LIST OF MAPS

MAP
1.The Fight on the Marne, Sept. 10th, 1914on page[39]
2.Battle of the Aisne, Sept. 14th, 1914"[49]
3.Ypres, First Battle"[71]
4.Rough Sketch of the Fight on the Bipschoote-Langemarck Road"[77]
5.The La Bassée Front"[119]
6.Rough Sketch showing Attack at Loos"[151]

CHAPTER I
THE CALL, AND THE START

CHAPTER I
THE CALL, AND THE START

Being a Reservist, I was naturally called to the colours on the outbreak of war between England and Germany on August 4th, 1914, so I downed tools; and, although a married man with two children, I was only too pleased to be able to leave a more or less monotonous existence for something more exciting and adventurous. Being an old soldier, war was of course more or less ingrained into my nature, and during those few days before the final declaration I was at fever heat and longing to be away.

As all the world knows, war was declared on the fourth, which was a sign for all reservists to present themselves at the post offices throughout the country, there to procure their travelling allowance and proceed to the depôt named by the authorities on each Identity Life Certificate. This I accordingly did early on the following morning. Late on the night before the General Mobilization notices had been posted up outside all newspaper offices and public buildings.

I had rather a long journey before me, having to go from a town on the South Coast, where I then resided, to a town in Lancashire, that being the depôt of my Regiment. During the journey to London I had a conversation with a clergyman, and of course the topic was war. We agreed that it could not last for any length of time, and I remember telling him that I was going to try and get a soft job, and that I expected to have a nice holiday. Little did I think what was in store for me! Waterloo and Euston were packed to suffocation, men flocking to the colours from all parts of the country. The excitement was intense, and the scenes being enacted partially carried away my thoughts of sorrow at leaving home.

That evening I arrived at my depôt, and, after reporting myself at the Guard Room, made my way toward the block of buildings which my unit occupied, these particular barracks being the depôts of three units.

I met on arrival several old faces, and, after renewing our acquaintances, I there and then fell in with a batch of men going up for medical inspection. We were then examined by two doctors very thoroughly. The next place to visit was the Quarter Master's Stores, there to be fitted up with uniform, equipment, etc. After that, as it was quite dark, we retired for the night, but not before we had all taken advantage of a little refreshment kindly supplied by some ladies who had come forward to release men employed in preparing food for work in the stores. That evening a party of 500 men had been sent to join the Home Battalion then stationed at Aldershot.

Next day a similar body of men had become fit to be sent away, and I proceeded with them to the First Battalion at Aldershot.

On arrival, we were placed into Companies and Platoons. Most of us had left the service some years ago, and had no idea of the existing new formations. One man, on being asked by an Officer where his Platoon was, replied: "I don't know, sir. I haven't got it on me."

However, after a week at Aldershot, we were pretty well knocked into shape, and had also been fixed up in accounts and allowances, and other details. We also had a lecture on inoculation by the Medical Officer, who hoped that every man would consent to be operated on. Another and more interesting speech was given by the Commanding Officer, Colonel Knight, a man who fully realized the seriousness of the situation and evidently had a good idea of what the present war would be like. His speech was to this effect:

"Men of the 1st Loyal North Lancashire Regiment! I wish to bring home to you the fact that we have a hard task before us. We are out to fight a great nation and men who are out for blood. This Regiment have always been top-dogs even with the boys" (meaning time-serving men: they had that year won nine football cups out of a possible eleven, besides other sporting competitions). "What are we going to do now that we have the men?" (meaning the Reservists). "None of you men will come back—nor the next lot—nor the next after that—nor the next after that again; but some of the next might. But we'll give those Germans something to go on with, and we'll give a good account of ourselves! Remember, men, the eyes of the whole world will be upon us, and I know that you will perform whatever task is allotted to you, like men."

We were then interviewed by the King and the Queen; and, later in the day, proceeded to Farnborough Station en route for Southampton, arriving that night, every one and everything being embarked by 11.30 p.m. No one of course knew for what port we were bound, though many suggested Belgium.

We had no "send off" whatsoever; no shaking hands or wet handkerchiefs—any one not knowing a war had been declared would have had no suspicion that these men were starting out on active service. Yet every one was jolly; every one was happy. They put us aboard an old China boat, and stuffed us into the holds almost to suffocation, with one large electric light burning in a distant corner: it was most unhealthy. After an hour one could have cut the air with a knife.

No sooner had we left our moorings than we ran down a lighter, killing one man on her and knocking a big hole in her side. None of us below had the slightest idea of what was happening; all we heard was an awful noise, with the lowering of the anchor. We all declared that we had been either mined or torpedoed; but after a while things quietened down, and we all tried to obtain a little sleep.

