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The Coldstream Guards - History in the making

  

   

 

   
     
   

© ALL IMAGES & INFORMATION REMAIN THE COPYRIGHT OF MR TERENCE CARDWELL ©

   

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.Nulli Secundus - 'Second to None'
by Terence Cardwell

Chapter Thirty Four - Fighting retreat

The Guards’ retreat from the front was unhindered by the Germans, who were expecting them to attack on all fronts. They were stunned to find the British forces had retreated.

It was late morning, and the Second Battalion, as part of the Fourth Guards Brigade, was enfilading for the fourth time, moving back section by section to ensure the rest of the First Corps was well to the rear and clear of the enemy.

 Jack peered through sore, tired eyes at the grey masses appearing in the distance. He knew it would not be long before they were again in combat with an enemy of overwhelming numbers that would be impossible to contain in a mass attack.

Shells were landing around them and increasing in intensity, landing closer and closer. Suddenly the wall he was behind exploded in a deafening eruption twenty feet away, blowing three Coldstreamers high in the air and killing them instantly.

‘It’s getting too damn close for my liking— we need a better position than this,’ the sergeant alongside him said, and called out for them to retreat again.

They received orders to move back to Bavai. The long march was in exhausting heat, with the sun beating down unmercifully. It required every ounce of their training, stamina and fortitude to continue. The one thing that kept them moving was the thought of rest in Bavai.

But there was little chance of rest as they entered the town, late in the afternoon. The inhabitants had left and the main Second Division had moved on to Landrecies, crossing the Sambre River at Pont Sur Sambre.

The Coldstreamers eased back through Bavai and were almost clear of the town when a mass of grey uniforms charged towards them, running down the cobblestone streets in a mass attack, shouting and yelling, bent on beating the British soldiers. Jack and his fellow Coldstreamers turned to face them, and in true British style the front row dropped to their knees allowing the second row to continue firing at the Germans.

Jack, Bob, George and Jim were in the forward row, firing like men possessed. They were no longer tired. Adrenaline pumped through their veins, bringing them wide awake. Their fire was deadly, undistracted by the bullets flying past them, though some of their companions fell with bullet wounds.

The Germans, too, fell, piling up on the streets. They quickly realised that these soldiers were not to be taken lightly and retreated towards the town, preparing to entrench themselves and resist any attack. But the British had little interest in an attack, and stalled the Germans for a time before quietly retiring.

Before them was the Forest of Mormal, a vast woodland of dense tall trees six miles long and four miles wide. If the troops were forced to fight in these woods they could get lost and there would be havoc, men unable to discern friend from foe. They had to move around it and pass down the eastern side, heading south to Landrecies. Slowly they moved backwards, taking turns to retreat whilst the other battalion dug in behind them, watching and waiting for the inevitable attack.

For the Germans knew where they were, and how many there they were, and were approaching them from the north-east and north-west: a full army corps moving down to attack the British First Army Corps, whose retreat was protected only by General Horne’s Fourth Guards Brigade, who had to resist and repel any attacks by the Germans at all costs. The very survival of the British Expeditionary Force, and in particular the First Corps, was dependent on them.

The Coldstreamers had been told how important it was that they delay the Germans, and they were prepared to die to fulfil their responsibilities. The major part of the Second Division had arrived at Landrecies and Mariolles to reorganise and recoup, and get the desperately needed rest. The Second Battalion Coldstream Guards and First Battalion Irish Guards were entrenched, watching for any movement as the last of their own Fourth Guards Brigade passed through, walking like robots.

They lay in just one more of the inadequate, hastily-dug trenches, watching the brigade pass through, wishing they could join them.

‘I don’t know if I’ve got the balls for this,’ Jim whispered to Jack.

‘What makes you say that? You’re here with us, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. But I’m shit scared. You guys are cool as cucumbers.’

‘Boy, have you got it wrong. Every one of us is scared of dying. If you weren’t you’d be mad. But we have a duty and we’ll all see it through to the end.’

‘Whatever that is,’ Jim replied.

