EXPLOITS OF THE LONDON SCOTTISH
[“Eye-Witness,” in his descriptive account of November 4th, dealing
with the first phase of the desperate fight for Ypres, said that a
special feature of the battle was that it formed an epoch in the
military history of the British Empire, and marked the first time
that a complete unit of our Territorial Army has been thrown into
the fight alongside its sister units of the Regulars. That unit was
the 14th (County of London) Battalion London Regiment, better known
as the London Scottish. Its ranks contained many prominent men who
gave up everything at their country’s call and went to the front.
Amongst them was Mr. J. E. Carr, Managing Director of Scremerston
Colliery, Northumberland, a well-known breeder of Border Leicester
sheep, a keen rider to hounds and a thoroughly good sportsman.
Private Carr served with the London Scottish until he was wounded
and invalided home and it is his story which is here retold.]
It is very difficult to keep within defined limits the varied
experiences that are crowded into a few months at the front in a war
which is waged on such a vast scale as the present conflict. Every day
has its own fresh and particular excitements which are worth
remembering, and one can scarcely pick out, off-hand, the most startling
or interesting phases of the campaigning. However, the earliest
impressions undoubtedly cling most tenaciously, and I have vivid
recollections of the thrill I experienced when our transport swung to
her moorings and the London Scottish disembarked on the other side of
the Channel.
I should like to say here that the London Scottish have been the subject
of a good deal of comment, mostly favourable, I am glad to know; but
there has been undue exaltation. The blame for this certainly does not
rest with the London Scottish, but in other perfectly well-meaning
quarters.
I am proud indeed to belong to the London Scottish, because they are
good boys to be amongst, so good that there was no reason whatever why
people should have expressed surprise that the first Territorials to go
into action did so well. I don’t think there was any reason for
astonishment, for the London Scottish had been a well-trained body of
Volunteers before the Territorial system came into being. And if they
pulled through, as they did, when the actual fighting began, do not let
it be forgotten that they had some glorious examples to follow. On their
left and on their right were some of the very finest soldiers in the
world, and it was for the London Scottish to prove that they were worthy
of fighting with these truly splendid fellows. Troops like the
Coldstream Guards, the Scots Guards, the Black Watch and the Cameron
Highlanders are men with whom it is indeed an honour to be associated.
Our landing on the Continent was an event which I shall remember all my
life. It meant that we were many miles nearer to the band of heroes who
had held the Germans up at Mons and had completely disarranged a whole
plan of campaign. Whenever I meet a man who fought in that greatest of
rearguard actions I want to take off my hat to him.
It was not long after the war began that we found ourselves on the lines
of communication and began to feel that we were really bearing a hand
in the things that mattered. This was in September, and the weather
being good we found it no great hardship to guard railways, escort
prisoners, run up ammunition for the fighting lines and do any odd job
that came along. There was not a man amongst us who did not put his back
into the business, realising that it was all a part of the tremendous
game that was being played, monotonous and unexciting though the duties
might be, and with every day that passed we got fitter and keener and
better able to meet the heavy calls that came upon us later. We felt
that we were really “in” and part of the great adventure. In various
ways we did a good deal of wandering, and some of us went as far south
as Nantes.
This was about harvest time, and we saw the old men of France and the
women and the boys gathering in the sheaves. Later on we saw even the
women ploughing, and very good work they did. One thing which
particularly astonished us was their courage in working on the land
quite close up to the fighting line. They were often well within shell
fire, but they did not seem to be in the least disturbed. I suppose they
thought that if their husbands and sons and brothers could fight for
France at rifle and bayonet range they could go on working for their
country in spite of a stray shell or two.
A few weeks later we moved up to the firing line, and then we had the
opportunity of seeing how gloriously the Scottish Regular troops were
doing their work and maintaining the splendid traditions of the Highland
regiments.
