Anderson (commanding the Indian Division) and the Maharajah of
Bikanir,[15] we made devoutly thankful tracks in the direction of
Locon and Merville.
[Footnote 15: I was struck with his wonderful command of
English--not the trace of any accent.]
We were but a small part of the 15th Brigade after all who left the
environs of Festubert on that morning--only Headquarters, a very weak
battalion of Cheshires--not more than 300 all told--and two companies
of Bedfords. The remains of the Dorsets had been ordered to join us
about Strazeele, and the whole of the Norfolks and half the Bedfords
were left in the trenches to give a bit of moral and physical support
to the Indians. I did not at all like being parted from them, but
there was no help for it. The West Ridings (Duke of Wellington's) were
attached to me from the 13th Brigade, but that did not make up for the
absence of one and a half of my own beloved battalions.
Nevertheless it was with a feeling of extreme thankfulness that we
left the horrible mud-plain of Festubert and Givenchy, with its cold
wet climate and its swampy surroundings and its dismal memories, for
both Dorsets and Cheshires had suffered terribly in the fighting here.
And the pleasantest feeling was to hear the noise of the bursting
shells grow less and ever less as we worked north-westwards, and to
realise that for the present, at all events, we need not worry about
Jack Johnsons or Black Marias and all their numerous smaller brethren,
nor to keep our attention on the tense strain for bad news from the
firing trenches, but that we could, for several days to come, sleep
quietly, not fully dressed and on our beds or straw with one eye on
the wake all night, but in our blessed beds and in our still more
beloved pyjamas.
We trotted on ahead over the cold, wet, muddy, level roads of those
parts, with a welcome break for luncheon at a real live estaminet,
till we got to Merville, and then we slowed down.
Merville is a nice prosperous little town, with canals and parks and a
distinctly good modern statue of a French soldier in the middle--by
whom, and of whom, I have forgotten. It was, oddly enough, almost like
an extra-European bit of civilisation, for the streets were swarming
with Indians and Africans of both armies--tall, solemn, handsome Sikhs
and Rajputs in khaki; Spahis, Algerians, and Moors in every variety of
kit--red jackets, cummerbunds, and baggy breeches, bright blue
jackets, white breeches, blue breeches, khaki breeches, dark blue
_vareuses_, white burnouses, Arab corded turbans, baggy crimson
trousers, &c., &c., even to Senegalese as black as night, and Berbers
from Mauritania and the Atlas. I tried to talk to some of the latter,
but it was not a success, for they did not understand my Arabic, and
I did not understand their Shlukh.
And so on _viâ_ Strazeele--where Saunders and his Dorsets had already
arrived--contentedly to Pradelles, in which neighbourhood we billeted,
and were met by a staff officer, Cameron of the 5th Divisional Staff,
who gave us the welcome news that we were to rest and recuperate for
at least a week--really and truly this time.
We put up at a nice, bright, ugly little château belonging to an
elderly lady who was most civil and told us stories of what the
Germans had done when they passed through a week or two ago on their
retreat eastwards. Amongst other abominations, they had, on arrival,
demanded of the old curé the key of the church tower, on which they
wished to put a Maxim. The old man, not having the key, had hobbled
off to get it from the garde champêtre, who happened to be in
possession of it for the time being. He could not, however, find him,
and the officer in command, being in a diabolical temper, put the poor
old priest up against a wall and shot him dead on the spot. This was
recounted by the curé's sister, and there was not a shadow of doubt
on the matter, for it was confirmed by all.
_Oct. 31st._
Next day was a clear bright Sunday, and before we had come down to
breakfast, looking forward to a nice lazy day, we were ordered to send
the Dorsets away in motor-buses to Wulverghem (opposite Messines),
where heavy fighting was going on. So much for our promised week's
rest! And before 11 o'clock we had received another urgent telegram
telling us to fall in at once and march eastwards through Bailleul.
I was deputed to command the whole of the remaining troops of the
Division on this march, and by a complicated series of moves from
their billets we got them strung out on the road, and pushed on by
12.30. The troops were mostly artillery, engineers, and train, and the
only other infantry that joined me were the West Kent, now under their
own C.O., Martyn.
