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The Childrens' Story of the War, Volume 3 (of 10)

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Title: The Childrens' Story of the War, Volume 3 (of 10)

Author: Edward Parrott


        
Release date: February 22, 2011 [eBook #35355]
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Produced by Marcia Brooks, Ross Cooling and the Online
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[Illustration: cover--THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR

By Sir Edward Parrott, M.A., LL.D.]




[Illustration: British Aeroplanes attacking the Zeppelin Factory at
Friedrichshafen.

On November 21, 1914, three British aeroplanes flew from France across
the mountains into Germany, a distance of 250 miles, and dropped bombs
on the Zeppelin factory at Friedrichshafen, on the shores of Lake
Constance. Serious damage was done, and all the pilots but one returned
safely. Another daring air raid was made on Christmas Day 1914 by seven
aeroplanes on German warships lying off Cuxhaven.]




  THE
  CHILDREN'S STORY
  OF THE WAR

  BY
  SIR EDWARD PARROTT, M.A., LL.D.
  AUTHOR OF "BRITAIN OVERSEAS," "THE PAGEANT OF ENGLISH LITERATURE," ETC.


  From the First Battle of Ypres to the End of the Year 1914


  THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, Ltd.
  LONDON, EDINBURGH, PARIS, AND NEW YORK
  1916




  "_O hearts ever youthful, like schoolboys at play,
   So be it with you in the thick of the fray;
   In the crash and the smoke and the roar of the fight,
   Be it yours, if it need be, to die for the Right!
   While deep in your heart a quick prayer shall arise
   To Him who looks down on the earth from the skies,
   For those whom you love in a faraway Home--
   O! shield them, our Father, whatever may come!_"

      I. Gregory Smith.
     (_By permission of "The Times."_)




  CONTENTS.


       I. A Glance Backwards                             1
      II. Some German Theories of War                   17
     III. From Arras to Armentières                     27
      IV. From Lille to Nieuport                        33
       V. Maud'huy at Arras and the Retreat from
            Antwerp                                     43
      VI. With Rawlinson in Belgium                     49
     VII. The Long, Thin Line of Steel and Valour       54
    VIII. The Work of the Third British Corps           65
      IX. Stirring Stories of Anxious Days              70
       X. With the Second Corps                         78
      XI. The Indians in the Trenches                   81
     XII. Fire and Flood                                87
    XIII. Eight Days of Struggle and Anxiety            97
     XIV. Tales of Heroes                              113
      XV. The Crisis of the First Battle of Ypres      129
     XVI. The Price of Victory and the Passing of
            a Hero                                     145
    XVII. Tales from the Trenches                      154
   XVIII. More Tales from the Trenches                 161
     XIX. Germany's Colonial Empire                    171
      XX. Germany's Vanishing Colonies                 177
     XXI. The Story of the "Emden"                     187
    XXII. The Last of the "Emden," and the Sea
            Fight off Coronel                          193
   XXIII. The Fall of Kiao-chau                        209
    XXIV. The First Attack on Warsaw                   218
     XXV. Von Hindenburg foiled                        225
    XXVI. Stories from the Battlefields                231
   XXVII. The Second Russian Advance on Cracow         241
  XXVIII. The Second Assault on Warsaw                 252
    XXIX. Warsaw again saved                           257
     XXX. At War with Turkey                           264
    XXXI. Fighting in Chaldea                          273
   XXXII. The Campaign in the Caucasus                 278
  XXXIII. The Battle of the Serbian Ridges             284
   XXXIV. The Battle off the Falkland Islands          289
    XXXV. Naval Raids on the East Coast of England     297
   XXXVI. Winter in the Trenches                       305




[Illustration:
THE
CHILDREN'S
STORY OF
THE WAR

VOLUME III.]




  CHAPTER I.

  A GLANCE BACKWARDS.


When the last British soldier, with the mud of the Aisne trenches still
clinging to his tunic, detrained in Artois,[1] within fifty miles of the
white cliffs of Dover, seventy-seven days of anxious and fateful
struggle had come to an end. Before we follow the progress of the
terrible campaign which was soon to begin, let us glance backwards and
recall in brief outline the leading incidents of the crowded weeks which
had elapsed since Germany unsheathed the sword and flung her legions
into that "battle without a morrow" which she vainly hoped would win for
her the mastery of Europe and the supremacy of the world.

In our first volume we learned how the disunited states of Germany,
under the leadership of Prussia, became welded together into a great
empire on the ringing anvil of war. The German Empire had been created
by the sword, and Germans had been taught to believe that only by the
sword could it be maintained and increased. During less than half a
century they had grown from poverty to riches and greatness, and this
sudden rise to wealth and power had so turned their heads that they now
deemed themselves entitled to world-empire. Mighty in industry and
commerce, and possessed of the vastest and most highly organized weapon
of war that the world has ever known, they nevertheless saw their
ambitions thwarted again and again. They desired greatly a dominion
beyond the seas, but colonies were hard to come by. With the failure of
their attempts to expand they grew more and more embittered, until they
believed that they were being robbed of their rightful due by the envy
and greed of neighbouring Powers.

On their eastern border they saw the Russians daily recovering from the
effects of the war against Japan, and so rapidly advancing in military
strength as to be a real menace to that commanding position which they
coveted. Their leaders feared that if Russia were not speedily crippled
she would

           "Bestride the narrow world
  Like a Colossus,[2] and we petty men
  Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
  To find ourselves dishonourable graves."

While viewing the rise of Russia with mingled fear and contempt, they
saw the British people, whom they had been taught to despise as a
worn-out and wealth-corrupted race, holding dominion on every continent
and in every sea, and unfurling their flag over one in four of all
mankind. The spectacle was gall and wormwood to them, and they made no
secret of their intention to wrest this vast empire from its present
holders when the time was ripe. To this end they had built a great
fleet, and their sailors drank to "The Day" when the lordship of the
ocean should be theirs, and the overseas dominion of Britain the spoils
of their triumph.

But the fruits of industrial strength and armed might were slow in
ripening, and in 1911, when, thanks to the support of Great Britain,
France became supreme in Morocco and the shadowy claims of Germany were
set aside, there was bitter chagrin in the Fatherland. It was then, as
we have good reason to believe, that the leaders of the German people
came to the conclusion that only by war could they realize their
ambitions. War must be made on France and on her ally, Russia. When
France was overthrown, Germany would be absolute master of Central and
Western Europe. When Russia was crippled, Germany would have a free hand
in the Balkans. Then, mightily increased in territory and resources, she
would proceed to the conquest of Britain.

Preparations on a vast scale were at once begun. The war lords of
Germany bent all their thoughts and energies to the task. The effect of
heavy artillery and high explosive shells was studied, and the great
armament works were ordered to turn out huge howitzers and the necessary
ammunition for them. Innumerable machine guns and motor cars were built,
and nothing that made for military or naval efficiency was overlooked.
The Kiel Canal was enlarged so as to accommodate the heaviest
Dreadnoughts in the navy; the number of trained men in the army was
increased; huge stocks of all the necessaries of war were collected. The
bankers were instructed to sell their foreign stocks and shares, and to
collect gold with which to purchase abroad the cotton, copper, rubber,
and petrol, which are all-important in modern warfare. A deep-laid plot
was hatched to hamper British bankers so that they could not lend money
to France and Russia. Silently and secretly, and with wonderful
foresight and zeal, everything was prepared for the great adventure.

Some idea of the wonderful completeness of the German preparations for
war may be gathered from the following description of a soldier's
equipment:--

    "The German soldier was clothed in cloth of a colour which, on
    the average of European days, gave a greater degree of
    invisibility than khaki. This cloth was excellently woven to
    withstand weather and strain. Each soldier had a pocket-knife
    worth a week's pay of a British corporal, and carried in this
    pocket-knife a little equipment for mending his clothes (as also
    a first-aid bandage of adhesive plaster). His boots were of
    wonderfully strong and supple leather, such boots as only rich
    civilians in England can buy. His valise of cowhide, tanned with
    the hair on, was most ingeniously furnished with straps and
    removable bolts of white metal for ease of carrying and ease of
    packing and unpacking. Its contents, disposed in various little
    cupboards, gave the maximum of food-reserve and
    clothing-comforts for the space and weight. The order-books, the
    maps, the other equipment of officers and non-commissioned
    officers, showed the same skilful devotion to detail. During
    many years of preparation the German mind had evidently devoted
    itself with passionate industry to providing for every possible
    emergency of the soldier's life in the field."


A spy system of the most widespread and elaborate character had been
established in all European countries. The Kaiser was assured by his
spies that Great Britain would not actively join with Russia and France,
because her people were sharply divided on an important political
question, and because they had grown so spiritless that they would
prefer to make money by providing the combatants with materials of war.
France was well known to be ill-prepared for a campaign, and that great,
unwieldy giant Russia would be so sluggish in making ready that months
would elapse before he could become formidable. By the summer of 1914
Germany had made all her military and naval preparations; she was armed
to the teeth, and she knew that the nations against whom she had
secretly prepared were quite unready to meet her.

[Illustration: The Kaiser in the Field.

_Photo: Central News._

This remarkable Photograph shows the German Emperor directing the
operations of his troops in Flanders.]

Towards the end of June 1914, when the army was ready to the last gaiter
button, an event took place which gave the Kaiser an excellent excuse
for bringing about that war which was necessary for the fulfilment of
his aims. The Archduke Ferdinand was murdered in Bosnia, and Serbia was
charged with bringing about the crime. It was alleged that the heir to
the throne of the Kaiser's ally, Austria-Hungary, had been foully done
to death by miscreants in the pay of Russia's friend, Serbia. The Kaiser
at once determined that Austria-Hungary's quarrel should be his; he
would support Franz Josef in punishing Serbia--that is, in throwing down
the gauntlet to Russia. This would be certain to bring about the war
which his soul desired. A little more delay, however, was necessary. An
army, as Napoleon told us long ago, marches on its stomach, and great
supplies of food are required before it can take the field. For this
reason the Kaiser decided to play for time until the harvest of the year
had been gathered in. So for a whole month little was heard of the
Archduke's murder, and the Powers of Europe were encouraged to believe
that the crime would not lead to war.

[Illustration: Montenegrin Artillery in Action.

_Photo, Daily Mirror._

Montenegro is the smallest kingdom in Europe, and consists of lofty
highlands of gray, broken rock. The Montenegrins are said to be the
finest and strongest race in Europe. They are born warriors, and their
average height is six feet. They are of kindred race to the Serbians,
and in this great war they have thrown in their lot with them.]

As soon, however, as the German garners were full the Austro-Hungarian
Government was urged to send to Serbia a series of demands such as had
never been presented to a civilized and independent power before. They
were meant to provoke Russia, and to drag her into the quarrel. What
were these demands? Mr. Lloyd-George has told us, in the following
burning words:--

    "What were the Austrian demands? Serbia sympathized with her
    fellow-countrymen in Bosnia. That was one of her crimes. She
    must do so no more. Her newspapers were saying nasty things
    about Austria. They must do so no longer.... Serbian newspapers
    must not criticize Austria.... Serbia said: 'Very well; we will
    give orders to the newspapers that they must not criticize
    Austria in future, neither Austria, nor Hungary, nor anything
    that is theirs.' Who can doubt the valour of Serbia when she
    undertook to tackle her newspaper editors? She promised not to
    sympathize with Bosnia, promised to write no critical articles
    about Austria. She would have no public meetings at which
    anything unkind was said about Austria. That was not enough. She
    must dismiss from her army officers whom Austria should
    subsequently name. But those officers had just emerged from a
    war where they were adding lustre to the Serbian arms--gallant,
    brave, efficient. I wonder whether it was their guilt or their
    efficiency that prompted Austria's action. Serbia was to
    undertake in advance to dismiss them from the army, the names to
    be sent on subsequently. Can you name a country in the world
    that would have stood that?"

How did Serbia face the situation thus engineered? Listen again to Mr.
Lloyd-George:--

    "It was a difficult situation for a small country. Here was a
    demand made upon her by a great military Power who could put
    five or six men in the field for everyone she could; and that
    Power supported by the greatest military Power in the world. How
    did Serbia behave? It is not what happens to you in life that
    matters; it is the way in which you face it. And Serbia faced
    the situation with dignity. She said to Austria: 'If any
    officers of mine have been guilty and are proved to be guilty, I
    will dismiss them.' Austria said: 'That is not good enough for
    me.' It was not guilt she was after, but capacity. Then came
    Russia's turn. Russia has a special regard for Serbia. She has a
    special interest in Serbia. Russians have shed their blood for
    Serbian independence many a time. Serbia is a member of her
    family, and she cannot see Serbia maltreated. Austria knew that.
    Germany knew that, and Germany turned round to Russia and said:
    'I insist that you shall stand by with your arms folded whilst
    Austria is strangling your little brother to death.' What answer
    did the Russian Slav give? He gave the only answer that becomes
    a man. He turned to Austria and said: 'You lay hands on that
    little fellow, and I will tear your ramshackle empire limb from
    limb.'"

The object of the Kaiser was achieved--the quarrel between Austria and
Russia was now likely to provoke a European war. Our Foreign Minister,
Sir Edward Grey, worked night and day to bring the estranged Powers to
peaceful agreement, and he so far succeeded that on the 30th July
Austria showed signs of drawing back. At once the Kaiser saw that all
his hopes were likely to be shattered. That same evening he took steps
which made war certain. He ordered Russia to cease all warlike
preparations within twelve hours, and France within eighteen hours.
Before France had returned an answer to this impudent demand, his Uhlans
were over her border.

The Germans began the campaign absolutely certain of victory. While all
the talk of peace was going on, their General Staff was poring over maps
of the future battlefields. France was to be overwhelmed by a mighty
rush; she was to be beaten to the ground before her armies could be
marshalled in strength. Short, sharp, and sudden was to be the blow; and
when France lay at her conqueror's feet, the victorious legions would be
entrained for the eastern front in sufficient time to meet the
slow-moving Russians, who could be easily held up by the Austrians until
the main German armies were free to assail them. The Germans believed
that when Russia found herself alone in the struggle some arrangement
could be made with her so that thenceforth she would not stand in the
way of their ambitious schemes.

Such was the plan of campaign, and it will readily be seen that any long
delay in invading and subduing France would enable the Russian millions
to be arrayed on the eastern frontier, and to carry war into Germany and
Austria. Consequently, no time was available in which to besiege the
barrier fortresses on the eastern frontier of France, and to push
through the difficult country behind them. The quickest and easiest
route to the heart of France had to be taken, and that lay through the
Belgian plain, which was so well supplied with railways that food and
munitions from the German bases could readily reach the invading armies
as they pushed forward. Belgium, it was true, had been guaranteed
freedom from invasion by a treaty to which Prussia was a party; but in
the opinion of the German Government military necessity overrode all
such engagements and reduced them to mere "scraps of paper." Belgium, it
was thought, would make little or no resistance. She had but few trained
soldiers, and these were ill-equipped. She had powerful fortresses on
her frontier, but there were not enough men to garrison them properly,
and there was a grave lack of ammunition for the guns. Even if the
fortresses did resist, the Germans were prepared with a plan to deal
with them.

So Belgium was invaded, and this terrible breach of faith on the part of
the Germans shocked all neutral nations. Great Britain had been the
leading Power in neutralizing Belgium, and she could not in honour
desert the little country which was ready to fight to the death for its
independence. Nor dared she stand by with folded arms and see France
overcome. A victorious Germany in possession of Antwerp and the Channel
ports of France would be in a very favourable position to attack British
shores. Should Germany become master of the west of Europe, the
existence of the British Empire would be in dire peril. Britain,
therefore, was compelled by dictates of honour and self-preservation to
declare war on Germany.

This declaration of war was a great blow to Germany; it upset all her
calculations. It brought into the struggle not only the greatest naval
Power in the world, but the unrivalled riches and resources of the
British Empire. The British army which could be sent overseas was so
small as to seem negligible to the Germans; but they could not shut
their eyes to the fact that the British Empire, with its 417 millions of
inhabitants, could, in the course of time, array colossal forces against
them. In the meantime the British could, by means of their navy,
paralyze German sea-power, and sweep German commerce from the seas, and
at the same time, out of the abundance of their riches, find plentiful
sinews of war for their Allies. Our declaration of war was bitterly
resented in Germany, and a flood of hate against all things British
began to sweep over the country.

[Illustration: German Soldiers leaving Berlin for the Front.

An amateur artist is drawing a caricature of General Joffre on the side
of the carriage.]

On 2nd August Germany demanded a free passage through Belgium; it was
refused, and two days later the enemy was swarming across the frontier.
Within ten days the great barrier forts of Liége were crushed into
shapeless ruin by shells of such explosive power that neither steel nor
concrete could resist them. Within a fortnight the greater part of
Belgium was in German hands. Brussels was entered and occupied, and two
and a half million men were ready to fall like an avalanche on France.

The French Commander-in-Chief was faced by an appalling problem. With
forces numbering one-half of those launched against him, he had to await
the German attack on a frontier 500 miles long. He was uncertain as to
where the main blow would fall. Accordingly he followed Napoleon's
advice: "Engage everywhere, and then see." He engaged in Alsace; but the
main forces of the enemy were not there. He engaged in Lorraine, and in
the third week of August suffered a heavy defeat at the hands of the
Bavarians, though he was still able to keep the field in that province.
On 23rd August, when the Battle of Nancy was raging, the avalanche fell
on the line of the Sambre and Meuse, where French armies were arrayed to
meet the shock. Namur, the pivot of the defending armies, fell; its
forts were blown to atoms by the great howitzers which unwisely had been
permitted to come within range. An unexpected army of Saxons pierced the
Allied centre, and the French were forced to retreat rapidly or suffer
destruction. The northern gate to Paris was now forced, and the eastern
gate in Lorraine was threatened. For a moment it seemed that the Germans
had won the campaign in two battles.

France had reserves, but they were far away in Alsace, in Burgundy,[3]
and behind Paris. They could not be brought to the front in time to
retrieve disaster, so the beaten armies had to hasten southwards towards
their reserves.

The Germans pushed southwards with incredible speed. The British, on the
left of the French, had been left unsupported, and overwhelming numbers
of the enemy were striving might and main to envelop them. They were in
grave peril, and at any moment the right flank in Lorraine might be
turned, and the retreating French be caught between two fires. There was
nothing for it but swift and desperate retreat, until a line could be
reached on which a stand was possible. Here and there, during the rapid
retirement, the French gained local successes, which might have tempted
them to halt and put their fortune to the test once more. But the French
Commander-in-Chief was proof against the temptation. He held firmly to
his plan, and continued the long and depressing retreat.

[Illustration: A Hand-to-hand Fight during the Battle of the Marne.

_By permission of the Sphere._

The action here illustrated took place on the South bank of the Marne,
where the Germans found themselves attacked by French colonial troops.
The Germans were soon beaten back, after a fierce affray amidst burning
houses and broken barricades.]

Upon the devoted British fell the full force of the German shock.
Hopelessly outnumbered, and with the enemy on three sides, they
nevertheless struggled out of van Kluck's grasp, and made a fighting
retreat that will go down to posterity as one of the finest feats known
to the history of warfare. Terrible were their losses, as were those of
the French armies on their right; but they were still unbroken, and were
still capable of striking hard when the Allied line should be knitted up
anew. In the early days of September this was accomplished; the whole
Allied line lay extended from the southern outskirts of Paris eastwards
to Verdun. It had been welded into strength by misfortune; it had taken
the measure of the foe, and was eager for revenge.

To the Germans it appeared that Paris had been abandoned, and in Berlin
men confidently declared that the war was over, and that only the fruits
of victory remained to be reaped. Von Kluck, sweeping irresistibly
towards the capital, believed that he had only wearied and broken foes
before him. He had good reason for this belief, for he could not
conceive that any armies could have retreated so rapidly and suffered so
severely and yet remain fit to oppose him. He was full of confidence,
but it was the confidence of ignorance. He was totally unaware that a
new army, fresh and unwearied, was silently concentrating in the streets
of Paris.

In Britain there were the worst of forebodings. The Allied armies had
been driven back helter-skelter with a terrible tale of losses, and von
Kluck was within gunshot of the outer forts of the French capital. The
5th of September was the darkest hour before the dawn. Everywhere the
Allied armies seemed to be on the verge of disaster. Von Kluck was
wheeling his right in order to envelop the 5th French Army; farther east
the Würtembergers were striking hard at the French centre; the Crown
Prince, to the south of Verdun, was waiting for the huge siege guns with
which he hoped to batter down the defences of that great fortress;
Maubeuge was at its last gasp; and at Nancy the Bavarians, under the eye
of the Kaiser himself, were preparing to break through the eastern
barrier. The man in the street at home could only stifle his feelings of
dismay, and hope that by some miracle victory might yet be snatched from
the jaws of defeat.

