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Title: The Story of the 2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry
Author: G. K. Rose
Release Date: January 18, 2007 [eBook #20395]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE 2/4TH OXFORDSHIRE
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THE STORY OF THE 2/4TH OXFORDSHIRE & BUCKINGHAMSHIRE LIGHT INFANTRY
by
CAPTAIN G. K. ROSE, M.C.
With a Preface by _Brig. Genl. the Hon. R. WHITE, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.
(late Commander 184th Infantry Brigade)
And an Introduction by Colonel W. H. AMES, T.D.
With Maps and Illustrations by the Author
[Illustration: A soldier of the 2/4th Oxfordshire
and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry]
Oxford
B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street
MCMXX
LIST OF PLATES
A Soldier of the Battalion _Frontispiece_
Colonel W. H. Ames, T.D. _Facing page_ 1
Pay-day for 'A' Company " " 4
Robecq from the South " " 18
Brigadier-General the Hon. R. White, C.B. 48
A Front-line Post 68
Company Sergeant-Major E. Brooks, V.C. 100
Vlamertinghe--The Road to Ypres 128
Hill 35, from an aeroplane photograph 136
A Street in Arras 144
'Tank Dump' 146
In a German gun-pit near Gavrelle 150
The Canal du Nord at Ypres 154
Lieut.-Colonel H. E. de R. Wetherall, D.S.O., M.C. 168
Robecq. Old Mill and Bridge 185
The Headquarters Runners, July, 1918 198
Corporal A. Wilcox, V.C. 214
Officers of the Battalion, December, 1918 219
184th Infantry Brigade Staff 219
The Adjutant. Cambrai. The Battalion Cooks 220
Lieut.-Colonel E. M. Woulfe-Flanagan, C.M.G., D.S.O.
R.S.M. W. Hedley, D.C.M.
R.Q.M.S. Hedges 220
ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT
Winchester Trench 11
The March to the Somme 21
Somme Trench Map 36
Maison Ponthieu 45
Harbonnières 50
The Ablaincourt Sector 57
A Duckboarded Communication Trench 72
The Advance to St. Quentin 82
The Raid near St. Quentin 94
Arras: The Grande Place 110
Noeux Village 113
Poperinghe from the West 119
The Attack of August 22, 1917 124
The Attack on Hill 35 132
The Retreat behind the Somme 166
Bird's-eye Map of the Robecq Area 180
The Nieppe Forest 202
Merville Church 206
Battalion H.Q. at Chapelle Boom 209
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
Chapter I. LAVENTIE, May to October, 1916 8
The 61st Division lands in France.--Instruction.--The
Laventie sector.--Trench warfare at its height.--Moberly
wounded.--B Company's raid.--Front and back areas.--July
19.--Changes in the Battalion.--A Company's raid.--A
projected attack.--Laventie days.--Departure for the Somme.
Chapter II. THE SOMME BATTLEFIELD, November, 1916 19
Departure from Laventie.--At Robecq.--The march southwards.
--Rest at Neuvillette.--Contay Wood.--Albert.--New
trenches.--Battle conditions.--Relieving the front line.--
Desire Trench.--Regina dug-out.--Mud and darkness.--A heavy
barrage.--Fortunes of Headquarters.--A painful relief.--
Martinsart Wood.
Chapter III. CHRISTMAS ON THE SOMME,
December, 1916 33
The move from Martinsart to Hedauville.--Back to Martinsart.--
Working parties.--Dug-outs at Mouquet Farm.--Field Trench.--
Return to the front line.--Getting touch.--Guides.--An
historic patrol.--Christmas in the trenches.
Chapter IV. AT MAISON PONTHIEU, January-February, 1917 42
Visitors to the Battalion.--The New Year.--A wintry march.--
Arrival at Maison Ponthieu.--Severe weather.--At war with the
cold.--Training for offensive action.--By rail to Marcelçave.
--Billets at Rainecourt.--Reconnoitring the French line near
Deniécourt.
Chapter V. IN THE ABLAINCOURT SECTOR, February, 1917 53
German retreat foreshadowed.--The Battalion takes over the
Ablaincourt Sector.--Issues in the making.--Lieutenant Fry
mortally wounded.--The raid by German storm-troops on February
28.--The raid explained.
Chapter VI. LIFE IN THE FRONT LINE, Winter, 1916-1917 67
Ignorance of civilians and non-combatants.--The front line
posts.--Hardships and dangers.--Support platoons.--The
Company Officers.--The Battalion relieved by the 182nd Brigade.
Chapter VII. THE ADVANCE TO ST. QUENTIN,
March to April, 1917 77
The enemy's retirement.--Road-mending in No-Man's-Land.--The
devastated area.--Open warfare.--The Montolu campaign.--
Operations on the Omignon river.--The 61st Division relieved
before St. Quentin.--End of trench-warfare.
Chapter VIII. THE RAID AT FAYET, April, 1917 89
A German vantage-point.--Shell-ridden Holnon.--A night of
confusion.--Preparing for the raid of April 28.--The enemy
taken by surprise.--The Battalion's first V.C.--The affair at
Cepy Farm.
Chapter IX. ARRAS AND AFTERWARDS,
May, June, July, 1917 103
Relief by the French at St. Quentin.--A new Commanding Officer.
--At the Battle of Arras.--Useful work by A Company.--
Harassing fire.--A cave-dwelling.--At Bernaville and Noeux.
--In G.H.Q. reserve.--A gas alarm by General Hunter Weston.--
The Ypres arena.
Chapter X. THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES, August, 1917 116
A Battalion landmark.--Poperinghe and Ypres.--At Goldfish
Château.--The attack near St. Julien on August 22.--Its
results.--A mud-locked battle.--The back-area.--Mustard
gas.--Pill-box warfare.
Chapter XI. THE ATTACK ON HILL 35, September, 1917 132
Iberian, Hill 35, and Gallipoli.--The Battalion ordered to make
the seventh attempt against Hill 35.--The task.--A and D
Companies selected.--The assembly position.--Gassed by our
own side.--Waiting for zero.--The attack.--Considerations
governing its failure.--The Battalion quits the Ypres
battlefield.
Chapter XII. AUTUMN AT ARRAS AND THE MOVE TO CAMBRAI,
October, November, December, 1917 142
The Battalion's return to Arras.--A quiet front.--The
Brigadier and his staff.--A novelty in tactics.--B Company's
raid.--A sudden move.--The Cambrai front.--Havrincourt
Wood.--Christmas at Suzanne.
Chapter XIII. THE GREAT GERMAN ATTACK OF MARCH 21,
January-March, 1918 156
The French relieved on the St. Quentin front.--The calm before
the storm.--A golden age.--The Warwick raid.--The German
attack launched.--Defence of Enghien Redoubt.--Counter-attack
by the Royal Berks.--Holnon Wood lost.--The battle for the
Beauvoir line.--The enemy breaks through.
Chapter XIV. THE BRITISH RETREAT, March, 1918 165
Rear-guard actions.--The Somme crossings.--Bennett relieved
by the 20th Division at Voyennes.--Davenport with mixed troops
ordered to counter-attack at Ham.--Davenport killed.--The
enemy crosses the Somme.--The stand by the 184th Infantry
Brigade at Nesle.--Colonel Wetherall wounded.--Counter-attack
against La Motte.--Bennett captured.--The Battalion's
sacrifice in the great battle.
Chapter XV. THE BATTLE OF THE LYS, April-May, 1918 173
Effects of the German offensive.--The Battalion amalgamated
with the Bucks.--Entrainment for the Merville area.--A
dramatic journey.--The enemy break-through on the Lys.--The
The Battalion marches into action.--The defence of Robecq.--
Operations of April 12, 13, 14.--The fight for Baquerolle Farm.
--A troublesome flank.--Billeted in St. Venant.--The lunatic
asylum.--La Pierrière.--The Robecq sector.
Chapter XVI. THE TURNING OF THE TIDE,
May, June, July, August, 1918 192
Rations and the Battalion Transport.--At La Lacque.--The
bombing of Aire.--General Mackenzie obliged by his wound to
leave the Division.--Return of Colonel Wetherall.--Tripp's
Farm on fire.--A mysterious epidemic.--A period of wandering.
--The march from Pont Asquin to St. Hilaire.--Nieppe Forest.
--Attack by A and B Companies on August 7.--Headquarters
gassed.--A new Colonel.--The Battalion goes a-reaping.
Chapter XVII. LAST BATTLES, August to December, 1918 208
German retreat from the Lys.--Orderly Room and its staff.--
The new devastated area.--Itchin Farm, Merville and Neuf
Berquin.--Mines and booby-traps.--Advance to the Lys.--
Estaires destroyed.--Laventie revisited.--The attack on
Junction Post.--Lance-Corporal Wilcox, V.C.--Scavenging at
the XI Corps school.--On the Aubers ridge.--The end in sight.
--Move to Cambrai.--In action near Bermerain and Maresches.--
A fine success.--Domart and Demobilisation.--Work at Etaples.
--Off to Egypt.
Composition of the Battalion on going Overseas 221
" " " at the Armistice 222
Index 223
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
My cordial thanks are due to my old Brigadier for his kindness and
trouble in writing the Preface, and also to Colonel Ames for
contributing the Introduction.
From many friends in the Regiment I have received information and
assistance.
This book is based on a series of articles, which appeared in the
_Oxford Times_ during the summer of 1919. The project, of which this
volume is the outcome, was assisted by that newspaper and by the
courtesy of its staff.
G. K. ROSE.
Oxford, November 1919.
PREFACE
My friend, Major G. K. Rose, has set out to describe the doings of the
2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry during the Great
War.
If I judge his purpose rightly, he designs to paint without
exaggeration and without depreciation a picture which shall recall not
only now, but more especially in the days to come, the wonderful years
during which we ceased to be individuals pursuing the ordinary
avocations of life and became indeed a band of brothers, linked
together in a common cause and inspired, however subconsciously, by
one common hope and interest. If I am correct in my surmise, then I
think that Major Rose has written particularly for his comrades of the
2/4th Oxfords and, in a wider sense, of the 184th Infantry Brigade and
the 61st Division. And in doing this he seems to me to be performing a
great service.
Unfettered by the necessity of drawing an attractive picture and of
appealing to the natural desire of the general reader for dramatic and
sensational episode, he can rely on his readers to fill in for
themselves the emotional and psychological aspects of the narrative.
We, his comrades, have but to turn the pages of his story to live
again those marvellous days and to feel the hopes and fears, the
pathos and the fun, the excitement and the weariness, and the hundred
other emotions which gave to life in the Great War a sense of
adventure which we can hardly hope to savour again.
It is perhaps right that those who through poor health, age, bad
luck or other causes, were unable to leave home and take an active
part in the life of the front line, should generously speak of their
more fortunate compatriots as 'heroes.' The term is somewhat freely
used in these days. I am, however, happy to think that the British
officer and soldier is not apt to consider himself in that light and
has, indeed, a distinct aversion from being so described. Rather does
he pride himself, in his quiet way, on his light-hearted and stoical
indifference to danger and discomfort and his power to see the comical
and cheery side of even the most appalling incidents in war. Long may
this be so.
Viewed in this light, Major Rose's book will in after years give a
true picture of the experiences of an English Territorial Battalion in
the 'Great Adventure.' Shorn of fictitious glamour, events are
narrated as they presented themselves to the regimental officers,
non-commissioned officers, and men who bore the heat and burden of the
day.
Having said so much, I may be allowed to think that Major Rose is
almost too reticent and modest as regards the splendid record of his
Battalion.
After the 'big push' of July, 1916, on the Somme, I had the honour to
be promoted to the command of the 184th Infantry Brigade, 61st
Division. In September I found the Brigade occupying a portion of the
line in front of Laventie, just north of Neuve Chapelle. The 61st
Division, recently landed from England and before it had had time to
'feel its feet,' had to be pushed into an attack against the enemy's
position in front of the Aubers ridge. In this attack it suffered
severe losses. The Division, naturally, was burning to 'get its own
back.' Unfortunately it had for some weeks to content itself with
routine work in the Flanders trenches.
In this connection I may remark that the 61st Division had an unduly
large share of the 'dirty work' of demonstrations, secondary
operations, and taking over and holding nasty parts of the line. Those
who have been through this mill will sympathise, knowing how credit
was apt to go to those who took part in the first 'big push' rather
than to the luckless ones who had to relieve attacking divisions and
take over the so-called trenches which had been won from the enemy.
Those trenches had to be consolidated under a constant and accurate
bombardment. However, grumbling was not the order of the day, and
during the last year of the war the 61st Division came into its own.
It received in frequent mentions and thanks from the Commander-in-Chief
and the higher command the just reward for its loyal spade work and
splendid fighting qualities.
In November, 1916, the 184th Infantry Brigade and the 2/4th Oxford and
Bucks Light Infantry found themselves, as the narrative shows, on
classic ground near Mouquet Farm. Here I was first thrown into close
contact with the Battalion and learned to know and value it. The work
was, if you like, mere routine, mere holding the line. But what a
line! Shall we ever forget Regina and Desire trenches, with their
phenomenal mud and filth; or Rifle Dump and Sixteen Street and Zollern
Redoubt--and Martinsart Wood and the 'rest' there? Names, names!
but with what memories!
I am tempted to follow the fortunes of the Battalion through the
varied scenes of its experience. I should like to talk of happy
mornings 'round the line' with Colonel or Adjutant, or cheery lunches
with good comrades in impossibly damp and filthy dug-outs, of midnight
assemblies before, and early-morning greetings after, successful
raids, and of how we inspected Boche prisoners, machine-guns and other
'loot.'
I should like to recall memories of such comrades as Bellamy and
Wetherall, Cuthbert, Bennett, Davenport, 'Slugs' Brown, Rose, 'Bob'
Abraham, Regimental Sergeant-Major Douglas, Company Sergeant-Major
Brooks, V.C., and a host of other friends of all ranks.
I look back with pride on many stirring incidents.
Among these I recall the raid near St. Quentin on April 28, 1917,
admirably planned and carried out by Captain Rose and his company, and
resulting in the capture of two machine-guns and prisoners of the 3rd
Prussian Jaeger regiment, three companies of which were completely
surprised and outflanked by the dashing Oxford assault. On this
occasion Company Sergeant-Major Brooks deservedly won the V.C. and
added lustre to the grand records of his regiment.
Equally gallant was the fine stand made by the Oxfords on August 22
and 23, 1917, in front of Ypres. Captain Moberly and his brave
comrades, surrounded by the enemy and completely isolated, stuck
doggedly for 48 hours to the trench which marked the furthest point
of the Brigade's objective.
Few battalions of the British Army could boast a finer feat of arms
than the holding of the Enghien Redoubt by Captain Rowbotham, 2nd
Lieutenant Cunningham, Regimental Sergeant-Major Douglas and some 150
men of D Company and Battalion Headquarters. From 10.30 a.m. till 4.30
p.m. on March 21, 1918, these brave soldiers, enormously outnumbered
and completely surrounded, stemmed the great tide of the German attack
and by their devoted self-sacrifice enabled their comrades to withdraw
in good order. 2nd Lieutenant Cunningham, the sole surviving officer
for many hours, remained in touch with Brigade Headquarters by buried
cable until the last moment. Further resistance being hopeless, he
received my instructions, after a truly magnificent defence, to
destroy the telephone instruments and cut his way out.
But I must not encroach on the domain of our author, a real front line
officer, who lived with his men throughout the war under real front
line conditions.
It fell to my lot for 18 months to have the Battalion amongst those
under my command. Attacking, resting, raiding, marching, the 2/4th
Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry not only upheld but
enhanced the glory of the old 43rd and 52nd Regiments of the Line.
ROBERT WHITE,
_Brigadier General._
[Illustration: COLONEL W. H. AMES, T.D.]
INTRODUCTION
The raising of the Second Line of the Territorial Force became
necessary when it was decided to send the First Line overseas. The
Territorial Force was originally intended for home defence, a duty for
which its pre-war formations soon ceased to be available. The early
purpose, therefore, of the Second Line was to defend this country.
On September 8, 1914, I was privileged to begin to raise the 2/4th
Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry, the Battalion whose
history is set out in the following pages. I opened Orderly Room in
Exeter College, Oxford, and enrolled recruits. The first was
Sergeant-Major T. V. Wood. By the end of the day we had sworn in and
billeted over 130 men.
The Battalion was created out of untrained elements, but what the
recruits lacked in experience they made up in keenness. The Secretary
of the County Association had an excellent list of prospective
officers, but these had to learn their work from the beginning. We
were lucky to secure the services of several non-commissioned officers
with Regular experience; Colour-Sergeants Moore, Williams, Bassett and
Waldon, and Sergeant Howland worked untiringly, whilst the keenness of
the officers to qualify themselves to instruct their men was beyond
praise.
At the end of ten days sufficient recruits had been enrolled to
allow the formation of eight companies, which exactly reproduced
those of the First Line, men being allotted to the companies according
to the locality whence they came. A pleasant feature was the number of
Culham students, who came from all parts of England to re-enlist in
their old Corps. Well do I remember my feelings when I sat down to
post the officers to the companies. It was a sort of 'Blind Hookey,'
but seemed to pan out all right in the end. Company officers had to
use the same process in the selection of their non-commissioned
officers. Of these original appointments all, or nearly all, were
amply justified--a fact which said much for the good judgment
displayed.
With the approach of the Oxford Michaelmas Term the Battalion had to
move out of the colleges (New College, Magdalen, Keble, Exeter,
Brasenose and Oriel had hitherto kindly provided accommodation) and
into billets. Training was naturally hurried. As soon as the companies
could move correctly a series of battalion drills was carried out upon
Port Meadow. This drill did a great deal to weld the Battalion
together. The elements of digging were imparted by Colonel Waller
behind the Headquarters at St. Cross Road, open order was practised on
Denman's Farm, whilst exercises in the neighbourhood of Elsfield gave
the officers some instruction in outpost duties and in the principles
of attack and defence.
The important rudiments of march discipline were soon acquired. Weekly
route marches took place almost from the first. Few roads within a
radius of 9 miles from Oxford but saw the Battalion some time or
other. The Light Infantry step caused discomfort at first, but the
Battalion soon learned to take a pride in it. The men did some
remarkable marches. Once they marched from the third milestone at the
top of Cumnor Hill to the seventh milestone by Tubney Church in 57
minutes. Just before Christmas, 1914, they marched through Nuneham to
Culham Station and on to Abingdon, and then back to Oxford through
Bagley Wood, without a casualty.
At the end of 1914 Second Line Divisions and Brigades were being
formed, and the 2/4th Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry became a unit of
the 184th Infantry Brigade under Colonel Ludlow, and of the 61st
Division under Lord Salisbury. Those officers inspected the Battalion
at Oxford before it left, at the end of January, 1915, for
Northampton.
The move from Oxford terminated the first phase in the Battalion's
history. At Northampton fresh conditions were in store. Smaller
billets and army rations replaced the former system of billets 'with
subsistence.' Elementary training was reverted to. The Battalion was
armed with Japanese rifles, a handy weapon, if somewhat weak in the
stock, and range work commenced. The seven weeks at Northampton, if
not exactly relished at the time, greatly helped to pull the Battalion
together. The period was marked by a visit of General Sir Ian
Hamilton, who inspected and warmly complimented the men on their
turn-out.
