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.
VOLUME IV.
The Story of the Year 1915
TORONTO
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, Ltd.
LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK
1916
"How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
"By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!"
William Collins.
The Sinking of the Bluecher—January 24, 1915.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
SETTING THE HOUSE IN ORDER.
In this volume I am going to tell you the story of the war as it unfolded itself during the year 1915. It was a year of life-and-death struggle, during which two other nations were swept by the seething whirlpool into the waters of strife, and eight out of ten persons in the continent of Europe were living under war conditions. It was a year during which the three greatest empires of the world, and seven other Powers, fought fierce and bitter combats on five different battle fronts in Europe alone. It was a year in which some millions of men fell on the stricken field, and yet the issue of the vast and terrible struggle remained undecided.
It was a year in which the Allies, who were quite unready when war was forced upon them, strained every nerve to set their military houses in order; to enlist and train for the field their reserves of manhood; and to furnish themselves with those weapons and munitions in which they were deficient. It was a year in which millions of hard-earned money were spent every day, and the combatants piled up mountains of debt for future generations to pay off.
It was a year during which the Allies had good cause to thank God for the long years of peaceful industry which had given Britain great riches, and for the splendid navy which maintained for her the freedom of the seas. Britain's vast reserves of wealth enabled her to raise plentiful money for carrying on the war, and thanks to her navy her merchant ships were able to carry the products of her mines, mills, and factories to other lands. Great Britain alone of all the combatants was thus able to produce wealth in time of war, and to assist her sorely-hampered friends with timely loans.
The Modern Pied Piper.
(From the picture by A. C. Michael. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
You remember Browning's poem about the Pied Piper who drew the children after him by the magic of his music. This picture shows the pipers of a Highland regiment drawing men after them to the recruiting offices. "I rejoice in my Empire's effort," said the King, "and I feel pride in the voluntary response of my subjects all over the world. . . . The end is not in sight. More men and yet more are wanted to keep my armies in the field, and through them to secure Victory and enduring Peace."
During 1915 the British nation for the first time began to organize itself for warfare on a vast scale. It found itself forced to raise an army thirty times as great as it had ever marshalled before, and to equip millions of men with every weapon known to the science of war. Moreover, it had to do this while the small forces which it had already placed in the field were struggling to maintain themselves against terrible odds. It was a work that called for every ounce of energy and determination that the Empire possessed, and it could never have been done at all had not the British people, as a whole, given willing support to their leaders.
The year was not many months old when it became evident that we could not hope to hold the enemy in check and drive him from his strongly fortified trenches unless we had an almost unlimited supply of big guns and high explosive shells. Early in the struggle the French had set their gun and ammunition factories working at high pressure, and they had taken good care that they should be fully manned with skilled workmen. Britain, on the other hand, had far too small a number of factories for manufacturing the vast supplies of war material which she needed, and many of her skilled workmen had been allowed to enlist and proceed to the front.
Committees were formed to organize all the workshops in the country capable of making weapons and ammunition, and vast supplies of machine tools, guns, and shells were ordered from the United States and Canada. While this was being done, a strong feeling gained ground that the government of the country should no longer be in the hands of a particular political party, but should be composed of the best men of all parties in the State. In May a National Government was set up, and a minister was appointed to devote himself wholly and entirely to the business of speeding up the production of munitions by every possible means in his power. Mr. Lloyd-George filled this post, and forthwith flung himself with great zeal and energy into the work. His first duty was to convince the nation of the great and crying need for more munitions. He pleaded with workmen to realize the danger, and to ally themselves with brothers in the trenches by working early and late and at the very top of their energy. Great posters appeared all over the country, showing a soldier and a workman clasping hands. Behind the one was a battery of big guns, and behind the other the smoking chimneys of a munition factory. Above was the legend, "We're both needed to serve the guns," and beneath the cry, "Fill up the ranks! Pile up the munitions!"
Unhappily, even in this time of great national danger, there were labour troubles. Masters and men quarrelled about rates of wages and hours of work, while their sons and brothers were dying at the front for lack of shells with which to keep down the fierce bombardment of the enemy. Not until laws were passed preventing masters from making undue profits out of the nation's needs, and punishing workmen who kept bad time, was the strife allayed. The Trade Unions were persuaded to relax their rules, and gradually most of the difficulties were removed. Slowly but steadily the supply of arms and ammunition increased, until in the latter part of the year the shortage was overtaken, and it was possible to meet the enemy on more than equal terms. A well-known public man who visited the trenches in November was able to say, "For every shell which the Germans throw to-day, we are throwing five." "Mr. Lloyd-George's compliments," said a British gunner to the shell, as he closed the breech of his gun, "and there's plenty more where that came from."
Britain had not only to supply the needs of her own army and navy, but to help her Allies as well. Before the year was half over, the Russian supply of rifles and shells almost gave out. Russia, as you know, is far more an agricultural than an industrial country. She has no great number of machine shops that can be turned into munition factories, nor has she anything like the number of skilled workmen required to furnish her with the enormous supplies of war material which she needs. In May, when the Germans brought against her a tremendous force of artillery and machine guns, her shortage was so great that she could not resist, and was obliged to make a long retreat from Poland and Galicia. Many of her recruits had no rifles at all, and at one time the artillery of her Second Army could only reply to the incessant fire of the enemy with two shells a day!
The Russians strove manfully to increase their supply of munitions, and Great Britain and Japan gave them much help. By November they had increased their supplies to such an extent that they were able not only to resist the enemy, but to attack him. Some idea of the spirit shown by the Russian munition workers may be obtained from the following message which was found written on an ammunition box: "Do not spare the shells; there are plenty more coming, comrades. We are working hard to keep you supplied. Cheer up!"
Poor little Serbia had all along to struggle against a great lack of war supplies. Her factories were never able to give her more than a tithe of her needs. You will remember that, but for the ammunition which the Allies sent to her in December 1914, she could not have driven the Austrians from her country. In December 1915, when the Serbian army was driven into Albania,[1] it became entirely dependent for food and supplies upon Britain, France, and Italy.
Great Britain had not only to produce weapons and other munitions for herself and her friends, but she had to enlist and train more and more men to fill up her ranks and to repair the wastage of war. While every other nation engaged in the struggle could force men to serve in the army, she alone used no compulsion, but left each man to decide for himself whether he would take up arms or remain in civil life. Great efforts were made to persuade sound men of military age to join the army. Every blank wall was covered with posters calling upon men to serve their king and country, and recruiting meetings were as the sands of the sea for number. But though the response was wonderful, it was felt that some better method of securing men was needed. Many people thought that all suitable men should be compelled to serve, but the Government was reluctant to change the system which had served the country's needs so well in former times.
The Minister of Munitions introducing the Munitions Bill in the House of Commons, June 23, 1915. From the drawing by S. Begg.
"Three millions of young men have offered their services for their country; it depends upon us at home to support them with skill, strength, and every resource of machinery and organization at our disposal, so as to drive the conviction into the heart of nations for all time to come that those governments who deceive their neighbours to their ruin do so at their peril."
At the end of June a law was passed which enabled the Government to discover exactly what resources of men and women the country contained. All persons, male and female, between the ages of fifteen and sixty-five were required to fill up a form stating their names and ages, the number of those who were dependent on them, whether or no they were married, and what was the nature of their occupation. Early in October Lord Derby, who had shown great energy in raising recruits in Lancashire, was appointed Director of Recruiting for the whole country, and speedily he put forward a new plan for bringing in men. The registration forms were sorted out; those men who were engaged in Government work were "starred"—that is, they were not to be considered as available for the army—and the names of all other men between the ages of nineteen and forty-one were placed on cards, which were handed over to joint committees of the political parties, in order that a great national canvass might be conducted.
The canvassers used all their powers of persuasion to get men of military age and sound health to enlist in one or other of forty-six "groups," which were arranged according to the ages of the men, and whether they were married or unmarried. Men were permitted to enlist in their respective groups, and remain in civil life until their own particular group was called up. Courts were set up, before which enlisted men could appear and ask to be "starred" or transferred to some later class. Only those persons without whose services the business of the country could not be properly carried on could claim to be "starred." While the canvass was in progress the Government gave notice that unmarried men would be called up before married men, and that if the unmarried men did not come forward in sufficient numbers, they would be compelled to do so. The canvass was successful—it resulted in the enrolment of very many recruits; but whether compulsion could be staved off by this system remained to be seen. Late in November it was said that Britain would have four million men in arms by the following March.
Money, as you know, is "the sinews of war." Without money, and a great deal of it, armies and navies cannot be arrayed, or kept in the field. The British Empire, according to the statement of the Prime Minister, has a yearly income of £4,000,000,000. This sum is vast, but so was the cost of the war. In March we were spending five millions of money a day. If you work out a little sum, you will see that one year of war at this rate uses up not far short of half the total money earned in a year by the whole British Empire. Of course, in war time the Empire cannot produce as much wealth as it can in times of peace. Large numbers of men are taken away from their work, and, instead of being producers, they have to be kept and fed by the nation. Thousands of factories are engaged in making war material for the Government, and they do not, therefore, add to the national wealth at all. Our overseas trade falls off greatly, because we need many of our merchant ships for transport and supply, because we cannot produce such large quantities of goods for export, and because we cannot trade with enemy countries at all.
In time of peace the goods which we get from other countries are paid for by the goods which we send to them, by the money which we receive from foreigners for carrying goods to all parts of the world, and by the interest which comes to us from money which we have invested abroad. Usually these three items not only pay for our imports, but give us a large profit as well. In time of war, however, we are in quite a different position.
At all times we must import much material from abroad. We are always obliged to import the greater part of our food and the raw materials for our factories. During the present war we have also been obliged to import large quantities of machinery and munitions from the United States. Our imports of goods always exceed our exports of goods in value, but in time of war the imports soar up to a great height, while the exports sink. For example, the excess of imports over exports during the first nine months of 1914 was 99 millions, while for the same period of 1915 it was 256 millions.
Thus you see that, while the war lasts, our exports, the profits on our shipping trade, and the interest which we receive from foreign investments are not sufficient to pay for our imports. In order to make up the balance, we must either draw on our national savings or run into debt. If we draw on our savings, we shall have so much the less money left for the expenses of the war. If we run largely into debt, we shall find ourselves heavily burdened when the day of peace arrives.
By the end of May the Government was seriously considering the all-important question of money, and before long was urging on the people the necessity of being as thrifty as possible, and of saving every penny that they possibly could. Speakers went to and fro pointing out that householders must avoid waste and stint themselves of foreign goods if the nation was to have sufficient money with which to carry on a long war. Those who saved money, and gave up the use of such things as had to be imported from abroad, were doing a patriotic service, and were casting the "silver bullets" with which the war was to be won. In many thousands of homes these wise words were taken to heart; but, on the other hand, many people who were earning high wages showed but little desire to save. Something was also done to lessen the enormous sums wasted on strong drink in this country every year, by restricting the hours during which public-houses might be kept open, and by confining the sale of spirits to certain fixed times. The King set a splendid example, which was largely followed, by banishing strong drink from his table altogether.
