more collecting and pushed on by myself into the town, where I found
Rolt and some of his Staff; but he knew nothing. There was a hopeless
block at this moment, so I slipped off my horse for ten minutes and
had a bit of chocolate and biscuit, which were quite refreshing. Rolt
was somewhat depressed, for his Brigade had lost heavily, but they too
were gradually coming together. At last, in the middle of the town, I
managed to collect some instructions, and was told that the 5th
Division was to form up in a field near the railway station the other
side of the town. There were also Staff officers at different points,
calling out "5th Division this way, 3rd that," and so on; and as the
men, now more or less in columns of fours, passed them, they perked up
and swung along quite happily.
We were now outside the region of our maps, so I asked my way to a
stationer's, which luckily happened to be open, though it was barely
7.30 A.M., and bought all the local maps I could get hold of: they
were only paper, not linen, but they proved extremely useful. And then
I bought some big rings of bread and some apples, and made Catley
carry them strung on the little brigade flag that S. had embroidered,
and we filled up our haversacks with as much food as we could buy and
carry--for the benefit of the men.
I found my way to the railway field all right, but none of the Brigade
had yet arrived, so I went back to look for them. On the way I found
that a number of the 13th Brigade had taken the wrong turning and were
plodding right away from the town, so I had to canter after them a
mile or more and turn them back. There was a lot of transport further
on, on the move; and fearing that they might belong to us, whilst my
horse was pretty tired, I begged a nice-looking Frenchman with a long
beard--a doctor of sorts--in a motor-car, to lend me his car to catch
them. This he willingly did, and drove me up to them, but they turned
out to be field ambulances with orders of their own, so I came back
to the railway field, leaving a man at the railway turning to turn the
others and show them the way.
Gradually bits of the 15th Brigade arrived--a few Dorsets, half the
Bedfords, and a few Cheshires; and to these I imparted the Staff
instructions that we were to bivouac here for the night. The men had
already done twenty-four miles during the night, and lay about,
thankful to get a little rest. Supplies, we were told, would be issued
shortly at the station, but before they came I got peremptory orders
to march off at 2 o'clock, and withdraw further south to a place
called Ollizy, nine miles on.
It was then 12.30 P.M., and the men had had no food since the previous
morning; however, orders had to be obeyed. So I distributed my bread
and apples, for which the men pressed round ravenously; and James,
commanding the 2nd Manchesters, who had been in my Brigade two years
previously, gave me a couple of most welcome big sandwiches and a
drink. None of my staff had yet turned up; and though I was told that
supplies were just going to arrive, none did arrive before we marched
off. Five minutes before that time the Norfolks, who had had a rest
the other side of the town, turned up; and as the rest of the Brigade
marched off the rest of the Dorsets marched up--rather disappointed at
having to go on at once without either rest or rations.
Weatherby and the rest of Brigade Headquarters had trickled in by this
time, and we moved off in rear of the 13th Brigade. The day was fairly
hot by this time--luckily it had been cool all the morning--and I
expected to see whole heaps of the men fall out exhausted; but devil a
bit, they moved on, well closed up, good march discipline, and even
whistling and singing; and for the rest of the march I don't believe
that more than half a dozen fell out.
We expected some more fighting near Ollizy, for a message had come
through for the 13th to push on and collar a certain bridge before the
Germans got it; but all was peaceful, and we got to Ollizy about five
o'clock. There I had to tell off a battalion and some guns not
belonging to me to take up a line of outposts to guard our rear (I
quite forget what the troops were, or why they were put under me), and
the Brigade pushed on over the bridge, and through the swampy, marshy
country beyond.
No halt yet, and I began to wonder whether we were expected to do yet
another night march. However, after another two miles I was told to
put the Brigade in bivouac round a farm and little village called
Eaucourt, covering our rear with another line of outposts.
There was some distant shelling during the evening; but we were too
dog-tired to worry about it, though bursts of rifle fire did occur
during the night, necessitating our jumping up once or twice to see
what it was.
