Lord Kitchener met Sir John French at the British embassy in Paris on the afternoon of 1 September. French bitterly resented Kitchener’s presence – an unwarranted intrusion in his eyes. That Kitchener wore his Field Marshal’s uniform, rather than civilian clothes, was seen by the touchy French as another attempt to undermine his authority. The meeting was an ill-tempered business, but Kitchener got his message across. He subsequently telegraphed the Cabinet in London: ‘French’s troops are now engaged in the fighting line, where he will remain conforming to the movements of the French army, though at the same time acting with caution to avoid being in any way unsupported on his flanks.’1
In his book 1914, French suggested the meeting was an exchange of views among equals. He wrote: ‘I would not tolerate any interference with my executive command and authority so long as His Majesty’s Government chose to retain me in my present position. I think he began to realise my difficulties, and we finally came to an amicable understanding.’2
Kitchener left no account of the meeting but it was clear that he had ordered French to co-operate with Joffre. To underscore this point he sent a copy of the Cabinet telegram to French, with this addition: ‘I feel sure that you will agree that the above represents the conclusions we came to; but in any case, until I can communicate with you further in answer to anything you may wish to tell me, please consider it an instruction.’3 Reluctantly, French accepted Kitchener’s order, replying on the 3rd: ‘I fully understand your instructions … I am in full accord with Joffre and the French.’4 And yet the idea of getting away to preserve his army still remained in French’s mind.
Even as Lord Kitchener was conducting his first exchange of telegrams with French, Kluck’s First Army had made a further abrupt change of course. In the aftermath of Le Cateau, Kluck had ordered his troops to push forward in a broad south-westerly direction. Breaking through a French screening force, he encountered and drove back more French troops, which, unknown to him, were forming-up to become General Michel-Joseph Maunoury’s Sixth Army. On 30 August, however, Kluck accepted a request from Bülow’s Second Army to come to its assistance to outflank the French Fifth Army. Unable to ‘find’ the BEF, Kluck – the victim of poor intelligence and his own hubris – believed his success against Smith-Dorrien at Le Cateau had knocked out the entire BEF as a fighting force. As he saw it, the destruction of Lanrezac’s Fifth Army would confirm his victory.
Kluck’s troops – nearing exhaustion yet still battle-worthy – began marching towards the south-east, the long grey columns visible to the RFC as early as the 31st. Much has been made of First Army’s change of direction, often described as a blunder that fatally undermined the ‘Schlieffen plan’ by not advancing to the west of Paris. But neither Kluck nor Moltke was following the plan as set down in Schlieffen’s positional paper of 1905. Kluck was simply trying to outflank the Allied left, while Moltke was keeping his strategic options open, with an attempted breakthrough against the French centre a leading candidate. Moltke lacked sufficient troops for a wider enveloping manoeuvre around Paris; it would also have stretched Germany’s already frayed lines of communication to breaking point.
Kluck’s new line of advance was beneficial to the Allies in taking the pressure off Maunoury’s still vulnerable forces, allowing what was a scratch army to be assembled in relative peace. More significantly, First Army failed in its mission to outflank Lanrezac’s army, which found sufficient time to retire in good order. Kluck’s manoeuvre also had the unforeseen consequence of bringing it back across the BEF’s path to the south, with German advance guards clipping the heels of the retreating British on 1 September.
The first of several encounters took place at Néry at dawn on the 1st, when the German 4th Cavalry Division attacked Brigadier-General C. J. Briggs’ 1st Cavalry Brigade. Although a heavy fog hung over the British position, security was lax and the unprepared British were caught by surprise. The German commander swiftly deployed his machine guns and the 12 field guns of his divisional artillery.
The opening shots were fired at 5.40 a.m., the Germans concentrating on L Battery of the Royal Horse Artillery (RHA). After the battery commander was knocked unconscious, Captain Edward Bradbury took charge and returned fire. Only three of the battery’s six 13-pounders could be brought into action, and two were swiftly disabled. Bradbury and a few other men continued to man the single gun in a very unequal contest with the German artillery. Bradbury was mortally wounded while bringing up ammunition, leaving just Sergeant Nelson and Sergeant-Major Dorrell to continue the fight until the arrival of reinforcements at around 8 a.m.
