The motor-bus in war

by A. M. Beatson

The fate of Paris was largely changed, at the beginning of the War, by the requisition and mobilization of some thousand or so motor taxi-cabs during a night, at the order of the late General Galliéni. In them were sent out twenty-five thousand troops, who by this means of transport swiftly proceeded to the Ourcq and reinforced the French Army, which was striking a terrific blow at the turned flank of Von Kluck's army. It will be recalled that the enemy's columns advancing on Paris turned abruptly eastwards to unexpectedly rush on the British Divisions and cut them off from their juncture with the 5th French Army. They failed to do so, but until the night of September 9th-10th the battle of Nanteuil-sur-Marne hung in the balance. General Maunoury's army was constantly being reinforced, however, by the troops which arrived at Dammartin and other points in the requisitioned taxi-cabs so regularly that the pressure was increased, the tide of battle turned, and the capital of France saved. The stand put up by the allied French and British Armies on the Marne will go down to posterity as the most epic battle in European history. The warfare in France and Flanders, since it settled down to a prolonged and continuous trench strafe, has been described as consisting in "months of boredom punctuated by moments of intense fear," and it has been to pass the time of day during some of those months that the following chapters have been written. If they succeed in giving the reader some slight idea of the scope, extent, and versatility of work accomplished by the mechanical transport of the Army Service Corps, of how our armies in the field are fed, and of the soldier-man's life and surroundings at various distances "behind the front"—what he sees and does there—they will not have been written in vain. I have purposely avoided matters of controversy, and I have written not as a critic but as an observer and the player of a very small part in the great drama. I trust that the varying degrees of discomfort, inseparable from active service, under which I have had to write will be accepted as sufficient excuse for any lack of literary style.

Chapter II

"AU REVOIR" TO ENGLAND

In the early stages of the War it was by no means uncommon for a man to enlist in the Army Service Corps in the afternoon and the same night find himself marching, in company with a good many others, into the Mechanical Transport Depot at Grove Park, singing "Tipperary." The following morning, having been put into khaki, he would be told off to a motor-lorry, on which he would chalk such cryptic remark as "London-Berlin Express." Later in the day he would be driving his lorry—one of a convoy of many similar vehicles—to ——, and a few hours after that he would be in France.

This is not exactly what happened to the author; suffice it to add that in the first few days of August 1914 he enlisted, and on October 28th made the meteoric flight from private in a Territorial Battalion to a second-lieutenant in the Army Service Corps. On Sunday, November 15th, he had just come up from Grove Park to London on a few hours' leave of absence from duty, when a telegram arrived. It read:

"Return at once.—ADJUTANT."

Having followed this order, he was packed off at once to Woolwich, and here found he was posted to the —— Indian Cavalry Division Supply Column. On Tuesday, the 17th, the column was due to leave Woolwich for —— and sail for France almost immediately after arrival at the port of embarkation. So on that morning we entrained; the motor-lorries and half the personnel had gone on by road the previous day. The same night we found ourselves at ——, ten officers and some 700 N.C.O.'s and men, the latter composed of lorry drivers and supply details, with roughly 160 motor-lorries and cars. Half the lorries were old buses off the London streets, but not of the usual "London General" appearance, for they had been converted from passenger to food and forage carrying vehicles by the substitution of van-shaped open bodies in place of the familiar bright red, two-decker bus bodies. I was destined to travel many thousands of miles on the front seat of many of these, and it has often occurred to me during the course of my journeys that perhaps the same buses that I have taken to Ypres have perhaps taken me on previous occasions, before the War, down Piccadilly or along the Strand, under entirely different circumstances. The remainder of the lorries were brand new Silent Knight Daimlers, and the carrying capacity of the majority of the lorries was thirty hundredweight. Painted grey-green service colour, they presented a sombre spectacle, "parked" in a long line along a straight open road just outside the docks. Besides the lorries for carrying supplies, we had the large, closed, high-bodied, portable workshop lorries, fitted with the essential tools—lathes, drilling-machines, and the like—driven by petrol-electric sets, to effect repairs to broken-down lorries in the field. Also the closed-in store lorries, fitted with interior shelves and pigeon-holes, in which were carried engineers' tools, stores of all kinds, spare parts, and various equipment. In addition, we had five 12-16 h.p. Sunbeam four-seater cars and a dozen or so Douglas motor-bicycles. Collectively, the column occupied just a mile of road.

At —— we did not enjoy ourselves. For one thing, 700 men, mostly quite unaccustomed to military discipline, are not altogether easy to deal with, and for another, the only sleeping accommodation available for officers and men consisted in the floors of the various offices and goods-yards at —— Railway Station. Moreover, it was snowing hard, and on the night of November 17th there were several degrees of frost. Matters were made very much easier by the presence of an Army Chaplain who was on duty at the docks. He mixed with and chatted to the men, telling them what splendid fellows they were, and on the evening of our arrival got up an impromptu concert, which proved a great divertissement. Our stay was not, however, a long one; we did not even wait to effect certain most necessary repairs to the lorries, and those that were able to run under their own power towed those that could not, and the splendid hydraulic cranes on the quayside at —— soon picked up each vehicle and securely deposited it—at the rate of about five minutes per lorry—in the holds of the four tramps that, sailing under sealed orders, were to transport the column to France. So on the evening of November 19, 1914, I left England on H.M. Transport Trevithoe, in company with two other second-lieutenants. On board we had roughly a quarter of our personnel and vehicles. Our departure was quite unlike that of any ship I have ever seen leave port or left port on myself. There were no scurrying, hurrying crowds of people on the quayside. The men filed on board almost silently in the darkness, each carrying his rifle and kit. There were none of the usual spectators, no relatives or friends to see us off. As each man crossed the gangway he was handed a small piece of paper; on it was printed Lord Kitchener's message to every soldier about to join the Expeditionary Force:

You are ordered abroad as a soldier of the King to help our French comrades against the invasion of a common enemy. You have to perform a task which will need your courage, your energy, your patience. Remember that the honour of the British Army depends on your individual conduct. It will be your duty not only to set an example of discipline and perfect steadiness under fire, but also to maintain the most friendly relations with those whom you are helping in this struggle. The operations in which you are engaged will, for the most part, take place in a friendly country, and you can do your own country no better service than in showing yourself in France and Belgium in the true character of a British soldier.

Be invariably courteous, considerate, and kind. Never do anything likely to injure or destroy property, and always look upon looting as a disgraceful act. You are sure to meet with a welcome and to be trusted; your conduct must justify that welcome and trust. Your duty cannot be done unless your health is sound. So keep constantly on your guard against any excesses. In this new experience you may find temptations both in wine and women; you must entirely resist both temptations, and, while treating all women with perfect courtesy, you should avoid any intimacy.