Probably you think that all this talk about exports and imports, and the necessity for saving, is very dull, and you are eager to hear of stirring deeds by land and sea. We shall come to them in good time; but I must claim a little more of your patience before I begin the story of the year's fighting. Always remember that when the money which a nation possesses, or can borrow, gives out, it must cease to fight, and must make peace with its foes. That nation wins which has money to continue the struggle when the resources of its opponents are exhausted.
How do we obtain money with which to carry on the war? There is only one place where it can come from, and that is from the pockets of the British people. In time of peace the money for carrying on the government is raised by various kinds of taxes. People with incomes above a certain sum per year have to pay to the Government so much money for every pound which they earn or receive from investments. Those who have a lesser income do not pay what is called income tax, but you must not suppose that they go scot free. Spirits, beer, tea, coffee, tobacco, sugar, cocoa, dried fruits, and other things have to pay a duty—that is, a certain sum is added to their price, and this sum goes to the Government.
In time of war, when the expenses of the Government are much greater than they are in time of peace, the old taxes are raised and new taxes are imposed. In September 1915, for example, the taxes were raised some 40 per cent. Money is also raised from the savings of the people. They are asked to lend money to the State at a certain rate of interest, with the promise that the sum which they lend shall be paid back again in full at the end of a certain period. Of course, this interest has also to be provided by the taxpayers. Three hundred and fifty million pounds were borrowed in November 1914, but by June 1915 it was found necessary to borrow more money, and a loan of nearly six hundred millions—"far and away beyond any amount ever subscribed in the world's history"—was placed at the disposal of the Government. One feature of this loan was the attempt to get persons of small means to participate in it. Vouchers for 5s., 10s., and £1 were issued, and working men, and even school children, were encouraged to buy them. Unfortunately only about five millions were raised in this way, and later in the year other arrangements were made, in the hope of bringing in more money from the savings of the working classes. In September the people of the United States lent the British and French Governments one hundred millions, and this money was used to pay for some of the munitions and other things which we were buying from America.
War brought about many changes in our national life. We became a soberer people, and we refrained largely from those sports which are so dear to us in time of peace. Expensive entertainments were frowned upon, holidays were shortened or given up altogether, and many men beyond the military age spent their annual weeks of leisure in munition or farm work. Special constables were enrolled to take the place of the police who had joined the colours, and volunteer corps sprang up everywhere.
Women's Volunteer Reserve on a Route March in London. Photo, Alfieri.
From the moment the war began, British women played a noble part. Not only did thousands of them qualify as nurses, and offer their services in the hospitals at home and abroad, but many of them became munition workers, ticket collectors, tram conductors, motor-car drivers, farm servants, and letter carriers. In every town and village there were work parties busily engaged in making socks, mufflers, mittens, etc., for the men in the trenches or for the wounded in the hospitals. The neglected art of knitting wonderfully revived, and women were seen plying the needles everywhere, in trams and trains, or at lectures and concerts. When the Germans first used poison gas against our troops, and the War Office asked for half a million respirators, wagon-loads of them arrived the next day. Girls' schools, women's societies, groups of friends and families buckled to, and in a remarkably short time the War Office was able to announce that no more respirators were needed.
Thousands of charitable societies made appeals for almost every war purpose imaginable. There were flag days in every town, and singers, actors, and lecturers gave their services in every good cause. The British Red Cross Society received the most generous support, while the many Belgian refugees in Britain were carefully tended, and, wherever possible, provided with work. Money was freely given by the public in every part of the Empire to set up hospitals and send nurses, doctors, and ambulances to France, Belgium, Russia, and Serbia; and even wounded horses were not neglected. One notable gift announced towards the end of November was the sum of £10,000 sent by the Canadian Government to assist in the upkeep of the Anglo-Russian hospital. In Great Britain many country houses were offered as hospitals and convalescent homes, and on the great sporting estates game was shot for the sick and wounded. Children gathered apples for the men of the Fleet, worked in the fields for short-handed farmers, and collected eggs and sphagnum moss[2] for the hospitals. There was no lack of ready and willing helpers for every good cause.
At this time of stress and anxiety the British nation learned the noble art of giving. There was scarcely a British household in the world which did not practise some self-denial in order to be able to send small luxuries and comforts to the men at the front, or much-needed help to the prisoners in Germany. Remote cottages in the Highlands of Scotland, lonely farms in the North-West of Canada, outlying homesteads in Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa were thus linked together by the same generous impulse.
Queen Elizabeth of Belgium visiting a Hospital.
(Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd.)
Queen Elizabeth is patron of the Belgian Field Hospital, to which the readers and friends of The Children's Story of the War have presented a motor ambulance.
While I am speaking of the noble way in which our people, far from the din of strife, ministered to the gallant men who were fighting their battles, I must not neglect the small but very useful effort made by the readers of these pages and their friends. While our third volume was in the course of serial issue, it was suggested that our readers should combine in some practical work of war charity. Then came the questions, Whom shall we help? and, How shall we help?
It was well known that the story of how poor little Belgium had been set upon by the great bully, Germany, and how her gallant sons had fought and suffered and died for us, had strongly moved the hearts of children. For this reason it was decided that the Belgian soldiers who were still struggling bravely, in the last bit of their native land that was left to them, should be assisted. They were terribly poor, and they had no money with which to set up hospitals and buy ambulances for their wounded. A number of devoted British doctors and nurses had established a hospital for the Belgian soldiers who had been stricken down in battle. Their hospital—the Belgian Field Hospital—was the only one on a proper footing which was caring for the wounded soldiers of our noble little ally. What better and finer work could we do than set about collecting money to provide this hospital with a motor ambulance?
As soon as the object of our effort was decided upon, a letter was written to her Majesty the Queen, asking her to permit the motor ambulance to be named after Prince George, to whom these pages are dedicated. The Queen, who nobly devotes herself to every good work, was graciously pleased to express her warm interest in our effort, and to permit us to inscribe Prince George's name on the ambulance. Then an appeal was printed and inserted in successive parts of The Children's Story of the War.
The "Prince George" Motor Ambulance.
Our readers will be gratified to see this photograph of the ambulance which they and their friends have presented to the Belgian Field Hospital. It is a 15.9 Whitlock Motor Ambulance Express, specially constructed for field service, and can be adapted either to carry four stretcher cases, or two stretcher cases and four sitting cases, or may be used as an omnibus for eight persons. Its cost complete with four stretchers is £418.
The appeal was issued on 4th September, and on 6th September money began to flow in. Our first contribution came from Prince George. Collecting papers were returned from every part of the United Kingdom and Canada, and even from Ferrol in Spain, and from the West Indies. Most of the money consisted of the pence and halfpence of the children themselves. An infant school in a very poor part of London sent 298 farthings as its contribution, while a school of poor little blind children sent a sum which represented much self-denial. Day-school and Sunday-school collections were taken up; one generous vicar gave a church offertory in aid of the fund; lectures were delivered to help it, and on no single day for many weeks did the tide of money cease to flow. Many of our collectors wrote letters expressing their pleasure at being able to help, and sending us best wishes for the success of the scheme. When it is stated that £450 were raised by more than 11,000 subscribers, it will be seen how small the individual contributions must have been.
Towards the end of November sufficient money was in hand to warrant us in offering an ambulance to the Committee of the Belgian Field Hospital. The following reply was received:—
"I am directed by Lord Sydenham and the Committee of the Belgian Field Hospital to thank you most cordially for your splendid efforts, which have met with so much success, in raising funds to provide this hospital with a motor ambulance. We most gratefully accept the gift."
The "Prince George" Motor Ambulance. Interior arranged for four Stretcher Cases.
Lord Sydenham, the president of the hospital, also wrote a special letter of thanks, in which he said, "It is splendid of the readers of 'The Children's Story of the War' to have subscribed so large a sum."
Our warmest thanks are due to all who have in any way helped to make the scheme a success. We know that we shall have the unspoken gratitude of many wounded Belgians; but we did not set about this work in order to win gratitude. We wanted to be a real help to those who have helped us. We know in our hearts that we have done a little act of mercy and kindness, and that is a reward which we are all entitled to enjoy.
CHAPTER II.
THE LOSS OF THE "FORMIDABLE."
The new year opened with a naval disaster. On 31st December eight vessels of the Channel Fleet left Sheerness for a cruise in the English Channel, and by three o'clock on the morning of 1st January were crossing the fishing-ground not far from the Start Lighthouse. The ships were steaming at a moderate speed and in a single line, the rearmost ship being the Formidable, a pre-Dreadnought of 15,000 tons, and a sister ship to the Bulwark, which had been mysteriously blown up at Sheerness in the preceding November. The sea was rough, the moon was shining brightly, and a cold, piercing wind was blowing.
Soon after three o'clock the dull roar of an explosion was heard on the starboard side of the Formidable, and was followed shortly afterwards by another. The ship shook from stem to stern, and a cloud of black smoke and coal dust arose. She had been struck fore and aft by two torpedoes discharged by a German submarine. At once she began to list heavily to starboard; there were gaping holes in her side, and it was evident that she could not remain afloat very long.
There was not the slightest sign of panic on board the doomed ship. Captain Loxley, one of the ablest of our younger sailors, was on the bridge, setting an example to his crew of cool courage and utter forgetfulness of self. The water-tight doors were closed, the men were piped to quarters, and telephone bells were set ringing all over the ship to give warning of danger. Captain Loxley might easily have called upon his consorts to come to his rescue, but he knew that the submarine which had discharged the fatal torpedoes was still lurking hard by; so he signalled to his sister ships, "Stand off; submarines about."
A bugle rang out, and the men below sprang from their hammocks and rushed upon deck, some of them only half clad. They fell into rank on the sloping deck, and Captain Loxley gave his orders as calmly as though his ship were riding at anchor in harbour. He was smoking a cigarette, and his favourite old terrier Bruce was standing by his side. He was heard to say: "Steady, men; it's all right. No panic; keep cool; be British." Everything of wood that might help the men in the water was flung overboard, and finally the captain gave the order, "Every man for himself!" A survivor saw him standing with folded arms as the ship went down.
Captain Loxley giving his Last Order as the "Formidable" went down.
(From the picture by C. M. Padday. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
As the Formidable was listing badly to starboard, it was not possible to launch boats on the port side. Owing to the rough sea a cutter was stove in; but the men stuffed their jumpers into the hole, and bailed out the water with their boots. A barge fell perpendicularly from the davits, and threw the crew into the sea. Meanwhile, the stokers had drawn all the fires and had shut off steam, so that when the ship went down there was no boiler explosion. By this time it was clear that all could not be saved. Many of the crew knew that their last hour had come. One of the survivors thus described the scene on the decks as the Formidable sank into the waves:—
"On one part of the ship where the men could see there was no hope, all eyes were turned upward to the flagstaff, and then the Old Jack was saluted for the last time. The last impression of the scene left on my mind was a long line of saluting figures disappearing below the sky-line. At least half of the men got clear of the ship, but many must have been lost while waiting for rescue. It was almost dark at the time, and the water was icy cold."
