Brigades did not arrive as soon as we expected, and hence the column
was late in starting. We dawdled along, forming the rear brigade, in
cool weather, and nothing in particular happened beyond reports coming
in from the front that the Germans were quite demoralised. It came on
to pour as we left Chouy, and at Billy we parked the transport and
prepared to billet there. But it was already chokeful of other troops,
and more than half our brigade would have had to bivouac in the
sopping fields. So we pushed on to St Remy, and, evacuating some
cavalry and making them move on to some farms a bit ahead,--including
Massereene and his North Irish Horse, who, I fear, were not much
pleased at having to turn out of their comfortable barns,--we billeted
there, headquarters being taken up in the Curé's house. Even here his
poor little rooms had been ransacked, drawers and tables upset and
their contents littered over the floor, and everything of the smallest
value stolen by the Germans.
_Sept. 12th._
Off at 5 A.M., we did only a short march as far as the Ferme de
l'Épitaphe, a huge farm standing by itself in a vast and dreary plain
of ploughed fields. Here we halted in pouring rain all day, expecting
orders to go on. But we eventually had to billet there, with the
Divisional Headquarters, and though we could only put up the Bedfords
and the Cheshires there was a terrific squash. The Dorsets and
Norfolks were sent back to billet at Nampteuil, a village a mile or so
back, but even here there was some confusion, as the 14th Brigade had
meanwhile arrived and begun to billet there. They were, however, sent
back likewise to Chrisy, and the whole Division passed a most
uncomfortable night. The rain never ceased from pouring, and a gale
sprang up, which made matters worse. We slept in a loft with a number
of Cheshire and Bedford officers, and didn't get dinner till past
nine. Some gunner officers turned up, with no food at all, and we fed
them; but there wasn't much at the best of times, for we had no
rations and had to depend on the contents of our Mess basket, which
consisted only of Harvey sauce, knives and forks, an old ham-bone,
sweet biscuits, and jam.
_Sept. 13th._
It was fine in the morning, but the farmyard was ankle-deep in water
and slush, and the sky was leaden with lurid clouds in the east, when
we started at 4.10 A.M. We pushed on slowly in column for the few
miles to Serches, and there we halted at the cross-roads on the top of
the plateau and parked the brigade whilst the situation was cleared up
by troops in front. Shells began to drop unpleasantly near us, and a
couple of field batteries which got into action just in front of us,
together with a "cow-gun"[8] (60 lb.) battery, only drew the hostile
fire still more. They were pretty big shells, Black Marias mostly, and
the heavy battery being right out in the open suffered somewhat
severely, losing eight horses and a few men killed and wounded by one
shell alone.
[Footnote 8: So called because similar guns in the South
African war had been drawn by oxen.]
So we prudently scattered the battalions a bit, and the field
batteries limbered up and walked slowly back under cover of a slope.
But the cow-guns had one gun disabled, and though they also moved back
and got again into action they were evidently spotted and had rather
a poor time.
Just about then, too, the transport of the 13th Brigade, which was
necessarily following the infantry over the crest towards Sermoise,
were noticed by the enemy, and a few shells over them killed and
disabled a number of waggon-horses and men, making a very nasty mess
in the road.
There we sat all day whilst the sun came out and dried us a bit. But
we were not very happy at luncheon; for though hungry and with plenty
to eat now, those beastly shells came nearer and nearer us, till our
bully and biscuit lost their charm entirely. At last we got up, plates
in hand, and moved with dignity out of range, or, rather, more under
cover.
The Cheshires had meanwhile discovered a curious cave in the hillside
which sheltered the whole battalion (though, in truth, the latter was
not large, only 450 men or so), whilst the other battalions were well
out of sight in the folds of the ground.
The shadows grew longer and longer, and we rigged up some comfortable
little shelters in the coppice for the night, thinking we should
bivouac where we were. But at 6 I was sent for to Divisional
Headquarters at Serches, and told to reconnoitre the road towards the
Aisne--only a mile or two ahead. This I did in a motor-car, and
returned in time for dinner; but we had barely got through it, about
8, when marching orders came to the effect that we were to push on and
cross the Aisne by rafts to-night, and the sooner the better.
