The Sart-Tilman Combat
From an Account Given by Père de Groote, Army Chaplain to the 1st
Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs and completed by Major N---- of the
4th Regiment of Unmounted Chasseurs
On August 4, 1914, the inhabitants of Charleroi crowded to the streets,
windows, and balconies to cheer the 1st Regiment of Chasseurs which was
starting, preceded by the band, to take part in the defence of Belgium.
"Long live the King! Hurrah for Belgium! Hurrah for the soldiers!"
Every man shouted the words that came first to his lips, and the
soldiers, with bright eyes and smiles, marched proudly along, under a
shower of flowers and tricolour ribbons.
Pushing through the ranks, a woman held a little girl of three or four
years of age up to one of the volunteers, and the father, with tears
in his eyes, kissed his child for the last time, amidst the frantic
cheering of the crowd.
Just at this moment, the people rushed forward on to the horse-road,
surrounding the soldiers, and commenced filling their pockets with
tobacco, chocolate, and a hundred other dainties. The officers,
half-laughing and half angry, endeavoured to re-establish order. As
for me, I had great difficulty to get along, for people I did not know
at all clutched me, grasped my hands and, recommending their sons to my
care, forced money upon me with the words, "Take it, take it, it is for
the soldiers." I managed to get free of the mob and rushed home. To my
great annoyance, my appointment as army chaplain had not yet arrived.
What was I to do? The soldiers wanted me to be with them and it seemed
to me that, at such a time, I could not desert them. I did not hesitate
long, but rushed off to the station and took my seat in a compartment
with eight officers.
After two hours' journey, the train stopped and we were at Huy. After
organising the bridge-head and protecting the destruction of the Engis
and Hermalle bridges, the regiment was sent by train to Liége in the
afternoon of August 5th. We arrived at the Longdoz station and were
greeted here, too, with cheers. The enthusiasm increased when the crowd
discovered a priest in the ranks. We were stationed on the road which
leads from Jupille to Bellaire, as reserves, behind the 11th Brigade,
which was then fighting furiously in the vicinity of the Barchon Fort.
The soldiers piled arms and lay down on the roadside. Presently a line
regiment passed. From horseback, I addressed a few patriotic words to
the brave fellows, who seemed to appreciate what I said. They knelt
down and asked for my blessing. I prayed that God would give them the
victory.
Towards evening, we returned to Liége, went through to Fragnée and
halted in a meadow. It was then ten o'clock. I lay down on the grass by
Commander Henseval. I had not closed my eyes for three nights and was
dead tired. The Commander, who was preparing his stylograph, in order
to write to his wife, noticed my exhaustion. "Go to sleep," he said;
"in case anything happens, I will wake you." I did not need telling
twice, but alas, ten minutes later, there was an energetic call: "To
arms! To arms!"
I sprang to my feet and rushed forward to find out what had occurred.
The German Staff, having failed in its plans to the east, was employing
one of its favourite manoeuvres and developing action by means of
its left wing, in the direction of a more vulnerable sector, that of
Embourg-Boncelles. From our position at Fragnée, we could already see
the light of the bursting shells, here and there, in the direction of
Boncelles.
We were sent with the 4th Chasseurs to Ougrée. I was at the head of
the column, behind General Massart. It was raining in torrents and the
water was streaming down our faces. This mattered little to us and we
continued our march along the white road bordered by two rows of trees.
Suddenly, a motor-car arrived, travelling at full speed. Commander
Marchand was in it. He belonged to Lieutenant-General Leman's Staff.
"Our men are outflanked at Sart-Tilman," he said to the General; "the
Chasseurs must defend the hamlet at any cost."
"You mean a sacrifice?"
"Yes, General."
"Good, agreed! Forward!"
The commander of the regiment, Colonel Jacquet, went quickly from rank
to rank of the soldiers, stimulating their enthusiasm and telling
them how proud he was to be marching at their head. As he wished to
add example to precept, he went straight to the vanguard and advanced
cautiously along, for the ground was hilly and it was quite possible
that enemy patrols might have penetrated there. Sart-Tilman is the key
of a wooded table-land, the entrance to which was crowned by a series
of redoubts and hastily prepared trenches, but the firing range was not
sufficiently cleared. It was nearly midnight when we passed through the
hamlet.
