured before.

The cheerfulness of our men during those bitter, dreary, and trying days

was amazing. The British food supplies were excellent and unfailing.

Never before has an army been fed so well. Arrangements were also made

for giving the men a hot bath and a change of clothing when they

returned from the trenches to their billets in the villages behind the

firing line.

* * * * *

So the year wore on, and the season of "peace and good will towards men"

arrived. On Christmas Eve a hard frost set in, and Christmas Day broke

cold and misty. On that morning every officer and man in the field

received a card from the King and the Queen, bearing portraits of their

Majesties, and this greeting copied from the King's own handwriting:

"With our best wishes for Christmas, 1914. May God protect you and bring

you home safe.--Mary R. George R. I." The special card for the sick and

wounded bore these words: "May you soon be restored to health." From

Princess Mary's Soldiers' and Sailors' Christmas Fund came a box with an

embossed cover, and inside a small gilt casket, containing a photograph

of the Princess, and a card on which was printed: "With best wishes for

a Happy Christmas and a Victorious New Year from Princess Mary and

friends at home." Smokers found a pipe, an ounce of tobacco, and a

packet of cigarettes in the box; while non-smokers discovered a supply

of chocolate. An immense number of parcels containing other Christmas

gifts also arrived, and everywhere Christmas fare was abundant.

Strange scenes were witnessed in parts of the firing line during the

festive season. A member of the London Rifle Brigade says:--

"We had rather an interesting time in the trenches on Christmas

Eve and Christmas Day. We were in places less than 100 yards

from the Germans, and held conversation with them across. It was

agreed in our part of the firing line that there should be no

firing and no thought of war on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day,

so they sang and played to us several of their own tunes, and

some of ours, such as 'Home, Sweet Home,' 'Tipperary,' etc.,

while we did the same for them. The regiment on our left all got

out of their trenches, and every time a flare went up they

simply stood there, cheered, and waved their hats, and not a

shot was fired on them. The singing and playing continued all

night, and the next day (Christmas) our fellows paid a visit to

the German trenches, and they did likewise. Cigarettes, cigars,

addresses, etc., were exchanged, and every one, friend and foe,

were real good pals. One of the German officers took a photo of

English and German soldiers arm in arm with exchanged caps and

helmets.

"On Christmas Eve the Germans burned coloured lights and candles

along the top of their trenches, and on Christmas Day a football

match was played between them and us in front of the trench.

They even allowed us to bury all our dead lying in front, and

some of them, with hats in hand, brought in one of our dead

officers from behind their trench, so that we could bury him

decently. They were really magnificent in the whole thing and

jolly good sorts. I have now a very different opinion of the

Germans. Both sides have started the firing, and are already

enemies again. Strange it all seems, doesn't it?"

So with a soldiers' truce ended the first five months of the war. In the

West, deadlock had set in; Allies and Germans were facing each other

over a front of well-nigh five hundred miles from the sodden fields of

Flanders to within sight of Alpine snows, winning here and losing there

a few yards of fiercely-contested ground, and enduring with what

patience they could command the icy showers and the biting frost of

winter. In the East, from the East Prussian wilderness of lake and

morass to the wind-swept passes of the Carpathians, there was the same

deadlock. On both of the main fronts of war the forces of the Central

Powers were held up, and their dream of a swift and easy conquest had

vanished. Nevertheless, with nearly all Belgium, a large part of

industrial France, and a considerable portion of Russian Poland in their

possession, they felt confident, at least, of an advantageous peace.

Amongst the Allies, however, there was no thought of peace. Unprepared

for war, they had, nevertheless, foiled the first and most dangerous

onslaught of a foe that, according to all the rules, should have swept

them away like chaff before the wind. They had gained time in which to

make up for their lack of readiness, and they now began to realize that

they must put forth every effort if they were to defeat the mighty

forces arrayed against them.

In Britain men flocked to the colours, and on every open space in the

country drilling was going on. Already we had a million men in arms, and

within six months we hoped to put double that number into the field.

Time was with us. Every day saw us growing greater in men and resources,

while every day the enemy was bound to decline in strength. So the

Allies, strong in friendship and undaunted by their heavy losses, faced

the future with unshaken courage and undaunted hope. "We shall never

sheathe the sword, which we have not lightly drawn," said the Prime

Minister, "until Belgium recovers in full measure all, and more than

all, that she has sacrificed, until France is safe against the fear of

invasion, until the rights of the small nations of Europe are placed on

an unshakable foundation, and until the military tyranny of Prussia is

wholly and finally destroyed." Such was the determination of Britons all

over the world at the close of the year 1914.

[Footnote 186: _Ver-mell´._]

[Footnote 187: _Quin´she._]

[Footnote 188: Five miles south-south-west of Ypres.]

[Footnote 189: See Vol. II., p. 281.]

[Footnote 190: French soldiers specially trained for fighting in the

Alps. They are splendid mountaineers, and were quite at home on the high

crests of the Vosges.]

[Footnote 191: See diagram, p. 128.]

[Footnote 192: Sometimes bombs are made in a rough-and-ready fashion out

of jam-pots and bully beef tins charged with explosives and loaded with

stones or scraps of iron.]

END OF VOLUME III.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.

=Transcriber's Notes:=

hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in

the original

Page 1, Pas de Calais ==> Pas-de-Calais [Ed. for consistency]

Page 29, Pas de Calais ==> Pas-de-Calais [Ed. for consistency]

Page 38, Book VI., Chaps. ==> Book VI., (Chaps.

Page 59, A Pont Fixe ==> At Pont Fixe

Page 62, Wilcocks ==> Willcocks

Page 109, Zandevoorde ==> Zandvoorde

Page 150, June 5, 1900 ==> June 5, 1900.

Page 163, decent sort of way ==> decent sort of way.

Page 198, See p. 173 ==> See p. 173.

Page 228, garrison at Przemsyl ==> garrison at Przemysl

Page 264, Tsingtau ==> Tsing-tau [Ed. for consistency]