Fifteenth Infantry Brigade - 26th August 1914

 

The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade

August 1914 to March 1915

BY 

Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,

(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

Aug. 26th.

The orders overnight were that we were to continue the retirement first thing in the morning; but when morning came the Germans were so close that it was decided that it would be impossible to do so, and fresh orders were issued to hold the position we were in.

Accordingly we took up our positions as we had settled overnight, and started all necessary preparations—deepening trenches, arranging telephone wires and communications, and putting the village of Troisvilles, on our left, in a state of defence.

The Dorsets were to hold this village and several hundred yards of trenches to the east of it. On their right came the Bedfords in trenches, with of course a proportion in support, and the Cheshires were put in a dip of the ground in rear of them. The 13th Brigade was on the right of the Bedfords, with the K.O.S.B.'s touching them. The Norfolks I put in a second line, in rear of the right of the Bedfords and the left of the K.O.S.B.'s, mostly along a sunken road where they dug themselves well into the banks. The 27th Brigade of Artillery, under Onslow, was put under my orders; two batteries of it were in our right rear, and the third was taken away by Sir C. F., to strengthen the right I believe. A battery of the 15th Artillery Brigade was also put in close behind the Bedfords, in the dip of ground afore-mentioned, whence they did excellent execution without being seen by the enemy. Divisional Headquarters were at Reumont, a mile behind us, with a wood in between; but we were, of course, connected up by telephone with them, as well as with our battalions and our artillery. We—i.e., the Brigade Headquarters—sat in the continuation of the hollow sandy road, in rear of the Bedfords and on the left of the Norfolks.

The morning was distinctly cool after the rain, and I remember that I wore my woolly till about 11 o'clock. Our horses were stowed away a few hundred yards to our left, in a hollow; and the extraordinary thing was that neither they nor ourselves got shelled as long as we were there, though some shrapnel burst occasionally only a hundred yards off or so in different directions.

We were in position by 7 o'clock, as far as I can remember; but unless one keeps a record the whole time one is very liable to err—and I won't swear that it was not 8 o'clock. Some shells began to arrive about then, but did no harm. On our left was the 9th Brigade (3rd Division), and the shelling began to develop pretty heavily in their direction. Our guns were of course in action by this time, and for the first two or three hours the air was full of shells and very little Infantry fire was heard. The 4th Division had arrived only that morning, I believe by train, and was guarding the left flank of the line, assisted by our Cavalry. Behind the town of Le Cateau, on the extreme right, was the 19th Brigade. Then came the 14th Brigade, then the 13th, then ourselves, and then the 3rd Division; so we were about the right centre.

The Dorsets were hard at work putting Troisvilles into a strong state of defence, and were helped by some of our Divisional Sappers, I believe the 59th Co. R.E. (but it might have been the 17th).

There was a local French ambulance—civilian I think—in Troisvilles, and several of our own R.A.M.C. personnel there; but the Divisional ambulances were farther to the rear, and as the wounded began to come in from the right front we sent them back towards Reumont. St André was very useful in galloping backwards and forwards between Troisvilles and Brigade Headquarters—I kept him for that, as I wanted my proper staff for other staff work; but all of them paid a visit or two there once or twice. The enemy's shells were now falling fast on our left about Inchy, but seemed to do extraordinarily little damage there; and during the first hours it was really more of a spectacular piece for us than a battle. However, we were of course kept busy sending and receiving wires from all parts, and every now and then a few wounded came in from our front. We were also bucked up by hearing that a French Cavalry Division was coming to help us from Cambrai; but I don't know whether it ever materialised.

As the day wore on, the Bedfords got engaged with infantry in their front, but neither they nor the Dorsets got anything very much to shoot at; and though a German machine-gun or two pushed pluckily forward and did a certain amount of damage from hidden folds in the ground, I think we accounted for them—anyway we stopped their shooting after a short time.

Meanwhile the 13th Brigade and the guns on our right were catching it very hot. There seemed an enormous number of guns against us (I believe, as a matter of fact, there were nearer 700 than 600), and our batteries were suffering very heavily. So were the 14th and 19th Brigades—the latter being a scratch one composed of units from the lines of communication under Laurence Drummond.

At one moment—it must have been about 12 o'clock or later—I saw to my horror the best part of a company of Bedfords leave their trenches in our front and retire slowly and in excellent order across the open. So I got on my horse and galloped out to see what they were doing and to send them back, as it seemed to me that some of the K.O.S.B.'s were falling back too, in sympathy. I'm afraid that my language was strong; but I made the Bedfords turn about again, although their officer explained that he was only withdrawing, by superior battalion orders, in order to take up an advanced position further on the right; and with some of the Cheshires, whom I picked up on the way, they advanced again in extended order.

They got back again to their trenches without any casualties to speak of, and I was much gratified by a message I received shortly afterwards from my right (I think Cuthbert or the gunners) thanking me warmly for my most valuable counter-attack, which had considerably relieved the pressure in their front!

On our immediate right the Norfolks were occupied for several hours in trying to cut down a very big tree, which was about the most conspicuous feature in the whole of our position, and formed an excellent object on which the enemy could range. It was all very well; but as soon as they had cut it half through, so as to fall to the south, the south wind, which was blowing pretty strongly, not only kept it upright but threatened to throw it over to the north. This would have been a real disaster, as it would have blocked completely the sunken road along which the ammunition carts, to say nothing of artillery and other waggons, would have had to come. So it had to be guyed up with ropes, with much difficulty; and even when teams hung on and hauled on the ropes, they could make little impression—the wind was so strong. Eventually they did manage to get it down, but even so it formed a fairly conspicuous mark. (It was so big that it was marked on the map.)