Let me tell you how a bluejacket nobly gave his life for another as the ship was sinking. You shall hear the story in the words of the man who owed his life to his comrade's splendid generosity. "When everything had been done to save the Formidable, the boats came alongside and took off as many as possible. There were five boats, and two were swamped. All the boats had left the ship when the crew of one cried, 'Room for one more.' Two of us tossed for it, and the other chap won; but he said, 'You have got parents; I haven't. Go on—jump for it.' I did so. I had to swim for it, but I was saved."
The men in the leaking cutter, after being tossed and buffeted by the sea, drenched to the skin by the waves, and numbed by the bitter wind, were picked up by the Brixham fishing smack Providence about fifteen miles from Berry Head. The Providence, which was owned and skippered by William Pillar, was running before the gale to Brixham for shelter, but off the Start found herself obliged to heave to owing to the force of the wind. Just then one of the crew noticed a cutter tossing under the lee. An oar had been hoisted, and from it a sailor's scarf was flying as a signal of distress.
The cutter was drifting towards the smack, and every now and then was lost to sight amidst the heaving waves. Four times did the gallant smacksmen try to get a rope to the boat, while the skipper at the helm manoeuvred his little vessel with great skill. At last a small warp was thrown from the smack, and was caught by the men on board the cutter. By means of the capstan the rope was hauled in, and the cutter was brought up on the lee. The rescued sailors jumped on board; but even in the act of doing so they were in great peril, for the seas at times were rising thirty feet above the deck of the smack. The work of rescue occupied half an hour. Seventy-one men, including two officers, were thus saved.
All were on board the smack by one o'clock, and a course was shaped for Brixham. Before long the Providence fell in with a tug, which took her in tow and brought her safely to harbour. The residents of Brixham gave blankets, coats, and boots to the survivors, and provided them with comfortable quarters. Many of the men were utterly exhausted. For hours they had been battling with the heavy winter seas, which had almost continuously washed over them, and they had hoped against hope until the brown sails of the Providence had providentially come in sight.
One of the Formidable's boats came unaided to the shore. After tossing about for twenty-two hours in a raging sea, it drifted with the tide into Lyme Regis, with forty men on board. Nine of her crew had died of exposure, and had been buried at sea. A light cruiser also picked up some of the Formidable's men; but when the final reckoning was made, only 201 had been saved out of a ship's company of well-nigh 800 souls.
The splendid seamanship of Skipper Pillar, and the great courage and devotion of his crew, greatly impressed the country. On 8th February he and his men attended at Buckingham Palace, where the King pinned the silver medal for gallantry on their breasts, and handed them the money rewards which had been bestowed upon them by the Admiralty. The King addressed them in the following words:—
"I congratulate you most heartily on your gallant and heroic conduct. It is indeed a great feat to have saved seventy-one lives. I realize how difficult your task must have been, because I know myself how arduous it is to gybe[3] a vessel in a heavy gale."
Amongst the crew of the Providence was Daniel Taylor, an apprentice. In reply to the King, he said that he had been at sea for just over twelve months, and that he was seventeen years of age. The King observed, "You are small for your age, but you have taken part in a very gallant deed, and I congratulate you." Some time later, Skipper Pillar was given a commission in the Royal Navy.
I must not close this account of the disaster without dwelling for a moment upon the manner in which Captain Loxley went down with his ship. The history of the British navy is full of stories of cool, calm courage and selfless devotion in the face of death; and it is good to know that the sailors of our Navy are as true as ever to the spirit of those who built up its glorious fame in years gone by. On the very verge of doom, when men's courage is apt to fail them, Captain Loxley showed no sign of flinching. In his last moments he thought only of others. He strove manfully to save as many of his crew as possible, and he refused to endanger the lives of his comrades in the sister ships by calling them to his aid. He went to his death like the gallant gentleman that he was; and his last appeal, not only to his crew, but to you and me, was, "Be British!"
How kind and thoughtful he was to others is seen from the following letter, which he wrote to his old nurse just before leaving Sheerness:—
"H.M.S. Formidable.
"My dear old Nan Nan,—I'm afraid that my Christmas present will be a bit late. I meant to have sent it off yesterday, but forgot. Anyhow, I hope it will arrive safely. My very best love and best wishes to you and William for Christmas and the New Year, and may we soon beat the Germans.
"We are having really quite a quiet time, but you never know when anything may happen. I was out at Malta when war began, but soon came home. Had three days' leave, and then came to this ship, where I am likely to remain for the present.
"Peter [his son] has gone to school, and is just home for his first holiday, which I expect he is enjoying just as much as I did; but he was much braver going to school than I was. Every one seems well at Gloucester, but I have only seen mother once, for about ten minutes, during the last two years. With much love, yours lovingly, Noel Loxley."
One word more before I pass from this tragic story. The loss of the Formidable clearly showed that the lessons taught by the sinking of the Cressy, Hogue, and Aboukir had not been learned. Our Navy had not yet fully appreciated the fact that the only way to avoid the peril of the enemy submarines is for battleships to steam at high speed, frequently changing their course, and always accompanied by a flotilla of guardian destroyers. The eight ships that sailed down the Channel on the first day of the year 1915 steamed slowly in the bright light of the moon. They were thus a good target for the enemy's submarines, and were, indeed, courting disaster. As the year went by the Navy learned its lesson, and learned it well. Before many months had passed our sailors were more than a match for the under-water boats of the enemy, and the time was soon to arrive when the German submarines were fearlessly hunted and constantly trapped.
CHAPTER III.
THE BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANK.
Up to the 24th of January 1915 squadrons of the German High Sea Fleet had adventured four times into the North Sea. The first occasion was on 28th August, 1914, when the Battle of Heligoland Bight was fought, and the enemy lost three cruisers and two destroyers. On 17th October a squadron of German destroyers was encountered off the Dutch coast by a similar British squadron, and before long four of the enemy ships were sent to the bottom of the sea. Twice afterwards the enemy, greatly daring, left his fortified harbours and minefields; but on such occasions his object was not to fight, but to dodge the British fleet, and inflict "frightfulness" on more or less undefended coast towns. On 3rd November he shelled Yarmouth beach; but was very uneasy during his ineffective attack, and scuttled homewards immediately he was warned that a British fleet was after him. Even on this occasion he did not escape without loss: the cruiser Yorck ran on a German mine, and was sunk. This raid was followed by the attack on Scarborough, Whitby, and the Hartlepools, which I described at length in Chapter XXXV. of our third volume.
Elated by their success in killing the defenceless townsfolk of unprotected towns, the Germans now prepared for another dash across the North Sea. We do not know exactly what their object was. Some tell us that an attack was to be made on the Tyne or the Forth; others say that the enemy hoped to get one or more of his battle cruisers round the north of Scotland, so that they might prey on British commerce. Whatever the object may have been, Rear-Admiral Hipper, who was in command of the Battle Cruiser Squadron detailed for the work, knew that he would probably have to meet a British fleet. If so, he intended to run for home without delay, and to lure the British ships into a trap. He enlarged the minefield north of Heligoland, and gathered there a large force of submarines. He fondly believed that he could entice our vessels into this dangerous area, where his submarines, together with the seaplanes and Zeppelins which were in readiness on the island, would make short work of them. Such was his plan. We are now to see how it failed.
The night of Saturday, the 23rd, was foggy, and our destroyers scouting east of the Dogger Bank tossed all night on the waves, scarcely able to pierce the gloom for a hundred yards around them. Sunday morning, however, dawned sharp and clear; the wind had changed to the north-east, and had swept the mists from the seas. About seven in the morning the light cruiser Aurora sighted the German squadron off the Dogger. At once she signalled the news to Admiral Beatty, and opened fire.
The German squadron which the Aurora had sighted consisted of the Seydlitz (which flew the flag of Rear-Admiral Hipper), the Moltke, the Derfflinger, the Bluecher, together with six light cruisers and a flotilla of destroyers. The first three of the vessels named had a speed of nearly 27 knots, and were armed with either 12-inch or 11-inch guns. The Bluecher was an older and much slower vessel; she could steam 24 knots, and her main armament consisted of 8.2-inch guns. It was clear that in a chase she would have to be left behind, and thus would fall a prey to the enemy.
To meet this force, Admiral Beatty had under his command the great battle cruisers Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, and New Zealand; together with the Indomitable, four cruisers of the "town" class—the Southampton, the Nottingham, the Birmingham, and the Lowestoft; three light cruisers—the Arethusa, the Aurora, and the Undaunted; as well as two destroyer flotillas. His squadron was superior to that of the Germans in numbers, speed, and weight of fire.
The Dogger Bank, off which the Germans were sighted, is a great shoal almost midway between England and Denmark, and extending to within forty miles of the Yorkshire coast. Its length from north to south is about 160 miles, its breadth is 70 miles, and the average depth of water over it varies from ten to twenty fathoms.[4] South of the Dogger is a second and smaller shoal, known as the Well Bank. Still further south are deeps, such as the "Silver Pit," where the depth is as much as forty-five fathoms.
The Dogger is the chief fishing ground of the North Sea. During the winter the waters above it are alive with trawlers, all engaged in reaping the rich harvest of the waters. Immense quantities of halibut, soles, turbot, brill, plaice, cod, haddock, and whiting are taken, packed in boxes—to be carried off by fish-cutters to the ports, or stored in ice until the trawler is ready to return home. Somewhere near the Dogger, probably on its north-eastern edge, the Germans were encountered. The naval battle which followed was not the first to be fought near the great shoal. In 1781 an English and a Dutch fleet met in these waters, and struggled fiercely; but the action was undecided, and the Dutch claimed a victory.
When the Aurora opened fire, Admiral Beatty's squadron, which was not far away, steered in the direction of the gun flashes. Immediately the German scouting cruisers perceived that a British squadron was after them they turned tail and fled to the south-east. Hipper did not wait to discover the strength of his opponents, but took to his heels at once. This seems to show that his real object was to lure the British ships into the position which he had prepared for them, and there engage them on his own terms. There were 120 miles of open sea to be crossed before the mine-fields were reached.
When the signal was made, "Seven enemy ships—four battle cruisers and three cruisers with destroyers—to the south-west," there was fierce glee on board the British ships. Every man was agog for the fight; all were eager to avenge the women and children who had been murdered so brutally at Scarborough and the Hartlepools. Every gun was manned with men who had vengeance in their hearts, and down below the "black squad" were striving with all their might to get every knot possible out of their engines. A commander was heard to remark, "One would think this was a game of football, the boys are enjoying it so much." The Lion and Tiger were soon racing ahead at thirty knots an hour, and were leaving the less speedy Princess Royal and New Zealand behind. At eight o'clock the situation was as follows: the Germans were moving south-east in line, with the Moltke leading; followed by the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger, the Bluecher bringing up the rear. Their destroyers were on the starboard beam, and their light cruisers ahead. Close upon them were the British destroyers and the light cruisers, which now crossed to the port side in order that their smoke might not hide the big German ships from the British gunners. The Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable did not follow directly behind the German ships, lest the enemy should throw out mines, but held on a parallel course to the westward.
