Ben
With everything ready, the Regiment left for France. First stop, Tidworth station, where a train was already waiting, so we handed over our horses to be loaded on cattle trucks and boarded the carriages. There were a few interested civilians to see us off, and as we got under way, troopers hung out of windows shouting at passers by. I recall in particular Patterson, our Squadron trumpeter, shouting ‘Get those turkeys fattened up, because we’ll want them when we get back for Christmas.’ Ironically, less than ten days later he was taken prisoner of war, returning home some five years and as many Christmases later.
Detraining at Southampton, we immediately started boarding a little old cattle boat, HMT Wintfredian, each trooper carrying his horse’s saddle as well as his own equipment up one of two parallel gangways and on to the ship. Meanwhile, the horses were stripped down to their bridles, and were led, each following the one in front, down into the hold of the ship for stabling. One horse, too big to go the conventional route, had to be hoisted aboard by means of a pully and a canvas sling.
Editor
The Winifredian sailed around 12 noon, arriving some eighteen hours later in Boulogne. It had been a quiet, if long, crossing, for the fear of submarine attack had held up the ship shortly after leaving harbour. Indeed, many troopers were fooled when a first glimpse of Continental Europe turned out to be no more than the town lights of Hastings.
Ben
On leaving the quayside, I was promptly detailed for lifebelt duty at the stem of the ship. Here I stood until midnight with two lifebelts, ready to throw one overboard to any trooper who might be unfortunate enough to fall in. I was left on duty until, after six hours, I asked a sergeant strolling by if I might be relieved as I hadn’t had a meal, a break, or anything at all, for that matter. My request granted, I made my way below deck to get a meal in a part of the galley rigged out as a mess room.
It was dark below deck, for with the threat of submarine attack, all lights had been dimmed, and portholes closed and firmly screwed shut. Up on deck there was a strict order banning all smoking, but the crossing was calm, and the night warm enough so that many troopers seemed content to just sleep the night away where they liked up on deck.
It was light when we pulled into Boulogne, and we excitedly crowded along the ship’s railing to get some early impressions. Walking along the quay we spotted French soldiers wearing their blue jackets, red trousers, and peak caps. ‘Blimey,’ said one man, ‘even the postmen have got bayonets.’
Editor
It was Sunday morning and the bells were ringing for early morning mass. Though few people were to be seen near the quayside at first, enterprising shopkeepers were soon up and around, and though few soldiers had any knowledge of French, hand gestures and verbal approximations, including ’du pain’ for bread, ensured that some quick trading was done.
Ben
We disembarked around 6.30am, though my impressions are that we sailed up the river some distance before getting off. We came down the narrow gangway and waited to take any horse which came down the adjacent ramp with just its bridle on. They were then taken, lined up and sorted out into their respective squadrons and troops. There weren’t too many people around, a few sightseers, though by the time we’d sorted out the horses and saddled up, more people had stirred and we were cheered with ‘Vivent les Anglais!’ as we made our way into camp. Shortly afterwards, we went down to the beach and rode the horses bareback into the sea, sliding off their backs to swim alongside, or, as horses can’t kick under water, to grip onto their tails to be pulled along. A pleasant introduction to France was not marred when, on leaving the sea, we were surprised by a French battery of 75s which had hastily arrived on the beach, unsure of who we were. We eyed the crews and their small-looking guns, which to our minds didn’t look as well built as the British 13-pounders.
The Regiment went into camp for two days before we rode to a goods yard to board trains to begin our move east. Once again the horses were stripped of their saddles. Eight horses were loaded to a truck, the first four being turned around to face the following four, with the saddles heaped in the middle, gravel being put down to help the horses grip. Two men were detailed to look after the horses while the rest of us scrambled aboard, six to a third-class carriage. We were advised to get as much sleep as we could, so we tossed up for who had the luggage racks, who the seats and who the floor. I lost, so got the floor.
It was a bruising trip. The drivers appeared to be amateurs, for every time the train stopped, carriages banged together with such force the men in the luggage racks fell onto the men lying on the wooden seats. Towards the front of the train, horses became loose as restraining ropes were broken by the constant shunting, and horse handlers were trampled underfoot trying to put new ropes across.