Other troops were also on the move through Bailleul, and we had a
weary time of it getting through. It was dark before we had filed
through the big market-square with its old brick church tower and
Town Hall; and even then, though billets had been arranged for in the
country beyond for the rest of the troops, we had the devil's own job
before our own headquarters could find a resting-place. We wanted to
put up at Dranoutre village, but the village was full of the 3rd
Cavalry Brigade, and we should have been in front of our own lot; so
after a depressing wait in a tiny pothouse near Dranoutre, whilst St
André and Weatherby and Moulton-Barrett scoured the country, we
eventually settled down in a little farmhouse at Hille, a few hundred
yards inside the Belgian border. Not so bad, but tiny, and crowded
with not only the proprietor and his numerous family, but with a
number of refugees from further east. My own bedroom was about 6 feet
square and full of stinking old clothes, but I was lucky to get one at
all.
It seemed curious being amongst inhabitants many of whom understood no
French, but only talked Wallon or Flemish. I found my reminiscences of
the South African Taal came in quite usefully; but the best
communicators were the Lowland Scots, who, thanks to their own strange
dialect, managed to make themselves quite decently understood by the
natives.
Here we stayed for a few days--to be accurate, until the morning of
the 5th November. My own "outfit" consisted of the West Kent,
Cheshires, and two companies Bedfords, and the West Ridings were
subsequently added. At one period I was given the K.O.S.B.'s as well,
who were in Neuve Église; but they were taken away from me on the same
day, and so were the West Kent. There was, in fact, a glorious jumble,
battalions and batteries being added and taken away as the
circumstances demanded. Even the two companies Bedfords were spirited
away for forty-eight hours, leaving me with the decimated Cheshires as
the only representatives of the 15th Brigade, but with two battalions
of the 13th and one of the 14th superadded, as well as an R.E. company
(17th). Meanwhile the 5th Divisional Staff was stranded and almost
troopless, for all the other battalions of the Division were scattered
among other divisions--some even under the command of the Cavalry
Division; and guns were pushed up, almost piecemeal, as they were
wanted, to help in the attempt to retake Messines, out of which our
cavalry had been driven some days before. French troops were also
there, in lumps. One morning the country would be brilliant with the
white horses, sky-blue tunics and red trousers, of the Chasseurs
d'Afrique, and the roads impassable with French infantry and transport
moving towards Ypres; and by the next evening nothing but khaki-clad
British were seen, besides patches of Belgian infantry, largely
stragglers and mostly unarmed.
Meanwhile rumours of desperate fighting up north came through--the
critical time when the 7th Division stuck heroically to their crippled
trenches and withstood the ponderous attacks of the German masses; but
it was difficult to make out what was occurring, for one only gathered
bits of news here and there and could not piece them together as a
whole, for the links were missing.
On the 4th November we received orders that Sir Horace would inspect
us on the following morning, and we made preparations to turn out as
clean as we could in the ever-prevailing mud. But in the evening more
important work was at hand, for we were notified to be ready to march
on the following morning to Ypres. So the inspection fell through.
The idea was that we--that is, two companies Bedfords (450 men),
Cheshires (550), and West Ridings (700)--were to combine as the 15th
Brigade with M'Cracken's 7th Brigade (Wiltshires, Gordons, Irish
Rifles, and another battalion), and go to relieve the 7th Division,
which had, we heard, been getting some terrific knocks. With us were
to go the two R.E. companies, the 17th and 59th, belonging to the 5th
Division.
_Nov. 5th._
We marched at 7.20 A.M. _viâ_ Locre and Dickebusch, on the main
Bailleul-Ypres road, passing through many French troops on the way.
Not far on the other side of Dickebusch we heard that the road was
being shelled by the enemy; so M'Cracken ordered the whole force to
park in the fields some distance down a road to the west, whilst he
went on to Ypres for instructions.
We had our midday meal whilst we waited there, but it was not pleasant
for the men, for the fields were dripping wet and very muddy; they
had, therefore, to sit on their kits, whilst the transport had to
remain on the road, the fields being so deep.
