On-Line Memories 

To BMP

I must now tell you the extraordinary events of the last few days. Just a week ago we arrived at a place called Gouy en Artois, about 9 miles west of Arras. Here we spent the night, the men and horses in a field – the officers in a hut. The next morning we heard that the assault had begun and that we might have to move at any moment. At about 10 o’clock, off we went in a great hurry. We trotted along very muddy roads and shortly after noon halted in a high open field on the western outskirts of Arras. Here we were already in line with our big guns and could hear and see a good deal of the battle.

At about 3 o’clock we mounted again and set off at a great pace, through the town, across the railway and halted all among our more advanced batteries on the eastern edge of the town. Here we could already see groups of prisoners, wounded, and infantry moving about over the German lines just in front of us. All this time, Tony Buxton and C Squadron were another half a mile ahead, ready to put on if occasion offered. Towards evening, we moved forward again, across the German front over a little ridge and into a valley where we halted among the second line German trenches, all among the shell holes, abandoned guns and other debris of the fight. It was now 5 o’clock and in the two hours of daylight which remained we took the horses north to the Scarpe, watered them and returned to bivouac close to the Arras-Cambrai road. By this time it had turned very cold and we made preparations for the night, feeling very chilly and hungry. Soon it began to rain, and then to snow. By midnight the snow had stopped but it was freezing hard. At this moment we got an order to move back; the roads or rather tracks were full of transport, so much so that we were kept waiting for three hours before we could start. Finally we got under way and reached our old haunt just west of Arras, as dawn broke. The weather by now was perfectly vile. The wind biting and the snow driving in our faces and with no means of getting hot food or shelter, we had some difficulty in keeping going at all.

At 11 o’clock we were ordered to move forward again – so back through Arras and to our last night’s bivouac. But this time it was clear that there was more going forward. Almost at once Tony and C Squadron went on to Orange Hill, where Wear with the leading patrol bumped into a Hun machine gun. Later in the day the Infantry took Orange Hill and we all moved on to its western sloped. Here, at a spot called Feuchy Chapel, we bivouacked for the night. It was a horrid evening, blowing and snowing harder than ever. However, we made ourselves as comfortable as we could and managed to get a certain amount of sleep. All night we were shelled in a desultory sort of way, and lost 60 horses. When morning broke everyone was feeling rather blue with cold and one or two of the horses had collapsed from exposure and had to be shot.

A little before 8 o’clock, the gunning increased in intensity and we heard that the Infantry had got into one end of Meuchy (Manchy – Han Ed); and that we were shortly to go on to support. At 8.30 we started off. I went on with Jim Chaplin and C Squadron; as soon as we topped Orange Hill the shells began to fall, first in ones and twos, then in half dozens, then in a continuous stream. We started trotting, and then galloping in a sort of loose open formation, with the shells bursting all about us. I should think we galloped like this for a mile and we arrived at the western edge of Manchy (Manchy – Han Ed). On through the village as fast as we could and out on the far side. As we emerged, a very heavy fire from machine guns. The horses were knocked over one after another and soon the road was blocked with them, and there was nothing for it but to dismount, get the horses back, and open fire.

This we did, among much popping of rifles and machine guns. In half an hour’s time, we had disposed ourselves in little groups, holding the edge of the village with our Hochkisses and machine guns in front. The Hun was quite close and showed signs of coming forward; but our fire stopped him.

Half an hour later, ominous sight; a Hun aeroplane came sailing over – quite low he flew and had a good look at us. Almost before he had departed the shells began to drop first singly and then in clusters. Big shells, little shells, shrapnel shells, all sorts of shells. One of the first made a hole near where we were standing. Into this Francis, Guy and I got, and from here surveyed the battle, though as a matter of fact I didn’t spend much time in it, as there were so many orders to be written and messages to be run. 12-12.30 was rather a bad moment. The shells were falling thick and a lot of men had been hit. We had sent a message to Be asking for help and had only heard in reply that the barrage was too heavy and they had had to go back to Feuchy Chapel. We expected every moment to be counter-attacked; luckily, however, no counter-attack came and a little later Pembroke arrived. He was all by himself as it turned out, but it cheered us to see him, because it showed that the Blues were trying to get up to help us.

Immediately after this I started off into the village to collect up ammunition. It was perfectly indescribable. Great clumps of dead horses and men lying about. In some places, the whole street from side to side completely filled with them, all one on top of the other, and mostly in pieces. I got together a lot of ammo and also discovered a rather good dugout in the centre of the town. There was someone in it, Hun we thought, but they turned out to be infantry tommies lying low. We soon had them out and set them to work. Then I got Francis to come out of his shell hole and make the dugout his Headquarters. By this time the shelling was dying down and our own guns beginning to speak. Thence forth everything went swimmingly. Little clumps of infantry kept bobbing out of odd comers. They had lost their officers and some of them their heads; but thanks to Francis, who is a wonderful organiser, they were all fitted into the scheme of defence. By evening, we were all dug in, had lots of ammunition and every approach covered with Hotchkiss and machine guns; Francis sitting in his dugout, like any Napoleon, dictating orders to me, which were then dispatched by numerous orderlies to the different detachments holding the village. I should think we had small bodies of at least five infantry regiments; besides ourselves, the Xth and various machine gunners.

After dark I had a busy time going round the dressing stations, which presented a pitiable sight, trying to make some of our wounded more comfortable. Later on, we heard that a fresh division was coming up to take over the village. At 11 o’clock they arrived. There was a good deal of palaver but in the end the relief was accomplished. I had to wait behind to give orders to certain detachments and at 3 o’clock I said goodbye to Mouchy (Manchy – Han Ed) and trudged off through the snow to catch up the Regiment.

At Feuchy we met our horses and made our way back to Arras. We are now in rest billets and with warm food and sleep are beginning to feel ourselves again. We have lost about 250 horses and 150 men, but I am glad to say that a great many, including all 12 officers, are only wounded. Some say we ought never to have been sent at all. Perhaps that is true but we have got enormous kudos by galloping through the barrage and it is our battle. Not the Xth or the Infantry but the EY and Francis is the hero of the hour.

There is a longish list of recommendations gone in, including myself for a DSO but don’t count on it in any way. For in these things, there’s many a slip, and with so many others in, probably a lot of us will be cut out.

The General was killed

Major Proby