Inchy was now the centre of an appalling bombardment. A crowd of Germans had got into it, it appeared, and the village was being heavily shelled by both sides—British and German. Several houses and haystacks caught fire, and the poor devils inside must have had a terrible time. The 3rd Division was holding its own, but was being heavily attacked by the enemy's infantry. However, we eventually got the better of it, and the 9th and 10th Brigades drove the Germans away from their trenches and pursued them some distance, much assisted by the fire of the Dorsets and the advance of one or two of their companies.

Things went on hammer-and-tongs for another hour or two; more and more wounded began coming in from the 13th Brigade, including a lot of K.O.S.B.'s. We turned Beilby, our veterinary officer, on to "first aid" for many of them and sent them on; but some of the shrapnel wounds were appalling. One man I remember lying across a pony; I literally took him for a Frenchman, for his trousers were drenched red with blood, and not a patch of khaki showing. Another man had the whole of the back of his thigh torn away; yet, after being bandaged, he hobbled gaily off, smoking a pipe. What struck me as curious was the large number of men hit in the face or below the knee,—there seemed few body wounds in comparison; but that may of course have been because those badly hit in the body were killed or unmovable. But one would see men apparently at their last gasp, with gruesome wounds on them and no more stretchers available, and yet five minutes afterwards they had disappeared.

Time was getting on, and the thunder and rain of German shells seemed unceasing; they appeared to come now not only from all along the front and the right front, but from our right as well, and our guns were replying less and less. Reports began to come in from the right of batteries wiped out (the 28th R.F.A. Brigade lost nearly all their guns here, for nearly all the detachments and horses were killed), and of a crushing attack on the 19th Brigade and penetration of our line thereabouts. And soon afterwards the movement itself became visible, for the 14th Brigade, and then the 13th, began to give way, and one could see the trenches being evacuated on the right. The Norfolks stuck well to it on the right, and covered the retirement that was beginning; but they were taken out of my hands by Sir C. F., and told off to act as rear-guard for the brigades on their right.

The 15th Brigade had really been very lucky, and had neither been shelled nor attacked very heavily, and consequently we were pretty fresh and undamaged. I forget if we got any definite message to retire, and if so, when, but it was fairly obvious that we couldn't stay where we were much longer. The Dorsets were quite happy in Troisvilles and thereabouts, but the 9th Brigade on their left had had a very bad time, and were already beginning to withdraw, though in good order.

This being so, I sent orders to the battery of the 15th R.F.A. Brigade in my front to retire before they got cut off; and they executed it grandly, bringing up the horses at a gallop, swinging round, hooking in, and starting off at a canter as if at an Aldershot field-day, though they were under heavy shell and rifle fire all the time.

Only two horses and about two men were hit altogether, and though all these were apparently killed, the men got up after a little and were brought safely off with the Bedfords.

The K.O.S.B.'s were now falling back on us from the right, and they were strung out along the Norfolks' late position, and almost at right angles to our line, for the Germans were pressing us there, and heavy rifle fire was breaking out there and nearly in our right rear. Then I ordered the Cheshires and after them the Bedfords to retire, which they did quite calmly and in good order; and lastly came the Dorsets, very well handled by Bols and forming a rear-guard to the rest of the troops hereabouts. His machine-guns under Lieut. Wodehouse had been doing excellent work, and the shooting of both Bedfords and Dorsets had had a great effect in keeping off the German attack hereabouts.

By this time units had become a bit mixed, and lines of troops belonging to different battalions and even different brigades were retiring slowly over the open ground and under a heavy fire of shrapnel—which by the same token seemed to do extraordinarily little damage. It was difficult to give a definite point for all these troops to move on, for we had been warned against retiring through villages, as they were naturally made a cockshy of by the enemy's guns. Reumont was being already heavily bombarded, and though we had instructions to fall back south-westwards along the road to Estrées, this road passed through Reumont. I did not know how to get comfortably on to it without going through some village, so gave a general direction off the road, between it and Bertry, and struck across country, together with a number of troops on foot in various formations, all moving quite steadily and remarkably slowly.

As the shrapnel were bursting in large numbers overhead, I got the men well extended, as best I could, but some of course were hit. Just as we left the road a man in charge of an ambulance-waggon full of wounded ran up and asked what he was to do, as some infernal civilian had unhitched and gone off with the horses whilst he was attending to the wounded. Stephenson, commanding K.O.S.B.'s, was lying wounded in the waggon, but this I did not hear till afterwards. Some of the K.O.S.B.'s thereupon very gallantly harnessed themselves to the waggon and towed it along the road.

It was hard work making our way mounted across country, because of the numerous wire fences we came across, not to mention ditches and hedges. We worked rather towards Bertry, avoiding woods and boggy bits, but the line wasn't easy to keep. The Germans had an unpleasant habit of plugging bursts of four to a dozen shrapnel at one range, then another lot fifty yards on, and so on, so it was no good hurrying on, as you only came in for the next lot. Then they very nearly got us just when we had got to a hopeless-looking place—the railway, with thick fence and ditch on each side of the track and a barbed-wire fence as well, with signal wires knee high just where you expected to be able to jump down on to the track. Luckily Catley, my groom, had some wire nippers; but just as he was cutting at the wire, and we of the Brigade Staff were all standing round close by, trying to get over or through, whack came four shrapnel, one close after the other, bursting just short of us and above us—a very good shot if intentional, but I don't think they could possibly have seen us. Horses of course flew all over the place; Cadell and his horse came down, and I thought he was hit, but he only lost his cap, and his horse only got a nasty flesh wound from a bit of shrapnel in his hindquarters. Again, why none of these shrapnel hit us was most extraordinary: there we were, seven or eight of us mounted and close together, and the shells bursting beautifully with terrific and damnable cracks—yet not one of the Brigade Staff touched. Beilby's horse, by the way, also got a bullet in the quarter.

