"THE MOST CRITICAL DAY OF ALL."
Now dawned the fateful morning of 26th August 1914. The rain had ceased; the bright sun shone out; thin mists rose from the wet fields and gave promise of a sultry day. At sunrise the German guns began to thunder, and a shrapnel fire burst upon the British as though "turned on through a hose." The Germans were now determined to make an end of the British army. It had thwarted them again and again; it had refused to be beaten, and it would not yield. To-day, however, was to see the end of it. By nightfall the news of another Sedan would be flashed to all parts of the rejoicing Fatherland.
Our men had no time to entrench properly. Most of them lay in unprotected fields; nevertheless they showed, as Sir John French tells us, "a magnificent front" to the terrific fire that burst upon them. Smith-Dorrien had been ordered to break off the battle and retire at the earliest possible moment, but he soon saw that he could not obey orders without the gravest risk. He must fight on and beat off the Germans before he could retire in safety.
All day long the British infantry stood firm, firing steadily, and hurling back attack after attack of the enemy. Six times the Germans tried to break the British line, and six times they were foiled. German cavalry attempted to charge them, and once the horsemen of the famous Prussian Guard—the proudest and finest of all the Kaiser's troops—burst through an opening in the German firing line and dashed down on them, only to retire with heavy loss. Another German cavalry regiment rode right into the 1st Brigade, and was only driven back after a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, in which men and horses were mixed up in frightful confusion.
Allenby's cavalry made several gallant charges, and so did Chetwode's 5th Cavalry Brigade, consisting of the Scots Greys, the 12th Lancers, and the 20th Hussars. An officer tells us that they went through the enemy "like blotting paper." Though the German cavalry were big men and well mounted, they could not stand before the onset of our horsemen.
Upon our gunners fell the heaviest task of all. They were hopelessly outmatched by at least four to one; yet they made a splendid fight, and inflicted great losses on the foe, though they suffered terribly both in men and horses. German shells frequently smashed gun carriages and wheels to matchwood, and strewed the ground with dead and mangled men. Some of the most heroic deeds ever known were done by our gunners that day. In one battery, towards the end of the fight a single gun remained with only one lieutenant and a man to work it. Nevertheless, they stuck to their posts, and fought their gun to the last.
The terrible day was wearing on; our men were holding their own, but at a great sacrifice of life and limb. While the Germans were making their frontal attacks, large bodies of their cavalry, infantry, and artillery were sweeping round both flanks, and the new Sedan was hourly expected. Unless the whole British force was to be wiped out, it must retreat; so about 3.30 in the afternoon Sir John gave the order, and the rearward movement was begun. It was full of danger, and while it was in progress our losses were very heavy.
The artillery now made a great effort to cover the retreat, and by almost superhuman exertions managed to hold off the enemy while the infantry drew back. Then came the turn of the guns to retire, and to cover them Allenby's cavalry flung itself against the enemy in a series of furious charges. Several Victoria Crosses were gloriously won at this stage of the battle. Thanks to the artillery and the cavalry, all that was left of the Second Corps got away, and without resting dragged itself southwards through the August night.
I am sure you will be interested to know what a German officer thought of our gallant men during this anxious and perilous time. Here is a report of his conversation with a Dane:—
"After we had broken through the French positions on the Belgian frontier, and had got Joffre's army on the move towards the south, the German army's advance appeared to be checked. It was General French's army that had stayed the retreat. We ordered the English lines to be stormed. Our troops dashed into them with fixed bayonets, but our efforts to drive the English back were in vain. They are very good at resisting a bayonet attack. The English are strong people, athletic and well-developed. So we decided to shoot them down; but we found that they aimed remarkably well. 'Every bullet found its billet,' as they say.
"We ordered our best shots to tackle them, but the result was not in our favour. Then we got all our artillery at work that could be spared against them. We swept the English positions with a rain of shells—a regular bombardment. When the firing ceased, we expected to find that the English had fled. . . . We had not heard from them for an hour.
"How can I describe our astonishment? Beyond the shell-swept zone we saw English soldiers' heads moving, and they began to use their rifles again as soon as the coast was clear. The English are a cool lot! We had to assault them again and again, but in vain. We were, in fact, repulsed after having actually surrounded them. Their perseverance and pluck had gained their just reward. Their retirement could now be carried out in an orderly way. There was now no fear of disaster to the retreating army.
"Even the sight of the wounded surprised us, and commanded our respect; they lay so still, and scarcely ever complained."
I think you will agree with me that the German who paid this tribute to our men was a generous foe and a true soldier.
Here is an extract from the diary of a cavalry officer of the 3rd Cavalry Brigade. It gives you an excellent idea of the way in which the cavalry covered the retreat.
"Up and ready to move off at 4.30 a.m. Moved back to Le Cateau. Did not enter the actual town, but went round the high ground to the south of it, and took up a position on the west of it. Great battle going on. Fifth Infantry Division having a bad time of it, and retiring. We cover their retirement. My squadron on high ground overlooking a railway embankment. See German infantry advancing towards it in columns. G.O.C.,[53] on my reporting this, sends me a section of guns under 'John' G. Pointed out target to him, which he picks up and gets the range at once; smartest bit of R.H.A.[54] work one could wish to see. . . . Every shot seems to have effect. I was carefully watching through my glasses; they must have lost at least a couple of hundred. I could see their dead and wounded lying all over the field. Anyhow, they stopped their advance in that direction, and our infantry opposing them were enabled to get away. Awfully impressed with the way this section of R.H.A. was handled by 'John' G. . . .