The 4th Cavalry Brigade, along with I Battery RHA and the machine guns of the 1st Middlesex Regiment, turned the tables against the Germans, who fled the battlefield in disorder, leaving eight guns behind (the remaining four guns were subsequently found abandoned). The German 4th Cavalry Division was temporarily removed from front-line service with II Cavalry Corps. On the British side, L Battery – having lost all its officers and a quarter of its men – was withdrawn to Britain to refit. Nelson and Dorrell – and Bradbury posthumously – were awarded the Victoria Cross for their exceptional courage.
Further to the east, German cavalry from IV Corps and a Jäger battalion clashed with troops from the 5th Division around the village of Crépy-en-Valois. The 1st Royal West Kents and 2nd Duke of Wellington’s Regiment were ably supported by the three 18-pounder batteries of the 27th Brigade RFA, and after a short fire-fight the British troops continued their withdrawal. A more serious action took place in the forested region around Villers-Cottérêts, where the 4th (Guards) Brigade fought a confused but intense action amidst the wooded slopes of the forest.
The brigade was acting as the rearguard for the 2nd Division, with the Coldstream and Irish Guards heavily engaged from the outset. After an initial attack, the Germans launched a second, more intense assault against the Irish Guards at 10.30 a.m. Aubrey Herbert, a volunteer attached to the regiment, described the encounter: ‘The German advance began very rapidly. The Coldstreamers must have begun falling back about this time. The Germans came up in front and on our left flank. There was a tremendous fire. The leaves, branches etc. rained upon one. One’s face was constantly fanned by the wind from their bullets. This showed how bad their fire was. My regiment took cover very well, and after a first minute or two fired pretty carefully.’5
The close terrain made an organized withdrawal a difficult business; units were mixed up and some were left behind. The Irish Guards had been instructed to retire, but this was countermanded by a new order to return to their original position:
The Germans were by this time about 250 yards away, firing on us with machine guns and rifles. The noise was perfectly awful. In a lull the CO [Lieutenant-Colonel George Morris] said to the men: ‘Do you hear that? Do you know what they are doing that for? They are doing that to frighten you.’
I said to him: ‘If that’s all, they might as well stop. As far as I am concerned, they have succeeded, two hours ago.’
The men were ordered to charge, but the order was not heard in the noise, and after we had held the position for some minutes a command was given to retreat.6
As the Guards withdrew they began to take casualties, losing over 300 officers and men in the brigade. Among them was Colonel Morris, who was shot and killed, while the 4th Brigade commander, Brigadier-General Robert Scott-Kerr, was badly wounded. Herbert was also wounded, and left behind to be captured by the Germans – although he was liberated from his prison hospital when Allied forces re-took the hospital in September.
Despite the ‘rediscovery’ of the BEF, Kluck did not deviate from his advance on what he hoped would be the flank of the French Fifth Army. The British, meanwhile, continued to retreat south, thus ending this phase of hostilities, although GHQ ordered a punishing night march on the 1st/2nd to maintain a safe distance between the Germans and the BEF.
The small-scale cavalry actions continued, with the British generally holding their own against superior German numbers. The fear of being caught on the end of a German lance remained, and Captain Arthur Osburn experienced several close scrapes with German horsemen, on one occasion seeing, ‘the black and white pennons of German Uhlans fluttering over the top of the hedges’.7
In the febrile atmosphere that seemed to envelop GHQ, the hovering anxiety that they might be overrun by German cavalry continued after the engagements of 1 September, all of which failed to encourage the sense of calm necessary in such an organization. On the evening of the 2nd, GHQ was billeted in a chateau at Dammartin, well away from the German line of march. According to volunteer driver C. D. Baker-Carr, GHQ’s stay did not end well:
The departure from Dammartin was a panic-stricken flight. Rumours of thousands of Uhlans in the woods near by arrived every moment. Typewriters and office equipment were flung into waiting lorries, which were drawn up in serried ranks in front of the château. It was a pitch-black night, lit by a hundred dazzling head-lights. With much difficulty I collected my quota of passengers and got clear of the seething mass of vehicles.8
The rumours were ill-founded, as Baker-Carr discovered on returning to Dammartin: ‘Everything in the little town seemed quiet and peaceful, so seeking out my previous billet, I went to bed and enjoyed a good night’s sleep.’9
On 30 August, Snow’s 4th Division and the orphan 19th Infantry Brigade had been combined into a new III Corps under Lieutenant-General Sir William Pulteney. And yet, as August gave way to September, there was no let up in the rigours of the BEF’s withdrawal. Major G. J. P. Geiger of the 2nd Royal Welch Fusiliers – one of the four battalions of the 19th Brigade – described a punishing night march:
