The Childrens' Story of the War, Volume 3 (of 10) / From the First Battle of Ypres to the End of the Year 1914

French Officers examining a German Prisoner.

(Photo, Central News.)

A lance-corporal of the 2nd South Lancashire Regiment describes how he and his comrades saved a gun which they were working in the loft of a cottage. Some 200 Germans having broken through the British lines, tried to rush the cottage. "I crept on my stomach," says the lance-corporal, "and made for my gun, which was nicely pointed at them, fetching them down like sheep, thinking every minute they would get at me, especially when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Two of my comrades now came to my assistance. When they saw who it was they patted me on the back, and one of them said, 'Let's have a go at the gun, Len;' which I was glad of, as I was nearly done up. My chum did splendid work, fetching the remainder down. While he was firing Lieutenant Fulcher went downstairs just in time, as five Germans had got round without being seen. The brave officer killed the five, and returned to us in the loft. . . . Then, seeing we were all right, he once more returned to headquarters.

"Half an hour later we were surrounded with shells . . . A piece struck the sergeant. Without delay we carried him into the house and did our very best for him. It was a pity that he should come to his end, as only the day before he received a telegram congratulating him on his splendid previous work, for which he was mentioned in dispatches.

"We gave the alarm to the men down the cellar. It must have been God who told me to shout them up. In one more minute there would have been another seven killed, as no sooner had they got up than a shell burst in the cellar. I told the men to make for headquarters, which they did under heavy shell fire. How they got there without being hit I do not know. Myself and two others stopped, as we had our best friend in the roof (the gun). Another shell came and took the two men off their feet, luckily doing no harm; only I got a few splinters after the falling of the house. I found that I was the last, so I crawled out in the smoke and the dust, and made for headquarters. I reported to Lieutenant Fulcher that the sergeant was killed, and had died in my arms, and that I had been forced to leave the gun. There were tears in his eyes. He told me to lie down, but I could not, and he asked where I had left the gun. I told him, and said, 'I expect it is smashed.' He then asked for volunteers to go and fetch it, and two other lance-corporals at once offered to go with me. We saved the gun, everything else being smashed, and got back without being hit. General Haldane congratulated us, and granted us six days' special leave to England."

The following story comes from the German side. There are three characters in it—a Bavarian lieutenant, Sepp his servant, and Caro his dog. "Sepp could play the mouth organ[73] beautifully, rendering folk songs, dances, etc., and we had many a pleasant hour with his music. One day, when the shells were bursting not far from us, the lieutenant said to his servant, 'Sepp, if I am ever hit, play my burial song for me, as you know how, and send my mother a remembrance. Everything else, including money, you can keep.' The dog Caro was not allowed to go into action, but had to march all day with the baggage, and at night slept at his master's door, allowing no one save Sepp to enter. Often he managed to get loose from the baggage carts, and, in spite of the colonel's scolding, reached the firing-line, where he shared the danger with his master.

"One fine day on the Yser a hostile bullet struck our dear young lieutenant in the forehead, so that he never moved again. On his face there was a pleasant smile, such as we had never before seen on the dead. Our grief was great; but a soldier never has much time for weeping. We dug his grave in a small pleasure garden, and laid the young hero to rest. We doffed our helmets, while some one said a brief prayer. On the mound we laid a last rose, and the soldiers made a cross. When the captain had said the last word Sepp at once began to play, more beautifully than we had ever heard before. No organ music had ever pleased me so much. Tears stood in the eyes of us all. Again and again he played funeral hymns and soldiers' songs, until we had to go.

"We could not get Sepp away from his master's grave. He continued to sit there, weeping and playing on his mouth organ all the songs his master had loved best. Just as we were going, up came the dog Caro from somewhere, as though he knew of his master's death. He whined and howled, while all about this farewell scene the guns thundered and rifle bullets whistled. Deeply moved, we went away. The English made an attack, but still in the twilight Sepp continued to play, until he had to be removed forcibly to prevent him from falling into the enemy's hands. Only Caro remained; he would not budge.

