A Few Episodes of the Retreat of Namur
By Captain Paulis, Artillery Commander
The bombardment of Namur commenced on the 21st of August, at
10 o'clock A.M., and was directed simultaneously on the Andoy,
Marchovelette, and Cognelée Forts, as well as on the intervals.
During the morning of the 22nd of August, the garrison made dashes
in the direction of the besiegers' lines. They were greeted by a
violent discharge of musketry and by the fire of machine-guns. Towards
10 o'clock, on the arrival of three French Battalions, an attack on
Wartet was attempted, but the troops were compelled to fall back and
the bombardment continued without respite.
On the 23rd of August, at three in the morning, after the hard fighting
of the preceding days, overwhelmed by mental and physical fatigue, I
had fallen into a troubled sleep. An order which was brought to me
roused me completely. The last batteries we had were to be taken to the
Citadel, immediately, for the defence of the town redoubt.
This was the end of the resistance. Namur, shattered by the cannon, was
living its last hours. The retreat of the active troops was about to
commence. A fresh order reached me, telling me to take my detachment of
Artillery to Bois-de-Villers and to await instructions there.
In the radiant brightness of that beautiful summer morning, whilst the
shooting of the guns and the roar of the cannon was to be heard on all
sides, I led my little troop in the direction of Entre-Sambre-et-Meuse.
My men were silent and sorrowful. I saw the anguish in my own heart
reflected on their faces. At Liége, after the most heroic defence, we
had seen our men obliged to fall back before the foreigner. At Namur,
it was to be a repetition of the same thing. There, as here, we had
hoped and hoped, up to the last minute, that friendly reinforcements
would arrive. It was different here though! From Liége, our retreat had
been towards the centre of our own country, we were at home and we knew
that we were going to join our comrades of the army in campaign. From
Namur, alas, we should be moving towards the frontier, getting farther
and farther away from our fellow-soldiers, from our friends, and from
our families.
After Liége, every man in our detachment had answered to the roll-call.
On leaving Namur, we thought sorrowfully of those of our comrades who
were sleeping for ever at the border of the Grandes-Salles Wood, or who
were dying, in pain, in hospital beds.
"Courage! though," I said to myself, "we must keep our hearts up. We
must throw a veil over the past and look ahead. At any rate, I must
save the brave men under my care."
The information I had with regard to the enemy was very vague. The
Germans were said to be stopped at the Sambre, on one side, and
repulsed in the Dinant neighbourhood, some distance from the Meuse, on
the other. The truth, as we were soon to see, was quite different. At
Bois-de-Villers, where I arrived towards nine o'clock, I noted that
there was intense firing in the direction of Sart-St. Laurent. There
was no doubt possible. The Germans had forced the passages of the
Sambre.
I made a hasty reconnaissance in the direction of the valley of the
Meuse. The inhabitants told me that the French had placed outposts as
far as Profondeville, but that they had taken them away the evening
before, and that enemy patrols were moving about on the right bank.
It was, therefore, impossible to start with my column along the road
from Profondeville to Dinant. This road, which skirts the river, is
commanded, only a short distance away, by the heights of the right bank.
There was only one thing to be done, and that was to return to Namur
for instructions.
At one o'clock in the afternoon, I was back again as far as the
St. Héribert Fort. The Commander informed me that he no longer had
telephonic communication with the Governor of the position. He could
only give me all the information he had from private sources. The
Germans had crossed the Sambre in great masses and were being held, at
the present moment, between Fosse and St. Gérard, by a French army. The
Meuse also had been forced by the enemy at Dinant.
The situation was, therefore, most critical for the Namur garrison. It
would probably be completely encircled and it only had one road left
for retreat towards France.
I decided to go to Ermeton-sur-Biert, through Arbre and Bioul, and
await events there.
We accordingly set off and, as I was mounting my horse, I gave one
last look at the town. The sight was both imposing and terrible. In
Namur itself, many of the houses were burning. The Citadel seemed to
have a halo round it, formed by the fleecy bursting of the shrapnels.
Farther away, the villages of Champion, Bonnine, and Bouge were in
flames. Muffled detonations, repeated by the echoes, reverberated
on every side. On all the roads from Namur and from Flawinne, could
be seen the heads of the column of troops of the 4th Division, who
were endeavouring to escape from the grasp of the enemy. Poor Namur!
