THE FEELING IN LONDON
Reports from Sheffield stated that on Sunday the gallant defence of the
town by General Sir George Woolmer had been broken. We had suffered a
terrible reverse. The British were in full flight, and the two
victorious Corps now had the way open to advance to the metropolis of
the Midlands, for they knew that they had left behind them only a
shattered remnant of what the day before had been the British Army of
the North.
In both Houses of Parliament, hastily summoned, there had been memorable
scenes. In the Commons, the Government had endeavoured to justify its
suicidal actions of the past, but such speeches were howled down, and
even the Government organs themselves were now compelled to admit that
the party had committed very grave errors of judgment.
Each night the House had sat until early morning, every member who had
been in England on the previous Sunday being in his place. In response
to the ever-repeated questions put to the War Minister, the reply was
each day the same. All that could be done was being done.
Was there any hope of victory? That was the question eagerly asked on
every hand--both in Parliament and out of it. At present there seemed
none. Reports from the theatres of war in different parts of the country
reaching the House each hour were ever the same--the British driven back
by the enemy’s overwhelming numbers.
The outlook was indeed a black one. The lobby was ever crowded by
members eagerly discussing the situation. The enemy were at the gates of
London. What was to be done?
In the House on Friday, September 7, in view of the fact that London was
undoubtedly the objective of the enemy, it was decided that Parliament
should, on the following day, be transferred to Bristol, and there meet
in the great Colston Hall. This change had actually been effected, and
the whole of both Houses, with their staff, were hurriedly transferred
to the west, the Great Western Railway system being still intact.
The riff-raff from Whitechapel, those aliens whom we had so long
welcomed and pampered in our midst--Russians, Poles, Austrians, Swedes,
and even Germans--the latter, of course, now declared themselves to be
Russians--had swarmed westward in lawless, hungry multitudes, and on
Monday afternoon serious rioting occurred in Grosvenor Square and the
neighbourhood, and also in Park Lane, where several houses were entered
and pillaged by the alien mobs.
The disorder commenced at a great mass meeting held in the Park, just
behind the Marble Arch. Orators were denouncing the Government and
abusing the Ministers in unmeasured terms, when someone, seeing the many
aliens around, set up the cry that they were German spies. A free fight
at once ensued, with the result that the mob, uncontrolled by the
police, dashed across into Park Lane and wrecked three of the largest
houses--one of which was deliberately set on fire by a can of petrol
brought from a neighbouring garage. Other houses in Grosvenor Square
shared the same fate.
In every quarter of London shops containing groceries, provisions, or
flour were broken open by the lawless bands and sacked. From Kingsland
and Hoxton, Lambeth and Camberwell, Notting Dale and Chelsea, reports
received by the police showed that the people were now becoming
desperate. Not only were the aliens lawless, but the London unemployed
and lower classes were now raising their voices. “Stop the war! Stop
the war!” was the cry heard on every hand. Nearly all the shops
containing provisions in Whitechapel Road, Commercial Road East, and
Cable Street were, during Monday, ruthlessly broken open and ransacked.
The police from Leman Street were utterly incompetent to hold back the
rush of the infuriated thousands, who fought desperately with each other
for the spoils, starving men, women, and children all joining in the
fray.
The East End had indeed become utterly lawless. The big warehouses in
the vicinity of the docks were also attacked and most of them emptied of
their contents, while two at Wapping, being defended by the police, were
deliberately set on fire by the rioters, and quantities of wheat burned.
Fierce men formed themselves into raiding bands and went westward that
night, committing all sorts of depredations. The enemy were upon them,
and they did not mean to starve, they declared. Southwark and
Bermondsey, Walworth and Kennington had remained quiet and watchful all
the week, but now, when the report spread of this latest disaster to our
troops at Sheffield, and that the Germans were already approaching
London, the whole populace arose, and the shopbreaking, once started in
the Walworth and Old Kent Roads, spread everywhere throughout the whole
of South London.
In vain did the police good-humouredly cry to them to remain patient; in
vain did the Lord Mayor address the multitude from the steps of the
Royal Exchange; in vain did the newspapers, inspired from headquarters,
with one accord urge the public to remain calm, and allow the
authorities to direct their whole attention towards repelling the
invaders. It was all useless. The public had made up its mind.
At last the bitter truth was being forced home upon the public, and in
every quarter of the metropolis those very speakers who, only a couple
of years before, were crying down the naval and military critics who
had dared to raise their voices in alarm, were now admitting that the
country should have listened and heeded.
London, it was plain, had already abandoned hope. The British successes
had been so slight. The command of the sea was still in German hands,
although in the House the Admiralty had reassured the country that in a
few days we should regain the supremacy.
A few days! In a few days London might be invested by the enemy, and
then would begin a reign of terror unequalled by any in the history of
the civilised world.
By day the streets of the city presented a scene of turmoil and
activity, for it seemed as though City workers clung to their old habit
of going there each morning, even though their workshops, offices, and
warehouses were closed. By night the West End, Pall Mall, Piccadilly,
Oxford Street, Regent Street, Portland Place, Leicester Square,
Whitehall, Victoria Street, and around Victoria Station were filled with
idle, excited crowds of men, women, and children, hungry, despairing,
wondering.
At every corner men and boys shouted the latest editions of the
newspapers. “’Nother great Battle! ’Nother British Defeat! Fall of
Sheffield!” rose above the excited chatter of the multitude. The cries
fell upon the ears of defenceless Londoners, darkening the outlook as
hour after hour wore on.
The heat was stifling, the dust suffocating, now that the roads were
no longer cleaned. The theatres were closed. Only the churches and
chapels remained open--and the public-houses, crowded to overflowing.
In Westminster Abbey, in St. Paul’s Cathedral, in St.
Martin’s-in-the-Fields, and in Westminster Cathedral special prayers
were that night being offered for the success of the British arms. The
services were crowded by all sorts and conditions of persons, from the
poor, pinched woman in a shawl from a Westminster slum, to the lady of
title who ventured out in her electric brougham. Men from the clubs
stood next half-starved working men, and more than one of the more
fortunate slipped money unseen into the hand of his less-favoured
brother in adversity.
War is a great leveller. The wealthy classes were, in proportion, losing
as much as the workers. It was only the grip of hunger that they did not
feel, only the cry of starving children that did not reach their ears.
For the rest, their interests were equal.
Meanwhile, from every hand rose the strident cries of the newsboys:
“‘Nother great Battle! British routed at Sheffield! Extrur
spe-shall!--spe’shall!”
British routed! It had been the same ominous cry the whole week through.
Was London really doomed?
BOOK II
THE SIEGE OF LONDON
CHAPTER I
THE LINES OF LONDON
The German successes were continued in the North and Midlands, and
notwithstanding the gallant defence of Sir George Woolmer before
Manchester and Sir Henry Hibbard before Birmingham, both cities were
captured and occupied by the enemy after terrible losses. London,
however, was the chief objective of Von Kronhelm, and towards the
Metropolis he now turned his attention.
After the defeat of the British at Chelmsford on that fateful Wednesday
Lord Byfield decided to evacuate his position at Royston and fall back
on the northern section of the London defence line, which had been under
construction for the last ten days. These hasty entrenchments, which
would have been impossible to construct but for the ready assistance of
thousands of all classes of the citizens of London and the suburbs,
extended from Tilbury on the east to Bushey on the west, passing by the
Laindon Hills, Brentwood, Kelvedon, North Weald, Epping, Waltham Abbey,
Cheshunt, Enfield Chase, Chipping Barnet, and Elstree. They were more or
less continuous, consisting for the most part of trenches for infantry,
generally following the lines of existing hedgerows or banks, which
often required but little improvement to transform them into
well-protected and formidable cover for the defending troops. Where it
was necessary to cross open ground they were dug deep and winding, after
the fashion adopted by the Boers in the South African War, so that it
would be difficult, if not impossible, to enfilade them.
Special bomb-proof covers for the local reserves were also constructed
at various points, and the ground in front ruthlessly cleared of houses,
barns, trees, hedges, and everything that might afford shelter to an
advancing enemy. Every possible military obstacle was placed in front of
the lines that time permitted, abattis, military pits, wire
entanglements, and small ground mines. At the more important points
along the fifty miles of entrenchments field-works and redoubts for
infantry and guns were built, most of them being armed with 4.7 or even
6 and 7.5 in. guns, which had been brought from Woolwich, Chatham,
Portsmouth, and Devonport, and mounted on whatever carriages could be
adapted or improvised for the occasion.
[Illustration: The Lines of London]
The preparation of the London lines was a stupendous undertaking, but
the growing scarceness and dearness of provisions assisted in a degree,
as no free rations were issued to any able-bodied man unless he went out
to work at the fortifications. All workers were placed under military
law. There were any number of willing workers who proffered their
services in this time of peril. Thousands of men came forward asking to
be enlisted and armed. The difficulty was to find enough weapons and
ammunition for them, to say nothing of the question of uniform and
equipment, which loomed very large indeed. The attitude of the Germans,
as set forth in Von Kronhelm’s proclamations, precluded the employment
of fighting men dressed in civilian garb, and their attitude was a
perfectly natural and justifiable one by all the laws and customs of
war.
It became necessary, therefore, that all men sent to the front should be
dressed as soldiers in some way or another. In addition to that splendid
corps, the Legion of Frontiersmen, many new armed organisations had
sprung into being, some bearing the most fantastic names, such as the
“Whitechapel War-to-the-Knifes,” the “Kensington Cowboys,” the
“Bayswater Braves,” and the “Southwark Scalphunters.” All the available
khaki and blue serge was used up in no time; even though those who were
already in possession of ordinary lounge suits of the latter material
were encouraged to have them altered into uniform by the addition of
stand-up collars and facings of various colours, according to their
regiments and corps.
Only the time during which these men were waiting for their uniforms was
spent in drill in the open spaces of the metropolis. As soon as they
were clothed, they were despatched to that portion of the entrenchments
to which their corps had been allocated, and there, in the intervals of
their clearing and digging operations, they were hustled through a brief
musketry course, which consisted for the most part in firing. The
question of the provision of officers and N.C.O.s was an almost
insuperable one. Retired men came forward on every side, but the supply
was by no means equal to the demand, and they themselves in many
instances were absolutely out of date as far as knowledge of modern arms
and conditions were concerned. However, every one, with but very few
exceptions, did his utmost, and by the 11th or 12th of the month the
entrenchments were practically completed, and manned by upwards of
150,000 “men with muskets” of stout heart and full of patriotism, but
in reality nothing but an army “pour rire” so far as efficiency was
concerned.
The greater part of the guns were also placed in position, especially on
the north and eastern portions of the lines, and the remainder were
being mounted as fast as it was practicable. They were well manned by
Volunteer and Militia artillerymen, drawn from every district which the
invaders had left accessible. By the 13th the eastern section of the
fortifications was strengthened by the arrival of the remnants of the
Ist and Vth Army Corps, which had been so badly defeated at Chelmsford,
and no time was lost in reorganising them and distributing them along
the lines, thereby, to a certain extent, leavening the unbaked mass of
their improvised defenders. It was generally expected that the enemy
would follow up the success by an immediate attack on Brentwood, the
main barrier between Von Kronhelm and his objective--our great
metropolis. But, as it turned out, he had a totally different scheme in
hand. The orders to Lord Byfield to evacuate the position he had
maintained with such credit against the German Garde and IVth Corps have
already been referred to. Their reason was obvious. Now that there was
no organised resistance on his right, he stood in danger of being cut
off from London, the defences of which were now in pressing need of his
men. A large amount of rolling stock was at once despatched to Saffron
Walden and Buntingford by the G.E.R., and to Baldock by the G.N.R., to
facilitate the withdrawal of his troops and stores, and he was given an
absolutely free hand as to how these were to be used, all lines being
kept clear and additional trains kept waiting at his disposal at their
London termini.
The 13th of September proved a memorable date in the history of England.
The evacuation of the Baldock-Saffron Walden position could not possibly
have been carried out in good order on such short notice, had not Lord
Byfield previously worked the whole thing out in readiness. He could
not help feeling that, despite his glorious victory on the ninth, a turn
of Fortune’s wheel might necessitate a retirement on London sooner or
later, and, like the good General that he was, he made every preparation
both for this, and other eventualities. Among other details, he had
arranged that the mounted infantry should be provided with plenty of
strong light wire. This was intended for the express benefit of
Frölich’s formidable cavalry brigade, which he foresaw would be most
dangerous to his command in the event of a retreat. As soon, therefore,
as the retrograde movement commenced, the mounted infantry began to
stretch their wires across every road, lane, and byway leading to the
north and north-east. Some wires were laid low, within a foot of the
ground, others high up where they could catch a rider about the neck or
breast. This operation they carried out again and again, after the
troops had passed, at various points on the route of the retreat. Thanks
to the darkness, this device well fulfilled its purpose. Frölich’s
brigade was on the heels of the retreating British soon after midnight,
but as it was impossible for them to move over the enclosed country at
night his riders were confined to the roads, and the accidents and
delays occasioned by the wires were so numerous and disconcerting, that
their advance had to be conducted with such caution that as a pursuit it
was of no use at all. Even the infantry and heavy guns of the retiring
British got over the ground nearly twice as fast. After two or three
hours of this, only varied by occasional volleys from detachments of our
mounted infantry, who sometimes waited in rear of their snares to let
fly at the German cavalry before galloping back to lay others, the enemy
recognised the fact, and, withdrawing their cavalry till daylight,
replaced them by infantry, but so much time had been lost that the
British had got several miles’ start.