‘Jim— a brave man is not someone who goes into battle unafraid and uncaring. He’s just a fool. A brave man is one who is afraid and faces that fear when everything tells him to run. When you’re afraid you’re more careful and don’t take unnecessary risks. Don’t worry,— you’ve got the balls, mate,’ Jack said softly. ‘We all have, or we wouldn’t be here.’

Jim patted his shoulder. ‘Thanks, mate. You know how to say the right things.’ He moved along the trench where there was more room.

A loud whistling was followed by an explosion, then more whistling. Shells burst around them, some hitting the quickly dug trenches,  scattering the soldiers in various directions.

‘Looks like we’re in for it this time, fellas.’ George grimaced as he flinched from a close explosion.

‘It’s been great knowing you, George,’ replied Jack, burying himself as close as he could into the ground.

‘Tell Emily I love her, Jack. I’ll see you in the next world,’ Bob shouted over the sound of the shell fire, trying to smile.

‘Yes, me too— tell Elizabeth I love her if you get out of this,’ Jack called through a cupped hand.

‘Kurumph!’ Another explosion; and the Coldstreamers watched in horror as a shell exploded beside Jim, blowing him high in the air along with three other Coldstreamers. They stared for a moment. One moment Jim was their close friend, the next moment a limp doll. They looked at each other in disbelief.

The shelling stopped suddenly and they peered over the parapet of the trench to see a mass of grey uniforms three hundred yards away, racing towards them.

‘Open Fire! Open Fire!’ They heard the sergeant’s shout, and with their years of training they became automatons.

Load. Aim. Fire. Load. Aim. Fire. Load. Aim. Fire. And so it repeated. The desperation for sleep disappeared as they fought for their existence.

Once again the rapid fire of the Lee Enfield rifles, proved their worth. Jack thought he might panic, or weaken and run— a fear they had all discussed. It was not until they were placed under pressure that they would find whether they had courage. ‘It’s strange,’ Jack thought. ‘I don’t feel panic inside. Just  resignation. Maybe I’m mad. Well, if I get it, I get it, and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

The Germans were now only one hundred yards away and still running, a huge grey mass. Behind them grey shapes lay thick on the ground.

They stopped. Fired. Ran. Stopped. Fired. Ran. Some fired as they ran, not caring where the bullets went.

The fire of the Lee Enfields was murderous. The Germans continued to fall, mounting up on each other as they got closer.

‘Damn bastards!’ Jack heard someone shout in pain. He glanced quickly to see George had been shot in the left arm, his coat sleeve reddening.

Jack couldn’t speak, only keep firing. The Germans were now only fifty yards away and shouting like banshees. But this made the soldiers even more determined, and they sent a murderous fire at them. The Germans started to falter. The soldiers in the front rows began to turn around and retreat, and were stopped by the troops behind charging up against them. Then they too turned and ran for their lives.

‘Would you look at that!’ Bob said in amazement. ‘There, behind the troops— there’s some German officers shooting their own men because they’re retreating!’

‘Those mongrel bastards,’ Jack cursed. ‘Let’s see if we can get them.’

 Jack took careful aim before firing, and saw one of the officers grab his side and fall.

‘Take that you, kraut bastard,’ he said lining up another officer.

‘I just got one for George,’ Bob called out.

The Germans were now in full retreat, and the Coldstreamers relaxed a little as they looked around .

Smoke hung over the trenches from the shelling, and the strong smell of cordite caught in the throat of the soldiers.

Scattered along the trenches were soldiers with parts of their bodies missing, blood running from their broken or missing limbs. In places, craters had been blown where the shells had hit, with bodies scattered around them.

Bob, Jack and George searched for Jim’s body. They found him not far from the shell burst, lying with his mouth open as if shouting, staring at the sky. His arms and legs lay at odd angles and his uniform was red. Around him three other Coldstreamers lay dead. They closed Jim’s eyes and straightened his arms and legs, laying him as if he was asleep.

 ‘He’ll always be with us till we join him,’ George said quietly.

‘Rest in peace, old mate,’ Jack murmured. ‘We’ll miss you.’

‘I thought I was a gonner as well, that time,’ Bob said, shaking his head.