The hours that followed were, I think, the most exhausting I have ever experienced. We had already had a fairly tiring day, and marching by night is always the more tiring, there is no change in the landscape to keep one interested. All I can remember of this night is a seemingly endless ribbon of straight white road with an occasional village, and passing the usual crowd of fleeing villagers who were to be met at any hour of the day or night. When the whistle blew for each halt officers and men fell down in the road like logs until it sounded again. Whoever was keeping the time must have had an iron will to keep himself awake.10
Cyril Helm, MO with what remained of the 2nd KOYLI, recalled an incident where the ‘iron will’ of his time-keeper failed during one of the short, hourly halts. The KOYLI were acting as the brigade rearguard during a night march on 3/4 September:
At one of these halts we all lay down and it appears we went fast asleep; at the end of about half-an-hour someone woke up and discovered that, with the exception of the last company, all the remainder had gone on about 20 minutes before. As at this time there was little distance between us and the enemy, it was deemed advisable to go ‘hell for leather’. However, all’s well that ends well, and we had had a half-an-hour’s sleep into the bargain.11
The near-continuous marching strained traditional military discipline in a variety of ways. Clothing was torn (sometimes replaced by civilian items) and equipment lost. The troops’ ragged appearance was complemented by the growing of beards. According to Sergeant John McIlwain of the Connaught Rangers, British soldiers had a tendency to throw ‘away equipment and clothing. Men lost their caps, and girls’ sun hats became quite a fashionable article of wear. These were looted from houses and shops.’12 Captain Jack noticed that the troops had ‘adopted the comfortable but unsoldierly straw hats as worn by the peasantry’,13 while Captain Brownlow commented on the ‘outrageous spectacle [of] both men and officers wearing cloth caps, homburgs and panamas’.14 Frank Richards of the Welch Fusiliers, having lost his cap and unable to find a replacement, improvised with a knotted handkerchief.15
For senior officers and those with strict views on all aspects of the soldiers’ appearance, these sartorial excesses were indicative of a more widespread decline in military discipline. Brigadier-General Forestier-Walker, II Corps’ chief of staff, reminded officers that ‘No unauthorized articles of dress should be allowed. Articles of civilian pattern are absolutely prohibited. The French and Belgian national colours may be worn in the cap, but no trinkets. The crime of throwing away clothing must be severely dealt with.’16 Brigadier-General Haldane of the 10th Brigade criticized his battalions’ march discipline as being ‘far from satisfactory’ and was concerned that ‘many young officers and even some older ones seem to forget that the more trying the conditions are, the stronger is the necessity for tightening the bonds of discipline’.17
A more fundamantal concern for military authority was the problem of stragglers. Even if a battalion looked like an armed mob, it remained a force capable of action if called upon. Stragglers were individuals lost to the BEF as a fighting force. While some men were physically incapable of maintaining the high pace of the retreat, others were, in McIlwain’s words, ‘observed falling out apparently as they wished, and often rejoining with units not their own’.18
Forestier-Walker and other senior officers in the 5th Division were much exercised in trying to distinguish between ‘excusable’, ‘semi-excusable’ and ‘inexcusable’ straggling, with a demand that regimental officers oversee medical inspections of the feet of men who were not with their units at the end of the day’s march. If these officers failed in this duty, they were to be replaced by ‘more junior officers in their battalion, who should be given a greater capacity for command than their seniors’. As for those found guilty, they were to suffer ‘severe punishment’.19
Among those punished, though not severely, was Royal Welch Fusilier Frank Richards, who with 60 other fusiliers had become separated from their battalion during the retreat. When back with their unit they were paraded in front of the CO, Lieutenant-Colonel Delmé-Radcliffe, who refused to listen to any explanations for the cause of their straggling. ‘He said that no man should have left the battalion, and punished us by giving us extra route marching in the afternoon to improve our marching.’ Richards thought this ‘very unfair’ but as an old regular philosophically accepted it as part of the arbitrary nature of the soldier’s lot.20
Despite the fears and misgivings of those on the staff, the officers marching with their battalions began to notice improvements in both the troops’ physical condition and their morale. In a diary entry for 3 September, Lieutenant J. G. W. Hyndson of the 1st Loyal North Lancashire Regiment wrote that ‘the men have quite recovered from the awful first days of the campaign, and are in splendid fighting trim. The combination of sun, rain and wind has given them a bronzed appearance, and they are extraordinarily cheerful.’21 Captain Jack agreed, noting how the men were ‘recovering their “spring” after the intense strain of August’.22
Lieutenant Alan Hanbury-Sparrow of the 1st Royal Berkshire Regiment believed the march had ‘sweated the softness out of us’ so that the ‘reservists suddenly began to find the mile a less terrible distance’.23 He also detected a sense of fatalism: ‘The daily marching southwards has become our normal outlook. The mocking cry of “Back to the Pyrenees” no longer seems a taunt, but rather assumes the shadowy shape of destiny.’24 But within a few days the retreat would be over.
