TRANSPORT DRIVING
[It was estimated that, early in the war, no fewer than 10,000
vehicle workers were serving with the colours--3000 taxicab
drivers, 3000 tramway men, and 4000 motor-’bus drivers. These
trained men went from London and the provinces, some being
Reservists, and others joining various regiments; but a very large
number went into the Transport Section, and did splendid work. From
this story by Private James Roache, Mechanical Transport Section,
Siege Artillery Brigade, we learn something of the heavy and
perilous work that falls to the lot of the Transport Section, and
can realise the enormous extent to which the Army depends upon its
transport.]
I got into Ypres about seven days after the Germans had left the city,
and I learned from a school-teacher who spoke English that they had
commandeered a good many things, and had pillaged the jewellers’ shops
and other places of business.
At that time the Germans did not seem to have done any exceptional
damage; but they made up for any neglect later on, when they acted like
barbarians in bombarding and destroying the beautiful old city, and
smashing its priceless ancient buildings into ruins. That is part of the
system of savagery which they boast about as “culture.”
We had been in Ypres about a week when the first German shell came. It
was the beginning of a fearful havoc. That was about ten o’clock in the
morning. The shell dropped plumb into the prison. There were a good
many civil prisoners in the gaol at the time, but I do not know what
happened to them, and I cannot say whether any of the helpless creatures
were killed or wounded.
At that time I was helping to supply the Siege Artillery Brigade, the
guns of which--the famous 6 in. howitzers--were a mile or so out of the
city. We had four cars, each carrying three tons of lyddite--twelve tons
in all--standing in the Market Square, and exposed to the full artillery
fire of the enemy.
It was a perilous position, for if a shell had struck that enormous
amount of lyddite probably the whole city would have been wrecked, and
the loss of life would have been appalling. We had to wait for several
hours before we could move, because of the difficulty in communicating
with the brigade; but when the order did at last arrive, we lost no time
in getting to a safer place than the Market Square.
It was while we were standing under fire that I saw a mother and her
child--a girl--struck by a fragment of a bursting shell. They were the
first people to be wounded in Ypres.
The shell--a big brute--burst on the roof of a house, and the fragments
scattered with terrific force all around. People were flying for their
lives, or hiding, terror-stricken, in the cellars; and the woman and her
daughter were struck as we watched them fly.
Some of us rushed up and found that one of the boots of the woman had
been ripped open, and that the child had been struck on the face and
badly cut.
I picked her up, and saw that she was unconscious; but I got at my
field-dressing and did all I could for her, and was thankful to find
that she soon came back to her senses, though she was suffering
terribly from shock and began to cry bitterly.
The mother also was dreadfully upset, but not seriously hurt. We lost no
time in getting them into the underground part of a café near at hand,
and there we had to leave them. I don’t know what became of them, but I
suppose they were taken away. I often wonder what has happened to the
poor little soul and her mother, victims, like so many thousands more,
of the German invaders. I am glad to know that with our field-dressings
we were able to help a good many civilians who were wounded.
The four cars I have mentioned were big transport-lorries, made
specially for the war, and very fine work can be done with them. But how
different the work is from that which we used to do at home as
motor-drivers!--and I had a fair experience of that before I joined the
Transport Service. There was as much difference between the two as there
is between this war and the South African War, in which I served in the
Imperial Yeomanry.
These lorries carried immense quantities of ammunition, and so the
Germans made a special point of going for them, in the hope of bringing
about a destructive explosion; but, taken on the whole, they had very
poor luck that way.
When the order came to us in the Market Square at Ypres to march, we
left the city and travelled along the roads till it was dark; and after
that we returned to the city, taking the stuff with us. No sooner were
we back in Ypres than the Germans started shelling again, after having
ceased fire for about four hours.
What we carried was wanted for the guns, but we could not reach them,
owing to the excessive danger from the German fire. It is a strange fact
that as soon as any stuff was going through by transport the Germans
started shelling it, which seems to show that they had word when
transports were on the move. They shelled us constantly, and we got to
take the thing as a very ordinary part of the day’s work.
It was only when some uncommon explosion occurred that we were roused to
take notice; and such an event took place one day when one of the very
biggest of the German shells burst in the air not far away from me with
a tremendous crash, and made an immense cloud of awful smoke and rubbish
as the fragments struck the ground.