People have become so used to amazing happenings in this war that it is
not easy to realise that only a very few months ago the mere sight of
an aeroplane was a novelty, and it was a thrill indeed for us when, near
Béthune, we had a splendid view of a fight in the air between British,
French and German airmen. The German, in a machine which looked exactly
like an enormous bird in the sky, came scouting over our lines, to find
out what was going on. The mere sight of him was enough to fetch along a
British ’plane and a Frenchman followed. This happened on a clear,
peaceful Sunday morning, and it was truly wonderful to see how the three
machines were manœuvred to get the top position and so spell doom to
the lowest ’plane. By extraordinary daring and skill, and because his
very life hung in the balance, the German managed to get away, in spite
of the most desperate efforts of his opponents to bag him. But I don’t
think he would escape to-day, when the British and French airmen have so
fully established their superiority over the German flyers and when it
has been proved that the machines of the Allies are far better than any
of the craft that the German airmen use.
One of our first experiences of real fighting came when we were ordered
to charge at Messines. I do not care to say much about that charge,
because I think too much has been said of it already; so I will not go
beyond saying that it was hot and sanguinary work with the bayonet and
that we lost many good fellows. I cannot help thinking that the London
Scottish got too much praise for Messines, and they are the first to
admit that; but this was due to the fact that correspondents and others
spread themselves out on the charge and gave special attention to the
matter because of the fact that up to that time practically nothing had
been heard of Territorials in action.
The praise that was given to the regiment had the effect of making us
rather unpopular with the Regulars, and naturally enough, too, seeing
that they had been constantly doing the same sort of work ever since the
beginning of the war. It was pride enough for us to be in the same
brigade as the Coldstreamers, the Scots Guards, the Black Watch and the
Camerons, and to feel that we had done just what we were told to do. It
was, of course, a source of great satisfaction to us afterwards to be
congratulated by General Munro on what he was good enough to term our
“steadiness as a battalion.” Now that is all I am going to say about the
charge of the London Scottish at Messines.
Speaking generally the fighting from November until the time I was
wounded can be divided into two distinct parts, the actions around Ypres
and the affairs at La Bassée. At Ypres about fifty men of our regiment
were in the city during the siege, and a very exciting time we had.
Shells were constantly bursting all around and no matter where the
people were they did not seem to be able to keep clear of danger. Even
the cellars, in which large numbers of men and women and children sought
refuge, were at times blown in and there were some very distressing and
unpleasant sights. Personally, I was uncommonly lucky, because I escaped
being hurt.
I had the good fortune to sleep for two nights in the beautiful and
famous Cloth Hall, of which the story is told that it was particularly
spared by the German artillery because the Kaiser meant to enter it in
state at the head of his victorious troops. But when I was in it the
shells came pounding on the walls and roof of the hall, doing grievous
damage, though our own men had the good luck to escape. Not so lucky
were some men of the Suffolk Regiment who followed us, for one afternoon
a huge shell came through and burst and killed five of the Suffolks and
wounded a number of other men of that fine regiment.
So much has been said of the enormous German shells which have become
known as Jack Johnsons that people have almost ceased to be affected by
their performances; but nothing that I have heard or read conveys any
real idea of the extraordinarily destructive nature of these awful
engines of war when they explode--and that, luckily, does not always
happen. One afternoon, however, we counted no fewer than thirty of them
which _did_ explode, and the results were absolutely devastating.
When the Germans really set to work to bombard Ypres, the Cloth Hall and
the splendid cathedral were soon practically destroyed; but one of the
most noticeable things in connection with this destruction was that many
sacred objects were undamaged whilst there was ruin all around them.
Take the case of the crucifix of Ypres Cathedral--it is literally true
that this was found entire and upright amongst such general ruin that it
seemed as if only a miracle could have saved it. In several other places
I saw crucifixes hanging uninjured on walls of houses although the
structures themselves had been practically wrecked. On the other hand,
while we were in the trenches I saw a little nickel crucifix with a
bullet-hole right through it.
With the King’s Royal Rifles on their right, and fired by their glorious
example, the London Scottish were in some furious fighting in the
earlier days of November, and the coming of Christmas brought more hot
work. On December 22nd we marched about twenty-six miles with the
brigade, and the Coldstreamers, gallant as ever, went straight into
action after their arrival. They did fine work that day, and paid for it
accordingly. There followed a rest at Béthune and then we went into more
trouble in the neighbourhood of Givenchy.
