CHAPTER XI

WEDNESDAY, THE 26TH OF AUGUST

_We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition._

WESTMORELAND. _Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand._

EXETER. _There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh._

SALISBURY. _God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds._

The night attack which the First Corps had so magnificently repulsed was but the prelude to the greater attack of August 26th. So imminent did the danger appear to the Commander-in-chief, so tense was the anxiety, that immediately after the firing had died away at midnight orders were issued to the First Corps to march again at daybreak. I cannot attempt to dwell upon the condition of the men after the battle of Sunday, the fighting and marching of Monday and Tuesday, and, finally, the great fight of Tuesday night. One can but quote the words of Sir John French: "They were too exhausted to be placed in the fighting line," and "were at the moment incapable of movement," and so leave the rest to the imagination.

To that extent, then, had von Kluck succeeded in his scheme. The First Corps were temporarily out of action; the French, as the Commander-in-Chief remarks, "were unable to afford any support on the most critical day of all"; and to the Second Corps was left the task of withstanding the whole German attack, designed to outflank them on the left and roll them up. And the odds against them were, as at Agincourt, "five to one"; in guns, more than six to one.

Apart from his 3rd and 5th Divisions, General Smith-Dorrien had taken under his command the detached 19th Infantry Brigade (composed of the 2nd Royal Welsh Fusiliers, 1st Scottish Rifles, 1st Middlesex, 2nd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders), the infantry and some of the R.F.A. of the 4th Division, and two brigades of cavalry, out by Cambrai.

The line of the Second Corps on the Tuesday night extended, roughly, from Le Cateau on the east to a little south of Cambrai on the west, or a front of about fifteen miles. Trenches had been hastily dug since the previous afternoon. East of Le Cateau was a big gap between the two Corps. This could not be bridged owing to the exhausted condition of the regiments in the 2nd Division.

Some hours before battle was joined General Smith-Dorrien realised that it was absolutely impossible for him to carry out the Commander-in-Chief's instructions and continue his retirement in conjunction with the First Corps. A retirement in face of such overwhelming numbers would have meant annihilation. At 2 A.M. he decided to fight, and reported so to his Chief. Sir John French replied that the retirement must continue.

"My only chance," rejoined the General, "is to do my utmost in weakening the enemy's attack, and then seize such a moment as I can to retire."

General Smith-Dorrien was on the field of action; Sir John French was at G.H.Q., some twenty miles to the south. The man on the spot, realising that the only hope of stopping the enemy lay in a successful action, proceeded with his plans of battle. The fight began at daylight.

About 7 A.M. General Smith-Dorrien informed G.H.Q. by telephone that the battle was in progress, and that he was confident that he could deal the enemy a smashing blow sufficiently heavy to gain time to withdraw his weary troops.

"General," said the senior Staff officer over the telephone, "yours is the cheeriest voice I've heard for three days. I'll go and tell the Chief."

The Commander-in-Chief, who did not approve of the decision to fight, in reply instructed him "to use his utmost endeavours to break off the action and retire at the earliest possible moment."

Le Cateau, after which this battle has come to be named, is a pleasant enough little town set in a country-side not unlike the Sussex uplands between Tonbridge and Hastings--broad, open pasture- and meadow-land, cut by tiny valleys, rolling away south to the dip of St. Quentin. Through the town runs one broad street, and here, in the town hall offices, G.H.Q. had its habitation for a short spell earlier in the week. Opposite there was a little bun-shop and cafè combined, which proudly announced: "English five o'clock tea." The two buxom ladies who dispensed the refreshing beverage must have overheard many a little confidence exchanged between their unsuspecting officer clients, and we heard later that one of the two had been shot as a German spy.

With the earliest dawn the firing began along the front with such a curious spitefulness (if one could so call it) that many of our men afterwards remarked about it. There were evidently to be no half measures about this attack, for the German infantry came on almost with the first rounds from their guns, advancing in their usual masses and making big play with their machine-guns. It was good country for this kind of work, while the cover our men got was generally only such as they could make for themselves by digging.

The morning came on radiantly sunny, with the sky a lovely pale limpid blue, washed clear by the downpour of the previous night.

