We now return to the sodden plains of Flanders, where the torn and slashed fields, the riven woods, and the tattered hedgerows are beginning to don the livery of spring. Men looking out of their trenches are gladdened by the pale sunshine, the tender green of the young leaves, the songs of the birds, the patches of blue in the showery sky, and the early flowers that coyly peep out amidst the grass. These signs, which in the happy days of peace foretell the manifold delights of summer, have no such meaning for the men in the trenches; yet they are welcome, for they indicate that the long inactivity of the winter is drawing to a close. The day will soon arrive when the soiled and battered men who have watched each other so long from muddy holes in the ground will come to close grips again. Fierce, relentless warfare will begin once more; with what result only the future can tell. One thing is certain—many of those who now watch the miracle of spring will never see the glory of summer.
The month of March has come. The trenches are in much the same position as they were in the preceding November. The gains and losses of the last five months have been trifling. But amongst the Allies there is a feeling that their day has at last arrived. Especially strong is this belief in the British lines. New troops are crossing the narrow seas every day; the Canadians and many Territorial divisions are in the field, and before the month is over there are half a million Britons on French and Flemish soil. Never before have we arrayed such a mighty army. It is fifty-five times as great as that with which King Harry charged the French at Agincourt, twelve times as great as that with which Wellington won victories in the Peninsula, twenty-five times as great as the British part of the mixed army with which he made an end of Napoleon at Waterloo, and twice as great as that which brought the South African War to a close. Four months ago the little British army had barely been able to beat off the fierce attacks of an overwhelming enemy. By miracles of valour alone had our much-tried soldiers been able to stem the torrent in the first onset of its fury. Now, for every man who kept the gate at La Bassée and Ypres there are four. Britons and Germans have now changed parts. It is ours to attack, theirs to defend.
By the middle of February our General Staff felt itself strong enough to take the offensive. In Chapter IX. I told you how the French in Champagne had punctured the German line by means of an intense bombardment of the opposing trenches. We were now ready to make a similar attempt. If you look at the map on page 132, you will see a thick black line showing the position of our trenches about midway between La Bassée and Estaires. In front of the village of Neuve Chapelle this line makes a distinct sag to the westward. It was upon this section of the line that we meant to operate, and we hoped that we might not only capture the village and straighten out our line, but push the Germans off the Aubers ridge, from which coign of vantage the La Bassée-Lille railway line could be commanded. If fortune were kind, we might even reach Lille itself.
Though Neuve Chapelle is only a small village, its fame is now world wide, and it will figure in the history books of the future. It is an unimportant collection of houses and small farms scattered about a junction of country roads, with a church in its centre. Our soldiers looking eastward from the British front could see the long, straggling line of houses among gardens, and the white church standing up tall and clear from the flat, marshy land. Let us suppose that we are aviators flying over the pretty village. What do we see? First, we notice the broad highway running from La Bassée to Estaires (AA), and from this road see two other roads, less than a mile apart, running parallel in a north-easterly direction (BB and CC). A road (DD) almost parallel to the broad highway (AA) connects these roads, and thus forms a diamond-shaped figure which is divided into two by a winding cross road (EE). Neuve Chapelle lies within the northern half of the diamond. Along the road (DD) the houses are small, and stand close together; those along the roads CC and EE are surrounded by gardens and orchards. At the north-east of the village (F) there is a small piece of ground filled with enclosures, and bounded on three sides by roads. Here the Germans have made a strong post so as to flank the approaches to the village from the north. Between the houses and the La Bassée-Estaires road are meadows and ploughland, seamed with German trenches. At the northern angle of the diamond our own trenches are but 100 yards away from those of the Germans. In other parts of the line the distance is greater.
From our lofty eyrie we look eastward, and make out a clearly-marked ridge which is well known to us as the Aubers ridge. We see at a glance that Neuve Chapelle is the gateway to this ridge. Between the ridge and the village runs a small stream, and behind it, to the south-east, is the Biez wood. Along the stream is the German second line of defence, with strong posts at the bridgeheads. We notice that the stream crosses the La Bassée-Estaires road, and that to the north of it is a group of ruined buildings which our men call "Port Arthur." A mile eastward from the village is Pietre[27] Mill, with a tall chimney, which is a landmark for miles around. From the mill to Port Arthur runs a great network of German trenches. Earthworks are also to be seen in the Biez wood to the south-east of the stream. It is clear that before our soldiers can attain the ridge and threaten Lille they must carry this formidable line.