‘Prepare to withdraw!’ they heard an officer call. They leapt to the trench tops to ensure there were no Germans, but the area before them displayed only the horrors of war. Dying soldiers were crawling, crying out in agony or simply crying, knowing they were about to die. Grey mounds of German soldiers lay scattered across no man’s land, slowly turning red from the bleeding. Again the terrible sound of men in agony, moaning and screaming, echoed across the land.

The Coldstreamers were eager to leave such a horrifying area. They climbed over the walls of the trenches, collected the wounded and dead, carrying them between them and moved back towards the east side of the Mormal Forest. After forming into columns they continued their march. The adrenaline was wearing off and the tiredness returned as they continued marching south towards Landrecies, that seemed to be a thousand miles away.

On their immediate right was the Mormal forest and on their left open fields, with stone walls separating them into squares. An occasional copse of woods was scattered among them. In the fields cattle and sheep grazed as if nothing had changed and the horrors of the last few days were figments of the soldiers’ imaginations.

They marched on, trying not to fall asleep. Some tried singing, but few joined in and the singing faded away to the sound of boots crunching on the gravel road.

Jack, Bob and George marched together, all sharing the same thought, the loss of their good friend.

‘At least he went quickly, he didn’t suffer any,’ Bob said.

 ‘Better than dying from a gut-ache,’ George grunted, referring to a bayonet wound.

‘How’re you feeling, George, the arm hurt much?’ Jack asked.

‘It hurts like hell, but it won’t stop me from shooting at those mongrels,’ George growled.

‘Well, as soon as we get to Landrecies they’ll fix it up.’ Bob tried to sound encouraging. ‘And if you’re lucky it might be a Blighty wound.’ That was a wound they all hoped to get: one that was not too serious but enough to get them sent home.

 ‘Hey, yea, never thought of that,’ George replied, brightening up. ‘Good on ya, Bob, hope you’re right, I’ve had enough of this war already.’

‘Yea, me too,’ Jack answered, and the soldiers around them voiced agreement.

They marched into the evening, stopping only for short rests, and at dusk, with the light fading from the sky, they entrenched again, preparing once more to delay the Germans. They utilised the walls of the fields, with some hidden in a large copse on their right and others in the forest, staying near its edge lest they get lost. Jack, Bob and George were with those in the forest, waiting patiently for the Germans to appear.

They did not have long to wait.

The Germans had made a second attack on their previous position. Expecting a savage response, they were stunned to find the trenches empty once again. They had reorganised and continued in rapid march, believing the British had been beaten and were retreating in panic.

They were about to find out how wrong they were.

The Germans caught up to the retreating British as the sun was setting, and found them once again entrenched and waiting for them.

For the waiting soldiers the most difficult part was not to fall asleep, which played havoc on their nerves.

They saw it before they heard it.

In the distance were a number of bright flashes followed by the now familiar howling, and shells exploded to their right, landing in the fields and blowing huge clouds of dirt in the air. As the shelling increased they saw a number of cows disappear after being hit by shells.

‘So much for country meadows,’ Jack said to no one in particular, observing the carnage from his position on the edge of the forest.

Shortly after the shelling stopped, the dark shadows of Germans rushed towards the entrenched troops. Others headed for the forest with the intention of surrounding the troops in the fields, unaware that General Horne had anticipated that possibility and had a nasty surprise waiting for them.

The Germans shelled the stone walls that provided cover, and although they were hitting a number of the British soldiers, the rifle fire from them never seemed to lessen. The Germans on the left entered the forest and moved quietly through it.

‘Stand by lads,’ the sergeant whispered. ‘When I give the word.’

Jack, Bob and the other Coldstreamers waited, leaning around the trees, trying to see the Germans in the half-light. Dark shapes appeared, moving from tree to tree, the rustle of boots on dry leaves giving their location away. The Germans thought they were alone as they moved forward, making little effort to protect themselves.

‘Now! Open fire!’ the sergeant shouted.

The Coldstreamers gave it all they had, firing at anything that moved. The Germans were taken by surprise and after a large number had fallen they tried rushing the Coldstreamers. But they could not see them except for the flash of the rifles, and pushed forward only to be shot.