"When, two days later, we had beaten the English and came back past the same spot, there lay the faithful Caro, dead on his master's grave. We knew not whether he had perished of hunger and grief, or whether a fragment of shell had struck him, but we found no wound on his body. We buried the faithful animal at his master's feet. Since that day Sepp has never played another tune."

I will conclude this chapter by giving you a brief account of the heroes who were awarded the Victoria Cross between October 1 and 30, 1914. They are as follows:—

Private Henry May, 1st Battalion the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles). On October 22, 1914, at a village about four miles south-west of Armentières, he went out of his own free will, and under a heavy cannonade tried to rescue a wounded man who was, unhappily, killed before he could save him. Later, on the same day, he carried a wounded officer a distance of 300 yards into safety, while exposed to very severe fire.

Drummer William Kenny, 2nd Gordon Highlanders. On 23rd October, near Ypres, Drummer Kenny, an Irishman, whose parents live at Drogheda, showed wonderful bravery in rescuing wounded men on five different occasions. Each time he carried his life in his hand, and showed the most fearless courage. Twice previously he had saved machine guns by carrying them out of action, and frequently he had conveyed urgent messages over fire-swept ground. Like all true heroes, Drummer Kenny showed himself the most modest of men. Here is his own account of his repeated acts of bravery: "There were men lying about wounded, and I simply brought them in. The Maxims had to be fetched, and I did it—that's all."

Lieutenant Arthur Martin-Leake, R.A.M.C. This gallant officer was the first man in the British army to be awarded the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty in two separate campaigns. During the South African War he went out into the firing-line to dress a wounded man while forty Boers, who were only 100 yards off, rained bullets on the position. When he had done all he could for the stricken soldier he went over to a badly wounded officer, and while trying to place him in a more comfortable position was shot three times. He only gave up his merciful work when thoroughly exhausted, and even then he refused water until other wounded men had been served. For this splendid self-sacrifice and steadfast bravery he was rightly awarded the Victoria Cross. During the Balkan War he served with a British Red Cross contingent, and throughout the present war, and especially at Zonnebeke between October 29 and November 8, 1914, he repeatedly went out under heavy fire to bring in wounded men, some of whom were lying close to the enemy's trenches. Again the coveted distinction was awarded to him, and a clasp was added to the Cross which he had won in South Africa.

Lieutenant James Leach and Sergeant John Hogan, 2nd Battalion the Manchester Regiment. Lieutenant Leach had only received his commission a few days before he won the Victoria Cross on October 29. "When I joined the Manchesters," he said in an interview, "there were only six officers and forty-five men, whereas the proper strength of the battalion was 30 officers and 1,100 men. The regiment had been badly cut up at Le Cateau and La Bassée. On joining the regiment I was immediately put in command of a company which was in an advanced trench near Festubert.[74] The trench was large enough to hold thirty-five men; it was about 150 yards from the main trench, and 120 yards from the German trenches.

"At seven o'clock on the morning of 29th October I had just started to have my breakfast, when a man to the right of me shouted, 'Look out, sir, look out; they're coming,' and began firing as fast as he could. I looked over the parapet, and saw about 250 of the enemy with fixed bayonets approaching the trench at the double, firing as they came on, and making a peculiar wailing noise. Before the Germans reached the trench we shot down something like 150 of them. With only such a short distance to cross from their trenches to ours, about 100 of the enemy managed to reach our trench and jump into it. By sheer weight of numbers they carried the trench, and killed about twelve of my men.

How Lieutenant Leach and Sergeant Hogan recaptured a Trench from the Germans.

(From the picture by F. Matania. By permission of The Sphere.)

"At nine o'clock I called up the communication trench, and asked how far the enemy had got, and found they were occupying three of the four traverses.[75] When I went up again by myself two hours later, I found the Germans were occupying all the four traverses. Well, I thought, if we leave it much longer they will be down the communication trenches into the main trench.

