Chapter V: Part 5

A very anxious day ensued. At 6 A.M. the Cheshires were invaded in front and flank by a surprise attack of the enemy in great force, and had to fall back towards Rue du Marais, losing heavily. Some Dorsets (who had been for the last three days at Stink Farm and were sent as a support to the 13th Brigade) were supporting them, but they could not do much, and they also lost a number of men. From what I could gather, the Cheshires had been digging in the dark round the southern and eastern flank of the village, and had their sentries out, but apparently not quite far enough out for such thick weather, and when the Germans appeared rushing through the fog they were taken at a disadvantage, for they had cast their equipment in order to dig, and the covering party was quickly cut down.

This, at all events, was what I made out from the surviving officers, of whom one, 2nd Lieut. Pogson, was the senior. Mahony and Rich, fighting gallantly, had been killed, and Shore wounded and taken prisoner. About 200 men were also killed and wounded out of about 600, and a good many of the Bedfords with them, including poor Coventry (late Transport officer) killed.

At 8.30 A.M. I was ordered to send my three companies of Bedfords from Givenchy to St Roch, to support the 13th Brigade, who were hanging on about Rue du Marais. But, besides thus depriving me of my only reserve, these companies had great difficulty in getting to their places, as the country over which they had to pass was heavily shelled by the enemy, and they took a long time getting there.

I heard that the combined 13th and 14th Brigades were to make a counter-attack on Rue du Marais in the afternoon, and this was certainly attempted. But owing to the mix-up of their battalions in the enclosed country it was impossible to arrange a combined movement under the heavy fire, and it was eventually given up--merely confused fighting taking place during the afternoon. It was, however, sufficient to stop the Germans for the time being. One reason for the difficulty--as I afterwards heard--was that the officer temporarily commanding the 13th Brigade had, by some mischance, got stuck right in the firing line with his staff and signal section, and could not be got at, nor could he move himself or issue orders,--a useful though unhappy warning to Brigadiers.

I moved with the Brigade Staff from my house at Givenchy to another house about 600 yards west of Festubert, so as to be more behind the centre of my Brigade.

During the night, in pursuance of orders from the Division, we fell back on to a somewhat undefined line of defence covering the front of Festubert-Givenchy, and proceeded to dig ourselves in along a line entirely in the open fields, and very visible, I fear, to the enemy. Some battalions could not get sufficient tools, and were not half dug in by daylight. However, the Germans must have suffered considerably themselves, for they did not attack us in the morning, although their Field Artillery kept up a heavy shrapnel fire. The West Ridings (13th Brigade) were put under my orders.

_Oct. 23rd._

We were shelled all the morning, but had no serious casualties.

My Brigade now consisted of the Devons (14th Brigade), West Ridings (13th Brigade), and the Norfolks (15th Brigade). The remains of the Cheshires and Dorsets were withdrawn and put into the Rue de Béthune hamlet in rear of Festubert, under orders of the 13th Brigade as their reserve, whilst the Bedfords were attached to, I think, the 14th Brigade, somewhere Quinque Rue way. It was a glorious jumble, and what happened to the rest of the 13th Brigade I do not know. I believe they combined in some way with the 14th, but I know that two days afterwards the Brigadier was left with only one fighting battalion, the West Kents, I think.

However, my command was shortly increased considerably by the arrival of Commandant Blanchard with the 2nd Battalion of the 70th Infanterie de Ligne (Regulars). Blanchard was a good solid man, and I put him to hold Givenchy in conjunction with the Devons, who were now occupying the Bedford trenches there. The French on the right of the 70th gave us acute reason for anxiety by retiring calmly from their trenches when they were shelled; but it was only their way, for half an hour afterwards they trotted back into them quite happily, much to the relief of the Devons and their exposed flank.

I rode down to Givenchy in the afternoon to see Blanchard and make arrangements for holding the village, and here I met Williams (now commanding the Devons since his C.O., Gloster, had been hit two days before, not very seriously) and talked matters over with him.

We expected a night attack, and were certainly not in a strong position to resist it. Had we been driven in we should have been jammed into the swamp in rear, between the Canal and the Gorre-Festubert road, which would have been extremely unpleasant. So I issued orders to hold tight at all costs, besides secret orders to certain C.O.'s as to what they were to do if we were badly mauled and had to fall back.

Luckily no attack took place, and we had a fairly quiet night.

_Oct. 24th._

At 7 A.M. I received the encouraging news (from the 2nd corps) that we were going to be heavily attacked to-day, and what certainly gave colour to it was the arrival of a large number of Black Marias during breakfast, which exploded within an unpleasantly narrow radius of our house. It is quite conceivable that the position of our Headquarters had been given away by some spy. Anyhow, it looked like it, and we decamped at 9.30 to a cottage half a mile back. Perhaps it is as well that we did so, for at 9.40 a big shell arrived through the roof and exploded in my late bedroom, tearing out the corner of the house wall and wrecking the stable; whilst nearly at the same moment another shell completely wrecked the house just opposite, where Ballard (commanding 15th Brigade R.F.A.) had been spending the night. He also had cleared out about an hour before.

