1914 British Ace

by Griff Hosker

  But my heart's right there!"

  Molly wrote a neat reply to Irish Paddy O',

  Saying, "Mike Maloney wants to marry me, and so

  Leave the Strand and Piccadilly, or you'll be to blame,

  For love has fairly drove me silly--hoping you're the same!"

  "It's a long way to Tipperary,

  It's a long way to go;

  It's a long way to Tipperary,

  To the sweetest girl I know!

  Goodbye Picadilly,

  Farewell, Leicester Square,

  It's a long, long way to Tipperary,

  But my heart's right there!"

  “That’s a nice one, lads.”

  Robbie McGlashan shouted from two carriages up, “Let’s have that again. I like that one.”

  The journey seemed much shorter as they sang their way south. When we stopped at Crewe to change engines, Sergeant Armstrong came down the platform with a bottle of beer for each of us. “Compliments of the major.” He winked at me. “He reckons you lads are doing a good job keeping them quiet.”

  “What is it like in the carriages?”

  “The usual. They are all playing cards and most of them are losing. They’re mugs. We can hear you singing sometimes when we stop at the points. Your lads are good singers.”

  “It calms the horses and they enjoy it.”

  We chose the quieter, country sections of track to clean out the horses. I imagine the farmers were happy to have their fields fertilised but we were happier to have rid ourselves of the smell. It was getting towards dark when we reached the siding close to our new camp. We were not far from the sea; we could smell it. The horses were led down the ramps and each section collected their own. We were the last off the train. I hoped that wouldn’t mean we had the worst tents.

  I knew that the Quartermaster Sergeant didn’t particularly like me. It had been ever since John and Tom had spoiled our Christmas. It seems they had got into a fight in Burscough village and the sergeant’s brother had received a black eye. He didn’t deliberately go out of his way to make life hard but if he had a choice then we would always get second best.

  Luckily for us Major Harrison had made sure that our tents were on a dry part of the camp. Sergeant Armstrong and the major got on better than the major and some of the officers. In this instance we were looked after.

  I had never spent much time under canvas and it was an interesting experience. I knew that this would be the future. There would be no comfortable billets or barracks. The camp bed was no hardship but I wondered how it would stand up to the rigours of campaigning. We had no idea how long we would have to put up with these conditions. Perhaps peace would break out and this tension would not lead to war. The griffin suggested that this was serious and we wouldn’t be going home any time soon.

  The next day we received even more equipment. We all had a gas mask or as it soon became known, the ’google eyed booger with the tit’. They had a strange rubbery smell and I wondered if we would ever have to use them. When they brought the ones for the horses my heart sank. Even Caesar, a placid and docile horse, baulked when we had to put them on.

  “Sarge, if we have to put these on in a hurry then how do we do it?”

  I think old Sergeant Armstrong felt the same as we did but he had been obeying orders for years and he shrugged, “The same way as we do anything, practice and more practice.”

  In the end we did not have enough time to practise. War was declared on August 4th 1914 and two days later we sailed for France. Our own war had begun. Many of the lads who boarded the boat would never see Blighty again. Even worse, many of the fine animals which we led across the sea to France would fall in a foreign field. To horseman like us that was even worse; at least, as soldiers, we had had a choice. The horses just followed us and obeyed us. It was sad really.

  Chapter 4

  I think that the generals thought that we were ready for war. They were wrong. We were as unprepared for a war as it was possible to be. We had fired our guns at targets and used live ammunition on a handful of occasions. We had played at war games once or twice but as we had all been wearing either bright red or blue arm bands it hardly replicated war. This was not my view but the sergeants and officers like Major Harrison who had been to war themselves. I was lucky with my section; they were sensibly minded and down to earth. They were not expecting a glorious ride to victory over the fleeing Germans but some of those who came from places like Liverpool and Preston were confident that this would be a war won in a few weeks and the Lancashire Yeomanry were just the boys to do it.

