SIR JOHN FRENCH ON THE OPERATIONS OF THE BRITISH ARMY TO AUGUST 28—
LORD KITCHENER ON THE FOUR DAYS’ BATTLE—FIGHTING IN THE VALLEY
OF THE MEUSE—CHARLEVILLE.
The following extract from Sir John French’s first despatch brings
it to a conclusion as far as the operations of the British army are
concerned:—
During the fighting on the 24th and 25th the Cavalry became a
good deal scattered, but by the early morning of the 26th General
Allenby had succeeded in concentrating two brigades to the south of
Cambrai.
The 4th Division was placed under the orders of the General Officer
commanding the Second Army Corps.
On the 24th the French Cavalry Corps, consisting of three
divisions, under General Sordêt, had been in billets north of
Avesnes. On my way back from Bavai, which was my “Poste de
Commandement” during the fighting of the 23rd and 24th, I visited
General Sordêt, and earnestly requested his co-operation and
support. He promised to obtain sanction from his Army Commander
to act on my left flank, but said that his horses were too tired
to move before the next day. Although he rendered me valuable
assistance later on in the course of the retirement, he was unable
for the reasons given to afford me any support on the most critical
day of all, viz., the 26th.
At daybreak it became apparent that the enemy was throwing the bulk
of his strength against the left of the position occupied by the
Second Corps and the 4th Division.
At this time the guns of four German Army Corps were in position
against them, and Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien reported to me that he
judged it impossible to continue his retirement at daybreak (as
ordered) in face of such an attack.
I sent him orders to use his utmost endeavours to break off the
action and retire at the earliest possible moment, as it was
impossible for me to send him any support, the First Corps being at
the moment incapable of movement.
The French Cavalry Corps, under General Sordêt, was coming up on
our left rear early in the morning, and I sent an urgent message to
him to do his utmost to come up and support the retirement of my
left flank; but owing to the fatigue of his horses he found himself
unable to intervene in any way.
There had been no time to entrench the position properly, but
the troops showed a magnificent front to the terrible fire which
confronted them.
The Artillery, although outmatched by at least four to one, made a
splendid fight and inflicted heavy losses on their opponents.
At length it became apparent that, if complete annihilation was to
be avoided, a retirement must be attempted; and the order was given
to commence it about 3.30 p.m. The movement was covered with the
most devoted intrepidity and determination by the Artillery, which
had itself suffered heavily, and the fine work done by the Cavalry
in the further retreat from the position assisted materially in the
final completion of this most difficult and dangerous operation.
Fortunately the enemy had himself suffered too heavily to engage in
an energetic pursuit.
I cannot close the brief account of this glorious stand of the
British troops without putting on record my deep appreciation of
the valuable services rendered by General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien.
I say without hesitation that the saving of the left wing of the
Army under my command on the morning of the 26th August could never
have been accomplished unless a commander of rare and unusual
coolness, intrepidity, and determination had been present to
personally conduct the operation.
The retreat was continued far into the night of the 26th and
through the 27th and 28th, on which date the troops halted on the
line Noyon—Chauny—La Fère, having then thrown off the weight of
the enemy’s pursuit.
On the 27th and 28th I was much indebted to General Sordêt and the
French Cavalry Division which he commands for materially assisting
my retirement and successfully driving back some of the enemy on
Cambrai.
General d’Amade also, with the 61st and 62nd French Reserve
Divisions, moved down from the neighbourhood of Arras on the
enemy’s right flank and took much pressure off the rear of the
British Forces.
This closes the period covering the heavy fighting which commenced
at Mons on Sunday afternoon, 23rd August, and which really
constituted a four days’ battle.
At this point, therefore, I propose to close the present despatch.
Lord Kitchener pointed out in his first speech to the House of Lords,
on August 25, while the battle was still waging, that European fighting
causes greater casualties than the campaigns to which we are accustomed
in other parts of the world, but in spite of hard marching the British
Force was in the best of spirits. The casualties to the British troops
were very heavy, but the losses inflicted on the Germans, who were
always on the offensive, were enormous.
