The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade Part 3

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 Estrees 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 pa.s.sed us in the dark. But, as a matter of fact, it had not.

_Aug. 27th._

Daylight came at last through the damp grey mists, and we found ourselves still in open country, with the road thickly covered as before with troops of all arms and, in places by the roadside, the remains of bivouac fires and empty boxes and bully-beef tins, and hunks of raw meat; for the A.S.C. finding that it was impossible to supply the troops regularly, had wisely dumped down their stores at intervals alongside the road and let the men help themselves.

This was all very well for the men in front, but by the time we in rear had got to the stores there was nothing left, and we had to go hungry.

Somewhere about 4 A.M. I came on Sir C. F. standing at the cross-roads near Nauroy. I naturally asked him where we were to retire on; but he had not recently received any definite orders himself; so after talking it over we came to the conclusion that our best line would be on St Quentin, and we directed the men, as they came up--5th Division straight on, 4th Division to the right to Bellicourt, and 3rd to the left to Lehaucourt, for thus we should get the Divisions more or less in their right positions. Of course a vast quant.i.ty of troops had already preceded us, probably towards St Quentin, but that could not be helped.

It was a long way yet to St Quentin, about eight miles, and on the road and off it were men, waggons, and stragglers in every direction.

The jumble of the night had disintegrated most of the formed bodies, and the whole thing had the appearance of a vast _debacle_. Men moving on singly but slowly, little bunches of three and four men together, sometimes of the same regiment, but oftener of odd ones; men lying exhausted or asleep by the roadside, or with their packs off and sitting on the gra.s.s, nibbling at a biscuit or looking hopelessly before them. It was a depressing sight, and I wondered how on earth the formations would ever come together again. Officers of course were doing their best to get their own men together, but the results were small. Whenever we pa.s.sed men of the 15th Brigade we collected them as far as possible into bodies; but it was very difficult to know what units men belonged to without asking them, for very many of them had long ago, on arrival at Havre and elsewhere, given their cap-badges and shoulder-names as souvenirs to women and children, and they were most difficult to identify.

A mile or two before getting into St Quentin I pa.s.sed Laurence Drummond, commanding the 19th Brigade, hobbling along on foot, and offered him of course my second horse. He had got damaged somehow--by a fall, I think--and said he had his horse all right, but it hurt him less to walk than to ride.

As we approached the town the entrance had got rather blocked with troops. This was rather a good thing, as it enabled the stragglers behind to close up and find other portions of their own regiments; and, extraordinary as it seemed, whole companies had now got together and in some cases had even coagulated into battalions. I found most of the Norfolks collected together in a field by the side of the road, and a stray Bedford company or two looking quite fresh and happy.

As it was necessary to get further orders, I left Weatherby to do some more collecting and pushed on by myself into the town, where I found Rolt and some of his Staff; but he knew nothing. There was a hopeless block at this moment, so I slipped off my horse for ten minutes and had a bit of chocolate and biscuit, which were quite refres.h.i.+ng. Rolt was somewhat depressed, for his Brigade had lost heavily, but they too were gradually coming together. At last, in the middle of the town, I managed to collect some instructions, and was told that the 5th Division was to form up in a field near the railway station the other side of the town. There were also Staff officers at different points, calling out "5th Division this way, 3rd that," and so on; and as the men, now more or less in columns of fours, pa.s.sed them, they perked up and swung along quite happily.

We were now outside the region of our maps, so I asked my way to a stationer's, which luckily happened to be open, though it was barely 7.30 A.M., and bought all the local maps I could get hold of: they were only paper, not linen, but they proved extremely useful. And then I bought some big rings of bread and some apples, and made Catley carry them strung on the little brigade flag that S. had embroidered, and we filled up our haversacks with as much food as we could buy and carry--for the benefit of the men.

I found my way to the railway field all right, but none of the Brigade had yet arrived, so I went back to look for them. On the way I found that a number of the 13th Brigade had taken the wrong turning and were plodding right away from the town, so I had to canter after them a mile or more and turn them back. There was a lot of transport further on, on the move; and fearing that they might belong to us, whilst my horse was pretty tired, I begged a nice-looking Frenchman with a long beard--a doctor of sorts--in a motor-car, to lend me his car to catch them. This he willingly did, and drove me up to them, but they turned out to be field ambulances with orders of their own, so I came back to the railway field, leaving a man at the railway turning to turn the others and show them the way.

