The War The Infantry Knew, 1914-1919: A Chronicle Of Service In France And Belgium

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Text originally published in 1938 under the same title.

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Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

THE WAR THE INFANTRY KNEW, 1914-1919;

A CHRONICLE OF SERVICE IN FRANCE AND BELGIUM

with The Second Battalion, His Majesty’s Twenty-Third Foot, The Royal Welch Fusiliers: founded on personal records, recollections and reflections, assembled, edited and partly written by One of their Medical Officers.

BY

CAPTAIN J. C. DUNN D.S.O., M.C. AND BAR, D.C.M.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 3

GLOSSARY 4

SKETCHES FROM MAPS 7

CONTRIBUTORS 9

CHAPTER I—July-August 1914 12

The suddenness of a thunderbolt—Mobilizing—Crossing the Channel—Rouen—Amiens 12

CHAPTER II—August-September 1914 23

To the War in Earnest—Mons, A Rumour: Retreat—Le Cateau—Sleep-walking—St. Quentin—Wayside Comedies—Still on, on—A Rose Garden 23

CHAPTER III—September-October 1914 45

Recoil: Marne—La Ferté-sous-Jouarre: Aisne—Septmonts 45

CHAPTER IV—October-November 1914 58

The Race for the Sea—To St. Omer by Night—Outpost Affairs—A Hair-cut in Ypres—A Forced March—La Bassée: Fromelles; La Cordonnerie, We are not moving back 58

CHAPTER V—November 1914-August 1915 77

Stalemate: Houplines, flood—Christmas 1914—Bois Grenier, mud—Armentières estaminets, and other Amusements—Patrolling—Echoes of Neuve Chapelle—A Chinese Raid—Echoes of Festubert—Ypres, Even for an egg-shell! —Summer on a quiet Front—Laventie—Intelligence 77

CHAPTER VI—August-October 1915 109

Béthune—The Front in 1915—Loos—Discords 109

CHAPTER VII—October 1915-April 1916 125

Béthune: Winter—Navvying—New Army—Christmas 1915—Bickering—R. W.F. Crater—A Sing-Song, by Punch, and other Play 125

CHAPTER VIII—April-July 1916 145

Béthune: Spring and Summer—Catabrin Raid—Cuinchy Raid—A Battalion Canteen—The Duck’s Bill goes up—Red Dragon Crater—The Warren Raid 145

CHAPTER IX—July-August 1916 166

Somme—Ancre—Facing Bazentin Ridge—High Wood—Amiens—Old Army into New—Moles 166

CHAPTER X—August-November 1916 189

Somme—Interval—Agincourt billets—a torpid front—a pleasant vale: A wet autumn—Quick moving by omnibus—Just moving on foot: With the French at Morval—Not today: Lesbœufs—toot sweet: Two patrols 189

CHAPTER XI—November 1916-March 1917 207

Somme—Winter, a hard one—A chilly rest—Live and let live: Abbeville: The downs above Clery—The thermometer below zero—Les Bouffes!—Thank God—and the Brigadier:—Implications and Interactions 207

CHAPTER XII—March-April 1917 224

A subaltern’s service in camp and in action 224

CHAPTER XIII—April-July 1917 236

Arras—Scarpe—The Hindenburg Line—St. George’s Day on Hénin Hill—Croisilles—Whitsunday in Plum Lane—Footnotes 236

CHAPTER XIV—July-August 1917 262

A quiet Summer—Rest and Sport: Echoes of Crécy—of de Vere—of the Ironsides: Nieuport: St. Omer: Slow March on the guns at Ypres 262

CHAPTER XV—September 1917-January 1918 281

The Ypres Salient: Behind Menin Ridge—Polygon Wood—Messines—Hewers of Wood—Passchendaele, unrestful—Christmas in Pop.—Chinese Justice—Passchendaele, at ease—Drawers of Water—Dissension in high places 281

CHAPTER XVI—January-April 1918 315

All Welsh—Bois Grenier and digging again: Flight from home: London: March 21st, 1918, Michael Day 315

CHAPTER XVII—April-August 1918 330

The Ancre Valley again—Albert-Hamel: The Germans in Bois Grenier: A spent blow: Wind and Gas—An Opera-bouffe raid—Tom Fool’s errands: Hamel raid: Ancre crossings 330

CHAPTER XVIII—August-November 1918 364

The German Retreat—Across the Ancre: Astride Bazentin Ridge—High Wood revisited: ( Bapaume) Morval and Lesbœufs again: Sailly-Saillisel—a dead end: Gouzeaucourt: Echoes of Epéhy: A patrol: Villers-Outreaux: The Selle—Le Cateau revisited: Englefontaine—winkling: Mormal Forest: Across the Sambre at Aulnoye: November 11th 364

CHAPTER XIX—November 1918 and after… 405

Demobilizing—The Channel re-crossed—Home 405

APPENDIX 415

ILLUSTRATIONS 418

SKETCH MAPS 446

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 494

GLOSSARY

A.A.&Q.M.G.—Assistant Adjutant and Quartermaster-General: the chief administrative officer of a division; deals with drafts, honours, leave, provisions, quarters, stores.

A.D.M.S.—Assistant Director of Medical Services: the principal (administrative) medical officer of a division.

Axing—a R.W. term for peevish fussing.

Berm—a strip at the surface of a trench kept clear (supposedly) of the out-thrown soil of the parapet or parados.

Boxed—cut off by shells; box-barrage.

B.M.—Brigade Major: the operations officer of a brigade.

B.G.G.S—Brigadier-General, General Staff: the chief operation officer of a Corps.

Camouflet—a charge exploded in a counter-mine to wreck enemy work.

Chesses—planks laid on pontoons (q.v.) to make the surface of a bridge.

C.O.—Commanding officer of a unit.

Corduroy—trunks of trees or logs laid side by side on spongy ground to make a firm surface.

Cosh—a wooden truncheon with a spiked iron head.

C.Q.M.S.—Company Quartermaster-Sergeant: indents on, and collects from, the Quartermaster everything on issue to his company.

C.R.A.—Officer Commanding Royal Artillery—of a division.

C.R.E.—Officer Commanding Royal Engineers—of a division.

C.S.M.—Company Sergeant-Major.

C.T.—communication trench.

D.A.D.O.S.—Deputy Assistant Director of Ordnance Supplies—of a division: issues clothing, ammunition, and other stores, but not rations, to the Quartermasters of units on indent.

Derbyite—a volunteer conditionally exempt from calling up for training and service.

