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Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's
spelling has been preserved.
The missing word "in" has been added in the sentence:
However, I detached the Dorsets to move along the
canal bank from Gorre and get in touch with the French.
Weatherby, who had cantered off to get in touch with them,...
THE DOINGS OF THE
FIFTEENTH INFANTRY BRIGADE
AUGUST 1914 TO MARCH 1915
[Illustration: L. de St. A. -- J. T. W. -- G. -- A. L. M.-B. -- R. E. B.
_photo by Lieut. H. M. Cadell, R.E._ Some Of Brigade Headquarters.]
THE DOINGS OF THE
FIFTEENTH INFANTRY BRIGADE
AUGUST 1914 TO MARCH 1915
by
Its Commander
Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,
(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.
William Blackwood & Sons
Edinburgh and London
1917
NOTE.
The following pages--not in the first instance intended for
publication--contain an expanded version of the very scrappy Diary
which I kept in France from day to day.
The version was intended for private home consumption only, and has
necessarily had to be pruned of certain personal matters before being
allowed to make its bow to the public. I have purposely refrained from
adding to it in the light of subsequent events.
I trust that the reader will consequently bear in mind the essentially
individual and impressionist aspects of this little work, and will not
expect to find either rigidly historical, professional, or critical
matter therein.
G.
_14th August 1917._
CONTENTS.
Pages
Up to the Eve of Mons................................ 1-21
The Battle of Mons.................................. 22-38
Mons to Le Cateau................................... 39-43
Le Cateau........................................... 44-56
The Retreat......................................... 57-86
The Advance......................................... 87-93
The Marne.......................................... 94-102
To the Aisne...................................... 103-111
The Aisne......................................... 112-140
Westward Ho!...................................... 141-149
Abbeville to Béthune.............................. 150-157
Givenchy and Festubert............................ 158-198
To Bailleul....................................... 199-205
To Ypres.......................................... 206-208
The First Battle of Ypres......................... 209-248
Back to Locre..................................... 249-251
Trench Life Opposite Messines..................... 252-280
Giving Up Command................................. 281-283
SKETCH-MAPS.
Page
Boussu-Wasmes.......................................... 28
Missy-on-Aisne........................................ 123
Givenchy-Violaines.................................... 167
The Footbridge over the Canal......................... 175
Beukenhorst (near Ypres).............................. 211
The Messines Front.................................... 255
ILLUSTRATION.
Some of Brigade Headquarters _Frontispiece_
The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade.
August 1914 to March 1915.
In accordance with the order received at Belfast at 5.30 P.M. on the
4th, the 15th Brigade started mobilizing on the 5th August 1914, and
by the 10th was complete in all respects. We were practically ready by
the 9th, but a machine-gun or two and some harness were a bit late
arriving from Dublin--not our fault. Everything had already been
rehearsed at mobilization inspections, held as usual in the early
summer, and all went like clock-work. On the 8th we got our final
orders to embark on the 14th, and on the 11th the embarkation orders
arrived in detail.
Brigade Headquarters consisted of myself, Captain Weatherby (Oxford
L.I.) as Brigade Major, Captain Moulton-Barrett (Dorsets), Staff
Captain, Captain Roe (Dorsets), Brigade Machine-Gun Officer,
Lieutenant Cadell, R.E., Signalling Officer, and Lieutenant Beilby,
Brigade Veterinary Officer. Military Police, A.S.C. drivers, postmen,
and all sorts of odds and ends arrived from apparently nowhere in
particular, and fitted together with extraordinary little effort. The
battalions grew to unheard-of sizes, and by the time that all was
complete the Brigade numbered 127 officers, 3958 men, 258 horses, and
74 vehicles.
_Aug. 14th._
The Cheshires[1] and Bedfords[2] arrived by train in the early morning
of the 14th from 'Derry and Mullingar and went straight on board their
ships--Brigade Headquarters, Dorsets,[3] and half the Norfolks[4]
being in one, Cheshires and the other half of the Norfolks in another,
and the Bedfords in a third.
[Footnote 1: 1st Batt. (Lieut.-Col. D. C. Boger).]
[Footnote 2: 1st Batt. (Lieut.-Col. C. R. Griffith, D.S.O.).]
[Footnote 3: 1st Batt. (Lieut.-Col. L. J. Bols, D.S.O.).]
[Footnote 4: 1st Batt. (Lieut.-Col. C. R. Ballard).]
Great waving of handkerchiefs and cheering as we warped slowly out of
Belfast docks at 3 P.M. and moved slowly down the channel.
_Aug. 16th._
The weather was beautifully fine on the passage, and on the 16th we
all arrived at our destination.
The Bedfords had arrived on the previous tide to ourselves, and were
already fast alongside the quay. Orders were received from the
Disembarking Officer, and we disembarked and formed up independently
and marched off to Rest Camp No. 8, six miles off on the hills above
Havre.