"The same evening we heard we were to be relieved by the Gurkhas, and I felt it would be rather bad on my part to leave the recovery of the trench to them. I therefore determined about two o'clock to regain the trench before dark. Calling for volunteers, Sergeant Hogan and ten others came forward, and we began to crawl up the communication trench. I fired anywhere with my revolver, only exposing my hand, with the intention of pushing back the enemy along the trench as far as we could. The idea was to force them to run back to their own trenches, so that we could shoot them down as they went.

"All along the trench we crawled over dead and wounded Germans, so you see my revolver had been doing some execution. When we got to the left traverse I was surprised to hear an English voice round the corner shout, 'Don't shoot, sir.' I chanced this being a bit of treachery, and was surprised to see one of my own men coming round the corner. He had been captured in the morning rush, and he said a wounded German officer round the corner had asked him to tell me that they wanted to surrender.

"I went round the corner, and found sixteen Germans on their knees with their hands up, shouting, 'Mercy.' I told the officer that he and his men had got to go into the main trench. This they did after they had taken off their equipment, holding up their hands as they went. About twenty wounded Germans crawled in with them. . . . Was I surprised when I heard I had been awarded the Victoria Cross? Yes, I was. I was mentioned in dispatches, and there I thought the matter had ended."

Sergeant Hogan, when interviewed, showed the same pleasing modesty as Drummer Kenny. "I only did," he said, "what others would have done, and what others have done."

A few further details as to this remarkable feat may be added. The following account is taken from the Manchester Guardian:—"Lieutenant Leach and Sergeant Hogan left the main trench with ten men, and, crawling along the communicating trench, they established themselves at a point where the trench, which had been captured by the Germans that same morning, turned sharply at right angles. Leach and Hogan then advanced. The aim of the two men was to drive the Germans back along the narrow trench to the opposite end, from which there was no exit. Leach and Hogan commenced from their corner. Leach, being armed with a revolver, could reach his hand round the corner and shoot along the sections without exposing his body; whilst the German soldiers, armed only with rifles, could not fire without exposing part of their bodies.

"While Leach was shooting along the section Hogan watched the parapet to ward off attacks from above, as the Germans might crawl over from the section attacked and shoot them down from above or take them in the rear. Leach had now to fire with his left hand. When the section had been cleared by the two men, they took their stand at the next corner, and repeated the manoeuvre. As they advanced, section by section, Hogan put his hat on the end of his rifle and raised it above the parapet, to indicate to his platoon how far progress had been made, so that his comrades would not fire at that part of the trench that had been retaken." This went on, corner after corner being captured, until the two men heard one of their comrades who had been made prisoner that morning cry out, as described above by Lieutenant Leach.

Lieutenant James Anson Otho Brooke, 2nd Gordon Highlanders. This officer received the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery and great ability near Gheluvelt on 29th October, when he led two attacks on the German trenches under heavy rifle and machine-gun fire, and regained a lost trench at a very critical moment. By his marked coolness and alertness he prevented the enemy from breaking through our line[76] at a time when a general counter-attack could not have been made. Lieutenant Brooke made the supreme sacrifice that day: he gave his life to save his fellows.

Diagram to illustrate Trench Warfare.

CHAPTER XV.

On Saturday, 31st October, came the crisis of the fierce and long-continued struggle. Day by day the enemy's attacks had been growing stronger and stronger. Across the lines the British could hear the Germans singing patriotic songs, as though they were working themselves up to a berserk rage.[77] An order taken from a prisoner showed that the Kaiser had ordered the British line to be smashed at all costs. "Before the sun was high on that morning," writes an American correspondent, "a British aviator volplaned down to his own lines with a wing damaged by shrapnel. He dropped from his seat pale and shaken. 'A close call?' they asked. 'It isn't that,' he replied; 'it's what I have seen—three corps, I tell you, against our First!' So he jerked out his story. He had seen the roads and ridges like ant-hills and ant-runs with men; he had seen new batteries going into position; he had seen, far away, the crawling gray serpents, which were still more German regiments going to their slaughter. 'And we're so thin from up there,' he said, 'and they're so many.'"[78]

The French and British Commanders in the Field—General Joffre and General Sir John French.

(By permission of The Sphere.)

