coming to an end, and we were going into action. Well, if it had to be
it had to be, and I think every man was ready to do what was required
of him. The officers and draft who had joined us fresh from England
were eager for their chance, but the others who had already had a good
measure of fighting, and some of whom had been at Mons and on the Marne
and Aisne, had not been sorry for the respite which the past fortnight
had given. It had been a rest to be away from the sound of gun and
rifle fire and go to sleep knowing the enemy was nowhere near, and that
one had anyhow the whole of the next day to live.
However, as we marched along there were certain signs which told us
that now this state of peace was over. Refugees began to pass us on the
road--old men, farmers, and their wives and serving women. They looked
scared, and had few possessions with them. We gathered from them that
the Germans were somewhere ahead, pressing forward in vast numbers.
Though we did not know it then, it was one of the fierce thrusts for
Calais we were being sent to meet.
Further along we were halted in the straggling street of a town. The
halt lasted more than the regulation ten minutes, and as we were
wondering what was the cause of the delay a troop of British cavalry
clattered through. A subaltern rode at the head of the troop, map in
hand, hat jauntily over one ear. Presently the remainder of a cavalry
brigade came by, and we knew then that the enemy must be somewhere near
and that the cavalry were being sent out to get in touch with them.
They made a brave sight, those cavalrymen, clattering out to pave the
way for the infantry, and I could not help envying them the excitement
and uncertainty of their job.
By the time we advanced the enemy's position would be known and we
should be just pawns pushed out at the will of a general to be taken or
take.
When the cavalry had gone by we continued our march until we reached a
point which was evidently as far as we were to go that evening. Here
the Colonel sent for officers commanding companies and told them that
his orders were to put out two companies on outpost duty along the
banks of a canal and keep two in reserve with him in a farm building.
It was the lot of my company to be one of the two on outpost duty.
Going out on outpost duty in the middle of a march is one of the
hardest lots that can fall on an infantryman. It means that instead of
being able to take his boots off, soap his feet (if they are sore),
change his socks, have a dinner of hot stew and a good cup of strong
tea, he has to spend the night out in the cold watching over the safety
of those who are doing these delightful things. He may get a bit of
sleep if he is not on group sentry, but it won't be with the same sense
of security, and he must lie down in his heavy equipment and have his
rifle under his arm.
Off we started with a regretful glance at the farm and others going
to billet there in a cosy barn and cook themselves dinner at the
kitchen fire. We soon came to the canal which was to form our outpost
line. It lay about half a mile away and looked a very good object
to have between ourselves and the enemy. There was one bridge, at
which Goyle placed his Maxim. The men he lined along a bank about ten
feet high which ran above the tow-path on our side of the canal. This
bank proved a blessing in many ways. It saved the men the trouble of
entrenching--one of the most irksome items of outpost duty after a long
day's march--and provided cover behind which they could walk about,
and even enabled them with great care to light small fires to cook tea
over until darkness set in. But the bank might also--as Goyle, who had
had experience of canal banks at Mons, pointed out--prove a death-trap
in the morning, for it would provide a fine mark for the enemy's guns
should they get on to it. He therefore insisted on each man scraping
himself out a small bomb-proof shelter from under the bank.
By great good fortune, just behind the section for which my platoon was
responsible, there was a cottage. The owners, an old man and his wife,
came to the door when I knocked. Like so many of the French peasants
they preferred to remain in their home in spite of the proximity of
war. They were quite pleased to see Evans, my fellow-subaltern, and
myself, and the old woman made us some most delicious coffee, boiled us
four eggs, and gave us a loaf of bread. She was delighted with the five
francs we were able to scrape up, and promised to get us breakfast in
the morning.
It was dark when we had finished, and after a look along the lines, I
rolled myself up in a quilt, which I had borrowed from the cottage, and
with some straw under me went sound asleep on top of the bank. Not a
shot was fired during the night or at dawn to disturb us, so that that
night on outpost duty was one of unusual peace and comfort.
