Sept. 12th.
Off at 5A.M., we did only a short march as far as theFerme de l'Épitaphe, a hugefarm standing by itself in a vast and dreary plain of ploughed fields. Here we halted in pouring rain all day, expecting orders to go on. But we eventually had to billet there, with the Divisional Headquarters, and though we could only put up the Bedfords and the Cheshires there was a terrific squash. The Dorsets and Norfolks were sent back to billet atNampteuil, a village a mile or so back, but even here there was some confusion, as the 14th Brigade had meanwhile arrived and begun to billet there. They were, however, sent back likewise toChrisy, and the whole Division passed a most uncomfortable night. The rain never ceased from pouring, and a gale sprang up, which made matters worse. We slept in a loft with a number of Cheshire and Bedford officers, and didn't get dinner till past nine. Some gunner officers turned up, with no food at all, and we fed them; but there wasn't much at the best of times, for we had no rations and had to depend on the contents of our Mess basket, which consisted only of Harvey sauce, knives and forks, an old ham-bone, sweet biscuits, and jam.
Sept. 13th.
It was fine in the morning, but the farmyard was ankle-deep in water and slush, and the sky was leaden with lurid clouds in the east, when we started at 4.10A.M.We pushed on slowly in column for the few miles to Serches, and there we halted at the cross-roads on the top of the plateau and parked the brigade whilst the situation was cleared up by troops in front. Shells began to drop unpleasantly near us, and a couple of field batteries which got into action just in front of us, together with a "cow-gun"[8](60 lb.) battery, only drew the hostile fire still more. They were pretty big shells, Black Marias mostly, and the heavy battery being right out in the open suffered somewhat severely, losing eight horses and a few men killed and wounded by one shell alone.
So we prudently scattered the battalions a bit, and the field batteries limbered up and walked slowly back under cover of a slope. But the cow-guns had one gun disabled, and though they also moved back and got againinto action they were evidently spotted and had rather a poor time.
Just about then, too, the transport of the 13th Brigade, which was necessarily following the infantry over the crest towards Sermoise, were noticed by the enemy, and a few shells over them killed and disabled a number of waggon-horses and men, making a very nasty mess in the road.
There we sat all day whilst the sun came out and dried us a bit. But we were not very happy at luncheon; for though hungry and with plenty to eat now, those beastly shells came nearer and nearer us, till our bully and biscuit lost their charm entirely. At last we got up, plates in hand, and moved with dignity out of range, or, rather, more under cover.
The Cheshires had meanwhile discovered a curious cave in the hillside which sheltered the whole battalion (though, in truth, the latter was not large, only 450 men or so), whilst the other battalions were well out of sight in the folds of the ground.
The shadows grew longer and longer, and we rigged up some comfortable little shelters in the coppice for the night, thinking we should bivouac where we were. But at 6 Iwas sent for to Divisional Headquarters at Serches, and told to reconnoitre the road towards theAisne—only a mile or two ahead. This I did in a motor-car, and returned in time for dinner; but we had barely got through it, about 8, when marching orders came to the effect that we were to push on and cross theAisneby rafts to-night, and the sooner the better.
So we moved off with some difficulty in the dark, for there were no connecting roads with the halting-places of the battalions, and got on to the main road, whence all was plain sailing, down to theMoulin des Roches, an imaginary mill on the river bank. Over some sloppy pasture fields in dead silence, and we found ourselves on the bank, with a darker shadow plashing backwards and forwards over the river in our front, and someR.E.officers talking in whispers.
The actual crossing of the Brigade was a long job, and had to be carefully worked out. The raft held sixty men at a time, or thirty men and three horses; but as horses on a raft in the dead of night were likely to cause a fuss, we left them behind, to follow on in the morning, and crossed without them,—four and a half hours ittook; and whilst the men were crossing we tried to get a bit of sleep on the wet bank. It was not very successful, as it was horribly cold and we had no blankets. The staff crossed last of all, and we landed in a wood on the far side, in a bog but thinly covered with cut brushwood, and full of irritating, sharp, and painful tree-stumps.
Sept. 14th.
When we were across it was difficult to discover the battalions asleep in the fields, and when we had found them and it was time to start it was difficult to wake them. However, we moved off just as it was getting light; but it was not easy to find the way, for there was no path at first. We had orders to goviâBucy-le-LongtoSainte Marguerite, and found the villages right enough, for they were close together. But as we moved intoSainte Marguerite, with a good many other troops in front of us, we became aware that there was an unnecessary number of bullets flying about, and that our fellows in front were being held up.
The village was held by the 12th Brigade(4th Division), and the 14th Brigade was somewhere on our right. The Dorsets were our leading battalion, and they were pushed on to help the 12th, and filled a gap in their line on the hill above the village front at the eastern end. But there we stuck for a long time. The enemy's artillery had meanwhile opened on us, and shells began to crash overhead and played the devil with the tiles and the houses. But they did not do us much harm.
We now received orders to move on toMissy(not a mile off to the right) and clear theChivresridge of the enemy and push on toCondéand take that if possible—rather a "large order." The difficulty was to get toMissy, for the road thither was spattered with bullets, and shells were bursting all along it. However, by dint of careful work we moved out bit by bit, cutting through the gardens and avoiding the road, and taking advantage of a slight slope in the ground by which we could sneak to the far side of the little railway embankment which led toMissyStation.
It took a long time, and I made what proved to be the serious mistake of staying to the end in order to see the wholeBrigade clear ofSainte Marguerite. I ought really to have gone ahead with the first party to reconnoitre; for just as we were starting after the rear company I stopped to write a message to the Division in answer to one which had just arrived, and at that moment a hellish shrapnel, machine-gun, and rifle fire was opened, not only on the village but on all the exits therefrom, and this fire lasted for nearly two hours. One simply could not make the attempt; it would have been certain death. And so we had to sit in the tiny courtyard of one of the houses, with our backs against the wall, and listen to the inferno overhead, whilst the proprietor's wife plied us with most acceptable roast potatoes and milk.
I wrote a lot of messages during those two hours, but whether they all got through or not I do not know: some of the messengers never came back. Colonel Seely turned up at one moment—from General Headquarters, I think—demanding information. This I supplied, and made use of him to take some of my orders back; it really was quite a new sensation giving orders to a recent Secretary of State for War.