"'An' 'tis a foine morning they'll be having in Lismore for the fair this day," remarked a lad from County Cork; "but I would not be missin' the fair _we'll_ be having for all the porter in Daddy Breean's ould tent. Ah, will ye look at that now! Shure, 'tis the bhoys are coming early for the knocks they'll be getting. Will I be seeing how the little gun is shooting this morning, yer honour?"

The platoon commander nodded, for Jerry was a privileged favourite. He was also a remarkably fine shot.

So Jerry nestled his cheek cosily down to his little gun and took a deep breath, while the two or three near him looked on with interest. Jerry lifted his head again, for he was an artist and knew the value of arousing expectation.

"And will it be a golden sovereign if I take the coat-tails of the little ould gentleman with the spy-glasses?" This was Jerry's way of making a bet.

"Yes; I'll bet you a sovereign you won't down that officer on the right, and he looks like the colonel," said the platoon commander. It was a 500 yards' shot, and hazy, too.

Jerry carefully judged the distance by a half-way haystack, adjusted his sight, and settled down once again. "For the ould counthry!" he breathed, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The "little ould gentleman" was seen to clap his hand smartly to his leg, while two men ran up to him.

"Will ye double the stakes, yer honour, for me to take the three o' them?" said Jerry over his shoulder, clicking his bolt back and forward again.

"A fiver, Jerry, if you do it."

Jerry wedged his rifle between two stones, took a slightly fuller sight, and almost before you could have counted them three shots cracked out.

"Have you that fiver on you, yer honour, or will I be taking an IOU?" And Jerry leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction as a mighty cheer ran down the trench, and the platoon officer shook him hard by the hand. What the enemy thought about it one could only surmise, but a few of the men shook their fists threateningly in the direction of the British lines.

Now let us follow for a little the fortunes of a Brigade in a particularly warm corner of the line close to a small town where a very strong German attack soon developed. The guns of the Brigade opened fire at daybreak. They had managed to dig some serviceable pits, and were as snugly ensconced as time had allowed.

For an hour, perhaps, the German guns pounded steadily away without making very much impression; and our R.F.A. as steadily replied. Many of the outlying farms and houses were badly knocked about and began to burn fiercely. About 7.30 the enemy made a determined attempt to get hold of a flank position for their machine-guns to enfilade our infantry; and it was then that one regiment lost horribly before our cavalry could get round in a counter-attack. So heavy were their casualties that, as a regiment, they were simply out of action, and an urgent message was dispatched to the next Brigade for anything they could possibly send in the way of reinforcements. Badly off though they were, two battalions were promptly transferred. Just one more instance of working shoulder to shoulder.

It was curious how certain regiments suffered very heavily while other units next to them got off comparatively lightly. One R.F.A. brigade, for instance, was right in the thick of the fighting from Mons to the Aisne, and yet had very few losses until the middle of September, while the battery next on their left on this Wednesday suffered very badly. Of two other batteries I came across, one was in action right through to the Aisne, and did not have a single casualty, while a second (most curious of all), in the First Corps, never fired a shot until the big advance of the Corps at the Aisne on September 14th.

About 9 A.M. things began to look serious. Several enemy infantry attacks had been met by desperate counter-charges; but numbers were bound to tell. A German cavalry regiment had succeeded in working round to the flank, and now they made a gallant effort to capture the British guns.

This was, I believe, one of the very few occasions when the enemy cavalry had a real chance of getting any of our batteries by a charge. There was a clear field, and they had got to within 500 yards of the battery, when the guns opened on them. Our men had heard about the fatal charge of the 9th Lancers, and now it was their turn. The battery commander dropped to "fuse o, open sights," and the detachments worked as though the devil were behind them. In the next 250 yards the cavalry lost a good two-thirds of the regiment, and they got no nearer than 200 yards from the guns. A British squadron luckily came out at the moment, and charged clean through the remnant, wheeled, and cut up what still remained. And that was the end of that very game attack.

If only the Germans would always play fair, there would be nothing to grumble about. Their infantry cannot, of course, be compared with the British, and our cavalry have always come out better than theirs in a clean fight; but the Germans have always fought courageously when it was a case of genuine fighting. Indeed, it is a very poor compliment to our men to suggest otherwise.

