The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade Part 8

Abbeville--a two hours' journey as a rule in peace time--was not reached till 8 P.M., although we were due there at 6.30 P.M. We halted by the way, for half an hour or more, at Amiens, where we made the acquaintance of a cheery crowd of "Fusiliers Marins," st.u.r.dy naval reservists from Normandy and Brittany, who covered themselves with glory later on amid the Belgian dunes.

_Oct. 8th._

We were not allowed to detrain at Abbeville till 9.30 P.M., as the platforms were already occupied by other troops. It was wretchedly cold and pitch-dark by the time we had got away from the station, and we marched in dead silence through the town at 12.30 A.M. Not a soul was in the streets, not even a policeman from whom to ask the way, and we nearly lost our direction twice.

Our orders, which we received from Dunlop (5th Divisional staff), who was ensconced in a red-hot waiting-room in the goods yard, were to the effect that we were to billet near Neuilly, a village about six miles off. Done (Norfolks) had been sent ahead on the previous day to prepare the billets, but when we got near the village, after a cold march with a clear moon, Done was nowhere to be seen; and I nearly ordered the battalion to "doss down" in the road, as all the houses near were full of men of other brigades. However, Weatherby rode on, and eventually found Done in bed at the Mairie, he having been officially told that the Brigade would not be in till the following day. He had had a trying time, having been deposited by his train at a station about ten miles off, and having to make his way across country (riding) without a map and with very vague ideas of where he was to go. However, he had already told off billets for all the Brigade Area, and the troops trickled in independently by battalions and batteries, arriving by different trains and even at different stations, up to 10 A.M. in the morning. I thought it showed distinctly good work on the part of all concerned that we concentrated our "Brigade Area" so quickly and without being deficient of anything except the few vehicles which had perforce been left behind for want of trucks; but they turned up all right a day or two after. The Brigade staff billeted at the chateau (as usual!), a strangely ruined-looking little place belonging to the Comte de Belleville, now at the wars. We turned up there about 4 A.M., and were guided thither by an old gardener, who thumped at the door and shouted loudly for "Madame." A woman soon appeared, and showed us most civilly to our rooms--very plain and bare but very clean. I could not quite make her out, for though she was dressed in the plainest of print clothes she did not talk like a servant--in fact she talked like a lady; so I put her down as some relation perhaps who was helping Mme de Belleville. But later in the morning I discovered that she was Madame la Comtesse herself, who had kindly risen at that unearthly hour to let us in, and that there were no servants in the establishment at all except the old gardener and a nurse.

Our movements were still by way of being kept a dead secret, so we went off in the afternoon at 6 P.M., reinforced now by some divisional cavalry and divisional cyclists. The road, in the dark, was an extremely complicated one, as it involved about twenty turnings and movement along narrow lanes with high hedges and big trees, making it quite impossible to see for more than a few yards. So I took the guiding of the column into my own hands, and distributed the rest of my staff along it to see that the different units did not miss the way and kept well closed up. The result was good, and after 5 hours march, _via_ Agenvilliers and Gueschard, we reached the little village of Boufflers about 11 P.M. Here, at an odd little Nouvel Art "Chateau"--or rather small country house, empty of its owners--belonging to M.

Sagebien, Prefet de Niort, we of the Brigade staff put up, the rest of the command being billeted in the tiny villages lining each bank of the tiny stream near--I have forgotten its name.

_Oct. 9th._

It was a nice sunny day on the morrow, and we got our orders by midday that we were to move off at 2 P.M. We wrote out Brigade orders and prepared to start, when suddenly post-haste came some orders cancelling these, and telling us that we were to drop our transport and be moved off at once in a series of motor-buses to a place called Dieval.

And then began a lovely jumble, which resulted (not our own fault) in getting to Dieval rather later than we should have done had we trusted to our own unaided powers of locomotion.

We moved off at 2 P.M., only taking blanket-waggons which were to dump blankets and supplies into the buses. These were to have turned up on the Haravesnes-Fillievres road at 7 P.M.; in any case it would have been a complicated job getting into them in the dark, but they did not arrive till midnight, owing to some mechanical breakdowns in the column. The first lot of "camions" were to have taken six battalions--_i.e._, the 14th Brigade, which was just ahead of us, and half of the 15th Brigade. But when they did arrive, there were only enough for three and three-quarter battalions; so we bivouacked in more or less peace by the roadside until this bunch had moved off and returned from Dieval to fetch us. Horribly cold it was too, and we only kept moderately warm by pulling down several straw stacks--which we carefully put together again next day--and covering ourselves up in the straw.

