The Invasion of 1910

“We knew well enough – though most of us pretended ignorance – that we could not afford to pay for such an Army at a rate comparable to the current labour market rates, even if we had been twice as rich, and if shoals of recruits had been forthcoming. We were aware, in consequence, that some form of universal service was the only possible method of raising a real Army, but we shrank from making the personal sacrifices required. We were too indolent, too careless, too unpatriotic. Now we have got to pay for the pleasures of living in a fool’s paradise, and pay through the nose into the bargain. We have no right to grumble, whatever may be the outcome, and God only knows what the bitter end of this war may be, what final defeat may mean for our future as a nation. But I must quit moralising and betake myself to my narrative.

“In my letter of the 9th I left the Colchester garrison making their breakfast at Witham. I had understood that they were coming on to Chelmsford, but, as it turned out, the Leicestershires and Dorsets got orders to turn off to the right just before reaching Boreham, and to take up a position on the high ground east of Little Waltham, which is about four miles due north of Chelmsford. With them went a number of the heavy 4.7-inch guns we brought away with us. The Volunteers, Scottish Borderers, and the Lancasters – the latter of whom had been covering the flank of the retreat at Wickham Bishops – came in to Chelmsford, and during the evening were marched out and billeted in the houses thickly scattered along the Braintree road. The cavalry, after some slight skirmishing with the advanced patrols of Von Kronhelm’s Army, who came up with them near Hatfield Peverell, turned up in the afternoon.

“In Chelmsford, when I halted at the Saracen’s Head, I found there were the 2nd Lincolnshire and the 2nd Royal Scots Fusiliers, who had come up from Salisbury Plain, the 1st Hampshire and the 1st Royal Fusiliers from Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. The 2nd South Wales Borderers from Tidworth and the 1st Border Regiment from Bordon Camp arrived in the afternoon, and were marched out to Great Baddow, half-way to Danbury. The 14th Hussars from Shorncliffe and the 20th from Brighton had also come in the day previously, and they at once moved out to the front to relieve the 16th Lancers and 7th Hussars, who had been covering the retiral from Colchester. The town was crowded with Volunteers in khaki, green, red, blue – all the colours of the rainbow – and I noticed two very smart corps of Yeomanry marching out to support the two regular cavalry regiments. Everyone seemed in good spirits on account of the news from Royston and the successful issue of the cavalry skirmish of the morning before. As Chelmsford lies in a kind of hollow, I could not see much from there, so in the afternoon I thought I would run out to the high ground near Danbury and see if I could get any idea of what was going on.

“As I passed Danbury Place I heard the deafening report of heavy guns close at hand. I found that the firing came from some of the Bluejackets’ 4.7’s near the church, where I had seen them at work at the opening of Purleigh Battle. I got out of my car and went up to the officer in charge, whom I met on that occasion. I asked him at what he was firing. ‘Look over there,’ he said, pointing towards Maldon. I saw nothing at first. ‘Look higher,’ said the sailor. I raised my eyes, and there, floating hundreds of feet over and on this side of the old town, a great yellow sausage-like something glistened in the sunlight. I recognised it at once from the photographs I had seen of the German manœuvres. It was their great military balloon, known as the ‘Wurst,’ or sausage, from its elongated shape. Its occupants were doubtless hard at work reconnoitring our position.

“Another gun gave tongue with an ear-splitting report, and then a second one, its long chase sticking up into the air like a monster telescope. They were firing high explosive shell at the balloon, hoping that the detonation would tear it if near enough. I saw the big shell explode apparently close to their target, but the distance was deceptive, and no apparent injury was done. After another round, however, it began slowly to descend, and soon disappeared behind the huddled roofs of the town. ‘Might have got her,’ remarked Akers, the commander in charge of the guns, ‘but I fancy not. But I reckon they thought it too warm to stay up. We had our balloon up this morning,’ he continued, ‘and I expect she’ll go up again before dark. They had a few slaps at her, but didn’t get within a mile of her. She’s in a field behind the woods at Twitty Fee, about half a mile over there, if you want to see her.’

