- from
- 'TP’s Journal'
- of
- Great Deeds of the Great War
- December 12, 1914
The Fall of Antwerp
Winston Churchill in Antwerp, October 1914
THE UNDYING STORY
The Meaning of Antwerp
The Germans, who had been moving sluggishly through skirmish and repulse in North Belgium throughout the whole of September, suddenly quickened with life. The indeterminate attacks grew hard and definite; the skirmishing lines thickened to battle fronts; the ebb and flow of retreat and victory changed to the settled onsweep of determined attack. The armies gathered and moved upward on to Antwerp.
The Juggernaut Moves Forward
The solid lines of the invading hosts began pushing up determinedly through ravished Termonde and shattered Malines. The bravest of European soldiers, the indomitable Belgians, met them, tried to stave them off, as they had staved them off in many a quick battle in the past four weeks. This time the Prussian juggernaut was not to be repulsed. It was determined to roll over all resistance, not beat it, but crush it flat. On September 27th, the day when the battle of the Aisne began to weaken (it is significant to remember this), Malines was fought for over its rubble heaps and won away from the Flemish. Without checking, the huge advancing line rolled onward, began to lap round the outer works of Antwerp. On the 28th the great guns were working, were throwing their shells at the outer ring of forts that guard the town. The siege of Antwerp had begun, one of the most astonishing episodes in this war, in history, had opened.
An Affair of a Day or Two
The Germans came pushing vigorously to the attack. Many people, in spite of Liege and Namur and Maubeuge, still thought Antwerp impregnable; but the Germans, with their great u-inch and 16-inch howitzers in their train were certain among themselves of a speedy ending. Indeed, they had need of the speediest ending. It would be an affair of a day or two; nothing could resist the awful attack of their giant pieces, they felt. On Monday, September 28th, they attacked the forts of Waelhem, Wavre, and St. Catherine with a concentrated fury of shell fire. On the Aisne, it was about September 28th that the British and French commanders noticed that all real effort at attack on the part of the enemy had ceased.
In a Hurry
The Germans were in a hurry, but they were also clever. They chose the easiest sector of the line of forts, forts standing in a tract of country free from inundation and other difficulties that might impede their advance, and these they battered ruthlessly. Their giant shells came punching down out of the sky, hammering awful blows on the steel cupolas of the forts; the lighter artillery strewed the whole of the trenched line with death-dealing shrapnel. They turned that point of defence into a raging hell of shell and bullet. In their forts, behind the inadequate parapets of their trenches, the invincible Belgians fought as best they could. They could not see the foe that was dealing them out death with so lavish a hand, for the howitzers were firing from six or seven miles away. Even if they could have seen it would not have mattered. The guns in the defences were hopelessly inadequate - the Germans had seen to that the long-range pieces that should have been delivered by Krupp had not been delivered, and the obsolete guns in the works were utterly outranged. Yet the intrepid Belgians fought on. They were tired out with a month's incessant activity, their nerves were strained by the horrible shell fire, but they were not intimidated. Wavre and St. Catherine were put out of action. The powder magazine of Waelhem went spouting to the sky, the huge rage of the shelling began to pour on another fort, Lierre, but the Belgians still clung to their lines. Nothing but annihilation, it seemed, could break them, and they remained under fire in their trenches and in their forts while an enemy they never saw at all poured an unfaltering stream of powerful long-range shells upon them.
The Gap in the Line
The forts crumbled, the defences were hammered to dust. On Wednesday, September 30th, the three strong forts, Waelhem, Wavre, and St. Catherine, were only heaps of smoking rubble, the strong trenches that flanked and supported these forts had been torn to pieces by the terrible onslaught of shells. The outer line of the two lines of forts that formed a double circle about the great city seemed in danger of being pierced. The Germans had made a gap, and they showed signs of rushing that gap. In the doomed city men and women stopped talking to listen to the thick and heavy muttering of the great cannon. "It is nearer," they said. "It is nearer." Already the clutch of siege was tightening on them. Shell fire had smashed the water-works out on the further line of forts. Water was becoming scarce. Still, in the face of an awful attack, the bone-weary, harassed, nerve-frayed Belgium army refused to let go of their lines, though those lines had been dug in a hurry, and were almost useless as protection against shrapnel fire.