Before I went I sent my senior officer, Ballard (Norfolks), down to Givenchy to take local command over the French and English troops there, and am glad I did so, for it introduced unity of command and satisfaction. The Devons down there were meanwhile getting exhausted after their long spell in the trenches; but I had no troops to relieve them with, nor any reserve.

The "attack" did not materialize, and we had a fairly quiet afternoon, the Germans limiting their activities to digging themselves in and sniping perpetually.

It was an extraordinarily warm day, and we sat in the cottage with windows and doors wide open till long after dark. An attack was made about 10 P.M. on the French the other side of the Canal, but it was too far off to interest us much.

_Oct. 25th._

Another lovely warm day of Indian summer. Also of many shells, some falling pretty close to our cottage. The Germans were seen making splendid use of the folds in the ground for driving saps and connecting up their heads into trenches getting nearer and nearer to our lines. And we could do nothing but shell them and snipe them as best we could, but with little result, for artillery observation-posts were almost impossible, and snap-shooting at an occasional head or shovel appearing above ground produced but small results.

Three French batteries arrived during the morning and were put under Blanchard's orders in the swampy wood behind Givenchy. Some spasmodic attacks occurred on the trenches east of the village, and the French lost rather heavily; for the Germans got into some of their evacuated trenches and killed the wounded there. A speedy counter-attack, however, drove them out again. The Devons lost two officers (Besley and Quick) and ten men killed and thirty-eight wounded.

At 4.50 P.M. I got a message saying large columns of the enemy had been seen by the French issuing from La Bassée and Violaines, and I was ordered peremptorily to be ready to counter-attack at once, with my whole force if required.

Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien arrived alone an hour or so afterwards, and I pointed out our situation to him; he entirely concurred in my view, and heartened me up considerably by quite recognising the state of affairs and congratulating us, and especially the Devons, on sticking it out so well.

Maynard (Major in the Devons) arrived about midnight and took over command of the battalion, he having been on the staff of the 2nd Corps.

_Oct. 26th._

Next morning I rode out again to Givenchy to see Ballard and my fresh French troops; for the 6/285th (Captain Gigot), the 5/290th (Commandant Ferracci--a typical little Corsican and a good soldier), and a squadron of Chasseurs à Cheval had arrived to strengthen us, besides the three batteries aforesaid (under Commandant Menuan). The 2/70th (now under Captain de Ferron) and the 6/295th (lately under Baron d'Oullenbourg, now wounded; I have, I fear, forgotten his successor's name) were, of course, also under me; so I had a nice little command now of three English and four French battalions, four English and three French batteries, and a French squadron. St André as liaison officer was of the greatest possible use to me, being both tactful and suggestive as to dealing with my new command, and keeping up splendid communication.

I then relieved the Devons by the 6/295th--and well they deserved it after their bad time for the last week,--and put the 296th in reserve at various points during the night, sending the Devons as reserve to the Norfolks and West Ridings at Les Plantins, between Givenchy and Festubert.

There was practically no shelling at all during the whole day--I wonder why; nor did the enemy make any movement. But we heard of their bringing big guns on to the rising ground at Billy and Haisnes, to the south of La Bassée, and tried to "find" them with our howitzers and heavy artillery battery.

_Oct. 27th._

The reliefs were not finished till 2.30 A.M.--largely owing to some idiots, French or English, loosing off their rifles as they left the trench, which brought a heavy fire on us from the enemy and delayed matters for a long time. It was also not easy--although we had made elaborate and detailed arrangements--to relieve British by French troops in pitch darkness, for, interpreters being scarce, they could not understand each other when they met.

We heard that there was an attack on the 14th Brigade on our left about 1 A.M., and that 200 Germans had got in behind the K.O.Y.L.I. and were still there; what happened to them I do not know. The 7th Brigade, on the left of the 14th, had also been driven in, and the 14th Brigade received orders to make a counter-attack in the evening, with the Devons held ready to help them if required.

During the day one Captain Pigeonne and his batch of gendarmerie arrived, with orders to clear Festubert of its civilian inhabitants. This was necessary, as the Germans were pretty close up to it and there were undoubtedly spies, and even snipers were reported in and about the village. But hardly any people were found except the lunatic inhabitants of a small asylum, together with their staff, who had stayed there, both men and women, most devotedly for the last week, with practically nothing to eat in the whole place. The inhabitants were ordered to clear out, and some of them did. But others hid, and yet others crept back again by night, so the result was practically _nil_. One poor old woman was hunted out three times, but she returned yet once more, piteously saying that she had nowhere to go to, and wanted to die in her own house.

During the evening General Joubert, commanding the 58th Brigade, arrived with orders to take over command of all French troops north of the Canal. So my international command had not lasted long. But they sent me a liaison N.C.O. of their artillery--a most intelligent man with a yellow beard--and I was still allowed to call on the French batteries for assistance whenever I needed them.

_Oct. 28th._

Joubert was a typical French General, white-moustached, short, courteous, gallant, and altogether charming and practical, and I went again to see and consult him next morning at Givenchy, cantering through the swampy woods at the back, where most of our seven batteries were posted under excellent cover. I also, before going to bid him adieu, had written him what I thought was a charming letter, congratulating him on the "galanterie de ses troupes." Alas, St André was out when I wrote the letter, or probably I should have expressed it differently; I hear it was subsequently published in orders, but I trust it was edited first!