The farm was quite a good one of the usual form--_i.e._, the
living-house forming one end of a big oblong courtyard, whilst barns
and lofts and cowsheds filled up the other three sides. In the middle,
of course, was a mass of dirty straw and manure, and pools of stinking
water in which ducks and pigs and chickens disported themselves. The
people were most friendly, and supplied us with eggs and straw and a
kitchen fire; but it was rather a squash, as the headquarters of an
artillery brigade were already feeding there, and we didn't get dinner
till very late. The men lay about in the lofts and sheds among the
farm implements and sheep, and I should have expected them after a
march of over thirty-five miles, and no food or sleep in the
twenty-four hours, to curl up and go to sleep at once, but they
didn't; they were quite happy and lively now that at last they'd got
their rations, and made the most of them. I had a bed to lie on, and
actually enjoyed a wash in a real basin, but the little bedroom was
not very sweet or clean, and I'd as soon have slept with the others on
straw in the kitchen and living-room.
_Aug. 28th._
Next morning we were off before the sun rose, with orders to proceed
towards Noyon. We were well up to time as regards our place in the
column, but some of the rest of the Division were very late--probably
some counter-order had been given; anyway, we had to wait a good extra
half-hour by the roadside. I remember that I occupied the time in
shaving myself; and as there was no water handy, I moistened the brush
in the dew on the grass. It did fairly well--though removing two days'
growth was rather painful, I allow.
We plodded on through the heat of the day, in rear of the 14th
Brigade, and kept our march discipline without trouble, though the
number of apple- and pear-trees on the road was a great temptation.
What had happened or where we were going to was a complete mystery;
all that we knew was that we had had to leg it at Le Cateau, but that
we were distinctly _not_ downhearted; nor did the Germans seem to be
pursuing. So we thought that we should probably soon get the order to
turn and either take up a defensive position or advance again against
the enemy--though we also knew that we must have lost a number of guns
and a good many men.
Soon after we started we were asked how many waggons we required to
carry damaged and footsore men, and at a certain point there were some
thirty or forty waggons drawn up for that purpose. I felt rather
insulted, and said so, but eventually put my pride in my pocket and
said I'd have one per battalion. The officer in charge at once offered
ten, but I did not accept them, and I don't think we filled even one
waggon all day.
Somewhere about ten o'clock the message was passed down from the front
that Sir John French was on the roadside and wanted to see battalion
commanders. I cantered on, and found him under a tree with a few of
his staff. I saluted and asked for orders, but he said he only wanted
to see the C.O.'s. Then he took me aside and said that he wanted to
compliment and congratulate the men on their magnificent work; that we
had saved the left flank of the French army, and that Joffre had
begged him to tell the troops that they had saved France for the time
being, and more to the same effect. I hastened, of course, to tell
everybody; I think the men got their tails up well in consequence. But
the British are an undemonstrative lot, and Thomas never lets his
feelings show on the surface. Anyway, we were all pleased that our
sacrifices hadn't been for nothing, and hoped we'd soon stop and turn
round.
At Guiscard we turned into the main road to Noyon. It was very hot,
and we had had no rest (except the regulation ten minutes per hour)
since starting. So when we got to some nice shade on the left, and big
spreading trees dotted over some fields, I turned the Brigade off the
road, transport and all, and we halted for an hour and a half. We
went to sleep after luncheon, of course, and when it was time to start
I remember that Moulton-Barrett went up to St André, who was lying
fast asleep, and shouted out, "The Germans are on us!" Poor St André
jumped to his feet with a yell and seized his revolver; it was a
wicked joke.
The main road into Noyon was much crowded, not only with a lot of
French cavalry going north, but a very large number of waggons full of
our own men--of other brigades, mind you, for I don't think there were
any 15th Brigade men there at all; but then the others had had a
harder time.
The French cavalry were a dragoon brigade--horses looking very fit and
well, and wonderfully light equipment on them; they do not go in for
carrying half so much on the saddle as we do--for one thing,
apparently they don't consider it necessary to carry cleaning material
on the horse.
There was again a considerable squash in Noyon, and here St André was
delighted to meet some spick-and-span young friends of his whom he
affected to treat with great contempt, as not yet having seen a shot
fired. Having to cross the railway line also delayed us still more, as
a long supply-train was shunting and reshunting and keeping the gates
shut.
