hills, by stretches of six or seven hours’ marching a day. The people
they had to deal with seemed meek and visibly oppressed with the fear
of rough treatment. That removed from their minds, they stepped aside
and looked wonderingly at the incomprehensible enemy that tramped
through their streets, leaving neither ruin nor rape behind. By the
18th December the advance had reached Lovenich, and, after two days’
rest there, they entered Cologne on the 23rd December with an absence
of display that might or might not have been understood by the
natives. They had covered more than two hundred miles over bad roads
in bad boots that could not be repaired nor thrown away, and but one
man had fallen out. The drums played “Brian Boru” when they entered
the Hohenzollern Ring; their Major-General beheld that last march,
and they were duly photographed in the wet; while the world that
saw such photographs in the weekly illustrated papers was honestly
convinced that the Great War and all war was at an end for evermore.
Then really serious trouble overtook them, which was, in some sort,
a forecast of the days to come. Their billets at Nippes, in the
suburbs of Cologne, were excellent and clean, though, of course,
in need of the usual “improvements” which every battalion of the
Brigade is bound to make; but on Christmas Day, owing to transport
difficulties, the men’s Christmas dinner did not arrive! This thing
had never happened in the whole history of the war! Pressure of work
in the front line had delayed that dinner, as on the Somme; enemy
attentions had caused it to be eaten in haste, a sort of Passover,
as in the dread Salient, but complete breakdown was unheard of.
The Battalion, rightly, held it mortal sin, and spoke their minds
about the transport which was fighting mud and distance across
the hills as loyally as ever. It was the back-areas that had been
caught unprepared by the peace. But, on Christmas night (superb and
unscrupulous staff-work went to secure it), a faithful lorry ploughed
in from Paris with what was wanted, and on Boxing Day the full and
complete Christmas dinner was served, and for the fifth and last time
their Commanding Officer performed the sacred ritual of “going round
the dinners.”
They sat them down, twenty-two officers and six hundred and
twenty-eight other ranks, and none will know till Judgment Day how
many ghosts were also present. For the first time since August,
’14, the monthly returns showed no officer or man killed, wounded,
or missing. The two battalions had lost in all two thousand three
hundred and forty-nine dead, including one hundred and fifteen
officers. Their total of wounded was five thousand seven hundred and
thirty-nine. Of both these the 1st Battalion, by virtue of thirteen
months longer in the field, could reckon more than a generous half.
They were too near and too deeply steeped in the war that year’s end
to realize their losses. Their early dead, as men talked over the
past in Cologne, seemed to belong to immensely remote ages. Even
those of that very spring, of whom friends could still say, “If
So-and-so had only lived to see this!” stood as far removed as the
shadowy great ones of the pre-bomb, pre-duckboard twilight; and, in
some inexpressible fashion, they themselves appeared to themselves
the only living people in an uncaring world. Yet Cologne was alive
with soldiery; roads were roaring full, as communications were
restored; men stood guard over visible gun- and ammunition-dumps;
the Battalion joined in marches to the bridge-heads, attended
football matches, saw hosts of new faces belonging to new troops of
all breeds; and watched about them, in the wet, grey weather, the
muddy-faced Hun-folk, methodically as usual, trying to find out just
how far it was expedient to go with the heralds of the alleged new
order.
“But ye’ll understand, when everything was said and done, there
was nothing _real_ to it at all, except when we got to talking and
passing round the names of them we wished was with us. We was lonely
in those days. The half of us was Church of England by then, too. But
we were lonely, ye’ll understand, as units. And our billets, mind ye,
ma-agnificent, with walls and lockers and doors and all. The same for
the officers! And there was Mr. ---- that I’d known well any time
these last two winters, freezing and swearing alongside of me in any
shell-hole we could find, and glad to be out of the wind--and now,
him cursin’ in his quarters because he had not the Jerry-talk for the
German for: ‘Turn off that dam’ steam-heat!’ And that’s war _al_so.
“But ye might tell that we was lonely, most of all. Before God, we
Micks was lonely!”
COMMANDING OFFICERS 1st BATTALION
FROM AUGUST 12, 1914
-----------+---------------------------------+-------------+----------
Rank | Name | From B.E.F. | To
-----------+---------------------------------+-------------+----------
Lt.-Col. | Hon. G. H. Morris | 12.8.14 | 1.9.14
Major | H. H. Stepney | 2.9.14 | 17.9.14
Lt.-Col. | Lord Ardee, C.B.E. | 18.9.14 | 3.11.14
“ (temp.) | Hon. J. F. Trefusis, D.S.O. | 4.11.14 | 15.8.15
“ “ | G. H. C. Madden | 16.8.15 | 1.11.15
“ “ | R. C. A. McCalmont, D.S.O. | 2.11.15 | 2.3.17
“ (actg.) | H. R. Alexander, D.S.O., M.C. | 3.3.17 | 23.5.17
“ “ | C. E. Rocke, D.S.O. | 24.5.17 | 11.7.17
“ “ | R. V. Pollok, C.B.E., D.S.O. | 12.7.17 | 19.6.18
“ “ | R. R. C. Baggally, D.S.O., M.C. | 20.6.18 | To return
| | |to England.
