by Griff Hosker
“I think we’ll wait here for the rest of the troop. Robbie, take the horses and water them. You lads come with me. We’ll go to the edge of town.”
It was a typical Belgian town. The houses ended and then there were fields. We found a house with a walled garden at the end of the road. It appeared to be deserted. “Get behind the wall and keep your eyes peeled.”
I did not need to tell them to listen for the guns were cracking away in the distance. I could now see smoke. The clear blue sky helped. We could now discern the sound of small arms fire. There was a battle going on. The BEF and the Germans had met. Robbie came running up. “I found a river.” He pointed ahead. “I worked out it must run over there somewhere.”
That could be important. “Are the horses secured?”
“Yes Corp, tied up and eating from their nosebags.”
“Good, come with me. You two lads stay here. I am going to see what is ahead.” We ran down the road. I had slipped the safety catch off on my rifle. I knew that there was a battle ahead. Anything could happen. There could be a German patrol just like ours. At least our uniforms helped us to blend into the background; we had heard the Germans wore grey.
Robbie had been correct; the river did run to the south west of the town. The bridge did not look to be in the best condition but soldiers could cross it. “You stay here and I will walk across to see how good it is.”
It was a stone bridge but looked old enough to have been built by the Romans. I was concentrating so much on my feet that I didn’t look up until I reached the other side. To my horror I saw grey uniformed horsemen; they were a mile away and heading towards me. I just turned and ran. “Robbie, get back! They are German cavalry!”
I know I should have counted and identified them but, to be honest, I was scared witless. I thought I was prepared but I wasn’t. I heard their shouts and the thunder of their hooves but I resisted the urge to turn around. That would gain me nothing. I saw the village; it was two hundred yards away. I watched as Robbie hurled himself over the wall. I risked a look around. I turned and saw that they were Uhlans, lancers, and they were two hundred yards away. I lifted my Lee Enfield and fired three shots in rapid succession. Then I turned and ran without waiting to see the result. I honestly expected to hear the thundering hooves get closer and then feel a lance in my back. My three lads began to fire and I dived over the wall. My hat came off but I didn’t care. I turned and lined up my rifle. I saw a horse and a German lying on the road. The others had ridden a little way off.
“That was close, Corp!”
“It was. Who got the horse and the rider?”
“You got the horse and Doddy got the rider.”
“Well done Doddy!” I counted them. There were just ten of them. We had full bandoliers and they were armed with a lance. “Let’s see how good these guns are. Pick your targets. I want accuracy not just blind firing.”
I aimed at someone who was gesticulating a lot. The range was over two hundred yards. I knew that the rifle would have a tendency to buck up and I aimed at the middle of his horse. I squeezed the trigger. There was a puff of smoke and then I saw him pitched from the horse. I don’t think he was dead for he struggled to his feet. The other three fired too. I saw one man killed as someone’s bullet hit him in the head. They had had enough and they withdrew to the bridge which was well out of range.
“Tiny, go with Robbie and bring up the horses.” As they ran off I wondered where the rest of the patrol was. I had expected them before now.
Doddy spat, “How come they have them lances, Corp? Strikes me that they are neither use nor ornament.”
“I think they are quite handy if you are charging men who are running away or cavalry armed with swords. They use the Uhlans like we use us; they are scouts, look.” I pointed at the rider who had detached himself and was riding south east from the bridge.
Just then I heard hooves behind us and saw Robbie and Tiny with the rest of the patrol fifty yards behind them.
The lieutenant reined in as I mounted Caesar. His voice seemed unnaturally high, “Report, Corporal Harsker.”
“We followed the sound of the guns and found the villagers leaving. We had just found the bridge down there when the Uhlans appeared and they charged us.”
“Uhlans? How do you know?”
“The lances sir, that was a bit of a clue.”
Someone sniggered and Sergeant Armstrong shouted, “Quiet in the ranks!”
“Well done corporal. Get mounted. Right sergeant. Let’s get after them.”
“Do you think that is wise sir? Don’t you think we ought to get back and report to the colonel?”
