CHAPTER VToC
THE FIRST BATTLE OF YPRES
Until October, 1914, Ypres was generally regarded as a quiet Belgian town, celebrated for its most interesting and valuable buildings, and relics of a past age; but owing to its strategic importance in this war, it has from that time onwards been lifted out of its somnolent life into a world-wide importance, as one of the greatest battle-fields of the world.
In explaining the great part which the Seventh Division took in this front-rank battle, I cannot do better than quote from The Times of December 16, 1914, in describing the heroic effort of our troops in resisting the furious onslaughts of the Germans in their vain endeavour to reach Calais; to which point the Kaiser had commanded a road 'to be forced at all costs.' Under the heading—
THE DEFENCE OF YPRES
BRILLIANT WORK OF THE SEVENTH
DIVISION STUBBORN VALOUR AND ENDURANCE
the writer proceeds to say:—
'The full story of the gallantry shown by British troops in their stubborn defence of Ypres has yet to be told, but the orders which we publish below, with the detailed official narrative of events in Flanders which accompanies them, give some indication of the fine work which has been done by the Seventh Infantry and Third Cavalry Divisions.
The following order, which accompanied an order issued by General Sir Douglas Haig, published in The Times of November 30, was issued to the Seventh Division by Lieut.-General Sir H.S. Rawlinson:—
In forwarding the attached order by G.O.C. First Corps, I desire to place on record my own high appreciation of the endurance and fine soldierly qualities exhibited by all ranks of the Seventh Division from the time of their landing in Belgium. You have been called to take a conspicuous part in one of the severest struggles in the history of the war, and you have had the honour and distinction of contributing in no small measure to the success of our arms and the defeat of the enemy's plans.
The task which fell to your share inevitably involved heavy losses, but you have at any rate the satisfaction of knowing that the losses you have inflicted upon the enemy have been far heavier.The Seventh Division have gained for themselves a reputation for stubborn valour and endurance in defence, and I am certain that you will only add to your laurels when the opportunity of advancing to the attack is given you.
Such Army orders are necessarily written in general terms, and are invariably marked by a disciplined self-restraint. It may be of interest, therefore, to give some account of the circumstances in which "the stubborn valour and endurance" of which Sir Henry Rawlinson speaks were displayed. The work of the Seventh Division and the Third Cavalry Division to the date of the issue of this order at about the end of November, was of a kind which strains the mental and physical strength of troops, beyond any other form of operations. The two Divisions were sent to the aid of the Naval Division at Antwerp, and they were landed at Ostend and Zeebrugge about October 6. They occupied the regions of Bruges and Ghent, and they had to suffer the initial disappointment of finding that they arrived too late. Two days later Sir Henry Rawlinson moved his Head-quarters from Bruges to Ostend. The enemy were advancing in great force, and the position of our troops became untenable; indeed, the situation was so serious that the troops which had been detailed for lines of communication at the base were forced to embark again and return to Dunkirk.
A POSITION OF GRAVE DANGER
The position of the two Divisions from this point onwards was one of grave danger. They were forced by the overwhelming superiority in numbers of the enemy to retire. From Ghent all the way to Ypres it was a desperate rearguard fight. They had to trek across a difficult country without any lines of communication and without a base, holding on doggedly from position to position, notably at Thielt and Roulers, until they took up their final stand before Ypres. What that stand has meant to England will one day be recognized. What it cost these troops, and how they fought, will be recorded in the proudest annals of their regiments.
After the deprivations and the tension of being pursued through day and night by an infinitely stronger force, these two Divisions had yet to pass through the worst ordeal of all. It was left to a little force of 30,000 to keep the German Army at bay for some days while the other British Corps were being brought up from the Aisne (the First Corps did not come to their assistance till October 21). Here they hung on like grim death, with almost every man in the trenches holding a line which was of necessity a great deal too long—a thin, exhausted line against which the prime of the German first line troops were hurling themselves with fury. The odds against them were about eight to one, and when once the enemy found the range of a trench, the shells dropped into it from one end to the other with the most terrible effect. Yet the men stood firm and defended Ypres in such a manner that a German officer afterwards described their action as a brilliant feat of arms, and said that they were under the impression that there had been four British Corps against them at this point.
