In Flanders Flooded Fields Page 4

  The charming Walburg Castle in the town of Saint-Nicolas where the royal couple stayed for the night on 7 October after they had left the palace in Antwerp.

  Author’s photo archive.

  At 11:00 the Commander of the Fourth Army Division still insisted on a withdrawal west but Captain Commandant Galet responded:

  It is the intention of the king that the Durme river will be held until further notice to cover the communications with the defenders in Antwerp.

  As a matter of fact, a hasty retreat was indeed unnecessary: patrols by Fourth Army Division units indicated that the area between the Durme and Scheldt rivers was still free of Germans.

  As the Belgian Legation in Bordeaux had announced on 3 October, the French General Paul Pau arrived in the afternoon as a special adviser from the Generalissimo to the king.

  That same day the Legation in Bordeaux had also announced that the French government would send two divisions (30,000 men) to land at Ostend while the British would do the same. Later it cabled that the British had protested against the French sending Territorials – older reserve units. As we already mentioned, the British fulfilled their promise while the French reduced their commitment to a brigade of fusiliers marins. It must be said though that the latter would prove to be a valiant bunch.

  General Paul Pau was truly a man of the old guard. Unlike Joffre, with whom he nevertheless was on good terms, he had always been an opponent of l’attaque à outrance – the French ‘always attack’ obsession. This military theory had been feverishly preached for some time by men like Ferdinand Foch – whom we will meet later – and Louis de Grandmaison, and was enthusiastically followed by the majority of French officers.

  In 1911 the French government had offered him the post of Generalissimo but he had declined. The minister of war had not been willing to accept his sole condition: his veto over the nomination of generals. As a result Joseph Joffre had been chosen for this highest military position.

  The French General Paul Pau. He was a fatherly figure who didn’t buy into the widely accepted French military vision of attack to the extreme -’attaque a outrance’.

  Onze Helden, R. Lyr, 1922.

  One year after he had left the Military Academy of St Cyr near Paris, in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, Pau had not only lost his right hand, but had also witnessed the downfall of the French Empire and the subsequent imprisonment of Napoleon III (Louis-Napoleon). This distressing political experience had left many Frenchmen, and especially the officers’ corps, with an indelible trauma out of which the offensive spirit of the early twentieth century was born. But apparently the young Pau would have none of it.

  Since Pau, throughout his career, had been shown to be an excellent organizer and had always been level-headed in tactical matters, Joffre had recalled him for active duty and had put him at the head of the newly formed Alsace Army in the second half of August.

  Now at age sixty-six Pau was sent by his friend Joffre to Belgium in a disguised attempt to lead the young king of the Belgians and his army from Antwerp directly south-west into France – Armentières/Lille – and thus into the influence of the French forces.

  The message from Joffre to the French Mission at Belgian Headquarters (5 October) read (our underlining):

  General Pau will go to Antwerp. He will give the king all indications of such a nature as to secure a complete cooperation between the Belgian and French armies. In particular, the Belgian forces, after leaving Antwerp, will have to receive all information to enable them to continue their efforts towards the southwest of Antwerp and the allied forces.

  And on 9 October:

  Command in the North is organised as follows: Belgian troops, under the command of the king with General Pau as adviser;….

  Soon Joffre would find out that his delegate to the Belgian king would act more as a father towards his son. Jean Ratinaud, in The Race to the Sea would later describe Pau as ‘… a likeable and competent old soldier … more an old grandfather than a warrior’ and the young lieutenant, André Tardieu – later president of the French assemblée – called him ‘… father Pau …’.

  The rather shy, myopic young gentleman at the head of the Belgian Army was not as easily ‘led’ as Joffre had imagined.

  At 15:00, in the presence of Colonel Wielemans and Captain Commandant Galet, the king met the old French general for the first time. Pau explained that the Anglo-French left was now at Hazebrouck and that the Germans had attacked this town but had been repulsed. As a result the 87th Territorial Division, destined for the relief of Antwerp, had been diverted to protect the detraining of the BEF.