So we moved off with some difficulty in the dark, for there were no
connecting roads with the halting-places of the battalions, and got on
to the main road, whence all was plain sailing, down to the Moulin des
Roches, an imaginary mill on the river bank. Over some sloppy pasture
fields in dead silence, and we found ourselves on the bank, with a
darker shadow plashing backwards and forwards over the river in our
front, and some R.E. officers talking in whispers.
The actual crossing of the Brigade was a long job, and had to be
carefully worked out. The raft held sixty men at a time, or thirty men
and three horses; but as horses on a raft in the dead of night were
likely to cause a fuss, we left them behind, to follow on in the
morning, and crossed without them,--four and a half hours it took;
and whilst the men were crossing we tried to get a bit of sleep on the
wet bank. It was not very successful, as it was horribly cold and we
had no blankets. The staff crossed last of all, and we landed in a
wood on the far side, in a bog but thinly covered with cut brushwood,
and full of irritating, sharp, and painful tree-stumps.
_Sept. 14th._
When we were across it was difficult to discover the battalions asleep
in the fields, and when we had found them and it was time to start it
was difficult to wake them. However, we moved off just as it was
getting light; but it was not easy to find the way, for there was no
path at first. We had orders to go _viâ_ Bucy-le-Long to Sainte
Marguerite, and found the villages right enough, for they were close
together. But as we moved into Sainte Marguerite, with a good many
other troops in front of us, we became aware that there was an
unnecessary number of bullets flying about, and that our fellows in
front were being held up.
The village was held by the 12th Brigade (4th Division), and the 14th
Brigade was somewhere on our right. The Dorsets were our leading
battalion, and they were pushed on to help the 12th, and filled a gap
in their line on the hill above the village front at the eastern end.
But there we stuck for a long time. The enemy's artillery had
meanwhile opened on us, and shells began to crash overhead and played
the devil with the tiles and the houses. But they did not do us much
harm.
We now received orders to move on to Missy (not a mile off to the
right) and clear the Chivres ridge of the enemy and push on to Condé
and take that if possible--rather a "large order." The difficulty was
to get to Missy, for the road thither was spattered with bullets, and
shells were bursting all along it. However, by dint of careful work we
moved out bit by bit, cutting through the gardens and avoiding the
road, and taking advantage of a slight slope in the ground by which we
could sneak to the far side of the little railway embankment which led
to Missy Station.
It took a long time, and I made what proved to be the serious mistake
of staying to the end in order to see the whole Brigade clear of
Sainte Marguerite. I ought really to have gone ahead with the first
party to reconnoitre; for just as we were starting after the rear
company I stopped to write a message to the Division in answer to one
which had just arrived, and at that moment a hellish shrapnel,
machine-gun, and rifle fire was opened, not only on the village but on
all the exits therefrom, and this fire lasted for nearly two hours.
One simply could not make the attempt; it would have been certain
death. And so we had to sit in the tiny courtyard of one of the
houses, with our backs against the wall, and listen to the inferno
overhead, whilst the proprietor's wife plied us with most acceptable
roast potatoes and milk.
I wrote a lot of messages during those two hours, but whether they all
got through or not I do not know: some of the messengers never came
back. Colonel Seely turned up at one moment--from General
Headquarters, I think--demanding information. This I supplied, and
made use of him to take some of my orders back; it really was quite a
new sensation giving orders to a recent Secretary of State for War.
At one time two or three artillery waggons appeared in the little
main street and remained there quietly for a bit under a heavy fire,
but only losing a man or two slightly wounded. Then suddenly there was
a loud crack overhead, and half a dozen horses were lying struggling
and kicking on the ground, with great pools of blood forming in the
road and four or five prostrate men in them. It was a horrible sight
for us, for the shell had burst just opposite the gate of our
courtyard. But the gunners behaved magnificently, and a farrier
sergeant gave out his orders as quietly and unconcernedly as if he had
been on parade. I took his name with a view to recommendation, but
regret that I have forgotten it by now.