In the morning we packed up and continued our march. As we marched
in fours along the road, I gathered that my suspicion that there had
been really nothing in front of us was correct. A mile or two from the
canal a regiment of Spahis passed us. Incredible as it may seem, these
fine little fellows go to war in the scarlet cloaks in which they are
dressed in time of peace. They are the most picturesque troops I have
ever seen, with their mettlesome Arab horses, turbans, and sweeping
scarlet cloaks fastened across the breast high up to the chin.
Farther on we passed a more forceful sight of war. It was a tiny
cavalry ambulance convoy. Just one hooded Red Cross wagon, driven by
a blue-coated cavalryman and followed by a cuirassier with bandaged
head, riding one horse and leading another with an empty saddle. What
a picture that little convoy would have made if some artist could have
caught it--the pathetic little wagon with its hidden load of pain, the
charger and empty saddle, and the splendid cuirassier with the bandaged
head sitting his horse for all the world to see, proud as a lover who
has fought for his mistress.
A mile more and our march was done. We were halted by a wayside inn
and told to eat our rations. I went into the inn to see if there was
any prospect of a drink, but they were sold out of everything except
coffee. That day was probably the briskest day's trade the little inn
ever did, and looking at it now it seems odd that the landlady and her
daughter should have been bustling about intent solely on business
within what proved to be actually half a mile of the firing-line. Two
hours later our guns were opening fire in a field by the inn on some
Germans in the next village.
As we sat there we now saw two regiments of Cuirassiers retiring over
the open ground towards us. They were part of a French cavalry division
which had been lent to co-operate with the British. Magnificent-looking
fellows they were, too, with their breastplates and long black plumes;
the officers actually had their breastplates burnished, and looked just
like our Life Guards at Whitehall.
When we had eaten our rations we fell in again and moved off, and a
few hundred yards down the road came on our cavalry, dismounted behind
some buildings. From them we learnt that the enemy had been located
about half a mile farther down the road. We were told from this point
to leave the road and move in sections across country, and in this
formation passed on beyond the cavalry. They had done their job and
found the enemy, and it was now for us to come and take up the line.
VIII. GETTING INTO ACTION
After the cavalry had withdrawn my regiment was lined out along a
road running at right angles to the road down which we had advanced.
From this time onwards for the next ten days I only knew what the
companies on my left and right were doing, and not always that. As a
platoon commander, I was responsible for the fifty men under me, and
all the information it was necessary for me to have was included in the
orders which Goyle, my company commander, gave for the movements of my
platoon. Therefore, for general knowledge of the battle, I had to rely
on such deductions as I could make from sound of firing on my right
and left and any gossip I could pick up when I went back to regimental
headquarters.
Advancing to attack in these days of modern warfare is a very slow
business. It is essential that platoons, companies, and regiments
should move forward together in one line and not allow gaps to come
between them, and what with one regiment waiting for another to
advance, and each waiting for orders from their respective colonels,
who in turn are waiting for the word from the Brigadier, there is often
considerable delay. This delay is to a certain extent mitigated by
the general policy of junior officers of pushing forward on their own
initiative until they are stopped.
As a platoon commander one works with the platoon commander on one's
left or right, leaving the platoon sergeant to keep in touch with the
platoon on the other flank. To have a fellow subaltern to talk to as
one lies in a ditch being shelled is a great comfort.
However, we were kept along the road we had first lined for about an
hour before any further move was made, and most of the officers of
the regiment congregated in a little group while we were waiting for
orders. I was much interested in watching the doings of some gunner
officers who had come up. Two of them were surveying the ground in
front through field-glasses. From where we were we could see nothing,
and as there had not been a shot fired that day we did not know how
many of the enemy there were in front of us or where they were.
However, the gunners were able to see something, for, after a bit,
they conferred with the battery commander. Acting on their information
he sent back a message for the guns to come up, and up they dashed,
wheeled into line in the field, and unlimbered.