At one time two or three artillery waggonsappeared in the little main street and remained there quietly for a bit under a heavy fire, but only losing a man or two slightly wounded. Then suddenly there was a loud crack overhead, and half a dozen horses were lying struggling and kicking on the ground, with great pools of blood forming in the road and four or five prostrate men in them. It was a horrible sight for us, for the shell had burst just opposite the gate of our courtyard. But the gunners behaved magnificently, and a farrier sergeant gave out his orders as quietly and unconcernedly as if he had been on parade. I took his name with a view to recommendation, but regret that I have forgotten it by now.
We also had some very unpleasant shaves at this time in our own courtyard. Twice did a shell burst just above the house and drive holes in the roof, bringing down showers of tiles; the second time practically all the tiles fell on me and nearly knocked me down. I do not know why they did not hurt me more—luckily the house was a low one; but they merely bruised my back.
At last, in a lull, we managed to get away, and sneaked out at a run—through a yardand back garden, behind a farm, out at the back behind a fold in the ground, then across a wide open field and on to the low railway embankment, behind which we ducked, and made our way to the little station ofMissyand up behind some scattered houses to near the church.
Here, after some trouble, we got the commanding officers together, and arranged to push on and attack the wooded ridge above the town. The force was rather mixed. I had met Rolt (commanding the 14th Brigade) on the way, and we had settled that I should collect whatever of his men I could get together inMissyand join them to my attacking party. The difficulty was that it was already getting late—4.30P.M.—and that there was insufficient time for a thorough reconnaissance, though we did what we could in that direction. However, my orders from the Divisional Commander had been to take the ridge, and I tried to do it. I had got together three companies of the Norfolks, three of the Bedfords, two Cheshires (in reserve), two East Surreys (14th Brigade), and two Cornwalls (13th Brigade, who had arrivedviâthe broken bridge atMissyandsome rafts hastily constructed there)—twelve companies altogether.
But when they pushed forward it became very difficult, for there turned out to be too many men for the space. What I had not known was that, though they could advance up a broad clearing to more than halfway up the hill, this clearing was bounded on both flanks, as it gradually drew to a point, by high 6-feet wire netting just inside the wood, so that the men could not get properly into the wood, but were gradually driven in towards the point, where the only entrance to the wood occurred.
Luckily the Germans had not noticed this either—or there would have been many more casualties than there were. As it was, a company of the East Surrey and another one (Allason's) of the Bedfords did get through to the top of the wood and on to the edge of the open plateau; but this I did not hear of till later. When the greater part of the force had got through the opening into the wood they found a few Germans there and drove them back, killing some. Then they surged on to a horse-shoe-shaped road further on in the wood, and some men lost their direction and began firing in frontof them at what they thought were Germans. But they were others of our own, and these began firing back, also without knowing that they were their friends. Consequently, although casualties were few, an unpleasant situation arose, and numbers of men turned about and retired down the hill intoMissy, saying that our artillery was firing into them. This may have been true, for some shells were bursting over the wood; but whether they were English or German I do not know to this day.
Anyhow, the stream of men coming back increased. They fell back into the village, and then came some certainly German shells after them. For an unpleasant quarter of an hour the little sloping village ofMissywas heavily shelled by shrapnel; but the walls of the houses were thick, and though of course there were a certain number of casualties, they were not serious as long as the men kept close to the south side of the walls. Beilby (our Veterinary officer) for some reason would keep to the wrong side of the street and was very nearly killed, the fuse of a shell landing with a whump on a door not two feet in front of him, and a shrapnel bullet going throughhis skirt pocket; but he was not touched. The shrapnel were in bursts of four, and luckily Moulton-Barrett noticed it, for he calmly held up the stream of men till the fourth shell had burst, and then let as many as possible past the open space there till the next bunch arrived, when he stopped them behind cover,—just like a London policeman directing traffic.
I remember one man falling, as we thought dead, close to where the Staff were standing. But he groaned, and Weatherby ran to pick him up. There was, however, no wound of any sort on him, and after a minute he got up and went on. I think he must have been knocked down by the wind of a shell—for he certainly was as much astonished as we were at finding no damage on himself.
By this time I had given orders that the troops were to retire to their previous positions in and near the village, and it was getting dusk.
Luard (Norfolks) and a party of twenty-five men were well ahead in the wood, and received the order to retire, for Luard was heard shouting it to his men. But nothing has since been heard of him, and I muchregret to say that he was either taken prisoner with most of his men, or, more probably, killed.
A message now came down from the plateau saying that some East Surreys and Bedfords were still up in the wood, and should they retire or hold on? As it was nearly dark and I consequently could not support them—for if the men could not get through the wire-netting in daylight they could hardly do so at night—I told them to retire. I gave this order after I had consulted Rolt, who was somewhere west of the village; but even if Rolt had not been there I should have given it, for it would have been impossible to reinforce them adequately in the circumstances.
So I issued orders for an early reconnaissance and attack next morning, to be led by the Norfolks; and the troops covered their front with sentries and bivouacked in and round the village. We were all short of food that night, for none of our supply carts, and not even a riding-horse, had come with us. But all or most of the men had an "iron ration" on them, and this they consumed, with the "unexpired" portion of their previous day's ration.
The Bedfords took up their position along the railway to the west, Cheshires on the right, Norfolks right front of village,D.C.L.I.left front.
As for the Staff, we retired to a farm calledLa Bizaie, three-quarters of a mile south ofMissy, and close to the river, and took up our quarters there. There was not a whole pane of glass in the house, for it had been heavily bombarded—being empty, except for a few wounded—during the day, and great craters had been formed close by the walls by the Black Marias. But except at one corner of the roof of an outhouse, no damage had been done to the buildings—except the broken glass.
It was a very old farmhouse, as we found out afterwards, part of it dating back to 1200 and something. Curiously enough, there was a photograph of an English Colonel (of theR.A.M.C.) on the sideboard—a friend, so the farm servants told us, of the owner, whose name I have forgotten. The buildings were very superior to the ordinary farm type, and more like a comfortable country house than one would expect, but there were plenty of barns as well, and some pigs and chickens running about.
We bought, murdered, and ate an elderlychicken, but otherwise there was devilish little to eat except a store of jam, and we had only a very few biscuits and no bread.
Sept. 15th.
Map.
