In The Firing Line 13

In The Firing Line 13

FROM MONS TO THE WALLS OF PARIS

 

“_The Lilies of France and our own Red Rose

Are twined in a coronal now:

At War’s bloody bridal it glitters and glows

On Liberty’s beautiful brow._”

 

GERALD MASSEY.

 

 

In his despatch to Lord Kitchener, dated September 7th, Sir John French

tells of the four-days’ battle at Mons, and traces his masterly,

triumphant retreat, in the face of irresistible odds, to Maubeuge, to

Cambrai, to Le Cateau, to Landrecies, and so almost to within sight

of the walls of Paris. He pays a glowing tribute to the magnificent

fighting spirit of the officers and men who carried out these

stupendous movements with such complete success, but at present it is

to the men themselves you must turn again for detailed information of

the horrors and heroisms, the grim and glorious hours that darkened

and lightened through those tumultuous days. “What we did in that

three weeks English people at home will never know,” writes Private J.

Harris, of the Worcestershire Regiment: “We were marching and fighting

day and night for three weeks without a break.”

 

 

_Letter 41.--From Private Smiley, of the Gordon Highlanders, to his

brother, Mr. G. A. Smiley, of Chepstow:_

 

On Sunday, 23rd, at Mons, we rose at four a.m. and marched out 1,100

strong. We took up ground on the extreme flank of the British force.

Immediately we started to entrench ourselves, and to the good trench

work we did we put down our freedom from casualty. Later in the day a

hellish tornado of shell swept over us, and with this introduction to

war we received our baptism of fire. We were lining the Mons road, and

immediately in our front and to our rear were woods. In the rear wood

was stationed a battery of R.F.A. The German artillery is wonderful.

The first shot generally found us, and to me it looked as if the ranges

had been carefully taken beforehand. However, our own gunners were

better, and they hammered and battered the Germans all the day long.

 

They were at least three to our one, and our artillery could not be in

fifty places at once, so we just had to stick it. The German infantry

are bad skirmishers and rotten shots, and they were simply mowed down

in batches by our chaps. They came in companies of, I should say,

150 men in file five deep, and we simply rained bullets at them the

live-long day. At about five p.m. the Germans in the left front of us

retired, and we saw no more of them.

 

The Royal Irish Regiment had had an awful smashing earlier on, as also

had the Middlesex, and our company were ordered to go along the road as

reinforcements. The one and a half mile seemed a thousand. Stormed at

all the way, we kept on, and no one was hit until we came to a white

house which stood in a clearing. Immediately the officer passed the gap

hell was let loose on us, but we got across safely, and I was the only

one wounded, and that was with a ricochet shrapnel bullet in the right

knee.

 

I knew nothing about it until an hour after, when I had it pointed out

to me. I dug it out with a knife. We passed dead civilians, some women,

and a little boy with his thigh shattered by a bullet. Poor wee fellow.

He lay all the time on his face, and some man of the Irish was looking

after him, and trying to make him comfortable. The devils shelled the

hospital and killed the wounded, despite a huge Red Cross flag flying

over it.

 

When we got to the Royal Irish Regiment’s trenches the scene was

terrible. They were having dinner when the Germans opened on them,

and their dead and wounded were lying all around. Beyond a go at some

German cavalry, the day drew in, and darkness saw us on the retreat.

The regiment lost one officer and one man dead, one officer and some

men severely wounded.

 

We kept up this sort of game (fighting by day and retiring by night)

until we got to Cambrai, on Tuesday night. I dare not mention that

place and close my eyes. God, it was awful. Avalanche followed

avalanche of fresh German troops, but the boys stuck to it, and we

managed to retire to Ham without any molestation. Cambrai was the

biggest battle fought. Out of all the glorious regiment of 1,100 men

only five officers and 170 of the men answered the roll-call next day.

Thank God, I was one of them.

 

Of course, there may be a number who got separated from the battalion

through various causes, and some wounded who escaped. I hope so

because of the heavy hearts at home. I saw the South Lancs, and they

were terribly cut up, only a remnant left of the regiment.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 42.--From Corporal W. Leonard, of the Army Service Corps (a

South African War reservist) to his mother at Huddersfield:_

 

I know that you will all excuse me for not receiving a letter from me

this long time, but I hope that you will excuse me. Don’t, whatever

you do at home, don’t worry about me. If I just thought that you won’t

worry at home I shall be all right. You know, mother, I know more about

war this time than I did last, and the conditions also. It’s all right

when you know the ropes, and my African experiences are serving me in

good stead here, so I hope and trust that you at home are not worrying

about me; time enough to worry when there is cause. Well, I hope and

trust all are well at home, as it is hell out here. Up to this affair

I thought that the Germans were a civilised race of people, but they

are nothing but savages; niggers would not do what they do. Just fancy

mounting maxim guns on ambulance wagons bearing the Red Cross, cutting

the right hand off prisoners and turning them loose afterwards minus a

hand. By jingo, mother, the boys (our boys) are absolutely all in. We

did give the Boers a chance now and again, but these devils we don’t

give them a cat in hell chance; we’re playing the game to the finish. I

would not care to write so much, as I had better tell you when I come

home. The Boer War was a tame affair. We are moving off again to-night.