F.O.O.—Forward Observing Officer: spots for the artillery and checks the shooting.

Formation—a brigade or larger mixed body able to operate independently.

G.H.Q.—General (or C.-in-C.’s) Headquarters: may mean the place, the Staff as a whole, or one of its offices, according to the context.

(Army, Corps, Division, Brigade, and H.Q. have like shades of meaning.)

G.O.C.—General Officer Commanding—a division in this text.

G.R.O.—General Routine Order: issued by G.H.Q. (q.v.).

G.S.O.—General Staff Officer of a division for operations (O. or 1), Intelligence (I. or 2), Training (T. or 3).

G.S.—wagon

General Service—a 4-wheeled, 2-horse—wagon.

G.S.W.—gunshot wound—is used of any missile wound.

H.E.—high explosive—of various composition.

M.G.—machine-gun: hence Machine-Gun Corps, M.G.C.

M.G.G.S.—Major-General, General Staff: the chief operations officer of an Army, or next in rank to the Chief of Staff at G.H.Q. (q.v.).

O.C.—Officer Commanding—a battalion, battery, company or detachment.

Pontoons—commonly boats or cylinders of metal moored across a stream as the supports of a bridge (see Chesses).

Red Cap—worn by the police of a garrison or division, hence military policeman.

Red Tab—a strip of Royal Scarlet worn on the coat lapel by Staff Officers.

R.F.C.—Royal Flying Corps—later R.A.F., Royal Air Force.

R.Q.M.S.—Regimental Quartermaster-Sergeant: next in rank to the R.S.M. (q.v.) and chief of the Quartermaster’s staff.

R.S.M.—Regimental Sergeant-Major: the senior non-commissioned officer.

R.T.O.—Railway Transport Officer.

Small Arms—rifle, Lewis gun and M.G.

S.A.A.—small-arms ammunition.

S.C.—Staff Captain: the administrative officer of a brigade.

Train—the transport of a brigade, division or other formation: it does not include the transport of a battery, battalion or other unit.

Unit—e.g. a battery of artillery, battalion of infantry or company of Royal Engineers.

18-pounder.—the British field-gun.

13-pounder.—the British horse-artillery gun.

75.—the French field-gun.

77.—the German field-gun.

SKETCHES FROM MAPS

These are mainly freehand sketches, so scale is only approximate. Sheet 1 is reproduced with the permission of John Bartholomew & Son, Edinburgh; all the other Sheets are reproduced from Ordnance and Official History Maps with the permission of the Controller of H.M. Stationery Office. To these thanks are due, also to A. L. Kent, Esq., formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, for much-needed technical advice and generous help in making ready the sketches for printing.

1. The Channel: B.E.F. Area of Operations, Chief Bases and Communications (diagrammatic).

2. Mons to the Aisne-Retreat.

3. Retreat continued: Recoil: Move to Flanders.

4. St. Omer-Laventie.

5. Armentières-Béthune.

6. La Cordonnerie-Fauquissart.

7. Bois Grenier (Wez Macquart).

8. Béthune-La Bassée.

9. Cambrai and Cuinchy Trenches, 1915.

10. Givenchy Trenches, 1915-16.

11. Amiens-Péronne-Bapaume-Doullens.

12. Middle Somme and Ancre.

14. High Wood-Lesbœufs.

15. High Wood, July 25th, 1916.

16. Morval-Lesbœufs, 1916-18.

17. Arras-Doullens.

18. Gommecourt: Cojeul and Sensée Valleys, Hénin.

19. Hindenburg Line-Croisilles.

20. Nieuport: Dunkirk-Passchendaele.

21. Ypres-Messines.

22. Polygon Wood, September 26th, 27th, 1917: Ypres Salient.

23. Ancre, Albert.

24. Ancre-Two Raids.

25. Ancre Crossing.

26. Lesbœufs-Sailly-Saillisel, September 1st, 1918.

27. Le Cateau: Villers-Outreaux, October 8th, 1918.

28. Forest of Mormal-Aulnoye.

CONTRIBUTORS

ROYAL WELCH FUSILIERS

AINGE, D. A. L., Lieutenant

ATTWATER, A., Captain

BERNERS, R. A., Brigadier-General

BLAIR, H., Captain

BOREHAM, A., Regimental Sergeant-Major

BRIERCLIFFE, R. D., Captain

CHARLTON, G. H., Lieutenant-Colonel

CHICK, F., Captain

CLEGG-HILL, The Hon. C. R., Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel—Viscount Hill

COCKBURN, J. B., Colonel

CRABTREE, C. P., Lieutenant

CRAWSHAY, C. H. R., Lieutenant-Colonel

CROCKETT, H. L., Captain

DAVIES, G. H. PICTON, Captain

EVANS, HOWELLS, Captain

EVANS, LLEWELYN, Captain

FLETCHER, W. G., and Lieutenant

FOX, W., Captain

GEIGER, G. J. P., Major

GREAVES, E. J., Captain

GREAVES, RALPH, Lieutenant

HIGGINSON, J. V., Captain

HOLMES, W. G., Major-General

HUGHES, F. M., Lieutenant

JONES, C., Lieutenant and Quartermaster

JONES, CUTHBERT, Captain

JONES, E. R., Chaplain

JONES, W. MORGAN, Signaller

KEARSLEY, E. R., Major

KENT, A. L., Corporal

KIRKBY, W. W., Captain

MOODY, P., Captain

MORGAN, D. ROBERTS, Captain

MOSTYN, Bart., Sir PYERS, Captain

NICKSON, J. E., Captain

NORMAN, C. C., Brigadier

OWEN, C., Brigadier-General

POWELL, F., Regimental Quartermaster-Sergeant

RADCLIFFE, H. DELMÉ, Lieutenant-Colonel

RADFORD, N. H., Captain

RICHARDS, F., Private

RICHARDSON,—, Lieutenant

ROBERTS, Owen M., Lieutenant

RODERICK, P. B., Regimental Sergeant-Major

SASSOON, S. L., Captain

STOCKWELL, C. I., Brigadier-General

TURNER, H., Lieutenant

WARD, V. W., Lieutenant

WILLIAMS, O. DE L., Brigadier-General

YATES, H., Major

ROYAL FIELD ARTILLERY

GREEN, G. R. A., Major

ROYAL FUSILIERS

ARMOUR, R., Regimental Sergeant-Major

FYSON, H. H., Captain

MODERA, F. S., Major

THE CAMERONIANS

DOCHERTY, C., Company Sergeant-Major

SMITH, H. C. HYDE, Lieutenant-Colonel

5TH SCOTTISH RIFLES

COLTART, J. S.,

Captain CROMBIE,—,

Captain KENNEDY, A.,

Colonel McKAY, D.,

Private SMITH,—,

Lance-Corporal SPENS, H. B.,

Colonel SPENS, T., Captain

All dates and places have been checked with Regimental Records, and a few Orderly Room details have been taken from Records.

