1914 (British Ace) (11 page)

The lieutenant arrived. His red face told me that he was not happy about his orders. “We are to open fire in precisely fifteen minutes.  The regiment will then attack from the other side.”

George and I just nodded.  It made sense.  Of course we would have to hold the German’s attention for long enough to allow the captain to lead his squadron amongst the Germans.  If we could time it right then it would be a slaughter.

I did not take out my pocket watch.  It was unnecessary for Lieutenant Ramsden looked at his own every few seconds. I sighted my rifle on a group of soldiers sat outside their tent smoking. I heard a sigh and then the lieutenant said, “Open fire!”

The twenty odd rifles all barked at the same time.  The soldier I had targeted pitched forwards.  I then worked the bolt as fast as I could.  The magazine was soon empty.  As I reloaded it I saw that the Germans were advancing towards us.  The hedges were shredded by their bullets but they were firing blindly.  All that they could see was the smoke. I saw Jimmy fall backwards; a bullet hole made him look as though he had three eyes.  He was next to the lieutenant who looked shocked.

“We have to pull back now! We have done enough!” He turned and ran to the horses in the other field.

George snapped, “Hold fast! I’ll tell you when we go!” To be fair to the men none had followed our officer.  The Germans were now much more numerous but we were causing more casualties than they were.  The sound of our bugle, signalling the charge was a welcome one.  I saw the indecision on the German skirmish line as they glanced over their shoulders.

“Keep pouring it into them!”

The German bugle sounded and the skirmish line about faced and ran back towards the new threat.  I heard the deep rattle of a machine gun and I looked at George. He nodded, “Right lads, over the wall! Let’s help the captain and his squadron!”

It was not easy getting through the hedges which had been our friend while the Germans had been firing at us.  I rolled over and crashed to the ground. I was up in an instant and I waved forwards my section. I wished that I had fitted my bayonet but that was still on Caesar’s saddle along with my sword.

We ran fifty yards and then I held up my hand and shouted, “Halt and fire!” I
placed five well aimed shots in the direction of the Germans.  I saw at least one man fall. “Forward.” As he moved towards the Germans I could see the horses of our cavalry ahead.  We would have to stop soon or risk running into our own men.  I was about to order a halt when a German ran from a tent and suddenly bayoneted Tiny in the back.  He fell with a scream. Doddy saw his brother and the German.  He emptied his magazine at point blank range into the Hun.  The German’s head disappeared.

“Bastard!”
He dropped to his knees and cradled his brother in his arms. Tiny opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a trickle of blood. His eyes glazed over and we both knew that he was dead.  It had been a quick death.

“Come on Doddy, we’ll see to him later.”
The trooper nodded and, with a determined expression on his face, picked up his gun. “Hold the line here!”

There was a clatter of machine gun fire and I saw horses and troopers crash to the ground.  I saw that the machine gun was a hundred yards away.

“Sergeant Armstrong, I’m going after the machine gun.” George waved his acknowledgment.  I moved forward.  Doddy, Jack and Robbie followed me. I was about to order them to stay when I saw the determination on their faces. “Keep low.”

I slung my rifle over my shoulder and took out the Luger.  This was where a
grenade would have come in handy. The three men operating the machine gun were oblivious to our presence but their comrades were not. I saw a sergeant raise his rifle only to be shot by Robbie.  Doddy was like a man possessed.  I had never seen anyone fire as fast as he did.  Jack raised his gun to fire at the machine gunners but he was shot by three Germans before he could pull the trigger.  I shot two of them and Doddy smashed in the head of the third with his rifle.  I emptied my magazine at the machine gunners.  Two of them fell but they swung the barrel around in our direction as they died. I ran as fast as I could towards them.  Doddy and Robbie were right behind me.  I reasoned that even if the gunners got me my comrades would be able to finish them off.

I threw myself bodily at the two remaining gunners and the gun. The Luger’s barrel collided with the face of one of the men and the machine gun crashed over. The machine gunner’s face was bleeding from the Luger and I smashed the butt into his face over and over until he stopped moving. As I stood I saw Doddy pulling a bayonet from the remaining gunner’s body. I was about to ask where he had acquired the bayonet when I saw that it was a German rifle. The camp was now filled with the horsemen; I saw the colonel had arrived. The Germans were either surrendering or fleeing.  We had won but as I looked around I could see the cost.  Not only were my friends Tiny and Jack dead but Captain Ashcroft and many of his squadron lay in a mangled and bloody heap.  The Lancashire Yeomanry had come of age.

There was little to celebrate and much to do. Once the prisoners had been disarmed and penned we set to burying our dead. The service was hurried, we still had much to do but we needed to pay our respects to the fallen. The colonel and the chaplain both said words.  The colonel then detailed Lieutenant Jackson’s troop to escort the prisoners back to the rear while we remounted and headed towards the enemy once more.  We had found our gap and now we had to exploit it.

There were now just twenty men left in the troop and that included the less than useful lieutenant. Doddy still looked angry.
The funeral of his brother had been perfunctory at best. I remembered that he had promised his widowed mother that he would look after his little brother. “Robbie, keep an eye on the big fellah will you?”

“Right sarge.”

We could now hear as we rode north, the sound of the battle all the way along the line. In the distance we could hear bugles and the stutter of machine guns. They would be our biggest enemy. Our speed would be as nothing compared with the wall of lead they could spit out. A horse will still run, even with a bullet wound but it cannot run if it has been scythed by a machine gun.

George and his section led on this part and it was his scout, Jack Hargreaves
, who was shot by the waiting Germans. We turned and rode back to the small stand of trees. This time the whole regiment was close and the colonel took charge.

“Horse holders!”
Harry Grimes’ voice cracked like thunder.