With heavy hearts, we then began that long retreat, which was to lead
us, by Belgian and French roads, to the environs of Paris. I arrived
at Ermeton-sur-Biert towards half past eight in the evening. I went
a little further on than the village and fixed on an oat-field for
our bivouac. An uninterrupted firing could be heard from a northerly
direction. The march of the German troops was indicated, over half
the horizon, by the villages and farms in flames. In a south-easterly
direction, an immense glow, in strong contrast to the darkness of the
night, revealed the incredible crime of Dinant.
Whilst some of my gunners were dressing the wounds of half a dozen
French soldiers whom we had picked up at Denée, and the drivers were
getting some oats for their tired horses, I remained at the roadside,
anxiously questioning the dark figures who passed by in the night. The
most contradictory rumours were circulating. According to some, the
British troops had driven the Germans back, between Mons and Charleroi.
According to others, on the contrary, we had already been turned by
these same Germans.
I had been at my observation post more than an hour, when some French
batteries passed by at a quick trot. There was no doubt now; it
was very evident that the French were retreating. Tired though we
were, it was indispensable that we should follow the movement. We,
therefore, set out once more. It took us three hours to go the five
miles which separate Ermeton from Rosée, as the road was blocked by
waggons, trucks, refugees' carts, and vehicles of all sorts. They
were advancing with the greatest difficulty, three or four abreast.
Numbers of refugees on foot, men, women, and children, from the
neighbouring villages, had slipped in among the horses and vehicles,
adding considerably to the confusion. The night was particularly
dark, and this darkness was only relieved by the distant light of
the flaming houses and, from time to time, by the bright flashes of
the St. Héribert Fort search-lights, which seemed to be sending us
a last farewell message. We reached Philippeville at four o'clock
the following morning. During the night, my column had increased in
numbers. Soldiers of all arms, who had lost their regiments, had joined
us, feeling instinctively that they were lost if they had not an
officer in command.
The first person I met, on arriving at Philippeville, was Duruy, the
French Battalion Chief, whom I had known before the war as Military
Attaché at Brussels. Three months later, he was killed in Flanders,
whilst marching bravely at the head of a Colonial Regiment.
I explained my situation to him quickly and asked for news of the
battle. What he told me was by no means re-assuring. The Allies had
been crushed by the invading stream and they were falling back, inch
by inch.
I soon received instructions from the French officer in command of the
district. I was to collect all the Belgian troops now in Philippeville
and take them to Rocroi. We were to be in Rocroi that same day.
Twenty-two miles to march with troops which had been marching already
for twenty-four hours! The order was definite, though, and I felt
myself that it was necessary. Once more we set out.
Before leaving, I went and shook hands silently with my brave comrade,
Hankar. Only the day before he was a lively Sub-Lieutenant from the
Military School, and now he was lying in a motor-ambulance, with his
foot smashed by a shell. I could do absolutely nothing for him. What a
terrible thing war is!
I also took the wounded French soldiers we had brought from Denée to an
ambulance.
I will not describe the Calvary of that long march and the sufferings
of my exhausted soldiers. It was eight o'clock at night when we reached
Rocroi, and the men were then able to take their first meal that day.
We had to think of the horses, too, and to get some oats for them. I
plead guilty to having acted in a manner that was incorrect, but I hope
I may be forgiven for it under the circumstances. At that late hour,
the forage stores were closed, and the man in charge did not consider
himself obliged to supply me until the next day.
Necessity knows no law. In accordance with this precept, somewhat lax,
but indispensable in time of war, I ordered my men to break open the
door and take, _manu militari_, the oats necessary. I left a receipt,
quite honestly, for what I had taken.
I spent the night, with my men, in the big Square of the town, but I
could not close my eyes. Too many thoughts crowded to my mind, for,
from what I had heard and seen on the way, I was convinced that the
Germans would soon be at Rocroi and that we should have to move on
southwards.
Where were we to go though? How were we to rejoin the Belgian army,
when we did not know where it was? I had not even a map of the district.
As soon as it was daylight, my first idea was to try to get a map, but
how was I to find it in a town that was asleep? I knocked at several
doors, but there was not a map to be had. Presently, I met a young
cyclist who had a road-map of Northern France. I am about to confess my
second indelicate act. I said to the young cyclist:
"How much did you give for your map?"