The little map on page 131 will show you the British position against which the Germans were now about to hurl themselves in vast strength. You see that the 1st Division held the village of Gheluvelt, and lay to the right and left of the main road from Ypres to Menin. On the left of the 1st Division lay the 2nd Division, extending the line as far north as Zonnebeke. The South Wales Borderers, who were on the extreme left of the 1st Division, were posted in the sunken part of the road between Gheluvelt and Reutel. The 2nd Worcesters, who belonged to the 2nd Division, were stationed in the wood which you will see to the south-west of Zonnebeke. On the right of the 1st Division, continuing the line up to the canal from Ypres to the Lys, lay the 7th Division.

At daybreak on the 31st, von Beimling, with at least 100,000 Bavarians, attacked the centre of the British line. A heavy fire was directed against Gheluvelt, and when the way was thus prepared, the infantry dashed upon the place, but were repulsed. Again and again the Bavarians advanced, but nowhere could they make headway. The big guns reduced Gheluvelt to a heap of blazing ruins; but the British could not be shifted from them. The trenches of the Welsh were searched from end to end by German shells; but still they stuck to them. Every spot in front, and even the wood in the rear where the Worcesters were posted, was raked by the murderous German fire. But every time the enemy pushed forward they were beaten back.

Having thus failed to pierce the British line at Gheluvelt, the Bavarians were ordered to fling themselves against the British to the south of the Menin-Ypres road—that is, against the 1st Queen's (Surrey) and the 2nd Royal Scots Fusiliers, the latter unit being the flank regiment of the 7th Division. Advancing in force, they got between the village of Gheluvelt and the Surreys on their left flank, and then, with their great numbers, were able to get round to the right flank of that regiment, which was almost surrounded and cut off. Only some seventy of the Surreys fought their way back into the woods in their rear. The British line was broken at last.

What the Germans had now to do was to enlarge the breach. The retreat of the Surreys had laid open the flank of the Royal Scots Fusiliers, and the Bavarians tried to deal with them as they had dealt with the Surreys. Again they were successful, and the Scots were surrounded and cut off from their division. They would neither surrender nor give way, and only a remnant fought their way out, and followed the Surreys towards Ypres. Their brigadier, in describing the fighting, said, "I think it was perfectly splendid. Mind you, it was not a case of 'hands up,' or any nonsense of that sort; it was a fight to a finish. Why, even a German general came up to the colonel afterwards and congratulated him, and said he could not understand how his men had held out so long." The Royal Scots Fusiliers had suffered terribly. They had landed in Flanders over a thousand strong; they now numbered seventy men, commanded by a junior lieutenant.

Thus the British line was successfully broken. The 1st Division could not maintain its ground, and as it retired the 1st Coldstreams were almost wiped out. Against the exposed flank of the 7th Division a strong infantry attack was now launched. It seemed as if nothing could stay the German advance, and that the British were bound to be overwhelmed with disaster. Enemy aeroplanes discovered Sir Douglas Haig's headquarters, and a shell burst in the house. Haig himself was at Hooge, on the Menin-Ypres road, at the time, and so escaped; but the general of the 1st Division was wounded, and six of the staff officers were killed.

A day's march away from Ypres is the ford where, two thousand years ago, Cæsar was in dire peril of being overwhelmed by the Nervii.[79] In that battle he snatched a shield from a soldier, and, plunging into the fray, rallied the Roman army, and turned defeat into victory. It was now Sir John French's part to play the part of Cæsar. He jumped into his motor car and sped towards the 1st Division. He found Sir Douglas Haig riding up and down trying to learn what had happened, and to settle what was to be done. As commander-in-chief and general greeted each other, orderlies, one after the other, rode up with the news that the British line was broken, that regiments were in retreat, that Gheluvelt had at last been taken, and that the Germans were advancing in overwhelming force. It was the most critical moment of the great battle.