A minor incident is worthy of record. One Saturday night a surprise
alarm took place about midnight. The Battalion was young, and the
alarm was taken very seriously. Even the sick turned out rather than
be left behind, and marched the prescribed five miles without ill
effects.
Just before Easter, 1915, the 61st Division moved into Essex in order
to occupy the area vacated by the 48th. The Battalion's destination
was Writtle, where the amicable relations already established with the
inhabitants by Oxfordshire Territorials were continued. Though our
stay was a short one, we received a hearty welcome, when, on our
return from Epping, we again marched through the village.
After a fortnight at Writtle, the Battalion moved to Hoddesdon, to
take part in digging the London defences. We left Writtle 653 strong
at 8 a.m., and completed the march of 25 miles at 5 p.m., with every
man in the ranks who started. Three weeks later we were ordered to
Broomfield, a village east of Writtle and near Chelmsford. There was
keen competition to take part in the return march from Hoddesdon; 685
men started on the 29 mile march, which lasted 11 hours; only 3 fell
out. The band marched the whole way and played the Battalion in on its
arrival at Broomfield.
[Illustration: PAY-DAY FOR "A" COMPANY.]
In the spring of 1915 it was decided to prepare the Territorial Second
Line for foreign service. Considerable improvement resulted in the
issue of training equipment. Boreham range occupied much of our time.
A musketry course was begun but never finished; indeed, the bad
condition of the rifles made shooting futile. Six weeks were also
spent at Epping in useful training, at the conclusion of which we
returned to Broomfield. The Battalion was billeted over an area about
six miles long by one wide, until leave was obtained for a camp. For
nearly three months the men were together under canvas, with the very
best results. Strenuous training ensued. I am reminded of a little
incident which occurred during some night digging at Chignal Smealy.
The object of the practice was to enure the men to work, not only when
fresh, but when tired. Operations opened with digging with the
entrenching tool--each man to make cover for himself. By 8 p.m. this
stage had been reached, so tea and shovels were issued. At 9 p.m.
serious digging began, the shelters being converted into trenches, and
this continued till 1.30 a.m. Coffee was then served, and work went on
till dawn, which provided an opportunity to practise standing-to. A
rest followed, but after breakfast work was again resumed. About 10
a.m. an officer found a man sitting down in the trenches and ordered
him to renew his efforts. The man obeyed the order at once, but was
heard to remark to his neighbour, 'Well! If six months ago a bloke had
told me that I was a-going to work the 'ole ruddy night and the 'ole
ruddy day for one ruddy bob, I'd never 'ave believed him!'
At the end of October, 1915, I consider that the Battalion reached the
zenith of its efficiency during its home service. It was a great pity
that the Division could not have been sent abroad then. Instead, each
battalion was reduced in November to a strength of 17 officers and 600
men. Individual training recommenced, until specialists of every kind
flourished and multiplied. At a General's inspection during the
winter a most varied display took place. Scouts were in every tree, a
filter party was drawing water from the village pond, cold shoeing was
being practised at the Transport, cooking classes were busy making
field ovens, wire entanglements sprang up on every side, nor was it
possible to turn a corner without encountering some fresh form of
activity. I fancy the authorities were much impressed on this
occasion, for nothing was more difficult than to show the men, as they
normally would be, to an inspecting officer.
In January, 1916, the Battalion, having been recently made up with
untrained recruits, moved to Parkhouse Camp on Salisbury Plain to
complete its training with the rest of the Division. We arrived in
frost and snow and left, three months later, in almost tropical
heat--remarkable contrasts within so short a period. The Division was
speedily completed for foreign service; new rifles were issued, with
which a musketry course was successfully fired, though snow showers
did not favour high scoring. We were made up to strength with drafts
from the Liverpool, Welsh, Dorset, Cambridge, and Hertfordshire
Regiments, were inspected by the King, and embarked as a unit of the
first Second Line Division to go abroad.
Thus at the end of 18 months' hard work the preparatory stage in the
Battalion's history was concluded. Its subsequent life is traced in
the chapters of this volume.
The period of home service is wrapped in pleasant memory. It was not
always plain sailing, but difficulties were lightened by the
wonderful spirit that animated all ranks and the pride which all felt
in the Battalion. I recall especially the work of some who have not
returned; Davenport, Scott, Stockton, Zeder, and Tiddy among the
officers, and among the non-commissioned officers and men a host of
good comrades. Nor do I forget those who came safely through. No
commanding officer was ever better supported, and my gratitude to them
all is unending. I think the Battalion was truly animated by the
spirit of the famous standing order, 'A Light Infantry Regiment being
expected to approach nearer to perfection than any other, more zeal
and attention is required from all ranks in it.' Equally truly was it
said that not by the partial exertions of a few, but by the united and
steady efforts of all, was the Battalion formed and its discipline
created and preserved.
W. H. AMES, _Colonel_.
CHAPTER I.
LAVENTIE,
MAY TO OCTOBER, 1916.
The 61st Division lands in France.--Instruction.--The Laventie
sector.--Trench warfare at its height.--Moberly wounded.--B
Company's raid.--Front and back areas.--July 19th.--Changes in
the Battalion.--A Company's raid.--A projected attack.--Laventie
days.--Departure for the Somme.
On May 24, 1916, the 2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light
Infantry landed in France. Members of the Battalion within a day or
two were addressing their first field postcards to England. Active
service, of which the prospect had swung, now close, now far, for 18
months, had begun.
The 61st Division, to which the Battalion belonged, concentrated in
the Merville area. The usual period of 'instruction' followed. The
2/4th Oxfords went to the Fauquissart sector, east of Laventie. Soon
the 61st relieved the Welsh Division, to which it had been temporarily
apprenticed, and settled down to hold the line.
It was not long before the Battalion received what is usually termed
its 'baptism of fire.' Things were waking up along the front in
anticipation of the Franco-British attack on the Somme. Raids took
place frequently. Fighting patrols scoured No-Man's-Land each night.
In many places at once the enemy's wire was bombarded to shreds. By
the end of June an intense feeling of expectancy had developed;
activity on both sides reached the highest pitch. The Battalion was
not slow in playing its part. One of the early casualties was
Lieutenant Moberly, who performed a daring daylight reconnaissance up
to the German wire. He was wounded and with great difficulty and only
through remarkable pluck regained our lines.
That same night the Battalion did its first raid, by B Company under
Hugh Davenport. The raid was ordered at short notice and was a partial
success. If the tangible results were few, B Company was very properly
thanked for its bravery on this enterprise, which had to be carried
out against uncut wire and unsubdued machine-guns. Zeder, a lieutenant
with a South African D.C.M., was mortally wounded on the German wire
and taken prisoner. The casualties were numerous. Davenport himself
was wounded, but unselfishly refused treatment until his men had been
fetched in. It was a night of battle and excitement. To the most
hardened troops a barrage directed against crowded breastworks was
never pleasant. The Battalion bore itself well and earned recital,
albeit with some misdescription, in the English press a few days
later.
During July 1916 the Battalion was in and out of the breastworks
between Fauquissart and Neuve Chapelle. When the 184th Infantry
Brigade went back to rest the Battalion had billets on the outskirts
of Merville, a friendly little town, since levelled in ruins; and,
when reserve to the Brigade, in Laventie. Brigade Headquarters were at
the latter and also the quartermasters' stores and transport of
battalions in the line.
Some favourite spots were the defensive 'posts,' placed a mile behind
the front line and known as Tilleloy, Winchester, Dead End, Picantin.
Reserve companies garrisoned these posts. No arduous duties spoilt the
days; night work consisted chiefly in pushing trolley-loads of rations
to the front line. Of these posts the best remembered would be
Winchester, where existed a board bearing the names of Wykhamists,
whom chance had led that way. Battalion Headquarters were there for a
long time and were comfortable enough with many 'elephant' dug-outs
and half a farmhouse for a mess--the latter ludicrously decorated by
some predecessors with cuttings from _La Vie Parisienne_ and other
picture papers.
[Illustration: WINCHESTER TRENCH.]
Though conditions were never quiet in the front line, during the
summer of 1916 back area shelling was infrequent. Shells fell near
Laventie cross-roads on most days and, when a 12 inch howitzer
established itself behind the village, the Germans retaliated upon it
with 5.9s, but otherwise shops and estaminets flourished with national
nonchalance. The railway, which ran from La Gorgue to Armentières, was
used by night as far as Bac St. Maur--an instance of unenterprise
on the part of German gunners. Despite official repudiation, on our
side the principle of 'live and let live' was still applied to back
areas. Trench warfare, which in the words of a 1915 pamphlet 'could
and must cease' had managed to survive that pamphlet and the abortive
strategy of the battle of Loos. Until trench warfare ended divisional
headquarters were not shelled.
Meanwhile the comparative deadlock in the Somme fighting rendered
necessary vigorous measures against the enemy elsewhere on the front.
A gas attack from the Fauquissart sector was planned but never carried
out. Trench mortars and rifle grenades were continuously employed to
make life as unpleasant as possible for the enemy, whose trenches soon
became, to all appearances, a rubbish heap. All day and much of the
night the 'mediums' fell in and about the German trenches and, it must
be confessed, occasionally in our own as well. Whilst endeavouring to
annihilate the Wick salient or some such target, one of our heaviest
of heavy trench mortars dropped short (perhaps that is too much of a
compliment to the particular shot) in our trenches near a company
headquarters and almost upon a new concrete refuge, which the R.E. had
just completed and not yet shown to the Brigadier. Though sometimes
supplied, the co-operation of this arm was never asked for.
This harassing warfare had a crisis in July. The operations of July
19, which were shared with the 61st Division by the 5th Australian
holding trenches further north, were designed as a demonstration to
assist our attack upon the Somme and to hold opposite to the XI
Corps certain German reserves, which, it was feared, would entrain
at Lille and be sent south. That object was achieved, but at the cost
of severe casualties to the divisions engaged, which were launched in
daylight after artillery preparation, which results proved to have
been inadequate, against a trench-system strongly manned and
garrisoned by very numerous machine-guns. The objectives assigned to
the 61st Division were not captured, while the Australians further
north, after entering the German trenches and taking prisoners, though
they held on tenaciously under heavy counter-attacks, were eventually
forced to withdraw. 'The staff work,' said the farewell message from
the XI Corps to the 61st Division three months later, 'for these
operations was excellent.' Men and officers alike did their utmost to
make the attack of July 19 a success, and it behoves all to remember
the sacrifice of those who fell with appropriate gratitude. It was
probably the last occasion on which large parties of storming infantry
were sent forward through 'sally ports.' The Battalion was in reserve
for the attack. C Company, which formed a carrying party during the
fighting, lost rather heavily, but the rest of the Battalion, though
moved hither and thither under heavy shelling, suffered few
casualties. When the battle was over, companies relieved part of the
line and held the trenches until normal conditions returned.
Soon after these events the Battalion was unlucky to be deprived of
Colonel Ames, a leader whose energy and common sense could ill be
spared. This was the first change which the Battalion had in its
Commanding Officer, and it was much regretted. A change in Adjutant
had occurred likewise, Major D. M. Rose having been invalided to
England early in July and his place taken by R. F. Cuthbert, formerly
commander of D Company. Orderly Room work passed from safe hands into
hands equally safe. Soon afterwards I joined the Battalion, having
been transferred from the 1/4th, and received command of D Company.
The new Commanding Officer, Major R. Bellamy, D.S.O., came from the
Royal Sussex Regiment and assumed command early in August. Robinson,
an officer from the Middlesex and one of the best the Battalion ever
had, Callender and Barton also joined about this time. Brucker, of C
Company, became Adjutant of the 61st Divisional School, and command of
his company passed to Kenneth Brown, a great fighter and best of
comrades, the first member of this Battalion to win the Military
Cross. Major Beaman was still Second in Command. Two original officers
of the 2/4th, Jack Bennett and Hugh Davenport, commanded A and B
Companies respectively. W. A. Hobbs, well known as Mayor of Henley,
was Quartermaster, and 'Bob' Abraham the Transport Officer. Regimental
Sergeant-Major Douglas and Regimental Quartermaster-Sergeant Hedges
were the senior warrant officers.
Higher up a new Brigadier in the person of General Dugan arrived and
held command for a short while. The General, I regret to say, did not
stay long enough for the full benefit of his experience and
geniality to accrue, a fragment of a Stokes' mortar shell wounding him
at a demonstration near Merville and causing his retirement to
hospital. The new Brigadier, the Hon. R. White, C.M.G., joined us at
the beginning of September, 1916, from action on the Somme, and soon
made his cheery criticisms felt.
After the operations of July 19 the former methods of trench warfare
were resumed. The Division's casualties in the attack had been over
2,000, and time was required to reorganise and make up these losses.
Early in August an unlucky shell deprived the Battalion of one of its
best officers. Lieutenant Tiddy had joined the Infantry in a spirit of
duty and self-sacrifice, which his service as an officer had proved
but to which his death more amply testified. The regrets of friends
and comrades measured the Battalion's loss.
At 10 p.m. on August 19 a raid upon the German trenches near the
'Sugar Loaf' was carried out by A Company. The raid was part of an
elaborate scheme in which the Australians upon the left and the 2/5th
Gloucesters on our own front co-operated. The leading bombing party,
which Bennett sent forward under Sergeant Hinton, quickly succeeded in
reaching the German parapet and was doing well, when a Mills bomb,
dropped or inaccurately thrown, fell amongst the men. The plan was
spoilt. A miniature panic ensued, which Bennett and his Sergeant-Major
found it difficult to check. As in many raids, a message to retire was
passed. The wounded were safely brought in by Bennett, whose control
and leadership were worthy of a luckier enterprise.[1]
[Footnote 1: A failure of this kind was far less
due to any indetermination of the men than to the
complex nature of the scheme, which any
misadventure was capable of upsetting. On this
occasion the 'order to retire' was said to have
been of German manufacture, but such explanation
deserved a grain of salt. Owing to the danger of
its unauthorised use, the word 'retire' was
prohibited by Army orders.]
The Battalion was not called upon for much fighting activity in
September, 1916. Raids and rumours of raids kept many of us busy. An
attack by the 184th Brigade upon the Wick salient was planned, but
somewhat too openly discussed and practised to deceive, I fancy, even
the participating infantry into the belief that it was really to take
place. Upon the demolished German trenches many raids were made. In
the course of these raids, the honour of which was generously shared
between all battalions in the Brigade, sometimes by means of the
Bangalore Torpedo, sometimes by the easier and more subtle method of
just walking into them, the enemy's front line was usually entered;
and rarely did a raiding party return without the capture of at least
an old bomb, an entrenching tool or even a live German. These
'identification' raids possibly did as much to identify ourselves to
the enemy as to identify him to us, but they proved useful occasions
on which to send parties 'over the top' (always an enjoyable treat!)
and gave practice to our trench mortars, which fired remarkably well
and drew down little retaliation--always the bug-bear of the trench
mortar.
The mention of these things may make dull reading to the _blasé_
warrior of later battlefields, but, as there are some whose last
experience abroad was during Laventie days and who may read these
lines, I feel bound to recall our old friend (or enemy) the trench
mortar, the rent-free (but not rat-free) dug-out among the sandbags,
the smelly cookhouses, whose improvident fires were the scandal of
many a red-hatted visitor to the trenches, the mines, with their
population of Colonial miners doing mysterious work in their basements
of clay and flinging up a welter of slimy blue sandbags--all these
deserve mention, if no more, lest they be too soon forgotten.
Days, too, in Riez Bailleul, Estaires and Merville will be remembered,
days rendered vaguely precious by the subsequent destruction of those
villages and by lost comrades. Those of the Battalion who fell in 1916
were mostly buried in Laventie and outside Merville. Though both were
being fought over in 1918 and many shells fell among the graves, the
crosses were not much damaged; inscriptions, if nearly obliterated,
were then renewed when, by the opportunity of chance, the Battalion
found itself once more crossing the familiar area, before it helped to
establish a line upon the redoubtable Aubers ridge, to gain which so
many lives at the old 1915 battles of Neuve Chapelle and Festubert had
been expended.
It was a fine autumn. The French civilians were getting in their crops
within a mile or two of the trenches, while we did a series of tours
in the Moated Grange sector, with rest billets at the little village
of Riez Bailleul.
And then box respirators were issued.
Laventie days are remembered with affection by old members of the
Battalion. In October, 1916, however, there were some not sorry to
quit an area, which in winter became one of the wettest and most
dismal in France. The Somme battle, which for three months had rumbled
in the distance like a huge thunderstorm, was a magnet to attract all
divisions in turn. The predictions of the French billet-keepers were
realised at the end of October, when the 2/4th Oxfords were relieved
in the trenches by a battalion of the Middlesex Regiment and prepared
to march southwards to the Somme.
[Illustration: ROBECQ FROM THE SOUTH.]
CHAPTER II.
THE SOMME BATTLEFIELD,
NOVEMBER, 1916.
Departure from Laventie.--At Robecq.--The march southwards.--
Rest at Neuvillette.--Contay Wood.--Albert.--New trenches.--
Battle conditions.--Relieving the front line.--Desire Trench.--
Regina dug-out.--Mud and darkness.--A heavy barrage.--Fortunes
of Headquarters.--A painful relief.--Martinsart Wood.
At the end of October, 1916, the 61st Division left the XI Corps and
commenced its march southwards to join the British forces on the
Somme. We were among the last battalions to quit the old sector. Our
relief was completed during quite a sharp outburst of shelling and
trench-mortaring by the enemy, whose observers had doubtless spotted
the troops moving up to take over.
After one night in the old billets at Riez Bailleul the Battalion
marched on October 29 to Robecq, where the rest of the Brigade had
already assembled, and took up its quarters in farms and houses along
the Robecq-Calonne road. Battalion Headquarters were established at a
large farmstead subsequently known as Gloucester Farm, while to reach
the billets allotted to them the companies marched through the farmyard
and across the two small bridges, since so familiar to some, which
spanned the streams Noc and Clarence. My company was furthest south
and almost in Robecq itself; my headquarters were in a comfortable
house with an artesian well bubbling up in its front garden. When
fighting was taking place at Robecq in April, 1918, and I found
myself, under very different circumstances, in command of the
Battalion, knowledge of the ground obtained eighteen months before,
even to the position of garden gates and the width of ditches, proved
most useful. I am afraid the Battalion's old billets were soon knocked
down, the favourite estaminet in D Company area being among the first
houses to go.
On November 2, 1916, the Battalion left Robecq, where it had been
well-housed and happy for a week, for Auchel, a populous village in
the mining district, and marched the next day to Magnicourt en Comté,
an especially dirty village, and thence again through Tinques and
Etrée-Wamin to Neuvillette. The civilians in some of the villages
passed were not friendly, the billets crowded and often not yet
allotted when the Battalion arrived, having covered its 14 kilometres
with full pack and perhaps through rain. Nobody grumbled, for the
conditions experienced were normal, but this march with its daily
moves involved toil and much footsoreness on the part of the men, and
for the officers much hard work after the men were in, and many
wakings-up in the night to receive belated orders for the morrow.
