22nd August: We crossed into Belgium today. The inhabitants had heard we were starving and all classes loaded us with fruit (mostly unripe), cigarettes, tobacco, matches and wine. It was an awful job getting the battalion along through these towns and I shall never forget it … we might have been marching through the slums of Glasgow, except for the language of the people. At about 17.00 hours we arrived at the Mons-Conde Canal, where we took up our posts for the night. I put my guns in a little sandbag fort which I built on the lock abutment with the guns trained straight down the canal.
23rd August: We were not attacked early on so I looked around for a better location for my guns. A line of houses stood on the opposite side of the canal and it seemed the only place I could get any field of fire would be from the second floor of the highest house. I knew we should have to leave on the arrival of the first shell. The section hacked loopholes through the walls and piled sandbags so the guns could fully cover the lock and its approaches. By late morning things were beginning to hot up.
A, B & C companies were lining the meadows in front facing half-right. We could see the Boche deploying around 900 yards in front. They were beginning to filter into woods across the canal in front of our position and were engaged by A & C companies. A group of Boche, possibly an MG section, were spotted in front and we laid out four of them with our first traverse. We then took on any Germans we saw in the open and did considerable damage. This was our first experience of killing people. It was rather horrible but satisfying.
Our infantry were heavily engaged and taking casualties. D company was attempting to winkle the Germans out of the wood. Suddenly I saw the front edge of the wood lined with Germans and surmised that they were going to try and rush D company, so I concentrated the full fire from both guns on the fringes of the wood and the Germans retreated. Their eyrie was now a prime target: Gilmartin asked me whether our sandbags were bullet proof and, as he spoke; one bullet just came through and dropped on the floor. It was really red hot. Soon the fire on us became so hot indeed that bullets started coming through the walls.
… I went along the line seeking a good fire position; shells were by now pounding the houses. The colonel was walking calmly up and down sucking on his old pipe and not caring a damn. By 18.00 hours we had orders to withdraw, on orderly retirement covered by the YLI. The swarm of refugees tumbling back included our hosts of the night before from the lock-keepers house. This was now blown to pieces. With his Gallic allies on his right pulling back, French ordered a retreat.
As the division retreated, back the long weary miles over which they’d earlier advanced, they drew on towards Le Cateau. It was harvest time. Heat lay heavy as a thick blanket, caking men and animals in mingled sweat and dust. Le Cateau was in fact a larger battle than Mons. General Horace Smith-Dorrien, commander of II Corps, wished to deliver what he termed ‘a stopping blow’ to halt the Germans and allow his corps to fall back unmolested. Although the BEF saw off a number of German attacks and then continued its withdrawal in good order, the day was dearly bought: some 7,812 men and 38 guns were lost.
26th August: At 16.30 hours we relieved another regiment in some trenches … well dug and well-sited, but only very short, holding a platoon at most, and very far apart. About dawn the CO and adjutant galloped round the trenches, said we had to stay on and not retire under any circumstances. I had an excellent field of fire, about 800 yards and we thought we would do some damage before we were all put out of action.
To their right front stood Le Cateau church and a crossroads. The poplar-lined Cateau–Cambrai road ran before them. ‘At about 19.00 hours we saw enormous masses of German infantry deploying around three miles ahead and realised we were in for a big thing. There was much heavy shelling but little damage, the Boche advanced to within around 2,000 yards. Troops to our front, being without orders began to retire but the colonel just stood there on his great horse till they were all back in their trenches and then he trotted back. By some miracle he wasn’t hit.’ As darkness began to fall, Pennyman rounded up a platoon-sized group of stragglers and marched on:
We lined a potato field and prepared to give any German Uhlans a warm reception. None came and we were relieved by our own cavalry. The battalion had suffered casualties and men captured. The Colonel was wounded and captured in the retreat. I was knocked flat by a shell, though seemingly unhurt. A few days afterward, however, my attention was called to a neat little bullet hole in my Glengarry strings: A very near miss indeed.
