heavy sound "boum," and the French a sharper one, "bing"; but neither of
them is very pleasant to the ear, and it requires a cultured military
taste like that of the French to enjoy the full harmony of the music
when the British "bang" is added to the general cannonading. The French
artillery is admitted to be fine, the deadly accuracy of the gunners
being highly praised by all who have watched the havoc wrought in the
German lines.
For the French soldier, however, the path of greatest glory lies in the
charge. Dash and fire are what he possesses in the highest degree. His
highly-strung temperament chafes under delays and disappointments. He
hasn't the solid, bull-dog courage that enables the British soldier to
take hard knocks, even severe punishment, and come up smiling again to
renew the battle that he will only allow to end in one way, and that
way victory.
In the advance, as one writer describes it, the French dash forward in
spasmodic movements, making immediately for cover. After a brief
breathing space they bound into the open again, and again seek any
available shelter. And so they proceed till the charge is sounded, when
with gleaming bayonets and a cry of "_pour la gloire_" upon their lips
they sweep down upon the enemy at a tremendous pace. The whole thing is
exhilarating to watch, and to the men engaged it is almost intoxicating.
They see red and the only thing that can stop them is the sheer dead
weight of the columns in front. To the French the exploit of the 9th
Lancers, already described in this volume, is the greatest thing in the
war. They would have died to have accomplished it themselves. The fine
heroics of such an exploit gives them a crazy delight. Then there are
the forlorn hopes, the bearing of messages across a zone of withering
fire, the fights for the colors. One incident which closely resembles
the exploit of the Royal Irish Fusiliers is recorded. A message had to
be borne to another regiment and volunteers sprang forward eagerly to
the call. The enemy's fire was particularly deadly at this point, and it
seemed impossible for a messenger to get through, but no man hesitated.
The first fell dead before he had traveled many yards, the second had a
leg shot off, the third by amazing luck got through without a scratch.
Deeds of this kind have endeared the French soldier to Tommy Atkins more
than all his extravagant acts of kindness, and the sympathetic bond of
valor has linked them together in the close companionship of
brothers-in-arms.
Having shown what the British soldier thinks of the French as fighting
men, it is pleasant to turn to our Ally's opinion of Tommy Atkins. Here
the letters deal in superlatives. M. Duchene, French master at
Archbishop Holgate's School, York, who was wounded with his regiment at
Verdun, writes in glowing terms of his comrades' praise. "Ah, those
English soldiers!" he says. "In my regiment you only hear such
expressions as _'Ils sont magnifiques,' 'Ils sont superbs,' 'Quels
soldats!'_ No better tribute could be given." Another Frenchman with the
army of the Republic is stirred into this eulogy in a letter to a friend
in England: "How fine they are, how splendidly they behave, these
English soldiers! In their discipline and their respect for their
officers they are magnificent, and you will never know how much we have
applauded them."
Another Frenchman, acting as interpreter with a Scottish regiment,
relates with amazement how the Highlanders go into action, "as if they
were going to a picnic, with laughing eyes and, whenever possible, with
a cigarette between their lips. Their courage is a mixture of
imperturbability and tenacity. One must have seen their immovable calm,
their heroic sang-froid, under the rain of bullets to do it justice."
Then he goes on to describe how a handful of Scots were selected to hold
back a large body of Germans in a village to enable the main body of the
British to retire in good order. They took up a position in the first
house they came to and fired away at the invaders, who rained bullets on
the building. Some of the gallant little party fell, but the others kept
up the fight. Then there came a pause in the attack, the German fire
ceased, the enemy was seeking a more sheltered position. During this
brief respite the sergeant in command of the Scots surveyed the building
they had entered. It was a small grocer's shop, and on an upper shelf he
found a few packets of chocolate. "Here, lads," he shouted, "whoever
kills his man gets a bit o' this." The firing began again, and as each
marksman succeeded, the imperturbable Scot shouted "Got him," and handed
over the prize amid roars of laughter. "Alas," comments the narrator,
"there were few prize-winners who lived to taste their reward."
