Trechos das memórias (1958) do marechal Bernard Montgomery.
I did not possess a wrist watch till just before the beginning of the war in 1914. Now I suppose every boy has one at the age of seven or eight.
- - -
Life in the British Army in the days before World War I was very different from what it is now. Certain things one had to do because tradition demanded it.
- - -
I think it was [Captain] Lefroy who first showed me the path to tread and encouraged my youthful ambition. He was killed later in the 1914-18 war and was a great loss to me and to the Army.
- - -
In August 1914, I was a full lieutenant of twenty-six. It was to take the experiences of the 1914-18 war to show me what was wrong in the Army. My battalion mobilised at Shorncliffe. The mobilisation scheme provided, amongst other things, that all officers swords were to go to the armourers shop on the third day of mobilisation to be sharpened. It was not dear to me why, since I had never used my sword except for saluting. But of course I obeyed the order and my sword was made sharp for war. The C.O. said that in war it was advisable to have short hair since it was then easier to keep it clean; he had all his hair removed with the clippers by the regimental barber and looked an amazing sight; personally I had mine cut decently by a barber in Folkestone. Being totally ignorant about war, I asked the C.O. if it was necessary to take any money with me; he said money was useless in war as everything was provided for you, I was somewhat uncertain about this and decided to take ten pounds with me in gold. Later I was to find this invaluable, and was glad I had not followed his advice about either hair or money.
We crossed over to France as part of the 4th Division. We missed the battle of Mons by a few days, and moved forward by march route up towards Le Gateau. On the early morning of the 26th August 1914, the 10th Brigade to which my battalion belonged was bivouacked in the cornfields near the village of Haucourt after a long night march. One battalion was forward on a hill, covering the remainder of the brigade in the valley behind; we could see the soldiers having breakfast, their rifles being piled. That battalion was suddenly surprised by the Germans and fire opened on it at short range; it withdrew rapidly down the hill towards us, in great disorder.
Our battalion was deployed in two lines; my company and one other were forward, with the remaining two companies out of sight some hundred yards to the rear. The C.O. galloped up to us forward companies and shouted to us to attack the enemy on the forward hill at once. This was the only order; there was no reconnaissance, no plan, no covering fire. We rushed up the hill, came under heavy fire, my Company Commander was wounded and there were many casualties. Nobody knew what to do, so we returned to the original position from which we had begun to attack. If this was real war it struck me as most curious and did not seem to make any sense against the background of what I had been reading.
- - -
Such was the beginning of my experience of war. But it was not yet the end of the beginning. After some minor engagements on the Aisne front, the battalion was transferred with the remainder of the B.E.F. to the northern flank of the Allied front in the West. Some grim fighting then began and on the 13th October the battalion was launched to the attack for the second time; but now Poole was in command, and there was a plan and there were proper orders. Two companies were forward, my company on the left being directed on a group of buildings on the outskirts of the village of Meteren. When zero hour arrived I drew my recently sharpened sword and shouted to my platoon to follow me, which it did. We charged forward towards the village; there was considerable fire directed at us and some of my men became casualties, but we continued on our way. As we neared the objective I suddenly saw in front of me a trench full of Germans, one of whom was aiming his rifle at me.
In my training as a young officer I had received much instruction in how to kill my enemy with a bayonet fixed to a rifle. I knew all about the various movements right parry, left parry, forward lunge. I had been taught how to put the left foot on the corpse and extract the bayonet, giving at the same time a loud grunt. Indeed, I had been considered good on the bayonet - fighting course against sacks filled with straw, and had won prizes in man-to-man contests in the gymnasium. But now I had no rifle and bayonet; I had only a sharp sword, and I was confronted by a large German who was about to shoot me. In all my short career in the Army no one had taught me how to kill a German with a sword. The only sword exercise I knew was saluting drill, learnt under the sergeant-major on the barrack square.
An immediate decision was clearly vital. I hurled myself through the air at the German and kicked him as hard as I could in the lower part of the stomach; the blow was well aimed at a tender spot, I had read much about the value of surprise in war. There is no doubt that the German was surprised and it must have seemed to him a new form of war; he fell to the ground in great pain and I took my first prisoner!