The battle was beyond all comparison the greatest in which our troops
had been engaged; although it is not to be compared in point of
duration with the tremendous conflict on the Aisne. No officer or man
now with the colours had ever known the sort of warfare as that which
was waged on the Belgian and French frontiers.
Correspondents found it difficult to obtain from the French
descriptions of the recent hard fighting, and Mr. W. T. Massey, of
the _Daily Telegraph_ staff, wrote that great care was exercised that
wounded should not meet and discuss the situation with civilians. Here
and there one finds, he said, a non-commissioned officer or private
who has been in the fighting line, but they tell you they really know
little of what is going on. A Hussar he talked to said he had not
been in any serious fighting, but he regarded the “charge” as the
principal _rôle_ of cavalry, because he admitted that he was frequently
within rifle shot of the enemy and had been under fire six times for
considerable periods.
The cavalry, the Hussar said, had kept the Germans in a state of great
activity, for directly a cavalry brigade was on the move the enemy
seemed instantly to prepare for battle. Over and over again our cavalry
would change direction and halt to dig trenches which were never meant
to be occupied. The Germans did the same, and tired infantry were
continually kept on the move. This Hussar described the German field
uniform as very difficult to pick up at long ranges, even with field
glasses. The French uniform was a much easier target, and khaki did not
blend very well with the green of the French landscape.
He had a long talk with a civilian who had been in close touch with one
French army corps during the battles in the valley of the Meuse. All
through, he was told, it had been a case of fighting against odds, but
often bravery and dash overbore superior numbers and caused the German
advance to be stayed while a pushed-back line was being strengthened.
For instance, at Marville, a French force of 5,000 men of all arms
of the 2nd Army Corps not merely stemmed the strong German tide, but
rolled back a force of 20,000 men from point to point continuously for
twelve hours, and it was not until there was a risk of the French
losing touch with their supports that they retired.
All down the Meuse the French destroyed the bridges; this informant
said thirty-three bridges had been blown up, and he was given a vivid
picture of one of the scenes which followed the destruction of the
means of crossing the river. This was at Charleville, an important
position on the Meuse, quite close to the fortified town of Mézières,
and within a field gun’s call from Sedan. Here the French tactics of
Sedan were reversed. The _trou_ of Sedan is engraven on the memory of
every French soldier, and the danger of being caught in a hollow is
ever present to officers. The Germans, bound up by military history,
and confident that what happened in 1870 would occur again, fell into a
trap which cost them dear.
Last Tuesday (August 25), he said, the French decided to evacuate
Charleville, and sent round to the inhabitants to clear out. Trains
took away many civilians, but a number had to travel on foot, and
the roads in the early morning were covered with a long line of
stragglers toiling under the burden of the few household treasures
they had saved from the threatened destruction.
As the civil population left, a small party of French riflemen
marched into the town to play a part worthy of the traditions of
their army. I did not realise until the action developed that their
duty involved enormous risk and that it was almost in the nature
of a forlorn hope. They were sent to occupy a few houses which
controlled the roads through the town, and though these houses were
marked out to the French artillery when the guns began to bark,
the lives of the members of this party were always in danger. If
any survive they will have earned any decoration for bravery, for
their ambush assisted in the complete destruction of a considerable
German force of cavalry and infantry.
Around Charleville is a semi-circular sweep of hills. On these
the French artillery was posted, the guns being dug in and hidden
from the eyes of German scouts. The Germans were seen coming over
the three bridges leading into the town. They were not opposed for
a long time, and their numbers grew rapidly. Suddenly the three
bridges were blown up, and the retreat was cut off. The destruction
of the bridges was the signal to the guns on the high ground to
begin, while the riflemen in ambush poured a terrible fire into
an enemy who had a moment before believed they were occupying a
deserted town. They were also raked by an awful fire from half a
dozen batteries.
