The Black Watch and the Scots Greys charged together. The Scots Greys galloped forward, the Black Watch hanging to their stirrups. On the horses flew through a cloud of bullets, but every sound was drowned by the thunder of the horses’ hoofs as they careered wildly on. Saddles emptied quickly as the charge closed on the German lines, and man and horse were on the German gunners before they knew where they were. Down the enemy went in hundreds, and still the deadly work of the bayonet continued. Soon the Germans broke and fled “like rabbits before the shot of a gun.” It is said that there were 2000 British against 20,000 Germans. Close on 4000 prisoners were taken, as well as an immense number of guns.
Many years ago a famous historian of the Scottish Highlands wrote concerning the Highlander words which hold as good to-day as they did in the ’45. “He is taught to consider courage as the most honourable virtue, cowardice the most disgraceful failing; to venerate and obey his chief, and to devote himself to his native country and clan; thus prepared to be a soldier, he is ready to follow wherever honour and duty call him.”
There is a fine little story concerning the men of the Black Watch on their first visit to England. The then King had never seen a Highlander at close quarters, and as he wished to do so, three men who were noted for their dexterity in the broad-sword exercise and with the lochaber axe were sent to St. James’s Palace. So pleased was the King with their performance that he gave them each a guinea, which they in turn gave to the porter of the gate as they went out. “Doubtless,” they observed, “the King has mistaken our character and condition in our own country.”
It is interesting to note that it was the gallantry of the Highlanders in covering the retreat of the Allied Forces at Fontenoy which received the special praise of the Commander-in-Chief. Fontenoy was their maiden experience of a foreign foe.
I want you specially to remember what our soldiers in this war have owed to what is called the Army Service Corps. You will recollect my telling you that Napoleon said an army marched on its stomach. All that is necessary for the physical well-being of our men is done quickly, quietly, and very bravely, by the officers and men of the Army Service Corps. Their adventures are often as perilous and exciting as those which befall the fighting soldier. They all have to bear the weight of considerable responsibility and ever-present anxiety. The enemy always does his best to harass, intercept, and, if possible, destroy the food which is on its way to our men. Not food only for the men, but forage for the horses is under the care of this wonderful Corps.
Never was the triumph of their organisation shown to such advantage as during the fighting retreat with which we are now concerned.
On one occasion the Germans, who, remember, were close on the heels of the British motors and waggons, were particularly anxious to get hold of a train of forty motor lorries stocked with food and ammunition. In addition to these were also several hundred horsed waggons similarly loaded.
At last, when close to St. Quentin, which was to be the next great stand, the men in charge of this huge convoy were informed that the Uhlans were only a mile away. The colonel in command made certain inquiries. To his dismay, he learnt that not only his men but their horses also were so dead tired that they could not go on any more. He, therefore, made up his mind to stay in the little village where they found themselves, and if attacked to put up a stout fight.
Wearied though they were, each was sent with a loaded rifle to a place on the line he was to defend. The waggons were all drawn up in the funny little narrow winding streets which make a French village not unlike an old Scottish town.
In a very short time everything was in order to receive the enemy.