SOLDIERS' STORIES OF THE BATTLE OF THE AISNE.
The Battle of the Aisne was a "soldiers' battle." It was, you will
remember, a series of attempts to drive the enemy out of strong
positions by attacks along his front. In this kind of fighting there is
but little scope for what we call "generalship." Everything depends upon
the courage and resolution of the rank and file and their company
officers. The following stories will show you how nobly our men bore
themselves during the perilous crossing of the river, and in the many
fierce fights that afterwards took place on the slopes of the plateau.
As the engineers played such a gallant part in the battle, our first
story must be the experiences of a sapper. In a letter to his friends at
home, Sapper S. Johnson, of the Royal Engineers, wrote as follows:--
"I have got through so far, but I have had a great deal of luck. There
was one time, at the Battle of the Aisne, when the shells were dropping
all round us. We had just finished a pontoon bridge. There were seven of
us standing at one end, and the lieutenant told us to spread out. I had
not taken ten paces when a shell killed four and wounded one. I and the
other sapper were blown off our feet with the concussion. It was a
marvellous escape.
"Then we got into the shelter of a small bridge across a canal. Nine of
us sat behind a wall, and the Germans shelled that bridge for all they
were worth, and hardly missed it. But we were safe behind the buttress.
It would have been certain death if any of us had moved.
"Our major wanted us to retire along the bank; but we told him we would
rather chance crossing the bridge, for we should not have got fifty
yards without being shelled. Well, we had to dash across, one after the
other, and every time a man dashed out there was a hail of shells. We
left one man on the bridge. He was shot, and I was the last to leave
him. We could not do anything for him. When we returned at night he was
dead."
* * * * *
Private J. Green of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment writes as
follows:--
"We came to the river Aisne in the early hours of the 14th, and found
that, with a single exception, all the bridges had been blown up. The
engineers immediately set to work with their pontoons; but the Germans
from a sheltered position had the range perfectly. As quickly as one
raft was got into position the poor fellows were knocked over like
ninepins by the most murderous fire. When one man fell into the water
another took his place, and the river was full of wounded struggling in
the water. We fished out all we could. Six times our bridge was
destroyed before they were able to get across. The bravery of the chaps
was magnificent."
* * * * *
The "Eye-Witness" with the British forces tells us a remarkable story.
After our troops had advanced to the Aisne, many small parties of
Germans were discovered hiding in the woods behind the British line. One
of our officers, who was in charge of a number of riderless horses which
were being led along a road, learnt that Germans were in the
neighbourhood. He at once gave the order to charge, and the enemy,
seeing horses galloping towards them, imagined them to be cavalry. At
once they threw down their arms and held up their hands. Three officers
and 106 men surrendered as a result of this extraordinary charge.
[Illustration: A Riderless Charge.
_From the drawing by Lionel Edwards._]
* * * * *
Here is the letter of a German officer:--
"My dear Parents,--Our corps has the task of holding the heights south
of Cerny[129] in all circumstances till the 15th Corps on our left flank
can grip the enemy's flank. We are fighting with English Guards,
Highlanders, and Zouaves. The losses on both sides have been enormous.
For the most part this is due to the too brilliant French artillery. The
English are marvellously trained in making use of the ground. One never
sees them, and yet one is constantly under fire. The French airmen
perform wonderful feats. We cannot get rid of them. As soon as an airman
has flown over us, ten minutes later we get their shrapnel fire on our
position. We have little artillery in our corps. Without it we cannot
get forward. Three days ago (14th September) our division took
possession of these heights, dug itself in, etc. Two days ago, early in
the morning, we were attacked by immensely superior English forces, and
were turned out of our positions. The fellows took five guns from us. It
was a tremendous hand-to-hand fight. How I escaped myself I am not
clear. I then had to bring up supports on foot. My horse was wounded,
and the others were too far in rear. Then came up the supports, and,
with help of the artillery, drove back the fellows out of the position
again. Our machine guns did excellent work. The English fell in heaps.
In our battalion three Iron Crosses[130] have been awarded--one to the
commanding officer, one to the captain, one to the surgeon. Let us hope
that we shall be the lucky ones next time. During the first two days of
the battle I had only one piece of bread and no water; spent the night
in the rain, without my greatcoat. The rest of my kit was on the horses,
which have been left miles behind with the baggage; which cannot come up
into the battle, because as soon as you put your nose out from behind,
the bullets whistle. The war is terrible. We are all hoping that the
decisive battle will end the war, as our troops have already got round
Paris.[131] If we first beat the English, the French resistance will
soon be broken. Russia will be very quickly dealt with. Of this there is
no doubt. We received splendid help from the Austrian heavy artillery at
Maubeuge. They bombarded one of the forts in such a way that there was
not thirty feet of parapet which did not show enormous craters made by
shells. The armoured turrets were found upside down."