It had been pouring heavily on shore for two days, though it was quite
fine when we landed; so the ground where we were to encamp was mostly
sopping. It was not easy to find in the dark, especially as the
sketch-maps with which we were provided most distinctly acted up to
their names. Added to these difficulties, a motor-lorry had stuck on
the way up and blocked our transport for the night. I rode ahead
alone, but had immense difficulty in finding the Brigade Headquarters
Camp, which was quite a long way from the other battalion camps.
These were dotted on the open fields at some distance from each other,
and pitched in no particular order, so that by the time I had got my
bearings and brought in the battalions, it was about 11 P.M. There was
of course no baggage, nor anything to sleep on except the bare ground
under the tents, with our saddles for pillows; and as a pleasant
excitement nearly all our horses stampeded about 2 A.M., tore up their
picketing-pegs from the soft ground, and disappeared into the darkness
in different directions.
_Aug. 17th._
Daylight, however, brought relief, and a certain amount of our
transport; and all the horses were discovered in course of time and
brought back. Most of the morning was spent, unsuccessfully, in trying
to bring up the remaining transport up a steep and narrow road which
was the only alternative to the blocked one. But some of the horses
jibbed, and we had eventually to give it up and bring up supplies by
hand.
The battalions were comfortably settled down under the expectation of
another night there; but at 2.15 P.M. we got orders to move off by
train at night. This we did from three different stations, at times
varying from 12 midnight to 5.45 A.M., having arrived according to
order at the stations four hours previously. This is the French
system, allowing four hours for the entraining of a unit. Although a
lot of manhandling had to be done, and the trucks were not what we had
been accustomed to, we all entrained in about forty minutes, so had
any amount of time to spare.
Silver (my first charger) was very bobbery as usual, and it took a
good half-hour to persuade him to enter his truck. Once in, he slept
like a lamb.
_Aug. 18th._
We were comfortable enough, though packed like sardines, and with
three-quarters of an hour's rest at Rouen for coffee, and another rest
at Amiens--where we heard that poor General Grierson, our Corps
Commander, was dead--broke a blood-vessel in the train--we arrived at
Busigny at 2.15 P.M. Here we found Captain Hyslop[5] (Dorsets), who
had been sent ahead from Belfast, and who gave us orders to detrain at
Le Cateau, a few miles farther on. I must say that all these
disembarking and training arrangements were extraordinarily well done,
and reflected great credit on the Allied staffs combined. No hitch, no
fuss, no worry, everybody got their orders in time, and all necessary
arrangements had been carefully thought out beforehand.
[Footnote 5: Hyslop was very severely wounded six days
afterwards and taken prisoner, but exchanged later on.]
We arrived at Le Cateau at 3.10 P.M., and detrained in half an hour,
baggage and all. The battalions marched off to their billets,--Dorsets
and Headquarters to Ors, the other three battalions to Pommereuil:
nice clean little villages both of them.
When about halfway out to Ors--I was riding on ahead of the Brigade
with only Weatherby--we were met by a motor bikist with a cypher
telegram for me. This stumped us completely, as, not yet having
reported to the Division, we had not yet received the local field
cypher-word; so, seeing a car approaching with some "brass hats" in
it, I rode across the road and stopped it, with a view to getting the
key. To my horror, Sir John French and Sir A. Murray descended from
the car and demanded to know why I had stopped them. I explained and
apologised, and they were very pleasant about it; but on looking at
the wire they said that I could disregard it, as they knew what it
was about, and it was of no particular importance by this time; so we
pursued our way in peace.
The billeting had already been done for us by our (5th) Divisional
Staff, and we found no difficulty in shaking down.
I was billeted on a small elderly lady of the name of Madame W----,
who was kindness itself, and placed herself and her house at our
disposal; but I regret to say that when our men, in search of
firewood, picked up some old bits of plank lying about in the garden,
she at first made a shocking fuss, tried to make out that it was a
whole timber stack of new wood, and demanded fifty francs
compensation. She eventually took two francs and was quite content.
Here it was that Saint André joined us, having been cast off by the
5th Divisional Staff at Landrecies as a superfluous interpreter.
Looking like an ordinary French subaltern with a pince-nez, he was in
fact a Protestant pastor from Tours, son of the Vicomte de Saint
André, very intelligent and "cultured," with a great sense of humour
and extremely keen. I really cannot speak too highly of him, for he
was a most useful addition to the Staff. In billeting and
requisitioning, and in all matters requiring tact in connection with
the inhabitants or the French Army, he was invaluable. I used him
later as A.D.C. in action, and as _Officier de liaison_ with the
French troops. I don't know what his knowledge of divinity may have
been, but if it was anything like equal to his military knowledge it
must have been considerable. He had studied theology at Edinburgh, and
his English was very fluent, luckily untouched by a Scottish accent.
He was always bubbling over with vitality and go, and plunged into
English with the recklessness of his race; when he couldn't express
himself clearly he invented words which were the joy of the
Mess,--"pilliate," "whizzle," "contemporative," and dozens of others
that I can't remember; and what used to charm us particularly was that
he so often went out of his way to put the accent on the wrong
syllable, such as in bilyétting, brígade, áttack, ambassádor, &c. He
was, indeed, a great acquisition to the Brigade.[6]
[Footnote 6: He was subsequently awarded the D.S.O. and Croix
de Guerre (aux Palmes) for excellent and gallant work
achieved under fire.]