The night had been extraordinarily quiet, and after my visit to Joubert the situation was so peaceful that I walked back a bit to inspect a third line of trenches that were being dug by civilians and spare troops under R.E. supervision. I was not much edified at the portion that the 15th Brigade had been told off to, for it was within 150 yards of a bunch of houses in front, under cover of which the Germans could have come up quite close; and if they had put a selection of their snipers into them, we should have had a poor time. But I quite allow that I was at a loss, owing to the awkward ground, to suggest anything better. We had also a mile of front to cover, with three weak battalions and a difficult line, whilst the four French battalions had been allotted altogether only half a mile of excellent natural trenches behind the Canal, or rather behind a broad water-ditch which ran into the Canal.

The 2nd Manchesters, under Strickland,[13] late of the Norfolks, a first-rate battalion just arrived from India, had now been attached to the 14th Brigade--where their own 1st battalion were also--and had had very heavy fighting during the last few days just north of Festubert. The Devons were therefore sent to relieve them,--rather rough on them after barely forty-eight hours out of the trenches.

[Footnote 13: Who had been with me as a Major in Belfast--a
most capable officer, now (1917) commanding a Division.]

_Oct. 29th._

We had an extraordinarily quiet night--a full eight hours' sleep without any disturbance,--and we were consequently feeling much fitter. But the ball began full early by a violent attack on the Devons at dawn, and another at 7 on the 2nd Manchesters, both hard pressed, but both repulsed--the Manchesters, who were short of ammunition, getting well in with the bayonet.

I sent one company of the Norfolks to support the Devons, but I could barely afford even that. The enemy was entrenching within 200 to 400 yards of all my battalions, pushing out saps from their trenches along the ditches and folds of the ground, and connecting up their heads in a most ingenious and hidden manner. The French were not attacked, so they sent a couple of companies at my request to Les Plantins, behind the Norfolks. However, after another attack between 9 and 10 A.M. the Germans dried up for the present.

We knew that the Indian Divisions from Lahore and Meerut were shortly coming to strengthen this part of the line, and I was therefore not surprised to hear that Macbean, commanding one of their Brigades, wanted to see Martyn[14] and me about the relief of our respective Brigades. This was distinctly satisfactory from our point of view; but I was not entirely happy, for I was very doubtful how far these untried Indian troops would stand up to what was evidently going to be a very difficult situation if the Germans went on attacking as they had been doing. Fresh troops, it is true. But they had had no experience of this sort of fighting, nor of trenches, nor of cold wet weather: and they were going to have all three.

[Footnote 14: Temporarily commanding 13th Brigade.]

The relief of the West Ridings by the Black Watch battalion of the Indian Division was carried out on the same evening. The relief of the Bedfords, Cheshires, and Dorsets was also arranged for, but the Norfolks could not be relieved till the morrow. The 2nd Manchesters were relieved, however, by the 2/8th Gurkhas, who looked very much out of place with their big hats and tiny, sturdy Mongolian physique.

_Oct. 30th._

After a very quiet night--except for French guns which started shelling heavily about 4 A.M., and kept us awake till daylight--we had another unpleasant day.

There were repeated attacks on the Devons and Gurkhas all day, and at 3 P.M. Maynard reported that the Gurkhas had lost all their British officers and were being driven out of their trenches, and that support was badly wanted.

The first story about the Gurkhas was that they had come to an end of their ammunition and were fighting with the bayonet, but were driven back by superior numbers. But it turned out later that they lost very heavily from shell fire, and, the trenches being too deep for the little men, they could produce no effect with their rifles, and could see nothing. So, having lost all their English officers, and being bewildered by the heavy fire and totally new conditions, and having no chance of getting in with the bayonet, they cleared out one by one, so as to get together into formation. The Devons' last man was in the firing line by this time, and so two Bedford companies and the West Ridings, no longer under my command, were ordered to retake some Gurkha trenches, into which the Germans had already penetrated, alongside ours.

It was frightfully difficult to make out what was happening, as not only were our troops in process of being relieved by the Indians, but there was very heavy fire as well on all our supports and on the roads leading up to the trenches, so that communication was all but impossible, most telephone wires having been broken long ago and found impossible to repair under such fire.

The 58th (Wilde's) Rifles had arrived, and were by way of relieving the Norfolks; but owing to this attack they were deflected in rear of the Devons. Then we were called on to send two companies to support the Devons. But, considering that they now had already two Bedford companies, four of West Ridings, and four of the 58th Rifles, to support them in enclosed country where they could hardly move, and that to weaken my already very thin line of Norfolks and Black Watch meant leaving me no supports at all, I respectfully protested, and gained my point.

Elaborate arrangements were made by the authorities for retaking the lost trenches by the Bedfords, &c., at nightfall; then the movement was deferred till 1.30 A.M., and then till dawn; but nothing happened at all during the night except occasional fire-bursts, which sounded like general attacks.

I might mention that during these "quiet" nights there were numerous fire-bursts at intervals, which used to bring me out of, or rather off, my bed three or four times a night, for the sentry on our cottage had strict orders to call me in case anything alarming occurred in our front. But they always slacked off after 5 or 10 minutes of my waiting in the cold, wet, muddy road, and I crept to bed again till the next one woke me.

