He went up to the captain, saluted him, and made his report. While passing through a wood on the other side of the river he had been captured by a couple of Uhlans, who shut him up in a hayloft, and said they would shoot him if any French appeared. The coming of the French would be a proof that he had been scouting for them. After lying quietly in the hayloft for some time, he managed to get out of a little window, and crawl through the enemy lines without being seen. Once clear of the Germans, he took to his heels and ran towards home. He was able to give the captain a rough idea of how many Germans there were on the other side of the river, and how they were placed. The captain thanked him warmly, and said, "You are an honour to France." "Perhaps," said the youngster, shaking his head; "but all the same I didn't manage to call on granny!"
As the Germans retreated northward after the Battle of the Marne, they looted the villages through which they passed, and shot down many unarmed peasants. In a cottage lay a bedridden woman, who was tended by her ten-year-old daughter, Henriette. Most of the neighbours had fled, but it was impossible to move Henriette's mother. "When they see how ill she is," said the little girl, "they will pity her, and do us no harm." The child little knew the temper of the Huns. A Bavarian sergeant broke open the door and demanded money. He threw the poor woman off the bed, and searched her mattress in vain. "Well," said he, "if you have no money, there is wine in your cellar, and we will have that." Forthwith he and seven of his men descended to the cellar, where they drank from a cask of wine till they were hopelessly drunk. When Henriette saw this, she quietly closed the trap-door leading into the cellar, and piled all the heavy things in the room on top of it. Before long French soldiers appeared in the village. Henriette beckoned to them, and, pointing to the trap-door, said, "The cellar is full of Germans, all drunk." The furniture was removed, and the drunken Bavarians were hauled out.
Now I must explain that Henriette's father had been seized by the Germans a few days before, and had been carried off to a neighbouring town as a hostage. As the French officer was marching off with the prisoners whom he had captured in the cellar, Henriette said to him, "Tell the Germans that if they will bring my father back I will ask you not to shoot them." The officer told the Germans what Henriette had said, and the least drunken of them offered to go to the neighbouring town and bring the father back safely. In a few hours he returned, bringing Henriette's father with him. Great was the child's joy at seeing her father free once more, and great was his pride in his clever little daughter.
I have already told you the story of the gallant defence which Fort Troyon made. When the Crown Prince's army was marching towards the fort, an advance party seized a village close to the outer works, and forbade the villagers to leave their houses under pain of death. The advance guard hoped to be able to reach the fort without being seen, and to capture it by surprise. A little girl of twelve years of age, named Louise Haumont, overheard her parents say that if the commander of the fort could be warned that the Germans were coming, he might be able to save it from capture. Watching her opportunity, she slipped out of the house, crept through the cornfields, and, after a weary journey, reached the fort unnoticed by the enemy. A sentry saw her, and challenged her, and was much surprised when he learnt that she had a message for the commander. She was taken to him, and you may be sure that he was very grateful for her timely warning. Without delay he mustered his men, attacked the village, and drove off the advance guard. Louise was greeted by soldiers and friends alike as a heroine, and I am sure you will agree that she deserved the highest praise that could be given to her.
Let me tell you a story of a French boy's splendid courage during the time when the 6th Army was fighting its way through the villages to the west of the Ourcq, in order to attack von Kluck's rearguard. As a French regiment was passing through one of these villages, a boy named André went up to the colonel, and begged hard to be allowed to join thesoldiers. He was refused; but being a lad of very determined character, he waited until the soldiers were some distance on their way, and then stealthily followed them. When he reached them they told him to go back; but he took no notice, and remained with them, making himself useful in all sorts of ways. Two or three days later the colonel saw him, and said to a sergeant, "Who is this boy marching along with us?" "He is a fine, soldierly lad," replied the sergeant; "he does odd jobs for the men, and we find him very obliging and useful. Wemustkeep him. We cannot send him back now; the distance is too great." So André, to his joy, was allowed to remain.
