1915 IN FRANCE.
The Regiment was now at full strength, officers and men and horses,
and keen for a share in the fighting. The horses had suffered to some
extent from the change of climate in the past six weeks, but only
required a little rest and feeding-up. The men seemed fit and ready for
anything.
But though all hoped for Cavalry work in the near future, and a chance
at the Uhlans, this was not to come yet. The enemy’s horsemen were no
longer to be found in the extreme front, and the fighting was being
done by our guns and Infantry, which were deficient in numbers and
very hard pressed. The British Cavalry, therefore, though kept as
far as possible efficient for their own work in case a chance should
occur, had to be utilised to some extent to help the out-numbered
foot-soldiers in the trenches; and during the first few days of the new
year the officers and men of the Thirteenth, while undergoing Cavalry
inspection and training, were hard at work perfecting themselves in
their new duties. They had not long to wait.
Before the middle of January they had been taken up to the firing line
to be “shot over.” “On the 12th,” writes Lance-Corporal Bowie, “we were
informed that we were to take our places in the trenches as infantry,
having been armed with the new H. V. rifle and bayonet, and having had
plenty of practice in bayonet-fighting, which was quite a new thing
for the Cavalry, we were pretty confident of being able to do anything
that was required of us dismounted. So leaving only sufficient men
behind to attend to the horses, we started off the next morning in the
highest spirits for Béthune, our conveyances being the good old London
motor-buses, complete with their own drivers and conductors. Arriving
there at 5 P.M., we marched direct to the trenches, just in
front of the village of Festubert, a distance of thirteen kilometres,
relieving the 6th Inniskilling Dragoons. We remained in these trenches
until 6 P.M. the following evening, when we were relieved by
the Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry, many of our fellows having to be
lifted out of the trenches owing to being cramped with standing in the
mud and water for so long. On each man receiving a tot of rum, we at
once marched back to Béthune.... On arriving at the market square in
Béthune, many men fell from sheer exhaustion. Meeting the buses again,
we had some hot coffee and returned directly back to our billets, which
we were very thankful to reach about 2 A.M. on the 15th of
January 1915. One of the most remarkable features of this, our first
time in the trenches, was the fact that we did not sustain a single
casualty, although we were subjected to a continual bombardment the
whole time, the Huns’ shooting being fairly good(?), but their shells
were very bad, many burying themselves in the mud and failing to
explode at all.”
[Illustration: FESTUBERT
(From the picture presented to the Regiment by Brig.-Gen. A. Symons,
C.M.G.)]
Such was the first introduction of the Thirteenth to actual fighting
in the Great War. It was very different from what they had hoped--a
dreary struggle of endurance against mud and cold, on foot, instead of
the stirring hand-to-hand work in the saddle for which a cavalryman
naturally longs; but the account shows the cheery spirit in which the
men took to their uncongenial duty. Needless to say, the officers set
them a good example. One of them, Lieutenant Watson Smyth (14th January
1915), writes: “We got up at Enquingatte, where we were billeted, at 6
A.M. on Wednesday, and at 8 had a three-mile march to another
village, Estrée Blanche, where the whole Brigade was concentrated.
At about 10.30 along came a fleet of motor omnibuses (London General
Company), and halted along the line of troops. We were then told off,
and twenty-five men and one officer went in each bus. The buses have
the glass out of the windows and the space is boarded up, otherwise
they are the same, except that the outside advertisements are painted
over, and the whole bus is dark grey (please excuse my writing, but
we are under shell-fire--75 mm. shrapnel--and I am expecting one
through the roof any minute). To go on, we left in our buses at 11
A.M. Soon after starting, one skidded into the ditch and had
to be jacked and dug out, but this got to be quite a common occurrence
later in the trip. At about 1 P.M. we arrived at Béthune,
about seven miles from the trenches. We stayed there for an hour, and
had our lunch while the men had their dinners. At about 2.30 we got
going again, this time on our flat feet, and marched about four and a
half miles to a village, Festubert, where we halted. Here we all got
a drink of beer, followed by coffee and rum. At 4.45 P.M.
we started again, and this time went right on up to just behind the
trenches. Here I, with eight men who had volunteered for the job, went
on to ----, about 400 yards in front of our machine-guns, which were
on the left of our line.... When I got up to it we were challenged
by the post of the Regiment that we were relieving, and then I went
up to them. I asked if they were all right. In a very despondent
voice he replied, ‘I’ve two men nearly dead with cold: they are both
unconscious, and I don’t know how I’ll get them back.’ Just at that
moment one more man went over flop. I thought this was a jolly start,
as I was going to be there all night and these fellows had been there
in the day. We had great trouble to get them out, as the trench was
knee-deep in the most holding mud I had ever met. It beat Wadhurst clay
by three stone and a distance. Another difficulty was the fact that
the Germans, who were about 600 yards in front, or perhaps a bit more
(people are talking all round me, and I keep writing what I hear),
kept on sending up ‘Very’ lights and star-shells, which lit up the
whole place far better than it was lit up in the daytime. Owing to the
snipers, who were lying up all over the place, we had to drop flat as
soon as we saw the light going up, and stay there for about a minute
after it had gone. Then I got into the trench, which was bisected by a
stream which was just over knee-deep. I put four men one side, and four
with myself the near side. I had orders to keep on sniping all night so
as to annoy the Germans, so I had one man of each four on sentry for
an hour at a time, with orders to shoot about once every five minutes.
Of course I could not sleep myself, but I lay down in the wet mud.
