Driver W. Moore, also of the Royal Field Artillery, wrote:—
It was Sunday night, August 23, when we saw the enemy. We were ready for action, but were lying down to have a rest, when orders came to stand at our posts. It was about four a.m. on Monday when we started to fire; we were at it all day till six p.m., when we started to advance. Then the bugle sounded the charge, and the cavalry and infantry charged like madmen at the enemy; then the enemy fell back about forty miles, so we held at bay till Wednesday, when the enemy was reinforced. Then they came on to Mons, and by that time we had every man, woman, and child out of the town.... We were situated on a hill in a cornfield and we could see all over the country. It was about three p.m., and we started to let them have a welcome by blowing up two of their batteries in about five minutes; then the infantry let go, and then the battle was in full swing.
In the middle of the battle a driver got wounded and asked to see the colours before he died, and he was told by an officer that the guns were his colours. He replied, “Tell the drivers to keep their eyes on their guns, because if we lose our guns we lose our colours.”
Just then the infantry had to retire, and the gunners had to leave their guns, but the drivers were so proud of their guns that they went and got them out, and we retired to St. Quentin. We had a roll-call, and only ten were left out of my battery. This was the battle in which poor Winchester (an old Cornwall boy) lost his life in trying to get the guns away.
When the order came to retire it was received by a disappointed force. Such a one was a private in the Middlesex Regiment, who wrote as follows:—
It was somewhere in the neighbourhood of Mons, I believe, that we got our first chance. We had been marching for days with hardly any sleep. When we took up our position the Germans were nearer than we thought, because we had only just settled down to get some rest when there came the blinding glare of the searchlight. This went away almost as suddenly as it appeared, and it was followed by a perfect hail of bullets. We lost a good many in the fight, but we were all bitterly disappointed when we got the order to retire. I got a couple of bullets through my leg, but I hope it won’t be long before I get back again. We never got near enough to use our bayonets. I only wish we had done. Talk about civilised warfare! Don’t you believe it. The Germans are perfect fiends.
We have already given the experiences of some of the West Kents, who were in the thick of the fighting from the beginning. The following is an account by another man in this regiment, who said:—
“We were in a scrubby position just outside Mons from Saturday afternoon till Monday morning. After four hours of action each of our six big guns was put out of action. Either the gunners were killed or wounded, or the guns themselves damaged. For the rest of the time—that is, until Monday morning, when we retired—we had to stick the German fire without being able to retaliate. It was bad enough to stand this incessant banging away, but it made it worse not to be able to reply.
All day Sunday and all Sunday night the Germans continued to shrapnel us. At night it was just hellish. We had constructed some entrenchment, but it didn’t afford much cover, and our losses were very heavy. On Monday we received the order to retire to the south of the town, and some hours later, when the roll-call was called, it was found that we had 300 dead alone, including four officers.
Then an extraordinary thing happened. Me and some of my pals began to dance. We were just dancing for joy at having escaped with our skins, and to forget the things we’d seen a bit, when bang! and there came a shell from the blue, which burst and got, I should think, quite twenty of us.
That’s how some of us got wounded, as we thought we had escaped. Then another half-dozen of us got wounded this way. Some of our boys went down a street near by, and found a basin and some water, and were washing their hands and faces when another shell burst above them and laid most of them out.
What happened to us happened to the Gloucesters. Their guns, too, were put out of action, and, like us, they had to stand the shell-fire for hours and hours before they were told to retire. What we would have done without our second in command I don’t know.
During the Sunday firing he got hit in the head. He had two wounds through the cap in the front and one or two behind, and lost a lot of blood. Two of our fellows helped to bind up his head, and offered to carry him back, but he said, ‘It isn’t so bad. I’ll be all right soon.’ Despite his wounds and loss of blood, he carried on until we retired on Monday. Then, I think, they took him off to hospital.”