A few days later the regiment attacked the Germans. Shot and shell fell thickly, but the boy did not flinch. Suddenly he saw his friend the sergeant fall wounded. Off dashed André. He reached the wounded man, helped him to his feet, and supported him as he struggled to the rear. Soon an ambulance came by, and the sergeant was carried off to hospital. André was a happy boy that night; he had paid his debt of gratitude to the man who had befriended him.
When the Germans reached Soissons, on the Aisne, in the course of their retreat, they found that the mayor had left the place, and that there was no person of authority with whom they could make arrangements. A certain Madame Macherez,[117]the widow of a former senator of France,[118]presented herself, and declared herself ready to take over the government of the town. The German commander agreed, and Madame Macherez managed everything admirably for twelve days, though she had hard work to satisfy the invaders. They demanded 200,000 lbs. of food and flour and 40,000 lbs. of tobacco, and informed her that if she did not supply them with these goods at once they would burn the town to the ground. Madame told them quite plainly that they might just as well ask for the sun and the moon, but she promised to give them all the provisions that she could collect. The Germans accepted her offer, and, thanks to her courage and energy, Soissons was not then destroyed. Afew days later she had the joy of seeing the arrogant Germans leave the town in haste, with the British hard on their heels. She continued to act as mayor, and during the bombardment of the place, which the Germans began almost immediately, devoted herself to Red Cross work. Three times her house was hit by German shells. One shell fell while she was at lunch, and destroyed a wing of her house. Madame laid down her napkin and went to see what had happened. "There is not much damage done," she said, and then she calmly sat down and finished her meal. Soissons, you may be sure, was very proud of its cool, courageous lady mayoress.
A French boy, Gustave by name, went through several battles with the French troops, and was wounded. He wrote an account of his adventures, from which the following extract is taken:—"I had been at the advanced posts for two days when it occurred to me to climb into the loft of a house in order to observe the enemy's positions. Inside the house I discovered the kits and rifles of German soldiers. I had to get out of the house, but I was unable to reopen the door. I therefore broke the window, and thus escaped. Then I loaded my rifle, fixed my bayonet, and got in again. Nobody downstairs. Went upstairs, and discovered—guess what? Seven 'Boches' sound asleep.
"I fired my rifle. The German soldiers woke up and looked at each other, wondering what had happened. Hidden behind some straw, I observed them. Then I rushed at them. They did not resist, but threw up their hands.
"'Get down,' says I to them; and they went downstairs, quite happy to surrender. I handed them over to my comrades."
When the boy's officers heard of the exploit they praised him warmly, and the general invited him to his table.
A young French cyclist named Berger took part in the Battle of the Marne. He saw his colonel lying wounded, and started to carry him to the rear. A British officer who lay near by called out that he was thirsty. Berger shouted encouraging words to him, and promised to return in a few minutes. He carried his colonel into safety, and then came back to the wounded Briton with food and a flask of wine. Bullets from rifles andmachine guns were whistling about him, but he heeded them not. He was just raising the British officer's head when a bullet struck him in the hand. Though he was suffering great pain, he put the flask to the wounded man's lips; but at that moment he was struck by a second bullet, which entered his back. The two men lay on the sodden field until dawn, when the battle began again. Soon they saw the Germans advancing, and a body of Uhlans rode by. Berger hailed the officer, and begged him for something to drink. The officer dismounted, gave them drink from his own water-bottle, saluted them, and went on his way. For almost the whole day the two wounded men lay on the wet, miry ground, while the battle raged around them. The Briton by this time was almost unconscious. In spite of his own wounds, Berger partly dragged, partly pushed his fellow-sufferer along until they reached the Allied lines, where bygood luck they fell in with stretcher-bearers, who conveyed them both to hospital. As the British officer was being placed on the stretcher he grasped the young Frenchman's hand, and said, "If I live through this I will do my best to get you the V.C. If ever a man deserved it, you do."
A French newspaper says that after the Battle of the Marne, when the Germans were in full retreat, one of the imperial princes was severely wounded. He was at once conveyed to Epernay,[119]which was still held by a few German troops. No German surgeon could be found, so a staff officer went to a French surgeon who resided in the town and offered him a large fee if he would attend the prince. "My fee," said the doctor, "is exactly the war levy which you have demanded from my native city—175,000 francs."[120]The case was urgent, and the Germans had to agree to pay the doctor's fee. The money was handed over the same evening.