  We landed at Dunkirk. It was a cold windswept sandy beach. It reminded me of Southport. We unloaded the horses; they were becoming used to being transported. Colonel Mackenzie had gone ahead with the headquarters staff and that left Major Harrison to organise us. We rode east. This time we would have to erect our own tents. The major had the map coordinates but we had no idea what the terrain would be like. As it turned out it was a large farmer’s field. I would have expected the farmer to be upset about a regiment of cavalry camping on his land but they were all worried about an army invading them who would not pay for the privilege: the Germans.

  This time we had to lay out horse lines, dig latrines as well as erecting our tents too. By the time we had finished the field was a muddy morass which promised to become worse should we get any rain.

  Our new officer, replacing Lord Burscough, was Lieutenant Ramsden. He was an affable young chap but terribly keen. He loved to volunteer for anything. We learned that he had been an officer at University and his uncle was Colonel Mackenzie. This was his chance to show what he had learned and we were his guinea pigs.

  When the colonel returned from the briefing at the headquarters he held an officers’ briefing. The keen lieutenant then called a meeting of his non commissioned officers. We were short of one sergeant and one corporal but as we only had twenty five troopers in the troop that was not a problem.

  The fresh faced schoolboy rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Well chaps, Major Harrison must like us for he has given us the job of scouting the area to the east. What fun eh?”

  Sergeant Armstrong looked at me and gave a slight shake of the head. “Sir, when you say east, can you be more specific?”

  The question did not seem to bother the lieutenant. “Just find out what’s up the road I expect.”

  I shifted in my seat, “Sir, do we have any maps?”

  If I had spoken in Urdu I might have had the same response. He adopted a puzzled look and then said, “Maps?” His expression seemed to suggest he had never thought of them.

  “Yes sir, maps of the area. It might help. You know to find the roads.”

  It was as though a penny had actually dropped, “I say, what a capital idea.”

  Before he could embarrass himself any more Sergeant Armstrong said, “I’ll get some from the adjutant sir. There are bound to be some.”

  “Jolly good. Well, see you tomorrow eh chaps? Reveille, breakfast and then tally ho!”

  After he had gone we both burst out laughing. “He means well, William, but you and I will have to steer him in the right direction.” I think he meant he would do the steering but I was touched that I was included in the comments.

  I went around the men’s tents warning them of the planned patrol. “Make sure you have all your equipment with you and that you have spares of anything which needs spares.”

  “Gas masks as well?” Jack Lynch was a happy go lucky trooper but if there was a line of least resistance then he would take it.

  “Everything: full bandoliers of ammunition, swords, the lot. I want to be prepared for whatever we meet. I saw them all exchanging looks. “When we have done this for a week or so then we will have a better idea of what we are likely to meet and we can think about leaving spare equipment in the tents.”

  It had been easier when I had been one of the lads. They would have just listened to me. Now I was a corporal and a figure of authority. They would pus
h the boundaries as far as they could. The trouble was I didn’t know much more than they did. We relied heavily on Sergeant Armstrong.

  I was awake and up well before reveille. I wanted to be sure that I was as fully prepared as possible. The gas masks and ammunition made for a heavy load and I was grateful that Caesar was such a big horse. I had cleaned my Lee Enfield the night before and sharpened my sword. I did not think it was likely we would need our swords but it paid to be ready.

  I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Sergeant Armstrong yawning. He chuckled, “A good habit to get into William.” He tapped his nose, “And it means you get fed first.”

  After we had saddled our horses we led them to the mess tent. There was a short hitching rail outside and we tied our mounts to it. It could only accommodate five horses and ours were the only ones there.

  The mess tent was empty but there was the smell of breakfast in the air. The sergeant cook came from Manchester and was a blunt chap. “What the bloody hell are you two doing up? Have you wet the bed or summat?”

  “No, we thought if we came early we might actually get something that was almost edible.”

  The cook snorted, “Doesn’t matter when you get here; the food is always shite. It’s what they give us to cook. Tea’s up anyroad.”