“I thanked him and motored slowly off in the direction indicated. I noticed great changes on Danbury Hill since my last visit. Entrenchments and batteries had sprung up on every side, and men were still as busy as bees improving and adding to them. I found the balloon, filled with gas and swaying about behind a mass of woodland that effectually concealed it from the enemy, but as I was informed that there would be no ascent before half-past five, I continued my tour round the summit of the hill. When I arrived at the northern end I found that fresh defences were being constructed right away round to the westward side. The northern edge of Blake’s Wood had been felled and made into a formidable abattis, the sharpened branches of the felled trees being connected together with a perfect web of barbed wire.

“The same process was being carried out in the woods and copses at Great Graces. New Lodge had been placed in a state of defence. The windows, deprived of glass and sashes, were being built up with sand bags; the flower garden was trampled into a chaos; the grand piano stood in the back yard, forming a platform for a Maxim gun that peered over the wall. The walls were disfigured with loop-holes. Behind the house were piled the arms of a Volunteer Battalion who, under the direction of a few officers and N.C.O.’s of the Royal Engineers, were labouring to turn the pretty country house into a scarred and hideous fortress. Their cooks had dug a Broad Arrow kitchen in the midst of the tennis lawn, and were busied about the big black kettles preparing tea for the workers. New Lodge was the most suggestive picture of the change brought about by the war that I had yet seen. From the corner of Great Graces Wood I could see through my glasses that the outskirts of Great Baddow were also alive with men preparing it for defence. I got back to the balloon just in time to see it rising majestically above the trees. Either on account of their failure to reach it in the morning, or for some other reason, the enemy did not fire at it, and the occupants of the car were able to make their observations in peace, telephoning them to a non-commissioned officer at the winding engine below, who jotted them down in shorthand. From what I afterwards heard, it seems that a long procession of carts was seen moving northwards from Maldon by way of Heybridge.

“It was presumed that these contained provisions and stores for the IXth and Xth Corps from the big depôt which it had been discovered that the Saxons had established near Southminster. A few long-range shots were fired at the convoy from the big guns, but without any appreciable effect. The procession stopped though. No more carts came from the town, and those already out disappeared behind the woods about Langford Park. I understand that, apprised of this by signal from the balloon, the 14th Hussars made a gallant effort to attack the convoy, but they found the country east of the Maldon-Witham Railway to be full of the enemy, both infantry and cavalry, came under a heavy fire from concealed troops, and sustained considerable loss without being able to effect anything. It is believed that the movement of stores continued after dark, for our most advanced outposts and patrols reported that the rumble of either artillery or wagons was heard coming from the direction of the roads leading north out of Maldon almost the whole night through.

“On my return to Chelmsford I visited Springfield, where I found the Scots Fusiliers, a Militia, and a Volunteer Regiment entrenching themselves astride the railway.

“I dined with three brother newspaper men at the Red Lion Hotel. One of them had come from Dunmow, and reported that the First Army was busily entrenching itself on a long ridge a couple of miles to eastward of the town. He said he had heard also that the high ground about Thaxted had been occupied by some troops who had come up from the South on Sunday night, though he could not say what regiments they were. They had detrained at Elsenham, and marched the rest of the way by road. If his information is correct, the British Army on Monday night occupied an almost continuous line stretching from Baldock on the west to South Hanningfield, or perhaps Billericay on the south. A very extensive front, but necessary to be held if the forward march of the five German Army Corps operating in the Eastern Counties was to be checked. For though it would, of course, have been desirable to take the offensive and attack the Xth Corps during the temporary discomfiture of the Garde and IVth Corps, we were compelled in the main to adopt the tactics pursued by the Boers in South Africa and act almost entirely on the defensive on account of the poor quality of the bulk of our forces. There was this exception, however, that the few regular battalions were as far as possible placed in such positions that they would be available for local counter-attacks and offensive action. Our generals could not be altogether guided by the generally-accepted rules of tactics and strategy, but had to do the best they could with the heterogeneous material at their disposal.

