GERMAN ATROCITIES
[The war was begun by Germany in a spirit of ruthlessness which was
to spare neither man, woman nor child, and was to leave innocent
people “only their eyes to weep with.” The neutrality of Belgium
was outraged and German hosts poured into that country. In
repelling them an immortal part was played by the British
Expeditionary Force, which fought against enormous odds. This story
of the earlier days of the war is told from the narrative of Driver
George William Blow, Royal Field Artillery, who was invalided home
after having two of his ribs broken and five horses killed under
him.]
It was a blazing hot Sunday, and the place was Mons. We had got into
camp about one on the Saturday afternoon, and had billeted till four on
the Sunday morning, when we were ordered to harness up and prepare for
action, but we did not receive actual fighting orders until noon; then
we had to march into a place in the neighbourhood, and as soon as we
reached it German shells burst over us.
That was the beginning of a long and terrible battle. We went straight
into it, without any warning; but the Germans were ready, and knew what
to expect, because they had been waiting for us for forty-eight hours.
It was field artillery we were up against. The Germans at that time had
not got the big siege guns, which we called Black Marias, Jack Johnsons
and Coal Boxes. I will tell you about them later.
We, the drivers, took the guns up into action, then we retired under
cover with the horses. While we were retiring the bullets from the
German shells were dropping all around us, and farther away our men at
the guns and the other troops were carrying on that desperate fight
against immense odds which will be always known as the battle of Mons.
From start to finish we were heavily outnumbered, but we knocked them
out.
We were soon hard at it, pounding away, while our infantry were simply
mowing the Germans down. We had some terrible fire to put up with, and
at the end of about four hours we were forced to retire from the
position. At that time we were the only battery left in action out of
the whole of our brigade.
An officer was sent to reconnoitre, to see where we could retire to, and
he picked out a little valley, a sort of rain-wash, and the battery
thundered into it. This was a hard place to tackle, and all our
attention was needed to keep the horses from falling down, because the
ground was so rough and steep.
So far we had not seen any of the German infantry at close quarters, but
as soon as we had got into the level of the valley we ran into a lot of
them, and saw that we were ambushed. In this ambush I had one of the
experiences that were so common in the retreat, but I was lucky enough
to come out of it safely. Many gallant deeds were done there which will
never be officially known--for instance, when we were going through the
valley and were being heavily fired on, and it seemed as if there was no
chance for us, Corporal Holiday ran the gauntlet twice to warn us that
the enemy had us in ambush.
We made a desperate effort to get out of the valley, but before we could
get clear many horses were shot down, amongst them being the one I was
riding. I did the only thing I could do--I lay there amongst the dead
horses. I had had a narrow shave, for my cap had been shot off by a
piece of shell.
The first gun and two waggons had got through, and our corporal could
have got safely out, but he wasn’t built that way, and wasn’t thinking
about himself.
He shouted, “Well, boys, your horses are down, and the best thing you
can do is to run for it.”
I scrambled up and dashed through some brambles--they nearly scratched
me to pieces. Just as I and one or two more men got out five Germans
potted at us. I had no weapon--nothing except my whip--if we had had
arms we could have settled a lot of Germans that day--so I had to make a
dash for cover. But the corporal, with his rifle, did splendidly, for he
picked off three of the Germans, and the other two bolted.
If it had not been for the corporal I should not have been here to tell
the tale; I should either have been killed or made a prisoner. Had it
not been for him, in fact, they would have wiped the lot of us
completely out.
We were in that deadly ambush for about five hours--from five till
ten--no gunners with us, only drivers. It was night and dark, but the
darkness was made terrible by the glare of the villages which the
Germans had set fire to.
There we were, ambushed and imprisoned in the valley, unable to move
either backward or forward, because the roadway was choked up with dead
horses.
At last our major went away some distance, and inquired of a woman in a
house which would be the best way for us to get out of the valley. While
he was talking with her the house was surrounded by Germans, and it
seemed certain that he would be discovered; but in the darkness they
could not make him clearly out, and he was clever enough to shout to
them in their own language. It was a critical and dangerous time, but
the major scored. He baffled the Germans, and got himself out of the
house, and us out of the ambush in the valley. It was a splendid
performance and I believe the major was recommended for the D.S.O. on
account of it.
We were thankful when we were clear of the valley, but about two miles
farther on we ran into some more Germans; there were Germans everywhere,
they swarmed over the whole countryside, day and night, and, as I have
told you, they heavily outnumbered us all the time and at every turn.
But by this time we were better able to meet them, for we had plenty of
infantry with us--Gordons, and Wiltshire and Sussex men--who were
joining in the retreat.
That retirement was a terrible business. Our infantry had been fighting
in the trenches and in the open, and they were fighting all the time
they were retiring. The Germans gave them no rest, and, like the
barbarians some of them are, they showed no mercy to our wounded, as we
discovered when we got back to Mons again, as we did in time. We saw
lots of our wounded who had been killed by the butts of the Prussian
bullies’ rifles. They had the finest troops of Prussia at Mons, and I
suppose the braggarts wanted to get some of their own back for having
been so badly mauled by Sir John French’s “contemptible little army.”