As has been elsewhere chronicled, the brigade of four regular battalions
with their guns, and a company of Engineers, which were to secure the
passage of the Stort and protect the left flank of the retirement, left
Saffron Walden somewhere about 10.30 p.m. The line was clear, and they
arrived at Sawbridgeworth in four long trains in a little under an hour.
Their advent did not arouse the sleeping village, as the station lies
nearly three-quarters of a mile distant on the further side of the
river. It may be noted in passing that while the Stort is but a small
stream, easily fordable in most places, yet it was important, if
possible, to secure the bridges to prevent delay in getting over the
heavy guns and wagons of the retiring British. A delay and congestion at
the points selected for passage might, with a close pursuit, easily lead
to disaster. Moreover, the Great Eastern Railway crossed the river by a
wooden bridge just north of the village of Sawbridgeworth, and it was
necessary to ensure the safe passage of the last trains over it before
destroying it to preclude the use of the railway by the enemy.
There were two road bridges on the Great Eastern Railway near the
village of Sawbridgeworth, which might be required by the Dunmow force,
which was detailed to protect the same flank rather more to the
northward. The most important bridge, that over which the main body of
the Saffron Walden force was to retire, with all the impedimenta it had
had time to bring away with it, was between Sawbridgeworth and Harlow,
about a mile north of the latter village, but much nearer its station.
Thither, then, proceeded the leading train with the Grenadiers, four 4.7
guns, and half a company of Royal Engineers with bridging materials.
Their task was to construct a second bridge to relieve the traffic over
the permanent one. The Grenadiers left one company at the railway
station, two in Harlow village, which they at once commenced to place in
a state of defence, much to the consternation of the villagers, who had
not realised how close to them were trending the red footsteps of war.
The remaining five companies with the other four guns turned northward,
and after marching another mile or so occupied the enclosures round
Durrington House and the higher ground to its north. Here the guns were
halted on the road. It was too dark to select the best position for
them, for it was now only about half an hour after midnight. The three
other regiments which detrained at Sawbridgeworth were disposed as
follows, continuing the line of the Grenadiers to the northward. The
Rifles occupied Hyde Hall, formerly the seat of the Earls of Roden,
covering the operations of the Engineers, who were preparing the railway
bridge for destruction, and the copses about Little Hyde Hall on the
higher ground to the eastward.
The Scots Guards with four guns were between them and the Grenadiers,
and distributed between Sheering village and Gladwyns House, from the
neighbourhood of which it was expected that the guns would be able to
command the Chelmsford Road for a considerable distance. The Seaforth
Highlanders for the time being were stationed on a road running parallel
to the railway, from which branch roads led to both the right, left, and
centre of the position. An advanced party of the Rifle Brigade was
pushed forward to Hatfield Heath with instructions to patrol towards the
front and flanks, and, if possible, establish communication with the
troops expected from Dunmow. By the time all this was completed it was
getting on for 3 a.m. on the 13th. At this hour the advanced guard of
the Germans coming from Chelmsford was midway between Leaden Roding and
White Roding, while the main body was crossing the small River Roding by
the shallow ford near the latter village. Their few cavalry scouts were,
however, exploring the roads and lanes some little way ahead. A
collision was imminent. The Dunmow force had not been able to move
before midnight, and, with the exception of one regular battalion, the
1st Leinsters, which was left behind to the last and crowded into the
only train available, had only just arrived at the northern edge of
Hatfield Forest, some four miles directly north of Hatfield Heath. The
Leinsters, who left Dunmow by train half an hour later, had detrained at
this point at one o’clock, and just about three had met the patrols of
the Rifles. A Yeomanry corps from Dunmow was also not far off, as it had
turned to its left at the crossroads east of Takely, and was by this
time in the neighbourhood of Hatfield Broad Oak. In short, all three
forces were converging, but the bulk of the Dunmow force was four miles
away from the point of convergence.
It was still profoundly dark when the Rifles at Hatfield Heath heard a
dozen shots cracking through the darkness to their left front. Almost
immediately other reports resounded from due east. Nothing could be seen
beyond a very few yards, and the men of the advanced company drawn up at
the crossroads in front of the village inn fancied they now and again
saw figures dodging about in the obscurity, but were cautioned not to
fire till their patrols had come in, for it was impossible to
distinguish friend from foe. Shots still rattled out here and there to
the front. About ten minutes later the captain in command, having got in
his patrols, gave the order to fire at a black blur that seemed to be
moving towards them on the Chelmsford Road. There was no mistake this
time. The momentary glare of the discharge flashed on the shiny
“pickel-haubes” of a detachment of German infantry, who charged forward
with a loud “Hoch!” The Riflemen, who already had their bayonets fixed,
rushed to meet them, and for a few moments there was a fierce stabbing
affray in the blackness of the night. The Germans, who were but few in
number, were overpowered, and beat a retreat, having lost several of
their men. The Rifles, according to their orders, having made sure of
the immediate proximity of the enemy, now fell back to the rest of their
battalion at Little Hyde Hall, and all along the banks and hedges which
covered the British front, our men, rifle in hand, peered eagerly into
the darkness ahead of them.
Nothing happened for quite half an hour, and the anxious watchers were
losing some of their alertness, when a heavy outburst of firing
re-echoed from Hatfield Heath. To explain this we must return to the
Germans. Von der Rudesheim, on obtaining touch with the British, at once
reinforced his advanced troops, and they, a whole battalion strong,
advanced into the hamlet, meeting with no resistance. Almost
simultaneously two companies of the Leinsters entered it from the
northward. There was a sudden and unexpected collision on the open
green, and a terrible fire was exchanged at close quarters, both sides
losing very heavily. The British, however, were borne back by sheer
weight of numbers, and, through one of those unfortunate mistakes that
insist on occurring in warfare, were charged as they fell back by the
leading squadrons of the Yeomanry who were coming up from Hatfield Broad
Oak. The officer commanding the Leinsters decided to wait till it was a
little lighter before again attacking the village. He considered that,
as he had no idea of the strength of the enemy, he had best wait till
the arrival of the troops now marching through Hatfield Forest. Von der
Rudesheim, on his part, mindful of his instructions, determined to try
to hold the few scattered houses on the north side of the heath which
constituted the village, with the battalion already in it, and push
forward with the remainder of his force towards Harlow. His first essay
along the direct road viâ Sheering, was repulsed by the fire of the
Scots Guards lining the copses about Gladwyns. He now began to have some
idea of the British position, and made his preparations to assault it at
daybreak.
To this end he sent forward two of his batteries into Hatfield Heath,
cautiously moved the rest of his force away to the left, arranged his
battalions in the valley of the Pincey Brook ready for attacking
Sheering and Gladwyns, placed one battalion in reserve at
[Illustration: BATTLE OF HARLOW]
Down Hall, and stationed his remaining battery near Newman’s End. By
this time there was beginning to be a faint glimmer of daylight in the
east, and, as the growing dawn began to render vague outlines of the
nearer objects dimly discernible, hell broke loose along the peaceful
countryside. A star shell fired from the battery at Newman’s End burst
and hung out a brilliant white blaze that fell slowly over Sheering
village, lighting up its walls and roofs and the hedges along which lay
its defenders, was the signal for the Devil’s Dance to begin. Twelve
guns opened with a crash from Hatfield Heath, raking the Gladwyns
enclosures and the end of Sheering village with a deluge of shrapnel,
while an almost solid firing line advanced rapidly against it, firing
heavily. The British replied lustily with gun, rifle, and maxim, the
big, high-explosive shells bursting amid the advancing Germans and among
the houses of Hatfield Heath with telling effect. But the German
assaulting lines had but six or seven hundred yards to go. They had been
trained above all things to ignore losses and to push on at all hazards.
The necessity for this had not been confused in their minds by maxims
about the importance of cover, so the south side of the village street
was taken at a rush. Von der Rudesheim continued to pile on his men,
and, fighting desperately, the Guardsmen were driven from house to house
and from fence to fence. All this time the German battery at Newman’s
End continued to fire star shells with rhythmical regularity, lighting
up the inflamed countenances of the living combatants, and the pale
upturned faces of the dead turned to heaven as if calling for vengeance
on their slayers. In the midst of this desperate fighting the Leinsters,
supported by a Volunteer and a Militia regiment, which had just come up,
assaulted Hatfield Heath. The Germans were driven out of it with the
loss of a couple of their guns, but hung on to the little church, around
which such a desperate conflict was waged that the dead above ground in
that diminutive God’s acre outnumbered the “rude forefathers of the
hamlet” who slept below.
It was now past five o’clock in the morning, and by this time strong
reinforcements might have been expected from Dunmow, but, with the
exception of the Militia and Volunteer battalions just referred to, who
had pushed on at the sound of the firing, none were seen coming up. The
fact was that they had been told off to certain positions in the line of
defence they had been ordered to take up, and had been slowly and
carefully installing themselves therein. Their commanding officer, Sir
Jacob Stellenbosch, thought that he must carry out the exact letter of
the orders he had received from Lord Byfield, and paid little attention
to the firing except to hustle his battalion commanders, to try to get
them into their places as soon as possible. He was a pig-headed man into
the bargain, and would listen to no remonstrance. The two battalions
which had arrived so opportunely had been at the head of the column, and
had pushed forward “on their own” before he could prevent them. At this
time the position was as follows: One German battalion was hanging
obstinately on to the outskirts of Hatfield Heath; two were in
possession of the copses about Gladwyns; two were in Sheering village,
or close up to it, and the sixth was still in reserve at Down Hall. On
the British side the Rifles were in their original position at Little
Hyde Hall, where also were three guns, which had been got away from
Gladwyns. The Seaforths had come up, and were now firing from about
Quickbury, while the Scots Guards, after suffering fearful losses, were
scattered, some with the Highlanders, others with the five companies of
the Grenadiers, who with their four guns still fought gallantly on
between Sheering and Durrington House.
CHAPTER II
REPULSE OF THE GERMANS
The terrible fire of the swarms of Germans who now lined the edges of
Sheering village became too much for the four 4.7 guns on the open
ground to the south.
Their gunners were shot down as fast as they touched their weapons, and
when the German field battery at Newman’s End, which had been advanced
several hundred yards, suddenly opened a flanking fire of shrapnel upon
them, it was found absolutely impossible to serve them. A gallant
attempt was made to withdraw them by the Harlow Road, but their teams
were shot down as soon as they appeared. This enfilade fire, too,
decimated the Grenadiers and the remnant of the Scots, though they
fought on to the death, and a converging attack of a battalion from Down
Hall and another from Sheering drove them down into the grounds of
Durrington House, where fighting still went on savagely for some time
afterwards.
Von der Rudesheim had all but attained a portion of his object, which
was to establish his guns in such a position that they could fire on the
main body of the British troops when they entered Sawbridgeworth by the
Cambridge Road. The place where the four guns with the Grenadiers had
been stationed was within 3000 yards of any part of that road between
Harlow and Sawbridgeworth. But this spot was still exposed to the rifle
fire of the Seaforths who held Quickbury. Von der Rudesheim therefore
determined to swing forward his left, and either drive them back down
the hill towards the river, or at least to so occupy them that he could
bring up his field-guns to their chosen position without losing too many
of his gunners.
By six o’clock, thanks to his enormous local superiority in numbers, he
had contrived to do this, and now the opposing forces with the exception
of the British Grenadiers, who still fought with a German battalion
between Durrington House and Harlow, faced each other north and south,
instead of east and west, as they were at the beginning of the fight.
Brigadier-General Lane-Edgeworth, who was in command of the British, had
been sending urgent messages for reinforcements to the Dunmow Force, but
when its commanding officer finally decided to turn his full strength in
the direction of the firing, it took so long to assemble and form up the
Volunteer regiments who composed the bulk of his command, that it was
past seven before the leading battalion had deployed to assist in the
attack which it was decided to make against the German right. Meantime,
other important events had transpired.
Von der Rudesheim had found that the battalion which was engaged with
the Grenadiers could not get near Harlow village, or either the river or
railway bridge at that place, both of which he wished to destroy. But
his scouts had reported a lock and wooden footbridge immediately to the
westward between Harlow and Sawbridgeworth, just abreast of the large
wooded park surrounding Pishobury House on the farther side. He
determined to send two companies over by this, their movements being
hidden from the English by the trees. After crossing, they found
themselves confronted by a backwater, but, trained in crossing rivers,
they managed to ford and swim over, and advanced through the park
towards Harlow Bridge. While this was in progress, a large force was
reported marching south on the Cambridge Road.