I don’t know where, and we don’t care either; it’s a do to a finish

this time. I hope you got my postcards from Rouen in France, as there

was some doubt as to whether they would let them through or not. I will

write home as opportunity occurs, and I hope you won’t worry about me,

because you all know at home that I shall always be where I’m wanted,

and my duty every time, so don’t worry. Tell anyone who enquires I am

O.K., lost a bit of weight perhaps, but not the worse so far, and above

all don’t believe all you see in the papers, as they know practically

nothing, as everything is done under sealed orders, which never leak

out. We are not even allowed to say in our letters where we are, as

they are opened and read by the captain before they leave here, so you

can judge for yourselves how things are. And I might say, mother, that

we are very busy.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 43.--From Corporal Edward Hood, to his father, at Taunton:_

 

The fighting lately has been hot all round, and the French have

had much harder than us in some places, but they’re sticking at it

manfully, and they deserve to win a victory that will wipe the Germans

off the map. The French make a lot of us in camp, and when we pass each

other in the field, no matter how busy the Frenchman may be, they give

us hearty cheers to encourage us on our way. There’s plenty of friendly

rivalry between us when there’s hard fighting to be done, and when we

do get there before the French they don’t grudge us our luck. They’re

good sports right through to the core, and the British soldier asks

nothing better from allies in the field.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 44.--From Private William Burgess, of the Royal Field

Artillery, to his parents at Ilfracombe:_

 

We left our landing place for the front, on the Tuesday, and got there

on Saturday night. The Germans had just reached Liège then, and we got

into action on the Sunday morning. The first thing we did was to blow

up a bridge to stop the Germans from crossing. Then we came into action

behind a lot of houses attached to the main street. We were there about

ten minutes, when the houses started to fall around us. The poor people

were buried alive. I saw poor children getting knocked down by bursting

shells.

 

The next move was to advance across where there was a Red Cross

Hospital. They dropped shells from airships and fired on it until the

place was burnt down to the ground. Then they got a big plan on to

retire and let the French get behind them. We retired eight miles, but

we had to fight until we were forced to move again. We got as far as Le

Cateau on Tuesday night. We camped there until two o’clock next morning.

 

Then we all heard there was a big fight coming off, so we all got

together and cleared the field for action.... (The letter mentions

the numbers of men engaged, and states that the Germans were in the

proportion of three to one.) ... We cut them down like rats. We could

see them coming on us in heaps, and dropping like hail. The Colonel

passed along the line, and said, “Stick it, boys.”

 

I tell you, mother, it was awful to see your own comrades dropping

down--some getting their heads blown off, and others their legs and

arms. I was fighting with my shirt off. A piece of shell went right

through my shirt at the back and never touched me. It stuck into a bag

of earth which we put between the wheels to stop bullets.

 

We were there all busy fighting when an airship came right over the

line and dropped a bomb, which caused a terrible lot of smoke. Of

course, that gave the Germans our range. Then the shells were dropping

on us thick. We looked across the line and saw the German guns coming

towards us. We turned our two centre guns on them, and sent them yards

in the air. I reckon I saw one German go quite twenty yards in the air.

 

Just after that a shell burst right over our gun. That one got me out

of action. I had to get off the field the best way I could. The bullets

were going all around me on the way off; you see they got completely

around us, I went about two miles, and met a Red Cross cart. I was

taken to St. Quentin’s Hospital. We were shelled out of there about two

in the morning, and then taken in a train, and taken down to a plain

near Rouen.

 

Next morning we were put in a ship for dear old England.

 

* * * * *

 

_Letter 45.--From a Corporal in the King’s Royal Rifles, now at

Woolwich Hospital:_

 

I was in three engagements, Mons, Landrecies, and Cambrai, but the

worst of all was Mons. It was on Sunday, the 23rd of August, and I

shall never forget the date. They were easily twenty-five to one, and

we eventually had to retreat with just over a thousand casualties, but

heavens, they must have had a jolly sight more. At Landrecies, where

we arrived at 7.30, we thought we were going to have a night’s rest,

though we were wet through and no change, but we hadn’t been there long

before they (the Germans) started firing; they seemed to be in every

place we went to. The only thing we heard then was, “turn out at once.”

It was about 10.15 when we turned out, and the Colonel’s orders were

that we had to take a bridge if every man was killed. (I thought that

sounded a wee bit healthy.) I had my last drink out of a dirty glass of

beer. I says, “good health Billy,” and off we went with bayonets fixed.