(September 9-12, 1914)
The Second Sortie from Antwerp
Episode of the Battle before Over-de-Vaert (Haecht). By Lieutenant L.
Chardome of the 14th Line Regiment
I am writing the account of this combat in bed, at the Elisabeth
Ambulance, as I am still suffering from my wounds of thirteen months
ago. I give this account without any pretension and without any false
modesty; my only care being to tell the exact truth.
It was during the second _sortie_ of the Antwerp garrison. My Company,
the 2nd Division of Hotchkiss machine-guns of the 3rd Army Division,
had passed the night of September 11 and 12, 1914, along the embankment
of the Malines-Louvain railway line, five hundred yards from the
Haecht-Wespeleare station. At 4 in the morning, we received orders to
get into line and go to the support of the 14th Line Regiment; my men
mounted the slope in glee, and had soon cleared the summit. Very soon
the two guns of my Section, the 52nd and 53rd, had taken their place
with the sharp-shooters of Commander Magnette's Company, supporting the
last Section of Infantry to the extreme left.
The sharp-shooters during the night had occupied a trench intended
for those who kneel and they were now busy making it deeper. To my
right, I could see their outlines dimly through the morning mist. In
the rear the 15 Howitzers, placed beyond the railway, had sounded the
reveille and immediately, three 75 batteries of the 12th Brigade took
up the firing on the left. Towards 8 o'clock, the mist had entirely
disappeared and the battle-field could be seen. Our losses were already
important. First Sergeant-Major Carlens, Chief of the Machine-gun
Section, had been killed and Butjèns, who served the 52nd, had been
shot through his thigh. I had reserved the 52nd for myself and I was
pointing it. From time to time, I called out to the men who were firing
haphazard: "What are you aiming at? Do not shoot till you see the
enemy." In order to give them confidence, however, I sent off about
thirty cartridges, now and then, towards spots that I believed were
occupied, as I know how it comforts the soldier to feel that he is
being supported by the machine-gun.
In front of us, the firing continued, and the German Maxims never
ceased for an instant their ta-ra-ta-ra-ta. The question was, Where
did this firing come from? It was not until ten o'clock that I finally
caught sight of the enemy trenches. For six hours, until then, I had
been searching the firing range with excellent field-glasses, and had
not been able to discover anything. Suddenly, a German head emerged and
revealed to me the whole position.
"Caught!" I said to myself and I felt the most ferocious joy. I could
now direct my firing, and Hubert Massart, my orderly, served me as
observer. I succeeded, with three strips of thirty cartridges, in
hitting straight at the parapet and the talus. I at once communicated
my discovery to the Infantry and to my 53rd and, from that moment, our
firing was more intense, although intermittent.
The morning passed by without any special incident and I took advantage
of this for examining our position. In front of us was a glacis
something like that of St. Privat, but ten times more dangerous,
considering the power of firearms at present. It was a horseshoe
of fire, skirted with long, low houses, and these were now full of
invisible and almost invulnerable defenders. The background consisted
of two German trenches, separated by a white house with walls of
cracked bricks, which served as a shelter for legions of Boches. The
whole of the morning, the 75 cannons and the 15 Howitzers were directed
on these houses, which, we were told, were occupied by picked shooters
or by machine-guns. Our gunners aimed with wonderful precision, but
the shells went through the first wall, burst in the first room, and
left the others intact. One out of three of our projectiles set fire to
something, which was distinctly better for us.
I was installed behind the first obstacle of a deserted German trench,
slightly outside and in front of our line, which I could flank, if
necessary, whilst meeting a flank attack. To my left there was a gap
opposite the Artillery, but on this side no foot-soldier could be seen.
At mid-day, our brave men suddenly cleared the parapet of their trench
and advanced, crawling along and firing all the time. The line at
once supported them, slightly to the right, and this freed my two
machine-guns. We advanced, in our turn, within the fiery circle, from
which we could only come out dead or conquerors.
I decided to leave the 53rd to continue the firing and flank the
attack, whilst, making use of the empty Boche trench, I could go
forward with the 52nd and support the Infantry.