[Illustration: Motor-cyclist Dispatch Rider breaking through a Patrol of
Uhlans.

_By permission of The Sphere._

The motor-cyclist enables communications to be kept up, and messages to
be sent to and from headquarters all along the far-extended lines of the
Allies. Adventures similar to that illustrated above were common in the
early stages of the war.]

So far the war had been one unbroken triumph for Germany. She had
succeeded even beyond the expectations of her people at home. Fortress
after fortress had fallen; victory after victory had been won; the
capital of France was at her mercy; prisoners had been captured in huge
numbers, and guns by the score. To crown all, just as Sedan Day was
approaching and the fall of Paris was hourly expected, the news arrived
that von Hindenburg had won an astounding victory at Tannenberg, in
Eastern Prussia. The whole German nation went mad with delight. Its
wildest ambitions were about to be realized.

One short week later there was a sudden and dramatic change in the
aspect of affairs. The Allies had made a leap forward; von Kluck, beaten
and outflanked, was being harried northward through the woods of
Compiègne; von Buelow, with his famous Guards reduced to half their
strength, was hurrying towards the Aisne; the Duke of Würtemberg, foiled
in his attacks on the French centre, was in sullen retreat; Verdun was
still intact; and in Lorraine the Kaiser had seen the White Cuirassiers
of Bavaria hurled back in confusion from the French line. The avalanche
had fallen, but it had failed to overwhelm the Allied armies. The
Germans were now, for the first time, tasting the bitterness of forced
retreat.

Back they were thrust, but not in rout, to the plateau beyond the Aisne,
where, in a position of great strength, they were forced to fight,
against all their traditions, on the defensive. For weeks they were
besieged, but day by day their entrenchments were strengthened until
they resembled fortresses. All the courage and skill and patience of the
attackers could not bolt them from these burrows by means of frontal
attacks. Then an attempt was made to outflank them by a northward
movement of the Allied left. As this movement proceeded, a similar
manoeuvre was begun by the foe. Each side attempted to outflank the
other, and a feverish race set in for the North Sea, where both flanking
movements must perforce end. Three French armies were strung out
northwards as far as the La Bassée canal; the British army was
transferred from the Aisne to fill the gap beyond; and a new army was
collected and hurried to the assistance of the Belgians, who extended
the line to the sea. The Allies just won the race, and the Germans found
themselves besieged once more, this time on a line of trenches some 450
miles in length. For months to come they strove to break through the
Allied lines; with what success future pages of this history will tell.

Such, in brief outline, is the story which has been told in our two
former volumes. It is the story of the most ruthless and determined
assault that has ever been made upon the liberties of mankind in the
whole history of the world. We see master minds plotting and planning
for long, secret years, watching and waiting for an occasion to swoop
down upon unsuspecting neighbours and rob them of life and freedom and
the fruits of their toil. We see them launching millions of men, armed
with every death-dealing device that fiendish ingenuity can frame,
against a little peaceful people that dares to stand in their way. The
earth shakes with the roar of gigantic guns and the thunderclaps of
bursting shells. Fortresses crumble to shapeless ruin; homesteads are
given to the flames; temples of God are profaned and despoiled;
monuments of art and piety are blotted out; cities are shattered; young
and old, man, woman, and child, are given to the sword, and wherever the
battle has raged there are ghastly heaps of dead and dying, "friend and
foe in one red burial blent."

Onward sweep the conquering legions, with pillars of cloud by day and
pillars of fire by night, and it would seem that nothing human could
give them pause. Armies recoil before them; but strive as they may, they
cannot overwhelm them. Victory sits upon their banners, when suddenly
those whom they have hunted and harried across the fair fields of France
spring forward with undaunted fire and vigour, and the torrent is
stayed. Then it is swept back, and soon the invaders are hemmed in by a
ring of steel, against which they fling themselves in baffled rage like
a trapped tiger against the bars of his cage.

Such is the story of seventy-seven days of bloodshed, horror,
destruction, and woe--days which can never be forgotten while the memory
of man endures.

[Footnote 1:] _Ar-twa´_, former province of France, now forming the
greater part of the department Pas-de-Calais. Its name is derived from
Arras, its capital.]

[Footnote 2: The Colossus of Rhodes was one of the seven wonders of the
ancient world. It was a huge figure of brass one hundred and twenty feet
high, and it strode across the harbour mouth.]

[Footnote 3: This old province of France lies between the Aube on the
north, the Rhone on the south, the Meuse on the east, and the Loire on
the west.]




  CHAPTER II.

  SOME GERMAN THEORIES OF WAR.


Before I proceed with my story, let me call your attention to certain
theories of war with which the German General Staff began the campaign.
By a theory of war I mean some plan or scheme which, in the judgment of
those making it, is _likely_ to prove of great advantage, but which can
only be _proved_ to be so by actual practice. Some of the German
theories turned out to be right, others wrong, as we shall see.

If you were to witness a field day of British troops you would notice
that the infantry make their attacks in long, thin skirmishing lines.
The men are widely spread out, and as they advance they offer a small
target to the guns of the enemy. Their losses are thus reduced to a
minimum. The Germans, on the other hand, believe in making their attacks
with their men massed together in close formation.

Troops attacking in close order have certain advantages over those
attacking in open order. First, they can begin their attack with the
least possible delay. Suppose a hundred men are marching forward in
fours, and are about to make an attack. If they are to spread out widely
time will be needed for them to deploy. (See Fig. 2, p. 19.) But if they
go forward packed close together as in Fig. 1, p. 18, they can attack
much more quickly. You can easily understand that the quicker a blow is
delivered, the more likely it is to be successful, for the defenders are
given little time in which to make preparations for resisting it.

Then, again, an attack delivered in mass formation brings much more
weight to bear on the part of the enemy's line against which it is
directed than an attack in open order. If, for example, a hundred men
are hurled against a front of a hundred yards, the force with which they
can assail it is much greater than it would be if the same hundred yards
of front were attacked by fifty men. Where, as often happens, troops
have to advance on a narrow front, say against a bridge, a causeway, a
street, or a defile, they must attack in close order if they are to
succeed.

Of course, when a massed attack is made, a very good target is offered
to the enemy, especially in these days of magazine rifles, machine guns,
and quick-firing field guns, and large numbers of the attackers are sure
to fall. In former wars it has been found that troops so punished break
or are brought to a standstill, and that their attack therefore fails.
The Germans, however, believe that men can be so disciplined that,
though large numbers of them are shot down, the rest will push on and
carry the position. They believe that this great waste of life is worth
while, because the campaign will be over all the sooner, and the total
losses will probably be no greater than they would be in a
long-drawn-out war carried on by attacks in open order.

[Illustration: Fig. 1. Column advancing to the Attack in Close Order.]

Now let us see how this theory bore the test of actual practice. You
will remember that at the Battle of Mons and on other occasions the
Germans made massed attacks on the Allied positions, and though their
men were shot down in droves, they came on again and again, almost
shoulder to shoulder. The theory that men can be so disciplined as to
continue to advance in massed formation, even though they know that
large numbers of them will certainly be killed or wounded, proved
correct. Where the theory broke down was in supposing that the men who
survived the slaughter would be able to carry the position. On some
occasions they succeeded, but in the majority of cases a swarm of
Germans advancing against inferior numbers were reduced by one-fourth,
or even by one-third, in the first few minutes of the rush, and the
remainder were too few to drive out the defenders. So, as far as actual
results were concerned, attacks in close formation proved to be a
failure. The Germans, however, persisted in them, and this led to an
immense wastage of life. They flung away life like water, but, as we
have seen, they did not win that speedy victory on which they had staked
so much.

[Illustration: Fig. 2. Column deploying for Attack in Open Order.]

Another theory of the German General Staff was that no existing fortress
could withstand for more than a few days the effect of high explosive
shells hurled from heavy howitzers. Up to about ten years ago it was
thought that fortresses mounting heavy guns, and fully supplied with
men, food, and ammunition, could hold out for months against a besieging
force. The fixed guns of fortresses had then a far greater range than
any movable guns that could be brought against them, and they were so
powerful that they could, as a rule, put out of action the artillery of
the besiegers.

[Illustration: A German Howitzer for Siege Work.

_Photo, Daily Mirror_.

Notice the caterpillar wheels which enable it to traverse soft roads
without sinking in.]

On page 200 of Volume I. you were told how a howitzer differs from an
ordinary field gun. Let me repeat what I then said. The great difference
between the action of an ordinary gun and that of a howitzer is the
difference between a boy throwing a stone at a mark which he can see,
and the same boy lobbing a stone over a wall so that it will fall on
something hidden from his view. The ordinary field gun has a long, flat
sweep of fire, and is therefore unable to shoot over hills, trees, or
houses, or to drop shells on men lying close behind a bank or in a deep,
narrow trench.

[Illustration]

Look at this little diagram. A howitzer, A, is firing at a fort, B, from
the other side of a hill. The howitzer is invisible from the fort, and
the men firing the howitzer cannot see the mark at which they are
aiming. But a man on or above the hill can see the fort easily, and can
so direct the fire of the howitzer that it can lob its shells over the
hill and drop them directly on the fort. The guns of the fort are
incapable of hitting the howitzer. The shells which they throw pass
right over the hill, and fall a long way behind it.

Until recently the fortress gun was master of the howitzer, for several
reasons. The howitzers then in use were small, and their range was much
less than that of heavy guns mounted in forts. No matter how carefully
the howitzers were concealed or how frequently they were shifted about,
they were sure sooner or later to be "spotted" from the fortress, and
put out of action. The explosives which were then used in the howitzer
shells were not sufficiently powerful to destroy the steel and concrete
of the forts, and there was much difficulty in discovering, whether the
aim of these high-angle guns was true.

The Austrian and the German General Staff had studied all this very
carefully, and they had come to the conclusion that howitzers could be
constructed of such a size that they would be more than a match for
fortress guns. Former howitzers were 6 inches across at the mouth; but
before the war the Austrians built howitzers of from 11 to 12-inch
calibre. This doubling of the calibre meant that the new weapon was
_eight times_ as powerful as the old one. Such howitzers could throw
their shells from an immense distance, and could take advantage of steep
cover so far off that the fortress guns could not reach them. Though the
new howitzers were so heavy, they were capable of being moved from place
to place as soon as they were "spotted".

Not only was the howitzer made much bigger than formerly, but new and
very powerful explosives were discovered, and huge shells were filled
with them. Experiments led the German Staff to believe that these
explosives would utterly destroy the forts, no matter how solidly they
might be constructed. How to aim these howitzers correctly was the only
remaining difficulty. Aeroplanes and balloons solved the problem.
Observers could fly high enough to see the forts, note where the shots
fell, and signal to the gunners so that they could find the exact range.

The Germans believed that no fortress along the line of their advance
could long resist their big howitzers and high explosive shells. The
French, on the other hand, thought that such ring fortresses as those at
Liége, Namur, and Verdun could hold out for a considerable time. During
the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5, Port Arthur, though attacked by
howitzers, held out for eleven months. The French saw no reason why
their forts should not resist for several weeks at least.

From what you have read in the former volumes you know that the German
theory was right, and that the French theory was wrong. Liége, Namur,
Maubeuge, and Antwerp all fell before the high explosive shells of the
huge howitzers in an astonishingly brief time. Verdun did not fall, it
is true, but this was because the French turned it into a new type of
fortress altogether. They made field works at a considerable distance
from the old forts, and moved out the heavy guns to advanced trenches.
Rails were laid down so that as soon as the guns were "spotted" they
could be moved to new positions at short notice. Thus, as I told you on
page 280 of Volume II., instead of fixed forts, each, say, mounted with
ten heavy guns, these same ten guns were "dotted here and there in
trenches rapidly established in one place and another, along perhaps
half a mile of wooded vale, and free to operate, when they moved, over
perhaps double that front." This is the German theory of fortification,
and Verdun was saved because the French adopted it.

Another theory of the German Staff was that high explosive shells could
be used with great effect not only against fortresses but against troops
in the field. In former wars shrapnel[4] was largely used, but in the
present war the Germans believed that high explosive shells would be
more effective.[5] Modern armies, as you know, "dig themselves in"
whenever they can, and fight from trenches. Against troops in deep
trenches with good head-cover shrapnel is not very deadly. When trenches
have been occupied for some time they become little fortresses, with
strong parapets and entanglements of barbed wire in front of them.
Before sending infantry to attack such trenches, the Germans determined
to fire high explosive shells at them, so that the barbed wire would be
torn away, the parapets of the trenches would be blown in, and the
defensive works destroyed. In this respect, too, the German theory
proved correct, and when the trench warfare began in real earnest the
Allies had to follow the German example. Months passed, however, before
their supply of howitzers and high explosive shells was sufficient to
enable them to cope with the Germans on equal terms.

[Illustration: The Effect of Shrapnel on Trenches.

Some four hundred to five hundred balls and splinters spread forwards,
downwards, and fan-wise when the shell bursts.

(_By permission of The Sphere._)]

In Volume I., page 189, I gave you some account of the machine gun
which, as you will remember, discharges automatically and accurately
some four hundred or five hundred shots a minute. As a rifleman can only
fire about a dozen aimed shots in the same time, a machine gun is
equivalent to at least thirty riflemen. It discharges its bullets in a
cone-shaped stream, and is even more deadly than sustained rifle fire.
Prior to the war each battalion in the British army was provided with
two machine guns. The German General Staff, however, provided each unit
of its infantry with a large number of machine guns,[6] which were so
mounted that they could be carried rapidly over every kind of ground.
The result was that the Germans had a very marked advantage over the
Allies in machine firing power. Here, again, the German theory was
correct, and the Allies were forced to follow suit and increase greatly
their supply of machine guns.

The Germans have no faith in the waiting game. They believe that
constant attack is the best form of defence. It is foreign to their
ideas to wait for the enemy to attack them; everywhere and always they
endeavour to strike at the foe. They believe with the American humorist:

  "Thrice blessed he who hath his quarrel just,
   But four times he who gets his blow in fust."

In order to enable troops to strike swiftly, and, therefore, to take the
enemy unawares, the Germans provided themselves with fleets of motor
cars in which they conveyed their soldiers to the points where they were
needed. The admirable Belgian and French roads enabled the motors to
travel very quickly, and this accounts in large measure for the rapid
pursuit of the Allies. The motor cars were meant to be specially useful
in making those flanking movements by which German generals strive to
envelop their enemies. These flanking attacks, however, were not
successful, perhaps because it was impossible to transport sufficient
artillery along with the men.

[Illustration: The Effect of High Explosive Shells on Trenches.

A breach is made in the wire entanglements and the chief force of the
explosion is downwards.

(_By permission of The Sphere._)]

Finally, let me deal for a few moments with a theory that proved to be
hopelessly wrong, so entirely mistaken that it robbed the Germans of
that speedy victory which they confidently expected, and led to a long
and uncertain trench war in the West. What was this theory?

The German General Staff believed that Paris would prove to be a great
trap for the French. They believed that in no circumstances would the
French Government permit Paris to be abandoned by the French armies.
They thought that if Paris were threatened, one of two things would
happen--either the French armies would be massed round the capital for
its defence, or they would be divided, and some would try to hold the
frontier, while others tried to hold the city. Further they felt sure
that if the French Commander-in-Chief should wish to keep his armies
undivided so that he could fight on the most advantageous ground,
irrespective of whether Paris fell into German hands or not, the French
politicians would interfere and overrule him. Then quarrels and
confusion would arise; there would be no unity of purpose; divided
authority would prevail, and France would go to pieces.

Whatever happened, the Germans felt confident of victory. They had more
men in the field than France could possibly bring against them. If they
fought pitched battles with the full strength of the French forces
outside Paris, they were bound to win, because they were superior in men
and guns. If the French forces were divided, their task would be still
easier; and if the French politicians interfered, France would do much
to destroy herself. Such was the theory; now let us see how it worked
out.

From the very beginning of the struggle the French military authorities
determined that they would conduct the war in their own way, and that
they would not brook any interference from the politicians. They foresaw
all the difficulties on which the Germans counted, and they fully
realized that if they allowed their plans to be hampered by defending
Paris they would fall into a trap from which there would be no escape.
While, therefore, the enemy was making his great drive towards Paris,
and even when he seemed to be on the point of besieging it, they did not
attempt to go to its rescue, but still retreated, so that their line
could be built up anew, and an advance made when the time was ripe. It
is true that a new army had been mobilized in and around Paris, but it
was not meant for the defence of the capital; it was intended for quite
another purpose.[7]

When von Kluck was near the outer fortifications of Paris he discovered
that the German theory was all wrong. He was forced to swerve in order
to follow up the French and British, and in the act of swerving he was
caught, and forced to retreat. Thus that rapid success in the West which
was the very keynote of the German plan of campaign was rendered
impossible.

[Footnote 4: See Vol. I., p. 197.]

[Footnote 5: See diagrams on the following pages.]

[Footnote 6: It was said that the Germans had 56,000 machine guns at
the beginning of the war.]

[Footnote 7: See Vol. II., p. 201.]




  CHAPTER III.

  FROM ARRAS TO ARMENTIÈRES.


In Chapter XXXIII. of Volume II. you read something of the race for the
sea. When I broke off the story the position of the Allies was as
follows. Northwards from Compiègne to Lassigny extended the left wing of
Maunoury's army. Still farther north, as far as the Somme, lay de
Castelnau's army. Beyond it was the army of Maud'huy, which ultimately
extended to the canal between Béthune and Lille. The British army was in
process of being transferred from the Aisne to a position north of this
canal. It was destined to fill the gap from the canal to the north of
Ypres. The Belgians, assisted by the French, were to complete the line
along the Yser to the North Sea.

Now the movements by which the various armies of the Allies swung into
these positions are very difficult to follow, and you must give me all
your attention if you are to have clear ideas about them. First of all,
we must know something about the character of country in which the war
was to be waged for many months to come. Within this region there are
several important towns which are mentioned in your geography books.
There are also numberless villages which are quite unimportant in
themselves, but have become world-renowned because they have been the
scene of great and stirring incidents. I shall mention these villages as
they occur in the course of the story, but the general character of the
country and the position and importance of the larger towns I must deal
with now. Do not begrudge the time given to this and the following
chapter. It will enable you to follow with intelligent interest the
story hereafter to be told; and to picture for yourselves the scenes
amidst which some of the most terrible struggles in all history have
taken place.

Most of the region from the Somme to the mouth of the Yser is comprised
within the two French departments of Pas-de-Calais and Nord, and the
Belgian province of West Flanders. Pas-de-Calais is the French
equivalent for the Strait of Dover, and the department is so called
because its shores are mainly washed by that narrow neck of sea. The
department of Nord lies to the north and east of Pas-de-Calais, and
merges into the Belgian province of West Flanders.

Nearly the whole of it is a plain, and much of it is as flat as the Fen
district of Lincolnshire. A line of low heights runs south-east from
Gris Nez,[8] and forms the watershed between the rivers running to the
North Sea and those which empty themselves into the English Channel. The
most important river of the region is the Lys, a tributary of the
Scheldt. It rises in the heights just mentioned, and winds across the
country north-eastwards to join the Scheldt at Ghent. Notice very
carefully the course of this river, for it crosses the country almost
midway between the two most important towns in the region from the
Scarpe to Nieuport--the French city of Lille, and the Flemish city of
Ypres.

[Illustration: Bird's-eye View of the Country from Arras to the Sea.]

From Arras to the sea near Ostend is a distance of over sixty miles.
Nearly the whole of this stretch of country is a dead level. There is a
crescent of low heights south of Ypres, but elsewhere, save at and near
Cassel, about eighteen miles west of Ypres, there is not a hill worth
mention. The hill of Cassel rises suddenly from the plain to a height of
515 feet, and from the summit there is a very extensive view. It is said
that thirty-two towns and a hundred villages can be seen from this
windmill-studded hill. What is called the Mont des Cats is about the
same height as the hill of Cassel. It stands almost on the frontier, to
the south-west of Ypres, and was of the greatest importance to the
Allies, for it was the key to their position north of the Lys.

[Illustration: Brothers in Arms.

_Photo, Alfieri._

A British and a French soldier chatting together in Flanders.]

