SOLDIERS' STORIES OF THE BATTLE OF MONS.
The account of the Battle of Mons which you have just read has been
built up from two main sources of information. First, and most
important, is the dispatch of Sir John French. It is a plain,
business-like statement, giving a broad outline of the manner in which
his troops were disposed, and relating in proper order the chief
features of the struggle, but not telling us much about the details of
the fighting. Then come the accounts which the soldiers who took part in
the battle have given of their experiences. Of course each of these
soldiers only saw but a very small portion of the battle, and they knew
very little of the "moves" which their commanders were making; but it is
from them that we hear those details which give life and colour to the
story. In this chapter you are going to read some accounts of various
incidents in the battle as told by those who fought at Mons on the 23rd
day of August 1914.
Here is the story told by a Gordon Highlander named Smiley. He drew a
little diagram to illustrate the fighting which he saw, and I reproduce
it on the next page in order that you may the more easily follow his
story. You will notice that he and his comrades held a trench to the
south of Mons.
"We marched out of our billets at 4 a.m. We marched up to No. 1 and
wheeled to the right, which fetched us on the main Paris road (No.
4.4.4.4), with Mons itself somewhat half-left on our rear. We
immediately set about clearing the foreground of willows, beans, wheat,
and anything which gave head cover. About 10 a.m. we had (except
buildings) a clear rifle range of quite two thousand yards. We then dug
our trenches, and much labour and love we put into them.
[Illustration]
"The ball opened at 11.30 a.m. by a terrible artillery duel by the
Germans over our trenches to No. 5. This went on for some hours, until a
movement of infantry was seen at No. 6. This movement was evidently
intended for the Gordons, as you will see that had they managed to reach
the wood in front of us (No. 7) our position would have been made
untenable by hidden infantry and well-served artillery, who could have
flanked us by sheer weight of numbers.
"However, we opened on them at No. 6 with a terrific Maxim fire. They
advanced in companies of quite one hundred and fifty men in files five
deep. Guess the result. We could steady our rifles on the trench and
take deliberate aim. The first company were simply blasted away by a
volley at seven hundred yards, and in their insane formation every
bullet was almost sure to find two billets. The other companies kept
advancing very slowly, using their dead comrades as cover; but they had
absolutely no chance, and at about 5 p.m. their infantry retired.
"We were still being subjected to a terrible artillery fire. But we had
time to see what was happening on our left flank (1, 2, 3). The Royal
Irish Regiment had been surprised and fearfully cut up, and so, too, had
the Middlesex, and it was found impossible for our B and C Companies to
reinforce them. We (D Company) were one and a half miles away, and were
ordered to proceed to No. 2 and relieve the Royal Irish as much as
possible. We crept from our trenches and crossed to the other side of
the road, where we had the benefit of a ditch and the road camber[21] as
cover. We made most excellent progress until one hundred and fifty yards
from No. 1. At that distance there was a small white house flush with
the road standing in a clearance. Our young sub.[22] was leading, and
safely crossed the front of the house. Immediately the Germans opened a
cyclone of shrapnel at the house. They could not see us, but I guess
they knew the reason why troops would or might pass that house. However,
we were to relieve the R.I.'s, and astounding as it may seem, we passed
that house, and I was the only one to be hit. Even yet I am amazed at
our luck.
"By this time dusk had set in, four villages were on fire, and the
Germans had been and were shelling the hospitals. We managed to get into
the R.I.'s trench, and beat off a very faint-hearted Uhlan attack on us.
About 9 p.m. came our orders to retire. What a pitiful handful we were
against that host, and yet we held the flower of the German army at bay
all day!"