“Nonsense. These four have killed or wounded two or three of them and we need prisoners.” He stood in his stirrups. “Forward! Sound the charge!”
I saw Sergeant Armstrong shake his head as the bugler sounded the charge. Even I knew that was unnecessary; it merely told the Germans what we intended. We did our duty and we followed the young lieutenant.
The Germans turned and fled. I swear I heard Lieutenant Ramsden shout, “View halloo,” as though he was on a fox hunt. Gradually the Uhlans began to pull away and this was the point at which we should have stopped, but of course we didn’t.
I heard Sergeant Armstrong shout, “Sir, the horses, we need to slow down.”
There was no answer at first and then the squeaky voice of our leader shouted, “Trot.”
Suddenly there was a ripple of gunfire from the trees ahead. Carson and his horse fell dead and Lieutenant Ramsden and the bugler both clutched their arms. It was lucky for all of us that we had Sergeant Armstrong for he shouted, “Retreat!” He grabbed the lieutenant’s reins and pulled the horse back up the road. Jack Lynch did the same for the bugler, Taffy Jones. “Corporal, form a rearguard and give us cover.”
“Right sarge! Doddy, Tiny, Robbie, with me. Open fire! Five shots rapid fire!” I chose those three as we had been under attack and we had fired already. We could not see the Germans but knew that they must be in the trees. I just fired my five shots at the tree line. As soon as I counted five shots I shouted, “Fall back!” Bullets were zipping around our heads like angry wasps but they were firing too high. We laid low over our saddles and I prayed we would survive.
When we reached the village Sergeant Armstrong had dismounted the rest of the patrol while he administered first aid to the wounded. “Well done, corporal. Keep an eye on them while I see to these two.”
I heard the lieutenant say, “Carson, someone must go back for Carson.”
“He’s dead sir, forget him.”
The sergeant’s voice brought the reality of the war home to me. Carson had been alive and shaving his officer that morning and now he lay dead on some obscure Belgium road.
“Right lads make sure you have a full magazine.”
Doddy pointed. “It looks like they have stayed where they were.”
“Bloody good thing too.” Tiny’s indignation was matched by our silence.
I heard raised voices behind me. “I tell you, Sergeant Armstrong, I am perfectly capable of carrying on.”
“With respect sir you have lost a lot of blood and I am not a doctor. We need to get you back and looked at.”
“I can be the judge of that!”
“And what about our news, Lieutenant Ramsden? We had no idea there were Germans this close to us and now we have infantry and cavalry.” Suddenly there was a high pitched noise. “Get down!”
Although the shell exploded a hundred yards away the noise and the concussion deafened me. Dirt and debris showered down on us.
“Everyone, get mounted and get out of here!” No-one thought twice about obeying the sergeant’s order.
I had been given the task of rearguard and I waited until the wounded had been helped on their horses and led away before I joined the tail of the patrol. There was another whine and this time the explosion sounded closer. The air was filled with dust and stones. Pieces of debris struck my back too. It felt as though
had thrown a handful of pebbles at me. Poor Caesar leapt forward as though I had slapped him. “Steady boy, we are leaving. And not before time too!”
Chapter 5
Sergeant Armstrong sent a rider ahead to the camp. By the time we reached our new home it was as though someone had upset an ant’s nest. The news had alarmed the Brigadier.
Sergeant Armstrong was waiting for me. “You take the lads to the horse lines and I will go and report to the colonel.”
“Right sarge.”
As I turned to walk away he suddenly said, “Bloody hell! You are wounded!”
“Don’t be daft.” As I turned to face him I saw that Caesar’s rump was flecked with blood.
“You are son! Get to the doctor. You have been hit by shrapnel. Brown, take Caesar to the vet.”
I handed over the reins but I felt a fraud. It was Caesar who was wounded, not me. I obeyed orders and headed for the medical tent. The orderly saw me and smiled, “Come to see how the lieutenant is?”
“No sarge, I have been told I am wounded.”
He looked at me and said, “Turn around.” I did so. “And they are right. Your back is covered in blood. You have been lucky me old mate. Come in here and we’ll get your clothes off.”
