A GLORIOUS STAND.
The position to which the British were now slowly retiring was in the
neighbourhood of Le Cateau,[48] to the south-east of Cambrai.[49] Your
geography book tells you that Cambrai gave its name to the fine linen or
muslin which was first made in the fifteenth century, and is known as
cambric. Le Cateau has important woollen and merino spinning-mills, and
figures in British history as the place where peace was signed between
England, France, and Spain in the second year of Queen Elizabeth's
reign. The proposed British lines extended from Cambrai through Le
Cateau to Landrecies,[50] on the Sambre. Landrecies is famous as the
birthplace of Dupleix,[51] who founded French power in India. There is a
bronze statue to his memory in the little town.
The ground had been partly prepared and entrenched on the previous day;
but Sir John French tells us in a dispatch that, owing to the
ever-increasing numbers of the enemy, he had grave doubts as to the
wisdom of making a stand before he had shaken off the foe. Early as the
start had been, it was late in the day before the first of the troops
from the north reached the new line, and night had fallen when the last
of them came in. By this time a new British division had reached Le
Cateau. It had been brought up by train, and was now hurried off to
protect the left flank of the retreat.
The moment our weary men reached their position they were set to work
entrenching their front. Then they had supper, and lay down for that
long sleep which they sorely needed. There was a gap in the British
line which Sir John French meant to fill up, but "the men were
exhausted, and could get no farther on without rest." By nine o'clock
all was peaceful along the front of the Second Corps, and on the right
the men of the First Corps were settling down for a night's rest. Half
an hour later there came a sudden alarm. The silence was broken by the
zip-zip of rifles, the roar of guns, and the whine of shells as they
flew towards our lines. The Germans were making a night attack in force
on the British right.
The night was dark; the sky was thick with clouds; a drizzle of rain set
in, and soon developed into a downpour. Behind their cavalry screen the
enemy had pushed forward a vanguard of North Germans, who had marched
rapidly through the leafy shades of the Forest of Mormal, where they
were hidden from our airmen, and were able to advance with less fatigue
than along the sun-baked roads amidst clouds of choking dust. The
Germans were, therefore, fairly fresh when they formed up along the
margin of forest which lies close upon the outskirts of Landrecies. They
advanced in heavy column through the pouring rain and the blackness of
the night, holding their fire and drawing nearer and nearer, confident
that the harassed and worn-out British could make no long stand against
them.
The 4th British Brigade, consisting of the 2nd Grenadiers, the 2nd and
3rd Coldstreams and the 1st Irish Guards, held Landrecies. About 9:30
the pickets of the Coldstreams, who were guarding the road from the
forest, heard the dull tramp of armed men. They cried out, "Who goes
there?" and a voice replied in French, "We are the French. Do not fire."
The interpreter with the British was not satisfied with the accent of
the man who replied, and he asked the officer to repeat the challenge.
This he did, and was at once knocked off his feet by the foremost
"Frenchman." Then the Germans rushed forward, swept away the pickets,
and poured into the narrow streets of the town.
For a few minutes there was confusion amongst the Guards, who were
caught unawares. Then their splendid discipline told. They opened a
brisk fire, and soon the first line of the Germans was hurled back. On
they came again in enormous numbers, until the streets were thronged
with them. The Guards lay on the ground across the road, and a stream
of bullets flew from their rifles; while the machine guns, some on the
road and others on the housetops, tore blood-red lanes through the dense
masses of the advancing enemy.
The Germans were beaten back, but they rallied and came on again, while
other columns tried to work round to the rear of the town through side
streets. Everywhere they found their way blocked by the British, and all
night long the fight raged. Hand-to-hand combats were frequent, and
terrible struggles were witnessed in the flickering light of the houses
that had been fired by the German shells.
[Illustration: Men of the 9th Lancers saving the Guns. (See p. 88.)
_From the drawing by Dudley Tennant._]
German batteries pushed up close to the town. Some of the guns began
firing at the Coldstreams almost at point-blank range. For a moment, in
the midst of this death hail, our gallant fellows wavered. A major,
however, rallied them. "Don't retire, boys," he yelled; "come on up."