The same eulogist, whose narrative was obtained by Reuter's
correspondent, also speaks of the fastidious Scot's preoccupations. He
has two--to be able to shave and to have tea. "No danger," the Frenchman
declares, "deters them from their allegiance to the razor and the
teapot. At ----, in the department of the Nord, I heard a British officer
of high rank declare with delicious calm between two attacks on the
town: 'Gentlemen, it was nothing. Let's go and have tea.' Meanwhile his
men took advantage of the brief respite to crowd round the pump, where,
producing soap and strop, they proceeded to shave minutely and
conscientiously with little bits of broken glass serving as mirrors."
The same sense of order and method also struck another Frenchman, who
speaks of the "amazing Englishmen," who carry everything with them, and
are never in want of anything, not even of sleep!
Certainly there is much truth in these tributes to the British military
organization, but that is another story and for another chapter. The
opinion of an English cavalry officer, however, may be quoted as to the
relative merits of the French and English horses. "The French horses,"
he writes, "are awful. They look after them so badly. They all say,
'What lovely horses you have,' to us, and they do look fine beside
theirs, but we look after ours so well. We always dismount and feed them
on all occasions with hay and wheat found on the farms and in stacks in
the fields, also clover. The French never do."
As a result of these observations the French appear to have been
applying themselves to the study of the British fighting force. "I know
for a fact," says Trooper G. Douglas, "that French officers have been
moving amongst us studying our methods. The French Tommies try to copy
us a lot, and they like, when they have time, to stroll into our lines
for a chat or a game; but it's precious little time there is for that
now."
But it is in character and temperament that the chief differences of the
allies lie. "Brigadier" Mary Murray, who went to the front with other
members of the Salvation Army, records a conversation she had with a
French soldier over a cup of coffee. "Ah," he said, "we lose heavily, we
French. We haven't the patience of the English. They are fine and can
wait: we must rush!" And yet Tommy Atkins can do a bit of rushing too.
Private R. Duffy, of the Rifle Brigade, sends home a lively account of
the defense of the Marne in which a mixed force of British and French
was engaged. The object to be achieved was to drive back the Germans who
were attempting to cross the river. "About half a mile from the banks,"
writes Duffy, "we came out from a wood to find a French infantry
battalion going across in the same direction. We didn't want to be
behind, so we put our best foot forward, and one of the most exciting
races you ever saw followed. We got in first by a head, as you might
say, and we were just in time to tackle a mob of Germans heading for the
crossing in disorder. We went at them with the bayonet, but they didn't
seem to have the least heart for fighting. Some of them flung themselves
in the stream and tried to swim to safety, but they were heavily
accoutered and worn out so they didn't go very far. Of about three
hundred men who tried this not more than half a dozen succeeded in
reaching the other bank."
In spite of all the hatreds the war has engendered--and one of the Royal
Lancasters declares that the sign manual of friendship between the
French and the English soldier is "a cross on the throat indicating
their wish to the Kaiser"--there is still room for passages of fine
sympathy and chivalry. One young French lieutenant distinguished himself
by carrying a wounded Uhlan to a place of safety under a heavy German
fire, English soldiers have shown equal generosity and kindness to
injured captives, and the tributes to heroic and patient nurses shine
forth in letters of gold upon the dark pages of this tragic history.
Here is a touching letter from one of the King's Own Royal Lancasters.
"In one hospital, which was a church," he writes, "there was a young
French girl helping to bandage us up. How she stood it I don't know.
There were some awful sights, but she never quailed--just a sad sweet
smile for every one. If ever any one deserved a front seat in Heaven
this young angel did. God bless her! She has the prayers and all the
love the remnants of the Fourth Division can give her."
And another pretty little tribute is paid to the kindness of a French
lady to four English soldiers billeted at her house. "She was wondrous
kind," writes one of the grateful soldiers, "and when we left for the
front Madame and her mother sobbed and wept as if we had been their own
sons."
XI
ATKINS AND THE ENEMY
In one of his fine messages from the front, Sir John French, whom the
_New York World_ has described as the "best of war correspondents,"
referred to the British soldier as "a difficult person to impress or
depress." He meant, of course, that it was no use trying to terrify
Tommy Atkins. Nothing will do that. His stupendous sense of humor
carries him, smiling, through every emergency.