There had been issued out to us on starting seven-pound tins of jam with our other rations. One was placed near the spot I had made for myself to sleep in. It was one of the darkest parts of the hold; and, being tired, I was soon fast asleep. On awakening next morning, to my horror I found myself covered from head to foot in jam—a sorry plight indeed, as we were not allowed to carry more kit than what we stood up in. However, after fighting for a few drops of cold tea, which had to satisfy me for a breakfast, and an hour in the sun and wind on deck, I had become perfectly dry, but my clothes were as stiff as a board. All I could do was to cheerfully declare that at any rate my armour was perhaps more bullet-proof than before.

Having set sail on the eleventh of August, we arrived at Le Havre on the morning of the twelfth, after a journey of twelve hours.

CHAPTER II
THE LANDING IN FRANCE

CHAPTER II
THE LANDING IN FRANCE

At Le Havre we were met by two men of the French Army, who to our unaccustomed eyes appeared very strange in their red trousers and blue coats. We promptly dubbed them "The Pantomime Army." They were to act as our interpreters, and came forward with their credentials to the C.O.

After disembarking our transport, etc., we were marched, through the docks, on to the dock road, there to hang about all day long, amusing ourselves as best we could. A sentry was posted to stop any man from going into the town, but we were allowed to let civilians bring us provisions.

At nightfall we were formed up, and marched by way of the sea-front through the town and away up a steep hill at the back, where we found a camp already pitched for us. That march and landing I shall ever remember, and so will all those who took part in it. We were among the first English troops of the Expeditionary Force to put foot on French soil, and the excitement was great. Over the whole of the distance we travelled we were hemmed in by crowds shouting Vive l'Angleterre! Often they broke our ranks to embrace us. We stayed only the one night at Le Havre, and recommenced our journey on the night of the thirteenth.

At Le Havre Railway Station we were packed into horse-boxes, 36 men and N.C.O.'s in each box, the total often reaching nearly 50 men. In that condition we travelled the whole of the night, and the next day passed through St. Amiens, Rouen, and Arras. At each place we had a wonderful reception—especially at Arras, where the Mairie and other Civic officials turned out with bouquets of flowers for the Officers; and there was a Guard of Honour of French troops. The free giving of chocolates and sweets by the populace was indeed very gratifying to us: it made us feel more eager for the work which was to follow.

That night (the fourteenth of August) we detrained at a village called Le Nouvain. It had come on to rain, and we were very pleased to find our billets situated in a large schoolhouse with plenty of clean fresh straw for our beds. On the morning of the fifteenth we marched out in Brigade order, as we always did on every occasion afterwards. My Brigade, which was the 2nd, commanded then by Brigadier General Bulfin, consisted of the 2nd King's Royal Rifles, 2nd Northampton Regiment, 2nd Royal Sussex Regiment, and 1st Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, each Brigade consisting of four line Battalions. A smarter body of men, all seasoned soldiers, one could not wish to meet (the average of their service was not less than five years, all the younger recruits having been left behind in England as peace details). Our destination for that day at any rate was not a distant one; we proceeded only to a small village called Esquerries, not more than three miles off. There we again went into billets for four days. On arrival at the farm at which I was billeted, the farmer's wife on seeing us broke into tears—she thought that we were the Germans! But, I am pleased to say, the good woman, and her good man too, were more upset when we left, on account of having become so much attached to us.

We spent those four days in route marches; and all men under the age of twenty-five years were then inoculated. The hard part of that stay was that no man was allowed to write home giving his whereabouts, or even to head the letter with his name or Regiment. Of course no Field Service post-cards had been issued at that time.

On the morning of the eighteenth we bade good-bye to Esquerries, and continued in a three-days' rush up-country to Mons. The first day we covered something like sixteen miles, and came to rest in the usual farm-buildings. Before we set off the next day, any man who thought that he would not be able to perform the task before us was required to give in his name to the Officer Commanding Companies. I believe we had two sent back, one with a troublesome leg through a break, and the other returned by the Brigadier on account of his very low stature. He did not think that he would be able to accomplish any forced marches we might have to undergo. That day we did a matter of twenty miles.

On the third day out we passed through Mauberge. We had only covered some seven miles when a halt was called and we lay on the right of the road for six hours. While there we were told that a force of about 30,000 Germans was on our front, and the Cavalry had gone out on a reconnaissance.