While Von der Rudesheim, who was at the western end of Sheering hamlet,
was looking through his glasses at the new arrivals on the scene of
action--who were without doubt the main body of the Royston command,
which was retiring under the personal supervision of Lord Byfield--a
puff of white smoke rose above the trees about Hyde Hall, and at top
speed four heavily loaded trains shot into sight going south. These were
the same ones that had brought down the Regular British troops, with
whom he was now engaged. They had gone north again, and picked up a
number of Volunteer battalions belonging to the retreating force just
beyond Bishop’s Stortford. But so long a time had been taken in
entraining the troops in the darkness and confusion of the retreat, that
their comrades who had kept to the road arrived almost simultaneously.
Von der Rudesheim signalled, and sent urgent orders for his guns to be
brought up to open fire on them, but by the time the first team had
reached him the last of the trains had disappeared from sight into the
cutting at Harlow Station. But even now it was not too late to open fire
on the troops entering Sawbridgeworth.
Things were beginning to look somewhat bad for Von der Rudesheim’s
little force. The pressure from the north was increasing every moment,
his attack on the retreating troops had failed, he had not so far been
able to destroy the bridges at Harlow, and every minute the likelihood
of his being able to do so grew more remote. To crown all, word was
brought him that the trains which had just slipped by were disgorging
men in hundreds along the railway west of Harlow Station, and that these
troops were beginning to move forward as if to support the British
Grenadiers, who had been driven back towards Harlow. In fact, he saw
that there was even a possibility of his being surrounded. But he had no
intention of discontinuing the fight. He knew he could rely on the
discipline and mobility of his well-trained men under almost any
conditions, and he trusted, moreover, that the promised reinforcements
would not be very long in turning up. But he could not hold on just
where he was. He accordingly, by various adroit manœuvres, threw
back his right to Down Hall, whose copses and plantations afforded a
good deal of cover, and, using this as a pivot, gradually wheeled back
his left till he had taken up a position running north and south from
Down Hall to Matching Tye. He had not effected this difficult
manœuvre without considerable loss, but he experienced less
difficulty in extricating his left than he had anticipated, since the
newly arrived British troops at Harlow, instead of pressing forward
against him, had been engaged in moving into a position between Harlow
and the hamlet of Foster Street, on the somewhat elevated ground to the
south of Matching, which would enable them to cover the further march of
the main body of the retreating troops to Epping.
But he had totally lost the two companies he had sent across the river
to attack Harlow Bridge. Unfortunately for them, their arrival on the
Harlow-Sawbridgeworth Road synchronised with that of the advanced guard
of Lord Byfield’s command. Some hot skirmishing took place in and out
among the trees of Pishobury, and finally the Germans were driven to
earth in the big square block of the red-brick mansion itself.
Here they made a desperate stand, fighting hard as they were driven from
one storey to another. The staircases ran with blood, the woodwork
smouldered and threatened to burst into flame in a dozen places. At
length the arrival of a battery of field guns, which, unlimbered at
close range, induced the survivors to surrender, and they were disarmed
and carried off as prisoners with the retreating army.
* * * * *
By the time Von der Rudesheim had succeeded in taking up his new
position it was past ten o’clock, and he had been informed by despatches
carried by motor-cyclists that he might expect assistance in another
hour and a half.
The right column, consisting of the 39th Infantry Brigade of five
battalions, six batteries, and a squadron of Dragoons, came into
collision with the left flank of the Dunmow force, which was engaged in
attacking Von der Rudesheim’s right at Down Hall, and endeavouring to
surround it. Sir Jacob Stellenbosch, who was in command, in vain tried
to change front to meet the advancing enemy. His troops were nearly all
Volunteers, who were incapable of quickly manœuvring under difficult
circumstances; they were crumpled up and driven back in confusion
towards Hatfield Heath. Had Von Kronhelm been able to get in the bulk of
his cavalry from their luckless pursuit of the Ist and Vth British Army
Corps, who had been driven back on Brentwood the evening previous, and
so send a proportion with the 20th Division, few would have escaped to
tell the tale. As it was, the unfortunate Volunteers were shot down in
scores by the “feu d’enfer” with which the artillery followed them up,
and lay in twos and threes and larger groups all over the fields,
victims of a selfish nation that accepted these poor fellows’ gratuitous
services merely in order that its citizens should not be obliged to
carry out what in every other European country was regarded as the first
duty of citizenship--that of learning to bear arms in the defence of the
Fatherland.
By this time the greater portion of the retreating British Army, with
all its baggage, guns, and impedimenta, was crawling slowly along the
road from Harlow to Epping. Unaccustomed as they were to marching, the
poor Volunteers, who had already covered eighteen or twenty miles of
road, were now toiling slowly and painfully along the highway. The
regular troops, who had been engaged since early morning, and who were
now mostly in the neighbourhood of Moor Hall, east of Harlow, firing at
long ranges on Von der Rudesheim’s men to keep them in their places
while Sir Jacob Stellenbosch attacked their right, were now hurriedly
withdrawn and started to march south by a track running parallel to the
main Epping Road, between it and that along which the covering force of
Volunteers, who had come in by train, were now established in position.
The 1st and 2nd Coldstreamers, who had formed Lord Byfield’s rear-guard
during the night, were halted in Harlow village.
Immediately upon the success obtained by his right column, General
Richel von Sieberg, who commanded the 20th Hanoverian Division, ordered
his two centre and left columns, consisting respectively of the three
battalions 77th Infantry and two batteries of Horse Artillery, then at
Matching Green, and the three battalions 92nd Infantry, 10th Pioneer
Battalion, and five batteries Field Artillery, then between High Laver
and Tilegate Green, to turn to their left and advance in fighting
formation in a south-westerly direction, with the object of attacking
the sorely harassed troops of Lord Byfield on their way to Epping.
* * * * *
The final phase of this memorable retreat is best told in the words of
the special war correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_, who arrived on
the scene at about one o’clock in the afternoon:
“EPPING, 5 p.m., _September 9_.
“Thanks to the secrecy preserved by the military authorities, it was not
known that Lord Byfield was falling back from the Royston-Saffron Walden
position till seven this morning. By eight, I was off in my car for the
scene of action, for rumours of fighting near Harlow had already begun
to come in. I started out by way of Tottenham and Edmonton, expecting to
reach Harlow by 9.30 or 10. But I reckoned without the numerous military
officials with whom I came in contact, who constantly stopped me and
sent me out of my way on one pretext or another. I am sure I hope that
the nation has benefited by their proceedings. In the end it was close
on one before I pulled up at the Cock Inn, Epping, in search of
additional information, because for some time I had been aware of the
rumbling growl of heavy artillery from the eastward, and wondered what
it might portend. I found that General Sir Stapleton Forsyth, who
commanded the Northern section of the defences, had made the inn his
headquarters, and there was a constant coming and going of orderlies and
staff-officers at its portals. Opposite, the men of one of the new
irregular corps, dressed in dark green corduroy, blue flannel cricketing
caps, and red cummerbunds, sat or reclined in two long lines on either
side of their piled arms on the left of the wide street. On inquiry I
heard that the enemy were said to be bombarding Kelvedon Hatch, and also
that the head of our retreating columns was only three or four miles
distant.
“I pushed on, and, after the usual interrogations from an officer in
charge of a picket, where the road ran through the entrenchments about a
mile farther on, found myself spinning along through the country in the
direction of Harlow. As I began to ascend the rising ground towards
Potter Street I could hear a continuous roll of artillery away to my
right. I could not distinguish anything except the smoke of shells
bursting here and there in the distance, on account of the scattered
trees which lined the maze of hedgerows on every side. Close to Potter
Street I met the head of the retreating army. Very tired, heated, and
footsore looked the hundreds of poor fellows as they dragged themselves
along through the heat. It was a sultry afternoon and the roads inches
deep in dust.
“Turning to the right over Harlow Common, I met another column of men. I
noticed that these were all Regulars, Grenadiers, Scots Guards, a
battalion of Highlanders, another of Riflemen, and, lastly, two
battalions of the Coldstreamers. These troops stepped along with rather
more life than the citizen soldiers I had met previously, but still
showed traces of their hard marching and fighting. Many of them were
wearing bandages, but all the more seriously wounded had been left
behind to be looked after by the Germans. All this time the firing was
still resounding heavy and constant from the north-east, and from one
person and another whom I questioned I ascertained that the enemy were
advancing upon us from that direction. Half a mile farther on I ran into
the middle of the fighting. The road ran along the top of a kind of flat
ridge or upland, whence I could see to a considerable distance on either
hand.
“Partially sheltered from view by its hedges and the scattered cottages
forming the hamlet of Foster Street was a long, irregular line of guns
facing nearly east. Beyond them were yet others directed north. There
were field batteries and big 4·7’s. All were hard at work, their gunners
working like men possessed, and the crash of their constant discharge
was ear-splitting. I had hardly taken this in when “Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bang!”--four dazzling flashes opened in the air overhead, and shrapnel
bullets rattled on earth, walls, and roofs, with a sound as of handfuls
of pebbles thrown on a marble pavement. But the hardness with which they
struck was beyond anything in my experience.
“It was not pleasant to be here, but I ran my car behind a little
public-house that stood by the wayside, and, dismounting, unslung my
glasses and determined to get what view of the proceedings I could from
the corner of the house. All round khaki-clad Volunteers lined every
hedge and sheltered behind every cottage, while farther off, in the
lower ground, from a mile to a mile and a half away I could distinguish
the closely packed firing lines of the Germans advancing slowly but
steadily, despite the gaps made in their ranks by the fire of our guns.
Their own guns, I fancied I could make out near Tilegate Green, to the
north-east. Neither side had as yet opened rifle fire. Getting into my
car I motored back to the main road, but it was so blocked by the
procession of wagons and troops of the retreating army that I could not
turn into it. Wheeling round I made my way back to a parallel lane I had
noticed, and
[Illustration: BATTLE OF HARLOW
FINAL PHASE]
turning to the left again at a smithy, found myself in a road bordered
by cottages and enclosures. Here I found the Regular troops I had lately
met lining every hedgerow and fence, while I could see others on a knoll
further to their left. There was a little church here, and, mounting to
the roof, I got a comparatively extensive view. To my right the long,
dusty column of men and wagons still toiled along the Epping Road. In
front, nearly three miles off, an apparently solid line of woods
stretched along the horizon, surmounting a long, gradual, and open
slope. This was the position of our lines near Epping, and the haven for
which Lord Byfield’s tired soldiery were making. To the left the serried
masses of drab-clad German infantry still pushed aggressively forward,
their guns firing heavily over their heads.
“As I watched them three tremendous explosions took place in their
midst, killing dozens of them. Fire, smoke, and dust rose up twenty feet
in the air, while three ear-splitting reports rose even above the
rolling thunder of the gunfire. More followed. I looked again towards
the woodland. Here I saw blaze after blaze of fire among the dark masses
of trees. Our big guns in the fortifications had got to work, and were
punishing the Germans most severely, taking their attack in flank with
their big 6-inch and 7·5-inch projectiles. Cheers arose all along our
lines, as shell after shell, fired by gunners who knew to an inch the
distances to every house and conspicuous tree, burst among the German
ranks, killing and maiming the invaders by hundreds. The advance paused,
faltered, and, being hurriedly reinforced from the rear, once more went
forward.
“But the big high explosive projectiles continued to fall with such
accuracy and persistence that the attackers fell sullenly back, losing
heavily as they did so. The enemy’s artillery now came in for attention,
and also was driven out of range with loss. The last stage in the
retreat of Lord Byfield’s command was now secured. The extended troops
and guns gradually drew off from their positions, still keeping a
watchful eye on the foe, and by 4·30 all were within the Epping
entrenchments. All, that is to say, but the numerous killed and wounded
during the running fight that had extended along the last seven or eight
miles of the retreat, and the bulk of the Dunmow force under Sir Jacob
Stellenbosch, which, with its commander, had, it was believed, been made
prisoners. They had been caught between the 39th German Infantry Brigade
and several regiments of cavalry, that it was said had arrived from the
northward soon after they were beaten at Hatfield Heath. Probably these
were the advanced troops of General Frölich’s Cavalry Brigade.”
CHAPTER III
BATTLE OF EPPING
The following is extracted from the _Times_ of 15th September:--
“EPPING, _14th September, Evening_.
“I have spent a busy day, but have no very important news to record.
