"Three Cheers for the King!"
His Majesty the King, followed by the Prince of Wales and the Staff, passing along the lines of British troops drawn up to greet him.
(Drawn by F. Matania from a sketch by an eye-witness. By permission of The Sphere.)
Before I close the record of the year, something must be said of the fighting between the French and the Germans during the month of December. We must not forget that the British then held less than one-tenth of the Allied line in the West, and that the French trenches extended from La Bassée to the borders of Switzerland. During December, save for continuous sniping and artillery duels, there was little fighting except in the Argonne, along the Moselle, and on the steeps of the Vosges. In the Argonne, the left wing of Sarrail's army of Verdun and the right wing of the Crown Prince's army struggled in the wooded country between Varennes and Vienne.[189] You will remember that during October the Germans had made a bold bid to capture this pass which enabled Sarrail to join arms with Langle's army in Champagne.
In the wooded country, and in the hamlets north and south of the road crossing the forest, the Germans made many attacks during the winter, but all failed, and in the intervals the French showed that dash and enterprise for which they have long been famous. Some day wonderful tales will be told of scouting enterprises amidst the dark trees, where every figure showed up against the white ground; of adventurous snipers concealed in the branches of lofty firs; and of fierce night assaults amidst the snowy glens and frosty ravines. Verdun was safer than ever. Almost every week Sarrail pushed his lines out farther, till on the east he threatened the railway by which the Germans were supplied, and they had to build another, out of range. At some places the opposing trenches were only twenty yards apart. The Germans still clung to the bridgehead at St. Mihiel, on the west bank of the Meuse, but they could advance no farther.
The army of Lorraine, strongly entrenched on the east bank of the Moselle, not only maintained itself, but on the left wing gained ground; while in the Vosges the Chasseurs Alpins,[190] mounted on skis, made fierce attacks on the crests amidst the deep snow, and by their mountaineering skill and dashing enterprise carried many of them. In this section of the front there was no trench warfare, but open fighting such as the French love. When they won a German signal station on one of the crests they advanced with bugles blowing, singing the Marseillaise, and carrying before them the tricolour. Over and over again the Chasseurs, making sudden descents along mountain tracks, fell upon the enemy, and caught him unawares. They hauled their guns into almost impossible positions, and bombarded him from unexpected quarters. They gave him no rest, day or night.
Elsewhere, however, trench warfare was the order of the day, and something must be said about its main features before I conclude this volume. Let us pay a visit to the Flanders front in December. We find that the hastily-constructed trenches of October have been turned into a series of strong fortifications. We notice that the advanced firing line consists for the most part of a number of short, separate trenches,[191] each of which the enemy must win before he can advance and all of which he cannot command by flank fire. Many of these advanced trenches, though at least five feet deep, are not more than two or three feet wide. They are connected with the next line of trenches by means of zigzag communication trenches, and are but lightly held, being employed chiefly as observation posts.
Christmas Greetings from the Trenches. Photo, Photopress.
The stronghold of each series of trenches is the main firing trench in which the bulk of the defenders live. These trenches are wide and deep, and are floored with wood or hurdles. Each trench is divided into sections by means of a wall or traverse, jutting to the rear, and leaving but a narrow passage round it. By means of these traverses each section of the trench becomes a separate trench, and the whole of it cannot be enfiladed. The front towards the enemy consists of a parapet of sand-bags with loopholes, from which the men fire. As a rule, each trench is supplied with one or more machine guns.
In many places the trenches are so close, and so keen a watch is kept, that it is highly dangerous for a man to show his head above the parapet. The enemy is observed through an arrangement of mirrors called a periscope. Some of the main trenches are roofed to afford head cover, and in the walls or in pits a little to the rear are the "dug-outs"—that is, caves into which the men retire to sleep or to take shelter when the shelling becomes hot. Some distance in front of the parapet there is a strong wire entanglement. If the wire has not been previously destroyed by artillery fire, it must be cut before the enemy can get into the trench itself.
You notice that the trenches are not a fixture. Both sides "sap" towards their opponents' line, and drive mines forward until they are close to, or even under, the opposite trenches. In these mines charges are fired, and if successful, part of the trenches is blown in, and an infantry attack follows. More than once the miners of one side have found themselves separated from the miners of the other side by a mere wall of soil. Then there is feverish haste to fire a charge before the other side can do so.
All through the day "snipers" are busy on both sides. They occupy pits, or craters made by shells, or ensconce themselves in ruins, or hide amidst the branches of trees, and try to pick off all opponents who show themselves. At night patrols steal out to the "No Man's Land" between the lines, and sometimes fall in with an enemy patrol and rush it with the bayonet. What are called "listening patrols" creep as near as possible to the opposite trenches, and try to overhear conversation, and find out what is going on in the enemy's lines. Each side burns flares to light up the darkness and make visible all movements in "No Man's Land."
Bomb-throwers at Work. By permission of The Sphere.