I happened to be standing near the battery commander, and ventured to
ask him what he was going to do.
"I'm going to shell ----ville," he replied.
He was a squat, stumpy little major, who looked as though he had just
made a capital breakfast, and he spoke of his intentions with as much
complacency as if he was going out for a morning's partridge-shooting.
Two minutes later he had given a crisp order, and the six businesslike
grey nozzles had barked in sharp succession, and sent six shells
screaming over the quiet countryside. Poor ----ville! Many shells have
since crashed into the pretty little French village, but I shall never
forget seeing its baptism of fire or the complacent way in which the
tubby little major announced that he was going to shell the place.
Soon after this orders came for the infantry to advance, and Goyle sent
for his four platoon commanders and gave his orders. Our company was
responsible for keeping touch with the Dorchester Regiment on our left;
No. 5 platoon, under Evans, was immediately responsible for this, with
No 6 (mine) next, and 7 (under Edwards), and 8 (under Mayne), on the
right. This was to be the first day's fighting for Edwards and Mayne,
as they had only come out from England with reinforcements two days
before. Edwards had been a Sandhurst cadet a month ago, but Mayne was
a retired officer who had fought in South Africa; however, there was
nothing to choose in composure between the boy and the man.
Goyle took us to a point where we could see the ground we were to
move over, and showed us a ditch which he wished us to crawl along
until we reached another ditch at right angles to it which we were
to line. In this way we should be able to do the first part of the
advance without being seen at all. Evans took his platoon out first,
and when he had got a good start I followed with mine. He reached
the ditch without mishap, but here we had to remain some while, as
the Dorchester Regiment on our left had not got up in line with us.
Verbal messages then passed between Evans and the subaltern in command
of the right platoon of the Dorchester Regiment. Evans wanted to know
why the Dorchesters were not in line with him, and the subaltern of
the Dorchester's why he, Evans, had advanced so far. Up till now our
guns behind had been firing steadily over our heads, and not a sound
or sign had come from the enemy, but now suddenly, in the middle of
the argument between Evans and the Dorchester subaltern, there was a
different whistle in the air, a crash, and a white puff of smoke just
behind us.
"Hullo!" Evans looked round and slid quickly to the bottom of the ditch.
The enemy's first shell was followed by two others, which burst about
the same place, and then by three which fell farther over us.
"They are after our guns," said Evans.
This was my first taste of hostile shell-fire, but the shells passed so
harmlessly overhead that it hardly seemed as though we were under fire
at all. After a while orders came for us to continue our advance. This
time my platoon had to lead the way and advance up a ditch to another
parallel ditch about three hundred yards away. We gained the ditch
without incident, but it was a queer experience, pushing forward over
the empty fields, never knowing when we were coming on the enemy or
what lay ahead of us. When my platoon and the platoon under Evans were
safely in the ditch, No. 7 was told to follow. To reach our line No. 7
had to cross over some open ground, and this proved their undoing, for
midway across a shell burst just in front of them, followed by another
and another.
"By Jove," said Evans, "Edward's lot has been spotted."
We watched. Edwards, as soon as he came under fire, had halted his men
beneath a bit of bank, and from where we were we could see no sign
of a man above the surface of the ground. But the enemy battery had
evidently found their mark, for they plastered the little bank with
shrapnel. I watched, able to do nothing and sorry in my heart. It was a
very fierce baptism of fire for a Sandhurst cadet, and I wondered how
the boy was faring.
It was now well on towards dusk, and as the light failed the firing
stopped. Slowly, what was left of the exposed platoon began to creep
up to our ditch, and much to my delight Edwards himself came up unhurt
with the first man. He said he had had ten men hit, a man sitting
beside him killed, and a tree just above blown in half. The boy seemed
none the worse for his experience, and only a little anxious lest he
had exposed his men unnecessarily to fire.