I had, by the way, an extremely narrow escape from being killed that night. I had been lying down just off the road, when it struck me that I should find out more of what was happening and going to happen if I went to the head of the camion column and interviewed the officer in charge. It was a tramp of a mile or more through the 14th Brigade, and I found out something of what I wanted; but when I returned to the bivouac I heard that, not two minutes after I had started, a motor-bus had swerved off the road and pa.s.sed exactly over the place where my head had been. It very nearly went over St Andre and Moulton-Barrett, who were lying a few feet away, as it was. Of course the driver could not see any one lying down in the dark.

_Oct. 10th._

Next morning we had breakfast at 7.30 in the field, and still the buses had not returned. We waited in that place till 11 o'clock before they turned up, and then clambered into them as quickly as we could--twenty-two men to a bus, sixteen buses to 300 metres being the allowance. Even then we had to leave about two battalions behind for a third trip.

I got into the first bus--a very fast one,--and reached Dieval some time before the rest of the Brigade; but there was no room in the town for another Brigade, as it was already full of the 14th.

I went to see Rolt, and got into telephone communication with Divisional Headquarters on the subject, and they gave me leave to billet at La Thieuloye, one and a half miles back and off the road. So W. and I walked back and turned the buses off there just as they were arriving.

A curious sight were the hundreds, or even thousands, of French civilians whom we met--all men of military age, whom the French Army was sending away westwards out of Lille; for it was likely that Lille would shortly be invested by the Germans, and they did not want this large batch of recruits and reservists to be interned in Germany.

The rest of the Brigade--transport, horses, and all--rolled up by 6 P.M., the horses being very tired after their long night march.

From what I could gather German cavalry was trying to get round our north-west flank, whilst a big fight was going on at Arras. Lille, with a few Territorial battalions in it, was still holding out, but was surrounded by the enemy. Hence the hurry. But we ought to have plenty of troops now to keep the Germans off. It was very puzzling to make out what was happening, for we had not even the vaguest idea where the rest of our own Army was, let alone the French or Germans.

n.o.body seemed to know anything, except that we should probably soon be fighting again.

Our quarters that night were a horrid little chateau--empty, damp, and desolate, in a deserted wilderness of a place, with no furniture except some straw, a mattress or two, and some packing-cases. So here we tried to make ourselves comfortable, and succeeded in lighting a fire and settling down. But it was beastly cold and damp.

_Oct. 11th._

We marched at 7.20 A.M. in a thick damp mist, myself being in charge of the right column of the Division, consisting of the Brigade, the 15th Brigade R.F.A., 108th heavy battery (under Tyrrell, late Military Attache at Constantinople), 17th R.E. Fd. Co., and cyclists (who, by the way, did not turn up, having been sent ahead). On the way to Bethune we were evidently coming into touch with the enemy, for I received orders to detach two companies (Ches.h.i.+res) to our right flank at Fonquieres Verquin to support the French. But they returned in the course of the afternoon, not being wanted.

Outside Bethune we halted for some time, and were regaled with soup and pears by some hospitable ladies at luncheon-time. And then we received orders to push through the town and cover it along the bend of the ca.n.a.l and across the arc of it (from Essars due east) with three battalions, the Norfolks being sent away to the east to help the French about Annequin.

It was perfectly flat country and difficult to defend, as it was so cut up by high hedges and suburbs; but I went round it in the afternoon, inspected it carefully, and posted the battalions. Towards evening, however, we had orders to fall back into the town--the French taking over the outposts--and billet there, our Headquarters being in the Grande Place--a large square with a curious old belfry in the middle--at a wine-shop, No. 34. Here we were well looked after, and had each of us a lovely hot bath, provided by a marvellous system of gas-jets which heated the water in about five minutes.

