The Wavre-St. Catherine Combat
By Sub-Lieutenant Henroz, in Command of the 1st Company of the 1st
Battalion of the 2nd Regiment of Fortress Carabineers
(September 28-October 10, 1914)
As the Germans were harassed by the Belgian army and uneasy as regarded
the flank of their line of communication, they decided to take their
revenge on the Antwerp fortress, which was the refuge of our army after
each of our offensive operations.
At the end of September, the enemy had received a reinforcement of
troops of all kinds of arms, but more particularly of siege Artillery
and Pioneers, as these had been freed by the fall of Maubeuge.
On the 27th of September, at 7 in the morning, I received orders to
occupy the trenches with my Company and to suspend all work. My Company
was in the interval of the Dorpveld redoubt and the Wavre-St. Catherine
Fort. It was supported on the right by the Company of the Staff Deputy
Captain Commander Havenith, who was in command of the interval. The
Germans, that day, had commenced driving back the detachment of the
1st Army Division, which was holding the front of the line. We knew,
therefore, that they were going to attack us, but we were convinced
that our positions were absolutely inviolable, as we had organised
them so carefully and they were bristling with engines of warfare of
every kind. We awaited the first contact, therefore, with the greatest
confidence. The whole day was very calm all around the Fort. A Belgian
aëroplane was brought down and fell in our lines, near to our little
post.
_Monday, September 28th._ There was every promise of a fine day. Far
away, in the background, two Boche captive balloons went up. They were
rocking about at the wind's pleasure, in a threatening way. We could
hear the purring of their motors. Both these signs were prophetic of
an imminent attack. Towards 11 o'clock, a distant whizzing sound was
heard. This was soon transformed into a thunderous roaring, which
increased all the time and finished in a formidable explosion. Through
the trench lookout, we could see, at about 150 metres in front of the
Wavre-St. Catherine Fort, a column of smoke at least twenty yards high.
It was a 420 millimetre which had just exploded. Exactly eleven minutes
later, a second shell fell, with the same noise, within fifty yards of
the glacis. Every man was ready, and all eyes were fixed on the Fort
with anguish. We did not have to wait long for the third shell. Eleven
minutes later it burst, straight on the Fort....
"Poor Catherine!" said the men. In spite of her wounds, though,
Catherine continued spitting forth her balls. The firing of the 420
continued, at intervals of eleven to twelve minutes, the whole of the
morning. During the afternoon, the firing was still more intense and
the shells then arrived in salvos of two. Many of them, fortunately
for the Fort, missed their mark, but the resistance was seriously
endangered. The cementing and the plating had only been calculated in
view of a bombardment with guns of twenty-one centimetres at the most.
We frequently saw five or six of the artillery-men come out from the
earthworks and, between two storms, climb quickly on to the Fort and
fill up the excavations, made by the projectiles, with sacks of earth.
At the approach of the next bolides, they rushed away again as quickly
as they could. Some of them even, braving the metal monsters, continued
their work. These courageous men gave the soldiers in the trenches a
fine example of heroism. We watched them in amazement and felt our
own courage increase. The bombardment ceased at exactly 4.30 in the
afternoon. The cement of the Fort was cracked and the passages blocked
by the sickening odour of the gases. There was no victim on either
side. The Wavre-St. Catherine Fort had received its baptism of fire.
_Tuesday, September 29th._ The 1st and 2nd Divisions were now in
the 3rd Sector, Waelhem-Lierre; the 3rd and 6th Divisions in the
4th Sector, Waelhem-Escaut; the 4th Division occupied Termonde, and
the 5th formed the general reserve. The bombardment began again at
daybreak, and very soon the huge shells were falling thickly on the
Fort. Occasionally, one of these masses, badly aimed, burst on the
interval. It was a regular earthquake. The ground shook and it seemed
as though the earth were about to open and swallow us up. Presently,
the firing increased in intensity. At certain moments, the Fort was
cannonaded, at a speed of twenty to twenty-five a minute, with shells
of every calibre. The noise was deafening. We could scarcely hear
each other speak. Everyone feared for the Fort and each time that a
shell was "drunk in" by it, the men murmured: "Poor Catherine!" Towards
ten o'clock, the firing of shrapnels on to the interval commenced.