It was a lovely evening, and though progress was slow, we eventually
reached Pontoise by about 7 P.M. The country was thickly wooded and
very pretty, and the quarters into which we got after our sixteen-mile
march were most acceptable. Here we were told we should probably be
for several days--to rest and recuperate; but we were beginning to
have doubts about these perpetually-promised rests which never came
off.
The Brigade Headquarters put up at a blacksmith's shop, and the old
couple here received us with hospitality; but though there were beds
and mattresses for most of us, there was very little to be had in the
way of vegetables or eggs or other luxuries such as milk or butter.
_Aug. 29th._
Next morning and afternoon were devoted to a little rest and cleaning
up; but I had little leisure myself, for I had to preside over a
court of inquiry for several hot and weary hours.
At 6 P.M. we suddenly received orders to move at once to Carlepont,
only three miles back, and began to move by the shortest and most
unblocked way. Just when we were moving off I received orders to move
the other way, but with the sanction of the Divisional Staff I
preferred going my own way, and went it.
The detail of the map, however, turned out to be incorrect, and I
found myself at the far, instead of the near, end of the village, with
a lot of transport in the narrow street between ourselves and our
billets. This was hopeless, and after a prolonged jam in the dark I
gave it up, put the battalions on to the pavement and down a side
street, and told them to bivouac and feed where they were.
Meanwhile St André had got a kind Frenchman to give the staff some
dinner, but I misunderstood the arrangement and could not find the
place; so I insisted on digging out some food from our cook's waggon
on the wet grass of a little park we found. And there we ate it about
midnight and went to sleep in the sopping herbage. I fear my staff
were not much pleased with the arrangement.
_Aug. 30th._
Off again at 2:20 A.M., we pushed on over pretty country _viâ_ Attichy
to Croûtoy, a matter of eleven miles. It developed into a roasting-hot
day, and the last two miles, up a very steep hill, were most trying
for the transport. We were at the head of the column, and longed to
stop in the shady little village of Croûtoy, but we had to move on
beyond to some open stubble fields, where the heat was terrific. And
there we bivouacked till about midday, when we were told we might go
back to Croûtoy, and did. It was a very pretty little village with a
magnificent view northwards over the Aisne. We were very comfortably
put up in General de France's château, and enjoyed there a real big
bath with taps and hot water, the first genuine bath we had had since
arriving at Havre. My only _contretemps_ here was that, having when
halfway to Croûtoy dismounted Catley and lent his horse to a Staff
officer, I never saw the horse or my kit on him again. The Staff
officer had duly sent the horse back by a sergeant of gunners, but the
latter never materialized, and, strangely enough, was never heard of
afterwards. So I thus lost my bivouac tent, mackintosh, lantern, and
several other things, besides Catley's complete possessions, all of
which were on the animal. Luckily the horse was not my own, but a
spare one, as my mare Squeaky had had a sore back, and Catley was not
riding her.
_Aug. 31st._
Next day was awfully hot again. We were off by 7.30, and were by way
of billeting at a place called Béthisy, on the south-west edge of the
forest of Compiègne. We passed by the eastern edge, close by the
extraordinary château of Pierrefonds, built by Viollet le Duc to the
exact model of the old castle of the thirteenth century, a huge pile
of turrets and battlements, like one of Gustave Doré's nightmares; and
then struck across the open towards Morienval. We were a long time on
the march, largely owing to the necessary habit that the Artillery
have of stopping to "feed and water" when they come to water,
irrespective of the hourly ten-minute halt. Then, having thus stopped
the Infantry column in rear for twenty minutes, they trot on and catch
up the rest of the column in front, leaving the Infantry toiling
hopelessly after them, trying to fill the gap the guns leave behind
them. It is bad, of course, but it is a choice of evils, for one way
the Artillery suffers, the other the Infantry; but they both arrive
together in the end.
I had trotted ahead to Morienval, to settle on the road, as there was
a divergence of opinion on the subject, and there a kindly farmer
asked me in to dinner with his family--an excellent _potage aux choux_
and a succulent stew, with big juicy pears to follow, all washed down
by remarkably good red _vin du pays_, I remember. There were perpetual
halts on the road, which we did not understand, but soon after leaving
Morienval we were abruptly ordered to turn sharp off to the left and
make for Crépy. The fact was, a force of German cavalry had turned up
at Béthisy, just as our billeting parties were entering it, and the
latter had only just time to clear out.
