Chapter II

THE BATTLE OF MONS, AUGUST 23RD—SIR JOHN FRENCH’S DESPATCH—THE
WEST KENTS IN ACTION—AN AEROPLANE DUEL—A ROYAL ENGINEER’S
EXPERIENCE—MISSING THEIR REGIMENT—ROYAL FIELD ARTILLERY AND
GERMAN SHRAPNEL—CAPTAIN GRENFELL.

In the following section of Sir John French’s despatch he describes the position on Sunday, August 23:—

At 6 a.m. on August 23 I assembled the Commanders of the First and
Second Corps and Cavalry Division at a point close to the position,
and explained the general situation of the Allies, and what I
understood to be General Joffre’s plan. I discussed with them at
some length the immediate situation in front of us.

From information I received from French Headquarters I understood
that little more than one, or at most two, of the enemy’s Army
Corps, with perhaps one Cavalry Division, were in front of my
position; and I was aware of no attempted outflanking movement by
the enemy. I was confirmed in this opinion by the fact that my
patrols encountered no undue opposition in their reconnoitring
operations. The observation of my aeroplanes seemed also to bear
out this estimate.

About 3 p.m. on Sunday, the 23rd, reports began coming in to the
effect that the enemy was commencing an attack on the Mons line,
apparently in some strength, but that the right of the position
from Mons and Bray was being particularly threatened.

The Commander of the First Corps had pushed his flank back to some
high ground south of Bray, and the 5th Cavalry Brigade evacuated
Binche, moving slightly south; the enemy thereupon occupied Binche.

The right of the 3rd Division, under General Hamilton, was at
Mons, which formed a somewhat dangerous salient; and I directed
the Commander of the Second Corps to be careful not to keep the
troops on this salient too long, but, if threatened seriously, to
draw back the centre behind Mons. This was done before dark. In the
meantime, about 5 p.m., I received a most unexpected message from
General Joffre by telegraph, telling me that at least three German
Corps, viz., a reserve corps, the 4th Corps, and the 9th Corps,
were moving on my position in front, and that the Second Corps
was engaged in a turning movement from the direction of Tournai.
He also informed me that two reserve French divisions and the 5th
French Army on my right were retiring, the Germans having on the
previous day gained possession of the passages of the Sambre
between Charleroi and Namur.

An official statement issued by the Press Bureau announced that the British troops took an active and meritorious part in the great battle which began on Saturday, August 22. Throughout an engagement on Sunday near Mons they held their ground, and they had successfully reached their new position. Fighting had gone on more or less continuously, but the enemy had not harassed our operations and the movement was executed with great skill by the Commanders of the First and Second Army Corps. Casualties could not be estimated exactly, but were not heavy. Our forces were opposed by two German army corps and two cavalry divisions. The enemy suffered very heavily. The position now occupied was well protected. The general position showed that the Allies continued the action in Belgium on Sunday and Monday, August 23 and 24, but in presence of the considerable forces which the Germans had massed the French Commander-in-Chief decided to withdraw his troops to the original line of defence arranged, where they were firmly established. Two French divisions suffered somewhat severely, but the main body was not touched and remained full of enthusiasm. The German losses, particularly in the corps d’armée of the Guards, were considerable. The _moral_ of the Allied troops was excellent.

This statement was supplemented by a statement issued from the French Embassy:—

To the west of the Meuse the British army, which was on our left,
was attacked by the Germans. Admirable under fire, it resisted the
enemy with its usual coolness.

The French army which was operating in this region advanced to the
attack. Two army corps, which were in the first line, spurred on by
their dash, were received by a very murderous fire. They did not
give way, but, being subjected to a counter-attack by the Prussian
Guard, they ultimately had to fall back. They did not do so until
they had inflicted enormous losses on their adversaries.

On the east of the Meuse our troops marched forward through a very
difficult country. Vigorously attacked on the outskirts of the
forest, they had to fall back after a very lively fight to the
south of the Semoy River.