After the repulse of the German troops attacking Lord Byfield’s
retreating army and the arrival of our sorely harassed troops behind the
Epping entrenchments, we saw no more of the enemy that evening. All
through the night, however, there was the sound of occasional heavy gun
firing from the eastward. I have taken up my quarters at the Bell, an
inn at the south end of the village, from the back of which I can get a
good view to the north-west for from two to four miles. Beyond that
distance the high ridge known as Epping Upland limits the prospect. The
whole terrain is cut up into fields of various sizes and dotted all over
with trees. Close by is a lofty red brick water-tower, which has been
utilised by Sir Stapleton Forsyth as a signal station. Away about a mile
to my left front as I look from the back of the Bell a big block of
buildings stands prominently out on a grassy spur of high ground. This
is Copped Hall and Little Copped Hall.
“Both mansions have been transformed into fortresses, which, while
offering little or no resistance to artillery fire, will yet form a
tough nut for the Germans to crack, should they succeed in getting
through our entrenchments at that point. Beyond, I can just see a corner
of a big earthwork that has been built to strengthen the defence line,
and which has been christened Fort Obelisk, from a farm of that name,
near which it is situated. There is another smaller redoubt on the slope
just below this hostelry, and I can see the gunners busy about the three
big khaki-painted guns which are mounted in it. There are a 6-inch and
two 4·7-inch guns, I believe. This morning our cavalry, consisting of a
regiment of yeomanry and some mounted infantry, who had formed a portion
of Lord Byfield’s force, went out to reconnoitre towards the north and
east. They were not away long, as they were driven back in every
direction in which they attempted to advance, by superior forces of the
enemy’s cavalry, who seemed to swarm everywhere.
“Later on, I believe, some of the German reiters became so venturesome
that several squadrons exposed themselves to the fire of the big guns in
the fort at Skip’s Corner, and suffered pretty severely for their
temerity. The firing continued throughout the morning away to the
eastward, and about noon I thought I would run down and see if I could
find out anything about it. I therefore mounted my car and ran off in
that direction. I found that there was a regular duel going on between
our guns at Kelvedon Hatch and some heavy siege guns or howitzers that
the enemy had got in the neighbourhood of the high ground about Norton
Heath, only about 3000 yards distant from our entrenchments. They did
not appear to have done us much damage, but neither, in all probability,
did we hurt them very much, since our gunners were unable to exactly
locate the hostile guns.
“When I got back to Epping, about three o’clock, I found the wide single
street full of troops. They were those who had come in the previous
afternoon with Lord Byfield, and who, having been allowed to rest till
midday after their long fighting march, were now being told off to their
various sections of the defence line. The Guard regiments were allocated
to the northernmost position between Fort Royston and Fort Skips. The
rifles were to go to Copped Hall, and the Seaforths to form the nucleus
of a central reserve of Militia and Volunteers, which was being
established just north of Gaynes Park. Epping itself and the contiguous
entrenchments were confided to the Leinster Regiment, which alone of Sir
Jacobs Stellenbosch’s brigade had escaped capture, supported by two
Militia battalions. The field batteries were distributed under shelter
of the woods on the south, east, and north-east of the town.
“During the afternoon the welcome news arrived that the remainder of
Lord Byfield’s command from Baldock, Royston, and Elmdon had safely
arrived within our entrenchments at Enfield and New Barnet. We may now
hope that what with Regulars, Militia, Volunteers, and the new levies,
our lines are fully and effectively manned, and will suffice to stay the
further advance of even such a formidable host as is that at the
disposal of the renowned Von Kronhelm. It is reported, too, from
Brentwood that great progress has already been made in reorganising and
distributing the broken remnants of the 1st and 5th Armies that got back
to that town after the great and disastrous battle of Chelmsford.
Victorious as they were, the Germans must also have suffered severely,
which may give us some breathing time before their next onslaught.”
* * * * *
The following are extracts from a diary picked up by a _Daily Mirror_
correspondent, lying near the body of a German officer after the
fighting in the neighbourhood of Enfield Chase. It is presumed that the
officer in question was Major Splittberger, of the Kaiser Franz Garde
Grenadier Regiment, since that was the name written inside the cover of
the diary.
From inquiries that have since been instituted, it is probable that the
deceased officer was employed on the staff of the General commanding the
IVth Corps of the invading Army, though it would seem from the contents
of his diary that he saw also a good deal of the operations of the Xth
Corps. Our readers will be able to gather from it the general course of
the enemy’s strategy and tactics during the time immediately preceding
the most recent disasters which have befallen our brave defenders. The
first extract is dated September 15, and was written somewhere north of
Epping:
“_Sept. 15._--So far the bold strategy of our Commander-in-Chief, in
pushing the greater part of the Xth Corps directly to the west
immediately after our victory at Chelmsford, has been amply justified by
results. Although we just missed cutting off Lord Byfield and a large
portion of his command at Harlow, we gained a good foothold inside the
British defences north of Epping, and I don’t think it will be long
before we have very much improved our position there. The IVth Corps
arrived at Harlow about midday yesterday in splendid condition, after
their long march from Newmarket, and the residue of the Xth joined us
about the same time. As there is nothing like keeping the enemy on the
move, no time was lost in preparing to attack him at the very earliest
opportunity. As soon as it was dark the IVth Corps got its heavy guns
and howitzers into position along the ridge above Epping Upland, and
sent the greater portion of its field batteries forward to a position
from which they were within effective range of the British
fortifications at Skip’s Corner.
“The IXth Corps, which had arrived from Chelmsford that evening, also
placed its field artillery in a similar position, from which its fire
crossed that of the IVth Corps. This corps also provided the assaulting
troops. The Xth Corps, which had been engaged all day on Thursday, was
held in reserve. The howitzers on Epping Upland opened fire with petrol
shell on the belt of woods that lies immediately in rear of the position
to be attacked, and with the assistance of a strong westerly wind
succeeded in setting them on fire and cutting off the most northerly
section of the British defences from reinforcement. This was soon after
midnight. The conflagration not only did us this service, but it is
supposed so attracted the attention of the partially trained soldiers of
the enemy that they did not observe the IXth Corps massing for the
assault.
“We then plastered their trenches with shrapnel to such an extent that
they did not dare to show a finger above them, and finally carried the
northern corner by assault. To give the enemy their due, they fought
well, but we outnumbered them five to one, and it was impossible for
them to resist the onslaught of our well-trained soldiers. News came
to-day that the Saxons have been making a demonstration before Brentwood
with a view of keeping the British employed down there so that they
cannot send any reinforcements up here. At the same time they have been
steadily bombarding Kelvedon Hatch from Norton Heath.
“We hear, too, that the Garde Corps have got down south, and that their
front stretches from Broxbourne to Little Berkhamsted, while Frölich’s
Cavalry Division is in front of them, spread all over the country, from
the River Lea away to the westward, having driven the whole of the
British outlying troops and patrols under the shelter of their
entrenchments. Once we succeed in rolling up the enemy’s troops in this
quarter, it will not be long before we are entering London.”
“_Sept. 16._--Fighting went on all yesterday in the neighbourhood of
Skip’s Corner. We have taken the redoubt at North Weald Basset and
driven the English back into the belt of burnt woodland, which they now
hold along its northern edge. All day long, too, our big guns, hidden
away behind the groves and woods above Epping Upland, poured their heavy
projectiles on Epping and its defences. We set the village on fire three
times, but the British contrived to extinguish the blaze on each
occasion.
“I fancy Epping itself will be our next point of attack.
“_Sept. 17._--We are still progressing, fighting is now all but
continuous. How long it may last I have no idea. Probably there will be
no suspension of the struggle until we are actually masters of the
metropolis. We took advantage of the darkness to push forward our men to
within three thousand yards of the enemy’s lines, placing them as far as
possible under cover of the numerous copses, plantations, and hedgerows
which cover the face of this fertile country. At 4 a.m. the General
ordered his staff to assemble at Latton Park, where he had established
his headquarters. He unfolded to us the general outline of the attack,
which, he now announced, was to commence at six precisely.
[Illustration: GERMAN ATTACK ON THE LINES OF LONDON]
“I thought myself that it was a somewhat inopportune time, as we should
have the rising sun right in our eyes; but I imagine that the idea was
to have as much daylight as possible before us. For although we had
employed a night attack against Skip’s Corner, and successfully too, yet
the general feeling in our Army has always been opposed to operations of
this kind. The possible gain is, I think, in no way commensurable with
the probable risks of panic and disorder. The principal objective was
the village of Epping itself; but simultaneous attacks were to be
carried out against Copped Hall, Fort Obelisk, to the west of it, and
Fort Royston, about a mile north of the village. The IXth Corps was to
co-operate by a determined attempt to break through the English lining
the burnt strip of woodland and to assault the latter fort in rear. It
was necessary to carry out both these flanking attacks in order to
prevent the main attack from being enfiladed from right and left. At
5.30 we mounted, and rode off to Rye Hill about a couple of miles
distant, from which the General intended to watch the progress of the
operations. The first rays of the rising sun were filling the eastern
sky with a pale light as we cantered off, the long wooded ridge on which
the enemy had his position standing up in a misty silhouette against the
growing day.
“As we topped Rye Hill I could see the thickly-massed lines of our
infantry crouching behind every hedge, bank, or ridge, their
rifle-barrels here and there twinkling in the feeble rays of the early
sun, their shadows long and attenuated behind them. Epping with its
lofty red water-tower was distinctly visible on the opposite side of the
valley, and it is probable that the movement of the General’s cavalcade
of officers, with the escort, attracted the attention of the enemy’s
lookouts, for half-way down the hillside on their side of the valley a
blinding violet-white flash blazed out, and a big shell came screaming
along just over our heads, the loud boom of a heavy gun following fast
on its heels. Almost simultaneously another big projectile hurtled up
from the direction of Fort Obelisk, and burst among our escort of Uhlans
with a deluge of livid flame and thick volumes of greenish brown smoke.
It was a telling shot, for no fewer than six horses and their riders lay
in a shattered heap on the ground.
“At six precisely our guns fired a salvo directed on Epping village.
This was the preconcerted signal for attack, and before the echoes of
the thunderous discharge had finished reverberating over the hills and
forest our front lines had sprung to their feet and were moving at a
racing pace towards the enemy. For a moment the British seemed stupefied
by the suddenness of the advance. A few rifle shots crackled out here
and there, but our men had thrown themselves to the ground after their
first rush before the enemy seemed to wake up. But there was no mistake
about it when they did. Seldom have I seen such a concentrated fire.
Gun, pom-pom, machine gun, and rifle blazed out from right to left along
more than three miles of entrenchments. A continuous lightning-like line
of fire poured forth from the British trenches, which still lay in
shadow. I could see the bullets raising perfect sand-storms in places,
the little pom-pom shells sparkling about all over our prostrate men,
and the shrapnel bursting all along their front, producing perfect
swathes of white smoke, which hung low down in the still air in the
valley.
“But our artillery was not idle. The field guns, pushed well forward,
showered shrapnel upon the British position, the howitzer shells hurtled
over our heads on their way to the enemy in constantly increasing
numbers as the ranges were verified by the trial shots, while a terrible
and unceasing reverberation from the north-east told of the supporting
attack made by the IXth and Xth Corps upon the blackened woods held by
the English. The concussion of the terrific cannonade that now resounded
from every quarter was deafening; the air seemed to pulse within one’s
ears, and it was difficult to hear one’s nearest neighbour speak. Down
in the valley our men appeared to be suffering severely. Every forward
move of the attacking lines left a perfect litter of prostrate forms
behind it, and for some time I felt very doubtful in my own mind if the
attack would succeed. Glancing to the right, however, I was encouraged
to see the progress that had been made by the troops detailed for the
assault on Copped Hall and Obelisk Fort, and, seeing this, it occurred
to me that it was not intended to push the central attack on Epping home
before its flank had been secured from molestation from this direction.
Copped Hall itself stood out on a bare down almost like some mediæval
castle, backed by the dark masses of forest, while to the west of it the
slopes of Fort Obelisk could barely be distinguished, so flat were they
and so well screened by greenery.
“But its position was clearly defined by the clouds of dust, smoke, and
débris constantly thrown up by our heavy high-explosive shells, while
ever and anon there came a dazzling flash from it, followed by a
detonation that made itself heard even above the rolling of the
cannonade, as one of its big 7·5-in. guns was discharged. The roar of
their huge projectiles, too, as they tore through the air, was easily
distinguishable. None of our epaulments were proof against them, and
they did our heavy batteries a great deal of damage before they could be
silenced.
“To cut a long story short, we captured Epping after a tough fight, and
by noon were in possession of everything north of the Forest, including
the war-scarred ruins that now represented the mansion of Copped Hall,
and from which our pom-poms and machine guns were firing into Fort
Obelisk. But our losses had been awful. As for the enemy, they could
hardly have suffered less severely, for though partially protected by
their entrenchments, our artillery fire must have been utterly
annihilating.”
“_Sept. 18._--Fighting went on all last night, the English holding
desperately on to the edge of the Forest, our people pressing them
close, and working round their right flank. When day broke the general
situation was pretty much like this. On our left the IXth Corps were in
possession of the Fort at Toothill, and a redoubt that lay between it
and Skip’s Fort. Two batteries were bombarding a redoubt lower down in
the direction of Stanford Rivers, which was also subjected to a cross
fire from their howitzers near Ongar.