These same shrapnel hit two or three infantry standing round us, and the next thing we saw was Dillon (of the Divisional Staff) dismounted and staggering along supporting two wounded privates and hoisting them over the obstacles on to the rail track, one man hanging heavily from his neck on either side. He was streaming with sweat, and said afterwards it was the hardest job he'd ever had. Others of course helped him and his men, and we wandered along over the grass, and skirting the little woods and coppices till we got to the main road again.

As we proceeded along the road we did our best to get the troops collected into their units, getting single men together into bunches and the bunches into groups and platoons, and so on. But many of them were wounded and dog-tired, and it was hard work. Ballard and his Norfolks joined us in bits, and we heard that they had had a hard time falling back through Reumont and done very well as rear-guard. There were stories at first of their having suffered terribly and lost a lot of men; but it was not in the least true,—they had had comparatively few casualties.

The country gradually grew more and more open till by dusk—somewhere about 7 o'clock—we were traversing a huge rolling plain with open fields and only occasional farmhouses visible. The troops on the road were terribly mixed, infantry and artillery and waggons and transport all jumbled up together, and belonging not only to different brigades but even to different divisions, the main ones being of course the 5th and 3rd Divisions.

Darkness came on, and the night grew cooler and cooler, yet still we pushed on. As it got blacker, terrible blocks occurred and perpetual unintentional halts. In one place, somewhere near the Serains-Prémont road I think, we were halted for about three-quarters of an hour by a jam of waggons just ahead. I gave the Norfolks leave to worm their way through the press, but it was no use, for before they had got through the waggons moved on again and only divided the men more and more, so that they lost their formation again and were worse off than before.

Companies or bits of companies of my battalions were pretty close together, and at one time the Brigade was pretty well cohesive, but as the night wore on they got separated again and mixed up with the transport till it was quite impossible to sort them out. It was a regular nightmare, and all one could look forward to was the halt at Estrées.

The German guns had long ceased to fire, even before the sun went down, and there didn't seem to be any pursuit at all, as far as we could gather. Our men moved quite steadily and without the vestige of a sign of panic: in fact, they were much annoyed at having to fall back. But I expect the German infantry was even more tired than ours, for they had marched all through the previous night and certainly had frightfully heavy casualties during the day. Anyway they did not worry us, and we pursued our way in peace. But men and horses were desperately sleepy, and at these perpetual halts used to go to sleep and block up the road again when we moved on.

Luckily the road was as straight as a die, and one could not possibly lose it; but it was difficult to know where we were, and occasional twinkling lights in houses and cottages on the road only made our whereabouts still more deceptive.

At last we entered something that looked in the pitch darkness more like a town. It was Estrées right enough, but there were no signs of a halt, though it was 1 A.M. or so. We could not find any staff officers here, even at the solitary local inn, to give us any information, and the only rumour was that we were to march on as far as we could go. We had had no direct orders, and we did not know where the Divisional staff were, but as by this time we had pushed on and were, as far as we knew, ahead of most of the Brigade, Weatherby and I moved aside into a field full of corn stooks, unsaddled our horses, gave them a feed, and went fast asleep in the wet corn. We had meant to sleep only for half an hour, but were so dead tired that it must have been more like an hour and a half. And even then we were only awakened by a battalion (I think it was the Northumberland Fusiliers) irrupting into our field and pulling the stooks down for their own benefit. So we guiltily saddled up again, thinking that the whole Brigade must have passed us in the dark. But, as a matter of fact, it had not.

Fifteenth Infantry Brigade - 25th August 1914

 

The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade

August 1914 to March 1915

BY 

Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,

(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

Aug. 25th.

Next morning the Brigade was on the move before daylight, and was told off as part of the main body of the Division, the 14th Brigade forming the rear-guard. We had not had much to eat the night before, or in fact the whole day, and as the rations had not come up during the night, the men had devilish little breakfast—nor we either.

We were told to requisition what we could from the country, but though St André and myself did our best, and rode on ahead of the Brigade, routing out the dwellers of the farmhouses and buying chickens and cheese and oats wherever possible, there was very little to be had.

There were already a great many inhabitants on the road fleeing south-westwards, pitiful crowds of women and old men and children, carrying bundles on their backs, or wheeling babies and more bundles in wheelbarrows, or perambulators, or broken-down carts. Some of the peasant women were wearing their best Sunday gowns of black bombazine and looked very hot and uncomfortable; children with their dolls or pet dogs, old women and men hobbling along, already very tired though the sun had not been up more than an hour or two, and sturdy young mothers carrying an extraordinary quantity of household stuff, trooped along, all of them anxiously asking how far off the Germans were, and whether we could hold them off, or whether they would all be killed by them,—it was a piteous sight. We warned all the people who were still in their cottages to stay there and not to run away, as their houses would only be pillaged if they were not there, but I fear that few took our advice.

It seemed a very long march that day, down the perfectly straight road skirting the Mormal forest and on to Le Cateau. It was, as a matter of fact, only a little over twenty miles, but the hot day, with very little food, was most trying for the men. We had one good rest at Englefontaine, where we bought a lot of food—bread and cheese, and apples and plums, and a little meat—but it was not much. The rest of the road was bare and hot, leading over down-like country past the town of Le Cateau, and on to the heights to the west of it. Many aeroplanes, British, French, and German, were skimming about, and numerous bodies of French cavalry could be seen moving about the downs and the roads in the rear.

