Hopes and Fears How Vain, page 17
“Fast as you can, man! Absolute urgency!”
The French roads were not designed for the volume of traffic the armies had unleashed upon them, were rapidly being pulverised. The driver enjoyed himself, pushing the big staff car up to a racing sixty miles an hour and drifting round the bends, leaving clouds of dust behind him. He passed two cavalry regiments at full pace, enjoying the chaos he created. Leggett slumped in his seat at the rear, fairly certain he would not be recognised and rather liking the experience of speed. He wondered if he might not purchase a racing car after the war. Brooklands might be fun.
At Calais he headed for the most senior figure he could find, a redcap major.
“Excuse me, sir. Leggett, working to Major General Griffin, in command at Wipers. I am sent to the Arsenal at Woolwich in haste. If we don’t get more guns and quickly, you may see the whole BEF on my heels!”
The redcap was a military policeman and as such believed nothing and nobody. He was also a reasonable judge of his fellow man.
“Sergeant! Escort this officer to number two dock and put him aboard.”
“They are just lifting the gangways, sir.”
“Then I advise you to run!”
Leggett was bundled aboard the ferry, returning to Dover as a hospital ship. He saw the cargo of wounded men on stretchers, dumped aboard wherever possible, accompanied by a mixture of orderlies, nurses and doctors, many of the patients receiving emergency treatment on the open deck. He could do nothing to help and got out of the way, spent an uncomfortable two hours standing in a corner of the deck.
He repeated his demands to the most senior military policeman he could find at Dover, briefly explaining what he had been sent to do and why it was important. Rather to his surprise, he was personally escorted to a staff car.
“The flow of wounded men here, sir, says we are losing this war. If you are trying to win it, we must do what we can to help!”
He could not tell the redcap he was wrong.
The Arsenal at Woolwich was an oasis of calm. He arrived at two in the afternoon, discovering the senior officers ambling back from lunch and at peace with the world.
“Guns? For France? We have sent the agreed establishment for the BEF already. Can’t release more, old chap!”
“Six inch howitzers, sir. For the defence of Ypres, on the Belgian border. It is a major rail hub and if lost we shall be unable to remain in northern France.”
They had a map of Europe and peered at Belgium and found Ypres and agreed it seemed important.
“Don’t know what that is to do with us, old chap.”
“We are outnumbered, heavily. There are two German columns angling towards Ypres and able to bring four hundred thousand men to bear upon it. The French have already lost more than one hundred thousand in casualties and are taking heavy losses daily to the other columns, and in their own offensive in Alsace and Lorraine. We can put fewer than twenty thousand men into the defence of Ypres. We must have artillery.”
“Better bend the Field Marshal’s ear, old chap. Nothing we can do here.”
An hour sufficed to make it clear that there were batteries of the old six inch thirty-hundredweight howitzer at Woolwich and that horses and gun crews could quickly be found. It was also explained that without orders from on high nothing was going anywhere.
“Get the old War Office to give us the nod, old chap, and we will get down to it. Can have two batteries out to you by the end of the month, I expect, and two more to follow in October. Can’t release more than sixteen guns, old chap. Need to keep the remainder against need.”
Captain Leggett smiled his thanks and left, ordering his driver to take him up to Mayfair. An hour saw him talking to the Duchess of Kensington, his mother’s sister.
“You are looking well, ma’am! Not a day older than I last saw you!”
She was a Society Dame but also possessed a brain.
“Norman, my dear, what do you want of me? You are not in the habit of flattering fifty year olds!”
He explained, briefly and precisely.
“Losing the war, you say? We can’t do that!”
“We can and very easily, my dear aunt. The French have made an utter mess of their campaigns. Knowing the Schlieffen Plan, in detail, as we all do, they nonetheless chose to advance into Alsace-Lorraine and into the Ardennes. They spread their forces too thinly and are being pushed back everywhere and with massive losses. They themselves do not know how many for sure, and have no knowledge of the spread of dead, wounded and prisoners, but acknowledge they have lost more than one hundred thousand already. The neutral Swiss newspapers are sure that more than half are dead. They are unable to divert soldiers to aid the BEF around Ypres – they simply have not got the men.”
“We cannot send many more than are currently mobilised, Norman.”
“Agreed, ma’am. Those being sent now are mainly Territorial battalions – keen and willing but green as grass! We need artillery. Woolwich has the guns and rounds for them and can find horses and men, but will not do so without orders from on high. Given orders through ordinary channels, they are sure they could send out two batteries this month and the same next. Idle, pot-bellied no-hopers staggering back from luncheon with the intention of sleeping through to dinner!”
“Are they, by God! We shall damned soon see about that! Do you return to Woolwich now, Norman! They will be running by the time you get there. Go now!” She raised her voice to an unladylike yell to the butler. “Johnstone! Make a telephone connection to Lord Kitchener. Now! When finished, I will wish to speak to Mr Lloyd George and Mr Asquith, in that order!”
Leggett was aware that the Duchess did not make her own telephone connections; she was content merely to address her inferiors by means of the machine.
His driver took his place in a convoy of staff cars hurrying through the gates of the Arsenal. He stepped out of the car apprehensively, a long way the most junior officer in sight, looking at the wasps’ nest he had stirred up.
