Chapter 13: MY FRENCH CONNECTION

Before any transfer could be put through, the shattered 25TH Division was moved south to a quiet sector of the line in The Forest of Reims. Our Division went by rail, following a very round about route which actually circled round Paris on the western side of the capital. It was a memorable experience loading the horses, mules and wagons. Each railway car - very worn ones - was supposed to carry forty men or eight horses. There was one passenger coach for the officers. For nearly a week we trundled leisurely over the countryside, enjoying the early summer weather of late May, the war zone out of sight and almost out of mind. We anticipated a long quiet spell on a front, which had hardly changed since the Battle of the Marne over two years previously.

However, with the collapse of Russia in 1917, it was possible for the German High Command to move a large number of Divisions from the Eastern to the Western Front. The Americans were now in the War but had not reached Europe in effective numbers. Here was an opportunity - a last opportunity - for Germany to knock out the nearly exhausted French and battle weary British Armies before the Americans could affect the result.

The German Army opposite us, tremendously reinforced, launched a sudden major attack, which threatened to reach and surround Paris, only forty miles, to the west.

We, in the line knew little of this, and on the morning of the attack were just preparing for a Divisional Sports Day and Track Meet.

We were really taken totally by surprise when a troop of German Cavalry swooped down on us, around 0645 hours, just after the horses had been tended to and the men were lining up for breakfast. I was in the officers' latrine, and heard the crackle of small arms fire, close by. I learned later that our own local guard commander, Bombardier Evans, had raised his Lee Enfield rifle to challenge the German Cavalry, but was immediately shot and killed by automatic pistol fire.

Gazing out of the flimsy sack cloth shelter which surrounded the officers' latrine, I was petrified to see Lieutenants Platt and Attenborough, standing with their hands up and the men commencing breakfast being held a carbine point by the Germans and were pinned down.

Clad only in a short sleeved khaki shirt and short pants, without arms of any kind, I crawled carefully out of the latrine shelter and was able to get safely into the nearby woods. I made my way to a French supply point a thousand yards to the south to get help. It was deserted so I began hunting for a weapon of some kind. In a short while I heard troop movements and hurried to efface myself in case more German raiding parties were coming. When I noticed they were French infantrymen, I came out of hiding but found myself under suspicion as a spy - they refused to believe I was a British Artillery Officer, clothed as I was, and took me along to a more senior officer as a prisoner. They brought along another British prisoner and were increasingly suspicious of the two of us as our accents were so different, I being from Scotland and the other chap who spoke with a Yorkshire accent. I think they suspected we were Germans trying to speak in English!

The French field batteries had been over-run in the first assault, so Artillery personnel and equipment were lacking. They questioned whether the other prisoner and I could operate a French 75mm. Field Gun, which we undertook to try. Under the cautious eyes of our noble allies, we examined this field piece, which was totally strange to us. It wasn't too difficult to lead and fire the gun, but we had quite a problem in discovering how to set the fuse, which would cause the shells to detonate on impact at the target. With much trial and error, and without assistance by those watching us, we managed to land our rounds in a vulnerable point of the local defenses.

Beside the bridge the French Ifantry Officer was in possession of a Viery Light Pistol which he would fire a red star flare, followed by a green on if the attack was being sustained. The Engineersstood by to blow up the bridge if absolutely necessary, but as a last resort.

When dusk came we would, if the French patrols were not active beyond the bridge, fire a dozen rounds to show the Enemy that the bridge was well guarded. and boost the morale of our brave French allies. This went on for two nights before we were relieved and allowed to return to our respective units.