[Illustration: THE MARCH TO THE SOMME]
After reaching Neuvillette, a pretty village four miles north by west
of Doullens, a ten days' rest was made. Boots had become very worn
in consequence of the march, and great efforts were now made by Hobbs
to procure mending leather; unfortunately the motor car seemed to have
forgotten its poor relation, the boot, and no leather was forthcoming.
During the stay at Neuvillette a demonstration in improvised pack
saddlery was arranged at Battalion Headquarters, the latest and most
disputed methods of wiring and trench-digging were rehearsed, and two
really valuable Brigade field days took place. More than a year
afterwards the Battalion was again billeted at Neuvillette, whose
inhabitants remembered and warmly welcomed the Red Circle.
On November 16 we marched away to Bonneville and the next day reached
Contay, where we climbed up to some unfloored huts in a wood. The
weather on this march had been bitterly cold, but fine and sunny. A
dusky screen of clouds drifted up from the west the evening of our
arrival and the same night snow fell heavily. The cookers were not
near the huts and neither stores nor proper fuel existed. There was
the usual scramble for the few braziers our generous predecessors had
left behind. With snow and wind the Battalion tasted its first
hardship.
As in all such situations, things soon took a cheerful turn. When the
General came up next morning, the camp was reeking with smoke from
braziers and the smell of cookers and the wood alive with sounds of
woodchopping and cries of foragers. This change from a bad look-out to
a vigorous optimism and will to make the best of things was
characteristic of the British 'Tommy', who, exhausted and 'fed-up' at
night, was heard singing and wood chopping the next morning, as if
wherever he was were the best place in the world. I shall always
remember Contay Woods, the huts with their floors of hard mud
reinforced by harder tree-stumps, and the slimy path down to parade
when we left.
On November 19 we reached Albert, whose familiar church needs no
description. What struck me principally on arrival was the battered
sordidness of the place and the filthy state of the roads, on which
the mud was well up to the ankles. Some civilians were living in the
town and doing a brisk trade in souvenir postcards of the overhanging
Virgin. Traffic, as always through a main artery supplying the
prevalent battlefield, was positively continuous. The first rain of
autumn had already fallen and men, horses and vehicles all bore mud
stains significant of winters approach. Our arrival--we went into
empty, rather shell-damaged houses near the station--coincided with
the later stages of the Beaumont Hamel offensive, and German prisoners
and, of course, British casualties were passing through the town.
At Albert, Bennett was taken from A Company to act as Second in
Command of the Berks. Brown assumed command of his company and
Robinson about this time of C Company, Brucker having returned to the
61st Divisional School, which was set up at St. Riquier. Just now much
sickness occurred among the officers, John Stockton, Moorat and
several others being obliged to go away by attacks of trench fever.
From Albert C and D Companies moved forward to some Nissen huts near
Ovillers to be employed on working parties. For the same duties A and
B Companies soon afterwards were sent to Mouquet Farm, while Battalion
Headquarters went to Fabick Trench.
After some rain had fallen, fine autumn weather returned and our guns
and aeroplanes were shewing the activity typical of the late stages of
a great battle, when future movements were uncertain. A string of 30
balloons stretching across the sky in a wide circumference (whose
centre, as in all 'pushes,' would have been somewhere behind our old
front) industriously watched the enemy's back area. There was probably
little comfort for the Germans west of Bapaume, or even in it, for our
reluctance to shell towns, villages and (formerly most privileged of
targets) churches was rapidly diminishing.
On November 21 the Brigade took over its new sector of the line and
with it a somewhat different régime to what it had known before. It
was heard said of the 61st Division that it stayed too long in quiet
trenches (to be sure, trenches were only really 'quiet' to those who
could afford to visit them at quiet periods). Still the Somme
'craterfield' presented a complete contrast to the old breastworks
with their familiar landmarks and daylight reliefs. Battle conditions
remained though the advance had stopped. Our recent capture of
Beaumont-Hamel and St. Pierre Divion left local situations, which
required clearing up. The fragments of newly-won trenches above
Grandcourt, trenches without wire and facing a No-Man's-Land of
indeterminate extent, gave their occupants their first genuine
tactical problems and altogether more responsibility than before. In
some respects the Germans were quicker than ourselves to adapt
themselves to conditions approximating to open warfare. The principle
of an outpost line and the system of holding our front in depth had
been pronounced often as maxims on paper, but had resulted rarely in
practice. Subordinate staffs, on whom the blame for local reverses was
apt to fall rather heavily, were perhaps reluctant to jeopardise the
actual front line by holding it too thinly, while from the nature of
the case, the front line was something far more sacred to us than to
the enemy. Since the commencement of trench warfare the Germans had
held their line on the 'depth' principle, keeping only a minimum of
troops, tritely referred to as 'caretakers,' in their front trench of
all, while we for long afterwards crammed entire companies, with their
headquarters, into the most forward positions.
On the evening of November 25, 1916, Robinson of C Company and myself,
taking Hunt and Timms (my runner) and one signaller, left for the
front line. This was being held along Desire--my fondness for this
trench never warranted that name--with a line of resistance in Regina,
a very famous German trench, for which there had recently been heavy
fighting. Our reconnaissance, which was completed at dawn, was lucky
and satisfactory; moreover--I do not refer to any lack of refreshment
by the Berks company commander--I was still dry at its conclusion,
having declined all the communication trenches, which were already
threatening to become impassable owing to mud.
The next night the Battalion moved up to relieve the Berks, but was
conducted, or conducted itself, along the very communication trench
which I had studiously avoided using and which was in a shocking
state from water and mud. As the result of the journey, D Company
reached the front line practically wet-through to a man, and in a very
exhausted condition. A proportion of their impedimenta had become
future salvage on the way up, while several men and, I fancy, some
officers, had compromised themselves for some hours with the mud,
which exacted their gumboots as the price of their future progress. I
regret that my own faithful servant, Longford, was as exhausted as
anybody and suffered a nasty fall at the very gates of paradise (an
hyperbole I use to justify the end of such a mud-journey), namely
Company Headquarters in Regina, where, like a sort of host, I had been
waiting long.
Desire Trench, the name by which the front line was known, was a
shallow disconnected trough upholstered in mud and possessing four or
five unfinished dug-out shafts. These shafts, as was natural, faced
the wrong way, but provided all the front line shelter in this sector.
At one end, its left, the trench ran into chalk (as well as some chalk
and plenty of mud into _it_!) and its flank disappeared, by a military
conjuring trick, into the air. About 600 yards away the Germans were
supposed to be consolidating, which meant that they were feverishly
scraping, digging and fitting timbers in their next lot of dug-outs.
To get below earth was their first consideration.
Regina dug-out deserves a paragraph to itself. This unsavoury
residence housed two platoons of D Company, Company Headquarters, and
Stobie, our doctor, with the Regimental Aid Post. In construction
the dug-out, which indeed was typical of many, was a corridor with
wings opening off, about 40 feet deep and some 30 yards long, with 4
entrances, on each of which stood double sentries day and night.
Garbage and all the putrefying matter which had accumulated underfoot
during German occupation and which it did not repay to disturb for
fear of a worse thing, rendered vile the atmosphere within. Old German
socks and shirts, used and half-used beer bottles, sacks of sprouting
and rotting onions, vied with mud to cover the floor. A suspicion of
other remains was not absent. The four shafts provided a species of
ventilation, reminiscent of that encountered in London Tubes, but
perpetual smoking, the fumes from the paraffin lamps that did duty for
insufficient candles, and our mere breathing more than counterbalanced
even the draughts and combined impressions, fit background for
post-war nightmares, that time will hardly efface. Regina Trench
itself, being on a forward slope and exposed to full view from Loupart
Wood, was shelled almost continuously by day and also frequently at
night. 'Out and away,' 'In and down' became mottoes for runners and
all who inhabited the dug-out or were obliged to make repeated visits
to it. Below, one was immune under 40 feet of chalk, and except when
an entrance was hit the 5.9s rained down harmlessly and without
comment.
During the day I occasionally ploughed my way along Regina Trench to
some unshelled vantage point to watch the British shells falling on
the yet grassy slopes above Miraumont and south of Puisieux.
Baillescourt Farm was a very common target. At this time Miraumont
village was comparatively intact and its church, until thrown down by
our guns, a conspicuous object. Grandcourt lay hidden in the hollow.
Such landscape belonged to the days; real business, when one's orbit
was confined to a few hundred yards of cratered surface, claimed the
nights. A peculiar degree of darkness characterised these closing days
of November, and with rain and mud put an end to active operations.
Wiring, the chief labour of which was carrying the coils up to the
front and afterwards settling the report to Brigade, occupied the
energies of the Battalion after rations had been carried up. In this
last respect much foresight and experience were required and
arrangements were less good than they soon afterwards became; food
that was intended to arrive hot arrived cold, and, having once been
hot, received precedence over things originally cold but ultimately
more essential. Hot-food containers proved too unwieldy for the
forward area.[2]
[Footnote 2: In making these remarks I want it
understood that I am intending at this point no
censure of our staff, whose difficulties in their
way were even greater than those of the Infantry,
nor am I working up to any impeachment of my
superiors in narrating those facts, the omission of
which would ruin the value of this story.]
Although quite a normal circumstance in itself, the extreme darkness
at this period was a real obstacle to patrols and to all whose ability
to find the way was their passport. Amid these difficulties there
was an element of humour. To make one false turn, or to turn without
noticing the fact, by night threw the best map-reader or scout off his
path and bewildered his calculations. One night about this time a
party of us, including Hunt and 'Doctor' Rockall, the medical
corporal, who had accompanied me round the front posts, lost its way
hopelessly in the dark. Shapes looming up in the distance, I enquired
of Hunt as to his readiness for hostile encounter, whereupon the
reassuring answer was given that 'his revolver was loaded, but not
cocked.' I leave the point (if any) of this story to the mercy of
those whose fate it has been to lose their way on a foggy night among
shell-holes, broken-down wire and traps of all descriptions. Temporary
bewilderment of the calculation destroyed reliance on any putative
guides such as 'Verey' lights, shells, rifle fire, &c., which on these
occasions appeared to come from all directions, and English and German
seemed all alike.
Hunt, who at this time, being my only officer not partially sick, has
called for somewhat repeated reference, usually devoted the hours
after midnight to taking a patrol to locate a track shown on the map
and called Stump Road, his object being to meet another patrol from a
neighbouring unit. Success did not crown the work. Stump Road remained
undiscovered and passed into the apocrypha of trench warfare.
At 5 p.m. on November 29, 1916, the Germans opened a heavy barrage
with howitzers on the front line, giving every indication of impending
attack. Regina Trench, where were the headquarters of C and D, the
companies then holding the line, was also heavily shelled, and
telephonic communication with the rear was soon cut. On such occasions
it was always difficult to decide whether or not to send up the
S.O.S--on the one hand unnecessary appeal to our artillery to fire on
S.O.S. lines was deprecated, on the other, no forward commander could
afford to guess that a mere demonstration was on foot; for the
appearance of attacking infantry followed immediately on a lifting of
the barrage, a symptom in itself often difficult to recognise. On this
occasion I intended and attempted to send up a coloured rocket, but
its stick became stuck between the sides of the dug-out shaft and, by
the time the efforts of Sergeant Collett had prepared the rocket for
firing, the barrage died down as suddenly as it had started. This very
commonplace episode illustrates the routine of this phase of warfare.
The trenches were, of course, blown in and some Lewis guns damaged,
but, as frequently, few casualties occurred.
While speaking of the life furthest forward I do not forget the very
similar conditions, allowing for the absence of enemy machine-guns and
snipers, which prevailed at Battalion Headquarters. Confined to a
dug-out (a smaller replica of Regina) in Hessian Trench, with a
continual stream of reports to receive and instructions to send out,
and being continually rung up on the telephone, Colonel Bellamy and
Cuthbert had their hands full, and opportunities for rest, if not for
refreshment, were very limited. Nor do I omit our runners from the
fullest share in the dangers and activities of this time.
Under battle-conditions life at one remove from the front line was
rarely much more agreeable than in the line itself, and was less
provided with those compensations which existed for the Infantryman
near the enemy. It was necessary to go back to Divisional Headquarters
to find any substantial difference or to live an ordered life on a
civilised footing; and there, too, responsibility had increased by an
even ratio.
The Battalion Transport during this time was stationed at Martinsart
and its task, along bad roads, in bringing up rations each day was not
a light one.
On the night of November 30 the Battalion was relieved by the 2/4th
Gloucesters and marched back to huts in Martinsart Wood. This march of
eight miles, coming after a four days' tour in wet trenches under
conditions of open warfare, proved a trying experience. For four miles
the path lay along a single duckboard track, capsized or slanting in
many places, and the newly-made Nab Road, to which it led, was hardly
better. A number of men fell from exhaustion, while others, their
boots having worn completely through before entering the trenches,
were in no state to compete with such a distance. After passing
Wellington Huts and through Aveluy the going became easier, until at
last the area of our big guns was reached and, adjoining it, the 'rest
billets.' The latter consisted of unfloored huts built of tarred felt
and surrounded by mud only less bad than in the trenches. Our lights
and noise scared the rats, which infested the camp.
The relief and march occupied until 4 a.m., and were succeeded by mist
and frost. The concussion of our neighbours, the 6-inch naval guns,
echoed among the trees, heralding the first of December, 1916.
CHAPTER III.
CHRISTMAS ON THE SOMME,
DECEMBER, 1916.
The move from Martinsart to Hedauville.--Back to Martinsart.--
Working parties.--Dug-outs at Mouquet Farm.--Field Trench.--
Return to the front line.--Getting touch.--Guides.--An historic
patrol.--Christmas in the trenches.
On December 2, 1916, the Battalion moved from Martinsart to
Hedauville, on its way passing through Englebelmer, the home of one of
our 15-inch howitzers, but no longer of its civilian inhabitants. The
march was regulated by Pym, the new Brigade Major, who had replaced
Gepp a few days before. The latter had proved himself a most efficient
staff officer, and his departure to take up a higher appointment was
regretted by everybody.
Hedauville was an indifferent village, but our billets were not bad.
Brigade Headquarters were at the château. One heard much about the
habitual occupation of the French châteaux by our staffs during the
war. On this particular occasion the Brigade had only two or three
rooms at its disposal, and on many others would be licencees of only a
small portion of such buildings. The 184th Infantry Brigade Staff was
always most solicitous about the comfort of battalions, and its
efforts secured deserved appreciation from all ranks. During the
winter Harling retired from the office of Staff Captain, and after a
brief interregnum Bicknell, a Gloucester officer, who already had been
attached to the Brigade for some time, received the appointment. For
the ensuing three years Bicknell proved himself both an excellent
staff officer and a consistent friend to the Infantry.
After scraping off the remains of the mud it had carried from the
trenches, the Battalion settled down at Hedauville to a normal
programme for ten days. The weather was bad, and a good deal of
sickness now occurred among the troops, until so many officers were
sick that leave for the others was stopped. Of general interest little
occurred to mark this first fortnight of December. At its close the
Battalion marched back to Martinsart and reoccupied its former huts.
Battalion and Brigade were now in support, and our energies were daily
devoted to working parties in the forward area. As these were some of
the most arduous ever experienced by the Battalion I will describe an
example.
I take December 16--a Saturday. My company was warned for working
party last night, so at 6 a.m. we get up, dress, and, after a hurried
breakfast, parade in semi-darkness. As the outing is not a popular one
and reduction in numbers is resented by the R.E., the roll is called
by Sergeant-Major Brooks (recently back from leave and in the best of
early morning tempers) amid much coughing and scuffling about in the
ranks. At 7 a.m. we start our journey towards the scene of labour,
some 80 strong (passing for 100). We go first along a broad-gauge
railway line (forbidden to be used for foot traffic) and afterwards
through Aveluy and past Crucifix Corner to near Mouquet Farm.
After a trivial delay of perhaps 40 minutes, the D.C.L.I. or 479 have
observed our arrival and tools are counted out and issued, the homely
pick and shovel. The task is pleasantly situated about 150 yards in
front of several batteries of our field guns (which open fire directly
we are in position) and consists in relaxing duckboards, excavating
the submerged sleepers of a light railway or digging the trench for a
buried cable.
Perhaps the work only requires 50, not 100 (nor even 80) men. Very
well! It is a pity those others came, but here are a thousand sandbags
to fill, and there a pile of logs dumped in the wrong place last
night, so let them get on with it!
For six hours we remain steadily winning the war in this manner and
mildly wondering at the sense of things and whether the Germans will
shell the batteries just behind our work--until, without hooter or
whistle, the time to break off has arrived. By 3 p.m. the party is
threading its way back, and as darkness falls once more reaches the
camp. Cries of 'Dinner up' and 'Tea up' resound through the huts, and
all is eating and shouting.
By December 20 it was once more the Brigade's turn to relieve the
front line. Berks and Gloucesters again took first innings in the
trenches, while the Bucks and ourselves stayed in support. Battalion
Headquarters with A and B Companies were in Wellington Huts, near
Ovillers; C and D went two miles further forward to some scattered
dug-outs between Thiepval and Mouquet Farm. My own headquarters were
at the farm, to whose site a ruined cellar and a crumbling heap of
bricks served to testify. The Germans had left a system of elaborate
dug-outs, some of which now housed Brigade Headquarters, but others,
owing to shelling and rain, had collapsed or were flooded. On each of
the four nights spent at Mouquet Farm my company supplied parties to
carry wire and stakes up to the front line. These journeys were made
through heavy shelling, and we were always thankful to return safely.
My policy was never to allow the pace to become that of the slowest
man, for there was no limit to such slowness. I myself set a pace,
which I knew to be reasonable, and men who straggled interviewed me
next day. By this policy the evening's work was completed in
two-thirds of the time it would otherwise have taken, and my disregard
of proverbial maxims probably saved the Battalion many casualties.
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP to show Trenches held by 2/4th Oxf. & Bucks.
in Nov and Dec 1916]
Since our last tour in the line real winter conditions had set in.
Shell-holes and trenches everywhere filled with water till choice of
movement was confined to a few duckboard tracks. Those in our area led
past Tullock's Corner and from the Gravel Pit to Mouquet Farm, and
thence to the head of Field Trench, with a branch sideways to Zollern
Redoubt. Field Trench, an old German switch, led over the Pozières
ridge, whose crest was well 'taped' by the German guns. The British
advance having reached a standstill, the enemy's artillery was now
firing from more forward positions and paid much attention to places
like Mouquet Farm, Tullock's Corner, Zollern Redoubt and Field Trench.
Parties of D.C.L.I. were daily at work upon the latter, duckboarding
and revetting, and completed a fine pioneers' job right up to Hessian.
Field Trench ranked among the best performances of the Cornwalls,
whose work altogether at this time deserved high praise.