But Atkins is a keen observer, and he takes on very clear and vivid
impressions of men and affairs. He hates compromises and qualifications,
and just lets you have his opinion--"biff!" as one officer expresses it.
"Bill and I have been thinking it over," says one letter from the
trenches, "and we've come to the conclusion that the German army system
is rotten." There you have the concentrated wisdom of hundreds of
soldier critics who talk of the Kaiser's great military machine as they
know it from intimate contact with the fighting force it propels. They
admit its mechanical perfection; it is the human factor that breaks
down.
Nothing has impressed Tommy Atkins more than the lack of _morale_ in the
German soldiers. "Oh, they are brave enough, poor devils; but they've
got no heart in the fighting," he says. That is absolutely true.
Hundreds of thousands of them have no notion of what they are fighting
for. Some of the prisoners declared that when they left the garrisons
they were "simply told they were going to maneuvers"; "others," says a
Royal Artilleryman, "had no idea they were fighting the English";
according to a Highland officer, surrendering Germans said their fellows
had been assured that "America and Japan were fighting on their side,
and that another Boer war was going on"; and a final illusion was
dispelled when those captured by the Royal Irish were told that the
civil war in Ireland had been "put off!"
It is not only that the men lack this moral preparation for war. Their
system of fighting is demoralizing. "They come on in close formation,
thousands of them, just like sheep being driven to the slaughter," is
the description that nine soldiers out of every ten give of the Germans
going into action. "We just mow them down in heaps," says an
artilleryman. "Lord, even a woman couldn't miss hitting them," is the
comment from the Infantry. And as for the cavalry: "Well, we just makes
holes in them," adds one of the Dragoons. At first they didn't take
cover at all, but just marched into action with their drums beating and
bands playing, "like a blooming parade," as Atkins puts it. After the
first slaughter, however, they shrank from the attack, and there is
ample evidence of eyewitnesses that the German infantry often had to be
lashed into battle by their officers. "I saw a colonel striking his own
men with his sword to prevent them running away," is one of the many
statements. Revolvers, too, were freely used for the same purpose.
But, generally speaking, there is iron discipline in the Kaiser's army.
The men obey their officers implicitly. Trooper E. Tugwell, of the
Berwicks, tells this little story of a cavalry charge from which a
German infantry regiment bolted--all but one company, whose officers
ordered them to stand: "They faced round without attempting to fire a
shot, and stood there like statues to meet the onslaught of our men. Our
chaps couldn't help admiring their fine discipline, but there's not much
room for sentiment in war, and we rode at them with the lance, and
swept them away." "They are big fellows, and, in a way, brave," writes
Private P. Case of the King's (Liverpool) Regiment, describing one of
their attacks; "they must be brave, or they would not have kept
advancing when they saw their dead so thick that they were practically
standing up." "Their officers simply won't let them surrender," says
another writer, "and so long as there's an officer about they'll stand
like sheep and be slaughtered by the thousand." The essential difference
between the German soldiers and our own is in the officering and
training, and it is admirably expressed by Private Burrell,
Northumberland Fusiliers. "_We_ are led; _they_ are driven,"[F] is
Burrell's epigram.
According to other letter writers, the German soldiers are absolutely
tyrannized over by their officers. They are horribly ill-used, badly
fed,[G] overworked, constantly under the lash. "They hate their officers
like poison, and fear them ten times more than they fear death," says
Private Martin King. "Most of the prisoners that I've seen are only fit
for the hospital, and many of them will never be fit for anything else
this side of the grave. Their officers don't seem to have any
consideration for the men at all, and we have a suspicion that the heavy
losses of German officers aren't all due to our fire. There was one
brought in who had certainly been hit by one of their own bullets, and
in the back too." Other soldiers say the same, and add that if it
weren't for dread of their officers the Germans would surrender
wholesale. "Take the officers away, and their regiments fall to pieces,"
is the dictum of one of the Somerset Light Infantry, "and that's why we
always pick off the German officers first."