On the orders of General Joffre our troops and the British troops
took up positions on the covering line, which they would not have
left had not the admirable Belgian effort enabled them to enter
Belgium. They are intact.

Our cavalry has not suffered at all. Our artillery has affirmed its
superiority. Our officers and our soldiers are in the best physical
and moral state.

In consequence of the orders given the fighting will change its
aspect for some days. The French will remain for a time on the
defensive. At the proper time chosen by headquarters it will resume
a vigorous offensive.

Our losses are considerable. It would be premature to enumerate
them. The same holds good for those of the German army, which
has nevertheless suffered so much as to be obliged to arrest its
counter-attack movement in order to take up fresh positions.

Although some vigorous fighting had been going on during Sunday morning, August 23, the extreme peril of our troops was not realised until late in the afternoon, when Sir John French received tidings of extreme gravity that large reinforcements of the enemy were advancing towards the British lines. This enormous host of Germans, strengthened no doubt with troops released from Namur, was hurling itself forward furiously, and the British left wing on the west was especially threatened with a dangerous flanking movement from the enemy. On the east towards Charleroi the position was equally perilous, because no support could be expected in that direction, as the French troops had already withdrawn. Sir John French therefore ordered a retirement, which began on Sunday evening and continued till the following morning. But the men fell back unwillingly, while they engaged in a terrific conflict with the oncoming forces of the enemy. Everything possible was done by the Germans to harass the British and to convert their withdrawal into a rout. With the aid of powerful searchlights, which continuously swept towards the country selected for the retirement of our troops, the enemy endeavoured to deprive them of the advantage of the night, and covered them with a murderous hail of shot and shell. But, as we know, the plans of the Germans failed owing to the skill of our Generals and to the splendid nerve of our men: our lines remained intact and their spirit unbroken.

Mr. Alfred J. Rorke, special correspondent of the Central News, sent the following early account of the fighting at Mons:—

PARIS, Monday (received per Courier, Tuesday).

Graphic stories of how the British troops at Mons fought during the
two days in which they bore the brunt of the main German advance
reached Paris in the early hours of this morning, when officers
arriving from the front reported at the War Office, and, in
subsequent conversation with their closest personal friends, told
of the wonderful coolness and daring of our men. The shooting of
our infantry on the firing line, they said, was wonderful. Every
time a German’s head showed above the trenches and every time the
German infantry attempted to rush a position there came a withering
rifle fire from the khaki-clad forms lying in extended formation
along a big battle front.

The firing was not the usual firing of nervous men, shooting
without aiming and sometimes without rhyme or reason, as is so
often the case in warfare. It was rather the calm, calculated
riflemanship of the men one sees on the Stickledown range firing
with all the artificial aids permitted to the match rifle expert
whose one concern is prize money.

When quick action was necessary the firing and the action of the
men was only that of prize riflemen firing at a disappearing
target. There was no excitement, no nervousness; just cool,
methodical efficiency. If the British lost heavily heaven only
knows what the Germans must have lost, because, as one of their
wounded officers (whom the British took prisoner) remarked, “We had
never expected anything like it; it was staggering.”

The British troops went to their positions silently but happily.
There was no singing, because that was forbidden, but as the
khaki-clad columns deployed and began to crawl to the trenches
there were various sallies of humour in the different dialects
of English, Irish, and Scottish counties. The Yorkshireman, for
instance, would draw a comparison between the men they were going
to fight and certain dogs that won’t fight which the Yorkshire
collier has not time to waste upon at the pit-head; the Cockney
soldier was there with his sallies about “Uncle Bill,” and every
Irishman who went into the firing line wished he had the money
to buy a little Irish horse, so that he could have a slap at the
Uhlans.