* * * * *
It was during the fighting of 14th September that Captain Mark Haggard,
while leading the Welsh Regiment in the 3rd Brigade, met his death.
Private Derry of his company thus tells the story:--"The Welsh were
ordered to advance. When about twenty yards from the crest of a hill
Captain Haggard ran forward to the top, saw the Germans, and shouted,
'Fix bayonets, boys; here they are!' We fixed, and were prepared to
follow him anywhere; but we were checked by a storm of Maxim fire. We
knew by the sound that we were up against a tremendous force. There was
only one game to play now--bluff them into the belief that we were as
strong as they were. So we were ordered rapid firing, which gives an
enemy the impression that the firing force is strong. We popped away
like this for three hours, never moving an inch from our position. Just
near the men was lying our brave captain, mortally wounded. He had
charged on to the enemy's Maxims, and had been hit as he was laying out
the enemy with the butt of an empty rifle, laughing as he did it. As the
shells burst over us he would occasionally open his eyes, so full of
pain, and call out, but in a very weak voice, 'Stick it, Welsh! stick
it, Welsh!' So our brave lads stuck it until our artillery got in
action, and put 'paid' to the score. Captain Haggard died that evening,
his last words being, 'Stick it, Welsh!' He died as he had lived--an
officer and a gentleman."
When his men were forced to retire to a new position, they had to leave
him behind; but his soldier-servant, Lance-Corporal Fuller, ran out from
the new trenches and, under a heavy fire, carried him into his own
lines. For this deed, as you will hear later, the gallant soldier
received the Victoria Cross.
* * * * *
Gunner Thomas Joy, of the Royal Field Artillery, thus describes a night
attack on the Aisne:--
"'It's a fine night for the Germans' is what we say out there when it's
so dark that you can hardly see your finger before you; and it was just
on such a night that I got nicked while serving my gun. The enemy had
been quiet all day, for a wonder, and we were just taking a well-earned
rest after the hot time we had been having. Just about two in the
morning, when the faintest traces of light were to be seen creeping
across the sky, there was a heavy rattle of rifle fire on the hill where
our advanced men were posted, and soon the whole camp was alive with
noise and bustle as the men sprang to arms.
"We always sleep beside our guns, so as to be ready for anything, and in
five minutes we were at our posts waiting for information about the
range. That came later, and then we began plugging away for all we were
worth. We caught sight of a mass of Germans swarming up a slope on the
right, to take cover in a wood there; but they didn't know what we knew.
We dropped a few shells into them, just to liven things up a bit and
keep them from thinking too much about the Fatherland; but we had to be
careful, because some of our own chaps were posted in that wood.
"The Germans kept rushing along gaily, and there was not the slightest
sound from the wood where our men were securely posted behind the felled
trees. Now the German searchlights began to play all around, and the air
was lit up with bursting shells. We could see the Germans get nearer and
nearer to the wood.
"Suddenly the whole side of the wood was one big sheet of flame, as our
hidden men sent volley after volley ripping through the ranks of the
advancing Germans. They were fairly staggered by the suddenness of the
fire, and before they had time to collect their wits a big body of our
chaps were into them with the bayonet, thrusting right and left, and
sweeping the Germans away as a scavenger sends the mud before his brush
on a dirty day.
"Just when this little show was in full blast, the Germans obliged us
with more limelight, and we saw it clearly. We spoiled the German
appetite for breakfast in that part of the field; though, from what we
learned later, there was no doubt that this was the point where they
expected to break through. They cleared off quickly.
"Then they began to press their attack in another part of the field, and
there was some dandy bayonet work within the trenches as the Germans
tried to rush them. Our boys were on the lookout, and gave it them hot.
Our artillery found the German infantry advancing to the attack--a fine
target--and we tore holes in their tightly-packed ranks that it would
take some tinkering to make right again, I can tell you. Their artillery
did all their gunners knew to silence ours and help their attacking
parties; but it was no good, and by six o'clock they drew off, leaving
us nice time to get breakfast."
* * * * *
A private of the 12th Lancers gives the following account of a ride for
life. He does not tell us where the incident took place, but it may have
been at Bourg.