By nine o'clock the Lion was within 11½ miles of the Bluecher. She fired a shot which fell short, but when the squadrons were ten miles apart she got her first blow home. Do you realize what this means? At ten miles the Bluecher appeared no bigger than a pin point, and she was moving at the rate of thirty miles an hour across the sea. You will agree that the British gunnery must have been superb for hits to be made under these conditions.
Soon the Lion overhauled the slow Bluecher, and in passing gave her a broadside which caused frightful damage. The Lion's quarry, however, was further ahead; and as she began to engage the Derfflinger, the Tiger began to hit out at the Bluecher. She also passed by, and the Princess Royal, the New Zealand, and the Indomitable in turn turned their guns on the rearmost ship of the German line, while the leading British ships were engaging the foremost ships of the enemy. At half-past nine the situation was as shown in the diagram on the next page.
As early as a quarter to ten the Bluecher began to show signs of the heavy punishment inflicted on her. It was now evident that she was doomed. She had been abandoned by her speedier consorts, and her end was only a matter of time. By eleven o'clock the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger were on fire; the Bluecher had fallen behind, and was being mercilessly pounded by the Indomitable.
Meanwhile, the German destroyers had attempted an attack, but had been driven off by the British destroyers. Shortly afterwards the German destroyers got between the Lion and the Tiger and the leading enemy ships, and began to raise huge volumes of smoke, so as to screen the targets from the British gunners. Under cover of this smoke the Germans changed course, and made a half-turn to the north. Again the enemy destroyers attacked at close quarters, hoping to torpedo the Lion and the Tiger. They were, however, driven off by the 4-inch guns of our battle cruisers.
The Sinking of the German Dreadnought "Bluecher," during the Battle of the Dogger Bank, fought on January 24, 1915.
And now while the chase continues, we must return to the Bluecher, which had made a gallant fight, but was nearing her end. Ship after ship had turned its guns upon her with terrible effect: her upper works had been smashed to atoms, and practically every gun which she possessed had been put out of action. Shot and shell had rained upon her, and she was burning furiously.
Battle of January 24, 1915—9.30 a.m.
"We were under fire first in the action and last," said a German survivor. "Almost every British ship flung shot and shell at us. It was awful. I have never seen such gunnery, and hope that as long as I live I never shall. We could not fight such guns as the British ships had, and soon we had no guns with which to fight anything. Our decks were swept by shot, and the guns were smashed and lying in all directions, their crews wiped out. One terrible shell from a big gun I shall never forget. It burst right in the heart of the ship, and killed scores of men. It fell where many men had collected, and killed practically every one of them. We all had our floating equipment, and we soon needed it. One shell killed five men quite close to me, and it was only a matter of time when nothing living would be left upon the ship, if she continued to float. When we knew that we were beaten, and that our flag was not to come down, many of us were praying that the ship would sink, in order that no more men would be killed. We would rather trust to the British picking us up after our ship had sunk than to their missing us with those terrible guns so long as she kept afloat."
About noon a British destroyer, the Meteor, torpedoed the Bluecher, and she began to sink. Here is an officer's description of the final scene:—
"She heeled completely over, and sank in eight and a half minutes, hundreds of men clambering over her side, and standing there, just as if it were the upper deck, waiting for the final plunge. But there was no plunge. Slowly and slowly she sank, and as she went down some were sliding into the sea, others taking running leaps. A few seconds more, and there was no sign of her left, except her dead and living clustered in the water together. We were about three hundred yards away, and watched her go down, and I was particularly struck with the ease and slowness with which she sank. Not till the waves had almost entirely closed over her did the bow heave slightly out of the water, and she disappeared stern first."
The Bluecher went to her doom with her flag flying. Some of the crew, while waiting the order to leap into the water, sang "Die Wacht am Rhein." Officers were seen to shake hands and link arms together, and thus sink into their watery grave. Though the Germans had made no attempt to save the crews of the Monmouth and the Good Hope during the fight off Coronel, and though our men were furious at the fiendish work done by the German cruisers at Scarborough and the Hartlepools, they began the work of rescue at once. Torpedo boats and pinnaces rushed to the scene to pick up survivors, and light cruisers stood by to help.
"A cry of 'Jump!' went up from the deck of the Arethusa, and in a few seconds the sea was dotted thickly with men swimming for their lives. Most of them were equipped with a lifebelt of inflated rubber, and this supported them in the water until the British boats were able to pick them up. Among them were men who had been wounded. The faces of all were blackened with smoke, and in some cases the nerve of the men had almost completely broken down in face of the severe ordeal through which they had passed. Their joy at escaping destruction found expression in many ways. The officers, of whom eight were taken aboard the Arethusa, offered their rings, watches, and money to the British sailors. Our men wished for no reward for performing a humane duty; but the officers pressed the gifts upon them, saying, 'You have saved our lives; take these as little mementos.' One of them, speaking quite good English, said, with a sigh of relief, 'It's been a terrible time, and I am jolly glad it's all over.'"
About one hundred and twenty men were saved from the Bluecher, and more would have been picked up but for the German aircraft, which by this time had arrived from Heligoland. To the intense anger of our sailors, a seaplane and a Zeppelin now began dropping bombs upon the rescue parties. They were careful to give a wide berth to those vessels which were armed with the latest anti-aircraft guns, and confined their attacks to the destroyers, which promptly scattered and then proceeded to drive them off. The airmen, no doubt, thought that the Bluecher was a sinking British ship, and this may have given rise to the absurd tale, which was readily believed in Germany, that one, at least, of our battle cruisers had been sunk.
We must now return to the leading ships of the British squadron. Shortly after the Germans had changed course, Admiral Beatty himself sighted the periscope of a submarine on the starboard bow of the Lion, and promptly turned to port to avoid it. At this time the flagship, though she had been under much fire, had suffered but little. At three minutes past eleven, however, she was struck in the bow by a chance shot, which damaged her feed tank. According to German accounts, the Lion was then about seventy miles from Heligoland. The accident, for it was no more, disabled the Lion. She had to reduce speed and fall out of the line. Admiral Beatty at once called up the destroyer Attack, and in it proceeded full speed in pursuit of the German squadron.
The Lion moved away to the north-west, and in the afternoon her engines began to give serious trouble. The Indomitable, which had by this time settled with the Bluecher, took the Lion in tow, and after some hours of great anxiety brought her safely to port. The towing home of the Lion by the Indomitable was a very fine feat of seamanship. She could only proceed at five knots an hour, and at this snail's pace was a fair target for submarines. None, however, dared attack her; for she bristled with torpedo defence guns, and was surrounded by destroyers.
By twenty minutes past twelve the Attack overtook the Princess Royal, on which Admiral Beatty hoisted his flag. He now discovered that his squadron had broken off the fight, and was retiring northwards. We do not know exactly why the enemy was not followed up; but as the British ships were then only forty miles from the minefield, it is probable that the admiral in temporary command thought that his vessels would be endangered if he proceeded any further. After orders had been given to clear away and make for port, the grimy stokers of the Princess Royal swarmed on deck and greeted Admiral Beatty with a shout of "Well done, David!"
Only by sheer good luck did any of the German ships escape. Had the Lion not been disabled, or had the squadron included another battle cruiser, it is probable that none of the German ships would have reached home to tell the tale. There was much disappointment in Britain when it was known that only the slowest and weakest of the German Dreadnoughts had been accounted for. Our losses were few: only fourteen men had been killed and six wounded; no British vessel had been lost; the Lion had been hit fifteen times, and the Tiger eight times, but the damage was soon repaired, and when a party of journalists visited the ships in the following October they could not see the scars of battle until they were pointed out. The Germans lost the Bluecher; the Seydlitz and Derfflinger were very hard hit, and many of their crews must have perished.
During the remainder of the year 1915 the German Fleet wisely remained in harbour. The German High Sea Fleet had become the Kiel Canal fleet, and nothing more.
There was great excitement in the Forth ports when the good news was received, and thousands of eyes were turned seawards to watch for the homecoming of the battle cruisers. Shortly after four o'clock the sound of cheering was heard. A moment later ringing "Hip, hip, hurrahs!" echoed from vessels farther up the river, and from the misty dimness of the upper reaches. "Got 'em this time!" said a smiling old salt on board a mine-sweeper. "Hark to the boys!"
A batch of about 280 prisoners, including the captain of the Bluecher, was taken to Edinburgh Castle. As they were marched through the streets of the city one of the men asked the officer in charge, "What place is this?" When he was told that it was the capital of Scotland, he smiled superior. "Oh no," he said; "Edinburgh is in ruins, and the Forth Bridge is destroyed."
The Suez Canal at El Kantara.
(Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd.)
CHAPTER IV.
THE TURKISH DESCENT UPON EGYPT.
Two days after the Battle of the Dogger Bank we learned that a Turkish force was advancing upon Egypt. Why were the Turks about to invade the "Land of the Nile"? First of all, because they believed that the fellahin[5] of Egypt were ready to revolt and join hands with them against the British. The Egyptians are Mohammedans, and are therefore linked with the Turks by the bond of a common religion. For three hundred years Egypt was part of the Turkish Empire.
As far back as the year 1517 Egypt became a Turkish province, and fell under the sway of the Sultan of Turkey. In 1798 Napoleon tried to found a great empire of the East, and invaded Egypt as the first step. He stormed Alexandria, and won the Battle of the Pyramids; but Nelson destroyed his fleet in Aboukir Bay, and he was forced to leave the country.
Bedouin Arabs—Advance Guards of the Turkish Army which invaded Egypt in January 1915. Photo, Central News.
The Turkish pasha who ruled Egypt soon afterwards made himself independent of the Sultan, and his successor, Ismail Pasha, became Khedive or Viceroy. The overlordship of the Sultan was, however, still supposed to continue, though it grew more and more shadowy as the years passed by. Ismail governed his country badly; and when it became bankrupt, Britain and France had to step in to protect the interests of those of their subjects who had lent money to the Egyptian Government. What was called the Dual Control was set up in 1879, and Britain and France became the real rulers of Egypt.
The Dual Control lasted until 1882, when an Egyptian officer named Arabi Pasha raised a rebellion, with the watchword, "Egypt for the Egyptians." The French were unwilling to take part in quelling this revolt, so the British had to act alone. Alexandria was bombarded, and Arabi was defeated by Lord Wolseley at Tel-el-Kebir. Thus, the Dual Control came to an end, and Britain stood alone in Egypt.
Right well has Britain borne the "white man's burden" in the land of the Nile. When she began her work in Egypt, the only notion of law in the minds of the fellahin was the unchecked will of the "strong man armed"—
"The good old rule, the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can."
