The Motor-Bus in War

The War has been responsible, amongst other things, for the publication of a number of books dealing with it in its different aspects and from various points of view.

Many of these have been written by men who, previous to it, possibly never thought of writing a book, and even less of seeing what they had written reproduced in print.

Finding themselves, however, amongst entirely novel surroundings, engaged in an adventure equally different from anything they had previously anticipated even in their wildest flights of imagination, they have sought to place on record some account of their experiences on active service, but in nearly every case of the actual fighting in which they have taken part with their regiments or batteries at the front.

The majority of people at home very naturally focus their mind's eye on what is taking place actually in the long lines of trenches that stretch from the sea in the North right down to Switzerland in the South, particularly in those manned by the British armies, scarcely realizing the stupendous part in the war drama that is played by the men engaged in the vast organization behind the battle-line. The organization that is essential in order to maintain an army in the field as an effective fighting force, by supplying and conveying to it its two main wants-food and ammunition-thus enabling it to keep itself alive and destroy the life of its enemy. An army in the field drags behind it a long chain of transport, mechanical and animal, advanced supply depots, hospitals, rest camps, etc., and communications by which it is securely fastened to fixed bases at its rear. There are in France to-day thousands of men from the railheads nearest the firing-line, right through the long lines of communication to the base supply depots, leading a more or less uneventful life of regular routine, freed to a certain extent from the dangers of shot and shell, but who are, nevertheless, "doing their bit somewhere in France." Whether the establishment of men so engaged is too large and should be reduced to enable more men to be available for the firing-line, as has been recently suggested in Parliament and elsewhere, is a matter I do not propose to discuss at any length, but would add that nearly all the criticism which has been levelled at Army administration has been destructive as opposed to constructive criticism, which is, of course, not only more difficult but infinitely more useful.

Preparations on a vast scale have been created, and should our armies in due course advance and drive the invader before them, every bit of that vast organization will be needed, and, moreover, should its efficiency fail, the advancing armies would find themselves in a sorry plight.

A reduction in that establishment of personnel behind the line might, therefore, prove fatal.

At least, it can be said for these men that their job is not of their own seeking, and that they volunteered, many of them in the first weeks of the war, for "active service," having no definite idea at all as to what they would encounter and what was in store. Although they are members of a combatant corps, opportunities for gallant actions and distinctions seldom come their way. Lord Northcliffe has described them as "The Army behind the Army." Such are the men of the administrative branches of the Service, who deal with thousands of tons of every imaginable material daily, from the time it is off-loaded from the ships at seaport supply bases such as Rouen, Le Havre, Calais, etc., up to its actual issue to the fighting troops at the front. Thus their operations extend from the bases to within a few hundred yards of the trenches, the interest and excitement of their work increasing proportionately with its distance from the former.

It is of the doings of some of these men that I have endeavoured to write a description, and the following pages contain an account of my experiences with the British Expeditionary Force, chiefly incidents in my particular appointment during 1914, '15, '16 and '17, as an Army Service Corps officer in the Mechanical Transport Supply Column of an Indian Cavalry Division. This book does not pretend to be an historical record of the doings of the unit to which I have been attached during this period, but merely a few sketches, written at random at various times, of incidents that have occurred in the course of duty with the largest mechanical transport unit (except the Base Mechanical Transport Depots and Workshops) of the British Expeditionary Force in France.

Incidentally, these experiences have been unusually varied; though many is the time when they have appeared to be exactly the opposite. Nevertheless, the unit of which I write has consistently "rationed" its troops at almost every part of the British line, from Ypres to the River Somme, not to mention the places far behind the line where cavalry have been billeted during the winters and other periods of enforced inactivity. Looking at the map of the Western front war zone and drawing on it roughly a rectangle, having for its four angular points Boulogne and Ypres in the North and Rouen and Péronne in the South, there is, in this area, scarcely a town through which, or a main road over which, motor-lorries of the Supply Column have not travelled in their many journeys, covering thousands of miles, during the last two and a half years, up and down this strange land of "somewheres."

This has been called an engineers' war; it is certainly the first war in which petrol-propelled mechanical transport has been employed to any extent. Thousands of Army Service Corps motor-lorries, painted service grey-green, line the roads behind the trenches in France and Flanders. Petrol is surely the key to modern warfare. Operations on such a gigantic scale could not be carried on without it, for petrol-propelled vehicles are used, amongst other purposes, for the following:-

The conveying of food, clothes, ammunition, and water to the troops.

The haulage of heavy pieces of artillery.

The evacuation of sick and wounded to the casualty clearing hospitals, etc.

The rapid movement of troops from one part of the line to another, and as the quickest means of bringing up reinforcements.

The fate of Paris was largely changed, at the beginning of the War, by the requisition and mobilization of some thousand or so motor taxi-cabs during a night, at the order of the late General Galliéni. In them were sent out twenty-five thousand troops, who by this means of transport swiftly proceeded to the Ourcq and reinforced the French Army, which was striking a terrific blow at the turned flank of Von Kluck's army. It will be recalled that the enemy's columns advancing on Paris turned abruptly eastwards to unexpectedly rush on the British Divisions and cut them off from their juncture with the 5th French Army. They failed to do so, but until the night of September 9th-10th the battle of Nanteuil-sur-Marne hung in the balance. General Maunoury's army was constantly being reinforced, however, by the troops which arrived at Dammartin and other points in the requisitioned taxi-cabs so regularly that the pressure was increased, the tide of battle turned, and the capital of France saved. The stand put up by the allied French and British Armies on the Marne will go down to posterity as the most epic battle in European history. The warfare in France and Flanders, since it settled down to a prolonged and continuous trench strafe, has been described as consisting in "months of boredom punctuated by moments of intense fear," and it has been to pass the time of day during some of those months that the following chapters have been written. If they succeed in giving the reader some slight idea of the scope, extent, and versatility of work accomplished by the mechanical transport of the Army Service Corps, of how our armies in the field are fed, and of the soldier-man's life and surroundings at various distances "behind the front"-what he sees and does there-they will not have been written in vain. I have purposely avoided matters of controversy, and I have written not as a critic but as an observer and the player of a very small part in the great drama. I trust that the varying degrees of discomfort, inseparable from active service, under which I have had to write will be accepted as sufficient excuse for any lack of literary style.