_Oct. 12th._

Off eastwards next morning at 8.30 A.M. through a freezing thick fog--so thick that one could not see twenty yards in front of one. The big open s.p.a.ce in the town through which we pa.s.sed was occupied with ma.s.ses of Spahis, Moorish troops, and Algerians of all sorts, looking miserably cold in their scarlet jackets and white burnouses. The idea was that we were to push forward to Festubert and act as a pivot, with our right near the ca.n.a.l at Rue de l'epinette, to the 3rd Division and the remainder of the Corps, which were swinging slowly round to their right so as eventually to face south-east and take La Ba.s.see.

At first my orders directed me to leave a gap between myself and the ca.n.a.l, the gap being filled by French troops; but shortly afterwards I was told that the Brigade was to hold from Festubert to the ca.n.a.l, relieving the French cavalry here, who were to hold on till we got there; and I paid a visit to the French cavalry General at Gorre to make sure that this would be done. The line was a horribly extended one--about two miles; and the prospect was not entrancing. However, I detached the Dorsets to move along the ca.n.a.l bank from Gorre and get in touch with the French. Very glad I was that I had done so, for they had severe fighting there that day against a strong force of the enemy, who tried to get in between us and the French.

The Bedfords I ordered to hold Givenchy. The first rumour was that the French had evacuated Givenchy before we could come up, and that the Germans had occupied it; but this turned out not to be true after all.

The Ches.h.i.+res held Festubert, and the Norfolks were in Divisional reserve somewhere in rear.

Meanwhile the Germans were attacking along the ca.n.a.l; but the Dorsets checked them most gallantly, losing poor Roper, killed in leading a charge, and a number of men. Lilly was wounded at the same time.

The Headquarters pa.s.sed most of that day--and an extremely busy Staff day it was--in a little pothouse in Festubert, and we slept in a tiny house put at our disposal by one Ma.s.se, gendarme, a gallant old soldier, who was the only representative of civilian authority in the place, the Maire having bolted, and his second in command being sick unto death in his own house.

_Oct. 13th._

The night went off fairly peaceably, but early next morning we had a nasty jar, for it was reported at 8 A.M. that Majors Vandeleur (commanding) and Young (2nd in command) of the Ches.h.i.+res, together with a company and a half, had all been made prisoners or killed by the Germans about Rue d'Ouvert. The circ.u.mstantial story was that the early morning patrols had reported that Rue d'Ouvert (about a mile in front of Festubert) was free of Germans; that Vandeleur and Young had gone out with two platoons to make sure of it, had got into Rue d'Ouvert and found it empty at first, but had been subsequently fired at from the houses, surrounded by superior numbers, and had been taken prisoners after losing half their men. As for Sh.o.r.e's company, who were supporting them, they had disappeared completely and had apparently suffered the same fate.

I immediately sent out scouts to find out the truth; but a very heavy fire was by this time opened on the remainder of the Ches.h.i.+res, and the scouts could not get through. No further news even came in of Sh.o.r.e's company, but we could not believe that it had really been scuppered, or else there would have been much more firing, and we must have had some news of the disaster, if it had occurred.

And so it was. Towards 3 o'clock we had news that the company was safely tucked away in some ditches, holding its front, and had had practically no losses, although it could not move out without attracting a heavy artillery fire.

Not till long afterwards did I hear what had really happened to Vandeleur, and then it was from his own lips in January 1915, he having escaped from Crefeld just before Christmas. It appeared that he and Young had gone up with about half a company in support of some scouts who had reported Rue d'Ouvert clear. The half company did not, however, go into Rue d'Ouvert, for they were violently attacked by superior forces before they got there. They lost heavily, but succeeded in getting into a farmhouse, which they held all day against the enemy, hoping that we should move out and rescue them. But we, of course, had been told circ.u.mstantially that they were already prisoners at 8 A.M., so knew nothing of it and took no action.

The enemy set the house on fire, and the gallant little garrison put it out with wine from the cellars, for they were cut off from the water-supply. Their numbers were reduced to about thirty, when they were again attacked in overwhelming force at 9 P.M., and many of the remainder (including Vandeleur) wounded. Then there was no choice, and they surrendered, being complimented on their gallantry by the German General in command at La Ba.s.see. They were then sent off to Germany _via_ Douai, and were most abominably treated on the journey, wounded and all being pigged together in a filthy cattle-truck three inches deep in manure for thirty hours without food or water, insulted and kicked by the German escort and a brute of a lieutenant at Douai, and finally sent to Crefeld, where they were again ill-treated, starved, and left in tents with no covering--their greatcoats, and even their tunics, having been taken away,--nothing to lie on except damp and verminous straw, on muddy wet ground. Many men died of this treatment.