“As to what the enemy were doing during this day we had no information worth speaking of, although there was a rumour going about late in the afternoon that Braintree had been occupied by the Hanoverians, and that the head of General Von Kronhelm’s Army Corps had arrived at Witham. However this may have been, we neither saw nor heard anything of them during the night, and I much enjoyed my slumbers after the fatigues of the last twenty-four hours. But this was but the lull before the storm. About ten a.m. the low growl of artillery rolled up from the south-east, and it began to be bruited about that the Saxons were attacking South Hanningfield in force, doubtless with the object of turning our right flank. I ordered out my motor, thinking I would run down to the high ground at Stock, five miles to the southward, and see if I could get an inkling of how matters were progressing. That heavy fighting was in progress I felt certain, for the cannonade grew momentarily louder and heavier. Hardly had I cleared the town, when a fresh outburst of firing boomed out from a northerly direction. I stopped irresolute.

“Should I go on or turn back and set my face towards Dunmow? I eventually decided to go on, and arrived at Stock about eleven. I could not get much information there, or see what was going on, so I decided to make for South Hanningfield. At the foot of the hill leading up to Harrow Farm I came across a battalion of infantry lying down in quarter column behind the woods on the left of the road. From some of the officers I ascertained that it was the 1st Buffs, and that they were in support of two Militia battalions who were holding the ridge above. The Saxons, they said, had come up from the direction of Woodham Ferris in considerable force, but had not been able to advance beyond the Rettendon-Battles-Bridge Road on account of the heavy fire of our artillery, which comprised several heavy guns, protected both from fire and sight, and to which their field batteries in the open ground below could make no effective reply.

“I had noticed for some little time that the firing had slackened, so I thought I might as well get to the top of the hill and get a view of the enemy. I did not see much of them. By the aid of my glass I fancied I could distinguish green uniforms moving about near the copses in front of Rettendon Hall, but that was about all. I looked towards Danbury and saw our big balloon go up, and I also observed the big German sausage wobbling about over Purleigh. But there was no sign of military movement on either side. All the time, however, I was conscious of the distant rumble of guns away to the northward, and as there was apparently nothing more to be seen at South Hanningfield for the present, I regained my car and started back for Chelmsford. I found the town buzzing like a hive of bees.

“The troops were falling in under arms, the station was full of people trying to get away by train, while the inhabitants were tramping away in crowds by the Brentwood and Ongar roads. The booming of the still distant guns sounded louder and faster, and rumour had it that the Hanoverians were trying to force the passage of the river at Ford Mill. I replenished my flask and luncheon basket, and started off in the direction of the firing.

“All along the road to Little Waltham I caught glimpses of khaki uniforms in the trenches that zig-zagged about on the river slopes, while I passed two or three regiments stepping northwards as fast as they could get over the ground. There was a grim, set look on the men’s faces that betokened both anger and determination.”

CHAPTER XVI

FIERCE FIGHTING AT CHELMSFORD

The continuation of the despatch from Brentwood, as follows, was published on Saturday, 15th September:

“At Little Waltham I found myself close to the scene of action. About a mile ahead of me the hamlet of Howe Street was in flames and burning furiously. I could see the shells bursting in and all over it in perfect coveys. I could not make out where they were coming from, but an officer I met said he thought the enemy must have several batteries in action on the high ground about Littley Green, a mile and a half to the north on the opposite side of the river. I crossed over myself, and got up on the knoll where the Leicestershires and Dorsets had been stationed, together with a number of the 4.7-inch guns brought from Colchester.

“This piece of elevated ground is about two miles long, running almost north and south, and at the top of it I got an extensive view to the eastward right away to beyond Witham, as the ground fell all the way. The country was well wooded, and a perfect maze of trees and hedgerows. If there were any Germans down there in this plain they were lying very low indeed, for my glasses did not discover the least indication of their presence. Due east my view was bounded by the high wooded ground about Wickham Bishops and Tiptree Heath, which lay a long blue hummock on the horizon, while to the south-east Danbury Hill, with our big war-balloon floating overhead, was plainly discernible.