_Aug. 19th._
Next morning I rode across to have a look at the other battalions. The
transport horses of the Cheshires were perhaps not all they might have
been, but it was the particular stamp of Derry horse that was at
fault, and not the battalion arrangements. Otherwise we were ready for
the fray.
_Aug. 20th._
We had arrived on the Tuesday (18th), and on the Thursday Sir C.
Fergusson (commanding 5th Division) paraded the Brigade by battalions
and made them a short speech, telling us we were to move on the
morrow, and giving us a few technical tips about the Germans and how
to meet their various wiles, largely about machine-guns and their
methods of attack in large numbers. The Bedfords were the most
interested audience, and interrupted him every now and then with
"'Ear, 'ear," and a little handclapping at important points. I think
the General was a little nonplussed at this attention: I know I was.
Whether it was due or not to the audience being accustomed to
attending political meetings at home, or to the air of Bedfordshire
being extremely vitalising I don't know, but once or twice afterwards
when the battalion was addressed by General Smith Dorrien,[7] and even
by Sir J. French, they showed their approbation in the manner above
set forth--somewhat to my confusion.
[Footnote 7: Commanding of course the 2nd Corps (composed of
the 3rd and 5th Divisions).]
_Aug. 21st._
Next day we moved off early. I already found myself overburdened with
kit--although I had not even as much as the regulation 150 lb.--and I
left a camp-bed and a thick waistcoat and various odds and ends behind
in Madame W----'s cupboard, under the firm belief that I might at some
future period send for it if I wanted it. Alas! the Germans have now
been at Ors for close on three years.
A hot march of about fifteen miles brought us to Gommignies.
Stragglers, I regret to say, were already many--all of them
reservists, who had not carried a pack for years. They had every
intention of keeping up, of course, but simply could not. I talked to
several of them and urged them along, but the answer was always the
same--"Oh, I'll get along all right, sir, after a bit of rest; but I
ain't accustomed to carrying a big weight like this on a hot day," and
their scarlet streaming faces certainly bore out their views. To do
them justice, they practically all did turn up. I was afraid that, in
spite of great care and the numerous orders I had issued about the
fitting and greasing of new boots, it was the boots which were at
fault; but it was not so, except in a very few cases.
Our billeting parties had, of course, been sent ahead and started on
their work. It was naturally quite new work to them, and it took a lot
of time at first--two and three hours--before the men were settled.
Nowadays it takes half an hour, or at most an hour, as everybody knows
his job, and also takes what is given him at once, squash or no
squash. After a little campaigning men very quickly find out that it
is better to shake down at once, even in uncomfortable billets, than
to hang about and try to get better ones. Here we got first touch,
though very indirectly, with the enemy, in the shape of a French
patrol of _Chasseurs à Cheval_ (in extraordinarily _voyant_
light-blue tunics and shakos), who had come in from somewhere north
after having seen some "Uhlans" and hunted them off. I sent the news,
such as it was, on to the Division.
And here I must lay stress on the fact that throughout the campaign we
did not know in the least what was happening elsewhere. Beyond the
fact that the 3rd Division was somewhere on our right, and that the
French cavalry was believed to be covering our left front, we did not
know at this period what the movement was about or where the Germans
were supposed to be. We trusted to our superiors to do what was
necessary, and plunged blindly into the "fog of war."
The usual proceedings on the ordinary line of march were that, on
receiving "Divisional Orders," which arrived at any time in the
afternoon, or often at night, we compiled "Brigade Orders" on them.
Divisional Orders give one first of all any information about the
enemy which it is advisable to impart, then the intention of the
Divisional General--whether he means to fight on the morrow, or march,
or stay where he is, &c., &c.; and if he means to march he gives the
direction in which the Division is to proceed, the order of march, by
brigades, artillery, divisional troops such as R.E., heavy batteries,
divisional cavalry, &c., &c., and generally says where and how the
transport is to march, whether with its own troops or some way behind,
and if so, where; and gives directions as to the supplies, where the
refilling-point, rendezvous for supply carts, and railhead are, and
many other odds and ends, especially as to which brigade is to provide
the advanced- or rear-guard, who is to command it, at what time the
head of the column and the heads of all the formations are to pass a
given point, and so on. On receiving these orders we have to make out
and issue similarly composed Brigade Orders in detail, giving the
order of march of the battalions and Brigade Headquarters, how much
rations are to be carried on the men and in the cook-waggons, what is
to happen to the supply and baggage waggons, whether B transport
(vehicles not absolutely necessary in the fighting line) are to be
with the A transport in rear of their respective battalions, or to be
bunched up by themselves behind the Brigade, with similar detailed
orders about the advanced-guard or rear-guard, and the time to a
minute as to when each detail is to pass a given point, the position
of the Brigadier in the column, the point to which reports are to be
sent, &c., &c. These orders might be written in anything from fifteen
to fifty minutes according to the movement required, and then had to
be quadruplicated and sent out to the battalions by their respective
orderlies, or by wire. By the time the battalions had written out and
transmitted their own orders to their companies it was sometimes very
late indeed; but as the campaign went on, orders got more and more
simplified somehow, and things got done quicker than at the beginning
of the _premier pas_.