After writing out orders for the attack next day we went to bed, dog-tired; and I was routed out again at 12.45A.M.by Malise Graham, who had come with a message from the Divisional Commander that he wanted to see me at once at the broken bridge atMissy, a mile off through long wet grass in pitch darkness. It wasnot good "going," but we got there eventually and crossed the river, sliding down steep slippery banks into a punt, ferried across, and up the other side. Cuthbert eventually turned up from somewhere, and we had a pow-wow in the dark, resulting in fresh orders being given for the morrow's work.
This involved new orders being written, and it was 4A.M.by the time we turned in again for an hour's sleep.
A careful reconnaissance was made by Done and some other Norfolk officers as soon as it was light; but the result was not promising. Fresh German trenches had been dug commanding the open space, and more wire had been put up during the night.
The Norfolks were told off to lead the assault, with the Bedfords in support and the Cheshires in reserve. The Dorsets were still aboveSainte Marguerite, helping the 12th Brigade, and were not available.
We began by shelling that horribleChivresSpur, but it produced little effect, as the Germans were in the wood and invisible. The Norfolks pushed on, but gradually came to a standstill in the wood, and the day wore on with little result,for the wood was desperately blind, and we were being heavily shelled at all points.
The Brigade staff sat under a hedge halfway betweenLa Bizaiefarm andMissy; but it was not a very happy place, for the big shells fell nearer and nearer till we had to make a move forward at a run for the shelter of a big manure-heap. But even here the Black Marias found us out, and two of them fell within a few yards, their explosion covering us with dirt. We were also in view of German snipers halfway up the hill, and bullets came thick whenever we showed a cap or a leg beyond the muck-heap, which, besides being distinctly unsweet, was covered with disgusting-looking flies in large numbers.
However, there we had to stay most of the day. The village ofMissywas intermittently shelled by some huge howitzers, and bunches of their shells blew up several houses and nearly demolished the church, a fine old 14th century building. A few Norfolks were buried or killed by the falling houses, but otherwise extraordinarily little damage was done, and most of the shells fell in the open, where there was nobody worth mentioning.
At 3P.M.I got a summons to go to Rolt at his farm just outsideSainte Marguerite; and a most unpleasing journey it was for Weatherby and me. We separated, going across the open plough and cabbage fields, but snipers were on us the whole time, and several times missed us by only a few inches. We must have offered very sporting targets to the Germans on the hill, for we ran all the way, and—I speak for myself—we got extremely hot.
I sprinted a good 400 yards under fire for the shelter of a thick hedge, and when I got there found to my disgust there was a young river to be got over before I could reach the cover. However, I squirmed along a fallen bough and struggled through the fence—to find myself face to face with Bols and his Dorsets, whom he was bringing along to hold the line of the fence. This gave a certain "moral relief," and from there it was easier going to Rolt's farm, all except one point where the railway cut through a hedge and crossed the stream. On this point a German machine-gun had been laid, and to cross it with a whole skin one had to hurry a bit. Our Brigade machine-gun officer, young D—— of the Bedfords, wassubsequently hit here, in the back, but not very seriously.
I concerted measures with Rolt for holding the lineMissy-Sainte Marguerite, and we began to dig in places. But at 7.40P.M.came orders for the 15th Brigade to evacuate the north bankviâa new bridge near the old raft one where we had crossed; so we issued fresh orders about the 14th Brigade taking over our line, and prepared for another night march,—no sleep again.
I forgot to mention that our horses had arrived atLa Bizaieearly that morning, having crossed by the raft bridge the day before. Silver as usual made a desperate fuss, and was eventually knocked into the river by a mule who was crossing with him. He swam up and down the river for twenty-five minutes, refusing to come out—poor Catley in desperation all the time. But he was eventually hauled out, with my saddle and bags, of course, sopping wet. His stable shed was also shelled heavily during the day, but strange to say none of the horses or grooms were touched.
It poured in buckets that night; and as the Bedfords were streaming past the farm in the dark about 11P.M.a terrific firebroke out from the direction ofMissy, accompanied by German flare-lights and searchlights. The word went round that it was a German counter-attack, and we ran out and halted the Bedfords and put them into some trenches covering the farm. But it turned out to be a false alarm; for the Germans, hearing troops moving in the dark, thought that they were going to be attacked, and opened a heavy fire onMissy, whilst the 14th Brigade and the remainder of our men still there replied to it. It eventually died down, and we resumed our march in pitch darkness and mud up to the men's knees in the water meadows by the river.
Sept. 16th.
The Cheshires came last, and we of the Brigade Staff followed them at 4A.M.through dripping fields and criss-cross hedges, coming across the Scottish Rifles lying asleep near the pontoon bridge. They belonged to the 19th Brigade, but where the rest of the Brigade was I do not know.
On the other side of the river we found the Divisional Commander with a few of his staff. It was beastly cold and just getting light, about 5A.M., and why SirCharles should be standing there I could not at first make out. However, it turned out that he had come down from Serches, being somewhat anxious as to what might be happening on the other side of the river—with considerable justification, for if we had been driven back on to the one bridge which crossed the river we might have been in a parlous state.
Half an hour later we arrived in Jury, a tidy little village in and round which most of the Brigade was already billeting, and here, in a nice little house, belonging to a worthy old couple, we took our rest, thankful for a little peace and some sleep at last.
And here we stayed for a week.
Not that it was all beer and skittles even then. The 14th Brigade was still holdingMissyover the river, and there were some serious alarms on one or two nights, necessitating troops being sent down to the river atRupreux, in case they were wanted.
Shells fell near Jury for a day or two, but they gradually died away, until some heavy guns of the 4th Division were brought up close by and began banging away again at theChivresheights and beyond. Quiteunnecessary we thought them, for they not only made a hideous noise day and night, but the enemy began searching for them with Black Marias, some of which fell unpleasantly close to us.
It was a pretty little valley with wooded hills, running northwards to theAisne, and on our right was a big plateau with huge haystacks dotted about the corn-fields, which served as excellent observing stations for our artillery, of which by this time we had a vast mass. The other (north) bank of theAisnewas clearly visible from here—in fact from the top of the biggest haystack there was a regular panorama to be seen, from the twin towers ofSoissonsCathedral on the left to the enemy's trenches aboveVaillyand beyond—a beautiful landscape typical ofLa Belle France, even to the rows of poplars in the distance, marking theRoutes NationalesfromSoissonsto other places of distinction.
