SOLDIERS' STORIES OF THE BATTLE OF MONS.
The account of the Battle of Mons which you have just read has been built up from two main sources of information. First, and most important, is the dispatch of Sir John French. It is a plain, business-like statement, giving a broad outline of the manner in which his troops were disposed, and relating in proper order the chief features of the struggle, but not telling us much about the details of the fighting. Then come the accounts which the soldiers who took part in the battle have given of their experiences. Of course each of these soldiers only saw but a very small portion of the battle, and they knew very little of the "moves" which their commanders were making; but it is from them that we hear those details which give life and colour to the story. In this chapter you are going to read some accounts of various incidents in the battle as told by those who fought at Mons on the 23rd day of August 1914.
Here is the story told by a Gordon Highlander named Smiley. He drew a little diagram to illustrate the fighting which he saw, and I reproduce it on the next page in order that you may the more easily follow his story. You will notice that he and his comrades held a trench to the south of Mons.
"We marched out of our billets at 4 a.m. We marched up to No. 1 and wheeled to the right, which fetched us on the main Paris road (No. 4.4.4.4), with Mons itself somewhat half-left on our rear. We immediately set about clearing the foreground of willows, beans, wheat, and anything which gave head cover. About 10 a.m. we had (except buildings) a clear rifle range of quite two thousand yards. We then dug our trenches, and much labour and love we put into them.
"The ball opened at 11.30 a.m. by a terrible artillery duel by the Germans over our trenches to No. 5. This went on for some hours, until a movement of infantry was seen at No. 6. This movement was evidently intended for the Gordons, as you will see that had they managed to reach the wood in front of us (No. 7) our position would have been made untenable by hidden infantry and well-served artillery, who could have flanked us by sheer weight of numbers.
"However, we opened on them at No. 6 with a terrific Maxim fire. They advanced in companies of quite one hundred and fifty men in files five deep. Guess the result. We could steady our rifles on the trench and take deliberate aim. The first company were simply blasted away by a volley at seven hundred yards, and in their insane formation every bullet was almost sure to find two billets. The other companies kept advancing very slowly, using their dead comrades as cover; but they had absolutely no chance, and at about 5 p.m. their infantry retired.
"We were still being subjected to a terrible artillery fire. But we had time to see what was happening on our left flank (1, 2, 3). The Royal Irish Regiment had been surprised and fearfully cut up, and so, too, had the Middlesex, and it was found impossible for our B and C Companies to reinforce them. We (D Company) were one and a half miles away, and were ordered to proceed to No. 2 and relieve the Royal Irish as much as possible. We crept from our trenches and crossed to the other side of the road, where we had the benefit of a ditch and the road camber[21] as cover. We made most excellent progress until one hundred and fifty yards from No. 1. At that distance there was a small white house flush with the road standing in a clearance. Our young sub.[22] was leading, and safely crossed the front of the house. Immediately the Germans opened a cyclone of shrapnel at the house. They could not see us, but I guess they knew the reason why troops would or might pass that house. However, we were to relieve the R.I.'s, and astounding as it may seem, we passed that house, and I was the only one to be hit. Even yet I am amazed at our luck.
"By this time dusk had set in, four villages were on fire, and the Germans had been and were shelling the hospitals. We managed to get into the R.I.'s trench, and beat off a very faint-hearted Uhlan attack on us. About 9 p.m. came our orders to retire. What a pitiful handful we were against that host, and yet we held the flower of the German army at bay all day!"
Another soldier who was present in this part of the battlefield says:—
"We were digging trenches, and were totally unaware that the enemy was near us, when all of a sudden shells came dropping all around, and the Germans bore down on us. One of the Middlesex companies was not at that time equipped in any way, with the result that they were terribly cut up. Then I witnessed what a real Britisher is made of. One of the sergeants of the Middlesex, instead of holding up hands and begging for mercy, like the Germans do, fought furiously with his fists, downing two Germans with successive blows. Other members of the Middlesex followed their sergeant's example. Later on a German sergeant-major who was taken prisoner, on viewing our numbers, said, 'Had we been aware that there were so few of you, not one of you would have escaped.'"
In scores of soldiers' letters we find references to the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. One young private wrote as follows to his father, who is a gardener: "You complained last summer, dad, of the swarm of wasps that destroyed your fruit. That will give you an idea of how the Germans came for us." Another man writes: "It looked as if we were going to be snowed under. The mass of men who came on was an avalanche, and every one of us must have been trodden to death, if not killed by shells or bullets, had not our infantry charged into them on the left wing, not five hundred yards from the trench I was in." A non-commissioned officer also refers to the odds against which our men struggled: "No regiment ever fought harder than we did, and no regiment has ever had better officers; they went shoulder to shoulder with their men. But you cannot expect impossibilities, no matter how brave the boys are, when one is fighting forces twenty to thirty times as strong." "They are more like flies," said another man: "the more you kill the more there seem to be."