Our own cavalry cleared the Germans out of Béthisy for the time
being, but we continued on to Crépy-en-Valois, and arrived there,
rather done, at six o'clock--nearly eleven hours to go fifteen miles,
just the sort of thing to tire troops on a very hot day,--and with
numerous apparently unnecessary halts. However, we had few if any
stragglers, and we made our way to some fields on the south-west of
Crépy, St Agathe being the name of the district. I selected the
bivouac myself, as I did not get billeting orders in time, and I
preferred open fields on a hot night for the troops instead of stuffy
billets in the town.
The Brigade Staff, however, occupied a little house and grounds in the
suburbs, and I shall never forget arriving there with St André after
seeing to the bivouac of the Brigade. There were two wine-bottles and
glasses on a table on the lawn, with comfortable chairs alongside.
Nearly speechless with thirst, we rushed at them. They were empty!
_Sept. 1st._
The night was hot, and though I had an excellent bed I remember I
could not get to sleep for ever so long. We were to have moved off
early, but the sound of the guns not far to the north stopped us, and
orders quickly arrived for the Brigade to go and occupy Duvy, a
village a mile or so to the west, and give what help we could to
General Pulteney's force of a Division and a brigade, who were being
attacked on the north-west.
So we moved out rapidly and pushed out two battalions to assist.
Cavalry was reported everywhere, but it was difficult to know which
was English and which German. The latter's patrols were fairly bold,
and single horsemen got close up to us. Broadwood, of the Norfolks,
bowled over one of them at 700 yards--with a rifle, it was reported,
but it was probably his machine-gun. Meanwhile our guns on the plateau
north of Crépy supporting the 13th Brigade did good execution, three
consecutive shells of theirs falling respectively into a squadron of
Uhlans, killing a whole gun-team, and smashing up a gun by direct hit
(27th Brigade R.F.A.)
The two battalions working up north-west from Duvy had just extended
and were moving carefully across country, when I received word that a
large force of the enemy's cavalry was moving on to my left rear. I
did not like this, and pushed out another battalion (Norfolks) to
guard my flank. But we need not have been worried, for shortly
afterwards it appeared that the "hostile" cavalry was the North Irish
Horse, turned up from goodness knows where.
About the same time we got a message from General Pulteney thanking us
for the assistance rendered, and another one from Sir C. Fergusson
telling us to continue our retirement towards Ormoy Villers as
flank-guard to the rest of the Division. This we did, across country
and partly on the railway--very bad going this for horses, especially
as we might any moment have come across a bridge or culvert with
nothing but rails across it. It is true that, if we had, we might have
slipped down into the turnip fields on either side, but there were
ditches and wire alongside which would have proved awkward.
We halted about Ormoy Villers station--in ruins almost, and with its
big water-tank blown up,--and I put two battalions to guard the flank
whilst the rest of us had a meal. Saint André had as usual managed to
forage for us in the ruins, and produced a tin of sardines and some
tomatoes and apples, which, with chocolate and biscuits and warm
water--it was another roasting day--filled us well up. Then after a
long and dusty walk through the woods we reached Nanteuil, where most
of the Division had already arrived.
We had to find outposts (Dorsets and Norfolks) that night, covering a
huge bit of country. I borrowed a car in order to settle how they
should be put out, and ran out much too far, nearly into the enemy. It
was not easy to place them, as connection through the woods was most
awkward. However, we were not attacked, the German cavalry and
advanced guards not having apparently come up.
I had sent Major Allason (of the Bedfords) out earlier in the day to
scout northwards with a couple of mounted men, and he came back at
eventide, having collared a German officer and his servant, but not
brought them in. They had just been falling back at a walk with the
information they had gathered, when they heard a clatter of hoofs
behind them, and beheld a German cavalry officer and his man trying to
gallop past them--not to attack them,--apparently bolting from some
of our own cavalry. Allason, who was in front, stuck spurs into his
horse and galloped after the officer and shot his horse, bringing the
German down, the latter also being put out of action. Then they bound
up the German's wound and took all his papers from him, which proved
to be very useful, giving the location of the German cavalry and other
troops. Meanwhile the officer's servant stood by, with his mouth open,
doing nothing. As they couldn't carry the officer off, they left them
both there and came on.