-----------+---------------------------------+-------------+-----------
END OF VOL. I
FOOTNOTES:
[1] About this time, on a distant flank of the war, there was a very
young French Lieutenant of Artillery who, in his first action, when
evening came, telephoned to his superior officer as to dispositions
for the night, in the sincere belief that, following the custom of
all wars up to date, the guns would stop as the darkness closed. His
answer was: “This will be a war in which no one ever goes to bed.”
[2] “ ... and the next time I saw Zillebeke it was a deserted ruin,
and the small house whose inmates had been so kind to my subalterns
and me was a heap of debris.”--_Extract from a Company Commander’s
Diary._
[3] “At the cross-roads near Klein Zillebeke we halted, lying down
on each side the road as shells were coming over. In the centre of
the road lay a dead trooper of some British Cavalry Regiment, his
horse also half dead across him. A woman passed by.... She had all
her household treasures strapped on her back and held the hands of
two very small children. She took no notice of any one, but I saw the
two little children shy away from the dead man.”--_Diary of a Company
Officer._
[4] Their Brigadier, Lord Cavan, wrote on the 20th November to
Captain N. Orr-Ewing, commanding the Battalion: “I want you to convey
to every man in your Battalion that I consider that the safety of
the right flank of the British section depended entirely upon their
staunchness after the disastrous day, Nov. 1. Those of them that were
left made history, and I can never thank them enough for the way in
which they recovered themselves and showed the enemy that the Irish
Guards must be reckoned with, however hard hit.”
[5] Brigade Reserve means in readiness to move at short notice in
any direction to support; all wagons standing packed day and night,
except that the blankets may be used by the men. Corps Reserve takes
a battalion definitely out of the line for the time being and out of
reach of all except air-bombing.
[6] “I saw him slip back over the parapet in the mornin’ mist, the
way he always did, just behind the officer going the rounds. An’ his
pockets was bulgin’. I had been layin’ for him a long while because
I knew he had something I wanted. So I went up behind him and I said
quite quiet, ‘C----, I’ll take your night’s pickin’s if it’s the same
to you.’ He knew it had to be, an’ to do him justice he bore it well.
‘Well, anyway, Sergeant,’ says he, ‘’tis worth five francs to you, is
it not?’ ‘Yes,’ says I and I gave him the five francs then an’ there,
an’ he emptied his pockets into my hands. ’Twas worth all of five
francs to me, C----’s work that night. An’ he never bore me malice
thereafter.”--_A Sergeant’s Tale._
[7] He was succeeded by Major-General Feilding in command of the
Guards Division; Brigadier-General Pereira commanding the 1st Guards
Brigade.
[8] These were vast cellars reached by a hundred steps, and at the
bottom of them resided a very old soldier, who did little more than
“boil the hot water for the officers’ baths” and look after a certain
mascot-goat which had been given them by a French Corps. When the
order to move at once came, the parting words of the Officer in
Charge of the Goat to the aged man were: “Now you look after the goat
_and_ our blankets, and don’t walk about upstairs. _You_ needn’t
worry about yourself. If you’re taken prisoner we’ll send you lots of
parcels. Look after the goat and hang on to our blankets.” He did.
[9] This, be it remembered, gives roughly the idea at the close of
1918.
* * * * * *
Transcriber’s note:
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:
duckboard, duck-board; aircraft, air-craft; blockhouses, block-houses;
unregarded; perforable; incuriousness; builded; unkeyed.
Pg 124: ‘young soliders were’ replaced by ‘young soldiers were’.
Pg 139: ‘a N.C.O. and’ replaced by ‘an N.C.O. and’.
Pg 165: ‘undistinguishable in’ replaced by ‘indistinguishable in’.
Pg 177: ‘undistinguishable landscapes’ replaced by
‘indistinguishable landscapes’.
Pg 200: ‘in Divisonal Reserve’ replaced by ‘in Divisional Reserve’.
Pg 206: ‘from Croiselles to’ replaced by ‘from Croisilles to’.
Pg 213: ‘and thermit shells’ replaced by ‘and thermite shells’.
Pg 219: ‘a N.C.O. and’ replaced by ‘an N.C.O. and’.