The trench was over ankle-deep in mud and water, and only just long
enough to hold us all. About midnight it got most damnably cold, and
I issued the men milk chocolate, and gave them each a tot of rum from
a flask I’d got. The snipers kept on shooting at us, but mostly went
over, though a few bullets did hit the trench. One horrid fellow, whom
we called Bert, was behind us somewhere, and made me very angry. At 3
A.M. we heard the devil of a battle going on a long way off,
machine-firing guns going rapid, and a rattle of musketry. This went
on for half an hour, and then one or more of our big guns somewhere
behind us started firing occasional shots. It made a most colossal
row, although it must have been at least half a mile away. At about
5 A.M. we saw the relief coming up, halted it and saw that
it was all right, got out of the trench, ... then we went back to the
road behind us and walked along it for about 500 yards till we came to
the house that the squadron was billeted in. There we got some tea and
more rum, and a bit of bully and biscuit, and the men thawed out. The
squadron had been in the trenches all night, and had been relieved, as
I was, just before dawn. I do not think I ever appreciated a house and
a fire so much before as after that twelve hours of water and mud....
The dotted lines show where the snipers were firing. There was one
called Fritz who used to fire across the road about every ten minutes.
I am sending you one of his bullets. We sat in the house until 10
A.M., when the Germans began to shell the place. The first
shell (shrapnel out of captured French guns) burst about 80 feet in
front of a group of us, me included, and the bullets went all round us
without touching anybody--it was really rather a lucky escape. After
that we cleared off to the bomb-proof at the back of the house where
I am now. Another shell burst as we were going into the shelter, and
scattered all round, but again missed everybody....”
[Illustration: Capt. J. N. LUMLEY, M.C.]
[Illustration: Capt. J. I. CHRYSTALL, M.C.]
[Illustration: Capt. F. H. STOCKER]
[Illustration: Lieut. G. R WATSON-SMYTH
(_Wounded near Lillers, 14th July 1915_)]
[Illustration: Capt. J. H. HIND]
[Illustration: Capt. J. L. M. BARRETT]
[Illustration: Capt. J. A. JEFFREY, M.C.]
_January 15, 1915._--“We are now back in billets, having done only
twenty-four hours in the trenches. We stayed in our bombproof till
about 3 P.M., although they had stopped shelling the
village.... We found that two shells had gone through the room we
had been sitting in and had burst in it. They had only knocked holes
in the walls and scattered a lot of plaster and stuff about. We had
our transport packed by 4.30 P.M. and fell in at 5 in the
dark.... I had to wait so as to take the patrol of the relieving
regiment down to where I had been.... On the way, up went a star-shell,
and down I flopped in about six inches of water. As soon as the
light had gone--phut!--and a bullet from Fritz hit the ground about
15 yards over. I lay a little flatter, with my back crawling with
apprehension--phut!--and another went about 10 yards in front. I lay
flatter still--phut!--and another hit the ground about 10 yards behind.
I thought this was nice, as he must now be able to see me, and the
next shot ought to get me, so I lay very flat and cursed all Germans.
But he didn’t fire again, so after a bit I got up and splashed (I’ve
never made such a noise before, at least so I thought) forward to the
patrol. They also were so cold that they could hardly stand, so I had
to stand on the bank and lug them out to the usual accompaniment of
star-shell, Very lights, and snipers.... We got into our billets at
3 A.M., and I was in bed and asleep at 3.20. We were all in
a most filthy mess outside, owing to the mud and water that we had
been lying in, and inside our clothes owing to the cod-liver oil that
we were anointed with from our feet up to our waists.... It is fine
stuff to keep the cold out. I was wearing Cording boots with two pairs
of socks, the inside pair vaselined, and the outside pair oiled, and
puttees over the top of the boots. Although I had been several times
in water over my knees, I never got my feet cold or wet.... The only
casualty in the Brigade was one sowar of the ----, killed. He got
scared at a Very light, and stood up in the open staring at it, so
of course a sniper shot him and he died. I don’t expect we shall do
any more trenches for a bit: this effort was only due to the Corps
Commander, who wanted to have us shot over. I think it did every one a
lot of good: it has certainly taught me that shrapnel is not half so
awful as one thinks, and that one can lie out with only a coat on in a
puddle all through a winter night, and be none the worse for it, and
also that a whack of rum has an entirely beneficial effect.”
_January 16._--“The patrol of the Regiment that relieved mine saw two
dead Germans about 500 feet in front, and so of course all the men who
were with me are claiming that they killed them, and the first blood of
the Regiment is theirs.... The men I had with me were all hard nuts,
and when not on sentry lay down in the water and went to sleep. They
had their British warms (_i.e._, coats with a flannel lining that
reaches to the knee) and mackintoshes, so that they were fairly warm
and dry, except for their legs. Their feet got very cold, though the
vaseline helped a lot.... It was quite an experience, and although I
was most beastly uncomfortable all the time, I wouldn’t have missed
it for anything. I must say that I never expected that the first time
people fired shots in anger at me, and I was retaliating, that my only
thought would be how to keep warm, and also not to go to sleep.... One
rather amusing thing happened while we were in reserve in the village.
Our Colonel got an idea that a sniper was concealed in one of the
houses (there were no inhabitants left), and so ordered ‘X’ Squadron
to make a house-to-house search. A party consisting of twenty men and
one young officer started off with loaded rifles, fixed bayonets,
fingers on the trigger--officers waving revolvers. Suddenly they saw a
man on a haystack: immediately pandemonium ensued--rifles going rapid,
men charging, revolvers going off, wild confusion. Suddenly the fire
stopped, and a perfectly _furious_ officer leaped off the haystack,
rushed at the officer, and started, ‘You ... ’ for about five minutes.