On 8th March Sir John French called his commanders together and explained his plans. The main assault was to be made by the First Army, and two Indian divisions were to share in it, while the Second Army was to form a general support. In order to prevent the Germans from sending up reinforcements to the scene of the main attack, two other attacks were to take place at the same time, the one from Givenchy, the other just south of Armentières. A great mass of artillery was to be brought up, and a bombardment four times as intense as any which we had yet made was to be undertaken. Then when the German trenches were wrecked, our infantry were to go forward and attempt to drive a deep wedge into the German line. If all went well, we might be in Lille within a few days.
On the 8th and 9th of March our big guns were brought up very quietly and placed in position. We were able to do this quite unknown to the Germans, because our aircraft had gained the upper hand of theirs. All sorts of big guns were massed together, and their positions are roughly shown on the map (page 132). Meanwhile, from ten o'clock that evening endless files of men marched silently down the roads leading towards our trenches. Watch the troops as they file by. Here are sturdy Garhwalis, with slouch hats and kukris at their belts, and farther down the road you see Gurkhas. Here, too, are the Leicesters—"the Tigers," as they are called from their badge. Yonder go the Lincolns and the Berkshires. You see the silver cross of the Rifle Brigade, the star and bugle of the Scottish Rifles, the Black Watch in their bonnets, the North Hants and the Worcesters, heroes of Ypres. Halted by the road are the Middlesex, the West Yorks, the Devons. Every British dialect is heard; men are here from Land's End to John o' Groats. All are eager for the fray; all long for the moment when the whistles will blow and the command will be given, "Over the parapet! Charge!"
Before morning our trenches were literally wedged with men, waiting in silence for the dawn. From the enemy's front there was as yet no sign of alarm, though their trenches at many points were less than one hundred yards away. A prisoner afterwards said that his captain noticed the massing of our men, and sent urgent messages to the artillery to open fire, but with no result. Before sunrise on the morning of the 10th hot meals were served out all along our line, for, as everybody knows, a Briton fights best when his inner man is satisfied. Then came another long wait in tense silence. Aeroplanes buzzed aloft, and every now and then officers looked at their watches. Every man knew that with the earliest light of morning the guns would begin to speak, and that some time later he and his fellows would be out in the open, making for the enemy's line as hard as they could pelt. The minutes dragged on. Would the dawn never come?
Away to the east the faint light of a gray and sullen day now began to appear. The heavy clouds hung low in the sky, and ahead the mist shrouded the view. Before long the Germans knew that a big attack was preparing, but they took no steps to meet it. Our artillery now began to boom; "ranging shots" were being fired, but soon all was silent again. On the stroke of 7.30 some 350 guns suddenly spoke with an overpowering din that racked the brain and split the ears. The terrific roar was incessant, and the discharges were so rapid that it seemed as if they came from a gigantic machine gun. The very earth shook as though struck by Thor's[28] hammer. The first shells that hit the German position raised huge clouds of smoke and dust, and nothing could be seen but the green fumes of lyddite and the spouting columns of red earth. Barbed-wire entanglements were blown into a myriad fragments, parapets crumbled like sand castles, and trenches on which men had worked for months were flung into shapeless ruin. Bodies of mangled men were hurled high into the air, and ghastly fragments were blown back into the British lines. Four shells were hurled on every yard of the German trenches, and more ammunition was used in the thirty-five minutes during which the bombardment lasted than in a year and a half of the South African War. Long before the awful cannonade ended the German trenches had ceased to exist. They were reduced to a welter of earth and dust.