The country through which we were passing was that technically
described by novelists as "smiling." That is to say, it was pretty, in
a mild sort of way, clean, green, with tidy farmhouses and cottages,
and fields about ripe for the harvest. Plenty of orchards there were
too, with lots of fruit-trees alongside the roads, and the people were
most kind in offering us fruit and milk and water and coffee and even
wine as we went along. But this could not be allowed on the march, as
it would have led to men falling out without permission, and also to
drinking more than was good for them whilst marching. Except,
therefore, occasionally, and then only during the ten minutes' halt
that we had in each hour, I did not allow these luxuries to be
accepted.
Gommignies was a nice shady little town, and the Notaire gave me an
excellent bedroom in his big house; whilst I remember that I made
acquaintance there with the excellent penny cigar of the country.
_Aug. 22nd._
Off at cock-crow next day, the country got uglier, blacker, more
industrial, and more thickly populated as we pushed on through the
heat, and by the time we crossed the Belgian frontier we felt indeed
that we were in another land.
The beastly paved road with cobbles, just broad enough for one vehicle
and extremely painful to the feet, whilst the remainder of the road on
both sides was deep in dust or caked mud, was a most offensive
feature; the people staring and crowding round the troops were quite a
different type from the courteous French peasants; and whilst in
France not a single able-bodied civilian had been visible--all having
joined the Army--in Belgium the streets were crowded with men who, we
felt most strongly, ought to have been fighting in the ranks.
There was a great block in Dour, which we reached after a
fourteen-mile march, and in spite of all attempts at keeping the
streets clear it was some time before we could get through. Part of
the Division was halting there for the night, and the municipal
authorities were extremely slow in allotting billets and keeping their
civilian waggons in order.
From Dour onwards it was a big straggling sort of suburban
town--tramways down the side, dirty little houses lining the street,
great chimneys belching (I believe that is the correct term) volumes
of black smoke, huge mountains of slag in all directions, rusty
brickfields littered with empty tins, old paper, and bits of iron, and
other similarly unlovely views. The only thing to be said in favour of
this industrial scrap-heap was that the smoke was not quite so sooty
as it looked, and things one touched did not "come off" quite so black
as might have been expected. Otherwise there was no attraction.
Half a mile on or more was Bois de Boussu, and here we were halted to
allow of a cavalry brigade moving down the street. We waited some
time, and eventually it arrived, not coming down the street but across
it from east to west. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten which
it was, but the 4th Dragoon Guards, I think, were in it. They crossed
at a trot, men and horses both looking very fit and workmanlike, and
disappeared westwards through the haze of the factories; any more
impossible country for cavalry--except perhaps the London Docks--I
have never seen.
We shortly afterwards got orders to billet in Bois de Boussu and Dour,
the real Boussu being another half mile on. But where the whole
countryside was one vast straggling town, it was impossible to say
where one town ended and the other began. Even the inhabitants didn't
know.
Moulton-Barrett and Saint André had already got to work on the
billeting, and the Norfolks and Cheshires were shortly accommodated in
some factories up the road, whilst the Bedfords and Dorsets were
moved back nearly into Dour, into a brewery and some mine-offices
respectively, if I remember rightly. Brigade Headquarters was
installed in an ultra-modern Belgian house and garden belonging to one
M. Durez, a very civil little man, head of some local mining concern.
There was a Madame Durez too, plump and good-natured, and a girl and a
boy, and they were profuse in their hospitality. The only drawback
about the meals, excellent as they were, was the appalling length of
time occupied in their preparation and consumption; it was almost
impossible to get away from them, even though there was so much to do.
So much was there to be done that I feel now as though we had been
there a week, or at least three days; but on looking at my diary I
find we arrived there at midday on Saturday the 22nd, and left at
midnight on Sunday the 23rd.
On the Saturday afternoon there were rumours of the Germans being on
the other side of the Mons-Condé Canal, not far off. The 13th and 14th
Brigades were in front of us, strung out and holding the Canal line,
ourselves being in Divisional Reserve. Where the exact left of the 5th
Division was I cannot remember at this moment, but I am sure that it
was not farther west than Pommeroeul bridge, with, I believe, French
or English cavalry on its left.