Now I must tell you a few stories relating the adventures of our own countrymen during the advance to the Marne. Here is an account of fighting on the river, from the pen of Sapper Gilhooly of the Royal Engineers: "Last week on the Marne we spent two days on a long mine[121]out towards the German lines, and just as we were getting to the close of our job we heard pickaxes going as fast and hard as you like, and then the wall of clay before us gave way, showing a party of Germans at the same game! You never saw men more astonished in your life. 'Fancy meeting you!' was written all over their faces, and they hadn't recovered from their shock when we pounced upon them. One German was just caught in time with a fuse, which he was going to apply, with the mad idea of blowing us all up! One of his mates was the first to rush on him. They weren't having any 'death or glory,' and I don't blame them. There's a Highlander beside me who is rigged out in the boots of aBelgian infantryman killed at Mons, the red trousers of a Frenchman, the khaki tunic of a Guardsman, and the glengarry cap of his own corps. When he wants to look particularly smart he wears a German cavalryman's cloak. The other day we came on a party of the enemy washing their shirts in a river, and we were on them so fast that they had to fly, leaving shirts and everything else behind. One chap, however, managed to collar his braces!"
The splendid devotion to duty of our doctors on the battlefield is well illustrated in the following letter, which was written by a fellow officer to the brother of Dr. J. O'Connell, of the Highland Light Infantry:—"I am only too pleased to tell you anything I can about your brother, as he was one of us, and in all your life you can never have a prouder boast than that you were his brother. Our first show was near Mons, where he at once came into notice. He personally went into the trench, and helped to carry out the wounded, though the German guns had the range to a T, and were raining shells on it. Then they turned on to his cottage, which was fixed up as a dressing-station, and knocked it to bits. He carried every one out, not losing a single man. During the retreat your brother had the worst of it, because he had to do with the footsore and the sick, who could not keep up, so he was usually behind the rearguard; but he always kept cheery when cheerfulness was worth far more than pluck.
"Then on the advance up to the Marne, when it was pitch dark and pelting rain, and three thousand Germans lay dead or wounded on the field, your brother insisted on staying out there to do what he could for the enemy. It was almost certain death, but he remained there among them for six hours. Next day I lost forty-one men before noon. Your brother, without waiting for food or sleep, came up to look after them, and stayed there for two days while we hung on. When I myself was being tied up I mentioned to your brother that a young subaltern was dying on the field. He at once insisted on going to see if he could do anything for him, although it was within close range of a well-constructed German trench, and while doing this he was killed by a rifle bullet through the head."
What a glorious death to die! Dr. O'Connell had no thought for himself; he freely gave his life to bring succour and comfort to the wounded anddying. There is no higher and nobler heroism than this. "O selfless man and stainless gentleman!"
A bold adventure during the advance to the Marne is thus described by a major of the Royal Field Artillery:—
"At last we came to the edge of the wood, and in front of us, about two hundred yards away, was a little cup-shaped copse, and the enemy's trenches with machine guns a little farther on. I felt sure this wood was full of Germans, as I had seen them go in earlier. I started to gallop for it, and the others followed. Suddenly about fifty Germans bolted out firing at us. I loosed off my revolver as fast as I could, and —— loosed off his rifle from the saddle. They must have thought we were a regiment of cavalry, for, except a few, they suddenly yelled and bolted. I stopped and dismounted my lot to fire at them to make sure they didn't change their minds. I held the horses. I then suddenly saw there were more men in the copse, so I mounted the party and galloped at it, yelling, with my revolver held out.
