And so it was. Towards 3 o'clock we had news that the company was safely tucked away in some ditches, holding its front, and had had practically no losses, although it could not move out without attracting a heavy artillery fire.
Not till long afterwards did I hear what had really happened to Vandeleur, and then it was from his own lips in January 1915, he having escaped from Crefeld just before Christmas. It appeared that he and Young had gone up with about half a company in support of some scouts who had reported Rue d'Ouvert clear. The half company did not, however, go into Rue d'Ouvert, for they were violently attacked by superior forces before they got there. They lost heavily, but succeeded in getting into a farmhouse, which they held all day against the enemy, hoping that we should move out and rescue them. But we, of course, had been told circumstantially that they were already prisoners at 8 A.M., so knew nothing of it and took no action.
The enemy set the house on fire, and the gallant little garrison put it out with wine from the cellars, for they were cut off from the water-supply. Their numbers were reduced to about thirty, when they were again attacked in overwhelming force at 9 P.M., and many of the remainder (including Vandeleur) wounded. Then there was no choice, and they surrendered, being complimented on their gallantry by the German General in command at La Bassée. They were then sent off to Germany viâ Douai, and were most abominably treated on the journey, wounded and all being pigged together in a filthy cattle-truck three inches deep in manure for thirty hours without food or water, insulted and kicked by the German escort and a brute of a lieutenant at Douai, and finally sent to Crefeld, where they were again ill-treated, starved, and left in tents with no covering—their greatcoats, and even their tunics, having been taken away,—nothing to lie on except damp and verminous straw, on muddy wet ground. Many men died of this treatment. The officers were treated somewhat better, but very harshly, and were never given enough to eat. Vandeleur's escape is "another story."
That day was a terrible day: Givenchy was bombarded heavily by the Germans for hours, and rendered absolutely untenable. The Bedfords held out there gallantly, and stuck to one end of the village whilst the enemy was in possession of the other; but the heavy artillery was too much for them, and after losing about sixty casualties, many of them killed by falling houses, they gradually fell back to trenches in rear of the village. Griffith (commanding) and Macready (Adjutant) came to see me about 3 P.M., their clothes and faces a mass of white dust and plaster, and explained the situation; but there was nothing to be done, as we had no reserves, and had to stick it out as best we could.
But by far the worst was what happened to the Dorsets. The account of what happened was rather confused, but it appears that, depending on their left being supported by the Bedfords at Givenchy, and their right by the K.O.S.B.'s (13th Brigade) on the south side of the Canal, they pushed forward for some distance and dug themselves roughly in, after driving the Germans back. Then suddenly their front trench was attacked from the left rear, and a heavy fire poured upon their men as they retired on their supports. They were also shot down from the embankment on the south of the Canal—from just where they had expected the K.O.S.B.'s to be.
At one place about twenty Germans advanced and held up their hands. The Dorsets then advanced to take their surrender, when suddenly the twenty fell down flat, and about 100 more who had come close up under cover of the incident opened a heavy fire on our men and killed a lot. The battalion retired slowly, in admirable order, to Pont Fixe and the trenches covering it, and put a big factory there in a state of defence. But they had lost very heavily: thirteen officers killed (including Pitt and Davidson), wounded (including Bols and Rathbone), and missing; and 112 men killed and wounded, and 284 missing—most of these, I fear, being killed, for numbers of bodies were discovered later on between the lines. Bols was at first reported killed, but he only had a bullet through his back, narrowly missing the spine, and another through his arm. He fell unseen and had to be left behind when the battalion retired, and was found and stripped of all his kit by the Germans; but he recovered in the darkness, and managed to scramble and crawl back to the English lines. (From here he was sent to London, arriving there only two days later.)
We also lost two guns there, which had been brought up from the 15th R.F.A. Brigade and could not be got away in time. A gallant attempt was made by volunteers to recover them next day, but it was useless and only cost more lives.
The Dorsets as well as the Bedfords also lost one of their machine-guns. Altogether it was a damnable day, and we on the staff were also pretty well exhausted by the amount of staff work and telegrams and messages going through all day. The 2nd Devons (or rather two companies of them) were sent to the assistance of the Dorsets in the evening; but it was a difficult thing to carry out, as the banks of the Canal, along which they had to go, were soft and boggy, and they had much difficulty in getting their S.A.A. carts along.
The Brigade Headquarters withdrew in the evening from Festubert to a foul big farm about half a mile back. This, from a particularly offensive big cesspool in the middle of the yard, we labelled Stink Farm (it had 1897 in big red tiles on the roof). It was a beastly place, and W. and I had to sleep in a tiny room on a couple of beds which had not seen clean mattresses or coverings for certainly ten years or more. There were, however, plenty of barns and clean straw for the men.
Oct. 14th.