27th August: Our retreat continued, the men were very tired. I noticed some horrible looking carcases in the mud by the roadside. They looked so dirty and beastly that nobody had touched them but, on closer examination, I found them to be perfectly good British ration meat. So we hacked some flesh off and went on till we saw a chance of cooking them.
By the village of Beaurevoir the KOSBs harvested potatoes growing in the fields and later cooked a grand stew in a vast witches’ cauldron that an old lady kindly provided for the task. ‘All said this was the best meal they’d had since leaving Dublin!’
28th August: The RV was now to be at Noyon, another 20 miles away; lots of stragglers were coming in, some marching, a lucky few in motor lorries. In that week we’d marched over a hundred miles, fought three battles and two scraps [skirmishes].
Next day, 29 August passed as a much-needed rest, followed by a moonlit march in the cool of night. More hard marches followed between 29 August and 1 September and the state of the men’s feet giving rise to worry. On 1 September it was another rearguard action, ‘the enemy had no artillery or else it was very soon put out of action, and we gather what little artillery we had with us did tremendous execution amongst the enemy’s infantry. After about two hours firing we had apparently got the better of the Germans in front of us and it was rather annoying to have to retire.’
Though the Schlieffen Plan appeared to be working, there were serious cracks. Von Moltke’s timidity and the rising crisis on the Eastern Front led to a thinning of the concept. Now the BEF were swinging west of Paris; ‘we were hoping for a siege, at least we’d get a rest!’ By 4 September they had reached Coulommes, ‘ate apples, drank cider, had a rest day and moved off at 23.00 hours, passed the field of Crecy.’ 6th September: ‘Our retreat was at an end, we marched back to Villeneuve, some Germans appeared in the early hours but they were falling back now and we captured some Uhlan stragglers.’
The next day they ‘marched to Boissy … saw a strange RAMC major having dinner with us and thought we had a new doctor [the battalion MO had been wounded in the retreat] then we found out he had been put under arrest for stopping on the line of march to buy something!’ 8 September: ‘We engaged the German rearguard north-east of Doue. We were faced by German horse artillery and two cavalry regiments plus one heavy gun. The KOSB were ¾ mile in front of the British gun line and the Boche gun was plumping very large HE shells all amongst the battalion. Miraculously we sustained no casualties.’
Despite this intense weight of fire the order for the infantry to advance came through: ‘We had to cross the brow of a hill – about five hundred yards of perfectly open ground of which they already had the range to a tee. The battalion doubled across this in two lines, went down through a thick wood and reformed in a railway cutting at the bottom. Nothing could have bettered the German artillery’s efforts and I’m sure they thought they’d wiped us out. As a matter of fact we had twelve casualties, killed and wounded. When we got through the wood we saw the River Marne in front of us.’
Thursday 10 September, the pursuit continued: ‘We marched all day through unsavoury German remains.… 11 September: I was in charge of a small group of German POWs. They were extraordinarily docile and well-behaved … all the prisoners I saw were decent looking young men, quite good class and well-nourished. Their equipment and uniforms were excellent. I saw no sign of any atrocities nor heard of any though of course these were widely reported.’
Within two days the KOSB were approaching the R
iver Aisne. Here, the fluid front would harden as the Germans dug in along the favourable high ground beyond the river. As the borderers approached the village of Sermoise, they were held up by plunging, long-range fire. Only at dusk did they move forward into the village; ‘people were very plucky gave us coffee and anything they had to eat. Our orders were to get to the river – this proved difficult in the late summer dark, the only bridge was under fire. The battalion was very tired we’d had only an hour’s sleep in the last twenty-four. In the confused night the MG section got lost and we ended up back in the village where the West Kents doctor told us we could now get over the bridge.’
