Fred Mitchell's war story : three years in the war zone

Front matter

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Preface

My chief object in bringing out this volume of my experiences during the early part of the war has been to convey to American readers a true idea of what non-combatants in the invaded country, as well as close to the battle lines, were compelled to undergo.

There has also been a wish on my part that this book may help me in bringing some slight measure of relief to many little orphans, most of whose parents I once knew, and to older but just as helpless sufferers.

I vouch for the truth of everything I relate. It will be observed that these pages contain very little that is based on hearsay evidence. Nearly everything in them is the result of personal observation, purchased at a heavy cost in the way of danger and hardship.

My happiness will be great if I can help a little to bring about a true realization of the menace which the German Empire, as at present constituted, is to the rest of humanity, and how absolutely necessary it is that its crushing power should be for ever broken.

Fred Mitchell.

Contents

PAGi:

I The Breaking of the Storm 13

II The Coming of the Tidal Wave 26

Chapter I

For twelve years I made my home in one of the garden spots of France, perhaps the fairest country, taking all in all, of those that men live in and are ready to die for.

I was to see it invaded. The pleasant, kind-hearted people among whom I dwelt were to be changed, well-nigh overnight, into a terrified, hunted, harassed mob of starvelings, subject to the ill-will of brutal hordes. Villages whose steeples were in our purview were to be shattered into fire-blackened heaps. The glorious old trees of the roadside and the forest, some of which had witnessed invasions of the forebears of the modem Hun, were to lie prostrate or stand up, gaunt and leafless, struck by the lightning made of man.

The country is a rolling one with great patches of forest where deer and boar still roam and in which great hunts follow baying hounds to the sound of the hunting horn. Every hill reveals a wonderful landscape. Some valleys are occupied by racing tracks while in others the fertile ground is divided into fields where intensive cultivation brings plenteous crops.

Here and there the eye follows the course of the Oise, bordered by ancient willows and other century-old trees and winding its silvery course towards the Seine. Lakes there are also, on the banks of which are built villas and summer residences, while small streams pass through fields and pastures in which cattle fatten in the rich herbage. The roads are such as may be found in France only, extending out of sight between hedgerows or in a setting of straight poplars.

Such is my impression of the land in which I made my home, when my thoughts go back to the days before the war. But at present my idea of it is still confused. It is like a persistent and evil dream from which I cannot awaken. The rolling land is there, torn up by iron that was never made into ploughshares. Some of the forest survives, decimated by shells and axes that have sought material for the beams that roof over the trenches. My village escaped destruction, but a mile or two to the northward brings one into devastation. And the young men are gone. Those who return will never be young again for they have been aged by suffering. Slowly old men and women, with those too young to fight, are grubbing among ruins for things they hid or for a few poor heirlooms that may still be of use, under crumbled stone and brick and plaster.

I must here explain in a few words my selection of a residence in this district. It was the racing centre of France. To it came visitors from all parts of the world. Perhaps as many as a thousand thoroughbreds were in training within ten or fifteen miles of my home. And I am a jockey by profession, an occupation which my intense love of animals had caused me to supplement with the breeding and rearing of the best strains of dogs.

I may here state that my profession had some bearing on the events I am about to relate. This occurred in specific instances which I shall mention further on, but my long training helped me a great deal. It may be admitted that a man who is to obtain continuous success as a rider must cultivate the habit of instant decision and he must face danger with a certain coolness. I do not imply that he must be braver than other men, for nothing is farther from my thoughts, but men who follow hazardous callings necessarily grow more callous than others in the presence of danger, whether at sea or on land. It was the fact of my being somewhat accustomed to being in tight places which permitted me to carry out many of the undertakings that were thrust upon me.