"We had," he says, "to cross a river and canal by means of pontoon
bridges, as the permanent iron ones were blown away by the enemy. Half
of the brigade got safely across, when the enemy started shelling the
bridges with six big guns. The half that had not yet come over returned
to safety; not so we. We were trapped in the town, and had to take
shelter as best we could along the street. It was about the worst
experience one could have gone through. To see those sixty-pound shells
hit houses twenty and thirty yards away, and explode in the centre of
troops, was awful.
"One shell burst in a garden ten yards from where I was standing, but
luckily there was a heavy wall between. I was knocked flat by the shock
of the explosion; and soon the place became too hot to hold us, as it
was in flames. Then the ride through death took place. One by one we had
to retire at full gallop across a pontoon with six big guns trained on
it, and two or three explosions taking place every half-minute. I was
next man after the colonel to cross, so I set my horse to it, murmured a
prayer, and won through. What a cheer from the chaps when we got back to
safety! They had given us up for lost; but, thank God! we came across
with but few casualties, although it seemed impossible."
* * * * *
Let me now tell you how the youngest soldier of the 127th French
regiment of infantry won the military medal, which is the French
equivalent to our Victoria Cross. His name was Léon Lemaire, and he was
twenty years of age. During the Battle of the Aisne it was necessary to
send a message to the captain of one of the companies in an advanced
trench. Lemaire was chosen for the purpose. He had no sooner shown
himself on the level ground, ready to run forward on his errand, than
the Germans, whose trenches were at short range, fired volleys at him.
First, a bullet passed through his greatcoat; then his cap was struck;
his haversack and water-bottle were riddled with shots; and a hole was
bored through the scabbard of his bayonet. Through this hurricane of
fire Lemaire advanced with great coolness, and actually reached the
trench without a wound! Some days later his regiment was paraded in his
honour at a place behind the firing line. His general pinned the little
silver medal for valour on his breast, embraced him, and placed him by
his side, where he remained while the whole regiment, with colours
flying, and the band playing the "Marseillaise," marched past him and
saluted. Thus does the French army honour its heroes.
[Illustration: A French Aeroplane discovering the Position of German
Guns.
One of the main duties of the Royal Flying Corps is to discover the
position of the German batteries. An aeroplane is sent over the
suspected area as a decoy, and is almost sure to draw the fire of the
enemy's guns, thus giving the range to the Allies' artillery. Our
picture shows French artillery moving out of a village to bombard a
German position thus discovered. The drawing was prepared under the
direction of an officer who was in the village and witnessed the
incident.
_Drawn by Lionel Edwards._]
* * * * *
A young soldier of the 24th South Wales Borderers, who was wounded near
Soissons and carried into safety by a lance-corporal of his regiment,
thus describes the incident:--
"My company officer was standing up with an orderly near a tree, and
twelve of us were lying resting in a field under a roaring cannonade.
Suddenly I saw a shell coming, and shouted to him to look out, just as
it burst over and a little behind the tree. Neither of the two standing
was touched, but eight of us got it. I felt as if something had come up
through the ground and jolted my leg, and when I tried to get up I could
only use one foot. I asked if I could be moved, and my lance-corporal
took me on his back and walked straight across one hundred and fifty
yards of ground on which shells and bullets were falling fast. How he
got across I don't know. When we were safe on the other side he cut off
my trouser leg, gave me a first dressing, and put a waterproof sheet
under me; and there I lay for about fifteen hours, under the rain most
of the time. If ever I find that man again I shall know how to thank
him."
* * * * *
Here is a pathetic story of a wounded man who gave his life to save his
comrades. The story is told by a Northumberland Fusilier.
"We occupied an exposed position on the left at the Aisne, and one night
only escaped being wiped out by mere chance, combined with as fine a
deed of heroism as I have ever heard of. There was a man of the
Manchester Regiment who was lying close to the German lines, badly
wounded. He happened to overhear some conversation between German
soldiers, and being familiar with the language, gathered that they
intended to attack the position which we held that night. In spite of
his wounds he decided to set out and warn us of the danger, so he
started on a weary tramp of over five miles. He was under fire from the
moment he got to his feet, but he stumbled along and got out of range.
