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Authors: Alexandra J Churchill
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junction at a clearing in the trees. Into the undergrowth they slipped, amidst a shower of shells from a German artillery battery. The scene was surreal, looking âfor all the world like ⦠the New Forest on a Spring Dayâ. In one direction, the enemy fire continued and in the other, deer eyed the khaki intruders. Ma Jeffreysâ morning was about to get even more surreal. To his astonishment he was ordered to stand his ground for a few hours in order to give the rest of the nearby troops assembling in and about Villers-Cotterêts time to sit down and eat.
With the Irish Guards, Aubrey Herbert was just as bewildered. âIt was evident if [they] took long ⦠we should be wiped out.â Everyone was on edge. There was an eerie lull and Aubrey, ever the optimist, sat down to write two goodbye letters, including a eulogy to his horse Moonshine. Having done so he wandered off to find the Adjutant, 25-year-old Lord Desmond FitzGerald, another Etonian, to have them posted. âI have the picture in my mind of Desmond constantly sitting in very tidy breeches, writing and calling for sergeants,â Aubrey recalled. âHe never seemed to sleep at all. He was woken all the time and was always cheerful.â On this occasion though Desmond was indignant. âYou seem to think that Adjutants can work miracles,â he snapped at the MP several years his senior. âYou want to post them on the battlefield. It is quite useless to write letters now.â Then he promptly borrowed some of Aubreyâs paper and wrote a letter himself, whilst Aubrey passed the time irritating those within earshot with Shakespearean quotes pertaining to cemeteries.
Mid morning arrived. The rising heat combined with the damp to make the atmosphere in the forest stifling and unbearable. At about 11 a.m. there was suddenly an explosion of noise. Ma Jeffreys heard it but couldnât see through the foliage to where the 3rd Coldstream and the Irish Guards had been set upon. The two battalions were over extended, large gaps had opened up between the companies and the Irish Guards were attempting to withdraw slowly down the main road towards Villers-Cotterêts. They could see the Germans coming. As rifle and machine-gun fire fell upon them it was impossible to keep any sense of direction. âWe were together but the wood was so thick that I fear many shot oneâs own men,â one OE claimed. The terrain was rough. In the half-light there were ferns and brambles waist high, and wide ditches. Aubrey was acting as a galloper, hurtling up and down forest paths carrying information. âIt was like diving on horseback ⦠under ordinary conditions one would have thought it mad to ride at the ridiculous pace we did ⦠but the bullets made everything else irrelevant.â The shower of metal continued to rip through the trees, showering men with leaves and branches. âThe noise was perfectly awful.â
It was impossible to maintain control of the situation. The men of different regiments had become hopelessly confused. Officers took charge of whichever Guardsmen they found. Some orders made it through, others were lost when the men carrying them were cut down. The 3rd Coldstream began to fall back. Hubert Crichton, second in command of the Irish Guards and a veteran of Khartoum and the Boer War, had been at Eton at the same time as Ma Jeffreys in the early 1890s. He had received orders to stay put, but the retirement of their neighbours left him isolated. In the end he fell back too, with German troops just yards from being on top of them.
The brigadier took action. Seizing a company of Grenadier Guards he threw platoons forward, one of them commanded by John Manners. He and his fellow officers charged down a forest path and, taking up the best positions they could, tried to enfilade the Germans. They fought ferociously. Lost amongst the trees they did not receive the order to retire with the rest of the
With the Irish Guards, Aubrey Herbert was just as bewildered. âIt was evident if [they] took long ⦠we should be wiped out.â Everyone was on edge. There was an eerie lull and Aubrey, ever the optimist, sat down to write two goodbye letters, including a eulogy to his horse Moonshine. Having done so he wandered off to find the Adjutant, 25-year-old Lord Desmond FitzGerald, another Etonian, to have them posted. âI have the picture in my mind of Desmond constantly sitting in very tidy breeches, writing and calling for sergeants,â Aubrey recalled. âHe never seemed to sleep at all. He was woken all the time and was always cheerful.â On this occasion though Desmond was indignant. âYou seem to think that Adjutants can work miracles,â he snapped at the MP several years his senior. âYou want to post them on the battlefield. It is quite useless to write letters now.â Then he promptly borrowed some of Aubreyâs paper and wrote a letter himself, whilst Aubrey passed the time irritating those within earshot with Shakespearean quotes pertaining to cemeteries.
Mid morning arrived. The rising heat combined with the damp to make the atmosphere in the forest stifling and unbearable. At about 11 a.m. there was suddenly an explosion of noise. Ma Jeffreys heard it but couldnât see through the foliage to where the 3rd Coldstream and the Irish Guards had been set upon. The two battalions were over extended, large gaps had opened up between the companies and the Irish Guards were attempting to withdraw slowly down the main road towards Villers-Cotterêts. They could see the Germans coming. As rifle and machine-gun fire fell upon them it was impossible to keep any sense of direction. âWe were together but the wood was so thick that I fear many shot oneâs own men,â one OE claimed. The terrain was rough. In the half-light there were ferns and brambles waist high, and wide ditches. Aubrey was acting as a galloper, hurtling up and down forest paths carrying information. âIt was like diving on horseback ⦠under ordinary conditions one would have thought it mad to ride at the ridiculous pace we did ⦠but the bullets made everything else irrelevant.â The shower of metal continued to rip through the trees, showering men with leaves and branches. âThe noise was perfectly awful.â
It was impossible to maintain control of the situation. The men of different regiments had become hopelessly confused. Officers took charge of whichever Guardsmen they found. Some orders made it through, others were lost when the men carrying them were cut down. The 3rd Coldstream began to fall back. Hubert Crichton, second in command of the Irish Guards and a veteran of Khartoum and the Boer War, had been at Eton at the same time as Ma Jeffreys in the early 1890s. He had received orders to stay put, but the retirement of their neighbours left him isolated. In the end he fell back too, with German troops just yards from being on top of them.
The brigadier took action. Seizing a company of Grenadier Guards he threw platoons forward, one of them commanded by John Manners. He and his fellow officers charged down a forest path and, taking up the best positions they could, tried to enfilade the Germans. They fought ferociously. Lost amongst the trees they did not receive the order to retire with the rest of the
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