I have already told you something of the ancient and beautiful city of
Arras.[9] It is the capital of the department of Pas-de-Calais, and
stands on the Scarpe, a tributary of the Scheldt. The old province of
Artois, of which it was the capital, has changed hands very often during
the course of its long and warlike history. It has been successively
French, Burgundian, Flemish, Burgundian, German, and Spanish, and it
finally came into the possession of France in 1640. You will remember
that Arras, the capital, was formerly famous for the tapestry hangings
known by its name. The manufacture, however, has long been extinct, and
the city has now such varied industries as soap, oil, cast iron, salt,
sugar refining, lace making, and the manufacture of agricultural
implements. It is also one of the chief grain markets of France.

Arras, as you will observe from the map on page 28, stands in a gap in
the line of hills which I have mentioned as forming the watershed.
Through this gap run the river Scarpe, many roads, and the main railway
from Liége by way of Namur, Mons, and Valenciennes to the Channel ports.
An enemy striving to push westwards to the English Channel would
naturally strive to gain possession of Arras because of its convenient
road and railway communications.

Arras was formerly a beautiful little city, but it stands on the edge of
perhaps the ugliest stretch of country on earth. Ten miles north of it
is the town of Lens, south of which the Black Country of France begins.
I have already told you that the Sambre cuts through an important
coalfield. This coalfield is continued west into North France as far as
the right bank of the Lys. The area of the coal-bearing region in
Pas-de-Calais is about 240 square miles, and its yield is about twenty
million tons per annum, which is about one-half of the total yearly
output of France, but not a twelfth part of the annual production of
Great Britain. You may be sure that this coal-bearing area is a busy and
grimy region of pits and factories, much like the coal-mining parts of
Lancashire or the West Riding of Yorkshire. There are the same
straggling towns of mean houses merging into one another, the same
mounds of refuse topped by the head-gear of pits, the same dirty roads,
the same factory buildings, and the same criss-cross of railways and
canals. The Lys, like the Irwell and the Aire, is black and foul with
the grime of industry.

Béthune, which may be said to mark the western limit of the coalfield,
has numerous pits in the neighbourhood, and a variety of industries such
as are usually found in towns similarly situated. It stands twenty miles
west-south-west of Lille, and is connected with it by an important canal
which runs almost directly east to La Bassée for about seven miles.
Beyond La Bassée the canal continues its eastward course for another
four miles, and then unites with a canal system running north-eastward
to Lille. Along both sides of the canal there are important railway
lines connecting Lille with Béthune and the Channel ports.

La Bassée is a small manufacturing town of 4,800 inhabitants, with no
special features to distinguish it from dozens of others in this
industrial region, but owing to its military importance in the present
war it will henceforth enjoy a fame which many a city of old renown
might envy. You already know that the canal from Béthune to La Bassée
was chosen as the dividing line between Maud'huy's army and the British
forces. The point where two Allied armies join hands is always
considered to be the weakest part of any defensive position. You will
learn, as the story proceeds, that the Germans made the most determined
efforts to break through the sally-port of La Bassée, and that the
British strove with all their might to push through the German lines in
the same neighbourhood, so as to cut the railway by which the enemy was
able to move his troops rapidly from north to south, and _vice versâ_.

Another industrial town in this region which must detain us for a moment
is Armentières,[10] which stands on the Lys about ten miles north of La
Bassée. Before the war it was a busy and prosperous place, with a
population of some 29,000. Its chief manufactures were cloth and table
linen. The Belgian frontier meets the Lys near Armentières, and
continues north-eastward along the left bank of the river.

[Footnote 8: _Gree-nay_ (gray nose), headland of Pas-de-Calais, the
nearest point of the French shore to that of England (South Foreland).]


[Footnote 9: See Vol. II., p. 127]

[Footnote 10: _Ar-mon-te-air´_ (_n_ nasal).]




  CHAPTER IV.

  FROM LILLE TO NIEUPORT.


By far the most important place between the Aisne and the coast of
Belgium is Lille, which is less than eight miles from Armentières. In
Lille we find ourselves in a city of more than 200,000 inhabitants,
which was formerly the capital of French Flanders. It stands in the
well-watered and very fertile plain of the Deule,[11] a navigable
tributary of the Lys, and is connected with all the rivers of the
district by a bewildering network of canals. Formerly it was considered
to be a fortress of the first class, and its citadel was said to be the
masterpiece of Vauban,[12] the great military engineer. He was a soldier
of the Spanish army, who was taken prisoner by the French, and was
induced by them to join the French service. His life was chiefly spent
in making and besieging fortresses. He conducted no less than forty
sieges, took part in more than three hundred combats, and built or
helped to build one hundred and sixty fortresses.

For ages Lille has been a storm-centre of war. It has been so frequently
mishandled by besiegers that the Church of St. Maurice is the only
building of importance which has survived from the Middle Ages. Lille is
the greatest industrial centre of North France, and its linen, woollen,
and cotton factories, its oil and sugar refineries, its chemical works
and great engineering and motor shops are of the utmost importance. It
is a handsome place, with many fine public buildings, and its picture
gallery is famous all over Europe because it contains some of the best
work of the Flemish and Dutch schools.

You can now understand why Lille is a great prize of war. We shall read
later that it was captured by the Germans. Its loss was a great blow to
the Allies, because it not only controls seven railway lines and a great
network of roads, but contains engineering and motor shops, which
enabled the enemy to carry out important repairs and to manufacture many
necessary implements of war within a mile or two of his front. Further,
when Lille was lost, the proceeds of its manufacturing activity went to
the Germans, and this rich, busy city thenceforth contributed nothing to
the war expenses of France.

A little to the north-east of Lille are two other large manufacturing
towns in the midst of one of the busiest industrial districts of France.
Roubaix[13] is the first of these, and Tourcoing[14] is the second. In
Belgium, a few miles north-west of Tourcoing, is the much smaller
industrial town of Menin,[15] which stands on the Lys where the main
road from Bruges crosses the river on the way to Lille.

North of the Lys we are in another world. We have left behind us the
ugly pit mounds, the grimy towns, and the smoke of factories. We are now
in West Flanders, in a countryside of market gardens, where every inch
of ground is closely tilled, and the fields are laid out like a
chessboard. There are many patches of woodland, some of them, such as
the Forest of Houthulst, six or seven miles north of Ypres, being fairly
large. West Flanders is not naturally fertile, but its dairy farmers and
market gardeners, by dint of the greatest industry, have turned it into
a rich and productive land. Six or seven hundred years ago its wealth
came from a different source. Its cities were then bustling hives, in
which most of the woollen cloth used in Europe was spun and woven.

[Illustration: The Cloth Hall at Ypres before Bombardment.]

The busiest and wealthiest of these cities was Ypres, which stands about
twelve miles north of Armentières. In the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries there were some four hundred guilds of cloth manufacturers in
the place, and its people numbered more than 200,000. So famous was its
cloth that we find the English poet Chaucer[16] referring to it in his
_Canterbury Tales_. His Wife of Bath, who was one of the pilgrims, was a
cloth manufacturer, and Chaucer tells us that her wares "passed them of
Ypres and of Gaunt" (Ghent). Before the war broke out Ypres was a little
town of less than 18,000 people, and its industries were represented by
its butter market and its small manufactures of lace and linen. But
within it, as in the other ancient cities of Belgium, were some of the
most glorious old buildings in all the world--the houses of the rich old
burghers, the halls in which they met to transact their business, and
the churches in which they thanked God for their prosperity. They spent
their money lavishly on these buildings and filled them with treasures
of art.

The glory of Ypres, prior to the war, was the Cloth Hall, the largest
and finest edifice of its kind in Belgium. It was begun in 1200, and was
more than a hundred years a-building. The front was 433 feet in length,
and the building consisted of three stories, with a high-pitched roof
broken by dormer windows. The niches of the top story were filled with
statues of Flemish counts and celebrated inhabitants of the city. On the
south side rose a massive belfry, with pinnacles at the angles. The east
side of the hall was formed by the so-called Nieuwerk, one of the most
beautiful buildings of its kind. I am obliged to describe the Cloth Hall
of Ypres in the past tense, for unhappily it is now in ruins. Ypres had
also a very fine cathedral, a meat hall, and a large number of old
houses with carved wooden fronts. They, too, have been destroyed, more
or less, by shot and shell.

In the days of its greatness Ypres, like Manchester of to-day, needed a
waterway to the sea, so that it could rapidly and cheaply import wool
from abroad, and export its finished cloth to distant markets. Ypres
stands on a little river which is a tributary of the river Yser, a
stream almost unknown to Britons before the war began, but now inscribed
on the pages of history. The Yser rises to the west of Cassel, and flows
in a curving course to enter the sea near Nieuport. A canal was cut from
Ypres to the Yser, which was itself canalized, and thus the city
provided itself with a waterway to the sea.

On the canal, twelve or thirteen miles north of Ypres, is the village of
Dixmude,[17] which is also one of the "dead cities" of Belgium. Its
fine Grand' Place, its noble Church of St. Nicholas, its Gothic town
hall, and its heavily shuttered stone houses, show us that it was
formerly a place of wealth and importance. Now, says a recent writer,
"its eleven hundred inhabitants might easily stand in a corner of the
Grand' Place. The passer-by--there is rarely more than one--disturbs the
silence, and one hears scarcely any sounds save the chimes in the tower
or the cooing of doves on the cornices." Alas! since the tide of war
rolled into this part of Belgium, those inhabitants who remain have
continuously been deafened by the roar of great guns, and the towers
from which the chimes rang out and the cornices on which the doves cooed
have been levelled with the ground.

Nieuport, the outport of Ypres, is the last of the towns in this region
to which I shall call your attention. It stands about two miles from the
mouth of the Yser, and, like Ypres and Dixmude, is only a relic of what
it once was. About 4,000 people were dwelling in it before the war broke
out, but its long, silent streets, with their massive houses, showed
plainly that it was formerly a populous and busy place. In the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries its quays were thronged with ships
discharging wool from England for the looms of Ypres, or filling their
holds with the fine cloth made in the old city. Before the war, Nieuport
still retained its cloth hall, town hall, and venerable Gothic church as
memorials of this busy and prosperous time. When the trade of Ypres
departed, Nieuport fell into decline. Prior to the war it was a small,
quiet place, visited by a few ships and by occasional tourists.
Everybody knows it now as the scene of battles which will change the
destiny of the world. Beyond Nieuport are the great sand dunes which
line the coast of Belgium, and extend as far west as Calais. From the
top of the dunes we look out on the restless and shallow waters of the
North Sea.

We have now traversed the region over which warfare was to rage for many
months to come.

       *     *     *     *     *

Before I close this chapter, let me remind you that the whole region
between Arras and the North Sea is filled with historical memories of
former warfare. This is by no means the first time that the British have
fought in West Flanders and Artois. Marlborough,[18] for example, fought
the greatest of his campaigns in this region, during the long struggle
between Louis XIV. of France and the allied forces of England, Holland,
and Austria. I am going to tell you about these campaigns in some
detail, because they have features greatly resembling those of the
present struggle.

Marlborough's great aim, was to recapture the valleys of the Lys and the
Scheldt, which in the year 1708 were in the possession of the French.
These rivers were then all-important, because they were the great lines
of communication for armies fighting in Flanders and North France. It
was by means of the rivers that food and munitions were brought to the
soldiers and the heavy guns were moved from place to place. What
railways are to modern commanders, navigable rivers were to generals in
the long ages before steam.

All the fortresses on the Scheldt were in the hands of the French,
except Oudenarde,[19] which you will find on the accompanying map,
thirty miles to the east of Ypres. At the time when our story opens,
Oudenarde was about to be attacked by the French. Marlborough made a
wonderful forced march, and fell upon them as they were advancing
towards the fortress. By nightfall on July 11, 1708, he had won a great
victory, and the remnants of the French army had fallen back in disorder
to Ghent. While Marlborough was waiting for reinforcements to come up,
some of his troops seized a French position near Ypres, and his main
army encamped near Menin.

Marlborough now proposed to besiege Lille, the greatest fortress on the
road to Paris. He could not bring his siege train by way of the river,
so it had to lumber slowly along the roads, and while doing so was in
great danger of being captured by the enemy. Thanks, however, to his
skilful arrangements, his heavy guns arrived safely, and then the siege
began in real earnest. Lille was very strongly fortified, and was
garrisoned by 15,000 men. While the siege was in progress a French army
of more than 100,000 men marched to its succour; but so strongly was
Marlborough posted that it did not dare to attack him. Instead of doing
so it fell back behind the Scheldt, so as to cut off Marlborough's
forces from Brussels. As, however, he still held Ostend, he was able to
get supplies from England.

The French now tried to seize Ostend, so that Marlborough might be cut
off from the sea and bottled up. He sent forces against them; but the
French fell back before him and opened the sluices of the canals, thus
flooding much of the country between him and the sea. A little later
they succeeded in capturing Nieuport, and Marlborough was cut off from
Ostend.

On 9th December Lille surrendered after the garrison had lost 8,000 men,
and the besiegers not less than 14,000. Marlborough also captured Ghent,
and at the end of December 1708 the French left Flanders altogether, and
retired into their own territory. Thus the valleys of the Lys and
Scheldt were recovered.

[Illustration: Map illustrating Marlborough's Campaigns in Artois and
West Flanders.]

Before I proceed with the story of Marlborough's campaigns, let me point
out that during the race to the sea there was a similar struggle between
the Allies and the Germans for the possession of the same valleys. The
Allies were hastening north in order to push across the Lys and Scheldt
and cut the German communications. Unhappily the Germans moved
northwards so rapidly that this was impossible. Further, when Antwerp
fell, a German army was released which made a great effort to outflank
the Allies by way of the coast. Each side foiled the other, and the
result was the long trench war which will be described in future pages.

Now let us return to our muttons. In the spring of 1709 Marlborough, who
was now in possession of Lille proposed to march on Paris. The French
knew that if he could seize Arras he would possess the gate to the
capital. They therefore prepared to block his way by strongly
entrenching themselves on a line extending from Douai,[20] which lies on
the Scarpe about fourteen miles north-east of Arras, to Béthune. These
trenches passed through La Bassée, where, as you know, the French and
the British joined hands during the race to the sea in October 1914.
Marlborough found these lines too strong to be carried by direct
assault, so he turned aside and besieged Tournai, the town in which
French Territorials, assisted by a British battery, made a very gallant
stand on August 24, 1914.[21] Tournai surrendered after a siege of about
thirty-seven days, and then Marlborough marched on Mons, the place where
von Kluck, on August 23, 1914, vainly endeavoured to overwhelm the
British.[22]

[Illustration: The Battle of Malplaquet (September 11, 1709).

(_From the picture by Jan van Huchtenburgh_).]

While Marlborough was besieging Mons, the French, fearing that the
fortress would suffer the fate of Lille and Tournai, marched an army
against him. They entrenched themselves in a strong position on the edge
of the broken and wooded country which fills the angle between two small
rivers which unite at Mons, and were there attacked by Marlborough on
September 11, 1709. After what he calls "a very murderous battle" the
French were outflanked and their centre was broken through. The British
encamped the following night on the French position, but they had lost
so many men that they were unable to advance any further that year. You
will find this victory referred to in your history books as the Battle
of Malplaquet.[23]

[Illustration: John Churchill, first Duke of Marlborough.

(_Photo by Walker and Cockerell, from the painting in the National
Portrait Gallery._)]

In April 1710 the campaign was resumed. Douai was captured, but Arras
and the road to France were found to be protected by a line of trenches
which foiled even Marlborough. Béthune and other places fell into his
hands; but during the winter the French extended their trenches from
Namur on the east right to the coast, and the barrier seemed
impregnable. In 1711, however, Marlborough carried out a series of
movements which are said to be the most wonderful in the whole history
of tactics. Early in August he approached the French lines as if about
to attack Arras. The French massed their forces to meet him, and in
order to do so had to weaken their hold on the trenches farther east.
Suddenly, on the same night, Marlborough made a forced march of thirteen
leagues to the left. Many of his men dropped from fatigue, but with the
remainder he seized a portion of the trenches, and was behind the French
lines while the French army was still awaiting his attack on Arras. He
had completely outwitted the French general, though, for various
reasons, he was unable to take further advantage of his success.

The French trenches of which you have just read ran, roughly, east and
west, and were meant to stop an advance on Paris from the north. During
the race to the sea the rival armies were moving from the south to the
north. Each was trying to outflank the other. The Allies wished to
strike eastwards, and the Germans westwards, and the result was that the
lines of trenches in which they opposed each other ran from north to
south.

[Footnote 11: _Dool._]

[Footnote 12: _Vō-bān´_, born 1633, died 1707.]

[Footnote 13: _Roo-bay´._]

[Footnote 14: _Toor-kwan´_ (_n_ nasal).]

[Footnote 15: _Meh-nan´_ (_n_ nasal).]

[Footnote 16: Chaucer, "the morning star of English song," born 1340,
died 1400.]

[Footnote 17: _Diks-müd´._]

[Footnote 18: The most brilliant, and perhaps the greatest, of all
English generals, specially famous for his genius in tactics; born 1650,
died 1722. (See _Highroads of History_, Book VI., Chaps. VII. and
VIII.). Mr. Winston Churchill (First Lord of the Admiralty from October
1911 to May 1915) is a direct descendant of the great general.]

[Footnote 19: _Ow-den-ar´deh._]

[Footnote 20: _Doo-ay´._]

[Footnote 21: See Vol. II., p. 107.]

[Footnote 22: See Vol. II., pp. 26 ff.]

[Footnote 23: _Mal-Pla-kay´._]




  CHAPTER V.

  MAUD'HUY AT ARRAS, AND THE RETREAT FROM ANTWERP.


Two hundred and three years after Marlborough vainly tried to capture
Arras, that little historic town became once more a prize for which
rival forces strove fiercely. Marlborough coveted it because it was, as
Louis XIV. styled it, the true gateway to Paris. The Germans, who were
now to make a great effort to seize it, desired its possession because
it would enable them to outflank Maud'huy's army and seize the Channel
ports.

Arras had already been in German hands. During von Kluck's rush on Paris
his troops drove out the weak French forces holding the city,[24] and
occupied it up to the middle of September. When, however, the deadlock
occurred on the Aisne, they withdrew from the quaint old place without
doing it very much harm.

It was on the last day of September 1914 that Maud'huy began to extend
his army beyond that of de Castelnau. Soon his left was at Lens, and his
cavalry was scouring the country still farther north towards the Lys and
the Yser. Several Territorial regiments attached to his army had already
been sent to occupy Lille and Douai. You can easily understand that
those weak forces would be in great danger if the Germans were to sweep
round to the west. The Allied generals, however, believed that they were
ahead in the race, and that they would be the first to overlap. They
were quite mistaken: the Germans were ahead, and were now preparing to
overlap by sending cavalry and infantry in motor buses towards the line
of Béthune and Cassel.

On the afternoon of 1st October Douai had to be abandoned, and that very
day the German guns began to thunder on the hills surrounding Arras. Von
Buelow attacked Maud'huy in great force on the flats to the east of the
city, while the Bavarians attempted to outflank him on the north. Though
he received reinforcements he was obliged to retire behind the city and
take up a position on the encircling hills. Before doing so he warned
all the men of military age to leave the place. Then began a pitiful
exodus to the coast.

For two days the Germans fiercely bombarded Arras: the beautiful
sixteenth-century town hall, with its superb clock tower, was ruined,
and the cathedral, as well as many of the historic houses, was badly
damaged. Shells were rained on the place; but the French maintained a
stubborn front, and refused to give way. The attack continued right
through the month. A most determined assault was made between the 20th
and the 26th, when the Prussian Guard came into action; but the enemy
could not cross the ramparts. On the 31st a large German force was
allowed to enter the suburbs, where a trap had been prepared. The result
was that a battalion of the Guard surrendered, and a military train with
one of the great siege howitzers was captured.

Maud'huy held the gate at Arras against all comers, and too great praise
cannot be given to him and his brave troops. Had the Germans been able
to sweep through the Arras gate the whole subsequent history of the war
would have been changed.

On the 3rd of October, when the Germans were closing in on Arras, their
patrols were reported on the outskirts of Lille, which they had also
entered during their southward march,[25] but had subsequently
abandoned. The mayor at once warned the inhabitants to keep cool, to
avoid gathering in crowds, and to give no offence to the enemy should he
enter the city. Next day the cracking of rifles was heard in the
suburbs, and several shells fell in the streets, one of them striking
the town hall. A new German force was advancing towards Lille from
Belgium. During the morning an armoured train containing 300 Uhlans
came dashing towards the station. A signalman promptly switched it on to
a siding, and the French attacked it. The surprised Uhlans tried to take
refuge in the neighbouring houses and workshops, but most of them were
captured next morning.