He then saw the squadron leader, rushed at him, and dragged him off to
the Colonel. He then said he’d been on that haystack for five weeks,
that all the Germans in Northern France had been shooting at him, as he
was in an extraordinarily good place for observing fire, and then these
---- did their best--a d--d poor one at only 20 yards--to lay him out.
As we had not been warned he was there, I think it was quite natural to
plug him. He really was the angriest man I have ever seen.”
War has its humours, and it is well to be able to enjoy them.
For a month or so after that first experience there seem to have
been no more nights in the front trenches for the Thirteenth, but
some parties were told off for trench-digging, and there was much
Cavalry-training of one kind or another, with occasional orders to
“stand to” and be ready to move at very short notice. These orders of
course gave rise at first to much excitement, and eager hopes of some
real Cavalry-fighting, but they never came to anything. Perhaps the
best way of showing what the Regiment was doing during the remainder
of this year, 1915, is to quote some more extracts from letters and
diaries.
[Illustration: BILLETS OF CAPTAINS EVE AND JACKSON AT ENQUINGATTE]
[Illustration: CAPT. W. H. EVE]
[Illustration: CAPT. T. K. JACKSON AND LT. J. V. DAWSON]
[Illustration: TRENCHES AT ENQUINGATTE DUG BY D SQUADRON]
[Illustration: SCHOOL AT ENQUINGATTE WHERE LT. J. V. DAWSON WAS
BILLETED]
_Lieutenant Watson Smyth--February 6._--“When I got back I found my
squadron ‘standing to,’ and ready to move at fifteen minutes’ notice.
However, that has now been cancelled, and we are now living in the
same old peaceable way. We had a sham fight this morning to practise
dismounted action. I and my troop had to run along a dry stream-bed for
about three-quarters of a mile. I was nearly dead at the end of it, but
my troop were even more done, so on the whole I was rather pleased....
I do not think it is likely that we shall move for some time, as it
is absolutely impossible for Cavalry to move once they get off the
roads.... I have just finished my evening task of letter censoring.
That is not a nice job as it takes a long time, and I don’t much care
about reading other people’s letters, especially such extraordinarily
dull ones as the average soldier writes.”
_February 17._--“In the afternoon it began to snow, and it snowed as
hard as it could all the evening and most of the night. We had been
going to have a Divisional route-march the next day (Thursday), but
that night the orders were cancelled. On Thursday we found it just
possible to ride our horses, but only just as the roads were deep in
snow, and it was balling badly.... We are rather badly off for water
in these billets: I do not mean that there is not enough--the whole
place is soaking--but none of it is very good. I rather think that that
is one of the causes of our horses not looking as well as they might.
Watering is almost as important as feeding, isn’t it?... Horses are my
special care, but it’s rather disheartening having these beastly little
country-breds to look after.”
It may be observed that the Indian country-bred is not accustomed to a
Western winter and heavy snow. Nor were the men of the Indian Regiments
in the Brigade, to whom such weather was as trying as the extreme heat
of India is to English troops.
“I had one horse get his leg broken by a kick from his neighbour two
nights ago. It was smashed clean in two about four inches above the
knee. Must have been some kick, as the bone is pretty thick at that
part. I had him shot where he stood, hitched on one of the draft
horses, and pulled him about 200 feet into a field over the way, and
the defaulters buried him in the afternoon. A six-foot grave for a
horse takes a bit of digging, and fairly made ’em sweat. It nearly
killed an old fat reservist, who was doing defaulter for getting drunk
on the way up from the Base. However, if he has a few more to bury, he
will be an easier man to mount.”
_February 27._--“To-day we had the coldest day we have had in France.
We paraded at 9 A.M. and did a Brigade scheme. I hated every
minute of it, and so did our wretched horses. We were out from 9 till
1.45, and most of the time in a snowstorm on the side of a hill....
“My first servant, Farmer, is a tiger for work. I discovered the other
day that he had been working at a big butcher’s in Jermyn Street
before he joined the Army. As I also found some young pigs in one of
the farms, I took him down to pick out a nice sucking-pig. He chose
one, and I bought it for eight francs, and we are all going to eat it
to-night: Farmer was great at cleaning, and scalding, and killing it.
It was a most comic affair, as there were about thirteen little pigs,
the lady of the farm, Farmer, and self in a covered sty about 12′ × 8′
× 6′ high. We were all talking at once, a child was howling, the pigs
were screaming, and we were all trying to catch a different piglet.
At length, however, we succeeded in collaring the right one, and I’ve
never heard any animal make such a colossal noise as this little beast
did when he was carried off. I nearly died with laughing, as just as
we were coming off the road we met the General riding down. He was
frightfully tickled....”
It appears from Major Cox’s diary that “during the month of February
a semi-station routine of Brigade route-marches, Brigade field-days,
lectures on various subjects, and squadron schemes, was carried out.
“Quite a lot of snow fell during the month, and cold frosty weather was
the rule.”
March opened with a very sad accident to the battery of Horse
Artillery, V Battery, which formed part of the Brigade.
[Illustration: FEBRUARY AND MARCH 1915
FARRIERS, D SQUADRON
OFFICERS OF D SQUADRON
MAJOR R. F. COX
OFFICERS OF D SQUADRON
TAKEN AT WARNES, MARCH 1915]
According to Major Cox’s diary, “A trench-mortar bomb exploded during
instruction, mortally wounding Major Goldie commanding the battery, two
subalterns, and twelve men. Forty-one N.C.O.’s and men were wounded. As
bad luck would have it, the whole of the battery was assembled round
the trench-mortar when the explosion took place.” All officers
of the Thirteenth who could attend the funeral did so, and it was
distressing to think of so many brave men killed and wounded, not by
the enemy in fight, but by an accident of the kind.