Lest readers unfamiliar with the risks of my occupation may think I am drawing a long bow I feel compelled to say that it is one looked upon with disfavour by the insurance companies. Both my arms and legs have been broken at some time or other, with a scattering of fractures of more insignificant bones such as ribs and collar-bones. I was perhaps favoured in being a rather small man, having seldom weighed as much as a hundred pounds. Owing to this the average Hun could hardly deem me a verydangerous individual. This may have had its disadvantages since at times he probably reckoned me among the more helpless inhabitants and by this time we all know his invincible courage when faced by women and children. Bravery exists in all mankind and the German possesses his share of it. Alone among modem peoples, however, he has mingled it with the most arrant brutality, with unvarying arrogance towards inferiors and with a well-nigh indecent obsequiousness in the presence of his superiors. Alone he also possesses the distinction of deeming women and children, as well as the aged, as an element which, in conquered lands, calls for his best efforts in the way of spreading terror. I wish it were possible even to hint at a tithe of the infamies he perpetrated among them. Throughout this book I shall be compelled at every turn to moderate my language. It is a necessity and yet one I must at times deplore. It is true that the tales I could unfold would not be fit for the ears of ladies or of the young, but at the same time it must be remembered that those outrages were inflicted upon women, of the highest and lowest, and upon innocent children such as yours and mine, such as you love from the innermost depths of your hearts.

Soldiers of France and England have been found, crucified, but I may not tell the greater horrors their mothers and sisters were often compelled to undergo. Like other savage tribes, the Huns know many ways of causing their victims to cry out in agony for death to still their agonies and end their shame.

So there I was, living with my wife and two children in a place which, at this distance from home, I can think of only as a sort of paradise on earth. While a jockey and working in the midst of an element in which the din of the betting-ring was ever present I had, from my earliest experience as a rider, made it an unalterable rule never to bet. Leading the quiet and moderate life compelled by constant training I had managed to save a fair share of all my earnings and reached a position of comfort such as is assured by a modest competence. My boy and girl went to school and spoke French like the natives, so that we had to insist on the use of English in the house, that they might not forget the language of their parents. The kennels were a constant source of pleasure to us. Nearly ninety inmates spoke to us in every variety of canine language, from the great deep voices of huge wolfhounds to the sharp yelpings of the tiniest toy-terriers. The many puppies were always a delight.

One day came the news of the murder of Austrian royalties by men who, although Austrian subjects, were to be deemed Serbians for the better furtherance of plans made by sinister crowned heads that had been getting ready. Any pretext would have served their purpose and this was seized upon eagerly. After this came the dull rumbling which, we are told, commonly portends an earthquake or cyclonic disturbances. It was something intangible that floated in the air like poison gas.

On the peaceful little villages of northern France these rumours had not the slightest effect. It was as if the sun had been shining too brightly to allow little fleecy clouds to cast any shadows on them. The season's holiday preparations were well under way; the racing meets occurred at stated intervals; the usual happy life was pulsing strongly over a world at peace. But a very few of us began to feel that something was impending. As for many years previously the country swarmed with Germans occupying all sorts of positions, following the race meets, sending out betting information, or appearing to belong to those leisure classes ever seeking for excitement. The largest factory in Gouvieux, the village where I lived, was owned by Germans and manufactured flags. Most of the workmen were of their own people.

A few days only before the declaration of the war, those of us who felt that something was in the wind sought out a few of those people. "Ach! A war! Never! Peace had lasted for over forty years between Germany and France! Impossible that it should be broken! Were not the two countries ever growing nearer?" To this sort of thing we listened, very nearly until the end, and I may say that to a few those words brought comfort. I have no doubt that some of these Germans ignored the fact that war was bound to come, yet I firmly believe that still more were absolutely and utterly forewarned.

A stable-boy of mine chanced to be a German. A willing and obliging fellow he proved and an absolute genius at language. It was only afterwards that we recollected that, on his arrival among us, he scarcely knew a word of French or English and that, strangely enough, he appeared in the course of a month to become a master of both languages. Three days before the war he came and told me he was going to England, and we parted on the friendliest terms. When I next met him, as the reader will see, he had blossomed into something very different from the knight of the curry-comb.

The fourth or fifth of July found us in Gouvieux, where I expected to remain until some time after the racing season, intending to exhibit important entries in some of the dog-shows. The value of some of this stock of mine was considerable. For an all-white French bulldog that had never been beaten in the show-ring I judged it proper to refuse an offer of four thousand dollars. Like many other of my possessions at thai time he had to be sacrificed later on. As the weather grew warm a part of my household decided to spend a few weeks at Ostend, in Belgium, while my son Freddie and I remained with the dogs.