Saturday afternoon was spent in studying the ground in our front and
looking to the approaches and the arrangements for the Brigade. Our
front was of course well covered, but there were numerous little
matters to be seen to and a certain amount of confabulation with the
Divisional Staff, which lived in the midst of a perpetual
_va-et-vient_ at the railway station at Dour. Our horses were picketed
out in M. Durez's garden and the grubby little fields close by, and
the Signal section and all the vehicles were stowed away there as best
could be arranged; but all was enclosed, cramped, and unhandy, and the
difficulty was to get a clear space anywhere. I walked with M. Durez
in the evening to a tiny mound in his garden, from which he assured me
a good view could be got; but although the sunset and colouring
through the haze was rather picturesque, one couldn't see much. Durez
was very apprehensive about his family and himself, and was most
urgent in his inquiries as to what was going to happen. I could not
tell him much beyond the rumour that the German force in front was
reported not to be very big, and I advised him to stick it out as long
as he could; but he was restless, with good reason as it turned out,
and settled next day to take himself and his family away whilst there
was yet time.
_Aug. 23rd._
Next morning I got orders to go with Lieut.-Col. Tulloch, the
Divisional Commanding Royal Engineer, to select a defensive position
and entrench it. We got into a car, and went buzzing about in front of
Boussu and round to the right as far as Wasmes; but I never saw such a
hopeless place. There was no field of fire anywhere except to the
left, just where the railway crossed the Boussu road, where, strange
to say, the country opened out on to a "glacis-like" slope of stubble.
Going was bad, up broken little roads over ground composed of a
bewildering variety of slag-heaps 40 to 150 feet high, intersected
with railway lines, mine heads, chimneys, industrial buildings,
furnaces, and _usines_ of all sorts, and thickening into suburbs
consisting of narrow winding little streets and grubby little
workmen's houses. Here and there were open spaces and even green
fields, but nowhere could a continuous field of fire be obtained. The
only thing was to select various _points d'appui_ with some sort of
command, and try and connect them up by patches of entrenchments; but
even this was very difficult, as the line was so long and broken that
no unity of command was possible, and the different patches were so
separated and so uneven, some having to be in front of the general
line and some in rear, that they often could not flank or even see
each other.
At about midday several cyclists came riding back in a great hurry
from the Canal, saying they had been attacked by a big force of
cavalry and been badly cut up; that they had lost all their officers
and 20 or 30 men killed, and the rest taken prisoners. This was hardly
a good beginning, but it eventually turned out that the grand total
losses were 1 officer (Corah of the Bedfords) slightly wounded, 2 men
killed, and 3 missing.
Shortly after this the first German gun was heard--at 12.40 P.M. I
timed it--and for the rest of the afternoon there was intermittent
bombardment and numerous shell-bursts in the direction of the Canal,
some of it our own Horse Artillery, but mostly German.
When we had roughly settled on our line, I shouted to a crowd of
curious natives who had come out to watch us, and did not seem
particularly friendly--as they were not at all sure that we were not
Germans--to get all their friends together with pickaxes and shovels
and start digging entrenchments where we showed them. It was Sunday
afternoon, and all the miners were loafing about with nothing to do.
The idea rapidly caught on, and soon they were hurrying off home for
their tools, whilst we got hold of the best-dressed and most
authoritative-looking men and showed them what we wanted done. It was
scratch work, in more senses than one, as we had no time to lose and
could not superintend, but had to tear from one point to another,
raising men and showing them where the lines were to go, how deep the
trenches were to be made, which way the earth was to be thrown, and
all the rest of it.
On our way round we came also upon some batteries of field artillery,
disconsolately wending their way through the narrow streets, and with
their reconnoitring officers out in all directions looking for
positions; but they found none, and the Artillery did but little in
the way of shooting that night. With their present experience I expect
they would have done a good deal more.
Then we tore back, and I got the battalions out, or rather two
companies of each battalion, set them to work, and sent out their
other two companies to support them. The Norfolks were on the left, at
the station, and eastwards down the line. Then came the Cheshires, a
bit thrown back, in beastly enclosed country for the most part. One of
the big slag-heaps had seemed to offer a good command, but to our
disgust it was so hot that we could hardly stand on it, so that had to
be given up. Other heaps again seemed to give a good position, and
they were fairly cool; but when we scrambled up there was always
something wrong--either there were more slag-heaps in front which
blocked the view, or the heap ran to a point and there was not room
for more than two men, or the slag-ridge faced the wrong way--it was a
nightmare of a place.
Beyond the Cheshires came the Dorsets and Bedfords, pretty well
together, and occupying some trenches on a high railway embankment,
&c., but the position was not really satisfactory, and if attacked in
force at night it would be very difficult to see or guard against the
approach of the enemy. Nor, as I heard afterwards, had the inhabitants
dug the trenches anything like deep enough, so that they formed but
poor protection against the rain of shells that began to pour on them
at nightfall.
All pointed to an attack by the enemy during the night or next day,
but even then we had not the smallest idea of the enormous forces
arrayed against us. We were told at first that there was perhaps a
corps in front of us, but as a matter of fact there were three, if not
four corps.
Having distributed the battalions as ordered--I had no Brigade Reserve
in hand, having to cover such a broad front (nearly three miles, when
my normal front, according to the text-books, should have been about
1000 yards)--myself and Brigade Headquarters were left rather "by our
lone." M. and Madame Durez were packing up hard all, and disappeared
with their friends and family before dinner in a big motor-car,
making in the direction of Bavai St Waast, to the south, where they
had friends; as, however, we retired through there next day I don't
expect they stayed long, but continued their journey into France. I
don't know what became of them. They had been most hospitable, and
placed the house and everything in it, even a final dinner, at our
disposal; but the poor people were, of course, in a great state of
perturbation, and there was not much except the house itself that we
could make use of.