  What the French general did not know yet was that the 89th Territorial, originally also earmarked for Antwerp, would equally be diverted to protect the BEF near Hazebrouck. This explains why, of the four-plus promised divisions only the British 7th Infantry Division, the 3rd Cavalry division and one French brigade actually would be on hand to protect the withdrawal of the Belgian Army from Antwerp. It was the latter, the fusiliers marins under Ronarc’h, that were now arriving in Ghent.

  Upon orders from Joffre Pau insisted that the Belgian Army should concentrate between Deynze and Thielt -two towns some 20km south-west of Ghent – with its right flank against the Lys River. According to Pau this was preferable to falling back on Bruges and Ostend where the Belgian Army risked being isolated at the coast.

  For the king this was an unacceptable proposal. It would leave the Belgians in a dangerously exposed and advanced position some 40km ahead of any major Anglo-French force without any protected flank. Perhaps the French intended to have the Belgian Army close ranks with them as soon as possible, but with German units already threatening several crossings of the Lys River, taking the direction of the south-west would be near suicide. Moreover, at this point, the king did not want to sever the link with the last defenders of the Antwerp Fortified Place for a promise.

  In the morning General Pau had already met with Baron de Broqueville in Ostend and had given him a similar explanation. The Belgian Minister of War was in agreement with the French general to suggest to Joffre not to deploy the French 87th Territorial west of Hazebrouck but instead to bring it forward to the (Belgian) Poperinghe area. This (at first sight) French concession would be of no use to the Belgians as the town of Poperinghe was not only 50km south-west of Deynze but, according to the king’s plans, also 30km from the coast, too far to cover his exhausted army in either case anyway.

  Since de Broqueville had exchanged views with the French General before the latter had even met the monarch, the Minister of War feared the king’s wrath over this obvious breach of protocol. So in an effort to appease his monarch de Broqueville managed to have at least the French Marine Brigade put under the direct orders of the Belgian Commander-in-Chief.

  Throughout the campaign, this undercurrent of Francophilia, not only in Belgian political circles, but also at Belgian GHQ where a majority of officers held similar pro-French views, would continue to hamper King Albert and his close advisers in developing their own ‘independent’ strategy. With every step they made or decision they took, they would encounter inarticulate opposition from both quarters.

  Later in the day de Broqueville apparently met Antony Klobukowski, the French Ambassador to Belgium. To the latter he put the request of moving up the detraining of the 87th Territorial from Poperinghe to Roulers but to no avail: Joffre insisted on keeping the division in the Hazebrouck area to protect the detraining of the BEF. At Belgian High Command, in the late afternoon and presumably in the absence of Pau, a compromise was reached: as news arrived that German units were attacking the Third Army Division in Lokeren, Wielemans feared for the safety of the Fourth. It was therefore decided to pull the Fourth Army Division from its exposed eastern position west across the Ghent-Terneuzen Canal. Afterwards the Third and Sixth Army Divisions would follow.

  In the meantime General Henry Rawlinson, informed that the Belgian Field Army had left Antwerp, worried about the fate of his Ro
yal Naval Division still held up in the city. At 07:50 Major General Paris, Commander of the Division in the entrenched camp, had phoned Rawlinson in Bruges telling him that he could not hold out beyond the day. He had witnessed the departure of the Belgians and had experienced the deplorable state of the remainder of the defenders. As a result Rawlinson sent a cable to Colonel W.E. Fairholme, British Military Attaché to the Belgian Government, asking for rail transport for his division when they would have to evacuate the place.

  8-9 October

  The arrival of his own forces was another source of anxiety for Rawlinson. His cavalry division, after landing in part in Zeebrugge, was ordered to march to Ostend and billet there. The city was covered by the British Seventh Infantry Division, which had taken up a position in an arc some 6km around the port. This way Rawlinson had his force concentrated and could await developments.

