Читать книгу The Thirteenth Hussars in the Great War - H. Mortimer Durand - Страница 10

Table of Contents

The voyage of the Thirteenth across the Indian Ocean was not disturbed by any hostile attack or demonstration, nor by bad weather, and the six-abreast formation was kept until the convoy was near Aden, when a new formation in two lines ahead, or two ships abreast, was taken up. Shortly after passing Aden the Dupleix parted company to coal at the French port of Jibuti, and her place was taken by the Northbrook, a vessel of the Royal Indian Marine. So far all had gone well.

The wife of an officer of the Thirteenth had left Bombay for England in a passenger steamer a day or two after the Regiment, and she writes in a letter of the time: “On Saturday, 28th of November, we caught sight of our Indian convoy at about nine in the morning. An Admiral asked the Captain to go quite close, as there were so many wives on board whose husbands were in the convoy. So he very kindly altered his course, and we went quite close so that we were able to pick out the different ships, and could actually through glasses see the ships with horses on board.” It was a courteous act, and no doubt gave pleasure, if a rather pathetic pleasure, to all concerned.

IN THE SUEZ CANAL. DECEMBER 1914

Though matters had gone well, the voyage had not been altogether without suffering for man and beast. Even at the best season of the year the heat in the Eastern seas can be very trying, and though British troops going on service were no longer exposed to the horrible discomforts of Crimean days, but conveyed in such splendid vessels as those of the Union-Castle Line, the Thirteenth had some unpleasant times. An officer wrote to his wife: “You know what the weather has been like, but you can have no conception of what it has been below in the horse decks: absolute hell. All across the Arabian Sea it was dead calm and a following wind, and the first day and a half in the Red Sea was even worse. We have worked like slaves with the horses, off and on all day: men stripped, officers in shirt sleeves, and all pouring with sweat; the horses panting for breath, and all we could do by continually moving them, sluicing with vinegar and water, and all sorts of things, to keep them alive. It was heart-breaking. I hope I’ll never go through such a time again.... All the days in the Arabian Sea seemed to get hotter and hotter, and the horses worse and worse; and the first day in the Red Sea, last Friday the 20th, was worse still, and one of my best horses, No. 133, 4th Troop, a nice bay from Saugar, with pink rings round his eyes, died from heat-stroke. Then one of ‘B’ Squadron died, and it was desperate. Two or three times they have had the ship round in a circle, to face the wind and try and get some air below for the horses, and it has been a great relief.... You wouldn’t believe how tame all the horses are now. You can do anything with them. Poor devils, they have had a frightful time. Saturday again was very hot, but the wind gradually came round ahead, and by evening there was a good breeze; and yesterday and to-day has been lovely: a stiff breeze ahead and quite cool. It is like heaven, and the horses are like different creatures and picking up fast. It is sure to last now, I think, right in to Suez, and I hope our troubles are over.... The men have worked like slaves, and so have we for that matter.”

Another officer, Lieutenant Watson Smyth, writes of the start at Bombay, after five or six hours spent in slinging horses into the hold: “At 8.30 I went down to the horse deck, and never have I met such heat. The horses were packed in pens of five, and were all, all over in a white lather; The temperature was taken by the Vet. and it was 133. This is 6 degrees more than the highest recorded in India, so you can see it was real hot....”

November 29, 1914.—“It has been very hot indeed the last few days, and the horses are feeling it very much. Only two have died so far.... I think I said that most of my squadron are in the fore-hold, and the other squadrons are on the decks above it round the hatchway, so that if anything has to be taken out of their decks by a crane it has to be hung over the hold while being hoisted. One of the horses I mentioned died in one of their decks, and when slung up to be dropped overboard, slipped out of the sling and fell forty feet into the hold. Luckily he only grazed one of our horses, another half-inch and it would have been killed. I have decided to take that horse for a charger, as if he can have an escape like that nothing else is likely to hurt him.”

It was a rough experience, and not a very good preparation for the cold of a winter in Northern France; but for the moment the discomfort was over, and throughout the voyage not many horses died. The Thirteenth lost four or five in all. Three-quarters of the troop horses were Indian country-breds, and the rest Australians, and therefore also accustomed to some heat. But the country-breds were rather light for British Cavalry, and hardly fitted at best to face snow and wet.