CHAPTER I—July-August 1914

The suddenness of a thunderbolt—Mobilizing—Crossing the Channel—Rouen—Amiens

Contributors:—BOREHAM; GEIGER; HOLMES; OWEN; POWELL; RICHARDS; RODERICK; WILLIAMS; YATES—Sketch:—1

‘At{1} the outbreak of the Great War I was Company Sergeant-Major of B Company, 2nd Battalion The Royal Welch Fusiliers. I have often thought how, in April and May 1914 when we were engaged in platoon and company training, Captain Douglas Powell, in his lectures, would picture us with Germans as our opponents. Few of us dreamed at the time that in a few short months we should have them as such in reality. Even when events on the Continent were reaching a climax I do not think that we discussed our chances of having to take any part in them. To me personally the War came with the suddenness of a thunderbolt, and it was in this way.

July 30th, Thursday.—The Battalion was in Bovington Camp, at Wool in Dorsetshire, engaged in training and musketry. We were to return to Portland, our station, towards the end of July, stay there about a week, and then go to Salisbury Plain for manoeuvres. We Company Sergeant-Majors had just received the detail for the moves from the Adjutant, Captain C. S. Owen: I had not got back to my tent when the bugler sounded Company sergeant-majors, at the double. Back we went to the Orderly Room. This time the Orders were very brief: Pack up, we march back to Portland tonight. Then the thought flashed through my mind—War. The men were jubilant, as is usual in such circumstances. I’m not afraid to place it on record that I was not; the South African War had taught me that there was nothing at all to get jubilant about. It is strange what thoughts pass through one’s mind in times of crisis. The very first thing that came to mine was the recollection of being verminous in South Africa, and the intense horror of being so again. Then I began to think of other things. It would be about 7 in the evening when the order was issued, and we got to work at once.’

Pickets were sent out to round up the men who were out of camp, but of course there were the usual few absentees at tattoo: greatly surprised they were on returning to find only the party detailed to tidy up, and hand over the camp to Ordnance. (A correspondence about the equipment was to occupy Orderly Room for a good part of the winter.)

Yates, the Quartermaster, took the first train to Portland to prepare for the Battalion’s return, and to ration the expected Coast Defence troops. The local butcher and baker were surprised at the amount of the orders given them. The recruits and boys at the Verne had a heavy night’s work to get the barracks ready at such short notice. It was an all-night job for everyone concerned.

The Goat{2}, which had been unwell, died. He must have known something.

‘Williams{3} and I had gone to Bournemouth for dinner. On our return to Wool we noticed flames. My first idea was that the Canteen was on fire. However, on our pulling up, Knox Gore rushed to us and, in a voice quivering with emotion, informed us that we were ordered back to our peace stations, and were starting in ten minutes. My Company’s peace station was Dorchester, the other three Companies were in the Verne Fort at Portland.’

The march began at 11 o'clock. Fortunately the night was July 31st—fine. The Dorchester Company arrived at its quarters at 3 a.m. in great spirits. For the main body the march was long and dreary. The Band and Drums were unable to play the whole night without their music, but they put up a wonderful show. Day was breaking as we came down the hills to Weymouth, and, as daylight increased, the awful sleepiness always associated with night-marching wore off and the march became less irksome. When we sighted the harbour we had our first forecast of war. It was full of warships when last we saw it; now there were none. The Navy had been mobilized on July 15th as a long prearranged test of administration; it was being kept in commission pending the development of a recent and unexpected political crisis abroad. The Band and Drums had started to play again, and the good folks of Weymouth were roused about 6 o'clock by the Drums playing, I do like to be beside the seaside. The next sign of war was a guard that had been mounted at the bridge over an arm of the sea, beside the Whitehead Torpedo Factory, near Portland. A state of war was not yet in being, but because of strained relations the Coast Defences had been manned. It was strange what an impression of the very unusual these various signs made. Portland rises so abruptly from sea-level that the final climb of nearly 600 feet was not a very nice finish to a march of about 22 miles in marching order. Needless to say we were all very pleased when we reached the top. There those of us who had wives found them waiting wide-eyed and apprehensive of the reason of our returning so suddenly.

Preparation for the expected mobilization followed. Although the order had not been received, our regimental authorities anticipated it, so that when it did come there was less to do than otherwise would have been the case. Indeed, owing to an Orderly Room blunder anticipation went too fast: mobilization telegrams were sent out. The incident had to be explained away in Parliament when the Houses met the following week, and the Orderly Room telephone nearly fused with the questions that came in—and other official and semi-official remarks. Mobilization stores were got out, and the wagons were loaded in case of a sudden move. Our equipment was indifferent: the men had dixies instead of field-kitchens, better known as cookers; our machine-guns were on heavy antique gun-carriages instead of the tripod mounting. All this was because, having just arrived from India, we did not belong to any brigade or division, did not—on paper—belong to the Expeditionary Force of six divisions. The Battalion had been fitted-out with home-service clothing and equipment after our home-coming in March, the Band and Drums completed with their respective types of tunic: everything had to be packed away or handed back to Stores. Pay-books and identity-discs were checked up to date, and nominal rolls for everything were prepared. ‘Fortunately{4} for me, I had finished my tour of duty as Sergeants Mess President the previous quarter; Bill Barling had the job of packing up the Mess in addition to all his other work.

I’ve often reflected since then on how many things came true. When first we got the pay-books and identity-discs, about two years before the War, we smiled at the idea of ever having to use them. Behind the Commanding Officer’s table in the Orderly Room was a mobilization chart—another smile. What an awful bore it was to have to listen to the King’s Rules and Regulations relating to Active Service being read out each quarter! And when we had to make out family allotment forms the smile changed to a broad grin.

As the days passed the situation became more critical and the work of preparation more strenuous. I had just time to rush home, snatch a bit of food, then back to business. It was usual to be roused in the middle of the night and told by an orderly that I was wanted in the Orderly Room. I don’t think Jimmy Caldwell, the Orderly Room Sergeant, got much sleep at this time.’ We were getting orders continually, mostly over the telephone and rarely confirmed. A few officers’ private cars were invaluable. The Quartermaster could not have overtaken his work without someone to drive him about: ‘O. de L. was my friend these days.’ Because we were a spare unit our mobilization scheme was only in the rough, it had not been vetted.