Our business was to hold the line of the river by digging a line of trenches fromSermoiseto nearVenizel, and to cover them with a line of outposts day and night. This took about four companies, and the rest were engaged in digging anotherseries of trenches on the plateau as a supporting line to the first, flanking the Jury Valley on one side and the ruins ofSermoiseandCiryon the other. This was really the first serious digging of trenches we had had during the campaign, and I remember, in the light of after experiences, how futile they must have been at the time, for they were nothing like as deep as we subsequently found to be necessary, nor had they any wire entanglements or obstacles worth mentioning. However, I expect that the French improved them greatly during the subsequent winter.
Sermoise had been desperately shelled; there were no inhabitants left, and practically every house was a heap of ruins; but though our outposts in front of it could not have been seen through the woods, the Germans continued to shell it most viciously.
On the right of Sermoise was the 13th Brigade, extended towards the 3rd Division, which had crossed the river atVaillyand was holding the slopes above it. I believe the 13th had a poor time of it, for they were scattered over open ground and in small woods which were perpetually beingshelled, and they had, besides, to find a battalion or so to help the 14th Brigade inMissy.
On our left we joined hands with the 4th Division, most of whom were on the other bank, running fromStMargueritewestwards; on their left were, I believe, the French, in and roundSoissons.
It was a nice time for the Artillery; for guns were there in large numbers, and they had some good targets to shoot at, overVregnyandChivresway, in the shape of the enemy's batteries and lines, when they could be seen.
The weather was mostly fine during that week, but there were two horridly cold days on which the rain came down in torrents, and did not help us in our entrenching tasks.
At last came the day which I had been expecting for some time; and I was ordered to send the Dorsets across, to begin relieving the 14th Brigade nearMissy.
Sept. 24th.
They left on the 23rd, and on the 24th the Bedfords went over, preceded by the Brigade Staff at 2.30P.M.The Norfolkshad been sent off three days before to strengthen the 3rd Division, so I had only three battalions, and of these the Cheshires were very weak. However, theK.O.Y.L.I., and West Kents (of the 13th Brigade), already holding the eastern edge ofMissy, were put under my orders, besides the 15th BrigadeR.F.A.under Charles Ballard (a cousin of Colin's[9]), and a Howitzer Battery (61st) of Duffus's 8th Brigade.
Weatherby and I walked across to Rolt's farm, across a series of big fields, with only an occasional bullet or shell pitching in the distance. Lord, what a poor place it was; Rolt and his staff had lived there for the last week, all lying together on straw in one or two rooms: it must have been most uncomfortable. The windows towards the north-east had been plugged up with sandbags, so that the rooms were very dark, and the floors were deep in caked mud and dirt of all sorts. The only attraction in the main room was a big open fireplace with a huge sort of witches' cauldron standing over the hot ashes, and this was most useful in providing us with hot baths later on.
Sept. 25th.
Rolt explained his position and the places which the different battalions were occupying; but beyond an occasional bombardment ofMissyand losses from German snipers in trees and elsewhere, he had not suffered overmuch. However, he and his Brigade were not sorry to leave, and leave they did at 4A.M.next morning. The awkward part of it was that one could never go out in the daytime, as the road in front of the farm leading towardsMissywas under perpetual rifle-fire directly any one showed up, and several holes had been made in the farmyard gate, windows, and walls, not to mention bits of the roof taken off by shrapnel. Why they did not shell the farm more I cannot conceive. Perhaps the enemy thought it was deserted, but whilst we were there no shells fell within a couple of hundred yards of it, though some were pitched well over it, and exploded 500 yards to the rear.
I had gone to see the Dorsets and 13th Brigade inMissyon the evening before, and found them fairly well ensconced. The Dorsets were inMissyitself, with their headquarters in a really nice house withcarpets and big shaded lamps, and a cellar full of excellent wine, and a nice garden all complete, and charming bedrooms—infinitely superior to our pig-sty of a farm. I seriously thought of turning them out and taking the house for the Brigade Staff, especially as our farm was not at all central but quite on the left of our line; but all our cable-lines converged on to the farm, and, in addition, the Dorset house would have been impossible to get out of for further control ifMissywere shelled; so I settled to remain at the farm. The 13th Brigade—i.e.,K.O.Y.L.I., and West Kents, were further on, theK.O.Y.L.I., on the eastern outskirts, and the West Kents in trenches beyond them. TheK.O.S.B.'s were still further south-eastwards, and reached back to the river, but there were only one or two weak companies of them.
Before dawn, and just after Rolt had left, I went to inspect the Bedfords' position, which was close to Rolt's farm, in the wood in front of it, and a beastly position it was. The wood was very damp, and when one tried to dig trenches one struck water only a foot below ground, so most of the line had to be made of breastworks. Therewere German trenches within 20 yards of our advanced trench there, and ours was remarkably badly situated and liable to be rushed at a moment's notice; yet it was impossible from the lie of the ground to dig suitable ones unless we retired altogether for 200 yards, which of course was out of the question. So we chanced it and stuck it out, and luckily were never attacked there. The men suffered there from damp and cold, I'm afraid, for every morning a wet and freezing fog arose in the wood, although the weather was clear elsewhere; but it could not be helped.
We stayed in Rolt's farm and in the positions described for just a week. On one day, the 27th, we had a false alarm, for the enemy was reported as crossing the Condé bridge at 4A.M.in large numbers, and everybody was at once on thequi vive, the Cheshires, who were in bivouac behind Rolt's farm, being sent back (by Sir C. Fergusson's orders) toRupreux, the other side of the river. We rather doubted the news from the start, as theCondébridge had, we knew, been blown up, and there was only one girder left, by which a fewmen at a time could conceivably have crossed; but the information was so circumstantial that it sounded possible. Eventually it turned out all to be owing to the heated imagination of a Hibernian patrol officer of the West Kents, and we turned in again.
Missywas shelled particularly heavily that day from 10 to 6, and it was painful to watch great bouquets of 8-in.H.E.shells exploding in the village, and whole houses coming down with a crash; it seemed as though there must be frightfully heavy casualties, and I trembled in anticipation of the casualty return that night.
But the Dorsets andK.O.Y.L.I.had dug themselves in so thoroughly in deep funk-holes and cellars that they did not have a single casualty; and literally the only men wounded were threeK.O.S.B.'s and six West Kents outside the village in a trench, who were hit by about the last shell of the day; whilst a Bedford sniper, an excellent shot, one Sergeant Hunt, unfortunately got a bullet through two fingers of his right hand.