The officers were treated somewhat better, but very harshly, and were never given enough to eat. Vandeleur's escape is "another story."

That day was a terrible day: Givenchy was bombarded heavily by the Germans for hours, and rendered absolutely untenable. The Bedfords held out there gallantly, and stuck to one end of the village whilst the enemy was in possession of the other; but the heavy artillery was too much for them, and after losing about sixty casualties, many of them killed by falling houses, they gradually fell back to trenches in rear of the village. Griffith (commanding) and Macready (Adjutant) came to see me about 3 P.M., their clothes and faces a ma.s.s of white dust and plaster, and explained the situation; but there was nothing to be done, as we had no reserves, and had to stick it out as best we could.

But by far the worst was what happened to the Dorsets. The account of what happened was rather confused, but it appears that, depending on their left being supported by the Bedfords at Givenchy, and their right by the K.O.S.B.'s (13th Brigade) on the south side of the Ca.n.a.l, they pushed forward for some distance and dug themselves roughly in, after driving the Germans back. Then suddenly their front trench was attacked from the left rear, and a heavy fire poured upon their men as they retired on their supports. They were also shot down from the embankment on the south of the Ca.n.a.l--from just where they had expected the K.O.S.B.'s to be.

At one place about twenty Germans advanced and held up their hands.

The Dorsets then advanced to take their surrender, when suddenly the twenty fell down flat, and about 100 more who had come close up under cover of the incident opened a heavy fire on our men and killed a lot. The battalion retired slowly, in admirable order, to Pont Fixe and the trenches covering it, and put a big factory there in a state of defence. But they had lost very heavily: thirteen officers killed (including Pitt and Davidson), wounded (including Bols and Rathbone), and missing; and 112 men killed and wounded, and 284 missing--most of these, I fear, being killed, for numbers of bodies were discovered later on between the lines. Bols was at first reported killed, but he only had a bullet through his back, narrowly missing the spine, and another through his arm. He fell unseen and had to be left behind when the battalion retired, and was found and stripped of all his kit by the Germans; but he recovered in the darkness, and managed to scramble and crawl back to the English lines. (From here he was sent to London, arriving there only two days later.)

We also lost two guns there, which had been brought up from the 15th R.F.A. Brigade and could not be got away in time. A gallant attempt was made by volunteers to recover them next day, but it was useless and only cost more lives.

The Dorsets as well as the Bedfords also lost one of their machine-guns. Altogether it was a d.a.m.nable day, and we on the staff were also pretty well exhausted by the amount of staff work and telegrams and messages going through all day. The 2nd Devons (or rather two companies of them) were sent to the a.s.sistance of the Dorsets in the evening; but it was a difficult thing to carry out, as the banks of the Ca.n.a.l, along which they had to go, were soft and boggy, and they had much difficulty in getting their S.A.A. carts along.

The Brigade Headquarters withdrew in the evening from Festubert to a foul big farm about half a mile back. This, from a particularly offensive big cesspool in the middle of the yard, we labelled Stink Farm (it had 1897 in big red tiles on the roof). It was a beastly place, and W. and I had to sleep in a tiny room on a couple of beds which had not seen clean mattresses or coverings for certainly ten years or more. There were, however, plenty of barns and clean straw for the men.

_Oct. 14th._

The general idea was to continue to push forward, with our right on the Ca.n.a.l, to let the 3rd Division swing round. But though we did our best, we could not get forward as long as the 13th Brigade on our right, on the other side of the Ca.n.a.l, were held up--for if we advanced that would merely mean getting our right flank exposed and enfiladed by the enemy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Givenchy-Violaines.]

Two more companies of the Devons arrived, to support the remains of the Dorsets, from the 14th Brigade, the battalion being under Lieutenant-Colonel Gloster. But we could not do any good, and except for an immense number of messages we did little all day. The enemy was in some strength in our front, but did not attack.