McCracken came back at 3.30 P.M. with instructions, and we moved on,
myself being in charge of the movement. We managed to get to Ypres all
right along the main road, as the shells were rather diminishing and
not reaching so far, and we pushed through the town, entering it by a
bridge over the nearly dry canal. Why the Germans had not shot this
bridge to pieces before I cannot imagine, as it was well within their
range. There were numerous big shell-holes in the open space near the
railway station; one or two houses were smouldering; there were heaps
of bricks and stones from damaged houses in the streets, and the
extreme roof corner of the Cloth Hall had been knocked off, but
otherwise the town was fairly normal-looking, except, of course, that
hardly any civilians were visible.
At the other end of the town I came across General Haig, and rode
ahead with him down the Menin road as far as the village of Hooge,
where the Headquarters of the 1st Division were, under General Landon.
(He had succeeded General Lomax, who had been badly wounded by a
shell exploding at his headquarters, and subsequently died, 15th
April.) Here we had a cup of tea in a dirty little estaminet crowded
with Staff officers whilst awaiting the arrival of the Brigade.
No part of this Menin road was, in fact, "healthy," and at night it
was generally subject to a searching fire by German shells. The
wonder, indeed, was that more casualties did not occur here, for after
dark the road was packed with transport and ration and ambulance
parties moving slowly and silently back and forth. But the hostile
shelling was not accurate, and for one "crumper" that burst in or over
the road twenty exploded in the fields alongside.
Only a day or two before, a couple of heavy shells had burst just
outside General Haig's Headquarters at the entrance to Ypres. Luckily
the General himself had just left, but poor "Conky" Marker of the
Coldstream had been fatally wounded, and several other officers,
signallers, and clerks had been killed.
My Brigade arrived in the dark by the time that I had received further
instructions in detail, and was parked off the road (south side)
half a mile further on, whilst Weatherby went on to make arrangements
for their taking up the line, taking representatives of the battalions
with him. I met General Capper (commanding 7th Division) at his
dug-out in the wood close by, and he told me that his Division had
been reduced to barely 3000 men and a very few officers, after an
appalling amount of severe fighting.
Weatherby came back after a time, and the battalions and ourselves
moved off along the road and branched off into the grounds of
Herenthage Château--deep mud, broken trees, and hardly rideable. Here
we bade adieu to our horses, who were, with the transport, to stay in
the same place where we had had our dinners, right the other side of
Ypres and out of shell-range, whilst we kept a few ammunition-carts
and horses hidden near Hooge village. All the rest of our supplies and
stuff had to be brought up every night under cover of darkness to near
Herenthage, and there be unloaded and carried by hand into the
trenches.
In the château itself who should we come across but Drysdale,[16]
Brigade-Major now of the 22nd Brigade, the one which, by the law of
chances, we were now relieving; and, still more oddly, the other
battalion (2nd) of the Bedfords was in his Brigade. It was a cheerless
place, this château--every single pane of glass in it shivered, and
lying, crunched at our every step, on the floor.
[Footnote 16: My late Brigade-Major at Belfast, now, alas!
killed (on the Somme, 1916).]
We pushed on over the grass of the park, through the scattered trees,
and into the wood, and so into the trenches. Even then, as far as one
could judge in the darkness, the ground was a regular rabbit-warren.
By the time we had finished with the district the ground was even more
so; there seemed to be more trenches and fallen trees and wire
entanglements than there was level ground to walk on.
Our own Headquarters were in a poky little dug-out[17] in a wood, not
200 yards from our firing trenches. There was just room for
two--Weatherby and St André (Moulton-Barrett having gone to settle
about transport and supplies, Cadell being away sick, and Beilby being
left with the transport the other side of Ypres)--to lie down in it,
and there was a little tunnel out of it, 6 feet long and 2 broad and
2 high, into which I crept and where I slept; but I was not very happy
in it, as the roof-logs had sagged with the weight of the earth on
them, and threatened every moment to fall in whilst I was inside.
[Footnote 17: Really only a half roofed-in little trench,
marked H on the map.]
[Illustration: Beukenhorst (near Ypres).]
The Bedfords were put into the trenches on the eastern edge of the
wood, the Cheshires continued the line to the south and for a couple
of hundred yards outside the wood, and the West Ridings were in
reserve at the back of the wood, in rear of our dug-out.
I did not like our place at all, for it seemed to me that, being so
close to the firing line, I should not be able to get out or control
the little force if there were heavy operations on; and this was
exactly what did happen.
