by Peter Hart
The Battle of Mons, 23 August 1914
Amidst all the mayhem of the Battle of the Frontiers, the BEF had been making its way to the front. The BEF was ridiculously small for a country with the imperial pretensions of Great Britain. Just four divisions and the equivalent of a cavalry division were sent to France under the command of General Sir John French. Born in 1852, French had had a glittering career culminating in considerable success as a cavalry leader in the Boer War. This had been followed by further rapid promotion and he was Chief of Imperial General Staff from 1912 to 1914. His task was complicated by the necessity of falling in with the plans of Joffre, clearly the man in charge of the overall campaign, while Lanrezac, as the commander of the neighbouring Fifth Army, disposed a force that dwarfed the BEF. Hence Anglo-French relations would be crucial and in hindsight it is doubtful whether French’s relatively slim staff experience qualified him for the diplomatic intricacies of alliance warfare. He did not speak French and he had a reputation for irascibility. In this at least he would meet his match in Joffre!
The BEF I Corps (1st and 2nd Divisions) was commanded by Lieutenant General Sir Douglas Haig. Born in 1861, he too was a cavalry officer with a distinguished record of service in both the Sudan and Boer Wars. Haig, however, had a sharper intelligence than French, combined with brilliant organisational skills and a mind more open to new ideas. He had excelled in a series of pre-war staff appointments and indeed, while Director of Military Training at the War Office, had been partially responsible for the creation of Britain’s Territorial Army. Haig had already been marked down as a future Commander in Chief, but the war had come too early for him to ascend to that post. The II Corps (3rd and 5th Divisions) was commanded by General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, who had taken over at short notice following the untimely death of its original commander, Lieutenant General Sir James Grierson. Born in 1858, Smith-Dorrien was a career infantry officer who had managed to survive the massacre at the Battle of Isandlwana on 22 January 1879 during the Zulu War. He then had considerable success during widespread active service during the Egypt, Tirah, Sudan and Boer War campaigns, followed by stints at the Aldershot and Southern Command.
The BEF was a highly trained force made up entirely of volunteer soldiers. Men served seven years with the colours and were then liable to a further five years in the reserves. The British Army had learnt a great deal in the Boer War, but lacked any experience of modern warfare against a comparable European opponent. The individual soldiers were armed with the bolt-action Short Magazine Lee Enfield (SMLE) Mark III rifle. It had been introduced in 1907 and was very accurate up to about 600 yards, while the ten-round magazine allowed a trained rifleman to fire around fifteen aimed rounds a minute. Each battalion was equipped with two of the excellent Maxim or Vickers machine guns. The British gunners were equipped with the 18-pounders or 4.5 inch howitzers, both fine quickfiring field artillery pieces with a range of up to 6,500 yards. However, as with the French, there was little provision of heavy artillery. Furthermore, artillery tactics were primitive and pre-war field exercises had done little to prepare them for their role in a modern battlefield. Concepts such as indirect firing or prolonged barrages were simply not understood. But the defining characteristic of the BEF as a military force was its size: it was as the Kaiser memorably put it ‘a contemptible little army’, although this more reflects German frustration than any considered indictment.
The BEF had begun landing in France on 12 August and then moved up to its designated concentration area at Maubeuge. The deployment had been somewhat delayed and it was not until 21 August that it began to edge into Belgium. On the afternoon of 22 August the BEF reached the town of Mons. Despite reports of attacks on the neighbouring French Army, coupled with cavalry and aerial reconnaissances, there was still a great deal of confusion as to the exact nature of the threat facing the BEF.
That night I was happy in my mind, for official news of the enemy given me indicated no great strength, and I fully expected that the Chief’s expressed intention of moving forward again next day would be carried out. I had been given no information of the somewhat serious happenings in the French army on our right, which I learned years later, namely, that it had been forced hack, and was already some 9 miles south of Mons with a gap of at least 9 miles between the right of our II Corps and the left of the XVIII French Corps, thus leaving us in a very vulnerable, indefensible and salient position. Had I known of this serious situation I doubt much if my night’s rest would have been as enjoyable as it proved to be – for I should have been racking my brain as to what the object of our remaining so isolated was and why we did not retire. Mercifully, I was in blissful ignorance – nor was I disillusioned next morning when at about 6 am the Chief appeared at my headquarters, and, addressing his Corps and Cavalry Division commanders assembled there, told us that little more than one, or at most two, enemy Corps, with perhaps a Cavalry Division, were facing the BEF. So it was evident that he, too, was in blissful ignorance of the real situation. Sir John was in excellent form, and told us to be prepared to move forward, or to fight where we were, but to get ready for the latter by strengthening our outposts and preparing the bridges over the canal for demolition.18
General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, Headquarters, II Corps
In the event, 23 August would find the II Corps in a defensive line stretching along the Mons–Condé Canal, while the I Corps was echeloned back towards the left of the French Fifth Army. This position had several weaknesses: in particular around Mons itself there was an extremely awkward salient, but elsewhere there were inadequate fields of fire, poor artillery positions and a lack of effective protection from shell fire.