  We poured ourselves a mug of hot steaming tea and loaded it heavily with sugar. We sat at one of the trestle tables and Sergeant Armstrong lit his pipe.

  “Sarge, do you reckon we will see action today?”

  “There’s no point worrying about that. We have the hardest of jobs today; we are scouting. That means seeing them before they see you. If there is any action it will be upon you in a minute and over as fast. You have to react faster than the enemy.” He shook his head and examined the glowing tobacco in his pipe. “I am too old for this game son. You will need your eyes, ears and wits. I can tell you what to do but I should be at home digging my garden and putting in my taters.”

  I was surprised at his morose attitude. “I didn’t know you had a garden.”

  “I don’t. That is the point. I should have one and I should be retired but I’m not but I’m not up to the job.”

  “Then why stay in?”

  “Because of you and the young lads. I can pass on what I have learned and some of you might survive. Others did it for me.”

  “It’s ready!”

  We wandered over to pick up our plates of hot steaming food. After we had laden the plates with even more food we went back to the table.

  “I only know the cavalry. I joined when I was fourteen as a bugler and it’s all I know. If I tried to retire and have a garden it would be a toss up who would die first; me or my spuds!” He began to eat. “And this is a good lesson. Eat when you can; you never know when you will get the chance to eat again.” I was learning that you ate when you could; who knew when your rations might dry up? George was a wise old bird.

  The food was hot and filling. Despite the cook’s comments it was not bad. It was not like mum’s cooking but I had eaten worse during the Yeomanry training sessions. I was hungry and it filled a hole.

  Before we stood Sergeant Armstrong tapped out his pipe and said, “Today you ride at the front. Choose the best three men to be with you. Leave the lieutenant to me. I want you to assume there is a German behind every bush. There won’t be but we will be safer that way.”

  “Yes sarge.”

  As reveille sounded we finished our food and we rode back to our tents. “Wakey, wakey rise and shine. Come on you lovely boys, the sun is cracking the flags!”

  I smiled at the sergeant’s words. Already a thin drizzle was in the air and it felt chilly despite the fact that it was August. The men dragged themselves out of their beds. I had had the luxury of time but they would have to rush to be ready for the patrol. They would have to shave quickly and then wolf down their food. I rode Caesar over to the stables. I needed to be there when my troop prepared their horses. It would need to be my eagle eye which spotted what they might forget.

  The bleary eyed troopers did need me. Between me and the sergeant we made sure that our troop was equipped and ready to ride.

  Lieutenant Ramsden was all polished leather and clean cut cheeks. His servant, Carson, must have been up all night. “Well done chaps, good turn out.” As he turned to face the same way as us he said quietly, to the sergeant, “I think we’ll have to have a word about their appearance.”

  Sergeant Armstrong turned around. We had checked that everything was as it should be. “Why sir, what’s wrong?”

  “Some of them haven’t shaved very well this morning. We have to impress the locals.”

  Sergeant Armstrong rolled his eyes, “Right sir, I’ll have a word with the lads.” He proffered two maps, one to me and one to the lieutenant. “I got these from the headquarters. I thought the corporal here could scout out the land ahead of us.” I wondered if the lieutenant would argue but Sergeant Armstrong went on, “it will make it easier on us sir. Besides the major thinks the corporal is good at this sort of thing.”

  “Very well sergeant, but, Corporal Harsker, I want you to report to us the minute you spot anything.”

  “Yes sir.” I turned to the troopers behind me, McGlashan, Brown and Brown, with me.”

  I opened the map as I rode along. The sergeant had shown it to me earlier and I knew where we were going. He had wanted the lieutenant to think he was in charge! We had decided to head for Ypres. It was the largest place to the east of us. It was about twenty seven miles away. Even if we could not reach it the patrol would give Sergeant Armstrong and myself a better idea of how far we could travel in a day. We knew that from England but there we knew the roads. Here, everything was new.