A lot of fighting went on during the remainder of the day, our task being to clear the Germans from the village. During these encounters amongst the houses I got wounded, being shot through the chest. But we did the job and turned the Germans out of the village. It was for this action at Meteren that I was awarded the D.S.O. I was still only a lieutenant. My life was saved that day by a soldier of my platoon. I had fallen in the open and lay still hoping to avoid further attention from the Germans. But a soldier ran to me and began to put a field dressing on my wound; he was shot through the head by a sniper and collapsed on top of me. The sniper continued to fire at us and I got a second wound in the knee; the soldier received many bullets intended for me. No further attempt was made by my platoon to rescue us; indeed, it was presumed we were both dead. When it got dark the stretcher-bearers came to carry us in; the soldier was dead and I was in a bad way. I was taken back to the Advanced Dressing Station; the doctors reckoned I could not live and, as the station was shortly to move, a grave was dug for me. But when the time came to move I was still alive; so I was put in a motor ambulance and sent back to a hospital. I survived the journey and recovered, I think because I was very fit and healthy after two months of active service in the field. I was evacuated to hospital in England and for some months I took no further part in the war. I had time for reflection in hospital.
- - -
I returned to the Western Front in France early in 1916, this time as a brigade-major. During the Somme battle that summer an infantry brigade, which had better remain nameless, was to be the leading brigade in a divisional attack. It was important that the Brigade Commander should receive early information of the progress of his forward troops since this would affect the movement of reserves in the rear. The problem then arose how to ensure the early arrival of the required information, and intense interest was aroused at Brigade H.Q. when it was disclosed that a pigeon would be used to convey the news. In due course the bird arrived and was kept for some days in a special pigeon loft. When the day of the attack arrived the pigeon was given to a soldier to carry. He was to go with the leading sub-units and was told that at a certain moment an officer would write a message to be fastened to the pigeon's leg; he would then release the pigeon which would fly back to its loft at Brigade H.Q. The attack was launched and the Brigade Commander waited anxiously for the arrival of the pigeon. Time was slipping by and no pigeon arrived; the Brigadier walked feverishly about outside his H.Q. dugout. The soldiers anxiously searched the skies; but there was no sign of any pigeon.
At last the cry went up: "The pigeon" and sure enough back it came and alighted safely in the loft.
Soldiers rushed to get the news and the Brigade Commander roared out: "Give me the message."
It was handed to him, and this is what he read:
"I am absolutely fed up with carrying this bloody bird about France."
- - -
There was little contact between the generals and the soldiers. I went through the whole war on the Western Front, except during the period I was in England after being wounded; I never once saw the British Commander-in-Chief, neither French nor Haig, and only twice did I see an Army Commander.
The higher staffs were out of touch with the regimental officers and with the troops. The former lived in comfort, which became greater as the distance of their headquarters behind the lines increased.
- - -
The frightful casualties appalled me. The so-called "good fighting generals" of the war appeared to me to be those who had a complete disregard for human life. There were of course exceptions and I suppose one such was [Herbert] Plumer; I had only once seen him and had never spoken to him. There is the story of Sir Douglas Haig's Chief of Staff who was to return to England after the heavy fighting during the winter of 1917-18 on the Passchendaelc front. Before leaving he said he would like to visit the Passchendacle Ridge and see the country. When he saw the mud and the ghastly conditions under which the soldiers had fought and died, he was horrified and said: "Do you mean to tell me that the soldiers had to fight under such conditions?"; And when he was told that it was so, he said: "Why was I never told about this before?"
The fact that the Chief of Staff of the British Armies in Europe had no idea of the conditions under which the troops had to live, fight, and die, will be sufficient to explain the uncertainties that were passing through my mind when the war ended.
I remember a leave period spent in London. I went to a music hall one night and the big joke of the evening was when a comedian asked the question: "If bread is the staff of life, what is the life of the staff?"
He then gave the answer: "One big loaf."
There was tremendous applause, in which I joined. In fact, the staff worked hard. But the incident made me think seriously, and from my own experiences I knew something was wrong.
One further matter should be mentioned before leaving the First War period. For the last six months of the war I was GSO I of the 47th (London) Division. I devoted much thought to the problem of how to get to Divisional Headquarters quickly the accurate information of the progress of the battle which is so vital, and which enables a general to adjust his dispositions to the tactical situation as it develops. We finally devised a system of sending officers with wireless sets up to the headquarters of the leading battalions and they sent messages back by wireless. The difficulty in those days was to get reliable sets which could be carried by a man and would give the required range. Our system was very much a make-shift and often broke down; but it also often worked, and overall it produced useful results. This was the germ of the system I developed in the 1939-45 war, and which finally produced the team of liaison officers in jeeps operating from my Advanced Tactical Headquarters, a technique which Sir Winston Churchill describes in his Triumph and Tragedy, Book Two, Chapter 5. In 1918 in the 47th Division we were groping in the dark and trying to evolve ideas which would give increased efficiency to our operations.