During that week it was moderately quiet,with nothing like so many casualties as we had expected. Our supply waggons rolled up after dark right intoMissyvillage and never lost a man, whilst the village was so thoroughly barricaded and strengthened and scientifically defended—mostly Dorset work—that we could have held out against any number. The sappers too, 17th Co.R.E., worked like Trojans under young Pottinger, a most plucky and capable youth wearing the weirdest of clothes—a short and filthy mackintosh, ragged coat and breeches, and a huge revolver.[10]
We put Rolt's farm and the mill (between that andMissy) andLa Bizaiefarm in a thorough state of defence, and dug hundreds of yards of trenches. In fact we should have welcomed an infantry attack, but it never came—only artillery long bowls.
In this the two howitzer batteries, especially Wilson's 61st, were splendid, and spotted and knocked out gun after gun of the enemy. He had an observing station halfway up the hill aboveSteMarguerite, to which I went occasionally, with a grand view up toVregnyandChivres; but evenhere, although theO.P.was beautifully concealed, one had to be careful not to show a finger or a cap, for the German snipers in the wood below were excellent shots, and there were some narrow escapes.
The worst of it was that we could take very little exercise. I used to go out nearly every morning before sunrise to visit the posts, but was often surprised by the sun before I'd finished my rounds, and had to bolt back under fire; and after sunset I'd go round toMissy, &c., and visit the troops there. Otherwise, we could not go out at all in the daytime—it was much too "unhealthy,"—and what with numerous meals and little movement we grew disgustingly fat. I put in a lot of time drawing careful maps of the position.
The farm itself was cleaned up from roof to cellar by Moulton-Barrett and his myrmidons, but it was not perfect at first. My bed was a mass of stale blood-stains from the wounded who had lain there before we came, andStAndré, whose bed was not of the cleanest and exuded an odd and unpleasing smell, routed about below it, and extracted the corpse of a hen, which must have been there for ten days at least.
We cleaned up the farmyard too—it was perfectly foul when we came—but we could not show much even there, although the gate was always kept closed, for any sign of life was generally greeted with a bullet. A man got one through the knee when just outside it, and the gate itself had several holes through it. The Bedfords used to send a company at a time there for hot tea in the mornings and evenings, for they could not light fires where they were, and shivered accordingly.
Many were the schemes for improving their wood—trenches; and at last Orlebar (killed later nearWulverghem), who had been a civil engineer, drew up an arrangement for flooding the wood and retiring to a more satisfactory line. But before it could be put into practice we got orders to retire, and for the 12th Brigade on our left to relieve us.
This meant, of course, thinning the line terribly, and we were, with the 12th Brigade, somewhat nervous about it, for we did not know what it portended. But we got away during the night in perfect safety; for although there was a full moon there was also a thick mist, and the Germans neverseemed to notice the movement, which required most careful staff work on the part of both Brigades.
Cuthbert, seedy, was relieved by Hickie in command of the 13th Brigade to-day.
Oct. 2nd.
By some time in the early morning of the 2nd October—1.40A.M.it was, to be accurate—the whole Brigade had got back to Jury, and there we were told, as usual, that we were to rest and recuperate for a week; so we were not surprised at getting orders in the afternoon to move out at 6.30P.M., our destination being a place calledDroizy. I had caught a bad cold that day, due solely, I believe, to taking a "woolly" into wear for the first time; and the cold fog in which we marched did nothing to improve it. Above us was a bright clear moon, but the fog clung heavily to the valleys, and we marched in it most of the time. Desperate secrecy and quiet was observed, for we were evidently doing secret marching at night for some great object; though what it was we could only conjecture. But orders came that for the next few days we were to march at night, and during the daytimewere to lie "doggo" and not show ourselves for fear of the enemy's aeroplanes.
We reachedDroizyat about 11P.M.and there found the Norfolks, who had been taken away from us at Jury ten days before and attached to the 3rd Division on our right in the direction ofVailly. Much pleased we were to see them again. They had not suffered many casualties, though they had had a stiff time at their château ofChassemy, filling the gap between the 3rd and 5th Divisions, and had been attacked several times.
The Dorsets in arriving here managed to take a wrong turn in the village and went careering off into the fog in the opposite direction to where their billets had been told off for them; but they were shortly retrieved and put on the right track. A brigade of artillery, by the way—I forget which—was attached to our brigade area that night, and distinguished itself next day by taking up a position in some open fields; which led to trouble.
Our headquarters were at a curious old castle-farm belonging to one M.Choron, right in the middle of the village, and looked after by his father, a vice-admiral, late adirector of naval construction, a nice old fellow, who had been brutally treated by the Germans in their retreat. There was a very old tower to the place, no surroundings except a farmyard, and a little old kitchen of most antique aspect, in which we had our meals.
Oct. 3rd.
For most of the next day we had a good rest, and I stayed in bed to doctor my cold; but orders soon came to move on, and the Brigade started in the evening forLong Pont, a village about twelve miles off, getting there about 11. The Divisional Commander had kindly sent a motor-car for me; and Done, of the Norfolks (who was also rather seedy), and Tandy,R.A., a person of large knowledge and always interesting, accompanied me; so we arrived atLong Ponta long time ahead of the troops.
A great big château was gleaming in the moonlight as we drove up, and I determined that we should spend the night there, in spite of the fact that the Divisional staff had also that intention. But when I introduced myself to the proprietor, a courteous and frail old gentleman, theComte de Montesquiou-Fezensac,he bewailed the fact that there was no room available, and this in spite of the fact that there were dozens of big windows outside, and long corridors inside, with heaps of rooms opening off them.
A visit to the village in search of a lodging revealed its true state—i.e., that it was choke-full and dirty. But even then it required a good deal of persuasion before the old gentleman at last grasped the fact that I was not demanding twenty bedrooms, but only one or two empty rooms in which twenty men could lie for the night. Then he kindly produced mattresses and straw, and all was well. As for myself, he was good enough to lead me to the chamber of his late mother, a curious little room with a four-poster and locks and hasps and cupboards of LouisXIII.times, and bundles of magnificent old embroideries. As for washing apparatus—that also was almost of that date.
Next day, being Sunday, we had Divine Service in the ruins of a grand old fourteenth-century abbey which adjoined the château—wrecked in the French Revolution and again in 1830. The park also was most attractive, rather of the Trianon surroundings style; but several brigades of artillerywhich had to be tucked away under the trees for fear of aeroplanes rather spoilt the turf, I fear. We did, of course, as little damage as we could, and after a friendly farewell to the old couple I drove off, again in a motor, with Henvey (A.P.M.of 5th Division), and preceded the Brigade to a place calledPontdron. Here I arrived at 10P.M.; but the Brigade, which had been heavily held up by French troops on the march, did not turn up till nearly 4A.M.