While the bombardment lasted our troops could walk outside their trenches in safety, for the Germans were so "pinned to the ground" that those of them who remained alive dared not lift their heads. From behind the ragged clouds in the sky where the aeroplanes were sailing the sun now began to shine, making still darker the black pall that hung over the German position, and flashing back from the rows of gleaming bayonets in the British trenches. At five minutes to eight our gunners lengthened their fuses, and shells began to fall fast and furiously on the village itself. Some of the houses were seen to leap into the air. Columns of dust like the sand spouts of the desert sprang up; trees went down like wheat before a sickle; bricks and stones fell in torrents. Then came the great moment. Whistles blew; our men swarmed over the parapets and rushed towards the German trenches.
Five separate infantry attacks were made on the village. The first attack was made by the 24th Brigade, to the north of the village; the second, by the 23rd Brigade, against its north-east corner; the third, by the 25th Division, against the village itself; the fourth, by the Garhwal Brigade of Indians, against its south-west corner; and the fifth, by the Dehra Dun Brigade, against Port Arthur. The 25th pushed into the wreckage of the German trenches without difficulty. They were only occupied by the shreds and tatters of the dead and a few dazed and stupefied men, their faces yellow with fumes, their clothes torn from their backs, and their equipment and weapons destroyed. In some places a few machine guns which had escaped destruction kept up fire from concealed positions, and snipers took toll of our men as they advanced. The first to reach the goal were the 2nd Lincolns and the 2nd Royal Berkshires, who opened out to let the Irish Rifles and the Rifle Brigade pass through them and take the village. From a trench in front of the Berkshires came the rattle of machine-gun fire. Two German officers, alone, were working the gun, and they continued to fire until they fell beneath the bayonets of our men. Equally gallant deeds were done on the British side. A lance-corporal who had been wounded three times and had been told to lie down insisted on advancing with his fellows. Nor was he the only wounded man who plied bayonet and grenade on that red day.
The village was now only a rubbish heap; the church was a broken shell, and the very graves in the churchyard had been torn open by our shells. Strange to say, while houses and trees were falling, a crucifix at the cross roads remained untouched, and spread its gaunt arms in mute protest above the terrible scene of slaughter and destruction. Once more our gunners lifted their sights and lengthened their fuses, and between the village and the German supports in the rear created a curtain of fire through which no living thing could pass. Then our men swept into the battered streets. Through the thick pall of smoke Germans were seen on all sides, some holding up their hands, others flying for life, and others, again, firing from the windows, from behind carts, and even from behind overturned tombstones. Machine guns clacked viciously from houses on the outskirts, and many a Briton fell a victim to them. Nevertheless, before long the village was wholly ours.
The Garhwalis to the right of the 25th were equally successful. Within a quarter of an hour after the assault began they had carried the first line of German trenches, and soon afterwards the 3rd Gurkhas met the Rifle Brigade in the southern outskirts of the village. Together they swept on past the heap of ruins which had once been the hamlet of Port Arthur into the woods at the foot of the rising ground.
Now comes the tragical part of the story. The 23rd Brigade, which attacked to the left of the 25th, advanced, you will remember, against the north-east of the village. Unhappily, the artillery had not properly shelled this part of the German position, and in a slight hollow the wire entanglements and the trenches were almost untouched. When the 2nd Devons, the 2nd West Yorks, the 2nd Scottish Rifles (Cameronians), and the 2nd Middlesex pushed forward they found themselves up against unbroken wire. The Cameronians suffered severely. A storm of bullets from rifles and machine guns assailed them, but they never wavered. Go on they could not; go back they would not. Men were seen in that zone of death tearing at the wire with raw and bleeding hands, while their comrades were falling fast around them. Those who survived were obliged to retire and lie down in the open under a tornado of shot and shell, until one company made a gap and broke through the line of defence. Fifteen officers, including the commander, Colonel Bliss, were killed or wounded, and when the terrible day was over only 150 men out of 750 answered the roll call. "You have many noble honours on your colours," said Sir John French, when he addressed the gallant remnant some days later; "none are finer than that of Neuve Chapelle, which will soon be added to them."
