This irregularity in retirement was noticeable all along the battle-front, some battalions grasping the meaning of the general order to retire with more readiness than others. Among those in the 5th Division who were slow to interpret the signal were the K.O.S.B. and the K.O.Y.L.I.
These two 13th Brigade battalions were next one another just north of Reumont, with the Manchester Regiment on the right of the K.O.Y.L.I. It was common talk among the men of the 5th Division that the French were coming up in support, and that, therefore, there must be no giving way. The French in question were—and only could be—Gen. Sordet's cavalry, who, at the time, were plodding away in rear on their forty mile trek to the left flank of our army, and who could never under any circumstances have been of help to the 5th Division on the right of the Le Cateau battle-front. However, that was the rumour and they held on. Some of the K.O.S.B. in the first line trenches saw some men on their flank retiring, and, thinking it was a general order, followed suit. Col. Stephenson personally re-conducted them back to their trenches. He was himself almost immediately afterwards knocked out by a shell; but the force of example had its effect, and there was no more retiring till the general order to that effect was unmistakable. This was about three o'clock. The final retirement of those battalions which had held on till the enemy was on the top of them was very difficult, and very costly in casualties, as they were mowed down by shrapnel and machine-gun fire the moment they left their trenches. It was during this retirement that Corpl. Holmes, of the K.O.Y.L.I, won his Victoria Cross by picking up a wounded comrade and carrying him over a mile under heavy fire. Another Victoria Cross in the same battalion was won that day by Major Yate under very dramatic circumstances. His company had been in the second line of trenches during the bombardment, and had suffered terribly from the enemy's shell-fire directed at one of our batteries just behind. When the German infantry came swarming up in the afternoon, there were only nineteen sound men left in the company. These nineteen kept up their fire to the last moment and then left the trench and charged, headed by Major Yate. There could be but one result. Major Yate fell mortally wounded, and his gallant band of Yorkshiremen ceased to exist. It was the Thermopylae of B Company, 2nd K.O.Y.L.I. This battalion lost twenty officers and six hundred men during the battle, and was probably the heaviest sufferer in the 5th Division. It stuck it till the last moment and the enemy got round its right flank.
The 3rd Division line, further west, was also forced about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the enemy in great numbers broke through towards Troisvilles, to the right of the 9th Brigade, causing the whole division to retire. The actual order to retire in this case was passed down by word of mouth from right to left by galloping Staff officers, who—in the pandemonium that was reigning—were unable to get in touch with all the units of each battalion. As a result the retirement was necessarily irregular, and—as in the case of the 5th Division—the battalions that "stuck it" longest found themselves isolated and in time surrounded. This was the case with the 1st Gordon Highlanders, in the 8th Brigade, to whom the order to retire either never penetrated, or to whom it was too distasteful to be acted upon with promptitude. The exact circumstances of the annihilation of this historic battalion will never be known till the war is over, but the nett result was that it lost 80 per cent. of its strength in killed, wounded and missing. The same fate overtook one company of the 2nd R. Scots in the same brigade. This company was practically wiped out and the battalion as a whole had some 400 casualties in killed and wounded. The whole division, in fact, suffered very severely in carrying out the retirement, the ground to the rear being very open and exposed, and the enemy's rifle and machine-gun fire incessant. The village of Audencourt had been heavily shelled all day and was a mass of blazing ruins, effectually barring any retirement by the high road, and forcing the retreating troops to take to the open country. Once, however, behind the railway, the retreat became more organized, and a series of small rear-guard fights were put up from behind the shelter of the embankment.
The 23rd Brigade R.F.A., under Col. Butler, put in some most efficient work at this period, and materially assisted the retirement of the 8th Brigade. With remarkable coolness the gunners, entirely undisturbed by the general confusion reigning, continued to drop beautifully-timed shells among the advancing German infantry. The work of the artillery, in fact, all along the line was magnificent, and deeds of individual heroism were innumerable. The 37th Battery, for instance, kept up its shrapnel-fire on the advancing lines of Germans till these were within 300 yards of its position. Then Captain Reynolds, with some volunteer drivers, galloped up with two teams, and hitched them on to the two guns which had not been knocked out. Incredible as it may appear, in view of the hail of bullets directed at them, one of these guns was got safely away. The other was not. Captain Reynolds and Drivers Luke and Brain were given the Victoria Cross for this exploit. Sergt. Browne, of the same battery, got the D.C.M. The 80th Battery was another that distinguished itself by exceptional gallantry at Ligny during the retreat, and three of its N.C.O.'s won the D.C.M. Near the same place the 135th Battery also covered itself with glory. In fact, it is not too much to say that the situation on the afternoon of August 26th was very largely saved by the splendid heroism of our Field Artillery; and for the exploits of this branch of the service alone the battle of Le Cateau must always stand out as a bright spot in the annals of British arms.
The Germans did not pursue the 3rd Division beyond the line of the villages above named. In the case of the 5th Division there was no pursuit at all, in the strict sense of the term. That is to say, there were no rear-guard actions. The division made its way through Reumont, to the continuation of the straight Roman road by which it had reached Le Cateau, and down this road it continued its retreat unmolested. Rain began to fall heavily and numbers of the men, heedless alike of rain or of pursuing Germans, dropped like logs by the roadside and slept.
The extrication of the Le Cateau army from a position which, on paper, was all but hopeless, was undoubtedly a very fine piece of generalship on the part of Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien. The C. in C. in his despatch wrote: "I say without hesitation that the saving of the left wing of the army under my command, on the morning of August 26th, could never have been accomplished unless a commander of rare and unusual coolness, intrepidity and determination had been present to personally conduct the operation."
THE RETREAT FROM LE CATEAU
Le Cateau may without shame be accepted as a defeat. There was at no time, even in anticipation, the possibility of victory. It was an affair on altogether different lines to that of Mons. At Mons the British Army had been set a definite task, which it had cheerfully faced, and which it had carried through with credit to itself and with much advantage to its ally. Its ultimate retirement had only been in conformity with the movements of that ally. Everything worked according to book.
But Le Cateau was quite another affair. Here we find half the British force temporarily cut off from the other half by force majeure, and turning at bay on a pursuer whom it could no longer escape. There was never any question of victory. The disparity in numbers and in armament left no room for illusions on that score. Searching deep below the surface, we might perhaps find that the main factor in deciding that Briton and German should cross swords at Le Cateau was the primitive impulse—always strong in the Anglo-Saxon breed—to face an ugly crisis and die fighting. In the event the British force faced the foe, and fought, but it did not die—as an army; a result due to consummate generalship on the part of the Army Corps Commander, aided by a strange laxity, or over-caution, as the case may be, on the part of the enemy.