‘If{5} there was any discussion on the prospects of war it was done chiefly by the women-folk—I generally found a group of them busy at it; I’m afraid I was rather rude to one good lady who was taking things badly and upsetting others.’

For the detached Company at Dorchester, once all transport and other arrangements had been made to set out for Portland as soon as the mobilization signal came through, these few days were a time of anxious waiting and rumour. Otherwise, the only excitement was the Assizes, presided over by Mr. Justice Darling, the wit of the Bench.

August 4th, Tuesday.—‘In{6} the evening Owen sent for me and showed me a telegram, and told me to take it to the Colonel. The C.O. was at Walwyn’s, where there was a dinner-party. They had not finished dinner when I was shown in. I think those few minutes, talking about nothing till the ladies had retired, were the most strained I have ever been through.’

‘About{7} 9 p.m. Company sergeant-majors sounded as I was having a drink with Pip Parsons, who remarked, That’s it: drank his beer, and requested the production of a dozen Germans. Then to work copying out Orders. When we had finished the Mess was closed, sad to relate.’

August 5th.—‘The{8} signal arrived at Dorchester at about 2.30 a.m., and we were under way by 3.15. We started in pouring rain, the men in the best of spirits, singing at the top of their voices. I have forgotten what they sang, but it certainly was not Tipperary, which was already out of date in Quetta the previous year.’ (It’s a long way to Tipperary was, however, soon associated in the public mind and in the journalism of the time with the marching of our Old Army.) ‘The rain eventually ceased. As we climbed the hill to the Verne, at about 8 a.m., I noticed a Red Cross flag flying from the Naval Hospital flagstaff at Portland, and so knew that war had been declared. The next hours were passed in a whirl of mobilization.’

Thomas, the Transport Officer, went off early in the morning with a party to Wareham, to take over horses as they were collected there by Remounts.

‘In{9} the afternoon we got Orders to start next day. The excitement became even more intense. As we seemed to be under the direct orders of the War Office there was no one we could possibly sound as to our destination. My wife was on a bed of sickness and unable to join me; my mother was, so far as I knew, held up in Switzerland; consequently it looked as if I should have to depart without seeing any of my small family.

In the evening the Garrison Gunners at the Verne took some of us to a sort of conning-tower where a good view out to sea was obtainable, and where, by some fire-direction system that seemed too good to be true in those days, they could put a shot into any square yard of sea within range. I am sure most of us expected a German cruiser to appear suddenly and be sunk; I know I did—and I don’t think anybody thought about submarines.’

August 6th.—When the day for departure arrived there were not many of the administrative staff who were at all sorry. After an early breakfast we paraded to leave the Verne Citadel: 20 officers and 580 rank and file. The Transport wagons were being left ready so that when the horses arrived they had only to hook in.

‘Just{10} as we turned out the first draft of Reservists from Wrexham marched in. They were allotted to Companies, and because a roll had to be rendered to Orderly Room at once, I sat down just as I was, in marching-order, and wrote it out. Several Reserve officers joined us on parade. A second party of Reservists, making about 300 altogether, arrived later in the morning.’

‘We{11} got off at last, at 7 o'clock, and marched down to the station. I have a vivid recollection of Norah Walwyn at the main gate with a kodak in her hands, but much too overcome with emotion to manipulate it. Our departure from Portland created little excitement among the local population, of whom few were about; I did, however, hear one humorist call out, Bring us back some sausages, Bill.’ We hung about for a considerable time before entraining. Nothing showed us where we were going. Excitement ran high. Once in the train, rumours and guesses at our destination circulated rapidly; consequently, when we arrived at Dorchester and were told to get out, it was rather an anti-climax. Room had to be found at the Verne for its scheduled garrison, a South Lancs Territorial battalion, so Dorchester was our actual mobilization point.

We were told that our stay was indefinite, and that we were all to go into billets, which was a new experience for us. It was not real billeting, however, because the officers went into one or other of the hotels, H.Q. was in the King’s Arms, and the men were in various public buildings.—A. Company’s first billet—Infant School, block floor with pack for a pillow.’ B Company, in the Corn Exchange, were also able to test the discomfort of sleeping on the hard wooden floor. ‘I{12} had the opportunity of a bed in a house but preferred to be close at hand; besides, it would be easier to get up off the floor than to turn out of a comfortable bed if I were wanted.’

August 7th.—The first fatigue was wiring-in the old Artillery Barracks which were to house enemy internees of military age; otherwise there was not much to do except take a route-march or two to accustom the men to their new boots, and do a little musketry drill.

August 8th.—The Reservists and the Transport, having marched from Portland, joined us. There were many stragglers, which was not to be wondered at because some of the men had been several years on the Reserve and were consequently soft, and some had the wrong size of boot. It was not possible to get boots from Store for these men, ‘so I{13} suggested to Captain Powell that, as there was a war on, we could commandeer boots for them. B Company did this, giving the shopkeeper a requisition.’ There was no need to ask who was a Reservist, his white skin distinguished him from the tanned, fit serving man; and many were at sea in the new organization of a battalion, for the number of companies had been halved and the number of sections doubled since they were with the Colours.

The boys under age had been replaced from the Reserve. A party of N.C.Os. had been sent to the Depot; the 8th (Service or Kitchener) Battalion was formed later from this nucleus. The Establishment of N.C.Os. had to be made up to strength, so the Adjutant convened a board consisting of himself, the Regimental Sergeant-Major, Company Sergeant-Majors and Quartermaster-Sergeants, and went through the rolls of the Reserve N.C.Os. One or other of us knew something about each of them and was able to guide Captain Owen in his selection of those to be promoted. Mobilization was then complete: the strength was 29 officers, 1 warrant officer, and 1065 other ranks. ‘I{14} remember two absentees returning. One was a man who had deserted to the Channel Islands from our 1st Battalion, our predecessors at Portland, two years before; he returned at his own expense. The other was one of the bad hats of my own Company who had cleared off nine days previously, and was making his way to the South Wales coalfield; this man, on reading the mobilization posters, turned round and walked back again.’

A rigid censorship on troop movements, which was new in England on the outbreak of war, was being enforced. Its object was loyally observed by those who knew anything, and was fostered by the fancy of those who knew nothing. Sergeant Roderick had been rushed off to the Records Office at Shrewsbury for the Reservists’ documents. On coming back to Portland he ‘found that the Battalion had vanished. The married folk said it must be well in Germany by now, so I hurried back to the station. A merry little porter said it had gone to Germany, and I began to think so too. The station-master said he did not know where it was, but very tactfully he put me in a train and told me to get out at Dorchester, and from there, he said, I would probably get to Germany.’