It now looked as though we were to spend the night where we were. I
posted a patrol out in some bushes ahead and told the men to get to
work with their entrenching tools to improve their cover. As it grew
darker, the strain of looking out into the night for an enemy who never
appeared became oppressive. Evans reported from the left that he could
see no sign of the Dorchester Regiment, and we appeared to be in rather
an isolated position. Much to my relief Goyle came up soon and said he
intended to withdraw the company to the place whence we had started.
It was a great relief to be able to lie down close to our own guns and
near the Colonel and regimental headquarters. As soon as the men were
settled I went back to the first-line transport to get the officers'
rations for the next day. Goyle had given me the job of feeding the
five officers in the company, leaving it to me to make arrangements
for cooking where possible, and, when not, to see that each had a
parcel of food to last him through the day. I found the regimental
quartermaster-sergeant busy issuing rations to the different company
orderly corporals. The work was being done in a barn by the light of a
guttering candle. In a corner of the barn five of Edwards's platoon,
who had come under the shrapnel fire, lay stretched out stiff and cold.
The quartermaster-sergeant saluted me cheerily and packed my ration-box
with our rations, giving me a piece of bacon to divide between us, a
wedge of cheese, fifteen army biscuits, a tin of jam, and three small
tins of bully beef. With the box under one arm I started back for the
company. On the way, having learnt from a sentry where regimental
headquarters were, I just peeped in to see what was going on. After the
day's work, there is often something to be picked up at regimental
headquarters in the way of a tot of whisky from a bottle sent down
by the Brigadier, or a helping from a dixie of soup sent up by the
master-cook. Young subalterns are not supposed to hang about waiting
for these delicacies, but if they do push a hungry face round the door
and hastily withdraw it a kindly colonel or adjutant will often ask
them in. Having therefore located regimental headquarters as being in
the kitchen of a farm, I tapped on the door and asked if anyone had
seen Goyle.
"Yes, here he is", said the Colonel, and I saw my company commander's
nose emerge from a steaming cup of coffee. Round the fire were the
Colonel, Adjutant, scout and machine-gun officers, the doctor, Goyle,
and two other company commanders. These little informal gatherings are
held by most regiments when the day's work is done and the night is not
going to be busy, and a great relief it is, too, to be able to laugh
and see the funny side of things after the strain of an anxious day. At
the first sound of firing they melt.
I was given a cup of coffee and wheedled a cigarette out of a scout
officer, who had just had some sent out from England. After warming
myself for a quarter of an hour I said good-night and returned to the
company across the field, taking with me a bundle of straw from the
farmyard, which made a capital bed.
IX. AN ATTACK AT DAWN
I had not been sleeping long when I was awakened by a foot gently
feeling the small of my back.
Looking up, I saw Evans standing over me.
"Goyle wants you," he said; "he is just down there." Evans pointed to a
dark corner of the ditch in which the company was spending the night.
I got up from the pile of straw on which I was lying and followed him.
Goyle was squatting on the ground with a map and an electric torch
which he was shading under his greatcoat. He had just come back from
battalion headquarters, where he had been to receive orders.
"We are going to attack at dawn," he began, as soon as his four platoon
commanders were settled round him. "We are to gain the line ----," he
indicated the points on the map which marked the position we were to
capture. "The Dorchesters have orders to take ----ville"--he pointed
to a village on our left--"and the --th Brigade are to take ----"--he
pointed to another village marked on the right. "The attack begins as
soon as it is light, which will be 5 A.M. I want you to see now that
the platoons return their tools" (we had been digging earlier in the
night), "that each man has his rations, and that twenty-five bandoliers
of spare ammunition are carried per platoon. The mist will cover the
first part of our advance, and there must be no firing until the order
is given by me."
We went off to carry out the instructions given, and then lay down to
wait for the dawn.
Perhaps Evans and the other platoon commanders slept. I don't know.
I know only that for my part I did not. The thought that we were to
attack at dawn dispelled any lingering sleepiness. I looked at my
watch--3 A.M.--in an hour it would begin to grow light. How would the
day end? What would be the fate of the attack? I wondered if Goyle
was awake, and thought I would go down to him. I peeped down into
the corner of the ditch where I knew he was lying. A dark form lay
stretched at full length, and I heard a gentle snore. I lay down again.