On Christmas eve, 1916, the Battalion relieved the front line. Brown
and Davenport took their companies to Desire and Regina. Battalion
Headquarters had an improved position at Zollern Redoubt, and their
old dug-out in Hessian was left to D Company Headquarters. Robinson
with C Company was also in Hessian, to the left of D. His headquarters
possessed plenty of depth but neither height nor breadth. The dug-out
entrance was the size of a large letter-box and nearly level with the
trench floor.
After the march up, the remainder of the night was devoted to the
trying process of 'getting touch.' This meant finding the neighbouring
sentry-posts on each flank--an important duty, for the Germans usually
knew the date and sometimes the hour of our reliefs and the limits of
frontage held by different units (we naturally were similarly informed
about the enemy). For reasons of security no relief could be held
complete before not only our own men were safely in but our flanks
were established by touch with neighbouring posts.
In the course of the very relief I have mentioned, a platoon of one
battalion reached the front line but remained lost for more than a
day. It could neither get touch with others nor others with it.
'Getting touch' seemed easy on a map and was often done in statements
over the telephone. Tangible relations were more difficult and efforts
to obtain them often involved most exasperating situations, for whole
nights could be spent meandering in search of positions, which in
reality were only a few hundred yards distant. Total absence of guiding
landmarks was freely remarked as the most striking characteristic
of this part of the Somme area. I refer only to night movement, for by
day there were always distant objects to steer by, and the foreground,
seemingly a cratered wilderness of mud, to the trained eye wore a
multitude of significant objects.
My last topic introduces the regimental guide. Guides performed some
of the hardest and most responsible work of the war. Staff work could
at time be botched or boggled without ill-effects; for mistakes by
guides some heavy penalty was paid. Whenever a relief took place, men
to lead up the incoming unit into the positions it was to occupy were
sent back, usually one per platoon, or, in cases of difficult relief
and when platoon strengths were different, one per sentry-post. Guides
rarely received much credit when reliefs went well, but always the
blame when they went ill. The private soldiers, who guided our troops
into trench and battle, played a greater part in winning the war than
any record has ever confessed.
I have already spoken of patrols, their difficulties and dangers. Than
General White no man in the Brigade was better acquainted with its
front or a more punctual visitor to the most forward positions. What
'Bobbie' could not himself see by day he was resolved to have
discovered for him by night, and thus a high measure of activity by
our patrols was required. About Christmas the question whether the
eastern portion of a trench, known as Grandcourt Trench, was held by
the enemy, was set to the Battalion to answer. Vowed to accomplish
this task or die, a picked patrol started one dark night. Striking
in a bee line from our trenches, the patrol passed several strands of
wire and presently discovered fragments of unoccupied trench. On
further procedure, sounds were heard and, after the necessary stalking
and listening, proof was obtained that a large hostile wiring party,
talking and laughing together, was only a few yards distant. With this
information the patrol veered to a flank, again passing through wire
and crossing several trenches which bore signs of occupation. A line
for home was then taken, but much groping and long search failed to
reveal the faithful landmarks of our front line. At length, as dawn
was breaking, the situation became clear. The patrol was outside D
Company Headquarters in Hessian, more than 800 yards _behind_ the
front line. The report of German wiring parties laughing and talking
did not gratify, and on reconstruction of its movements it was found
that the patrol had spent the entire night reconnoitring not the
German but our own defensive system. The wire so easily passed
through, the noise and laughter, and the final _dénouement_ at Hessian
allowed for no other conclusion. A few nights later Brown, with a
small party and on a clear frosty night, solved the riddle by boldly
walking up to Grandcourt Trench and finding the Germans not at home.
I mention the story of this first patrol for the benefit, perhaps, of
some who took part in it and who will now, I feel sure, enjoy the
humour of its recollection. I mention it more to show of what
unrequited labour Infantry was capable. The most wholehearted
efforts were not always successful. One had this confidence on patrol,
that one's mistakes only affected a handful. It was otherwise for
artillery commanders who arranged a barrage, commanders of Field
Companies who guaranteed destruction of a bridgehead, or of Special
Companies undertaking a gas projection. Such was the meaning of
responsibility.
The Battalion spent December 25, 1916, in the trenches under some of
the worst conditions that even a war Christmas could bring. Christmas
dinners were promised and afterwards held when we were in rest.
As in previous years, our army circulars had forbidden any
fraternisation with the enemy. Though laughed at, these were resented
by the Infantry in the line, who at this stage lacked either wish or
intention to join hands with the German or lapse into a truce with
him. On the other hand, a day's holiday from the interminable sounds
of shelling would have been appreciated, and casualties on Christmas
Day struck a note of tragedy. This want of sagacity on the part of our
higher staff, as if our soldiers could not be trusted to fight or keep
their end up as well on Christmas as any other day, was a reminder of
those differences on which it is no object of this history to touch.
CHAPTER IV.
AT MAISON PONTHIEU,
JANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1917.
Visitors to the Battalion.--The New Year.--A wintry march.--
Arrival at Maison Ponthieu.--Severe weather.--At war with the
cold.--Training for offensive action.--By rail to Marcelçave.--
Billets at Rainecourt.--Reconnoitring the French line near
Deniécourt.
I cannot often treat my readers to a ride by motor car. Jump into this
staff car that is waiting--it will not take you to the trenches! You
will have distinguished company. Colonel A. and Major Q. have decided
to pay a visit to the Battalion. It is at Maison Ponthieu, nearly 50
miles behind the line, whither it marched two days since to undergo a
period of rest.
Arrived there, you learn that the Commanding Officer is out, placating
with the assistance of the Brigade interpreter the wrath of the
village hunchback, a portion of whose wood-stack was reported missing
last night. This is not the first time that A. and Q. have visited the
village (their lives are martyred to the study of regimental comfort),
so our journey opens with an inspection of the two Nissen huts on the
village 'green.'
'Disgraceful! At least two planks, which helped to line the roof of
this hut, have been burnt. Stoves? One was sent to each battalion
only yesterday, and ten more have been promised by Corps. Fuel? I am
astounded to hear that the supply is inadequate. Quartermaster! How
many pounds of dripping did you send to the Base last week? The A.S.C.
sent twice that quantity. Who is cooking on that field kitchen? It
will be impossible to make the war last if things are abused in this
way. Your men have no rifle racks, more ablution benches must be
provided and the sanitary arrangements made up to date....'
This little parable has made me outstrip my narrative. You must come
another day and see what Sergeant Parsons is doing with the vast
quantities of timber, corrugated iron, and other stores supplied to
make the billets staff-proof for the future.
The end of the last chapter left the Battalion complaining of our guns
and otherwise merrymaking in the front line. A day or two before the
New Year, companies marched back to huts near Pioneer Station and the
next morning reached Hedauville. Here, shortly afterwards, Christmas
dinners, consisting of pigs and plum-pudding, were consumed. It was
believed that we had left Regina and Desire for good, were leaving the
Corps and likely to do training in a back area for several weeks.
Colonel Bellamy went on leave, and Bennett, amid many offers to
accompany him as batman, departed for three months' instruction at
Aldershot as a senior officer. A new Major, W. L. Ruthven, arrived in
January and temporarily was in command. Loewe and John Stockton
returned from hospital and Jones from a Divisional working party,
which had been engaged for a month on the wholesale manufacture of
duckboards. Lyon, an officer equally popular in and out of the line,
had found egress from the Somme dug-outs troublesome and withdrew for
a time to easier spheres. Men's leave was now going well and frequent
parties left Acheux Station for 'Blighty.'
This list of changes is, of course, incomplete, and I only give it to
show how constantly the wheel of alteration was turning. Comparatively
few officers or men stayed very long with one battalion. 'Average
lives' used to be quoted for all cases, ranging from a few weeks for a
platoon officer to the duration for R.T.O's and quartermaster-sergeants!
Old soldiers may never die, but I think our new soldiers 'faded away,'
not the old, who grew fat and crafty!
The Battalion marched away from Pioneer Huts--whither it had returned
after its rest at Hedauville--on January 15. The first stage on the
rearward journey carried us to Puchevillers, a village full of shell
dumps and now bisected by a new R.O.D. line from Candas to Colincamps.
Snow, which had fallen heavily before we left Puchevillers, made the
ensuing march through Beauval and Gézaincourt to Longuevillette a
trying one. The going was quite slippery and the Transport experienced
difficulty in keeping up with the Battalion, especially for the last
two miles. The road marked on the map had by that time degenerated, in
characteristic fashion, to a mere farm track across country. The
Battalion was in its billets at Longuevillette by 6 o'clock, but
blankets arrived so late that it was midnight before Hobbs could issue
them. On the next day, January 18, the march was continued through
Bernaville to Domqueur, a distance of 11 miles, on frost bound roads.
No man fell out. The 2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light
Infantry was one of the best marching battalions in France. On January
19 we reached the promised destination, Maison Ponthieu, of whose
billets glowing accounts had been received; which, as often, were
hardly realised.
[Illustration: MAISON PONTHIEU]
At Maison Ponthieu the Battalion remained for nearly three weeks.
Brigade Headquarters, the Machine-gun Company, and some A.S.C. were
already in the village--ominous news for a billeting party.
Now much snow had already fallen throughout the countryside, and the
weather since the New Year had been growing steadily more cold. In the
middle of January, 1917, an iron frost seized Northern France till
ponds were solid and the fields hard as steel. This spell, which
lasted a month, was proclaimed by the villagers to be the coldest
since 1890. As day succeeded day the sun still rose from a clear
horizon upon a landscape sparkling with snow and icicles, and each
evening sank in a veil of purple haze. Similar frost was experienced
in England, but the wind swept keener across the flat plains of
Ponthieu than over our own Midlands. This turn of the weather was a
military surprise. It produced conditions novel in trench warfare.
Severe cold was a commonplace, but now for three weeks and more the
ground everywhere had been hard as concrete, digging and wiring were
quite impossible, and movement in our front area easier than ever
before. It almost seemed as if our opportunity for open warfare had
arrived. Certainly at this moment in the military situation the enemy
could not have availed himself of his old tactics as guarantee against
a break through, nor could he, as formerly during the Somme Battle,
have protected himself from gradual defeat by digging fresh trenches
and switch lines and putting out new wire in rear wherever his front
line was threatened. No doubt there were reasons prohibiting an
attempt to rush the enemy on a grand scale from his precarious salient
between Arras and Péronne other than fear of being 'let down' by the
weather; though perhaps the latter consideration alone, from a Supply
standpoint, constituted sufficient veto.
At all events the tactics of the Battalion were in quite another
order. How to shave, how to wash, how to put on boots frozen hard
during the night, above all, how to keep warm--these were the problems
presented. I doubt if there was much washing in cold water before
parade, and, as for shaving, I know a portion of the breakfast tea was
often used for this purpose. Sponge and shaving brush froze stiff as
matters of habit. To secure fuel provided constant occupation and
frequent stumbling-blocks. On our arrival most rigid orders had been
issued not to burn our neighbours' fences and I am able to say that
the fences survived our stay. Temptation grew, nevertheless, in
orchards and rows of small pollards (usually of ash), which formed the
hedges in this part of France, not to mention a wood at the lower end
of the village. That ancient trick of covering tree stumps with earth
needed little learning. Each night for such as had ears, if not
official ones, wood and thicket rang with the blows of entrenching
tool on bole and sapling, till past the very door of Sergeant-Major
sipping his rum, or company officers seated around sirloin and baked
potatoes would be dragged trunk and branches of a voting tree, that in
peace time and warmer weather might have lived to grace an avenue.
There should be variety in story telling; here was one told very much
out of school.
From contemplation of this illicit forestry I pass to sterner
matters. The first alarms of the 'spring offensive' were in the air,
urging us infantry to deeds of arms in the back area. Pamphlets
proclaimed the creed of open warfare and bade perish the thought of
gumboot or of trench. Hence daily practices in attack formation, the
following of barrages to first, second, and final objectives, the
making of Z shaped posts and sending forward of patrols and scouts.
The Brigadier was an enthusiastic spectator of the work, and woe
betide the platoon officer whose men gave reckless answers to the
General's questions. The 'Platoon Test' was introduced.[3] Soldier's
catechism did not yet reach the perfection it afterwards acquired,
when all who took part in an attack knew beforehand every practical
detail assigned to them. While knowledge of the complexities of the
war became steadily more important, individual training of the man
helped to make good his deficiency in pre-war discipline. Morale was
never learnt from sack-stabbing at home, but in France this education
of each soldier to use his intellect and become a positive agent
instead of a member of a herd proved a potent factor towards the final
superiority of the Englishman over his enemy.
[Footnote 3: Cross-examination of the men in their
duties. They were asked what they would do in
various emergencies. Their powers of recognition
were also tested. I recollect a humorous incident
when General White and Colonel Wake (G.S.O.I., 61st
Division) both passed _incognito_. The situation
was well seized by the former, who slapped his
chest and declared, 'Such is fame'! Lay readers
will find in later chapters some attempt to explain
the technical expressions used in the text.]
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL THE HON. R. WHITE. C.B., C.M.G.,
D.S.O.]
On the morning of February 4, 1917, the Battalion has said good-bye
to Maison Ponthieu and is marching to Brucamps. Another week and we
see it on the move again, this time partly by train. Orders for that
move were as follows:--
Reveille, 5 a.m.
Breakfast, 6 a.m.
Blankets rolled in tens and valises to be dumped outside the Q.M.
stores by 6.30 a.m.
Mess boxes, 7 a.m.
Parade, 7.30 a.m.
The march was through Vauchelles-les-Domart to Longpré. Thence we were
dragged by train through Amiens to Marcelçave, where we detrained and
marched to huts at Wiencourt. We were about to relieve the French in
the line near Chaulnes.
On February 15 the Battalion marched through Harbonnières, where the
Major-General, Colin Mackenzie (now Sir Colin, K.C.B.) was standing
with a French General to see us pass, and on to Rainecourt. The latter
village, where the Battalion was billeted, improved on acquaintance.
It had lain some 3-1/2 miles behind the old Somme front and had
suffered a good deal from German shells. French industry and French
materials had, since the advance, converted damaged barns and houses
into quite good billets.
Several days were spent in Rainecourt in rather dismal weather, for
the prolonged frost had broken and mist and mud followed. Into the
little church were now dragged 6,400 pairs of gumboots, representing
about £10,000. It was the Divisional gumboot store, phrase of awful
significance! I feel that the very mention of the word gumboot,
whenever it occurs, is lending a smile to certain of my readers and,
perchance, a frown to others. O gumboots, what reputations have you
not jeopardised, what hairs brought down with sorrow to the Base!
[Illustration: HARBONNIÈRES]
The Battalion was divided before it left Rainecourt, orders being
given for C and D Companies to move forward to Herleville and occupy
some huts and dug-outs there.
* * * * *
It is morning of February 22, 1917. Colonel Bellamy and his four
company commanders are setting out to reconnoitre the new front line.
Guides are to meet us at Deniécourt Château, a heap of chalk slabs and
old bricks, beneath which are Brigade Headquarters. To reach this
_rendez-vous_ we pass through Foucaucourt and then along a corduroy
road through Deniécourt Wood to the village of that name. The wood has
been fought through and but few branches remain on the trees, whose
trunks, like so many untidy telegraph poles, rise to various heights
from the upheaval of shell-holes and undergrowth. Dismal surroundings
on a dismal morning, for the frost has relented for several days and
already sides of trenches are collapsing (flop go the chunks into the
water!) and on top the ground is loading one's boots at every step.
We change into gumboots in an old cellar and our journey commences.
See the Colonel, Cuthbert, Marcon, Brown, Stockton, Robinson and
myself lead off down a communication trench behind a guide, pledged to
take us to the Berks Headquarters. The going is desperate--water up to
our knees; however, each hundred yards brings our goal nearer, and it
can hardly be like this all the way. We come to a trench junction, and
our guide turns left-handed; presently another--the guide knows the
way and again turns to the left. Confound the mud! If we do not get
there soon we shall never be home for lunch ... but we do not get
there soon. The guide, always protesting that he knows the way, has
led us in a circle and here we are whence we started an hour ago!
After such well-meaning mockery of our efforts, a route 'over the top'
is tried. Soon we are outside Battalion Headquarters of the Berks.
Whilst we are there, German gas shelling starts--a few rounds of
phosgene--and helmets require to be adjusted. It is not everybody's
helmet that fits, this being the first real occasion on which some
officers have worn them. There is some laughing to see the strictest
censor of a gas helmet (or its absence) in difficulties with his own,
when the moment for its adjustment has arrived.
The company commanders duly separate to go up to their own sections of
the front. They see the 'posts,' or any of them that can be visited in
daylight, make notes of local details affecting the relief, and so
home independently.
Billets never seemed so comfortable or attractive as on the night
preceding a relief. Perhaps they would have seemed more so had the
Battalion known, what luckily it could not, that an unpleasant tour
was in store, and that afterwards, with the enemy in retreat, there
would be no more billets until the summer.
CHAPTER V.
IN THE ABLAINCOURT SECTOR,
FEBRUARY, 1917.
German retreat foreshadowed.--The Battalion takes over the
Ablaincourt Sector.--Issues in the making.--Lieutenant Fry
mortally wounded.--The raid by German storm-troops on February 28.
--The raid explained.
Early in 1917 it became known to our intelligence service that the
enemy was contemplating retirement on a large scale from the Somme
battle-front. Reports from prisoners and aeroplane photographs of a
new line, famous afterwards as the Hindenburg line, running from west
of Cambrai to St. Quentin, left in doubt only the date and manner of
the withdrawal. To the latter question some answer was possible by
reference to our mentors or from a text-book appreciation of the
situation, though no one guessed until the movement had in reality
started with what circumstances the Germans would see fit to invest
it. The date was a more difficult problem. For its solution recourse
must be had by commanders, staff officers and experts to the infantry.
A competition open to all battalions holding the line (and without
other entrance fee) thereupon commenced. To whom should fall the
laurels of a correct diagnosis of the march-table of the German
rear-guards, who be the first to scatter them by the relentless
pursuit of our victorious arms?
To our higher staff the question whether the enemy was still manning
with normal garrisons the front opposite our armies seemed relatively
simple. Readers, however, with experience of trench warfare will
remember that in the line by day it was impossible to surmise
correctly one item of what was happening a hundred yards away in
hostile trenches; certainly one knew well enough when shells were
falling, and 'minnies,' rifle-grenades and snipers' bullets argued
that a pernicious, almost verminous, form of life was extant not far
away: but despite all this, stared a sentry never so vigilantly,
through his periscope he could hardly predict whether two, ten, or a
hundred of the enemy tribe were hidden below earth almost within a
stone's throw. At night it seemed probable that a patrol of a few
brave men could crawl right up to the German wire and listen, or by
setting foot in them enquire whether 'Fritz' was at home in his
trenches or no; and so our patrols could, and did. In practice,
however, our most active patrols were frequently deceived. Shots and
Verey lights, which came from several directions, might be discharged
by a solitary German, whose function it was to go the round of the
enemy posts and fire from each spasmodically in turn. A trench entered
and found empty might be a disused sap or bay habitually unoccupied.