We had received orders on the road to occupy part of an entrenched position to the west of Le Cateau, and Weatherby and I rode ahead to look at it and apportion it off as the battalions came up. The trenches, we considered, were quite well sited. They were about 3 feet deep, and had been dug by the inhabitants under, I think, French supervision; but, judging by our subsequent experience, they were nothing like deep enough and placed on much too exposed ground; and the artillery pits were far too close up—though correct according to the then text-books.

I put a few men into the trenches as an observing line, and sent the commanding officers round to study them in case we had to hold them in force on the morrow, and bivouacked the rest of the Brigade half a mile behind them. Although we seemed to have done a good day's work already, it was then only about 3 P.M., for we had started about 3.30 A.M. We got a good deal more food—bully beef and biscuits—here, besides a cart-load of very smelly cheeses and some hams and vegetables and fresh bread, and the men got their stomachs fairly full by sundown.

The 13th Brigade came in a bit later and formed up on our right, but the 14th Brigade, who had been doing rear-guard, did not get in till nightfall, and were much exhausted.

The enemy, however, bar cavalry, had not pressed on in any strength, and we were left fairly well alone during the night.

It began to rain heavily in the evening, and we had a wet dinner in the open. There were various disturbances in the night, especially when some men in the trenches began firing at some probably imaginary Germans; but otherwise all ranks got a fair amount of sleep.

Fifteenth Infantry Brigade - 24th August 1914

 

The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade

August 1914 to March 1915

BY 

Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,

(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

Aug. 24th.

The latter was a fine big town with paved streets and prosperous-looking houses, very different from the grubby streets of Boussu; but I was troubled about the hill street, as it was very steep and bad and narrow. How we should get the transport up it again in a hurry if it had to retire I did not know, and two eminently respectable inhabitants assured me that there was no other way back unless I went right up to Wasmes—from which direction firing was already beginning—and returned viâ the north. That didn't look healthy for the transport, so I left most of the Brigade transport at the top of the hill and only brought down the Signal section.

At the entrance into Pâturages we found Currie, Cuthbert's (13th Brigade) Brigade Major, but Cuthbert was not there, so it was a little difficult to combine any action. However, we learnt that the other three battalions of the 13th Brigade were distributed in front of us on the north, and I received a message that the Dorsets and Bedfords had been obliged to fall back during the night and were holding the railway station at Wasmes and a bit east of that. The 13th Brigade had been along the line of the Canal the previous day and had been driven back by superior numbers, but had blown up some of the bridges. I heard afterwards that young Pottinger, a subaltern of the 17th Co. R.E., had been entrusted with blowing up one bridge, and that the charge had failed to explode. Whereupon he advanced under heavy fire close to the charge and had gallantly fired his revolver at it, which of course, as he knew, would have blown him sky-high with the bridge had he hit it. But either he missed the shot altogether or he hit the wrong part, and the thing didn't explode. And then he found himself cut off by Germans who had crossed elsewhere, and he had to leg it. So, unfortunately, that bridge was left intact.

I trotted ahead alone to try and find the Dorsets or the Bedfords, leaving Weatherby with other instructions. It was a long way to the station (Pâturages by name, but really in Wasmes), but I eventually found Griffith (O.C. Bedfords) and most of his men thereabouts. The Germans had apparently got round to the east, but we were holding them. The Dorsets were a bit further to the south-east, and I found them after a good many wrong turnings; and then there was little to do but pick up connection with whoever I could. By this time my staff had come up, and Weatherby and I cantered off to find General Haking, who, I understood, had brought up his 5th Brigade from the 2nd Division (1st Corps), and was somewhere towards Frameries. Him we found after some trouble, with only one battalion in action in fairly open country. It appeared that a message had been sent the night before from the 3rd Division that the Germans were threatening Pâturages and going to attack in force, and help was most urgently required; so General Haig had despatched Haking in a great hurry. The 5th Brigade made a forced march and arrived at Pâturages at 2 A.M., perspiring profusely. Not a sound. Fearing an ambush, they walked delicately, with scouts well out in front and to both flanks. Not a sign either of the British or the Germans,—empty streets, no one about, all quiet as death. So they bivouacked in the streets and were now thinking of falling back on their own corps, as there were only a few Germans in front of them and these wouldn't advance.

Where the 3rd Division exactly were I could not at first find out, though I tried; but I knew that they were holding the country in the direction of Mons. Anyway, except for a good many shells flying about, there was very little of the enemy to see or hear, and Pâturages was safe at all events for the present.

The Dorsets and Bedfords, however, had had a pretty bad time on the previous evening, and had lost a number of men, though they had given the Germans a good deal more than they got. The German shelling had been fairly accurate, and their infantry had pushed on between the slag-heaps and got their machine-guns to work under cover in a horribly efficient manner. Eventually our battalions had to evacuate their trenches as their right flank was being turned, and they fell back on Wasmes and Pâturages, leaving most of their packs behind them in the trenches. They had taken them off to dig, and, being hot, had fought without them, and then this sudden outflanking movement had necessitated a rapid falling back, so their packs and most of their shovels had been left behind. This was awkward, more especially hereafter, as, although the loss of the greatcoat did not matter much in this hot weather, and certainly added to their marching power, still, the loss of the pack meant loss of spare socks and spare shirt—besides other things.