- - -
Life in the British Army in the days before World War I was very different from what it is now. Certain things one had to do because tradition demanded it.
- - -
I think it was [Captain] Lefroy who first showed me the path to tread and encouraged my youthful ambition. He was killed later in the 1914-18 war and was a great loss to me and to the Army.
- - -
In August 1914, I was a full lieutenant of twenty-six. It was to take the experiences of the 1914-18 war to show me what was wrong in the Army. My battalion mobilised at Shorncliffe. The mobilisation scheme provided, amongst other things, that all officers swords were to go to the armourers shop on the third day of mobilisation to be sharpened. It was not dear to me why, since I had never used my sword except for saluting. But of course I obeyed the order and my sword was made sharp for war. The C.O. said that in war it was advisable to have short hair since it was then easier to keep it clean; he had all his hair removed with the clippers by the regimental barber and looked an amazing sight; personally I had mine cut decently by a barber in Folkestone. Being totally ignorant about war, I asked the C.O. if it was necessary to take any money with me; he said money was useless in war as everything was provided for you, I was somewhat uncertain about this and decided to take ten pounds with me in gold. Later I was to find this invaluable, and was glad I had not followed his advice about either hair or money.
We crossed over to France as part of the 4th Division. We missed the battle of Mons by a few days, and moved forward by march route up towards Le Gateau. On the early morning of the 26th August 1914, the 10th Brigade to which my battalion belonged was bivouacked in the cornfields near the village of Haucourt after a long night march. One battalion was forward on a hill, covering the remainder of the brigade in the valley behind; we could see the soldiers having breakfast, their rifles being piled. That battalion was suddenly surprised by the Germans and fire opened on it at short range; it withdrew rapidly down the hill towards us, in great disorder.
Our battalion was deployed in two lines; my company and one other were forward, with the remaining two companies out of sight some hundred yards to the rear. The C.O. galloped up to us forward companies and shouted to us to attack the enemy on the forward hill at once. This was the only order; there was no reconnaissance, no plan, no covering fire. We rushed up the hill, came under heavy fire, my Company Commander was wounded and there were many casualties. Nobody knew what to do, so we returned to the original position from which we had begun to attack. If this was real war it struck me as most curious and did not seem to make any sense against the background of what I had been reading.
- - -
Such was the beginning of my experience of war. But it was not yet the end of the beginning. After some minor engagements on the Aisne front, the battalion was transferred with the remainder of the B.E.F. to the northern flank of the Allied front in the West. Some grim fighting then began and on the 13th October the battalion was launched to the attack for the second time; but now Poole was in command, and there was a plan and there were proper orders. Two companies were forward, my company on the left being directed on a group of buildings on the outskirts of the village of Meteren. When zero hour arrived I drew my recently sharpened sword and shouted to my platoon to follow me, which it did. We charged forward towards the village; there was considerable fire directed at us and some of my men became casualties, but we continued on our way. As we neared the objective I suddenly saw in front of me a trench full of Germans, one of whom was aiming his rifle at me.
In my training as a young officer I had received much instruction in how to kill my enemy with a bayonet fixed to a rifle. I knew all about the various movements right parry, left parry, forward lunge. I had been taught how to put the left foot on the corpse and extract the bayonet, giving at the same time a loud grunt. Indeed, I had been considered good on the bayonet - fighting course against sacks filled with straw, and had won prizes in man-to-man contests in the gymnasium. But now I had no rifle and bayonet; I had only a sharp sword, and I was confronted by a large German who was about to shoot me. In all my short career in the Army no one had taught me how to kill a German with a sword. The only sword exercise I knew was saluting drill, learnt under the sergeant-major on the barrack square.
An immediate decision was clearly vital. I hurled myself through the air at the German and kicked him as hard as I could in the lower part of the stomach; the blow was well aimed at a tender spot, I had read much about the value of surprise in war. There is no doubt that the German was surprised and it must have seemed to him a new form of war; he fell to the ground in great pain and I took my first prisoner!