  The situation was regarded as quite uncertain for, at 10:45, a message arrived from London not to unload any motor vehicles and to keep all empty transports under steam and in port until further notice. By the time Rawlinson had moved his Headquarters back to Ostend in the afternoon, the British Cabinet had decided to continue the landing operation. But the transport vessels had to stand fast in case the force had to be re-embarked in a hurry.

  Finally, at 17:45, Rawlinson received definite orders: the relief operation into Antwerp was formally cancelled but instead his forces would have to protect the retreat of the Belgian Army towards the Anglo-French lines.

  Communications between the retreating Belgian Field Army and the Antwerp garrison had by now ceased. The previous day in St Nicolas, the staff officers at High Command had heard the German bombardment of the city for themselves but the actual tactical situation was unknown. Decisions to be taken on the spot had been left to the Military Governor of the besieged city. He alone could assess the situation. The king, nevertheless, wanted to inform the Governor that, in case he decided to order the remainder of the field forces to leave the entrenched camp, the British troops would get priority over the Belgian Second Army Division and trains would be waiting for them at the St Gilles-Waes station to evacuate the Britons to Ostend.

  A dispatch as such was prepared and sent by special military courier to Antwerp. But unknown to the king, Colonel Wielemans had added, unfortunately in a rather direct way:

  For your information, our troops are forced to evacuate Lokeren and to withdraw to the west of the canal from Ghent to Terneuzen.

  If this was not a moral blow for the defenders of Antwerp, it certainly facilitated the decision by the Governor, General Deguise, to relieve the British Division and the Belgian Second Army Division from their positions and send them west.

  General Paris did receive the order to withdraw by 17:00 and an hour later most of his men were marching through the darkening city streets in order to cross the river by the Burght pontoon bridge. A rather peculiar incident should be mentioned here: the 1st Naval Brigade – minus one battalion – only found out by 22:00 that the rest of the division had already gone. As such they themselves reached the Scheldt quays by 01:30 the next morning by which time the pontoon bridge had been destroyed! In the end the unfortunate troops had to requisition a small steamer docked nearby and cross the river in small groups.

  Lieutenant General Victor Deguise. On 6 September, at the ‘Palace Revolution’, promoted to Military Governor of the Fortified Place of Antwerp, replacing General Arthur François Dufour. The latter had refused, among others, to give the Broqueville a copy of a confidential report about the situation that the king had asked him to prepare. Dufour reasoned that King Albert – being Commander in Chief – was his immediate superior and that therefore the Minister of War, if he really wanted a copy, should ask the king himself!

  Onze Helden, R. Lyr, 1922.

  In Selzaete itself, the whole day, a steady, westbound stream of army convoys slowly crossed the bridge over the sea canal. To the south-east one could hear the regular thunder of the artillery, some 20km away. Finally, in the early evening the Fifth Army Division, on its northern route from Antwerp to Ostend, passed through town.

  By 20:00 Captain Commandant Galet read the Daily Army Orders, as made up by High Command, to the king. Always concerned about the well being of his soldiers, the monarch made the remark that no provisions had been made concerning the protection of the retreat of the British Division and the Second Army Division. Being put on the spot, Major Maglinse, Head of Operations, replied after a while that the retreating divisions would leave several detachments guarding the approaches to the railway St Nicolas/Selzaete and that the Cavalry Division, still east of Ghent, would move closer to Antwerp to distract the enemy.

  Not without difficulty, King Albert’s aide-de-camp had managed to billet the royal couple at local brewer and alderman De Clercq’s residence. Here the queen arrived around 21:00 in the evening.

  As the population was slowly being dragged into a general panic, rumours were spreading like wildfire. Galet’s sleep was interrupted abruptly after midnight when he was urgently called to the bridge over the canal. Some individual, fearful of the impending arrival of the Germans, had turned the bridge with the result that the endless stream of refugees and military convoys had ground to a nervous halt. Exasperation and congestion were growing by the minute and only the reopening of the crossing provided the necessary relief in this psychologically volatile situation.