‘Stand by to charge!’ the sergeant shouted.

Jack waited, firing a few more rounds.

‘Coldstream Guards… Charge, advance at the ready!’

Jack, Bob at his side, ran with the rest of the troops for the dark shadows hiding behind the trees. The first row reached the Germans, who felt the thrust of a bayonet in their bodies. Their screams were enough to weaken the others, and they turned and ran, with the Coldstreamers behind them. The Guards chased them, thrusting at stragglers, until they reached the edge of the forest.

The German commanders realised their ruse to surround the troops had not worked, and after observing the slaughter against their soldiers they ordered a withdrawal.

‘Bloody hell, Jack, we must lead a charmed life,’ Bob said in a relieved tone.  ‘They certainly high-tailed it that time.’

Jack gave him a sour look. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that Bob, you make me damn nervous. We won’t be so lucky next time; they know we’re here now.’

General Horne ordered a continued retreat and the rearguard made the final move to Landrecies, at the bottom edge of the Mormal Forest. As they moved to the edge of the forest and dug in they were attacked from behind, catching them by surprise with little protection. The Germans had moved quickly through the forest, down their left side, to try to surround them.

The shelling began again, on their right in the open fields and gradually moving towards them. The fields were fountains of exploding dirt and cordite smoke, and the noise was deafening. In the distance they could see a mass of dark objects coming towards them with the twilight behind them.

Suddenly the shells started entering the forest, exploding and knocking over full-grown trees. The Coldstreamers dived into their shallow trenches, desperately trying to avoid flying shrapnel as shells came towards them. The scream of the shells and the boom of the explosions played havoc on their tired nerves, taking all their courage not to turn and run.

‘This is it, Jack,’ Bob shouted. ‘See you up top.’

‘God Bless, Bob,’ Jack could only shout as he forced himself flat against the side of the trench, listening to the shells get closer and closer with nowhere to run or hide. One shell seemed to scream louder than the others. ‘The one you stand under. Bosch,’ flashed in Jack’s mind. He felt his body picked up and thrown into the air. He felt almost nothing, as if he was in a dream, rising in slow motion and falling down to earth. He felt nothing, no pain; just a numbness all over and unable to move anything.

Nothing would respond. There was no sound, no sound at all. His body was numb and would not respond to his brain. He was totally immobile. He lay in a void of silence, his body unmoving, staring at the treetops through a hazy cloud, unable to speak or cry out.

‘So this is what it’s like to die. It’s not so bad,’ Jack thought. ‘Looks like this is my time.’

Bob was still holding his ground, lucky not to have been blown up with Jack. He saw his closest friend fly, and saw him thud back on the ground, saw him unmoving. He tried to get close to him but was driven back by the advancing Germans.

Jack lay still as battle raged around him. The Germans were attacking again and had entered the woods. This time they were prepared and came in huge numbers, unperturbed by the number of their soldiers being killed. They charged and charged again, until they forced the Coldstreamers back with terrible losses for their resistance.

Before he was forced back, Bob saw Jack move his right arm, lifting it to rest on his chest.

‘At least he’s alive— but for how long?’ he thought. He shouted as loud as he could to Jack but didn’t know if he heard him: ‘Don’t give up Jack! I love you like a brother. I’ll send your love to Elizabeth.’

As Jack lay on the ground he thought of his friends and Elizabeth. ‘I promised I would come home to you my love, but I’ve let you down. I’ll never see your beautiful face again until you join me in heaven.’

He thought he could hear Bob’s voice calling, but could not understand what he was saying.

‘Something about loving me like a brother?’

‘Goodbye Bob, me old mate, it looks like you were right. Try to stay alive,’ Jack murmured.

After a time Jack’s hearing improved and he could hear shooting, and the rustle of boots on leaves. He heard someone talking in German and a dark tall object appeared above him.

Something kicked him hard in the side, making him grunt from the pain. The shadow raised something in the air and then down. A fire seared through his side and his arm seemed to catch fire as something slammed into it.

‘Elizabeth,’ Jack murmured. ‘I’m sorry. I love you so much.’

Peace slowly rolled over him and he drifted into darkness.
 

   

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