“While I gazed on the apparently peaceful landscape I was startled by a nasty sharp, hissing sound, which came momentarily nearer. It seemed to pass over my head, and was followed by a loud bang in the air, where now hung a ring of white smoke. It was a shell from the enemy. Just ahead of me was a somewhat extensive wood; and, urged by some insane impulse of seeking shelter, I left the car, which I ordered my chauffeur to take back for a mile and wait, and made for the close-standing trees. If I had stopped to think I should have realised that the wood gave me actually no protection whatever, and I had not gone far when the crashing of timber and noise of the bursting projectiles overhead and in the undergrowth around made me understand clearly that the Germans were making a special target of the wood, which, I imagine, they thought might conceal some of our troops. I wished heartily that I was seated beside my chauffeur in his fast-receding car.

“However, my first object was to get clear of the wood again, and after some little time I emerged on the west side, right in the middle of a dressing station for the wounded, which had been established in a little hollow. Two surgeons, with their assistants, were already busily engaged with a number of wounded men, most of whom were badly hit by shrapnel bullets about the upper part of the body. I gathered from one or two of the few most slightly wounded men that our people had been, and were, very hardly put to it to hold their own. ‘I reckon,’ said one of them, a bombardier of artillery, ‘that the enemy must have got more than a hundred guns firing at us, and at Howe Street village. If we could only make out where the foreign devils were,’ continued my informant, ‘our chaps could have knocked a good many of them out with our four-point-sevens, especially if we could have got a go at them before they got within range themselves. But they must have somehow contrived to get them into position during the night, for we saw nothing of them coming up. They are somewhere about Chatley, Fairstead Lodge, and Little Leighs, but as we can’t locate them exactly and only have ten guns up here, it don’t give us much chance, does it?’ Later I saw an officer of the Dorsets, who confirmed the gunner’s story, but added that our people were well entrenched and the guns well concealed, so that none of the latter had been put out of action, and he thought we should be able to hold on to the hill all right. I regained my car without further adventure, bar several narrow escapes from stray shell, and made my way back as quickly as possible to Chelmsford.

“The firing went on all day, not only to the northward, but also away to the southward, where the Saxons, while not making any determined attack, kept the Vth Corps continually on the alert, and there was an almost continuous duel between the heavy pieces. As it appeared certain that the knoll I had visited in the forenoon was the main objective of the enemy’s attack, reinforcements had been more than once sent up there, but the German shell fire was so heavy that they found it almost impossible to construct the additional cover required. Several batteries of artillery were despatched to Pleshy and Rolphy Green to keep down, if possible, the fire of the Germans, but it seemed to increase rather than diminish. They must have had more guns in action than they had at first. Just at dusk their infantry made the first openly offensive movement.

“Several lines of skirmishers suddenly appeared in the valley between Little Leighs and Chatley, and advanced towards Lyonshall Wood, at the north end of the knoll east of Little Waltham. They were at first invisible from the British gun positions on the other side of the Chelmer, and when they cleared the spur on which Hyde Hall stands they were hardly discernible in the gathering darkness. The Dorsetshire and the other battalions garrisoning the knoll manned their breastworks as they got within rifle range, and opened fire, but they were still subjected to the infernal rafale from the Hanoverian guns on the hills to the northward, and to make matters worse at this critical moment the Xth Corps brought a long line of guns into action between Flacks Green and Great Leighs Wood, in which position none of the British guns except a few on the knoll itself could reach them. Under this cross hurricane of projectiles the British fire was quite beaten down, and the Germans followed up their skirmishers by almost solid masses, which advanced with all but impunity save for the fire of the few British long-range guns at Pleshy Mount. There they were firing almost at random, as the gunners could not be certain of the exact whereabouts of their objectives. There was a searchlight on the knoll, but at the first sweep of its ray it was absolutely demolished by a blizzard of shrapnel. Every German gun was turned upon it. The Hanoverian battalions now swarmed to the assault, disregarding the gaps made in their ranks by the magazine fire of the defenders as soon as their close advance masked the fire of their own cannon.