  While trying to regain some sleep, Galet could but ponder about the future: this army had become an unruly amalgamation of disheartened young men, driven only by the fear of the enemy and the urge to escape. This mass had to be taken to a safe place, as soon as possible, to be rebuilt into a real organization that would be able to withstand, albeit with some help, the German steamroller.

  On the Scheldt Roads in Antwerp, a grandiose hallucinating scene was developing. The crude oil tanks along the riverbank, on the southern outskirts of the city, had been hit by enemy shells and were burning ferociously. The wallowing flames projected a frightening glow on the 100,000 or so refugees massed along the quays, pushing to find their way towards one of the pontoon bridges still functioning across the wide river.

  Maglinse – here as major general after the war – was in 1914 Chief of Operations at Belgian General HQ.

  Onze Helden, R. Lyr, 1922.

  Once on the left bank the tension in the human pack dropped to make way for exhaustion. Along the paved stone road hundreds of fugitives, in a haphazard manner, lay in the adjoining fields, trying to catch some sleep. But unperturbed the troop columns kept on walking in the cool night.

  Additional orders for 9 October had been issued at 00:30 by Belgian High Command:

  The Second Army Division will march with the British the following route: St-Gilles-Waes, Stekene, Moerbeke, Wachtebeke and Selzaete. The British will entrain at the station of St-Gilles-Waes.

  After 15km, in the village of Vrasene, the men got two hours of rest. It was now early morning and still dark. Most men collapsed against the brick houses and wooden fences bordering the road. The few lanterns put down haphazardly on the cobblestones threw a lugubrious light on the weary faces. A small tin of sardines was passed around. With grubby hands the thin fish were quickly groped from the can and swallowed eagerly while the others watched carefully so as not to miss a cheat. A few still alert men dug up some potatoes, carrots and beets in the nearby fields. Coal and a couple of furnaces were requisitioned from the few remaining and frightened villagers and the cooks started to prepare food for the hungry men.

  9-10 October

  Suddenly the order was passed to ‘get going’ immediately. No further explanation was needed. Without another decent meal the tired men got up again and disappeared in the fading dark towards St Gilles-Waes.

  Once in the open fields the rising sun peeked over the horizon and soon the morning heat burned on their backs and weakened their exhausted feet. With every step the small army shovels on their belts banged merciless against their legs. Cursing
between their teeth was the only sound they could still utter. But even a weary and disillusioned soldier has a practical mind. Soon, here and there, men quietly unbuckled the hated tool and dropped it unnoticed by their officers in the roadside grass.

  Not far behind a column of Royal Marines followed. Although just as drained as the Belgians these men nevertheless proved to be frugal Tommies. Ashamed of such wastage some of the British would bend over painfully and, with a sigh, pick up the gravediggers’ tools abandoned by their Belgian comrades.

  That same morning, some 100km to the west, in the utmost corner of the Belgian countryside, four British officers on clattering motorcycles halted at the drainage locks in the small coastal town of Nieuport and inquired where they could find the lock-keeper. After all, this junction of roads, waterways and modest fishing port on the North Sea, might gain strategic importance in case hostilities drew nearer.

  A peaceful view of the ‘Goose Foot’ lock system in Nieuport as the British officers found it in October 1914. In the foreground, the Ypres Lock with the swing bridge to the right, left the so-called ‘Greek Temple’ standing between the Ypres Lock and the Spring Sluice. In the background the Café du Comte along the Bruges Canal, near the Count Lock. The Café de l’Yser would be across the bridge to the right (just outside the picture).

  Historical prints collection Callenaere-Dehouck.

  The officers, after courteously greeting the lockkeeper, asked in a polite manner if they could use the telegraph and telephone apparatuses in his office. The lockkeeper, in order to gather data concerning the water levels at various points in the polder, normally used this modern, electric equipment. He was the important civil servant who, based on this information and relying on his knowledge and experience, decided how to discharge the excess surface water from the intricate web of canals.