It was August 1914, when Commander-in-Chief, Sir John French ordered the newly arrived British Expeditionary Force under his command, to launch an offensive against the German Imperial Army at Mons and so began the BEF’s first major action of World War I and its resulting carnage, and at the centre of that carnage were the Downshire Light Infantry.
The British were heavily outnumbered and despite the fact they killed or wounded three of the enemy to every one of theirs that fell, they were forced to retreat to their second line of defence.
Mercifully the Germans chose not to pursue them immediately but elected instead to lick their wounds.
It was during the respite from the exertions of the day that the stories started to spread through the ranks of weary and bloodied soldiers about the “Angels of Mons”.
It seemed that every man had either witnessed the event or personally knew a man who had.
The story that was circulating the camp fires and aid stations, told that at the height of the battle, visions appeared in the sky of St. George, surrounded by angels, horsemen and cavalry all urging the soldiers on.
John Holt didn’t see them and furthermore he didn’t believe anyone else had, in fact he figured it was probably a combination of fear and fatigue, but as they sat drinking a mug of badly brewed black tea he turned to his mate George and asked him.
“Did you see it Georgie? It was your namesake after all”
“Did I see what?”
“The Angels and St George of course”
“No mate, I was too busy trying not to get shot”
George took a mouthful of tea and pulled a face, swallowed and reluctantly took another mouthful, and then he said.
“Anyway, what use were they poncing about in the sky? They should have come down and got stuck in and give us a bit of a hand”
“Too right” he agreed, but he wasn’t altogether clear if George had seen them or not, but he didn’t get chance to press the point as they were called to muster and prepare for the battle to recommence, it seemed that their all too brief respite to regroup was all but over.
Again, they battled against overwhelming odds until well into the next day, until finally they had to retreat again fighting a fierce rear-guard action for the best part of two days until their main body finally caught up with them at Le Cateau, where yet another fearsome battle commenced.
George and John had taken up a position with what remained of their battalion on a wooded ridge firing rapidly at the advancing Germans, round after round after round, and John’s arm ached with the constant reloading and his shoulder was bruised and sore from the repeated recoil.
They fired so many shots John thought his barrel would melt, then all of a sudden, the Germans turned tail and ran, how the British cheered at the sight of the Germans running away from them for a change.
However, their celebrations were to prove premature as everything around them, the entire wood, the hill, the world for all they knew, erupted in a series of massive explosions, so many it was impossible to tell when one ended and the next began, and amidst the din of hells fire that had fallen upon them, were cries and screams and prayers.
But then after what seemed to be hours, which was probably only minutes, the barrage was over.
John lifted his head and could see nothing, as all around was dust and smoke, but he could smell the acrid stench of cordite and his mouth was full of earth.
He spat out the dirt and dust from his mouth and tried to speak but couldn’t, so he grappled for his canteen and took a mouthful, rinsed his mouth and spat it out.
“Bloody hell George I didn’t like that, not one bit”
But George didn’t answer and when he looked at him he didn’t move, he was lying face down behind the ridge exactly where he had been before the shelling.
He put his hand on his webbing to turn him over but as he pulled on his strap his shoulder screamed at him to stop.
So, he stopped pulling and glanced at his right shoulder and saw that a foot-long splinter of tree had pierced through his shoulder from front to back, he gritted his teeth as he gripped the splinter and yanked hard on it.
It came out easily enough, but the pain was excruciating, and John screamed loudly.
With the splinter removed he turned his attention back to George and fearing the worst he managed to turn him over using his left arm and found him to be alive but unconscious and bleeding from the head and he had a leg full of bloody splinters.
John washed the worst of the French countryside off his face using water from the canteen and quickly put a field dressing on his head wound then he removed the splinters from his leg and dressed that as best he could then he did the same to his shoulder.
With first aid rendered John quickly checked five men in each direction of his firing position and found them all dead.
John took a moment to survey his surroundings and couldn’t believe his eyes, what less than 10 minutes ago had been a beautiful wooded hill was now utter carnage and not a tree worthy of the name remained.
John shook his head in despair at the destruction and mayhem but tempered it by counting his blessings.
In the distance he could make out signs of life further along the line and they appeared to be withdrawing which on balance seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do and decided that he and George should join them.
Across the battlefield a mist was falling and through it would soon come the German army to finish them off.
“Best we’re not here when they do” he muttered to himself
“Come on Georgie boy let’s get you to an aid station” he said as he struggled to get him on his good shoulder.
“Don’t worry he’ll be ok” A female voice said and startled him, so he turned around to see an Angel stood before him, a most beautiful thing, complete with flowing robes of pristine white and magnificent wings, and John stumbled, and she reached out a hand to steady him.