Pushing for the Nethe
On Thursday the German force began to push forward over the area that the destruction of the forts had left unprotected. They were making for a narrow river, the Nethe. They would cross that and at once their great guns would be thundering at the town itself. The fort that holds the river line is Fort Lierre. It was the key. On to Fort Lierre swung the bunched attack of the German artillery. On Lierre a clever and humorous fellow put a big water-copper stern upwards on a part of the fortress slope away from the cupola, and for an hour or so the Germans shelled this under the impression they were putting the place out of action. The guns of the fort did not join much in the battle. It was useless to fire at guns that were two or three miles out of range. But they fired occasionally at little venturesome parties of Germans, and the German aeroplanes, spotting them, gave the range to their gunners. Then, turning from their water-copper to the real thing, the hammering shells slowly punched the strong fort out of action. As the forts were silenced, the German infantry came scurrying over the flat country to attack and overwhelm the battered defences.
The Scurrying Infantry
As they came, there flickered through the weary Belgian ranks a flame of energy. The men quickened, in spite of their fatigue, at this chance of retaliation. They gripped their rifles, waited. The Germans came rushing on to within a given distance of the trenches; then the vengeful trenches spoke. Before that bitter and determined fire rank after rank of the attack went down, and in horrible slaughter the rush was repulsed. The long and tedious game of gunnery recommenced. Up and down the trenches the shrapnel felt for living men. The soldiers in the trenches must be decimated, so that next time Germany attacked it must attain its end without resistance.
Winning!
The hideous bombardment continued right into Friday, October 2nd. Nothing could live under that deliberate, cold, and scientific shelling. The defence began to disintegrate. The long line of the outer defences gave way. Presently the Belgians fell back. Fighting stubbornly, they made their way across the Nethe, and entrenched on the town side. Bridges were blown up, and plans laid for a desperate resistance. But it was the most desperate resistance. Under that awful shelling, in the face of that ruthless advance, even the Belgians, "the bravest of all the Gauls," were losing heart. The Germans were winning; it seemed but a matter of hours now before the city would fall. The Government were already preparing to leave; the Diplomatic bodies had already left. It was, men thought, the end.
line, the northerly flank of the enemy must be turned. By October 2nd a plan had been made; the troops were ready td move upward towards Lille to catch the Germans on the flank. The troops were already moving. And Antwerp, in despair, had resolved to capitulate. When Antwerp fell, huge masses of troops would be released, and would be sent post haste to the German army that the Allies now hoped to turn. These huge reinforcements would find the Allies on the move. They would arrive when the French and British forces were in a dangerous and unconcentrated condition, for they would be marching upward to fill lines that were at the present moment but inadequately held. It was a moment when disaster might fall on the Allied arms. Antwerp was the key of the scheme just then. If it fell and released the Germans, the Allies might suffer almost any grave defeat. It must not fall; it must hold out for a few days at least, for by holding out it would hold the German troops along its front.
The Young Man in a Motor Car
The grave issue was seen at once. At once met. Into beleaguered Antwerp came hurling a great motor car, and from this motor car leapt a nervous, vital, volatile youngish man in a semi-naval uniform. That youngish man was the new spark of vitality and energy that was to fire the courage and resistance of the weary defence. It was the First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill. He brought a promise of help. He brought help.
The British Arrive
Right on his heels a heavy armoured train came steaming into the town on October 4th, and from the train there poured a contingent of "His Majesty's Jollys," the Royal Marines. They had travelled all night; they had scarcely slept, for the threat of German attack hung all over their journey. But they were game. They were ready to fight at once; and they were given fighting at once. Out through the shell-strewn lines, the men were hurried into the shell-burnt trenches that abutted Lierre fort, still holding out. Half an hour after they had left the train they were being shelled, were in the trenches beating off German attacks.