* * * * *
Another soldier who was present in this part of the battlefield says:--
"We were digging trenches, and were totally unaware that the enemy was
near us, when all of a sudden shells came dropping all around, and the
Germans bore down on us. One of the Middlesex companies was not at that
time equipped in any way, with the result that they were terribly cut
up. Then I witnessed what a real Britisher is made of. One of the
sergeants of the Middlesex, instead of holding up hands and begging for
mercy, like the Germans do, fought furiously with his fists, downing two
Germans with successive blows. Other members of the Middlesex followed
their sergeant's example. Later on a German sergeant-major who was taken
prisoner, on viewing our numbers, said, 'Had we been aware that there
were so few of you, not one of you would have escaped.'"
* * * * *
In scores of soldiers' letters we find references to the overwhelming
numbers of the enemy. One young private wrote as follows to his father,
who is a gardener: "You complained last summer, dad, of the swarm of
wasps that destroyed your fruit. That will give you an idea of how the
Germans came for us." Another man writes: "It looked as if we were going
to be snowed under. The mass of men who came on was an avalanche, and
every one of us must have been trodden to death, if not killed by
shells or bullets, had not our infantry charged into them on the left
wing, not five hundred yards from the trench I was in." A
non-commissioned officer also refers to the odds against which our men
struggled: "No regiment ever fought harder than we did, and no regiment
has ever had better officers; they went shoulder to shoulder with their
men. But you cannot expect impossibilities, no matter how brave the boys
are, when one is fighting forces twenty to thirty times as strong."
"They are more like flies," said another man: "the more you kill the
more there seem to be."
[Illustration: Holding the Canal at Mons.
_[By permission of The Sphere._]
Here is the story of Lance-Corporal M'Auslan of the Royal Scots
Fusiliers, who was fighting on the Mons-Condé line. He says: "I was up
in the engagement before Mons on the Saturday. We marched thirty miles,
and had an engagement with the enemy, and fought a rearguard action over
twenty miles for twenty-four hours. The canal at Mons must be full of
German dead now. We were working two nights to prevent them crossing the
canal, and we mowed them down like corn. The D Company of our regiment
was cut up in about ten minutes, and Captain Ross and Captain Young lost
their lives. I was with Captain Ross when he got bowled over. It was not
the rifle fire that hurt us--they could not hit us at fifty yards--but
it was the shrapnel fire that caused the damage. The German big gun fire
was good, but their rifle fire was rotten. The aeroplanes did all the
piloting. They gave the Germans the range of our guns, and they shelled
us pretty successfully; but we brought down two Zeppelins and an
aeroplane in the first two days of the battle."
* * * * *
A _Times_ correspondent tells us that he was much impressed by the
coolness and dash of our men, and their utter indifference to danger. "I
shall never forget," he writes, "the admirable reply given by an English
soldier, wounded in the hand, whom I found sitting by the roadside
outside Mons, wearing an air of consternation. I began to talk to him,
and asked him if his wound was hurting him. 'It's not that,' he said,
with a doleful shake of the head, 'but I'm blessed if I haven't been and
lost my pipe in that last charge!' I gave him mine, and he was instantly
comforted."
* * * * *
Here is a fine story of the fights for the bridges at Condé where the
canal joins the river Scheldt; it is told by Private W. E. Carter of the
2nd Manchester Regiment:--
"To deliver their attacks it was necessary for the enemy to cross two
bridges. The officer in command of the Royal Engineers ordered a
non-commissioned officer to swim the canal and the river, and set fuses
under both bridges. He reached the farther bank in safety, and on
returning he set a fuse under the river bridge. When making for 'home'
one of the enemy's big guns fired on him, and blew away one of his arms
at the shoulder. Another member of the same corps entered the water and
assisted him to land. When the Germans had marched over the first bridge
it was blown up, leaving their ammunition carts on the other side. Then
the second bridge was blown up, and a German force of 25,000 was placed
at our mercy. A desperate fight followed, the Germans being left with no
ammunition but what they carried. They struggled heroically to build a
bridge with the object of getting their ammunition carts across, but
every time this improvised bridge was destroyed by our artillery fire.
Though they were thus trapped, the Germans held their ground very
stubbornly."