[Illustration: A Battle amidst the Coal Trucks of Lens.

(_From the picture by Paul Thiriat. By permission of The Sphere._)]

Nor was this the only attack on Lille that day. Some 3,000 Germans tried
to force their way in from the direction of Tourcoing, while others
tried to cross from the Belgian to the French side of the Lys below
Armentières, but both attacks were repelled. On the 6th there was
fighting to the west of Lille and on the 10th a company of Uhlans dashed
into the streets. They arrested the mayor and several other citizens as
hostages; but in the nick of time a party of French Chasseurs arrived,
set free the prisoners, and chased the Uhlans out of the city. Almost
immediately the Germans began to bombard the place, and shells fell upon
it at intervals until the 12th, when an infantry attack began. The
Territorials did their best to resist, but they were altogether
outnumbered, and were forced to withdraw. On the 13th Lille surrendered,
and the Germans, with bands playing, marched in and took possession.
Thus the most valuable city of North France fell into their hands.

You already know that it was of the utmost importance that Lille should
be retained by the Allies. Why, then, did not General Maud'huy send a
stronger force to hold it? The fact is, that he was so hard pressed at
Arras that he could not spare an additional man for the defence of
Lille. He had all his work cut out to save Arras and prevent the Germans
from swarming through the gap towards the Channel. But even the feeble
resistance of the Territorials at Lille was of advantage to the Allies.
The city was held for nine days, during which large German forces were
detained. By keeping these forces busy round the city the Territorials
helped to conceal the Allied movements which were going on farther to
the west, and also enabled the French and British troops to reach the
line of the Yser just, and only just, in time to stop the Germans from
bursting through.

       *     *     *     *     *

Now we must hurry north to Antwerp and see what happened after the
tragic fall of that great fortress. In the last chapter of Volume II.,
page 313, I told you that a British Naval Brigade, numbering about
8,000 men in all, was sent to the assistance of the beleaguered city. It
arrived too late to save the fortress, but its energies were not wasted.
The defence of the city was prolonged for a few priceless days while the
troops from the Aisne were being hurried up to the new theatre of war.

The Belgian troops began to retreat from Antwerp on the evening of 6th
October. Covered by cavalry, armoured motor cars, and cyclist corps,
they moved out towards Ghent and Ostend, while a strong show of
resistance was kept up by other Belgian troops and the British
contingent in the trenches to the south of the city. Next day came the
terrible flight of the civil population, and late that night, amidst
scenes of indescribable confusion, the remainder of the Belgian troops
and most of the British left the forts and trenches, cut the pontoon
bridge over the Scheldt behind them, and hurried westwards, beating off
attacks on their rear. Unfortunately, as you will remember, three
battalions of the British Naval Brigade did not receive orders to retire
until the road westwards was blocked by the enemy. Some 2,500 of them
either passed into Holland, where they had to remain, or were captured
by the Germans. It is said that 18,000 Belgians suffered the same fate.

The following extract from the diary of a petty officer who served with
the Naval Brigade gives you some idea of the experiences of the British
contingent:--

    "_October 8._--What a night last night! Shells coming in like
    one o'clock. Man on my side got a bit in his leg, but says he
    can shoot just as well on one leg. Belgian artilleryman reports
    that he and two others are all that are left of our covering
    fort. We seem to have nothing to do but wait for the end. These
    trenches would be all right against savages, but against their
    huge artillery, like so much dust. These shells come with a whiz
    like an express train, and then--crash! The spirits of our troop
    are top hole. No one the slightest bit excited--just smoking or
    yarning and dodging shells; but it's just rotten not coming
    alongside them. Here she comes--dip, crash! Saved again. Another
    'non-stop' for Antwerp![26] When they shorten the range for
    us--well, cheer oh! Officer just given us the bird for laughing.
    'Grin at each other, but don't speak, chapsies. In case I don't
    see you again, all my best love.'

    "_Next day._--About six last night we had a German attack on our
    left flank, and drove them off. As they had the range of our
    entrenchment, we had orders to clear out. So we did so. As I
    fell in outside, a shell exploded alongside. One man was left on
    the deck. We had to march back to Antwerp. City in places in
    flames. Everybody gone. Dead animals in the streets. Shells
    screaming overhead. Right through the city, over a bridge of
    boats, which were afterwards exploded, and marched until six
    this morning. Only one hour's sleep on the pavement of a small
    town. Thousands of men on the march back, thousands of refugees,
    Belgians, horses, cattle, and artillery, just like pictures of
    the retreat from Moscow and such like. We got a train at once,
    and it's now one o'clock, and we are still in it, bound for the
    coast. Part of our entrenchment was blown up as we were
    retreating, so if we had not gone I don't suppose any of us
    would have been alive. So, taking things all round, we had a
    pretty brisk time, and seem to have done nothing. Don't know how
    many miles we marched last night, but it is a picture which will
    always live in my memory. The conduct of our boys is simply
    marvellous--just as cool as seasoned veterans.

    "_Saturday, October 10._--Blankenberghe.[27] Arrived last night;
    slept at a kind of town hall. Had a meal where the refugees are
    staying; breakfast at hotel. Girls wearing R.N.V.R.[28] ribbons
    across their heads.

    "_Sunday, October 11._--Came aboard collier yesterday afternoon,
    and still aboard now. There are about 2,000 men here.
    Accommodation for none, so I slept between the funnel and the
    engine-room grating. Some even slept on the cylinders. Don't
    know when we shall shove off."

When Mr. Winston Churchill explained why the Naval Brigade had been sent
to Antwerp, he said that it was "part of a large operation for the
relief of the city which more powerful considerations prevented from
being carried out." On the day after the Naval Brigade reached Antwerp
(6th October), a part of the Fourth British Army Corps, under General
Sir Henry Rawlinson, landed at Ostend and Zeebrugge,[29] and at once
marched eastwards. The original object of this force, always supposing
that Antwerp held out, was to join hands with the troops defending the
city, and then advance across the Scheldt so as to cut the German lines
of communication. On the evening of his arrival in Belgium Sir Henry
Rawlinson visited Antwerp, and saw with his own eyes that the fortress
could not be saved. His business now was to cover the retreat of the
forces which had vainly tried to hold the city.

[Footnote 24: See Vol. II., p. 127.]

[Footnote 25: See Vol. II., p. 126.]

[Footnote 26: These high explosive shells were nicknamed "Antwerp
expresses."]

[Footnote 27: Seaside resort of Belgium, 11 miles north-east of Ostend.]

[Footnote 28: Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve.]

[Footnote 29: That is, Sea Bruges. _Zā-brug´ge_, the port of Bruges,
with which it is connected by a ship canal seven miles long.]




  CHAPTER VI.

  WITH RAWLINSON IN BELGIUM.


When Rawlinson's troops reached Ghent, on 7th October 1914, they fell in
with the first body of retreating Belgians, and also with a brigade of
French Marine Fusiliers, 6,000 strong, which had been hastily organized
and rushed northwards that very morning. Most of them were Breton[30]
reservists and recruits who had never fought on land before. Their chief
was Admiral Ronarc'h,[31] a big, broad-shouldered, cool seaman, with
eyes of Celtic blue. The Germans called these Bretons lads and
graybeards "the girls with the red pompoms."[32] They were soon to
discover that the Bretons were not playing at war, but that they were
fighters of iron resolution and fiery courage.

When the troops under Rawlinson were disembarking at Ostend and
Zeebrugge, fourteen transports, containing the 7th British Division,
which had been assembled on the borders of the New Forest, were on the
way to join him in Belgium. Just when the transports were off Ostend
they received a wireless message ordering them to recross the Channel to
Dover. A grain ship had just been blown up off Ostend, and it was
feared that the transports would be sent to the bottom too. They were
therefore ordered back to Dover to wait until the mines were swept up
along the Belgian coast. On the day when the retirement from Antwerp was
in full swing, the 7th Division disembarked at Zeebrugge, and marched to
the outskirts of Bruges. The agony of Antwerp was then over, and all
that could be done was to help to cover the retreat of the forces now
marching away from the city.

[Illustration: Bavarian Troops leaving Antwerp for the Dash on Calais.]

The Germans, as you know, strove hard to cut off the retreating
defenders, and in the villages to the east and south of Ghent the
British forces and the French Marine Brigade made a stand against an
army which numbered about 45,000. When they had checked the enemy, they
decided to retire westwards towards Bruges. That night, under a wintry
moon, a long march of twenty-six miles was accomplished, the 7th
Division and the French Marines acting as the rearguard.

After a brief rest the retreating forces turned south-south-east, the
cavalry scouring the country in advance, and on the following evening
reached Thielt,[33] where it was discovered that the pursuit had so
greatly slackened that the weary men were enabled to get the first good
sleep which they had enjoyed for several days. It is said that they owed
this piece of good fortune to the mayor of one of the neighbouring
towns, who deliberately sent the Germans off on a false scent. When the
Germans discovered that they had been misdirected, the mayor was
promptly shot.

On 13th October the Allies reached Thourout,[34] where they divided into
two parts. Admiral Ronarc'h and his Marines, along with the Belgian
forces which had been holding Ghent, moved west to the Yser, where they
joined the remnants of the Belgian army which had retreated through
Bruges. Here the undaunted King Albert, accompanied by his devoted wife,
Queen Elizabeth, rejoined the exhausted army, and helped to reorganize
it for the terrible struggles which lay before it. Meanwhile Sir Henry
Rawlinson's forces pressed on southwards, and arrived at Roulers,[35]
_en route_ for Ypres, on 13th October, the day on which Lille fell into
the hands of the Germans. By that time part of the German army which
had been besieging Antwerp, and had been released for other operations
when it fell, had swept through Bruges, and had occupied Ostend. German
soldiers were seen strolling on the sands which in the early days of
July had been crowded with laughing bathers and merry holiday-makers.
Many of the German soldiers had never seen the sea before, and they
gazed upon it with open-mouthed interest, straining their eyes in the
vain attempt to see the shores of that island kingdom which was so
steadfastly blocking their path to victory.

       *     *     *     *     *

Mr. C. Underwood, an interpreter who was attached to the 7th Division,
which played such an important part in the fighting retreat from Ghent,
tells us[36] that it was the delay caused by sending back the transports
of his division to Dover that prevented Sir Henry Rawlinson from
marching to the relief of Antwerp.

    "We left Roulers for Ypres," he says, "at 9.30 a.m. (October
    14), and four Taubes flew over us on the road, but too high to
    be shot at. We arrived at Ypres at 6.30, and that evening I saw
    our first lot of allies, reserve dragoons dismounted in the
    square to receive us. The Germans had been through and stayed
    one night, the 7th, the day we landed at Zeebrugge. They had
    taken up their quarters in the famous riding school, and the
    first thing they had done was to break open the mess-room and
    cellars, and take out all the wine, after which they broke up
    everything and stole the mess-plate. When I saw it, a week
    later, the school was strewn with broken bottles--champagne,
    claret, port, etc., etc.--and every drawer and cupboard burst
    open and ransacked. They had cut all communications at the
    station, demanded an indemnity of 65,000 francs (£2,600), and
    stolen all the money they could lay hands on from the Banque
    National. Six thousand loaves were requisitioned in the evening
    to be ready next morning, failing which there was a penalty of
    £800 (20,000 francs). At 10.30 a.m. a Taube, with pilot and
    observer, had been brought down; but they were not captured till
    4.30, as they concealed themselves in a wood. They were both
    brought in, furious with rage, as each was seized by the collar,
    and a revolver pointed at their heads by Belgian officers. They
    were driven off in a car at the rate of sixty miles an hour at
    least!

    "Next day the whole brigade marched out to Halte on the
    Menin-Ypres road, dug trenches, and remained in them all night.
    It was pitch dark in the morning when we were ordered to attack
    a patrol of Germans towards Menin. About a quarter of a mile
    beyond Gheluvelt[37] we engaged advance party of Uhlans at 8.30
    a.m. in a thick fog. A file of the Bedfords brought in a
    suspect, whose papers, not being in order, I escorted into
    Ypres. He was there detained at the town hall, and I heard no
    more of him. Had quite an amusing skirmish with the daughter of
    the proprietress of the hotel of the Three Kings. Feeling very
    hungry, I asked for lunch. She said she had nothing; asked for
    an egg, same reply; bread, the same; finally, in a fury at such
    disobliging conduct, I asked her whether she did not think
    herself most ungrateful, considering we were there to defend
    them against the Germans. This had the desired effect, and she
    asked me to come in, cooked me a splendid omelet, brought out a
    bottle of wine, and plenty of bread and cheese, for which she
    only charged me two francs."

On Sunday, the 18th, Mr. Underwood's brigade had its baptism of fire at
a village a little to the north-east of Gheluvelt, where a British
battery silenced the guns of the enemy. All night they waited for an
attack, but the Germans left them alone until the morning. Then the
fighting was continued, and thus began that series of desperate
conflicts--"ten Waterloos a week"--known as the Battle of Ypres. I shall
give you a full account of this gigantic struggle in a later chapter.

The enemy against whom the 7th Division was now fighting consisted of
four reserve corps which had left Germany on 11th October. Three of the
corps had assembled in Brussels, and without losing an hour had been
sent on an eighty-mile march westwards. They largely consisted of
Landwehr[38] and new volunteers, and ranged from boys of sixteen to
stout gentlemen in middle life. Though quite new to the work of war,
they soon showed themselves as desperate in attack as the most seasoned
veterans. Mr. Underwood says: "On questioning one of the prisoners, he
informed me that they were all Landwehr men, fathers of families, about
the age of thirty-nine and forty, who had been called up quite recently.
There was no doubt that the Germans were well equipped; all their
clothes were in excellent order and brand new. They seemed relieved, and
evidently overjoyed, when I told them that they would probably be sent
to England. They were afraid that the report which had been made to them
that we shot all prisoners was true."

[Footnote 30: Inhabitants of Brittany, a former province of France,
forming the extreme north-west. The people are of Celtic stock, and
their language is allied to the Welsh. Brittany was partly settled from
England and Ireland in the fifth and sixth centuries, and thereafter was
called Britannia Minor. Brittany has always been famous for its sailors.
Jacques Cartier, the discoverer of the St. Lawrence, was a Breton.]

[Footnote 31: _Ron´ark._]

[Footnote 32: French sailors wear a red pompom on the top of their
caps.]

[Footnote 33: _Teelt_, 15 miles south-east of Bruges.]

[Footnote 34: _Too-roo´_, 11 miles south-south-west of Bruges].

[Footnote 35: _Roo-lare´_, 20 miles south by west of Bruges, a textile
manufacturing town of 25,000 inhabitants.]

[Footnote 36: In _Blackwood's Magazine_, March 1915.]

[Footnote 37: Village on the Ypres-Menin road, four miles east of
Ypres.]

[Footnote 38: See Vol. I., p. 146.]




  CHAPTER VII.

  THE LONG, THIN LINE OF STEEL AND VALOUR.


Let us look again at the sixty-mile stretch of country from Arras to the
North Sea, the great danger zone during the month of October and for
many months afterwards. An enemy advancing from Belgium and North
France, desirous of capturing the coast of the Channel, and making
himself master of the Strait of Dover, must cross this stretch of
country in order to attain his object. You already know that a most
determined effort was made by the Germans to push through the gap at
Arras, from which the railways give access not only to the Channel ports
but to Paris. As you are aware, General Maud'huy was able to say to the
Germans, "No road this way."

Seventeen miles north of Arras we find the second passage by which the
Channel ports may be reached by an army advancing westwards. You have
already heard more than once of the town of La Bassée, which stands on
the canal uniting Béthune with Lille. A great thrust through La Bassée
would serve almost as well as a thrust through the Arras gap, for
Béthune, which lies seven miles to the west, is the junction of two
diverging railways, both of which lead to Boulogne. The more northerly
of these lines has a branch which runs through the important railway
centre of Hazebrouck[39] to Ypres. At Hazebrouck the St. Omer[40]-Ypres
line meets the railway which comes westwards from Lille through
Armentières to the coast. A little west of Hazebrouck this line
subdivides: one route goes through St. Omer to Boulogne; the other runs
north to Dunkirk, from which Calais and Boulogne may be reached by a
line along the coast.

Examine this little railway map carefully, and you will see that if the
Germans could make a thrust through the Allied lines at La Bassée they
would soon be in possession of the two railway junctions of Béthune and
Hazebrouck, which would give them no fewer than four lines of railway
for their advance on the sea-coast. Had the Germans broken through at
this point, the Allied forces to the north would have been overwhelmed.
We shall soon learn that the sally-port at La Bassée was the scene of
long and desperate struggles.

[Illustration]

The third passage by which the enemy might capture the coast of North
France and outflank the Allies at the same time is by way of the Yser
Canal and the Ypres Canal. You have already learnt how Rawlinson's army
tried to block the road to Ypres and how the Belgians withdrew to the
line of the Yser in order to contest its passage. Rawlinson's force was
far too small to resist the numbers which were hurled against it on and
after the 18th of October, and the much-battered Belgians were far too
exhausted to offer more than a feeble resistance to the forces of the
enemy following hard on their heels. They were strengthened by some
French Territorials, but even with this support they had to fall back
behind the line of the Yser on the 16th.

[Illustration: Weary Belgian Soldiers resting on the Banks of the Yser
River after their Retreat from Antwerp.

_Photo, Daily Mirror_.]

Now, while the gates at Arras and the Yser were thus being guarded by
Allied forces too weak to do more than barely hold their own, what had
happened at the middle gate of La Bassée? On 11th October, two days
after the Germans made their triumphal march into Antwerp, General
Smith-Dorrien and the Second Corps detrained, marched to the line of the
La Bassée Canal, and took up a position along its southern bank. On
their right were the French cavalry, linking them with Maud'huy's army;
on the left were the brisk squadrons of Gough's cavalry, who were
clearing the Germans from the wooded country to the north of the Lys.
The Germans were holding the high ground south of La Bassée, where the
French trenches had baffled Marlborough more than two hundred years
before, and were in strong force on the road to Lille. That great
industrial city had not yet fallen, so Sir John French decided to make a
great effort to save it.

On the morning of the 12th, in a thick fog, the Second Corps wheeled on
its right, and took up a new position facing east, its left resting on
the Lys and its right on the canal north of Béthune. It then advanced
eastward, finding its way much impeded by the difficult character of the
ground. Our soldiers from the coal-mining districts of Great Britain
found themselves in familiar country--amidst the large, straggling,
connected villages, the pit-heads, refuse mounds, and factories of their
own homeland. They had to advance across a flat country with a patchwork
of fields and hop-gardens, hemmed in by high bedraggled hedges, and cut
across by interminable ditches, with frequent canals by way of variety.
The roads, which were lined by scraggy poplars, were narrow, and deep in
mud owing to the heavy traffic. Through this flat, depressing country in
which good gun positions were few and far between, the British marched
to meet the Germans. By nightfall, however, they had made some progress
amidst the slippery maze of the muddy dykes, and had driven back several
counter-attacks, both by steady fire and by bayonet charges.

Next day the Second Corps began to wheel. It pivoted on the village of
Givenchy,[41] which stands on the north bank of the canal, less than
two miles due west of La Bassée, and endeavoured to get astride of the
La Bassée-Lille road, so as to threaten the right flank and rear of the
enemy's position on the high ground south of La Bassée. The enemy was
found to be strongly entrenched, and supported by artillery in good
positions. Before long the fighting was of the most desperate character.
The British advanced across the marshy fields under a fierce and
devastating fire with the utmost courage, fighting pitched battles in
the villages, where every house had been loopholed and turned into a
miniature fortress.

[Illustration: The Fighting about La Bassée.

Sketch map showing front held by the Second Corps on October 19, on
night of October 22, and about mid-November 1914.]

The 5th Division, on the right, bore the brunt of the deadly fray. At
Pont Fixe, on the La Bassée canal near Givenchy, the Dorsets, led by
their brave commander, Major Roper, fought hand-to-hand combats in the
lanes between the houses, and drove the enemy headlong before them. The
Germans then turned their guns on to the place, and tore it to
fragments. High explosives and shrapnel were hurled on the village,
until it seemed that no living thing could survive the deadly hail.
When, however, the infantry attack was launched, the Dorsets were still
there, but were sadly reduced in numbers. Though their leader was
killed, they held on to the smoking ruins all day, and when nightfall
came they were still in possession. One hundred and thirty killed and
two hundred and seventy wounded was the price paid for this village on
that blood-drenched day. The Bedfords, of the same brigade, fought their
way to Givenchy, but were driven out again by heavy shell fire.