The 7th Division was now ordered to retreat, and this exposed the left flank of the French division on their right. It was under the command of General Moussy, who was struggling hard to keep his line intact. He had come to the assistance of the British at the very moment when all seemed lost, just as the French had come to the aid of the British at Inkerman[80] sixty years before. He was now terribly assailed, and again and again it seemed that his line must be staved in. At one point the Germans nearly broke through, and without reinforcements they could not be held back. Immediately the general sent off a corporal of his escort to scour the country, and to bring up every man that he could lay hold of. The corporal dismounted the sixty-five men of the general's escort, and called on lorry drivers, motor men, servants, cooks, anybody and everybody he saw to join him. With this motley array, many of them unarmed, he hurried to the trenches, and in a few minutes his scratch force was making a bayonet charge, practically without bayonets. The Germans thought that reinforcements had arrived, and therefore retired.

This incident will remind you of the turning-point in the Battle of Bannockburn,[81] six hundred years before. While the English were struggling to break the Scottish line, they thought they saw a new army approaching. What they really saw was a band of camp followers and servants who had made banners of sheets and blankets tied to sticks and tent poles. They had formed themselves into ranks, and were now marching down a hill towards the battle. At this sight the English broke and fled. When General Moussy's corporal came up with his scratch regiment of 250 men the old incident of Bannockburn was repeated.

The Germans were now not only pressing hard from the north of Gheluvelt to the canal, but were making headway against Allenby's cavalry, who were holding the whole line from Klein Zillebeke to the south of Messines.[82] Allenby's sole reinforcement consisted of exhausted Indians who had been sent up from the Second Corps. You will learn later how at this juncture Sepoy Khudadad,[83] of the 129th Baluchis,[84] won the Victoria Cross for his magnificent steadfastness in working his gun till every man of his detachment had been killed.[85]

So terrible was the pressure round Hollebeke that Kavanagh's cavalry, who had been on the Menin road behind the 1st Division, were now hurried south to hold the line at this point. Even with this assistance Allenby's men were almost at their last gasp. Two nearly fresh German corps were attacking them, and hours must elapse before other reinforcements could arrive.

The Scratch Force that saved de Moussy's Line.    Photo, Daily Mirror.

Now came the most critical hour of this most critical battle. Between two and three o'clock on the 31st the whole issue of the campaign in the West trembled in the balance. Just when the outlook seemed darkest, and all hope of saving the day seemed to have vanished, an orderly galloped up to Sir John French with the startling news that the German advance had stopped. Then came another piece of good news: the 1st Division was re-forming its line, and Gheluvelt had been retaken! What had happened? I will compile my account from a narrative issued by the Worcestershire County Council:—

"Although the line of the 1st Division had been broken, the whole of it had not fallen back. The Surreys and the Scots had been practically wiped out, but the dauntless Welsh still stood firm. Posted in the hollow road to the east of Gheluvelt, where they were slightly sheltered from the German fire, the Welsh still held their ground, thus forming a pivot upon which, if reinforcements were forthcoming, the line could be re-formed and the position linked up.

"Holding back by their fire the mass of Germans with whom they were still engaged, the Welsh were covering the flank of the 2nd Division and checking the German advance. If they could hold on and keep the flank covered until help arrived, the 1st Division could re-form and the gap could be filled up. The position was critical, and a very severe trial for the Welsh; but they belonged to a regiment which bore on its colours the word "Talavera,"[86] and where, as here, the British line had been broken, but the steadiness of a single regiment had saved the day. The Welsh had been told to hold the post to the last. They had done so.

"When von Beimling advanced in the morning, hurling on them attack after attack, the Welsh held the road against him. When the Germans surrounded the Surreys and drove off the Scots, still the Welsh held on, firing, steadily firing, keeping back the Bavarians. When the Germans carried Gheluvelt and the British line gave way, the Welsh remained firing and held their ground against all comers, so delaying the German advance. Now at last, when orders had been given to begin the retreat, the Welsh still remained where they had been originally stationed, just as if the line were still intact, and no retreat had been ordered. Could help be sent to them so as to enable them to reap the reward of their heroic constancy?