It was a tiny cottage that we lived in during those days, belonging to a poor woman who, with her child, had been turned out by some one else and sent to another house half a mile off. She was perpetually coming back and weeping to be readmitted, but there really was not room, and we had to soothe her with promises, and eventually with cash in order to get rid of her. After all, she was living with her friends, though doubtless they were a bit crowded, and she returned to her cottage when we left it.

Everything in that country was mud, thick clay mud, black and greasy, and the country flat and hideous. And it rained perpetually and was getting beastly cold. Altogether it was a nightmare of a place, even without the fighting thrown in, and we prayed to be delivered from it, and go and fight somewhere else.

Our prayers were destined to be answered, for on this morning we were ordered, in spite of the desultory fighting going on, to hand over to Macbean's Brigade and go north. This only meant the Brigade Staff, two companies Bedfords, and about 300 Cheshires and 300 Dorsets who had been in reserve to the 14th Brigade; but they were not in a very happy condition, for they had hardly any officers left and had been extremely uncomfortable for the last week, being hauled out of their barns on most nights and made to sleep in the wet open as supports in case of attack.

Our orders were, together with the 15th R.F.A. Brigade, to move north and concentrate near Strazeele and Pradelles, where we were to go into rest for five or six days.

I knew those rests.

So after handing over to Macbean at 10.30 A.M., and talking to General Anderson (commanding the Indian Division) and the Maharajah of Bikanir,[15] we made devoutly thankful tracks in the direction of Locon and Merville.

[Footnote 15: I was struck with his wonderful command of
English--not the trace of any accent.]

We were but a small part of the 15th Brigade after all who left the environs of Festubert on that morning--only Headquarters, a very weak battalion of Cheshires--not more than 300 all told--and two companies of Bedfords. The remains of the Dorsets had been ordered to join us about Strazeele, and the whole of the Norfolks and half the Bedfords were left in the trenches to give a bit of moral and physical support to the Indians. I did not at all like being parted from them, but there was no help for it. The West Ridings (Duke of Wellington's) were attached to me from the 13th Brigade, but that did not make up for the absence of one and a half of my own beloved battalions.

Nevertheless it was with a feeling of extreme thankfulness that we left the horrible mud-plain of Festubert and Givenchy, with its cold wet climate and its swampy surroundings and its dismal memories, for both Dorsets and Cheshires had suffered terribly in the fighting here. And the pleasantest feeling was to hear the noise of the bursting shells grow less and ever less as we worked north-westwards, and to realise that for the present, at all events, we need not worry about Jack Johnsons or Black Marias and all their numerous smaller brethren, nor to keep our attention on the tense strain for bad news from the firing trenches, but that we could, for several days to come, sleep quietly, not fully dressed and on our beds or straw with one eye on the wake all night, but in our blessed beds and in our still more beloved pyjamas.

We trotted on ahead over the cold, wet, muddy, level roads of those parts, with a welcome break for luncheon at a real live estaminet, till we got to Merville, and then we slowed down.

Merville is a nice prosperous little town, with canals and parks and a distinctly good modern statue of a French soldier in the middle--by whom, and of whom, I have forgotten. It was, oddly enough, almost like an extra-European bit of civilisation, for the streets were swarming with Indians and Africans of both armies--tall, solemn, handsome Sikhs and Rajputs in khaki; Spahis, Algerians, and Moors in every variety of kit--red jackets, cummerbunds, and baggy breeches, bright blue jackets, white breeches, blue breeches, khaki breeches, dark blue _vareuses_, white burnouses, Arab corded turbans, baggy crimson trousers, &c., &c., even to Senegalese as black as night, and Berbers from Mauritania and the Atlas. I tried to talk to some of the latter, but it was not a success, for they did not understand my Arabic, and I did not understand their Shlukh.

And so on _viâ_ Strazeele--where Saunders and his Dorsets had already arrived--contentedly to Pradelles, in which neighbourhood we billeted, and were met by a staff officer, Cameron of the 5th Divisional Staff, who gave us the welcome news that we were to rest and recuperate for at least a week--really and truly this time.

We put up at a nice, bright, ugly little château belonging to an elderly lady who was most civil and told us stories of what the Germans had done when they passed through a week or two ago on their retreat eastwards. Amongst other abominations, they had, on arrival, demanded of the old curé the key of the church tower, on which they wished to put a Maxim. The old man, not having the key, had hobbled off to get it from the garde champêtre, who happened to be in possession of it for the time being. He could not, however, find him, and the officer in command, being in a diabolical temper, put the poor old priest up against a wall and shot him dead on the spot. This was recounted by the curé's sister, and there was not a shadow of doubt on the matter, for it was confirmed by all.

_Oct. 31st._

Next day was a clear bright Sunday, and before we had come down to breakfast, looking forward to a nice lazy day, we were ordered to send the Dorsets away in motor-buses to Wulverghem (opposite Messines), where heavy fighting was going on. So much for our promised week's rest! And before 11 o'clock we had received another urgent telegram telling us to fall in at once and march eastwards through Bailleul.

I was deputed to command the whole of the remaining troops of the Division on this march, and by a complicated series of moves from their billets we got them strung out on the road, and pushed on by 12.30. The troops were mostly artillery, engineers, and train, and the only other infantry that joined me were the West Kent, now under their own C.O., Martyn.