And the cavalry! Officers coming from the front declare that our
cavalrymen charged the much-vaunted German horsemen as Berserkers
might have done. When they got into action with tunics open,
and sometimes without tunics at all, they flung themselves at
the German horsemen in a manner which surprised even their own
officers, who had themselves expected great things of them. The
Uhlans, whose name and fearful fame had spread terror among the
Belgian peasants and the frontier villages of France, were just the
sort of men the British troopers were waiting for. The Britishers,
mostly Londoners, who, as Wellington said, make the best cavalry
soldiers in the world, were dying to have a cut at them; and when
they got into clinches the Uhlans had the surprise of their lives.

From the scene of battle, the point of interest in the European war
drama, as far as England is concerned, shifted in the small hours
of this morning to the railway station at X, where officers and men
of the Army Service Corps awaited the arrival of the wounded—the
British wounded from the firing line. Everything was perfectly
organised; there was no theatrical display; the officers and men of
the British Army waited silently and calmly for the toll of war,
which they had been advised was on its way.

The West Kents were one of the first of the British troops to come under fire at Mons, in which they lost four officers killed, including Major Pach-Beresford, and four officers and seventeen men wounded. A wounded lance-corporal of this regiment says:—

We reached Mons on Saturday afternoon, August 22, the day before
the battle. We at once commenced to entrench, and were still
engaged on this work when the Germans fired their first shell,
which wrecked a house about twenty yards away. Then we got ready
for the fight. We made loopholes in a wall near the house, and
remained there for fifteen hours under a heavy fire of shrapnel.
The Germans came across the valley in front of us in thousands,
but their rifle fire was absolutely rotten, and such damage as
they did was caused by the big guns which covered their advance.
Numerically the Germans were far superior to us, and as soon as one
lot was shot down another took its place.

We retired from Mons about four o’clock on Monday morning to a
little village on the borders of France. We kept up a rearguard
action all the way, and it was in this that I was wounded. A shell
dropped close to me, and some fragments penetrated my left leg. I
was thrown to the ground, and for a time lay unconscious. When I
recovered I found my rifle and ammunition were missing, having, I
suppose, been taken by the Germans, who evidently thought I was
dead.

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.

After another night in the open air Boussu was reached on the following morning. From there they were sent on to Lille, and afterwards to Le Havre and England.

* * * * *

Sergeant Bird and Private Woolgar, of the 4th Dragoon Guards, also had the misfortune to miss their regiment. They said:—

It was when we were sent out under General Allenby to help the
left wing, which was hard pressed, that our misfortunes began. Our
horses were shot under us, but we struggled after our men as best
we could until we picked up some German horses, all of which bore
the mark K 4 on the reins. We had hardly got going again when we
had these shot under us by the German artillery, with the result
that we were stranded absolutely on our own, and you can guess our
feelings as we saw our squadron moving away on the right. We were
all more or less injured. One of our chaps had his arms split right
open, and calmly said, “I say, boys, do you think I’m hurt?”

We endeavoured to get the wounded to a neighbouring farmhouse, and
succeeded in taking several there, but on going back with the last
batch were refused admission, as by this time the occupants could
see the Germans bearing down in that direction in force. We then
made for the fowlhouse and hid there, but our position was very
dangerous, as it was not long before the Germans began to enter in
order to wash their wounds at the little well in the corner.

It was pitch dark at the time (continued Sergeant Bird), and I
found the most comfortable position for me was sitting in a basket,
which, I realised after a few moments and by certain signs, had
contained a dozen eggs in the straw. The artillery were now in
action, and the British seemed to have found the spot, as the tiles
of our hiding-place began to fall in, and we found it advisable to
put baskets over our heads as well; otherwise they would have been
split open by the flying tiles and fragments of shells.

When night came we decided to endeavour to escape from our perilous
position, and just outside the door we found a German sentry, who
seemed to be scouting for British fugitives. We passed quite close
to him, but didn’t stop to say “Good-night.” How we did it I can’t
for the life of me tell you, but we did it, and then made off as we
thought towards the British lines, but to our disgust found we were
going right into the German lines. We decided, therefore, to anchor
there for the night and get away in the morning. We found this was
the German Headquarters Staff, so that we can say we dined with the
German generals that night, the only difference being that they
were inside and we were outside; they were having wines, &c., and
we had swedes and no &c.