This happened in Serny, a village adjoining Enquin.
_Lieutenant Watson Smyth--March 7._--“To-day we had to find thirteen
men a troop to go and dig trenches: they left at 6 A.M., and
aren’t expected back till 8.30 P.M. This left us, allowing for
servants, sick, &c., about six men a troop for duty. We spent our time
tidying up and straightening out the billets, and have been at it all
day.”
_Lieutenant Chrystall--March 16._--“We have been on the move and
bivouacking every night in a wood, so have had no time to write.
We were in the advance to Neuve Chapelle, but were not used.... We
always travel by night owing to hostile aircraft being about, and the
consequence is sleep is impossible.”
_Captain W. H. Eve--March 16._--“I got your letter in hospital at St
Omer.... I was in a terrible funk they would send me off home, as I
knew what that would mean--two or three weeks perhaps, and then to
Aldershot to wait my turn to come out. So I got at the doctors at once,
and they said I should be kept there and go straight back to duty as
soon as possible. I was very relieved....
“Then rumours began to come through of this forward movement of ours
between Armentières and La Bassée, and the hospital had to get ready
for one thousand extra cases, though holding five hundred usually. So
we knew something was on, and could also hear the big guns at times. At
last on Thursday the 11th they told me I could leave hospital next day.
Of course this is much too soon really, and would not be done in peace
time. But now it is different.
“I went off to get my movement orders and asked ‘Any news?’ They
said, ‘Haig has sent for his Cavalry.’ We are Haig’s Cavalry--1st
Army--and you can imagine the state I was in. Next day I left by
train--8.24--having slipped out of hospital without even having my
things disinfected.... All the Indian Cavalry Corps was crowded up
there [Berguette?], mostly in billets, but our Brigade in bivouac in a
wood--all in reserve. We had done nothing so far, and I was relieved.
I was fearfully anxious lest I should be too late.... Well, now you
will have seen by the papers we have done pretty well, but I fancy
somehow we haven’t done all we thought we might. I don’t understand it,
and we don’t know the truth; but they said if we had got as far as we
hoped, the British Cavalry Corps, which had been brought up too, was
to have gone round the north of Lille, and we the Indian Cavalry Corps
round the south, and had a cut at the Germans behind. But, anyhow,
apparently the thing didn’t quite come off, for on Sunday the 14th we
got orders to march back here to billets. We were very sick indeed; it
looked as though we had missed our chance by so little. But, of course,
we really know nothing. We marched back Sunday night and are now about
a couple of miles from the station where we detrained when we came back
from Orleans, about twenty miles still behind the line.... How long we
shall be here I haven’t the least idea. We have to be ready to move
at two hours’ notice, but that may not mean anything. It is a dull
and trying business this, but we must be patient. We have quite nice
billets here.”
Another account of the move is given by Lieutenant Watson Smyth: “At
12.30 A.M. on the morning of the 11th we were woke up and
told that the squadron was parading at 3 A.M. We were, of
course, sleeping in our clothes, as everything was packed, and we had
had orders to be ready to move at one hour’s notice. On being woke up
I went to sleep again till 2.15, when I got up, put my coat and boots
on, and went out to hurry up my troop.... We started to trot about
4.30 A.M. and trotted steadily until 8.30, except for two
very short halts of about three minutes each, when we had just time
to look round our horses. On coming to we turned out of the town, and
the head of the squadron turned out of the road into a large sand-pit:
this was found to be just large enough for a squadron, so the rest of
the regiment was bivouacked in the wood. (I forgot to say that the
sand-pit was in a wood.) We had easily the best place, as it was quite
out of the wind and, better still, entirely free from mud.... The
horses were perfectly happy, and so were the men. The latter dug holes
running into the side of the pit, put a hurdle over the entrance, and
were quite warm inside. We had very nice weather, sunny and so warm,
and had nothing to do except listen to the rumble of the guns at
Neuve Chapelle.... We stayed in our sand-pit for three days, and then
one day got orders to move at 2 P.M.; about 1 P.M.,
however, these orders were cancelled, so we thought we might get
another night in peace. This was rather too much to expect, and we were
not very surprised when we were told to parade at 7.45 P.M.
We did so, and had a perfectly ghastly march back to where we are now.
We walked for hours on our horses, and then dismounted, and led the
brutes for three and a half miles. It’s no fun walking on one’s flat
feet when in marching order--_i.e._, belt, revolver, spare ammunition,
compass, haversack, field-glasses, knife, and water-bottle. We then
lost ourselves for a bit, and every one lost their tempers, and cursed
everybody junior to themselves, and their horses, and the roads, and
the staff. Eventually we hit our village about 2 A.M....
[Illustration]
[Illustration: IN THE SANDPIT. MARCH 1915]
“We got orders to-day, and are off into the blue to-morrow.
“Our night march the other day was extraordinarily impressive, as we
could see the flashes of the guns, and the searchlights swinging round,
and the star-shell, and Very lights lighting up the whole horizon. The
noise of the horses’ hoofs on the pavé was not enough to drown the
thunder of the guns, and at one time we distinctly heard the crackle of
rifle and machine-gun fire.”
_March 18._--“We paraded at 8 this morning and started to march to
----, where we are going to be billeted. About 10 we halted and
dismounted.... I tied up the horses, off-saddled, and let the men
fall out to visit the town. At 12.30 I watered and fed the horses,
and succeeded in stealing a bale of hay (100 lbs.) off a lorry that
foolishly halted about ten yards from the horses. That pleased me and
the horses a lot. I am now sitting on a tree-trunk near the horses
writing this.”