There is not the slightest divergence of opinion in the British ranks as
to the German infantry fire. "Their shooting is laughable," "they
couldn't hit a haystack in an entry," and "asses with the rifle," are
how our men dispose of it. The Germans fire recklessly with their rifles
planted against their hips, while Tommy Atkins takes cool and steady
aim, and lets them have it from the shoulder. "We just knocked them over
like nine-pins," a Highlander explained. As to the German cavalry, one
Tommy expressed the prevailing opinion to nicety. "I don't want to be
nasty," he said, "but what we all pray for is just half-an-hour each
way with three times our number of Uhlans."
When it comes to artillery, however, Atkins has nothing but praise for
the enemy. Their aeroplanes flutter over the British positions and give
the gunners the exact range, and then they let go. "I can only figure it
out as being something worse than the mouth of hell," declares Private
John Stiles, 1st Gloucesters, and it may be here left at that, as the
devastating effects of artillery have already been dealt with in a
previous chapter. One thing which has puzzled and sometimes baffled our
men is the way the Germans conceal their guns. They display
extraordinary ingenuity in this direction, hiding them inside haystacks,
in leaf-covered trenches, and sometimes, unhappily, in Red Cross wagons.
Stories of German treachery are abundant, and official reports have
dealt with such shameful practises as driving prisoners and refugees in
front of them when attacking, abusing the protection of the White Flag,
and wearing Red Cross brassards in action. The men have their own
stories to tell. An Irish Guardsman records a white flag incident during
the fighting on the Aisne: "Coldstreamers, Connaughts, Grenadiers, and
Irish Guards were all in this affair, and the fight was going on well.
Suddenly the Germans in front of us raised the white flag, and we ceased
firing and went up to take our prisoners. The moment we got into the
open, fierce fire from concealed artillery was turned on us, and the
surrendered Germans picked up their rifles and pelted us with their
fire. It was horrible. They trapped us completely, and very few
escaped." The German defense of these white flag incidents was given to
Trooper G. Douglas by a prisoner who declared that the men were quite
innocent of intention to deceive, but that whenever their officers saw
the white flag they hauled it down, and compelled them to fight.
Many British soldiers suffered from the treachery of the Germans
in wearing English and French uniforms, and their letters home are
full of indignation at the practises of the enemy. It was in the
fighting following such a ruse at Landrecies that the Honorable
Archer-Windsor-Clive, of the Coldstream Guards, met his death. "Another
time," an artillery officer relates, "they ran into one of our regiments
with some of their officers dressed in French uniforms. They said 'Ne
tirez-pas, nous sommes Français,' and asked for the C.O. He came up, and
then they calmly blew his brains out!" A similar act of treachery is
recorded by Lieutenant Oswald Anne, R.A., in a letter published in the
_Leeds Mercury_: "At one place where the Berkshire Regiment was on guard
a German force arrived attired in French uniforms. To keep up the
illusion, a German called out in French from the wire entanglements that
they wanted to interview the commanding officer. A major of the
Berkshires who spoke French, went forward, and was immediately shot
down. This sort of thing is of daily occurrence." Lieutenant Edgcumbe,
son of Sir Robert Edgcumbe, Newquay, tells of another instance of
treachery in which British uniforms were used, and declares, in common
with many other officers, that he "will never again respect the Germans;
they have no code of honor!"
They strip the uniforms from the dead, come on in night attacks shouting
"Vive, l'Angleterre!" and sound the British bugle-call "Cease fire" in
the thickest of the fight. Twice in one engagement the Germans stopped
the British fire by the mean device of the bugle, and twice they charged
desperately upon the silent ranks. But in nearly every case their
punishment for these violations of the laws of civilized warfare has
been swift and terrible, and no mercy has been shown them.
Charges of barbarity are also common in letters from the battlefields.