The Major of the 1st Battalion placed three companies between the
redoubts, facing the St. Jean and Sclessin woods and kept one company
back as a reserve. The noise from this side was deafening. Everything
seemed to be rumbling together, guns, machine-guns, and cannons, and,
in the midst of the darkness, the bursting of the shrapnels illuminated
the sky with their blood-red lights. To the right and left, the
Boncelles and Embourg Forts seemed to be wrapped round with a girdle
of flames. From time to time, we could hear, in the still night, the
doleful sound of the fifes sounding the rally and the march forward. It
was a grand and thrilling sight. It was war in all its tragic beauty.
The deployment of the Chasseurs was carried out just as though it had
been on the drilling ground. They climbed the slopes in files. Here and
there, lay the dead body of a Belgian soldier.
"Halt!" came the order and, when once they were established in an
advantageous position and sheltered as much as possible, they fired
by guess and for a good reason. It was impossible to see a single one
of the enemy soldiers. They were all hidden in the trenches and their
heads scarcely came up to the parapet.
Suddenly, some soldiers, dragging with them their machine-guns, rushed
away, crying, "The Germans are there. Each man for himself!" It was
impossible to stop them and there was a veritable helter-skelter. We
discovered afterwards that these men were Germans, disguised as Belgian
soldiers, in order to create a panic amongst us. There was a slight
hesitation and then our officers rushed amongst the sharp-shooters
and led them forward, to the positions they were to occupy. A violent
musketry fire greeted them, coming chiefly from the St. Jean wood,
a part of which had not been felled. Scattered about, our Chasseurs
continued to advance, sheltering behind one tree after another, in
spite of the ceaseless firing. The balls whizzed along and, with a dry
crackle, cut down the branches or entered the trunks of the trees. I
can still see a young Corporal, who had been hit in the head and chest
with a ball and was red with blood, walking towards Major Le Doseray.
"I have done my duty, Major," he said, "haven't I? Are you satisfied
with me?" The Major had only just time to grasp his hand, when the poor
fellow sank down. I rushed to him, but he was dead.
The battle developed with great violence. The German scouts, who
preceded their columns, were driven off; but our company to the right,
under Captain Commander Rochette, had suffered terrible losses and he
asked for reinforcements. The reserve of the 1st Battalion and two
companies of the 2nd Battalion soon formed part of the chain, and
the struggle continued until break of day with alternative calm and
violence. The Germans found a way of creeping into our thickets, thus
obliging our regiment reserve patrols to explore our positions on each
side and even at our back.
The Chasseurs were congratulating themselves on having accomplished
their mission and they believed that the victory was theirs, when, just
at dawn, on our left wing, the Boches waved white flags and the bugle
rang out, "1st Chasseurs, cease firing!" Our officers were amazed and,
for an instant, our firing stopped. We understood immediately, though,
that it was only another ruse and that the Germans had imitated our
bugle call. The fight began once more, and very soon after, groups
of the enemy who, during the darkness had crept into some of the
Sart-Tilman houses that were still intact, took our trenches and our
explorers from behind. There was a moment's consternation, as one of
our men fell face downwards at the Colonel's feet, declaring that
he had been shot in the back by his comrades. By way of restoring
confidence, the Commander of the 2nd Battalion sent a platoon to
reconnoitre in the direction of the Cense-Rouge farm. It came back
without discovering anything, after losing some men who were also shot
in the back. Another platoon inspected the field of oats adjoining the
farm. Our Adjutant-Major went himself into the gardens. In the houses,
there were soldiers dressed remarkably like our Chasseurs. The Colonel
told them to come out and join in the shooting. They refused and we
broke down the doors, but the point blank firing of these imitation
Chasseurs obliged our men to fall back. Captain Fleuracker, Captain
Rochette, Lieutenant Sohier, Lieutenant Pereaux, and Lieutenant Dufrane
were killed. Our reserve had to be withdrawn and the houses had to be
attacked one after another. We were not supplied with incendiary and
asphyxiating means, as the Germans were.
The battle continued to rage and some German machine-guns, stationed
four hundred yards north-east of Sart-Tilman and protected by barbed
wire, fired volleys into the hamlet and its neighbourhood. Captain
Vergeynst, followed by a few courageous men, rushed forward and
succeeded in bringing down the Boche commander and his gunners,
but, unfortunately, the losses in our ranks were considerable.
The regimentary reserve, which for a time had been dispersed, now
rallied round the officers, whilst the first line executed a furious
counter-attack. This continued until towards five o'clock, when the 3rd
Battalion, with the flag, the machine-guns, and the artillery of the
15th Brigade came from the St. Laurent wood and began to attack the
trenches we had had to leave. These were soon retaken.
