THE CROSSING OF THE MARNE.
Early on Monday morning, 7th September 1914, the guns of friend and foe began to thunder in the river valleys of the Ourcq, Marne, and Petit and Grand Morin. As the sun rose higher and higher in the sky the cannonade grew fiercer and fiercer. Over the peaceful hills, the shining water, the stubbles, the pastures and wheat fields, delicate white balloons of bursting shrapnel were constantly seen. At a hundred different places along the far-flung battle line Allied infantry were worming their way towards the enemy, anon rising from their cover at the sound of a shrill whistle, rushing ahead, and dropping again into concealment amidst the rattle of rifles and machine guns. A desperate conflict was in progress from the Ourcq to Verdun, a distance of wellnigh one hundred and fifty miles.
Let us confine our attention for the present to the Allied left, where alone an advance was made on that day. The 6th French Army was working its way towards the Ourcq, driving in the enemy outposts on the western bank. The Germans had occupied most of the villages on the plateau, and the French were thrusting them out with the bayonet, amid the smoke of burning haystacks and farm buildings. It was a day of hand-to-hand combats. When night fell, the whole plateau was strewn with dead and dying, and the ghastly scene was illuminated by the glare of flaming villages.
Long before daylight on this day the British were astir, and by five in the morning the little town of Coulommiers,[102] on the Grand Morin, had been captured. Our infantry drove back the four German divisions opposed to them, and pushed them across the river beneath an accurate and galling artillery fire. All the bridges were down, and the Germans strove feverishly to fling pontoons across the stream. Time after time floating bridges were erected, only to be blown to splinters by our guns. It is said that one British battery came into action within easy range of a bridge fast approaching completion. As the gun-layer was sighting his piece, he asked his officer, "Which pontoon, sir?" "Number one," replied the officer, and in a few moments it was smashed to pieces. "Number two," said the officer, and that pontoon shared the same fate. Then, in turn, numbers three and four were blown to smithereens. Another bridge was built; but at the moment when it was thronged with crossing infantry British shells burst upon it, and the stream was choked with dead and drowning men and heaps of wreckage.
The British crossed the river, and their cavalry was let loose on the retreating Germans. By this time the northward road was a mass of moving men, wagons, and guns. General De Lisle's brigade, consisting of the 9th Lancers and the 18th Hussars, spurred in amongst the dense throngs, and in the lanes, the clearings, and the villages made havoc of the foe. While this cavalry pursuit was in progress, thirty Hussars came upon a strong force of Uhlans. The British had no time to take cover; they seized their rifles, flung themselves off their horses, and, lying prone on the ground, opened a brisk fire. Before long the Uhlans were in full flight, with British bullets whistling about their rear. This same section also carried a farm strongly held by Germans with artillery. Despite a hailstorm of lead, the Hussars dashed forward, killed or drove off the Germans, and seized their guns.
In another part of the field the Royal Irish Lancers captured a supply train, which was escorted by cavalry outnumbering them by five to one. The Irishmen managed to get into ambush along the road by which the convoy must pass. As it came up they opened fire. The Germans believed themselves to be attacked by an army, and fell into hopeless confusion. Then the lancers mounted, and crashed into the disordered throng of men, horses, and wagons. The supply column was captured, and the remnants of its escort surrendered.
Meanwhile the British right was rapidly moving towards the river some ten miles to the east, and the 5th French Army was fighting a fierce frontal battle higher up the stream. Taken in flank and in front, von Kluck could no longer hold the line of the river. On the 7th the Allied advance was continued, and on the 8th the Germans strove hard to make a stand against the British on the high ground to the north of the Grand Morin. Heavy guns had been posted on this high ground, and during the morning an artillery duel raged between the German rearguard and the advancing British. A stubborn resistance was made, but the Germans were dislodged, though not without considerable loss.
About midday the last of our infantry were across the Grand Morin, and were pushing on rapidly through a beautiful country of orchards and cornfields towards the Petit Morin. Late in the afternoon the enemy made another and even more desperate stand. Savage attacks were made on Haig's 1st Corps, which suffered severely. Again and again the Germans bore down on the British in close-packed ranks; but though they flung away life like water, they could make no headway. British rifle fire and British bayonets were too much for them. Before sunset the British had a firm hold of the north bank of the river.
On the 9th they crossed the Marne below Meaux,[103] and took in flank the German forces which were defending the line of the Ourcq. You know that the 6th French Army had been for the last few days attacking these forces in front. On the 8th von Kluck had hastily reinforced his army on the Ourcq by two corps drawn from the south. These corps made attacks of such violence that the French had hard work to resist them. Nevertheless they held their ground well, and in one action took three of the enemy's standards. They were now reinforced, and on the 10th they advanced with great spirit, while the British, now across the Marne, attacked the German left flank. Fearful of being enveloped, the Germans retreated from the line of the Ourcq, and immediately the British army went in pursuit. For the first time the Germans were on the run.
The crossing of the Marne by the British had been no easy task. If you look at a map of the Marne,[104] you will see that between Meaux and La Ferté[105] the river winds about a great deal, and makes a big bend very much like that of the Thames between Windsor and Henley. At La Ferté our 3rd Corps found the town held by the Germans, who had posted their guns on the hills behind, and were thus able to sweep the stream with shell fire, while a strong force of infantry on the south bank resisted the passage at closer quarters. All day long the British attacked; slowly, and with great loss, they forced back the Germans to the brink of the stream. The bridges had all been blown up, and the enemy had to cross on their frail pontoons. Some got across safely, but many were drowned or killed by the fire of British guns. "We harried them before the crossing," said one of our soldiers, "and drowned them during it."
The Rifle Brigade was one of the regiments thrust at the rear of the retiring Germans. It advanced from a belt of trees about half a mile from the river banks, and doubled towards the enemy. As it did so, it discovered a French infantry regiment bent on the same errand. French and British made a race of it, and the Rifle Brigade won by a head. Both parties now fell upon the Prussian infantry with the bayonet; but, as Private Duffy of the Rifle Brigade tells us, "they didn't seem to have the least heart for fighting. Some flung themselves into the stream, and tried to swim for safety; but they were heavily weighted by their equipment, and worn out, so they didn't go far. Of the three hundred men who tried to escape, not more than half a dozen succeeded in reaching the other bank, and the cries of the drowning were pitiful in the extreme." Elsewhere on the river similar fighting was taking place.
The enemy had now been cleared from the southern bank of the Marne, but the battle was far from over. The British had yet to cross the fire-swept stream. Our Engineers began to build bridges, but the German guns smashed them again and again. All through the afternoon the Engineers laboured on, only to see their work blown away. Nevertheless they persevered, and by evening a bridge spanned the stream. In the darkness the British began to cross. The passage of the Marne had been won.