The Invasion of 1910

“I sit down, after a sleepless night, to indite the account of our latest move. We hear that Sheffield has fallen, and our troops are in flight. As, by the time this appears in print, the enemy will of necessity be aware of our abandonment of Colchester, the censor will not, I imagine, prevent the despatch of my letter.

“For our move has been one of a retrograde nature, and I do not doubt that the cavalry of the German IXth Corps are close behind us and in touch with our own. But I must not, in using the word ‘retrograde,’ be supposed to criticise in any way the strategy of our generals. For everyone here is, I am sure, fully persuaded of the wisdom of the step. Colchester, with its plucky little garrison, was altogether too much ‘in the air,’ and stood a great risk of being isolated by a converging advance of the IXth and Xth Corps of the German invaders, to say nothing of the XIIth (Saxon) Corps at Maldon, which since the unfortunate battle of Purleigh has shown itself very active to the north and east.

“The Saxons have refrained from attacking our Vth Corps since its repulse, and it has been left almost in peace to entrench its position from Danbury to the southward; but, on the other hand, while not neglecting to further strengthen their already formidable defences between the Blackwater and the Crouch, their cavalry have scoured the country up to the very gates of Colchester. Yesterday morning the 16th Lancers and the 17th Hussars – who had fallen back from Norwich – together with some of the local Yeomanry, moved out by the Tolleshunt d’Arcy and Great Totham roads, and drove in their patrols with some loss. At Tiptree Heath there was a sharp cavalry engagement between our red Lancers and several squadrons of a sky-blue hussar regiment. Our people routed them, but in the pursuit that followed would have fared badly, as they fell in with the four remaining squadrons supported by another complete regiment, had it not been for the opportune arrival of the Household Cavalry Brigade, which had moved north-east from Danbury to co-operate. This completely changed the aspect of affairs. The Germans were soundly beaten, with the loss of a large number of prisoners, and galloped back to Maldon in confusion. In the meantime the 2nd King’s Own Royal Lancaster Regiment and the 5th Battery R.F. Artillery had been sent down to Witham by train, whence they marched up to the high ground near Wickham Bishops. They and the Yeomanry were left there in a position to cover the main London road and the Great Eastern Railway, and at the same time threaten any movement of the enemy by the Great Totham road. When the news of our success reached Colchester soon after midday, we were all very jubilant. In fact, I fear that a great many people spent the afternoon in a species of fool’s paradise. And when towards the evening the announcement of our splendid victory at Royston was posted up on the red walls of the fine town hall, and outside the Cups, there was an incipient outbreak of that un-English excitement known as ‘Mafficking.’ Gangs of youths paraded the High Street, Head Street, and the principal thoroughfares, shouting, yelling, and hustling passers-by, and even respectable members of society seemed bitten by the desire to throw up their hats and make idiots of themselves.

“The hotels, the Lamb, the Red Lion, and other places, did a roaring trade, and altogether the town was more or less demoralised. But all this exultation was fated to be but short-lived, even though the Mayor appeared on the balcony of the town hall and addressed the crowd, while the latest news was posted outside the offices of the Essex Telegraph, opposite the post-office. The wind was in the north, and about 5.45 in the afternoon the sound of a heavy explosion was heard from the direction of Manningtree. I was in the Cups Hotel at the time arranging for an early dinner, and ran out into the street. As I emerged from the archway of the hotel I distinctly heard a second detonation from the same direction. A sudden silence, ominous and unnatural, seemed to fall on the yelping jingoes in the street, in the midst of which the rumble of yet another explosion rolled down on the wind, this time from a more westerly direction. Men asked their neighbours breathlessly as to what all this portended. I myself knew no more than the most ignorant of the crowd, till in an officer who rushed hastily by me in Head Street, on his way into the hotel, I recognised my friend Captain Burton, of the Artillery.

“I buttonholed him at once.

“ ‘Do I know what those explosions were?’ repeated he in answer to my inquiry. ‘Well, I don’t know, but I’m open to bet you five to one that it’s the sappers blowing up the bridges over the Stour at Manningtree and Stratford St. Mary.’

“ ‘Then the Germans will have arrived there?’ I queried.

“ ‘Most probably. And look here,’ he continued, taking me aside by the arm, and lowering his voice, ‘you take my tip. We shall be out of this to-night. So you’d best pack up your traps and get into marching order.’

“ ‘Do you know this?’ said I.