As the German First Army advanced further south, so its right flank became increasingly exposed to a potential counter-attack from the west. Joffre had now got the measure of the German offensive, transferring troops from his right wing to create Sixth Army under General Maunoury, now in position just to the north of Paris. The French capital was the responsibility of the newly appointed and energetic military governor, General Joseph Gallieni, who like Joffre saw the weakness of the German right wing and advocated an immediate offensive.
Demonstrating remarkable calm in his recovery from the initial French disasters in the Battle of the Frontiers, Joffre also displayed remarkable energy in developing his new plan of attack. Lanrezac was replaced by the more dynamic and optimistic General Louis Franchet d’Esperey, while a new force – to become Ninth Army under the aggressive General Ferdinand Foch – moved to support Fifth Army on its right. On 5 September Joffre was ready to go over to the offensive, with his Sixth Army attacking the German IV Reserve Corps, acting as Kluck’s flank guard. The only piece missing was the BEF.
Although Field Marshal French had been ordered by Kitchener to conform to Joffre’s wishes, doubts remained as to how he would cooperate with his ally. An all-out offensive was planned for 6 September, embodied in the Instruction Générale No. 6. It had been sent to GHQ at 3 a.m. on the 5th, and after an agonizing delay GHQ signaled its acceptance of the plan. Joffre telephoned his thanks to GHQ and said that he would visit Sir John, ostensibly to thank him for his co-operation but actually to ensure that the BEF would conform to his plan.
Joffre arrived at GHQ in Melun at 2 p.m. and was ushered into a small room where he was met by French, with Murray and Wilson, with a few other staff officers in attendance. Among them was Lieutenant Edward Spears, who provided a dramatic record of the momentous meeting.
Joffre placed his cap on the table and addressed the British Commander-in-Chief: ‘At once he began to speak in that low, toneless, albino voice of his, saying he had felt it his duty to come to thank Sir John personally for having taken a decision on which the fate of Europe might depend.’25 Joffre then explained his plan in detail, that the Germans had marched into a trap that he was now about to spring:
The atmosphere in the room grew tenser and tenser. General Joffre was talking now of the vital necessity of acting rapidly; the next twenty-four hours would be decisive. If not taken full advantage of at once, this great opportunity would never occur again.
He spoke of the order he was issuing to his troops. The time for retreating was over. Those who could not advance were to die where they stood. No man was to give way even a foot.
The still, even voice was eloquent now, with an intensity of feeling that drew our very souls out. British co-operation was demanded in words of exalted eloquence inspired by the feeling and the truth within the man. Everything the British could give, all they had, was asked for.
Then, turning full on Sir John, with an appeal so intense as to be irresistible, clasping both his hands so as to hurt them, General Joffre said: ‘Monsieur le Maréchal, c’est la France qui vous supplie [it is France that begs you].’ His hands fell to his sides wearily. The effort he had made exhausted him.
We all looked at Sir John. He had understood and was under the stress of strong emotions. Tears stood in his eyes, welled over and rolled down his cheeks. He tried to say something in French. For a moment he struggled with his feelings and with the language, then turning to an English officer, who stood beside him, he exclaimed: ‘Damn it, I can’t explain. Tell him that all men can do our fellows will do.’26
Staff officers immediately set to work on planning the coming offensive, with the British informing Joffre that the BEF would be late in turning to attack the Germans. Joffre shrugged his shoulders: ‘Let them start as soon as they can. I have the Marshal’s word, that is enough for me.’27