“Am I dead?” he asked though quickly answered his own question.
“No, I can’t be dead because my shoulder hurts like bloody hell”
“No, you’re not dead” She reassured him
“Then I’m hallucinating, my wound must be infected or poisoned”
She shook her head.
“Ok then I must be mad that’s got to be the answer” and punctuated his statement with a nod.
“You may well be mad, I couldn’t possibly comment, that’s not my department, but mad or not I am still here none the less”
Just then there were sounds coming from the mist, it was the sound of fighting men on the move and further along the line sporadic gun fire could be heard.
“We had better walk and talk, don’t you think” She said and gestured with an open hand in the opposite direction, John nodded his agreement and moved off with George on his back, who was surprisingly light for a big man.
“So, if for the sake of argument, I suspend my scepticism and agree that I am neither dead, hallucinating nor mad that would mean that I actually believe you are here”
“Yes” She replied
“So why are you?”
“Why am I what?”
John paused before replying as the sounds of war behind them were getting ever louder so he picked up the pace.
“Why are you here?”
“We are here to help those we can”
“We?” he asked with surprise
“Oh yes, I am not alone”
John pondered her reply for a moment before replying
“You say you help those you can, but not all?”
“We can’t help everyone” She said sadly
“I’m afraid you have us outnumbered, unfortunately we can only help the most deserving and even then …”
She left the sentence unfinished as the action behind them was becoming more intense and he glanced back to see a small group of Tommie’s being swept aside by the advancing tide of the German army.
He again quickened the pace and asked
“So why me? Why am I more deserving than those poor men?”
“Because you put the life and safety of your friend before that of your own” she replied as if surprised by the question.
He looked at her doubtfully and she continued.
“You dressed his wounds before any thought of attending to your own”
John didn’t think he had done anything remarkable it was, what it was, and then bullets began zipping past them so he redouble his efforts and tried to squeeze a little more speed from his tired legs, but then she suddenly appeared in front of him and said softly.
“Stand still”
“Not likely” he replied sharply and walked past her
“I don’t want to make us an easier target for them”
She was in front of him again and said
“Trust me, just stand still”
John did as she asked, though was still unsure of the wisdom of such an act as the Germans were only 100 yards behind them and closing fast.
He stood stock still and she moved closer until she was only inches away from them and unfurled her wings with a great flutter and wrapped them around the Tommie’s like a cloak.
He could hear the Germans getting closer and closer, he could hear them talking and some were even laughing.
“They’ll be on us any minute” John said with fear in his voice
“Relax” she replied calmly “they can’t see us”
John wasn’t so sure, but he did as she said as best he could, the Germans were all around them and they were so close he could smell the sweat on them.
They were still shooting at his retreating comrades as they went by and after a short time they moved into the distance in their relentless pursuit and they were still safe, though it soon occurred to him that he and George were now behind enemy lines.
“Have no fear” she said sensing his concern.
“Close your eyes”
John did as she instructed without question and after a moment he felt the reassuring embrace of her winged cloak slip away in a brief flutter and when he opened his eyes she stood serenely before him again.
But they were no longer stood on the dangerous scarred landscape of Le Cateau, they now stood in a much greener place.
Ahead of them the British reserves were mustered preparing to advance to try and halt the German advance.
To his left and right stood a sporadic line of bemused and battered soldiers walking slowly towards the British lines with their angelic escorts looking on.
John’s Angel smiled as he tried to speak but, in the end, he could only return her smile and as he made his way towards the line, with George still on his back, she called after him
“You can tell George later from me that we Angels don’t get stuck in, but we do what we can”
“Will do” he called back and as he got closer to his lines, groups of Tommie’s raced towards them to help the weary men.
As a couple of men started to relieve him of his burden he suddenly felt George’s full weight on his back and realised his Angel had lightened his load.
While two privates carried George off to the aid station he turned and waved to their saviour and she fluttered her wings in response before she melted away into the landscape.
When John and George were at the hospital back in blightey the papers were full of the story of the “Angels of Mons” and everyone they spoke to, had an opinion on the subject, the general consensus appeared to be that it was a miracle though George said he thought it was a load of tosh.
For himself he couldn’t vouch for whether the “Angels of Mons” appeared in the skies above the battlefield or not because he never saw them with his own eyes, but he could say with hand on heart that the “Angels of Le Cateau” most certainly were there, so if he could see “Angels” then why shouldn’t everyone else.
The other thing that filled the papers was the patriotic surge of volunteers enlisting after the terrible defeat at Mons which meant the Angels would be kept very busy.