“Are you Captain Leggett? Staff to Griffin?”
“I am, sir.”
He froze to attention and a precise salute, recognising Wullie Robertson, almost the most senior officer in the whole Army. He had thought him to be in France, assumed he was making a temporary visit to the War Office.
“What’s the story?”
Robertson had the keenest intellect in the Army, had risen almost uniquely from the ranks due to his outstanding ability. He was so able that he had overcome the bias against ‘cleverness’.
Two minutes sufficed to tell the tale.
“Guns this week, sir, or defeat next. We are winning every action around Ypres and are being pushed back inexorably. We may well be inflicting one hundred casualties for every one we take, sir, but we are still heavily outnumbered at the actual front. I don’t know exact figures – nobody does. We must have artillery if we are to stop the columns of the Schlieffen Plan and hold Ypres. It is inevitable, sir, that the Germans will push to close quarters where their numbers will bring them victory. It is also inevitable that we shall lose almost every man of the old, trained professional riflemen. We are winning a losing battle, sir.”
“Well put. What do you need?”
“At Ypres, sir? Six four-gun batteries of six inch howitzers. If not them, then four point sevens. They will hold the main roads leading in from north and east. We require at least sixty of eighteen pounders for the western approaches to Ypres, where there will continue to be a battle of movement until the armies reach the North Sea. Additionally we have four point five inch howitzers coming from the eastern BEF. Anything more than that will be useful, sir. We have a heavy battery promised and could use more of the big guns.”
“Thirteen pounders, RHA?”
“Too small, sir. Best left to play with the horse soldiers, sir. Our ideal would be nothing less than a sixty pounder, sir. More of those would be most valuable.”
“You do not envisage a continuing war of movement?”
“Siege warfare around Ypres, sir. I do not know what will eventuate to the east of us. Hopefully, the bulk of the BEF there will be able to push forward by spring.”
“Hopefully?”
“Without a massive addition of men, sir, it will not be possible.”
“Sepoys.”
“Exactly so, sir.”
“Defeat Germany, lose India.”
“A Dominion, sir, like Canada and Australia and just as loyal, provided we persuade them to be so.”
“You might be right. Tell Griffin I agree with him.”
A staff officer was no more than his master’s voice, was expected to have no ideas of his own.
“Tell him as well that I much doubt Downing Street will tolerate pulling half a million men out of India. A pity, but he must not work on the assumption there will be sufficient men.”
“No men means guns, sir.”
“So it does. You are certainly correct, Leggett”
“Major General Griffin is perceptive, sir.”
Robertson agreed. He had met Griffin in South Africa, had noticed his ability as a young major.
“Are you looking to stay on the staff?”
“No, sir. Means to an end. I would much prefer to go to a fighting battalion, major and then colonel, sir.”
“Hence joining Griffin – a fighting general. I have no doubt I shall see you again, Leggett!”
The bustle built up over the evening until a column emerged from the gates of the Arsenal and made its way into the railway sidings.
“Five batteries of six inch howitzers, with ammunition train. Five batteries of eighteen pounders, with ammunition. One battery of sixty pound guns. Three batteries of four point seven inch. Horses will meet at Dover at six o’clock tomorrow morning. On their way from Aldershot now. Following in two days will be a battery of nine point two howitzers. Despatched from the factory, wherever that may be, a squadron of armoured cars, each with a Vickers gun mounted. Other guns will be sent out as they become available.”
Leggett saluted the anonymous colonel who had addressed him, scowling and obviously late for his dinner.
“Thank you, sir. These guns may make it possible to hold Ypres. Without them there would have been a certain loss, sir.”
“Sort of thing that happens when you put a cavalry general in charge of an expeditionary force. Damned cavalry! Couldn’t organise a…”
He left the rest unsaid, everybody knowing how that sentence completed.
Leggett found his driver, sat in the front of the car, sound asleep and surrounded by the smell of fish and chips.
“Did you get some for me? No? Dover. Stop on the road somewhere for a pie – I’m starving!”
Leggett reported to Griffin at Ypres barely twenty-four hours after he had left for England.
“There will be guns arriving over the next days, sir. Exactly what, I do not know, but the first were being loaded aboard ship when I left Dover this morning. Assuming batteries are of four guns, then we can expect twenty of six inch howitzers, sir, together with five batteries of eighteen pounders. There will be some sixty pounders, sir – but that may be sections rather than full batteries. There are a number of four point seven inch guns. We are promised a heavy battery, but I do not know what, sir. There are plans, and I do not know what they are, for setting twelve inch guns onto land mountings. I suspect they will take a long time, sir, and it is possible they may be railway guns.”
“Well done, Leggett! What next for you?”
“A battalion, if you please, sir. I have a suspicion I have made myself a marked man. As a staff officer I might be visible at HQ, sir. Was I to go to a battalion as a major, then I would be unnoticed by the most senior in London.”
“Can be done. The Kents lost their major a couple of days ago. You will go to them. I shall miss your presence, Leggett, but I can find staff officers easily, while laying hands on a competent major for a fighting battalion is not so simple a task. Do remember that the Guards are not quite the same as working battalions of the line!”