Other troops were also on the move through Bailleul, and we had a weary time of it getting through. It was dark before we had filed through the big market-square with its old brick church tower and Town Hall; and even then, though billets had been arranged for in the country beyond for the rest of the troops, we had the devil's own job before our own headquarters could find a resting-place. We wanted to put up at Dranoutre village, but the village was full of the 3rd Cavalry Brigade, and we should have been in front of our own lot; so after a depressing wait in a tiny pothouse near Dranoutre, whilst St André and Weatherby and Moulton-Barrett scoured the country, we eventually settled down in a little farmhouse at Hille, a few hundred yards inside the Belgian border. Not so bad, but tiny, and crowded with not only the proprietor and his numerous family, but with a number of refugees from further east. My own bedroom was about 6 feet square and full of stinking old clothes, but I was lucky to get one at all.

It seemed curious being amongst inhabitants many of whom understood no French, but only talked Wallon or Flemish. I found my reminiscences of the South African Taal came in quite usefully; but the best communicators were the Lowland Scots, who, thanks to their own strange dialect, managed to make themselves quite decently understood by the natives.

Here we stayed for a few days--to be accurate, until the morning of the 5th November. My own "outfit" consisted of the West Kent, Cheshires, and two companies Bedfords, and the West Ridings were subsequently added. At one period I was given the K.O.S.B.'s as well, who were in Neuve Église; but they were taken away from me on the same day, and so were the West Kent. There was, in fact, a glorious jumble, battalions and batteries being added and taken away as the circumstances demanded. Even the two companies Bedfords were spirited away for forty-eight hours, leaving me with the decimated Cheshires as the only representatives of the 15th Brigade, but with two battalions of the 13th and one of the 14th superadded, as well as an R.E. company (17th). Meanwhile the 5th Divisional Staff was stranded and almost troopless, for all the other battalions of the Division were scattered among other divisions--some even under the command of the Cavalry Division; and guns were pushed up, almost piecemeal, as they were wanted, to help in the attempt to retake Messines, out of which our cavalry had been driven some days before. French troops were also there, in lumps. One morning the country would be brilliant with the white horses, sky-blue tunics and red trousers, of the Chasseurs d'Afrique, and the roads impassable with French infantry and transport moving towards Ypres; and by the next evening nothing but khaki-clad British were seen, besides patches of Belgian infantry, largely stragglers and mostly unarmed.

Meanwhile rumours of desperate fighting up north came through--the critical time when the 7th Division stuck heroically to their crippled trenches and withstood the ponderous attacks of the German masses; but it was difficult to make out what was occurring, for one only gathered bits of news here and there and could not piece them together as a whole, for the links were missing.

On the 4th November we received orders that Sir Horace would inspect us on the following morning, and we made preparations to turn out as clean as we could in the ever-prevailing mud. But in the evening more important work was at hand, for we were notified to be ready to march on the following morning to Ypres. So the inspection fell through.

The idea was that we--that is, two companies Bedfords (450 men), Cheshires (550), and West Ridings (700)--were to combine as the 15th Brigade with M'Cracken's 7th Brigade (Wiltshires, Gordons, Irish Rifles, and another battalion), and go to relieve the 7th Division, which had, we heard, been getting some terrific knocks. With us were to go the two R.E. companies, the 17th and 59th, belonging to the 5th Division.

_Nov. 5th._

We marched at 7.20 A.M. _viâ_ Locre and Dickebusch, on the main Bailleul-Ypres road, passing through many French troops on the way. Not far on the other side of Dickebusch we heard that the road was being shelled by the enemy; so M'Cracken ordered the whole force to park in the fields some distance down a road to the west, whilst he went on to Ypres for instructions.

We had our midday meal whilst we waited there, but it was not pleasant for the men, for the fields were dripping wet and very muddy; they had, therefore, to sit on their kits, whilst the transport had to remain on the road, the fields being so deep.

McCracken came back at 3.30 P.M. with instructions, and we moved on, myself being in charge of the movement. We managed to get to Ypres all right along the main road, as the shells were rather diminishing and not reaching so far, and we pushed through the town, entering it by a bridge over the nearly dry canal. Why the Germans had not shot this bridge to pieces before I cannot imagine, as it was well within their range. There were numerous big shell-holes in the open space near the railway station; one or two houses were smouldering; there were heaps of bricks and stones from damaged houses in the streets, and the extreme roof corner of the Cloth Hall had been knocked off, but otherwise the town was fairly normal-looking, except, of course, that hardly any civilians were visible.

At the other end of the town I came across General Haig, and rode ahead with him down the Menin road as far as the village of Hooge, where the Headquarters of the 1st Division were, under General Landon. (He had succeeded General Lomax, who had been badly wounded by a shell exploding at his headquarters, and subsequently died, 15th April.) Here we had a cup of tea in a dirty little estaminet crowded with Staff officers whilst awaiting the arrival of the Brigade.

No part of this Menin road was, in fact, "healthy," and at night it was generally subject to a searching fire by German shells. The wonder, indeed, was that more casualties did not occur here, for after dark the road was packed with transport and ration and ambulance parties moving slowly and silently back and forth. But the hostile shelling was not accurate, and for one "crumper" that burst in or over the road twenty exploded in the fields alongside.