Commander Havenith gave me the order to occupy the fighting trench,
with a section. The remainder of my troop took up their quarters in the
trench-shelter, about fifty yards behind us.
During this change, a volley of shrapnels fell on the communication
trench. Four men were very slightly wounded, one of whom was Sergeant
Claudot, a volunteer. We were obliged to evacuate him. Presently, it
was the turn of the Wavre-St. Catherine village to get its share.
Several of the volleys made a fair number of victims, some of whom
were civilians. This caused a panic and the people, terrified and wild
with fear, rushed off taking with them a few of their possessions. The
women, in tears, dragged their little ones along with them, and the
children, without knowing why, uttered the most heart-rending cries.
Just as the darkness was coming on, several houses were in flames.
We were present, and absolutely powerless, at this lamentable scene,
and we were furious at not being able to avenge these unfortunate
people. On every side, the cannon was thundering. The air, saturated
with smoke, was bitter, and the odour of the powder was suffocating.
Gradually, everything became calm once more and the sentinels went
to their posts, just beyond the network of barbed wire. Up to the
present, our cooking had always been done in the trench, by the side
of the machine-gun shelter. During the bombardment, a wretched shell
had plunged into the water in which the soup was cooking, and had
scattered the meat and broth everywhere. As all communication with
our rear was cut, it was impossible to get fresh food. I advised my
men to be economical with what they still had and, above all, to keep
their reserve rations at any cost. They were quite calm, unmindful of
the danger they had run during the day, and they did not protest in
the least. They went bravely to their observation posts, whilst their
comrades took a little rest. The night passed by without any incident.
_Wednesday, September 30th._ The Company was still occupying the same
position. The sun had scarcely risen, when the bombarding of the
Forts, of the interval, and of the redoubt began as fresh as ever. A
reinforcement arrived for me, the 2nd Company of the 3rd Battalion of
the 6th Line Regiment, which at once occupied the shelter trench. More
than three hundred men were huddled together in this hole. I began to
fear a 42 dropping on this trench. What a horrible carnage it would
be! I trembled to think of the danger my men were in. They never even
thought of this themselves. They were delighted about the unexpected
reinforcement and their one idea was victory. Shells of every calibre
were raining down from every side, and shell-mines were exploding with
a frightful noise. The firing was getting more exact and reached our
parapet. The trench shook, and I wondered whether it would fall in.
Fragments of the shells fell at our feet, and suddenly one shell hit
the trench. As soon as the smoke was dispersed, we saw, with horror,
that several men were buried under the _débris_. We could hear them
calling out and, for the first moment, we all remained motionless,
riveted to the spot in stupor and horror. Then several men rushed to
the rescue of their comrades. I advanced and saw that our poor Vander
Stappen had been decapitated. His head lay intact at his feet. Three
others, one of whom was Sergeant Dooms, were seriously wounded. The
shells continued to arrive in showers. It was frightful! The men were
lying down on the ground, with their blankets over their heads to
protect them from the shell fragments, and in order that they might
not see anything. A soldier, near me, took out of his pocket-book the
portrait of his wife and children. There were three of them grouped
around their mother. During this infernal bombardment, the poor man,
seeing death so near, wanted to see his own family once more. With
tears in his eyes, he shook his head sadly. I sat down by him and, in
a few words, I managed to revive his courage. He got up suddenly and,
shaking his fist in the enemy's direction, called out: "Come on then,
you vile Boches, we shall see whether you are as good with the bayonet
as with your 42." He had scarcely uttered the last word, when a still
more formidable explosion than all the others made us start. The powder
room of the Fort had been blown up. Poor Catherine! Our Artillery,
placed in the intervals, although like us subjected to a violent
bombardment, was answering courageously. Our men were encouraged by
this; they felt they were being supported. It was now exactly 11.45.
A breathless messenger arrived and, with a trembling hand, gave me a
sealed letter. It was an order from the Commander of the fortified
position of Antwerp.
"In spite of the bombardment, no matter how terrible it may be, you
must resist to the uttermost, even to death!" Good, we will resist!