At 5 o'clock they marched us into billets, but we had not been settled more than an hour and a half when a Staff Officer came galloping up with orders to move at once. About four miles from Mauberge we could hear a distant boom of a gun, and all lines of communication had been cut. A halt was called in the centre of Mauberge for one hour, and we were told that no man was to eat his "iron ration" i.e. emergency ration, or drink any of the water which he carried in his water-bottle, as we were expecting to go into action and probably should not get the supplies up for four days. On we went, and marched for two hours without a minute's rest. The men began to tire, and their cry became the opposite to that with which we set out. Then it was, "Are we down-hearted?" now it had become, "Dump us in a field!"

After another hour we had passed the outer forts of Mauberge, and were feeling our way very cautiously. Suddenly we would go on with a rush; then more slowly; and this sort of thing continued until 2 a.m. We had had no real rest since 6 a.m. the day before; but at length we arrived at a small village south of Mons, where we found billets, one company of my Regiment going further on to find outpost duty. Thankful I was not to be in that company!

Our rest did not last very long. Arriving in as we did at 2 a.m., we were brought out again at 3.30 a.m., with a remark from the Colonel that we were a lazy lot of ——. Some of us could barely crawl, being stiff and chafed from our long march of nearly thirty-five miles—not bad for one day, considering that we were fully equipped.

Our next move was to a field two miles off. We were moved so early from the last place because it was thought advisable to shift us before daybreak, owing to the probability of its being shelled by the Germans. In this field the morning was occupied by feet and rifle inspection. A German aeroplane came over us, and we were all ordered to line the hedges and seek cover, which we did in quick time.

During the afternoon we moved higher up toward the enemy, staying in another village for a few hours. We were put into another schoolhouse, which was well stocked with vegetables in the garden, so we set about preparing for ourselves an enjoyable repast. Just on our front the batteries were in action, and, whilst awaiting our dinner, we sat upon the wall of the school and watched the duel. It was a glorious sight! A flock of birds in the distance was mistaken by all of us for a Zeppelin through the haze. We were, however, doomed to go without the big dinner we had promised ourselves, as we were given our marching orders and were off before it was cooked.

On forming up with the remainder of the Brigade, we were ordered to charge magazine, with one round in the breach also. Things began to look exciting, and in their agitation a few men let their rifles go off, narrowly missing their comrades. We then advanced through an avenue for a mile at the double, when the word was given to halt and lie down, no smoking and no talking, as we were now in support to the South Staffords on our front, who were expected to retire through us at any minute. After laying there the whole of the night, and having the Pioneer Sergeant run over by a pair of mules attached to an ammunition limber, we were not required! All we got for our night out was the loss of the Pioneer Sergeant, with two broken ribs, and one other man injured. It had been a pitch-black night, and we had not noticed a trench just off the road filled with straw, where we could have rested our aching limbs.

As soon as daybreak appeared, we were ordered off that road; and we had no sooner left it than it was heavily shelled. We dug some more trenches that same day and retired from them just before they were blown up, so we were evidently very fortunate on the twenty-second of August, 1914.

On leaving the road, we retired to a thicket on our left rear, but quitted it, and came to the trenches aforementioned. Two batteries were just behind us there, and they were having a bad time. Also while there the Scots Greys, who were our brigade scouts, came in with a report of meeting with a body of Uhlans. They had evidently surprised these Uhlans, and had given them a warm time, the losses of the Scots Greys being only one man, I believe, and two wounded. As I pointed out before, we left those trenches in the nick of time; they were not the trenches we have now in France, but only what we call "one-man trenches"—very little more than head cover, dug with our entrenching tools and no good whatsoever against shell fire.

After retiring from them we were kept on the side of the road for the night; and for the next few days were rushed from one position to another.

Early one morning we set off to guard a bridge, and, after going a mile or so, we were again placed in a field. On the way we were handed some corned beef and biscuits, also a grocery ration, i.e. a tin of tea and sugar and two Oxo cubes, by some A.S.C. men who had been left with orders to issue them to troops going into action. One of them handed me mine with the remark: "You'll need it, old man, where you're going!" Very cheerful, I thought.

We then advanced over some open fields in Artillery formation, the Scots Greys going first, probing all hedges with their swords. In this field we were told to line the hedges.

Two incidents worth relating occur to my mind: one was the bravery of one of our flying-men—he had just flown over the German lines, and on coming back was being shelled by the German batteries—how he escaped being hit I cannot think, as shells were bursting no less than a dozen at once all around him, and the fragments of shells were dropping around us everywhere, though no one was hit. Our Colonel, highly pleased with the steadiness of the aviator, remarked that he felt proud to be an Englishman.