Into all parts of the town, save in the particular quarter in
which the gallant French riflemen were doing their country’s work,
there was a tornado of bursting shells, houses falling into the
streets, and clouds of dust rising from the shrapnel bullets as
they rained in a pitiless mass upon broken plaster and bricks. In a
few minutes—ten minutes, I should say—the town was destroyed, and
the whole German force must have been annihilated. I can imagine
how completely the Germans were taken by surprise. Directly they
got across the bridges they must have thought they had, indeed, got
a prize. Charleville had been made the depôt for captured German
cannon, and in the gun park there were, I am told, ninety-five
field guns taken at God knows what sacrifice by the Allies. I saw
the guns, but though I cannot vouch for the number, I can say there
were very many. Twelve had been added just before the town was
evacuated.
Of course, the breech blocks and mechanism had been so burred
and damaged that the guns, as they stood, were useless, but the
recovery of even useless weapons would give encouragement to an
enemy, and, no doubt, many German soldiers were contemplating their
restoration to their army when the bursting shells cried out, “Not
yet.” That scene, so triumphant for French arms, was awful, and I
went away before the remnant of the riflemen was collected from the
ruined town—that is, if there were any survivors; I devoutly pray
there were many—and Charleville and the gun park were left for
other German eyes to look upon as an example of what war is.
I asked my informant, who expressed a wish that I would say nothing
to give a clue to identification, whether he had seen any German
prisoners. He replied, “Yes, a large number. They complain that
the transport line is mainly occupied with war material, and that
the food supply is neglected. All the enemy’s soldiers, they
say, are hungry, and some of the men in the firing-lines have
been without food for two days. On the other hand, the French
soldiers—I have not been with British troops, but have seen their
commissariat columns proceeding regularly and quickly backwards and
forwards—have always plenty.”
As the road from Abbeville to Amiens approaches the latter picturesque
town, it runs for a considerable distance alongside the railway. Mr.
Massey was in the district on Friday afternoon, August 28, and when in
the neighbourhood of Picquigny he found the railroad congested and the
highway almost full of people proceeding south. Here and there, hidden
in hedgerows, were files of French territorial infantry, and dotted
over the countryside to the north sentries were vigilant. An officer
stated that the latest report which had come in warned him that a Uhlan
patrol was less than six kilometres away, and the presence of the enemy
so far south suggested that a bold attempt was being made to cut the
railway and destroy the utility of Boulogne as a base. The Germans
probably did not know that at this time the British had ceased to
employ Boulogne as a port for the disembarkation of men and stores, and
that no British troops remained at Boulogne.
The last train that was running out of Boulogne for Amiens was before
him, and he knew that little rolling-stock remained at the port. The
service both ways had been cut off, but the Boulogne-Folkestone boats
were running. While he watched a fast train ran by towards the coast,
and succeeding it came four big engines coupled together. Presently one
of them returned with two trucks, holding eighty French soldiers, who
were deposited on the line, half of them guarding the passenger train
and the remainder reinforcing the guards on the line of communications.
By and by word was passed along to keep the road clear for troops, and
carts pulled on to one side. In a few minutes some khaki-clad soldiers
swung round a bend. Their gait showed they were not Britishers, and
the kepi or fez indicated their origin.
They were two companies of French Algerian troops, the “Turcos,”
as they are called. They advanced rapidly, shuffling along rather
than marching, carrying their equipment easily. With them were three
ammunition mules, entrenching tools carried in a mule pack, and two
light carts. Officers showed their delight at the prospect of getting
into touch with the enemy by waving their hands at cheering people,
while the rank and file raised their arms, palm of the hand uppermost,
and acknowledged the salutations by opening and closing the hand. They
were a happy party, and they brushed past the villagers and quickened
their pace to get to the point assigned to them.
The villagers were satisfied that the coloured troops would stand till
the last man, but there were many of their compatriots moving forward
with their families to places more secure. Generally these fugitives
were of the farming class, and each of the long, low farm wagons was a
tale of tragedy of the war. Weary horses hauled vehicles piled up with
household goods. The drivers were mere lads or old men, whose years
unfitted them for military service, and packages of all sorts, and
perambulators in some cases, occupied one-half of the space, and women
and children, seated on hay and straw, the remainder. Nobody seemed
to speak; abandoned homes and the fear that all was not well with the
army in which their menfolk were serving made them dumb. But if there
was panic, nobody showed it, for all met the situation with stolid
countenances and were apparently ready to accept what the fates decreed.