Getting dogs in their best form for exhibition represents a great deal of work. In order to make arrangements to show about twenty-five of my animals I had to go to Paris and took my boy with me. There a brother-in-law of mine spoke very seriously about the possibility of war and asked me if I did not feel some anxiety on account of the members of my family who were in Belgium. Naturally enough I began to feel quite concerned over the matter. My wife had been invited to spend some time in Brussels, and it was there that the first and blackest war-clouds seemed to be gathering. The mobilization of German troops, it appeared, was under way.

As soon as I could go back to Chantilly I took a bicycle and rode over to Gouvieux as fast as I could. I stopped at the telegraph office and wired to my wife, urging her immediate return and telling her to allow nothing to delay her. As soon as I had sent the message I sought out some of my friends and apprised them of the rumours of war between France and Germany, adding that Russia and Austria and Great Britain might also be added to the turmoil. My friends heard my news incredulously, or at any rate with the greatest surprise. Many of them utterly refused to believe in such a possibility and had any number of cogent reasons for their assertions. Returning to Paris on the following day, my brother-inlaw again asked me anxiously if I had telegraphed to my wife. After I had reassured him he asked me to come over to his hotel to have a talk over the latest news he had obtained. When we reached the place he declared that he felt quite sure that war would be declared exceedingly soon, perhaps in less than twenty-four hours. He felt so certain of his information that I was compelled to realize the gravity of the situation and decided to return home immediately.

When I reached my house I found, to my great relief, that my family had already started, but the telegram gave me no information in regard to the time of their arrival. Riding over to Chantilly I made inquiries at the railway station, asking how long the journey was from Brussels to this place. I was somewhat taken aback when they informed me that it would be impossible for my wife to arrive before the following day at six o'clock in the evening. If she should unfortunately miss that train, they told me, another twenty-four hours' delay must occur. At this time, I may state, war had not yet been declared, and I was compelled to go to Paris at once, on business.

I had hardly stepped off the train before I heard the newsboys crying out: "War Declared!!" Men and women lifted their hands up towards the skies. I heard one or two tremendous oaths. For the most part the people looked staggered, stupefied, mesmerized. The calamity seemed to have caught them utterly unprepared. Till the last moment there had been hope. There had been the impression that this was another one of those recurring cries of "Wolf!" that would again turn out to be based on vague fears and idle rumours. The menace had been there, for several days, but the reality stunned them. Nor was it through lack of courage that they first bent their heads under the blow. Old men had told me of the days, forty years before, when the populace had shrieked "On to Berlin." This time there were no such boastful words. One felt that the first blast once passed would give way to a tremendous, sturdy, well-nigh silent push, in which every man would seek to do his duty and every woman would seek to uphold him. The great heart of France was throbbing faster, I daresay, but already it was pulsing with the blood of men who have proved their heroism, over and over again.

I hurriedly attended to my business, taking but a few minutes for my lunch, and rushed off home again. When I reached my station I announced the news but already it had spread like wildfire. Most of the people, however, ignored that the war had been officially and irrevocably declared. The alarm was great among the townspeople, while in the smaller villages all looked excited and upset. They surrounded me, knowing that I was an Englishman, and eagerlyinquired whether my country would join theirs. I shouted to them that England had given her word and would fight to the last man. So great was their enthusiasm and relief that it was with some difficulty that I escaped their most friendly mobbing.

Later on, in the evening, I went over to Chantilly to await the arrival of the train which, I hoped, would bring my wife and daughter back. My joy was intense when the cars clattered in and I saw them, for my anxiety had been great indeed. At home she told me all that she had undergone in her efforts to get away. There had been a very Babel of eager, anxious, bewildered people all striving to return to their respective countries — many Germans included. When she managed to reach the frontier, where all luggage had to be examined, the controller warned her that if she remained long enough to have her trunks looked over she would certainly lose her train. Very kindly he offered to look after them and have them forwarded to Paris, where he would send the keys and where she could claim her belongings. She was glad to avail herself of his good-natured offer in order to avoid being delayed.