We snatched a little breakfast and coffee at an inn where the patronne was still in possession, and then things began to get more lively. Shells began to knock corners off the houses close by, and reports kept coming in that the enemy appeared to be advancing, though the bulk of his infantry was still some way off to the east. The Dorsets were rearranging their line so as not to be cut off, and I was standing with Bols (commanding Dorsets) and a few of his officers by the estaminet when a shrapnel burst with a tremendous crack close over our heads, bringing down branches and leaves in showers. Yet not a man or a horse was hit. The shrapnel bullets whizzed along the pavement in all directions, right among our feet, like hail it seemed; yet the only result was a lot of bad language from Saunders, who had got a nasty jar on the heel from one of the bullets: but it did not even cut the leather.

It now became time to get the Dorset transport away, as things were getting rather hot, and the crackling of rifles was getting distinctly nearer. I thought of that horrible hill and I looked at my map. Yes—there certainly was a way round back by the south-east, viâ the road along which Weatherby and I had just come back from interviewing Haking. So I directed the transport to move that way—there was a road branching off to the right only 400 yards on and quite safe, as I thought, for the firing was up north and north-east, and this road lay south-southeast.

Roe covered the withdrawal with his company and was very anxious to lay an ambush for the enemy. But they did not seem inclined to oblige him, but kept heading off in a more southerly direction. There was no sign from the 3rd Division who, I knew, were on our right; so, as my scouts could not find them, I could only come to the conclusion that the enemy had got in between us, and if we didn't clear out soon we should be in a bad way.

Suddenly there was a crackle of rifles down the road along which the Dorset transport had gone, and then nearly the whole of the transport came galloping back, a dead horse being dragged along in the shafts of one of the waggons. Margetts, the transport officer, rode past, revolver in hand, and streaming with blood from the shoulder, and one or two of the men and horses had obviously been hit. What had happened was that a few Germans had penetrated on to the road where Weatherby and I had passed in perfect safety only a short time before and ambushed the transport.

Margetts had very gallantly ridden direct at the ambush with his revolver, shot down one or two and bewildered the rest, and thus given time for the transport to turn round on the (luckily) broad road and gallop back. The Pioneer Sergeant of the Dorsets was killed, and so was a Brigade Policeman who happened to be with the transport. Otherwise almost the only loss was an ammunition-cart with two horses killed, and some damage was done to a pole and wheel or two of the other vehicles. Poor Nicholson (my servant), who should, strictly speaking, have remained with the Brigade transport and not come up at all, had attached himself to the Dorset transport without orders—wishing, I suppose, to be handy in case he was required—and had been shot down with the two or three others. I believe he was killed; anyway, I never saw him again, poor fellow. Margetts was nearly falling off his horse with pain, so he dismounted and was bandaged by the Medical Officer. But by that time the transport vehicles had disappeared, and as he was fainting and was not in a fit state to be carried, he had to be left in the house of a Belgian doctor and was taken prisoner shortly afterwards. We heard of him later, and I am glad to say his gallant action gained him a D.S.O.

Bols strung out half a company to defend the place where we thought the Germans would appear, but after waiting for ten minutes we found we were practically "in the air," as large forces of the enemy were reported coming round our right flank, and the firing on our left front got more and more to the left, thus proving that the Bedfords had been pushed back and were retiring viâ Wasmes—as they had been told to do if overwhelmed. Weatherby, who had cantered off to get in touch with them, confirmed this; and as it was getting extremely "hot" (shells) where we were, I gave the order to withdraw—only just in time as it turned out.

The Dorsets formed a proper rear-guard and held off the enemy, who were by this time trickling in large numbers into the town; but by good luck the Germans seemed to funk coming on in formation, and by the time we had got back to the foot of the steep hill they didn't bother us any more except by occasional shells. To my extreme annoyance (in one way) we found another track leading round the hill, towards Warquignies, not marked on the map; so those two wretched inhabitants had told us quite wrong, and we could have retired the transport this way after all. Of course we took advantage of it, and fell back slowly viâ Warquignies on Blangies, where we arrived, with very few casualties, about two.

Here we got orders at first to bivouac for the night, but hardly had the men had time to cook a meal and eat it than we were ordered to continue the retirement on Bavai St Waast, viâ Athis. As we got on to the main road here we found a large column of our own troops moving down it, and there were German mounted patrols at a respectful distance on both sides. We fired at them occasionally, and they disappeared and then turned up again in twos and threes on the skyline, evidently keeping touch with us.

Just beyond Athis we found the Norfolks, who had been fighting at Élouges all the morning, and then we came across the sad little remainder of the Cheshires—only about 200 left out of 891 who had gone into action that morning near Élouges. It was horrible to hear of this appalling loss. Shore was the only captain left, and he was in command, with two or three subalterns only. His story was that his company had been in reserve to the other three and had gone to occupy a farmhouse as told, that he had seen the three companies extending to his right, and then lost touch with them as they advanced rapidly over the brow of the low rolling ground. There was very heavy firing all along the line, and eventually a staff officer told him to fall back to his right rear and rejoin his battalion. This he tried to do, but he only came across a few wounded and stragglers of his regiment, who told him that the three companies had lost very heavily, including Boger (commanding) and all their officers, and that there was practically nobody left. Shore did his best to find out and help, but a general retirement took place, and he and his men were swept back with the rest. Tahourdin, Stapylton, Dyer, Dugmore, and lots of others were reported killed, and poor Shore was in a terrible state of mind. (It turned out afterwards that all these officers were alive and prisoners, with a great number of their men, but at the time I could not find out exactly how it happened that the battalion got so cut up and lost such a desperate number.)