That night news arrived that Lille had fallen and was in possession of
the 14th German Corps. Though Lille was lost La Bassée might be won, and
the Second Corps now devoted its energies to the task. Next day the 3rd
Division suffered a heavy loss. Sir Hubert Hamilton, its commander, was
struck by a shrapnel bullet while riding along his lines, and fell from
his horse a dead man. He was one of the most skilful and beloved of the
younger generals, and his loss was greatly deplored. An eye-witness thus
describes his burial in the village graveyard:--

    "Owing to the proximity of the enemy absolute silence was
    observed, except for the low voice of the priest, advantage
    being taken of a lull in the attack. Just at the moment when the
    priest was saying the last prayer the guns began to roar again,
    and projectiles whistled over the heads of the mourners. The
    German attack was directed from a distance of a few hundred
    yards. The moment was well chosen, for the volleys fired by the
    troops of the Allies in honour of the dead, gloriously fallen
    for the common cause, were at the same time volleys of
    vengeance. Crackling reports of rifles continued round the
    ruined church, but the voice of the priest, reciting the last
    words of the requiem, lost nothing of its calm and clearness."

Next day the 3rd Division brilliantly avenged the loss of its leader.
Sir John French tells us that they "fought splendidly," crossing with
planks the dykes with which this country is intersected, and driving the
enemy from one entrenched position to another in loopholed villages,
till at night they pushed the Germans off the road leading from
Estaires,[42] on the Lys, to La Bassée. On the 16th the division
advanced its left flank in front of the village of Aubers,[43] which
lies behind a ridge of high ground and a stream which joins the Lys at
Armentières. Aubers was captured by the 19th Brigade on the following
day, and late that evening the village of Herlies,[44] about a mile and
a half to the south-east, was carried at the point of the bayonet by the
1st Lincolns and the 4th Royal Fusiliers.

The Second Corps was now within four miles of La Bassée. So far it had
been opposed by German cavalry; now it found itself up against the main
wall of German defence. "This position of La Bassée," records Sir John
French, "has throughout the battle defied all attempts at capture."
Powerful counter-attacks began the next day, and continued right up to
the end of the month. Against the masses of Germans now concentrated
against them the Second Corps could do nothing but stand on the defence.
Most resolutely they held their lines until the end of the month, and
again and again repulsed very heavy attacks, in which the Germans lost
heavily and left large numbers of dead and prisoners behind them.

All this heavy work was now telling on the Second Corps, and their
losses had been so heavy that Smith-Dorrien on the evening of the 22nd
was obliged to withdraw his forces to lines of entrenchments which had
been prepared on a line running from the eastern side of Givenchy to a
village on the Béthune-Armentières road, some seven miles south-west of
the latter town. There they settled down into their new trenches; but
their lines were very thin, and had not every soldier in them done the
work of ten men, they could never have held the position against the
swarming masses of the enemy. One day, it is said, General French
visited these lines, and talked with a colonel who was hard pressed. "We
can't hold out much longer, sir," said the colonel; "it is impossible."
"I want only men who can do the impossible," said French. "Carry on."

Before I conclude this account of the very gallant but unavailing attack
of the Second Corps on La Bassée, I must tell you one or two incidents
which occurred during the fighting in October. On the 19th Major Daniell
and his Royal Irish Regiment found the enemy in the village of Le
Pilly,[45] about a mile to the north of Herlies. Every house in the
place had been loopholed, and line after line of trenches had been dug,
so that the position was as strong as a fortress. With loud yells the
Royal Irish dashed upon the place, and, in spite of the shrapnel that
was rained on them, carried it by storm. They then entrenched
themselves, and prepared to defend the village. But next day the gallant
battalion was cut off by German supports from Lille, and was surrounded,
after suffering heavy losses.

Very early on the morning of the 24th there was a fierce German attack
upon our new lines, but owing to the skilful work of the artillery it
came to naught. Towards evening there was another heavy attack, which
the Wiltshires and Royal West Kents repulsed. Later on the Germans drove
the Gordon Highlanders out of their trenches, but they were retaken by
the Middlesex Regiment, gallantly led by Lieutenant Colonel Hull.

While our men were "hanging on by their eyelids, some one, I am told,
looked back from a trench and saw a solitary outpost, a turbaned,
cloaked figure of the desert, very startling in the green, peaceful
landscape, riding over a hill. Behind him nodded the turbans of Sikh
cavalry, and the British in the trenches, who seemed past emotion, waved
their rifles and cheered." It was the advance guard of the Lahore
Division of the Indian army coming in the nick of time to reinforce the
hard-pressed men who had fought almost continuously for nearly a
fortnight. The Indians had been resting and preparing for a winter
campaign near Marseilles, and had long been eager to play their part
side by side with their fellow Britons. A few days before, Sir James
Willcocks, their commander, had addressed them as follows:--

    "You are the descendants of men who have been mighty rulers and
    great warriors for many centuries. You will never forget this.
    You will recall the glories of your race. Hindu and Mohammedan
    will be fighting side by side with British soldiers and our
    gallant French allies. You will be helping to make history. You
    will be the first Indian soldiers of the King-Emperor who will
    have the honour of showing in Europe that the sons of India have
    lost none of their martial instincts and are worthy of the
    confidence reposed in them.

    "In battle, you will remember that your religions enjoin on you
    that to give your life doing your duty is your highest reward. .
    . . You will fight for your King-Emperor and your faith, so that
    history will record the doings of India's sons, and your
    children will proudly tell of the deeds of their fathers."

This timely reinforcement was at once sent off to the support of the
Second Corps.

       *     *     *     *     *

We now know how a small army of much-tried Britons barred the way
through the La Bassée postern and stretched a thin line of valour and
steel northwards towards the Lys. I have still to tell you how the
twelve-mile gap between Armentières and Ypres was closed. While the
Second Corps was forming up near Béthune, the trains carrying the Third
Corps were running into St. Omer. As each unit arrived it set out for
Hazebrouck, and on the 13th the whole force moved eastwards towards the
line of the Armentières-Ypres road, with the object of reaching
Armentières, from which it could threaten Lille. Gough's cavalry lay to
the north, and French cavalry to the south.

The French cavalry had already done much hard fighting. On 9th October
it was discovered that German horsemen were holding the south bank of
the Lys to the west of Estaires. They had covered the river crossings
with machine guns, and had set up searchlights, which at night swept
their broad beams along the northern bank. The French commander
assembled his men at a point on the river where the current was very
swift and the water deep. The Germans believed that the river could not
be forded at this spot, and had not troubled to hold it strongly. At
dusk a French trooper who was a good swimmer stripped, and, carrying
with him one end of a light rope, plunged into the water and swam across
the river. When he arrived on the south bank his comrades on the other
side fastened a heavy rope to the end of the line which he was holding,
and the dripping soldier hauled it across and tied it securely to the
trunk of a tree. The other end of the rope was made fast in a similar
way, and during the night, assisted by the rope, men and horses crossed
the stream. At daybreak, when the Germans found that the French were on
their bank of the river they retired rapidly towards Armentières.

In this force of French cavalry there was a champion rider, named
Lieutenant Wallon. One day, during the cavalry fighting along the Lys
two squadrons of the dragoons to which he was attached advanced across
the fields in a thick mist to seize a river bridge at a village where
there was an important crossing. The village was held by the enemy, and
the French squadrons entrenched themselves in front of a small
farmhouse, and beat off an attack, during which thirty Germans were
shot. After an interval, eleven men in peasants' dress, with picks and
spades over their shoulders, were seen advancing towards the French
lines. Supposing that they were peaceful civilians, the French refrained
from firing. When, however, these "peasants" were within forty yards or
so of the trenches, they suddenly dropped their implements, and, drawing
concealed revolvers, opened fire. A sergeant who stood by Lieutenant
Wallon laughed as a bullet whistled by, and remarked that another Boche
had missed him. The lieutenant, however, had fallen. The sergeant wished
to carry him to a safe place in the rear; but the dying man said, "Leave
me. A wounded man is worthless. Get back to the trench; you are wanted
there." The trusty non-com. could not be persuaded to abandon his
leader, and dragged him to the rear, where he shortly afterwards
expired. The eleven disguised Germans were captured and shot; the bridge
was taken, and the village occupied.

[Illustration]

[Footnote 39: _Ăz-brook´_]

[Footnote 40: _O´mare._]

[Footnote 41: _Zhee-van´shee_ [_n_ nasal].]

[Footnote 42: _Es-tayr´_. See map, p. 59.]

[Footnote 43: _Ō-bayr´._]

[Footnote 44: _Her´lee._]

[Footnote 45: _Pee´ye._]




  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE WORK OF THE THIRD BRITISH CORPS.


The Third British Corps, commanded by General Pulteney, first came in
contact with the German outposts at a village about a mile and a half
west of Bailleul.[46] It was a day of heavy rain; the thick, steamy fog
prevented the aircraft from scouting, and the water-logged fields were
too much enclosed for cavalry to operate. The 10th Brigade, under
General J. A. L. Haldane, were the first to attack, and they made a
bayonet charge in which the 2nd Seaforths distinguished themselves. By
nightfall the position was carried; the Germans were driven out, and the
troops were entrenched, ready to attack Bailleul next day (14th October
1914). In the morning it was discovered that the enemy had retired.
Bailleul was occupied, and the signs of German pillage were to be seen
everywhere. Fourteen villagers had been shot, and the inmates of the
lunatic asylum had been turned out of doors. These poor creatures
wandered about the countryside for days, and many of them were
afterwards found dead by the roadside or in the woods. No wonder a
native bitterly said, "The Germans are not soldiers so much as brigands
and assassins.'"

Some very fine deeds of gallantry were done during the first day's
fighting. Sergeant E. Howard, of the 1st Royal Lancaster Regiment,
discovered that twelve men of his platoon who were occupying a trench
had ceased firing. Amidst a very heavy fire, he crawled up to them, and
found that they were all dead! Sergeant G. A. Hodges, of the 2nd Essex
Regiment, led his platoon into the firing line though shot through the
shoulder; while Private C. Rowley, of the 1st Royal Warwickshire
Regiment, crossed and recrossed from the firing line to the support
trench, a distance of 300 yards, under a perfect hail of bullets, with
ammunition for his hard-pressed comrades.

On the 15th the Third Corps was ordered to carry the line of the Lys
from just below Estaires to Armentières. The enemy offered no serious
opposition, and by evening the work was done. Next day Armentières was
entered, and on the 17th the Third Corps held a line extending from
three miles north to three miles south of the town. It was now
discovered that the Germans were holding in strength the right bank of
the Lys from a short distance below Armentières to within a couple of
miles of Menin.

[Illustration: British Cavalry entering Warneton.

The enemy was posted behind a high loopholed barricade, which was blown
to pieces by British guns; whereupon our cavalry entered the town, but
could not maintain themselves within it.]

Next day an effort was made to clear the Germans out of this position.
Midway between Armentières and Menin is the little town of Warneton,[47]
which was seized by Allenby's corps. "Eye-witness" thus describes an
incident which occurred at the capture of the place:--

    "An important crossing over the Lys at Warneton was strongly
    held by Germans, who at the entrance to the town had constructed
    a high barricade, loopholed at the bottom so that men could fire
    through it from a lying position. This formidable obstacle was
    encountered by a squadron of our cavalry. Nothing daunted, they
    obtained help from artillery, who man-hauled a gun into
    position, and blew the barricade to pieces, scattering the
    defenders. They then advanced some three-quarters of a mile into
    the centre of the town, where they found themselves in a large
    'place.' They had hardly reached the farther end when one of the
    buildings suddenly appeared to leap skywards in a sheet of
    flame, a shower of star shells at the same time making the place
    as light as day, and enabling the enemy--who were ensconced in
    surrounding houses--to pour in a devastating fire from rifles
    and machine guns. Our cavalry managed to extricate themselves
    from this trap with the loss of only one officer, the squadron
    leader wounded, and nine men killed or wounded. But determining
    that none of their number should fall into the enemy's hands, a
    party of volunteers went back, and, taking off their boots in
    order to make no noise on the pavement, re-entered the inferno
    they had just left, and succeeded in carrying off their wounded
    comrades."

By this time the Third Corps found itself approaching the main German
position, which was far too strong for it to attack with any prospect
of success. Just about the time that the Second Corps was retiring to
the line stretching from the eastern side of Givenchy northwards the
Third Corps came to a standstill. It then lay across the Lys with a
front of a dozen miles--an impossible length of line for one corps to
hold. Both the Second and the Third Corps had reached the limit of their
eastern advance.

Though they could not push forward any farther, they had closed the
sally-ports at La Bassée and Armentières. One more link was necessary to
connect the Third Corps with Rawlinson's force holding the eastern gate
to Ypres. This was provided by the 1st and 2nd Cavalry Divisions, under
General Allenby. The 1st Division (Gough's), as we have seen, had
cleared much of the country along the Lys, and had secured a footing on
the right bank below Armentières. On the 14th it moved north to join the
2nd Division, which had pushed back invading bands in the neighbourhood
of Cassel and Hazebrouck.

Thus the line was established. Half formed, weak, and insecure, it
nevertheless extended from the La Bassée Canal to the sea, and though it
was opposed by overwhelming odds, it barred the western road to the
Germans. The weakest place in it was the bulge in front of Ypres, where
Rawlinson's harassed and overstretched division was fighting for its
life. Every day the enemy flung new forces against it. More and more
Germans were rushed along the Belgian railroads to overwhelm it. "They
seemed to rain down on us everywhere," said a spectator; "but most of
all they rained on that weak point to our left."

In Chapter VI. I gave you an outline of the doings of Rawlinson's men in
Belgium. You there learned how they retreated from Ghent to Roulers, and
how the cavalry division reconnoitred all the country towards Ypres and
Menin, while the 7th Division battled with four reserve corps of
Germans, who on the 18th of October were on the line Roulers-Menin.
Rawlinson had a very difficult task to perform. He had to operate on a
very wide front, and to encounter very superior forces; yet Sir John
French could not spare a man to reinforce him. Sir John was very eager
to get possession of Menin, for he thought it a very important point of
passage which would greatly help the advance of the rest of the army. He
therefore ordered Rawlinson on the 18th to advance his 7th Division, and
try to seize the crossing of the Lys at Menin, so as to cut the German
communications between Ghent and Lille.

Rawlinson replied that large bodies of the enemy were advancing upon him
from the east and north-east, and that his left flank was in danger.
With his weak troops he dared not attempt such a task. Sir John tells us
that Rawlinson was probably wise in not trying to capture Menin, but
that the loss of it greatly helped the enemy to bring up reinforcements,
and put an end to any further British advance.

You have probably been wondering where the First Corps was at this time.
You last heard of it on the Aisne; so far it had not been seen in
Flanders. It did not arrive at Hazebrouck until October 19. While it was
detraining, Sir John had some very hard thinking to do. Should he use
the First Corps to reinforce the Second and Third Corps, and thus secure
the ground already won on the right, or should he send it to help
Rawlinson? Between the British left and the Franco-Belgian right there
was "a place where the weak spot in the bladder might bulge, and,
bulging too much, break." Sir John French, "with the air," some one has
said, "of a business man closing a deal," made his decision, and turned
in for a little sleep. He chose to let the Second and the Third Corps
continue to do the impossible. He sent the First Corps to the line about
the city which has given name to this whole series of actions--Ypres. It
incorporated what was left of Rawlinson's force, then prepared to dig in
and hold on.

[Illustration: The Allied Line from La Bassée to the Sea about October
20.]

[Footnote 46: _Bay-yule´_, a small village seven miles north-west of
Armentières.]

[Footnote 47: _Varn-ton´_ (_n_ nasal).]




  CHAPTER IX.

  STIRRING STORIES OF ANXIOUS DAYS.


In this chapter I am going to give you a selection of stories which
illustrate the fighting from the fall of Antwerp down to the 20th of
October 1914. Our first story tells how a British lady in her own yacht
carried off many refugees from Ostend while the enemy was actually in
the town.

[Illustration: Miss Jessica Borthwick steering the Grace Darling out of
Ostend Harbour.

(_Photo, Sport and General._)]

"At nine," says a newspaper correspondent, "we interviewed the official
in charge at the burgomaster's office. 'Fly,' he said tersely. 'The
Germans will be here, perhaps, in ten minutes.'... I had already
arranged a retreat. At ten o'clock we went on board the _Grace Darling_,
a schooner yacht which for the past weeks has been working the British
Field Hospital in Belgium. She was chartered and fitted out for the
purpose by Miss Jessica Borthwick at her own expense. As will appear,
the _Grace Darling_ was by three hours the last vessel out of Ostend....

"The Germans were now half a mile away, and we were lying well down in
the almost empty harbour. It became necessary to get our auxiliary
engine going, and make out at least as far as the harbour mouth. At a
quarter-past ten the first Germans appeared--a patrol of
Uhlans--trotting across the bridge that leads into the town from the
Blankenberghe road.

"At this critical moment the fact emerged that the man who had shipped
as a first-class engineer to work our engine for us was not an engineer
at all, but an organ-grinder! The organ-grinder's efforts to start the
engine were deplorable, and we were so placed we could not get a breath
of wind for the sails. The decks of the little yacht were covered with
refugees--Belgian fathers, women, and children. They watched with a
stricken calm a second and a third Uhlan patrol cross the bridge. Two
escaped soldiers in plain clothes who had come on board dropped their
uniforms into the water . . .

"Every moment we were expecting the appearance of the Germans on the
pier. Soon after midday we sailed at a majestic one mile per hour out of
the harbour with the British flag flying. Past the pierhead we found
some wind, actually got the engine started, and ploughed away at a
cheerful ten knots. A mile out we anchored, to await developments.
Through our glasses we saw four Uhlans standing like statues staring out
to sea. From over the horizon came racing a torpedo boat, got the news,
and promptly poked her nose into the harbour to see for herself. After
five minutes she backed out, and went away swiftly. Thereafter Miss
Borthwick and several correspondents, including myself, decided on a
scouting expedition of our own in the launch. We plunged ahead through
the green and lifting waves, raising a fine spray, till we were within a
few hundred yards of the _digue_.[48] There we saw four Germans running
across a little triangle of sandy beach and up on to the pier. We hung
on for a moment, anxious as to what would happen next.

"The Germans ran along the pier, the end of which was only two hundred
yards from us. When we saw them taking cover among the little buildings
at the end of the pier we considered it time to bolt. Promptly the
Germans fired a wide shot, and signalled to us to come in, but we made
for the open sea. Then they opened fire seriously. We lay as flat as we
could--which was not very flat, for we were tightly packed in the tiny
boat--and scooted. Two of the Germans were kneeling down with their
rifles resting on the rail at the end of the pier, and two standing up.

"It was an extremely uncomfortable four minutes before we were out of
range. They fired rapidly, but did not even hit the boat, though they
were very close above and beside us. We regained the _Grace Darling_,
raised anchor, and at once made for sea."

       *     *     *     *     *

Here is a description of one of the French regiments which fought so
bravely under Maud'huy against the Bavarians round about Arras:--

"They have come a long way down the straight roads between the hills,
and there is dust in their eyes and throats, and they have arrived at
that moment in the march when the pack weighs heaviest, when the
shoulder-straps begin to rub, when the rifle seems to wear a hole in the
shoulder, and when the shoe begins to pinch. The best-hearted man in the
regiment knows that it is the time for a little joke. He begins to speak
about his captain, who is walking a yard away from him. 'Our captain
grows a little fat, I think, my little ones.' 'Yes,' says a comrade,
taking up the joke; 'it is possible that he has been eating too much.'
'And he has a great thirst, I am told,' says a third man. 'It is
marvellous what a thirst our captain has! Three bottles of red wine are
hardly enough to wet his throat.' 'He gets too old for war;' and so the
joke goes on, every word of which is heard by the captain, who finally
bursts into laughter, and says, 'You are impudent rascals, all of you.'
The bad moment has passed. The weight of the pack is forgotten, and
presently the baritone of the regiment sings the first line of a
marching song. The chorus goes lilting down the long white road between
the poplar sentinels."

