"General, the 12th Army Corps has suffered more than 50,000 casualties in today's battle! A large number of soldiers are terrified, hiding in the rear like quails, too afraid to return to the front lines. How are we supposed to fight this war?" General Robert, Commander of the British 12th Army Corps, lamented to General Haig.
"General, the losses of the 13th Army Corps are just as severe. The German assault is too intense, too ferocious! We simply cannot withstand it!" General George, Commander of the 13th Army Corps, also looked deeply distressed.
If before engaging with the German forces, they had believed the Germans were merely a name to be feared, now, they had learned the true measure of their strength. In fact, the Germans were proving far more formidable than the very armies they had once mocked.
"I know," General Haig replied, "but we must hold on for as long as possible."
The battle had barely begun, yet these two army corps were already unable to withstand the pressure. Just earlier, Army Minister Richard Haldane had expected them to hold the southern defensive line for an entire month—but how could that have been possible?
"General, if possible, we really need reinforcements! Otherwise, we'll never hold out," General Robert pleaded.
Haig did indeed have reinforcements available—an entire army corps, over 200,000 strong. However, these soldiers had been hastily gathered from the remnants of the southeast front after a disastrous defeat, and their morale had been shattered. The prospect of sending them into battle against the Germans seemed a daunting task. Even Haig himself was uncertain how these troops would fare when faced with the horrors of combat.
But the situation had become too dire. If reinforcements were not sent to the front, the possibility of collapse loomed large.
"Very well," Haig finally conceded, "I will dispatch troops from the 1st Army Corps to reinforce you first thing tomorrow. I expect everyone to hold out with all your strength!"
General Robert and General George nodded, though both knew that even holding out for another day seemed like a distant hope. They understood the nature of Haldane's orders—retreat was not an option. They could only grit their teeth and endure as long as they could.
The morning of September 15th saw the Germans renew their assault. Despite Haig's reinforcements from the 1st Army Corps, the British were still being driven back under the ferocious German onslaught.
Though the British tried to use the buildings within the city for defense, most of the structures had been decimated by the German artillery and bombings. The city was little more than rubble now. The defensive positions the British had constructed within the city were also destroyed, with the defenders suffering heavy losses.
As the Germans entered the city, their artillery positions advanced two or three kilometers forward to provide direct fire support for the advancing troops.
"Mortar, destroy that British bunker!"
In a narrow street, the Germans found themselves pinned down at a street corner. At the far end of the street, a British bunker lay ahead, with a heavy machine gun firing incessantly. Several German soldiers had already been killed.
"Captain, the bunker is in our blind spot. Our mortars can't reach it!"
"Damn it! Contact the regiment, we need artillery support!" the captain ordered.
The signalman immediately made contact with the regiment.
"Sir, the regiment orders us to withdraw. They will cover us with artillery fire in five minutes!"
The captain nodded and led his men to evacuate the street.
Upon seeing the Germans retreat, the British defenders cheered, relieved that, for the moment, they had survived the German assault.
However, five minutes later, the shrill whistling sound of incoming shells shattered their brief sense of victory.
"My God! Artillery! German artillery!"
Panicked British soldiers rushed from their positions, scrambling for cover in the bunkers. But it was too late. The shells had already fallen.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The deafening explosions tore through the street, shredding the soldiers who had only just left their positions. The human body seemed fragile in those moments; life was cruelly fleeting.
The British bunker, too, was obliterated in the barrage.
When the German artillery finally ceased, a group of German soldiers advanced back into the street. They quickly discovered that there were no more enemies—at least, none that were still alive. The British who had held the line were now nothing but mangled corpses, limbs scattered across the ruins.
"My God! Are we here to fight or just collect British corpses? This war is far too easy!" one German soldier complained.
In his eyes, this war had ceased to be a battle—it was nothing more than a game, with the powerful German army bullying the weak British forces.
"Fool! This is how the war is fought. Do you want to charge at the British while facing their heavy fire? Only an idiot would do that, and it's a sure way to die!" an old soldier scolded.
These fresh recruits had no comprehension of the battlefield's cruelty. To the seasoned veterans, this method of war was the best—it minimized casualties, which, in the end, was the goal for any soldier: to survive.
The four German army corps launched a relentless assault on the southern British defensive line. Although the British resisted fiercely, their losses were so severe that many units simply crumbled under the pressure of the German onslaught.
Army Minister Richard Haldane had hoped that the British would hold the southern line for a month. However, in reality, the Germans' 8th Army Corps took only three days to capture Epsom. They then pushed northeast, showing no sign of stopping, striking fear into the British and causing their entire front to collapse.