In the earlier hours of the battle, during that awful Sunday at Mons and
in the neighbourhood, the British had suffered heavily. Twelve men of my
own battery and a dozen of the horses had been killed, and a waggon
limber had been blown to pieces. Mind you, I am talking only of our own
battery and our own brigade, and dealing with only a very small part of
the battle. No man who shared in it can do more. Our brigade consisted
of three batteries of six guns each.
It had been a day of ceaseless fighting and terrific strain on men and
horses, and we were utterly done up when we got into camp at about one
on the Monday morning. We hoped we might rest a bit, but we had to
harness up at two, and shift off at three, because the Germans were
preparing to shell the village we were in.
There was a hospital in the village, and by that time a good many of our
wounded were in it. The Germans could see plainly enough that it was a
hospital, and knew that it must be filled with wounded, but they
deliberately shelled it and set fire to it. Our captain and my sergeant
were in the hospital when the Germans fired it, but I don’t know whether
they got away or were left in the burning building.
By the time we were on the move again it was full daylight. We dropped
into action again three or four times, but were forced to resume our
retirement, harassed all the time by the Germans.
During the retirement we had several shots at German aeroplanes, which
were flying about spying out our positions and signalling them to their
own people; but field-guns are not much use against aircraft, because
the muzzles cannot be elevated sufficiently high. You need howitzers for
the work, because they are specially made for high-angle fire and can
throw their shots right over aeroplanes.
We were retiring from the Monday till the Wednesday; then we got the
order to drop into action again. That was at eight o’clock in the
morning, and by that time we were at Cambrai, a good distance from Mons,
as you can see from the map.
Mons was bad, but Cambrai was far worse. We had been retreating all the
time, day and night, fighting a heavy rearguard action, so that men and
horses were utterly worn out. Again the artillery did splendid work, and
had to pay for it. The 6th Battery had lost two guns and a waggon at
Mons, because the horses were killed, and they also had another gun put
out of action. They lost a further gun at Cambrai, and the battery was
almost completely cut up, but for their loss we in the 23rd Battery were
able to make up in a way.
Our own guns were concealed so cleverly that the Germans could not find
them anyhow. The nearest they could get to us was about fifty yards in
front or fifty yards behind, and in dropping shells fifty yards make a
lot of difference, as the Germans found to their cost. Our concealed
battery did heavy execution amongst them, and they deserved all they
got.
When I was clear of the valley I got two fresh horses; but at Cambrai,
on the Wednesday, they were both killed. A shell burst and took off the
head of the riding horse, and bullets killed the off horse, so I was
dismounted again; and not a few of my chums were in the same unfortunate
position.
Cambrai was the last battle we had before we turned the tables on the
Germans, and began to drive them back at the Marne, where a tremendous
fight went on for many days. Altogether we had been retiring pretty well
a week, and we rejoiced when the advance began.
The advance made new men of us, especially when we saw what the Germans
had done. There were plenty of wrecks of our convoys on the roads, where
the enemy had got at them. That sort of thing was all right, of course,
and came in fairly enough in warfare; but it made our blood boil to see
the wanton damage that these so-called civilised soldiers had committed
on a people who had done no greater crime than defend their hearths and
families.
You ask about German cruelties and barbarities. Well, I will tell you
something about what I saw myself, and people can form their own opinion
as to what generally happened.
When the British troops retired from Mons the villages and the country
were untouched. No words can tell how kind the Belgians and the French
were to us, and I am glad to say that they were no worse for our passage
through their towns and villages and farms. They gave us food and wine,
and helped our sick and wounded, and wherever they were they did all
they could for us.
Villages and towns and farms were peaceful and prosperous when we passed
through them first; but they were terribly changed when we returned and
went through them a second time, after the Germans had been at their
foul work. Sword, rifle, artillery and fire had done their dreadful
mischief, and deeds had been committed which filled us with horror. I
will mention two or three things by way of illustration, and these are
only instances of hosts of cases.
On the first day of the advance we were passing through a small village.
I saw a little child which seemed to be propped up against a window.
There were some infantry passing at the same time as ourselves--Gordons,
I think they were--and one of the officers went into the cottage and
took the little creature from the window. He found that it was dead. The
Germans had killed it.
The officer had a look over the house, and in the next room he found the
mother. She was dead also, and mutilated in a most ferocious way.
The interior of the cottage was in a state of absolute wreckage. The
barbarians had not spared anything. They had destroyed the furniture,
thrown everything about, and done their best to ruin inoffensive people
whose country they had laid waste, and who had not done them the
slightest wrong. When our men saw that, they went almost mad.
I will give you another instance. We passed through a village about two
hours after some of the braggart Uhlans had visited it, and we saw how
courageous they can be when they have only old men and women and
children to deal with. They sing a different song when the British
cavalry are after them. There was a farmhouse which had been the home
of two old people, a farmer and his wife. I believe the poor old couple
looked after the farm themselves.