When the two Divisions were afterwards withdrawn from the firing line to refit, it was found that in the Infantry alone, out of the 400 officers who set out from England, there were only forty-four left, and out of 12,000 men only 2,336. So far, little has been published about the work of these Divisions—probably because the bulk of the various dispatches is so great. It may be well, therefore, to place on record now an achievement which will one day be reckoned, no doubt, among the finest of the kind in British military history.'
One's own view and conception of so huge a movement was necessarily small, for in a 'far-flung battle line' the ordinary individual could only see very little of the main operations. Yet the little I saw revealed to me the splendid heroism of our men, and the carefully thought out disposition of our troops; a heroism so perfect that one attenuated line of khaki, consisting of under 30,000 men, held 240,000 Germans at bay. For a week this small force clung to their positions by dint of magnificent fighting and dauntless pluck, until the main army from the Aisne under General Sir John French joined forces with them.
During these stirring and most eventful days the scenes of ordinary life often came before me in striking contrast to what was being thus enacted in the very forefront of England's effort. For instance, sometimes amid a very hell of noise and carnage, the thought of Regent Street or Cheapside in their work-a-day aspect, or again, the peaceful surroundings of 'home, sweet home,' would find a momentary lodgment in my mind, only to be dispelled by the sounds and signs which betokened that the sternest game of life was being played before my eyes. Each hour seemed to promise the break of our lines by the vast masses of the enemy, which were always pressing us hard, and indeed the promise would have been fulfilled but for the grit of men who never acknowledged defeat.
I have always been proud of being a Briton, but seeing what I did, and knowing what I know, I feel immeasurably prouder now, than ever before, of belonging to a nation which can produce such men. Even nature presented its remarkable contrast to the clamour of war, for in the interlude of the firing of a battery of eighteen pounders I have heard the birds singing as peacefully and merrily as in quiet English fields.
It is difficult to convey to my readers the prodigies of valour which daily took place in the course of the great struggle in front of Ypres. One dark night a young R.A.M.C. officer, who until quite recently had been pursuing his quiet round of work as a medical practitioner in England, but who at the call of country had pressed to the front, was out with his bearer company attending the dying and wounded men, when suddenly a Battalion, which had lost all its officers, momentarily broke from the trenches. Quickly gathering the dread import of their act, this young hero rushed into the ruck of men, who amid that awful hell had been seized with panic. Calling to a sergeant he directed him to shoot the first man that came by, then rushing into the disorganized rabble—for it was little else at that time—he shouted to them, 'Men! men! have you forgotten that you are Englishmen,' and quickly bringing them into order headed them back again to their grim work. I have been pleased to see that this brave lad has received a well merited distinction from his Sovereign, but at the time the only comment made upon his behaviour by his O.C. was, 'The young beggar ought to get a rap over his knuckles for exceeding his duty.' Such feats are constantly occurring, so often indeed as to hardly excite comment.
Two officers from a Guards Battalion in my Brigade died the death of heroes in the dark hours of one early morning, endeavouring to fulfil the hopeless task of capturing a German gun, the while they had only six men with them. The whole party was blown to pieces in the endeavour. Some may think it a useless waste of valuable life; in degree it is, but these daring deeds go far to preserve that glorious spirit of heroic venture which characterizes the whole fighting line of our men. The value of systematic training, which at the time it is being undergone is often regarded as a weariness of the flesh by the men undergoing it, is strikingly exhibited in actual warfare. I was much struck with this late one afternoon, as I saw the 2nd Gordons enter action in extended order. Their 'dressing and distance' was most admirably preserved, the while they took advantage of every inch of cover that presented itself. It was indeed a thrilling sight to see these brave lads advancing under a murderous fire, with as great a steadiness as if they were in the Long Valley at Aldershot.