August 9th.—The Psalms at Matins were extraordinarily truculent, and appropriate to the first Sunday after War had been declared. Our wives and friends came to see us. Saying goodbye over again was rather trying to the nerves.

We were told we would start again tomorrow; again no one had the faintest idea of our destination.

August 10th.—‘It was called about 3.15 a.m. No one could have slept much. We started about 6.30, A and B Companies with the senior Major, Williams, in one train, H.Q. with C and D in a second train. We all began guessing where we were off to. Southampton was voted as most likely. Williams went so far as to offer odds that we should be lunching on a sumptuous Cunarder, with unlimited champagne at the Government’s expense.’ About 10 o'clock we ran straight into Southampton Dock, arriving there five months to the day since our arrival from India. No one was allowed to leave the shed, but Boy Scouts did good deeds running for fags, etc. ‘A{15} and B Companies marched to our ship, the Glengariff; a wretched pig boat on which I made the voyage to Cork with recruits from the Depot some years previously. She was not very clean, and, since there was no food whatever on board, we subsisted on the ration we had with us—bully-beef, biscuits, and water. The Embarkation Officer wished to prevent us going on board since we were not the H.Q. half of the Battalion. Williams bluffed him all right, but when the C.O. arrived he took command of us, so Williams had to remain ashore in the Rest Camp with C and D Companies and part of the Transport. In the afternoon I spotted an. old friend in the senior Embarkation Officer, who told me, under an oath of secrecy, that we were the first Regular troops to embark, that we were going to Rouen, and were to be employed with three other battalions in passing the Expeditionary Force up-country.’

The senior N.C.Os. were given a long narrow cabin on the upper deck. ‘I{16} was one of the first in, and had a berth at the forward end; there was only one door, and it was at the end farthest from where I was. When I awoke we were out at sea: August 11th—the vessel had sailed at 2 a.m. I studied the porthole that was opposite me, wondering if I could get through it were we attacked by a submarine. However, our trip across the Channel was quite uneventful.’ About to o'clock, with no land in sight, we fell in with a large French tug. It hailed us, and our Captain, who had opened his sealed orders by now, replied: thereupon the Frenchmen started cheering, and kept on shouting, Vive l’Angleterre, Vivent les Anglais. Our fellows, who were swarming all over the rigging, shouted most uncomplimentary remarks in answer in the way peculiar to British soldiers. Our French friends would have been disgusted had they understood. A pilot boarded us from the tug. Soon we sighted land, then Havre, which we passed on the left. Next was the little town of Quillebœuf; when we approached it not a soul was to be seen, but no sooner did the pilot sound the siren than, as if by magic, someone appeared at nearly every window, most of them with a tricolour. The enthusiasm was terrific, a foretaste of what was to come. At every town and village the inhabitants turned out and yelled greetings. The trip up the Seine was very fine, though very hot; the only drawback was that a couple of our subaltern officers did not give the ship’s siren a rest the whole of the way.

‘We{17} got to Rouen at 4.30 p.m. It was very evident that we were in for a reception of some sort, because a French battalion was drawn up on the quay, and a lot of French Brass Hats were there too. As soon as we tied up a French General came on board, and I, as the reputed French scholar, was pushed forward to welcome him. I conducted him to the C.O., whereupon he at once launched into one of these graceful and charming little speeches which the French are so good at. With an agonized expression the C.O. turned to me and said, For goodness sake, say something in reply, my French won’t run to it. I made a few halting remarks; then, there being nothing to offer in the drink line, we conducted the General over the side again.’

We must have begun to disembark about 5.30. It is of historic interest that we were the first of many thousand troops to disembark at Rouen, and, with The Cameronians and 1st Middlesex who landed at Havre, and the and Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders who landed at Boulogne, all on August 11th, the first combatant British troops to land in France for the Great War. ‘The{18} first man of the Regiment to land in France was R.S.M. Murphy. I am quite certain of that, because I was standing by the gangway trying to be first myself, but of course I had to give way to my superior officer.’

‘I{19} had gathered from a French officer that one company was to be billeted on the right bank, and the other, with Battalion H.Q., on the left. I decided to try for the right bank, since, quite apart from the pleasure of being away from the Big Drum, I knew that the town proper is on the right bank, the other side of the river consisting of rather squalid suburbs. Accordingly A Company’s marker was sent ashore with instructions to stand on the far side of B Company’s marker if possible: we were disembarking on the right bank. It worked all right.’ After disembarking B Company crossed the river by the Transporter Bridge and marched, loaded with offerings of fruit, vegetables, and flowers, to billets in the École Pape Carpentier.

August 13th.—C and D Companies arrived at 7 a.m., and billeted in other schools. The rest of the Transport arrived at 7 p.m. ‘I{20} spent the two days we were at Southampton badgering the Embarkation Officer for a passage, fearing that the War would be over before we could be in it.’

Our rôle was to have been that of Lines of Communication troops, and for a few days we carried out our duties as such, preparing camps for the arrival of other troops. These camps were pitched on the hill beyond the Racecourse, where the Base Depots were afterwards built. Most things seemed quite strange to us: marching on the right of the road took a bit of getting used to; and to see opposite our billet two policemen on duty leaning against a post, smoking, looked funny. ‘One{21} day as we were marching to the Racecourse a young lady ran out of a house and placed a large bunch of flowers in the arms of the officer who was in charge of the party before he was aware of what was happening; when he recovered himself he pushed them into my hands, and I passed them back one by one to the men.’ We also found various guards. A guard was on a quayside store containing great vats of wine. It has been said that one can do many things with bayonets. A man who was always thirsty got to the wine with his bayonet, and he was generous to his comrades. The resource of an indulgent sergeant, the timely arrival of the blanket wagon, and the luck of the British Army spelt escape from the Guard-room for everyone.

There was no leave from the billet for the first day or two, but it was besieged by all the children of the neighbourhood, and they ran errands for the men. It was funny to hear the attempts to make the children understand what was required; even Hindustani was used; one fellow was overheard saying to a native—Here, malaam, ‘bacca. ‘When{22} we were permitted to go into the city the first thing my C.Q.M.S., Albert Miners, and I thought of was to get something decent to eat. We were fortunate in meeting an English-speaking French corporal, who took us to a restaurant where we got a several-course dinner for one and a half francs (1s. 3d.) each. We went afterwards to one of the cafés on the quay for a drink; there our French friend expressed his wonder that our men could afford to drink bottled beer. He did not know, until we told him, that the English soldier’s pay was quite sufficient for him to do so; it was a great contrast to the sou a day the French soldier got then.’