A lot of fighting went on during the remainder of the day, our task being to clear the Germans from the village. During these encounters amongst the houses I got wounded, being shot through the chest. But we did the job and turned the Germans out of the village. It was for this action at Meteren that I was awarded the D.S.O. I was still only a lieutenant. My life was saved that day by a soldier of my platoon. I had fallen in the open and lay still hoping to avoid further attention from the Germans. But a soldier ran to me and began to put a field dressing on my wound; he was shot through the head by a sniper and collapsed on top of me. The sniper continued to fire at us and I got a second wound in the knee; the soldier received many bullets intended for me. No further attempt was made by my platoon to rescue us; indeed, it was presumed we were both dead. When it got dark the stretcher-bearers came to carry us in; the soldier was dead and I was in a bad way. I was taken back to the Advanced Dressing Station; the doctors reckoned I could not live and, as the station was shortly to move, a grave was dug for me. But when the time came to move I was still alive; so I was put in a motor ambulance and sent back to a hospital. I survived the journey and recovered, I think because I was very fit and healthy after two months of active service in the field. I was evacuated to hospital in England and for some months I took no further part in the war. I had time for reflection in hospital.
- - -
I returned to the Western Front in France early in 1916, this time as a brigade-major. During the Somme battle that summer an infantry brigade, which had better remain nameless, was to be the leading brigade in a divisional attack. It was important that the Brigade Commander should receive early information of the progress of his forward troops since this would affect the movement of reserves in the rear. The problem then arose how to ensure the early arrival of the required information, and intense interest was aroused at Brigade H.Q. when it was disclosed that a pigeon would be used to convey the news. In due course the bird arrived and was kept for some days in a special pigeon loft. When the day of the attack arrived the pigeon was given to a soldier to carry. He was to go with the leading sub-units and was told that at a certain moment an officer would write a message to be fastened to the pigeon's leg; he would then release the pigeon which would fly back to its loft at Brigade H.Q. The attack was launched and the Brigade Commander waited anxiously for the arrival of the pigeon. Time was slipping by and no pigeon arrived; the Brigadier walked feverishly about outside his H.Q. dugout. The soldiers anxiously searched the skies; but there was no sign of any pigeon.
At last the cry went up: "The pigeon" and sure enough back it came and alighted safely in the loft.
Soldiers rushed to get the news and the Brigade Commander roared out: "Give me the message."
It was handed to him, and this is what he read:
"I am absolutely fed up with carrying this bloody bird about France."
- - -
There was little contact between the generals and the soldiers. I went through the whole war on the Western Front, except during the period I was in England after being wounded; I never once saw the British Commander-in-Chief, neither French nor Haig, and only twice did I see an Army Commander.
The higher staffs were out of touch with the regimental officers and with the troops. The former lived in comfort, which became greater as the distance of their headquarters behind the lines increased.
- - -
The frightful casualties appalled me. The so-called "good fighting generals" of the war appeared to me to be those who had a complete disregard for human life. There were of course exceptions and I suppose one such was [Herbert] Plumer; I had only once seen him and had never spoken to him. There is the story of Sir Douglas Haig's Chief of Staff who was to return to England after the heavy fighting during the winter of 1917-18 on the Passchendaelc front. Before leaving he said he would like to visit the Passchendacle Ridge and see the country. When he saw the mud and the ghastly conditions under which the soldiers had fought and died, he was horrified and said: "Do you mean to tell me that the soldiers had to fight under such conditions?"; And when he was told that it was so, he said: "Why was I never told about this before?"
The fact that the Chief of Staff of the British Armies in Europe had no idea of the conditions under which the troops had to live, fight, and die, will be sufficient to explain the uncertainties that were passing through my mind when the war ended.
I remember a leave period spent in London. I went to a music hall one night and the big joke of the evening was when a comedian asked the question: "If bread is the staff of life, what is the life of the staff?"
He then gave the answer: "One big loaf."
There was tremendous applause, in which I joined. In fact, the staff worked hard. But the incident made me think seriously, and from my own experiences I knew something was wrong.
One further matter should be mentioned before leaving the First War period. For the last six months of the war I was GSO I of the 47th (London) Division. I devoted much thought to the problem of how to get to Divisional Headquarters quickly the accurate information of the progress of the battle which is so vital, and which enables a general to adjust his dispositions to the tactical situation as it develops. We finally devised a system of sending officers with wireless sets up to the headquarters of the leading battalions and they sent messages back by wireless. The difficulty in those days was to get reliable sets which could be carried by a man and would give the required range. Our system was very much a make-shift and often broke down; but it also often worked, and overall it produced useful results. This was the germ of the system I developed in the 1939-45 war, and which finally produced the team of liaison officers in jeeps operating from my Advanced Tactical Headquarters, a technique which Sir Winston Churchill describes in his Triumph and Tragedy, Book Two, Chapter 5. In 1918 in the 47th Division we were groping in the dark and trying to evolve ideas which would give increased efficiency to our operations.
