Thursday, 26 July 2018

100 Years Ago

Clearing the Marne woods

There is now no question about it. The Germans are in retreat. South of Fere-en-Tardenois, the one railhead that is left them — and that has been heavily shelled by the French — they have been busily burning stores too bulky to be quickly removed, and not only most of their guns but the greater part of their infantry have gone. Some of those who have been left behind seem to have little stomach left for fighting. One member of the Staff, who had seen columns of troops and supply convoys moving away to the north, told me of an incident which gives a picture of the state of mind to which some of them have been brought. They did not appreciate the efforts of the French gunners, and a number of them near whom a shell fell scattered, as he said, like a flock of sparrows, and refused to come back to their posts till their Unteroffziere had beaten them with canes. It happened not once but four or five times to the same lot of men.
It was a more dangerous enemy, however, that the French had to deal with yesterday. In every possible hole or corner in the woods the Germans as they fell back had left squads of machine-gunners to gain delay for the troops in retreat. To attempt to clear out these nests of wasps by frontal attacks would have meant great loss of life. The alternative was to advance in the open on each side of the woods, leaving them for other troops to deal with later on from the flank and from the rear. Today, the Bois de Chatelet and the Bois de la Tournelle, which were passed in yesterday’s advance, will be cleaned up by Americans and tirailleurs.
I stopped yesterday on the near side of the Bois de Chatelet, near enough to appreciate one striking proof of the difference of the fighting in this open warfare from what it was even a year ago. Whereas the woods in the old days were shelled till there was not a stick left, the Chatelet Wood and others that I passed still had their coating of leaves, and though here and there a trunk was cut through, you would hardly have suspected that war had passed their way. And yet the plan of turning them during an advance and clearing them out afterwards with grenades and bayonets from the rear is far more effective than the old-fashioned shelling in ridding them of their destructive occupants.

Spread of munitions strike

The strike of munition workers against the embargo on the employment of extra skilled labour in a few works spread yesterday to Birmingham. It is understood that the Government have decided that men who will not work must fight, and drastic measures will be taken, if necessary, after an interval for conciliation has been allowed.
Our Parliamentary Correspondent writes: It is understood that the War Cabinet had under consideration yesterday the munition workers’ strike, and that certain general lines of policy were laid down. The Ministerial view is that this is not an ordinary dispute between employers and employed, but that it is action directed against the State. The Trade Union Advisory Committee, who are to meet in London this morning, will be frankly told that the Government cannot admit the claim by a section of workmen forcibly to reverse the policy of a Department of State. Mr Churchill and Mr Barnes will attend the conference, and will explain to the delegates the position the Government have taken up and by which they intend to abide. The Advisory Committee will be given ample time in which to secure the return of the strikers to work. The delegates, however, are likely to be given to understand that, if the men are still delaying the production of vital munitions of war next Monday, the Government will be forced to take drastic measures for the national security. It is understood that these measures would include the cancelling of the protection certificates which secure to a large proportion of the men on strike exemption from military service. Although the Government decline absolutely to accept the demand of the strikers, they are allowing an interval of time for wiser counsels to prevail. No doubt every avenue of conciliation will be explored during the weekend.
The strike of skilled munition workers, which began in Coventry yesterday, has now spread to Birmingham. Many thousands of workpeople absented themselves from work at 6 o’clock this evening, when the night shift was due to go in, and it is calculated that 60,000 skilled workmen, including 15,000 ASE members and 5,000 women employed in tasks previously done by skilled engineers, will be idle tomorrow.

The narrowing salient

The position of the enemy in the now reduced Soissons-Chateau-Thierry-Reims salient is confined and dangerous. Its length of base is only about 30 miles, and the distance from Fismes, midway between Soissons and Reims, to the most advanced French post in front of Chateau-Thierry, is 18 miles. To the west of Fismes General Mangin’s Army is barely 15 miles away; the nearest point on the Marne is only 15 miles south; and to the south-east at Ste Euphraise the British are within 12 miles. From all these points the French, American, and British forces are striking in the same direction, on the centre at Fismes.
On the enemy’s side there is nothing resembling a rout. Both his passage of the Marne and his retreat have been conducted with great tactical skill, and everywhere he is putting up a stubborn resistance to our advance. But owing to the lack of good lines of communication, circulation behind his lines is extremely difficult, both for bringing up supplies and ammunition and for any movement to the rear; and if the Allies break through at any point in the semi-circle of which Fismes is the centre, especially on either of the two flanks, the state of confusion into which the enemy would be thrown might easily lead to disaster.
In spite of strong counter-attacks, the French continued their advance yesterday between the Aisne and the Marne. Patrols sent out to explore and report on the country on the right bank found that Baslieux and the Bois du Roi were occupied by enemy rearguards. Baslieux was just a week ago, on the first day of the German offensive, the scene of a typical story of the spirit of patriotism and self-sacrifice on the part of a French infantry major. Early in the morning he and the two companies under his command were cut off and surrounded in the village. At half-past 7 he sent back a message to Divisional Headquarters by carrier pigeon giving useful information about the German advance and describing the plight of himself and his men, but saying that they would hold out. For seven hours he did hold out. Then he sent a final message by his last pigeon: “The Boches are on us. We are lost, but we have done good work. Order your artillery to fire on Baslieux” — that is to say, on himself and his two companies.