Meanwhile I amused myself by getting the château ready. It had, of course, been occupied by Germans, and, equally of course, it had been ransacked and partly wrecked by them—though a good deal of furniture had been left. There were even candles and oil-lamps available, and of these we made full use, as well as of the bedrooms. I chose the lady's (Comtesse de Coupigny, with husband in the 21st Dragoons) bedroom. The counterpane was full of mud and sand, through some beastly German having slept on it without taking his boots off, but there was actually a satin coverlet left, and pillows. All the stud- and jewellery-cases had been opened and their contents stolen, andMadame de C.'s writing-table had alsobeen forced open, and papers and the contents of the drawers scattered on the floor. Other unmentionable crimes had also been committed.
Here we stayed for nearly two days, cleaning up the château, picking up a lot of stores in the shape of boots and caps and clothing of all sorts—not to mention some heavy mails from home,—and actually playing lawn-tennis. At least I played with Cadell two sets, each winning one, on a sand court with an improvised net, and racquets and balls somewhat the worse for wear, with a lovely big hot bath to follow.
It was gradually borne in on us that we were going to be moved off by train to take part in a different theatre of the fighting altogether; but where we should find ourselves we had not the least idea. What caused us much joy to hear was that we had intercepted a German wireless message, two days after four out of the six Divisions had left theAisne, to say that it was "all right, all six British Divisions were still on theAisne!"
Oct. 6th.
On the 6th we moved off at 2.15P.M.andpushed on toBéthisyStPierre, where the Bedfords and Norfolks and ourselves halted, whilst the Dorsets and Cheshires pushed on toVerberies, so as to save time for the entraining on the morrow. We got our time-table that night, and found that we were to entrain at four stations—i.e.,Compiègne,Le Meux,LongueilSteMarie, andPont Sainte Maxence—on the following day. Very careful arrangements and calculations had to be made, so that the whole thing should go without a hitch, and we sat up for some time at the Convent, a sort of educational establishment where Brigade Headquarters was quartered, making out the orders.
A "Brigade Area" command was allotted to me, including, besides my own Brigade, the 8th BrigadeR.F.A.(howitzers), 59th Co.R.E., 15th Field Ambulance, and 4th Co. of 5th Div. Train.
Oct. 7th.
Then off at 5A.M.next morning, ourselves forPontSteMaxence. Major Vandeleur of the Scottish Rifles had just arrived to take command of the Cheshires, who had had nothing but a captain to command themsince Lt.-Col. Boger was taken prisoner on the 24th August. He seemed to me a first-rate sensible fellow, but we were not destined to keep him for long.
As the Brigade was still rather short of socks, I bought as many as I could here for the men, but not many were available. It was a nice little town with a blown-up stone bridge, but the FrenchR.E.had already constructed another of wood.
The French entraining orders are that all troops have to be at the station four blessed hours before the train starts, so as to give time to load up properly. We thus arrived at 8, and did not start till 12; but the actual entraining of the Cheshires—the only battalion with Brigade Headquarters—took only one hour and a quarter,—not bad at all considering that there were no ramps or decent accessories, and all the vehicles had to be man-handled into the trucks.
There were two sorts of trains—one mostly for men, the other mostly for horses and vehicles; but although they were very long—thirty-four to forty cars if I remember right—they were not quite long enough for us, and several men and vehicles hadto be left behind and brought on by other trains, resulting in slight incompleteness for a few days.
We rapidly reachedCreil, where we were to get our final orders. What on earth would our destination be? Rumour had it that we should go toCalais, or even toBruges; but we had no such journey after all, for we were only intended to go toAbbevilleas it turned out—rather a disappointment, as we hoped it would be further afield.
Abbeville—a two hours' journey as a rule in peace time—was not reached till 8P.M., although we were due there at 6.30P.M.We halted by the way, for half an hour or more, atAmiens, where we made the acquaintance of a cheery crowd of"Fusiliers Marins,"sturdy naval reservists from Normandy and Brittany, who covered themselves with glory later on amid the Belgian dunes.
Oct. 8th.
We were not allowed to detrain atAbbevilletill 9.30P.M., as the platforms were already occupied by other troops. It was wretchedly cold and pitch-dark by the time we had got away from the station, and wemarched in dead silence through the town at 12.30A.M.Not a soul was in the streets, not even a policeman from whom to ask the way, and we nearly lost our direction twice.
Our orders, which we received from Dunlop (5th Divisional staff), who was ensconced in a red-hot waiting-room in the goods yard, were to the effect that we were to billet nearNeuilly, a village about six miles off. Done (Norfolks) had been sent ahead on the previous day to prepare the billets, but when we got near the village, after a cold march with a clear moon, Done was nowhere to be seen; and I nearly ordered the battalion to "doss down" in the road, as all the houses near were full of men of other brigades. However, Weatherby rode on, and eventually found Done in bed at theMairie, he having been officially told that the Brigade would not be in till the following day. He had had a trying time, having been deposited by his train at a station about ten miles off, and having to make his way across country (riding) without a map and with very vague ideas of where he was to go. However, he had already told off billets for all the Brigade Area, and the troops trickled in independently by battalions and batteries, arrivingby different trains and even at different stations, up to 10A.M.in the morning. I thought it showed distinctly good work on the part of all concerned that we concentrated our "Brigade Area" so quickly and without being deficient of anything except the few vehicles which had perforce been left behind for want of trucks; but they turned up all right a day or two after. The Brigade staff billeted at the château (as usual!), a strangely ruined-looking little place belonging to theComte de Belleville, now at the wars. We turned up there about 4A.M., and were guided thither by an old gardener, who thumped at the door and shouted loudly for"Madame."A woman soon appeared, and showed us most civilly to our rooms—very plain and bare but very clean. I could not quite make her out, for though she was dressed in the plainest of print clothes she did not talk like a servant—in fact she talked like a lady; so I put her down as some relation perhaps who was helpingMme de Belleville. But later in the morning I discovered that she wasMadame la Comtesseherself, who had kindly risen at that unearthly hour to let us in, and that there were no servants in the establishmentat all except the old gardener and a nurse.