It has been said that Egypt requires two things for her prosperity—water and justice. Britain has given Egypt both water and justice. The laws have been reformed, and fair dealing between man and man is assured to the people. The taxes are heavy, but they are not unfair, and Egypt now pays her way. Schools and colleges have been opened, and Britain has striven with all her might to make the lot of the people happier and better.
Britain has been equally careful to give the country as good a water-supply as possible. She has strengthened and altered the great dam or barrage which was built across the Nile at the point where it divides into the Rosetta and Damietta branches, for the purpose of storing up water to irrigate the Delta regularly throughout the year. The whole canal system of the country has been overhauled and greatly improved. At Assiut, and higher up the river at Aswan, huge bars of solid masonry have been thrown across the Nile, and stretches of the river have been turned into vast lakes. These dams store up sufficient water to fill the "summer canals" of Upper and Middle Egypt. Never before has the cultivated area of the Nile Valley had a supply of water for the fields during both summer and winter. Further, by conquering the Sudan, Britain has gained control of the upper waters of the Nile.
Though Britain has done so much for Egypt, we must not suppose that all the Egyptians are content with her rule. The great bulk of the people are quite satisfied to live and flourish under British control, but there are some pashas who long for the "good old days" when the people were at their mercy. Amongst these discontented persons German and Turkish agents have long been busy, trying to bribe them to rise against the British Government. By the beginning of the war they had won over the Khedive to their side, and in January 1915 they believed that the Egyptians were ready to take up arms against their rulers. As a matter of fact, the Egyptians as a whole had no intention of doing anything of the kind. They remained quite calm, even when the Turk was knocking at their gates. Very few of them wished to bring back the old days of Turkish tyranny and misgovernment.
Another reason why the Turks prepared to descend upon the land of the Nile was that, on 17th December 1914, we announced to all the world that thenceforth Egypt was a British possession. The traitor Khedive had been deposed, and a new ruler who was friendly to the British Government had been set up in his place. Up to this time the British had recognized the overlordship of the Sultan of Turkey. Now they did away with it altogether, and the Turks saw that the last vestige of their hold on Egypt had vanished.
In January our forces in Egypt consisted of Australians and New Zealanders, Territorials from Great Britain, Indian troops, and, of course, the regular Egyptian army. The Germans thought that, if the Turks made an attack on the country, Britain would be forced to keep large forces in Egypt, and that she would therefore be unable to strengthen her armies on the Western front. For these reasons, political and military, a Turkish expedition was prepared in Syria for the invasion of Egypt. It was 65,000 strong, and was led by Djemel Pasha, who cherished a deep hatred for Britain.
To reach Egypt from Syria this force had to cross an almost waterless desert, which varied in breadth from 120 to 150 miles. Across this dreary tract of rock and sand there were three routes, all of them difficult. The first ran from El Arish, on the Mediterranean coast, to El Kantara, on the Suez Canal. It was 120 miles long, and except for a few muddy wells, there was no water on the road. If you look at the map below, you will see a road crossing the base of the Sinai Peninsula from Akaba, at the head of the Gulf of Akaba, to Suez, at the southern end of the Suez Canal. This road was the old pilgrim route from Egypt to the holy city of Mecca. It is 150 miles long, and there are but few wells by the way. From El Arish you will observe another road which strikes south, and meets the pilgrim's road about midway between Suez and Akaba. This road runs through a dry valley, in which it was possible to lay down a light railway. Only by these routes could the Turks reach Egypt from Syria.
The Suez Canal and the Sinai District.
You will notice that before the Turks could set foot in Egypt they would have to cross the Suez Canal, which could not be turned, because it runs from sea to sea. If the Turks could seize the Suez Canal they would command our short route to India, and would be able to impede greatly the bringing of troops to Europe from the East. No doubt this was another of the reasons which led the Turks to make a descent upon Egypt. So important is the Suez Canal to the defence of the country that I must briefly describe it.
The canal is nearly 100 miles long—76 miles of it actual canal, and 24 miles of dredged and buoyed waterway through lakes. In all this length there is not a single lock! The canal varies in width from 80 to 120 yards, and it is deep enough to float the heaviest of Dreadnoughts. Begun in 1859, it was completed ten years later, at a cost of £16,000,000. It is not the property of any one nation, but the United Kingdom is by far the largest shareholder: it holds 35 per cent. of the shares.
Let us follow the course of the canal. For the first few hours the canal crosses the shallow arm of the Mediterranean known as Lake Menzala. Two long parallel embankments cross this so-called lake, which is very shallow, and is studded with rocks. When this section is passed, we have the red sands of the desert to right and left of us. Side by side with the canal runs a sweet-water canal. It is a simple ditch, and its course can everywhere be traced by the grass and trees which flourish along its margin. Except for this fringe of verdure, no vegetation but desert scrub can be seen.
At the station of El Kantara there is a ferry, and here one may sometimes see caravans of Arabs with laden camels setting out on a journey across the desert to El Arish. Later in the day we cross Lake Balâh, pursuing our way between rows of buoys. Another stretch of canal follows, and we cross Lake Timseh, and see away on our right the town of Ismailia, from which a railway strikes off westwards. Then comes another long, straight channel, with high sand dunes on the left bank. We pass the signal station of Toussûm, set in a pleasing frame of trees, and two and a half miles further on is Serapeum. We now steam across the Bitter Lakes, which are said to represent an old arm of the Red Sea. After these lakes are passed we enter the last stretch of the canal, and finally reach Suez, beyond which lies the Red Sea.
During our voyage we notice that the ground to the east of the canal is very flat, and that from the deck of our ship, or from the higher ground on the western bank, we can see far and wide over the desert across which the Turks would have to advance. Just south of El Kantara, and again between Lake Balâh and the Bitter Lakes, there are sand dunes; but elsewhere there is no cover for an attacker. The defenders of Egypt thought it probable that the Turks would make their descent upon the canal along the line of the sand dunes.
By 28th January small advanced parties of Turks had crossed the desert. One party, marching by the direct route from El Arish to El Kantara, was met and driven back by Gurkhas; another party, advancing by the road from Akaba, suffered the same fate. On 2nd February the main attack was delivered by about 12,000 troops, who had marched along the valley from El Arish towards the Sinai Peninsula. When they were about four hours distant from the canal they divided into two columns, and proceeded westwards. One column moved towards the sand dunes opposite to Ismailia, while the second and much stronger column pushed on towards Toussûm. Small flanking attacks were also made against El Kantara and Suez.
Fighting at the Suez Canal, February 2-4, 1915.
The advance of the enemy had been known for some days, and our troops were in position ready to meet it. They were full of confidence, and were quite sure that the Turks would never enter Egypt save as prisoners. As the sun sank in a flaming sky on 2nd February our patrols saw the enemy moving towards the hummocks of sand that fringe the canal. When night fell, the Turks pushed their main force through the scrub and dunes towards a gap which gave them an easy road to the canal opposite Toussûm. The Turks had dragged across the deserts in carts some twenty-five or thirty galvanized iron pontoons, each weighing about 850 lbs. When they approached the canal, the pontoons were shouldered by men and carried towards the water. By means of these pontoons, and a few rafts made out of kerosene tins with a wooden frame, the Turks proposed to cross the canal.
The first warning of the enemy's approach was given by a sentry of a mountain battery, who heard voices across the water. Soon the noise increased. The Turks were loudly encouraging each other by crying out in Arabic, "Brothers, die for the faith; we can die but once," and so forth. The defenders were on the alert, but they were in no hurry to fire. They did not even pull their triggers when the invaders were carrying the pontoons down to the canal. Not until numbers of the enemy were crowded together under the steep bank, and were pushing their pontoons into the water, did the machine guns and rifles of the British begin to rattle. Then the fire was deadly; the Turks were speedily mown down, and the pontoons, riddled with bullets, were soon at the bottom of the canal.
The Turkish Attack on the Suez Canal. By permission of The Sphere.
On the night of February 2nd, 1915, two Turkish columns, numbering about 12,000 in all, moved towards the canal—the front and smaller column against Ismalia; the second against Toussûm. Our illustration shows the latter attack in progress. To the right, the Turks are seen advancing under heavy shell and rifle fire, and vainly trying to launch boats. To the left are the Punjabis resisting the attack. The Turks were driven back at this point, and an attempt to cross at Ismalia suffered a similar fate. The Turks retired in good order, and unfortunately were able to march back to Syria without much molestation.
The Turks now lined the banks, and redoubled their efforts to get across.
"They first tried to get men across by boats and by swimming, in order to hold a place as a bridgehead. Five boats filled with riflemen were rowed over; three sank with most of their occupants, and two touched the western bank. One boatload charged up the bank, but not a man reached the top. The crew of the other boat jumped into the water, and getting ashore, scraped holes in the bank with their hands to make a temporary shelter trench. Most of them were shot, and a few survivors gave themselves up as soon as it was daylight."
A little torpedo boat, with a crew of thirteen, dashed to and fro, firing point-blank at the enemy, and smashing into fragments the pontoons which lay unlaunched on the bank. The duel continued through the dark, cloudy night.
When morning dawned, the battle became general all along the canal. The enemy brought up field guns, and the British and French warships in the canal joined in the fray. A few Turks who had swum across the canal began to snipe our men from the rear, but they were soon disposed of. Those who swam across later were deserters eager to surrender.
At about eleven in the morning two 6-inch shells from the Turkish batteries hit H.M.S. Hardinge, an old Indian marine transport. One of the shells fell with a terrific crash on the bridge, almost severing the leg of Pilot Carew. He calmly looked down at his mangled leg, and, gripping the rail, shouted, "Bring me a chair. I am going to take this ship into port!" During the battle Pilot Carew received no fewer than eighteen wounds. The guns of the warships began to fire salvos, and soon the Turkish batteries were silenced.
Now that the pontoons of the enemy had been destroyed, the German commander had been killed, and the troops lying in cover had been shelled out of their hiding-places, the Turks realized that their attempt at invasion had hopelessly failed. Half-hearted flank attacks at El Kantara and Suez had been held up by our wire entanglements, and the time had arrived for our Indian troops to take the offensive. Excellent artillery and rifle fire cleared the greater part of the eastern bank, and by three o'clock in the afternoon of 3rd February the Turks were in full retreat. They had done nothing more than engage our outpost line.
Early next morning the British troops crossed the canal in force, and began the work of rounding up the enemy. Many Turks were found in a hollow, and some of them held up their hands when our men approached. As a British officer advanced to take the surrender he was shot down. A sharp fight with the cold steel followed, during which one of our officers engaged a Turkish officer in single combat and ran him through. Some 400 dead were counted, more than 600 prisoners were taken, and the total Turkish casualties were probably well over 2,000. For days following deserters drifted in, and by 8th February there was not a single Turk within twenty miles of the canal.
Unfortunately the bulk of the enemy, with baggage and guns, got away safely. A heavy sandstorm came on, and our Camel Corps were unable to follow up the beaten and dispirited enemy. Had this not happened, it is probable that the whole force would have been captured or destroyed. The Turks declared that their advance on the canal was merely for the purpose of discovering the strength of the enemy and the character of his defences. Whatever the object was, it was not repeated during 1915; Egypt remained unmolested for the rest of the year.