The Thirteenth found the banks of the Suez Canal lined with troops, largely Indian, who were expecting an attack from the Turkish army gathered in the desert to the north, but no attack came while the convoy was in the Canal.

Meanwhile, though still ignorant of their destination and very anxious to know it, they were cheered by a letter from an officer who had seen some fighting on the French Front. “He says the German Cavalry won’t face ours at all, and that their Infantry shoot rottenly. He says their Artillery, machine-guns, aeroplanes—anything mechanical, in fact—are perfect—and nearly all the casualties are from gun-fire. He says, man for man they are no match for us, and it is all simply a question of numbers. He says the patrol-work of the German Cavalry is too childish.” This confident letter was not altogether wrong in its views, as was afterwards shown by Lord French’s despatches and other evidence. Needless to say, the Thirteenth longed to be face to face with the famous Uhlans.9

IN THE SUEZ CANAL. DECEMBER 1914

Port Said was full of troops and of French cruisers and destroyers, a very bright and busy scene. There the Thirteenth at last learnt their destination. What they had longed for had come. They were to go on to Marseilles, and from there to the Western Front. It was to be real work, against a European enemy.

The passage across the Mediterranean, if rough, was uneventful, and by the middle of December the Regiment was landed on French soil. “We have arrived all fit and well and jolly,” Captain Eve wrote, “and have had a very busy day.... It is beautifully mild and fine. All the horses are well, and mine flourishing.”

The next day the Regiment went on by rail to Orleans. It was an interesting journey, and the French people all along the line gave the Regiment a hearty welcome. “French Red Cross people at all large stations, and lots of soldiers: also lots of enthusiasm, singing, giving the men country wine, and so on. They gave us cigarettes, coffee, tea, flowers, and so on, and were all very nice. Altogether it was very interesting and I enjoyed it. I had to give one badge away to a girl who asked for it, and to kiss another’s hand, which I hated. The men made a tremendous noise, but behaved very well indeed, except that two or three of mine got rather drunk on the last night. But it was very difficult for them. I find I can get on a little with my French if I am not hurried....”

That entry was very English, and very English too the thoughts of hunting stirred up by the French campagne: “We came a round-about way, not straight, and at one part came through some awfully nice country just like home, say the Duke’s country, enclosed property, and some stone-wall country too, and small coverts, and hilly. I got quite excited looking out at it.”

But the journey was soon over. A little after midnight, on the 17th of December, the Regiment arrived at a siding near their camp: “It was bitterly cold, with a white frost and icy wind, and we had to turn out, detrain, and load up all our kit, saddles, and arms on to motor lorries, and then march, leading our horses six miles out to our camp here in pitch darkness.... We left the station about 2.45 A.M., and reached camp about 5 A.M., and groped about till we somehow got our lines down.” It was not a pleasant beginning to their soldiering in France, a curious contrast to the heat of the Red Sea—“the worst and coldest camp, I think, I have ever seen, about six inches deep in liquid mud, on the top of an exposed hill, with a bitter wind blowing. We are in tents, V.10 and I sharing an 80-lb. one. We are very warm and comfortable, lots of warm straw on the ground, and our valises on top of it, and the men are in tents too, but the poor unfortunate horses are having a terrible time.... They stand always in a bog. The watering-place, about three-quarters of a mile away, is literally up to your knees nearly in liquid mud.” Lance-Corporal Bowie’s diary says of the arrival at Orleans: “Here we detrained at once in the midst of a terrific hailstorm, afterwards saddling up and leading our horses through the city to the village of La-Source, a distance of nine miles. Our stay at this camp proved to be a very severe test for both men and horses, as we were still clothed in our Indian khaki; at the same time it rained heavily for hours, and was also bitterly cold. The place in which the rough water-troughs had been fitted up, being in a valley, became practically a sea of mud, in places reaching up to our horses’ bellies.”

At this camp the Regiment found some more of their officers awaiting them, which brought them up to full strength again.