Our movements were still by way of being kept a dead secret, so we went off in the afternoon at 6P.M., reinforced now by some divisional cavalry and divisional cyclists. The road, in the dark, was an extremely complicated one, as it involved about twenty turnings and movement along narrow lanes with high hedges and big trees, making it quite impossible to see for more than a few yards. So I took the guiding of the column into my own hands, and distributed the rest of my staff along it to see that the different units did not miss the way and kept well closed up. The result was good, and after 5 hours march,viâAgenvilliersandGueschard, we reached the little village ofBoufflersabout 11P.M.Here, at an odd littleNouvel Art"Château"—or rather small country house, empty of its owners—belonging to M.Sagebien,Préfet de Niort, we of the Brigade staff put up, the rest of the command being billeted in the tiny villages lining each bank of the tiny stream near—I have forgotten its name.
Oct. 9th.
It was a nice sunny day on the morrow, and we got our orders by midday that we were to move off at 2P.M.We wrote out Brigade orders and prepared to start, when suddenly post-haste came some orders cancelling these, and telling us that we were to drop our transport and be moved off at once in a series of motor-buses to a place calledDiéval.
And then began a lovely jumble, which resulted (not our own fault) in getting toDiévalrather later than we should have done had we trusted to our own unaided powers of locomotion.
We moved off at 2P.M., only taking blanket-waggons which were to dump blankets and supplies into the buses. These were to have turned up on theHaravesnes-Fillièvresroad at 7P.M.; in any case it would have been a complicated job getting into them in the dark, but they did not arrive till midnight, owing to some mechanical breakdowns in the column. The first lot of"camions"were to have taken six battalions—i.e., the 14th Brigade, which was just ahead of us, and half of the 15th Brigade. But when they did arrive, there were only enough forthree and three-quarter battalions; so we bivouacked in more or less peace by the roadside until this bunch had moved off and returned fromDiévalto fetch us. Horribly cold it was too, and we only kept moderately warm by pulling down several straw stacks—which we carefully put together again next day—and covering ourselves up in the straw.
I had, by the way, an extremely narrow escape from being killed that night. I had been lying down just off the road, when it struck me that I should find out more of what was happening and going to happen if I went to the head of thecamioncolumn and interviewed the officer in charge. It was a tramp of a mile or more through the 14th Brigade, and I found out something of what I wanted; but when I returned to the bivouac I heard that, not two minutes after I had started, a motor-bus had swerved off the road and passed exactly over the place where my head had been. It very nearly went overStAndréand Moulton-Barrett, who were lying a few feet away, as it was. Of course the driver could not see any one lying down in the dark.
Oct. 10th.
Next morning we had breakfast at 7.30 in the field, and still the buses had not returned. We waited in that place till 11 o'clock before they turned up, and then clambered into them as quickly as we could—twenty-two men to a bus, sixteen buses to 300 metres being the allowance. Even then we had to leave about two battalions behind for a third trip.
I got into the first bus—a very fast one,—and reachedDiévalsome time before the rest of the Brigade; but there was no room in the town for another Brigade, as it was already full of the 14th.
I went to see Rolt, and got into telephone communication with Divisional Headquarters on the subject, and they gave me leave to billet atLa Thieuloye, one and a half miles back and off the road. So W. and I walked back and turned the buses off there just as they were arriving.
A curious sight were the hundreds, or even thousands, of French civilians whom we met—all men of military age, whom the French Army was sending away westwards out ofLille; for it was likely thatLillewould shortly be invested by the Germans,and they did not want this large batch of recruits and reservists to be interned in Germany.
The rest of the Brigade—transport, horses, and all—rolled up by 6P.M., the horses being very tired after their long night march.
From what I could gather German cavalry was trying to get round our north-west flank, whilst a big fight was going on atArras.Lille, with a few Territorial battalions in it, was still holding out, but was surrounded by the enemy. Hence the hurry. But we ought to have plenty of troops now to keep the Germans off. It was very puzzling to make out what was happening, for we had not even the vaguest idea where the rest of our own Army was, let alone the French or Germans. Nobody seemed to know anything, except that we should probably soon be fighting again.
Our quarters that night were a horrid little château—empty, damp, and desolate, in a deserted wilderness of a place, with no furniture except some straw, a mattress or two, and some packing-cases. So here we tried to make ourselves comfortable, and succeeded in lighting a fire and settling down. But it was beastly cold and damp.
Oct. 11th.
We marched at 7.20A.M.in a thick damp mist, myself being in charge of the right column of the Division, consisting of the Brigade, the 15th BrigadeR.F.A., 108th heavy battery (under Tyrrell, late MilitaryAttachéat Constantinople), 17thR.E.Fd. Co., and cyclists (who, by the way, did not turn up, having been sent ahead). On the way toBéthunewe were evidently coming into touch with the enemy, for I received orders to detach two companies (Cheshires) to our right flank atFonquières Verquinto support the French. But they returned in the course of the afternoon, not being wanted.
OutsideBéthunewe halted for some time, and were regaled with soup and pears by some hospitable ladies at luncheon-time. And then we received orders to push through the town and cover it along the bend of the canal and across the arc of it (fromEssarsdue east) with three battalions, the Norfolks being sent away to the east to help the French aboutAnnequin.
It was perfectly flat country and difficult to defend, as it was so cut up by high hedges and suburbs; but I went round it in theafternoon, inspected it carefully, and posted the battalions. Towards evening, however, we had orders to fall back into the town—the French taking over the outposts—and billet there, our Headquarters being in theGrande Place—a large square with a curious old belfry in the middle—at a wine-shop, No. 34. Here we were well looked after, and had each of us a lovely hot bath, provided by a marvellous system of gas-jets which heated the water in about five minutes.
Oct. 12th.
Off eastwards next morning at 8.30A.M.through a freezing thick fog—so thick that one could not see twenty yards in front of one. The big open space in the town through which we passed was occupied with masses of Spahis, Moorish troops, and Algerians of all sorts, looking miserably cold in their scarlet jackets and white burnouses. The idea was that we were to push forward toFestubertand act as a pivot, with our right near the canal atRue de l'Épinette, to the 3rd Division and the remainder of the Corps, which were swinging slowly round to their right so as eventually to face south-east and takeLa Bassée.