When von Kluck’s First Army crashed into Smith-Dorrien’s II Corps from 06.00 on 23 August, the battle that ensued was to enter British military folklore. The myth is one of a heroic successful defence, with well-trained British ‘Tommies’ mowing down hordes of German repeatedly attacking in mass formations. Finally, the British would be forced to retreat only because the fickle French had given way on their right flank. This view of the battle is a great yarn but, like the ‘Angels of Mons’, at heart it is the product of wishful thinking.
The reality was very different. For one thing, the ‘battle-hardened’ British soldiers of legend were anything but. Some had had experience more than a decade before in the Boer War, but they were in the minority. Most had never seen action and their training exercises bore little resemblance to the reality of war. In particular they had no concept of battle inoculation. Tucked away in many of the accounts of the battles are clues that even the much-vaunted British musketry could waver under the supreme stress and excitement of battle.
We got into a position on the embankment and as the enemy came through the wood about 200 yards in front, they presented a magnificent target, and we opened rapid fire. The men were very excited as this was their first ‘shot in anger’. Despite the short range a number of them were firing high but I found it hard to control the fire as there was so much noise. Eventually I drew my sword and walked along the line beating the men on the backside and, as I got their attention, telling them to fire low. So much for all our beautiful fire orders taught in peacetime!19
Lieutenant George Roupell, 1st East Surrey Regiment
The British were convinced that they were massively outnumbered and there are many accounts redolent of massed formations. One such is that of Private Tom Bradley, who was occupying a shallow scraped rifle pit close to the canal bridge at Obourg to the west of Mons. As he recalled, the Germans attacked in great close-order columns.
They went down like ninepins until all we could see in front of us was a regular wall of dead and wounded. Above the noise of rifle fire, you could hear a strange wailing sound and they turned and ran for the cover of the fir trees.20
Private Tom Bradley, 4th Middlesex Regiment
Unfortunately, there is little evidence to substantiate this somewhat fanciful version of events. It certainly bears no resem
blance to most German accounts, which seem to indicate that their infantry advanced in open order, but only after having attempted to win the fire fight by bringing up both machine guns and artillery. British historians seek confirmation in their views through the account of the novelist Captain Walter Bloem of the German 12th Infantry Regiment. This single overblown account has become the holy grail for all who believe that the Germans were slaughtered in their thousands at Mons. But even Bloem makes clear reference to the Germans advancing in a series of controlled rushes.
We had no sooner left the edge of the wood than a volley of bullets whistled past our noses and cracked into the trees behind. Five or six cries near me, five or six of my grey lads collapsed on the grass. Damn it! This was serious. The firing seemed at long range and halfleft. ‘Forward!’ I shouted, taking my place with three of my ‘staff’ ten paces in front of the section leader, Holder-Egger, and the section in well-extended formation ten paces behind him again. Here we were, advancing as if on a parade ground. ‘Huitt, huitt, srr, srr, srr!’ about our ears, away in front a sharp, rapid hammering sound, then a pause, then more rapid hammering – machine guns. Over to our left the rifle and machine gun fire was even more intense, the roar of guns and bursting shells increasing. A real battle this time!21
Captain Walter Bloem, 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment
There seems to have been a failure in the 12th Infantry Regiment sector to deploy the artillery sufficiently far forward to give the infantry the support it needed to win the firefight. Bloem claims that his beloved battalion, the Regiment even, was all but destroyed, though this was an exaggeration as the three battalions of the 12th Regiment between them suffered some 600 casualties – severe losses, no doubt, but nothing like as many as some have claimed. Furthermore, this was the exception and most of the German units involved seemed to have escaped such a serious drubbing.
As to the II Corps being undefeated and forced to fall back only to conform with the French on their right flank, this is pure nonsense. The reality is that on many occasions the Germans seemed to have been all too successful in forcing a retreat.
We held the Germans all day, killing hundreds, when about 5 pm the order to retire was eventually given. It never reached us and we were left all alone. The Germans 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 alone and I realised we had about two thousand Germans and a canal between myself and 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 loaded my revolver I was hit in the right wrist. I dropped my revolver; my hand was too weak to draw my sword, this afterwards saved my life! I had not gone far when I got a bullet through the calf of my right leg, which brought me down. Those who could walk the Germans took away as prisoners. As regards myself, when I lay upon the ground I found my coat sleeve full of blood, so I knew an artery of some sort had been cut. The Germans had a shot at me when I was on the ground to finish me off, that shot hit my sword, which I wore on my side, and broke it in half, just below the hilt; this turned the bullet off and saved my life. We lay out there a night, for 24 hours. I had fainted from loss of blood and when I lost my senses I thought I should never see anything again.22
Captain William Morritt, 1st East Surrey Regiment
Luckily for Morritt he had fallen across his wounded arm so that the weight of his body acted as a kind of tourniquet and staunched the flow of blood. He was picked up the next day along with eight other wounded men by local Belgian civilians and sheltered in a convent before being discovered and captured by the Germans.