To maintain the normal semblance of trench-warfare was an easy task
for the German, and one that he never failed in. Repeatedly in his
retirements during the war he removed his real forces, his artillery
and stores unbeknown to our watching infantry and their questioning
staff. The screen of a retreating enemy is not easily caught up and
pierced by an advanced guard not superior to it in strength and
inferior in mobility. On the Somme in 1917 and from the Lys salient in
1918 the Germans retired from wide to narrower divisional fronts
(giving themselves greater 'depth' in the process), which fact,
coupled with destruction of bridges and roads, prevented us from
forcing an issue with their main body on the move. There were
exceptions, as when the 32nd Division captured guns near Savy, but the
enemy, in retiring, played for safety and denied much opportunity to
our troops, despite their zeal in keeping touch, to deal him damage.
Such was the tactical situation when the 184th Infantry Brigade
relieved the French in the Ablaincourt sector. The Berks, who first
held the left subsector, had an uneventful tour. Trenches taken over
from the French were usually quiet at first owing to the different
methods employed by us and our allies in the conduct of
trench-warfare. Within a day or two of the relief the frost had
finally broken and the trenches everywhere started to fall in, making
the outlook in this respect ominous.
On the afternoon of February 23, we marched up to relieve the Berks.
Near Foucaucourt the cookers gave us tea. There also we changed into
gumboots. Guides met us at Estrées cross-roads, a trysting place
possible only when dusk had fallen, and the lugubrious procession
started along a tramway track among whose iron sleepers the men
floundered considerably, partly from their precaution of choosing
gumboots several sizes too large. On this occasion the usual stoppages
and checks were multiplied by a brisk artillery 'strafe' upon the
front, accompanied by all manner of coloured lights and rockets. The
noise soon dying down we were able to continue a bad journey with men
frequently becoming stuck and a few lost. The relief was not over
until nearly dawn, by when the last Berks had left and our worst
stragglers been collected.
The Battalion took over a three-company front. Brown with A Company
guarded the left. Robinson with C (containing a large proportion of a
recent draft now paying its first visit to the trenches) was in the
centre, and D Company on the right. Some 500 yards behind our front
lay the Ablaincourt Sucrerie, a dismal heap of polluted ruins, like
all sugar factories the site of desperate fighting. Ablaincourt
itself, a village freely mentioned in French dispatches during the
Somme battle, was the very symbol of depressing desolation. Péronne,
eight miles to the north-east, was out of view. Save for the low ridge
of Chaulnes, whence the German gunners watched, and the shattered
barn-roofs of Marchélepot--the former on our right, the latter
directly to our front--the scene was mud, always mud, stretching
appallingly to the horizon.
[Illustration: THE ABLAINCOURT SECTOR Trenches held by 2/4th OXFORD &
BUCKS Lt INFy. Drawn by G.K. Rose]
* * * * *
Students of music are familiar with the rival motifs that run through
operas. In an earlier paragraph I have indicated one such motif, and
if in this opera of war a curtain be lifted to shew the future act
which this motif dominates, you would see the German staff busy with
maps over its retreat, planning the time-table of explosion and
burning, and designating the several duties of fouling wells and
laying booby-traps.
Another scene, in which the rival motif is heard, shews a strong body
of ugly-looking Germans at practice over some shallow trenches some
distance behind their line. By a quaint coincidence these trenches are
a facsimile of those just taken over by the Battalion. The ugly
Germans are members of a 'travelling circus.' For long past they have
lived in the best billets and been receiving extra rations. They play
no part in the retreat--house-wrecking, the flooding of cellars, the
hacking through of young fruit trees and throwing over of sundials and
garden ornaments, much as they might enjoy it, is not their function.
They are a professional raiding party, with two successful raids at
Loos, one at Ypres and one near Hébuterne to their credit. Wherever
the English have just relieved the French they are sent for to perform.
They are accompanied by two 8-inch howitzers and several batteries of
5.9s and 4.2s belonging to the 'circus' and by a Minen-Werfer Abteilung.
Their raid upon the Oxfords is fixed for February 28, when the moon
will be a third full. The last aeroplane photograph admirably shews
the Sucrerie, communication trenches leading forward and the
whereabouts of all dug-outs. The pioneer detachment--whose thoughts
are turned only to the retreat, of which rumours have been
plentiful--must move from its comfortable dug-outs in the railway
embankment to make room for H.Q. of the raiding party.
* * * * *
The front held by the Battalion was tactically not satisfactory. Being
three on a front, with B Company placed nearly 1,000 yards in rear,
companies had to find their own supports, which, owing to absence of
other dug-out accommodation, were disposed in positions not only too
far back but inadequately covering those portions of the front which
they were engaged to defend. Moreover, practical means of
communication to and by these support platoons were likely to prove,
in event of need, negligible. They were, in fact, isolated in places
themselves not defensible and equally remote from company and
battalion commanders. This situation was bad enough as _point d'appui_
for an advance; to resist a counter-attack or raid it was deplorable.
Like many similar situations, it was due to the lack of habitable
trenches on the ground that should have been occupied and defended. It
could be no one's fault either high up or low down that the line was
held in this way, though perhaps had fewer men been allowed to crowd
into trenches and dug-outs in the forward line, casualties in killed
and prisoners might have been spared to the Battalion.
A few hours after the relief was complete orders came up for patrols
to go out to see if the enemy had or had not gone back yet. Our
artillery, which was not yet strongly represented behind this sector,
also began to fire at extreme ranges on the German back area east of
Marchélepot and Chaulnes. The enemy, on his part, sniped at and bombed
our patrols at night. The behaviour of his guns and aeroplanes by day
suggested no passive retreat in the near future. While BAB[4] code
messages, providing mingled toil and excitement, announced the
impending departure of the enemy and asserted the necessity for
keeping touch, aeroplanes flew a thousand feet overhead and directed
the fire of fresh batteries of 5.9s and 4.2s upon our trenches. No
doubt the Germans had stocks of ammunition they preferred to fire off
rather than cart backwards. Gas shelling became common for the first
time in the Battalion's experience. In the front line masks had often
to be worn. Headquarters also were gassed more than once and suffered
much inconvenience. This activity by the enemy was reasonably regarded
as his normal policy with which to impede our preparations for
advance, so that complaints of registration[5] coming from the front
line received no special attention from the authorities, who were
themselves tossed to and fro and kept quite occupied by the many
conflicting prophecies of the enemy's retreat.
[Footnote 4: A secret trench code, intended for use
in operations.]
[Footnote 5: Deliberate shelling to ascertain exact
range of targets for a future bombardment.]
On the morning of February 27 German howitzer batteries commenced some
heavy shelling on the Battalion sector, especially on the communication
trenches passing under the former French titles of B.C.4 and B.C.5.[6]
Working parties who were busy digging out mud from those trenches
were compelled to desist. At 10 o'clock I heard that Fry, the commander
of No. 16 Platoon, had been hit by shrapnel on his way from Company
H.Q. to the Sucrerie. To get him to the nearest shelter (C Company H.Q.)
was difficult through the mud, and uncomfortable enough with 5.9s
coming down close to the trench, but the men, as always, played up
splendidly to assist a comrade. Soon afterwards, the doctor, in answer
to a telephonic summons, appeared at my H.Q. On our way to reach Fry
we were both knocked down in the trench by a 4.2, which also wounded
Corporal Rockall in the shoulder-blade. I regret that Fry, though
safely moved from the trenches the same night, had received a mortal
wound. In him died a fine example of the platoon officer. He met his
wound in the course of a trivial duty which, had I guessed that he
would do it under heavy shelling, I should have forbidden him to
undertake. His type of bravery, though it wears no decorations, is
distinguished, more than all other, by the unwritten admiration of the
Infantry.
[Footnote 6: B.C.--_Boyau de communication_,
communication trench.]
During that night I had a peculiar and interesting task. It was to
report on the condition of all roads leading through our front line
across No-Man's-Land. Mud, battle and frost had so combined to
disguise all former roads and tracks, that to decide their whereabouts
it was often necessary to follow them forward from behind by means of
map and compass. Seen by pale moonlight, these derelict roads, in
places pitted with huge craters or flanked by shattered trees, wore a
mysterious charm. More eloquent of catastrophe than those thrown
down by gale or struck by lightning are trees which shells have hit
direct and sent, splintered, in headlong crash from the ranks of an
avenue. If wood and earth could speak, what tales the sunken roads of
France could find to tell!
Morning and afternoon of the next day, February 28, were fine and
ominously quiet. Excessive quietness was often no good sign.
Presentiments could have been justified. At 4.15 p.m. a strong barrage
of trench mortars and rifle grenades began to beat upon the front
line, accompanied by heavy artillery fire against communication and
support trenches and the back area. This sequel to the previous
registration clearly indicated some form of attack by the enemy. The
rhythmic pounding of the heavy howitzers, whose shells were arriving
with the regular persistency of a barrage table, suggested that a long
bombardment, probably until after dusk, was intended. Under such
circumstances it was the part of the Company Commander to 'stand to'
and await events with the utmost vigilance. This never meant that the
men should be ordered out into the trenches and the fire-steps manned,
for to do so would have invited heavy casualties and demoralised the
garrison before the opportunity for active resistance had arrived. To
keep look-out by sentries, to watch for any lifting in the barrage,
and to maintain communication with H.Q. and with the flanks were the
measures required. Otherwise, except to destroy maps and papers,
there was nothing to do but wait, for only in the most clumsily
organised shows did the other side know zero. On this occasion, at the
moment the German raiding party came over, a patrol consisting of
Corporal Coles and Timms had only just returned from D Company front
line. They said that though the shelling was heavy immediately behind
and on the flanks, the wire was intact and there was no sign of
attack. At dusk, therefore, there was nothing save the heavy shelling
to report to Cuthbert over my telephone, which by luck held until cut
by German wire-cutters.
Within a few minutes, shouts and a few rifle shots were heard, and the
next moment bombs were being thrown into my dug-out.
The lights went out and the interior became filled with fumes, groans,
and confusion.
A German raiding party had penetrated C Company, seized the front
line, which was a bare 80 yards from my H.Q., and, without touching my
own front (which indeed was 200 yards distant and to the flank), had
picketed my dug-out, and awaited their haul of prisoners.
Now, a bombed dug-out is the last word in 'unhealthiness.' It ranks
next to a rammed submarine or burning aeroplane. For several minutes I
awaited death or wounds with a degree of certainty no soldier ever
felt in an attack. But in such emergencies instinct, which, more than
the artificial training of the mind, asserts itself, arms human beings
with a natural cunning for which civilization provides no scope. Life
proverbially is not cheap to its owner.
That everyone inside was not killed instantly was due, no doubt,
both to the sloping character of the stairs, which made some bombs
explode before they reached the bottom, and to the small size of the
bombs themselves. A gas bomb finished the German side of the argument.
Hunt's useful knowledge of German commenced the answer. We 'surrendered.'
I went upstairs at once and saw three Germans almost at touching
distance. In place of a docile prisoner they received four revolver
shots, after which I left as soon as possible under a shower of bombs
and liquid fire. Shortly afterwards, but too late to follow me, Hunt
also came forth and found the enemy had vanished. Afterwards the
Sergeant Major and Uzzell, sanitary lance-corporal, who on this
occasion showed the genius of a field marshal, emerged and prevented
the return of our late visitors.
After an hour's struggle through mud and barrage I reached the two
platoons in Trench Roumains, who (I mention this as a good paradox of
trench discipline) were engaged in sock-changing and foot-rubbing
according to time table! From there the counter-attack described in
Sir Douglas Haig's dispatch of March 1st was carried out. I fear this
'counter-attack' was better in his telling than in the doing, for the
Germans had already decamped an hour before, taking with them
Lieutenant Guildford and some 20 prisoners from C Company, several
Lewis guns, and their own casualties.
Against a front line crowded with untried troops (I refer to the new
draft of which the platoons holding C Company front line were
principally composed) a well-planned raid powerfully pressed home
under a severe box barrage and assisted by gas and liquid fire, was
almost bound to succeed. The mud, strange trenches and weak artillery
support were other factors for which allowance might have been made
before such degree of blame was laid upon the Battalion as was seen
fit for it to receive. The only cure for being raided is to raid back.
That was happily done exactly two months later against the very
regiment to which the German raiding party on this occasion belonged.
Nor was it true that the enemy was not fought with. Some parties which
attacked Brown's front were, under the able example of that officer,
driven off with Lewis guns, and D Company, whose loss in prisoners was
nil, also maintained its front intact. Casualties were inflicted on
the enemy, but these mostly regained their own lines or were carried
back by stretcher parties. Our loss in killed that night amounted to
some twenty. The story of this raid I should not have allowed to reach
this length but for the fact that the affair created some stir at the
time, and correspondence raged on the subject till long afterwards.
Hunt, who was with me during the bombardment and the bombing of my
H.Q., was not captured on emerging from the dug-out, but himself, some
hour or more afterwards, while wandering among the blown-in trenches
in an effort to follow me, entered a German listening post and became
a prisoner. As a prisoner he was present at a German H.Q. when the
details of an exactly similar raid upon a neighbouring division were
being arranged; which raid proved for the enemy an equal success.
The aftermath of this fighting proved a trying experience. The dug-out
to which I returned to spend the remainder of the tour was a shambles.
The stairs were drenched with blood. Of my companions, Thompson, a
signaller, Timms, Smith (Hunt's servant, a fine lad) and Corporal
Coles--one of the bravest and most devoted N.C.O.'s the Battalion ever
had--were dead or died soon afterwards. Longford and Bugler Wright
were severely wounded. Longley and Short had escaped before the first
bombs exploded in the dug-out, but the remaining survivors, the
Sergeant-Major, Lance Corporal Rowbotham, Roberts and myself were all
partially gassed and hardly responsible for further action. Under
these circumstances the task of carrying-on involved a strain,
lessened, as always on such occasions, by management of everything for
the best by Battalion Headquarters.
On the night of March 2 the Battalion was relieved by the Berks, now
under the command of Colonel Beaman, and moved back about 2,000 yards
to some support trenches near Bovent Copse. From here companies were
employed ration-carrying to the front line and cleaning the trenches.
Considerable activity continued to be displayed by the German
artillery and aeroplanes, in each of which respect we lacked
superiority.
The enemy retreat appeared postponed or cancelled.
CHAPTER VI.
LIFE IN THE FRONT LINE,
WINTER, 1916-1917.
Ignorance of civilians and non-combatants.--The front line posts.--
Hardships and dangers.--Support platoons.--The Company Officers.
--The Battalion relieved by the 182nd Brigade.
So far I have said little of the hardships suffered by the Infantry.
Indeed, in places I have laughed at them. Those scenes and experiences
which marked a soldier's life in the front line will have been
supplied by those who knew them as familiar background to my story.
But I grudge leaving them to the imagination of civilian and
non-combatant readers. I seriously doubt whether the average man or
woman has the least inkling of what really happened 'out there.' Talk
over-heard or stories listened to may in special instances have
revealed a fragment of the truth. For most people the lack of real
perception was filled in by a set of catchwords. As the war dragged
on, the civilian mind of England passed into a conventional acceptance
of phrases habitually read but improperly understood, until the words
'raids,' 'barrages,' 'objective,' 'craters,' 'counter-attack,'
'consolidation,' became tolerated as everyday commonplaces. Take a
war-despatch of 1916 or 1917--it is made up of a series of catch words
and symbols. Plenty of our famous men, I am sure, who went to the
front and perhaps wrote books afterwards, on arrival there made
remarks no less foolish (and excusable) than the old lady's 'nasty
slippery place' where Nelson fell. The Somme and Ypres battlefields
are inconceivable by anyone who has seen nothing but the normal
surface of the earth. The destruction of towns, villages and farms is
without parallel in history or fiction. To witness some scenes in the
Retreat of 1918 was to stake one's sanity. There are no standards by
which civilians and non-combatants can appreciate the true facts of
the war. Deliberate reproduction would hardly be believed. Suppose,
for instance, this winter I were to dig a large hole in a field, a
quarter fill it with liquid mud, and then invite four or five
comrades, all arrayed in much warlike impedimenta, but lacking more
extra covering than a waterproof sheet each, to the hole to spend two
nights and a day in it--I should be credited with lunacy. Yet I should
be offering a fair sample of front-line accommodation during the Great
War.
[Illustration: A FRONT LINE POST]
Reliefs took place at night. Alike through snow or rain, or in a
biting wind, the Infantry marched up from huts or ruined barns (its
rest billets) to reach the line--a distance normally of seven miles.
First by road, next by a slippery track, finally through a
communication trench deep in mud, our soldiers had to carry each his
rifle and 120 round of ammunition, a share of rations, gumboots, a
leather jerkin and several extras--a load whose weight was fully 50
pounds. Many staggered and fell. All finished the journey smothered in
dirt. Boots, puttees and even trousers were sometimes stripped from
the men by the mere suction of the mud, in which it was not unusual to
remain stuck for several hours. Men, though not of our Battalion, were
even drowned.[7]
[Footnote 7: This fact, which will hardly be
credited by future generations, is related from the
actual knowledge of the writer.]
Parties were often shelled on the way up, or else were lost and
wandered far. From Headquarters, reached about midnight, of the
Company being relieved guides would take two platoons into the front
line 'posts,' the other two to the positions in support.
In the front line itself there was often no better shelter than an old
tarpaulin or sheet of corrugated iron stretched across the trench. At
some 'posts' there was nothing better to sit on than the muddy
'fire-step' or at best half a duckboard or an old bomb box. Despite
continuous efforts to keep one dry place to stand, the floor was
several inches deep in water and mud.
Movement in any direction, save for a few yards to the flanks if the
mud had been cleared away or dammed up, in daylight was impossible. No
visitors came by day. Stretcher bearers were not always near. A fire
could not, or if it could, might not be lighted. Therefore no hot
meal, except perhaps a little tea made over a 'Tommy's Cooker,' was
procurable by day.
The post would be shelled or trench-mortared at intervals. In earlier
days it might be totally blown up by a mine, or in later times bombed
or machine-gunned from the air. For 30 to 40 high explosive shells to
fall all round a post was quite common. Sometimes a 'dud' would fall
inside it, or a huge 'Minnie,' which burst in the wire, cover the
occupants with earth and splinters. The crash of these huge
trench-mortar bombs was satanic; and there was always a next one to be
waited for. Sometimes whole posts were wiped out. If there were
wounded they could expect no doctor's help before night. Often by day,
owing to mud and German snipers, it was impossible to lift a wounded
man from where he had fallen.
Night, longer than day, was also worse. Pitch darkness, accompanied
maybe by snow or mist, increased the strain. With luck the great
compensation of hot food--tea and stew--would be brought up by the
ration parties. But sometimes they were hit and were often lost and
arrived several hours late. The sandbags containing a platoon's
rations for a day were liable to be dropped, and bread arrived soaked
through or broken and mud-stained. Moreover, the darkness which
permitted parties from behind to reach the post also decreed that the
post should get about its work. Had the wire a weak place, the Germans
knew of it, and directly the wiring party set about mending it lights
were sent up, which fell in the wire close to our men, and machine-gun
bullets banged through the air. Besides the wire the parapet required
constant attention. At one place, where a member of the post had
been killed by a sniper, it would want building up; at another, a shell
perhaps had dropped only a yard short of the trench during the evening
'strafe,' the passage would be blocked and the post's bomb-store
buried. All this had to be put right before dawn. During the night a
patrol would be ordered to go out. Men who were sentries by day or
were the covering party for the wiring might be detailed for this.