His Majesty's Jollys
It was a fine, brave, thrilling piece of work. Directly they arrived, the ubiquitous spies, that had hampered the defence from the outset, signalled through to the enemy, and shell fire was concentrated upon the British immediately. The Marines ignored the shell fire, dug the trenches deeper, protected them overhead with timber and earth to resist shrapnel; then they settled down to work, as if holding trenches against German gunners and German infantry had been their sole solace from boyhood up. Winston Churchill came with them into the trenches, and shared their risks, and admired their courageous determination. The Marines cheered "Winston," made jokes, and held on. When the Germans came forward through the night, hoping to finish easily the work their shells had begun, they were met by a terrible fire from British rifles, and driven out of the field. The Germans attacked resolutely, and were slaughtered consistently. They fell back again, and, with wisdom, left the attack to the guns.
Antwerp the Key
Away, far south on the Aisne, a council of war had been called. It had been decided that the battle of fortifications had arrived at a stage of "stalemate." Neither side could make headway. Another move must be tried. If the Allies were to beat the Germans along the Aisne
On Monday, October 5th, the German masses came on again under the protection of their concentrated artillery. They knew, as well as the defenders, the need for hurry. Every minute wasted here meant that General Joffre and General French got more men up towards Lille, strengthened their positions. The Germans about Antwerp made a desperate attack. They must cross the Nethe at all costs, and drive the Belgians and British back on the second line, so that the great German guns could be moved up to bear on the town at once. All day long they fought for the crossing. Pontoons were swung over the narrow stream, and were splintered to ruin by the guns of the defenders. The defenders' guns were not good, and they were not many, but they sufficed for this form of fighting; they did their work magnificently. All day long the Belgians and the British Marines staved off the attack with an awful ardour of slaughter, and though the German lines and the German artillery in them crept nearer and nearer, the attack that was to have been successful that day failed.
The Motor 'Buses
The fight went on all through the night, though the Germans drove hard at this segment of defence in their determination to get through. Further British reinforcements had come bundling into the town on London motor 'buses. These were made up of men of the Royal Naval Reserve, young men, inexperienced men, men with but three months' training behind them, but men full of fight all the same. They were rushed to the trenches at once, and, as usual, their positions being noted by the kindly spies, they were at once shelled.
Hell Let Loose
They treated the shelling with the joking calmness of veterans. Away on the Lierre line, the attack had grown up again during the night. The frontal advance on the trenches made no impression, for still the vicious rifles of the Belgians and Marines forbade pontooning; but at Lierre itself the shattered fort succumbed, the Germans came swamping forward, and forced the bridge across the river. In the early hours of the morning their troops and guns were crossing, and massing on the near bank for attack.
On Tuesday morning (the 6th October) the battle blazed out again with a redoubled and awful fury. The German military balloons, the signallers posted on the tall tower of Lierre Town Hall, the flitting aeroplanes, gave their artillery the range with exquisite precision, and the storm of well-directed fire was like hell let loose.
Liliputians Against Giants
All the defending trenches were seared with the terrible flame of this fire. A giant shell fell outside a trench, detonated with the force of an earthquake, and drove the trench in so violently that three men were buried. The Marines dug their comrades out and con- tinued to fight. But it was the fight of Liliputians against giants. The artillery of the defence might have been pop-guns, so little did they affect the attack, though an armoured train, in which a number of British big naval guns were mounted, swept up and down the railway behind the trenches, doing first-class work. Soon the situation became desperate. The trenches were being blown to pieces, the parapets were simply scattered in dust to the four winds under the terrible rain of explosive, the Belgians supporting the Marines to left and right were driven out of their works, the Germans were pushing forward in enormous masses. There was nothing else to do but retire. Under the terrible pall of shell fire the Marines went back. How they came out of that tornado of death alive they never knew, but, in good order, without faltering, they did so. They fell back to the second line of forts that ring the town proper.