It is undeniable that several of the British battalions fought well, but modern scholarship23 has revealed that the Germans manoeuvred skilfully to secure a local superiority against the weak points in the British defences. Wherever possible they operated against the flanks, forcing the British to fall back or risk being cut off and totally destroyed. Throughout, the Germans seem to have handled their artillery and machine guns with a great tactical dexterity borne of long practice, operating them in tandem to dominate the British in the fire fight, effectively rendering rifle fire of secondary importance. The British were turned out of their defensive positions in a matter of a few hours and even failed to destroy several of the canal bridges. Both the immediate flanks were threatened and the Germans had broken through to seize Mons itself. The higher estimates of German casualties suffered at Mons – which can reach as high as 10,000 – are apparently extrapolated from the fate of the 12th Infantry Regiment and have no basis in fact. Germanophile historians24 indicate that they may have been as low as about 2,000 killed or wounded, which is comparable to the 1,600 killed, wounded and missing suffered by the British. Although many German accounts mention the admirable skill of the British musketry it was probably the least important aspect of a battle resolved by tactical manoeuvres and the efficient utilisation of infantry, artillery and machine guns to attain specific tactical objectives. In particular, the British defence was static, with no use of reserves and a severe lack of co-ordination between neighbouring units.
When the great retreat from Mons began, the BEF soon found that von Kluck’s First Army was in close pursuit. The I and II Corps were soon physically separated as they fell back on either side of the Forest of Mormal. Hard-pressed as he was and with his troops betraying signs of exhaustion, Smith-Dorrien decided that if the II Corps (by this time augmented by the belatedly arrived 4th Division) was to have any chance of properly disengaging from their pursuers then they must turn and fight to try to dissuade the Germans from following so closely. The II Corps took up positions near Le Cateau stretching some ten miles through to Beauvois. But the defensive positions selected were often poorly sited; there was no time to dig proper trenches; and the artillery was once again often placed too far forward, with many batteries consequently in plain view of the Germans. There was only a feeble tactical reserve held in hand to allow Smith-Dorrien the chance to intervene in the battle. The Battle of Le Cateau on 26 August that followed bore many similarities to Mons. The overblown British accounts claiming miracles cannot mask the fact that the Germans had rather the better of the clash. The truth might be indicated by the casualty figures: the British officially lost some 7,812 killed, wounded and missing (2,600 of them prisoners), while estimates of the total German losses come in at around 2,900. While some individual British battalions or batteries resisted with great courage, overall they had not fought well or cohesively as brigade, division, corps or even army. Communications, command and control were all poor or non-existent, and with good reason: the BEF was both new to the task at hand and had no practical experience of the sheer complexities of modern warfare. After the battle the French certainly thought the British had been beaten, and the Germans were convinced they had won. The German pursuit was complicated not so much by a ‘bloody nose’, as the British assumed, but more delayed by nightfall and von Kluck’s failure to anticipate correctly the direction of Smith-Dorrien’s retreat.
Following Le Cateau the whole of the BEF was in retreat. Often marching day and night, the troops paid scant attention to the needs of the swarms of Belgian refugees that clogged the roads.
One of the saddest sights of that day, was the huge columns of refugees on the main road to Guise. Carts heaped with household treasures led by crying women and frightened children. These carts were ruthlessly swept off the road to make a passage for the troops. This was absolutely necessary, of course, in spite of its cruelty. None of these poor people could have crossed the river at Guise, as we had to blow up the bridge after crossing – and held back the fugitives to do it.25
Captain Herbert Rees, 2nd Welsh Regiment
On and on they marched. Most officers and men had little idea of where they were, where they were going or what was happening around them. There was a constant underlying fear of some drast
ic intervention by the much-dreaded Uhlans. The ordinary soldiers were at the end of their tethers. After all, many were reservists who had been out of the Army for several years and were not in peak physical condition.
All along the road we saw signs of a hurried retreat. Overturned motor and other wagons and dead horses were strewn by the roadside while numbers of fed-up and exhausted men sat looking disconsolate and cross on the bank. The sight of those men had the effect on our men of making them wonder why they were footslogging along instead of sitting down on a nice bank, for they all of them seemed to become suddenly exhausted and unable to keep up, and from now onwards for a couple of days, my life became a burden to me as I was all the time urging, persuading and even kicking men on. It was no good to explain to them that there was no choice but going on or falling into the hands of the Germans, they simply did not believe me.26
Captain Beauchamp Tudor St John, 1st Northumberland Fusiliers
Officers like Tudor St John tried their best to goad their men on while trying to keep order in the swaying, exhausted ranks.
I had already several times gone to sleep while marching and had found myself in the ditch. I gave up trying to drive men back to the ranks. When they fell they knew what was in store for them by now as well as I did! And I knew the agony they must be suffering from their feet, many having raw heels and toes from the hard marching we had done. Not many gave in absolutely. Some would fall out but at the next halt they would come limping in again. The pace to begin with had been killing. We came to paved roadway along which we painfully hobbled. I can’t call it anything else. I don’t suppose we were doing 2 miles an hour. I myself was suffering from an abscess on my toe which felt like hot knives at every step.27