Moving about near the firing line requires considerable circumspection, and a fairly accurate knowledge of the disposition of troops. For lack of this, I once found myself in a most unenviable position. I had been called to bury an officer of the Guards, who had died under circumstances of singular gallantry—alas! leaving a wife and two charming children. On nearing the spot where I had been told the body was lying, I was informed that it had been arranged to convey the remains to England. There was nothing for it but to retrace one's steps, but by this time the firing which had been unpleasantly heavy on the way out, had waxed in intensity, when suddenly emerging from the shelter of a wood, I found myself between the two lines of opposing forces. A British sergeant roared lustily to me to stay where I was and lie down, and I never obeyed instruction with greater alacrity. Fortunately for me, the line of battle steadily shifted and I was enabled to ride onwards with some degree of security; but I inwardly registered a vow that in the future I would make sure of what was taking place before I rode into such a mare's nest.
The methods of warfare, as now conducted, are entirely removed from those of previous campaigns; for instance, the ranging of guns to-day is most correctly determined by aeroplanes. But not only do these war scouts render this important service; from the air they are enabled to detect the disposition of troops, gun emplacements, and all other movements of the enemy, which heretofore it has been difficult to determine.
Very frequently most thrilling duels take place between opposing aviators, and certainly nothing is more exciting than to watch such a struggle in mid air. One is lost in wonderment at the pluck and the skill of the aviators, as one sees them manoeuvring for place, the while subject to heavy fire. One of the most notable aviators at that time was Commander Samson, commonly known as Captain Kettle, owing to a likeness to that far-famed character of fiction, which was to be faintly traced in the hero of real life. Commander Samson was not only a 'flyer' possessed of intrepid courage and great skill, but he further possessed an armour-plated car, in which was a high velocity gun; this he manipulated in a manner which struck terror to the German's heart; and one was not surprised to hear that the Kaiser had offered a reward of four thousand marks to the man who brought him down, or put him out of action. I enjoyed a marked illustration of his prowess one afternoon, near Hooge. A German aeroplane was sailing majestically over our lines, the observer no doubt making notes of everything which he beheld, when suddenly Samson dashed up in his car, and after very deliberate aim, hit the aircraft in the oil tank, which resulted in the whole falling to the ground a burning and crumpled mass. Such episodes appeal to the sporting nature which characterizes most men, and tend to relieve any monotony which may at times threaten to settle upon the men.
From boyhood one has delighted in reading the vivid accounts of such campaigns as the Peninsular, or Crimea; and in later days in taking part in the autumn manoeuvres held in such open country as Dartmoor, or Salisbury Plain. One well remembers the fascination of watching a General, surrounded by his Staff, sending orders and receiving dispatches at the hands of his 'gallopers.' But all this has changed. No longer do we see cocked hat Generals, on the summit of rising ground, spying the position of troops through his field-glasses. To-day some of the most notable actions are fought by a General who the whole time may be three or four miles away from the seat of the struggle. Picture him, pipe in mouth, working out the movements of the troops on a large map in front of him. Every moment the Field telephone is at work; dispatch riders breathlessly deliver their messages, the while the Staff are carefully noting every fresh movement reported. Not an unnecessary word is spoken, and all hinges upon one figure whose whole attention is centred, by the aid of his vivid imagination and definite information, upon a battlefield, the ground of which he probably knows, but which at the moment is far out of sight. Such is the science of war up to date.
Since the early days of the war methods have considerably changed. Both sides have dug themselves in, until the allied lines stretch in one continuous chain of over 500 miles. The trenches to-day are monuments of masterly skill and construction. Gazing over a line of such earth fortifications—for that is what they are—from the summit of a hill, it is very difficult to realize that at one's feet there are thousands of men lying hidden from each other, but ready at a moment's notice to spring into deadly activity. An occasional shell bursts here and there, but beyond that the characteristics are apparently peaceful; such is the appearance at the present stage of warfare. But it must be always borne in mind this is only preparatory to great and far-reaching movements.
Ever and again a scrap takes place, and a few hundreds or thousands of yards of trenches are taken or lost. To the ordinary civilian mind this all seems very haphazard, but it is not so; every movement is made with a purpose, and the result carefully noted by the master mind behind the whole.
The first battle of Ypres lasted somewhere about a month. Since then other sanguinary battles have taken place on the ground which has become historic. But October and November, 1914, will ever stand in the annals of war as the occasion of one of England's greatest triumphs, for notwithstanding Germany's costly endeavours to reach the coast, she failed.