The Norfolks had lost poor Cresswell, their Adjutant—such a good fellow—and one or two other officers. But although their losses had been serious they were nothing like so bad as the Cheshires. It appears that our left about Élouges and to the west rear of Dour was heavily attacked by the enemy; that we were on the defensive with the 14th Brigade (Rolt), and these two battalions of the 15th, and the 2nd Cavalry Brigade (De Lisle); and that Sir C. F. called on the Cavalry to assist at a certain moment. De Lisle thereupon very gallantly charged the German guns, but he started from some distance off, and not only were the horses blown before they got there, but there was a lot of wire between them and the Germans which they couldn't get through. So, after losing heavily, they wheeled to the right to get out of the way. What happened in detail to the 14th Brigade I frankly don't know, but I fear the guns of the 5th Division lost pretty heavily at this period.

Two companies of the Bedfords had joined us by this time, but I was rather nervous about the rest, including Griffith, for I had had no word of him since Pâturages. However, as we passed through Houdain he turned up from a side road with the rest of his battalion, having had a pretty rough time in getting out of Wasmes.

By dusk we had got on to the open country near St Waast, and here we found that the Division was bivouacking. Although it was nearly dark, and the Brigade had been scattered, with its transport, over a lot of country during the day, it all came together again, including its empty supply waggons, in a marvellous way, and managed to find its way through all the other troops in the dark to its rightful bivouac space—some fields covered with standing crops. Water was of course the difficulty, but some was discovered in the shape of a small stream half a mile off, over hedges and ditches; and after the Norfolks had been put out on outpost to cover our rear, and we had had some food, we slept the sleep of the dog-tired.

I remember Cadell came out as cook that evening, for he fried a lugubrious mess of biscuits, jam, and sardines together in a mess-tin, and insisted on all of us having some. Up to this point our messing had not been entirely happy, for an old soldier whom I had taken on in Belfast, on his own statement that he had been second cook in his officers' mess, turned out an absolute fraud. He could hardly even poach an egg, and hadn't the smallest idea of cooking. I am sure he had never been inside an officers' mess either, for when he was deposed from the office of cook to that of mess waiter, he knew nothing about that either, and could not even wash up. Private Brown, who was supposed at first only to cook for the men of the Brigade Headquarters, was therefore elevated to the proud status of Officers' cook, and made a thundering good one (till he was wounded at Ypres); and the Belfast man was given the sack at the earliest opportunity and sent home,—only to appear later in the field as a corporal of the Irish Rifles!

Fifteenth Infantry Brigade - 23rd August 1914

 

The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade

August 1914 to March 1915

BY 

Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,

(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

Aug. 23rd.

Next morning I got orders to go with Lieut.-Col. Tulloch, the Divisional Commanding Royal Engineer, to select a defensive position and entrench it. We got into a car, and went buzzing about in front of Boussu and round to the right as far as Wasmes; but I never saw such a hopeless place. There was no field of fire anywhere except to the left, just where the railway crossed the Boussu road, where, strange to say, the country opened out on to a "glacis-like" slope of stubble. Going was bad, up broken little roads over ground composed of a bewildering variety of slag-heaps 40 to 150 feet high, intersected with railway lines, mine heads, chimneys, industrial buildings, furnaces, and usines of all sorts, and thickening into suburbs consisting of narrow winding little streets and grubby little workmen's houses. Here and there were open spaces and even green fields, but nowhere could a continuous field of fire be obtained. The only thing was to select various points d'appui with some sort of command, and try and connect them up by patches of entrenchments; but even this was very difficult, as the line was so long and broken that no unity of command was possible, and the different patches were so separated and so uneven, some having to be in front of the general line and some in rear, that they often could not flank or even see each other.

At about midday several cyclists came riding back in a great hurry from the Canal, saying they had been attacked by a big force of cavalry and been badly cut up; that they had lost all their officers and 20 or 30 men killed, and the rest taken prisoners. This was hardly a good beginning, but it eventually turned out that the grand total losses were 1 officer (Corah of the Bedfords) slightly wounded, 2 men killed, and 3 missing.

Shortly after this the first German gun was heard—at 12.40 P.M. I timed it—and for the rest of the afternoon there was intermittent bombardment and numerous shell-bursts in the direction of the Canal, some of it our own Horse Artillery, but mostly German.

When we had roughly settled on our line, I shouted to a crowd of curious natives who had come out to watch us, and did not seem particularly friendly—as they were not at all sure that we were not Germans—to get all their friends together with pickaxes and shovels and start digging entrenchments where we showed them. It was Sunday afternoon, and all the miners were loafing about with nothing to do. The idea rapidly caught on, and soon they were hurrying off home for their tools, whilst we got hold of the best-dressed and most authoritative-looking men and showed them what we wanted done. It was scratch work, in more senses than one, as we had no time to lose and could not superintend, but had to tear from one point to another, raising men and showing them where the lines were to go, how deep the trenches were to be made, which way the earth was to be thrown, and all the rest of it.

On our way round we came also upon some batteries of field artillery, disconsolately wending their way through the narrow streets, and with their reconnoitring officers out in all directions looking for positions; but they found none, and the Artillery did but little in the way of shooting that night. With their present experience I expect they would have done a good deal more.

Then we tore back, and I got the battalions out, or rather two companies of each battalion, set them to work, and sent out their other two companies to support them. The Norfolks were on the left, at the station, and eastwards down the line. Then came the Cheshires, a bit thrown back, in beastly enclosed country for the most part. One of the big slag-heaps had seemed to offer a good command, but to our disgust it was so hot that we could hardly stand on it, so that had to be given up. Other heaps again seemed to give a good position, and they were fairly cool; but when we scrambled up there was always something wrong—either there were more slag-heaps in front which blocked the view, or the heap ran to a point and there was not room for more than two men, or the slag-ridge faced the wrong way—it was a nightmare of a place.