Her concern was great in regard to her cousin and his family in Brussels. The outlook for them was threatening. He had an exceedingly nice home there and a flourishing business. The daughter was sixteen and his son one year older.

Every one in Brussels had commented on the fact that a great many English sailors were there on permission, enjoying a holiday from their ships anchored in Belgian ports. My wife had seen them there but two days before the declaration of war.

For a very long time we never heard about her cousin. It was at least a year afterwards that we learned of his adventures. When the Germans came he had been interned with all other British subjects. He soon managed however to inspire some confidence on the part of the invaders and at last was allowed to move about, under rigid restrictions. By degrees the family worked its way towards the frontier, where the father fell in with a band of smugglers. His son and he, alternately, accompanied them on some of their trips across. They also worked in die fields, cutting cabbages and turnips and helping prepare such merchandise for the markets. The father was finally allowed to drive a horse and cart used in transporting the vegetables and other foodstuff's, assisting a farmer to carry his goods and dispose of them in Holland. During all this time the family was in severe straits for lack of food. They were compelled to sleep in the fields, like outcasts, and lived on whatever they could poach and on such vegetables as they could pick up. Gradually they became well known to the guards

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Chapter II

Very soon the people of the village began to gather about my house, seeking advice. Every able-bodied man had been summoned away to the colours and this sifting out of the strong left a population which, for the greater part, seemed pathetically helpless and dependent on others. Time and again I was eagerly asked whether England would stand by France, her ally, and I kept on repeating my assurances that her word was even better than her bond and that they must share my faith in her.

The storm was not upon us yet, nor did its furyreach us for some weeks. But we all felt that it was moving towards us, irresistibly, like the waters of a dam that has burst, which are sweeping through the valleys, engulfing everything in their path.

To our little village came the news of fighting in Belgium. At first there were hopeful rumours of a tremendous slaughter of the enemy, of magnificent repulses. But such tales, originating Heaven knows where, gave place to the assurance that the Huns were advancing and progressing daily, shattering what had been deemed impregnable fortresses and spreading terror over the land, methodically, with malice aforethought, plainly showing that rapine and murder and rape were part and parcel of the unchanged force that had been kept in leash during forty years, awaiting "The Day!"

We then heard that the fighting had reached the frontier and was coming nearer. It struck me like a blow to hear in Paris, one afternoon, that the hordes we believed had been held up by the Belgians were swarming through Brussels and advancing against Antwerp. The distance between the Huns and ourselves was lessening hour by hour, and when I reached home again, that day, I found that my wife had he^rd the news and was making every preparation to leave.

In my paddocks there were eighty-seven dogs, which at a fairly low estimate were worth a hundred thousand dollars, for among them were prize-winners famed all over Europe. They represented the greater part of all I owned and I could not bear to leave them. I felt compelled to tell my wife that she must go without me since I would have to remain and take care of them. But I had not reckoned with a woman's faith and loyalty. She refused to hear of leaving me. Many of our nearest neighbours began to depart and a number of them, hearing of my decision, brought valuable dogs to me and begged me to look after them.

Since the village was empty of serviceable men and utterly miprotected I went to the mayor of the town and offered my assistance, declaring that I would be ^ only too glad to be put to any needed use. My slender weight utterly unfitted me for soldiering and the mayor was greatly pleased to avail himself of my offer. He proposed that I should do police duty, in which I was joined by several gentlemen of the place. For a long time, therefore, we patrolled the various districts at night, each man working every other day from nine to half -past four in the morning.

All the owners and trainers of the surrounding country had received notice that their horses must at once be presented for service in the army. A very large number of valuable animals were taken and of course sacrificed at the very lowest figures. None that I ever heard of hesitated in the performance of this patriotic duty. Away they went, animals that had won the greatest stakes and whose records and breeding were matters of knowledge wherever racing is conducted. While the loss was bravely accepted, many hearts were grieving at the idea of these wonderful animals being sent away to serve as targets for the advancing guns. Men who live very constantly with animals cannot help feeling a personal and friendly interest in them. To many of us it was as if some close relatives had been led off to gasp their lives away on bloody fields. Still, men were offering all they had for the best interest of the nation, all over France and England, and doing it cheerfully for the sake of right against might.