Gradually bits of the 15th Brigade arrived--a few Dorsets, half the Bedfords, and a few Ches.h.i.+res; and to these I imparted the Staff instructions that we were to bivouac here for the night. The men had already done twenty-four miles during the night, and lay about, thankful to get a little rest. Supplies, we were told, would be issued shortly at the station, but before they came I got peremptory orders to march off at 2 o'clock, and withdraw further south to a place called Ollizy, nine miles on.

It was then 12.30 P.M., and the men had had no food since the previous morning; however, orders had to be obeyed. So I distributed my bread and apples, for which the men pressed round ravenously; and James, commanding the 2nd Manchesters, who had been in my Brigade two years previously, gave me a couple of most welcome big sandwiches and a drink. None of my staff had yet turned up; and though I was told that supplies were just going to arrive, none did arrive before we marched off. Five minutes before that time the Norfolks, who had had a rest the other side of the town, turned up; and as the rest of the Brigade marched off the rest of the Dorsets marched up--rather disappointed at having to go on at once without either rest or rations.

Weatherby and the rest of Brigade Headquarters had trickled in by this time, and we moved off in rear of the 13th Brigade. The day was fairly hot by this time--luckily it had been cool all the morning--and I expected to see whole heaps of the men fall out exhausted; but devil a bit, they moved on, well closed up, good march discipline, and even whistling and singing; and for the rest of the march I don't believe that more than half a dozen fell out.

We expected some more fighting near Ollizy, for a message had come through for the 13th to push on and collar a certain bridge before the Germans got it; but all was peaceful, and we got to Ollizy about five o'clock. There I had to tell off a battalion and some guns not belonging to me to take up a line of outposts to guard our rear (I quite forget what the troops were, or why they were put under me), and the Brigade pushed on over the bridge, and through the swampy, marshy country beyond.

No halt yet, and I began to wonder whether we were expected to do yet another night march. However, after another two miles I was told to put the Brigade in bivouac round a farm and little village called Eaucourt, covering our rear with another line of outposts.

There was some distant sh.e.l.ling during the evening; but we were too dog-tired to worry about it, though bursts of rifle fire did occur during the night, necessitating our jumping up once or twice to see what it was.

The farm was quite a good one of the usual form--_i.e._, the living-house forming one end of a big oblong courtyard, whilst barns and lofts and cowsheds filled up the other three sides. In the middle, of course, was a ma.s.s of dirty straw and manure, and pools of stinking water in which ducks and pigs and chickens disported themselves. The people were most friendly, and supplied us with eggs and straw and a kitchen fire; but it was rather a squash, as the headquarters of an artillery brigade were already feeding there, and we didn't get dinner till very late. The men lay about in the lofts and sheds among the farm implements and sheep, and I should have expected them after a march of over thirty-five miles, and no food or sleep in the twenty-four hours, to curl up and go to sleep at once, but they didn't; they were quite happy and lively now that at last they'd got their rations, and made the most of them. I had a bed to lie on, and actually enjoyed a wash in a real basin, but the little bedroom was not very sweet or clean, and I'd as soon have slept with the others on straw in the kitchen and living-room.

_Aug. 28th._

Next morning we were off before the sun rose, with orders to proceed towards Noyon. We were well up to time as regards our place in the column, but some of the rest of the Division were very late--probably some counter-order had been given; anyway, we had to wait a good extra half-hour by the roadside. I remember that I occupied the time in shaving myself; and as there was no water handy, I moistened the brush in the dew on the gra.s.s. It did fairly well--though removing two days'

growth was rather painful, I allow.

We plodded on through the heat of the day, in rear of the 14th Brigade, and kept our march discipline without trouble, though the number of apple- and pear-trees on the road was a great temptation.

What had happened or where we were going to was a complete mystery; all that we knew was that we had had to leg it at Le Cateau, but that we were distinctly _not_ downhearted; nor did the Germans seem to be pursuing. So we thought that we should probably soon get the order to turn and either take up a defensive position or advance again against the enemy--though we also knew that we must have lost a number of guns and a good many men.