After that was over the same men took turns as sentries.
Sleep was confined to what those not on duty could snatch, wrapped
only in the extra covering of a waterproof sheet, in a sitting posture
on the fire-step. At dawn, when the men at last could have slept
heavily, came morning stand-to. This meant standing and shivering for
an hour whilst it grew light and attempting to clean a mud-clogged
rifle. Those Englishmen in England (and in France) who have slept warm
in their beds throughout the war should remind themselves of those
thousands of our soldiers who wet through, sleepless, fed on food
which, served as it finally was up in the trenches, would hardly have
tempted a dog, have stood watching rain-sodden darkness of night yield
to dismal shell-bringing dawn, and have witnessed the monotonous
routine of war till sun, earth, sky and all the elements of nature
seemed pledged in one conspiracy of hardship.
What of the two platoons in 'support'?
Their lot was preferable. They were placed about 400 yards behind the
actual front and lived (if such existed) in deep mined dug-outs. Until
the later stages of the war deep dug-outs, which were subterranean
chambers about 25 feet below the level of the ground and nearly
shell-proof, were made only by the Germans, whose industry in this
respect was remarkable. Found and inhabited by us in captured
territory, these dug-outs had the defect that their entrances 'faced
the wrong way,' _i.e._, towards the German howitzers. Sometimes a
shell, whose angle of descent coincided with the slope of the stairs,
burst at the bottom of a dug-out, and then, of course, its occupants
were killed. If no deep dug-outs were available, the support platoons
lived in niches cut into the side of the trench and roofed over with
corrugated iron, timber and sandbags. Such shelters afforded little
protection against shelling.
[Illustration: A DUCKBOARDED COMMUNICATION TRENCH]
In event of attack by the enemy it was the normal duty of support
platoons to garrison a line of defence known as the 'line of
resistance.' They might be ordered to make a counter-attack. When no
fighting was taking place their work was likely to consist in carrying
up rations and R.E. materials (wooden pickets, sandbags, coils of
barbed wire, etc.) to the front line. This work had to be done at
night, because in winter 'communication trenches' (which alone made
daylight movement possible from place to place in the forward zone)
were so choked with mud as to be impassable. The day was spent in
'mud-slinging,' _i.e._, digging out falls of earth from the trench,
rebuilding dug-outs or laying fresh duckboards (wooden slats to walk
on in the trenches). When the evening's 'carrying parties' were
finished, the men had some sleep, but support troops were often used
as night patrols in No-Man's-Land or as wiring parties.
After a day or longer in support they were sent up to relieve, _i.e._,
exchange positions with, their comrades in the front line posts. Four
days was the usual 'tour' for a company. During it each platoon did
two spells of 24 hours in the posts and the same back in support. When
the four days were over, a fresh company relieved that whose tour was
finished. The one relieved moved back to better conditions, but would
still be in trenches and dug-outs until the whole Battalion was
relieved.
The English infantryman stands for all ages as the ensample of heroic
patience, which words or cartoon fail utterly to convey.
How did the Company Commander and his officers fare in the trenches?
The Platoon Officer shared every hardship with his 25 men. If there
was a roofed-in hole with a box for a table he had it, for his
messages were many. To the Company Commander a rough table was quite
indispensable, and so were light and some protection from the rain.
Without these essentials he could never have received nor sent his
written instructions, consulted his maps nor spoken by telephone, on
which he relied to get help from the artillery. The Company
Sergeant-Major, a few signallers and some runners were his familiars,
and he lived with and among these faithful men. Quite often the
Company Commander's dug-out was appreciably the best in the company
area. Sometimes it was little better than the worst. In the spring of
1918 it was often only a hole.
Every good Company Commander made a point of visiting each night all
his front line posts and spending some time with each, not only to
give orders, direct the work and test the vigilance of the sentries,
but in order to keep up the Company's morale. The worse the weather or
the shelling the higher that duty was. Likewise the Battalion
Commander used to visit Company Headquarters once a day and every
front line post at least once during a tour. The journey to the front
line, possible only in darkness, was very dangerous. Shells were bound
to fall at some point on the way, the enemy's machine guns or 'fixed
rifles' were trained on every probable approach, and the Captain in
ordinary trench warfare was as liable to be killed as any Private.
Responsibility, however, made these nightly walks not only necessary
but almost desirable.
To conditions such as I have described the Battalion returned to do
another tour in the Ablaincourt sector. The line was again held by A
on the left (owing to the former three-company system no proper
interchange had been possible) and by B on the right. Davenport went
to my old headquarters, which the enemy was now busy trench-mortaring,
and held half the front previously held by C, which, with D Company,
was now in support. To the usual evils were now added rifle-grenades
filled with gas, which caused several casualties in A Company. D
Company lost a good man in Lance Corporal Tremellen, who was wounded
by a bullet through the legs when leading a ration party 'across the
top,' and other N.C.O.'s went sick with trench fever. During this
tour the energy of Corporal Viggers, of my company, was most
remarkable. He did the work of ten.
On the night of March 15 the Brigade was relieved by the Warwicks. The
Battalion moved back to Framerville, where Quartermaster's Stores and
Transport rejoined.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ADVANCE TO ST. QUENTIN,
MARCH TO APRIL, 1917.
The enemy's retirement.--Road-mending in No-Man's-Land.--The
devastated area.--Open warfare.--The Montolu campaign.--
Operations on the Omignon river.--The 61st Division relieved before
St. Quentin.--End of trench-warfare.
On March 16, 1917, the Germans left their front line and scuttled back
behind the Somme.
The news of this threw everything into a miniature ferment. The Berks
stopped practising a raid which they were to do on the Brigade's
return to the old trenches. The General rode off apace. After orders
and counter-orders the 2/4th marched dramatically to a map reference
near Lihons and commenced pulling logs out of old French dug-outs.
Much good work was done, but I believe the logs were never used. On
the next day German aeroplanes saw the Battalion parade at X 17 c 3.
8. and march to its old billets at Rainecourt. Never was the old song
'Here we are again' more heartily rendered.
Meanwhile Divisional Headquarters advanced and seized a colony of
dug-outs at Vermandovillers. Great eagerness was shown by everyone to
see what the enemy had left behind and whither he had gone. Often
during the advance parties of Infantry detailed to clear a village
found members of a Royal Corps already in possession. In this race of
the curious we were severely handicapped, for it had fallen to the 182nd
Brigade to be the Advanced Guard of the 61st Division and to the 184th
to follow in reserve. To us the task of roadmaking in No-Man's-Land was
assigned. This proved quite interesting work. Except where shells had
fallen on them or trenches been dug through, the roads, when once the
mud had been removed, were found virtually intact. Soon G.S. wagons
and limbers and 18-pounders were passing forward. The war was on the
move.
To explore the former German trenches was a pleasing novelty. The
front line was deep and fairly dry. Elbow marks at every 50 yards or
so and bombs with caps screwed off vouched for the situation of old
sentry posts. Communication trenches were derelict, nor did proper
support nor second lines exist. The enemy's defence had been the
merest shell.
The Battalion moved to Chaulnes on March 22. That village, damaged by
our artillery, had been finally wrecked by the departing enemy, whose
rude notices were scrawled on any walls still standing. 'One million
tons of English shipping sunk in the month of February,' said one more
polite than others. In spite of all that the Germans had done, quite
good accommodation was found for all ranks, and its improvement by old
doors, shutters, and selected _débris_ from other ruins provided much
amusement. Father Buggins and the Doctor, with a wheelbarrow, were
to the fore collecting armchairs covered in red velvet. Stoves and
fuel were abundant, and at this time booby-traps were few.
March 23 was spent in road mending between Vermandovillers and
Chaulnes. An example of how surely organisation wins wars was there
provided. We, who had come from Chaulnes, to work near Chaulnes were
sent to fetch our tools from Vermandovillers. In fetching them we
passed a company of Devons, employed on similar work at
Vermandovillers, who were fetching their tools from Chaulnes--an
episode fit for a war-pageant.
On the same afternoon we marched to Marchélepot. German sign-posts,
old gun positions and burnt dug-outs were objects of interest on the
way. Though cold, the weather was fine. Freedom from shelling was a
treat. We moved again on March 25, when the Bucks arrived to take over
our quarters at Marchélepot. Passing St. Christ, where the R.E. had
bridged the Somme, we saw the first samples of German back-area
demolition. At Ennemain the first big road-crater held up the
Transport. Our destination, Athies, formerly a flourishing little town
but since utterly wrecked and still smouldering, it was quite
difficult to reach. Sent on ahead as member of a billeting party, I
had to cross the Omignon river by a single plank thrown across a weir.
Until they are blown up one rather forgets the blessing of bridges.
In Athies good enough quarters in cellars and half-basements were
found for all. Headquarters went into the only roofed house in the
town--and afterwards questioned their own wisdom. The house had been
foreman's shed to a large factory, had been a Boche canteen, and,
finally, the billet of the wrecking party. Though our advanced troops
were in touch with the enemy some seven miles away in front, we were
made to hold an outpost line each night east of the town. To bring up
rations the Transport had all the distance from Framerville to
cover--about eighteen miles. Never had Abraham so long a journey for
this purpose.
The wanton mischief, now manifest everywhere that the advance carried
us, became a favourite topic for correspondents from the front, but
cannot be passed over without some record here. To us Infantry this
advance was a sort of holiday from the real war. It was like going
behind the scenes at a pantomime and discovering the secrets of the
giant's make-up. No list of things destroyed could lend any conception
of the wholesale massacre by the Germans of all objects both natural
and artificial. Château and cottage, tree and sapling, factory and
summer-house, mill race and goldfish pond were victims equally of
their madness. Hardly the most trivial article had been spared. The
completeness of the work astonished. Yet withal our discomfort was
slight. It was the French civilians, whose lives and homes had been
thus ruined, that such Prussian methods touched.
Amid this wreckage signs were perceptible of the enemy's weakening
morale. Villages in no wise organised for defence and so remote from
the German front as to have been outside the range of our furthest
gun-fire, inevitably contained deep dug-outs. Such precautions
surpassed all prudence and were sufficient almost to argue lack of
mental balance. Germans seemed crazy on dug-outs.
To resume the war. On March 30 the Warwicks entered Soyécourt and
shortly afterwards the Bucks relieved their outpost line. We ourselves
reached Tertry on the 30th, and the next night made bivouacs at
Caulaincourt Château, formerly German Corps Headquarters, now wrecked
past recognition. Amid the rubbish, whose heaps represented buildings
of grace and dignity, the eye caught the half of a gigantic Easter
egg. During our stay a German High Velocity gun several times shelled
the château grounds. Our own artillery was now getting to work and
made the nights lively with noise and flashes.
At 3 a.m. on April 1 C and D Companies were ordered forward to support
the Bucks in an attack on the line of single railway which runs
northwards from Vermand. The attack gained the ridge east of the
railway and no support by us was wanted. Ten prisoners were captured
by the Bucks, whose only casualties resulted from our own shells
dropping short and an unfortunate mistake of some other troops, who
lost direction and, pressing forward, encountered men of their own
side. Towards evening the General ordered D Company forward to occupy
Montolu Wood. The journey was made at dusk through a blinding storm of
hail and rain. The wood to which I went was the wrong one altogether.
Nevertheless to my wood my company returned twice later, till tactical
recognition was gained for it from the failure of the staff to
observe the mistake and my own to disclose it. The wood I went to was
some half-mile distant from the proper one, but the same shape, as
near the railway, and answering the General's map-description to a
nicety. I like to think of my wood, where I was so rarely found,
whither perplexed runners brought orders so late, where I never was
relieved, but where my old shelters of tin and brushwood escaped
disturbance in my absence.
At midnight, April 3/4, the Battalion relieved the Bucks. B, C, and D
Companies shared the new outpost line. Headquarters and A Company went
to Soyécourt. The relief, the first of its kind, was difficult. In my
own front a small brushwood copse was reputed to contain a sentry
post. The ground was dotted with small copses which the darkness made
indistinguishable, and no report of this post's relief was ever made.
When dawn was breaking in the sky, Sergeant Watkins, accompanied by
the Bucks guides, returned to say that no sentry group nor post in any
copse could be found. The most likely copse was then garrisoned and
the night's mystery and labour ceased.
[Illustration: THE ADVANCE TO ST. QUENTIN
Inset: 'a' company's attack, good friday 1917]
Further advance was evidently in store. The smoke of burning villages
still mounted the sky. At night a glow showed where a great fire in
St. Quentin was ablaze. The weather now changed for the worse. Hail,
rain and snow prevailed alternately. A fierce wind blew. Winter
conditions were repeated in the outpost line, where no shelter other
than tarpaulins rigged across the shallow trenches existed. Nor was
the artillery inactive. As the enemy's resistance stiffened, shells
commenced to fall on fields yet unscarred by trench or shell-hole.
Better ammunition seemed to be in use--or was it a month's holiday
from shells that made it seem so?--and more subtlety was shown by
German gunners in their choice of targets. Our casualties, though not
numerous, proved that the war, in most of its old incidents, had been
resumed.
In the early morning of April 4 the 59th Division, which was operating
on the Battalion's left, attacked Le Vergier. Fighting continued till
noon, but the village was not taken. The 59th lost heavily. As they
formed up for their advance--which was for some 1,000 yards across the
open and exposed to view--behind the line the Battalion was holding,
considerable enemy fire was brought down upon us and I lost Sergeant
Watkins, wounded in the arm, and several other casualties. It snowed
nearly all day. In the shallow trenches, which were ill-sited both for
drainage and concealment from the enemy, life was miserable. On the
next night a battalion of Sherwood Foresters relieved D Company, which
returned to its wood, but B and C Companies remained holding the line.
John Stockton, who now commanded B, was ill, but refused to leave the
trenches and carried on in a most determined manner under shocking
weather conditions. A new officer, Allden, in my company also proved
his worth about this time. Events of some sort were of hourly occurrence.
The 2/5th Gloucesters held the line on the Battalion's right, near the
Omignon river. One night, after a heavy bombardment with 4.2s, the
Germans rushed one of their posts. It had recently been evacuated,
and the enemy spent his trouble in vain.
For April 6--Good Friday, 1917--an attack on a large scale had been
arranged. The 59th Division on our left, the Gloucesters and the 182nd
Brigade on our right, shared in the operations. The line was to be
advanced a mile on both sides of the Omignon. The Battalion's
objective was a line of trenches recently dug by the enemy and running
between Le Vergier and the river. To capture them Brown's company,
which hitherto had stayed in reserve at Soyécourt in tolerable
accommodation, was selected. B and D Companies were ordered to keep
close behind A to support the attack, while C remained to garrison the
outpost line.
Zero was midnight, but before that snow and sleet were falling
heavily. It proved the dirtiest night imaginable. Companies moved in
columns across the 1,000 yards of open fields between their old
positions and the objective, against which our artillery kept up as
severe a fire as possible. That fire was less effective than was
hoped. In its advance A Company lost men from our own shells, of which
nearly all were seen to be falling very short. The German wire, still
the great argument to face in an attack, was found uncut. Although at
first inclined to surrender, the enemy soon saw the failure of our men
to find a gap. Machine-guns were manned, which swept the ground with a
fierce enfilade fire. Brown, Aitken, and Wayte behaved in a most
gallant manner, the line was rallied, and a renewed attempt made to
storm the trenches. In vain. No troops will stand against machine-gun
fire in the open when no object can be achieved. It was idle to
repeat the attack or send fresh companies to share the forlorn
enterprise. Before dawn our troops were in their old positions.
In the attack the sergeant-majors of both A and B Companies were hit.
Of the officers, Barton, commanding B, and Tilly, of A, were killed.
Aitken and Wayte were wounded. Nearly 40 of rank and file were
casualties.
The attack had proved a failure, but, as often happened, hopes of
success were reluctantly abandoned by the staff. Thus my company was
warned that it might have to repeat the attack at dawn. Pending such a
fate, I was sent to bivouac in a windswept spinney known as Ponne
Copse. It was still snowing. After their week's exposure I was loth to
inform my men of such a destiny. But a more favourable turn of events
was in store. The weather cleared, and at 11 a.m. on the 7th I was
allowed to return to my version of Montolu Wood. On the same day the
Battalion was relieved by the Bucks and marched back through Soyécourt
to Caulaincourt. There we found Bennett, who had come from the
Aldershot course to be Second in Command. The château grounds were
quieter than before, for our guns had now moved further up towards the
line.
At 3 p.m. on April 8 a curious noise was heard in the air. A German
aeroplane had attacked the kite balloon, which hung, suspended by its
gas, above the château park. A French machine, not a moment too soon
for the balloon's safety, had swooped and shot the attacker to the
ground. All the Battalion was out staring up at the balloon rotating
on its wire, and the portions of the German 'plane, which amid smoke
were fluttering to earth. A rush, as always, commenced towards the
scene. The aeroplane, brought down from a height, was half embedded in
the mud. It was an Albatross, painted all colours, and possessed two
machine-guns and several sorts of ammunition for use against balloons.
I could see nothing of its former occupant, who must have been removed
for burial, except a pool of bright blood upon the ground.
During the night orders arrived for a move forward to support the
Warwick Brigade, which had been fighting for several days between
Maissemy and Fresnoy. At 7.30 a.m. on April 9 we marched in wind and
rain to Marteville, and then formed a reserve line in front of
Maissemy and Keeper's House. All day we dug trenches and erected wire.
A divisional relief was to take place. The weather was vile; almost
every hour a violent squall of hail and snow swept over us. That night
was spent in bivouac in sunken roads.
Next morning many of us walked along the Holnon road to view St.
Quentin, whose cathedral and factory chimneys were only visible
between the storms. The town seemed undestroyed. The Germans were busy
shelling its approaches. Salvoes of their 5.9s fell steadily, and
black splashes of earth jumped up ever and again, whilst smoke from
the preceding shells coiled and drifted away to the west.
The 61st Division was relieved on April 11 and moved back to the Nesle
area. The 2/4th Oxfords marched to Hombleux, a village where the
enemy had left the church and a few houses standing.
The German retirement from the Somme, now practically complete, had
opened a new phase in the war. For the first time since 1914 ground in
France had changed hands upon a large scale. The enemy's
relinquishment of 30 miles of front line trench and his withdrawal to
a depth, in places, of 40 kilometres, restored the principle of
manoeuvre to armies which had fronted one another for two years in
positions hitherto justifying the description of stale-mate. Strong
moral and political effects accompanied. And this manoeuvre, though
carried out upon a part only of the entire battle front, infused a
sense of change and movement into the most static portions of the
allied line. From theory open warfare had passed into practice. In its
old sense trench-warfare was no more; its genius had departed.