Only a day or two before, a couple of heavy shells had burst just outside General Haig's Headquarters at the entrance to Ypres. Luckily the General himself had just left, but poor "Conky" Marker of the Coldstream had been fatally wounded, and several other officers, signallers, and clerks had been killed.

My Brigade arrived in the dark by the time that I had received further instructions in detail, and was parked off the road (south side) half a mile further on, whilst Weatherby went on to make arrangements for their taking up the line, taking representatives of the battalions with him. I met General Capper (commanding 7th Division) at his dug-out in the wood close by, and he told me that his Division had been reduced to barely 3000 men and a very few officers, after an appalling amount of severe fighting.

Weatherby came back after a time, and the battalions and ourselves moved off along the road and branched off into the grounds of Herenthage Château--deep mud, broken trees, and hardly rideable. Here we bade adieu to our horses, who were, with the transport, to stay in the same place where we had had our dinners, right the other side of Ypres and out of shell-range, whilst we kept a few ammunition-carts and horses hidden near Hooge village. All the rest of our supplies and stuff had to be brought up every night under cover of darkness to near Herenthage, and there be unloaded and carried by hand into the trenches.

In the château itself who should we come across but Drysdale,[16] Brigade-Major now of the 22nd Brigade, the one which, by the law of chances, we were now relieving; and, still more oddly, the other battalion (2nd) of the Bedfords was in his Brigade. It was a cheerless place, this château--every single pane of glass in it shivered, and lying, crunched at our every step, on the floor.

[Footnote 16: My late Brigade-Major at Belfast, now, alas!
killed (on the Somme, 1916).]

We pushed on over the grass of the park, through the scattered trees, and into the wood, and so into the trenches. Even then, as far as one could judge in the darkness, the ground was a regular rabbit-warren. By the time we had finished with the district the ground was even more so; there seemed to be more trenches and fallen trees and wire entanglements than there was level ground to walk on.

Our own Headquarters were in a poky little dug-out[17] in a wood, not 200 yards from our firing trenches. There was just room for two--Weatherby and St André (Moulton-Barrett having gone to settle about transport and supplies, Cadell being away sick, and Beilby being left with the transport the other side of Ypres)--to lie down in it, and there was a little tunnel out of it, 6 feet long and 2 broad and 2 high, into which I crept and where I slept; but I was not very happy in it, as the roof-logs had sagged with the weight of the earth on them, and threatened every moment to fall in whilst I was inside.

[Footnote 17: Really only a half roofed-in little trench,
marked H on the map.]

The Bedfords were put into the trenches on the eastern edge of the wood, the Cheshires continued the line to the south and for a couple of hundred yards outside the wood, and the West Ridings were in reserve at the back of the wood, in rear of our dug-out.

I did not like our place at all, for it seemed to me that, being so close to the firing line, I should not be able to get out or control the little force if there were heavy operations on; and this was exactly what did happen.

We had been told that the 6th Cavalry Brigade was in trenches on our left, and the 7th Infantry Brigade in ditto on our right, and that was about all we knew of the situation.

_Nov. 6th._

Next morning there was a thick mist till 10 A.M., and I took advantage of it to visit the trenches in detail. The left of the Cheshires was within 40 yards of the enemy, who were hidden in the wood in front of them, so, there being no communication trenches, we had to be fairly careful hereabouts. But it was desperately difficult to make one's way about, what with the fallen trees and telephone wires, and little patches of open ground on the slopes, and long, wet, yellow grass and tangled heather in parts, not to mention the criss-cross of trenches, occupied and unoccupied, in all directions. Difficult enough to find one's way in daylight, it was infinitely worse in pitch darkness. No wonder that our reliefs had not been accomplished till nearly 3 o'clock that morning!

We were shelled pretty heavily all the morning, and two of the shells burst so close that they covered us with dirt. Two officers--Langdale and O'Kelly, of the West Ridings--had their legs broken by their dug-out being blown in upon them, and three Cheshires were buried by an exploding shell and dug out dead. Another dozen were killed or wounded in their trenches, which were nothing like deep enough, and could not be further deepened because of the water which lay there only just below the ground. About twenty Cheshires were moved back to escape the shell fire, and taken to a rather less-exposed place. At 4.30 the Bedfords reported a heavy attack on their front; but it was confined to rifle fire, and nothing serious happened there.

The remainder of the Bedfords, under Griffith, consisting of two strong companies, turned up at 6 P.M., and the West Ridings were taken away from me, so that my command was now reduced to two battalions, one rather strong (1100--just reinforced by a big fresh draft), and the other, Cheshires, only about half that number.

On further consideration of the situation, I settled to make Brigade Headquarters at the Beukenhorst Château,[18] half a mile farther back, and started the R.E. and a strange fatigue party to dig a funk-hole for us in front of it in case it were badly shelled; but I remember as a particular grievance that when the foreign fatigue party heard they were to go somewhere else, they went off, leaving their work half undone, and with our Brigade tools, though I had given them distinct orders to do neither of these things. But they were now out of my jurisdiction, so nothing could be done except to send them a message to return our tools--which they never did.