The 2nd Middlesex had a similar trial, and bore it with the same bravery. Machine guns were turned on them from several points, and as they pressed forward men fell at every step. Three times they strove to reach the trench, but three times they failed, and were forced to lie down in the open until a message was sent back to the artillery. Guns were relaid on the trench, and before long the entanglements were destroyed. When this was done the Middlesex, aided by a bombing party, carried the position, and were able to move forward to an orchard on the north-east of the village, where they joined the Devonshires. The 1st Battalion of the King's Liverpool, which was attached to the ill-fated division, also found itself up against unbroken wire. A company sergeant-major spent five minutes under the entanglement trying to cut it, and miraculously escaped with his life. The colonel, though wounded, refused to leave his men, and remained with them throughout the day. A young officer who had been shot down near the wire kept shouting to his men to come on until his breath failed him. In this battalion alone 100 men were killed and 119 were wounded.
Meanwhile the success of the 25th Brigade had turned the flank of the Germans north of the village, and when the 23rd Brigade at last managed to struggle through the orchard and join hands with the 24th Brigade, which had attacked to their left, the time had come for the combined force to sweep onward to the Aubers ridge. The Germans were still dazed with surprise, and completely paralyzed by the heavy bombardment of the morning; while our men were flushed with victory, and were eager to press forward. But at this moment there was a long delay. The telephone wires had been cut by the bursting shells, and it was difficult to get orders quickly to the first line. The check to the 23rd Brigade had thrown everything out of gear. A halt had to be called for fresh troops to come up, and they were very slow in arriving. The village was ours by noon, but not until 3.30 did the reserve brigades arrive. Had they been brought up promptly the Aubers ridge would have been won. As it was, we were robbed of a great victory. A splendid chance had been thrown away, and an unavailing sacrifice of life was to follow.
The newly-arrived brigades, all belonging to the 7th Division, which had won such glory in the October battle round Ypres, formed up on the left of the 24th Brigade, and the attack began again; but everywhere difficulties were met with. The Germans had taken advantage of the lull to strengthen their third line of trenches, and had brought up reinforcements. When our men advanced they were ready to receive them. The Indian brigades pushed through the wood towards the ridge, but could make but little headway, and suffered terrible losses. One of the Indian battalions would have been entirely cut off but for a splendid bombing attack by the 2nd Leicesters. It was at this point of the battle that the 3rd London—a Territorial regiment—made a brilliant charge to aid the front line, and won the cheers of their regular comrades by their gallantry and devotion.
Further to our left the 25th Division was checked along the line of the little river, while the 24th Brigade and 7th Division were held up by machine-gun fire from the cross roads and the defences of Pietre Mill. The line of the river could not be forced without artillery "preparation." Everywhere in this part of the line there were German positions which our big guns had not touched. To push infantry against them was simple murder. So, as the evening closed in, we busied ourselves in strengthening the positions which we had already won. The village was ours; we had gained a mile, and had straightened out our line. We had, however, failed in the bigger business of seizing the Aubers ridge.
Not until darkness fell did the 1st Brigade of the First Corps arrive. Next morning our guns began to boom again, but they could not repeat the surprise of yesterday. The Germans had pulled themselves together; their lines were strongly reinforced, and mist prevented the artillery observers from directing the fire of their guns. More than once our infantry were caught by their own shells. We could make no further headway, and on the 12th the Bavarians advanced against Neuve Chapelle, an officer on horseback with drawn sword leading them right up to the Worcesters, who met them with a shattering fire. At another point twenty-one machine guns were turned against them, and they fell by the hundred. So fierce was the fire that the survivors were forced to protect themselves behind ramparts of their own dead.
All that day the 7th Division struggled to carry Pietre Mill, while the rest of the line attacked the bridges over the river and the German trenches in the wood. Round about the mill the fighting was very fierce; ground was gained and lost again; houses were captured and recaptured; and friend and foe were mixed up in confused hand-to-hand fighting. Here it was that the 6th Gordons lost Lieutenant-Colonel Maclean. A subaltern found him lying in the open behind the trench with a bullet in his back, and sinking fast. The young officer brought him morphia to ease his pain, and when he had taken it he said, "And now, my boy, your place is not here. Go about your duty." So died a very gallant gentleman.