"Bring the gun," I said to Sergeant Maréchal; "close the cartridge
boxes and follow me."
I then set off to reconnoitre the road along which we had to go and the
place to occupy for the firing. I had only to follow the German trench,
about two hundred yards long, the end of which I was holding. When I
came to the other end of this, I saw that the Infantry was advancing
at a prodigious rate, under an extremely violent fire of musketry and
machine-guns. To my right, in front of me just beyond a cross-road,
was a second Boche trench which, curiously enough, I had not seen. I
cleared the twenty-five yards which separated me from the cross-road. I
then went along the ditch and, with a jump, reached the second trench.
I went quickly right to the end of it and found that this formed a
sort of hook, and that it would be a good position for the firing. I
went quickly back to fetch my men and found they had already reached
the cross-road. Unfortunately it was not possible to free the gun from
the trivet of the Hotchkiss and, on account of the narrowness of the
passage, we had great difficulty in transporting it. We made use of the
ditch along the road, and then slipped into the second German trench.
To the right, half way along, I caught sight of Corporal Boreux, of the
14th, out in the open field. He was dragging himself along with his
legs bleeding.
"Can I have my wounds dressed, Lieutenant?" he called out.
"Quite impossible, my poor fellow!" I replied. "Get down into the
ditch, and as soon as the fight is over, you shall be seen to."
The brave foot-soldiers were already at the end of the second Boche
trench when I arrived and installed my gun.
"Lieutenant," said Maréchal, "there is a machine-gun firing on us."
He was quite right for, from the right of the little house opposite us,
a German gun was sending us its messages. I pointed immediately, at a
distance of two hundred yards, and silenced it with the first volley.
Its rôle was over. I then began to pepper the Boche trenches, to the
right and left of the little house. My gun worked excellently well and
my men were absolutely calm. The brave fellows of the 14th soon passed
by and went farther on. In less than a quarter of an hour they had
cleared four hundred and fifty yards. The line continued to support
them.
"Maréchal," I said, "I am going to entrust you with a confidential
mission. Go and fetch the 53rd and bring it here."
I continued firing, thus neutralising the trench to the right. Our
Artillery was obliged to stop firing on that side, but it peppered
the left part and hit the walls and the houses on the main road from
Louvain to Malines with its shrapnels.
The Germans had no artillery, which was extremely fortunate for us.
My 53rd did not arrive though, and I had decided that, as soon as
it came to relieve me, I would go forward and join the left wing of
my regiment, in order to give these brave fellows, at any cost, the
comfort of the presence of a machine-gun. I wanted to be with them to
the end. Fearing to arrive too late, I decided to start.
"Come along, boys," I said, "the moment has come for the final blow.
Forward!"
I seized the right foot of my gun, Massart the left one.
Janssens gave a hand, and Fraikin and Collard carried the cartridge
cases. With a great effort, we got out of our shelter into the open
field. It was more than imprudence, it was almost foolhardiness. My
shooting had proved to be very superior to the adversary's though,
and the brilliant attack had made me so hopeful. We went along about
ten yards, surrounded by a swarm of balls. The German trenches had
recommenced firing right and left. At a distance of three hundred
yards, their picked shots and their machine-guns were aiming at us.
Suddenly Massart fell, stifling a cry of pain. We all flung ourselves
down on the ground. The well-known "kiss, kiss," was whistling through
the air.
"Who is hit?" I asked. "Is it you, Hubert?"
"Yes, in the arm, Lieutenant."
The other men crawled down into the trenches we had just left.
"Lieutenant, could I have my arm seen to?" asked Hubert.
"Who is to do it?" I said. "Vile Boches! I will pay them for it. Get
close to the trench, put your head against the parapet, and do not stir
from there."
The "kiss, kiss" had ceased, for we were supposed to be all dead, and
there were other objectives. I got up and once more began firing,
but I was alone now in the midst of the fiery circle. My cousin,
Lieutenant Fernand Marissal, who had brought his guns to my right, had
stopped firing for the only reason possible. He had just been killed.
Some Boches, hiding in a house had sent him a ball in the head. The
sharp-shooters no longer existed, the brave Commander Magnette had
been killed at the head of them. I therefore had to face three sides.