* * * * *
The following is an account of how some of our men were trapped. A
wounded officer says: "We were guarding a railway bridge over a canal.
My company held a semicircle from the railway to the canal. I was
nearest the railway. A Scottish regiment completed the semicircle on the
right of the railway to the canal. The railway was on a high embankment
running up to the bridge, so that the Scottish regiment was out of sight
of us.
"We held the Germans all day, killing hundreds, when about 5 p.m. the
order to retire was given. It never reached us, and we were left all
alone. The Germans therefore got right up to the canal on our right,
hidden by the railway embankment, and crossed the railway. Our people
had blown up the bridge before their departure. We found ourselves
between two fires, and I realized we had about two thousand Germans and
a canal between us and our friends. We decided to sell our lives dearly.
I ordered my men to fix bayonets and charge, which the gallant fellows
did splendidly; but we got shot down like ninepins. As I was loading my
revolver after giving the order to fix bayonets I was hit in the right
wrist. I dropped my revolver; my hand was too weak to draw my sword. I
had not got far when I got a bullet through the calf of my right leg and
another in my right knee, which brought me down.
"The rest of my men got driven round into the trench on our left. The
officer there charged the Germans and was killed, and nearly all the men
were either killed or wounded. I did not see this part of the business,
but from all accounts the gallant men charged with the greatest bravery.
Those who could walk the Germans took away as prisoners. I have since
learnt from civilians that around the bridge five thousand Germans were
found dead, and about sixty English. These sixty must have been nearly
all my company, who were so unfortunately left behind."
[Illustration: In the Trenches--waiting for an Attack.
_Photopress._]
* * * * *
One of the finest features of our army is the admiration of the rank and
file for their officers, and the equally sincere admiration of the
officers for their men. In letters home they are constantly praising
each other. A cavalry officer writes in his diary: "Can't help feeling
jolly proud to command such a magnificent body of men. Hope to goodness
I am capable of doing the lads full justice. Our men ARE playing the
game;" while a private pays the following striking tribute to his
officer: "You know I have often spoken of Captain ----, and what a fine
fellow he was. There was no braver man on the field. He got knocked over
early with a piece of shell which smashed his leg. He must have been in
great pain, but kneeling on one knee, he was cheerful, and kept saying,
'My bonnie boys, make sure of your man.' When he was taken away on the
ambulance he shouted, 'Keep cool, and mark your man.'"
* * * * *
During the hot hours of the fierce fighting our men were frequently very
thirsty, and longed for a cooling drink. Over and over again peasant
women came up to the trenches with water and fruit for the parched and
wearied men. They showed the most wonderful courage in approaching the
firing line, and our soldiers were most grateful to them. One man wrote
home to his mother: "I can assure you they are the bravest souls I have
ever met." All honour to these noble women for their deeds of mercy in
the day of battle.
* * * * *
The following stories give us a capital idea of the high spirits and
undaunted gaiety of our men under fire. A party of British infantry were
defending a café near Mons. As often as the Germans attacked the place
they were driven back, though big holes were gaping in the walls and the
place was rapidly becoming a ruin. There was an automatic piano in the
café, and every time the Germans appeared, one soldier would say to
another, "Put a penny in the slot, Jock, and give them some music to
dance to." Each time the enemy attacked this was done, and the "band"
struck up.
A wounded lancer tells us that when the Germans bore down on his trench
the men were singing "Hitchy Koo." "Before we were half through with the
chorus," he says, "the man next to me got a wound in the upper part of
his arm. But he sang the chorus to the finish, and did not seem to know
that he was hit until a comrade on the other side said, 'Don't you think
you'd better have it bound up? It's beginning to make a mess.'"
Captain Buchanan Dunlop, who was wounded at Mons, tells a splendid story
to illustrate the pluck and undaunted spirit of our men. He says: "I was
talking to an officer of my own regiment in town yesterday. He was also
wounded, and he told me about a fight in which one of his men lying just
in front of him under a heavy shell fire turned to him and said, 'Sir,
may I retire?' 'Why?' asked the officer. 'Sir,' replied the man, 'I have
been hit three times.'"