The other incident occurred in connection with an order of the C.O. He gave out that the Germans had advanced upon the Middlesex Regiment, driving the civil population of various villages in front of them and thus screening themselves. He was very sorry to say that, if it was done to us, we should have to fire upon them, as it was our duty to those at home. But happily it did not occur then, or on any occasion on which I faced the Germans, so I was spared the horror of assisting in the slaughter of women and children in such a cowardly way.

However, the bridge we set out to guard in the first place had, I believe, been taken by the enemy, so our services were not required.

Our fighting experiences at Mons were not very severe, as the work fell to the lot of other Brigades. The 1st Brigade, which contained two Battalions of Guards, the 2nd Black Watch, and the Munster Fusiliers, suffered far more heavily than did we, who were moved from one place to another, mostly in support. Operating as we did chiefly round the outskirts of Mons, our casualty list was very slight.

CHAPTER III
THE RETIREMENT

CHAPTER III
THE RETIREMENT

It was from that field that we commenced the great Retirement. My recollections of the villages and towns we passed through on our way are now slight, since we often marched at night, though I have a clear remembrance of some of the larger ones which we traversed by day.

It was the twenty-fourth of August, on a blazing hot afternoon, when we started upon our great task. There was not a soul amongst the Officers or the men who had the slightest idea as to what was our destination. The first day or two we tramped along happily enough. It was not, I believe, until the evening of the second day that we obtained an inkling of what was about to happen, when we found ourselves passing through the outskirts of Mauberge once more. Most of us got the impression that we were retiring with a view to taking up a better position. A rumour went the rounds of the regiment that day to say that the C.O. was leaving us for a Staff appointment; and he did leave us, but returned again in the course of the next few days.

Most of the next ten days remain in my mind as a nightmare. The weather was exceedingly hot, the long roads with stone sets stretching as far as eye could see were very wearisome, and the men were utterly exhausted. On the third day out we took prisoner a German mounted man, with two others, one of whom got away, and a second was shot.

On one occasion, just before entering a wood, one of our aeroplanes came down near us, and the pilot ran promptly to the General. After a few words, our direction was entirely changed. Had it not been for that aeroplane we should certainly have been ambushed.

We marched in Brigades, each day the lead being taken in turns, the last Regiment finding rearguard; and the same thing happened by Divisions, three Brigades to a Division, and each Brigade taking its turn to lead. The Provost Marshal and Military Police went on in front to inform the civilian population of towns and villages to clear out as quickly as possible, and to publish notices of the enemy's advance.

The hardest time of all was when one's particular regiment found rearguard: then we often had to march back for a few miles along the way we had come, dig trenches, hold the enemy the whole of the day, and then at night continue the march until we picked up the main body again. Oftentimes on reaching the main body it was found that they were just ready to start again, so the rearguard would be obliged to continue their march without intermission.

It was a couple of days out of Mons and during a rearguard action that the Munster Fusiliers received a good drubbing, but not until after they had held the enemy at bay for several hours. My regiment was that evening doing rearguard to our own Brigade when some of the Munsters retired through us. One poor fellow going through told us how his chum had had his jaw blown away by a piece of shell, and the Germans on reaching the Munsters' trenches had killed all the wounded with the very entrenching tools they had been using. We expected to see them coming in force that night, but after waiting until dusk, we retired on the main body. Unfortunately we did not get clear away without casualties. An unlucky affair occurred in this way: we had, the day before, passed through Soissons, and I remember it was at this village that we caught up with the main body. On entering the village we had to cross a bridge with a river beneath, and the Northampton Regiment was guarding it while the Engineers stood by ready to blow it up when we were all over. My regiment was the last to cross, and we had already done so with the exception of one platoon, and were told to stand in the centre of the village, when some one gave the word that we were all over; and accordingly the Engineers blew up the bridge. No sooner had that happened than this platoon came marching down the road. Of course the Northamptons mistook them in the dark for the Germans, and opened rapid fire upon them. I was afterwards told by a chum who was in that platoon that a body of Uhlans came galloping down the road not five minutes afterwards; and he, with one or two others who had survived the Northamptons' fire, were taken prisoners. (This particular man fell ill, so they put him into hospital, and when we fought the Battle of the Marne we retook him; he was sent home, and after a month or two convalescent leave he rejoined us.) Naturally the Officer in charge of the Uhlans was very wild when he found the bridge had been blown up, as it was eight miles to the next crossing.

Most of our men had thrown away all their heavy kit, such as top-coats, etc., and the Germans of course made good use of them, some of them putting the clothes on.