Soon after we started we were asked how many waggons we required to carry damaged and footsore men, and at a certain point there were some thirty or forty waggons drawn up for that purpose. I felt rather insulted, and said so, but eventually put my pride in my pocket and said I'd have one per battalion. The officer in charge at once offered ten, but I did not accept them, and I don't think we filled even one waggon all day.

Somewhere about ten o'clock the message was pa.s.sed down from the front that Sir John French was on the roadside and wanted to see battalion commanders. I cantered on, and found him under a tree with a few of his staff. I saluted and asked for orders, but he said he only wanted to see the C.O.'s. Then he took me aside and said that he wanted to compliment and congratulate the men on their magnificent work; that we had saved the left flank of the French army, and that Joffre had begged him to tell the troops that they had saved France for the time being, and more to the same effect. I hastened, of course, to tell everybody; I think the men got their tails up well in consequence. But the British are an undemonstrative lot, and Thomas never lets his feelings show on the surface. Anyway, we were all pleased that our sacrifices hadn't been for nothing, and hoped we'd soon stop and turn round.

At Guiscard we turned into the main road to Noyon. It was very hot, and we had had no rest (except the regulation ten minutes per hour) since starting. So when we got to some nice shade on the left, and big spreading trees dotted over some fields, I turned the Brigade off the road, transport and all, and we halted for an hour and a half. We went to sleep after luncheon, of course, and when it was time to start I remember that Moulton-Barrett went up to St Andre, who was lying fast asleep, and shouted out, "The Germans are on us!" Poor St Andre jumped to his feet with a yell and seized his revolver; it was a wicked joke.

The main road into Noyon was much crowded, not only with a lot of French cavalry going north, but a very large number of waggons full of our own men--of other brigades, mind you, for I don't think there were any 15th Brigade men there at all; but then the others had had a harder time.

The French cavalry were a dragoon brigade--horses looking very fit and well, and wonderfully light equipment on them; they do not go in for carrying half so much on the saddle as we do--for one thing, apparently they don't consider it necessary to carry cleaning material on the horse.

There was again a considerable squash in Noyon, and here St Andre was delighted to meet some spick-and-span young friends of his whom he affected to treat with great contempt, as not yet having seen a shot fired. Having to cross the railway line also delayed us still more, as a long supply-train was shunting and reshunting and keeping the gates shut.

It was a lovely evening, and though progress was slow, we eventually reached Pontoise by about 7 P.M. The country was thickly wooded and very pretty, and the quarters into which we got after our sixteen-mile march were most acceptable. Here we were told we should probably be for several days--to rest and recuperate; but we were beginning to have doubts about these perpetually-promised rests which never came off.

The Brigade Headquarters put up at a blacksmith's shop, and the old couple here received us with hospitality; but though there were beds and mattresses for most of us, there was very little to be had in the way of vegetables or eggs or other luxuries such as milk or b.u.t.ter.

_Aug. 29th._

Next morning and afternoon were devoted to a little rest and cleaning up; but I had little leisure myself, for I had to preside over a court of inquiry for several hot and weary hours.

At 6 P.M. we suddenly received orders to move at once to Carlepont, only three miles back, and began to move by the shortest and most unblocked way. Just when we were moving off I received orders to move the other way, but with the sanction of the Divisional Staff I preferred going my own way, and went it.

The detail of the map, however, turned out to be incorrect, and I found myself at the far, instead of the near, end of the village, with a lot of transport in the narrow street between ourselves and our billets. This was hopeless, and after a prolonged jam in the dark I gave it up, put the battalions on to the pavement and down a side street, and told them to bivouac and feed where they were.

Meanwhile St Andre had got a kind Frenchman to give the staff some dinner, but I misunderstood the arrangement and could not find the place; so I insisted on digging out some food from our cook's waggon on the wet gra.s.s of a little park we found. And there we ate it about midnight and went to sleep in the sopping herbage. I fear my staff were not much pleased with the arrangement.