Bombardment
On the 7th of October Antwerp was being bombarded. The Germans had now established themselves within the outer ring of forts, and through the gap they had forced fresh troops, fresh guns were being poured. Their great howitzers were fixed on the concrete positions thoughtfully made by spies in times of peace, and from these positions fire was opened. Both the inner line of forts and the town proper were bombarded. The town suffered awfully. The giant shells just blew the buildings to rubble, vast holes were torn in the streets, the entire facades of houses by the row were sheered right off by the onrushing shells. Fire burnt upward from a hundred spots all over the town. Every street of Antwerp became littered with the wreck of houses and of homes. The people began flying. Already the Government and the devoted King had moved away, westward, to Ostend; already a great portion of the Belgian army had left to save themselves. Now the citizens in a pitiful stream followed in terror and tears. The city was doomed. But the military did not allow the terror of this knowledge to interfere with their efficiency. They set to work to make Antwerp as useless to the invader as a town could be. The vast stores of petrol on the river bank were fired, and the flame and smoke of the conflagration filled the heavens with mottled horror. The river was made useless, tugs and barges and ships were sunk in the fairway; everything eatable and usable was destroyed. The Germans might capture a town, but it would be the shell of a town only.
The Retirement
All the time the terrible shells were plunging into the heart of the city, shattering whole blocks of houses to ruin, devastating suburbs in one stroke. All the time the awful battering of steel and explosive made horrible the trenches. All through the 8th of October the Belgians, the Marines, and the young men of the Royal Naval Reserve held their positions against the most determined attacks of the enemy. It was not until night they retired. Then, under shell fire, and amid great danger, they fell back in calm order. The last remnant of defenders did not fly. They were cool; they did all they had to do coolly. The trenches were destroyed, guns were smashed, the forts were blown up - blown up with a splendid spirit of devotion that will live in history, for the Belgian and British commanders of forts fired their magazines with their own hands after they had sent their men to safety.
The Last Bridge
Over the last bridge of the Scheldt the rear-guard went, and, after blowing it up, they swung off on the long and trying march to Ostend. Through the darkness, through a strange country infested with a determined enemy, through the clogging crowds of refugees, they tramped, almost sleeping as they moved. At one point a stiff rear-guard action was fought, the Belgians and the Marines turning about in the night to beat off their pursuers. But, after exhausting hardships, the majority of the 8000 Britishers and the greater portion of the Belgian army arrived at Ostend. They had lost a number, 2000 of the British among them, who had mistaken their way and become interned in Holland, but the bulk had carried out a masterly retirement, and though they were dropping with fatigue, they were still effective for use in further battles.
The Meaning of Antwerp
Meanwhile, from the valley of the Aisne, an Allied army had been pouring northward. Its movement had begun on October 3rd, when brilliant General Gough and the 2nd Cavalry Division had begun to sweep the country through Compiegne right up to Lille, westward to Ypres and Dixmude. If Antwerp had fallen on October 3rd, a German army might have hurried down and met the moving forces at once. Antwerp was not in German hands until the 9th. By October 9th the Allies had secured their advantage. Dense masses of horse and foot, guns and wagons, by road and by railway, had been pouring steadily upward to the new, the northern line of battle. All through the early days of October they had moved forward, and they had remained unmolested. If the Germans, in any strength, had been able to swoop down on those creeping and heavy masses of munitions and men, they might have done irreparable damage. The Germans did not attack; they were not in a position to attack. And Antwerp was the reason. Antwerp, by its desperate, if failing, resistance, kept about her shattered forts the armies that might have been used elsewhere. While the siege still raged the Allies were able to reach the northern area, and were sufficiently in line to give battle all along a front from Lille to Dixmude, from Dixmude to the sea by October 11th. That is the meaning of Antwerp. Antwerp made the British position along the Ypres line possible.
Royal Naval Brigade men in the trenches outside Lierre