Beyond the Cheshires came the Dorsets and Bedfords, pretty well together, and occupying some trenches on a high railway embankment, &c., but the position was not really satisfactory, and if attacked in force at night it would be very difficult to see or guard against the approach of the enemy. Nor, as I heard afterwards, had the inhabitants dug the trenches anything like deep enough, so that they formed but poor protection against the rain of shells that began to pour on them at nightfall.

All pointed to an attack by the enemy during the night or next day, but even then we had not the smallest idea of the enormous forces arrayed against us. We were told at first that there was perhaps a corps in front of us, but as a matter of fact there were three, if not four corps.

Having distributed the battalions as ordered—I had no Brigade Reserve in hand, having to cover such a broad front (nearly three miles, when my normal front, according to the text-books, should have been about 1000 yards)—myself and Brigade Headquarters were left rather "by our lone." M. and Madame Durez were packing up hard all, and disappeared with their friends and family before dinner in a big motor-car, making in the direction of Bavai St Waast, to the south, where they had friends; as, however, we retired through there next day I don't expect they stayed long, but continued their journey into France. I don't know what became of them. They had been most hospitable, and placed the house and everything in it, even a final dinner, at our disposal; but the poor people were, of course, in a great state of perturbation, and there was not much except the house itself that we could make use of.

As we were finishing dinner further orders arrived from the Division. Weatherby and I cantered down to the Divisional Staff to learn details, and we got them shortly, to the effect that the Cheshires and Norfolks were to be left under direct command of the Divisional Commander, whilst Brigade Headquarters was to be at Pâturages by sunrise on the morrow, and to hold that with our other two battalions on the right.

We "fell in" the Brigade Headquarters about midnight and, after some trouble in securing guides, moved off through a labyrinth of streets in the warm dark. Our guides were local men, and we did not take long to get to Warquignies, in the main street of which we met the Headquarters of the 13th Brigade, minus their Brigadier. Here also were the K.O.S.B.'s in bivouac, acting as Brigade Reserve to their (13th) Brigade. The night was peaceful, and we pushed on after a short rest, getting at dawn to a steep hill which led down into Pâturages.

Fifteenth Infantry Brigade - 22nd August 1914

The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade

August 1914 to March 1915

BY 

Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,

(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

 Aug. 22nd.

Off at cock-crow next day, the country got uglier, blacker, more industrial, and more thickly populated as we pushed on through the heat, and by the time we crossed the Belgian frontier we felt indeed that we were in another land.

The beastly paved road with cobbles, just broad enough for one vehicle and extremely painful to the feet, whilst the remainder of the road on both sides was deep in dust or caked mud, was a most offensive feature; the people staring and crowding round the troops were quite a different type from the courteous French peasants; and whilst in France not a single able-bodied civilian had been visible—all having joined the Army—in Belgium the streets were crowded with men who, we felt most strongly, ought to have been fighting in the ranks.

There was a great block in Dour, which we reached after a fourteen-mile march, and in spite of all attempts at keeping the streets clear it was some time before we could get through. Part of the Division was halting there for the night, and the municipal authorities were extremely slow in allotting billets and keeping their civilian waggons in order.

From Dour onwards it was a big straggling sort of suburban town—tramways down the side, dirty little houses lining the street, great chimneys belching (I believe that is the correct term) volumes of black smoke, huge mountains of slag in all directions, rusty brickfields littered with empty tins, old paper, and bits of iron, and other similarly unlovely views. The only thing to be said in favour of this industrial scrap-heap was that the smoke was not quite so sooty as it looked, and things one touched did not "come off" quite so black as might have been expected. Otherwise there was no attraction.

Half a mile on or more was Bois de Boussu, and here we were halted to allow of a cavalry brigade moving down the street. We waited some time, and eventually it arrived, not coming down the street but across it from east to west. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten which it was, but the 4th Dragoon Guards, I think, were in it. They crossed at a trot, men and horses both looking very fit and workmanlike, and disappeared westwards through the haze of the factories; any more impossible country for cavalry—except perhaps the London Docks—I have never seen.

We shortly afterwards got orders to billet in Bois de Boussu and Dour, the real Boussu being another half mile on. But where the whole countryside was one vast straggling town, it was impossible to say where one town ended and the other began. Even the inhabitants didn't know.

Moulton-Barrett and Saint André had already got to work on the billeting, and the Norfolks and Cheshires were shortly accommodated in some factories up the road, whilst the Bedfords and Dorsets were moved back nearly into Dour, into a brewery and some mine-offices respectively, if I remember rightly. Brigade Headquarters was installed in an ultra-modern Belgian house and garden belonging to one M. Durez, a very civil little man, head of some local mining concern. There was a Madame Durez too, plump and good-natured, and a girl and a boy, and they were profuse in their hospitality. The only drawback about the meals, excellent as they were, was the appalling length of time occupied in their preparation and consumption; it was almost impossible to get away from them, even though there was so much to do.

So much was there to be done that I feel now as though we had been there a week, or at least three days; but on looking at my diary I find we arrived there at midday on Saturday the 22nd, and left at midnight on Sunday the 23rd.

On the Saturday afternoon there were rumours of the Germans being on the other side of the Mons-Condé Canal, not far off. The 13th and 14th Brigades were in front of us, strung out and holding the Canal line, ourselves being in Divisional Reserve. Where the exact left of the 5th Division was I cannot remember at this moment, but I am sure that it was not farther west than Pommeroeul bridge, with, I believe, French or English cavalry on its left.