I dismissed the messenger, a boy of eighteen. Without troubling in the
least about the shells and shrapnels, he hurried back to his post. The
Germans were still bombarding the Dorpveld redoubt furiously. A 42 fell
on a house near the Fort. Nothing was left of it but a heap of ruins,
and some of the bricks fell into our trench. The hours passed by and
the day gradually came to an end. In the evening, the cannonading was
less intense and the soldiers took advantage of this to move about
and stretch their limbs. They were gay, glad to see each other again,
and to have escaped death. They were also awaiting the arrival of the
Boches most hopefully. The results of the day's combat had been: one
killed and five wounded. When once the little posts were all organised,
everyone was on the watch. None of the men wanted to rest. They were
convinced that there would be a night attack and they all wanted to be
there, in order to fire the first shot, and to receive the enemy in a
proper way. Contrary to our expectation, the night passed by without
incident, except for a few patrols being seen near the village.
_Thursday, October 1st._ The Company occupied the same post. The
bombardment, both in the intervals and on the positions in the rear,
began again and was still more terrible than on the preceding days. The
Boches poured down upon us their projectiles of every calibre. Our men
remained there undaunted, in spite of showers of shot. The batteries
replied all the time. The Forts alone were silent, as they had been
completely destroyed. The bombardment continued with the most intense
violence, as though the enemy wanted to crush us completely, by means
of the heavy artillery, against which we were, of course, powerless.
The noise was beyond all description. In less than twenty minutes, I
counted three men killed and about ten wounded. My trench seemed likely
to be entirely destroyed and, at all costs, it was necessary to repair
it. At my request, several volunteers came forward and, in spite of
the bombardment, worked energetically. The losses were great, but not
a man dreamed of budging from his post. The order had come to resist
to the uttermost, to hold out in spite of everything, and we intended
to obey. We were resolved to die at our posts if necessary. The shells
continued all the time to rain down on us. In the village of Wavre-St.
Catherine, the ravages were terrible. The whole locality trembled under
a continuous roar like thunder. It was in this hell that the soldiers
entrusted with the defence had to hold out. Sub-Lieutenant Blanckaert
and his gunners were stationed near the church. They took shelter as
best they could, and one of the most imposing sights was their coolness
under the infernal bombardment. The enemy Artillery, with its usual
sacrilegious rage, aimed at the Church, which was still standing. The
steeple was just hit and some houses near fell in ruins. From time to
time, a more formidable explosion was heard, and someone would remark
simply: "That's another 42." It was very evident that the enemy was
endeavouring to render our positions impossible by the intensity of the
bombarding, hoping thus to demoralise us. In our poor trench, which
shook and rocked in a way calculated to give us all sea-sickness, the
sight was terrifying. Each time that a shell of big calibre struck it,
whole positions gave way, burying together the dead, the wounded, and
the living. Two, three, and four huge shells a minute fell on it.
The captain of the 6th Line Regiment, M. Bisschop,[7] fell at my side,
with his shoulder shattered. In the trenches, the men held out, in
spite of the horrible nervous tension, of thirst, of the sight of
their comrades cut up, and of the plaintive moans of the wounded.
Sergeant-Major Demarche was also wounded. Our batteries were firing at
full speed, but they too suffered, as they were sighted by the accursed
captive balloons. Shrapnels and mine-shells burst over our cannons,
which were destroyed, one after the other. Our brave gunners lay there
at the side of them. It was horrible! The situation grew more and more
critical. In the absence of the Captain of the 6th Line Regiment, who
had been evacuated, I had to take command of the trench. At exactly
2.30 in the afternoon, we suddenly saw two men in the wire network,
two hundred yards in front of the Fort. They were certainly Boches,
but what were they doing there, as their own shells were falling near
them? Three volleys were fired from the trench of Captain Commander
A.E.M. Havenith. One of the Boches fell and got up again. He fell a
second time, and the other one made off. A quarter of an hour later he
returned, accompanied by two comrades, wearing an armlet and waving a
Red Cross flag. Not a shot was fired, and the wounded man was taken to
the German lines. The bombardment continued and was only less intense
towards nightfall. The Commander of the Fort, who had evacuated his
stronghold, took advantage of the lull to go back to it, but it was
partly destroyed. The heavy shield of a cupola of fifteen centimetres
had completely disappeared, and its ruins were also on fire. I had
the dead buried, and the wounded taken away. Towards five o'clock, I
received an order from the Commander of the interval to occupy the
fighting trench with the two Companies. An attack was expected during
the night. When once my observation sentinels were at their posts, we
awaited the arrival of the Germans. We took advantage of a moment's
lull to eat something. The men had nothing left but their last reserve
rations. We did not know what we should do for eatables the following
day. The men were very thirsty, their throats were parched, and there
was no water. Some of them found some behind the trench. It was rather
muddy, but that did not matter, as it refreshed them. Guessing that I,
too, was thirsty, one of the brave fellows offered me his flask.
