Meeting the Enemy by Richard van Emden

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Accompanied by a volunteer, we approached the frightful scene slowly, and with great circumspection. On arrival, we found that, without any doubt, they had all been killed, the majority of them bearing at least two marks as evidence of the terrible accuracy of our fire. Neglecting precaution, we stood looking down at the sad fruits of our first clash with the enemy, the sight of these dead men exercising a dreadful fascination for me which I found very difficult to dispel. Thrusting aside its baneful influence, I pulled myself together with an effort, and we collected the peculiar headdress of these unlucky men.
     
    The fighting at Mons that day was intense but brief. The men of the 4th Middlesex Regiment and neighbouring battalions defending the canal inflicted heinous casualties on the enemy. ‘My sensations during this baptism were too numerous and confused to analyse,’ wrote Vivian. ‘I clearly remember being reduced to a profuse state of perspiration, the sweat pouring down my face and into my eyes in such volume as to render me temporarily blind. Gradually I became cooler, and the only sensation then noticeable was one of grim and increasing interest in the business of slaughter.’
    The horror at such butchery was suspended if not dispelled. ‘We had, in fact, become transformed into killers,’ Vivian grimly accepted; the fields in front became littered with enemy dead. Only when the fighting died down and the audible cries and groans of the wounded reached the men of the Middlesex Regiment did humanity return. Yet just as the men were about to venture forward to offer help, the Germans attacked again. Once more they were cut down.
     
Parties of enemy stretcher-bearers made their appearance, greatly to our relief, and entirely without interference, and were permitted to carry out their errands of mercy . . . It was necessary for some of these to come within thirty yards of the hedge behind which we were entrenched and they interested us tremendously, especially when one or two of them hailed us in our own language. This resulted in a great deal of chaffing, which was given and received by all with great good humour.
One of our wags, very unfeelingly, with an immense lack of tact, implored them to inform him ‘how they liked their eggs fried’, which drew the extremely rueful reply that we were inclined to season them with a little too much pepper. As they were retiring on the completion of their job, one German, with a great grin, shouted ‘Next time you will make the visits to us!’
     
    The weight of attacks at Mons, and the risk of being outflanked by the numerically superior Germans, made the British positions increasingly untenable. To the astonishment of those who could see no more than the results of their marksmanship, a retirement was ordered, and the men fell back through Mons and on to the hot and dusty roads leading south.
    Captain William Morritt was serving with his battalion, 1st East Surrey Regiment, on the German side of the Mons-Condé Canal, around three miles west of Mons. His battalion was deployed on the forward side of the canal, defending a railway bridge. During the engagement, he went to see some men on his right flank, returning to discover that those he had just left were falling back from their positions towards the canal. Morritt shouted to them to stop but was told that Germans were behind them and that they were in danger of being cut off. The enemy had managed to reach a rising embankment that led up to the bridge. If there had been an order to his company to retire, Morritt had not received it and he took the only course of action that seemed open: he ordered those men still under his command to fix bayonets and charge the Germans between him and the canal.
     
I got my revolver out to load. I had just done this when I was hit in the right wrist which knocked it out of my hand. I could not then draw my sword as I had no strength in my right hand, when I rushed forward I