Trenches and dug-outs, which in some sectors had been visited and
revisited with changeless repetition for thirty months, lost their
sense of eternity. Who could say when the trenches opposite might not
be found empty and the burning wake of a German retreat glow in the
skies? Schemes for action in event of enemy withdrawal began to take
precedence over trench standing orders. Corps lines ceased to be the
show-places for Russian colonels, and the Corps Commander's gardener
paused before sowing a new season's peas in the château grounds.
G.H.Q. were agog.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RAID AT FAYET,
APRIL, 1917.
A German vantage-point.--Shell-ridden Holnon.--A night of
confusion.--Preparing for the raid of April 28.--The enemy taken
by surprise.--The Battalion's first V.C.--The affair at Cepy Farm.
It was hard to believe that any lofty eminence which overlooked our
lines was not in constant use by the enemy for observation. The iron
towers at Loos, the spire of Calonne, even the crazy relics of the
church at Puisieux at different times contributed this uneasy feeling
to the denizens of our trenches. But surely never was the sense of
being spied on more justified than near St. Quentin, whose tall
cathedral raised itself higher than all the roofs of the town and
higher, too, than the ridges surrounding it for many miles.
On April 20, 1917, a German observer from the cathedral belfry could
have seen the divisional relief which brought the 61st Division back
to the line. All day small parties were moving in the forward zone,
while further back larger ones crossed and re-crossed the ridge 'twixt
Holnon and Fayet, and in rear again, along the road through Savy to
Germaine, columns of Infantry in fours followed by horses, vehicles,
and smoking cooker-chimneys, were passing one another, some coming,
others going back. Those coming made a left-handed turn at Savy,
hugged the line of single railway as far as a crucifix at a cross-roads,
and were then lost to distinct view amid the abject ruins of Holnon.
Those going were the 32nd Division, whose march carried them out of
the cathedral's eye or observation by German balloons.
Among the new arrivals were the 2/4th Oxfords, of whom all companies,
followed until the end by cookers and Lewis-gun limbers, disposed
themselves in or around Fayet, on whose north side stood a stone
monument commemorative of local fighting in the Franco-Prussian War.
Near to this monument was found a deep sunken road, broken with two
huge craters. It was A Company's position as support to the
Gloucesters, who went into the line.
The Battalion spent a week at Holnon village. A line of trenches
linking up 'strong points' had been designed to guard the ridge which
overlooked Fayet and St. Quentin. From Selency Château, whose thickets
fringed the sky-line, on the right, to the high-perched windmill above
Maissemy on the left, work to consolidate this system had commenced.
It remained for us to excavate the chalk trenches deeper and erect
wire. The demand for that material exceeded the supply, and it was
necessary to salve old German stores. Some excellent coils I found--of
American manufacture. Pickets were improvised. Thus liberated by the
amateur assortment of our tools from the irksome tyranny of army
wiring circulars, we set about the work and soon put up some of the
best wire of my experience.
In Holnon the life was a new sample of unpleasantness. Of
accommodation, save for a few low walls and half-roofed cellars, there
was no trace. What Holnon lacked in billets it received in shells.
With intervals--possibly only those of German mealtimes--during the
day and nearly throughout the night, 5.9s and 4.2s were throwing up
the brick-dust, till it seemed reasonable to ask why in wonder's name
the Battalion or any living soul was kept in Holnon. After a few bad
nights with little sleep and some close shells, Headquarters moved
from their shed, hard by a mound, to a dismantled greenhouse further
back. It was a nasty time. The German aeroplanes were very active....
That faint patter of machine-gun fire which comes from aeroplanes
circling overhead ends in the descent of one of them. At first it
seems to come down normally, yet with a sort of pilot-light twinkling
at its head; but, when a hundred feet or so from earth, see it burst
into a sheet of flame and shrivel up upon the ground in a column of
dark smoke!
I had my company in shelters under a bank, clear of the village but
immediately in front of a battery of 18-pounder guns, whose incessant
firing, added to the evil whistle of the German shells, deprived the
nights of comfortable sleep. But passive experiences were due to give
place to active. Events of moment were in store. The 184th Brigade had
been warned to carry out an 'enterprise' against the enemy. During
the morning of April 26 I was sent for by the Colonel. I found
Headquarters in their new position, an oblong greenhouse over whose
frame, destitute of glass, was stretched a large 'trench shelter.'
They had passed a shell-ridden night. Bennett just now had narrowly
eluded a 5.9. This morning shells were falling as usual in Holnon, and
pieces occasionally came humming down to earth close by. I listened to
the plan of a large raid which with two companies I was soon to
perform. Moore was here to outline the scheme and also Colonel Cotton
of the R.F.A., whose guns were to support the operation.
At this point I must explain for the benefit of lay readers the
difference between a raid and an attack. The purpose of the latter was
to drive the enemy from ground he occupied and stay there. Early
attacks upon the Western Front were usually directed against trenches,
of which successive lines, reaching to a distance or 'depth' of
several thousand yards, were often our goal or 'objective.' So that
our Infantry could enter hostile trenches it was invariably necessary
to destroy the wire in front or make a pathway through it. Many
attacks failed because the wire had not been cut. Before the days of
Tanks the means employed consisted, broadly speaking, in artillery
fire, which it was also hoped would put the enemy's machine-guns out
of action and frighten his garrison. Our Infantry advanced immediately
this fire had ceased or 'lifted' to the next objective. During the
Battle of the Somme it was found that the enemy often left his
actual trenches and came forward into shell-holes in No-Man's-Land
so as to escape the fire of our artillery. To counter this manoeuvre
the 'creeping barrage' was devised. Our shells were fired so as to
form a moving curtain of destruction immediately in front of our men
in their advance, whilst at the same time the enemy's trenches were
bombarded. Attacks on any scale were planned to capture and hold
against the enemy some ridge, by losing which he lost observation of
our lines, while we, in gaining it, saw more of his and also were
enabled to advance our guns.
The purpose of a raid was to penetrate a portion of the enemy's front,
to kill or capture as many Germans as possible, and then retire. Raids
differed materially from attacks in this respect, that no attempt was
made in the former to hold the ground won longer than was necessary to
satisfy the plan. Raids were usually supported by artillery and took
place at night; but daylight raids, though less common or successful,
were sometimes made, and 'silent raids,' when no artillery was used,
were also tried.
This explanation, dull to military readers, will serve to indicate
what operation I was now about to undertake. The scheme, of which the
General and his Brigade Major were the authors, was to pass a body of
men through a gap in the unoccupied portion of the German trenches
opposite Fayet, deploy, and sweep sideways against some other
trenches, thought to be held, and through several copses which Bucks
patrols had pronounced weakly garrisoned by the enemy. These copses,
which were expected to yield a few handfuls of runaway boys in
German uniform, would be attacked by us in flank and rear at the same
time. The scheme promised well, but the proposed manner of retirement,
which would be in daylight and across nearly a mile of open ground,
presented difficulties. The more to overcome them and to be fresh for
the event, D Company and the platoons of C selected for the task were
to stay in the sunken road north of Fayet, while A and B Companies
went to garrison the outpost line.
The Battalion was mostly fortunate in the opportunity of its reliefs.
One always prayed that the time spent in moving up and changing places
with troops in the front line would coincide with a period quiet in
regard to shelling. One hoped still more that no hostile attack would
clash with the relief.
[Illustration: THE RAID NEAR ST. QUENTIN BY 2/4 OXFORD & BUCKS LT.
INFy. AP. 28 1917]
Such prayers and hopes on April 26, when a quiet, easy relief was
specially desired, came near to being falsified. At dusk, just as our
companies were starting towards Fayet, the enemy commenced an
operation against Cepy Farm, a ruined building near the front line,
predestined by its position to be an object of contention. The attack
was ably dealt with by Tubbs' company of the Bucks and had proved
abortive for the enemy. The circumstance was accompanied by much
erratic shelling from both sides. Orders to stand-to were issued
rather broadcast, and as the relief was now in progress a degree of
confusion resulted everywhere. The destination of my company and half
of C was the sunken road leading down into Fayet, but that I found
already crowded with troops. Almost all units of the Brigade seemed to
be trying to relieve or support each other, and the front line itself
was in quite a ferment, nobody actually knowing what the enemy had
done, was doing, or was expected to do. Under these conditions it
became impossible for me to send patrols to learn the ground from
which the impending raid was to be launched. It happened, in fact,
that when the time to move forward had arrived, I alone of all the
five platoons about to be engaged knew the route to the 'position of
assembly,' that is to say, the place where the attacking troops were
to collect immediately before the raid. That most severe risk--for had
I been a casualty the entire enterprise would have miscarried--was
owing partly to the accident of the confused relief, but more to the
short notice at which the work was to be carried out. Instead of that
thorough reconnaissance which was so desirable I had to be content
with a visit, shared by my officers and a few N.C.O.'s, to an advanced
observation post from which a view was possible of those trenches and
woods we were under orders to raid.
The sunken road proved anything but a pleasant waiting place. The
shelling of Fayet--fresh-scattered bricks across whose roads showed it
an unhealthy place--was now taken up in earnest by the enemy. Partly
perhaps from their own affection for such places, but more probably
because it was our most likely route to reach the village, the Germans
seldom allowed an hour to pass without sending several salvoes of 5.9s
into the sunken road. My men were densely packed in holes under the
banks. I was expecting large supplies of flares and bombs and all
those things one carried on a raid, and had, of course, orders and
explanations of their duties to give to many different parties.
All this made April 27 a vexatious day. During the early part of the
night men from my company had to carry rations to the front line
companies. At midnight, while resting in a wretched lean-to in the
sunken road, I had tidings that Corporal Viggers and several others
had been hit by a shell, which destroyed all C Company's rations. Of
these casualties there was a man whose name I forget, who insisted on
going, not back to hospital, but into the raid a few hours afterwards.
He went, and was wounded again. It is a privilege to place on record
the valorous conduct of this un-named soldier.
While I was receiving the serious news which deprived me of a valuable
leader and several picked men, a shell pitched a few yards from the
spot I occupied. The light went out, and I was half covered with dust
and rubbish. To move was second nature. Followed by Taylor I 'moved'
100 yards down the road to the rest of my company. My kit and maps
were later rescued from the dirt and brought to my new position.
Company Headquarters should be mobile, and on occasions like these
were volatile.
At 1 a.m. I roused the men, some 150 all told, and the responsible
task of issuing the bombs, wire-cutters, and other things commenced.
All these, invoiced with excellent precision by the Brigade Major,
Moore, had been carried up by the Berks. The shelling rarely ceased,
and I owed everything on this occasion to Corporal Leatherbarrow, who
showed not only steadfast bravery but skill. The platoons could not,
on account of the shells which sometimes fell in the roadway itself,
be paraded, and each received its share of bombs piecemeal by
sections. Food, to supplement which I did not scruple to issue some of
the next day's rations, was partaken of at 2 a.m., but it took long,
and half an hour later the whole party should have started upon its
journey across the mile of open fields to reach the assembly post.
Disposal of the bombs, the meal, and those many last attentions which
breed delay had taken longer than I had allowed. Time was getting very
short. I wanted to dodge the shelling, but had missed a quiet interval
that occurred at 2.30 a.m. At 3 a.m. I moved, leading the party in a
long column over the open ground north of Fayet to reach its eastern
side. The inevitable 'wire mats,' an encumbrance without which few
raiding parties ever started, hampered the progress. It was a pitch
dark night, nor was I certain of the way. To cover the mile and then
pass 150 men, ignorant of their whereabouts, silently and in single
file through a gap into No-Man's-Land ere dawn broke and our
bombardment started now seemed impossible. It was a serious quandary.
To go on might be to compromise not only the operation, but the lives
of 150 men, who would be discovered in daylight and in the open near
the enemy. But to go back was to jeopardise the reputation of the
Battalion.
I went on.
Great darkness preceded the dawn, which was expected shortly after 4
a.m. I found the road, the first crater, the narrow track through the
wire, and the empty ground beyond. A few minutes after the last man
had reached his place our barrage opened. Shells fell spasmodically
here and there for a few seconds; then all our batteries were shooting
together. Their fire was admirable, heavy and well-directed.
In the stumbling rush forward to reach the nearest wood--C Company to
the second crater on the Fayet Road--waves and platoons were rapidly
confused. The Germans, who found themselves attacked in flank and
rear, were totally surprised. They had not stood-to and many were yet
asleep. Some lights went up and a few sentries' shots were fired, but
it appeared that small resistance to our progress would be made. The
wire was trampled through, and for some minutes our men played havoc
with the Germans, who ran, leaving draggled blankets and equipment in
their trenches. Dug-outs were generously bombed, and explosions filled
the air as our men hastily used the weapons brought to hurt the enemy.
Three machine-guns fell into our hands. A miniature victory was in
progress.
But a turn of events followed; the trenches and woods beyond those we
had first entered were neither unoccupied nor weakly held. A force
certainly equal to ours was in opposition. After their first surprise
the Germans recovered, manned their reserve machine-guns, and opened a
fierce fire from front and flanks upon their assailants. Many of us
were hit, including Taylor, the officer of No. 15 Platoon, who was
severely wounded in the thigh. In No. 13 Platoon, which lost most
heavily, Allden and his Platoon Sergeant, Kilby, were killed. The full
programme could not be effected. It was getting light; so I decided to
withdraw. Most of D Company I found had already done this in their own
way, but the remainder now collected at my summons. Lance-Corporal
O'Connor with his two Lewis guns did yeoman service to stem what had
become the German counter-attack. Ammunition was running short, and
German stick-bombs obliged me, in order to save from capture those
less badly hit, to leave Taylor, whose wound made him quite helpless.
The wire, through which Sergeant Mowby had been busy cutting a path,
was safely passed, and an hour afterwards we had regained the sunken
road. I learnt that Jones, who had led the right of the advance, had
not returned. He with his men had narrowly missed being cut off when
the dawn broke. During the ensuing day this party had to lie scattered
in shell-holes till darkness enabled them to reach our lines.
The raid was hailed as a signal success for the Battalion. Two
machine-guns and one protesting prisoner had been dragged back to our
lines. The German trenches had been over-run and many of their
occupants had been killed or wounded. By a satisfactory coincidence
the troops whom we surprised were a battalion of the Jaegers, the very
regiment which after three hours' bombardment had raided us exactly
two months previously at Ablaincourt.
[Illustration: COMPANY SERGEANT-MAJOR E. BROOKS. V.C.]
Our losses, considering the scope of the operation, were heavy, but
not so proportionately to the number of troops of both sides engaged
nor to the severe nature of the fighting. Most of our casualties had
bullet wounds. The list, officially, was: Killed, 1 officer and 10
other ranks; wounded, 2 officers and 41; missing, 1 officer and 2. Of
Taylor I regret to say no news was ever heard. I left him wounded,
probably fatally, and quite incapable of being moved. The likelihood
is that he died soon afterwards and was buried by the enemy in the
trench where he lay. Allden and Kilby were a serious loss to the
fighting efficiency of D Company.
For their gallantry Corporal Sloper and Sergeant Butcher received the
Military Medal and Jones the Military Cross. Corporal Leatherbarrow
for his steadfast conduct in the sunken road was mentioned in
dispatches. To Sergeant-Major Brooks fell the honour of the
Battalion's first V.C., of which the official award ran as follows:--
'For most conspicuous bravery. This Warrant Officer, while taking
part in a raid on the enemy's trenches, saw that the front wave
was checked by an enemy machine-gun at close quarters. On his own
initiative, and regardless of personal danger, he rushed forward
from the second wave with the object of capturing the gun,
killing one of the gunners with his revolver and bayoneting
another. The remainder of the gun's crew then made off, leaving
the gun in his possession. S.M. Brooks then turned the
machine-gun on to the retreating enemy, after which he carried it
back to our lines. By his courage and initiative he undoubtedly
prevented many casualties, and greatly added to the success of
the operations.'
Infantry's recompense for raids and attacks was usually a short rest.
This time it had to be postponed by a brief tour in the front line. So
the next day, having exchanged positions with a Gloucester company, we
lay in holes and watched the 5.9s raising their clouds of red
brick-dust in Holnon. Fayet was left alone, nor did the sunken road
receive attention. It was a balmy day, the first of spring.
At night another minor operation preceded the relief. Orders were
given for B Company, which held the right of the Battalion's line, to
seize the much-disputed Cepy Farm and hand it over to the incoming
Berks. Moberly, who had recently rejoined his old Battalion, was in
command of this enterprise. The farm was reached and duly occupied,
but when the time for handing over to the Berks arrived our post was
driven out by a strong party of the enemy. This was the first of many
similar encounters at Cepy Farm. Luckily it did not long prejudice the
relief. Though chased a little on the way by shells, the Battalion had
an easy march to Holnon Wood, in which a pleasant resting place was
found. The trees and undergrowth, just bursting into green, presented
happy contrast to the dust and danger of Fayet. In the sandy railway
cutting, where the single line turns through the wood to reach
Attilly, companies sat during the day and slept secure at night.
Transport and cookers were near, and for a spell one was on terms of
friendship with the world.
CHAPTER IX.
ARRAS AND AFTERWARDS,
MAY, JUNE, JULY, 1917.
Relief by the French at St. Quentin.--A new Commanding Officer.--
At the Battle of Arras.--Useful work by A Company.--Harassing
fire.--A cave-dwelling.--At Bernaville and Noeux.--In G.H.Q.
reserve.--A gas alarm by General Hunter Weston.--The Ypres arena.
The next battlefield to which the Battalion's steps were turned was
Arras. Early in May the French came to relieve the 61st Division at
St. Quentin. It was said, perhaps with little truth, that the ban
which forbade our guns to shell that town in such manner as, from a
purely military standpoint, it deserved, induced this re-arrangement
of the front. Certainly the French had tried in April, before the
German retreat had definitely stopped, to encircle the town and
capture it without bombardment, and possibly their staff yet hoped
that it might fall undamaged into their hands. The attitudes of
English and French artillerymen towards large towns which they saw
opposite to them were naturally different. On this particular front
St. Quentin was a potent hostage in the enemy's power and one which
accounted for the extremely quiet conduct of the war in that sector
after the English had left.
On its backward march--moves by divisions up and down the front were
always made at a good distance behind the line through districts known
as 'staging areas'--the Battalion spent a few days close to Amiens,
and thence marched through Doullens to familiar billets at Neuvillette.
The 184th Infantry Brigade reached Arras at the end of May, and went
into the line on June 2.
During this move Colonel Bellamy, who had commanded us since August,
1916, left the Battalion. He shortly afterwards succeeded to the
command of the 2nd Royal Sussex, his former regiment. A man of tact
and ripe experience, he had done much to improve the Battalion during
his stay. He lacked few, if any, of the best qualities of a Regular
officer. His steady discipline, sure purpose, and soldierly outlook,
had made him at once Commanding Officer, counsellor and friend.
Latterly he had been somewhat vexed by illness, but had refused to
allow his activity to be handicapped thereby. His stay had not
coincided with the brightest nor least difficult epochs in the
Battalion's history, for which reason, since he was not unduly
flattered by fortune, his merit deserves recognition.