"As we came to it I saw it was full of Germans, so I yelled 'Hands up,' and pointed the revolver at them. They all chucked down their rifles and put their hands up. Three officers and over forty men to ten of us with six rifles and a revolver. I herded them away from their rifles and handed them over to the Welsh Regiment behind us. I tore on with the trumpeter and the sergeant-major to the machine guns. At that moment the enemy's shrapnel and our own howitzers, thinking we were hostile cavalry, opened fire on us. We couldn't move the beastly things, and it was too hot altogether, so we galloped back to the cup-shaped wood, and they hailed shrapnel on us there. I waited for a lull, and mounted all my lot behind the bushes and made them sprint to the woods where the Welsh company was. There I got two fellows to help. We ran up to the Maxims, and took out the breech mechanism of both and one of the belts, and carried away one whole Maxim. We couldn't manage the other. The Welsh asked what cavalry we were. I told them we were the staff of the ---- Battery and they cheered us, but said we were mad. The funniest thing was the little trumpeter, who swept a German's helmet off his head and waved it in the air, shouting, 'I've got it,' wild with excitement. He is an extraordinarily brave boy."
In Chapter XVII, I described the undulating chalk plateau known as the Heights of Champagne. You will remember that this ground was chosen by the French in 1874 as the best place for making a stand against an invader marching on Paris. The rapid advance of the Germans prevented the French from rallying on these heights, and forced them to withdraw much farther south before they were able to form their line and advance. During the Battles of the Marne, you will remember, they drove the enemy northwards from 6th to 11th September 1914. Bad weather caused them to slacken the pursuit on the 12th, and the Germans were enabled to cross the Aisne unmolested. While their rearguards were fighting stubbornly, the main bodies were strongly entrenching themselves on the heights north of the river.
It was not the first time that a German army had held this position. When Marshal Blücher was fighting in France at the end of February 1814, he was driven on to this plateau by Napoleon. So greatly was the ground in his favour that Napoleon was unable to dislodge him. German generals are great students of geography, and they were fully aware that the heights beyond the Aisne afforded them a very strong defensive position against an enemy moving from the south. When, therefore, they were obliged to retreat, they made for this high ground, where they dug deep trenches and gun-pits, and created a great fortified zone according to a plan long previously prepared. Many people said that the trenches had been dug before the Germans crossed the Marne, but the French Government tells us that there is no foundation for this statement.
Before I describe the fierce fighting on the banks of the Aisne I must try to give you some idea of the surrounding country. The Aisne runs from east to west across North France through a wide grassy valley. It is a sluggish stream, 170 feet broad, 15 feet deep in the middle, and not unlike the English river Trent in character. All along its valley are villages, farmhouses, unfenced fields, and poplar-lined roads, with here and there a little town.
The most important place in the valley is Soissons, which has already been mentioned in these pages. It is a very ancient town, with a history that goes back to the days before Cæsar conquered Gaul. When, in later times, the Franks set up a kingdom to the west of the Rhine, Soissons became its capital. Few places have had so martial a history and have been so often besieged. In 1870 the Germans bombarded the town for three days before they were able to capture it. Prior to the war it was a quiet country place, with a considerable trade in grain and haricot beans. It boasted a beautiful cathedral, three fine old abbeys, and a town hall containing a large library. One of the abbeys sheltered Thomas à Becket for some time in the year 1170.
Looking across the valley from Soissons, we see the hills rising up from the river like a wall. They vary in height, from 200 feet in the west near Compiègne to 450 feet in the east near Craonne.[122]A nearer view of these hills shows us many spurs dipping down sharply into the vale, and between them steep-sided ravines and deep, narrow water-courses carved out by the short and rapid brooks. All the way from Compiègne to Craonne the wall of heights continues, with sometimes a bolder spur and sometimes a deeper ravine. In many of the valleys there are quarries which have been worked for centuries. The hollows from which the stone has been taken, the underground passages, and the heaps of refuse afford abundance of ready-made cover. The top of the plateau cannot be seen from the valley, nor from the high ground on the southern bank of the river, owing to the woods, which dip over the edges of the slopes and descend towards the stream. The lower slopes are, for the most part, steep and grassy, with enclosed coppices here and there. As you know, the plateau stretches northwards to La Fère and Laon, where it dropssteeply to the plains of north-eastern France. The villages on the plateau are strongly built of stone.