We had been told that the 6th Cavalry Brigade was in trenches on our
left, and the 7th Infantry Brigade in ditto on our right, and that was
about all we knew of the situation.
_Nov. 6th._
Next morning there was a thick mist till 10 A.M., and I took advantage
of it to visit the trenches in detail. The left of the Cheshires was
within 40 yards of the enemy, who were hidden in the wood in front of
them, so, there being no communication trenches, we had to be fairly
careful hereabouts. But it was desperately difficult to make one's way
about, what with the fallen trees and telephone wires, and little
patches of open ground on the slopes, and long, wet, yellow grass and
tangled heather in parts, not to mention the criss-cross of trenches,
occupied and unoccupied, in all directions. Difficult enough to find
one's way in daylight, it was infinitely worse in pitch darkness. No
wonder that our reliefs had not been accomplished till nearly 3
o'clock that morning!
We were shelled pretty heavily all the morning, and two of the shells
burst so close that they covered us with dirt. Two officers--Langdale
and O'Kelly, of the West Ridings--had their legs broken by their
dug-out being blown in upon them, and three Cheshires were buried by
an exploding shell and dug out dead. Another dozen were killed or
wounded in their trenches, which were nothing like deep enough, and
could not be further deepened because of the water which lay there
only just below the ground. About twenty Cheshires were moved back to
escape the shell fire, and taken to a rather less-exposed place. At
4.30 the Bedfords reported a heavy attack on their front; but it was
confined to rifle fire, and nothing serious happened there.
The remainder of the Bedfords, under Griffith, consisting of two
strong companies, turned up at 6 P.M., and the West Ridings were taken
away from me, so that my command was now reduced to two battalions,
one rather strong (1100--just reinforced by a big fresh draft), and
the other, Cheshires, only about half that number.
On further consideration of the situation, I settled to make Brigade
Headquarters at the Beukenhorst Château,[18] half a mile farther back,
and started the R.E. and a strange fatigue party to dig a funk-hole
for us in front of it in case it were badly shelled; but I remember as
a particular grievance that when the foreign fatigue party heard they
were to go somewhere else, they went off, leaving their work half
undone, and with our Brigade tools, though I had given them distinct
orders to do neither of these things. But they were now out of my
jurisdiction, so nothing could be done except to send them a message
to return our tools--which they never did.
[Footnote 18: "Stirling Castle" on our present maps.]
Moulton-Barrett turned up in the afternoon with a basket of cold food
for us, and took St André away; it was not the least necessary for him
to stay, as the dug-out was really only big enough for two, so
Weatherby and I settled down for the night. We had wanted to move
into the château at 7 P.M., but we could not. For it was not advisable
as long as an attack was imminent; also, M. B. had not got our message
of that morning saying we wanted him to clean up the château for us;
and thirdly, the Bedford relief was taking place. So we settled to
move next day instead.
But it was not very attractive living in the tiny dug-out. We had no
servants, we had to prepare our own food and wash up afterwards; it
was frightfully cramped, and we were always getting half-empty
sardine-tins oozing over official documents, and knives and forks lost
in the mud and straw at the bottom, and bread-crumbs and fragments of
bully beef and jam mixed up with our orders and papers; and it was not
at all healthy going for a stroll as long as the sun was up because of
the bullets and shells fizzing about. Altogether, although it was no
worse, except as regards size, than other dug-outs, it was not
luxurious; and as for washing, a little water in the bottom of a
biscuit-tin was about all we could manage, whilst a shave was a matter
of pain and difficulty.
_Nov. 7th._
We had now come under the 3rd Division (under General Wing
temporarily--a very good and charming fellow, a gunner, who had taken
over General Hubert Hamilton's command, the latter having been killed,
I forgot to mention, some time previously), whilst the 9th Brigade had
relieved the 6th Cavalry on the previous day. The Division, therefore,
now consisted of the 7th, 15th, and 9th Brigades (the latter
comprising the Northumberland Fusiliers, Royal Fusiliers, Lincolns,
and Scots Fusiliers)--in that order from right to left. It looked,
therefore, as if we ought to be soon relieved by the 8th Brigade and
return to our own Division. Vain hope! We were not destined to be
relieved for another fortnight.