After a confused and difficult night Pennyman and his MG section made for the bridge at first light. The river was no more than 50 yards across, the bridge had been blown; ‘the RE had made a raft but it had a very nasty habit of sinking, and when we got there we found three drowned men … oddly the Boche were not contending the crossing.’ Once over, the borderers faced a difficult task. ‘The village of Missy was about ½ mile ahead, the riverbank was thickly wooded, a belt of trees thirty yards wide sloping down to the water’s edge. Beyond say ½ mile of parkland rising to wooded hills full of Boche.’ The West Kents were just ahead of the wood; ‘but we couldn’t advance and retreating meant swimming for it. By 08.00 hours the battalion was fully across and deployed in the trees. The Boche advanced into the copse some 700 yards ahead but our MG fire sent them running back as quick as they could.’
Enemy fire soon intensified. The Germans were trying to infiltrate the woods and a single platoon was detailed to occupy the ground. Murderous small-arms fire forced them back:
the river was alive with bullets. We lost a good many men. I wanted either to advance or retire but the West Kents colonel ordered us to hold on. We swept the enemy ground with MG fire. One gun jammed, the first time this had happened. There was so much noise, verbal communication was almost impossible. A bullet went into the ground very close to me as I was working the other gun. I thought it might be a sniper who had caught sight of me so I moved three or four yards to our right. Next thing I remember was a sensation like a blow from a cricket ball in the chest. It knocked me clean down and I remember shouting as I fell and bleeding profusely at the mouth.
I felt quite certain I was a ‘gonner’ but managed to get up and give some directions to the gunner; then I flopped down again. I passed out. I was wounded at about 14.00 hours but couldn’t be got back till 19.00 and came to as I was being treated. I began to have a feeling of terrible cramp all over my chest and difficulty breathing. I was told my only chance was to lie perfectly still and flat and a healthy dose of morphine helped me to do this. Evacuation was difficult and protracted: we travelled in spring-less lorries to the railhead at Ouichy.… Later our stretchers were put into the familiar carriages ‘Hommes 40; Chevaux 8’. Spring hooks had been fitted to hold stretchers … a stretcher is a very cold, hard thing to lie on for the best part of a week.
Along the Aisne there was stalemate and the lines began to harden. The war of manoeuvre was very nearly over.
It was early in October that the BEF advanced northwards. Sir John French hoped he would be able to strike a blow against the Germans’ exposed flank. He had already been reinforced by a further division to make good his earlier casualties. Encouraged by General Ferdinand Foch, Sir John believed the hinge of his successful blow would be the Belgian city of Ypres. At this point, the German high command entertained similar hopes. As the British felt their way towards Menin, they collided with large enemy forces. Flanders was about to become a major battlefield.
The first battle of Ypres
I want to tell you now sir
Before it’s all forgot
That we were up at Wipers
And found it very hot
Plum & Apple (September 1915)
On 5 October 1914, the Northumberland Hussars sailed on the Minneapolis from Southampton for an uneventful night passage to Zeebrugge. ‘The morrow broke cold and wet as we steamed slowly into harbour … It was late in the afternoon before we set off down a long typical Belgian road toward Bruges. Our reception … was ecstatic. At every hamlet along that poplar-lined stretch of pave the inhabitants would raise a cheer for “les Anglais” while little urchins would clamour for buttons & badges … pretty girls would almost drag us from our saddles to kiss us and to shake our hands.’
Captain Grant, who narrates the experience of the Noodles during the first battle of Ypres, had previously served in South Africa. The Hussars were the first Territorial unit to be shipped out. By 08.00 on 8 October the yeomanry were in the saddle, riding as the eyes and ears of 7th Division. They hoped to fight Uhlans ‘but to our disappointment encountered none. Instead we discovered how unsuitable pave roads are for cavalry, and that mounted men do only less foot-slogging than infantry when a division is moving en masse.’