As we were finishing dinner further orders arrived from the Division.
Weatherby and I cantered down to the Divisional Staff to learn
details, and we got them shortly, to the effect that the Cheshires and
Norfolks were to be left under direct command of the Divisional
Commander, whilst Brigade Headquarters was to be at Pâturages by
sunrise on the morrow, and to hold that with our other two battalions
on the right.
We "fell in" the Brigade Headquarters about midnight and, after some
trouble in securing guides, moved off through a labyrinth of streets
in the warm dark. Our guides were local men, and we did not take long
to get to Warquignies, in the main street of which we met the
Headquarters of the 13th Brigade, minus their Brigadier. Here also
were the K.O.S.B.'s in bivouac, acting as Brigade Reserve to their
(13th) Brigade. The night was peaceful, and we pushed on after a short
rest, getting at dawn to a steep hill which led down into Pâturages.
_Aug. 20th._
The latter was a fine big town with paved streets and
prosperous-looking houses, very different from the grubby streets of
Boussu; but I was troubled about the hill street, as it was very steep
and bad and narrow. How we should get the transport up it again in a
hurry if it had to retire I did not know, and two eminently
respectable inhabitants assured me that there was no other way back
unless I went right up to Wasmes--from which direction firing was
already beginning--and returned _viâ_ the north. That didn't look
healthy for the transport, so I left most of the Brigade transport at
the top of the hill and only brought down the Signal section.
At the entrance into Pâturages we found Currie, Cuthbert's (13th
Brigade) Brigade Major, but Cuthbert was not there, so it was a little
difficult to combine any action. However, we learnt that the other
three battalions of the 13th Brigade were distributed in front of us
on the north, and I received a message that the Dorsets and Bedfords
had been obliged to fall back during the night and were holding the
railway station at Wasmes and a bit east of that. The 13th Brigade had
been along the line of the Canal the previous day and had been driven
back by superior numbers, but had blown up some of the bridges. I
heard afterwards that young Pottinger, a subaltern of the 17th Co.
R.E., had been entrusted with blowing up one bridge, and that the
charge had failed to explode. Whereupon he advanced under heavy fire
close to the charge and had gallantly fired his revolver at it, which
of course, as he knew, would have blown him sky-high with the bridge
had he hit it. But either he missed the shot altogether or he hit the
wrong part, and the thing didn't explode. And then he found himself
cut off by Germans who had crossed elsewhere, and he had to leg it.
So, unfortunately, that bridge was left intact.
[Illustration: Boussu-Wasmes.]
I trotted ahead alone to try and find the Dorsets or the Bedfords,
leaving Weatherby with other instructions. It was a long way to the
station (Pâturages by name, but really in Wasmes), but I eventually
found Griffith (O.C. Bedfords) and most of his men thereabouts. The
Germans had apparently got round to the east, but we were holding
them. The Dorsets were a bit further to the south-east, and I found
them after a good many wrong turnings; and then there was little to do
but pick up connection with whoever I could. By this time my staff
had come up, and Weatherby and I cantered off to find General Haking,
who, I understood, had brought up his 5th Brigade from the 2nd
Division (1st Corps), and was somewhere towards Frameries. Him we
found after some trouble, with only one battalion in action in fairly
open country. It appeared that a message had been sent the night
before from the 3rd Division that the Germans were threatening
Pâturages and going to attack in force, and help was most urgently
required; so General Haig had despatched Haking in a great hurry. The
5th Brigade made a forced march and arrived at Pâturages at 2 A.M.,
perspiring profusely. Not a sound. Fearing an ambush, they walked
delicately, with scouts well out in front and to both flanks. Not a
sign either of the British or the Germans,--empty streets, no one
about, all quiet as death. So they bivouacked in the streets and were
now thinking of falling back on their own corps, as there were only a
few Germans in front of them and these wouldn't advance.
Where the 3rd Division exactly were I could not at first find out,
though I tried; but I knew that they were holding the country in the
direction of Mons. Anyway, except for a good many shells flying about,
there was very little of the enemy to see or hear, and Pâturages was
safe at all events for the present.
The Dorsets and Bedfords, however, had had a pretty bad time on the
previous evening, and had lost a number of men, though they had given
the Germans a good deal more than they got. The German shelling had
been fairly accurate, and their infantry had pushed on between the
slag-heaps and got their machine-guns to work under cover in a
horribly efficient manner. Eventually our battalions had to evacuate
their trenches as their right flank was being turned, and they fell
back on Wasmes and Pâturages, leaving most of their packs behind them
in the trenches. They had taken them off to dig, and, being hot, had
fought without them, and then this sudden outflanking movement had
necessitated a rapid falling back, so their packs and most of their
shovels had been left behind. This was awkward, more especially
hereafter, as, although the loss of the greatcoat did not matter much
in this hot weather, and certainly added to their marching power,
still, the loss of the pack meant loss of spare socks and spare
shirt--besides other things.