_March 27._--“I found a dead motor-cyclist to-day: he had tried to take
a corner far too fast in our billets, and had hit a tree and knocked
his head in. I am now hoping to be able to ‘make’ the bike, as except
for its front forks and wheel it is in excellent condition and would be
very useful.”
During this month there was much trench-digging, and Major Cox says,
“Brigade field-days and regimental schemes were carried on similar to
the routine in an Indian station.” It was doubtless necessary, but as
instruction in Infantry work was going on at the same time the men were
extremely hard worked.
The month closed with a visit from the Honorary Colonel, General Sir
R. S. Baden-Powell, who happened to be in France on a short tour. An
inspection of the Regiment was held, and a short address was made
by Sir Robert, who also presented to the Regiment a large number of
cigarette-cases.
_Captain W. H. Eve--April 2._--“The Indian Cavalry Corps has been
nicknamed ‘The Iron Rations,’ because they are only to be used in the
last extremity. I believe this is all over the place, and am afraid it
may be a little true, though let’s hope not. Anyhow, it’s very funny
and very clever of whoever thought of it. You see the iron rations
(tinned meat and biscuit) carried by each man is only supposed to be
used in the last extremity.”
_April 19._--“We are very busy all training more or less as in peace,
and occasionally digging trenches; but one can find out no news or
anything of what’s likely to happen, and can only be patient. We are
all very fit and flourishing and doing ourselves grand.”
_Lieutenant Watson Smyth--April 23._--“Wild excitement has possessed
us for the last four hours, but it is now dying down, and in fact is
nearly dead. It all started by our getting some wild story of Ypres,
and asphyxiating gas, and the French, and standing-to. We were just
starting out on a Brigade scheme, but this was abandoned, and we came
back to billets and commenced furiously to pack. We are now feverishly
unpacking. It really is extraordinary the rumours that get about out
here; it is only very seldom that one meets any one who really knows
anything worth knowing, and will tell what it is.
“It is a very good thing for every one to have these occasional bursts
of energy, as one learns a lot about packing, and how things are lost,
&c. To-day, of course, I got caught short of forage. Some one had
stolen one of my sacks of oats.... I had to buy a sack of oats and feed
on oat straw instead of hay. That is the advantage of a country-bred,
he will eat anything, and his example makes the walers and English join
in. I wish we could get a move on: these are excellent billets, but I
want to see a German before peace is declared!”
[Illustration: IN THE SANDPIT. MARCH 1915]
_Captain W. H. Eve--April 30._--“The weather is simply lovely now,
has been these last few days, and to-day has been as hot as summer.
It is very lucky, for we are (all the men and horses) in the open.
We ourselves have got into a barn, where we make ourselves very
comfortable with lots of straw. I have celebrated my birthday by having
a bath. I always carry the indiarubber one in my saddle-bags, and
wouldn’t be without it for anything. Well, I can’t tell you where we
are exactly, but we have moved twice since I last wrote, owing to this
scrap which is still going on near Ypres.... We are sitting tight again
now, listening and waiting. The only thing we see is our own captive
balloons, and occasionally a Taube (German aeroplane) coming over and
being shelled by our guns. You know, of course, the scrap that is going
on now, but the papers make it out a much more important thing than it
really is. It is a very weak point round Ypres, because (first) it is a
salient, and (secondly) our junction with the French is near here....
But all goes well, so much so that I fancy we shall move back in a day
or two--where, I don’t know in the least. I expect that now we shall be
continually up and down the line on this game--mobile reserve until our
time really comes.
“In this fight our casualties have been very heavy--ours, I believe,
about 18,000, but we have our line all right.... It’s hard this
waiting, but we must be patient. There is nothing in the least to worry
about, nor is it the important affair the papers make out.
“We are all tremendously cheery, jolly, and fit.... The horses are
feeling the benefit of the better weather and are a joy to me now,
looking better every day. Of course I seize every opportunity of
grazing them in somebody else’s fields with the good spring grass
coming up. I have never felt fitter in my life. There are crowds all
round, but the worst of it is one can’t go more than a few hundred
yards from one’s billet, as we always have to be ready to turn out at
once.
“The old lady at our last billet insisted on embracing us when we left
with all kinds of good wishes.”
The billets, of course, varied greatly, some being very good
indeed--one where the officers of the Regiment or squadron were
actually provided with beds and “linen sheets,”--others very dirty
and bad. Lieutenant Chrystall writes on the 19th of May: “It is very
wet and muddy, and we are at present in a coal-mining village, and
everything as you may imagine filthy. Last night I slept next my
skipper on the road with my head between two spokes of a cart-wheel,
and Eve’s between the next. Cobbles are not very springy or soft!”
_Captain W. H. Eve--May 27._--“You say you are watching for news of
the Cavalry. Well, you have it now in the Casualties List. That is
the British Cavalry. It is, I think, wicked, for they are men we
can’t replace, but the fact is they can’t trust any but the very best
up there at Ypres, and that’s why they sent for the Cavalry. They
get their chance and are used, but we, poor devils! ... never get a
chance.... Our turn will come some day.[11] Up there we are holding on
and shall do so, but it costs good men. We sit back here well within
sound of the guns, and go on with more or less peace-training and try
to be patient. Whenever there is a big show on, off we go up behind
the line, and every time we think our time has really come; but every
time we come back again in a few days--a sort of mobile reserve, that’s
all. We are known out here as the ‘Iron Ration,’ only to be used in the
last emergency! We went up like this during Neuve Chapelle into Belgium
during the fighting round Ypres, and the other day near La Bassée.