"Three francs," he replied.
"I will give you five francs for it."
"I won't sell it," he answered, "as I cannot get another one."
"I will give you ten francs," I insisted.
"No," he replied.
"Then I shall have to take it," I said and, before the cyclist had time
to recover from his surprise, I took his precious map and made off like
the thief I was.
After examining various projects, I decided on going to Rethel.
There was an important junction of railways and roads there. I could
communicate by wire with our Military Attaché of Paris and receive
instructions.
We set out once again, but our march was slow, as my detachment was
composed of soldiers of all arms, most of whom were on foot.
The problem of food for my men was causing me serious anxiety, when,
a few miles from Rocroi, I came across a column with food, stationed
in a little village. A sub-officer, whom I had sent on reconnaissance,
came back telling me that the officer in command of this column had
given orders that no food was to be given to Belgian troops, except in
case of a requisition written by the General commanding the 4th Belgian
Division.
I have already confessed to breaking into forage stores and to theft. I
must now confess to an abuse of confidence. I signed an order for food
with my own name, preceded by the following words: "By order of the
General commanding the 4th Belgian Division."
I had no right to do this, if I am to be quite frank. I obtained the
food though and, as will be seen later on, Lieutenant General Michel
himself reaped some advantage from my indelicacy.
The scene took place at Liart, where we arrived the second day after
this incident.
Taught by experience, I always arranged for our bivouac to be near
places where food columns were quartered. I sent a subordinate at once
to establish a _liaison_ between this column and mine.
One night when we were quartered near Liart, my _liaison_ agent, when
sending my food, let me know that a goods train was to return empty to
Rheims, the following day. He had made arrangements with the military
Commander at the station for me to make use of this transport.
Glad to spare my men fatigue, and to gain time, I accepted the offer. I
did not wait for daylight, but set out at once for Liart.
A surprise was in store for us. Lieutenant-General Michel was there, at
the head of his Division. There was no question now of our making use
of the train, as it was, of course, to be reserved for the troops on
foot. The mounted soldiers were to go to Laon by the ordinary way. A
column was formed under the orders of Colonel Iweins.
Whilst the men were eating, I remembered that I had some beefsteak in
reserve. General Michel, who was passing near, honoured me by coming to
our table and sharing our meal.
Do you remember this, General? I did not own then that it was, in
reality, you inviting me, as I had obtained that meat, thanks to "an
order" from you.
It took us two days to reach Laon and nothing occurred to interfere
with us on our way.
One thing surprised us, though. We did not meet any French troops.
We met columns with food, with ammunition, and various carts with
accessories, but absolutely no fighting troops.
Our surprise increased when we had passed Laon. Neither at Soissons,
Château-Thierry, Coulommiers, nor anywhere else, along that long road
which led to the south-east of Paris, did we meet either Infantry,
Artillery, or Cavalry. We began to wonder where the French army was, or
whether a French army existed?
It was not until a few days later, after the victory of the Marne,
that we understood General Joffre's wonderful manoeuvre. We will not
anticipate, though, so we must return to Laon.
We stayed there two days and we took advantage of this time for
reorganising our column.
The cannons and waggons of the old pattern were packed and sent to the
south of France; the horses were divided among the existing units, and
all the men we did not need were sent to Rouen. In this way, we formed
a column of Cavalry, Artillery, Gendarmerie, and accessory services.
I was no longer in command, but, as there was a question of taking part
in the operations of the French army, I did not like the idea of being
sent to a dépôt.
I asked for a place now vacant as Deputy Commander of a group and I was
fortunate enough to obtain it.
We left Laon rather suddenly and went in the direction of Soissons.
In my new function, I had to form the vanguard. With a few others, I
would arrive unexpectedly in the villages, where our foreign uniforms
generally created alarm, as we were taken for German patrols.
In order to avoid mistakes, I used to send a horseman on in front to
announce the arrival of friends.
The astrakhan _talpack_ that I wore surprised the inhabitants of the
villages and I overheard the following conversation:
"You see the one with a fur cap. He is an officer of the Russian
vanguard." Another person probably better informed, with regard to
distances, replied:
"Impossible, the Russians could not be here yet."