But the main attack, instead of being checked, seemed to gather strength, until it became manifestly impossible to protect and hold the little town any longer. The infantry accordingly gradually withdrew under cover of the guns, and at last the guns were limbered up and marched back to another position farther south, the Brigade having held the corner for something like four hours.

Most of the townsfolk had begun their flight late on the previous evening, but a good many still remained. Had they only known the fate in store for them, the invaders would have found an empty town. But, at least in this case, vengeance was swift, as you shall hear.

The Brigade, then, took up its new position, and the men were able to make themselves fairly snug before the enemy had finished with the town. Fortunately, too, many of our wounded were got away from the hospital, for the Germans had begun to shell that some time before. But it was a very trying business, as there were not enough ambulances for the very large number of casualties, and many had to be carried on the already overloaded regimental transport.

Now, it must be remembered that General Smith-Dorrien had absolutely no reserves on which to draw if any part of his line began to bend back. The usual plan is, of course, to keep certain fresh regiments concentrated at given spots to move up in support as and when required. But now, if the Inniskillings were getting badly cut up and a gap was being made, the G.O.C. could only call upon the Cheshires, say, a mile off, who were not being so strongly attacked, to send a company or so to the help of their comrades.

Another thing. I have hinted in a previous chapter that the threads of communication with the ammunition supply were badly stretched to breaking-point, owing to the astonishing speed at which the British had to retire. Normally, the ammunition parks (motor transport) draw the ammunition supplies from railhead, and carry it up to the divisional ammunition columns. These, in turn, distribute to brigade columns, and the actual units draw upon the last named. Thus there are several links between railhead and the firing-line, and the motor-lorries should not come within about eight miles of the line.

But on this Wednesday and the two or three following days all this arrangement literally went to pieces. How could it be otherwise? And that is how the A.S.C. drivers came to do their bit with all the rest. Speed was vital, and the lorries could cover the distance in a third of the time taken by the horse transport. In fact, the horse transport was ignored or forgotten, although there were exceptions. One saw the divisional columns aimlessly trekking about the country, at one moment under orders to go to a certain village, only to find on arrival that the enemy were just a mile off; back they would come again as hard as the tired horses could do it.

Time and again an urgent message would go back from a battery for more 18-pr. or howitzer, and the dispatch-rider would have instructions to get the stuff wherever he could lay hands on it. He generally managed to find a few lorries of a "park," and so off the bus drivers would start with their three-ton vehicles, little dreaming that they were going under fire.

"Gor blimey, sir," said one of them next day to his officer, "I tell yer it wos a fair beano! We'd gone abaht a couple o' miles, when the sergeant wot wos along o' me on the box 'e sez: 'Stevens,' sez 'e, 'can yer knock anything more aht of 'er? 'Cos they're firing acrost the road.' Lor lumme, I nearly put 'er in the ditch at the turn 'e giv me! Yer see, sir, I didn't enlist to get knocked aht by no b---- German. I'm a peaceable man, I am, wot likes my grub and pint o' bitter reg'lar like, and the missus the same. But, as I wos a-sayin', I turned to the sergeant an' I sez: 'Yer don't fink there's no danger, do yer?' An' the sergeant, 'e sez, sarkastic-like: 'Ho no, they're only bustin' the shells on the road, an' we've got a few tons of fireworks be'ind wot's bahnd to bust too if we gits 'it!' S'welp me pink, sir, I turned that cold you could 'ave 'eard my teeth going louder nor the enjin.

"'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke when there was the 'ell of a bang somewheres just be'ind, and--well, you can bet your life, sir, we did a guy for all we wos worth. Lord, 'ow we 'opped it dahn that road! I tell yer, sir, we knocked forty-five miles an hour aht o' that ole bus, and she come up to it like as we wos knockin' spots orf of a pirit bus dahn Piccadilly.

"The sergeant, 'e jammed 'is 'eel dahn on the accelerator, an' I just 'eld on to the wheel wiv bofe 'ands. It wos a fair old Brock's benifit we wos in. But we got frew orl right, and wen we got to the place where we wos to drop the stuff, there weren't no guns wot wanted it. An', as old G. R. Sims sez, 'hit wos the unkindest cut of orl.' Well, I wasn't coming back agin frew that pyrriteknikle show not for the ole bus full o' suvrins, an' so we come 'ome rahnd by a place I forgit the name of, and that's 'ow we're late; but it was worf the hextra thirty miles rahnd, an' I 'ope, sir, yer won't mind this time."