We found the old lady at the farm all alone, and I saw her. A pitiful
spectacle she was, and well she might be, for the Uhlans had come and
taken her poor old husband out into a field and shot him, and left his
dead body there. They had robbed the house of everything--all the money
and every bit of food--and had left the old lady almost demented.
When our own troops came up they gave the poor old soul--she was sitting
outside the house, crying--the bully beef and biscuits which had been
served out to them that very morning, and which they themselves needed
badly.
We heard of several cases like that from the people of the country as we
returned through it, and cases of these German bullies holding revolvers
to women’s heads and forcing the frightened creatures to give them their
rings and jewellery and everything they could lay their hands on. This
was the sort of thing we saw, or heard at first hand, and it made us all
the more thankful that we were driving the Germans back and getting
level with them.
We fell into action that morning about seven o’clock. We had to make our
way straight across country, regardless of fields or roads; and all the
time the Germans shelled us. It didn’t matter where we were, the shells
fell beyond us; but the enemy weren’t clever enough to find our twelve
batteries, which were in action, and which properly “gave them socks.”
We held that village till about eight o’clock, then we started on the
advance again, driving the Germans back; and when once they start going
they travel very quickly--when the enemy is after them.
That was the last battle we had before we got to the river Marne. So
far, we had had a lot to do with the German field-guns; now we were to
make the acquaintance of the bigger chaps I have referred to--Black
Marias, Coal Boxes and Jack Johnsons, as I have said we called them,
because they fired a big shell, a 90-pounder, which burst and made a
thick cloud of filthy, greasy smoke which was enough to poison you if it
got at you. I believe that the fumes of some of the German shells will
actually kill you if you get them properly into your system.
The Battle of the Marne was a long and big affair, lasting about three
weeks, and the Black Marias did a good deal of mischief. On the Sunday,
as our ambulance waggons retired, the Germans shelled them with these
siege guns, and blew them to pieces. At the finish there was not an
ambulance waggon available. Yes, that is what they did, and it was done
deliberately, because any soldier can tell an ambulance waggon when he
sees it.
The Germans stuck at nothing to gain their ends; no trick is too dirty
for them to play. One particularly vile one was the using of ambulance
waggons for the purpose of carrying machine-guns. Our troops did not
dream of firing at ambulance waggons; but when we saw that this wicked
use was being made of them--and we did see it, for they came quite close
to us--we gave the Germans in them what for.
The Germans tried three or four times to break through our lines, but
our Tommies were too good for them, and sent them back a great deal
faster than they had come on. They swept them away with rifle fire, and
the Germans never had a chance when our men could get fairly in with the
bayonet.
During that long month of fighting we were in a good many places in
France and Belgium. At one time we were actually on the field of
Waterloo, and could see in the distance the monument put up in memory of
the battle. I dare say the Germans fancied they were going to do a lot
with us at Waterloo; but it all ended in fancy, and we kept on the
driving game with them till they were altogether forced back.
When we could get at them we could beat them, though they were sometimes
about ten to one, and in one little affair I saw twenty of our
“Jocks”--Gordons, I think they were--scatter something like two hundred
Germans. The Jocks badly wanted to get at the Germans with the steel,
but the Germans just as badly didn’t want to be bayoneted, and those who
weren’t shot scuttled.
The fighting was not the only hard part of the Battle of the Marne. For
nearly three weeks we never had a dry shirt on owing to the wet weather,
and we never had our boots off; we hadn’t time for it, and we were kept
too well at it. The poor horses were fearfully knocked up. They were
like us--never had a chance to rest--and were three or four days without
food.
Once, during the retirement, we had only two hours’ rest in four days;
but we daren’t stop. Sometimes we were on foot, sometimes in the saddle,
and the Germans were after us in motor-lorries, full of troops.
But however badly they handled us, I think it was nothing to the way in
which we mangled them when our artillery got really to work, and
especially when it came to “gun fire”--that is, rapid firing, each gun
firing as soon as it is loaded. This means that you take no time between
rounds; you simply blaze away, and the guns become quite hot. In one
particular position every sub-section fired 150 rounds, so that, taking
a whole battery, I should think they pretty well fired a thousand rounds
in a day.
It was on the Marne that my fifth horse was killed under me. A shell
struck him, and before I could clear myself I fell over into a ditch,
the horse on top of me, shot and shell flying all around as I went over.
Two of my ribs were broken, and I was put out of action. I was picked up
and carried down to the camp. I was in hospital there for three days
before I was sent to London.
I had a complete Uhlan’s uniform with me, and wanted to bring it home,
but this bit of the saddle is all I have left. The Uhlan’s saddle is a
wonderful thing, weighing 78 lb., compared with 12 lb. for the British
saddle. Here is the piece; you can see that it is filled in with
lead--why, I don’t know. And here is the torn khaki jacket I was wearing
when my fifth horse was killed under me at the Marne--and this part is
sodden with his blood.
I had a round month of fighting, retreating, advancing, and fighting
again, and apart from the broken ribs I was utterly done up; but I am
pretty well again now. I am just off to see the doctor; the day after
to-morrow I am to get married, the next day I rejoin, and after
that--well, who can tell?