We snatched a little breakfast and coffee at an inn where the
_patronne_ was still in possession, and then things began to get more
lively. Shells began to knock corners off the houses close by, and
reports kept coming in that the enemy appeared to be advancing, though
the bulk of his infantry was still some way off to the east. The
Dorsets were rearranging their line so as not to be cut off, and I was
standing with Bols (commanding Dorsets) and a few of his officers by
the _estaminet_ when a shrapnel burst with a tremendous crack close
over our heads, bringing down branches and leaves in showers. Yet not
a man or a horse was hit. The shrapnel bullets whizzed along the
pavement in all directions, right among our feet, like hail it seemed;
yet the only result was a lot of bad language from Saunders, who had
got a nasty jar on the heel from one of the bullets: but it did not
even cut the leather.
It now became time to get the Dorset transport away, as things were
getting rather hot, and the crackling of rifles was getting distinctly
nearer. I thought of that horrible hill and I looked at my map.
Yes--there certainly was a way round back by the south-east, _viâ_ the
road along which Weatherby and I had just come back from interviewing
Haking. So I directed the transport to move that way--there was a road
branching off to the right only 400 yards on and quite safe, as I
thought, for the firing was up north and north-east, and this road lay
south-southeast.
Roe covered the withdrawal with his company and was very anxious to
lay an ambush for the enemy. But they did not seem inclined to oblige
him, but kept heading off in a more southerly direction. There was no
sign from the 3rd Division who, I knew, were on our right; so, as my
scouts could not find them, I could only come to the conclusion that
the enemy had got in between us, and if we didn't clear out soon we
should be in a bad way.
Suddenly there was a crackle of rifles down the road along which the
Dorset transport had gone, and then nearly the whole of the transport
came galloping back, a dead horse being dragged along in the shafts of
one of the waggons. Margetts, the transport officer, rode past,
revolver in hand, and streaming with blood from the shoulder, and one
or two of the men and horses had obviously been hit. What had happened
was that a few Germans had penetrated on to the road where Weatherby
and I had passed in perfect safety only a short time before and
ambushed the transport.
Margetts had very gallantly ridden direct at the ambush with his
revolver, shot down one or two and bewildered the rest, and thus given
time for the transport to turn round on the (luckily) broad road and
gallop back. The Pioneer Sergeant of the Dorsets was killed, and so
was a Brigade Policeman who happened to be with the transport.
Otherwise almost the only loss was an ammunition-cart with two horses
killed, and some damage was done to a pole and wheel or two of the
other vehicles. Poor Nicholson (my servant), who should, strictly
speaking, have remained with the Brigade transport and not come up at
all, had attached himself to the Dorset transport without
orders--wishing, I suppose, to be handy in case he was required--and
had been shot down with the two or three others. I believe he was
killed; anyway, I never saw him again, poor fellow. Margetts was
nearly falling off his horse with pain, so he dismounted and was
bandaged by the Medical Officer. But by that time the transport
vehicles had disappeared, and as he was fainting and was not in a fit
state to be carried, he had to be left in the house of a Belgian
doctor and was taken prisoner shortly afterwards. We heard of him
later, and I am glad to say his gallant action gained him a D.S.O.
Bols strung out half a company to defend the place where we thought
the Germans would appear, but after waiting for ten minutes we found
we were practically "in the air," as large forces of the enemy were
reported coming round our right flank, and the firing on our left
front got more and more to the left, thus proving that the Bedfords
had been pushed back and were retiring _viâ_ Wasmes--as they had been
told to do if overwhelmed. Weatherby, who had cantered off to get
in touch with them, confirmed this; and as it was getting extremely
"hot" (shells) where we were, I gave the order to withdraw--only just
in time as it turned out.
The Dorsets formed a proper rear-guard and held off the enemy, who
were by this time trickling in large numbers into the town; but by
good luck the Germans seemed to funk coming on in formation, and by
the time we had got back to the foot of the steep hill they didn't
bother us any more except by occasional shells. To my extreme
annoyance (in one way) we found another track leading round the hill,
towards Warquignies, not marked on the map; so those two wretched
inhabitants had told us quite wrong, and we could have retired the
transport this way after all. Of course we took advantage of it, and
fell back slowly _viâ_ Warquignies on Blangies, where we arrived, with
very few casualties, about two.
Here we got orders at first to bivouac for the night, but hardly had
the men had time to cook a meal and eat it than we were ordered to
continue the retirement on Bavai St Waast, _viâ_ Athis. As we got on
to the main road here we found a large column of our own troops moving
down it, and there were German mounted patrols at a respectful
distance on both sides. We fired at them occasionally, and they
disappeared and then turned up again in twos and threes on the
skyline, evidently keeping touch with us.