“As for the English, their position was an unenviable one. From Copped
Hall--as soon as we have cleared the edge of the Forest of the enemy’s
sharp-shooters--we shall be able to take their entrenchments in reverse
all the way to Waltham Abbey. They have, on the other hand, an outlying
fort about a mile or two north of the latter place, which gave us some
trouble with its heavy guns yesterday, and which it is most important
that we should gain possession of before we advance further. The Garde
Corps on the western side of the River Lea is now, I hear, in sight of
the enemy’s lines, and is keeping them busily employed, though without
pushing its attack home for the present.
“At daybreak this morning I was in Epping and saw the beginning of the
attack on the Forest. It is rumoured that large reinforcements have
reached the enemy from London, but as these must be merely scratch
soldiers they will do them more harm than good in their cramped
position. The Xth Corps had got a dozen batteries in position a little
to the eastward of the village, and at six o’clock these guns opened a
tremendous fire upon the north-east corner of the Forest, under cover of
which their infantry deployed down in the low ground about Coopersale,
and advanced to the attack. Petrol shells were not used against the
Forest, as Von Kronhelm had given orders that it was not to be burned if
it could possibly be avoided. The shrapnel was very successful in
keeping down the fire from the edge of the trees, but our troops
received a good deal of damage from infantry and guns that were posted
to the east of the Forest on a hill near Theydon Bois. But about seven
o’clock these troops were driven from their position by a sudden flank
attack made by the IXth Corps from Theydon Mount. Von Kleppen followed
this up by putting some of his own guns up there, which were able to
fire on the edge of the Forest after those of the Xth Corps had been
masked by the close advance of their infantry. To make a long story
short, by ten the whole of the Forest east of the London Road, as far
south as the cross roads near Jack’s Hill, was in our hands. In the
meantime the IVth Corps had made itself master of Fort Obelisk, and our
gunners were hard at work mounting guns in it with which to fire on the
outlying fort at Monkham’s Hall. Von Kleppen was at Copped Hall about
this time, and with him I found General Von Wilberg, commanding the Xth
Corps, in close consultation. The once fine mansion had been almost
completely shot away down to its lower storey. A large portion of this,
however, was still fairly intact, having been protected to a certain
extent by the masses of masonry that had fallen all around it, and also
by the thick ramparts of earth that the English had built up against its
exposed side.
“Our men were still firing from its loopholes at the edge of the woods,
which were only about 1200 yards distant, and from which bullets were
continually whistling in by every window. Two of our battalions had dug
themselves in in the wooded park surrounding the house, and were also
exchanging fire with the English at comparatively close ranges. They
had, I was told, made more than one attempt to rush the edge of the
Forest, but had been repulsed by rifle fire on each occasion. Away to
the west I could see for miles, and even distinguish our shells bursting
all over the enemy’s fort at Monkham’s Hall, which was being subjected
to a heavy bombardment by our guns on the high ground to the north of
it. About eleven Frölich’s Cavalry Brigade, whose presence was no longer
required in front of the Garde Corps, passed through Epping, going
south-east. It is generally supposed that it is either to attack the
British at Brentwood in the rear, or, which I think is more probable, to
intimidate the raw levies by its presence between them and London, and
to attack them in flank should they attempt to retreat.
“Just after eleven another battalion arrived at Copped Hall from
Epping, and orders were given that the English position along the edge
of the Forest was to be taken at all cost. Just before the attack began
there was a great deal of firing somewhere in the interior of the
Forest, presumably between the British and the advanced troops of the
Xth Corps. However this may have been, it was evident that the enemy
were holding our part of the Forest much less strongly, and our assault
was entirely successful, with but small loss of men. Once in the woods,
the superior training and discipline of our men told heavily in their
favour. While the mingled mass of Volunteers and raw free-shooters, of
which the bulk of their garrison was composed, got utterly disorganised
and out of hand under the severe strain on them that was imposed by the
difficulties of wood fighting, and hindered and broke up the regular
units, our people were easily kept well in hand, and drove the enemy
steadily before them without a single check. The rattle of rifle and
machine gun was continuous through all the leafy dells and glades of the
wood, but by two o’clock practically the whole Forest was in the hands
of our Xth Corps. It was then the turn of the IVth Corps, who in the
meantime, far from being idle, had massed a large number of their guns
at Copped Hall, from which, aided by the fire from Fort Obelisk, the
enemy’s lines were subjected to a bombardment that rendered them
absolutely untenable, and we could see company after company making
their way to Waltham Abbey.
“At three the order for a general advance on Waltham Abbey was issued.
As the enemy seemed to have few, if any, guns at this place, it was
determined to make use of some of the new armoured motors that
accompanied the Army. Von Kronhelm, who was personally directing the
operations from Copped Hall, had caused each corps to send its motors to
Epping, so that we had something like thirty at our disposal. These
quaint, grey monsters came down through the Forest and advanced on
Epping by two parallel roads, one passing by the south of Warlies Park,
the other being the main road from Epping. It was a weird sight to see
these shore-going armour-clads flying down upon the enemy. They got
within 800 yards of the houses, but the enemy contrived to block their
further advance by various obstacles which they placed on the roads.
“There was about an hour’s desperate fighting in the village. The old
Abbey Church was set on fire by a stray shell, the conflagration
spreading to the neighbouring houses, and both British and Germans being
too busy killing each other to put it out, the whole village was shortly
in flames. The British were finally driven out of it, and across the
river by five o’clock. In the meantime every heavy gun that could be got
to bear was directed on the fort at Monkham’s Hall, which, during the
afternoon, was also made the target for the guns of the Garde Corps,
which co-operated with us by attacking the lines at Cheshunt, and
assisting us with its artillery fire from the opposite side of the
river. By nightfall the fort was a mass of smoking earth, over which
fluttered our black cross flag, and the front of the IVth Corps
stretched from this to Gillwell Park, four miles nearer London.
“The Xth Corps was in support in the Forest behind us, and forming also
a front to cover our flank, reaching from Chingford to Buckhurst Hill.
The enemy was quite demoralised in this direction, and showed no
indication of resuming the engagement. As for the IXth Corps, its
advanced troops were at Lambourne End, in close communication with
General Frölich, who had established his headquarters at
Haveringatte-Bower. We have driven a formidable wedge right into the
middle of the carefully elaborated system of defence arranged by the
English Generals, and it will now be a miracle if they can prevent our
entry into the capital.
“We had not, of course, effected this without great loss in killed and
wounded, but you can’t make puddings without breaking eggs, and in the
end a bold and forward policy is more economical of life and limb than
attempting to avoid necessary losses as our present opponents did in
South Africa, thereby prolonging the war to an almost indefinite period,
and losing many more men by sickness and in driblets than would have
been the case if they had followed a more determined line in their
strategy and tactics. Just before the sun sank behind the masses of new
houses which the monster city spreads out to the northward I got orders
to carry a despatch to General von Wilberg, who was stated to be at
Chingford, on our extreme left. I went by the Forest road, as the
parallel one near the river was in most parts under fire from the
opposite bank.
“He had established his headquarters at the Foresters’ Inn, which stands
high up on a wooded mound, and from which he could see a considerable
distance and keep in touch with his various signal stations. He took my
despatch, telling me that I should have a reply to take back later on.
‘In the meanwhile,’ said he, ‘if you will fall in with my staff you will
have an opportunity of seeing the first shots fired into the biggest
city in the world.’ So saying, he went out to his horse, which was
waiting outside, and we started off down the hill with a great clatter.
After winding about through a somewhat intricate network of roads and
by-lanes we arrived at Old Chingford Church, which stands upon a species
of headland, rising boldly up above the flat and, in some places, marshy
land to the westward.
“Close to the church was a battery of four big howitzers, the gunners
grouped around them silhouetted darkly against the blood-red sky. From
up here the vast city, spreading out to the south and west, lay like a
grey, sprawling octopus spreading out ray-like to the northward, every
rise and ridge being topped with a bristle of spires and chimney-pots.
An ominous silence seemed to brood over the teeming landscape, broken
only at intervals by the dull booming of guns from the northward. Long
swathes of cloud and smoke lay athwart the dull, furnace-like glow of
the sunset, and lights were beginning to sparkle out all over the vast
expanse which lay before us mirrored here and there in the canals and
rivers that ran almost at our feet. ‘Now,’ said Von Wilberg at length,
‘commence fire.’ One of the big guns gave tongue with a roar that seemed
to make the church tower quiver above us. Another and another followed
in succession, their big projectiles hurtling and humming through the
quiet evening air on their errands of death and destruction in I know
not what quarter of the crowded suburbs. It seemed to me a cruel and
needless thing to do, but I am told that it was done with the set
purpose of arousing such a feeling of alarm and insecurity in the East
End that the mob might try to interfere with any further measures for
defence that the British military authorities might undertake. I got my
despatch soon afterwards and returned with it to the General, who was
spending the night at Copped Hall. There, too, I got myself a shakedown
and slumbered soundly till the morning.
“_Sept. 19._--To-day we have, I think, finally broken down all organised
military opposition in the field, though we may expect a considerable
amount of street fighting before reaping the whole fruits of our
victories. At daybreak we began by turning a heavy fire from every
possible quarter on the wooded island formed by the river and various
back-waters just north of Waltham Abbey. The poplar-clad islet, which
was full of the enemy’s troops, became absolutely untenable under this
concentrated fire, and they were compelled to fall back over the river.
Our Engineers soon began their bridging operations behind the wood, and
our infantry, crossing over, got close up to a redoubt on the further
side and took it by storm. Again we were able to take a considerable
section of the enemy’s lines in reverse, and as they were driven out by
our fire, against which they had no protection, the Garde Corps
advanced, and by ten were in possession of Cheshunt.
“In the meanwhile, covered by the fire of the guns belonging to the IXth
and Xth Corps, other bridges had been thrown across the Lea at various
points between Waltham and Chingford, and in another hour the crossing
began. The enemy had no good positions for his guns, and seemed to have
very few of them. He had pinned his faith upon the big weapons he had
placed in his entrenchments, and these were now of no further use to
him. He had lost a number of his field guns, either from damage or
capture, and with our more numerous artillery firing from the high
ground on the eastern bank of the river we were always able to beat down
any attempt he made to reply to their fire.
“We had a day of fierce fighting before us. There was no manœuvring.
We were in a wilderness of scattered houses and occasional streets, in
which the enemy contested our progress foot by foot. Edmonton, Enfield
Wash, and Waltham Cross were quickly captured; our artillery commanded
them too well to allow the British to make a successful defence; but
Enfield itself, lying along a steepish ridge, on which the British had
assembled what artillery they could scrape together, cost us dearly. The
streets of this not too lovely suburban town literally ran with blood
when at last we made our way into it. A large part of it was burnt to
ashes, including unfortunately the ancient palace of Queen Elizabeth,
and the venerable and enormous cedar tree that overhung it.
“The British fell back to a second position they had apparently prepared
along a parallel ridge further to the westward, their left being between
us and New Barnet and their right at Southgate.
“We did not attempt to advance further to-day, but contented ourselves
in reorganising our forces and preparing against a possible
counter-attack, by barricading and entrenching the further edge of
Enfield Ridge.
“_Sept. 20._--We are falling in immediately, as it has been decided to
attack the British position at once. Already the artillery duel is in
progress. I must continue to-night, as my horse is at the door.”
The writer, however, never lived to complete his diary, having been shot
half-way up the green slope he had observed the day previous.
CHAPTER IV
BOMBARDMENT OF LONDON
Day broke. The faint flush of violet away eastward beyond Temple Bar
gradually turned rose, heralding the sun’s coming, and by degrees the
streets, filled by excited Londoners, grew lighter with the dawn.
Fevered night thus gave place to day--a day that was, alas! destined to
be one of bitter memory for the British Empire.
Alarming news had spread that Uhlans had been seen reconnoitring in
Snaresbrook and Wanstead, had ridden along Forest Road and Ferry Lane at
Walthamstow, through Tottenham High Cross, up High Street, Hornsey,
Priory Road, and Muswell Hill. The Germans were actually upon London!
The northern suburbs were staggered. In Fortis Green, North End,
Highgate, Crouch End, Hampstead, Stamford Hill, and Leyton the quiet
suburban houses were threatened, and many people, in fear of their
lives, had now fled southward into central London. Thus the huge
population of greater London was practically huddled together in the
comparatively small area from Kensington to Fleet Street, and from
Oxford Street to the Thames Embankment.
People of Fulham, Putney, Walham Green, Hammersmith, and Kew had, for
the most part, fled away to the open country across Hounslow Heath to
Bedfont and Staines; while Tooting, Balham, Dulwich, Streatham, Norwood,
and Catford had retreated farther south into Surrey and Kent.