At first my orders directed me to leave a gap between myself and the canal, the gap being filled by French troops; but shortly afterwards I was told that the Brigade was to hold fromFestubertto the canal, relieving the French cavalry here, who were to hold on till we got there; and I paid a visit to the French cavalry General atGorreto make sure that this would be done. The line was a horribly extended one—about two miles; and the prospect was not entrancing. However, I detached the Dorsets to move along the canal bank fromGorreand get in touch with the French. Very glad I was that I had done so, for they had severe fighting there that day against a strong force of the enemy, who tried to get in between us and the French.
The Bedfords I ordered to holdGivenchy. The first rumour was that the French had evacuatedGivenchybefore we could come up, and that the Germans had occupied it; but this turned out not to be true after all. The Cheshires heldFestubert, and the Norfolks were in Divisional reserve somewhere in rear.
Meanwhile the Germans were attackingalong the canal; but the Dorsets checked them most gallantly, losing poor Roper, killed in leading a charge, and a number of men. Lilly was wounded at the same time.
The Headquarters passed most of that day—and an extremely busy Staff day it was—in a little pothouse inFestubert, and we slept in a tiny house put at our disposal by oneMasse,gendarme, a gallant old soldier, who was the only representative of civilian authority in the place, the Maire having bolted, and his second in command being sick unto death in his own house.
Oct. 13th.
The night went off fairly peaceably, but early next morning we had a nasty jar, for it was reported at 8A.M.that Majors Vandeleur (commanding) and Young (2nd in command) of the Cheshires, together with a company and a half, had all been made prisoners or killed by the Germans aboutRue d'Ouvert. The circumstantial story was that the early morning patrols had reported thatRue d'Ouvert(about a mile in front ofFestubert) was free ofGermans; that Vandeleur and Young had gone out with two platoons to make sure of it, had got intoRue d'Ouvertand found it empty at first, but had been subsequently fired at from the houses, surrounded by superior numbers, and had been taken prisoners after losing half their men. As for Shore's company, who were supporting them, they had disappeared completely and had apparently suffered the same fate.
I immediately sent out scouts to find out the truth; but a very heavy fire was by this time opened on the remainder of the Cheshires, and the scouts could not get through. No further news even came in of Shore's company, but we could not believe that it had really been scuppered, or else there would have been much more firing, and we must have had some news of the disaster, if it had occurred.
And so it was. Towards 3 o'clock we had news that the company was safely tucked away in some ditches, holding its front, and had had practically no losses, although it could not move out without attracting a heavy artillery fire.
Not till long afterwards did I hear what had really happened to Vandeleur, and thenit was from his own lips in January 1915, he having escaped from Crefeld just before Christmas. It appeared that he and Young had gone up with about half a company in support of some scouts who had reportedRue d'Ouvertclear. The half company did not, however, go intoRue d'Ouvert, for they were violently attacked by superior forces before they got there. They lost heavily, but succeeded in getting into a farmhouse, which they held all day against the enemy, hoping that we should move out and rescue them. But we, of course, had been told circumstantially that they were already prisoners at 8A.M., so knew nothing of it and took no action.
The enemy set the house on fire, and the gallant little garrison put it out with wine from the cellars, for they were cut off from the water-supply. Their numbers were reduced to about thirty, when they were again attacked in overwhelming force at 9P.M., and many of the remainder (including Vandeleur) wounded. Then there was no choice, and they surrendered, being complimented on their gallantry by the German General in command atLa Bassée. They were then sent off to GermanyviâDouai, and were most abominably treated on the journey, wounded and all being pigged together in a filthy cattle-truck three inches deep in manure for thirty hours without food or water, insulted and kicked by the German escort and a brute of a lieutenant atDouai, and finally sent to Crefeld, where they were again ill-treated, starved, and left in tents with no covering—their greatcoats, and even their tunics, having been taken away,—nothing to lie on except damp and verminous straw, on muddy wet ground. Many men died of this treatment. The officers were treated somewhat better, but very harshly, and were never given enough to eat. Vandeleur's escape is "another story."
That day was a terrible day:Givenchywas bombarded heavily by the Germans for hours, and rendered absolutely untenable. The Bedfords held out there gallantly, and stuck to one end of the village whilst the enemy was in possession of the other; but the heavy artillery was too much for them, and after losing about sixty casualties, many of them killed by falling houses, they gradually fell back to trenches in rear of the village. Griffith (commanding) andMacready (Adjutant) came to see me about 3P.M., their clothes and faces a mass of white dust and plaster, and explained the situation; but there was nothing to be done, as we had no reserves, and had to stick it out as best we could.
But by far the worst was what happened to the Dorsets. The account of what happened was rather confused, but it appears that, depending on their left being supported by the Bedfords atGivenchy, and their right by theK.O.S.B.'s (13th Brigade) on the south side of the Canal, they pushed forward for some distance and dug themselves roughly in, after driving the Germans back. Then suddenly their front trench was attacked from the left rear, and a heavy fire poured upon their men as they retired on their supports. They were also shot down from the embankment on the south of the Canal—from just where they had expected theK.O.S.B.'s to be.
At one place about twenty Germans advanced and held up their hands. The Dorsets then advanced to take their surrender, when suddenly the twenty fell down flat, and about 100 more who had come close up under cover of the incident openeda heavy fire on our men and killed a lot. The battalion retired slowly, in admirable order, toPont Fixeand the trenches covering it, and put a big factory there in a state of defence. But they had lost very heavily: thirteen officers killed (including Pitt and Davidson), wounded (including Bols and Rathbone), and missing; and 112 men killed and wounded, and 284 missing—most of these, I fear, being killed, for numbers of bodies were discovered later on between the lines. Bols was at first reported killed, but he only had a bullet through his back, narrowly missing the spine, and another through his arm. He fell unseen and had to be left behind when the battalion retired, and was found and stripped of all his kit by the Germans; but he recovered in the darkness, and managed to scramble and crawl back to the English lines. (From here he was sent to London, arriving there only two days later.)
We also lost two guns there, which had been brought up from the 15thR.F.A.Brigade and could not be got away in time. A gallant attempt was made by volunteers to recover them next day, but it was useless and only cost more lives.
The Dorsets as well as the Bedfords also lost one of their machine-guns. Altogether it was a damnable day, and we on the staff were also pretty well exhausted by the amount of staff work and telegrams and messages going through all day. The 2nd Devons (or rather two companies of them) were sent to the assistance of the Dorsets in the evening; but it was a difficult thing to carry out, as the banks of the Canal, along which they had to go, were soft and boggy, and they had much difficulty in getting theirS.A.A.carts along.