There was a good deal of shelling of the 9th Brigade during the
morning, but we personally had not many shells into us, and were
fairly quiet till past 2 o'clock.
Suddenly, about 3, a hellish hostile fire broke out in the wood--not
in our front, but close on our left. A hail of bullets whizzed over
our heads, responded to by our fire trenches; and then, to our horror,
we saw our Bedford supports, to our left front, retiring slowly, but
in some confusion, on top of us--many of the men only half-dressed,
and buckling on their kits as they moved. We jumped out of our
dug-out, and with the assistance of their officers stopped and rallied
them. They were certainly not running, and were in no sort of panic;
but they all said that the word had been passed from the right front
that the Bedfords were to retire, so they had done so--half of them
being asleep or feeding at the time the fire began.
We made them advance again, which they were more than willing to do,
and then there was a cheer from the Bedfords in front. Upon which the
supports pricked up their ears, rallied to the sound, and charged
forward like hounds rallying to the horn.
Violent firing and confused fighting and yelling in the wood for a
space, and some wounded began to come back. Then some Germans, both
wounded and prisoners, in small batches, and at last the news that the
Bedfords had completely repulsed the attack and taken about 25
prisoners, driving the enemy back with the bayonet at the run.
Who it was that started the order to retire we could never find out.
It certainly was not Milling, who was commanding in the front trench,
nor was it any officer. Quite conceivably it may have been started by
the enemy themselves.
What happened, as far as I could make out, was that the right centre
of the Northumberland Fusiliers on our left had been pressed back and
the Germans had poured through the opening. The right flank of the
Northumberlands had sat tight, so the Bedfords in our front line had
known nothing of the German success till they were fired at by the
enemy in the wood on their left rear. I do not fancy, however, from
what the prisoners told me, that the attack was a very strong one--not
more, I expect, than three or four companies.
These belonged to the Frankfurt-am-Main Corps (VII.). I examined one
prisoner, a regular "Schwabe" from Heilbronn, a jolly man with a red
beard, who told me that his company was commanded by a cavalry
captain, who considered it beneath his dignity to charge with
infantry, and remained snugly ensconced behind a wall whilst he
shouted encouragement to his men.
The Bedfords retook three of the Northumberlands' trenches with them,
but failed to retake one of their own--together with two machine-guns
in it--that they had lost, although they tried hard, A Company
(Milling's) making three bayonet charges. They behaved devilish well,
in spite of heavy losses both in officers and men. Macready, their
Adjutant, was shot through the liver (but recovered eventually);
Allason (Major) was hit twice--once through the shoulder, and again,
on returning after getting his wound dressed, through the thigh;
Davenport was shot through the left elbow (we looked after him in our
dug-out); and two subalterns were killed, besides twenty-four men
killed and fifty-three wounded. Of the Cheshires, Pollok, Hodson, and
Anderson (the latter a fine runner and very plucky chap) were killed,
besides five men killed, nineteen wounded, and eight missing.
Altogether the losses were rather heavy. The men were particularly
good to the wounded Germans; I remember especially one man, a
black-bearded evil-looking scoundrel, who had been shot through the
lungs, and rolled about in the mud at my feet, and him they looked
after carefully. The last glimpse I caught of him was being helped to
a stretcher by two of our own men, also wounded.
There was again no chance of our getting to the château to-night, so
another basket of food arrived, and we fed with what comfort we could.
We worked all night at strengthening our lines, but the Germans had
got up so close to our weakest salient that I was a bit anxious on the
subject of a renewed attack by night.
_Nov. 8th._
A small reinforcement arrived at 7 A.M., in the shape of the
Divisional Mounted Troops of the 3rd and 5th Divisions--about 250 men
altogether, consisting of 70 of the 15th Hussars and 60 cyclists from
the 3rd, and 50 of the 19th Hussars and 70 cyclists from the 5th
Divisions, under Courage and Parsons respectively.
These were distributed in rear of our dug-out.
We had a fairly quiet day as far as we ourselves were concerned, but
both Brigades on our flanks were heavily shelled. The French on our
right were attacking in force, but although they were being supported
by their 16th Corps, I do not think there was much result about Klein
Zillebeke.