There was another occasion on this day when three of these lorries went forward under the charge of an officer. He was quite unaware that the village whence the call for howitzer shell had come had been captured by the Germans half an hour after the message had been sent. On the way he picked up another officer who was lost.

Rounding a corner by a wood, about a mile from the village, they came straight upon a small German cavalry outpost. The Germans sprang to their feet at the rumble of the approaching lorries, and a sergeant stood in the road to bar the way.

There was not a moment for thought, and the second officer whipped his pistol out and took a snap shot. Luckily, he killed the sergeant outright. The officer in charge jumped down into the road as the lorry pulled up, with his own revolver in hand, and levelled it at the group by the roadside. One of them got his carbine off from the hip, and the shot just missed the first lorry driver on his seat. The officer promptly sent a bullet through the man's chest. Over his shoulder he shouted to the drivers to reverse the lorries, while he and the other officer held up the Germans.

Now, reversing three big lorries in not too wide a road needs some doing; but they all backed and advanced and sidled and backed until it was done. Then one officer jumped up behind the last one, the second officer followed, and off the lorries went.

There was nothing remarkable about the little experience, and it is only recorded to show the difficulties in ammunition supply at this time and also how the A.S.C. drivers were doing their job.

You must imagine that while we have been at the rear with the A.S.C., the fighting all along the British line has been growing in intensity. A big flank attack, with the idea of rolling up the whole line like a ball of string, is always a favourite move of the Germans, and this time they were trying to crush the British left.

But although the left was the main objective, the enemy still had a big superiority in numbers for frontal attacks, and these they kept up without ceasing. It was just like the crashing of many mighty hammers from one end to the other.

Following up the policy of making counterattacks whenever possible, a bold offensive was made against the little town from which we had just been driven. The enemy had now been in possession for two or three hours. So word was passed to the batteries, some of the indefatigable cavalry was concentrated, and the infantry, with the two reinforcing battalions, received the cheering news that they were to advance.

How they all went at it! Under the heaviest fire our guns could pour in, the infantry rushed the outlying houses, the main street, and the town itself, the cavalry sweeping up on the flank. The gunners, after raising the range to put a curtain before the infantry, limbered up, and had the satisfaction of marching back through the town which they had just been forced to evacuate.

Then it was that our men first saw a little of the hideous work of the invaders upon the civilian population. And if anything more were needed to brace them up to fight to the last man, they had it in that brief hour in the recaptured town.

The hospital was burning fiercely, just as that at Mons had done. Such a building, with its Red Cross flag, was always a convenient ranging point for the enemy. In it there had been some 400 wounded and other casualties. A large number of these had been got away, but a number had, perforce, to be left. Their end must have been too cruel to dwell upon.

Up the main street everywhere was horrible evidence that _they_ had been at work. Mingled with dead or wounded combatants were bodies of women and children, many terribly mutilated, while other women knelt beside them, with stone-set faces or gasping through hysterical weeping. From behind shutters or half-closed doors others looked out, blinded with terror.

But there was one thing which, for the men who saw it, dwarfed all else. Hanging up in the open window of a shop, strung from a hook in the cross-beam, like a joint in a butcher's shop, was the body of a little girl, five years old, perhaps. Its poor little hands had been hacked off, and through the slender body were vicious bayonet stabs.

Yes, close your eyes in horror, but it is right that our people should hear and know these things. There must be no false, vapid sentiment in refusing to think about them. There should not be a home in the British Empire where the facts of German atrocities are not known, and where, in realising them, hearts are not nerved to yield their last drop of blood in stamping out from the world of men the hideous Thing which has done them.

After that the Brigade "saw red." There was no more talk of taking prisoners, and if there was another ounce they could put into their work they did it. The sight of those poor distracted women kneeling down in the road before our men, or hanging round their knees praying to be taken away, would have melted the stoniest hearts. The situation was serious enough, for another German attack in force was bound to follow, and the Brigade had little hope of getting away safely themselves. But they could not possibly leave the women behind again--nor did they. Somehow or other they escorted, on guns, limbers and vehicles, all they could find safely on to the southward road, sullenly retiring once more before the new counter-attack.