One incident which occurred during the fighting is worthy of special mention. An officer on board the torpedo boat which did such good work in harassing the enemy thus tells the story:—
"It was now 3 p.m., so we went back down the canal to finish off some boats which the Turks had abandoned inshore on the east bank. As the 3-pounder could not get on to these, we landed and blew up two. To get at the third boat it was necessary to go up a gully some fifty yards inland, where we could see the bow sticking up. The enemy held this bank, so, of course, we were under fire the whole time. I called for volunteers, and a sub-lieutenant and a petty officer landed with me in a dinghy. We left an A.B. in her, and darted up with our gun-cotton charge. I went ahead and got up to the boat, when I saw five Turkish soldiers on the other side about ten yards away. I stepped round the boat to have a shot at them, and fell into a trench full of Turks. You never saw any one so surprised in your life as they were, and I myself confess to a certain astonishment.
"I was too close to them to allow them to get their rifles on me, and, realizing that every second was of value, I gave one whoop and dived out of the trench. The sub-lieutenant shot a fellow who stuck his head over to pot me, and all three of us trekked back to the dinghy under a heavy fire at about thirty yards range. The Australian and Indian troops holding the west bank opened fire to cover our retreat, as did also the torpedo boat. It really seemed as if the air was full of lead—one long, continuous whistle overhead, and the sand all round flying up in spurts. I was still laughing from the comic expressions I had seen on the faces of the Turks in the trench; nevertheless, I got over the ground like a two-year-old. We had thirty yards to row to the torpedo boat, and, would you believe it? we all got aboard untouched. I did not blow up that boat, as I saw it had already been riddled with bullets from the other bank."
Men of "Princess Pat's" Canadian Light Infantry on the March.
Photo, Central Press.
CHAPTER V.
WINTER WARFARE ON THE WESTERN FRONT.—I.
Now we must return to the battle front in the West, and see how the Allies fared during the months of January and February. You will remember that when the year 1914 closed the rival armies were facing each other in trenches which extended over well-nigh 500 miles—from the North Sea across the flats of Flanders, through the coalfield of North France, along the ups and downs of the Oise Valley and the heights of the Aisne, through the Forest of Argonne into Lorraine, along every high valley of the Vosges, right through Alsace to within sight of Alpine snows. The cold and storms of winter had put an end to operations on a large scale, but scarcely a day passed without artillery duels and local attacks.
When General Joffre was asked to describe his operations during the winter months he replied, "We are nibbling away at them." He was not yet strong enough to pierce the German lines on a large scale, even if the weather had permitted him to do so. His policy was to wear down the Germans by provoking attacks in which they were likely to lose more men than the Allies. You know that the Germans believe in attacking, and that they consider it the best form of defence. In modern warfare the attackers always lose more men than the defenders.
Let us look for a moment at the position of the Germans in the month of January. They had overrun Belgium, and they held a very valuable part of North France; but otherwise they had made many mistakes, and had failed to accomplish what they had set out to do. They had aimed at Paris, but had never got there; they had flung away life like water to reach the Channel ports, but had failed to capture them; they had intended a short war, in which victory would be achieved before the Allies could meet them on equal terms, but they were now faced by a long struggle. Every day the Allies were bringing fresh troops into the field, and were making good their many deficiencies. Meanwhile the Germans, by their brutal treatment of the poor people who had fallen into their hands, had lost the sympathy of every civilized country.
Germany was now at the very top of her field strength. It was calculated that she was losing some 260,000 men every month, and that as time went on she would be less and less able to bring up reserves with which to repair the wastage of war. Experts declared that by the end of the year, or by the end of the following January, the supply of German reserves would fail, and the armies in the field would then begin to decline in numbers and in quality. On the other hand, the Allies had not yet come anywhere near their possible strength. The new British armies, which had been under training since September, would be ready in the spring. France was forming at least three new armies, and the Russians hoped to be able to equip their third and fourth millions and put them in the field some time in April. Great efforts were being made by the Allies to increase their artillery, and it was expected that in the early summer they would be able to strike a decisive blow. In these circumstances it was to Germany's interest to strain every nerve to win during the early months of the year.
It was thought by the Allies that the great German effort would be made in the West; but, as we shall see in later chapters, they were mistaken. The Germans launched their chief attacks against the Russians, who by the middle of the year were so woefully lacking in munitions that they were forced to retire eastwards from the Vistula for about two hundred miles; and owing to this misfortune the "big push" of the Allies in the West had to be postponed.
Now let us see what actually happened in the West during January and February. You already know that, until the new armies of the Allies were ready to take the field and the British supply of big guns and shells was greatly increased, they could do nothing but worry portions of the German front.
Such being the policy of the Allies, you will not expect to hear of big battles. The story of the fighting during January and February is the record of small things—"a sandhill won east of Nieuport, a trench or two near Ypres, a corner of a brickfield near La Bassée, a few hundred yards near Arras, a farm on the Oise, a mile in northern Champagne, a coppice in the Argonne, a hillock on the Meuse, part of a wood on the Moselle, some of the high glens in the Vosges, and a village or two in Alsace." A cartoon published in a German comic paper in January showed two French Staff officers measuring the day's advance with a footrule. No doubt the gains were small; but we must remember that our object was not so much to win ground as to take toll of the two million Germans holding the trenches, and by reducing their numbers bring the day of their exhaustion nearer.
We will begin our story with the Belgian-French forces on the Yser. They then held the bridgehead at Nieuport and the whole western bank of the river. During January the Germans fiercely shelled the chief centres in the little bit of Belgium over which King Albert still held sway.
The German right rested on the dunes fronting the sea, and their big guns amongst the sandhills had Nieuport at their mercy. On 28th January the Allies attacked the Great Dune, which lies just east of Nieuport, and managed to win a good position from which they could sweep the east bank of the Yser and protect their own left wing. Nothing else of importance happened in this section for the next two months.
On the Ypres salient, trenches were taken and retaken during January and the first fortnight of February. On the last day of February, Princess Patricia's Regiment of Canadian Light Infantry distinguished itself in a brilliant little affair. This regiment, which consisted almost entirely of old soldiers, many of whom possessed medals for previous war service, had been equipped by Mr. Hamilton Gault of Montreal. Lieutenant-Colonel F. D. Farquhar was appointed colonel, and the founder of the regiment became second in command, with the rank of major. The regiment was named after Princess Patricia, the younger daughter of the Duke of Connaught, then Governor-General of Canada.
Canadians on Salisbury Plain. Photo, Sport and General.
A portion of Stonehenge, the oldest monument in the British Isles, is seen in the background. It was ancient in the days when Boadicea called her kinsmen to arms against the Romans.
Princess Patricia embroidered colours and presented them to the regiment on August 23, 1914, when she wished the men good luck, and said that she should follow their fortunes with deep interest. In due course the regiment, which was generally known as "Princess Pat's," arrived with the Canadian contingent at Plymouth, and after training on Salisbury Plain, where most of the men had their first experience of the rain, sleet, and slush of an English winter, was dispatched to France, where the Christmas dinners were eaten within sound of the guns. By 26th January they had become inured to the hardships of the trenches, and had already suffered casualties. On the 28th of February, when they were holding a position not far from St. Eloi, about two miles south of Ypres, the regiment was ordered to capture a German trench. The following brief account of the affair is from the pen of a corporal who took part in it:—
"On the last day of February, just before dawn, our company was ordered to attempt to force one of the German trenches. As we climbed over the parapet the enemy, by means of their magnesium flares, spotted us, and immediately opened up on us a withering machine-gun fire. We lost men—some of my best friends and comrades—but on we kept, plodding through a quagmire of mud, and when we jumped over the enemy's parapet into their trench, we had to tramp over dead men. The rest of the Huns, afraid of cold steel, fled screaming like children or went down on their knees and begged for mercy. This, in true British fashion, was granted them."
The attack was led with great dash and spirit by Lieutenants Crabbe and Papineau, the latter of whom received the distinguished Service Order for conspicuous gallantry on the occasion. He was in charge of bomb-throwers during the attack. He shot two of the enemy himself, and then ran along the German sap, throwing bombs into it. As soon as the news of the success became known, congratulations were poured upon the gallant fellows. They were the first of all Canadian regiments to come into prominence, and they had given ample evidence of that gallantry which was soon to be exhibited on a larger scale, and to thrill the Empire with pride.
There were other similar successes on the Ypres salient, but the almost continual rain, snow, and fogs of the latter part of February made important attacks almost impossible.
The La Bassée Canal in Time of Peace.
CHAPTER VI.
WINTER WARFARE ON THE WESTERN FRONT.—II.
The heaviest winter fighting in the British section of the front took place in the neighbourhood of La Bassée. The German Emperor's birthday occurs on 27th January, and his soldiers were eager to present him with a success in order to commemorate the event. If you look at the map on page [52], you will see to the east of the hamlet of Cuinchy, south of the canal, a district marked "Brickfields." Still further east you observe a triangle of ground bounded by three railway lines. The British 3rd Brigade was holding a sharp salient in this district. Its left rested on the canal, its centre was pushed forward towards the "railway triangle," and its right was on the road running from Bethune to La Bassée. All the ground was covered with old kilns and smoke stacks, and a few hundred yards behind our first line we had constructed a "keep" of bricks.
On 24th January the Germans shelled our position, hoping to smash the canal lock, and so flood our trenches. About six o'clock next morning a German deserter came in to our lines and warned us that an attack would be made in about half an hour. Deserters had so frequently told similar tales that we took no notice of him. The man, however, had told the truth, and the half-hour had scarcely ended when a tremendous bombardment began. Our first-line trenches, which were held by half a battalion each of the Scots Guards and Coldstream Guards, were blown in, and before the damage could be repaired the Germans flung forward great numbers of men for an attack. After a severe tussle, in which our men used the bayonet with great effect, they were forced to fall back across the brickfields. The London Scottish and the 1st Camerons, with the remainder of the Coldstream and Scots Guards, were ordered up to hold the second line. These troops fought hard, and punished the Germans severely with rifle and machine-gun fire; but so numerous were the attackers that they managed to get in amongst the brick stacks and into the communication trenches on both sides of the "keep," and even to the west of it.
Much-needed reinforcements were pushed forward, and at one o'clock a counter-attack was begun. Together with the French on their right, our troops moved forward in short, swift rushes, taking cover behind piles of bricks or lying close on the soggy ground. Good progress was made on the flanks, but the centre could not advance. Late in the afternoon another battalion was sent up in support, and the struggle continued throughout the night. By the morning of the 26th we had cleared out the enemy between the "keep" and our trenches, and had partially recovered the ground lost in the morning. The Germans had paid heavily for their trifling gain. Fifty-three prisoners were captured, and over a thousand German dead strewed the brickfields.
The Fighting in Givenchy Village.