In this war every device which science can suggest is in use. In trench fighting, however, we have gone back to the ways of our forefathers. Mortars are employed to throw bombs into the enemy's trenches, and hand grenades, such as those used by the earliest grenadiers, are flung by each side. A correspondent of the Times thus describes the bomb-throwers:—
"Around their middle they carry some twenty or thirty bombs, little cylinders fastened on a long stick, around which fall streamers of ribbon. The clothing of ribbons suggests a mixed breed of Scotsmen and Red Indians who have taken to wearing the Red Indian head-dress as a kilt. In action they are stranger still. Crouching down among the barbed wire, the bombers, with their supporting infantrymen with fixed bayonets, raise themselves a little from the earth, and seizing one of these rocket-like bombs from their belts, grasp it by the stick and hurl it high above the parapet. It twists and travels uncertainly through the air, and then finally the streamers settle it in its flight, and it plunges straight as a plumb line down into the trench. There is a noise as though a gigantic Chinese cracker were jumping along the zigzag trench, and clouds of greenish smoke rise up, through which hurtle lumps of earth and stone and fragments of the outer iron ring of the bomb which constitute its shrapnel."[192]
Life in the trenches must always be uncomfortable, and may be very trying indeed. During the winter West Flanders was a huge bog; the canals and rivers overflowed their banks, and many of the trenches were always knee-deep in slime and icy water. Large numbers of our men suffered from frost-bite in the feet. Though they were clad in sheepskin coats, and everything possible was done for their comfort, they had to bear trials and hardships such as few troops have ever endured before. The cheerfulness of our men during those bitter, dreary, and trying days was amazing. The British food supplies were excellent and unfailing. Never before has an army been fed so well. Arrangements were also made for giving the men a hot bath and a change of clothing when they returned from the trenches to their billets in the villages behind the firing line.
So the year wore on, and the season of "peace and good will towards men" arrived. On Christmas Eve a hard frost set in, and Christmas Day broke cold and misty. On that morning every officer and man in the field received a card from the King and the Queen, bearing portraits of their Majesties, and this greeting copied from the King's own handwriting: "With our best wishes for Christmas, 1914. May God protect you and bring you home safe.—Mary R. George R. I." The special card for the sick and wounded bore these words: "May you soon be restored to health." From Princess Mary's Soldiers' and Sailors' Christmas Fund came a box with an embossed cover, and inside a small gilt casket, containing a photograph of the Princess, and a card on which was printed: "With best wishes for a Happy Christmas and a Victorious New Year from Princess Mary and friends at home." Smokers found a pipe, an ounce of tobacco, and a packet of cigarettes in the box; while non-smokers discovered a supply of chocolate. An immense number of parcels containing other Christmas gifts also arrived, and everywhere Christmas fare was abundant.
Strange scenes were witnessed in parts of the firing line during the festive season. A member of the London Rifle Brigade says:—
"We had rather an interesting time in the trenches on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We were in places less than 100 yards from the Germans, and held conversation with them across. It was agreed in our part of the firing line that there should be no firing and no thought of war on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so they sang and played to us several of their own tunes, and some of ours, such as 'Home, Sweet Home,' 'Tipperary,' etc., while we did the same for them. The regiment on our left all got out of their trenches, and every time a flare went up they simply stood there, cheered, and waved their hats, and not a shot was fired on them. The singing and playing continued all night, and the next day (Christmas) our fellows paid a visit to the German trenches, and they did likewise. Cigarettes, cigars, addresses, etc., were exchanged, and every one, friend and foe, were real good pals. One of the German officers took a photo of English and German soldiers arm in arm with exchanged caps and helmets.
"On Christmas Eve the Germans burned coloured lights and candles along the top of their trenches, and on Christmas Day a football match was played between them and us in front of the trench. They even allowed us to bury all our dead lying in front, and some of them, with hats in hand, brought in one of our dead officers from behind their trench, so that we could bury him decently. They were really magnificent in the whole thing and jolly good sorts. I have now a very different opinion of the Germans. Both sides have started the firing, and are already enemies again. Strange it all seems, doesn't it?"
So with a soldiers' truce ended the first five months of the war. In the West, deadlock had set in; Allies and Germans were facing each other over a front of well-nigh five hundred miles from the sodden fields of Flanders to within sight of Alpine snows, winning here and losing there a few yards of fiercely-contested ground, and enduring with what patience they could command the icy showers and the biting frost of winter. In the East, from the East Prussian wilderness of lake and morass to the wind-swept passes of the Carpathians, there was the same deadlock. On both of the main fronts of war the forces of the Central Powers were held up, and their dream of a swift and easy conquest had vanished. Nevertheless, with nearly all Belgium, a large part of industrial France, and a considerable portion of Russian Poland in their possession, they felt confident, at least, of an advantageous peace.
Amongst the Allies, however, there was no thought of peace. Unprepared for war, they had, nevertheless, foiled the first and most dangerous onslaught of a foe that, according to all the rules, should have swept them away like chaff before the wind. They had gained time in which to make up for their lack of readiness, and they now began to realize that they must put forth every effort if they were to defeat the mighty forces arrayed against them.
In Britain men flocked to the colours, and on every open space in the country drilling was going on. Already we had a million men in arms, and within six months we hoped to put double that number into the field. Time was with us. Every day saw us growing greater in men and resources, while every day the enemy was bound to decline in strength. So the Allies, strong in friendship and undaunted by their heavy losses, faced the future with unshaken courage and undaunted hope. "We shall never sheathe the sword, which we have not lightly drawn," said the Prime Minister, "until Belgium recovers in full measure all, and more than all, that she has sacrificed, until France is safe against the fear of invasion, until the rights of the small nations of Europe are placed on an unshakable foundation, and until the military tyranny of Prussia is wholly and finally destroyed." Such was the determination of Britons all over the world at the close of the year 1914.