At one place at which we were billeted five of these Germans stopped in the house next to a barn where a platoon of the Connaughts[1] were. Just before daybreak these Germans gave the alarm, and, as the Connaughts rushed out of their billets to the alarm post, the enemy were awaiting them with machine guns. This I got from a man who on the following night laid himself down to sleep on the pavement where I was doing sentry-go. Poor fellow, he had on no hat or jacket, neither had he any rifle or equipment. He had been following us all day, and had had nothing to eat. So I took him into the room of the house which we were then using as a Guard Room, and the N.C.O. in charge took him before an Officer. His story was proved to be correct, so he was allowed to stay with the Company for the night; but what became of him after I know not.

Next morning my regiment was finding rearguard, so we marched through the town to an old disused mill. Going through that, and crossing a field, we came to a swiftly running stream, which we waded across through water up to our armpits. On the other side we had a very steep bank to climb, and up which we had to drive two pack animals. One of these, after climbing up a part of the way, fell down and simply rolled over and over till he reached the bottom. We had to shoot the wretched animal, owing to a damaged fetlock. On gaining the summit, we set off in skirmishing order over a mile of open country, going through wheat-fields, trampling the ripe wheat underfoot as we went, until we struck a main road which ran parallel with the one we had travelled the day before. Just off this we dug the usual one-man trench, and remained there all day long. The only sight we had of the enemy was a patrol of cavalry too far off to be within range.

Towards four in the afternoon we commenced again to retire, and had no sooner reached the next village before the enemy began to shell us. Again we were lucky in getting off with no damage and no casualty. All this was all very well, but it did not suit the men. This running away from the enemy could not be stood at any price, and the constant cry was: "Why don't we stand and fight them? What are we afraid of? If you bring us here to fight, let's fight—otherwise put us all on a boat and dump us down in England."

On several occasions we passed food-supplies left on the roadside—left for the Germans: whole cheeses, tins of mustard, one of which I carried for four days, but, on getting nothing to eat with it, I threw it away.

We would arrive outside a village, allotted for billets, perhaps about 7.30 p.m., and, after having marched the whole of the day, we were not allowed to enter the village until eleven or twelve o'clock at night to make ourselves comfy. The reason, I believe, was that it might be shelled by the enemy. No one was allowed to touch a thing—not even fruit—or he would be punished for looting; yet we knew very well that, perhaps on the morrow, the Germans would secure it all.

Various bulletins were issued during that Retirement, I suppose to cheer up the troops. One I remember contained the report of a German who had been taken prisoner, and who had upon him a diary, which—according to the bulletin—declared that the German Army was starving. Another, a very strong rumour, went the rounds, to the effect that we were doing a strategical retirement for the purpose of drawing the main body of the German Army into France, whilst the Russians came in on the East. Two days after that, a report was out that the Russians were marching on Berlin, and were within a few days' march of the capital itself. Imagine our feelings, our delight. Remember, we were absolutely cut off from all outside news. What were we to think? Most of us expected that the war would be over in a very short time.

After the first five days, we were given a day's halt. The whole of the day before we had been marching until three in the morning, and were told on this day's rest that we had done so well, out-pacing the enemy and outwitting them so successfully, that we should no doubt be able to rest for the next three days. On that day they paid us out, giving each man five francs, which, however, were of no earthly use to us, as we were all brigaded in a large field, and there was not a shop for miles. Our three-days' rest, however, did not materialize: we were off again next morning, with the enemy hot on our heels, having overtaken us by motors. So we had to continue our weary task sooner than we had anticipated.

We were all fairly quiet on the country roads, but as soon as we came to any large towns or villages we would always knock out the strains of "Tipperary." Another good point in Tommy's character manifested itself—no matter how many miles he had covered during the day, during which he would be grumbling the whole of the time, he would, immediately on striking camp, walk if necessary for miles looking for a hay or straw stack on which to find something soft and clean to lie upon.

One turning point on that Retirement was a small town, by name Bernay, I believe, in the Champagne. There we arrived on a Saturday at midday; the afternoon was spent in resting. A few days before we had struck off south from Meaux, and we heard that we were to defend Paris. During the afternoon before we arrived at Bernay, we had passed an encampment of refugees numbering many thousands, and just outside Bernay were many more. I was on outpost duty that night; and a suspicious individual came up to me whilst I was on sentry. I, of course, inquired his business; but, as he could not understand my language, he took no notice. As I could not leave my post, I told another man who was off duty at the time to bring him in. This fellow went out with his rifle, but, although he was one of the fastest runners in my regiment, he could not overtake the stranger, who got away. He may have been only a refugee having a look round, or, on the other hand, he may have been a spy.

That day we finished our retirement from Mons: it was the sixth of September, 1914.