It is only fair to say that all the papers then were announcing, in big
letters, formidable advances of the Russian army.
The day after leaving Laon, we arrived at Sermoise-sur-Aisne. An
English patrol was there, under the command of an officer, who told us
that German forces had been signalled to the north of the Aisne.
Colonel Iweins, who had already had this information, told the English
officer that some squadrons had been sent to reconnoitre and that news
was awaited before authorising a bivouac there. He added that he would
send an officer with the information he received to the English General
then at Soissons. As I acted as interpreter and arrived with the
vanguard, Colonel Iweins entrusted me with this mission.
He told me, too, that the detachment that he commanded was to start
the following day by rail from Soissons. I was entrusted with the
reconnaissance of the station and was to wait there for his arrival.
The squadrons soon returned without having anything special to report.
The bivouac was therefore organised and I started. I was delighted at
having this mission as, when I had accomplished it, I should be able to
dine on something else than rabbit, which had been our food for several
days, and I should also have a good hotel bed instead of sleeping on
straw at the bivouac.
I was accompanied only by my orderly and, with a light heart, smoking a
cigarette, I arrived in Soissons after an enjoyable ride. It was just
getting dark. There was not a person in the street, and a death-like
silence prevailed. I wondered what this meant?
Finally, I met an English cycling platoon. The officer in command
informed me that the Germans were at the gates of the town, on the
other side of the Aisne.
"Surely," I said, "there must be some mistake, as there is an English
General at Soissons."
"We beat a retreat in a south-westerly direction," replied the officer,
"and we form the extreme left rear."
I went at once to the station and found that all the rolling stock had
been removed. After some time, I found one of the station officials.
"Have you been informed that some Belgian troops are coming to Soissons
to-morrow to take the train?" I asked. "To-morrow!" exclaimed the man,
in amazement. "Why, the Boches are there, on the other side of the
river. The station has been evacuated and...."
I did not stay to hear the end of his sentence, but rushed off to the
Prefecture of police, where I was assured that the German vanguards
were quite near the town.
"But surely there must be some military authority here in Soissons!" I
said.
"Perhaps you may find the Commander of arms. He lives at the house with
the stone steps, in the first street to the left."
I went there and found him.
"Colonel," I said, "I have just come from Sermoise and have a
communication for an English General whom I expected to find here. I
am also to make arrangements for some Belgian troops to take the train
from here to-morrow."
"But, are you not aware that the Germans may enter the town from one
minute to another?" he asked. "I have given orders for the bridges
to be blown up as soon as they are in sight, and immediately after
that I am starting for Rheims. The English Headquarters have been
transferred, to-day, about ten miles away. I should advise you to take
your communication there and to stay there yourself. The road is not
safe...."
At that very moment, I heard some loud explosions. The Aisne bridges
had been blown up.
"_Au revoir_," said the Colonel, getting into his motor-car, "and good
luck!"
I remained there a moment half dazed. The communication I had was
worthless, and dangerous too, as it gave wrong information.
The only thing that remained was to ride, at full speed, back to
Sermoise and warn my chief there of the danger that threatened us.
An hour later, I arrived there breathless. Colonel Iweins was dictating
his instructions for the journey of the following day. I informed him
immediately of what I had learnt at Soissons.
The bivouac was at once broken up and Major Joostens set out in his
motor-car to get instructions from the French Headquarters. He returned
soon after with orders to start immediately for Château-Thierry.
The main road from Sermoise to Château-Thierry passes through Soissons.
There is another way, but it is not practicable for artillery, and it
would have caused us delay at a time when every moment was precious.
Colonel Iweins decided to send his horsemen to guard the passages of
the Aisne. During that time the batteries and the vehicles with the
accessories were to gallop through Soissons. The squadrons were to fall
back and they would thus be able to protect the retreat.
This plan was carried out and only just in time. The gendarmerie
waggon, which was a little behind, was attacked and captured by the
Germans.
On the Château-Thierry road, I saw once more the same scenes of
desolation that I had already witnessed in Belgium: I mean the exodus
of the population. Crowds of people and of animals, all hurrying along
and knocking against each other; vehicles colliding with each other and
barring the road, as the drivers, in their mad hurry to escape, blocked
the way and increased the confusion. The most heart-rending of all the
miseries of war are those which afflict the weak and unoffending.