In the morning we had to dodge sentries, but found that presented
little difficulty. We decided then to travel south-west, with the
sun as our guide. To do this, however, was impossible, for in our
wanderings we had day after day to dodge German troops, who were
continually marching across our tracks. We can hardly describe what
happened during this time, but the harrowing sights we saw will
never be effaced from our memories. Our condition was terrible,
for we were at one time reduced to five biscuits between three of
us, and these had to suffice us for three days. Sometimes we were
afraid to drink water because we heard it was poisoned. At last we
met the British.

Private Alexander Andrews, of the Royal Scots, spoke of the deadly havoc of the shrapnel:—

But the German infantry could not hit the place they belong to.
We could not help hitting them. We saw them first about 800 yards
away, and they came along in bunches just like a crowd leaving a
football match. Our Maxims simply struck them down, and I will
guarantee that for every one that fell on our side they lost ten or
twelve. It was “rapid firing,” and we gave it them hot. None in our
trench was killed, and we had only five or six, including myself,
injured with shrapnel. A piece of shrapnel struck me on the top
of the left ankle about half-past seven o’clock, cutting through
my boot and making me feel a little queer. I bandaged it up, and
went off with the others when the order came to retire about one
o’clock on the Monday morning. Mons was in flames by that time,
and the German big guns had been blazing about all night. We had
been in a tight corner—two regiments against thousands, as most
of us believe—and I would like to say a word for our captain,
Captain Hill Whitson. In the trenches on the Sunday night, August
23, he was walking about with his revolver, ready for anything, and
cheering us up while the shrapnel played about our position. Well,
as I said, we had to retire. We went back three or four miles. The
first regiment we saw was the Gordons, and I took particular notice
that they had a German prisoner in the front of their ranks.

The aeroplanes were employed with great skill by the Germans, before opening fire, to take observations for the range of their artillery, and the precise locality of our soldiers. It was, moreover, evident that they possessed an intimate knowledge of the country where the fighting took place. Owing to the enormous number of the German reserves, when one regiment was vanquished another was always ready to take its place, and so they advanced like an avalanche.

The slaughter was awful: the British suffered terribly, but the German losses were appalling. It is stated that in some places the dead of the enemy was piled up to a height of six feet, and that to pass over them the Germans made bridges of the corpses of their own men.

Here, as elsewhere, the Germans resorted to cowardly brutality. Their cavalry are said to have driven women and children in front of them in the streets, to protect them from the British fire. But the enemy lost as well as gained reputations: Sir Philip Chetwode, the cavalry leader, after fighting without ceasing for ten days, with odds of five to one against them, said, “We have been through the Uhlans like brown paper.”

Innumerable cases of personal heroism have been recalled. That of Captain Grenfell must not be omitted. Although suffering from two severe wounds, he participated in the rescue of two British guns, after shrapnel shell had burst over them and struck the artillerymen who were serving them. This act enabled troopers of the 9th Lancers under his direction to get away.

According to the statement of the Paris correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_, gathered from the reports of Belgian and British fugitives, between Saturday and Monday, August 22–24, the British Expeditionary Force bore the brunt of six furious attacks made by six distinct German columns, which were all repulsed successfully, though with considerable loss. The Allies raised a veritable hecatomb of German corpses near Mons. At different points on the battlefield, the bodies of Germans were heaped up so that in the course of their furious charge the Turcos experienced great difficulty in coming into contact with the enemy.

We can picture our men fighting doggedly on, in the din and carnage of the engagement, during those hot August days and calm clear nights, with the never-ceasing crack of rifle-shots, the boom of the artillery fire and the scream of the shells, while the enemy came on with relentless and unending regularity.