This explosion was so near and so unusual that I thought I would get
hold of a souvenir of it. And so I did. I secured a piece of the base of
the shell, and meant to bring it home as a trophy; but I had to leave
it, for the weight of the fragment was 95 lb., and that’s a trifle heavy
even for a transport-driver. This was certainly one of the very biggest
and most awful of the German shells of the immense number I saw explode.
There is, or was, a skittle-alley in Ypres, near the water-tower, and
some of the Munsters were billeted there. I was near the place when some
very heavy shelling was going on, and I saw one shell burst on the
building with a terrific report. I knew at once that serious damage was
done, and that there must have been a heavy loss of life, for I saw
wounded and unwounded men rushing into the street from the ruined
building. Some of the men were bandaging themselves as they rushed out.
I knew that there must be a shocking sight inside the building; so when
the commanding officer said, “Would you like to go inside and look at
it?” I replied that I would rather not. And I was glad afterwards, for I
learned that six poor fellows had been killed. That was the sort of
thing which was constantly happening to our fighting men, and it was bad
enough; but it was infinitely worse when the victims were women and
children, as they so often were, and it was the sight of these innocent
sufferers which was the hardest of all to bear. Some of our youngsters
were particularly upset.
There was a little trumpeter of the Royal Garrison Artillery, to which
we were attached, and a fine youngster he was, about sixteen years old.
We called him “Baggie.” He used to stick it very well, but at times,
when he saw women and children hurt, he gave way and cried. But that
kind-heartedness did not prevent him from being always eager to come
with us when we took the ammunition up to the guns in the firing line.
“Baggie” never knew fear for himself, but he felt it badly when others
were hit or hurt, and that took place day after day.
There was another little trumpeter of the Royal Engineers who got badly
upset for the same reason. He was billeted in a timber-yard, and I saw a
shell fall in the yard and burst and send the timber flying in all
directions. It seemed as if tremendous mischief had been done, and that
there must have been a heavy loss of life; but, as a matter of fact,
only one man was injured on the head and face by splinters.
The trumpeter rushed out, and I went up and talked with him to cheer him
up a bit.
“It’s no good!” he said. “I can’t stick it any longer! I try to be
brave, but I have to give way!”
Then he broke down and fairly cried, and a very pitiful sight it was,
for he was only a kiddie, fifteen or sixteen years old.
I was always troubled myself when I saw how these little chaps were
upset; but they did not break down through anything like fear--they were
not afraid, and were splendid when they were with the men--it was the
suffering and the fearful sights they saw that bowled them out.
These trumpeters--mere lads--went through all the marching and fighting
that led up to the fearful business at Ypres, and they came out of the
business splendidly. Little “Baggie,” for example, was right through it
from the Aisne, and was up and down with the Siege Artillery all the
time. He was present when one of the lieutenants was killed, and when I
last heard of him he was still on the move and well; and I sincerely
hope that he is all right now, and will come safely home.
I mention these things about the youngsters particularly, because they
struck me as being out of the common, and so you notice them more than
the ordinary matters.
While speaking of the earlier days of the war, I might say that, after
the Marne and the Aisne, when we were going back over ground that we
knew and on which we fought, we saw some sickening slaughter scenes, and
realised to the full what an awful thing a war like this is.
One very peculiar incident which comes into my mind was the finding of a
dead Uhlan in a wood. He had evidently been badly wounded, and had made
his way into the wood for safety, but he had died there. When we found
him he was sitting in a crouching position. On examining him, we found
two postcards which he had written. We could not read them, but, as far
as we could tell, they were addressed to women of the same name, but
living in different places. We buried the Uhlan in the wood, and handed
the postcards to a German officer who had been made prisoner, and he
gave us to understand that he would see that they were sent to their
destinations when he got a chance to despatch them. That incident was
only one of many similar sights we came across in our part of the
business.
Transport work, as a rule, was very uncomfortable, because it was mostly
done at night, when the roads were very dark, and we had to do as best
we could without lights. Anything like an ammunition or supply column
was a particular mark for the Germans, and whenever they got the chance
they would do their best to find us out; and a favourite way of doing
this was to fire a few shots in one place and a few in another, in the
hope that we should be drawn and reveal our position. But we didn’t give
the show away quite so easily as that.