Victoria Crosses were won on this part of the front by Private Edward Barber and Lance-Corporal Wilfred Fuller of the Grenadiers for a brilliant bombing attack, of which we shall read later. Further south, the 2nd Rifle Brigade managed to carry a section of German trenches, and Sergeant-Major Daniels and Corporal Noble did deeds of outstanding valour which won them the proudest decoration that a soldier can wear. Unhappily, their unit, the Rifle Brigade, was enfiladed and forced to fall back on its old lines.
By the evening of the 12th Sir John French was convinced that nothing more could be won, and he ordered the attack to be suspended for the present. All the 13th was spent by our weary soldiers in digging themselves in on the banks of the little river which they had failed to cross. So worn out were many of the men that they fell asleep while standing at their loopholes. Counter-attacks were to be expected, and they soon began, but met with no success. Only at one point, north-east of the village, did the Germans manage to get into our trenches, and their stay was brief indeed. In one of their attacks they lost more than 600 prisoners, and the captured men seemed glad to be out of the terrible fighting.
The most severe counter-attack was made not at Neuve Chapelle, but at the tiny Belgian hamlet of St. Eloi, 15 miles to the north, and at the junction of two main roads. On the 14th, when mists lay thick on the flats, the Germans, following our example at Neuve Chapelle, began a fierce bombardment of our trenches, and at the same time exploded mines on our front and on a large mound which we held to the south-east of the village. The infantry attacks of the enemy were very determined; our men were driven from their trenches, and our whole line had to fall back. Under cover of the darkness we prepared for a counter-attack, and on the morning of the 15th managed to win back most of the lost ground. The mound, which our soldiers called "the Mound of Death," was not recovered; it lay in the No Man's Land between the rival trenches, exposed to the gun fire of friend and foe.
In this action Princess Patricia's Own specially distinguished itself, and won the praise of Sir John French. It co-operated with a battalion of the Rifle Brigade in an attack on the mound, and advanced with great coolness and resolution, but was checked by a murderous machine-gun fire. Three platoons, however, held on to a breastwork, while the remainder retired across a zone of fire without leaving behind them a single wounded man. Five days later Princess Pat's lost its commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Francis Farquhar, one of the bravest and kindest of men.
You will remember that our assault on Neuve Chapelle was supported by other attacks on various parts of the German front, in order to prevent the enemy from suddenly massing reinforcements against our main attack. I need not describe these operations, for they were only "holding attacks," and were not expected to succeed. Nevertheless the assault on a hamlet to the south-east of Armentières was successful, and an advance of 300 yards on a front of half a mile was made.
Our airmen were very busy during the three days of struggle, though the weather was against them. Bombs were dropped on railway stations and bridges behind the German lines, and much damage was done. One daring aviator flying over Lille hit a house which was used as the German headquarters.
The Battle of Neuve Chapelle was not a failure, but it was not a complete success. We straightened out the sag in our line; we won the village, advanced one mile, took 2,000 prisoners, and killed or wounded 20,000 of the enemy. Our offensive put new heart into our men, who went into battle with the utmost zeal, joking and laughing even under fire. It is said that when they crowded into the German first-line trenches and there was no room for them all to line the parapet, a man would pull his comrade down, crying out that it was his turn for a shot. The Indians greatly welcomed the opportunity of fighting in the open, and the Gurkhas and Garhwalis plied their kukris with deadly effect. Our losses were very heavy. In the three days' fighting we had about 13,000 casualties: 2,337 men and 190 officers were killed.
Our failure to "make good" at a time when the Germans were almost at our mercy was as much due to accident as to blunder. Parts of the enemy lines had not been properly "prepared," and some of our troops were shelled by their own guns. This was, no doubt, due to the dull sky and the mists, which prevented the observers from properly controlling the fire of their guns. It was our first attempt to combine artillery and infantry on a great scale, and, naturally, mistakes were made. The best result was the new ardour which inspired our men. "This time," said one of them, "it was pushing the Germans, instead of trying to hold them. You can't realize, unless you have been in it from Mons onwards, how that bucks you up."
The German people took their beating very badly. They accused us of using German prisoners to screen our advance, and they complained bitterly that we had brought such a vast force of artillery against them. "This is not war; it is murder," they said, coolly ignoring the fact that a mighty artillery onslaught had been their favourite method of attack since the beginning of the war. When they were given a taste of their own medicine they cried out in the usual fashion of the bully.