The officers were in separate billets, messing in various restaurants of their own choice except for dinner, when they met at the Restaurant de la Poste. A disturbing duty that fell to the subaltern’s lot was Curfew Picket, seeing that all ranks were out of town by a certain hour, ‘but one did see life.’

Major Geiger’s narrative of A Company detachment.—We marched off to the upper part of the town accompanied by an admiring crowd, and on arrival at our quarters (the École Théologique, rue des Champs du Quiseau) found ourselves on velvet. The men were in the dormitories of the students, most of whom were mobilized already, and had beautiful clean straw to sleep on, and the nuns insisted on cooking for them; not taking long views, they one and all were of opinion that a European war was excellent business. On inspecting my own billet de logement, with which we were provided in those early days, I saw that Samson and I were to be the guests of the Archbishop of Rouen at the Archevêché. We were shown into bedrooms that were like private chapels, and the major-domo told me impressively that, up to that night, no one under the rank of bishop had occupied my bedroom. The bed, however, did not give way under the weight of my sins. His Grace was unable to entertain us that evening, but bade us to déjeuner next day.

August 12th.—I went over to H.Q. first thing, and was told that at 5 p.m. I was to go on to Amiens with my Company, which was good news as it meant being on one’s own. On getting back to my billet I asked if we could be given a guide to see the Cathedral and the Church of St. Ouen. The Archbishop’s Domestic Chaplain volunteered, so Samson and I spent a most instructive morning, and ended it with a most excellent lunch with the Archbishop who, on our taking leave, gave us his blessing.

We entrained very comfortably, the officers being in two first-class carriages—everything was done luxuriously in those early days. (We were 4 officers, 120 other ranks, and one horse. One officer, 104 other ranks, 2 vehicles and horses followed on the 14th.) As our journey progressed it became more and more hilarious. Crowds seemed to be waiting for us at every station, we stopped at every one, and a good deal of osculation went on. I personally was handed out nothing better than numerous children of tender years, most of them grubby, to kiss, but the subalterns next door seemed more lucky as far as I could see out of the corner of my eye. The climax of the ludicrous was reached at some station or other where the town band met us and played the Marseillaise, to which A Company responded by intoning God save the King with much solemnity. We were met by a French corporal-interpreter who, I discovered next day, was the Duc de Luynes. He led us to our billet in the Saint Acheul district, a poor quarter of the town. Our quarters were in what we would call a Council school (in the rue Sadi Carnot). Although the straw was clean, the premises were not, particularly the sanitary portion. Succeeding incoming French Reservists had been quartered there before us, and had not troubled about cleaning-up before leaving: it is not the French way. There were some admirable, if somewhat offensive, drawings of the Kaiser and other German personages on the blackboards. The officers bedded down on straw in a classroom: hardly as luxurious as the bishop’s bedroom.

August 13th.—We got to work and thoroughly cleaned our billet; and I set about finding what we were wanted for and how the land lay. H.Q. Lines of Communication were in a hotel opposite the station. The O.C. Troops had my Company, and various Service, Ordnance, and Medical Corps Details under his orders. These Details were a bit of a trial; being nearly all Reservists just recalled, and having very few officers to look after them, they were all over the shop. Our duties were to furnish orderlies to L. of C. H.Q., sentries and escorts to guard ammunition lorries, and parties to be ready at the station with rations and water for the Expeditionary Force troop-trains on their way through Amiens. The trains began coming through that day or the next. Having got cleaning materials and disinfectant, seen about daily rations, etc., I looked up Luynes, and with his help the officers were soon installed in decent billets. Where I was lodged the wife had spent many years as a lady’s-maid in England. The house had a bath!

‘First{23} pay-day in France! As Acting C.Q.M.S. of the detachment I went to the Goods Station to draw rations, and was asked, none too kindly, how I expected to take away the rations—they had no...transport. So I commandeered an old cart, probably the first act of the kind by the British Army in France. It was curious to see that when the French peasant Reservists reported for duty they were accompanied by their women-folk.’

August 14th.—Warned that Sir John French was coming for a night to the Hôtel du Rhin, and that we must furnish a Guard, we were mildly agitated because all the officers were wearing the Flash with Service Dress. Sir John had ordered it off the 1st Battalion at Aldershot when he was in command there seven years ago. The 2nd Battalion, then in India, naturally took no notice of that order. We had landed from abroad in March wearing ours and hoping for the best. Up to date we had got away with it, but this was the first time Sir John had seen us. If we had thought twice we need not have worried; the C.-in-C. was occupied with matters of rather more import than the dress distinction of His Majesty’s 23rd Foot. He ran into the Orderly Officer turning out the Guard, but all the O.O. got was a benign smile. Once, in France, I was asked if I was an aumonier (chaplain), an explanation of the Flash that was new to me.

The next occurrence was the arrival of the King’s Message, which was read on parade. The cheers I was instructed to call for were given very heartily, bringing heads to the windows of houses adjacent to the yard of the school.

Then H.Q. and four squadrons of the Royal Flying Corps arrived by air. We supplied the firing party at the burial of a pilot-officer and mechanic whose machine crashed when they resumed their journey. They were given an impressive funeral, attended by the Prefect of the Department, the Mayor, and a battalion of French Territorials (the ancients who were the local garrison).

August 17th.—I was summoned early to L. of C. H.Q. and told that General Grierson, commanding II Corps, had died suddenly in the train, and that his body would be taken out at Amiens. A. Company was detailed for Guard of Honour and any other relevant duty. There were a lot of stupid rumours about General Grierson’s death. I have the best of reasons for knowing that he died from the bursting of a blood-vessel, probably brought on by the heat and a heavy meal. He was a man of full habit, the weather was torrid, and the Staffs of higher formations were at that time living exclusively on hampers supplied by Fortnum and Mason—purveyors of edible and potable delicacies.