Just at this moment Captain Henseval, commanding the 3rd Company of
the 3rd Battalion, noticed a white flag in the midst of a group of
Germans who, with hands up, were crying, "Kamarades! Kamarades!" A sign
was made for them to approach, but, as they did not move, Henseval,
accompanied by about ten men, advanced towards them in order to take
them. He had almost reached them, when the Germans flung themselves
down on the ground, discovering a machine-gun which mowed down the
little group of Belgians, including the Captain, who received several
balls in his chest. Of all this brave group, only one man escaped.
To the left, in the direction of Boncelles, grey masses could be
seen treading down the beet-root fields. They were the 73rd and 74th
regiments of German Infantry, marching in close ranks, shouting
"Hurrah!" and attacking the Fort. Our shells and machine-guns made
great gaps in their columns. At the command of their officers, the
Battalions closed up the gaps and continued their march forward. Three
times their lines were broken and three times they re-formed them.
Finally, decimated, they broke up near the moats. Only a hundred men
remained on foot. Without their officers, and completely demoralised,
they waved a white flag. Captain Lefert, in command of the Fort, and
Lieutenant Montoisy, climbed on to the benches and, when the Germans
saw them, they held up their hands. Just at that moment, two shots were
fired from somewhere and the Captain fell, a ball in both thighs. The
Germans gave themselves up all the same, and disappeared in Indian file
inside the Fort. The assault had failed and the enemy fell back towards
seven o'clock and attempted nothing more than a few counter-attacks at
intervals.
The Chasseurs were masters of the place and their flag flew over
Sart-Tilman.
I went out at once to the battle-field. What an abominable sight it
was! Around the trenches, were the dead bodies of Belgians and Germans,
piled up and forming parapets three yards high. I went down into one of
the trenches; it was a pool of blood, with a heap of bodies entangled
with each other. Alas, how many of our brave young Chasseurs were
there, poor fellows whom anxious mothers were expecting back home!
Stepping over the dead bodies, I dressed the wounds of our men and
said a few words to encourage them. They were resigned and bore their
suffering without any complaint, but what anguish I read in the eyes
that were already becoming dim! How fervently they clasped their hands
together in a last prayer!
When I spoke a few words in their own language to the German wounded,
what a deafening noise began! They cried, moaned, pitied themselves
and, imagining that I was one of their countrymen, gave me farewell
messages for their relatives, their wives, and their children. They
clung to me, kissed my hands, beseeched me not to leave them. I hurried
away from this hell and made my way up and down the battle-field, in
search of wounded men to relieve and dying ones to whom to administer
the last sacraments. There in front of me, lay more than five thousand
soldiers of the Brandenburg, Hanover, and Pomeranian Corps. The ground
was covered with a grey cloak, relieved here and there by the dark
patches of our Chasseurs' uniforms. From this field of suffering,
could be heard groans, sobs, and the death-rattle. It was horrible,
frightful! Lying on his back, with a fearful wound, a poor young
volunteer of some seventeen years old, was calling out, piteously,
"Mother, mother, I want to see you!" I knelt down beside him and the
poor boy held out a silver coin of fifty centimes to me. "It is all I
have," he said; "I want to send it to the church where I was baptised."
I was moving on, when a Commander suddenly forbade me to go forward.
"As long as there are any wounded, I have a mission to fulfil," I
protested. He finally yielded and gave me two soldiers for protection.
This precaution was wise, as, a minute later, a German officer, who
appeared to be dead, fired two shots from his revolver at me, but
fortunately he failed to hit his mark. After this I was extremely
cautious in approaching any officers of the enemy. However serious
their wounds might be, they always clutched their swords in disdainful
silence, in order to avoid the humiliation of being disarmed. "I wish
to be buried with my sword and decorations," said a dying German
Captain. I promised him that his wish should be respected and he died
contented.
With the most admirable devotion, the nurses carried the wounded
soldiers to the ambulances and, very soon, a long convoy was moving
along the Angleur road. At every jerk, cries and groans could be heard.
Towards evening, I was alone on the battle-field. A gloomy twilight lit
up this plain of the dead. Disagreeable odours mingled with the sweet
scent of the woods. There was not a murmur, not a rustle or sound,
everywhere peace and silence! On the torn-up, hollowed-out ground, were
heaps and heaps of dark-looking, horrible terrifying things....