"We retire in a westerly direction, and manoeuvre on the flank of the 5th Infantry Division. Late in the afternoon we see in the distance a division of Uhlans. The general tells us he has decided to take them on; but we shall charge at the trot, as our horses are dead beat. We, the 3rd Cavalry Brigade, manoeuvre and get the favourable ground; and the Uhlans, after having a look at us, refuse the fight we offer and disappear. Cowards! Fancy a division refusing to take on a brigade! Great disappointment among all ranks, as we are all longing for a cavalry fight. . . .
"We retire to ——, where we arrive about 11 p.m., and halt to water and feed the horses. Get some food. Every one awfully tired—raining hard. The orders come that we are to march at 1 a.m. Explain to the men we are in rather a tight place, and that in spite of fatigue every one must buck up. Men lie down on the pavements and hold their horses. What a sight! Men and horses absolutely exhausted, but yet there is that spirit of cheerfulness which never fails Tommy Atkins even under such conditions as these. It is apparent to every one that we have taken the I 'knock;' with most armies one would say beaten, but with Tommy Atkins you can't say that, as it would not be true, as the only way to defeat him is to kill him; otherwise, he just goes on suffering every hardship without a grumble, and then, when you think he is absolutely done, he turns round and hits you. People at home don't realize and understand what heroes the men are—brave, suffering every hardship without a grumble, loyal, and in the highest sense true, typical Britons."
The fateful day had passed; the little British army, though its ranks were sorely thinned, was still unbroken and undefeated. Smith-Dorrien's corps had made a stand which will go down to history as a triumph of valour and endurance. It had resisted an army that outnumbered it by ten to one, and it had handled it very roughly indeed. All honour to the men who fought and died at Le Cateau that day, and all honour to the cool, determined, and unconquerable general who commanded them! Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien has written his name high on the scroll of fame, and henceforth he stands in our annals side by side with Sir John Moore[55] of undying memory. His proud boast is that he saved the left wing of the British army, and by doing so made the German conquest of France impossible.
General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, G.C.B., D.S.O. Photo, Russell.
Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien commanded the Second Army Corps during the retreat from Mons. Sir John French, in his dispatch of September 7, ascribed to him the salvation of the left wing of the British army, and described him as "a commander of rare and unusual coolness, intrepidity, and determination." Had the left wing been rolled up, the rout of the whole Allied army would probably have followed.
Sir John French tells us that the retreat was continued far into the night of the 26th and through the 27th and 28th. The cavalry officer quoted above gives us a vivid picture of the weariness of his men and horses, and from the stories of others who took part in the retreat we learn that it was just as trying as the battle itself. The night was black dark, the rain was falling heavily, and the narrow roads were choked with guns, transport, and infantry. The men had to be shaken out of their sleep, but once on their feet they marched steadily.
"There was never a halt nor a pause, though horses dropped between the shafts, and men sat down exhausted by the roadside. A heavy gun overturned in a ditch, but it was impossible to stay and get it out; so it was rendered useless, and the disconsolate gunners trekked on. When the horses could draw their loads no longer, the loads were cast by the roadside. . . . I cannot give a connected account of that night. The overpowering desire for sleep, the weariness and ache of every fibre, and the thirst! I had forgotten to be hungry, and had got past food; but I thirsted as I have only thirsted once before, and that was in the desert near Khartum."
On moved the columns, almost at the last gasp, but still undaunted and bent on winning through. When the dreadful night was over, and dawn broke over the hills, men looked at each other and marvelled at the change wrought in their appearance by the terrible experiences which they had undergone. They were as worn and gaunt as though they were recovering from a serious illness.
Let me tell you a little story, to show the splendid self-restraint of our men even when they were suffering agonies of thirst.
"Soon after sunrise," says an officer, "we came up with two of our ambulance wagons and one of our filter water-carts. The wounded were in such a state of exhaustion with the long trek and the awful jolting of the wagons that it was decided to make some beef-tea for them, and a major rode ahead to find some farm where water could be boiled. He had hardly gone when a battalion of exhausted infantry came up, and as soon as they saw the water-carts made a dash for them. Hastily I rode up to them, and told them that there was very little water left in the carts, and that it was needed for their wounded comrades. 'I am thirsty myself,' I said, 'and I am awfully sorry for you chaps; but you see how it is—the wounded must come first.'
"'Quite right, sir,' was the ready response. 'Didn't know it was a hospital water-cart;' and, without a murmur, they went thirsty on their way."
All night long the Germans pressed closely on the British rear, and they were able to capture stragglers and detachments that had missed their way. Amongst these was a battalion of Gordon Highlanders who had taken the wrong road. Between one and two o'clock in the morning, when they were marching down a narrow lane, they were fired at from the left. They were under the impression that they had been fired on accidentally by the French, whom they supposed to be near at hand. They were mistaken. Dark shadowy masses of the enemy closed around them and attacked them in front, rear, and flanks. The Gordons made a gallant resistance, but in vain. They were shot down in heaps, and in a few minutes all were killed, wounded, or prisoners.
Still the British army dragged its slow length along the belt of low upland on which the Scheldt and the Sambre take their rise, and on Thursday morning, August 28, arrived a little to the north of St. Quentin,[56] which stands on rising ground on the right bank of the Somme. By this time the weight of the enemy's pursuit had been shaken off, and the wearied men could rest for a time in safety. The four days' battle, which began at noon on Sunday, 23rd August, had ended. The British army had emerged with fresh laurels from a great ordeal.