Some further battle stories from wounded men relate to the fighting round Mons. One of the Cheshires said:—“Our chaps were also badly cut up. Apart from the wounded, several men got concussion of the brain by the mere explosions. It was awful! Under the cover of their murderous artillery fire, the German infantry advanced to within three and five hundred yards of our position. With that we were given the order to fix bayonets, and stood up for the charge. That did it for the German infantry! They turned tail and ran for their lives.
Our captain cried out, ‘Now you’ve got ’em, men!’ But we hadn’t. Their artillery begins with that to fire more hellish than ever, and before you could almost think what to do, fresh lots of the ‘sausages’ came along, and we had to beat a retreat.
During the retreat one of our sergeants was wounded and fell. With that our captain runs back and tries to lift him. As he was doing so he was struck in the foot, and fell over. We thought he was done for, but he scrambles up and drags the sergeant along until a couple of us chaps goes out to help ’em in.”
How a number of British troops made a dash in the night to save some women and children from the Germans was told by Lance-corporal Tanner, of the 2nd Oxfordshire and Bucks Light Infantry. “On Sunday week,” he said, “the regiment arrived at Mons.”
“We took up our position in the trenches,” he said, “and fought for some time. In the evening the order came to retire, and we marched back to Condé, with the intention of billeting for the night, and having a rest. Suddenly, about midnight, we were ordered out, and set off to march to the village of Douai, some miles away, as news had reached us that the Germans were slaughtering the natives there.
“It was a thrilling march in the darkness, across the unfamiliar country. We were liable to be attacked at any moment, of course, but everyone was keen on saving the women and children, and hurried on. We kept the sharpest look-out on all sides, but saw nothing of the enemy.
When we reached Douai a number of the inhabitants rushed out to meet us. They were overjoyed to see us, and speedily told what the Germans had done. They had killed a number of women and children. With fixed bayonets we advanced into the village, and we saw signs all around us of the cruelty of the enemy.“
Private R. Wills, of the Highland Light Infantry, who also took part in the march to the village, here continued the story. “We found that most of the Germans had not waited for our arrival, and there were only a few left in the place. However, we made sure that none remained there.
We started a house-to-house search. Our men went into all the houses, and every now and then they found one or two of the enemy hiding in a corner or upstairs. Many of them surrendered at once, others did not.
When we had cleared the village, some of us lay down on the pavements, and snatched an hour’s sleep. At 3.30 we marched away again, having rid the place of the enemy, and, getting back to camp, were glad to turn in.”
A gunner of the Lancashire Fusiliers, who was injured by the overturning of his gun, gave his experiences of fighting for seventy-three hours in the neighbourhood of Mons. He spoke of the surprise of some Germans who, while they were being shelled, suddenly received a bayonet charge from a body of men the advance of whom they had not observed as they had crept up under cover. The enemy quickly retired, having lost about 250 men. The gunner expressed a poor opinion of the Germans as shots, who “are frightened of the bayonet, and when charged run faster than our men can pursue them,” but he praised their artillery. Speaking of the strength of the Germans, he said there were nine of them to every Englishman. As fast as they were killed, others replaced them, but they succeeded in reducing their numbers. The Fusiliers retired to Donicourt, and on ascending a hill the gunner was so injured as to be unable to move; he was fortunately picked up by a Frenchman, who conveyed him to the hospital at St. Quentin. The Germans have a trick of disabling the wounded from using rifles again by injuring their wrists, jamming them on the ground by the butts of their weapons.
It is not an uncommon thing for men to get separated from their regiments; it is often the fate of those who are reported missing or lost. At Mons the enemy cut off some of the Somerset Light Infantry, most of whom hid themselves until dark, and then throwing away their rifles managed to crawl between the German pickets. They did not, however, succeed in regaining their regiments, but made their way to the homes of peasants, who supplied them with civilian clothes. They had some narrow escapes from being arrested for German spies, as they could speak no French, but eventually they reached Boulogne, where they obtained a pass to England and were able to rejoin their depôt.