Chateau-Thierry sacked

The Germans evacuated Chateau-Thierry this morning, the first troops leaving at 4 o’clock, and the last four telephonists, who were subsequently captured, at 8.30. Two hours later I was talking to inhabitants who had remained in the town. It is difficult to interpret in mere words the emotions of these people. A poor old lady of 87, with tears in her eyes, grasped my hand and bade me welcome. She told me that the Germans, except for the habit of not paying for what they had taken, had treated her well, and she, in return, had looked after their wounded. She had lived in a cellar during the whole occupation. Last night, with the other inhabitants, about 200 women and children, she was ordered to take her mattress and sleep in the church. They were forbidden to leave. At 8.30 this morning the door opened and they were told by four German NCOs that they might return to their homes. They found that the Germans had left, taking everything with them, and leaving behind a derelict town that seemed as if an earthquake had visited it. An old man, with quivering voice, told me how pleased he was to see someone from the other side and, forgetting everything, kissed me warmly on the cheek. Others told me, after a hearty shaking of hands, how they had lived in their cellars. I asked one of the girls why she did not leave before the Germans came. “I could not leave my mother,” she said, “and besides, why should I retreat from the Germans?” She had certainly faced more perils than the majority of her fellow-prisoners. When I told them the news from the fronts they were overjoyed.
All the time shells were whistling overhead. We saw French cavalry and armoured cars giving chase to the enemy, who was then not far outside the town. All round us lay the desolation of war. Shells have fallen through the roof of the fine church in the centre of the town; the Hotel de Ville is a complete wreck, and houses with gaping sides are everywhere. There are notices on doors in German signifying where superior officers lived, always ending with “Verboten!” (No way here). Loaves of broad, uniforms, coats, hats, bayonets, and rifles were cast about. The enemy in the hurry of departure had flung everything aside. Empty wine bottles lying about in cellars told of carousals.


Transport sunk by U-boat


HM Transport Barunga (ex German SS Sumatra), outward bound to Australia conveying unfit Australian troops, was torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine on July 15. There were no casualties. The explosion shook the Barunga from stem to stern, hurling everyone to the deck. The gun crew quickly jumped to their feet and fired, striking the water just beyond the submarine, which dived. Fortunately, after settling for 10ft, the boat remained still for half an hour. The men lined up at the boat stations, helping the incapacitated and singing Australian songs. Corporal F A S Russell said: “Panic! Good God, no, you wouldn’t expect it amongst Australian troops! I saw one man swimming with a cigarette in his mouth.”
Many on board had been fighting since the beginning of the war, and included a dozen helpless cripples. Many had to jump overboard into a 10ft swell. Boats, rafts, planks floated about in confusion. Two destroyers got to windward so that the floaters should drift in their direction, while a third circled, creating an inward wash, to shepherd them. Sometimes the scene resembled an aquatic carnival, and there was a constant flow of badinage between the swimmers and floaters. Some men paddled around, using hats as oars.
On board the Barunga the time had been passed with typical nonchalance. Four soldiers were playing bridge on the mess-deck when the vessel was hit. Seeing that everything was quiet, they returned and finished their rubber before being ordered to take to the boats.
The officers pay a special tribute to Adjutant Major Montgomery, AAMC. When nearly all had left the ship he discovered four soldiers leaning over the rails at the stern, and asked why they had not gone overboard. They said they could not swim, so handing each a Iifebelt the adjutant said, “Well, you’ll jolly well have to learn,” and jumped in himself and saw them all safely on to rafts. Throughout the work of rescue, first attention was given to those who were incapacitated, some shellshock cases suffering terribly.
Lieutenant F C Symonds, of Melbourne, says that there were four nurses on board and they were “just lovely: their only concern was the welfare of the sick. Matron Blundell set a splendid example, though severely shaken by the explosion.


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