The trains were painfully slow and there were several stops oen route, not least to feed and water the horses. Where possible, troopers dashed along the side of the train to the engine. Here a queue would form as the driver tapped off boiling water from a pipe into our mess tins enabling us to make quite drinkable tea.
Editor
Records show that the Regiment left Boulogne at around 12.30am on Tuesday August 18th, travelling by train via Amiens to the small town of Hautmont. From here it moved forward on horseback, to Damousies on August 19th, then to Harmignies and finally to the Bois La Haut on August 21st.
Ben
When we finally left the train, the order was given ‘Right, you are in suspected enemy country, load.’ Two clips of five rounds filled the magazine, with the tenth in the breach. Safety catches remained on and, as was the rule, the tenth round was taken out and put into a pocket. We had met nothing but friendly greetings, but were now warned about speaking to civilians. ’Some may be sympathetic to the Germans,’ we were told, ‘others might even be informers, so be wary of what you say.’
As the Regiment rode through the Belgian countryside, a Connecting File was adopted. The purpose of the File was to give the Squadron early warning of danger ahead by sending out scouts in advance of the main body of troops. These scouts rode on both sides of the road, followed some 200 yards behind by two troopers who would pass or signals between the scouts and the Squadron. Signals were given with a rifle. A vertical movement up and down meant trot, a rifle held vertically still meant halt. If the enemy were spotted, the rifle was pushed up and down three times in a horizontal position, and so on. The rifle sling was always turned towards those you were signalling to, for despite being khaki, it showed up better than the dark brown wood of the rifle. On Connecting File, on one early occasion, the order was given to dismount. We had just entered a small village and as we stopped I was approached by several people including a lady who handed me a small piece of cooking chocolate. Translating for the rest, one, an English groom working in Belgium, asked me, ‘When are you expecting to fight? What are you hoping to do? Is your equipment better than the Germans?’ I knew little more than he did, and, mindful of our orders, said there was not much I could tell him.
By August 20th, the Regiment had reached the small village of Damousies. The village was strung out along two sides of a large common, with an estaminet the most notable feature. As we were billeting here for the night, the men were to sleep at one end of the village, the officers at the other. As the afternoon wore on, some of the troopers were allowed to visit the pub for a beer. However, French beer seemed to go through soldiers like potato water, and it wasn‘t long before the toilet was in demand. This was simply a five-foot screen erected in front of the pub, behind which a funnel had been attached to a wall. The funnel ran down to the floor, across, underneath the screen and simply stopped dead a few inches above the ground. As each trooper relieved himself, the urine simply spilled out on to the street before meandering away towards a gutter.
As we settled down for the evening, we saw at the far end of the common a round, and, to our amazement, high-backed hip bath. This bath had been conjured up from somewhere, and was now being
filled by water from the village pump. Some of the officers were going to have a bath before their evening meal, and in due course we watched as an orderly tipped water over them as and when they required it. The sight alone made me realise just how innocent we all were to what this war was to be all about.
Later, at about 9pm, we witnessed one of the earliest air-to-air combats of the war. Two aircraft, one British, the other German, had met in the skies above us and, as we listened to the drone of their engines, we saw the flash of rifles or revolvers being fired in the evening light. Very slowly the two planes circled each other before breaking off the fight without a result. No doubt neither could afford to stay and fight with only a limited amount of fuel.
NOTES
1. For example, Captain Fitzgerald was ex-Eton, Captain Oldrey, the adjutant, ex-Uppingham. Lieutenant Railston ex-Radley, 2nd Lieutenant Gordon-Munro and Lieutenant Aylmer both ex-Wellington College, Captains Sewell and Hornby both ex-Harrow.
2. A check on the regimental numbers of all those who went to France on HMT Winifredian shows that Ben’s number, 8292, is exceeded only by one soldier, Private C F Lees 8300 (denoting that he joined the Regiment after Ben). Given the measures Ben had to take to be allowed to leave with the Regiment for France, it is highly unlikely Lees would have been younger than Ben.
