The Highland Brigade at Buzancy

The Highland Brigade at Buzancy.

THE following graphic description of the taking of Buzancy by the Highland Brigade, from the pen of Lieut. Alex. Thomson, M.A., D.C.M., M.C. appeared in the "Stornoway Gazette" of 6th September, 1918:—
We had been moved by slow stages from the flat, uninteresting plains of Flanders, where the Scarpe flowed on in its placid way along smooth grassy banks ; through the smiling, fertile lands of the Southern Somme ; past the wooded hilltops of Compeign, to where the Marne and the Oise flowed into smiling valleys and among fertile cornfields. The morning of July 28th found us holding a front position in one of the thick woods which overlooked Buzancy—thick, treacherous woods, where
we knew the stealthy enemy machine gunners lay and watched. Aeroplanes circled overhead, puffs of white smoke around them where the enemy's "archies" burst- artillery well hidden among the
trees occasionally boomed—all was quiet and peaceful.

At 12 noon we crept stealthily and silently forward to our assembly positions, and waited grimly for the end of the period that was to elapse before the artillery and machine guns dropped their curtain fire and enabled us to go forward to the assault. It seemed an eternity as I stood with watch in hand beside Captain Macmillan, who commanded the company I was with. I was glad I was with him, for I have no doubt he is one of our coming Lewis heroes —he follows the lead so nobly set him by David Macleod and John N. Macrae, and if his military career lasts much longer Lewis will be proud of yet another Seaforth officer.

With ten minutes to go we were both silent—our minds were far away with our loved ones among our Highland hills; home scenes passed in a panoramic flash before us, and from the bottom of our
hearts we prayed that all would be well. He had just given the order to his men to get ready, and with the words "God speed you" the barrage fell. It seemed as if the heavens had opened to a rolling thunder all along the line. Shells burst in their hundreds of thousands on the village and chateau grounds. Machine guns rattled like the veriest hailstorm, and the attack was launched. The boys
advanced as if they were on the parade ground at Cromarty, the enemy machine guns took their toll of the Seaforths as they advanced through a field of standing corn, but never a waver—the broken gaps
were quickly filled, the line went forward to the chateau walls and entered the Unknown, behind which lurked—who could tell ?

I never saw anything like the advance of the Seaforths that day. Through the thick woods surrounding the chateau they advanced, and nothing could stop them. On, on, ever forward they went every minute the ranks getting thinner as the Germans got our range, but the boys never faltered until they had carried the village and consolidated on a ridge beyond it. The Germans could not stand the dash of our men, nor the intensity of our artillery barrage—they huddled in cellars or whatever shelter they could get. In one case a small party of our men captured 100 prisoners, including two officers. The enemy machine gunners were, however, very brave, and stuck to their guns to the very last? even after the situation for them was perfectly hopeless.

The Gordons on our left and the Black Watch on our right had. if anything, a more difficult job to do, for they had to advance through standing corn which gave no cover, but these gallant fellows went forward dauntlessly, suffering a murderous fire but never flinching until they conformed to us and we held an unbroken front to the enemy. Buzancy, the key to the whole situation, was ours; the Highland Brigade had enhanced the reputation it won under Hector Macdonald on the veldts of Africa, the kilts fluttered in the breeze beyond the small French village we had stormed and won, and another glorious page was added to the history of the brave Highlanders.

Our General told us it was an attack which in the earlier days of the war would have become historic, but now would just mean one part of the stupendous counter-stroke on the Marne. Two days later the enemy were in full retreat, but we were too tired to chase him further than nine kilometres, and we were relieved.

This village is miles away from the whirlpool of war. The old peasants come ambling home from their field, the cows walk lazily from pasture, and the peasant girls go peacefully to the milking. The sun is setting and I sit and smoke on the garden seat in the shade. Home seems very, very near— I
can almost fancy I hear the waves thundering against the rocks. And—who knows ? Perhaps nearer than we expect the dove of peace is on the wing, the laurel wreath of victory is coming to us and to our brave Allies- Who knows ? Who knows ?