WILLIAM LE QUEUX: 15 Dystopian Novels & Espionage Thrillers (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux
half a dozen regular infantry battalions, perhaps a dozen Volunteer and Militia Corps, a scratch lot of cavalry, and half the number of guns, against such a powerful, well-organised, and well-trained force as this?
“In the recent fighting about Chelmsford we have had at the outside thirty regular battalions to oppose the onslaught of three complete German Army Corps such as that described above. We have had a number of auxiliary troops in addition, as well as a preponderance in heavy long-ranging artillery, but the former cannot be manœuvred in the same way as regular soldiers, however brave and devoted they may be; while, if weaker in big guns, the enemy outnumbered our mobile horse and field artillery by five or six to one. So it must be understood that while a defeat is deplorable and heartbreaking, yet a victory against such odds would have been little less than a miracle. No blame can be attached either to our officers or their men. All did as much, or more, than could be humanly expected of them. The long and short of it is that since we, as a nation, have not chosen to have a sufficient and up-to-date Army, we must take the rub when an invasion comes.
“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,