by either the southern branch of the Great Eastern Railway or the London, Tilbury, and Southend line. They took nothing with them but their iron ration, the ammunition in their pouches, and that usually carried in the company ammunition waggons (57.6 rounds per man). For the transport of this they were to impress carts and horses at Southend, and to move by a forced march to their positions. As soon as we are able, we also shall push forward advanced troops to South Hanningfield, East Hanningfield, Danebury, and Wickham Bishops, covering us in a similar manner to the west and north. Our flanks are well protected by the two rivers, which are tidal, very wide in parts, and difficult to cross, except at one or two places on the Crouch, which we shall make special arrangements to defend. Moreover—with the exception of Canewdon, which we have already occupied—there is no elevated ground within miles of them which would offer good positions from which the enemy might fire into the ground we occupy between them.
“So much for the military portion of our programme. Now for the part allotted to the Navy. As I have told you, we had eight warships as our convoy, not counting destroyers, etc. These were the eight little armour-clads of the “Ægir” class, drawing only 18 ft. of water and carrying three 9.4 guns apiece, besides smaller ones. The Ægir and Odin are operating in the rivers on our flanks as far as they are able. The remaining six are busy, three at the entrance of each river, laying down mine-fields and other obstacles to protect us from any inroad on the part of the British Navy, and arranging for passing through the store-ships, which we expect to-night or to-morrow morning from various German and Dutch ports, with the provisions, stores, and ammunition for the use of the Northern Army Corps, when they have penetrated sufficiently far to the south to get into touch with us. Except by these rivers, I do not think that the English naval commanders can get at us.
“What are known as the Dengie Flats extend for three miles seaward, all along the coast between the mouths of the two rivers, and broken marshy land extends for three miles more inland. Their big ships would have to lie at least seven or eight miles distant from our headquarters and store depôt, which we intend to establish at Southminster, and even if they were so foolish as to waste their ammunition in trying to damage us with their big guns firing at high elevations, they would never succeed in doing us any harm. I believe that the squadron of older battleships that escorted the 108th to Southend have orders to mine the mouth of the Thames, cover the mine-field with their guns as long as they can before being overpowered, and incidentally to try and capture Shoeburyness and destroy or bring off what guns they may find there. But this is not really in our particular section of the operations.
“But to return to my own experiences. I told you that Prince Henry and his staff had arrived at Steeple Hill, and that the signallers had got through to the other division that had landed at Bradwell. This was soon after nine o’clock. Not long afterwards the advanced guard of one of the Jäeger battalions, with their smart glazed shakoes, having the black plumes tied back over the left ear, and looking very workmanlike in their green red-piped tunics, came swinging along the road between St. Lawrence and the village of Steeple. They had some of their war-dogs with them in leashes. They were on their way to reinforce the 3rd Marine Battalion, which by this time we trusted had occupied Maldon and cut off all communication with the interior. They had a good nine miles before them. The Prince looked at his watch. ‘If they’re there before noon it’s as much as we can expect,’ he said. ‘Go and see if they are coming up from Burnham now,’ he added, turning sharply to me. Away I went at a gallop till I struck the main road out of Southminster. Here I just headed off the 1st Battalion of the 101st Grenadiers. Its Colonel informed me that the whole regiment was ashore and that the other two battalions were following close behind. When they left Burnham the three battalions of the 100th Body Grenadiers had nearly completed their disembarkation, and the horses of the Garde Reiter Regiment and the 17th Uhlans were being hoisted out by means of the big spritsail yards of the barges lying alongside the quays. The landing pontoons had been greatly augmented and improved during the last hour or two, and the disembarkation was proceeding more and more quickly. They had got two of the batteries of the 1st Brigade Division landed as well as the guns belonging to the Horse Artillery, but they were waiting for the horses. The Prince signalled to the officer superintending the disembarkation at Burnham to send forward the cavalry and horse artillery by batteries and squadrons as soon as they could be mounted.
“Nothing could be done in the meantime but trust that the marines had been successful in occupying Maldon and in stopping any news of our presence from leaking out to Colchester. Presently, however, the signallers reported communication with a new signal station established by the Jäegers zu Pferde on Kit’s Hill, an eminence about six miles to the south-west. The officer in command of the troop reported: ‘Have cut line at Wickham Ferrers. Captured train of eight coaches coming from Maldon, and have shunted it on to line to Burnham.’ Prince Henry signalled back: ‘Despatch train to Burnham’; and then also signalled to O.C. 23 Division at Burnham: ‘Expect train of eight coaches at once. Entrain as many infantry as it will hold, and send them to Maldon with the utmost despatch.’
“While these signals were passing, I was employed in taking a careful survey with my glasses. This is what I saw, looking from right to left. The green and white lance pennons of a detachment of the hussars belonging to the 32nd Division came fluttering round the shoulder of the hill topped by the grey tower of St. Lawrence. Immediately below us a Jäeger battalion was winding through Steeple Village like a dark green snake. Away to my left front the helmets of the 101st Grenadier Regiment twinkled over the black masses of its three battalions as they wound downhill towards the village of Latchingdon, lying in a tree-shrouded hollow. Maldon was more distinct now, but there was nothing to indicate the presence of our men, though not so very far down the river the lofty mast of the Ægir, with its three military tops, was distinguishable over a line of willows. As I lowered my field-glasses the Prince beckoned me. ‘Von Pabst,’ ordered he, as I raised my hand to the salute, ‘take half a dozen troopers, ride to Maldon, and report to me the situation there. I shall be at Latchingdon,’ added he, indicating its position on the map, ‘or possibly on the road between that and Maldon.’
“Followed by my six Jäegers in their big copper helmets, I dashed away on my mission, and before long was nearing my destination. Maldon perched on its knoll, with its three church towers and gabled houses, brought to my mind one of the old engravings of sixteenth-century cities by Merian. Nothing indicated the approach of war till we were challenged by a sentry, who stepped from behind a house at the entrance to a straggling street. We trotted on till just about to turn in the main street, when ‘bang’ went a straggling volley from the right. Shot after shot replied, and this told me that our marines had arrived. Then a score of khaki-clad men ran across the entrance of the side street up which we were approaching. ‘The English at last!’ thought I. It was too late to turn back. One or two of the enemy had caught sight of us as they rushed by, though most of them were too busily engaged in front to observe us. So with a shout of ‘Vorwarts!’ I stuck in my spurs, and with my six troopers charged into the middle of them, though I had no idea of how many there might be up the street. There was a tremendous clatter and banging of rifles. I cut down one fellow who ran his bayonet into my wallet. At the same time I heard a loud German ‘Hoch!’ from our right, and caught sight of a body of marines coming up the street at the double. It was all over in a moment. There were not more than thirty ‘khakis’ all told. Half a dozen lay dead or wounded on the ground, some disappeared up side alleys, and others were made prisoners by the marines. It appeared afterwards that on the first boat-load landing, about an hour previously, the alarm had reached a local Volunteer officer, who had managed to collect some of his men and get them into uniform. He then made the foolish attack on our troops which had ended in so unsatisfactory a manner for him. He, poor fellow, lay spitting blood on the kerbstone. The colonel of marines appeared a moment later, and at once gave orders for the Mayor of Maldon to be brought before him.”
The letter ended abruptly, the German officer’s intention being no doubt to give some further details of the operations before despatching it to his friend in Darmstadt. But it remained unfinished, for its writer lay already in his grave.