On the high ground, at an average distance of two miles from the stream, the Germans had dug their trenches. The position was perfect. It could not be seen from the high ground on the south side of the river, and it commanded the bridges crossing the stream and most of the roads leading to them. Along the crest runs a good highway, known as the "Route des Dames"—that is, the Ladies' Road; by means of this road the Germans were able to supply their line readily with food and ammunition. At the eastern end of the heights the ground falls away behind the road, and forms a deep hollow running parallel with it, thus providing excellent cover for the supports of the troops holding the crest.
Von Kluck occupied the western section of the position, from the forest of Compiègne to the large village of Craonne. Beyond that place, at the old ferry of Berry-au-Bac, the German line crossed the river and continued along a flat ridge parallel with the right bank of the Suippe,[123]a tributary of the Aisne. This ridge, which was held by von Buelow's command, curves to the south-east, and runs about fifteen miles east of the city of Rheims. No better position for artillery could be desired than the crest of the ridge, for the slope in front of it is quite open and bare, and it can be swept by the guns in all its breadth. In some respects this position was stronger than the line of heights, for there was little or no cover for troops advancing upon it. Still farther to the east the German line rested on the Argonne, where the army of the Crown Prince was operating. Along this front, which was more than a hundred miles in length, two million men were now to engage.
Von Kluck was opposed by the 5th and 6th French Armies and the British army. The 6th French Army lay between Soissons and the Oise. Its left wing was extended along the Oise, in case von Kluck should attempt, as of old, to envelop the Allies' left. The British army lay east of Soissons, with a front of about fifteen miles. On the right of the British army was the 5th French Army. Von Buelow, who at this time also commanded the Saxon army, held the ground to the east of von Kluck, and opposed to him was the 9th French Army, under General Foch. The Duke ofWürtemberg and the Crown Prince continued the German line to the Argonne, and against them were arrayed the 4th and 3rd French Armies. The French who were opposed to the Crown Prince at once set to work entrenching themselves in a semicircle about the fortress of Verdun. They dug their trenches sufficiently far away from the forts to prevent the German howitzers from dropping shells on them. The first of two other French armies lay between the Meuse and the Moselle, while the 2nd Army held the Bavarians in Lorraine.
Now let us look more closely at the section of the Aisne which the British were to attack. A study of the map on page240will show you what a heavy task was assigned to our army. Along some parts of the front our soldiers could not approach the river at all, because there were broad stretches of open ground which could be swept by the enemy's long-range artillery. Clumps of wood, farmhouses, and sunken roads afforded the only cover there was.
It was on Saturday, 12th September 1914, that the enemy was discovered holding the strong position which I have described. At Soissons they were in possession of both sides of the river, and they also held an entrenched line on the hills to the north. There were eight road bridges and two railway bridges crossing the river within the British section, but all had been completely destroyed except one road bridge at Venizel which our engineers repaired. The first business of the British was to get a footing on the south bank, and then to construct bridges by which they could cross the river and attack the Germans on the heights. The longest battle of history was about to begin.
On Saturday, September 12, 1914, the 6th French Army managed to secure several good artillery positions on the south bank of the river, and all day long there was a long-range duel with the German guns on the other side. Our Third Army Corps, working from west to east, gained some high ground east of Soissons, and their guns now took part in the duel. Until near midnight the rival guns hurled shot and shell at each other, while German searchlights flashed their broad beams to and fro searching the Allied positions. During the night our Third Army Corps and the right of the 6th French Army managed to capture half of the town of Soissons.
If you look at the picture-diagram on pages 248-9, you will notice that a little tributary, the Vesle, joins the main stream near Condé. While the Third Corps was attacking Soissons our cavalry was busy driving the enemy out of the valley of the lower Vesle.[124]Throughout the previous day (11th September) Allenby's men had been working through the woods and along the roads, clearing the ground, and preparing for the advance of the infantry. At Braisne,[125]which stands on the Vesle, they found the Germans in force, holding the little town, the bridge, and the surrounding heights with infantry and machine guns. In the brisk fight which followed the Queen's Bays greatly distinguished themselves. About midday our cavalry won the town, and began driving the enemy to the north. Some hundreds of prisoners were captured, and the Germans retreated so hastily that they were obliged to throw a large amount of gun ammunition into the river. It could clearly be seen under two feet of water. By the evening of the 12th the valley of the Vesle was clear,and both the Second and First Corps were approaching the main stream. The Second Corps lay across the Vesle, with the First Corps to the east of it. The Allies were now ready to undertake the tremendous task of crossing the river Aisne.