       *     *     *     *     *

Few stories have appeared with reference to the fighting round La
Bassée. A dispatch rider says: "There was one brigade there that had a
past. It had fought at Mons[49] and Le Cateau,[50] and then plugged away
cheerfully through the Retreat and the Advance. What was left of it had
fought stiffly on the Aisne. Some hard marching, a train journey, more
hard marching, and it was thrown into action at La Bassée. There it
fought itself to a standstill. It was attacked and attacked until,
shattered, it was driven back one wild night. It was rallied, and,
turning on the enemy, held them. More hard fighting, a couple of days'
rest, and it staggered into action at Ypres, and somehow--no one knows
how--it held its bit of line. A brigade called by the same name,
consisting of the same regiments, commanded by the same general, but
containing scarce a man of those who had come out in August, marched
very proudly away from Ypres, and went--not to rest, but to hold another
bit of the line.

"And this brigade was not the Guards' Brigade. There were no picked men
in the brigade. It contained just four ordinary regiments of the
line--the Norfolks, the Bedfords, the Cheshires, and the Dorsets. What
the 15th Brigade did other brigades have done."

       *     *     *     *     *

You have just heard of the splendid endurance of the Dorsets. Here is
another story concerning their doings. It is told by Private Cornelius
O'Leary. "We encountered the Germans when they were making one of their
fiercest attacks in their efforts to get through to Cálais. There were
eight companies of us (1st Dorset Regiment), numbering 120 officers and
men apiece, and the fight took place in a very large turnip field. The
German artillery was in front of us, and the Maxim fire was on the right
and left. It was impossible for us to make trenches, so we had to place
our packs in front of us, and do the best we could. We were often
outnumbered by ten to one, as the Germans were almost continually being
reinforced. But we defeated them with heavy loss."

       *     *     *     *     *

Armoured motor cars, equipped with machine guns, played an important
part during the fighting of October. "In their employment", says
"Eye-witness," "our gallant allies the Belgians, who are now fighting
with us, and acquitting themselves nobly, have shown themselves to be
experts. They appear to regard Uhlan-hunting as a form of sport. The
crews display the utmost dash and skill in this form of warfare, often
going out several miles ahead of their own advanced troops, and seldom
failing to return loaded with spoils in the shape of Lancer caps,
busbies, helmets, lances, rifles, and other trophies, which they
distribute as souvenirs to crowds in the market places of frontier
towns."

       *     *     *     *     *

No man fought an armoured motor car more gallantly and successfully than
Commander Sampson, the famous airman. "He is," says a correspondent,
"the will o' the wisp of the British army, and he peppers the Germans
according to his fancy, from aeroplane, armoured motor car, or armoured
train." On one occasion two machine guns continually annoyed our
advanced trenches. Eventually they were discovered; one was in a
windmill, the other in a neighbouring cottage. Commander Sampson took
out an armoured car with a three-pounder quick-firing gun, and one
morning the Germans were surprised to see a low slate-coloured car come
rushing out of the British lines, followed by heavy but rather wild
rifle fire. The Germans naturally thought that the car was one of their
own attempting to escape from the British, so they refrained from firing
on it. Just as the car appeared to be about to enter the German lines it
pulled up. In fifteen seconds the windmill, with its machine gun and
crew, was blown to pieces by the shells from the quick-firer, and before
the astonished Germans could collect themselves the gun had swung round,
and more shells had crashed into the cottage, which was soon destroyed.
Then the car shot back to the British lines, to be received not with
rifle fire, but with a loud burst of cheering. It is said that the
Kaiser was so exasperated at Commander Sampson's successful daring in
this and many other adventures, that he offered a reward of £1,000 to
any German soldier who could kill him.

       *     *     *     *     *

[Illustration: The Arrows of Death.]

It was during the month of October that we first learnt of the new
weapon served out to our flying corps. It consists of an arrow-shaped
missile of steel like a pointed lead pencil. A mechanical device spreads
these missiles out as they fall from the aeroplane, so that they cover
an area of about 200 square yards when dropped from a height of 500
yards. From this height the arrow of death will pass right through a
man's body.

       *     *     *     *     *

"Eye-witness" tells us that "an easy capture was effected by an engineer
telegraph linesman. Returning in the dark after repairing some air lines
which had been cut by shell fire, he was passing through a wood, when
his horse shied at some figures crouching in a ditch. He called out,
'Come out of it!' whereupon to his surprise three German cavalrymen
emerged and surrendered. He marched them back to his headquarters."

       *     *     *     *     *

An action fought near a village less than a mile to the north of
Armentières was brought about by a pig. The British and German trenches
were so near that the soldiers talked with each other, made jokes, and
even learnt the names of their opponents. One day a pig walked on to the
strip of land between the trenches. British and Germans alike shot at
him, and down he fell. Both sides wanted the pig, for roast pig is a
pleasant change from the dull and tasteless round of ordinary rations.
But how was he to be got in? To go out to fetch him meant instant death.
Five daring soldiers lost their lives over that pig, and still he lay
unreclaimed between the trenches.

There was a big fellow in the German trench named Hans Müller. He crept
out of his trench in the night, tied a rope to the pig's leg, and
crawled back to his trench unhurt. The Germans waited till morning came,
so that the British might see their triumph, and then began hauling in
the pig. It was a bitter moment for the British, and the Germans did not
forget to rejoice loudly in their success. But the British had their
revenge: two nights later they took that German trench with the bayonet.
That is how they made things even.

       *     *     *     *     *

The dispatch rider already quoted tells us that spies were very busy in
and behind our lines. "I heard a certain story, which I give as an
illustration and not as a fact. There was once an artillery brigade
billeted in a house two miles or so behind the lines. All the
inhabitants of the house had fled, for the village had been heavily
bombarded. Only a girl had had the courage to remain, and to act as
hostess to the British. She was fresh and charming, clever at cooking,
and modest in manner. Now, it was noticed that our guns could not be
moved without the Germans knowing their new position. No transports or
ammunition limbers were safe from their guns. The girl was told of the
trouble; she was angry and sympathetic, and swore that through her the
spy would be discovered. She spoke the truth."

One night a man, who had his suspicions, saw the girl go into a cellar
as if to bring up coal. He followed her, and, groping about in the dark,
touched a wire. Quickly running his hand along it, he came to a
telephone. The truth was now out. The Germans were receiving their
information from the girl, who posed as the friend of the British. In a
few hours she suffered the usual fate of spies.

       *     *     *     *     *

"Battle noises," says the dispatch rider, "are terrific. At the present
moment a howitzer is going strong behind us, and the noise is
tremendous. It is like dropping a traction engine on a huge tin tray. A
shell passing away from you over your head is like the loud crackling of
a newspaper close to your ear. It makes a sort of deep, echoing crackle
in the air, gradually lessening, until there is a dull boom, and a mile
or so away you see a thick little cloud of white smoke in the air, or a
pear-shaped cloud of gray-black smoke on the ground. Coming towards you,
a shell makes a cutting, swishing note, gradually getting higher and
higher, louder and louder. There is a longer note one instant, and then
it ceases. Shrapnel bursting close to you has the worst sound.

"It is almost funny to be in a village that is being shelled. Things
simply disappear. You are standing in an archway a little back from the
road--a shriek of shrapnel. The windows are broken, and the tiles rush
clattering into the street, while little bullets and bits of shell jump
from side to side, until their force is spent. Or, a deeper bang, a
crash, and a whole house tumbles down."

[Footnote 48: Harbour wall.]

[Footnote 49: See Vol. II., pp. 26 ff.]

[Footnote 50: See Vol. II., p. 91.]




  CHAPTER X.

  WITH THE SECOND CORPS.


The last ten days of October 1914 were days of furious but indecisive
fighting all along the line from Arras to the sea. "The Germans rocked
their attack from side to side, searching for the weak spot. They gained
here; they lost there; but the line remained as it had been when Haig
moved up his First Corps. The British held on, and continued to dig in.
These were days of incessant battering and continual losses; the
hospital trains running back to the base carried as many as 4,000
wounded in one day."

The Germans, as you know, were bent on winning the Channel ports at all
costs. They thought that the capture of Calais and Boulogne would create
a panic in Great Britain, and make us keep our new armies at home for
the defence of our shores, instead of sending them abroad for the
reinforcement of our Allies. They also thought that if the Channel ports
could be captured the British Navy would have to be divided, one portion
keeping watch over the German naval bases on the North Sea, the other
part operating in the English Channel. In this case the Germans hoped
that they might fight and win a naval battle against one part of our
divided fleet. There was a good deal of talk in the German papers about
mounting huge guns at Calais which would command at least half of the
Strait of Dover, and make the dispatch of transports very difficult, if
not impossible.

I have already described the three gates through which the Germans tried
to pierce the Allied line and make their descent on the shores of the
Channel. You know how they were held up at Arras and at La Bassée.
Though they did not cease their efforts to break through these gates
during the latter days of October, they began to direct a great attack
on the bulge in the Allied line to the east of Ypres. Further, they also
attempted to break through by way of the Yser. Military men still wonder
why they continued to fling themselves against four points in the Allied
line, instead of putting forward all their strength against one of them.
We can only be thankful that they wasted their energies in attacking all
these points, when they might have battered with all their force at one.

We will now return to the Second British Corps, which, you will
remember, had been under fire for twelve days, and had become so
exhausted that on 22nd October it was found necessary to withdraw it to
a line running generally from the eastern side of Givenchy, east of
Neuve Chapelle,[51] to a point about four miles south-east of Estaires.
The Lahore Division of the Indian Corps had now arrived, and was about
to receive its baptism of fire. The village of Neuve Chapelle, which was
destined to figure largely in later history, is four miles north of La
Bassée. It was captured by the Germans on the 27th, and its recapture
was entrusted to the Indians. The 28th of October will be ever memorable
in the annals of the Indian army. On that day it first showed its mettle
on a European battlefield.

At Neuve Chapelle our trenches presented a salient[52] which could be
swept by fire on both sides, and the Seaforths, who occupied some of
them, were much exposed, and suffered heavily. The 47th Sikhs, the 9th
Bhopal Infantry, and the 20th and 21st Companies of the 1st Sappers and
Miners were now ordered to advance. They dashed forward with great
spirit, and though they were under artillery fire for the first time,
showed great indifference to the bursting shells. It was noticed that
after the first few had exploded near them they hardly troubled to look
around.

The fighting was of the most desperate and confused character, and the
Germans flung their dead from their trenches to make cover, under which
they advanced. No sooner had the British won a hundred yards of trench
than they were driven back by a counter-attack. The line swayed to and
fro, now in front of the ruins of what had been Neuve Chapelle, now
behind them. Trenches were dug in the streets, and sometimes were only a
few yards apart. Part of Neuve Chapelle was won, but the whole of it
could not be recovered.

Next day there was a terrible fight at Festubert, a village less than
two miles to the north-west of La Bassée. Ever since the 18th of October
the German guns had been pounding the little place, which was held by
the thin line of the 2nd Manchesters. In the early dawn of the 29th the
Germans swarmed out of their trenches and swept down in dense masses on
the British infantry, who were driven back to their supporting trench.
Here they rallied, and thrust back the Germans who followed them. One of
the lost trenches was recaptured by two men--Lieutenant James Leach and
Sergeant Hogan, who were afterwards awarded the Victoria Cross, as you
will hear later.

More Indians now arrived, and the defence of the La Bassée gate was
entrusted to them, to two and a half British brigades, and most of the
Second Corps artillery. Amongst the Indian infantry were the 8th Gurkha
Rifles. You will remember that the Gurkhas are little men. The trenches
which they took over had been dug for taller white men, and they found
that they could not see out of them. The German machine guns
enfiladed[53] the Gurkhas, and most of their white officers fell. Little
wonder that, so placed and so strange to this new kind of warfare, they
were forced back. Wandering in the dark, they managed by good luck to
stumble on the trenches of the 1st Seaforths, a regiment to whom they
are blood brothers.

For the next two days there was a heavy bombardment all along our
position, and especially against the left wing behind Neuve Chapelle. On
2nd November the Germans again pierced the British line in one place,
but a desperate charge of the 2nd Gurkhas, the famous regiment which had
fought so bravely on the ridge at Delhi,[54] saved the situation.

For the next three weeks the troops in this section were engaged in
beating off German attacks, which gradually grew less and less violent
as the Germans concentrated their forces farther north for a great
assault on Ypres. Our line was forced back till it ran from Givenchy, to
which we stubbornly clung, north by Festubert, and onwards towards
Estaires. After an unsuccessful attack on Givenchy (7th November) there
was a fortnight's lull, during which the contest was little more than an
artillery duel.

[Footnote 51: _Noove Sha-pel´._]

[Footnote 52: See Vol. II., p. 16.]

[Footnote 53: Took them in flank and raked them from end to end.]

[Footnote 54: During the Indian Mutiny. The story of the capture of
Delhi is told on p. 149 of this volume.]




  CHAPTER XI.

  THE INDIANS IN THE TRENCHES.


Every boy and girl has heard of the wonderful valour and daring of the
Sikhs and Gurkhas. Many people in this country fully believed that they
would prove invincible on European battlefields. Too much was, perhaps,
expected of them: they found themselves waging an entirely new kind of
warfare in a cold, clammy land, which numbed their limbs and broke down
their stamina. It was all so strange and new--the awful roar of the
great howitzer shells, the fighting from holes in the ground, the
endless stream of shrapnel, the bitter cold, and the absence of those
fierce, furious charges in which they delight. At first their nerve was
shaken, but they quickly recovered, and it must be remembered that when
they broke they dashed forward just as frequently as they retired.
Nevertheless, their splendid courage was not in doubt for a moment, and
before long the enemy went in terror of them, as the following letter,
published in a German newspaper, plainly shows:--

    "To-day for the first time we had to fight against the Indians,
    and Heaven knows those brown rascals are not to be underrated.
    At first we spoke with contempt of the Indians. To-day we
    learned to look at them in a different light.... When for three
    days it had rained shells and the British thought we were beaten
    to a jelly, they had then in store for us a visit from their
    brown allies. Heaven only knows what the English had put into
    those fellows. Anyhow, those who stormed our lines seemed either
    drunk or possessed with an evil spirit. With fearful shouting,
    in comparison with which our hurrahs are like the whining of a
    baby, thousands of those brown forms rushed upon us as suddenly
    as if they were shot out of a fog, so that at first we were
    completely taken by surprise. At a hundred metres (109 yards) we
    opened a destructive fire which mowed down hundreds, but in
    spite of that the others advanced, springing forward like cats
    and surmounting obstacles with unexampled agility. In no time
    they were in our trenches, and truly these brown enemies were
    not to be despised. With butt-ends, bayonets, swords, and
    daggers we fought each other; and we had bitter hard work,
    which, however, was lightened by reinforcements which arrived
    quickly, before we drove the fellows out of the trenches."

The Indians are famous for "ruses"--that is, for tricks of war. Here is
a striking instance of the resource and presence of mind of an Indian
soldier. He and a comrade were instructed to creep out of the trench
which they were defending, in order to spy out a German position some
two hundred yards distant. They crawled along in the dark, and when they
were half-way to the German trench a brilliant searchlight was suddenly
flashed on them. At once they were revealed. One of the men was
quick-witted enough to realize that only by a trick could he save his
life. He immediately rose to his feet and advanced, salaaming to the
Germans. They were so surprised that they ceased fire, and after some
dumb show let him enter the trench. Then began a conversation, which, as
you may imagine, was not very fruitful. The Germans were trying to find
out the Indian race to which he belonged. When the word Mussulman was
mentioned he nodded his head; but when the word British was uttered, he
made a gesture of disgust. The Germans naturally concluded that he hated
the British, so they gave him some rations and a blanket, and let him
spend the night with them. Next morning, by means of dumb show, he made
an officer believe that there were twenty-five other Mohammedans in his
trench who were eager to join the Germans. Completely deceived, the
officer gave him a final cup of coffee, and sent him off to bring in his
friends. Needless to say, he did not return. Unhappily, a few weeks
later this nimble-witted soldier was killed in action.

       *     *     *     *     *

You must not suppose that the Indian army consists only of Gurkhas and
Sikhs. There are many other Indian races serving as soldiers, and
amongst them are the Pathans, fierce hillmen of the North-West Frontier
Province. Somewhere south of Ypres British troops who were holding a
line of trenches one misty night became aware of some hundreds of lithe
gray figures silently gathering in their rear, and gliding forward like
ghosts amidst the trees. Shortly afterwards a score of these gray
figures detached themselves from the larger body, and stealthily, like
Red Indians on the trail, moved up to and beyond the advanced line of
the British trenches. Under their breath our soldiers whispered, "The
Indians are going out," and as they craned their necks they saw the
ghostly figures disappear from view, crawling python-like towards the
first German trench.

[Illustration: A Night Attack by Pathans.

The People of Afghanistan and the adjoining borderland of India are
known as Pathans (_Pat-ans'_), and their language as Pushtu. They
include all the strongest and most warlike tribes of the North-West
Frontier Province, and make excellent soldiers. The Afridis (_Af-ree'
dees_), against whom 35,000 British and Indian troops made a campaign in
1897-98, are Pathans. The Khaibar Pass, that great gloomy defile in the
mountain barrier, through which every invader of India except the
European has had to fight his way, is jealously guarded by Afridis in
the pay of Britain.]

What happened there no one quite knows. There was no shout or sudden
cry, but in a few minutes the British saw one of the score reappear and
glide back to his comrades in the rear. Then the hundreds who were
waiting behind in the shadow of the trees went forward in dead silence
to join the advanced party. For five minutes there was perfect quiet.
Then came a few shots, followed by a wild splutter of musketry,
intermingled with cries and groans. Three or four light-balls were
thrown in the air, and by their means the British saw, some 600 yards to
their front, a mass of wild and struggling men. They saw the gleam of
steel and the whirling rifle butt as the Pathans smote down the foe.

For ten minutes they hacked and slew amongst the half-awake and wholly
bewildered Germans, who had been lying down awaiting the order to attack
the British trenches. The score of Pathans who had gone out in advance
had silently slain the German pickets, and their main body had thus been
enabled to get right amidst the sleeping foe unchallenged. The slaughter
was terrible, and only ended when the Germans, thoroughly aroused to
their peril, ran for their lives. The threatened attack had been turned
into a ghastly defeat.

       *     *     *     *     *

In these pages I have given you countless instances of German cunning
and audacity. The Indians, being in a strange country, incapable of
speaking any language but their own, and not able to distinguish between
the French and the German soldiers, were thought to be easy prey. Here
is a story of a piece of German deception which utterly failed. A
figure, standing out clear in the moonlight, and wearing a complete
Gurkha uniform, suddenly appeared one night in front of a Gurkha trench,
and delivered this message: "The Gurkhas are to move farther up the
trench; another Gurkha contingent is advancing in support." Puzzled by
this order, the officer in charge replied, "Who are you? Where do you
come from?" To which the only answer was: "You are to move up to make
room for other Gurkhas."

[Illustration: Two London Scots and a Wounded Gurkha.

(_Photo, Sport and General._)]

The English was good, but something (or many small things) excited the
officer's suspicion. "Answer, and answer quickly," he said: "if you are
a Gurkha, by what boat did you cross?" The question was, in the
circumstances, no easy one to answer, and the German (for such he was)
turned at once and fled. But he had not gone five yards before he fell
riddled by bullets. Had the officer been deceived, the trench would have
swarmed with Germans almost before the Gurkhas had made room for them.

An officer in a Gurkha regiment relates the following amusing story:
"One night our men rushed a German trench, and one of them captured a
big fat German, who surrendered at the sight of cold steel.

"There is a reward for any man who brings in a prisoner, so the Gurkha
started back across the open towards the British trenches with his
captive. Unfortunately the little man got hit in the leg, so he climbed
on the German's back, and made him carry him to our trenches, where he
triumphantly handed his prisoner over, and was then carried off to
hospital!"

       *     *     *     *     *

German troops were holding a copse near a village north of the
British-French position, and, fearing an attack, were in the habit of
protecting themselves every night by a double line of sentinels. The
copse considerably hampered the advance of the Allies, and an Indian
regiment was brought up as a reinforcement. The officer in charge said
that the wood would soon be captured, and without too great a sacrifice
of life. A French officer who was present thought that the Indians were
too big to enter the wood unnoticed, and declared that they would soon
be perceived by the German sentinels. Thereupon the British officer
offered to bet the Frenchman a sovereign that all the German sentinels
would be removed. The bet was taken.

At eleven o'clock that night, when every one, except the sentries, was
slumbering, the copse was suddenly filled with a fearful din, with
occasional shots, and a few shouts. Then all was silent again.

Shortly afterwards the Indians returned. Two by two they came in and
placed before their officer a prisoner tied up like a sausage, and
carefully gagged. This went on until all the thirty German sentinels who
had been guarding the entrance to the wood had been brought in and
handed over to the officer.