It was only when he took off my leather webbing and bandoliers that I saw what he meant. The leather had been almost cut through by the tiny pieces of metal but the amount of leather we wore had saved my life. My uniform was shredded as was my shirt.
I heard the doctor sigh, “What a mess but you have been lucky.” The orderly swabbed my back down and there was a cool stinging sensation. “This may hurt but I am saving the drugs for slightly more serious cases.”
He was right it did hurt as he dug out the tiny fragments of the shell. It hurt even more when the alcohol was used to disinfect it. The orderly handed me a new shirt. “Here you are, a new one. You had better see the quartermaster for the rest of your equipment. And you had better take the ruined uniform and webbing. You know what they are like.”
“Thanks.”
He shook his head, “I think that we can safely say that our war started today.”
“Amen to that.”
“And I hear you left one out there?”
“Aye, Carson, the lieutenant’s batman.”
The orderly shook his head, “I have a feeling it won’t be the last.”
I think I was lucky in that I was the first to go to the quartermaster for my replacement equipment; he handed it over without any fuss. As the war went on he became increasingly reluctant to part with his new equipment.
I went directly to the vet’s and I was relieved that Caesar looked quite happy. The vet was the village vet and I knew him well. “You were both lucky, Billy Boy. Caesar is fine and after a good night’s sleep will be fit for duty.”
I led my mount to the horse lines. It had been a rude awakening for me. I could have been the second death in the regiment. I was the last to reach the mess and Sergeant Armstrong was waiting for me. “What did the doc say?”
“That I was lucky!”
“And he was right. That dozy young bugger nearly got us all killed. If the Boche had been a bit sharper with that first shell we would all be dead now.”
“How is he?”
He gave a derisory snort, “Flesh wound! The way he is going on you would think it was worthy of the V.C.!”
Just then Squadron Sergeant Ritchie burst into the tent. “Right lads eat and run. The Germans have broken through our lines. We are on our own. The colonel wants us ready to move by dawn. We pack everything we can tonight and just drop the tents in the morning.” He turned to the cooks, “No hot food in the morning. Get some bully beef on bread.”
There was a groan from some of the non commissioned officers but I wondered why we weren’t moving straight away.
“If I was the colonel I would be heading south now sarge.”
“Aye and so would I but we don’t know the roads and it would be too easy to be ambushed.” He finished mopping up the last of his gravy with his bread. “This is a fine start eh? Nearly caught with our trousers down and we have only been over here for five minutes.”
It was still dark when we broke camp. To be fair to Squadron Sergeant Ritchie, he timed it perfectly. The sun was peering over the horizon as the last tent was put into the wagon and the colonel waved our troop forward. It seems that our zealous Lieutenant Ramsden had persuaded the colonel to let us scout again. In light of the previous day the sergeant and I thought it was a mistake.
“Corporal Harsker, you did such a fine job yesterday that your section can lead again. I know you won’t let me down.”
I bit back any retort I might have made. My back was just irritated but it was a reminder of how close death had come. I would be careful but it was not him I was worried about letting down, it was my men. As we trotted down the road I briefed my three companions. “We know a bit more about the Germans now lads. Watch out for ambushes in the trees and keep your rifles ready.”
We were all good enough riders to cope with a heavy Lee Enfield in our right hands. It was reassuring. I had been pleased with its performance against the Germans but I knew that we might not be lucky enough to meet lancers again. Our opponents might have rifles too.
The nature of the lands and the road which had appealed so much when we first rode down them now worked against us. The land was flat and you could only see as far as the next bend. I rode at the front next to Robbie. The Brown boys peered towards the sides of the tree lined roads. We could hear, as we rode along, the crackle of small arms fire. Occasionally there was the unmistakeable stutter of a heavy machine gun. What was missing, thankfully, was the crump of artillery.
This time we were seen before we saw them. There was a crack of rifle fire ahead. Whoever had fired had done so too early and the bullet whizzed harmlessly over our heads. It warned us of the presence of the enemy. We raised our rifles and fired a short burst in the direction of the trees.