Sunday morning, 13th September, saw the great task begun, and the evening saw it successfully ended. As the Allies moved out towards the river the whole line of heights fronting them seemed to flash fire. From hundreds of German howitzers and field guns a storm of shot and shell raged along the south bank of the river, and from line after line of trenches hidden in the trees on the steep slopes sped a hurricane of bullets from machine guns and rifles. The bombardment was terrific; the whole valley appeared to throb as the shrapnel burst and the huge shells flew into fragments with a deafening roar. It seemed as though nothing could live in that zone of death. Nevertheless the Allies, crouching amid the bushes, doubling from one spot of shelter to another, moved swiftly forward in long, thin, skirmishing lines. Meanwhile British and French guns played upon the German trenches, and to some extent kept down the rifle and machine-gun fire.
Already the Allied engineers were engaged on the most dangerous and difficult work known to war. The river was swollen with the recent heavy rains, and its muddy torrent roared along, bearing on its surface the wreckage of many broken bridges. Near Soissons the engineers tried to push pontoons across the stream. Calmly and coolly they constructed their bridges under a deadly fire, only to see them splintered to matchwood by the guns of the enemy. As they worked, German rifles and machine guns blazed at them from short range across the river, and the enemy, encouraged by his success, attempted to build bridges of his own. As, however, the first bridge section approached the stream, a British shell burst above it, and immediately the section and its bearers were no more. So fierce, however, was the fire of the enemy that our engineers had to give up trying to bridge the stream at this point. All attempts to silence the German batteries which were doing the mischief proved vain.
Farther west, however, the French, in the gray of the morning, threw two bridges across the river, and immediately infantry and guns of the 6thArmy swarmed across them. By the afternoon the French were fighting their way up the ravines on the other side. A little distance to the east of Soissons you will notice that the river forks, and in two channels flows round an island. At this point British engineers were also successful in throwing pontoons across the river, and the 11th British Brigade dashed across them, and began to dig themselves in on the other side.
Smith-Dorrien's men, the Second Corps, were lying astride of the lower Vesle. As they advanced against the line of the Aisne they suffered heavy loss, especially on the left, where there was much open ground. Stubborn attempts were made to bridge the river opposite to the village of Missy, but they failed again and again. Nevertheless, by the afternoon rafts had been constructed, and these, laden with troops, were hauled to and fro across the stream. By this means two brigades gained the other side, and immediately lined out in the woods, where they fought for the rest of the day. Meanwhile Smith-Dorrien's 3rd Division was struggling hard to cross at Condé.[126]On the other side the Germans were lying in tiers of trenches on the steep slope, and some of them were sheltered behind the ramparts of an old French fort at Condé. So fierce and continuous was their fire that our men failed to cross the river at this point. The Germans held Condé all that day, and for many weeks after.
Haig's division, on Smith-Dorrien's right, attacked the enemy along a front of about six miles. You will notice that they had to cross, first a canal, and then the river. The canal was easily bridged, but the flat ground between the canal and river was terribly swept by German fire, and here again it was found impossible at most points to construct pontoon bridges. The men, however, were got across by means of boats and rafts.
Still farther east an iron road bridge had been blown up by the Germans; but they had not made a complete job of it, and one of the broken girders which remained above the water formed a kind of switchback across the stream. In the middle it was under water, and the muddy river swirled fiercely around it. The upstanding girder was discovered by one of our men, and immediately an attempt was made to get troops across it. Ropes were stretched from bank to bank, to give the men something to hold on by, and across this quivering plank of steel they made theirway in single file. At one point they were nearly up to their waists in water. Despite rifle and machine-gun fire, a small force crossed the river by this perilous path, and as it pushed forward the engineers were able to strengthen and enlarge the frail bridge for the passage of the remainder. The crossing of the river by means of this broken girder was one of the most stirring incidents yet recorded. (See Frontispiece.)