_Aug. 30th._

Off again at 2:20 A.M., we pushed on over pretty country _via_ Attichy to Croutoy, a matter of eleven miles. It developed into a roasting-hot day, and the last two miles, up a very steep hill, were most trying for the transport. We were at the head of the column, and longed to stop in the shady little village of Croutoy, but we had to move on beyond to some open stubble fields, where the heat was terrific. And there we bivouacked till about midday, when we were told we might go back to Croutoy, and did. It was a very pretty little village with a magnificent view northwards over the Aisne. We were very comfortably put up in General de France's chateau, and enjoyed there a real big bath with taps and hot water, the first genuine bath we had had since arriving at Havre. My only _contretemps_ here was that, having when halfway to Croutoy dismounted Catley and lent his horse to a Staff officer, I never saw the horse or my kit on him again. The Staff officer had duly sent the horse back by a sergeant of gunners, but the latter never materialized, and, strangely enough, was never heard of afterwards. So I thus lost my bivouac tent, mackintosh, lantern, and several other things, besides Catley's complete possessions, all of which were on the animal. Luckily the horse was not my own, but a spare one, as my mare Squeaky had had a sore back, and Catley was not riding her.

_Aug. 31st._

Next day was awfully hot again. We were off by 7.30, and were by way of billeting at a place called Bethisy, on the south-west edge of the forest of Compiegne. We pa.s.sed by the eastern edge, close by the extraordinary chateau of Pierrefonds, built by Viollet le Duc to the exact model of the old castle of the thirteenth century, a huge pile of turrets and battlements, like one of Gustave Dore's nightmares; and then struck across the open towards Morienval. We were a long time on the march, largely owing to the necessary habit that the Artillery have of stopping to "feed and water" when they come to water, irrespective of the hourly ten-minute halt. Then, having thus stopped the Infantry column in rear for twenty minutes, they trot on and catch up the rest of the column in front, leaving the Infantry toiling hopelessly after them, trying to fill the gap the guns leave behind them. It is bad, of course, but it is a choice of evils, for one way the Artillery suffers, the other the Infantry; but they both arrive together in the end.

I had trotted ahead to Morienval, to settle on the road, as there was a divergence of opinion on the subject, and there a kindly farmer asked me in to dinner with his family--an excellent _potage aux choux_ and a succulent stew, with big juicy pears to follow, all washed down by remarkably good red _vin du pays_, I remember. There were perpetual halts on the road, which we did not understand, but soon after leaving Morienval we were abruptly ordered to turn sharp off to the left and make for Crepy. The fact was, a force of German cavalry had turned up at Bethisy, just as our billeting parties were entering it, and the latter had only just time to clear out.

Our own cavalry cleared the Germans out of Bethisy for the time being, but we continued on to Crepy-en-Valois, and arrived there, rather done, at six o'clock--nearly eleven hours to go fifteen miles, just the sort of thing to tire troops on a very hot day,--and with numerous apparently unnecessary halts. However, we had few if any stragglers, and we made our way to some fields on the south-west of Crepy, St Agathe being the name of the district. I selected the bivouac myself, as I did not get billeting orders in time, and I preferred open fields on a hot night for the troops instead of stuffy billets in the town.

The Brigade Staff, however, occupied a little house and grounds in the suburbs, and I shall never forget arriving there with St Andre after seeing to the bivouac of the Brigade. There were two wine-bottles and gla.s.ses on a table on the lawn, with comfortable chairs alongside.

Nearly speechless with thirst, we rushed at them. They were empty!

_Sept. 1st._

The night was hot, and though I had an excellent bed I remember I could not get to sleep for ever so long. We were to have moved off early, but the sound of the guns not far to the north stopped us, and orders quickly arrived for the Brigade to go and occupy Duvy, a village a mile or so to the west, and give what help we could to General Pulteney's force of a Division and a brigade, who were being attacked on the north-west.

So we moved out rapidly and pushed out two battalions to a.s.sist.

Cavalry was reported everywhere, but it was difficult to know which was English and which German. The latter's patrols were fairly bold, and single hors.e.m.e.n got close up to us. Broadwood, of the Norfolks, bowled over one of them at 700 yards--with a rifle, it was reported, but it was probably his machine-gun. Meanwhile our guns on the plateau north of Crepy supporting the 13th Brigade did good execution, three consecutive sh.e.l.ls of theirs falling respectively into a squadron of Uhlans, killing a whole gun-team, and smas.h.i.+ng up a gun by direct hit (27th Brigade R.F.A.)