We also had some very unpleasant shaves at this time in our own
courtyard. Twice did a shell burst just above the house and drive
holes in the roof, bringing down showers of tiles; the second time
practically all the tiles fell on me and nearly knocked me down. I do
not know why they did not hurt me more--luckily the house was a low
one; but they merely bruised my back.
At last, in a lull, we managed to get away, and sneaked out at a
run--through a yard and back garden, behind a farm, out at the back
behind a fold in the ground, then across a wide open field and on to
the low railway embankment, behind which we ducked, and made our way
to the little station of Missy and up behind some scattered houses to
near the church.
Here, after some trouble, we got the commanding officers together, and
arranged to push on and attack the wooded ridge above the town. The
force was rather mixed. I had met Rolt (commanding the 14th Brigade)
on the way, and we had settled that I should collect whatever of his
men I could get together in Missy and join them to my attacking party.
The difficulty was that it was already getting late--4.30 P.M.--and
that there was insufficient time for a thorough reconnaissance, though
we did what we could in that direction. However, my orders from the
Divisional Commander had been to take the ridge, and I tried to do it.
I had got together three companies of the Norfolks, three of the
Bedfords, two Cheshires (in reserve), two East Surreys (14th Brigade),
and two Cornwalls (13th Brigade, who had arrived _viâ_ the broken
bridge at Missy and some rafts hastily constructed there)--twelve
companies altogether.
But when they pushed forward it became very difficult, for there
turned out to be too many men for the space. What I had not known was
that, though they could advance up a broad clearing to more than
halfway up the hill, this clearing was bounded on both flanks, as it
gradually drew to a point, by high 6-feet wire netting just inside the
wood, so that the men could not get properly into the wood, but were
gradually driven in towards the point, where the only entrance to the
wood occurred.
Luckily the Germans had not noticed this either--or there would have
been many more casualties than there were. As it was, a company of the
East Surrey and another one (Allason's) of the Bedfords did get
through to the top of the wood and on to the edge of the open plateau;
but this I did not hear of till later. When the greater part of the
force had got through the opening into the wood they found a few
Germans there and drove them back, killing some. Then they surged on
to a horse-shoe-shaped road further on in the wood, and some men lost
their direction and began firing in front of them at what they
thought were Germans. But they were others of our own, and these began
firing back, also without knowing that they were their friends.
Consequently, although casualties were few, an unpleasant situation
arose, and numbers of men turned about and retired down the hill into
Missy, saying that our artillery was firing into them. This may have
been true, for some shells were bursting over the wood; but whether
they were English or German I do not know to this day.
Anyhow, the stream of men coming back increased. They fell back into
the village, and then came some certainly German shells after them.
For an unpleasant quarter of an hour the little sloping village of
Missy was heavily shelled by shrapnel; but the walls of the houses
were thick, and though of course there were a certain number of
casualties, they were not serious as long as the men kept close to the
south side of the walls. Beilby (our Veterinary officer) for some
reason would keep to the wrong side of the street and was very nearly
killed, the fuse of a shell landing with a whump on a door not two
feet in front of him, and a shrapnel bullet going through his skirt
pocket; but he was not touched. The shrapnel were in bursts of four,
and luckily Moulton-Barrett noticed it, for he calmly held up the
stream of men till the fourth shell had burst, and then let as many as
possible past the open space there till the next bunch arrived, when
he stopped them behind cover,--just like a London policeman directing
traffic.
I remember one man falling, as we thought dead, close to where the
Staff were standing. But he groaned, and Weatherby ran to pick him up.
There was, however, no wound of any sort on him, and after a minute he
got up and went on. I think he must have been knocked down by the wind
of a shell--for he certainly was as much astonished as we were at
finding no damage on himself.
By this time I had given orders that the troops were to retire to
their previous positions in and near the village, and it was getting
dusk.
Luard (Norfolks) and a party of twenty-five men were well ahead in the
wood, and received the order to retire, for Luard was heard shouting
it to his men. But nothing has since been heard of him, and I much
regret to say that he was either taken prisoner with most of his men,
or, more probably, killed.
