The lance-corporal eventually managed to reach St. Quentin.
A private of the same regiment told a thrilling story of the battle:—
It was Sunday, August 23 (he said), that we were at Mons, billeted in a farmyard, and we were having a sing-song and watching people home from church. The Belgian ladies were very kind-hearted, and we were given their prayer-books as souvenirs, and they also went to the shops and bought us cigarettes, which were most acceptable to the troops. At about 12.30 an orderly had gone down to draw dinners, when an aeroplane appeared overhead, throwing out some black powder. After this shrapnel burst overhead, acquainting us of the fact that the Germans were in the vicinity.
All was confusion and uproar for the moment, because we were not armed, and our shirts and socks were out to wash, that being the only chance we had to get them washed. It did not take us long, however, to get in fighting trim and to go through the town to the scene of operations, which was on the other side of a small canal that adjoined Mons. Here we found the A Company of the Royal West Kents engaged in a hard tussle in keeping off the enemy until support arrived. The A Company had been engaged in outpost duty, so that they were the first to meet the enemy. Their casualties were very heavy, and they lost all of their officers except Lieut. Bell, who showed great valour in going out to bring in the wounded. Most of the damage was done by the shells, although at times the enemy were within 300 yards of our troops. We arrived in the nick of time, and took up position in a glass-blowing factory. We loop-holed the walls and held that position until darkness set in. With darkness upon us we fixed bayonets, and lay in wait in case the enemy made an attempt to rush us.
About eleven p.m. we received orders to retire over the canal. Two sections of C Company were left to keep the enemy in check, whilst the remainder of the battalion retired. After all had crossed the bridge was blown up, so that we were likely to be left in peace until the Germans could find a means of crossing the river. The two sections of C Company that had been left behind, unfortunately, were unable to retire over the bridge before it was blown up, and they had to find their own ways and means of getting across. Most of them managed to do so. We retired from the town of Mons, and got into open country, but we still kept on moving throughout the night. When daylight arrived we saw that Mons had been practically demolished, and that the Germans were also firing at times at the hospital. Throughout the morning we continued to fight a rearguard action. We did not leave off trekking until six in the evening, when we found ourselves well out of the range of the German artillery in a valley surrounded by large hills. Here all the troops were glad to lie down and get something to eat, as we had been without food since the previous morning.
Hungry soldiers were thankful to go into the swede and turnip fields and make a meal of these roots as though they were apples. We found the French and Belgian people very kind to us on the line of march. They would stand at the wayside and give us fruit, and they had large tubs of water ready, and this the troops very much appreciated.
About eight o’clock all lights were ordered to be put out and no noise to be made, and we all lay down for a well-earned rest after two trying days, putting out pickets in case of surprise. About an hour before dawn we were all ordered to stand to arms, and the column was once more engaged in a retiring movement.
As the column was on the march, I saw a duel in the air between French and German aeroplanes. It was wonderful to see the Frenchman manœuvre to get the upper position of the German, and after about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour the Frenchman got on top, and blazed away with a revolver on the German. He injured him so much as to cause him to descend, and when found he was dead. The British troops buried the airman and burnt the aeroplane.
During that day we were not troubled by any more German aeroplanes, and about five p.m. a halt was ordered, and we took things comfortably, hoping to have a rest until daylight came again. We were fortunate enough not to be disturbed that night, and at dawn we again stood to arms, and we found the Germans close upon our heels. The column got on the move, and several regiments were ordered to entrench themselves. We found it very hot and fatiguing work with such small tools to use. We soon found, however, that “where there’s a will there’s a way,” and quickly entrenched ourselves so as to be protected from the artillery fire. It was not long before the German artillery found our trenches and gave us rather a warm time. Our own artillery had to open fire at 2,100 yards, which was very close for artillery. I saw a battery in front of us put out of action. There were only about six men left amongst them, and they were engaged in trying to get away the guns. This disaster was due to the accurate shell firing of the German artillery.
In their efforts the brave gunners were not successful, owing to their horses being killed. It was interesting to see an officer engaged in walking round the guns and putting them out of action, or in other words seeing that they would be of no use to the Germans. This action required a great deal of bravery under the circumstances, because the enemy continued to keep up the heavy firing. Much bravery was also displayed by wounded comrades of the battery helping one another to get out of the firing line.
About this time the enemy were advancing, owing to the superiority of numbers, and hand-to-hand fighting had taken place in the right trenches. Owing to the artillery firing being so heavy, and the British being in such comparatively small numbers, the officer in charge of my company deemed it wise to retire. It was rather late, however, and he said to the men who were in the trenches: “Now, boys, every man for himself.” Having got these orders, we were not long in doing a retiring movement and trying to save our own skins. It was hard to see my own comrades being cut down like corn owing to the deadly shrapnel firing.
I was wounded at this point by a bullet from a maxim gun. I staggered at the time, thinking my hand had been blown off; but I recovered and kept on the run, and got in a trench, where I bandaged myself up. From there I continued to retire on my own, as I had lost touch with my section. I ran into the general commanding, and he asked me what was the matter with me. I told him I was wounded, and he said, “For God’s sake, man, don’t go into the hospital; they are blowing it up now.” I did not want telling that twice, and I started to track down country to get into touch with the column, where I knew the ambulance men were, and they would dress my wound.
When I got to the ambulance wagons I found they were mostly full with wounded who were in a far worse plight than I was. So I went along with the column, and a motor lorry came by and I got a lift to St. Quentin.
“So awful was the fighting that it is wonderful that anybody ever came out of it alive. I have no idea how we did come through,” said a wounded corporal of the Royal Engineers.
The corporal and his comrades were ordered to build a pontoon bridge over the Mons Canal. This work was begun early on the Sunday morning, August 23, in the face of a murderous rifle and shell fire. Gradually the bridge was pushed over, until it was almost within touch of the bank held by the enemy. Man after man of the British Engineers was hit, but still the rest stuck to their task, heedless of the rain of missiles all around.
Late in the afternoon the corporal was standing in the water assisting in the construction, when a shrapnel shell wounded him in the right arm. He made for the bank, only to find that his boots, which he had removed, had disappeared. He bound up his wounded arm with his handkerchief, and soon afterwards work on the bridge was abandoned.
Orders were given to get to cover the best way possible, and to wait until darkness fell. Then our troops fell back owing to the overwhelming numbers of the Germans. The corporal removed his putties, bound them round his feet, and started to retire. In the darkness, however, he lost the main body of the British, and wandered away to the west.
After a while he met a wounded Gordon Highlander, who had had his teeth shot away, and was also lost. The Highlander bound up the Engineer’s arm with his first field dressing, and the two men snatched what sleep they could under a hedge. Their breakfast next morning was a raw swede, pulled up from one of the fields.
Throughout that day they trudged on and on through a deserted country, but as night fell they came to some cottages scattered on the roadside. The inhabitants, recognising them as British, welcomed the wanderers, and gave them a good meal of bread and butter, cheese, and rabbit. They also allowed the soldiers to sleep there that night, and early in the morning directed them to Boussu, a town some miles further on in the direction of Lille.
Creeping slowly and painfully along, under cover of the hedges as far as possible, the men saw large parties of Uhlans scouting a short distance ahead. Fortunately a small wood was near by, and, turning into it, they lay concealed under some bushes for nearly eight hours. Several times the enemy approached within fifty yards of the fugitives, who almost feared to breathe. At length, towards evening, the coast became clear, and the two men were able to continue their journey.