“The British fought desperately. Three several times they hurled back at the attackers, but, alas! we were overborne by sheer weight of numbers. Reinforcements summoned by telephone, as soon as the determined nature of the attack was apparent, were hurried up from every available source, but they only arrived in time to be carried down the hill again in the rush of its defeated defenders, and to share with them the storm of projectiles from the quick-firers of General Von Kronhelm’s artillery, which had been pushed forward during the assault. It was with the greatest difficulty that the shattered and disorganised troops were got over the river at Little Waltham. As it was, hundreds were drowned in the little stream, and hundreds of others killed and wounded by the fire of the Germans. They had won the first trick. This was indisputable, and as ill news travels apace, a feeling of gloom fell upon our whole force, for it was realised that the possession of the captured knoll would enable the enemy to mass troops almost within effective rifle range of our river line of defence. I believe that it was proposed by some officers on the staff that we should wheel back our left and take up a fresh position during the night. This was overruled, as it was recognised that to do so would enable the enemy to push in between the Dunmow force and our own, and so cut our general line in half. All that could be done was to get up every available gun and bombard the hill during the night, in order to hamper the enemy in his preparations for further forward movement and in his entrenching operations.

“Had we more men at our disposal I suppose there is little doubt that a strong counter attack would have been made on the knoll almost immediately; but in the face of the enormous numbers opposed to us, I imagine that General Blennerhasset did not feel justified in denuding any portion of our position of its defenders. So all through the dark hours the thunder of the great guns went on. In spite of the cannonade the Germans turned on no less than three searchlights from the southern end of the knoll about midnight. Two were at once put out by our fire, but the third managed to exist for over half an hour, and enabled the Germans to see how hard we were working to improve our defences along the river bank. I am afraid that they were by this means able to make themselves acquainted with the positions of a great number of our trenches. During the night our patrols reported being unable to penetrate beyond Pratt’s Farm, Mount Maskell, and Porter’s Farm on the Colchester Road. Everywhere they were forced back by superior numbers. The enemy were fast closing in upon us. It was a terrible night in Chelmsford.

“There was a panic on every hand. A man mounted the Tindal statue and harangued the crowd, urging the people to rise and compel the Government to stop the war. A few young men endeavoured to load the old Crimean cannon in front of the Shire Hall, but found it clogged with rust and useless. People fled from the villa residences in Brentwood Road into the town for safety, now that the enemy were upon them. The banks in High Street were being barricaded, and the stores still remaining in the various grocers’ shops, Luckin Smith’s, Martin’s, Cramphorn’s, and Pearke’s, were rapidly being concealed from the invaders. All the ambulance wagons entering the town were filled with wounded, although as many as possible were sent south by train. By one o’clock in the morning, however, most of the civilian inhabitants had fled. The streets were empty, but for the bivouacking troops and the never-ending procession of wounded men. The General and his Staff were deliberating to a late hour in the Shire Hall, at which he had established his headquarters. The booming of the guns waxed and waned till dawn, when a furious outburst announced that the second act of the tragedy was about to open.

“I had betaken myself at once to the round tower of the church, next the Stone-bridge, from which I had an excellent view both east and north. The first thing that attracted my eye was the myriad flashings of rifle fire in the dimness of the breaking day. They reached in a continuous line of coruscations from Boreham Hall, opposite my right hand, to the knoll by Little Waltham, a distance of three or four miles, I should say. The enemy were driving in all our outlying and advanced troops by sheer weight of numbers. Presently the heavy batteries at Danbury began pitching shell over in the direction of the firing, but as the German line still advanced, it had not apparently any very great effect. The next thing that happened was a determined attack on the village of Howe Street made from the direction of Hyde Hall. This is about two miles north of Little Waltham. In spite of our incessant fire, the Germans had contrived to mass a tremendous number of guns and howitzers on and behind the knoll they captured last night, and there were any quantity more on the ridge above Hyde Hall. All these terrible weapons concentrated their fire for a few moments on the blackened ruins of Howe Street. Not a mouse could have lived there. The little place was simply pulverised.