A message now came down from the plateau saying that some East Surreys
and Bedfords were still up in the wood, and should they retire or hold
on? As it was nearly dark and I consequently could not support
them--for if the men could not get through the wire-netting in
daylight they could hardly do so at night--I told them to retire. I
gave this order after I had consulted Rolt, who was somewhere west of
the village; but even if Rolt had not been there I should have given
it, for it would have been impossible to reinforce them adequately in
the circumstances.
So I issued orders for an early reconnaissance and attack next
morning, to be led by the Norfolks; and the troops covered their front
with sentries and bivouacked in and round the village. We were all
short of food that night, for none of our supply carts, and not even a
riding-horse, had come with us. But all or most of the men had an
"iron ration" on them, and this they consumed, with the "unexpired"
portion of their previous day's ration.
The Bedfords took up their position along the railway to the west,
Cheshires on the right, Norfolks right front of village, D.C.L.I. left
front.
As for the Staff, we retired to a farm called La Bizaie,
three-quarters of a mile south of Missy, and close to the river, and
took up our quarters there. There was not a whole pane of glass in the
house, for it had been heavily bombarded--being empty, except for a
few wounded--during the day, and great craters had been formed close
by the walls by the Black Marias. But except at one corner of the roof
of an outhouse, no damage had been done to the buildings--except the
broken glass.
It was a very old farmhouse, as we found out afterwards, part of it
dating back to 1200 and something. Curiously enough, there was a
photograph of an English Colonel (of the R.A.M.C.) on the sideboard--a
friend, so the farm servants told us, of the owner, whose name I have
forgotten. The buildings were very superior to the ordinary farm type,
and more like a comfortable country house than one would expect, but
there were plenty of barns as well, and some pigs and chickens running
about.
We bought, murdered, and ate an elderly chicken, but otherwise there
was devilish little to eat except a store of jam, and we had only a
very few biscuits and no bread.
_Sept. 15th._
[Illustration: Missy-on-Aisne.]
After writing out orders for the attack next day we went to bed,
dog-tired; and I was routed out again at 12.45 A.M. by Malise Graham,
who had come with a message from the Divisional Commander that he
wanted to see me at once at the broken bridge at Missy, a mile off
through long wet grass in pitch darkness. It was not good "going,"
but we got there eventually and crossed the river, sliding down steep
slippery banks into a punt, ferried across, and up the other side.
Cuthbert eventually turned up from somewhere, and we had a pow-wow in
the dark, resulting in fresh orders being given for the morrow's work.
This involved new orders being written, and it was 4 A.M. by the time
we turned in again for an hour's sleep.
A careful reconnaissance was made by Done and some other Norfolk
officers as soon as it was light; but the result was not promising.
Fresh German trenches had been dug commanding the open space, and more
wire had been put up during the night.
The Norfolks were told off to lead the assault, with the Bedfords in
support and the Cheshires in reserve. The Dorsets were still above
Sainte Marguerite, helping the 12th Brigade, and were not available.
We began by shelling that horrible Chivres Spur, but it produced
little effect, as the Germans were in the wood and invisible. The
Norfolks pushed on, but gradually came to a standstill in the wood,
and the day wore on with little result, for the wood was desperately
blind, and we were being heavily shelled at all points.
The Brigade staff sat under a hedge halfway between La Bizaie farm and
Missy; but it was not a very happy place, for the big shells fell
nearer and nearer till we had to make a move forward at a run for the
shelter of a big manure-heap. But even here the Black Marias found us
out, and two of them fell within a few yards, their explosion covering
us with dirt. We were also in view of German snipers halfway up the
hill, and bullets came thick whenever we showed a cap or a leg beyond
the muck-heap, which, besides being distinctly unsweet, was covered
with disgusting-looking flies in large numbers.
However, there we had to stay most of the day. The village of Missy
was intermittently shelled by some huge howitzers, and bunches of
their shells blew up several houses and nearly demolished the church,
a fine old 14th century building. A few Norfolks were buried or killed
by the falling houses, but otherwise extraordinarily little damage was
done, and most of the shells fell in the open, where there was nobody
worth mentioning.