Very little of what may be called spectacular fighting was seen
hereabouts; it was mostly trench work, and this was all the more
difficult because the German trenches were so close to our own, and the
real old-fashioned way of conducting a battle was out of the question.
But all the same we got some variations, and one of these was a fight
for a brick-field which was a good hot performance while it lasted.
At this period we made a change on the usual form of trench by lining
our own trenches with bricks, which were handy for the purpose. These
trenches were more comfortable than the general type, but they were more
dangerous, because when a shell burst near us the bricks splintered, so
that the flying bricks had to be added to the dangers and discomforts of
the flying metal fragments.
One of the brick splinters struck my hand and poisoned it, and another
unwelcome attention that was paid to me was a piece of shrapnel in the
back of the neck; but these were really very minor details compared with
the injuries that were received by other members of the London Scottish,
and I am not for a moment complaining, nor can I, for when I came home
my company had only twenty left out of 119. There had been the
casualties in the charge and in other affairs, and a number of men had
been killed and wounded in the trenches.
At Givenchy we had to endure as best we could that most unpleasant
engine of war which is called the trench mortar. This affects high-angle
fire and plumps a shell into the trenches when the aim is good. One
shell dropped into a trench of ours and exploded, killing one man and
wounding five others--a round half-dozen fine fellows as toll to a
single German shot.
There were the snipers, too, pests who are intensely disliked by the
British soldier. These fellows find a lodging in what seems to be an
impossible sort of place, often enough high up a tree, and being well
supplied with food and ammunition they can go on potting for a long time
without going down from their perch. It was always matter for rejoicing
when one of these queer birds was winged.
I spent Christmas in the trenches, with the boys. It is odd to be
talking about Christmas at this time of the year, but that season was an
outstanding feature of the experiences of the London Scottish, just as
the New Year was. Christmas Day was comparatively comfortable because
there was a lull in the fighting. New Year’s Day was unforgettable to
those who saw it in and did their best to keep up the national custom.
I think that of all the strange incidents that have been recorded in
connection with this war, and they have been many--and some of them have
proved how soon soldiers become impervious to the most terrible
happenings of campaigning--one of the strangest must have been the sight
we saw on New Year’s Eve.
When the New Year actually came in we fired three rounds rapid, and the
pipes of the Black Watch rose on the night, while our own voices broke
into “Auld lang syne.” Wonderful and affecting it was to hear the pipes
and the dear old tune and many of us were deeply moved.
The effect on the Germans was very curious. Apparently they judged from
the sounds of the pipes and the roll of the song that the Scots were
going to pay them a special visit with the bayonet, and by way of being
ready for it and giving us a welcome, they sent up star-lights, and
these, bursting in the air, gave a sinister illumination of the
landscape and would have shown us up if we had had in mind the purpose
of an assault on the German trenches. But we had no intention of letting
the New Year in upon them in such an unfriendly manner, although later
in the day we were of necessity hard at it again in the ordinary way of
firing.
From day to day the London Scottish kept at it, doing their best, I
hope; then, on January 25th a spell of uncommonly hard work came along.
The Coldstreamers, who had held out gloriously and successfully against
great odds, had to withdraw from their trenches owing to an overwhelming
attack by the enemy. For the time being the Germans had scored and no
doubt they were exulting in their best manner, but the London Scottish
were sent up to reinforce the Coldstreamers--and proud they were to do
it. Later in the afternoon the Black Watch, with the Sussex Regiment and
the Royal Rifles, came up too, and the combination proved too much for
the Germans, who, after a brilliant attack, were sent flying back to
their own trenches.
I have heard that many old and young Germans have been taken prisoners
at various parts of the immense battle-front of the Allies; but those
that I saw pass through our lines were neither very old nor very young.
Occasionally we observed signs that they required a good lot of leading,
that is to say, “leading” from behind; but generally speaking they
seemed to be the best men that Germany had and on the whole they were
undoubtedly good fighters.
While talking of German prisoners I am reminded of a particularly ugly
incident. When I was taken to the hospital I was with a number of German
prisoners.