We are back here again, now very comfortable in a pretty straggling
village.... We are all very fit and flourishing, but rather fed up with
our own share of the proceedings.”
Sometimes the Regiment, or part of it, got a change of work.
_Lieutenant Watson Smyth--May 28._--“The day before yesterday the
bathing season started and we had (the squadron and officers) gone
into the baths at Aire.... We were all just nicely in the water, which
wasn’t very cold, when a heated bicycle orderly dashed up and said,
‘“B” Squadron to return to billets at once.’ We couldn’t think what it
was for.... Yesterday (after a twenty-mile night march) I went for my
orders and discovered that I am ‘Corps Cavalry,’ and that my duties are
to send patrols out in the Corps area to look out for spies, collect
stragglers, control the traffic at various points, and, in general, be
a sort of mounted police. It is, I believe, an excellent job, and quite
good fun. Of course the roads are being shelled now and then, but
the people I relieved had only one casualty, and he was gas-poisoned by
a shell. In case of a push I have to find posts at cross-roads, &c., to
direct ammunition and supplies to the various places that they want to
go to. It is very nice being on one’s own, as I am now. The Squadron
Headquarters are about six miles off, so I shan’t be worried by any
one.”
[Illustration: HURDLE SHELTERS, BOIS DU REVEILLON. 15TH MARCH 1915.]
[Illustration: BILLETS AT WARNES. APRIL 1915.]
_Captain W. H. Eve--May 29._--“The British Cavalry are out [of the
trenches] now, came out last night, and I think, though am not quite
certain, that the 1st Division of this Corps has gone in. If this
is so, we may perhaps get our turn next. No one would choose trench
fighting, but there’s nothing else just at the present.
“Here we are just peace soldiering. ‘A’ squadron have their sports on
this afternoon and we have ours next week. ‘B’ squadron has gone off
to do Divisional Cavalry--chiefly orderly--duties to various Infantry
Divisions. I envy them, as it is a change, and they are nearer the
centre of things.”
_Lieutenant Chrystall--June 15._--“On Sunday last (June 13) I had the
honour of acting as Escort to the King of the Belgians when he reviewed
the Indian Cavalry here. It was quite a decent show for war-time.”
_Captain W. H. Eve--June 16._--“We have had rumours of a possible
move, but otherwise are carrying on as usual. Lovely weather, and we
are playing polo this evening, which is a great thing--having got some
sticks and balls out. We have got a Horse-Show (Cavalry Corps) on
Thursday 24th, which ought to be very good.”
_Lieutenant Watson Smyth--July 13._--I may have got the date wrong,
but the day is Sunday. As far as I can see, there is no likelihood of
our doing anything for a bit. The Regiment is digging trenches about
three miles in rear of the line; we go up for four days and then come
back for eight. In that eight we do exercise every day except one, when
there is a Brigade route-march.”
_Captain W. H. Eve--July 11._--“There is very little news from here,
as you will have gathered from the papers. Kitchener was out here and
came and inspected us last Thursday. He told us (what none of us knew
before) that his father was in the Regiment. We have been fairly busy,
and now have about seventy per cent of the men away trench-digging for
a week. Three of my officers and most of my men are gone--went up in
motor-buses yesterday, and with the few men left I have my work cut out
to exercise and look after the horses.”
_Lieutenant Watson Smyth--July 13._--We are now up at ----,--at least
seventy men and two officers per squadron are--digging the second-line
trenches. We are about 2000 yards from the Huns, and they can see us
nicely, thank you.... They shelled the second party yesterday and
killed two men of ‘D’ Squadron,[12] very bad luck, as they have shelled
the trenches lots of times before and never yet hit anybody. I had
fever all yesterday. I don’t know why I got it, but I’m all right
now....
“We go up in two parties; one goes up at 7 A.M. and digs from
8.30 to 12.30; the other goes up at 11 and digs from 12.30 to 4.30.
It is not very interesting work, but it is better to be up here than
back with the Regiment. There is only one man to about eight horses,
and the result is that every one is working all day getting the horses
exercised, fed, and rubbed over.
“We are up here for a week, we came up last Saturday and go away
next Saturday; as usual, we travel in motor-buses. On a fine day,
after a little rain to lay the dust, this is rather a pleasant way of
travelling....
“The Colonel (Symons) has just been ordered to the W.O. I suppose he is
wanted for the Staff. If he is taken from the Regiment, I don’t know
who will get command.”
The writer was wounded two days later. “It was rather a rotten way of
getting hit, standing in a great deep trench, thinking I was quite
safe, when suddenly we heard whe--bang, and I found my foot had gone
numb. I said, ‘Anybody hit?’ and all the men said ‘No,’ so I told them
I was.” Lieutenant Watson Smyth goes on to describe his various moves
until he reached some days later the British Red Cross Hospital at
Rouen. “I had quite a good night, and woke up just before arriving here
at 6 A.M.... I showed the doctor a label tied to my pyjamas,
giving details of what was wrong. He told the bearer which ward to take
me to, and off I went.... At 9 A.M. I was carted off to the
X-ray room, and my foot and back were each taken from two positions....