  CHAPTER XII.

  FIRE AND FLOOD.


We will now leave that melancholy region in which Britons of the Second
Corps, like the ocean cliffs of their native land, have been thrusting
back the furious surges of hostile attack for long and weary weeks.
Melancholy indeed is the country over which the tide of war has swept.
Prosperous villages and comfortable homesteads are now crumbling walls
and smoking ruins, with the decaying carcasses of horses, cows, and pigs
lying around. To and fro wander those wretched inhabitants who have
escaped shot and shell, striving to save something from the wreckage of
their homes. "Here, blocking up a narrow side street, is a dead horse
still harnessed to a trap, and beside it is stretched the corpse of a
Jäger[55]; close by, in an enclosure where a shell has found them, lie
some thirty cavalry horses; a little farther on is laid out a row of
German dead, for whom graves are being dug by the peasants.

"The work of burial falls to a great extent on the inhabitants, who,
with our soldiers, take no little care in marking the last
resting-places of their countrymen and their Allies, either by little
wooden crosses or else by flowers. Amidst the graves scattered all over
the countryside are the rifle pits, trenches, and gun emplacements,
which those now resting below the sod helped to defend or to attack.
From these the progress of the fighting can be traced."

We now move northwards to the stretch of country which lies between
Ypres and the sea. It is a flat, marshy land, where the inhabitants are
doomed to an everlasting struggle against the thankless soil and the
invading flood. More than once the district has been the bed of an
ancient sea. Beet grows on the silt of old bays; seaports have become
agricultural villages, and channels along which large ships formerly
sailed are green polders.[56] Only a very complete system of drainage
saves the country from being water-logged. It is literally seamed with
canals and dykes, and crops are only raised by the unremitting labour of
men's hands. The towns and villages are small, and a few highroads,
consisting of narrow causeways of cobble stone with broad bands of mud
on either side, serve their needs. It is a dismal land of frequent rains
and white mists, though quaint and pleasing in sunshine, when its white
farmsteads, whirling windmills, lofty spires, and everlasting lines of
pollards and poplars seem very attractive to the foreign eye.

From Ypres seawards runs a canal which meets the Yser six miles south of
the large village of Dixmude.[57] From Dixmude on to the sea, a distance
of eleven miles, we find the canalized Yser, the main waterway of the
district. Near the left bank of the canal, at a distance of about a mile
and a half, runs a single-line railway,[58] which passes the villages of
Pervyse[59] and Ramscappelle,[60] and has its terminus at the mouth of
the river. No railway crosses the Yser between Dixmude and Nieuport, but
the road from Bruges forks and sends one branch across the stream to
Nieuport, and the other to Pervyse.

A number of small creeks of brackish water flow through the low, marshy
meadows, below the level of the sea, and bring their sluggish tribute to
the Yser. Along the edges of the canal are two or three "islands" of
higher ground; but nowhere, until we reach the dunes of the seashore,
are there any elevations or commanding positions for guns. It is a
blind, sodden country, as ill-fitted for the passage of troops and heavy
guns as the coast region of Essex.

To the inhabitants of this amphibious district water is a foe in peace
and a friend in war. In times of great peril the sluices of the myriad
canals can be opened, and the whole flat district from the railway
embankment to the Yser and beyond can be flooded, and thus rendered
impassable for an army. You can easily understand that the Belgians
would not flood the country until every other means of defence had
failed; for the land so submerged would be ruined for agriculture, and
years of labour would be necessary to restore it to its former
condition. The sluices were opened in the days of Marlborough, and again
in 1793-94. You are soon to hear how the progress of the Germans was
similarly stayed in 1914. The idea of calling in the aid of water as a
defence has long been familiar to Belgian soldiers, and a scheme for
flooding the country had been prepared before the war broke out.

I have already described how the Allies held the avenues to the Channel
ports at Arras and La Bassée. Two other efforts were made by the Germans
to break through the line of defence--the one at Ypres, the other
between Dixmude and the sea. All these four attacks were going on at the
same time, and all were closely connected; but for the sake of clearness
they must be described separately. We will now see how the Belgians and
the French barred the road to Calais by way of the Yser, and in a later
chapter I will describe the great struggle which took place round Ypres.

When the retreating Belgians were driven out of the Forest of Houthulst
on 16th October, they retired to the eastern bank of the Yser. All that
was now left to them of their native land was but one-tenth of its
surface; they were battle-worn and weary; their surviving countrymen
were in bondage; their wrongs cried aloud to Heaven, but their spirit
was still unsubdued. No longer were they fighting alone. Britons and
Bretons, Indians and Canadians, stockmen from the Antipodes, and
tribesmen from the Atlas had come to their succour, and with a new heart
they prepared to defend the last few miles of territory which they could
call their own.

On the morning of the 17th the Belgians were strung out along the east
bank of the Yser from Nieuport to Dixmude. In the ditches by the village
were 5,000 Belgians and 7,000 of Ronarc'h's Marines. The total force
numbered some 40,000, and against them von Beseler was now advancing
with 60,000 men, while the Würtembergers were rapidly moving from the
south. Early on the 17th two Belgian divisions in the centre were driven
across the river, but they managed to regain the right bank in the
course of the night. Early on the morning of the 18th von Beseler, with
his right resting on the sand dunes, began a fierce attack that was full
of danger. Everybody, from general to private, knew that the critical
hour had come. If von Beseler could push back the Belgians beyond the
railway embankment on the west side of the Yser, he would be in Dunkirk
in two days, and in Calais the day after; the last narrow strip of
Belgian soil would be lost, the Allied army at Ypres would be surrounded
or forced to retire, and all the bloodshed farther south would have been
in vain. The prospect was enough to make the stoutest heart quail.

Fiercely the Belgians strove to hold their line in the unequal combat,
but they were forced back step by step, and disaster seemed to await
them, when suddenly succour came--from the sea! The guns of British
warships began to rake the German trenches, and in their roar was the
stern warning, "No road this way."

History was repeating itself, as it has so often done during this war.
More than two and a half centuries ago, when the French and English beat
the Spaniards at the Battle of the Dunes,[61] which was fought on this
very coast, Cromwell's fleet shelled the enemy's wing, and greatly
helped to bring about the victory.

As soon as the danger showed itself at Nieuport, King Albert begged our
Admiralty for naval assistance. It was, of course, impossible to send
ordinary warships to operate on this coast, because the sea is shallow,
and cumbered with many a sandbank--"a very dangerous flat, and fatal,
where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried." The Germans knew
this well; they had examined the charts, and they had no fear of
molestation from the sea. They believed that no warship could come
sufficiently near to the coast to get within range of their trenches.

Now it happened that when the war broke out there lay at Barrow three
ships of light draught but very strong gun power which had been built
for the Brazilian Government. Such ships are known as monitors, after
the name of the first of the type, which was built in 1862, during the
American Civil War. Really, a monitor is little more than a low, moving
gun platform, carrying a little fort, in which one or two heavy weapons
are mounted. Each of the three monitors at Barrow displaced 1,200 tons,
and carried two 6-inch guns mounted forward in an armoured barbette, two
4.7-inch howitzers aft, and four 3-pounder guns amidships. They were
protected by stout armour, and as they drew only four feet seven inches
of water, they could move in the shallows where ordinary ships would run
aground. These ships were taken over by the British Government at the
beginning of the war, and were called the _Humber_, the _Mersey_, and
the _Severn_.

[Illustration: British Monitors shelling German Trenches.

Note the aeroplane and the balloon directing the fire of the monitors'
guns.]

On the evening of 17th October the three monitors left Dover under the
command of Admiral Hood, and arrived off the Flemish coast just as the
German attack began. An old cruiser, a battleship, a gunboat, and
several destroyers, aided by French warships, also bombarded the coast
from outside the shoals. Von Beseler endeavoured to bring his big guns
to bear on them, but his artillery was completely outranged, and several
of his batteries were destroyed. Every attempt to beat off the monitors
failed. The German submarines were ineffective because they could not
manoeuvre in shallow water, and their torpedoes, being set to a greater
depth than the draught of the monitors, passed harmlessly beneath their
hulls.

The guns of the monitors swept the coast for six miles inland, their
fire, which proved very accurate and deadly, being directed by naval
balloons, aeroplanes, and signals from the shore. The Germans could not
retaliate; nor could their troops easily protect themselves in trenches,
for if they faced the sea they could be enfiladed from the canal, and if
they faced the canal they could be enfiladed from the sea. For ten days
the big guns of the monitors blazed across the sandhills. One vessel
fired a thousand shells in a single day. Heavy batteries were
established by the Germans at Ostend on the 24th, but they were at once
bombarded, much to the discomfort of the German officers who had taken
up their quarters in the big hotels on the sea front. By the end of the
month the shore batteries ceased to fire, but before that time the
Germans had been forced to give up their attempt to reach Calais by a
march along the shore.

During this land and sea warfare the Belgians and French struggled
desperately to hold the line of the river Yser. Over and over again they
beat back massed attacks of the enemy. There were frenzied hand-to-hand
combats and thousands of men wrestled and died on the bridges, or were
drowned in the waters beneath. On Friday, 23rd October, a body of
Germans succeeded in crossing the river close to Nieuport, and in
forcing their way to the railway line near Ramscappelle. The Belgians,
however, drove them back to their old position on the eastern bank, and
the carnage was terrible. Next day some five thousand Germans managed to
push across the river at the point where the road from Bruges to Pervyse
is carried over the stream. On Sunday, the 25th, more Germans crossed,
and the line of the Yser seemed to have been won. But as they tried to
deploy from their bridgeheads the French and Belgians, entrenched in the
miry fields, which are crossed and recrossed by water courses, met them
with such stubborn courage that they could make but little headway.
Every yard was fiercely contested, and the German loss was terribly
heavy. By the 28th the Allies had been beaten back almost to the railway
embankment. Then, under the eye of the Emperor himself, the
Würtembergers launched a terrific attack.

[Illustration]

From the higher ground near Nieuport the Germans advanced in dense
masses, singing patriotic songs. The defenders fell back, and at three
in the afternoon, when the Kaiser saw victory almost within his grasp,
they played their last card. Under cover of British naval guns, the
Belgians at high tide had been hard at work near Nieuport damming the
lower reaches of the canal. The brimming waters of the Yser, swollen by
the recent heavy rains, now almost overtopped its banks. At the critical
moment some of the sluices were opened, and the Belgian guns broke down
the banks at several places. Slowly the water spread over the flat
meadows on the left bank of the canal in great shallow lagoons. The
culverts and bridges beneath the railway embankment had been dammed up
so as to prevent the flood from extending westwards.

Soon the Germans between the embankment and the canal found themselves a
foot deep in water; their guns sank in the mud, and whole battalions
were bogged. Only on a few patches of higher ground could they maintain
a dry foothold. Nevertheless they pushed on through the rising waters,
in the hope of capturing Ramscappelle and seizing the railway embankment
before the waters could stay them. The Emperor himself called for
volunteers, and two Würtemberg brigades, composed of some of the best
fighting men in the German Empire, were chosen to carry the village and
win undying glory.

[Illustration: The Würtembergers' Attack on Ramscappelle.

_By permission of The Sphere._]

On the 30th the great attempt was made. The Würtembergers, carrying
roughly-hewn platforms, floundered through the water, and flung the
"table tops" across the wider channels, thus forming bridges. While so
doing, they were shot down by hundreds, but still they pressed on.
Numbers told; Ramscappelle was partly occupied, and the railway line was
seized. Next day French, Senegalese, and Belgians fell upon them
furiously. The dismounted Bengal Lancers, who had been sent to the help
of the Belgians, now exhausted by fourteen hours' continuous fighting,
charged with their lances and took house after house, smashing in doors
and windows to get at the German marines, who had been called up from
Hamburg to take part in the struggle. In vain did the German officers,
with threats and blows and pistol shots, try to prevent their men from
retreating and surrendering. It is said that some twelve guns and over a
thousand prisoners were taken in this furious counter-attack. Before
long the Allies were over the railway embankment, and the German host
was hurled back into the lagoons. The "seventy-fives" came up at a
gallop, rifles and machine guns cracked incessantly, and soon the waters
were dotted with fallen Germans.

The flood through which the Würtembergers had waded was but the advance
guard of a mighty deluge that was now about to overwhelm the whole
district. Every sluice in this region of stream and canal was opened,
and the brown flood spread over the land like the "bore" in a narrow
estuary. Men and horses were swept from their feet and swallowed up in
the seething waters; others sank to rise no more in the deep mud; field
guns disappeared in the ooze, and all the while the pitiless guns of the
Allies poured shot and shell on the drowning invaders. Thousands fell,
but some escaped, while others struggled to dry ground, only to be taken
prisoners. The attack had hopelessly failed, and the Emperor, who had
been watching the struggle through his field glasses, shut them up and
turned away. Once more he had been foiled at the very moment when
victory seemed to be beckoning him.

On 7th November a frenzied attack was begun on Dixmude, which, as you
know, was held by Ronarc'h's Bretons. From the 16th of October to the
10th of November they were fiercely but unsuccessfully assailed by three
corps of the Duke of Würtemberg's army. "You have to sacrifice
yourselves," said Ronarc'h to his men, "to save our left wing. Try to
hold out four days." They held out for a fortnight.

On the night of the 23rd and in the early morning of the 24th no fewer
than fourteen separate attacks were made upon them, but every one
failed. For most of the time the marines fought in trenches up to their
waists in water, and, as General Joffre told them, they were in their
own element. One night the Germans, driving some captured marines before
them, crept silently towards the French lines. One of the prisoners
shouted a warning, but immediately paid for his loyalty with his life.
The wearied defenders, hearing the shout, sprang to arms and beat off
the attack.

On 10th November the Germans succeeded in capturing the broken walls and
torn streets of what had once been the prosperous village of Dixmude.
This success, however, had come too late. Around Ypres, as we shall
learn in later pages, the flower of the German armies had everywhere
been driven back from the Allied lines. All the doors to the coast were
now locked, bolted, and barred. Nevertheless, fierce but futile
struggles continued on the Yser until early in December, when their fury
abated.

[Footnote 55: German rifleman or sharpshooter.]

[Footnote 56: Meadows reclaimed from the sea.]

[Footnote 57: See p. 36.]

[Footnote 58: See map on p. 93.]

[Footnote 59: _Pair-veez´._]

[Footnote 60: _Rams-ka-pel´._]

[Footnote 61: Fought in 1658. Dunkirk was afterwards handed over to the
English, and remained in their possession until 1662, when Charles II.
sold it to France.]

[Illustration: The Flooded Area in Flanders.

_Photo, Daily Mirror._]




  CHAPTER XIII.

  EIGHT DAYS OF STRUGGLE AND ANXIETY.


In Chapter IV. I gave you a brief account of the little city of Ypres,
now about to become the storm-centre of a cyclone of blood and death
such as the world has never seen before. I have told you of its
commercial greatness, and of the glorious old buildings with which the
rich burghers of former days adorned their city. Not only were they
clever manufacturers and keen traders, but gallant soldiers as well. One
of the proudest stories in their history tells how the red-coated
burghers of Ypres in July 1302 joined themselves to the men of Bruges
and Courtrai,[62] and marched against Count Robert of Artois, who was
then overrunning Flanders with 8,000 knights of gentle blood, 10,000
archers, and 30,000 foot-soldiers. Courtrai was threatened, and the
burghers of Ypres, with their fellows from other Flemish towns, arrayed
themselves in front of the city and behind a tangle of dykes and canals.
The chivalry of France made a furious charge, and horses and riders
plunged into the trap which had been laid for them. The slaughter was
terrible. Seven hundred pairs of gilded spurs hung in the abbey church
of Courtrai as the spoils of battle, and the men of Ypres shared with
their comrades of West Flanders the renown of victory.

Until a short time ago Ypres boasted a relic of warfare against the
British. It possessed a flag captured from us in battle. At
Ramillies[63] one of the regiments of the Irish Brigade[64] which fought
for France managed to seize a British standard, which was proudly
preserved in one of the city's convents at the outbreak of the war.

You already know something of the situation and surroundings of Ypres.
It stands twenty-three miles from the dunes at Nieuport, on a canal
which joins the Yser to the south of the large village of Dixmude. To
the south and east of Ypres is a crescent of gentle heights, but for the
rest the country is a dead flat land, and the spires of Ypres are a
landmark for many a mile of Flemish meadow and marsh. Cobbled roads,
skirted by lines of poplars, radiate from the town in all directions.
Towards the east run two main highways--the more northerly leading to
Roulers, the more southerly to Menin, and thence to Lille.

In Chapter VI. you read of the desperate stand made by the 7th Division
between these two highroads, and in Chapter VIII. learned that on 19th
October Sir John French had sent the First Corps to its aid. At this
time Sir John hoped that an advance might be made to the north-east, and
that Bruges and perhaps Ghent might be captured. He thought that Sir
Douglas Haig would probably not be opposed by much more than the 3rd
Reserve Corps, which he knew had suffered considerably in the earlier
fighting, and perhaps by one or two Landwehr divisions. By the 21st he
knew better. That day Sir Douglas Haig with the First Corps advanced
along the road to Bruges, but could not proceed because the French
Territorials on his left had been forced to retire behind the Yser
Canal. At the same time the 7th Division between the two highroads and
Allenby's cavalry beyond the Ypres-Comines canal were being heavily
attacked. Sir John's programme was therefore entirely out of the
question. The Allies found themselves outnumbered by three or four to
one, and Sir John himself, on the evening of the 21st, declared that the
utmost that could be done, owing to the unexpected reinforcements of the
enemy, was to hold the positions round Ypres until General Joffre could
send a relief of French troops, which could not arrive before 24th
October.

[Illustration: Diagram of the Ypres Salient.

The two shadings indicate two stages in the German advance.]

Sir Douglas Haig had therefore to halt and hold a line from Bixschoote,
close to the Ypres Canal, to Zonnebeke,[65] on the Ypres-Roulers road.
The remainder of the line round to Hollebeke was also held by his
infantry, and south of Hollebeke Allenby's cavalry linked them up with
the Third Corps, which was lying along the line of the Lys towards
Armentières. Such was the position of our troops on 21st October. We
were holding, you will observe, a bulge round Ypres. Any troops so
placed are very insecure. They occupy a kind of wedge thrust into the
territory held by the enemy, and this wedge can be attacked on each of
its faces and at the jutting angle at one and the same time. If the line
is broken anywhere the bulge must give way, and the troops holding it
must retire and straighten out their line or suffer destruction.

You may, perhaps, ask why the Germans chose to make a great attack on
Ypres. It is not a great railway centre such as Hazebrouck or Béthune;
only a single line of railway runs westwards from the city. Nor was it a
depôt filled with stores and valuable to the Allies as a base. The
reason why the Germans threw their strength against Ypres is that it
was the heart of the dangerous bulge or salient which I have just
described. If the salient could have been broken through--and the task
did not seem to be very difficult--the whole Allied line of defence
might have been pushed back beyond Ypres and Armentières, in which case
the Allies would not be able to turn the north flank of the Germans.

A frightful series of struggles soon began to rage. Day after day the
gray-coated legions of the Kaiser in ever-increasing numbers swooped
down on all parts of the salient, and only by almost superhuman
endurance were the thin lines of the defence held against them. The line
was nearly broken at Zonnebeke; it was actually pierced for a time in
the centre at Becelaere, while on the extreme right a most determined
assault was made against the cavalry at Kleine Zillebeke. The few
reserves available were hurried to the danger points, and then began
days of the heaviest possible fighting and of the utmost anxiety. One
hundred thousand British, strung out along a line of twenty miles, had
to hold back half a million Germans! Nor was this all: the half-million
was growing in numbers every day.

[Illustration: British Troops advancing for an Attack.

_Photo, Sport and General._]

On Thursday, the 22nd, the defence was just maintained; but late in the
evening the line was broken between Langemarck and Bixschoote, where
part of the Camerons was cut off and shut up in a wayside inn. There was
also a gap between Becelaere and Gheluvelt. The Germans thrust their way
in between the Scots Fusiliers and the Yorkshires, and the latter had to
fight furiously and continuously on two fronts for the better part of
three days in order to keep the enemy from enlarging the gap and getting
through. So bitter and ruthless was the fighting that it seemed
impossible that the defence could be maintained at this point. When the
Bedfords restored the position on the 23rd the Yorkshires were still
fighting; they had not budged. On the 30th they and the Scots Fusiliers,
who had now been merged into one battalion, again saved the line, and
earned the following praise from their general:--

    "You have taken part in probably the fiercest combat that the
    world has ever seen. I have often watched you in the trenches
    with special interest, and on one occasion, at the crossroads at
    Gheluvelt--a very precarious position--I asked who was holding
    that particular line of trenches, which seemed a weak spot. When
    I was told the 2nd Yorkshires, I knew it would be all right. I
    knew it was a regiment I could hang my hat on at any time of
    the day and night. There is not a single regiment in the whole
    of the division for which I have more respect. I do not say it
    to butter you up; I say it because I mean it."