Later he ran into a patrol of Uhlans; but before they saw him, he
dropped to earth and shammed death. They passed without a sign, and then
he resumed his weary journey. By this time the strain had told on him,
and his wound began to bleed, marking his path towards our lines with
thin red streaks. In the early morning, just half an hour before the
time fixed for the German attack, he staggered into one of our advanced
posts, and managed to tell his story to the officer in charge before
collapsing in a heap. Thanks to the information he gave us, we were
ready for the Germans when they came, and beat them off. But his anxiety
to warn us had cost him his life. The doctors said that the strain had
been too much for him; and next day he died."
* * * * *
The coolness of our men under fire is, well illustrated in the following
story.
"Out on the Aisne," says Trooper G. Hill of the 17th Lancers, "I watched
a man of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, who lay in the trenches, quietly
firing away at the advancing enemy as coolly as if he were in a shooting
gallery at home. After each shot he turned for a pull at a cigarette
lying by his side on a stone. When the enemy got so close that it was
necessary to use bayonets, he simply laid his cigarette down and walked
out of the trench to engage them with the steel. When the attack was
beaten off, he walked back for his cigarette. 'Oh, it's smoked away, and
it was my last!' was all that he said."
* * * * *
Probably the youngest sergeant in the world is Prudent Marius, a French
boy of fourteen, scarcely four feet in height. On the outbreak of war he
attached himself as cyclist scout to a certain regiment passing through
Alsace-Lorraine. So useful did he prove to be that the regiment adopted
him, and he acted as ammunition bearer, dispatch carrier, and generally
as Jack-of-all-trades. By the time the Germans were drawing near to
Paris he had been made a corporal, and had been wounded in the leg. Near
Soissons, during the Battle of the Aisne, he was attached to the
artillery, and while handing shells to a gunner was again wounded, this
time in the face. Soon afterwards he was made a full-blown sergeant. A
correspondent who saw him describes him as a curious little figure in
his dark-blue coat and red trousers, with two gold stripes on his arm.
In spite of his youth, he was quite indifferent to shell and rifle fire.
* * * * *
So many stories of treachery, bad faith, and cruelty are told of the
Germans that it is good to know that all of them are not cast in the
same mould. It is said that in one of the towns held by the Germans near
the Aisne a certain French gentleman lay sick unto death. A German army
doctor, who, of course, was not required to attend on civilians, heard
of the case, and knowing that there were no French doctors in the town,
offered his services to the sick man. This in itself was an act of great
kindness, but the manner in which it was done raised it to the level of
a deed of chivalry. The German doctor knew that the sick man hated the
Germans, and that the visit of a German doctor would excite him and do
him harm. So he took off his uniform, put on private clothes, and
pretended to be an English doctor. I am sure that we all honour this
German doctor for his kind heart and thoughtful good nature.
* * * * *
Now let me tell you of the glorious courage and devotion shown by Dr.
Huggan of the R.A.M.C. He was a native of Jedburgh, and played
three-quarter back in the England _v._ Scotland Rugby match at Edinburgh
in March 1914. Colonel Drummond Hay, writing to a friend, says that on
the 14th of September Dr. Huggan organized and led a party of volunteers
who removed a number of wounded from a barn which had been set on fire
by German shells. Dr. Huggan and his party rushed to the barn under a
very heavy fire, and managed to save all the wounded, who were in danger
of being burnt alive. For this very gallant deed he was recommended for
the Victoria Cross. Two days later he was killed.
* * * * *
Here is an extract from a letter describing the conditions under which
the Army Service Corps brought up stores to the men fighting on the
Aisne:--
"The whole road from here to the river Aisne is under very heavy shell
fire all day, and it is only possible to move out at dusk. Even then we
often come under shell fire; the guns are laid by angles; the distance
is, of course, known, and at frequent intervals during the night shells
are fired on the road or at the villages on the way, or at the
bridgehead, four and a half miles from here. The enemy in his retirement
blew up the bridge over the river, and our engineers have built a
pontoon bridge to replace it. This bridge is under the enemy's guns,
which shell it with great accuracy. Last night, on starting out--a
pitch-dark night and raining hard--we could see the frequent flashes of
the enemy's artillery, and hear and see the bursting shells. The whole
of the road is lined with dead horses, and the smell is too dreadful for
words. We had to halt some little time, as a village through which we
had to pass was being shelled. These high-explosive shells make a most
terrifying noise, and do dreadful damage when they hit something. When
the shelling stopped we moved on, and finally reached the river.
"It was impossible to get loaded wagons across a very shaky pontoon
bridge in pitch darkness, with very steep banks down to it, and no side
rails on it. The supplies had, therefore, to be dumped on this side.