(From the drawing by Alfred Bastien. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
The mining village of Givenchy stands on high ground, and commands the highroad from Bethune to La Bassée. Our illustration shows the fierce fighting in the village on January 25, 1915, when our men in many cases fought with bayonets in their hands and even knocked out many Germans with their fists. In the above drawing, British troops, including Highlanders, are seen advancing from the left.
Meanwhile an equally severe fight was going on north of the canal. The Germans heavily bombarded the coveted village of Givenchy, which we had held ever since the second week of the preceding October. At 8.15 they swarmed out of their trenches, passed over our front trenches, and broke into the village, where a furious struggle raged in the streets and in the houses for more than an hour. "Our men," says Eye-witness, "in many cases fought with bayonets in their hands, and even knocked out many Germans with their fists. A story is told of one man who broke into a house held by eight Germans. He bayoneted four, and captured the rest, while he continued to suck at a clay pipe."
Five separate times the Germans attacked the north-east corner of Givenchy, but each time they were driven back with great loss. "On the whole," continues Eye-witness, "the 25th January was a bad day for the enemy in this portion of their line." The German birthday gift to the Kaiser was a heap of his own dead.
Sketch Map to illustrate the Fighting near La Bassée of the 1st Corps, January 25-26, 1915.
For the next ten days the struggle continued. On the 29th the Germans again attacked south of the canal, and tried to get into the "keep" by means of scaling ladders, but were beaten off with severe losses. On 1st February, very early in the morning, the Coldstreams were driven from their trenches south of the canal, and two counter-attacks failed to recover them. As the light grew better, our artillery came into action, and so accurate a fire was kept up on the lost trenches that the Germans could not hold them. At ten o'clock fifty men of the 2nd Coldstreams and thirty men of the Irish Guards, along with sappers carrying sandbags and barbed wire, rushed forward, and not only recovered the lost trenches, but seized one of the enemy's posts on the embankment of the canal. It was during this attack that Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary won the Victoria Cross by a remarkable feat of gallantry which will be described in the next chapter.
"Our men," says Eye-witness, "were enabled to take in flank one of the enemy's trenches to the south, and they fought their way along it, throwing hand grenades, until they dislodged the Germans from a considerable length. We thus established ourselves firmly in a good position on the canal bank and in the adjoining trenches. During the action we captured fourteen prisoners and two machine guns, also many wounded. Our losses were not severe, but the enemy suffered heavily, especially from our artillery fire. . . . Our men were in excellent spirits after the encounter, and on being relieved somewhat later, marched back to their billets singing to the accompaniment of mouth organs and the roar of guns."
About 2 p.m. on the night of the 5th-6th February the British and French artillery turned their heavy howitzers on the "railway triangle," and began a fierce bombardment. The boom of the guns and the roar of the exploding shells were clearly heard twenty miles away, and to those near at hand the noise was terrific. One lyddite shell blew a house bodily into the air; while others, exploding amongst the brick stacks, wrought awful havoc amongst the enemy. At 2.15 a.m. an attack was launched at a strong position held by the Germans amidst stacks of bricks. Our storming columns rushed the position from three sides at once, and captured it with very little loss. Prisoners afterwards said that the noise of the bursting shells, and the thick clouds of dust which arose, prevented them from hearing or seeing our men until they were almost upon them. Other trenches were captured, and the next day the Germans tried hard to recover the lost ground. Our gunners, however, were too much for them, and succeeded in destroying one of their heavy batteries.
I have told you the story of these small fights to give you an idea of how the "nibbling" process was carried on. Dozens of similar encounters took place in various parts of our line, and in all of them the Germans lost more heavily than we did. You will notice that early in February our artillery was able to compete with that of the Germans. Every day more and more big guns and more and more shells were sent to the front. The time was soon to arrive when a big combined effort could be made to pierce the German line.
CHAPTER VII.
STORIES FROM THE BATTLEFIELD.
You are now to read some soldiers' stories of the fighting during the winter months. The first story tells how Algerian horsemen, by a skilful ruse, managed to get a footing in the Great Dune[6] between the Ostend road and the sea.
One morning six fine Arab horses strayed, as though by accident, between the French and German lines. The Germans did not fire on the horses, because they hoped to capture them when they came sufficiently near to their trenches. The animals, however, wandered off again. Towards nightfall on the following day twenty-four Arab horses appeared on the same ground. In the half light the Germans could only just distinguish the forms of the animals, and perceive that they were unmounted. They were preparing to seize them when suddenly a sharp cry was heard, and the horses, kicking up their heels, galloped back to the French lines.
Almost immediately twenty-four gray forms rose from the ground and dashed towards the German trench. They were Algerians, who had concealed themselves under the bodies of their horses, and had thus got close to the German line. They rushed upon the enemy, and a furious struggle took place. The Germans in the second line dared not fire for fear of shooting their own comrades. The Algerians managed to get a footing in the German trench, and shortly afterwards French infantrymen rushed up to their support. By ten in the evening a portion of the Great Dune had been won.
"Sniping" went on almost continuously during the winter. A Canadian officer thus describes his adventures while scouting in front of the German trenches:—
"Off I went, crawling through the sodden clay and branches, going about a yard a minute, listening and looking. I went out to the right of our lines, where the Germans were nearest. At last I saw the Hun trench. It was about ten yards from me. I waited for a long time, and then I heard some Germans talking, and saw one of them put his head up over some bushes behind the trench. I could not get a shot at him, as I was too low down. Of course, I could not get up; so I crawled on again, very slowly, to the parapet of their trench.
"It was exciting. I peered through their loophole, but saw nobody in the trench. Then the German behind put up his head again. He was laughing and talking. I saw his teeth glisten against my foresight, and I pulled the trigger. He just gave a grunt and crumpled up. His comrades behind the bushes got up, and whispered to each other. There were five of them. They could not place the shot. I was flat behind their parapet, and hidden. I just had the nerve not to move a muscle and stay there; my heart was fairly hammering. They did not advance, so I crept back, inch by inch.
"The next day, just before dawn, I crawled out there again, and found the trench still empty. Then a single German came through the woods towards the trench. I saw him fifty yards off. He was coming along upright, quite carelessly, making a great noise. I heard him before I saw him. I let him get within twenty-five yards, and then shot him.
"Nothing happened for ten minutes. Then there were noise and talking, and a lot of Germans came along through the wood behind the trench, about forty yards from me. I counted about twenty, and there were more coming. They halted in front. I picked out the one I thought was the officer. I had a steady shot at him. He went down, and that was all I saw.
"I went back at a sort of galloping crawl to our lines, and sent a message that the Germans were moving in a certain direction in some numbers. Half an hour afterwards they attacked the right in massed formation, advancing slowly to within ten yards of our trenches. We simply mowed them down. It was rather horrible. There were 200 of them dead in a little bit of our line, and we only lost ten.
"Our boys were rather pleased at my stalking and getting the message through. All our men have started stalking now. It is quite a popular amusement."
"The Three Musketeers" of Princess Patricia's Own.
(Painted by S. Begg from material supplied by an officer of Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry present at the action. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
"Princess Pat's Own" first went into the firing line on 5th January. The trenches in which they received their baptism of fire were only about a hundred yards away from those of the Germans, who subjected them to a very heavy bombardment. About the second or third night three of the men established themselves during the darkness on a mound a little to the rear of the Canadian position. They cut a couple of dug-outs in the base of the mound, and fortified the top with a few bricks, behind which they took cover. At daybreak they discovered that they commanded a very fine view of the German first-line trench, and of its supporting or reserve dug-outs, which were occupied by the Prussian Guard. There was no shell fire from the British at the time, and the Germans, thinking themselves quite safe, were strolling about between the dug-outs and the trench. The "three musketeers" on the mound opened a brisk fire on the Germans; whereupon they scuttled off to their holes like rabbits, but not before nine or ten of them lay on the ground, wounded or killed. All day long the men on the mound were under every kind of fire, but they "stuck it" without flinching, and in their turn kept the enemy from as much as showing a finger. When darkness fell they retired to their trenches. Only one of the men was hurt, and he had only a slight bullet wound in the hand.
Here is a strange story of how some British soldiers foolishly and recklessly risked their lives in order to settle a bet.
"Fighting had been very severe in front of one section, and during a lull an officer was surprised to see a number of khaki-clad figures fully exposed to the German bullets, should the enemy resume firing. They were peering into the trench, and were so deeply interested in what was 'down below' that they did not notice the officer's approach.
"'What have you got there?' he asked.
"'A dead German, sir,' came the reply.
"'A dead German! What on earth are you doing with a dead German?'
"Then he was told the whole story. It appeared that in the course of the attack the British soldiers had noticed a particularly tall and bulky Hun. When the fighting was over they began to discuss his proportions. He was now lying dead in front of the trench, and two of the men made a bet about his height and weight. To settle the bet, they crawled out and risked death in order to drag the dead German in. He was found to be six feet nine inches in height, and to have a waist measurement of fifty-three inches.
"The officer gave the men a severe warning, and then asked how much the bet was. To his amazement he received the following reply: 'A bob, sir!'"
In a dispatch published by Sir John French during February he regretted that it was impossible for him to bring before the notice of the public many acts of gallantry performed by his men. Here is an account of a very brave deed done by a sergeant-major in the North Somerset Yeomanry; the story is told by a corporal of the same regiment:—
"I had a marvellous escape. A German bomb fell in the trench barely a foot from me. I did not see it coming, and nothing could have saved me, or Dick Moody, or the other fellows with us, had not Sergeant-Major Reeves made a dash for it. He picked up the bomb, pulled out the fuse, and threw it out of the trench. It was the bravest thing I have ever seen."
Later on, when our men became more used to grenade fighting, such incidents were of almost everyday occurrence. Over and over again men pounced upon live bombs, and hurled them back towards the enemy's trenches before they had time to explode.
On one part of our line the trenches of friend and foe were so close to each other, and they changed hands so often, that it was difficult to know at any particular moment whether they were held by British or by Germans. One night, after a fight, two British officers set out to discover whether certain trenches were occupied by their own men or by those of the enemy. They soon chanced upon a communication trench which seemed to lead in the desired direction. They walked down it, and came to a dug-out with a candle burning in it and German equipment scattered about. Thinking that the communication trench had been captured, they blew out the candle and pushed on. At length they reached a trench running at right angles to the communication trench. No sooner had they entered it than they were challenged sharply in German. Then came a shower of bullets, and in a moment the officers were rushing back by the way which they had come, with Germans close upon their heels. They floundered through the mud and dodged round the traverses, and, thanks to the darkness, managed to get back to their own lines unhurt, where they told their comrades how they had spent several breathless minutes in the enemy's fire trenches.
Now I must give you an account of one of the most striking deeds of gallantry ever performed by a British soldier. The Gazette of 18th February contained an announcement that the Victoria Cross had been awarded to
Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary, 1st Battalion Irish Guards, for an achievement of such a character that, according to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, "no writer of fiction would dare to fasten it on any of his characters."