Holding the Canal at Mons. By permission of The Sphere.
Here is the story of Lance-Corporal M'Auslan of the Royal Scots Fusiliers, who was fighting on the Mons-Condé line. He says: "I was up in the engagement before Mons on the Saturday. We marched thirty miles, and had an engagement with the enemy, and fought a rearguard action over twenty miles for twenty-four hours. The canal at Mons must be full of German dead now. We were working two nights to prevent them crossing the canal, and we mowed them down like corn. The D Company of our regiment was cut up in about ten minutes, and Captain Ross and Captain Young lost their lives. I was with Captain Ross when he got bowled over. It was not the rifle fire that hurt us—they could not hit us at fifty yards—but it was the shrapnel fire that caused the damage. The German big gun fire was good, but their rifle fire was rotten. The aeroplanes did all the piloting. They gave the Germans the range of our guns, and they shelled us pretty successfully; but we brought down two Zeppelins and an aeroplane in the first two days of the battle."
A Times correspondent tells us that he was much impressed by the coolness and dash of our men, and their utter indifference to danger. "I shall never forget," he writes, "the admirable reply given by an English soldier, wounded in the hand, whom I found sitting by the roadside outside Mons, wearing an air of consternation. I began to talk to him, and asked him if his wound was hurting him. 'It's not that,' he said, with a doleful shake of the head, 'but I'm blessed if I haven't been and lost my pipe in that last charge!' I gave him mine, and he was instantly comforted."
Here is a fine story of the fights for the bridges at Condé where the canal joins the river Scheldt; it is told by Private W. E. Carter of the 2nd Manchester Regiment:—
"To deliver their attacks it was necessary for the enemy to cross two bridges. The officer in command of the Royal Engineers ordered a non-commissioned officer to swim the canal and the river, and set fuses under both bridges. He reached the farther bank in safety, and on returning he set a fuse under the river bridge. When making for 'home' one of the enemy's big guns fired on him, and blew away one of his arms at the shoulder. Another member of the same corps entered the water and assisted him to land. When the Germans had marched over the first bridge it was blown up, leaving their ammunition carts on the other side. Then the second bridge was blown up, and a German force of 25,000 was placed at our mercy. A desperate fight followed, the Germans being left with no ammunition but what they carried. They struggled heroically to build a bridge with the object of getting their ammunition carts across, but every time this improvised bridge was destroyed by our artillery fire. Though they were thus trapped, the Germans held their ground very stubbornly."
The following is an account of how some of our men were trapped. A wounded officer says: "We were guarding a railway bridge over a canal. My company held a semicircle from the railway to the canal. I was nearest the railway. A Scottish regiment completed the semicircle on the right of the railway to the canal. The railway was on a high embankment running up to the bridge, so that the Scottish regiment was out of sight of us.
"We held the Germans all day, killing hundreds, when about 5 p.m. the order to retire was given. It never reached us, and we were left all alone. The Germans therefore got right up to the canal on our right, hidden by the railway embankment, and crossed the railway. Our people had blown up the bridge before their departure. We found ourselves between two fires, and I realized we had about two thousand Germans and a canal between us and our friends. We decided to sell our lives dearly. I ordered my men to fix bayonets and charge, which the gallant fellows did splendidly; but we got shot down like ninepins. As I was loading my revolver after giving the order to fix bayonets I was hit in the right wrist. I dropped my revolver; my hand was too weak to draw my sword. I had not got far when I got a bullet through the calf of my right leg and another in my right knee, which brought me down.
"The rest of my men got driven round into the trench on our left. The officer there charged the Germans and was killed, and nearly all the men were either killed or wounded. I did not see this part of the business, but from all accounts the gallant men charged with the greatest bravery. Those who could walk the Germans took away as prisoners. I have since learnt from civilians that around the bridge five thousand Germans were found dead, and about sixty English. These sixty must have been nearly all my company, who were so unfortunately left behind."
In the Trenches—waiting for an Attack. Photopress.
One of the finest features of our army is the admiration of the rank and file for their officers, and the equally sincere admiration of the officers for their men. In letters home they are constantly praising each other. A cavalry officer writes in his diary: "Can't help feeling jolly proud to command such a magnificent body of men. Hope to goodness I am capable of doing the lads full justice. Our men ARE playing the game;" while a private pays the following striking tribute to his officer: "You know I have often spoken of Captain ——, and what a fine fellow he was. There was no braver man on the field. He got knocked over early with a piece of shell which smashed his leg. He must have been in great pain, but kneeling on one knee, he was cheerful, and kept saying, 'My bonnie boys, make sure of your man.' When he was taken away on the ambulance he shouted, 'Keep cool, and mark your man.'"