I had many opportunities of seeing the fine work which was done by our
armoured trains, and I saw something of the performances of the
aeroplanes. I witnessed several air fights, but there was not really a
lot to see, because there was so much swift manœuvring. There was
plenty of firing at the aircraft, but they are most difficult things to
hit. One of the German aeroplanes dropped a bomb on Ypres. It fell on a
doctor’s house near the town station and exploded, but it did not do any
great amount of mischief. It broke the front door and shattered the
windows and knocked the place about, but I fancy that it did not hurt or
kill anybody.
What was the finest sight I saw while I was at the front? Well, I think
the best thing I ever saw was the way some of our lancers scattered a
far superior body of Uhlans and made them fly. That was on the
retirement from Mons. It was a very bad time, and there were some
fearful sights, for the roads leading from the town were crowded with
fleeing women and children. In any case it was bad enough to get along
the road, but it was infinitely worse to make our way along through the
crowds of refugees with our motor-lorries, especially in view of what we
carried. To make matters worse, we had got on the wrong road, and it was
necessary to turn back. To do this we had to turn round, and, as there
were eighty cars, I need not tell you what a business that meant,
especially with the enemy harassing us, and I dare say fondly thinking
that they had us in a proper grip. The Germans were quite close to us,
and firing, and we were ordered to get down and defend the cars. The
road at this point was very narrow, and it seemed as if we were trapped,
though we were covered by cavalry.
The country thereabouts did not seem very favourable for cavalry work,
but it was all right from the point of view of the Uhlans, who, from
their horses, potted at us from the brow of the hill on which they
stood. The weather was miserable, dull, and it was raining, and,
altogether, it was not an exhilarating business. The Uhlans seemed to be
having it all their own way; then the scene changed like magic, and that
was when the gallant 9th Lancers appeared, to our unspeakable joy. I
can claim to understand something in a modest way about cavalry, as an
old Imperial Yeoman, and I do know that there was no finer sight ever
seen than the spectacle of those splendid fellows of the 9th, who,
without any sound of trumpet or any noise, came up and charged the
Uhlans. One body of Uhlans was on the brow, two more bodies were in a
wood. But these two did not take any active part in the fighting; they
seemed to wait till their comrades on the brow had paved the way with
us, so that they could swoop down. But the Uhlans did not get a chance
to swoop, though they were three to one against our lancers.
Jumping a ditch and galloping across the country, our cavalry were after
the Uhlans like the wind. But the Uhlans never stopped to face the
lance; they vanished over the brow of the hill, and the fellows who were
watching and waiting in the wood vanished, too. They bolted, and must
have been thankful to get out of it. All they knew, probably, was that
our men came along a road in the wood till they got to a clear part, and
that through that opening the 9th were on them like a flash, without
firing a shot. They managed to get in amongst the first line of the
Germans with the lance and empty some of the saddles, while they
themselves had only one or two men bowled over.
I had a splendid view of this brilliant little affair--I should think
there were not more than 120 of the 9th--and I shall never forget the
way in which the lancers went for the enemy, nor the swiftness with
which the boasted Uhlans scuttled off behind the brow. It was an
uncommonly fine piece of work, and it saved our column.
The Uhlans had another shot at us two or three days later. They were at
quite close range, not more than four or five hundred yards away, but we
managed to keep them off and go about our business, which was to reach
the Marne and the Aisne, and then start back. We had about a month on
the Aisne without making much progress, though our troops were hard at
it all the time.
I had got out of Ypres--thankful to go--and had gone towards another
town. It was about midday, and we had halted. The hot weather had gone
away, and the cold had come. I was walking up and down to keep myself
warm. Shells were falling and bursting, as usual, but I did not pay much
attention to them. At last one burst about fifty yards away, and a
fragment struck me and knocked me round, after which I fell. At first I
thought I had been struck by a stone or a brick which somebody had
thrown, and it was not for some time that I realised that I had been
wounded in the thigh by a piece of shell. I was sent to England in due
course, and here I am, in a most comfortable hospital at the seaside,
ready to leave for home in two or three days.
My own experience with regard to the wound is not uncommon. It is not
easy to say how you have been hit, and I have known men who have been
shot through the body and have been quite unable to say whether the
bullet went in at the front or the back.