During A Company’s stay in Amiens the officers took their meals at various restaurants. The more or less luxurious establishments familiar to the B.E.F. when Amiens was the chief centre of relaxation behind the Somme Front did not exist then, except the famous Fish Shop, which, being in a side street, the rue des Corps nues sans Testes [old French=têtes], we never discovered. Samson and I took all our meals at the Café Mollard, a modest establishment, which I saw again in April 1918 with a shell through the front of it. We used to wind up the evening in a café in the Place Gambetta, where an orchestra played. The performance always concluded with all the Allied National Anthems, when everyone stood up and solemnly saluted during the ten minutes it took to play them. The show ended at 9 p.m., so we were never kept up late.

All this time the Expeditionary Force was passing through Amiens. The other officers of the Company were waxing very impatient, and confiding to me their impression that we were doomed to remain there for the whole of the War. As I had from the first openly expressed my opinion that the War would last about two years—how wrong I was!—I was not particularly disturbed by these outbursts. All doubts were set at rest when I was summoned August 10th—to O.C. Troops Office in the rue des Trois-Cailloux, and told that we were about to become a unit of the 19th Infantry Brigade, and would be off in a couple of days. The O.C. then said a lot of kind things about the conduct of the men which was not flattery, they had certainly earned his good opinion. Right from the first they were perfectly wonderful. They were exposed to every sort of temptation, in very truth the town of Amiens was at their feet; yet during the ten days we were there not a single man was drunk, and only one came in late (only ten minutes) for tattoo at 9.15. A few gave away their cap-badges as souvenirs, but on an intimation that no one would go out without one this ceased at once. The fact that the school was surrounded by a high iron fence helped to keep everyone together. A Staff Officer told me that he had congratulated one of our men on the Company’s good behaviour, and got the reply, Well, the Captain told us that the better we behaved ourselves, the sooner we should go to the Front. If I had spun that yarn a year later I wonder what the effect would have been? All ranks were, of course, now full of excitement.

On my way back to our billets I saw a long column of motor vans with such well-known names as Harrods, Maple, Whiteley, etc., etc. They belonged to the supply columns, and looked very incongruous in Amiens. (‘Apropos, a tribute is due to the old London bus-driver who was presumed to be devoid of all discipline. One night a fire broke out in a lorry. Very calmly the drivers started up and got all lorries not affected clear, then proceeded to deal with the burning ones.’)

Our billet was invaded by about 150 youthful enthusiasts with motor bicycles, a large percentage of whom had no idea how to manage their mounts. They were, for the most part, University students and young schoolmasters, with a sprinkling of young business men, who had been collected speedily and sent over as despatch-riders. I imagine that all who did not become casualties eventually got commissions.

August 20th.—The Battalion had orders to stand-by to move: Guards and other Duties in Rouen were called in.

August 21st.—Our Brigadier, the Hon. L. G. Drummond, arrived at the Hôtel du Rhin, Amiens, with a Brigade-Major, Johnson of the K.R.R.C., and looked round to complete his Staff. I was sent for and, after some desultory conversation, asked if I would like the job of Staff Captain. Given an hour to think it over, I decided to stick to my Company for the present. As events turned out, my decision did not make much difference to me, except that I should probably have drifted to the Q. side of the Staff, which I am glad I avoided.’

CHAPTER II—August-September 1914

To the War in Earnest—Mons, A Rumour: Retreat—Le Cateau—Sleep-walking—St. Quentin—Wayside Comedies—Still on, on—A Rose Garden

Contributors:—BOREHAM; DELMÉ RADCLIFFE; GEIGER; HOLMES; MOSTYN; OWEN; POWELL; RODERICK; WILLIAMS; YATES—Sketches:-2, 3, 26

August 22nd.—At 10.25 a.m. the Battalion left Rouen by train—H.Q., B, C, and D Companies: 23 officers, 2 interpreters, 752 other ranks-7 other ranks remained in hospital-58 horses, 17 vehicles. ‘At{24} Amiens a good deal of badinage was exchanged, but I was able to tell them that they were bound for Valenciennes, and that the other battalions in the Brigade were The Cameronians, the 1st Middlesex, and 2nd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. They went on; A Company was to follow later with Brigade H.Q. We left our billets—incidentally, a good deal cleaner than the French had—about 8.30 p.m., and pushed off to the War in earnest at 11.’ Two other ranks remained in hospital.

August 23rd.—At 2 a.m. the Battalion arrived at Valenciennes, and detrained just outside the station. It had been in Valenciennes before, having marched through three days after Waterloo. Rations and ammunition were issued. Some boxes, which had been objects of speculation, were opened; they contained Ordnance Maps of sections of Northern France and Belgium, and handbooks for dealing with the authorities of these countries; ‘my{25} share was eight, not a welcome addition to the already weighty contents of a pack.’ There was a report that a man, dressed as a woman, was caught about this time on the station platform with pigeons under his skirt. Somewhere{26} about 6.30 A Company rolled into the station. I had time for coffee and a roll at the buffet with the other officers before the Battalion fell in on the Place de la Gare. We got under way in rear of the Brigade,’ D Company at the tail of the Battalion, and marched on a pavé road in a north-easterly direction. ‘A{27} number of lorries returning to the town passed us. Although we had been away from home for but a few days, the familiar names on them—one, I remember, was Maple—made me feel quite home-sick.’

After a couple of miles B Company left the main road and went to a village named Rombies. There we put out one or two posts and then proceeded to get some breakfast. The villagers were very interested in the making of tea; they were horrified at the way the milk, which the cooks got from a farm, was added. (The Army method of making tea is to boil the water, stir in the tea, then the sugar and the milk before taking the kettle off the fire. If the water has been chlorinated the flavour is unimaginable; a taste for the decoction is never acquired, it has to be endured.) As already mentioned, the Battalion was engaged in training when war broke out, and, since we had not yet become acquainted with real shells and so on, it seemed that we were still going on with the training, for when Captain Powell read out the situation, according to which the enemy’s cyclists had been seen at So-and-so, there was nothing strange about it. In the afternoon we rejoined the Battalion. It, meanwhile, had gone a few kilometres farther, then it bore off left-handed to a position between the village of Vicq and the river Escaut (Scheldt).

We were about two miles south of the Condé Canal, on which the 1st Middlesex and The Cameronians were finding the outposts; the Argylls were in support. The Brigade formed, with the possible exception of a few cavalry vedettes, the extreme left of the Allied Line. Here we got orders to dig trenches. No one seemed to have a very clear idea of how they were to be sited or of what pattern they were to be, so A Company dug a length of wretched one-hour shelter-trench with our small entrenching tools. Others scraped out rifle-pits in the banks of dykes. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon; B Company were in a field where the corn had been cut recently. It was still difficult to realize that there was a war on. The local people strolled round, dressed in their Sunday clothes, and the men fraternized with them. They were, of course, very interested in our proceedings; they were in excellent spirits, and totally oblivious of any possibly impending cataclysm. They spoke Flemish among themselves, not French. To requests for cigarettes or matches from the men they replied, N’y a pus, the local dialect for Il n’y en a plus, from which na’poo, soon an expressive word in the Army’s daily speech, is easily evolved. D Company had dug outpost trenches near a little farm. Some cap-badges were parted with, and some rendezvous for next day were given that evening. So far things were not bad, and few of the men took the War seriously; none knew what was happening although there was any amount of wild rumour.

