The most severe counter-attack was made not at Neuve Chapelle, but at the tiny Belgian hamlet of St. Eloi, 15 miles to the north, and at the junction of two main roads. On the 14th, when mists lay thick on the flats, the Germans, following our example at Neuve Chapelle, began a fierce bombardment of our trenches, and at the same time exploded mines on our front and on a large mound which we held to the south-east of the village. The infantry attacks of the enemy were very determined; our men were driven from their trenches, and our whole line had to fall back. Under cover of the darkness we prepared for a counter-attack, and on the morning of the 15th managed to win back most of the lost ground. The mound, which our soldiers called "the Mound of Death," was not recovered; it lay in the No Man's Land between the rival trenches, exposed to the gun fire of friend and foe.
In this action Princess Patricia's Own specially distinguished itself, and won the praise of Sir John French. It co-operated with a battalion of the Rifle Brigade in an attack on the mound, and advanced with great coolness and resolution, but was checked by a murderous machine-gun fire. Three platoons, however, held on to a breastwork, while the remainder retired across a zone of fire without leaving behind them a single wounded man. Five days later Princess Pat's lost its commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Francis Farquhar, one of the bravest and kindest of men.
You will remember that our assault on Neuve Chapelle was supported by other attacks on various parts of the German front, in order to prevent the enemy from suddenly massing reinforcements against our main attack. I need not describe these operations, for they were only "holding attacks," and were not expected to succeed. Nevertheless the assault on a hamlet to the south-east of Armentières was successful, and an advance of 300 yards on a front of half a mile was made.
Our airmen were very busy during the three days of struggle, though the weather was against them. Bombs were dropped on railway stations and bridges behind the German lines, and much damage was done. One daring aviator flying over Lille hit a house which was used as the German headquarters.
The Battle of Neuve Chapelle was not a failure, but it was not a complete success. We straightened out the sag in our line; we won the village, advanced one mile, took 2,000 prisoners, and killed or wounded 20,000 of the enemy. Our offensive put new heart into our men, who went into battle with the utmost zeal, joking and laughing even under fire. It is said that when they crowded into the German first-line trenches and there was no room for them all to line the parapet, a man would pull his comrade down, crying out that it was his turn for a shot. The Indians greatly welcomed the opportunity of fighting in the open, and the Gurkhas and Garhwalis plied their kukris with deadly effect. Our losses were very heavy. In the three days' fighting we had about 13,000 casualties: 2,337 men and 190 officers were killed.
Our failure to "make good" at a time when the Germans were almost at our mercy was as much due to accident as to blunder. Parts of the enemy lines had not been properly "prepared," and some of our troops were shelled by their own guns. This was, no doubt, due to the dull sky and the mists, which prevented the observers from properly controlling the fire of their guns. It was our first attempt to combine artillery and infantry on a great scale, and, naturally, mistakes were made. The best result was the new ardour which inspired our men. "This time," said one of them, "it was pushing the Germans, instead of trying to hold them. You can't realize, unless you have been in it from Mons onwards, how that bucks you up."
The German people took their beating very badly. They accused us of using German prisoners to screen our advance, and they complained bitterly that we had brought such a vast force of artillery against them. "This is not war; it is murder," they said, coolly ignoring the fact that a mighty artillery onslaught had been their favourite method of attack since the beginning of the war. When they were given a taste of their own medicine they cried out in the usual fashion of the bully.