For the past three days thousands of willing helpers had followed the
example of Sheffield and Birmingham, and constructed enormous
barricades, obstructing at various points the chief roads leading from
the north and east into London. Detachments of Engineers had blown up
several of the bridges carrying the main roads out eastwards--for
instance, the bridge at the end of Commercial Road, East, crossing the
Limehouse Canal, while the six other smaller bridges spanning the canal
between that point and the Bow Road were also destroyed. The bridge at
the end of Bow Road itself was shattered, and those over the Hackney Cut
at Marshall Hill and Hackney Wick were also rendered impassable.
Most of the bridges across the Regent’s Canal were also destroyed,
notably those in Mare Street, Hackney, the Kingsland Road, and New North
Road, while a similar demolition took place in Edgware Road and the
Harrow Road. Londoners were frantic, now that the enemy were really upon
them. The accounts of the battles in the newspapers had, of course, been
merely fragmentary, and they had not yet realised what war actually
meant. They knew that all business was at a standstill, that the City
was in an uproar, that there was no work, and that food was at famine
prices. But not until German cavalry were actually seen scouring the
northern suburbs did it become impressed upon them that they were really
helpless and defenceless.
London was to be besieged!
This report having got about, the people began building barricades in
many of the principal thoroughfares north of the Thames. One huge
obstruction, built mostly of paving-stones from the footways, overturned
tramcars, wagons, railway trollies, and barbed wire, rose in the
Holloway Road, just beyond Highbury Station. Another blocked the
Caledonian Road a few yards north of the police-station, while another
very large and strong pile of miscellaneous goods, bales of wool and
cotton stuffs, building material, and stones brought from the Great
Northern Railway depôt, obstructed the Camden Road at the south corner
of Hildrop Crescent. Across High Street, Camden Town, at the junction of
the Kentish Town and other roads, five hundred men worked with a will,
piling together every kind of ponderous object they could pillage from
the neighbouring shops--pianos, iron bedsteads, wardrobes, pieces of
calico and flannel, dress stuffs, rolls of carpets, floorboards, even
the very doors wrenched from their hinges--until, when it reached to the
second storey window and was considered of sufficient height, a pole was
planted on top, and from it hung limply a small Union Jack.
The Finchley Road, opposite Swiss Cottage Station, in Shoot Up-hill,
where Mill Lane runs into it; across Willesden Lane, where it joins the
High Road in Kilburn; the Harrow Road close to Willesden Junction
Station; at the junction of the Goldhawk and Uxbridge roads; across the
Hammersmith Road in front of the Hospital, other similar obstructions
were placed with a view to preventing the enemy from entering London. At
a hundred other points, in the narrower and more obscure thoroughfares,
all along the north of London, busy workers were constructing similar
defences, houses and shops being ruthlessly broken open and cleared of
their contents by the frantic and terrified populace.
London was in a ferment. Almost without exception the gunmakers’ shops
had been pillaged, and every rifle, sporting gun, and revolver seized.
The armouries at the Tower of London, at the various barracks, and the
factory out at Enfield had long ago all been cleared of their contents;
for now, in this last stand, every one was desperate, and all who could
obtain a gun, did so. Many, however, had guns but no ammunition; others
had sporting ammunition for service rifles, and others cartridges, but
no gun.
Those, however, who had guns and ammunition complete mounted guard at
the barricades, being assisted at some points by Volunteers who had been
driven in from Essex. Upon more than one barricade in North London a
Maxim had been mounted, and was now pointed, ready to sweep away the
enemy should they advance.
Other thoroughfares barricaded, beside those mentioned, were the Stroud
Green Road, where it joins Hanley Road; the railway bridge in the
Oakfield Road in the same neighbourhood; the Wightman Road, opposite
Harringay Station, the junction of Archway Road and Highgate Hill; the
High Road, Tottenham, at its junction with West Green Road, and various
roads around the New River reservoirs, which were believed to be one of
the objectives of the enemy. These latter were very strongly held by
thousands of brave and patriotic citizens, though the East London
reservoirs across at Walthamstow could not be defended, situated so
openly as they were. The people of Leytonstone threw up a barricade
opposite the schools in the High Road, while in Wanstead a hastily
constructed but perfectly useless obstruction was piled across Cambridge
Park, where it joins the Blake Road.
Of course, all the women and children in the northern suburbs had now
been sent south. Half the houses in those quiet, newly-built roads were
locked up, and their owners gone; for as soon as the report spread of
the result of the final battle before London and our crushing defeat,
people living in Highgate, Hampstead, Crouch End, Hornsey, Tottenham,
Finsbury Park, Muswell Hill, Hendon, and Hampstead saw that they must
fly southward, now the Germans were upon them.
Think what it meant to those suburban families of City men! The ruthless
destruction of their pretty, long-cherished homes, flight into the
turbulent, noisy, distracted, hungry city, and the loss of everything
they possessed. In most cases the husband was already bearing his part
in the defence of the metropolis with gun or with spade, or helping to
move heavy masses of material for the construction of the barricades.
The wife, however, was compelled to take a last look at all those
possessions that she had so fondly called “home,” lock her front door,
and with her children join in those long mournful processions moving
ever southward into London, tramping on and on--whither she knew not
where.
Touching sights were to be seen everywhere in the streets that day.
Homeless women, many of them with two or three little ones, were
wandering through the less frequented streets, avoiding the main roads
with all their crush, excitement, and barricade-building, but making
their way westward, beyond Kensington and Hammersmith, which was now
become the outlet of the metropolis.
All trains from Charing Cross, Waterloo, London Bridge, Victoria, and
Paddington had for the past three days been crowded to excess. Anxious
fathers struggled fiercely to obtain places for their wives, mothers,
and daughters--sending them away anywhere out of the city which must in
a few hours be crushed beneath the iron heel.
The South-Western and Great Western systems carried thousands upon
thousands of the wealthier away to Devonshire and Cornwall--as far as
possible from the theatre of war; the South-Eastern and Chatham took
people into the already crowded Kentish towns and villages, and the
Brighton line carried others into rural Sussex. London overflowed
southward and westward until every village and every town within fifty
miles was so full that beds were at a premium, and in various places,
notably at Chartham, near Canterbury, at Willesborough, near Ashford, at
Lewes, at Robertsbridge, at Goodwood Park, and at Horsham, huge camps
were formed, shelter being afforded by poles and rick-cloths. Every
house, every barn, every school, indeed every place where people could
obtain shelter for the night, was crowded to excess, mostly by women and
children sent south, away from the horrors that it was known must come.
Central London grew more turbulent with each hour that passed. There
were all sorts of wild rumours, but, fortunately the Press still
preserved a dignified calm. The Cabinet were holding a meeting at
Bristol, whither the Houses of Commons and Lords had moved, and all
depended upon its issue. It was said that Ministers were divided in
their opinions whether we should sue for an ignominious peace, or
whether the conflict should be continued to the bitter end.
Disaster had followed disaster, and iron-throated orators in Hyde and
St. James’s Parks were now shouting “Stop the war! Stop the war!” The
cry was taken up but faintly, however, for the blood of Londoners, slow
to rise, had now been stirred by seeing their country slowly, yet
completely, crushed by Germany. All the patriotism latent within them
was now displayed. The national flag was shown everywhere, and at every
point one heard “God Save the King!” sung lustily.
Two gunmakers’ shops in the Strand, which had hitherto escaped notice,
were shortly after noon broken open, and every available arm and all the
ammunition seized. One man, unable to obtain a revolver, snatched half a
dozen pairs of steel handcuffs, and cried with grim humour as he held
them up: “If I can’t shoot any of the sausage-eaters, I can at least bag
a prisoner or two!”
The banks, the great jewellers, the diamond merchants, the safe-deposit
offices, and all who had valuables in their keeping, were extremely
anxious as to what might happen. Below those dark buildings in Lothbury
and Lombard Street, behind the black walls of the Bank of England, and
below every branch bank all over London, were millions in gold and
notes, the wealth of the greatest city the world has ever known. The
strong rooms were, for the most part, the strongest that modern
engineering could devise, some with various arrangements by which all
access was debarred by an inrush of water; but, alas! dynamite is a
great leveller, and it was felt that not a single strong room in the
whole of London could withstand an organised attack by German
engineers.
A single charge of dynamite would certainly make a breach in concrete
upon which a thief might hammer and chip day and night for a month
without making much impression. Steel doors must give to blasting force,
while the strongest and most complicated locks would also fly to pieces.
The directors of most of the banks had met, and an endeavour had been
made to co-operate and form a corps of special guards for the principal
offices. In fact, a small armed corps was formed, and were on duty day
and night in Lothbury, Lombard Street, and the vicinity. Yet what could
they do if the Germans swept into London? There was but little to fear
from the excited populace themselves, because matters had assumed such a
crisis that money was of little use, as there was practically very
little to buy. But little food was reaching London from the open ports
on the west. It was the enemy that the banks feared, for they knew that
the Germans intended to enter and sack the metropolis, just as they had
sacked the other towns that had refused to pay the indemnity demanded.
Small jewellers had, days ago, removed their stock from their windows
and carried it away in unsuspicious-looking bags to safe hiding in the
southern and western suburbs, where people for the most part hid their
valuable plate, jewellery, etc., beneath a floor-board, or buried them
in some marked spot in their small gardens.
The hospitals were already full of wounded from the various engagements
of the past week. The London, St. Thomas’s, Charing Cross, St. George’s,
Guy’s, and Bartholemew’s were overflowing; and the surgeons, with
patriotic self-denial, were working day and night in an endeavour to
cope with the ever-arriving crowd of suffering humanity. The field
hospitals away to the northward were also reported full.
The exact whereabouts of the enemy was not known. They were, it seemed,
everywhere. They had practically overrun the whole country, and the
reports from the Midlands and the North showed that the majority of the
principal towns had now been occupied.
The latest reverses outside London, full and graphic details of which
were now being published hourly by the papers, had created an immense
sensation. Everywhere people were regretting that Lord Roberts’ solemn
warnings in 1906 had been unheeded, for had we adopted his scheme for
universal service such dire catastrophe could never have occurred. Many
had, alas! declared it to be synonymous with conscription, which it
certainly was not, and by that foolish argument had prevented the public
at large from accepting it as the only means of our salvation as a
nation. The repeated warnings had been disregarded, and we had,
unhappily, lived in a fool’s paradise, in the self-satisfied belief that
England could not be successfully invaded.
Now, alas! the country had realised the truth when too late.
That memorable day, September 20, witnessed exasperated struggles in the
northern suburbs of London, passionate and bloody collisions, an
infantry fire of the defenders overwhelming every attempted assault; and
a decisive action of the artillery, with regard to which arm the
superiority of the Germans, due to their perfect training, was apparent.
A last desperate stand had, it appears, been made by the defenders on
the high ridge north-west of New Barnet, from Southgate to near Potter’s
Bar, where a terrible fight had taken place. But from the very first it
was utterly hopeless. The British had fought valiantly in defence of
London, but here again they were outnumbered, and after one of the most
desperate conflicts in the whole campaign--in which our losses were
terrible--the Germans at length had succeeded in entering Chipping
Barnet. It was a difficult movement, and a fierce contest, rendered the
more terrible by the burning houses, ensued in the streets and away
across the low hills southward--a struggle full of vicissitudes and
alternating successes, until at last the fire of the defenders was
silenced, and hundreds of prisoners fell into the German hands.
Thus the last organised defence of London had been broken, and the
barricades alone remained.
The work of the German troops on the lines of communication in Essex had
for the past week been fraught with danger. Through want of cavalry the
British had been unable to make cavalry raids; but, on the other hand,
the difficulty was enhanced by the bands of sharpshooters--men of all
classes from London who possessed a gun and who could shoot. In one or
two of the London clubs the suggestion had first been mooted a couple of
days after the outbreak of hostilities, and it had been quickly taken up
by men who were in the habit of shooting game, but had not had a
military training.
Within three days about two thousand men had formed themselves into
bands to take part in the struggle and assist in the defence of London.
They were practically similar to the Francs-tireurs of the Franco-German
War, for they went forth in companies and waged a guerilla warfare,
partly before the front and at the flanks of the different armies, and
partly at the communications at the rear of the Germans. Their position
was one of constant peril in face of Von Kronhelm’s proclamation, yet
the work they did was excellent, and only proved that if Lord Roberts’
scheme for universal training had been adopted the enemy would never
have reached the gates of London with success.
These brave, adventurous spirits, together with “The Legion of
Frontiersmen,” made their attacks by surprise from hiding-places or from
ambushes. Their adventures were constantly thrilling ones. Scattered all
over the theatre of war in Essex and Suffolk, and all along the German
lines of communication, the “Frontiersmen” rarely ventured on an open
conflict, and frequently changed scene and point of attack. Within one
week their numbers rose to over 8000, and, being well served by the
villagers, who acted as scouts and spies for them, the Germans found
them very difficult to get at. Usually they kept their arms concealed in
thickets and woods, where they would lie in wait for the Germans. They
never came to close quarters, but fired at a distance. Many a smart
Uhlan fell by their bullets, and many a sentry dropped, shot by an
unknown hand.