“ ‘Not officially, or I shouldn’t tell you anything about it. But I can put two and two together. We all knew that the General wouldn’t be fool enough to try and defend an open town of this size with such a small garrison against a whole army corps, or perhaps more. It would serve no good purpose, and expose the place to destruction and bring all sorts of disaster on the civil population. You could have seen that for yourself, for no attempt whatever has been made to erect defences of any kind, neither have we received any reinforcements at all. If they had meant to defend it they would certainly have contrived to send us some Volunteers and guns at any rate. No, the few troops we have here have done their best in assisting the Danbury Force against the Saxons, and are much too valuable to be left here to be cut off without being able to do much to check the advance of the enemy. If we had been going to try anything of that kind, we should have now been holding the line of the river Stour; but I know we have only small detachments at the various bridges, sufficient only to drive off the enemy’s cavalry patrols. By now, having blown up the bridges, I expect they are falling back as fast as they can get. Besides, look here,’ he added, ‘what do you think that battalion was sent to Wickham Bishops for this morning?’

“I told him my theories as set forth above.

“ ‘Oh yes, that’s all right,’ he answered. ‘But you may bet your boots that there’s more in it than that. In my opinion, the General has had orders to clear out as soon as the enemy are preparing to cross the Stour, and the Lancasters are planted there to protect our left flank from an attack from Maldon while we are retreating on Chelmsford.’

“ ‘But we might fall back on Braintree?’ I hazarded.

“ ‘Don’t you believe it. We’re not wanted there – at least, I mean, not so much as elsewhere. Where we shall come in is to help to fill the gap between Braintree and Danbury. I think, myself, we might just as well have done it before. We have been sending back stores by rail for the last two days. Well, goodbye,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Keep all this to yourself, and mark my words, we’ll be off at dusk.’

“Away he went, and convinced that his prognostications were correct – as, indeed, in the main they proved – I hastened to eat my dinner, pay my bill, and get my portmanteau packed and stowed away in my motor. As soon as the evening began to close in I started and made for the barracks, going easy. The streets were still full of people, but they were very quiet, and mostly talking together in scattered groups. A shadow seemed to have fallen on the jubilant crowd of the afternoon, though, as far as I could ascertain, there were no definite rumours of the departure of the troops and the close advent of the enemy. Turning out of the main street, I had a very narrow escape of running over a drunken man. Indeed, I regret to say that there were a good many intoxicated people about, who had celebrated the day’s victory ‘not wisely but too well.’

“When I arrived at the barracks, I saw at once that there was something in the wind, for there was a great coming and going of orderlies; all the men I could see were in marching order, and the Volunteers, who had been encamped on the drill-ground since the outbreak of hostilities, were falling in, surrounded by an agitated crowd of their relations and friends. I pulled up alongside the barrack railings, and determined to watch the progress of events. I had not long to wait. In about ten minutes a bugle sounded, and the scattered assemblage of men on the barrack-square closed together and solidified into a series of quarter columns. At the same time, the Volunteer battalion moved across from the other side of the road and joined the Regular troops. I heard a sharp clatter and jingling behind me, and looking round, saw the General and his staff with a squad of cavalry canter up the road. They turned into the barrack gate, greeted by a sharp word of command and the rattle of arms from the assembled battalions. As far as I could make out, the General made them some kind of address, after which I heard another word of command, upon which the regiment nearest to the gate formed fours and marched out.

“It was the 2nd Dorsetshire. I watched anxiously to see which way they turned. As I more than expected, they turned in the direction of the London road. My friend had been right so far, but till the troops arrived at Mark’s Tey, where the road forked, I could not be certain whether they were going towards Braintree or Chelmsford. The Volunteers followed; then the Leicestershires, then a long train of artillery, field batteries, big 4.7 guns, and howitzers. The King’s Own Scottish Borderers formed the rearguard. With them marched the General and his staff. I saw no cavalry. I discovered afterwards that the General, foreseeing that a retirement was imminent, had ordered the 16th Lancers and the 7th Hussars, after their successful morning performance, to remain till further orders at Kelvedon and Tiptree respectively, so that their horses were resting during the afternoon.

“During the night march the former came back and formed a screen behind the retiring column, while the latter were in a position to observe and check any movement northwards that might be made by the Saxons, at the same time protecting its flank and rear from a possible advance by the cavalry of Von Kronhelm’s Army, should they succeed in crossing the river Stour soon enough to be able to press after us in pursuit by either of the two eastern roads leading from Colchester to Maldon. After the last of the departing soldiers had tramped away into the gathering darkness through the mud, which after yesterday’s downpour still lay thick upon the roads, I bethought me that I might as well run down to the railway station to see if anything was going on there. I was just in time.