The hospital rule is that everything shall be taken away from the
patient until the time comes for him to be discharged. Well, when one of
these prisoners was searched I learned to my amazement, disgust and
anger, that he carried with him a bomb which was powerful enough to blow
up the whole place--but prompt steps were taken to prevent him from
making any use of it. How on earth he had got so far from the lines with
the deadly thing I cannot understand; but he had it with him all right.
We got a good deal of amusement and help from a new set of “Ten
Commandments for Soldiers in the Field,” which were duly but not
officially published. I will quote one or two by way of showing their
character and indicating that incorrigible British cheerfulness which
the German, with all his “culture,” cannot understand. Number Three ran:
“Thou shalt not use profane language except under extraordinary
circumstances, such as seeing thy comrade shot or getting petrol in thy
tea.” Number Four was worded: “Remember that the soldier’s week consists
of seven days. Six days shalt thou labour and do all thy work, and on
the seventh do all thy odd jobs!” “Honour thy King and country,” was the
Fifth. “Keep thy rifle oiled, and shoot straight, in order that thy days
may be long upon the land the enemy giveth thee.” Then we had, “Thou
shalt not steal thy neighbour’s kit,” and “Thou shalt not kill--time!”
By Number Nine it was enjoined, “Thou shalt not bear false witness
against thy comrade, but preserve discreet silence on his outgoings and
incomings.” Last of all came Number Ten, full of a wonderful hope for
the lowly: “Thou shalt not covet thy Sergeant’s post, nor the
Corporal’s, nor the Staff-Major’s, but do thy duty and by dint of
perseverance rise to the high position of Field-Marshal.”
* * * * *
(This is one of the first detailed stories to be told of some of the
achievements of the London Scottish at the front, and its modest vein is
in keeping with the general point of view of the members of this
distinguished corps. It has been for others, not of the London Scottish,
to tell us something of what the regiment really did at Messines and
elsewhere in those early days of the Ypres fighting on which such vast
issues depended. What happened at Messines was this: The regiment was in
reserve when unexpectedly the order came to hurry up to the support of
the hard-pressed Regular troops, who were being fiercely assailed by
very much superior German forces. Crowding on to motor-buses the London
Scottish were hurried along in the course of the afternoon and while
some of them spent the night in deserted cottages others bivouacked in
the streets, waiting for daylight.
After much marching and wandering, the zone of fire was entered, and the
fine battalion which not many weeks before had marched along London
streets after being embodied made acquaintance with the German shells
and got ready to show what the British Territorials could do with the
rifle and the bayonet.
The regiment was amused and interested in the antics of a windmill the
sails of which turned constantly and oddly, although there was no wind.
It was not until later that the phenomenon was explained and that was
when the windmill was visited and a German spy was caught in the act of
signalling, by means of the sails, the position and movements of the
British troops.
It was at Hollebecke and at Messines, between Ypres and Warneton, that
the British lines were hard pressed owing to the determined attempts of
the Germans to break through and hack their way to Calais, and it was
here that the London Scottish went to support the Cavalry Brigade who
were holding the trenches.
Forming up under the crest of a hill they advanced over the crest and
found themselves right in the battle line. Hurrying down the slope,
struggling over heavy ground which was made all the harder because of
beet crops, the regiment went into a most destructive artillery and
rifle and machine-gun fire.
Many a splendid fellow was shot down before he could use his own rifle,
and others were wounded; but nothing could stop the advance. By short
rushes, and taking cover, the men in time reached the trenches and had
to encounter an overwhelming assault of Germans with the bayonet.
Now it was that a wonderful and splendid thing was done, for these
Territorials, fresh from civil life, hurled themselves with the bayonet
upon the finest troops of Germany. They were thrown back. Again they
charged, only to be driven off once more; but the regiment was not to be
denied or beaten and with a final furious rush the Germans were
scattered and the day was won for the British. No wonder that Colonel J.
H. Scott, late of the Gordon Highlanders and formerly adjutant of the
London Scottish, wrote on hearing the glorious news: “Hurrah for the
London Scottish! From my knowledge of them I knew they would do it!”)