Thus they harassed the enemy everywhere. At need they concealed their
arms and assumed the appearance of inoffensive non-combatants. But when
caught red-handed, the Germans gave them “short shrift”, as the bodies
now swinging from telegraph poles on various high roads in Essex
testified.
In an attempt to put a stop to the daring actions of the “Frontiersmen”,
the German authorities and troops along the lines of communication
punished the parishes where German soldiers were shot, or where the
destruction of railways and telegraphs had occurred, by levying money
contributions, or by burning the villages.
The guerilla war was especially fierce along from Edgware up to
Hertford, and from Chelmsford down to the Thames. In fact, once
commenced, it never ceased. Attacks were always being made upon small
patrols, travelling detachments, mails of the field post-office, posts
or patrols at stations on the lines of communication, while
field-telegraphs, telephones, and railways were everywhere destroyed.
In consequence of the railway being cut at Pitsea, the villages of
Pitsea, Bowers Gifford, and Vange had been burned. Because a German
patrol had been attacked and destroyed near Orsett, the parish were
compelled to pay a heavy indemnity. Upminster near Romford, Theydon
Bois, and Fyfield, near High Ongar, had all been burned by the Germans
for the same reason; while at the Cherrytree Inn, near Rainham, five
“Frontiersmen” being discovered by Uhlans in a hay loft asleep, were
locked in and there burned alive. Dozens were, of course, shot at sight,
and dozens more hanged without trial. But they were not to be deterred.
They were fighting in defence of London, and around the northern suburbs
the patriotic members of the “Legion” were specially active, though they
never showed themselves in large bands.
Within London every man who could shoot game was now anxious to join in
the fray, and on the day that the news of the last disaster reached the
metropolis, hundreds left for the open country out beyond Hendon.
The enemy, having broken down the defence at Enfield and cleared the
defenders out of the fortified houses, had advanced and occupied the
northern ridges of London in a line stretching roughly from Pole Hill, a
little to the north of Chingford, across Upper Edmonton, through
Tottenham, Hornsey, Highgate, Hampstead, and Willesden, to Twyford
Abbey. All the positions had been well reconnoitred, for at grey of dawn
the rumbling of artillery had been heard in the streets of those places
already mentioned, and soon after sunrise strong batteries were
established upon all the available points commanding London.
These were at Chingford Green, on the left-hand side of the road
opposite the inn at Chingford; on Devonshire Hill, Tottenham; on the
hill at Wood Green; in the grounds of the Alexandra Palace; on the high
ground above Churchyard Bottom Wood; on the edge of Bishop’s Wood,
Highgate; on Parliament Hill, at a spot close to the Oaks on the Hendon
road; at Dollis Hill, and at a point a little north of Wormwood Scrubs,
and at Neasden, near the railway works.
The enemy’s chief object was to establish their artillery as near London
as possible, for it was known that the range of their guns even from
Hampstead--the highest point, 441 feet above London--would not reach
into the actual city itself. Meanwhile, at dawn the German cavalry,
infantry, motor-infantry, and armoured motor-cars--the latter mostly
35-40 h.p. Opel-Darracqs, with three quick-firing guns mounted in each,
and bearing the Imperial German arms in black--advanced up the various
roads leading into London from the north, being met, of course, with a
desperate resistance at the barricades.
[Illustration: THE BOMBARDMENT AND DEFENCES OF LONDON on Sept. 20th &
21st]
On Haverstock Hill, the three Maxims, mounted upon the huge obstruction
across the road, played havoc with the Germans, who were at once
compelled to fall back, leaving piles of dead and dying in the roadway,
for the terrible hail of lead poured out upon the invaders could not be
withstood. Two of the German armoured motor-cars were presently brought
into action by the Germans, who replied with a rapid fire, this being
continued for a full quarter of an hour without result on either side.
Then the Germans, finding the defence too strong, again retired into
Hampstead, amid the ringing cheers of the valiant men holding that gate
of London. The losses of the enemy had been serious, for the whole
roadway was now strewn with dead; while behind the huge wall of
paving-stones, overturned carts, and furniture, only two men had been
killed and one wounded.
Across in the Finchley Road a struggle equally as fierce was in
progress; but a detachment of the enemy, evidently led by some German
who had knowledge of the intricate side-roads, suddenly appeared in the
rear of the barricade, and a fierce and bloody hand-to-hand conflict
ensued. The defenders, however, stood their ground, and with the aid of
some petrol bombs which they held in readiness, they destroyed the
venturesome detachment almost to a man, though a number of houses in the
vicinity were set on fire, causing a huge conflagration.
In Highgate Road the attack was a desperate one, the enraged Londoners
fighting valiantly, the men with arms being assisted by the populace
themselves. Here again deadly petrol bombs had been distributed, and men
and women hurled them against the Germans. Petrol was actually poured
from windows upon the heads of the enemy, and tow soaked in paraffin and
lit flung in among them, when in an instant whole areas of the streets
were ablaze, and the soldiers of the Fatherland perished in the roaring
flames.
Every device to drive back the invader was tried. Though thousands upon
thousands had left the northern suburbs, many thousands still remained
bent on defending their homes as long as they had breath. The crackle of
rifles was incessant, and ever and anon the dull roar of a heavy field
gun and the sharp rattle of a Maxim mingled with the cheers, yells, and
shrieks of victors and of vanquished.
The scene on every side was awful. Men were fighting for their lives in
desperation.
Around the barricade in Holloway Road the street ran with blood; while
in Kingsland, in Clapton, in West Ham, and Canning Town the enemy were
making an equally desperate attack, and were being repulsed everywhere.
London’s enraged millions, the Germans were well aware, constituted a
grave danger. Any detachments who carried a barricade by assault--as,
for instance, they did one in the Hornsey Road near the station--were
quickly set upon by the angry mob and simply wiped out of existence.
Until nearly noon desperate conflicts at the barricades continued. The
defence was even more effectual than was expected; yet, had it not been
that Von Kronhelm, the German generalissimo, had given orders that the
troops were not to attempt to advance into London before the populace
were cowed, there was no doubt that each barricade could have been taken
in the rear by companies avoiding the main roads and proceeding by the
side streets.
Just before noon, however, it was apparent to Von Kronhelm that to storm
the barricades would entail enormous losses, so strong were they. The
men holding them had now been reinforced in many cases by regular
troops, who had come in in flight, and a good many guns were now manned
by artillerymen.
Von Kronhelm had established his headquarters at Jack Straw’s Castle,
from which he could survey the giant city through his field-glasses.
Below lay the great plain of roofs, spires, and domes, stretching away
into the grey mystic distance, where afar rose the twin towers and
double arches of the Crystal Palace roof.
London--the great London--the capital of the world--lay at his mercy at
his feet.
The tall, thin-faced General, with the grizzled moustache and the
glittering cross at his throat, standing apart from his staff, gazed
away in silence and in thought. It was his first sight of London, and
its gigantic proportions amazed even him. Again he swept the horizon
with his glass, and knit his grey brows. He remembered the parting woods
of his Emperor as he backed out of that plainly--furnished little
private cabinet at Potsdam:
“You must bombard London, and sack it. The pride of those English must
be broken at all costs. Go, Kronhelm--go--and may the best of fortune go
with you!”
The sun was at the noon causing the glass roof of the distant Crystal
Palace to gleam. Far down in the grey haze stood Big Ben, the Campanile,
and a thousand church spires, all tiny and, from that distance,
insignificant. From where he stood the sound of crackling fire at the
barricades reached him, and a little behind him a member of his staff
was kneeling on the grass with his ear bent to the field telephone.
Reports were coming in fast of the desperate resistance in the streets,
and these were duly handed to him.
He glanced at them, gave a final look at the outstretched city that was
the metropolis of the world, and then gave rapid orders for the
withdrawal of the troops from the assault of the barricades, and the
bombardment of London.
In a moment the field-telegraphs were clicking, the telephone bell was
ringing, orders were shouted in German in all directions, and next
second, with a deafening roar, one of the howitzers of the battery in
the close vicinity to him gave tongue and threw its deadly shell
somewhere into St. John’s Wood.
The rain of death had opened! London was surrounded by a semicircle of
fire.
The great gun was followed by a hundred others as, at all the batteries
along the northern heights, the orders were received. Then in a few
minutes, from the whole line from Chingford to Willesden, roughly about
twelve miles, came a hail of the most deadly of modern projectiles
directed upon the most populous parts of the metropolis.
Though the Germans trained their guns to carry as far as was possible,
the zone of fire did not at first, it seemed, extend farther south than
a line roughly taken from Notting Hill through Bayswater, past
Paddington Station, along the Marylebone and Euston Roads, then up to
Highbury, Stoke Newington, Stamford Hill, and Walthamstow.
When, however, the great shells began to burst in Holloway, Kentish
Town, Camden Town, Kilburn, Kensal Green, and other places lying within
the area under fire, a frightful panic ensued. Whole streets were
shattered by explosions, and fires were breaking out, the dark clouds of
smoke obscuring the sunlit sky. Roaring flames shot up everywhere,
unfortunate men, women, and children were being blown to atoms by the
awful projectiles, while others distracted sought shelter in any cellar
or underground place they could find, while their houses fell about them
like packs of cards.
The scenes within that zone of terror were indescribable.
When Paris had been bombarded years ago, artillery was not at the
perfection it now was, and there had been no such high explosive known
as in the present day. The great shells that were falling everywhere, on
bursting filled the air with poisonous fumes, as well as with deadly
fragments. One bursting in a street would wreck the rows of houses on
either side, and tear a great hole in the ground at the same moment. The
fronts of the houses were torn out like paper, the iron railings twisted
as though they were wire, and paving-stones hurled into the air like
straws.
Anything and everything offering a mark to the enemy’s guns was
shattered. St. John’s Wood and the houses about Regent’s Park suffered
seriously. A shell from Hampstead, falling into the roof of one of the
houses near the centre of Sussex Place, burst and shattered nearly all
the houses in the row; while another fell in Cumberland Terrace, and
wrecked a dozen houses in the vicinity. In both cases the houses were
mostly empty, for owners and servants had fled southward across the
river as soon as it became apparent that the Germans actually intended
to bombard.
At many parts in Maida Vale shells burst with appalling effect. Several
of the houses in Elgin Avenue had their fronts torn out, and in one, a
block of flats, there was considerable loss of life in the fire that
broke out, escape being cut off owing to the stairs having been
demolished by the explosion. Abbey Road, St. John’s Wood Road, Acacia
Road, and Wellington Road were quickly wrecked.
In Chalk Farm Road, near the Adelaide, a terrified woman was dashing
across the street to seek shelter with a neighbour when a shell burst
right in front of her, blowing her to fragments; while in the early
stage of the bombardment a shell bursting in the Midland Hotel at St.
Pancras caused a fire which in half an hour resulted in the whole hotel
and railway terminus being a veritable furnace of flame. Through the
roof of King’s Cross Station several shells fell, and burst close to the
departure platform. The whole glass roof was shattered, but beyond that
little other material damage resulted.
Shots were now falling everywhere, and Londoners were staggered. In
dense, excited crowds they were flying southward towards the Thames.
Some were caught in the streets in their flight, and were flung down,
maimed and dying. The most awful sights were to be witnessed in the open
streets: men and women blown out of recognition, with their clothes
singed and torn to shreds, and helpless, innocent children lying white
and dead, their limbs torn away and missing.
Euston Station had shared the same fate as St. Pancras, and was blazing
furiously, sending up a great column of black smoke that could be seen
by all London. So many were the conflagrations now breaking out that it
seemed as though the enemy were sending into London shells filled with
petrol, in order to set the streets aflame. This, indeed, was proved by
an eye-witness, who saw a shell fall in Liverpool Road, close to the
Angel. It burst with a bright red flash, and next second the whole of
the roadway and neighbouring houses were blazing furiously.
Thus the air became black with smoke and dust, and the light of day
obscured in Northern London. And through that obscurity came those
whizzing shells in an incessant hissing stream, each one, bursting in
these narrow, thickly-populated streets, causing havoc indescribable,
and a loss of life impossible to accurately calculate. Hundreds of
people were blown to pieces in the open, but hundreds more were buried
beneath the débris of their own cherished homes, now being so ruthlessly
destroyed and demolished.
On every side was heard the cry: “Stop the war--stop the war!”
But it was, alas! too late--too late.
Never in the history of the civilised world were there such scenes of
reckless slaughter of the innocent and peace-loving as on that
never-to-be-forgotten day when Von Kronhelm carried out the orders of
his Imperial master, and struck terror into the heart of London’s
millions.
CHAPTER V
THE RAIN OF DEATH
Through the whole afternoon the heavy German artillery roared, belching
forth their fiery vengeance upon London.