We were instructed next to watch all roads coming from a northerly direction. We carried out this order to the best of our ability, but it was difficult because our maps were on a smallish scale, and the whole place was a criss-cross of roads and paths, and of dykes coming from the Canal and the river. While we were sitting peacefully around at about 8 p.m. we began to hear gun-fire, field-guns. For us, this was the first sound of war; it denoted the opening of the Battle of Mons-Charleroi in our part of the Field. An hour or so later we heard that the Middlesex outposts had been engaged with the enemy across the Canal, and that they had at least one officer wounded. Our Company officers got a little sleep in the intervals of visiting their sentries, and most of us were badly bitten by the insects that abounded in the sluggish dykes.

August 24th.—About 2.30 we got orders to fall in at once. It was pitch-dark. Without details of any kind being vouchsafed we pushed off along the road into the blue. The Brigade was, in fact, concentrating near Elouges. For two days it was to be the Infantry Support in the running fight in which Allenby’s Cavalry Division foiled the efforts of the First German Army to envelop the left of the B.E.F. To the Army the German General von Klück was Old One O’clock. Gun-fire, of which there had not been much, had ceased for some time, and for the first couple of hours we marched without incident. ‘My pocket-compass informed me’ that we were going first of all south and then a little north of east. The first event of interest was our arrival in the small town of Quiévrain, just over the Belgian Frontier. Here the inhabitants were very agitated. Firing could be heard again, and all arms were, or had been, in evidence. We marched straight on, the noise of gun-fire getting nearer. On our left we could see the puffs of exploding shells on the other side of the nearest crest-line, about half a mile away. Just as we got to the village of Elouges we were given the order to About turn, and thus unknowingly began our long trek south. (General Allenby had ordered the withdrawal of his troops before he knew that the 3rd Division was being pressed by the pursuing Germans; a sharp little action occurred before it shook them off.)

‘We{28} soon reached Quiévrain again, and halted. I suppose it was about 8 o'clock. After about ten minutes the Brigade-Major came and told me to picket the entrance to the town at one road and at the railway station, and to fire at once on any German cavalry patrol that might approach. Nothing happened. After about half an hour I was ordered to collect my Company and fall in with the rest. There was a report later that a platoon of the Argylls, similarly engaged, never got its order to retire, was left behind, and was badly cut up shortly afterwards.

After marching about one mile, and nearly in Baisieux, I observed a large body of cavalry, like a brigade, manoeuvring about 900 yards east of us. Some of them, the 9th Lancers I suppose, trotted forward in two lines about 150 yards apart, and eventually broke into a charge. No enemy was visible to us, but as soon as the cavalry began to gallop gun-fire was opened on them, and one could see through glasses a few empty saddles and horses down. After charging about half a mile the cavalry wheeled and returned, and when I lost sight of them they were reforming. Meanwhile I had remarked a long sausage-like balloon which I assumed to be a Zeppelin but, according to subsequent experience, it was merely an observation-balloon.’

The next halt was after midday in a field near Rombies, where we started to dig-in with our entrenching tools, for the few proper picks and shovels in the company tool-cart were not nearly enough to go round. We started to dig several times, because Brigade sent order after order each amending the previous one, so Major Williams went to Brigade to find out what was really wanted. While he was there General Allenby, wearing slacks, drove up in a car. The sequel to that incident was that Holmes was asked to exchange a pair of slacks for a pair of breeches, and for his acquiescence was detailed temporarily as Brigadier’s Galloper. It was here that we saw the first German aeroplane; it flew quite low. We had hardly scratched the soil, and eaten some bully-beef and biscuit, when we moved off again. The day was very hot. Before long we began to see signs that a retreat was in progress; packs which had been cast off were lying by the roadside. We arrived finally at Jenlain, where we were to halt for the night, about 6 p.m. In spite of the heat the men had marched well, but it was becoming apparent that the Reservists’ boots were going to give trouble; there had been a little straggling from that cause, and 17 men were missing at Roll-call. During the march, and on later marches, wine was offered to the men so liberally that a check had to be kept on its consumption, sometimes by breaking the bottles.

French Territorial soldiers were digging trenches. The long-handled French shovels looked very awkward. We were soon engaged in the same form of exercise, for the Battalion was ordered to entrench between the road [from Sebourg] we had been marching on and ‘the{29} small Fort of Curgies which, I fancy, dated from Vauban’s day, and was part of the defences of Valenciennes, of which we were now south-east. The Fort was the left of the line. This time, with the Brigade-Major’s assistance, I got an idea of the whole scheme, and since it looked as if we might really have to fight I set about getting more suitable implements than our entrenching tools. Luckily I fell in with a small party of French Territorials{30} who were wheeling home a large number of picks and shovels, which they let me have on my promise to return them without fail to Monsieur Dupont in the village. We dug some real trenches, and, as far as I remember, returned the tools to Monsieur Dupont.’ Packs were used instead of sand-bags, of which we had none, and some ammunition that was rather in the way was buried. Captain Walwyn, shot in the foot when he was walking in a corner of a harvest field at dusk, was our first casualty. ‘As I soon as it was dark we lay down in our trenches, and I for one felt certain that we were in for a battle next day.

August 25th.—Everything remained peaceful till about 3.30 a.m., when orders were received to stand-to. In pitch darkness we marched off, still heading south. The Brigade was all together; I think we were leading. Soon after it was light a German aeroplane passed right over us as we were marching along a very zigzag bit of road near Sepmeries. It could not have been more than 300 feet up, since the two men in it, who waved their hands derisively, were plainly visible without glasses. The order for rapid fire was given. I should say that, owing to the shape of the road, every man in the Brigade was able to fire at least five rounds at it—without the slightest result. It went on its way, the pilot and observer still waving their hands. Like nearly everyone else, I suppose, I had yelled to aim well in front, but I doubt if anyone had taken the least notice. About a week later, when I was censoring some of the men’s letters, I came upon an account of this incident in which the writer described how he had brought the