[Footnote 18: "Stirling Castle" on our present maps.]

Moulton-Barrett turned up in the afternoon with a basket of cold food for us, and took St André away; it was not the least necessary for him to stay, as the dug-out was really only big enough for two, so Weatherby and I settled down for the night. We had wanted to move into the château at 7 P.M., but we could not. For it was not advisable as long as an attack was imminent; also, M. B. had not got our message of that morning saying we wanted him to clean up the château for us; and thirdly, the Bedford relief was taking place. So we settled to move next day instead.

But it was not very attractive living in the tiny dug-out. We had no servants, we had to prepare our own food and wash up afterwards; it was frightfully cramped, and we were always getting half-empty sardine-tins oozing over official documents, and knives and forks lost in the mud and straw at the bottom, and bread-crumbs and fragments of bully beef and jam mixed up with our orders and papers; and it was not at all healthy going for a stroll as long as the sun was up because of the bullets and shells fizzing about. Altogether, although it was no worse, except as regards size, than other dug-outs, it was not luxurious; and as for washing, a little water in the bottom of a biscuit-tin was about all we could manage, whilst a shave was a matter of pain and difficulty.

_Nov. 7th._

We had now come under the 3rd Division (under General Wing temporarily--a very good and charming fellow, a gunner, who had taken over General Hubert Hamilton's command, the latter having been killed, I forgot to mention, some time previously), whilst the 9th Brigade had relieved the 6th Cavalry on the previous day. The Division, therefore, now consisted of the 7th, 15th, and 9th Brigades (the latter comprising the Northumberland Fusiliers, Royal Fusiliers, Lincolns, and Scots Fusiliers)--in that order from right to left. It looked, therefore, as if we ought to be soon relieved by the 8th Brigade and return to our own Division. Vain hope! We were not destined to be relieved for another fortnight.

There was a good deal of shelling of the 9th Brigade during the morning, but we personally had not many shells into us, and were fairly quiet till past 2 o'clock.

Suddenly, about 3, a hellish hostile fire broke out in the wood--not in our front, but close on our left. A hail of bullets whizzed over our heads, responded to by our fire trenches; and then, to our horror, we saw our Bedford supports, to our left front, retiring slowly, but in some confusion, on top of us--many of the men only half-dressed, and buckling on their kits as they moved. We jumped out of our dug-out, and with the assistance of their officers stopped and rallied them. They were certainly not running, and were in no sort of panic; but they all said that the word had been passed from the right front that the Bedfords were to retire, so they had done so--half of them being asleep or feeding at the time the fire began.

We made them advance again, which they were more than willing to do, and then there was a cheer from the Bedfords in front. Upon which the supports pricked up their ears, rallied to the sound, and charged forward like hounds rallying to the horn.

Violent firing and confused fighting and yelling in the wood for a space, and some wounded began to come back. Then some Germans, both wounded and prisoners, in small batches, and at last the news that the Bedfords had completely repulsed the attack and taken about 25 prisoners, driving the enemy back with the bayonet at the run.

Who it was that started the order to retire we could never find out. It certainly was not Milling, who was commanding in the front trench, nor was it any officer. Quite conceivably it may have been started by the enemy themselves.

What happened, as far as I could make out, was that the right centre of the Northumberland Fusiliers on our left had been pressed back and the Germans had poured through the opening. The right flank of the Northumberlands had sat tight, so the Bedfords in our front line had known nothing of the German success till they were fired at by the enemy in the wood on their left rear. I do not fancy, however, from what the prisoners told me, that the attack was a very strong one--not more, I expect, than three or four companies.

These belonged to the Frankfurt-am-Main Corps (VII.). I examined one prisoner, a regular "Schwabe" from Heilbronn, a jolly man with a red beard, who told me that his company was commanded by a cavalry captain, who considered it beneath his dignity to charge with infantry, and remained snugly ensconced behind a wall whilst he shouted encouragement to his men.

The Bedfords retook three of the Northumberlands' trenches with them, but failed to retake one of their own--together with two machine-guns in it--that they had lost, although they tried hard, A Company (Milling's) making three bayonet charges. They behaved devilish well, in spite of heavy losses both in officers and men. Macready, their Adjutant, was shot through the liver (but recovered eventually); Allason (Major) was hit twice--once through the shoulder, and again, on returning after getting his wound dressed, through the thigh; Davenport was shot through the left elbow (we looked after him in our dug-out); and two subalterns were killed, besides twenty-four men killed and fifty-three wounded. Of the Cheshires, Pollok, Hodson, and Anderson (the latter a fine runner and very plucky chap) were killed, besides five men killed, nineteen wounded, and eight missing. Altogether the losses were rather heavy. The men were particularly good to the wounded Germans; I remember especially one man, a black-bearded evil-looking scoundrel, who had been shot through the lungs, and rolled about in the mud at my feet, and him they looked after carefully. The last glimpse I caught of him was being helped to a stretcher by two of our own men, also wounded.

There was again no chance of our getting to the château to-night, so another basket of food arrived, and we fed with what comfort we could.

We worked all night at strengthening our lines, but the Germans had got up so close to our weakest salient that I was a bit anxious on the subject of a renewed attack by night.