Saturday afternoon was spent in studying the ground in our front and looking to the approaches and the arrangements for the Brigade. Our front was of course well covered, but there were numerous little matters to be seen to and a certain amount of confabulation with the Divisional Staff, which lived in the midst of a perpetual va-et-vient at the railway station at Dour. Our horses were picketed out in M. Durez's garden and the grubby little fields close by, and the Signal section and all the vehicles were stowed away there as best could be arranged; but all was enclosed, cramped, and unhandy, and the difficulty was to get a clear space anywhere. I walked with M. Durez in the evening to a tiny mound in his garden, from which he assured me a good view could be got; but although the sunset and colouring through the haze was rather picturesque, one couldn't see much. Durez was very apprehensive about his family and himself, and was most urgent in his inquiries as to what was going to happen. I could not tell him much beyond the rumour that the German force in front was reported not to be very big, and I advised him to stick it out as long as he could; but he was restless, with good reason as it turned out, and settled next day to take himself and his family away whilst there was yet time.

Fifteenth Infantry Brigade - 21st August 1914

The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade

August 1914 to March 1915

BY 

Brigadier-General COUNT GLEICHEN,

(now Major-General Lord Edward Gleichen),
K.C.V.O., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

 Aug. 21st.

Next day we moved off early. I already found myself overburdened with kit—although I had not even as much as the regulation 150 lb.—and I left a camp-bed and a thick waistcoat and various odds and ends behind in Madame W——'s cupboard, under the firm belief that I might at some future period send for it if I wanted it. Alas! the Germans have now been at Ors for close on three years.

A hot march of about fifteen miles brought us to Gommignies. Stragglers, I regret to say, were already many—all of them reservists, who had not carried a pack for years. They had every intention of keeping up, of course, but simply could not. I talked to several of them and urged them along, but the answer was always the same—"Oh, I'll get along all right, sir, after a bit of rest; but I ain't accustomed to carrying a big weight like this on a hot day," and their scarlet streaming faces certainly bore out their views. To do them justice, they practically all did turn up. I was afraid that, in spite of great care and the numerous orders I had issued about the fitting and greasing of new boots, it was the boots which were at fault; but it was not so, except in a very few cases.

Our billeting parties had, of course, been sent ahead and started on their work. It was naturally quite new work to them, and it took a lot of time at first—two and three hours—before the men were settled. Nowadays it takes half an hour, or at most an hour, as everybody knows his job, and also takes what is given him at once, squash or no squash. After a little campaigning men very quickly find out that it is better to shake down at once, even in uncomfortable billets, than to hang about and try to get better ones. Here we got first touch, though very indirectly, with the enemy, in the shape of a French patrol of Chasseurs à Cheval (in extraordinarily voyant light-blue tunics and shakos), who had come in from somewhere north after having seen some "Uhlans" and hunted them off. I sent the news, such as it was, on to the Division.

And here I must lay stress on the fact that throughout the campaign we did not know in the least what was happening elsewhere. Beyond the fact that the 3rd Division was somewhere on our right, and that the French cavalry was believed to be covering our left front, we did not know at this period what the movement was about or where the Germans were supposed to be. We trusted to our superiors to do what was necessary, and plunged blindly into the "fog of war."

The usual proceedings on the ordinary line of march were that, on receiving "Divisional Orders," which arrived at any time in the afternoon, or often at night, we compiled "Brigade Orders" on them. Divisional Orders give one first of all any information about the enemy which it is advisable to impart, then the intention of the Divisional General—whether he means to fight on the morrow, or march, or stay where he is, &c., &c.; and if he means to march he gives the direction in which the Division is to proceed, the order of march, by brigades, artillery, divisional troops such as R.E., heavy batteries, divisional cavalry, &c., &c., and generally says where and how the transport is to march, whether with its own troops or some way behind, and if so, where; and gives directions as to the supplies, where the refilling-point, rendezvous for supply carts, and railhead are, and many other odds and ends, especially as to which brigade is to provide the advanced- or rear-guard, who is to command it, at what time the head of the column and the heads of all the formations are to pass a given point, and so on. On receiving these orders we have to make out and issue similarly composed Brigade Orders in detail, giving the order of march of the battalions and Brigade Headquarters, how much rations are to be carried on the men and in the cook-waggons, what is to happen to the supply and baggage waggons, whether B transport (vehicles not absolutely necessary in the fighting line) are to be with the A transport in rear of their respective battalions, or to be bunched up by themselves behind the Brigade, with similar detailed orders about the advanced-guard or rear-guard, and the time to a minute as to when each detail is to pass a given point, the position of the Brigadier in the column, the point to which reports are to be sent, &c., &c. These orders might be written in anything from fifteen to fifty minutes according to the movement required, and then had to be quadruplicated and sent out to the battalions by their respective orderlies, or by wire. By the time the battalions had written out and transmitted their own orders to their companies it was sometimes very late indeed; but as the campaign went on, orders got more and more simplified somehow, and things got done quicker than at the beginning of the premier pas.

The country through which we were passing was that technically described by novelists as "smiling." That is to say, it was pretty, in a mild sort of way, clean, green, with tidy farmhouses and cottages, and fields about ripe for the harvest. Plenty of orchards there were too, with lots of fruit-trees alongside the roads, and the people were most kind in offering us fruit and milk and water and coffee and even wine as we went along. But this could not be allowed on the march, as it would have led to men falling out without permission, and also to drinking more than was good for them whilst marching. Except, therefore, occasionally, and then only during the ten minutes' halt that we had in each hour, I did not allow these luxuries to be accepted.

Gommignies was a nice shady little town, and the Notaire gave me an excellent bedroom in his big house; whilst I remember that I made acquaintance there with the excellent penny cigar of the country.