After a while, looking out in the direction of the enemy, I saw a
faint flush low in the sky. I watched. The flush swelled to a vast
crimson glow. I woke Goyle. For a moment we looked at the day breaking
blood-red over the fields across which we were to fight our way. Than
we went, one either way along the ditch, rousing the men.
The men yawned, stretched themselves, and stood to arms. Their
bayonets, which they always kept fixed during the night, glittered
faintly in the early light. The crimson flush was broken now, and
streaks of yellow and pure white shot the sky.
Goyle caught my arm.
Low on the horizon the crest of a yellow ball just showed above the
trees. "The sun," he said.
_CRASH! bang! CRASH! bang! bang! bang!_
We listened as our guns behind opened the ceremony with a salvo. They
fired fast for five or ten minutes.
"The Dorchesters are advancing on our left, sir"--the message was
passed down to Goyle.
He signed for the company to advance. The men crawled up out of the
ditch and pushed over the country in a thin line. Evans was on my left,
with Edwards and No. 8 platoon commander on the right.
We advanced very slowly, with long pauses, lying flat on the ground
waiting for orders to continue. Now the officer commanding the company
on the right would send word to say he had reached such a point, and
would C Company come up in line with him? Now Evans passed along that
we were getting ahead of the Dorchesters. The attack is a very slow
and ticklish business in these days of modern firearms. All this while
steady firing could be heard on the right as the --th Brigade swung
round, and for about an hour there was sharp firing on the left, but in
front of us not a shot was heard.
At last we gained a group of cottages on a road which marked the point
we had been told to reach. There was still no sign of the enemy, and
had it not been for the firing on the right and left we should have
doubted his existence in the neighbourhood, so quiet and peaceful did
the cottages look.
However, we heard afterwards that the brigade on the right had suffered
heavily, and that the brisk firing on the left was the Dorchester
Regiment under machine-gun fire from the village they had been told to
take. It just happened to be our luck that day to have an uncontested
piece of frontage to advance over.
A road ran through the group of houses and beyond a ploughed field. At
the end of the ploughed field there was a hedge and ditch, which formed
a natural trench facing the enemy. In spite of the apparent absence
of the enemy Goyle refused to allow the men to loiter about along the
road or in the farms and cottages, but ordered the company to line this
ditch. As it turned out later it was well he did so.
As soon as I had seen my platoon lined along their section of the ditch
I went back to a farm behind to explore. I found Jenkins, my soldier
servant, there before me, busy searching the farm for breakfast. He had
found half a dozen new-laid eggs in an outhouse, kindled a small fire
in the farmyard, and was boiling the eggs in his canteen. He was not,
strictly speaking, supposed to be doing this, but soldier servants
are a privileged class, and Jenkins was the most tactful of servants.
On my going up to him to see what he was doing he pointed to the eggs
triumphantly and said they were for me. So instead of telling him
to join the company at once in the ditch I stayed with him to watch
them boil. I had not been in the farmyard two minutes when suddenly
sharp firing broke out from the ditch. So we had found something in
front of us at last. I dashed across the ploughed field to my platoon,
leaving Jenkins, quite unperturbed, still watching the eggs. Reaching
the ditch I flung myself down beside Evans, who was lying against the
bank peering to the front through the hedge. We could see nothing;
however, our fellows continued to fire furiously. For the first minute
or two the firing was so hot that both Evans and I thought there must
be something ahead of us. As it continued, though we could still see
nothing, we crept along behind the men to try to find out what they
were firing at. My platoon sergeant informed me that he thought the
enemy were lining the corner of a wood 400 yards away. He had seen
one or two dodging in and out among the trees. However, as no reply
was made to our fire, I ordered that no man was to fire unless he saw
something, and gradually the line grew quiet again.