_Nov. 8th._

A small reinforcement arrived at 7 A.M., in the shape of the Divisional Mounted Troops of the 3rd and 5th Divisions--about 250 men altogether, consisting of 70 of the 15th Hussars and 60 cyclists from the 3rd, and 50 of the 19th Hussars and 70 cyclists from the 5th Divisions, under Courage and Parsons respectively.

These were distributed in rear of our dug-out.

We had a fairly quiet day as far as we ourselves were concerned, but both Brigades on our flanks were heavily shelled. The French on our right were attacking in force, but although they were being supported by their 16th Corps, I do not think there was much result about Klein Zillebeke.

At last, at 5.30 P.M., we started for our château, and hardly had we gone 150 yards when a terrific fire broke out. We got behind a little ruined hut to escape the bullets, and I made ready to return in case it was a serious attack. But it died down in ten minutes, and we pursued our way in more or less peace, for it was only a case of firing at reliefs, and I think the Germans were rather jumpy.

The Château of Beukenhorst was a square white block of a place, and merits perhaps some description, as we were there for a most uncomfortable fortnight--uncomfortable as far as events and fighting went, though not so as regards living.

It belonged to some people whose name I have forgotten--Baron something (Belgian) and his German wife, and it was due to this lady's nationality--so the story went--that the place had suffered so little. Personally I think that it was due to the house only being indicated on the map, whilst the stables, 200 yards off, which were perpetually being shelled, were marked in heavy black, and were a cockshy for the German guns, which were evidently laid by map and not by sight; yet the house was on a fair elevation, and must have been visible from certain points on the German side. By the same token, General Capper had had his Headquarters there for a few days, but had cleared out, I believe, because of shells. Half a dozen shrapnel had certainly hit it, but they had only chipped off some bits of stone and broken all the windows at the eastern end.

We lived in a room half below ground at the western end, which must evidently have been the housekeeper's room or servants' hall, next to the kitchen. About half the Signal Section lived in some sort of cellars close by, the other half being away with the transport. Two of these cellars were also used as a dressing station for the 7th Brigade, and wounded used to be brought in here frequently and tended by a sanitary Highlander, a corporal whose exact functions I could never discover, but who worked like a Trojan. The wounded were visited by a medical officer in the evening, and removed on stretchers every night to the ambulances who came to fetch them. Our own wounded did not come here, but were looked after just behind the trenches near the Herenthage Château, and taken away from there at night by our own 15th Field Ambulance, who worked all night in circumstances of much danger, but were luckily hardly ever hit.

The owners had evidently had plenty of notice before clearing out, for they had removed all the smaller articles and most of the furniture, and had rolled up the carpets and curtains and blinds, leaving only big cupboards and bare bedsteads and larger bits of furniture. These were, oddly enough, in very good taste--Louis XV. style--and only sand-papered and not polished or painted. There was a good bathroom too, and a lavatory with big basins, but much of it had been smashed by shrapnel, as it was at the east end. Our bedrooms were on the first floor, and most of them had good beds and washhand-stands, but no linen or blankets. I need hardly say that we carefully selected those at the western end of the house, whither few bullets had penetrated. But the windows there were mostly untouched, and consisted of good plate glass. Altogether the whole place gave one the idea of comfort, money, and good taste, and was an eminently satisfactory abode--bar the shells.

I know that, as far as looking after the Brigade was concerned, we got through three times as much satisfactory work in the morning after we arrived as we did during all the three days we were in the little dug-out. For we could now communicate not only by wire but by messenger and by personal contact with the authorities and commanders in our rear and on our flanks, and could discuss matters _re_ artillery and defences and plans in a way which had been quite impossible in our advanced position.

General Wing[19] used to come and see us most evenings, and I used to communicate personally with Shaw (9th Brigade), and Fanshawe (Artillery), and M'Cracken (7th Brigade), about combined movements, &c. Every morning before daylight, and at a good many other times besides, I, or Weatherby, or Moulton-Barrett, used to go down to the trenches and confabulate with Griffith--always cool and resourceful, who was in immediate command--or Frost and Burfeild, who were running the Cheshires excellently between them. It was not always a very easy business getting down to the trenches, for there were nearly always shells bursting in the woods and on the open field which lay between us and the trench wood; and we had generally to hurry in order to leave the château precincts unperceived by the beastly Taubes who hovered overhead, always on the lookout for headquarters to shell; so we cut down orderlies and staff to a minimum, and absolutely forbade any hanging about outside.

[Footnote 19: To everybody's great regret, he was killed in
October 1915.]

It is no use going into or describing our proceedings day by day: "Plus ça changeait, plus c'était la même chose." I have the detail of it day by day in my diary, but it was always, in the main, the same thing--minds and bodies at high tension throughout the day and most of the night; perpetual artillery fire--if not by the enemy then by ourselves; shells bursting round the château and hardly ever into it, mostly shrapnel near the house and Black Marias a bit further off--chiefly into a walled garden 200 yards off which, for some unknown reason, the Germans were convinced held some of our guns, though, as a matter of fact, our batteries were in our right rear, in well-covered positions just inside (or even outside, in some cases) the woods. But we got shells on the other side of the house as well, over the bare half-grown lawn and flower-beds between the château and the Hooge-Menin road.