  I put the map away once I had confirmed that we were heading in the right direction. I turned to the three troopers behind me. “Keep your eyes peeled. We are looking for signs of Germans.”

  The early drizzle had stopped and the skies began to clear from the west. Within an hour we were feeling the effects of the sun. Caesar snorted and neighed. That was his nose telling him that water was close at hand. I waved the men to the north and we found a stream heading towards the sea. As the horses drank I checked the map. I now knew exactly where we were.

  “Doddy, ride back to the lieutenant and tell him where the stream is. Their horses will be as tired and thirsty as ours. Then follow along the road until you catch up with us.”

  He grinned, “Right Corp.”

  I knew why he was happy; like me he enjoyed riding and he enjoyed speed. He would gallop his horse back. We continued along the road. This was an easy duty. The sun was shining, the roads were flat and there were no Germans around. The rest of the day proved as uneventful. We halted at Poperinge for we could see Ypres in the distance.

  When the rest of the patrol arrived I could see that the lieutenant was a little more hot and bothered than he had been. I saluted as he rode up, “No sign of any Germans sir. Ypres is probably an hour or so down the road.”

  The lieutenant took out his pocket watch, “Hm, I think that we will return to camp and make our report. We can ride to Ypres in the morning. Er, well done Corporal Harsker.”

  I took my four men to the rear of the column and we ate the others’ dust on the way back. I had learned much on that first ride but I wished we had seen a German. The war just didn’t seem real.

  When we reached our camp we saw that it had grown. There was another Yeomanry regiment there, the Cumbrian Hussars. We were now a brigade. The rest of the regiment had had an easy day organising the camp. The lieutenant rushed off to report to the major while we led the men to the horse lines. Unlike the lieutenant we still had a lot of work to do. Carson took two horses. I was glad that I was not an officer’s servant. One horse was enough for me. I never thought, back at Burscough, that I would think that but I had far more to do out here.

  That even, in the mess, we discovered that our brigade was out on a limb. The main BEF was many miles away, close to Mons. It
was almost a hundred miles south east of us. Colonel Mackenzie, according to the word around the camp, was not happy to be stuck out on the periphery of the war. We were just guarding an escape route back to Britain. Lieutenant Ramsden had obviously been chewed out when he sought the sergeant and myself after we had eaten.

  “The colonel wants us to find the Germans tomorrow. He was disappointed we didn’t reach Ypres.”

  “Perhaps if we went south east we might have more luck sir?”

  “You think so corporal? Well we will leave earlier and push the men on eh?”

  After he had left I wondered what the men would make of it. Another day in the saddle; we all liked riding but few of us had spent eight hours a day on the back of a horse. I smiled, “I’ll go and give the lads the good news eh sarge?”

  “Aye. Still they might be better prepared tomorrow.” He grinned, “Don’t forget to tell them to shave a little better tomorrow eh?”

  The men had learned their lesson and we were waiting patiently for the lieutenant to arrive. I noticed that he was not quite as smartly presented: perhaps Carson had been tired too. Like us Carson had spent all day in the saddle. We pushed hard towards the south east. An hour into the patrol we heard the unmistakeable thunder of guns. Poor Tiny thought it was thunder and he looked at the cloudless sky and said to his big brother, “Thunder?”

  “Nay, you dozy bugger. That’s guns. We know where the Germans are.”

  Doddy was right it meant the two armies had collided; the question was where? “Take out your rifles but keep the safety on. We need to be prepared.”

  There was urgency now to our ride. I did not bother to send a message back to the rest of the patrol. They could hear the same guns we could and would be drawing their own conclusions. I just hoped that the lieutenant would remember to send the message back to the brigade. Failure to do so would result in more than a ticking off. We did not stop for a rest and another hour brought us just past the Belgian town of Heuvelland. The people there were busy packing their belongings into carts. None of them spoke English but they kept pointing to the east and shouting, “Boche! Boche!” We all knew that meant Germans.