As soon as the wounded men from Neuve Chapelle arrived in Great Britain, budgets of personal experiences began to appear in the newspapers. All the men dwelt upon the terrible effects of our artillery and the splendid spirit shown by our troops, not only while under fire, but when stricken down. Private Selwood of the Rifle Brigade said: "Men who fought at Mons have told me that Mons was only a tea-fight compared with Neuve Chapelle. In the half-hour's bombardment that began the day some say 400 guns were used; others, 525. The noise was terrific. Our boys went on cheerful enough, singing 'Tipperary' and anything. When we got to the dug-outs we found dozens of Germans, all dead. It was a surprise attack. They did not know it was coming off. At the third line of trenches I was hit in the leg by a bullet. I crawled back about five hundred yards, because there was too much work for the stretcher-bearers. They worked heroically, taking the most serious cases first."
A private of the 4th Black Watch thus describes a Highland charge: "We witnessed a magnificent charge of the first battalion of a famous Scottish regiment. Artillery fire ceased suddenly, and before the enemy could be reorganized the 'kilties' were over our trenches and dashing at them with fixed bayonets. It might have been a parade advance, so perfectly did each section of the line move forward. Th The first lot sprang up and over the German trenches, followed almost immediately by the rest, and in a very few minutes the trench was ours. Just before dusk I laughed for the first time that day. And no wonder! for at one point on that gory battlefield stood a notice-board inscribed with one word, 'Danger!'"
"Eye-Witness" tells us how our men behaved while they were watching the artillery bombarding the enemy's trenches and waiting for the word to advance. "They could see our shells bursting in the thick veil of smoke and dust that hung over the German trenches, and as the minutes wore on our artillery fire grew hotter and hotter, and the time grew nearer for them to rush forward. Their excitement rose to fever pitch. In some places they were seen to jump up on the parapets, brandishing their rifles towards the Germans, and shouting remarks which were drowned in the roar of the guns. When the rush was actually made our losses were trifling. It was only in the subsequent advance that heavy casualties occurred."
It is noteworthy that the enemy's wounded had to thank our men for many acts of kindness, even in the excitement of the assault. One of our soldiers, finding a wounded Prussian officer who had had his arm blown off by a shell, carried him to a place of safety under heavy fire. In one cellar a portly German was found dancing about in an agony of fear, screaming in a high-pitched voice in English, "Mercy! mercy! I am married!" "Your missus won't thank us for sending you home," replied one of our men, who took him prisoner, and his life was spared. A Rifle Brigade lieutenant, falling over a sandbag into a German trench, came upon two officers, hardly more than boys, holding their hands above their heads. Their faces were ashen gray, and they were trembling. One said gravely in good English, "Don't shoot! I am from London also." They too were spared.
During the counter-attacks of the Germans from the Biez wood their losses were very heavy. Line after line went down before our rifles. One of our Sepoys said that shooting the enemy was like cutting grain. Some of the German officers displayed the most reckless courage in leading the attacks. On more than one occasion they invited certain death by riding forward on horseback to within a few hundred yards of our line. None of those who so exposed themselves escaped. One German officer in charge of a machine gun kept his gun in action throughout the terrible bombardment, and then, when our men charged down upon him, awaited death, calmly standing on the parapet of the trench and emptying his revolver at them.
The Indians were greatly pleased at the result of the action, and constantly asked their officers when they were going to have another fight. Many stories are told of their prowess. One Gurkha made his way into a house, and single-handed captured five Germans, whom he marched off at the point of his kukri. It was curious to see the Indians returning with articles of German equipment. When they held them up for inspection they called out, "Souvenir! souvenir[29]!"