“Back to the patrol!”
This time the lieutenant was keeping the patrol closer to us. They heard the firing and met us just two hundred yards from the ambush. Sergeant Armstrong reacted first, “Trooper Smith, ride back to the column and say we have encountered the enemy.”
As the trooper rode off the officer gave him an irritated look, “Thank you sergeant but perhaps, next time you might wait…”
“Sir, with respect we have an enemy to shift.” He turned in the saddle, “Troop, dismount. Skirmish order!”
The lieutenant had a temporary batman in the shape of Trooper Teer. He also took the sergeant’s horse.
As Robbie led our horses away I took the Brown boys back down the lane. We kept low as we ran. When we reached the place they had fired on us I waved the lads down and we peered through the bushes. I could see dark shapes in the woods ahead. “Pick your targets boys; we need to know numbers.”
I aimed at a grey black shape and squeezed the trigger. I was rewarded with a yell and a fusillade of fire. As we were lying down and they were aiming for kneeling men the shots whizzed harmlessly overhead. Soon the three of us were firing almost as rapidly as we could work our bolts. The Germans were standing and it made them easier targets, even though they thought they were hidden in the woods.
Sergeant Armstrong and the lieutenant appeared behind me. As bullets hurtled towards us I shouted, “Get down! Sir!”
Sergeant Armstrong threw himself to the road. Lieutenant Ramsden looked as though it was beneath him. The sergeant said, “Sir, you’ll get your head blown off this way.”
“Thank you, sergeant.” He complied with my shout albeit reluctantly.
Sergeant Armstrong said, “Corporal Harsker, can you and your lads work your way down the road and try to flank them?”
“If you can give us covering fire.”
He shouted to the nearest troopers, “Crawl here and give rapid fire at those trees!” He raised his gun and emptied the magazine.
I said to the Brow
n boys, “Put a fresh magazine in. Then when I shout, run like buggery up the lane. Watch me, when I drop, you drop.”
I waited until I heard the rest of the troop open fire and then I shouted, “Run!” I ran as fast as I could. I heard the bullets but they were behind me. There was one cry of pain but I could not afford the time to turn. After a hundred yards I dropped. Doddy crashed next to me and then Tiny. Tiny had lost his hat. He snarled, “The bastards shot me hat, Corp!”
“Are you alright?”
“Aye it just nicked me head. I’ve had worse cuts shaving.”
“Right let’s work our way in the woods and try to flank them.”
The hedgerow had hidden us from their view and we slithered under the lower branches and snaked our way towards the enemy we knew were ahead of us. I saw a flash of grey and I tapped Doddy on the shoulder. He dropped as did his brother. I pointed ahead and they both nodded. I raised my rifle as I sighted it on the pickelhaube. I lowered my rifle and fired. There was a cry and the figure pitched forwards. I heard the rifles of my two men as they barked and I sighted on the infantryman who was aiming his gun my direction. The Lee Enfield has a fast action and I fired before he could get his shot off. I was less than fifty yards away and I saw his face explode as the .303 bullet entered his head and smashed through the back of his skull.
Suddenly I heard the terrifying sound of a machine gun as they began firing in our direction. I just lay down and pressed myself into the ground. Bits of branches and leaves cascaded down on my head and my body. I braced myself for the sudden impact of one of the bullets but it never came. When the gun stopped, they needed reloading I suspected, I raised my head and my gun. I saw the gunner a hundred yards away. He was standing to reload the gun and I fired. He fell dead across the gun. Doddy emptied his magazine at the gun and then shouted, “Sod this!” He stood and charged. His brother followed and I had no choice but to join them.
We all roared as we ran. This was no battle cry but it was the adrenalin and emotion of the charge. Miraculously the bullets coming in our direction missed us. I fired from the hip as I ran. We had no bayonets fitted and would have to improvise once we closed with them. I saw an officer level his pistol at me. I dropped to my knees, worked the bolt and fired. The bullet hit him in the chest and he fell backwards.
