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.