“The electric lights disclosed a bustling scene as the last of the ammunition and a certain proportion of stores were being hurried into a long train that stood with steam up ready to be off. The police allowed none of the general public to enter the station, but my correspondent’s pass obtained me admission to the departure platform. There I saw several detachments of the Royal Engineers, the Mounted Infantry – minus their horses, which had been already sent on – and some of the Leicestershire Regiment. Many of the men had their arms, legs, or heads bandaged, and bore evident traces of having been in action. I got into conversation with a colour-sergeant of the Engineers, and learned these were the detachments who had been stationed at the bridges over the Stour. It appears that there was some sharp skirmishing with the German advanced troops before the officers in command had decided that they were in sufficient force to justify them in blowing up the bridges. In fact, at the one at which my informant was stationed, and that the most important one of all, over which the main road from Ipswich passed at Stratford St. Mary, the officer in charge delayed just too long, so that a party of the enemy’s cavalry actually secured the bridge, and succeeded in cutting the wires leading to the charges which had been placed in readiness to blow it up. Luckily, the various detachments present rose like one man to the occasion, and despite a heavy fire, hurled themselves upon the intruders with the bayonet with such determination and impetus that the bridge was swept clear in a moment. The wires were reconnected, and the bridge cleared of our men just as the Germans, reinforced by several of their supporting squadrons, who had come up at a gallop, dashed upon it in pursuit. The firing key was pressed at this critical moment, and, with a stunning report, a whole troop was blown into the air, the remaining horses, mad with fright, stampeding despite all that their riders could do. The road was cut, and the German advance temporarily checked, while the British detachment made off as fast as it could for Colchester.

NOTICE

CONCERNING WOUNDED BRITISH SOLDIERS

In compliance with an order of the Commander-in-Chief of the German Imperial Army, the Governor-General of East Anglia decrees as follows: —

(1) Every inhabitant of the counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Cambridge, Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, Nottingham, Derby, Leicester, Northampton, Rutland, Huntingdon, and Hertford, who gives asylum to or lodges one or more ill or wounded British soldier, is obliged to make a declaration to the mayor of the town or to the local police within 24 hours, stating name, grade, place of birth, and nature of illness or injury.

Every change of domicile of the wounded is also to be notified within 24 hours.

In absence of masters, servants are ordered to make the necessary declarations.

The same order applies to the directors of hospitals, surgeries, or ambulance stations, who receive the British wounded within our jurisdiction.

(2) All mayors are ordered to prepare lists of the British wounded, showing the number, with their names, grade, and place of birth in each district.

(3) The mayor, or the superintendent of police, must send on the 1st and 15th of each month a copy of his lists to the headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief. The first list must be sent on the 15th September.

(4) Any person failing to comply with this order will, in addition to being placed under arrest for harbouring British troops, be fined a sum not exceeding £20.

(5) This decree is to be published in all towns and villages in the Province of East Anglia.

    Count VON SCHONBURG-WALDENBURG,
    Lieutenant-General,
    Governor of German East Anglia.

Ipswich, September 6, 1910.

COPY OF ONE OF THE ENEMY’S PROCLAMATIONS

“I asked the sergeant how long he thought it would be before the Germans succeeded in crossing it. ‘Bless you, sir, I expect they’re over by now,’ he answered. ‘They would be sure to have their bridging companies somewhere close up, and it would not take them more than an hour or two to throw a bridge over that place.’ The bridges at Boxted Mill and Nayland had been destroyed previously.

“The railway bridge and the other one at Manningtree were blown up before the Germans could get a footing, and their defenders had come in by rail. But my conversation was cut short, the whistle sounded, the men were hustled on board the train, and it moved slowly out of the station. As for me, I hurried out to my car. As I came out I noticed that it had begun to rain. However, I was fully equipped for it, and, except for the chance of skidding and the splashing of the flying mud, did not mind it. But I could not help thinking of the poor soldiers trudging along on their night march over the weary miles that lay before them. I determined to follow in their steps, and putting on speed, was soon clear of the town, and spinning along for Mark’s Tey. It is about five miles, and shortly before I got there I overtook the marching column. The men were halted, and in the act of putting on their greatcoats. I was stopped here by the rearguard, who took charge of me, and would not let me proceed until permission was obtained from the General.

