WILLIAM LE QUEUX: 15 Dystopian Novels & Espionage Thrillers (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux
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