[Illustration: D SQUADRON BILLETS, OCHTEZEELE
MAY 1915]
[Illustration: QUARTERS OF D SQUADRON AT WITTERNESSE
6TH TO 19TH MAY 1915]
[Illustration: QUARTERS OF B SQUADRON, OCHTEZEELE
MAY 1915]
[Illustration: THE CHATEAU--QUARTERS OF A SQUADRON AT WITTERNESSE. JUNE
1915]
[Illustration: “RAGS” AND “STILTS,” OCHTEZEELE
3RD MAY 1915]
[Illustration: ON LINGHAM RIFLE RANGE
JUNE 1915]
“In the operation they got about sixty pieces out of my foot, and a few
work themselves out every dressing-day.”
Not a word of complaint.
_August 2._--“The Regiment’s total casualties for the three weeks it
was digging were four killed, two died of wounds, eight wounded. No
other officers were hit, but one was buried one day, and badly shaken
in consequence....
_August 3_ and _4_.--“I had a visitor to-day, a Miss Holt, who is
working at Lady Mabelle Egerton’s canteen at Rouen. She was very nice
and cheery and did me a lot of good. They had one hour’s notice a
few days ago that 3000 men and 40 officers would want breakfast at 3
A.M. There were only three of them on duty that night, but
they managed it all right. That shows that the canteen is useful, and
the workers work, I think....
“Dr Augier is exceedingly pleased at the appearance of my foot, ... but
says that I must resign myself to not using it for three months.”
_August 5._--“Another chap in my Regiment has just come into the
hospital. I have never seen him, as he joined the Regiment after I was
hit. He tells me that the Regiment have been shifted down south and
have taken over, or are going to take over, some French trenches there
for a bit. I do not understand it, but he’s quite sure of his facts. I
should have thought that they had sufficient Infantry out here now to
hold the line, but I expect that they are fairly quiet trenches, and
they want to make the Indian Cavalry Corps work.”
_August 5_ and _6_.--“The Regiment is now either in, or just going into
the trenches for a fortnight.... It is a pity to have missed that....
“I have discovered that I am one of the show-cases here. They show
visitors my X-ray photo, and then bring them along and show them me. I
dislike that. All the doctors seem to think it a marvellous case.”
_Captain W. H. Eve--August 22._--“I understand absolutely what you say
about wanting a trophy. I hope too I’ll get something some day, but
I won’t bring anything I haven’t got myself, and I have never seen a
German yet. Isn’t it too dreadful, but it’s the truth.
“Richardson has got the Regiment, and I can tell you I am glad.”
_Lieutenant Chrystall--September 7._--“I have been out on several night
patrols, crawling through the grass towards the German trenches; and
it is very jumpy work, as you never know when you may bump into one of
their patrols.”
_September 20._--“The powers that be thought that a certain old house
in No Man’s Land ought to be occupied, and certain snipers caught who
used to frequent the place and fire into our lines. Well, we occupied
it one day and night and held it all day, when just after dark we were
attacked in force. I at the time was holding a conference with the C.O.
at his post, and all of a sudden the sentry on the outpost let off
his rifle. This was the herald of a dozen bombs being hurled into our
place, and the opening of a machine-gun and several rifles. There we
were, ten of us, cooped up in an outhouse 12 × 12, firing like billy
O through the window and door at the flashes of the Boche guns about
fifteen yards away. This was kept up for about ten minutes. When we had
just given up all for lost they ceased firing: we did likewise, and
as we were in an awkward and tight corner we got out of it and held a
bridge on a road. The Germans also retired, and as we afterwards found,
left four dead, while we had only two wounded--a really miraculous
escape, as bullets were crashing through the windows and splintering
the panelling in the door, and bombs hitting the brick-work.”
_Captain W. H. Eve--October 9._--“We are trying to be patient, knowing
very little and hoping for the best. A few days after I got back
from leave we were moved off, at the beginning of our offensive, the
22nd [September] to be exact, and were kept in constant readiness
for nearly ten days. We were all cramped up in a tiny dirty little
village, with all our poor horses in the open, a bad place, with
a rotten water-supply, and we had wet cold weather too. Of course
we were desperately excited, but we weren’t allowed to know much.
Then on the 1st we moved on here where we are now, and where we are
more comfortable than we have ever been before, in a large village,
ourselves, the Third, and Brigade Headquarters, and very nicely
situated, and good country. I was very lucky in the area allotted to my
squadron, and have got the whole of my men and horses comfortably snug
under cover, and it is a real pleasure to see my horses.... Of news we
know no more than you do from the papers, and, as I say, have simply
to try and be patient, and trust the powers that be, and hope for the
very best....
[Illustration: D SQUADRON QUARTERS AND MESS AT BETTENCOURT. AUGUST AND
SEPTEMBER 1915]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: CAPTAIN EVE’S DUG-OUT AT AUTHUILLE
SEPTEMBER 1915]
[Illustration: LT. J. V. DAWSON IN HIS DUG-OUT AT AUTHUILLE. SEPTEMBER
1915]
“Meanwhile they seem desperately hard up for officers for some of the
Infantry--more senior officers, that is--and have lately been sending
all round the Cavalry for fellows to volunteer to take command of
battalions and companies.... The other day the Colonel asked me if I
would care to take promotion to Lieut.-Colonel to command a battalion
of infantry, and they have been asking others also. I refused, but
for a man who is ambitious irrespective of what brand of the service
he gets his promotion in, you can see it is a tremendous chance....
But I doubt if they will get many men to volunteer for it.... It is
extraordinary though, and to me seems such a very short-sighted policy,
for when our time comes where will they find _our_ officers?”