CHAPTER THREE
The First Shot
Editor
August 21st dawned misty and dull, making aerial reconnaissance impossible until the afternoon. Cavalry patrols continued to be pushed onwards towards Mons, crossing the Mons-Condé canal during the day and spreading out along the banks between Maurage and Obourg. During the day, reports indicated that German forces were massing to the north, and in particular that there were 2,500 hostile cavalry at Soignies. These were substantiated that evening, when patrols from both the 4th Dragoon Guards and the 9th Lancers made visual contact with their German counterparts to the east of Mons, Lieutenant Jones reporting that he had also seen Germans under bivouac.
By this time on August 21st, the Regiment of 4th Dragoons was positioned east of Mons. Apart from these tantalising sightings, no reliable information had been collected as to the whereabouts or definite strength of German forces, so C Squadron was detailed to move forward in an attempt to make contact with the enemy. Travelling light, the Squadron moved off towards the village of Maisières, where a halt was made for the night. But Bridges, the 43-year-old Squadron leader, felt uneasy. Local civilians had been seen cycling out of the village to the north, so, unwilling to take risks, he moved his force across the main Mons to Brussels road to a nearby hill he had earlier noted. From here, a precautionary screen of pickets was put out, while Lieutenants Jones, Harrison and Aylmer, and Corporal Savory went out on patrol to gather further information. There was still no contact with the enemy, although the news gleaned from local residents earlier in the day was unmistakeable. Large numbers of enemy troops were pouring south on every road from Brussels. Figures could only be estimated at some 400,000.
Ben
All four Troops of C Squadron were on outpost that night with two troops on standby, saddled up, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Our Troop was in a cornfield, along the back of which ran a wood. A screen of sentries was sent out, allowing those not on standby to eat something or catch up on some sleep. Everything was still and quiet; everyone was tense. We tied the horses’ reins round our wrists, while those too nervous to rest talked to each other in whispers. We were warned that for all we knew we might already be surrounded and that we mustn’t speak to anyone. A few of us slackened our horses’ girths to let them breathe freely. But silence was the order and, as horses were prone to play with their loose bit bars, we held or tied handkerchiefs around the bars to muffle any sound.
Editor
Another trooper on standby that night was Private Tilney,1 a reservist and orderly to Captain Hornby. ‘We crossed the Mons-Condé canal, and reached some woods and a village on the main Soignies road. I was in the 4th Troop, which was for duty, so we found the picquet. Corpl Thomas was in charge, with Carb Facey, Jury and myself, and we had orders to fire on anyone coming down the road. It was agreed that Corpl Thomas should shout “Halt! who goes there?” and we were to fire.
Nothing happened until about 2am ... [when] suddenly we heard a horse coming down the road and it seemed to us, waiting for him, hours before he was within hailing distance. At last we could see a red glow: whoever it was, was smoking a cigar. Just as we were taking aim, the horse stumbled and the rider’s pet name for it being the same as ours, we recognised the voice of Trooper Goodchilds.’
Despite everyone being in a high state of expectation, the rest of the night passed peacefully enough. At around 6am on an already bright, sunny morning, the Squadron moved off towards the village of Casteau, on the outskirts of which we made a brief stop, although there was time enough for several soldiers to enjoy some bread, butter and coffee, courtesy of a man from Windsor living nearby.2
Ben
At about 6.30am, we arrived at a farm on the comer of a staggered crossroads and began watering our horses in a trough. There were already a few people about and as we waited, a farm worker came in saying he’d seen four Uhlans coming down the road.3
Once this was confirmed, there was a flurry of action, and a plan was hatched to capture the patrol as it passed. Four men from 4th Troop were dismounted and ordered to fire a volley of shots into the patrol at close quarters. This would be followed by 2nd Troop charging forward and bagging the remainder. I, along with the rest of 4th Troop, was placed out of sight, mounted, waiting with drawn sword. I believe a man was sent out behind a hedge to signal when the Germans were about to arrive, but in his excitement he ran to grab his horse and gave the position away.4
Editor
It is not certain if this sudden movement made the Germans turn and retreat back up the steep, tramlined road, towards Casteau, but it now put Bridges in a difficult position. It was one thing to capture an advance guard of Germans, quite another to go hurtling after them not knowing how many more might appear over the brow of the hill. But Hornby was in no doubt that chase they should, so, with Bridges’ assent, on to and up the main road the 1st Troop charged.