* * * * *
Every boy and every girl who reads these pages has heard of the Victoria
Cross, the highest award of valour known to the British army. Perhaps
you have seen a man who has won it. If so, I am sure that your eyes
shone as you looked at him, for there is no nobler sight in all the
world than a man who is supremely brave. The Victoria Cross is a simple
Maltese cross of bronze, worth about fourpence halfpenny, and it is so
called because it was first instituted by Queen Victoria in the year
1856.
"Her cross of valour to her worthiest;
No golden toy with milky pearls besprent,
But simple bronze, and for a warrior's breast
A fair, fit ornament."
The special glory of the Victoria Cross is that any soldier can win it,
be he general or private, son of a peer or son of a scavenger. It is
given "For Valour," and for valour only. So highly honourable is it
that, no matter what other distinctions a man may possess, the letters
"V.C." come first after his name. It is suspended by a red ribbon if
worn on the breast of a soldier, and by a blue ribbon if worn by a
sailor. It carries with it a pension of ten pounds a year, which may be
increased if the possessor cannot earn a livelihood.
[Illustration: The Victoria Cross.]
Let me tell you something of the men who did such glorious deeds of
valour at Mons that they were afterwards awarded the Victoria Cross.
Captain Theodore Wright, of the Royal Engineers, was engaged in blowing
up one of the bridges over the Mons-Condé canal. While preparing the
bridge for destruction he was wounded in the head; but he stuck to his
work, and refused to retire. The fuse failed to explode the charge, and
then, wounded as he was, he dashed forward under a very heavy fire and
fixed another fuse, which this time did its work and blew the bridge to
fragments. On 16th November he was awarded the Victoria Cross; but,
alas! he had then been dead two months. He was killed while assisting
wounded men into shelter.
Lieutenant Maurice James Dease, of the 4th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers,
was commander of the machine-gun section at Mons. Though he was badly
wounded two or three times, he refused to leave his guns, and kept them
in action until all his men were shot. He, too, died of his wounds, and
the coveted Victoria Cross was handed to his relatives, who cherish it,
you may be sure, with mingled pride and sorrow.
Corporal Charles Ernest Garforth, of the 15th Hussars, also won the
Victoria Cross on that dread day at a place about three miles south of
Mons. His squadron was trapped, and the only road of escape was barred
by entanglements of barbed wire. He volunteered to go forward and cut
the wire, and this he did while hundreds of bullets flew about him.
Thanks to his dauntless courage, his squadron was able to reach safety.
Twice later he did equally heroic deeds, and never was the coveted cross
more splendidly won.
Lance-Corporal Charles Alfred Jarvis, 57th Field Company, Royal
Engineers, showed great gallantry at Jemappes on the canal to the west
of Mons. He worked on a bridge for one and a half hours in full view of
the enemy, who kept up a heavy fire upon him. For a time he had the
assistance of his comrades, but finally he sent them to the rear, and
then all alone fired the charges which brought down the bridge. For this
deed he was rightly enrolled in that glorious band of heroes who have
wrought and fought and died to make us inheritors of deathless fame.
[Illustration: Lance-Corporal Jarvis preparing to destroy a Bridge.
_Drawn by Ernest Prater from a rough sketch by Lance-Corporal Jarvis._
Engineers destroy a bridge such as the above by fixing one or more slabs
of gun-cotton in close contact with it. Wires are attached to the
gun-cotton, and by means of electricity the charge is fired. The
engineers must calculate the amount of gun-cotton required, and choose
the most suitable position for fixing the charge, so that the explosion
may have the desired effect.]
[Footnote 21: Slight arch or upward bend.]
[Footnote 22: Subaltern, officer below the rank of captain.]