“Eventually this officer ordered me to be brought to him. I presented my pass; but he said, ‘I am afraid that I shall have to ask you either to turn back, or to slow down and keep pace with us. In fact, you had better do the latter. I might, indeed, have to exercise my powers and impress your motor, should the exigencies of the Service require it.’ I saw that it was best to make a virtue of necessity, and replied that it was very much at his service, and that I was very well content to accompany the column. In point of fact, the latter was strictly true, for I wanted to see what was to be seen, and there were no points about going along with no definite idea of where I wanted to get to, with a possible chance of falling into the hands of the Saxons into the bargain. So a Staff officer, who was suffering from a slight wound, was placed alongside me, and the column, having muffled itself in its greatcoats, once more began to plug along through the thickening mire. My position was just in front of the guns, which kept up a monotonous rumble behind me. My companion was talkative, and afforded me a good deal of incidental and welcome information. Thus, just after we started, and were turning to the left at Mark’s Tey, a bright glare followed by a loudish report came from the right of the road. ‘What’s that?’ I naturally ejaculated. ‘Oh, that will be the sappers destroying the junction with the Sudbury line,’ he replied. ‘There’s the train waiting for them just beyond.’

“So it was. The train that I had seen leaving had evidently stopped after passing the junction, while the line was broken behind it. ‘They will do the same after passing the cross line at Witham,’ volunteered he.

“A mile or two farther on we passed between two lines of horsemen, their faces set northwards, and muffled to the eyes in their long cloaks, ‘That’s some of the 16th,’ he said, ‘going to cover our rear.’

“So we moved on all night through the darkness and rain. The slow, endless progress of the long column of men and horses seemed like a nightmare. We passed through the long street of Kelvedon, scaring the inhabitants, who rushed to their windows to see what was happening, and with the first glimmer of dawn halted at Witham. We had about nine miles still to go to reach Chelmsford, which I learned was our immediate destination, and it was decided to rest here for an hour, while the men made the best breakfast they could from the contents of their haversacks. But the villagers brought out hot tea and coffee, and did the best they could for us, so we did not fare so badly after all. As for me, I got permission to go on, taking with me my friend the Staff officer, who had despatches to forward from Chelmsford. I pushed on at full speed. We were there in a very short space of time, and during the morning I learned that the Braintree Army was falling back on Dunmow, and that the Colchester garrison was to assist in holding the line of the river Chelmer.”

Another despatch from Mr. Edgar Hamilton, of the Tribune, was published in that journal on Friday, the 14th September: —

    “Brentwood, Thursday, September 13, 1910.

“The events of the last three days have been so tremendous, so involved, and so disastrous to us as a nation, that I hardly know how to deal with them. It is no news now that we have again been beaten, and beaten badly. The whole right of our line of defence has been driven back in disorder, and we are now practically at the ‘last ditch.’ The remnants of that fine force which has, up to now, not only been able to hold the Saxon Army in check, but even to be within an ace of beating it at the memorable battle of Purleigh, less than a week ago, is now occupying the entrenchments which have been under construction ever since the landing of the Germans, and which form a section of the works that have been planned for the defence of the metropolis.

“Here, too, are portions of the Braintree Army Corps and some of the troops lately constituting the garrison of Colchester, whom I accompanied on their night march out of that city when it had been decided to abandon it. We have only the vaguest rumours as to what has happened to the other portion of the 1st Army Corps that was occupying Dunmow and the upper part of the river Chelmer. We can only hope that these troops, or at any rate a considerable portion of them, have been able to gain the shelter of the defensive enceinte to the north-westward. It is to be feared this reverse will necessitate the retreat of the Second, Third, and Fourth Armies from Saffron Walden, Royston, and Baldock, that position which they so gallantly defended against the flower of the German Army, emerging victorious from the glorious battle of Royston. For to stay where they are, in the face of the combined forward movement of the IXth, Xth, and XIIth Corps of the invaders, and the rumoured resumption of the offensive by the two corps defeated before Royston, would be to court being outflanked and cut off from the rest of our forces at a time when every single soldier is urgently required to man the northern portion of the defences of London.

“But to return to the relation of our latest and most disastrous defeat, which I must preface by saying that my readers must not be deceived by the words ‘Army Corps’ as applied to the various assemblages of our troops. As a matter of fact, ‘Divisions,’ or even ‘Brigades,’ would be nearer the mark. The ‘Army Corps’ at Braintree had only four, or perhaps later six, regular infantry regiments, with a very small force of cavalry and not too many guns. Compare that with the Xth German Army Corps under General von Wilberg, which was more immediately opposed to it. This formidable fighting unit may be taken as a representative one, observing that the Garde Corps is yet stronger. Von Wilberg’s Corps is a Hanoverian one, and comprises no less than twenty-three battalions of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, twenty-five batteries of artillery, a train battalion, and a pioneer battalion. What chance has a so-called army corps of 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.