At 3 P.M. I got a summons to go to Rolt at his farm just outside
Sainte Marguerite; and a most unpleasing journey it was for Weatherby
and me. We separated, going across the open plough and cabbage fields,
but snipers were on us the whole time, and several times missed us by
only a few inches. We must have offered very sporting targets to the
Germans on the hill, for we ran all the way, and--I speak for
myself--we got extremely hot.
I sprinted a good 400 yards under fire for the shelter of a thick
hedge, and when I got there found to my disgust there was a young
river to be got over before I could reach the cover. However, I
squirmed along a fallen bough and struggled through the fence--to find
myself face to face with Bols and his Dorsets, whom he was bringing
along to hold the line of the fence. This gave a certain "moral
relief," and from there it was easier going to Rolt's farm, all except
one point where the railway cut through a hedge and crossed the
stream. On this point a German machine-gun had been laid, and to cross
it with a whole skin one had to hurry a bit. Our Brigade machine-gun
officer, young D---- of the Bedfords, was subsequently hit here, in
the back, but not very seriously.
I concerted measures with Rolt for holding the line Missy-Sainte
Marguerite, and we began to dig in places. But at 7.40 P.M. came
orders for the 15th Brigade to evacuate the north bank _viâ_ a new
bridge near the old raft one where we had crossed; so we issued fresh
orders about the 14th Brigade taking over our line, and prepared for
another night march,--no sleep again.
I forgot to mention that our horses had arrived at La Bizaie early
that morning, having crossed by the raft bridge the day before. Silver
as usual made a desperate fuss, and was eventually knocked into the
river by a mule who was crossing with him. He swam up and down the
river for twenty-five minutes, refusing to come out--poor Catley in
desperation all the time. But he was eventually hauled out, with my
saddle and bags, of course, sopping wet. His stable shed was also
shelled heavily during the day, but strange to say none of the horses
or grooms were touched.
It poured in buckets that night; and as the Bedfords were streaming
past the farm in the dark about 11 P.M. a terrific fire broke out
from the direction of Missy, accompanied by German flare-lights and
searchlights. The word went round that it was a German counter-attack,
and we ran out and halted the Bedfords and put them into some trenches
covering the farm. But it turned out to be a false alarm; for the
Germans, hearing troops moving in the dark, thought that they were
going to be attacked, and opened a heavy fire on Missy, whilst the
14th Brigade and the remainder of our men still there replied to it.
It eventually died down, and we resumed our march in pitch darkness
and mud up to the men's knees in the water meadows by the river.
_Sept. 16th._
The Cheshires came last, and we of the Brigade Staff followed them at
4 A.M. through dripping fields and criss-cross hedges, coming across
the Scottish Rifles lying asleep near the pontoon bridge. They
belonged to the 19th Brigade, but where the rest of the Brigade was I
do not know.
On the other side of the river we found the Divisional Commander with
a few of his staff. It was beastly cold and just getting light, about
5 A.M., and why Sir Charles should be standing there I could not at
first make out. However, it turned out that he had come down from
Serches, being somewhat anxious as to what might be happening on the
other side of the river--with considerable justification, for if we
had been driven back on to the one bridge which crossed the river we
might have been in a parlous state.
Half an hour later we arrived in Jury, a tidy little village in and
round which most of the Brigade was already billeting, and here, in a
nice little house, belonging to a worthy old couple, we took our rest,
thankful for a little peace and some sleep at last.
And here we stayed for a week.
Not that it was all beer and skittles even then. The 14th Brigade was
still holding Missy over the river, and there were some serious alarms
on one or two nights, necessitating troops being sent down to the
river at Rupreux, in case they were wanted.
Shells fell near Jury for a day or two, but they gradually died away,
until some heavy guns of the 4th Division were brought up close by and
began banging away again at the Chivres heights and beyond. Quite
unnecessary we thought them, for they not only made a hideous noise
day and night, but the enemy began searching for them with Black
Marias, some of which fell unpleasantly close to us.