I commenced by imposing silence once more on the trench to the left,
and a ball grazed my right cheek and nose. It was a violent shock and
my face was all bleeding, but, fortunately, my eyes were spared. I
continued shooting at the houses on the right and I peppered doors,
windows, and roofs. After this I aimed at the trench, which fired back
at me. I was hit in the right fore-arm. A vein was cut, and this meant
a considerable hemorrhage. I turned up the sleeve of my sweater and
found my shirt quite red; my fingers still worked, but with difficulty.
I meant to make the men in hiding, on the main road, pay for this. My
poor Hubert had dragged himself along to the first trench and he said
to his comrades, who were now shooting with guns: "What, do you mean
to say that the Lieutenant is left alone to do the firing? He has been
wounded twice. Is there no one to help him?" These were his last words.
Mortally wounded as he was, this hero used his last breath to exhort
his comrades to do their duty.
Janssens came out of the trench and charged my machine. I was just
going to fire, when I was hit on the knee and brought to the ground.
"They have broken my leg!" I said. It certainly was in a strange
position, and I pulled it round and stretched it out in front of me.
I fired the last strip of cartridges loaded, and all those in the box
near me. It was all I could do. Janssens had returned to the trench. I
took off my right spur, which was twisting my broken leg, and lay down
on my back, with my head on my shako, and a map on my face to protect
me from the heat of the sun. It was 12.30. The sky was extremely
limpid, with whitish clouds here and there. From time to time, the
crows flew slowly by, uttering their hoarse croak.
"What are your orders, Lieutenant?" suddenly said a voice near me.
It was the brave Maréchal, accompanied by Corporal Treize and Private
Van Herck of the 53rd.
"What about the 53rd?" I asked.
"It won't work, Lieutenant."
"Where is it?"
"We have put it completely out of use."
"Is there nothing more to be done then?"
"Yes, we are going to move you from here, Lieutenant."
"No, my boys," I said, "during action, the wounded cannot be moved." I
could not, of course, accept for myself what I had refused twice for my
men.
"Put the gun out of use," I said.
"We are going to save it, Lieutenant."
Taking advantage of a lull, he and the other two seized the gun and
managed to drag it into the trench. This was a joy to me. The assault
had failed. The first line had been massacred and those supporting it
had stopped firing. Behind us and to the right, the Darche Company, of
the 14th, now occupied the cross-road, where my poor cousin's two guns
had been once more brought into action. Farther on, and to the left,
the Moreau Company was defending Magnette's trench. The balls of this
Company, as well as those of the enemy, passed over my head. Before
going away with my 52nd, the good fellows begged affectionately to
take me away. I refused categorically, for, as an officer, I wished
to share the same fate as the brave soldiers who had fallen during
the attack. I put an eighth cartridge into my Browning, determined to
defend myself to the end. Presently, I heard the breathing of my poor
Hubert Massart develop into the death rattle. A significant crispation
of the spine caused his chest to swell, his nostrils were ominously
drawn. I was present at his death and could do nothing.
As to myself, I was happy and very proud. My blood was flowing freely
and I had nothing with which to staunch the wound. Fortunately, my
tight breeches and my putties served as a sort of harness and, as
vigorously as my injured hand allowed me, I fastened the strap of my
field-glasses round my thigh.
The combat continued intermittently. At 5.30, a few Boche shells were
still falling here and there, within the firing range. One of them
buried itself a few yards away from me and the soil thrown up by the
explosion half covered me. I determined to try and rejoin the Darche
Company and began to drag myself along on my back, with the help of my
one leg and my elbows, leaving behind me a line of blood. From time to
time, I lifted my arm to show my rank to friends, and I heard them cry
out distinctly:
"Take care, take care, the Lieutenant!"
Towards 6.30 I reached the cross-road and, by a miracle, I managed
to clear the first ditch. One of the sharp-shooters took me by the
shoulders when I arrived at the second one. He dragged me the whole
length of the ditch to the left of his Company. Corporal Boreux and
other wounded men were there and we were then in safety.