Ostend proved less congenial. The streets were chaotic as stunned refugees struggled to get clear, ‘fearsome rumours as to the fate of Antwerp flew from mouth to mouth … at this period of our soldiering we were credulous and drank them in’. It was now they realised that their task was not to assist the Belgian Army as much as to cover its withdrawal, ‘to shield that heroic remnant from annihilation’. They entrained for Ghent where their earlier rapturous welcome was replayed. The Noodles deployed on outpost duty and, for the first time, came under enemy fire, happily ineffectual:
I was picturing to myself Saturday night at home, and thinking how little the boys there were dreaming of what we were doing that night, when suddenly a succession of reports sounded in the air. I must confess I could not determine whether they were rifle shots or not. Just then a shadow loomed up before me, and with an effort I spluttered out ‘Halt! Who goes there?’ I had my finger on the trigger and was ready for him. I felt, I must confess, much relieved when immediately there came the whispered assurance ‘friend’. It was an infantryman, like myself, on outpost duty, and he enquired if I had heard anything lately. ‘Yes’ I replied ‘I think it must have been the rumbling of transport wagons on the cobbled road.’ ‘No, mate’ was his rejoinder, ‘it was 15 rounds rapid.’ The battle was drawing nearer.
Ghent was being prepared for defence. The ominous sound of explosions, signifying the destruction of bridges, barricades and barbed-wire entanglements, spread. The British were about to retreat. This time their passage would not be marked by rejoicing: ‘12th October; we slipped by silently and almost guiltily, the infantry with fixed bayonets, battalion after battalion, gliding past like phantoms … ourselves as rearguard. The march was rendered all the slower by a battalion of exhausted French marines and the struggling masses of refugees who congested the roads, flying from the invader with what household effects they could save, piled on their small, dog-drawn carts, accompanied in almost every case by weeping children.’
To spare their horses, the cavalry were obliged to dismount and experience the chore of marching, hard enough for infantry ‘to a cavalryman, even a veteran it is worse. Not only does he have to do his share of the marching, but there is his horse to be cared for, to be fed and watered before he can attend to his own wants and then we were not veterans. The outbreak of the war had found us civilians, many in sedentary employments, and two months of strenuous training, even when accompanied by the best will in the world, can only do something toward case-hardening.’
Cavalry of the British Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914. (National Library of Scotland, via Wikimedia Commons)
Private Chrystal, a noted Geordie marksman and later sniper, was astonished to learn that a squadron of French horsemen, cuirassiers, were in fact allies. ‘Whey,’ he exclaimed, ‘I thought them b******s wor German hoolans [Uhlans = lancers] an’ I fired at the likes o’ them aal day yesterday’. On 14 October the hussars clattered into the streets of Ypres ‘which the enemy had looted but which had remained untouched by shells. The following day found us early on patrol. It was during one of these patrols that Sergeant-Majo
r Hannington brought down a Uhlan with his rifle. First blood to the regiment!’
German troops were now massing in front of the British line, which was taking shape around the ‘rim’ of the saucer that was the Ypres Salient. The defenders’ trenches snaked from Messines in the south, across the Menin Road at Gheluvelt, north to Zonnebeke and St. Julien. The westwards hinge was fixed at Langemarck and the shallow Pilckem Ridge. The attacking divisions were screened by cavalry and there were frequent jousts with probing patrols of Uhlans as the Tommies dug in. By 16 October the front had hardened. The battle would unfold as the Germans tried to dislodge the BEF from higher ground, back towards Ypres and then clear through to the Channel coast.
More aggressive patrolling followed. British tactical aims centred upon wresting control of Menin, even though the strength of the enemy presence was daily increasing. There was still some fluidity in the war. The Noodles and other cavalry units were actively engaged in an attack on 19 October. Menin proved a stage too far and intense shellfire compelled withdrawal.
Here took place a peculiar incident. A white-haired old man suddenly made a dash from one of the houses occupied by the enemy and, running with extraordinary agility across the field of fire reached our lines safely. He told us of the endless columns of ‘field-greys’ advancing to the attack and determined to force a passage to the Channel ports. By this time infantry and a battery of horse-artillery had come to our assistance … this was our baptism of fire as a regiment. Of many memories of that first engagement, one of the most vivid is of a company of infantry [from 2nd Battalion, Queen’s Regiment] rising from the miry field where they had been lying, advancing in perfect extended order, led by an officer with a stick, and then being mown down almost to a man by withering fire.
Tommies: The British Army in the Trenches Page 3