Amongst other stories, we heard here that a squadron of one of our
cavalry brigades had stopped to water in a wood. A lot of German
cavalry bungled on top of them, and then bolted as if the devil were
after them. The row stampeded our horses, and they dashed off through
the wood in all directions, leaving many of our men on foot. But their
steeds were soon recovered.
_Sept. 2nd._
Off again next morning at 4.15 A.M. We did rear-guard to the Division,
but we had an easy time of it, the Dorsets being in rear. I had also
the 27th Brigade R.F.A., the N.I. Horse under Massereene, and 70
cyclists to help, but the Germans never pursued us or fired a shot. It
was awfully hot again, but we had not far to go--only eleven
miles--into Montgé. There we arrived at 10.45 A.M., and should have
been there much sooner if it had not been for some of the Divisional
Train halting to water on the way.
Montgé is a nice little village on a hillside, almost within sight of
Paris, which is only about twenty-five miles off; and on a clear day
one can, I believe, see the Eiffel Tower and Montmartre. We could not
make out why we were always thus retiring without fighting, and
imagined it was some deep-laid plan of Joffre's that we perhaps were
to garrison Paris whilst the French turned on the Germans. But no
light was vouchsafed to us. Meanwhile the retirement was morally
rather bad for our men, and the stragglers increased in numbers.
The Brigade Headquarters billeted in a tiny house marked by two big
poplars on the main road. The proprietor, a stout peasant--I think he
was the Maire--received us very civilly, but his questions as to our
retirement were difficult to answer. However, we didn't trouble him
long, and were off next morning by 5.30 acting as flank-guard again.
_Sept. 3rd._
It was hotter than ever over those parched fields, and the march was
complicated, for when we had reached Trilbardon down a narrow leafy
path, past a bridge over the Marne which an R.E. officer was most
anxious to blow up at once, we were told to act as rear-guard again.
For this we had to wait till all the troops had passed through the
little streets, and then we followed. We overtook a good many
stragglers, and these we hustled along, insisting on their getting
over the other side of the Marne before the main bridges were blown
up. We were responsible for leaving no one behind, but I'm afraid that
several were left, as they had fallen out and gone to sleep under
hedges and were not seen; and one K.O.S.B. man was suffering so
violently from pains in his tummy that he at first refused to stir,
and said he didn't care if he _was_ taken prisoner. There were a
considerable number of these tummy cases on the way--hot sun and
unripe apples had, I fancy, a good deal to do with them.
At Esbly we halted, gratefully, in the shade for an hour; it was a
nice little town, but strangely empty, for nearly all the inhabitants
had fled.
We put up for the night round Mont Pichet, a beastly little hamlet,
with the Cheshires and one company Bedfords finding the outposts. The
Brigade Headquarters billeted round a horrible little house,
surrounded by hundreds of ducks and chickens, which ran in and out all
over the place till it stank most horribly. There was only one room
which wasn't absolutely foul, and that I took. The others slept in the
open. I wish I had.
I went to visit the outposts by myself; and my wretched pony, Gay,
refused to cross a little stream about two feet broad and two inches
deep. Nothing would induce her to cross it, so I had to send her back
and do it all on foot, beyond a village called Chevalrue and back. By
the time I got back, late, hot, and hungry, I must have done four
miles on foot.
_Sept. 4th._
Having been told we should be here for at least a day to rest, we
received orders, I need hardly say, at 7 next morning, to be ready to
move immediately. However, it was rather a false alarm, as, except for
a Divisional "pow-wow" on general subjects, at 10 A.M. at Bouleurs, we
had little to do all day, and did not move till 11.50 P.M. There had
been an alarm in the afternoon, by the way, of German cavalry
advancing, and I reinforced the Bedfords with another company, and got
two howitzers ready to support, but the "Uhlans" did not materialize.
I might here mention, by the way, that all German cavalry, whether
Lancers or not, went by the generic name of Uhlans. But it was perhaps
not surprising, as all the hostile cavalry, even Hussars, had lances.
They were, however, extraordinarily unhandy with them, and our own
cavalry had a very poor opinion of their prowess and dash.
_Sept. 5th._