From Gheluvelt onwards towards Hollebeke there was a long line of
trenches which was held by dismounted cavalry. It was one of the weakest
parts of the line, and the Germans pressed it hard, but not hard enough.
Farther south the Third Corps was also having a bad time. At Le Gheir,
two miles south of Messines, some trenches had been lost; but they were
recovered by a gallant counter-attack, in which the Essex Regiment and
the Lancashire Fusiliers greatly distinguished themselves.

On 23rd October, a day of great trial, an attempt was made to win back
the trenches which had been lost by the Camerons on the
Langemarck-Bixschoote road. The Queen's West Surrey Regiment, the
Northamptons, the 1st Loyal North Lancashires, and the King's Royal
Rifles were entrusted with the task. Under Major-General Bulfin they
advanced in short rushes, with great determination, against a range of
buildings strongly held by the Germans. After severe fighting and a
dashing bayonet attack the place was captured, the lost trenches were
recovered, and the imprisoned Camerons were released. Some 600 prisoners
were taken, and the old front was restored. The Loyal North Lancashires
and the "Cobblers"--that is, the Northamptons--showed to great advantage
in the final bayonet charge.

A special order which was issued three days later reads as follows:--

"The Brigadier-General congratulates the 1st Loyal North Lancashire
Regiment, Northamptonshire Regiment, and the 2nd King's Royal Rifle
Corps; but desires especially to commend the fine soldierlike spirit of
the 1st Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, which, advancing steadily under
heavy shell and rifle fire, aided by its machine guns, was enabled to
form up within a short distance of the enemy's trenches. Fixing
bayonets, the battalion then charged, carried the trenches, and occupied
them, and to them must be allotted the majority of the prisoners
captured. The Brigadier-General congratulates himself on having in his
brigade a battalion which, after marching the whole of the previous
night without rest or food was able to maintain its splendid record in
the past by the determination and self-sacrifice displayed in this
action."

On the same day the enemy pushed a corps of their new levies against the
British line near Langemarck. Most of these newcomers had scarcely been
under training for more than two months, yet they hurled themselves on
our trenches with extraordinary courage and doggedness. They were mown
down by our fire, but they came on again and again till the front was
strewn with dead. It is said that three-quarters of the whole corps
were put out of action on that day, and that some 1,500 German corpses
lay round Langemarck that evening. Shortly afterwards French
reinforcements arrived, and brought a welcome relief to the hard-pressed
troops holding the salient.

[Illustration: Hands up! Capture of Germans near Langemarck by the
Cameron Highlanders.

On October 23, 1914, about a hundred Germans had been compelled to take
cover behind a mill and a small house. The house was rushed by a small
force of the Camerons, who compelled the Germans to hold up their hands
until a sufficiently strong guard arrived to take them to the rear.

_From the picture by F. Matania. By permission of The Sphere._]

It was on the 23rd October that Drummer William Kenny won the Victoria
Cross for various deeds of gallantry, which will be related later on.

On the 24th, when the Germans were across the Yser, and the Belgians
were preparing to open the sluices,[66] the enemy struck hard against
the Allied line all the way from Dixmude to La Bassée. At 6 a.m. part of
the 7th Infantry Division, which was holding a position near Gheluvelt,
was very violently attacked. Mr. C. Underwood, an interpreter with this
division, gives us a vivid picture of the terrible straits in which his
brigade found itself, and of the arrival of reinforcements in the very
nick of time.

    "We got a message from headquarters," he writes in _Blackwood's
    Magazine_, "saying that we must hold out at all costs, as
    reinforcements were coming up as quickly as possible to our
    support. A corporal in charge of prisoners said that the
    Wiltshire Regiment had suffered terribly, as also the Scots
    Fusiliers, both having been badly peppered with 'Jack Johnsons,'
    which had buried many of them alive in their trenches.

    "At 7 a.m. next morning (the 24th) Captain Drysdale came up to
    me and asked me to hurry up two battalions which were expected
    every minute from the First Army Corps. The position was most
    critical, _as we had not one man left to support the firing
    line_, which was being very hardly pressed, and might give way
    at any moment. At last, then, the long-expected supports were
    arriving. Our men had behaved like heroes all. This was the
    seventh day since we engaged the Germans, one division extending
    over an unheard-of front of eight miles, and holding up what I
    understood from one of our prisoners yesterday to be a force of
    three army corps--that is, 15,000 to 20,000 British against
    150,000 Germans! The ordeal of the last three days had been
    terrible. These brave fellows actually had no sleep for seven
    days, and had never left the trenches, fighting night and day,
    sticking to them until they were literally blown out of them or
    buried alive. They were now becoming pieces of wood, sleeping
    standing up, and firing almost mechanically, with the slightest
    support from our guns, which were now outclassed....

    "Having got on to the road, I found the Northumberland
    Hussars,[67] who had evidently been brought up with the idea of
    their taking possession of the trenches if the supports were not
    up in time. In ten minutes I sighted the head of a battalion
    swinging up the road, and ran down as directed to hurry them up.
    Found them to be the Highland Light Infantry and King's Own
    Scottish Borderers. I told the commanding officer the position,
    and he doubled them round the wood to the trenches which our
    fellows were holding with their last gasp."

On this day, 24th October, the point of the salient gave way. The
gallant Wiltshires were driven in, and the Germans pushed into a wood
west of Becelaere, where there was much desperate fighting for days to
come. The Warwicks were ordered to make a counter-attack, in the course
of which they lost 105 officers and men, including their colonel. He had
been wounded in the foot three days before, but he nevertheless led his
men in the charge with fiery courage. His horse was shot under him, but
he found another, which was also shot, and this time Colonel Loring rose
no more. In those dread days of struggle no regiment played a more
heroic part than the Warwicks; they emerged from the ordeal a mere ghost
of their former strength.

It was noticeable at this time that the Germans, though they repeatedly
pierced our line, did not follow up the advantage which they had gained.
Perhaps this was due to the rawness of the troops; perhaps to the fact
that they were weary with much fighting; but more probably to bad
leadership, for even the famous Prussian Guard, in later assaults, more
than once came to a standstill after it had broken the British line.
Whatever the reason may have been, the Allies had cause to be thankful
that the enemy failed to "make good."

On the evening of the 25th the 20th Brigade of the 7th Division, which
was then holding a position to the south of Gheluvelt, was forced to
retire. The Germans broke through our lines, and the 2nd Scots Guards,
after repelling the enemy, were pushed back with terrible losses.
Thanks, however, to a splendid charge by the 7th Cavalry Brigade, the
situation was saved. In these operations Lord Innes Ker, who led the
advance guard, won great distinction. Meanwhile the Third Corps, resting
on Armentières had been very hard pressed, and had been forced to fall
back to a position of less risk.

A French line division and some Territorials were brought up on the
night of the 24th-25th, and were concentrated about Zillebeke. Meanwhile
the 2nd Division made good progress to the north-east, and captured
some guns and prisoners. On the 27th Sir John French went to the
headquarters of the 1st Division to inquire into the condition of the
7th Division, which had been marching and fighting for a whole month,
and was becoming very weak. He broke up Sir Henry Rawlinson's command,
and the much-tried 7th Division was absorbed into the First Corps.

[Illustration: The Front at Ypres on October 27, 1914.]

On the 28th there was a lull before the coming storm. The enemy was
preparing for a mighty onslaught upon our whole line. About 5.30 the
next morning a wireless message was intercepted, telling us what the
Germans proposed to do. The Emperor had given orders that the line in
front of Ypres must be broken at all costs, and three German corps were
being massed for the purpose. The critical moment was at hand.

Early on the morning of Thursday, the 29th, a mass assault was delivered
against the crossroads one mile east of Gheluvelt. All morning the tide
of battle ebbed and flowed. The 1st Division was driven from its
trenches, and for a time the German thrust seemed to have succeeded. Mr.
Underwood thus relates an incident which took place when the outlook was
black indeed:--

    "As I was watching the woods on our left front towards the
    Gheluvelt-Menin road, I saw the Yorks retiring and the Gordons
    advancing. I pointed this out to the general, who immediately
    sent to find out by whose orders they were retiring. Presently,
    to our consternation, the Gordons came back farther down the
    road towards Gheluvelt; before we could do anything, the Yorks
    came streaming over the open ploughed land. The general galloped
    down the road to stop the Gordons, and I tried to stop the
    Yorks, who persisted that the order had been given to them to
    retire. We concluded that the order must have been given by a
    German officer, and formed them up along the road under a
    terrible shrapnel fire. They were being bowled over like
    ninepins, as the Germans must have seen them crossing the open.
    We tumbled them into the ditch alongside the road, and it was a
    pitiable sight to see the poor fellows who were still in the
    open and badly hit trying to crawl along towards our
    headquarters to take shelter from the hail of shrapnel
    bullets.... They were by now all lying out under the wall of the
    farm, and the place looked like a shambles. It was a splendid
    sight to see Lieutenant Jardine of the R.A.M.C. running out
    under a hail of bullets and bringing in one wounded man after
    another on his back.... Presently the shell fire died down a
    bit, and the men in the ditches alongside the road, having had
    time to recover, advanced once more to regain the ground which
    they had lost.... One poor chap of the Warwicks whom I spoke to,
    and had been very badly mauled, said, 'Well, sir, England can't
    say we did not stick it to the last.'"

In the counter-attack to which the Gordons were now advancing nearly the
whole of the First Corps was engaged. Some very gallant charges were
made, in one of which Lieutenant J.A.O. Brooke of the 2nd Gordons won
the Victoria Cross and lost his life as you will read later on. About 2
p.m. the enemy began to give way, and by dark most of the line north of
the Menin road had been recovered. The same day the Third Corps was
heavily assailed at Le Gheir, in what our soldiers call "Plugstreet"
Woods,[68] and there was desperate fighting beneath its ragged larches.
Here, again, trenches were lost and won. The Middlesex were driven out;
but the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders nobly came to the rescue, and
against great odds recaptured the trenches and slew almost every German
in them.

The attempt to break through to the south of Ypres was repeated with
even greater vigour on the 30th. In the gray dawn a heavy bombardment
was begun on the trenches held by our cavalry at Zandvoorde, a village
about a mile and a half south of Gheluvelt. So fierce was the fire that
no living thing could remain in the trenches. One troop was buried
alive, and soon the whole division was obliged to withdraw to a ridge
about a mile west of the village. This meant that the troops on the
right were uncovered, and were obliged to fall back to preserve the
line. While this movement was going on, the situation was about as
serious as it could well be. The enemy had been reinforced, and had now
gained possession of Zandvoorde. The Scots Greys and the Hussars were
hurried up, and the ridge was held until evening, when the 4th (Guards)
Brigade arrived and took over the line. They held it in trenches with
water above their knees for twenty-three days.

The salient was sharper than ever now, and therefore even more dangerous
than before. The weakest place lay between Gheluvelt and the corner of
the canal near Hollebeke. Had the Germans reached the canal they would
have cut off the British holding the salient to the north, and nothing
could have saved Ypres. The Emperor was on the field and he had told his
men that if Ypres were captured the war would be over, and the victory
of Germany would be complete. So desperate was the situation that Sir
Douglas Haig determined to hold the line from Gheluvelt to the corner of
the canal at all costs. He moved up reserves to the rear of the line,
and made other preparations to resist the great assault of the morrow.

Farther south there was great peril too. The cavalry had been driven out
of Hollebeke, and had fallen back on the Ypres-Armentières road, where
there was heavy fighting. The line of the Third Corps had been broken,
but the rent had been repaired by the gallantry of the Somerset Light
Infantry. Reserves were called up, and were stationed at Neuve Eglise,
about three miles south-west of Messines. With these reserves came the
first infantry Territorial regiment to take the field--the London
Scottish.

North of Zandevoorde there was also great danger of disaster. A
battalion of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers found the troops on their right
pushed back by sheer weight of numbers, and they themselves exposed to a
most galling fire from machine guns on their flank. Their losses were
terrible, but still they held on, and when the fight was over the
battalion had almost ceased to exist. The Royal Scots Fusiliers suffered
in like manner; but they and the remnant of the Yorkshires, bunched
together into one battalion, held their trenches until dark. The Allied
line was pushed back to the verge of Gheluvelt, and when night fell it
seemed as though the Kaiser had spoken the truth when he declared,
"Ypres will be mine by 1st November."

       *     *     *     *     *

During the fighting around Ypres the Royal Flying Corps did splendid
service. A _Daily News_ correspondent tells of one young flying man who
seemed to make a perfect hobby of his work. The following account of his
doings will give you an excellent idea of how airmen direct the fire of
guns. "From dawn to sunset," says the correspondent, "this young officer
is up and about, doing the most wonderful things with the utmost
coolness. The other morning, up ahead of the lark, he volplaned[69] from
a great height right in the midst of the German lines, as though he
meant to make a brief morning call for breakfast. The Germans were too
astonished for the moment to do anything but gasp and gape at him,
though he was easily within range. He impudently stopped his engine,
dropped half a dozen 'puffs' (as our Tommies call the aeroplane bombs)
into a cavalry cluster, waved his hand, and off and above he went again.

"Hundreds of rifle shots whirred around him as he fled; two of them
struck him; and three minutes later he was down in the British lines
once more, with blood trickling through the rents in his tunic. He was
patched up and bandaged, had a good, hearty lunch, and before teatime he
was up again in one of his mad frolics in the air. 'Surely you've had
enough for one day,' said General ----; 'have a rest at least until
to-morrow. We don't want to lose these matinée performances of yours;
they're too fine for anything.' But the young aviator jammed his
armoured helmet on his head, and said he couldn't resist making a
flight, because it was great fun, and kept him fit. So off he went
again.

"That afternoon he excelled himself. There was a well-screened German
battery which was doing nasty work from behind a slight rise at the back
of the enemy's trenches. This was the airman's quarry. Up and up he went
in quick, climbing spirals, and when he was at a height of 2,000 feet he
poised for a spell to spot the lurking-place of the battery. When he had
discovered it he, flew above it, and signalled to our gunners to drop
their shells immediately below him. They fired; the shells fell some
distance to the right. He next signalled to the range-finders to swing
their guns more to the left. Again they fired, but the shells went too
far. A third time he signalled, and the first of our shells that fell in
the new direction wrecked the limber of the foremost German gun,
smashing up horses and men alike. Good! Instantly the airman indicated
that the range had been found, and then shell after shell burst over and
among the battery which had been flogging us so mercilessly earlier in
the day. In five minutes all that was left of it broke away from the
cunning screen which masked it, and fled across country. The general,
who had been watching the affair through his field glasses, cried,
'Splendid! Magnificent! The best show I've ever witnessed. That man must
have a heart of steel in a body of iron.' When the daring aviator
descended the general warmly congratulated him, and shook him by the
hand. 'You're almost too good to last,' he said. The airman only
laughed."

[Illustration: An Admiral of the Air.

_Photo, Cribb._

Wing-Commander C. R. Samson, R.N. See page 74.]

       *     *     *     *     *

In the account of the fighting round Ypres nothing has been said of our
artillery. Sir John French thus writes concerning it: "I cannot speak
too highly of the valuable services rendered by the Royal Artillery
throughout the battle." He also tells us that, though the enemy brought
up guns of great range and power, our artillery overmastered them.
Splendid work was done by a number of young artillery officers, who in
the most gallant manner pressed forward in the vicinity of the firing
line in order to direct their guns at the right targets, and at the
right moment. Here is a story which illustrates the skill and courage of
these young officers.

"In many instances," says a _Times_ correspondent, "artillery subalterns
have taken up dangerous positions well in advance of the front line of
infantry, and, telephone in hand, have given the range to the gunners
with perfect calmness. I was told of an incident which is typical of the
splendid devotion of these men. A young lieutenant had posted himself in
a tower a few hundred yards from the German trenches. He had telephoned
his orders regularly for half an hour. Then he said, without any trace
of excitement, to the operator on the other side, 'I hear the Germans
coming up the stairs. I have my revolver. Don't believe anything more
you hear.' With these words he dropped the receiver, and he has not been
heard of since."

[Footnote 62: _Koor-tray'_, 27 miles by rail south-west of Ghent, on the
Lys; famous for its linen and lace manufactures. The "Battle of the
Spurs" (1302) was fought outside its walls.]

[Footnote 63: _Rā-mē-yee´_, 29 miles south-east of Brussels; scene of
one of Marlborough's victories (1706).]

[Footnote 64: Formed of Irishmen in the service of France. They fought
gallantly against Marlborough; at Malplaquet the 18th (Royal Irish)
Regiment and the Irish Brigade fought with each other, and the Royal
Irish were the victors.]

[Footnote 65: You will find these and other villages mentioned in this
chapter on the map on p. 103.]

[Footnote 66: See p. 95.]

[Footnote 67: The Northumberland Hussar Yeomanry rejoice in the proud
distinction of being the first of all Territorial regiments to go to the
front in this war. They left England about September 15, 1914.]

[Footnote 68: Ploegsteert, about three miles north of Armentières.]

[Footnote 69: Shut off his engine and glided down in zigzags.]




  CHAPTER XIV.

  TALES OF HEROES.


Before I proceed with the story of the critical day in the great
struggle for Ypres, let me give you a few soldiers' stories of the
fighting which took place during the month of October. Hundreds of
attacks and counter-attacks were made and repelled during that terrible
month, and a thousand deeds of the utmost gallantry were performed. Some
of them won the highest award of valour, as we shall learn at the close
of this chapter; but hundreds of others, equally splendid, went
unrecorded and unrecognized, probably because they were not witnessed by
superior officers. We must always remember, when we read accounts of
gallant deeds done in battle, that they are but few out of many which
deserve to be inscribed on the roll of fame. It has been well said that
during the month of October 1914 the Victoria Cross was won a dozen
times every day.

Here is a story of a boy hero, a private in the D Company of the 2nd
Manchesters, of whose exploits you have already read. His name was
Preston; he was eighteen years of age, and was known as the "baby" of
his regiment. On 20th October the Manchesters were surrounded, and their
trenches were enfiladed by German fire. First the lieutenant was
wounded, then the sergeant, and the company was left without a single
officer in command. While the men were wondering what to do, Private
Preston threw up his cap and shouted, "Fix bayonets, lads!" The company
obeyed his order, and he led them in a wild and successful charge
against the enemy. Six days later this gallant and resourceful boy was
killed in action.

[Illustration: The R.A.M.C. rendering First Aid in the Trenches.

_By permission of The Sphere._]

       *     *     *     *     *

A private of the South Wales Borderers tells how some Germans disguised
as gravediggers attempted to rush a British trench. "We knew that the
Germans had a recognized corps of gravediggers," he says, "but we found
that the supposed gravediggers now advancing were armed not only with
picks and shovels, but with rifles also. When they came within range
they fired. We did likewise, and soon saw their backs. Later we caught
three of them--an officer and two privates. The officer was a tall,
brawny fellow, six feet in his stockings. A little Cockney in our
regiment went up to the German officer, and, not supposing that he would
be understood, said fiercely, 'For two pins I'd knock your blooming head
off.' Imagine his surprise when the German giant, looking down upon him,
replied in perfect English, 'Don't! I can't help this war. Like
yourself, I must fight for my country.'"

       *     *     *     *     *

You have already heard from Mr. C. Underwood of the fine work done by
Lieutenant Jardine of the R.A.M.C. on the Gheluvelt-Menin road during
29th October. An eye-witness says: "There was a man of small stature,
Lieutenant Jardine, of the 21st Field Ambulance, who made frequent
journeys from the shelter of a château at Gheluvelt to the trenches. He
continually faced a hurricane of fire, and to see the little man coming
back with a heavy burden on his shoulders was a sight not to be
forgotten. After he had visited the trenches a number of times he had
the appearance of a butcher straight from the slaughter-house. Many men
owe to him the fact that they are alive to-day." Nor must we forget the
Field Ambulance men, who "time after time came into the open to carry
the more seriously wounded from the trenches."

       *     *     *     *     *

Don't forget that there is plenty of opportunity for the display of
courage, even behind the firing line. The following little story
illustrates the steadfastness and resource of a man in the Army Ordnan

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