Canadian infantry were not specially engaged in the fighting at Neuve Chapelle, but the Canadian artillery played an active part in the bombardment which preceded the British advance, and the infantry were ready during the battle to go forward at a moment's notice. A Winnipeg "boy" wrote home as follows: "At 5.30 on the morning of Wednesday (the first day of the Neuve Chapelle attack) our officer told us to hurry over our breakfast, as a heavy fire was to be opened by our side, and the enemy, in replying, would probably drop a few rounds in our vicinity. We had just started to line up in the road outside when 'whop!' came a shell, which burst a few yards ahead. 'Double for the trenches!' was the order, and away we went. The trenches were only about one hundred and fifty yards away, yet the Germans had our position to a foot, and sixteen rounds of shrapnel burst literally in our midst. Had they burst overhead, as they should have done, it's a very fair bet that nearly every man of us would have 'gone west;' but only one man was hit, a fellow a short distance back of me. . . . We had to stay in the trenches until evening that day, and all next day."
A wounded German officer said that the suddenness of our bombardment was "like the burst of a great storm, instantly filling all the space with countless crashes of thunder, flame, smoke, and lead. Six of your great black howitzer shells," said he, "fell within fifty yards of a trench on my right, and so completely was our trench blown asunder that when the earth fell back it buried hundreds with it. When the storm abated I crawled out, only to be bayoneted in the shoulder by, as I learned, a Territorial, and while I was lying there thousands of British pursuing our retreating battalion passed by me. But I lifted my sound arm, and they spared me—why, I do not know. It seemed to take hours for the British soldiers to pass me, and then I saw groups of my own regiment, unguarded and without guns, many slightly wounded, walking back to the British base. Such faces I did not think could be worn by human beings; they were orange with lyddite smoke. The men were palsied with what they had been through, and were too dazed to answer my call."
The part played by the 2nd Battalion Lincolnshire Regiment and the Irish Rifles in the advance towards the line of the little river is thus described:—
"Two companies of the Lincolns rushed the enemy's trenches under a pretty hot fire. Grenades were thrown at the enemy, and they ran out of their trench to the rear. There, however, Captain Peake's company threw grenades to cut off their line of retreat, and they ran back to their trench and surrendered. Captain Peake, who had advanced down the trench holding his blue flag up in the air, offered a conspicuous target to the enemy, and was shot. Meanwhile two other companies had followed through the gap caused by the charge; the enemy seemed in full retreat, and our men were very elated.
"Many who were hit continued to advance. Lance-Corporal Perry was hit rather badly in the foot three times, and, though told to take cover and lie down, persisted in going on and rallying his men. The reinforced line continued to advance until they reached a broad strip of water running right across their front, from four feet to five feet deep, and quite impassable. After a while a plank was found sufficiently long to bridge the water, and the men crossed to form a firing line on the other side. The heavy guns were shelling the Germans about one hundred and fifty yards in front, and on the Lincolns opening fire they retired.
"A few minutes after the Lincolns had recrossed the water to a slight rise behind it the Irish Rifles went through, and were given a lusty cheer. Lieutenant Graham was rallying his men with a French newsboy's horn, giving a 'View hullo' like a Master of Hounds collecting his pack. One company of the Lincolns crossed the water for the third time and assisted the Irish Rifles in making a trench. Afterwards they returned to entrench themselves behind the water."
A young officer who fought in the battle wrote home as follows: "My word, mother, yesterday we commenced a most almighty attack on the unsuspecting enemy. It had all been planned and organized for some time, and I should think it has been the finest show on record. Whether we had the advantage in the number of men I cannot say, but we certainly had in guns. You never heard such a din in all your life. All the farmhouses vibrated all day long, and during the first half-hour there were some 17,000 shells screaming towards the Bosches. Our lads who were wounded came down the road in batches of twos and threes to the dressing stations. They were very cheerful. They simply laughed and cracked jokes amongst themselves. They are a wonderful lot of Tommies. They were all so jolly brave, and keen, and determined."