That was the problem which many Cavalry officers had to face, and it
is not surprising that most of them, loving their own branch of the
service, and still believing, or at least hoping, that the Cavalry
would yet get their chance, should have shrunk from sacrificing their
Cavalry training, even for such promotion. It was a clear proof of the
great straits to which the losses of the war had brought the Infantry,
on whom the brunt had fallen. The letter goes on:--
“News from Russia appears to me all good, and it does look as though
the tide were turning at last, and the Germans had shot their bolt, and
were up against it.... It’s such a huge thing this war, and there is
such a tremendous lot one wants to know, and so very little one does
know. But I feel as confident as ever, as I think we all do out here.”
They all did throughout, happily for England.
_October 10._--“Nearly every house of a little better class one goes
into here has a stuffed fox in it. I can’t understand why, and they are
such an eyesore to me.”
_October 12._--“One of the Poona Horse told me he had had a great ride
after a really good pig this morning, only couldn’t get him as he had
only his sword. I had heard there are some in these woods, but hadn’t
seen any myself so far.”
_October 13._--“Here we are in our new quarters at Villers.... Coming
up here from the river valley we passed the most lovely coverts--all
the trees turning fast, and with the sun on them simply looking
perfect.”
_October 14._--“How I long for us to get a real move on. The thought of
another winter sitting doing nothing like last is maddening. It can’t
be. I feel we must push and push and push. And here are we drivelling
about doing these silly field-days and ‘pretending’ always.”
_October 15._--“A confidential memo. came round yesterday asking for
recommendations among N.C.O.’s for the Croix de Guerre and the Médaille
Militaire. The first is for gallantry, and the other more like our
long-service and good-conduct. It is rather funny for us who have done
practically nothing.”
_October 17._--“Then there was a lecture from the Colonel [Richardson]
about drinking in the Regiment, and very well indeed he spoke too.”
_October 25._--“Exercise. Balaclava sing-song for the men.”
_November 16._--“This morning there were about four inches of snow
on the ground, and it was still falling hard up to about 11 o’clock.
During the morning we sent a challenge to ‘A’ Squadron, saying
diplomatic relations were broken off ... and a state of war would
exist from 2 P.M. So at 2 we marched the squadron down, and I
divided them into two parties, one doing a frontal attack, which drew
‘A’ from their village. When they were hard at it with snow-balls I
brought the remainder, followed by the M.G., in on their flank, and we
had a royal battle, and it was great fun. The men loved it.”
But it was far from being all snow-balling and play.
_November 25._--“You can see what it is trying to make us do two jobs
at the same time, Cavalry and Infantry. The men are simply worked off
their legs and haven’t a minute all day.... We do all our Cavalry
parades, all these Infantry ones, route-marches, afternoon parades,
fatigues, evening classes, &c., &c., and they complain if the men don’t
turn out smartly on parade. In spite of all this we are to organise
games, and let the men train for cross-country runs and so on. Whenever
can they possibly have the time? And ... I must help the country people
in their farming in my spare time.”
_December 19._--“We marched to our new area on Friday last and got a
very bad village to start with, Marival; then yesterday we moved to a
neighbouring one, where we now are, and got ourselves very comfortable
indeed.... We have managed to hire a large room in a farmhouse here,
which we are going to fit up as a reading and recreation room for
the men.... This will make a good deal of difference to them. They
have a very dull and wretched time, little else but work and dirt. We
shall be able to give them a good spread at Christmas, have ordered
puddings, bought a whole pig, and are getting fruit and vegetables, at
sales, this week. They will have a good feed anyhow. Your cigarettes
will be really welcome and appreciated, there is nothing they want or
appreciate so much....
“What the future may hold we don’t know; but though there is little
news from here, things are very satisfactory all along our front, and
we are very much on top of our friends the Germans. I have it first
hand from Oakes and Annett of my squadron, who are just back from a
month spent in the trenches with different Infantry regiments....
“Haig’s appointment out here will, I think, make little or no
difference. He is one of French’s men, and both are first-class.”
_December 27._--“It has blown continuously for days with a great deal
of rain.... I think we made the men pretty cheery and comfortable here.
They had a great feed, and very much appreciated all the things that
were sent to them. I issued all their presents on Christmas Eve, a
parcel for each from the Regimental Comfort’s Committee, also from two
old comrades, smokes from some newspapers, matches, match-cases and
cards from ----, mittens from ----, and cigarettes from ----, so they
didn’t do so badly altogether. And they have more stuff to be given
out later, two more goes of puddings sent by various newspapers, &c.,
sweets, and so on. I am spreading them out, leaving a week.
“We ran off a Divisional Marathon race, six miles, here on Christmas
morning, and the Regiment was second. We went down to eat our dinner
with ‘A’ Squadron, Tom Marchant’s crowd, in the evening, and had a
cheery time. ‘A’ Squadron and ourselves share the same village, and
they have got the chateau as a mess. It is a large, fine old place,
but not properly kept up, like most of them about here. The owner is
in the Army, and only the old mother, the Dowager Marquise, is living
there now. She came and dined with us....
“We are all very well and flourishing, and are managing to get a lot
of football, &c., arranged for the men now--so their life won’t be so
bad. This is rotten weather for the trenches. Wet is the worst for
them, nearly always up to their knees, and often deeper in places.
Cold weather they don’t feel nearly so much, owing to the depth of the
trenches.”
So ended for the Thirteenth their first year of war service on the
Western Front. It had been in some ways a year of disappointment.
Though they had had some turns in the trenches, involving a few
casualties, the Regiment had seen no active work as Cavalry. But if
hope deferred had brought them some heart-sickness, there was hope
still, and they entered upon another year under fairly cheerful
conditions.
[Illustration: LT. J. I. CHRYSTALL AT BEMAVILLE. OCTOBER 1915]
[Illustration: HOUNDS AT L’ABBAYE. 31ST MARCH 1916]