"Stationed in a corner of a wood about a mile from Gheluvelt, towards Ypres, near the Menin-Ypres road, was a body of some 600 men, four companies of the 2nd battalion of a regiment that the Duke of Wellington once described in a letter as 'the best regiment in his army' (the Worcesters, whose famous and well-deserved motto is 'Firm'). To them now, more than a century later, was given the opportunity for Sir John French to say whether he concurred or not in Wellington's high opinion. They were ordered 'to advance without delay, and to deliver a counter-attack with the utmost vigour.'

"No one who knew the regiment doubted for an instant that they would do it. Every one was doubtful whether they could do it with success. They were only four companies; the Germans were legion. But whether they were to be successful or unsuccessful, their plain duty was to attack the Germans, however many, with their handful of men, however few. The Welsh had to be supported; the Germans had to be repulsed. Everything depended on their advance.

"On receipt of his orders Major Hankey, who was in command of the battalion, sent Lieutenant Haskett Smith with six scouts to reconnoitre the ground, and cut any wire entanglements that would delay the advance. The A company, under Captain Wainman, was sent forward to occupy and hold a trench between the wood and the village. Not the least of the exploits of the Worcesters on that day was the advance of A company to occupy and hold this trench. It was in effect asking an English company to advance, and, as it proved, to advance successfully, against the whole German force at that point. The trench was occupied, and not merely occupied, but held.

"Some 600 yards in front of the battalion was a small wood forming some sort of cover. Here B, C, and D companies deployed for the attack, in two lines. The Worcesters set out on their terrible task. For about half a mile they had to advance under a very heavy fire of shrapnel. Over part of the ground they could rush from one bit of cover to another, but at one place for about 200 yards there was no cover at all. Here they had not only the shrapnel on their front, but on their right flank the Bavarians pouring in a hail of bullets from rifles and machine guns. It looked as if no one could pass through that fire unhurt. The Germans were constantly bringing up reinforcements with fresh ammunition.

"It appeared that the Worcesters were going to certain death. The appearance was not deceptive, for in crossing the 200 yards without cover the three companies had no fewer than 100 casualties. Even this did not cause the Worcesters to flinch. They pressed onward, reached the road, and formed up on the left of the Welsh. In front of them, at a distance of some 300 yards, was a small wood filled with Bavarians. On these the Worcesters opened fire with such success that the enemy gradually retreated.

"But although the Worcesters had gained the road, supported the Welsh, and thus had enabled the 1st Division to re-form its line, their position was far from safe. Their right flank was open to the enemy, who, from the cover of the ruins of the village, was able, without much loss to himself, to pour in a continuous rifle fire. From time to time parties of Germans from the village got round the Worcesters' right flank. They became so troublesome that the Worcesters stormed the house nearest to their trench, and made it into a bastion for their defence, so that the German flank attacks ceased. The effect of this charge was to change the entire position. The Worcesters were now able to threaten the right flank of the Germans, who, on perceiving this, at once desisted from any further advance. Their offensive died away."

The narrative then goes on to tell how those units of the 1st Division, which had retreated were brought back to the original line, how the cavalry cleared the Germans out of the woods, surprising and killing a good many of them, and how as it grew dark the Germans fell back. At last by 10 p.m. the British line as held on the morning of 31st October was re-formed. Thus a terrible disaster was averted by the cool courage and the devotion of the Welsh and the Worcesters. The crisis had passed; the fighting was not yet over, but the battle had been won.

The Worcesters had lost heavily, but they had covered themselves with glory, and the whole army united to do them honour. A month later Sir John French paraded all that was left of the battalion that retook Gheluvelt, and told them that though they bore on their colours the names of many famous victories, they had added lustre to their former reputation by their splendid bravery that day.

Next day (1st November) French reinforcements were hurried up, but before they could arrive the Germans had made two attacks—the one against Klein Zillebeke, the other against Allenby's cavalry around Messines. The first attack was driven back, but the second was successful, and Hollebeke and Messines were both seized by the enemy. The Germans swarmed across the low ridges, and their artillery found gun positions from which Ypres and Messines could be shelled. The village was speedily levelled with the ground, and all attempts to retake the ruins failed. Allenby had in reserve four battalions from the Second Corps to the west of Messines, and he now called them into the firing line. Amongst them were the London Scottish, the first of all infantry Territorial regiments to go to the front. They were now about to undergo their baptism of fire.