Leggett laughed and agreed he would not try to polish the brass while the battalion was in action.
“Your son is there, is he not, sir?”
“Yes. Acting-captain in very quick time. He is the most intellectually able of the four survivors, by a long way. Also a damned good full-back. Got his Blue. I much hope he will not go the way of his youngest brother – he has far too much to give in his life. Two boys in the Hampshires, and them right at the front. I am only glad that Robert is on my staff and within reason safe.”
“I don’t think he wishes to remain, sir. He has the feeling that he should be back with the battalion rather than sitting the battle out in town, sir.”
“Difficult to say no, is it not, Leggett? He is a competent officer and ought to be using his skills. There are far too many who will make better staff officers and whose battalions might thank me for taking them away. Find me a pair of replacements, Leggett, and you and Robert go to your battalions by the end of the week.”
Chapter Eleven
“Kents to fall back to Ypres on relief by Fourth Battalion, Wessex Brigade.”
“What the hell is that supposed to be?”
“Terriers!”
Captain Ruddick was scornful. Territorial part-timers could not conceivably replace real soldiers. They did not have the officers. It must be a disaster.
Alfred was much inclined to agree. They could not produce the mass of aimed rifle fire that had held the Germans back. He continued to read the message that had been sent out to the companies.
“New officers will be posted to Kents at Ypres.”
“Replacement of the major, no doubt. Possibly a temporary colonel. Colonel Rossiter will undoubtedly wish to return and so his place must be held for him.”
“He was severely wounded, sir. Lower left leg gone, abdominal injuries. He could hardly be fit to march with us after that.”
“He will be able to ride, Griffin! To a man of his spirit, wounds are no more than a stimulus, pressing him to greater things.”
“No place for a horse with us this last few days, sir.”
“Exactly! We should not be indulging in this dishonourable skulking! Hiding behind hedgerows. Shooting from cover. Killing and then running away before our enemy can exchange fire with us. Refusing to stand, to deny the foe our ground. We should be displaying an Englishman's honour, Griffin! The spirit of Sir Richard Grenville, outnumbered and fighting to the last – that is how we should be comporting ourselves this day!”
“Grenville, sir? He threw away the best ship in Elisabeth’s fleet and allowed almost all of his men to die. He could, and should, have fled the scene. His sole achievement was to hearten the Spanish by giving them an easy victory.”
“He died nobly, Griffin!”
“’Foolishly’ is the word, sir. Had he chosen to live, he could have inflicted great harm to the Spanish forces. By dying, he ensured that his ship and men could no longer be of service to England. The same applies to us here, sir. Had we stood in line on the first day of contact, we could have killed another thousand of the Boche before they wiped us out. They would be in Ypres by now had we died nobly. As it stands, we have killed some thousands more of them and Ypres is still a good fifteen miles distant. We have given the whole army time to reinforce Ypres. We have gained a week, at least, sir. The Schlieffen Plan depends on a tight timetable and we have disrupted that. We have served our country well these past few days, sir.”
Ruddick shook his head, almost in despair.
“You have spent your days hidden away from reality, Griffin, bent to your academic grindstone. A man’s first, overriding duty is to his personal honour. Everything else must come second. A soldier’s honour is that of the fighting man. A refusal to fight to the last is a denial of everything that defines a soldier and a gentleman.”
“Suicide is an act of dishonour, sir. Killing one’s own men for no gain is the ultimate in dishonour. Some few of my men have died at my command, sir – and I can say that every one of them died in his country’s service. They were not sacrificed to an illusion of honour, to my personal whim. You are utterly wrong, sir!”
“You do not understand, Griffin. I fear for our country! You are an upright, able, courageous young gentleman, but you do not comprehend the path of honour.”
“The path of duty suffices for me, sir. Holding the approaches to Ypres is my sole concern just now. If I have to compromise my honour, then so be it – my country demands that of me. I will say that I do not consider my actions of the past week to have been in any way dishonourable. I have fought for my country and for my own men. My duty has been to delay the approaching column. I believe I have performed that duty as well as any man could have.”
Ruddick shook his head again.
“The soldier has a higher duty, Griffin. It is not what one does but how one does it that counts in the end. All that will be remembered is that we refused honourable combat. We are no knights in shining armour!”
Alfred laughed, suddenly perceiving the nonsense of their whole debate.
“Agincourt and Cressy tell us the Englishman’s opinion of the knights of yore, sir. We stood back and butchered them with our longbows. How is that in any way different to what we are doing here? We are standing back and butchering the Boche with our magazine rifles. ‘Cry haro and loose the dogs of war’, for such is what we are, sir!”
Ruddick could not claim that Shakespeare did not understand the nature of honour – he was the epitome of the Englishman.
“I do not consider myself a dog, Griffin. Not to worry! We have our orders and I shall never disobey them. I would not do so over the Curragh business. I will not now. I think my orders are in every way wrong-spirited, but they will be obeyed.”
“There we are in wholehearted agreement, sir. A pity Colonel Rossiter and Major Savager are no longer here to give us those orders, but we will obey our seniors.”