A private of the Berkshire Regiment thus related his experiences: "We lost fairly heavily in the big fight at Neuve Chapelle, but the loss we inflicted on the Germans must have been frightful. They were lying all over the place. There was great rejoicing when we found that our regiment had been selected for the post of honour with the Lincolns forming the first line of the frontal attack. . . . Our boys were out like one man, and charged across to their first trench. We took that in less than five minutes, and, leaving a few men to secure the prisoners, swept on to the next. Men were falling on every side, as their machine guns and artillery were playing on us from beyond the village, and some of the sights were terrible. It seemed as though the air was full of shrapnel and bullets; but our boys were magnificent. Not one man wavered, even for a second, and nothing could have stopped that charge. The second trench was soon cleared out, and our bomb throwers—we call them 'Tickler's Artillery'[30]—did terrible execution. On we went for the third line. This was a bit more difficult, as there were a thick hedge and some barbed wire. But the boys would not be stopped, and in a very short time the third line was ours. The Rifles now came on to take the village, and they gave us a cheer and a shout of 'Well done, Berks!' as they passed through. We gave them an answering call as they charged and captured the village."
I will conclude this chapter with a brief account of the ten heroes who were awarded Victoria Crosses for splendid deeds of valour at Neuve Chapelle.
Private William Buckingham, 2nd Battalion, the Leicestershire Regiment.
You will remember that at Neuve Chapelle the 2nd Leicesters were attached to the Garhwal Brigade, and that when a Garhwali battalion was cut off a bombing party of the Leicesters brought them timely and effective assistance. No regiment played a finer part in the battle than the Leicesters. The Victoria Cross was awarded to Private Buckingham for his bravery and devotion to duty in rescuing wounded men and in rendering first aid to the fallen while exposed to heavy fire on several occasions, notably on the 10th and 12th of March.
Rifleman Gobar Sing Negi, 2nd Battalion, 39th Garhwal Rifles.
Gobar Sing Negi was the third Indian to win the Victoria Cross. During our attack on the German positions he was one of a bayonet party which entered a main trench. Pushing on in advance of his fellows, the gallant Indian bombed the enemy from traverse to traverse, and at last forced them to surrender. Unhappily, he did not live to wear the coveted honour, but fell in a later stage of the engagement.
Corporal William Anderson, 2nd Battalion, Alexandra Princess of Wales's Own (Yorkshire) Regiment.
On 12th March, at Neuve Chapelle, Corporal Anderson led three men armed with bombs against a large party of the enemy, then in possession of one of our trenches. After he had thrown his own bombs he found that his three comrades had been shot down, and that he was alone amongst the Germans. Nothing dismayed, he took the bombs of the three wounded men, hurled them against the foe, then opened rapid fire upon them, and by his prompt and determined action kept back the Germans until his comrades arrived and drove them from the trench.
Private E. Barber, 1st Battalion, Grenadier Guards.
During the fighting round Pietre Mill on 12th March Private Barber, who was one of a grenade company, ran ahead of his fellows and threw bombs on the enemy with such effect that a large number of them at once surrendered. When his comrades reached him, they found him quite alone and unsupported, with Germans holding up their hands all around him.
Company Sergeant-Major Harry Daniels and Acting Corporal Cecil Reginald Noble, both of the 2nd Battalion, Rifle Brigade (Prince Consort's Own).
On 12th March the 2nd Battalion of the Rifle Brigade was held up by entanglements near Pietre Mill, and was subjected to a heavy machine-gun fire. Sergeant-Major Daniels volunteered to go forward and cut the wire. "Come along," he called to his chum, Corporal Noble, and without a moment's hesitation the two men rushed across the forty yards that separated them from the obstacle. Lying on their backs, they cut the lower wire, and thus opened a gap for their comrades to proceed. A bullet struck Daniels in the thigh, and a few minutes later he heard a gasp, and called out, "What's up?" Noble replied, "I am hit in the chest, old man," and became unconscious. Shortly afterwards he died. Daniels dragged himself to a shell hole, where he remained until dusk, and then painfully made his way back to his own lines. When interviewed in a London hospital, he had little to say about his own exploit, but was full of admiration for the gallantry of his dead friend. "Noble and I," he said, "had done everything together since we went out in November. I trusted him, and he trusted me. It was hot work, but the worst moment was when I heard my poor chum call out that he was hit in the chest. I am more glad about Noble's V.C. than I am about my own."
The exploit of these two brave men recalls that of the famous Swiss patriot Arnold von Winkelried at the Battle of Sempach, 1386. An unbroken line of Austrian lances barred the way of the Swiss; whereupon Winkelried determined to sacrifice himself in order that his comrades might break through.