"Thanks," I replied, "keep it for to-morrow. I am not thirsty."
"But, Lieutenant, there is sugar with it!!!" he insisted.
I was just on my way to visit my posts, and had scarcely gone twenty
steps when a Corporal arrived.
"Lieutenant," he said, "the Boches are there, near the wire."
I listened and sure enough the bells fastened to the wire were
tinkling. There was no doubt about it. They were there. I gave the
command, "Fire!" and my men opened a vigorous firing on the wire
network. It was a hellish firing. The bullets cut the wire and
thousands of sparks were soon flying. The redoubt, that everyone
believed destroyed, was soon aglow like a furnace and sent showers of
shot on the enemy. My men shouted "Victory!" and were delighted to
open fire, but furious at not seeing any Boches. The night was as black
as ink and we could not see two yards in front of us.
The Germans, surprised in their attack, replied energetically, but
they fired over us. Three quarters of an hour later, all was calm
once more. From time to time, a few enemy balls fell behind us, as
though they were aimed at a wall which did not exist. We all had the
same impression. They were explosive bullets. Several patrols were
sent to search in the neighbourhood. I let half of the men rest. As I
had scarcely any ammunition left, I sent Sergeant-Major Cromphout to
ask Captain Commander Havenith to let me have some cartridges without
fail. I learnt afterwards that the Sergeant-Major never arrived. What
happened to him? Was he killed, or had he only disappeared? The night
passed by without any other event.
_October 2nd._ At daybreak, the enemy's heavy artillery recommenced
its destructive firing. The Duffel bridge was attacked by shells of 13
centimetres. More than 250 shells fell on the station in less than two
hours and a half. The Wavre-St. Catherine Fort and the Dorpveld redoubt
were covered afresh with projectiles. These were the preliminaries
of an Infantry attack. Towards 6.45, over two hundred men appeared,
marching in close ranks, on the Malines road and, crossing the fields,
went at full speed in the direction of the redoubt. I at once commanded
quick firing. My men aimed well and, at two hundred yards' distance,
whole ranks were mown down. These were quickly replaced by others,
which, in their turn fell under the firing of our Mausers. Suddenly,
the whole band stopped short and a few men began waving Belgian flags
and white flags. We could now distinguish their uniforms better and we
saw that these belonged to our Line Regiments.
"Stop firing they are our men!" called out the soldiers. Instead of
this, I gave orders to continue firing. The Germans had once more
violated the laws of warfare, by clothing their troops in our uniforms,
stolen from our dépôts. The firing began again more violently now than
before and, of all these troops, only about thirty men reached the
redoubt and at once hid in the ditches. One of them, who was carrying
posters, put these up at the top of the redoubt, the inside towards
the enemy. I could not read signals of this kind. The firing ceased
and, ten minutes later, one of the posters fell and about twenty
Germans then made off in the direction of their lines. A few seconds
later, we heard the _mac-mac_ of their machine-guns placed above the
redoubt. They were turned in our direction and their balls pierced our
loopholes. Sergeant Chaignot, a volunteer, who had his gun pointed at
one of the machine-guns, fell down dead, hit in the forehead. This
brave boy, who was only just seventeen, was the only son of a widow. A
short lull enabled me to have our wounded men evacuated.