Closely followed the announcement that in two days no more trains would run from Chantilly to Paris as all bridges and culverts were to be blown up owing to the nearness of the enemy. We felt that we were being cut off from the great city, and I immediately journeyed there to procure all the dog-biscuits I could buy. I was successful in obtaining assurance, at the factory, that they would at once ship all the available supply to the Gare du Nord. I then thought of a most valuable bulldog I had at Pont de Crenelle, close to the Eiffel Tower, and went there for it. Since dogs are forbidden access to street-cars I was compelled to get a taxicab, owing to the great distance. But I had to wait for it a long time and, as I stood in the street, I heard the crashing of guns. Running to the bridge over the Seine we saw that the pieces mounted on the tower were firing at a German aeroplane that was flying above the river. This, I have heard, was the first plane that came over Paris from the enemy's lines. The excitement finally died away and we obtained our cab at last.

As we landed in Chantilly we were surprised to see hundreds of people crowding in and about the station. I wondered what could have happened to bring such an unusual number there. It reminded one of the affluence on the days of great races. The moment I reached the platform I saw that faces wore expressions of concern and worry greater by far than those ever shown by losers at the tracks. A good many of these people who were acquainted with me came and asked me anxiously if I did not fear for my wife and daughter. Breathlessly they advised me to rush home as fast as I could and bring my folks at once to the station, since the very last train to Paris was expected in a few minutes. Their excited words did not affect me much, however, since I had already decided upon my future movements. For a moment I stopped to look at them. Many were fellow-countrymen of mine and chiefly interested in the racing establishments. Their wives and children were with them. Some showed evidence of hasty dressing. They all bore bags and cases and parcels without number. It was more like a rout, like a fleeing before impending disaster, than like the preparation for an ordinary journey. Such scenes were repeated all over lines extending for hundreds of miles over which anxious men, haggard women and their weeping children seemed to be escaping from a plague.

When I reached my house I found four bicycles resting on the wall outside the door, all packed up and ready for a voyage. As I went in my wife asked me if I would have something to eat before we left. I asked where we were going and she replied that we were leaving for Paris. When I told her that the last train had gone she answered that it was for this reason that the bicycles had been made ready. I explained again how impossible it was for me to leave, and urged her to go and take the children with her. I simply could not leave all my beautiful dogs to the mercies of the Germans. Mrs. Mitchell asked me if I could not put a lot of biscuits in the paddocks and leave an abundance of water, but I was compelled to tell her that this would not do and again begged her to go. Again, however, she refused to leave without me, preferring to run all risks with me to the alternative of being separated.

Here I may say that it is my firm belief that at the beginning of the war Germany was so eager to get to Paris that she overlooked her greatest opportunity. She already had a small army in France, awaiting the word, and every town and village swarmed with her people, employed in a host of trades and occupations, underbidding the native labour, penetrating into every nook and comer. A vast number of them were spies or, if not regularly employed as such, were ready to give information to the invaders. Many of those who had lived among us returned as soldiers, knowing every bit of the ground. It turned out that this, in a way, proved fortunate for me. No praise can be too great for the Belgians who, hopelessly outnumbered at the start, managed to resist so bravely and to gain time. Before the French could come to their help Brussels and Antwerp had fallen, but it was at this time that the French began also to show their wonderful bravery. They were fighting against the most tremendous odds, utterly unprepared against an enemy armed to the teeth, thoroughly provisioned, and possessing the advantage of a first successful and devastating advance. At this time occurred the mistake of which I have just spoken. If the German army already in France had not rushed to Paris, which it already saw in its grasp, but had instead turned about and outflanked the French, a tremendous part of the fighting line of the latter might have been shattered.

Week by week we expected the flood to reach us, but about four of them went by before the first waves came. During this interval we toiled hard indeed. Those who had not already left were preparing for their departure, reluctant to go away before they were actually compelled to do so. Everywhere they were hiding and burying valuables they were unable to take away with them. In the later days some went off" so hurriedly that they forgot to inform me that they had placed their dogs in my kennels, and I kept on finding strange animals among my own, till I felt as if I had been in charge of an asylum.