Passengers on the train were more alarmed. They, too, had heard that
German cavalry were near, and they chafed at the vexatious stoppages
every couple of hundred yards. But every move forward was nearer
safety, and all seemed pleased that French infantry marched by the
side of the train. A progress of a mile an hour for the last three
miles satisfied nobody, and when Amiens was reached the summons given
to passengers for Paris to change caused some concern. The lines were
mainly occupied by troop trains, as they had been for eighteen hours.
The French wastage of war has been more than made good in this region.
You meet refugees by the thousand, and a man with a heart of flint
would be sorry for them. On every grim visage is written the stern
realities of war. Infinite suffering, aye, and splendid courage and
patriotism, is lined on every face, and you feel when they pass you by
that heroism is shared almost in an equal degree by most civilians and
fighting men.
Old Frenchmen, who have left behind them the fortunes they have built;
children, who were learning to hope they would follow in worthy
footsteps; dames who had earned repose by reason of arduous and
thrifty years of activity, and younger women who gloried in husbands’
commercial enterprise and success, passed you, not broken people, but
a crowd who will have to begin life anew when the scourge of war has
ceased scarring the land.
Of all the people moving in advance of the brutal German line, one’s
sympathies must go out to the women. “It has been my good fortune
(continues Mr. Massey)—for though it was a sight which made one feel
the terrible penalties inflicted by war, it brought out vividly the
nobler side of humanity—to be very near the fighting line in the
past two days, and I have watched many a case of women’s heroism. It
was not the self-denial of Red Cross nurses that impressed me most.
To that one is accustomed. But the long procession of weary women,
cheerfully encouraging children, hungry and tired and footsore, or with
bones aching from the jolting of farm carts, was a picture of splendid
courage, which made you understand how a nation becomes resolute in
face of war. The women play their part silently and without complaint.
Of the thousands of big-hearted women I have seen during the past
sixteen days in France, I need only refer to one. She is an example
of the patriotic Frenchwoman of to-day. I met her at a town which was
evacuated, and she was proceeding with a splendid son of France, aged
ten, and a delightfully talkative little girl of eight, to a place
where her children would be safe from the oppression of an enemy.
This cultured lady is the wife of a captain of cavalry who is doing
a patriot’s work. As she looked back at her home at Longwy she saw
a lifetime’s treasures burnt, but the sadness of her heart was not
betrayed to her children. To them she merely indicated that a gallant
father’s regiment would see to it that they returned home soon.
Horses and vehicles were required for the country’s service, so the
mother and children walked through French lines to where they thought
they would be safe. They proceeded west, and went through Marville
(where “Daddy” was fighting), on to Charleville. Here they rested
and waited, not dreaming that a weakened left wing would cause the
whole French line to retire and force a re-assembling on positions
further south. But strategy is left to men in France, and when word
was sent round that the inhabitants of Charleville should leave their
dwellings, the cavalry officer’s wife and children gave up seats in the
last south-bound train to old people and trudged over rolling ground
for thirty kilometres before they reached a railway line which still
provided a train for civilians.
When I saw this family the mother had not tasted food for three days,
and the children did not want to eat while the mother starved. The
bright eyes of the boy were not dimmed by the exhaustion of bearing his
part in carrying a bag too heavy for his immature shoulders, and it was
glorious to see the comfort he was to his mother.
You got a true insight into French patriotism when, instead of hearing
complaints of hardships, you were questioned as to the latest news
from the battle-line. And if you knew less than mother and boy you
forgave the look of pity which followed your answer. You, they thought,
should be where the British soldiers were. And this small family,
which I watched for eight hours during a dreary progress away from a
sternly-fought area, was but a type of thousands of others. Truly war
brings out the best, as well as the worst, of humanity.“