Just beyond Athis we found the Norfolks, who had been fighting at
Élouges all the morning, and then we came across the sad little
remainder of the Cheshires--only about 200 left out of 891 who had
gone into action that morning near Élouges. It was horrible to hear of
this appalling loss. Shore was the only captain left, and he was in
command, with two or three subalterns only. His story was that his
company had been in reserve to the other three and had gone to occupy
a farmhouse as told, that he had seen the three companies extending to
his right, and then lost touch with them as they advanced rapidly over
the brow of the low rolling ground. There was very heavy firing all
along the line, and eventually a staff officer told him to fall back
to his right rear and rejoin his battalion. This he tried to do, but
he only came across a few wounded and stragglers of his regiment, who
told him that the three companies had lost very heavily, including
Boger (commanding) and all their officers, and that there was
practically nobody left. Shore did his best to find out and help, but
a general retirement took place, and he and his men were swept back
with the rest. Tahourdin, Stapylton, Dyer, Dugmore, and lots of others
were reported killed, and poor Shore was in a terrible state of mind.
(It turned out afterwards that all these officers were alive and
prisoners, with a great number of their men, but at the time I could
not find out exactly how it happened that the battalion got so cut up
and lost such a desperate number.)
The Norfolks had lost poor Cresswell, their Adjutant--such a good
fellow--and one or two other officers. But although their losses had
been serious they were nothing like so bad as the Cheshires. It
appears that our left about Élouges and to the west rear of Dour was
heavily attacked by the enemy; that we were on the defensive with the
14th Brigade (Rolt), and these two battalions of the 15th, and the 2nd
Cavalry Brigade (De Lisle); and that Sir C. F. called on the Cavalry
to assist at a certain moment. De Lisle thereupon very gallantly
charged the German guns, but he started from some distance off, and
not only were the horses blown before they got there, but there was a
lot of wire between them and the Germans which they couldn't get
through. So, after losing heavily, they wheeled to the right to get
out of the way. What happened in detail to the 14th Brigade I frankly
don't know, but I fear the guns of the 5th Division lost pretty
heavily at this period.
Two companies of the Bedfords had joined us by this time, but I was
rather nervous about the rest, including Griffith, for I had had no
word of him since Pâturages. However, as we passed through Houdain he
turned up from a side road with the rest of his battalion, having had
a pretty rough time in getting out of Wasmes.
By dusk we had got on to the open country near St Waast, and here we
found that the Division was bivouacking. Although it was nearly dark,
and the Brigade had been scattered, with its transport, over a lot of
country during the day, it all came together again, including its
empty supply waggons, in a marvellous way, and managed to find its way
through all the other troops in the dark to its rightful bivouac
space--some fields covered with standing crops. Water was of course
the difficulty, but some was discovered in the shape of a small stream
half a mile off, over hedges and ditches; and after the Norfolks had
been put out on outpost to cover our rear, and we had had some food,
we slept the sleep of the dog-tired.
I remember Cadell came out as cook that evening, for he fried a
lugubrious mess of biscuits, jam, and sardines together in a mess-tin,
and insisted on all of us having some. Up to this point our messing
had not been entirely happy, for an old soldier whom I had taken on in
Belfast, on his own statement that he had been second cook in his
officers' mess, turned out an absolute fraud. He could hardly even
poach an egg, and hadn't the smallest idea of cooking. I am sure he
had never been inside an officers' mess either, for when he was
deposed from the office of cook to that of mess waiter, he knew
nothing about that either, and could not even wash up. Private Brown,
who was supposed at first only to cook for the men of the Brigade
Headquarters, was therefore elevated to the proud status of Officers'
cook, and made a thundering good one (till he was wounded at Ypres);
and the Belfast man was given the sack at the earliest opportunity and
sent home,--only to appear later in the field as a corporal of the
Irish Rifles!
_Aug. 25th._
Next morning the Brigade was on the move before daylight, and was told
off as part of the main body of the Division, the 14th Brigade forming
the rear-guard. We had not had much to eat the night before, or in
fact the whole day, and as the rations had not come up during the
night, the men had devilish little breakfast--nor we either.
We were told to requisition what we could from the country, but though
St André and myself did our best, and rode on ahead of the Brigade,
routing out the dwellers of the farmhouses and buying chickens and
cheese and oats wherever possible, there was very little to be had.
There were already a great many inhabitants on the road fleeing
south-westwards, pitiful crowds of women and old men and children,
carrying bundles on their backs, or wheeling babies and more bundles
in wheelbarrows, or perambulators, or broken-down carts. Some of the
peasant women were wearing their best Sunday gowns of black bombazine
and looked very hot and uncomfortable; children with their dolls or
pet dogs, old women and men hobbling along, already very tired though
the sun had not been up more than an hour or two, and sturdy young
mothers carrying an extraordinary quantity of household stuff, trooped
along, all of them anxiously asking how far off the Germans were, and
whether we could hold them off, or whether they would all be killed by
them,--it was a piteous sight. We warned all the people who were still
in their cottages to stay there and not to run away, as their houses
would only be pillaged if they were not there, but I fear that few
took our advice.