After two or three days they moved to a slightly more sheltered place, and the weather began to change. By Christmas Day it was bitterly cold, but bright and still, with a warm sun, and all was going better. Plenty of warm clothing was being served out to the men, and it was possible to get exercise again; and the food was excellent, good meat and vegetables, and tobacco. The warm clothing indeed was more than the men and horses could carry, and the quantity of blankets and other things had to be reduced to a more reasonable and serviceable scale. To quote Lance-Corporal Bowie again: “On Christmas Day 1914, every one received a post-card photo of the King and Queen, and also a gift from Princess Mary, which consisted of a pipe and an embossed brass box containing tobacco and cigarettes. A majority of us also received a Christmas parcel, which we owed to the generosity of the ladies connected with the Regiment, at the same time being completely overloaded with warm underwear, woollen cardigans, waistcoats, mittens, &c. But the waste of our new kits which we were compelled to obtain before leaving India was disgraceful, almost everything being burnt with the exception of some which we had dumped at Marseilles, which, needless to say, we never saw again. On the morning of the 31st of December we were all very glad to march out of this muddy camp, an incident worthy of note being that the men were so overloaded with kit (many of them having on two of almost everything as regards underclothing, having nowhere else to carry it), that they found it an awful struggle to mount, feeling more like a well-dressed Christmas-tree than a cavalryman. However, having all got mounted, we marched direct to Orleans Station, where we at once entrained for Berguette (Pas-de-Calais), where we arrived at 3 A.M. on 1st January 1915. Detraining here, we marched up to a village called Enquin-les-Mines, a distance of some kilometres, where we were allotted billets which consisted of old barns, &c., for the men, whilst we made our horses comfortable under archways, &c.”

Major T. Ha. S. Marchant, D.S.O.		Col. A. Symons, C.M.G.
	Major W. A. Kennard, D.S.O. (Died of pneumonia, December 1918, at Etaples)
Bt. Col. W. Pepys, D.S.O.		Lieut.-Col. E. F. Twist (Wounded at Lajj, 5th March 1917)

Certainly the British soldier in this war was equipped and fed as he had never been before, and the Thirteenth ended the year very happily on the whole. It was a contrast to their winter in the Crimea sixty years earlier.

Christmas good wishes and photographs from the King and Queen and Princess Mary came to assure them that they were not forgotten in England. And if the prayer of Their Majesties, “May God protect you and bring you home safe!” was not to be fulfilled for all of them, they faced what was to come with confidence and eagerness, longing only for more stirring work, and a chance of doing their share of honourable service.

It was a pause in the fighting then. The great retreat on Paris and the battle of the Marne were over, and the baffled enemy had made his first attempt to strike out to the westward for the Channel ports. He had been stopped after desperate fighting by the wasted regiments of our little army, and the troops on both sides were settling down into the long trench warfare of the next four years. The British part of the line was woefully short of men, and guns and munitions of all kinds; and to those who knew the real state of affairs the outlook was very dark, for in England there were no trained reserves to send to the Front—plenty of brave men, but no soldiers. Happily the country did not know in what peril its army was, and contingents were coming from India and Canada and Australia and New Zealand, and the confidence of the men at the Front was unfailing, and all hoped that the worst was over. It seems wonderful now that such confidence should have prevailed at the Front, and so little real anxiety in England; but the fighting men were full of the belief that they were man for man so superior to the enemy that he could never break through. Such gloomy faces as there were could be found only in England, not among the fighting men. In spite of snow and mud and suffering of all kinds, there was no gloom with them.

Bt. Lieut-Col. E. J. Carter	Major R. F. Cox	Capt. Lord Huntingfield
	Capt. Norman Neill Brig.-Major, 7th British Cavalry Brigade (Killed at Zwarteleen, 6th November 1914)
Bt. Major R. S. Hamilton-Grace G.S.O. 2nd Hdqrs. Cav. Corps (Killed in Motor accident at Burgues, 4th August 1915)	Capt. F. C. Covell	Bt. Major H. Ll. Jones, D.S.O. (Wounded in France with 4th Dragoon Guards, 28th October 1914)