From 1910 Farm I had one good ride to the battalions, through Festubert
and along to the Cuinchy Bridge. For me it was interesting because it
was one of the few times I had ridden just behind the trenches, which
at the moment were just north of the road and were occupied by the
Bedfords.
In a day or two we returned to Festubert, and Cadell gave me a
shake-down on a mattress in his billet--gloriously comfortable. The
room was a little draughty because the fuse of a shrapnel had gone
right through the door and the fireplace opposite. Except for a
peppering on the walls and some broken glass the house was not damaged;
we almost laughed at the father and mother and daughter who, returning
while we were there, wept because their home had been touched.
Orders came to attack. A beautiful plan was drawn up by which the
battalions of the brigade were to finish their victorious career in
the square of La Bassée.
In connection with this attack I was sent with a message for the
Devons. It was the blackest of black nights and I was riding without a
light. Twice I ran into the ditch, and finally I piled up myself and my
bicycle on a heap of stones lying by the side of the road. I did not
damage my bicycle. That was enough. I left it and walked.
When I got to Cuinchy bridge I found that the Devon headquarters had
shifted. Beyond that the sentry knew nothing. Luckily I met a Devon
officer who was bringing up ammunition. We searched the surrounding
cottages for men with knowledge, and at last discovered that the Devons
had moved farther along the canal in the direction of La Bassée. So
we set out along the towpath, past a house that was burning fiercely
enough to make us conspicuous.
We felt our way about a quarter of a mile and stopped, because we were
getting near the Germans. Indeed we could hear the rumble of their
transport crossing the La Bassée bridge. We turned back, and a few
yards nearer home some one coughed high up the bank on our right. We
found the cough to be a sentry, and behind the sentry were the Devons.
The attack, as you know, was held up on the line
Cuinchy-Givenchy-Violaines; we advanced our headquarters to a house
just opposite the inn by which the road to Givenchy turns off. It was
not very safe, but the only shell that burst anywhere near the house
itself did nothing but wound a little girl in the leg.
On the previous day I had ridden to Violaines at dawn to draw a plan of
the Cheshires' trenches for the general. I strolled out by the sugar
factory, and had a good look at the red houses of La Bassée. Half an
hour later a patrol went out to explore the sugar factory. They did
not return. It seems that the factory was full of machine guns. I had
not been fired upon, because the Germans did not wish to give their
position away sooner than was necessary.
A day or two later I had the happiness of avenging my potential death.
First I took orders to a battery of 6-inch howitzers at the Rue de
Marais to knock the factory to pieces, then I carried an observing
officer to some haystacks by Violaines, from which he could get a good
view of the factory. Finally I watched with supreme satisfaction the
demolition of the factory, and with regretful joy the slaughter of the
few Germans who, escaping, scuttled for shelter in some trenches just
behind and on either side of the factory.