It was on the right of the British line that the greatest success was achieved. At a place called Bourg (see map on page240) a branch canal is carried across the river by means of a low aqueduct with a broad towing-path. By some happy chance the Germans had not destroyed this aqueduct, and were holding it with only a small force. When, however, the British cavalry prepared to cross by means of the towing-path, shrapnel and bullets were rained upon them. The horsemen, however, dashed across, and infantry followed hard behind them. Meanwhile the engineers were busy building a pontoon bridge by the side of the aqueduct, where they were sheltered from the enemy's fire. The rest of the 1st Division was got across by means of the pontoon bridge, and in the evening was partly entrenched two miles north of the river. The 5th French Army was by this time across the river too, and the Moroccans were covering the British flank.
A thousand deeds of cool and daring courage were done on that September morning. If you are to form an idea of what our men had to face, you must try to imagine them creeping nearer and nearer to the river through a deadly hail of shot and shell—the engineers working calmly on the bridges while marksmen hidden in the woods were picking them off, and the machine guns and artillery of the enemy were making havoc amongst them; the frail rafts, crowded with men, being hauled to and fro, and death taking its toll every passage; the infantry crawling forward yard by yard up the steep slopes, in spite of the fire from above, and all the while huge shells from the German howitzers hurling up fountains of water from the river or tearing vast holes in the ground. Sudden and hideous death faced our men every minute; yet they "stuck it" with bull-dog courage, and the river was crossed.
One splendid deed of heroism must not be forgotten. Near Soissons, wherethe howitzer fire of the Germans was fierce and continuous, 150 men of the West Kents, Black Watch, and Scottish Borderers were told off to guard a bridgehead. Suddenly the Germans in great force opened fire from the surrounding woods, and a dense column advanced at a run towards the bridge. The little British detachment checked them for a time, but at a heavy loss. A ring of dead lay around the machine gun which was holding back the German advance, and the crew being laid low it ceased to fire. At this fateful moment a big Highlander jumped up from cover, ran forward, seized the Maxim, swung it, tripod and all, across his shoulder, and ran with it to the bridgehead, where, all alone, he sat down in full view of the enemy, and poured a hail of bullets on the advancing Germans. Under this withering fire the column wavered and fled for cover to the fields on either side of the road. As the last of the enemy retired the brave Highlander fell forward on to his gun, riddled with thirty bullets. He had, however, like Horatius of old, saved the bridge, for just as he fell British reinforcements doubled up and put the final touches to the rout of the enemy.
By the end of that Sunday evening only the 19th Brigade of the Third Corps, which was operating near Soissons, and some brigades of the Second Corps, lying more to the right, had failed to cross the stream. The bulk of the British had made the passage, and were now entrenched well up the slopes on the farther side. Never before in the history of the British army had so broad a river been so quickly crossed in the face of such a great and strongly-posted enemy. It was a remarkable feat of arms, and the credit was mainly due to the artillery and to the engineers. In the face of almost certain death, our sappers worked as calmly and coolly at their bridges as though engaged in peaceful manoeuvres at home.
When Sir John French came to think over the operations of the day, he was uncertain in his own mind as to the intention of the enemy. Did they mean to make a great stand on the Aisne heights, or were they merely fighting a rearguard action in order to gain time in which to prepare for some new movement? It was most important that the Germans should be made to reveal their plans; so Sir John decided to put the matter to the test on the morrow by making a general advance.
All night long the engineers were hard at work strengthening the new crossings and repairing the old bridges, so that they would bear the weight of heavy guns and lorries. The infantry were no less busy, digging themselves in on the ground which they had won the previous day. The real attack was to be made by the First Army Corps, under Sir Douglas Haig, and we will now follow the fortunes of his command. On September 13 he had fought his way northward for about two miles, and was now holding the hillsides and the woods around the village of Troyon, directly to the north of Bourg. You must not confuse this Troyon with Fort Troyon, which was mentioned in Chapter XXVII. Fort Troyon is an outlying fort of Verdun, on the right bank of the Meuse; the Troyon of which I am now speaking is a tiny village about three miles north of Bourg, on the Aisne. To the north of Troyon are steep wooded slopes, and to the west is an undulating and densely-wooded country, rising towards high hills. Dense woodlands lay between Troyon and the position which the First Corps now held.