Hour after hour they pounded away, until St. Pancras Church was a heap
of ruins, and the Foundling Hospital a veritable furnace, as well as the
Parcel Post offices and the University College in Gower Street. In
Hampstead Road many of the shops were shattered, and in Tottenham Court
Road both Maple’s and Shoolbred’s suffered severely, for shells bursting
in the centre of the roadway had smashed every pane of glass in the
fronts of both buildings.
The quiet squares of Bloomsbury were, in some cases, great yawning
ruins--houses with their fronts torn out revealing the shattered
furniture within. Streets were, indeed, filled with tiles, chimney pots,
fallen telegraph wires, debris of furniture, stone steps, paving stones,
and fallen masonry. Many of the thoroughfares, such as the Pentonville
Road, Copenhagen Street, and Holloway Road, were, at points, quite
impassable on account of the ruins that blocked them. Into the Northern
Hospital, in the Holloway Road, a shell fell, shattering one of the
wards, and killing or maiming every one of the patients in the ward in
question, while the church in Tufnell Park Road was burning fiercely.
Upper Holloway, Stoke Newington, Highbury, Kingsland, Dalston, Hackney,
Clapton, and Stamford Hill were being swept at long range by the guns on
Muswell Hill and Churchyard Bottom Hill, and the terror caused in those
densely populated districts was awful. Hundreds upon hundreds lost their
lives, or else had a hand, an arm, a leg blown away, as those fatal
shells fell in never-ceasing monotony, especially in Stoke Newington and
Kingsland. The many side roads lying between Holloway Road and Finsbury
Park, such as Hornsey Road, Tollington Park, Andover, Durham,
Palmerston, Campbell, and Forthill Roads, Seven Sisters Road, and
Isledon Road were all devastated, for the guns for a full hour seemed to
be trained upon them.
The German gunners in all probability neither knew nor cared where their
shells fell. From their position, now that the smoke of the hundreds of
fires was now rising, they could probably discern but little. Therefore
the batteries at Hampstead Heath, Muswell Hill, Wood Green, Cricklewood,
and other places simply sent their shells as far distant south as
possible into the panic-stricken city below. In Mountgrove and
Riversdale Roads, Highbury Vale, a number of people were killed, while a
frightful disaster occurred in the church at the corner of Park Lane and
Milton Road, Stoke Newington. Here a number of people had entered,
attending a special service for the success of the British arms, when a
shell exploded on the roof, bringing it down upon them and killing over
fifty of the congregation, mostly women.
The air, poisoned by the fumes of the deadly explosives and full of
smoke from the burning buildings, was ever and anon rent by explosions
as projectiles frequently burst in mid-air. The distant roar was
incessant, like the noise of thunder, while on every hand could be heard
the shrieks of defenceless women and children, or the muttered curses of
some man who saw his home and all he possessed swept away with a flash
and a cloud of dust. Nothing could withstand that awful cannonade.
Walthamstow had been rendered untenable in the first half-hour of the
bombardment, while in Tottenham the loss of life had been very enormous,
the German gunners at Wood Green having apparently turned their first
attention upon that place. Churches, the larger buildings, the railway
station, in fact anything offering a mark, was promptly shattered, being
assisted by the converging fire from the batteries at Chingford.
On the opposite side of London, Notting Hill, Shepherd’s Bush, and
Starch Green were being reduced to ruins by the heavy batteries above
Park Royal Station, which, firing across Wormwood Scrubs, put their
shots into Notting Hill, and especially into Holland Park, where
widespread damage was quickly wrought.
A couple of shells falling into the generating station of the Central
London Railway, or “Tube”, as Londoners usually call it, unfortunately
caused a disaster and loss of life which were appalling. At the first
sign of the bombardment many thousands of persons descended into the
“tube” as a safe hiding-place from the rain of shell. At first the
railway officials closed the doors to prevent the inrush, but the
terrified populace in Shepherd’s Bush, Bayswater, Oxford Street, and
Holborn, in fact, all along the subterranean line, broke open the doors,
and descending by the lifts and stairs found themselves in a place which
at least gave them security against the enemy’s fire.
The trains had long ago ceased running, and every station was crowded to
excess, while many were forced upon the line itself and actually into
the tunnels. For hours they waited there in eager breathlessness,
longing to be able to ascend and find the conflict over. Men and women
in all stations of life were huddled together, while children clung to
their parents in wonder; yet as hour after hour went by, the report from
above was still the same--the Germans had not ceased.
Of a sudden, however, the light failed. The electric current had been
cut off by the explosion of the shells in the generating station at
Shepherd’s Bush, and the lifts were useless! The thousands who, in
defiance of the orders of the company, had gone below at Shepherd’s Bush
for shelter, found themselves caught like rats in a hole. True, there
was the faint glimmer of an oil light here and there, but, alas! that
did not prevent an awful panic.
Somebody shouted that the Germans were above and had put out the lights,
and when it was found that the lifts were useless a panic ensued that
was indescribable. The people could not ascend by the stairs, as they
were blocked by the dense crowd, therefore they pressed into the narrow
semi-circular tunnels in an eager endeavour to reach the next station,
where they hoped they might escape; but once in there women and children
were quickly crushed to death, or thrown down and trampled upon by the
press behind.
In the darkness they fought with each other, pressing on and becoming
jammed so tightly that many were held against the sloping walls until
life was extinct. Between Shepherd’s Bush and Holland Park Stations the
loss of life was worst, for being within the zone of the German fire the
people had crushed in frantically in thousands, and with one accord a
move had unfortunately been made into the tunnels, on account of the
foolish cry that the Germans were waiting above.
The railway officials were powerless. They had done their best to
prevent anyone going below, but the public had insisted, therefore no
blame could be laid upon them for the catastrophe.
At Marble Arch, Oxford Circus, and Tottenham Court Road Stations, a
similar scene was enacted, and dozens upon dozens, alas! lost their
lives in the panic. Ladies and gentlemen from Park Lane, Grosvenor
Square, and Mayfair had sought shelter at Marble Arch Station rubbing
shoulders with labourers’ wives and costerwomen from the back streets of
Marylebone. When the lights failed, a rush had been made into the tunnel
to reach Oxford Circus, all exit by the stairs being blocked, as at
Shepherd’s Bush, on account of the hundreds struggling to get down.
As at Holland Park, the terrified crowd fighting with each other became
jammed and suffocated in the narrow space. The catastrophe was a
frightful one, for it was afterwards proved that over four hundred and
twenty persons, mostly weak women and children, lost their lives in
those twenty minutes of darkness before the mains at the generating
station, wrecked by the explosions, could be repaired.
Then, when the current came up again, the lights revealed the frightful
mishap, and people struggled to emerge from the burrows wherein they had
so narrowly escaped death.
Upon the Baker Street and Waterloo and other “tubes” every station had
also been beseiged. The whole of the first-mentioned line from north to
south was the refuge of thousands, who saw in it a safe place for
retreat. The tunnels of the District Railway, too, were filled with
terror-stricken multitudes, who descended at every station and walked
away into a subterranean place of safety. No trains had been running for
several days, therefore there was no danger from that cause.
Meanwhile the bombardment continued with unceasing activity.
The Marylebone station of the Great Central Railway, and the Great
Central Hotel, which seemed to be only just within the line of fire,
were wrecked, and about four o’clock it was seen that the hotel, like
that at St. Pancras, was well alight, though no effort could be made to
save it. At the first two or three alarms of fire the Metropolitan Fire
Brigade had turned out, but now that fresh alarms were reaching the
chief station every moment, the brigade saw themselves utterly powerless
to even attempt to save the hundred buildings, great and small, now
furiously blazing.
Gasometers, especially those of the Gas Light and Coke Company at Kensal
Green, were marked by the German gunners, who sent them into the air;
while a well-directed petrol bomb at Wormwood Scrubs Prison set one
great wing of the place alight, and the prisoners were therefore
released. The rear of Kensington Palace, and the fronts of a number of
houses in Kensington Palace Gardens were badly damaged, while in the
dome of the Albert Hall was a great, ugly hole.
Shortly after five o’clock occurred a disaster which was of national
consequence. It could only have been a mishap on the part of the
Germans, for they would certainly never have done such irreparable
damage willingly, as they destroyed what would otherwise have been the
most valuable of loot.
Shots suddenly began to fall fast in Bloomsbury, several of them badly
damaging the Hotel Russell and the houses near, and it was therefore
apparent that one of the batteries which had been firing from near Jack
Straw’s Castle had been moved across to Parliament Hill, or even to some
point south of it, which gave a wider range to the fire.
Presently a shell came high through the air and fell full upon the
British Museum, striking it nearly in the centre of the front, and in
exploding carried away the Grecian-Ionic ornament, and shattering a
number of the fine stone columns of the dark façade. Ere people in the
vicinity had realised that the national collection of antiques was
within the range of the enemy’s destructive projectiles, a second shell
crashed into the rear of the building, making a great gap in the walls.
Then, as although all the guns of that particular battery had converged
in order to destroy our treasure-house of art and antiquity, shell after
shell crashed into the place in rapid succession. Before ten minutes had
passed, grey smoke began to roll out from beneath the long colonnade in
front, and growing denser, told its own tale. The British Museum was on
fire.
Nor was that all. As though to complete the disaster--although it was
certain that the Germans were in ignorance--there came one of those
terrible shells filled with petrol, which, bursting inside the
manuscript room, set the whole place ablaze. In a dozen different places
the building seemed to be now alight, especially the library, and thus
the finest collection of books, manuscripts, Greek and Roman and
Egyptian antiques, coins, medals, and prehistoric relics, lay at the
mercy of the flames.
The fire brigade was at once alarmed, and at imminent risk of their
lives, for shells were still falling in the vicinity, they, with the
Salvage Corps and the assistance of many willing helpers--some of whom
unfortunately lost their lives in the flames--saved whatever could be
saved, throwing the objects out into the railed-off quadrangle in front.
The left wing of the Museum, however, could not be entered, although
after most valiant efforts on the part of the firemen the conflagrations
that had broken out in other parts of the building were at length
subdued. The damage was, however, irreparable, for many unique
collections, including all the prints and drawings, and many of the
mediæval and historic manuscripts, had already been consumed.
Shots now began to fall as far south as Oxford Street, and all along
that thoroughfare from Holborn as far as Oxford Circus, widespread havoc
was being wrought. People fled for their lives back towards Charing
Cross and the Strand. The Oxford Music Hall was a hopeless ruin, while a
shell crashing through the roof of Frascati’s restaurant, carried away a
portion of the gallery and utterly wrecked the whole place. Many of the
shops in Oxford Street had their roofs damaged or their fronts blown
out, while a huge block of flats in Great Russell Street was practically
demolished by three shells striking in rapid succession.
Then, to the alarm of all who realised it, shots were seen to be passing
high over Bloomsbury, south towards the Thames. The range had been
increased, for, as was afterwards known, some heavier guns had now been
mounted upon Muswell Hill and Hampstead Heath, which, carrying to a
distance of from six to seven miles, placed the City, the Strand, and
Westminster within the zone of fire. The zone in question stretched
roughly from Victoria Park through Bethnal Green and Whitechapel,
across to Southwark, the Borough, Lambeth, and Westminster to
Kensington, and while the fire upon the northern suburbs slackened,
great shells now came flying through the air into the very heart of
London.
The German gunners at Muswell Hill took the dome of St. Paul’s as a
mark, for shells fell constantly in Ludgate Hill, in Cheapside, in
Newgate Street, and in the churchyard itself. One falling upon the steps
of the Cathedral tore out two of the columns of the front, while another
striking the clock tower just below the face, brought down much of the
masonry and one of the huge bells, with a deafening crash, blocking the
road with débris. Time after time the great shells went over the
splendid Cathedral, which the enemy seemed bent upon destroying, but the
dome remained uninjured, though about ten feet of the top of the second
tower was carried away.
On the Cannon Street side of St. Paul’s a great block of drapery
warehouses had caught fire, and was burning fiercely, while the drapers’
and other shops on the Paternoster Row side all had their windows
shattered by the constant detonations. Within the cathedral two shells
that had fallen through the roof had wrought havoc with the beautiful
reredos and choir-stalls, many of the fine windows being also wrecked by
the explosions.
Whole rows of houses in Cheapside suffered, while both the Mansion
House, where the London flag was flying, and the Royal Exchange were
severely damaged by a number of shells which fell in the vicinity. The
equestrian statue in front of the Exchange had been overturned, while
the Exchange itself showed a great yawning hole in the corner of the
façade next Cornhill. At the Bank of England a fire had occurred, but
had fortunately been extinguished by the strong force of Guards in
charge, though they gallantly risked their lives in so doing. Lothbury,
Gresham Street, Old Broad Street, Lombard Street, Gracechurch Street,
and Leadenhall Street were all more or less scenes of fire, havoc, and
destruction. The loss of life was not great in this neighbourhood, for
most people had crossed the river or gone westward, but the high
explosives used by the Germans were falling upon the shops and
warehouses with appalling effect.