During the hot hours of the fierce fighting our men were frequently very thirsty, and longed for a cooling drink. Over and over again peasant women came up to the trenches with water and fruit for the parched and wearied men. They showed the most wonderful courage in approaching the firing line, and our soldiers were most grateful to them. One man wrote home to his mother: "I can assure you they are the bravest souls I have ever met." All honour to these noble women for their deeds of mercy in the day of battle.
The following stories give us a capital idea of the high spirits and undaunted gaiety of our men under fire. A party of British infantry were defending a café near Mons. As often as the Germans attacked the place they were driven back, though big holes were gaping in the walls and the place was rapidly becoming a ruin. There was an automatic piano in the café, and every time the Germans appeared, one soldier would say to another, "Put a penny in the slot, Jock, and give them some music to dance to." Each time the enemy attacked this was done, and the "band" struck up.
A wounded lancer tells us that when the Germans bore down on his trench the men were singing "Hitchy Koo." "Before we were half through with the chorus," he says, "the man next to me got a wound in the upper part of his arm. But he sang the chorus to the finish, and did not seem to know that he was hit until a comrade on the other side said, 'Don't you think you'd better have it bound up? It's beginning to make a mess.'"
Captain Buchanan Dunlop, who was wounded at Mons, tells a splendid story to illustrate the pluck and undaunted spirit of our men. He says: "I was talking to an officer of my own regiment in town yesterday. He was also wounded, and he told me about a fight in which one of his men lying just in front of him under a heavy shell fire turned to him and said, 'Sir, may I retire?' 'Why?' asked the officer. 'Sir,' replied the man, 'I have been hit three times.'"
Every boy and every girl who reads these pages has heard of the Victoria Cross, the highest award of valour known to the British army. Perhaps you have seen a man who has won it. If so, I am sure that your eyes shone as you looked at him, for there is no nobler sight in all the world than a man who is supremely brave. The Victoria Cross is a simple Maltese cross of bronze, worth about fourpence halfpenny, and it is so called because it was first instituted by Queen Victoria in the year 1856.
"Her cross of valour to her worthiest; No golden toy with milky pearls besprent, But simple bronze, and for a warrior's breast A fair, fit ornament."
The special glory of the Victoria Cross is that any soldier can win it, be he general or private, son of a peer or son of a scavenger. It is given "For Valour," and for valour only. So highly honourable is it that, no matter what other distinctions a man may possess, the letters "V.C." come first after his name. It is suspended by a red ribbon if worn on the breast of a soldier, and by a blue ribbon if worn by a sailor. It carries with it a pension of ten pounds a year, which may be increased if the possessor cannot earn a livelihood.
The Victoria Cross.
Let me tell you something of the men who did such glorious deeds of valour at Mons that they were afterwards awarded the Victoria Cross.
Captain Theodore Wright, of the Royal Engineers, was engaged in blowing up one of the bridges over the Mons-Condé canal. While preparing the bridge for destruction he was wounded in the head; but he stuck to his work, and refused to retire. The fuse failed to explode the charge, and then, wounded as he was, he dashed forward under a very heavy fire and fixed another fuse, which this time did its work and blew the bridge to fragments. On 16th November he was awarded the Victoria Cross; but, alas! he had then been dead two months. He was killed while assisting wounded men into shelter.
Lieutenant Maurice James Dease, of the 4th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, was commander of the machine-gun section at Mons. Though he was badly wounded two or three times, he refused to leave his guns, and kept them in action until all his men were shot. He, too, died of his wounds, and the coveted Victoria Cross was handed to his relatives, who cherish it, you may be sure, with mingled pride and sorrow.
Corporal Charles Ernest Garforth, of the 15th Hussars, also won the Victoria Cross on that dread day at a place about three miles south of Mons. His squadron was trapped, and the only road of escape was barred by entanglements of barbed wire. He volunteered to go forward and cut the wire, and this he did while hundreds of bullets flew about him. Thanks to his dauntless courage, his squadron was able to reach safety. Twice later he did equally heroic deeds, and never was the coveted cross more splendidly won.
Lance-Corporal Charles Alfred Jarvis, 57th Field Company, Royal Engineers, showed great gallantry at Jemappes on the canal to the west of Mons. He worked on a bridge for one and a half hours in full view of the enemy, who kept up a heavy fire upon him. For a time he had the assistance of his comrades, but finally he sent them to the rear, and then all alone fired the charges which brought down the bridge. For this deed he was rightly enrolled in that glorious band of heroes who have wrought and fought and died to make us inheritors of deathless fame.