On this long journey, I came across Belgian families from Hainault,
who had been driven out of their peaceful villages by the barbarians,
and had been wandering for weeks. Wherever they had found a temporary
refuge, they had been once more hunted out, and they were now going
along, resigned to their fate, towards the unknown. When would the hour
of deliverance ring out for them and for all of us?
We stopped a night at Château-Thierry, and the following day our column
was divided; one detachment went in the direction of Coulommiers and
the other in the direction of La Ferté-Gaucher.
I was with the latter detachment, under the command of Major Capilion,
and, as usual, I was responsible for the vanguard. The batteries
arrived at our halting-place rather late, and it was dark when the
installation was finished.
I was very tired, and was just going to rest for a time, when I was
informed that the two detachments were to start for Havre, by rail, the
following day. Further orders were to be given us later on.
When everyone was lying down, before going to rest myself, I decided to
go as far as the station. It was as though I had a presentiment, for,
on arriving there, at ten o'clock exactly, I found the station-master
at the telephone. What I heard startled me. The Germans were at
Château-Thierry. We had left there in the morning and they had arrived
in the afternoon. They had bombarded the station, left the town, and
were on the way towards Coulommiers and La Ferté-Gaucher.
I rushed to the telephone and asked for communication with Coulommiers.
I told them to fetch an officer. Major Joostens was soon there.
"Do you know that Château-Thierry has been occupied to-day by the
Germans, and that they have now left the town?" I said.
"What are you telling me?" he replied. "It is impossible. We have come
fifty miles from Soissons and an army cannot go along at that rate."
"It is a fact nevertheless. Make enquiries at once, as we run the risk
of being taken."
"Wait there, I will telephone to you as soon as I get any information."
A quarter of an hour later, Major Joostens confirmed what I had told
him and informed me that he was having trains sent immediately to La
Ferté-Gaucher. He told me to give the alarm and to commence embarking
the troops during the night.
Never, I imagine, has any man alone, made as much noise in the night as
I did that night at La Ferté-Gaucher. Thinking that we were far enough
away from the enemy, our lodgings were separated from each other, from
one end of the town to the other. For the first time for a month, each
man had a bed. It can readily be imagined that it was no easy task to
wake everyone up.
At half-past twelve, the first battery arrived at the station, and
the embarking of the troops commenced immediately. On account of
various faulty installations, it took a considerable amount of time.
At mid-day, our scouts informed us of the approach of the Germans. We
were prepared to evacuate by road what we could not send by rail, but
fortunately this was not necessary, as the enemy halted a few miles
away from La Ferté-Gaucher.
The command of the last contingent was given to me. At four o'clock,
all the waggons were on the trucks. I then embarked the Gendarmerie
Platoon, which served as my support, and the train started.
It was an immense relief to me when we were once on the way, as we then
knew that we should be able to join the Belgian army, and do our share
towards defending our country.
Coulommiers and La Ferté-Gaucher were, as everyone knows, the extreme
points reached on French soil by the German invasion.
From Havre, we went by boat to Zeebrugge and from Zeebrugge to Antwerp
by rail. We found our Infantry Regiments there, as they had preceded
us. The 4th Division was re-formed and it contributed gloriously, later
on, to the defence of Antwerp and the Yser.
I dedicate these pages to the soldiers who were under me during this
period of the war. They were composed of men of the oldest classes (the
14th and 15th) and of young volunteers. All of them behaved with the
greatest courage.
Several weeks after the events I have just related, when I was no
longer the direct chief of these brave soldiers, I received from them
the following letter, which moved me to tears. It is a letter which I
shall ever keep as my most treasured recompense:
"Vieux Dieu (Fort 4),
"21.9.14.
"To our Commander Paulis:
"The sub-officers of your old group beg you to accept, in their name
and in the name of all the Brigadiers and Privates who have been
under your orders, their respectful homage and the assurance of their
sincerest feelings of gratitude, in remembrance of the way you led
them under fire, and saved them during the retreats from Liége and
Namur.
"Rest assured, Commander, that you will never, never be forgotten by
us, and that your name will ever be included in our ardent wishes for
the welfare of our King, our Country and our families."
[Here follow the signatures.]
"Pervyse, October 15, 1915."