The London Scottish in civil life are clerks, young lawyers, doctors, architects, engineers, and literary men. They are a kilted regiment, clad in sober gray with blue facings, and in times of peace are remarkable for their smart uniform and their excellent drill. They were now to prove that citizen soldiers in the hour of their country's need can fight as valiantly and bear themselves as heroically as their comrades of the regular army.

The accounts of the fighting in which the London Scottish were engaged differ widely, but I think you will get a good idea of what actually happened from the following description by a dispatch rider:—

While the London Scots were proving their mettle, the Germans broke through the line of the 1st Cavalry Division, and captured a village about 1½ miles north of Messines, on the Ypres-Armentières road. Next day, however, this village was retaken, though Messines still remained in German hands. There was also heavy fighting that day at Le Gheir, south of Messines, and in the course of it Drummer Bent of the East Lancashires won the Victoria Cross,[88] as you shall hear later.

The Charge of the London Scottish at Messines, November 1, 1914.

(From the picture by Dudley Tennant.)

For five days afterwards the battle resolved itself into an artillery duel, and our weary men had a breathing space. Reserves were brought up from the Second Corps, and two Territorial battalions and two Yeomanry regiments were put into the firing line. On 6th November the Germans made a sudden attack on the Klein Zillebeke position, and drove in the French, who were holding the right towards the canal. This left the 4th Cavalry Brigade unsupported; but the Household Brigade,[89] under General Kavanagh, came to the rescue, and the French were able to recapture their trenches. Once more, however, the French were driven back, and to stem the rush Kavanagh doubled a couple of dismounted squadrons across the road. There was a moment of wild confusion, in which British, French, and Germans were mingled together in the village street. When the confusion was at its height Major Dawnay of the 2nd Life Guards led his men to the charge, and the village was cleared with great loss to the enemy. Unhappily, Major Dawnay was killed by a shrapnel shell, but not until the British position was saved.

You are accustomed to think of the 2nd Life Guards in all the glory of their peace uniform, in their steel helmets with horse-hair plumes, their gleaming breastplates, their white buckskin breeches and gloves, and their long knee-boots. Very different was the picture which they presented in the village street on that fierce day, their drab khaki uniforms splashed with mud and blood, their horses far in the rear, and they, on foot, lunging fiercely at the oncoming Germans with the bayonet. There is no pomp or glamour of gold lace, nodding plumes, and burnished steel on the modern battlefield.

Kavanagh's Brigade stemmed the torrent and held its trenches far into the night, until the 4th Brigade had strengthened its position. Next morning (7th November) our men made a counter-attack; but though German trenches were brilliantly captured, they could not be retained. It was during this attack that Captain J. F. Vallentin of the South Staffords won the Victoria Cross.[90]

Once more there was a lull. Nothing worthy of mention happened on the 8th, 9th, and 10th, but on the 11th the storm broke out again in all its fury.

You will remember that at Waterloo, when the cannon of the advancing Prussians were heard in the distance, and Napoleon saw defeat staring him in the face, he staked all on a charge of his Old Guard—the Guard that "dies but never surrenders." Six thousand of these men, the very flower and pride of his army, were hurled at the long-tried British. As they rushed up the slope, the British Guards, who had been lying down behind the top of the ridge, sprang to their feet and poured a volley into the enemy. The advancing columns wavered, and our men, charging with the bayonet, thrust them down the hill in utter confusion.

The Kaiser was now about to follow the example of Napoleon and make one mighty effort to snatch victory out of defeat by launching his famous Prussian Guards against the stubborn foe. The Prussian Guards are the very apple of the Kaiser's eye; they are all picked men, over six feet in height, of wonderful discipline and unquenchable courage, and they count it the highest honour that life holds to be selected from the ordinary regiments for service as the bodyguard of the Emperor. If living men could "hack their way through," these were the men to do it.