We formed a skirmish line and the colonel led us forward.  He had his Webley in one hand and his sword in the other. There was a look of grim determination on his face.  Captain Ashcroft had been a close friend and, like Doddy, he was set on revenge.

The Germans had taken advantage of a fence at the far side of the field.  It would be a death trap to try to cross it. As soon as the first troopers tried to run a machine gun opened up and they were scythed down. “Take cover and bring up our machine gun.”
The regiment only had one machine gun; the regulars had two but the crew were desperate to use it. “The rest of you, independent fire!”

I could see little across the field but I aimed at the smoke.  The Germans were doing the same and soon the leaves and branches around my head were being s
hredded by the enemy bullets. I lay down, which gave me a better platform to shoot. “Lie down lads.  It is easier.” I saw Doddy still standing and I reached up to tug on his tunic. “Lie down you daft bugger.  You getting killed won’t bring your brother back will it?”

He glared at me and then nodded.  As he lay next to me he said, “How will I tell me mam?”

“I’ll do it.  I’ll write the letter for you. Just calm yourself down a bit eh?”

“Aye sarge.
Thanks.”

When the machine began to fire all thoughts of conversation disappeared. The leaves on the other side of the field began to disappear as the .303 bullets acted like a mechanical axe.

“B squadron! Begin to work your way across the field. A and C Squadrons give supporting fire.”

I watched as Captain Carrick led his men in short runs across the field. I admired their courage. I was not certain if I could run that gauntlet. I saw troopers falling but the
German machine gun had stopped.  Either it had jammed or the crew had been silenced.  Captain Carrick and his men were almost at the other hedge and the colonel shouted, “Lancashire Yeomanry! Charge!”

Doddy and I stood, “Come on lads!” We ran as fast as we could.  I still expected the chatter of a machine gun but it was just an occasional desultory shot from a rifle. I saw B Squadron as they disappeared behind the hedgerow and then it was our turn. We all yelled as we burst through but all we found were the dead and the wounded.  The Germans had fled.  The machine gun lay at a strange ang
le the crew all dead.

We all grinned at each other.  We had thought we would die and yet we had survived. I quickly checked to see if more of my men had died but they had not.  We had just lost the three.  They would be hard to replace but I still had my section. We had survived again.

The next two days of th
e Battle of the Marne followed the same pattern.  We rode after the fleeing Germans and, when they stopped, we dismounted and became infantry as we winkled them out of their positions. We found that we were luckier than the real infantry for they were attacking positions which had been prepared.  Because we were cavalry we managed to reach them before they had time to prepare themselves. They were just improvising and using whatever was to hand.  We still lost men but not in any great numbers. We heard rumours that the infantry were losing thousands of men.

We had not even had time to put up tents
at night and we slept where we could. The poor cooks were reduced to adding water to bully beef and serving that as a sort of instant soup.  We were so hungry that we wolfed down all that they produced. As we gratefully drank the hot sweet tea I said to George, “Well the sacrifice will be worth it if we can win the war before Christmas.”

He shook his head, “This won’t end by Christmas.  The generals won’t be bothered by a few soldiers getting killed.  It is land they want.  Until we are on the German border and beyond there will be no end to this war.”

That brought me up short.  I had not thought it through completely but I had assumed that we would all be home by Christmas and I would be back driving Lord Burscough around.  I had pictured myself in the Wheatsheaf pub telling the stories of the heroism of people like Doddy and Tiny. Now I felt depressed.  This was my future; exhausted, starving and with a uniform which was already showing signs of wear and tear and we hadn’t even been here for two months yet.

And then the battle was over and we had won.  The Germans
were in retreat. Perhaps George was wrong. Looking back I cannot believe how naïve I was. Then we received our next orders.  We had been so successful that the cavalry was being sent towards Calais to get around the flank of the German Army. We started what would become known as ‘The Race to the Sea’. For us it became a death race!

For once
, we were not the cavalry who were leading this race.  That was the role of the 1
st
Brigade, Cavalry Division. These were the real professionals, the old cavalry regiments.  Our job was to support and so we followed in their wake. That meant finding the grass which their mounts had not devoured and travelling along roads which showed the passage of thousands of horses.

Doddy had withdrawn into himself and no matter how many jokes Robbie told h
im, he did not respond. He had been the big brother.  Tiny had looked up to and admired Doddy.  Neither of them ever thought that the other would die and now the worst had happened. It made me think of my brothers. We had fallen out but they were still my flesh and blood. I wondered if they thought of me as they toiled away in their factory.  I knew that Albert would be desperate to be seventeen so that he could join up. I was not certain if I liked that thought.  I had expected the survivors of the war and the battles to be the better soldiers.  That was a mistake. The machine gun and the artillery barrages were indiscriminate.  It was a lottery and your uniform and gun were your tickets. Tiny had been one of the best soldiers in the war and yet he had died along with Jack and Jimmy.  I had nearly died when then the artillery shell had burst near to me. The skill in this war was being able to survive. It was even worse for the infantry who we had seen walking across fields to their deaths. I suppose they rationalised that the bullets which came across would strike others and not them. If they were struck then it was too late to worry.

Of course, the enemy cavalry was trying to outflank us too.  That first day we saw evidence at the side of the road.  There were clusters of bodies. They were lying
in the ditches close to the line of retreat and in fields.  There were horses and men, Germans, British and French. Our advantage was that we had travelled this road when heading south. It was not much of an advantage but at least we knew where Calais and Dunkirk were without having to check the maps.  Someone had decided to destroy the road signs.  I suspect it was the French cavalry, after all they knew the roads but it didn’t help our cavalry. We found out we were heading for a river called the Yser.  Perhaps when we reached it we would stop.  We all needed the rest, animals and men alike.