The Squadron leader was to follow on with the 2nd and 3rd Troops and what was left of the 4th, for some were still on patrol, and Tilney had gone careering down the road with Hornby. In 1932 Tilney wrote, ‘I followed the Captain as he went down the right-hand side of the road. He took a German on the point of his sword, just as I saw the lads do at Shomcliffe with the dummies. I couldn’t have a hand in the fun, so I crossed over to the other side of the road and took on a chap with a lance, whom I captured.’
Ben
The 1st Troop of C with Hornby at their head went after them, and the rest of the Squadron followed on in support, with drawn swords. Our troop officer, Lieutenant Swallow, led the Troop at a fast canter, everyone was highly excited and I recall looking round to find our saddler sergeant major, not with a sword, but with a cocked ’45 in his hand.
As the Germans retired into the village they met up with a larger group of Uhlans, and, owing to the congestion, were soon caught by the 1st Troop. A fight immediately broke out. However, we arrived after the Germans had scattered, with the main body splitting off and carrying on up the main road. We continued to give chase, our horses slipping all over the place as we clattered along the square-set stones.
Editor
The German lance proved ineffective at close range against the English sword and a number of lances were thrown away though to no advantage. Several Germans were killed in this engagement, possibly as many as eight, with Captain Hornby being credited with drawing first blood.5
Ben
Our chase continued for perhaps a mile or more, until we found ourselves flying up a wide, rising road, tree-lined on both sides. The Germans, reaching the road’s crest, turned and, though they were still mounted, began firing back down the hill. ‘Action front, dismount,’
rapped Hornby, ‘Get the horses under cover!’ In one movement the Troop returned their swords, reached for their rifles and dismounted, dashing for cover, lying flat on their stomachs behind the trees. Glancing up the hill, I saw several Germans filling the road. They made a perfect target, and Thomas, the first into action,6 shot one from his horse.
The Troop’s rapid fire sent bullets swarming up the road, but as a designated horse holder, I did not come into action. Before dismounting, the Troop had been riding in fours, and being number three, it was my job to take the reins of the two horses on my left and those of the one on my right. Spurred on by Hornby’s command, I made for a high redbrick garden wall that surrounded the grounds of a château and which, because it stood at right angles to the road, offered us suitable protection. A gate was rushed open into the neighbouring field and I, along with the other horse holders, rode through to comparative safety. It is not an easy job to bring four horses through a narrow opening; even in battle, each of us had to ensure our horses didn’t catch their hips on the gate. However, we almost accomplished our minor feat without problems when the very last horse through got a bullet in her stomach.
Editor
From now until the ceasefire, Ben and the other horse holders could see little or nothing of the mêlée taking place just yards away. It was a question of waiting and, as Ben recalled, steadying the horses with quiet words of encouragement. In the temporary absence of Bridges, who had still to arrive on the scene, Hornby was giving the orders. He had left the skirmish in the village to join the 4th Troop farther up the road, although he was not the only officer present. 4th Troop still had its troop officer, Lieutenant Swallow, but in action his nerve had given way.
Ben
Under fire, Lieutenant Swallow simply went to pieces. He was sitting on his horse shaking like a jelly, totally unable to pull himself together. Hornby was absolutely furious and seeing that Swallow was of no further use, turned on our troop officer shouting, ‘Get back with the led horses, you cowardly bastard!’ Hornby was barely able to control his disgust at Swallow’s behaviour; the first action of the war, and Swallow had been left looking completely hopeless in front of the men he was supposed to lead. Swallow joined us, disgraced in front of the whole Troop.7
Teenage Tommy Page 6