Shortly after midnight on 14th September Haig mustered his 2nd Infantry Brigade, which was billeted in the village of Moulins,[127]about amile to the south of Troyon. Rain fell at intervals, and heavy mist made the dark night still darker. Silently the battalions of the King's Royal Rifles, the Royal Sussex, the Northamptonshire, and the Loyal North Lancashire regiments, with the 25th Artillery Brigade, took their places, and waited for the word of command. The German position which they were about to assault was the strongest along the whole line. The enemy had dug deep trenches and gun pits, and the ranges were well known, so that a fierce struggle might be expected. Both sides were on the watch, and every now and then the crack of rifles and the screech of shells broke the silence, while searchlights from the heights swept the scene. Brigadier-General Bulfin, who was in command, had sent out a patrol of officers to discover the position and strength of the enemy. Shortly before 3 a.m. it returned, and reported that the enemy was strongly posted near a sugar factory to the north of Troyon.
Then the word was given, and the King's Royal Rifles and the Royal Sussex Regiment moved forward in silence. There was no talking in the ranks; the orders were given in whispers, and were quickly passed along the line. Everything depended on taking the enemy by surprise. As the British moved on in dead silence there was a sudden sharp cry of pain. A stray shot had hit a man in the arm, and he could not repress a cry. But the brave fellow silenced his moans immediately by thrusting a piece of turf between his teeth. He held it there until he was sufficiently recovered to crawl back to his own lines.
The German outposts were now reached. The British moved rapidly forward, and soon drew near to the factory near which the Germans were posted. They were met by a fierce fire from the factory and from the guns in the entrenchments near at hand. Our men flung themselves to the ground, and began creeping forward, taking cover with great skill. It was a scene worthy of the brush of Rembrandt.[128]Away on the left rose the dusky heights; in front the factory loomed darkly against the sky; from windows and loopholes came thin sparks of flame; all around were woodedslopes wrapped in gloom. Along the British front the darkness was relieved by flashes of light from the rifles of the widely-extended infantry. From the distant trenches came the thunder of guns. All the time a light rain was falling, and a soaking mist made the darkness more obscure.
The German fire was so hot that the British were brought to a standstill. Shortly afterwards the Northamptons appeared on the east, and began moving towards the hills. Very slowly they gained ground, but all attempts to oust the Germans from the factory failed. The darkness, the mist, and the sodden ground prevented our artillery from lending effective aid.
The eastern sky began to pale; the shadows slowly fled from the woods, and dawn was at hand. The thin British line could not be expected to hold its own when the full light of day revealed them to the German marksmen and gunners, so reinforcements were hurried up, and a desperate attempt was made to advance. But little headway was made until the Guards' Brigade arrived. The Grenadier, Coldstream, and Scots Guards, as you probably know, rejoice in a long and proud record of military glory. For two hundred and fifty years they have played a leading part in our wars, and on their colours are blazoned some of the most glorious victories in British annals. Every man of the Guards' Brigade who advanced in the gray of that September morning was eager to prove himself worthy of the name and fame of his regiment. "Fix bayonets!" was now the order, and away swept the British, unsupported by artillery, towards the enemy's trenches. There was fierce hand-to-hand fighting for a few minutes. Then the Germans, unable to stand the fierce onset and the thrust of cold steel, broke and fled, leaving five guns and more than three hundred prisoners in the hands of the victors.
The factory, however, still held out. It was a solid stone building, with every door bolted and barred, and every window lined with rifles. The Loyal North Lancashires, who lay before it, heard the shouts of their victorious comrades to the right and left, and now strained every effort to win a like success. Towards midday some of them rushed a door of the factory, battered it down, and forced their way in over barricades and the piled corpses of the slain. In a few minutes the factory was in British hands. The Loyal North Lancashires poured into it, and held it throughout the day.