This was a matter of great difficulty in the dark and wet--a very narrow
road, choked in places by dead horses, ambulances, and pontoons waiting
to go forward, and a perpetual stream of wounded men being carried or
helped past in the opposite direction. So black was it that I could not
see my hand before my face; the only things which showed up were the
white bandages of the wounded.
"To add to the difficulty, we were waiting every second for the enemy to
resume shelling. One shell among that congested crowd would have had
dreadful results. We had not left the place more than half an hour when
we saw the flashes of guns behind us. . . . We got back to this town at
3.30 a.m. This is what goes on every night--leaving at dusk, getting
back at 3.30, and hoping the enemy will refrain from shelling until we
are back."
* * * * *
[Illustration: In the German Trenches on the Aisne.
This picture appeared in a Leipzig illustrated paper; it is drawn from a
sketch by an eye-witness.]
The following officers and men were awarded the Victoria Cross for deeds
of outstanding gallantry during the fighting on the Aisne in September
1914:--
Captain Harry Sherwood Ranken, Royal Army Medical Corps, received the
highest award of valour for tending wounded in the trenches under rifle
and shrapnel fire on 19th and 20th September. He continued his merciful
work after his thigh and leg had been shattered. Unhappily, he died of
his wounds before the Cross was awarded to him.
Captain William Henry Johnston, Royal Engineers. At Missy, on 14th
September, he worked with his own hands two rafts on the river from
early morning till late evening under a heavy fire. He ferried
ammunition across and brought back wounded, and thus enabled a brigade
to hold its own in an advanced position on the north bank of the stream.
Bombardier Ernest George Harlook (now Sergeant), 113th Battery, R.F.A.
At a little village south of Troyon, on 15th September, Bombardier
Harlook's battery was under heavy shell fire. He was twice wounded, and
was forced to retire to have his wounds dressed; but on each occasion he
returned, and worked his gun again.
Lance-Corporal William Fuller, 2nd Battalion, Welsh Regiment. On page
261 I told you how Lance-Corporal Fuller, at the risk of almost certain
death, carried poor Captain Haggard, who was mortally wounded, into
cover. Never was the Victoria Cross more worthily won.
Lance-Corporal Frederick William Dobson, 2nd Battalion, Coldstream
Guards. On the 28th of September, at Chavonne on the Aisne,
Lance-Corporal Dobson twice went out under heavy fire, and brought into
cover wounded men who were lying exposed in the open.
Private George Wilson, 2nd Battalion, Highland Light Infantry. Prior to
the war Private Wilson was a reservist who made a living by selling
newspapers in the streets of Edinburgh. The extraordinary exploit for
which he was awarded the coveted Cross took place on 14th September,
when the 5th Brigade was in action at a village north of Bourg. All
along the trench where Wilson lay the men were continually falling, and
he could plainly see that it was a machine gun about 750 yards away, and
a little in front of the main body of Germans, that was doing most of
the mischief. He determined to silence the gun, and a private of the
60th King's Rifles volunteered to go with him. They crawled out of their
trench and wriggled along; but they had not gone a hundred yards when
Wilson's companion rolled over, riddled with bullets. Wilson, however,
continued his journey, and managed to get within a short distance of the
gun. Then he levelled his rifle, and one by one shot down the officer
and the six men who were working it.
Crawling up to the gun he had a surprise, for a German officer who had
only been slightly wounded jumped up and emptied his revolver at him.
But, as luck would have it, the officer missed, and Wilson promptly
_bayoneted_ him. Then he crawled back to his trench, where he fainted.
He soon recovered, however, and asked if the gun had been brought in.
When he learned that it had not been captured, he ran out again, and
succeeded in bringing in the gun. Though he had been so long under fire,
he escaped with only slight wounds.
[Illustration: Private George Wilson, V.C.]
Private R. Tollerton, 1st Battalion, Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders,
was awarded the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery and devotion to
duty on 14th September. He carried a disabled officer under heavy fire
into a place of safety, and although wounded in the head and the hand,
struggled back to the firing line, where he remained until his battalion
retired. Then he returned to the wounded officer, and lay beside him for
three days until both were rescued.
[Footnote 129: Five miles north-west of Laon.]
[Footnote 130: Prussian military order (Maltese cross of iron edged with
silver). It has been awarded in profusion during the present war. More
than 30,000 German soldiers are said to have received it during 1914.]
[Footnote 131: He was, of course, misinformed. The nearest German troops
to Paris on September 14th, 1914, were at Compiègne, about 43 miles
away.]