The enemy now only bombarded our positions in the rear. Just when
the German Artillery began to lengthen its firing range, the enemy
Infantry suddenly emerged from somewhere, yelling! "Hoch!" They rushed
towards the Wavre-St. Catherine Fort. I had orders to hold out to
the uttermost, but, as I was turned on my right and had scarcely any
cartridges left, it was evident that I should be surrounded. To the
right, Captain-Commander Havenith, who was outflanked, was falling back
in good order. There was no safety for me, therefore, on that side. I
saw that I should be compelled to beat a retreat in the direction of
the chapel, some five hundred yards behind our line. Corporal Deron and
about ten men remained behind to continue firing until the last soldier
had left the trench.
I have to deplore the loss of many victims. The accursed machine-guns
of the redoubt mowed down about twenty of my men. Many of them
were wounded and, as we could not take them away, they remained,
unfortunately, in the hands of the Germans. When we had reached the
post at the chapel, which was our second line, I gave orders to occupy
the new trench. We had not time to do this, as about fifty Teutons,
whom I had not seen, fired, from their ambush, at our flank and several
of my men fell. We were compelled to retreat again, leaving our wounded
behind. We were pursued as far as Poupelaerstraat, where, worn out and
exhausted, my Company halted for a short rest.
We were all thankful to have escaped the enemy. If we had stayed five
minutes longer in the trenches, we should all have been prisoners. I
next went in the direction of Elzemtraat, to our concentration spot,
the Duffel bridge. On entering the village, I met Captain-Commander
Havenith. He was glad to see me again after these terrible days. He
congratulated me on having held out valiantly with my men during the
five days of furious bombardment, and on having fallen back in good
order. During the rest that I gave to my men, I found that seventy-five
soldiers were missing at the general roll-call. They had been killed
or wounded, or had disappeared. Two officers only remained, First
Sergeant Coppens and I. We thought we had earned a few days' rest in
the rear, but, as soon as we had been supplied again with cartridges
and provisions, we received orders to take up our position once more
between Wavre-St. Catherine and Duffel.
We were greeted there by a fresh bombardment. Outflanked on our right,
in the direction of Waelhem, we were obliged to fall back on Duffel.
It took us some time to pass through this village, as it was being
bombarded by shells of big calibre. We soon received orders to fall
back at any cost. We went along quickly, crossed the Duffel bridge,
which was being shelled with absolute frenzy. We rushed along like a
hurricane and drew up beyond the village, without having lost a single
man. We were then ordered to fall back on Linth, where we arrived in
the evening. Commander Havenith had received the same order. The rest
of the regiment was there. I was present when the chief of the Corps
congratulated Sergeant Delobbel on his fine conduct under fire, and his
bravery during the bombardment. At the risk of his own life, he had
saved his Commander (Commander Van der Minnen), who had been buried in
the trench. Another feat of this sub-officer deserves to be recorded.
His Company was just between the Koningshoyckt Fort and the Borsbeek
redoubt. The gunners of a 75 battery, which supported the trench on the
left, had left their cannons behind. These cannons would be extremely
useful against the German cannons and the Boche Infantry, which was
installed only eight hundred yards away from the position.
Without any hesitation, carried away by his patriotism, Delobbel, who
knew how to handle a cannon, offered himself for putting the battery
into action again. With three men, one of whom was a wounded gunner,
he went to the battery. All the defences were shattered and there was
no longer any earthwork to count on. Under the direct fire of the
Infantry and the big cannons, Sergeant Delobbel wanted to begin firing
at six hundred yards, but unfortunately the gunners had unfastened
the breeches and other parts before leaving. With the straps of their
knapsacks, the brave fellows improvised what was necessary and very
soon their cannons opened an infernal fire. Unfortunately, exposed
to the firing of the Infantry, two of the improvised gunners were
disabled and a fragment of shrapnel killed the third. Two cannons were
thus useless, but our sub-officer continued alone, and the shells fell
fast on the Boches. Very soon, though, completely exhausted, fired at
fiercely from ambush and his last cannon destroyed, he was obliged to
burrow, and it was impossible for him to return to the trench until the
evening. Needless to describe the welcome he received there!
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 7: In spite of several operations the Captain is still
crippled.]