True, the Guards had not yet covered themselves with glory. They had suffered heavily at Charleroi[91] and Guise;[92] they had been badly beaten in the marshes of the Gond,[93] and had lost many of their numbers at Rheims;[94] but now, under the eye of the Kaiser himself, they were to sweep all before them and succeed where their comrades of the line had failed. Thirteen battalions of them were brought up from the Arras district with great speed and secrecy, and on Wednesday, 11th November, they were thrust against the point of the salient to the north and south of the Ypres-Menin road. The day opened with the most furious artillery attack known up to that time. The British trenches were continuously assailed with lyddite[95] and shrapnel; but our gallant men hung on, wondering how long they could exist in that tornado of spouting earth and flying shard.

For eight hours the terrific cannonade continued. About seven in the evening, when the sky was dark and rain was falling, British aeroplanes appeared overhead and began to sweep the plain with their searchlights. In their glare our men saw to their amazement the Prussian Guards advancing towards their trenches with the high, prancing step of a Potsdam parade—the officers with their swords at the "Carry," and the lines of men as steady as a rock. On they marched, with flags flying and drums beating, but never a rifle snapped from the British trenches. Already the Guards felt the thrill of approaching victory; to them it seemed that the Allied line had been destroyed by the terrible cannonade. In a few short hours they would be in Ypres; a few days more and they would gaze across the narrow seas to the white cliffs of that hated land which they had sworn to subdue.

They were eighty yards from the British trenches now, and their pace quickened. Suddenly they were caught in a whirlwind of fire; shrapnel hissed among them, machine guns clacked viciously, and French and British rifles spat death at them from front and flank. They went down in hundreds, but the gaps were filled up, and the line moved on unbroken. Battalions melted into companies, companies into platoons, and platoons into files, but still they were unchecked. Again and again they re-formed, only to see their ranks shattered once more; nevertheless their advance was not stayed.

So fixed was their resolution and so strong was the force of their assault that the Allied line was broken in three places. Our first-line trenches were swamped with the gray flood, some of which poured into the tangle of woods behind, where a wild, desperate battle raged amidst the trees for two days. Furiously counter-attacked, and enfiladed by machine-gun fire, the Guards were finally driven back to the two short sections of trench which they had won. Even here they were not secure. The "Fighting Fifth"[96] held a salient between them, and took merciless toll of them while fresh attacks were being prepared.

On the hundredth day of the war the Prussian Guard came, it saw, it was conquered. At nightfall the larger part of it lay dead in the wood—in some places eight ranks deep. The mighty effort of the Kaiser had failed; the flower of his army had been flung away, yet Ypres was as far off as ever.

On the 12th and the following days there were further assaults, during one of which Lieutenant Dimmer of the King's Royal Rifles won the Victoria Cross for heroic fighting, which will be detailed later.[97] All the German efforts were fruitless, and on the 17th, when French reinforcements gave the sorely-tried British a respite, the enemy began to vent his baffled rage on the famous old Cloth Hall of Ypres. So far it had been spared in order that from its ancient walls the Kaiser might announce to the world that Belgium was his. Now that the Guard had failed, and Ypres still defied him, he spitefully ordered his artillery to batter down the historic building which seemed to mock at his discomfiture.

The story of one other German failure must be told to round off this account of the First Battle of Ypres. While the Prussian Guard was making its vain effort, the left wing of the Würtemberg army was attacking the extreme left of the salient between Zonnebeke and Bixschoote. This portion of the line was held by Zouaves, French Territorials, and cavalry. Against them was flung an overwhelming force of Germans, including the left wing of the Würtemberg army. Around Bixschoote the fight raged with such fierceness that the place was choked with dead. Had it been captured the enemy would have carried Ypres from the north. The Zouaves, always famous as dashing fighters, excelled themselves in the defence of Bixschoote, and at no point of the Allied front did the enemy lose more heavily. For nearly a month the Zouaves held the pass until the weather broke and the high winds and snow blizzards of winter set in. So the storm of battle died away in a tempest of nature's making.