One officer, who says he "never before realized what an awful thing war
is," writes: "We have with us in the trenches three girls who came to us
for protection. One had no clothes on, having been outraged by the
Germans. I have given her my shirt and divided my rations among them. In
consequence I feel rather hungry, having had nothing for thirty-two
hours, except some milk chocolate. Another poor girl has just come in,
having had both her breasts cut off. Luckily I caught the Uhlan officer
in the act, and with a rifle at 300 yards killed him. And now she is
with us, but, poor girl, I am afraid she will die. She is very pretty
and only about nineteen."[H]
Captain Roffey, Lancashire Fusiliers, tells how he was found wounded,
and handed over his revolver to the Germans, whereupon his captor used
it to shoot him again, and left him for dead. There is no end to the
stories of this kind, and one of the wounded vehemently declared that
the "devilry of the Germans cannot be exaggerated."
There are others amongst the wounded however, who have received nothing
but kindness from the enemy. Lieutenant H.G.W. Irwin, South Lancashire
Regiment, pays a tribute to the treatment he met with in the German
lines; Captain J.B. George, Royal Irish, "could not have been better
treated had he been the Crown Prince;" and one of the Officer's Special
Reserve says the stories of "brutality are only exceptions, and there
are exceptions in every army."
And here it is worth quoting a happy example of German chivalry. It is
taken from one of Sir John French's messages. A small party of French
under a non-commissioned officer was cut off and surrounded. After a
desperate resistance it was decided to go on fighting to the end.
Finally, the N.C.O. and one man only were left, both being wounded. The
Germans came up and shouted to them to lay down their arms. The German
commander, however, signed to them to keep their arms, and then asked
for permission to shake hands with the wounded non-commissioned officer,
who was carried off on his stretcher with his rifle by his side.
After this account of what British soldiers think of the enemy, it is
interesting to read what is the German opinion of Tommy Atkins.
Evidently the fighting men do not share the Kaiser's estimate of
"French's contemptible little army." Three very interesting letters,
written by German officers, and found in the possession of the
captives, were published in an official despatch from General
Headquarters. Here are extracts from each:
(1) "With the English troops we have great difficulties. They
have a queer way of causing losses to the enemy. They make good
trenches, in which they wait patiently. They carefully measure the
ranges for their rifle fire, and then they open a truly hellish
fire on the unsuspecting cavalry. This was the reason that we had
such heavy losses."
(2) "The English are very brave and fight to the last.... One of
our companies has lost 130 men out of 240."
(3) "We are fighting with the English Guards, Highlanders and
Zouaves. The losses on both sides have been enormous. The English
are marvelously trained in making use of the ground. One never
sees them, and one is constantly under fire. Two days ago, early
in the morning, we were attacked by immensely superior English
forces (one brigade and two battalions) and were turned out of
our positions. The fellows took five guns from us. It was a
tremendous hand-to-hand fight. How I escaped myself I am not
clear.... If we first beat the English, the French resistance will
soon be broken."
The admissions of prisoners that the Germans were amazed at the fighting
qualities of the British soldier, and had acquired a wholesome dread of
meeting him at close quarters, may have been colored by a trifling
disposition to be amiable in their captivity; but letters such as those
just quoted are honest statements for private reading in Germany, and
were never intended to fall into British hands.
Although Tommy Atkins makes occasional jocular allusions to the enemy as
"Sausages" there is no doubt that he considers the German army a very
substantial fighting force. "The German is not a toy terrier, but a
bloodhound thirsting for blood," is one description of him; "getting to
Berlin isn't going to be a cheap excursion," says another; and, to quote
a third, "in spite of all we say about the Teuton, he is taking his
punishment well, and we've got a big job on our hands."
XII
THE WAR IN THE AIR
Mr. H.G. Wells did not long anticipate the sensations of an aerial
conflict between the nations. Six years after the publication of his
_War in the Air_ the thing has become an accomplished fact, and for the
first time in history the great nations are fighting for the mastery not
only upon land but in the air and under the sea.
Fine as have been the adventures of airmen in times of peace, and
startling as spectators have found the acrobatic performance of "looping
the loop," these tricks of the air appear feeble exploits compared with
the new sensation of an actual battle in the clouds. Soldiers,
scribbling their letters in the trenches, have been fascinated by the
sudden appearance at dusk of a hostile aeroplane, and have gazed with
pleasurable agitation as out of the dim, mysterious distance a British
aviator shot up in pursuit.