And the men advanced again. Well-aimed shots killed the enemy's gunners,
and the bodies of a thousand German dead cumbered the streets.
Von Kluck's vanguard had been checked; it had hoped to rush the town
easily, but it had miscalculated the strength of British valour and
endurance. Shortly after midnight the Germans knew that they had failed,
and gradually their firing died away. Then the Guards flung themselves
down amidst the flaming houses and the dead and dying, and snatched what
slumber they could.
* * * * *
While the Guards at Landrecies were adding a new and glorious page to
their proud record, there was heavy fighting at Maroilles,[52] a little
to the north-east, where Sir Douglas Haig's 1st Division was holding a
difficult position. A message was sent to Sir John French begging for
reinforcements. He had got into touch with two French reserve divisions
on his right, and now he urged them to come up with all speed. To the
men struggling desperately at Maroilles the French seemed terribly slow
in arriving. At length, to their great relief, they heard the sound of
distant firing, and knew that support was at hand. Partly by the help of
the French, but mainly owing to the skilful generalship of Sir Douglas
Haig, the First Corps was withdrawn from its perilous position.
At Cambrai, the newly-joined brigade which was protecting the left flank
was also in action. A soldier of the Connaught Rangers thus describes
the fighting in which he was engaged:--
"It was a grand time we had, and I wouldn't have missed it for
lashins of money.
"It was near to Cambrai where we had our best time.
"The Germans kept pressing our rearguard all the time, and at
last our colonel could stand it no longer, so the word was
passed round that we were to fight. There were at least five to
one, and we were in danger of being cut off.
"With that up got the colonel. 'Rangers of Connaught,' says he,
'the eyes of all Ireland are on you to-day, and I know you never
could disgrace the ould country by allowing Germans to beat you
while you have arms in your hands and hearts in your breasts.
Up, then, and at them, and if you don't give them the soundest
thrashing they ever got, you needn't look me in the face again
in this world or the next.'
"And we went for them with just what you would know of a prayer
to the Mother of our Lord to be merciful to the loved ones at
home if we should fall in the fight. We charged through and
through them, until they broke and ran like frightened hares in
terror of hounds.
"After that taste of the fighting quality of the Rangers they
never troubled us any more that day."
* * * * *
While our worn and wearied men were sleeping the death-like sleep of
exhaustion, Sir John French spent some of the most anxious hours of his
life. He had intended that the retreat should be continued before dawn,
and that Smith-Dorrien's corps, with Allenby's cavalry, should hold back
the enemy on the left while Haig's corps on the right pushed southwards.
Now he knew that this was impossible. Before daybreak he learnt that the
enemy was preparing to throw the bulk of his strength against
Smith-Dorrien; some three hundred thousand Germans were moving up to
encircle his little force, while six or seven hundred guns were being
brought into position against it. Sir John had no supports to send to
his left, and he had earnestly besought the commander of a French
cavalry corps on his right to come to his aid. Alas! the horses of this
corps were worn out, and the general was unable to move. Smith-Dorrien's
corps must depend on itself, and stand or fall by its own exertions. If
it fell, nothing could save the British army from destruction or
surrender. The left of the Allies would be gone, and the retreating
French would be at the mercy of hordes of Germans. The prospect was
enough to make the bravest man tremble.
[Illustration: The Lonely Gunner.
This picture illustrates an incident during the retreat. A half-battery
of the Royal Field Artillery, in a rather exposed position, greatly
galled the Germans by the accuracy of its aim, and a combined attack was
made on it by the enemy. One by one the British guns were silenced, and
the men who had been serving them lay dead around. At last one man alone
was left, and he went on working the gun steadily and calmly until he
was called away by an officer. Similar instances of resistance to the
last man abound in the history of the Royal Field Artillery.]
[Footnote 48: _Leh-kā-to´._]
[Footnote 49: _Kam-bray´._]
[Footnote 50: _Lon-dreh-see´_ (_n_ nasal).]
[Footnote 51: _Dū-play´_ (b. 1697, d. 1763), governor of the French
Indies. It was Clive's brilliant defence of Arcot which brought about
the failure of his plans and led to his recall.]
[Footnote 52: _Mā-rwāé._]