Andrew Wareham - Falling into Battle

Richard had no option but to agree – lieutenants did not argue with experienced sergeants, and Grace had not led him astray yet. He was almost sure that Abbott would be bringing burglarious skills into play and decided that the less he knew the better.

“I’ll go out to the barricade, Sergeant Grace.”

“Yes, sir. The men will be working on it, making it a bit more suited for the purpose, as you might say, sir.”

The barricade was no more than five feet high, a heap of roadstone with the light rails of the tram line threaded through and anchoring into the buildings at either side. It was sufficient to block cavalry and provided a firing point that would make any frontal assault expensive for infantry.

“Good against a machine gun, but artillery would soon bring it down, I think, Corporal Ekins.”

“Have to hit square on, sir, except it was big guns. I don’t think them little field guns we saw yesterday would do a lot to it, sir.”

“You may well be right, Ekins. What are you doing at the moment?”

“Poking a hole in the brick wall upstairs of the café to the side, sir. Set Pickford up a bit higher and with a clear view down the road, where he can do what he’s good at.”

“Company sniper. Ought to make him up to lance-corporal at least for the work he’s done.”

“Yes, sir. Funny sort of bloke. He don’t say much but you can see he likes the job. Must have killed two dozen and more this last couple of days, each one aimed at careful like. Not for me, sir.”

“No. Nor me, when you put it like that. Useful, though.”

“Done us some favours with the sergeants and officers he’s put out of the way, no question of that. Don’t have to like it, sir, even if it’s useful.”

“You’re right. Keep an eye on the men – there might be wine left behind in the café.”

“They won’t drink too much, sir. Half a bottle won’t do them no harm but I won’t let them go harder than that, sir.”

“Good. What’s that Grindley and Miller are doing?”

The pair had a length of brightly striped canvas between them.

“Sticking up a cover against rain, sir. One of them shop awnings stuck up on some iron poles they got hold of. Got a brazier and coal as well. Sentries got to stay out in the rain and get cold – not so warm at night even in August, sir. They can dry off again after, sir.”

“Sensible. It don’t look like rain at the moment, but you never know.”

“It’s foreign, ain’t it, sir. Weather can be different here.”

With his naval experience, Richard did not think Belgium was so very far foreign, but to most Kettering men even Northampton was far away and visited perhaps once in five years as a treat.

“Make sure the men clean their rifles, Ekins. They’ve fired a lot of rounds through those barrels.”

“As soon as they’re off the barricade, sir. First thing.”

The five right companies of the Fusiliers were pushed in during the following afternoon, one on each of the northerly roads that met at the square. They reported strong forces advancing slowly behind them, all infantry.

Captain Platt, who had not slept well for the pains in his belly and had spent the morning fretting, called Richard over to hear Major Higgins-Hall’s appreciation of the situation, given to his own officers.

“We know that there is a major body of Germans to our east. A full corps, presumably one of the columns denominated by the Schlieffen Plan. It seems reasonable that the troops to our front are the second line, mopping up and holding behind the columns. Cavalry out and scouting; artillery with the columns; infantry in smaller numbers and spread out across the countryside. Might be a battalion coming down each of these roads, but not likely to be a brigade. We can hold them for a day or two, until they have to call for artillery. Their riflemen are not as well-trained as ours – they rely on the machine gun for firepower. Not so easy to carry machine guns with you when coming up a narrow road to attack a strong barricade.”

There was a mutter of agreement. In this case, the barricades had the advantage.

“One company holding each of the five barricades. The right companies to stay back in reserve against call. Get the men into cover and rest them, gentlemen. Feed them. Be sure that you have a double issue of rounds. Check all water bottles are filled, with water only! A can of bully beef and a packet of navy biscuit to each man’s knapsack, in case of need.”

A young second lieutenant, a bright-seeming, fresh-faced twenty year old, very new judging by his clean and precise uniform, raised a hand.

“If we fall back, sir, what rendezvous point?”

“None given, Mr Sturton – I’m not entirely sure where we are. We will keep together and head for the coast, westerly if possible, if we are forced out. If not, as far south as needs be. I have sent a pair of runners back to find Brigade, or failing that, Division. We should be able to get into the slag heaps and steelworks on the southern outskirts and hold there if we are driven out of the town centre. Good cover there. I expect the sole limitation on us to be ammunition supply. I have ordered the quartermasters to send their wagons back individually as soon as they are emptied and to return full at soonest. No guarantee that they will be able to find resupply for us this side of Calais, and they may have problems getting the release of extras. You know what stores people are like!”

They did, scowling.

“It’s all very vague, gentlemen – because we don’t know what’s happening or where the Belgian and French armies are, or the location of the BEF. All we can practically do is fight while we can and run when we must. Tell the men that everything is in hand and that reinforcements are on the way – you might not be lying. One moment, Mr Sturton, I have a job for you.”

Mr Sturton, untrained and more or less supernumerary, was given to the Bedfordshires as liaison, to keep quick contact between them and the Fusiliers.

Richard returned to the barricade to discover Sergeant Grace and three men busily tying formal white dress shirts to the backs of tall wooden chairs.

“Got ‘em from the outfitters, sir. Putting them out down the road, sir. Pace off one hundred yards and put a chair on either pavement where we can see ‘em. Put another two out at two hundred. Give the men a mark for setting their sights. Should be able to pick ‘em out in moonlight, sir.”

“That’s a good trick, Sergeant Grace! Where did you learn that one?”

“India, sir. In the Shiny, ten years back; before we was sent across to Burma we was up on the Frontier, sir, in the passes. Always scrapping with the wogs there, sir. Had little forts up in the hills and we put out range markers all the way round them. They never did work out how come our rifles was more accurate than theirs, sir.”

“Good experience, Sergeant Grace. We are lucky to have you with us.”

Sergeant Grace evidently thought the same.

Sturton was also impressed. He had attached himself to Richard, being much the same age and wanting a friendly face to talk with.

“Only been in for less than four weeks, old chap. Don’t know too much about the military but me father pulled the strings so I wouldn’t miss out on the fun. My younger brother is Guards, joined last year. Don’t know where he is just now. I hope he’s not facing the same problems as we are – but it must be just a local thing, you know – we can’t be pushed back anywhere else. All the Germans must be here, can’t be any to prevent the march on Berlin by the rest of the BEF!”

Richard was less convinced, chose not to argue.

“Unusual name, Sturton. I sailed with a Sturton on St Vincent before I had to leave the sea. Found that I would never make a sailorman!”