At sixteen years of age O'Leary joined the Navy, but was discharged because he suffered with rheumatism. He soon recovered, however, and enlisted in the Irish Guards. After serving his time with the colours and passing into the reserve, he was accepted as a member of the famous North-West Mounted Police of Canada. The hard open-air life was much to his liking. All the patrol work was done on horseback, and he rode on an average thirty miles a day. As a North-West mounted policeman, O'Leary gave a taste of his cool courage in capturing two robbers, armed with revolvers, after a running fight which lasted two hours. For this feat he was presented with a gold ring, which he still proudly wears. The donor of it must have been a prophet, for he said to O'Leary when handing it over, "If you do as well on active service, you will win the Victoria Cross." At the outbreak of war O'Leary rejoined his old regiment in France. He was not then twenty-five years of age.
I am sure you remember the occasion when the Coldstreams were driven from their trenches near Cuinchy, and two counter-attacks failed to recover them. At ten in the morning of 1st February a desperate effort to win them back was made by fifty men of the 2nd Coldstream Guards and thirty men of the Irish Guards, accompanied by sappers with wire and sand-bags. The Coldstreams went first. With fixed bayonets they rushed across the 200 yards that separated them from the German trenches. They were met by a heavy fire, which checked them a little; and then the Irish Guards went forward in support. O'Leary, fleet of foot, outdistanced his comrades. He had not gone far before he felt the ground give beneath his feet, and springing back, he saw a German bomb-thrower in a pit. He shot the man, and hurrying on to the angle of a barricade which he had marked all day, fired five shots and killed the five Germans who were holding it. Leaving his comrades to take possession of the barricade, he dashed towards a second position, sixty yards ahead, where a machine-gun section was frantically trying to turn its weapon upon the stormers. O'Leary, however, was too quick for them. A German officer had his finger on the button of the gun, and was about to release the hail of lead, when "crack" went our hero's rifle, and the officer dropped dead. Again and again O'Leary fired, and two other men fell, while their comrades, with white, scared faces, threw up their hands and begged for mercy. A few moments later and the Guards, with a wild rush through the flying mud, secured the position. "Lance-Corporal O'Leary thus practically captured the enemy's position himself, and prevented the rest of the attacking party from being fired on." He was promoted sergeant on the field.
The Great Exploit of Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary.
(From the picture by A. C. Mitchell. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
Sergeant O'Leary, V.C., had a great reception when he returned to London in July on leave. A demonstration was held in Hyde Park by the United Irish League, and the hero, who was presented with a purse of gold, made a recruiting speech, in the course of which he said, "There are many others who have fought and are fighting, who have attempted and have done more than I for King and country. I have had the luck." In his own country the sergeant was enthusiastically received, and was so lionized that he said he must get back to the trenches to rest. At a banquet to his honour in his native county he asked for lemonade, and when some one thoughtlessly pressed him to take wine, he refused, and said that he must "keep fit." Not only did he receive the Victoria Cross at the hands of the King, but the highest awards for valour from the French and the Russian Government.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GERMAN SUCCESS AT SOISSONS.
In this British book, written for British boys and girls, I naturally give the foremost place to the doings of British soldiers. We must, however, always remember that up to the middle of the year the British only held about one-twentieth of the Western battle-front. From La Bassée, through Arras, to Noyon, thence eastwards along the valley of the Aisne, in a wide curve round the fortress of Verdun, to the west bank of the Meuse, onwards to the Moselle, through Lorraine to the crests of the Vosges, and southwards to the borders of Switzerland—all this long and varied line was held by our French Allies. All through January and February they did not cease to nibble at the German trenches. In Champagne, in the section between the Meuse and the Moselle, and in Alsace, they were able to do more than nibble—they were able to seize many vantage points, and advance their front slowly but surely.
In January the chief centre of interest was in that part of the Aisne valley which lies to the north of the old city of Soissons.[7] You will remember that the Allies had captured the city, and the flat lands to the north of it, during the great advance in September 1914. Turn to the map on the next page and find the village of Cuffies.[8] On 18th January this village was in French hands, and so was the village of Crouy,[9] to the east of it. On the road from Soissons to Laon, and between Cuffies and Crouy, you will notice a spur of the plateau marked Hill 132.[10] To the south-east of Crouy there is another spur, marked 151. On 8th January the French made attacks on both these hills. They specially wished to capture Hill 132, because it would give them a gun position from which they could command the road to Laon.
In the drenching rain the French pushed forward, dragging their guns with great difficulty up the slippery slope. They carried three lines of German trenches, and were soon in possession of the hill. Meanwhile other troops had seized Hill 151. Though the Germans tried hard to recover the positions next day, they could not do so. Nothing happened on Sunday, 9th January; but on Monday, about noon, no less than two German corps, under von Kluck, were launched against the French, who were holding the hills. On the 12th the struggle grew very violent. The French were pushed off the eastern side of Hill 132, but with great difficulty they managed to cling to the western slopes.
During the four preceding days the weather had been very bad. Torrents of rain had descended without ceasing, and by the 12th the river was in high flood. It had been rising for days, and now it was swirling along like an angry torrent, threatening to carry away the only bridges by which the French could bring up reinforcements and ammunition. By the 13th all the bridges but two had been swept away, and the French decided to retreat across the river while they had the means of doing so.
They retired slowly and skilfully. Their batteries were withdrawn from the hills one by one, without letting the Germans know that they were being moved to the rear. The commander of one battery did not give the order to retire until the Germans were within five hundred yards of him. It was perilous and difficult work getting the guns down the steep slope. The gunners man-handled them until they reached the foot, and then they were limbered up and taken across a shaky pontoon bridge which had been thrown across the river at Missy. Guns on the right and centre had to be abandoned, but not before they were rendered useless.
By the evening of the 14th the Germans had advanced their line until they held the whole of the north bank of the Aisne from a mile east of Soissons to Missy. By this time the French, who only numbered 12,000, had been reduced to half their strength, and they had lost about twenty guns. Von Kluck had begun well, and, under the eye of the Kaiser, he now made a great effort to capture Soissons. Had he done so, he would have been in possession of a railway junction and the best bridge over the Aisne. He would also have been able to force the French to retire from the whole line of the river.
The floods had not reached Soissons, so the French were able to pour reinforcements into the city. A great struggle took place at the village of St. Paul, on the right bank of the river, about a mile to the east of Soissons. The Germans advanced in dense masses, and won the village; but the French artillery speedily drove them out, and von Kluck found that he could advance no further.
The Germans trumpeted abroad this little success as a smashing victory; but it was of no particular consequence, for they had only slightly improved their position, and in doing so had suffered a loss of at least 10,000 men. It was not so much German guns and rifles that drove the French from the spurs which they had won as the flooding of the river. Nature had fought for the Germans, but still they could not "make good." Some writers thought that it was very clever of von Kluck to postpone his big counter-attack until his enemies had a swollen river and flooded fields behind them; but the fact was that he could not attack earlier, because his reinforcements were late in arriving. The Germans owed their success not to good generalship, but to good luck.
CHAPTER IX.
WINTER FIGHTING IN CHAMPAGNE, THE ARGONNE, AND THE VOSGES.
We now come to that part of the French front on which the most successful attempts of the Allies were made during January and February. You have already heard of the little river Suippe, a tributary of the Aisne. Between the upper waters of this river and the Forest of the Argonne there is a chalk plain, dotted with plantations of firs and crossed by rolling downs. In many respects it resembles Salisbury Plain, and for many years has been put to the same use. Before the war it was the great training ground of French troops and the scene of their yearly manoeuvres. The plain is sparsely populated; scattered farms and straggling homesteads are few and far between, and lack of villages means lack of roads. After heavy rain the whole district is a sea of shallow mud; but the ground does not become water-logged, and as soon as the rain ceases the ground dries very quickly. Operations during the winter were therefore possible. General Joffre decided to nibble more vigorously on this plain than elsewhere.
Look at the little map on page [70]. You notice a railway running from Ste. Menehould,[11] on the Aisne at the edge of the Argonne forest, to Rheims. By means of this railway the French troops operating on the plain were supplied with all their needs. The Germans relied on the line which you see running from Grand Pré in the Argonne to Bazancourt. The object of the French was to nibble at the German lines in the hope of pushing back the enemy and seizing this railway. If it could be cut or commanded, the Germans would be obliged to fall back along their whole line. At any rate, a French advance towards the railway would compel the enemy to waste men and shells, and would force him to keep in the region large forces which otherwise would have been sent to the East, where von Hindenburg was badly in need of assistance.
I want you to fix your attention on the little towns of Souain[12] and Perthes,[13] and the farm of Beau Séjour,[14] all of which are marked on the map. Beau Séjour, you will notice, is about 3½ miles east of Perthes. At the beginning of January the French line ran through Souain, south of Perthes and south of Beau Séjour. Almost every day during January the French attacked the German positions. They won a hill to the north of Perthes, which gave them the best gun position in the neighbourhood, and on the 16th of February a general advance began. The Germans held a strong post north of the farm, on a ridge between two little glens. On this ridge they had constructed a fort, which was held by about 500 men.
The French attacked on a plan which was soon to become the regular method of puncturing the German lines all along the Western front. Let me give you some account of this plan—the only possible method of capturing the strongly fortified trenches of the enemy without a terrible loss of life. As you know, the first obstacle to an attack on a line of trenches consists of the barbed wire entanglements which are fixed up in front of them. The attackers are held up by the network of wire, and can be shot down in droves by rifles and machine guns. Then the trench itself has a strong parapet, with loopholes through which the defenders fire on the attackers. For infantry to charge the barbed wire while the parapets are held by an enemy is to court almost certain disaster.
Study the diagram on page [67]. AB is a line of trenches to be attacked, and X is a line of big guns. These guns throw a shower of high explosive shells on to the enemy's trenches. So terrible is the explosion that the barbed wire is blown into a thousand fragments, the parapets are beaten down, the whole trench is utterly wrecked, and the defenders are either killed or wounded, or so stunned by the violence of the bombardment that they cannot make much resistance. When this is done, the gunners lift their sights and lengthen their fuses, and behind the trench create at C a curtain of fire through which no enemy reinforcements can possibly pass. Then the attacking infantry rush forward and occupy the wrecked trench. They work away with their entrenching tools, make a new parapet facing the enemy's second line of trenches, and prepare to beat off counter-attacks. Trenches are thus captured by gun fire alone. You can easily understand that advances made in this way will be slow. Telephone wires have to be laid, ranges calculated, and a thousand details arranged before an assault can be made.
If such an attack is to succeed, two things are necessary. In the first place, the attackers must have many big guns and an almost unlimited supply of ammunition for them; and secondly, they must bring up their guns at X unknown to the enemy, and take him by surprise. If he is able to see the big guns being brought up, he will fire on them before they can be concealed. He will also mass his own guns, and the affair will become an artillery duel on a large scale. Happily, in Champagne the French were able to mass their guns secretly. Their airmen had become so expert that they were able to beat back all the German aircraft that attempted to scout over their lines, while at the same time they could fly over the German lines without much hindrance.
Here is a description of such an attack as seen by a British observer in Champagne:—