Colonel Bellamy's successor, H. de R. Wetherall, was a young man whom
ability and leadership had already lifted to distinction in his
regiment and placed in command of an important military school. From
now onwards he is the outstanding figure in the Battalion's history.
In the new Colonel a quick brain was linked with vigorous physique. In
spite of his Regular training, Wetherall could appreciate and
himself possessed to no small degree the peculiar virtues of the
temporary officer, who based his methods on common sense and actual
experience in the war rather than servile obedience to red tape and
'Regulations.' He had studied during the war as well as before it,
with the result that military tradition--his regiment was the
Gloucestershire--and his long service in the field combined to fit him
for command of our Battalion.
The Division's share in the Arras Battle, 1917, was small. Already at
the time of our arrival the later stages of the fighting had been
reached. The British advance astride the River Scarpe had stopped on
its north side beneath the low ridge spoken of as Greenland Hill and
on its south before a wood known as the Bois du Vert. As on the Somme
in November, 1916, local actions were continuing. To prepare for an
attack on Infantry Hill, a position held by the enemy south-east of
Monchy-le-Preux, the 2/4th Oxfords went into the front line on June 6.
Orders were received to advance across No-Man's-Land and link up a
line of shell-holes as a 'jumping-off place' for the subsequent
attack. A Company successfully accomplished the task, and the
Battalion earned a message of thanks from the Division which a few
days afterwards made the designed attack.
Apart from this achievement, the confused network of old and new
trenches occupied during this period offered few features of special
interest. C and A Companies and part of D were in the front line,
which ran through chalk and was unsavoury by reason of the dead
Germans lying all about. The enemy's fire was of that harassing kind
which began now to mark the conduct of the war. In the old days
conventional targets such as roads, trenches, and villages within a
mile or two of our front were generally shelled at times which could
be guessed and when such places could be avoided. These methods
changed. Wherever Infantry or transport were bound to go at special
times during the night, the German shells, reserved by day, were fired.
Roads, tracks, and approaches, where in daylight English nursemaids
could almost have wheeled perambulators with confidence, by night
became hated avenues of danger for our Infantrymen moving up the line
or ration-carrying to their forward companies. The fire to which they
went exposed was the enemy's 'harassing fire,' and we, in our turn,
very naturally 'harassed' the Germans. At this time a crater on the
Arras-Cambrai road which must needs be passed and a shallow trench
leading therefrom, known as Gordon Alley, were the most evil spots.
Monchy, the hill-village which had cost us so many lives to capture,
was heavily shelled by German howitzers both day and night; below its
slopes lay several derelict tanks. Our gun positions, in proportion to
the new increase in counter-battery work, were also often shelled.
Though unconnected with any artillery, our doctor, Stobie, and with
him Arrowsmith had a bitter experience of German shells. One fine
summer morning the enemy commenced a programme of destructive fire
upon some empty gunpits where the Doctor had his dressing-station.
Stobie and Arrowsmith, with their personnel, received a high
explosive notice to quit, and their descent into a wrong-facing shaft
was next followed by the partial destruction of their only exit. They
escaped safely and arrived in a state of pardonable excitement at the
deep cave under Les Fosses Farm, where my Company Headquarters and
many others were.
This cave, perhaps, will bear a short description. In Artois and
Picardy, where chalk strata prevailed, deep subterranean passages and
caves abounded. Under Arras itself sufficient room existed to hold
many thousands of our troops, who were housed underground before the
battle opened. The Germans more than ourselves exploited this feature
of geology. Under Gommecourt and Serre their reserve troops had lurked
deep in caves. In the Champagne more striking instances occurred of
whole battalions issuing from hidden passages and exits to the fight.
The cave below Fosses Farm was about 40 feet below the ground. Of most
irregular shape, it branched and twisted into numerous alleys and
chambers through the chalk. In it lived representatives of the
Artillery, Royal Engineers, New Zealand Tunnellers, the whole of B
Company, parts of Headquarters, the Doctor's personnel, and my own
Company Headquarters. The cave was dimly lit by a few candles.
Throughout the day and night there were perpetual comings and goings,
and it was common to see men, dazzled by the outside sun, come
stumbling down the stairs and tread unseeing on the prostrate forms of
those asleep below. The bare chalk was floor, bed, and bench to all
alike. The shadows, the dim groups of figures, and the rough pillars
forming walls and roof, gave the impression of some old cathedral. At
one end a hole communicating with the ground above served as the only
chimney for the incessant cooking that was going on. The fumes of this
huge grill-room, which did duty, not only for the 400 men or so within
the cave itself, but for as many situated at a distance in the outside
world, lent a primeval stamp to the surroundings. We were cave-dwellers,
living in partial darkness and lacking even the elements of furniture.
Caves, cellars, and deep dug-outs had a demoralising influence upon
their occupants. The utter security below, contrasted with the danger
overhead--for often the entrances to these refuges were particularly
shelled--and the knowledge that at any moment the former might have to
be exchanged for the latter could deal a subtle injury to one's
morale. It was a golden rule, one perchance followed by many of our
leaders, to make each day some expedition afield before the sun had
reached its meridian. On the whole one was happier without deep
dug-outs--and safer, too, for to become a skulker was equivalent to
death.
In quoting things to show how little pic-nicing there was in the war I
feel it opportune to mention a fresh shape in which danger now appeared,
not only for the Infantry, but for others formerly immune in sheltered
positions far behind the front. I refer to bombing aeroplanes. The
warm clear summer nights were now, for the first time in common
experience, marked by the loud droning of the enemy's machines and
by the crash of bombs dropped upon huts and transport lines and along
roads and railways in our back area. Arras was often severely bombed.
The German aeroplanes on any fine night came to be regarded as
inevitable. Bombing might be continued until nearly dawn. When no
bombs fell close there was always the constant drone announcing their
possibility. To men in huts or in the open, without lights or any
means of shelter, the terror carried nightly overhead was greater far
than that which ever served to depress Londoners.
Another development which was destined to play an ever increasing part
in the war and to make its closing phases worse in some respects than
its early, was the long-range high-velocity gun. Though fully seven
miles behind the line, Arras was shelled throughout the summer with
very heavy shells. The railway station was their principal target, but
the 15-inch projectiles fell in a wide radius and caused great
destruction to the houses and colleges still standing in the city. Yet
to the Arras citizens now eager to return and claim their property
shells seemed a small deterrent.
[Illustration: ARRAS--THE GRANDE PLACE]
Our stay up in the line was short, but we had casualties. Lindsey, a
new officer in D Company, was killed on his first visit to the
trenches, and Herbert, of B, was wounded. D Company also lost as
casualties Sergeant Buller and Lance-Corporal Barnes and half-a-dozen
Lewis gunners in the line. The night of our relief was spent in
bivouacs near Tilloy. A violent thunderstorm, which was the expected
sequel to the fortnight's intensely warm weather we had been
experiencing, drenched our surroundings and gave the hard earth,
trampled by summer tracks, a surface slippery as winter mud. On June
11 the Battalion was back in billets at Bernaville, a village four
miles west of Arras, and it appeared that the Division (of which the
184th Brigade alone had been into the line) had completed its tour in
the Arras sector.
I rejoice that the few pleasant phases of the Battalion's experiences
in France elapsed less rapidly than I describe them. At Bernaville the
weather continued fine and warm; in fact, some of the hottest weather
of the year occurred. A busy training programme was in swing. To
escape the heat, companies paraded at 7 a.m. and worked till 11, and
again in the evening at 5 and worked till 7. This training must not be
judged by readers according to style and methods possibly seen by them
on English training grounds during the war. At home, after the last
divisions of Kitchener's Army went abroad, no officers trained their
own men whom they would lead in battle. The men were usually the
rawest drafts, while the officers in home battalions were too often
those who had never gone and never would go to the front. A totally
different spirit characterised training in France. Colonel Wetherall
was a master of the art of teaching. His emphatic direction and
enthusiasm earned early reward in the increased efficiency of all
ranks.
At Noeux, near Auxi-le-Château, whither we moved on June 23, the
Battalion's midsummer respite was continued; we were in G.H.Q.
reserve. Rumour, not false on this occasion, predicted the Division's
share in a great battle between Ypres and the coast which was due to
happen before the autumn. Expectancy was rife to the effect that
co-operation from the sea was to assist in driving the Germans from
the Belgian coast. News, big in its effects, was read one morning in
the _Daily Mail_. The enemy had attacked our lines at Nieuport and
driven our garrison across the Yser. A valuable footing had been lost.
Happy memories are associated with Noeux. It was a pretty village,
girt by rolling hills crowned with rich woods. 'Wood-fighting' (which
I always said should literally mean the fighting _of_ woods, and
indeed it often resolved itself into a contest of man _versus_
undergrowth) was a frequent feature in the training programme. What
was sometimes lost in 'direction' was as often gained in naughty
amusement at the miscarriage of a scheme. For off-duty hours the
wild-boars of Auxi woods and the cafés in that small town provided
varied attractions and romance. The General, who was delighted with
the war and the Battalion, was more vigorous and inspiring than ever.
It was owing largely to him that the 184th Brigade became the best in
the Division. This good time, which had for its object, not enjoyment,
but preparation for more fighting, came all too soon to an end.
[Illustration: NOEUX VILLAGE]
On July 26 the Battalion said good-bye to Noeux. Its inhabitants, of
whom an old lady called 'Queen Victoria' (La Reine Victoria, as she
was known even by her fellow-villagers) was typical, gave us a
hearty send-off. Three hours after leaving it we again passed through
the village, this time by train. We reached St. Omer in the evening
and marched to a scattered Flemish hamlet called Broxeele. Here a stay
longer than was expected was made; the 61st Division was in reserve to
the 5th Army. The introduction by the Germans of the celebrated
mustard-gas at Ypres had caused many thousand casualties in the line
and lent new urgency to our gas drill.
At Broxeele on August 6 the Corps Commander, General Hunter Weston,
paid a memorable visit of inspection to the Battalion. Long waits,
succeeded by tedious processions of generals and decorated
staff-officers of every grade, are usually associated with
inspections. General Hunter Weston was more than punctual. His
knowledge of all military appurtenances was encyclopedic. A rigorous
examination of revolvers, mess tins, and similar accessories at once
commenced. Companies, instead of standing like so many rows of
dummies, were given each some task to perform. Suddenly in the midst
of everything a loud cry of 'Gas' is emitted by the General. Not
unprepared for such a 'stunt' as this, the entire party scrambles as
fast as possible into gas-helmets. I think we earned high marks for
our gas-discipline. This inspection made a strong impression on the
men, who afterwards remembered the occasion and often spoke of it.
Towards the end of July the weather, hitherto so fine, broke hopelessly.
Torrential rains followed, which inundated the flat country far and
wide. After several postponements the Third Battle of Ypres
commenced on July 31. Some two weeks later the Battalion moved forward
by train from Arnecke to Poperinghe. We awaited our share in the
fighting; which was to make this battle the most bloody and perhaps
least profitable of the whole war.
CHAPTER X.
THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES,
AUGUST, 1917.
A Battalion landmark.--Poperinghe and Ypres.--At Goldfish Château.
--The attack near St. Julien on August 22.--Its results.--A
mud-locked battle.--The back-area.--Mustard gas.--Pill-box
warfare.
In the war-history of all Battalions there is a season when it is
possible to say that they have reached their fulness of development,
but have not yet lost all original identity. August, 1917, was such a
season in my history. Of officers and men who had served with the
Battalion in its infancy many were yet remaining. Time and experience
of war had moulded these, with the admixture of subsequent drafts,
into a Battalion sure of itself and well-developed. But when it
quitted the battleground of Ypres most of its old identity had
vanished. From that time onward the 2/4th Oxfords were a changed unit,
whose roots were set no longer in England but in France, for in France
had come to it the officers and men of whom it was afterwards
constituted.
On the eve of this great change importing battle a short review is not
amiss of the Battalion's constitution. A Company still had for its
Commander Brown, among whose officers were Coombes, Callender, and
Webb. As Company Sergeant Major, Cairns was a tower of strength. John
Stockton led B Company, and under him was Moberly. C Company possessed
two Captains, Brucker and Harris, and had as platoon commanders,
Hawkes, Matthews, and Jones. D Company was still commanded by the
author. An acquisition to my company had recently arrived in Scott,
the bearer of two wounds received in service with the Oxford
Territorials. Scott was the best officer I ever had. Guest, another
new officer, before he went into the line showed that he was made of
the right stuff; he was commander of No. 16 Platoon. Dawson-Smith,
Copinger, Gascoyne, and Hill were other new arrivals in my company.
The N.C.O.'s on whom I most relied were Sergeants Palmer,
Leatherbarrow, and Sloper, but the real backbone of the Company were
the gallant and determined section leaders whom I had chosen for
promotion from the ranks. Of my runners and signallers I was
especially proud, and at Company Headquarters there was, of course,
the redoubtable Sergeant-Major Brooks, who besides being a great
fighter possessed also high organising powers. My total strength on
reaching Poperinghe was over 200, which shows that at this time the
Battalion was well found in men. It was known nevertheless that some
reduction from this maximum fighting force was to take place. One
hundred men of the Battalion, including 'specialists' like Lewis
gunners, signallers and runners, were henceforward 'left out of the
line' whenever the Battalion went forward to take part in an attack.
They were so left in order that, if the casualties were very high,
some nucleus of veteran soldiers would still remain around whom the
new Battalion could be built. A like rule applied to officers. A month
ago the Colonel had decided which of these should not take part in the
first Ypres attack. Brown and myself stayed out of the line, and in
our stead Callender and Scott respectively commanded A and D
Companies.
[Illustration: POPERINGHE FROM THE WEST]
Our stay near Poperinghe was short. Attention was devoted to the final
organisation of platoons and sections and to the problem of what kit
to carry in the attack and how best to carry it. Varied experiments
were made to see whether a pack or haversack was better and which way
uppermost a shovel should be slung. Supply of ammunition for the Lewis
guns raised many questions for debate. When all the sections--the
Lewis-gunners, bombers, rifle-grenadiers, and riflemen--were finally
complete, a new drain was made on our numbers by the demand for
seventeen men per Company, who from their duties became known as
'Loaders and Leaders.' Their function was to lead forward during
battle mules loaded with rations, water, and ammunition. So little
advancing was there that the mules, so far as this Battalion was
concerned, were never used, and the loaders and leaders, thanks to
their function proving illusory, escaped all share in the fighting.
If Poperinghe and Ypres had quite borne out their reputations I should
not here remark on either of them. The former was a most crowded and
degenerate-looking town, by a few towers rendered impressive from a
distance, but in reality of mean structure. Besides its club--at which
I recollect that Heidsieck 1906 was then only ten francs the
bottle--and its estaminets, the town held few attractions. Damage by
long-range German guns around the station had been considerable, but
to the town itself, except its windows, not very much had up till now
occurred. The surrounding country was neither flat nor uninteresting.
The Mont des Cats and Kemmel bounded the horizon on the south-east,
while to the west and north gently undulating hills, covered with
fields of hops, distinguished this area from the sodden plains
commonly credited to Flanders. Ypres, though destroyed past any hopes
of restoration, in 1917 still wore the semblance of a town. From
previous descriptions of the 'Salient' I had almost expected that a
few handfuls of ashes would be of Ypres the only vestige left. The
portions least destroyed in Ypres compared perhaps equally with the
worst in Arras, but of the two the Flemish city had been the less well
built. The remains of the great Cloth Hall, cathedral, and other
buildings revealed that what had once been, supposedly, of stone was
in reality white brick.
On August 18, starting at 4 a.m., the Battalion marched to Goldfish
Château, close to Ypres, and the Transport to a disused brickfield
west of Vlamertinghe. We lived in bivouacs and tents and were much
vexed by German aeroplanes, and to a less degree by German shells. On
August 20, while companies were making ready for the line, an air
fight happened just above our camp. Its sequel was alarming. A German
aeroplane fell worsted in the fight, and dived to ground, a roaring
mass of fire, not forty yards from our nearest tents. By a freak of
chance the machine fell in a hole made by a German shell. The usual
rush was made towards the scene--by those, that is, not already
sufficiently close for their curiosity. A crowd, which to some extent
disorganised our preparations for the line, collected round the spot
and watched the R.F.C. extract the pilot and parts of the machine,
which was deeply embedded in the hole. For hours the wreckage remained
the centre of attraction to many visitors. The General hailed the
burnt relics, not inappropriately, as a lucky omen.
During the night of August 20/21 the Battalion relieved a portion of
the front eastward of Wieltje. Three companies were placed in trenches
bearing the name of 'Capricorn,' but B was further back. During the
night a serious misfortune befell the latter. Three 5.9s fell actually
in the trench and caused thirty-five casualties, including all the
sergeants of the company. On the eve of an attack such an occurrence
was calculated to affect the morale of any troops. That the company
afterwards did well was specially creditable in view of this
demoralising prelude.
On the following night Companies assembled for the attack. Neither the
starting place nor the objectives for this are easily described by
reference to surrounding villages. The nearest was St. Julien. The
operation orders for the attack of August 22 assigned as objective
to the Oxfords a road running across the Hanebeck and referred to as
the Winnipeg-Kansas Cross Road. The 48th Division on the left and the
15th on the right were to co-operate with the 184th Brigade in the
attack.
Shortly before 5 the bombardment started. In the advance behind the
creeping barrage put down by our guns, of which an enormous
concentration was present on the front, C, D and A Companies (from
right to left) provided the first waves, while B Company followed to
support the flanks. The Berks came afterwards as 'moppers up.'
Half-an-hour after the advance started D, B and A Companies were
digging-in 150 yards west of the Winnipeg-Kansas Cross Road. The
losses of these companies in going over had not been heavy, but, as so
often happens, casualties occurred directly the objective had been
duly reached. In the case of C Company, on the right, but little
progress had been made. Pond Farm, a concrete stronghold, to capture
which a few nights previously an unsuccessful sally had been made, had
proved too serious an obstacle. Not till the following night was it
reduced, and during the whole of August 22 it remained a troublesome
feature in the situation. Before the line reached could be consolidated
or they could act to defeat the enemy's tactics, our men found
themselves the victims of sniping and machine-gun fire from Schuler
Farm, which was not taken and to which parties of reinforcements to
the enemy now came. More dangerous still was an old gun-pit which lay
behind the left flank. The capture of this had been assigned to the
48th Division, but as a measure of abundant caution Colonel Wetherall
had detailed a special Berks platoon to tackle it. This platoon,
assisted by some Oxfords on the scene, captured the gun-pit and nearly
seventy prisoners, but failed to garrison it. A party of the enemy
found their way back and were soon firing into our men from behind.
[Illustration: The ATTACK of AUG 22 BY 15TH 61ST & 48TH DIVISIONS
Approx: Position of 2/4th. OXF. at 7 pm.]
During the early stages of consolidation, when personal example and
direction were required, John Stockton, Scott, and Gascoyne were all
killed by snipers or machine-gun fire. Scott had been hit already in
the advance and behaved finely in refusing aid until he had despatched
a message to Headquarters. While he was doing so three or four bullets
struck him simultaneously and he died.
Throughout the 22nd no actual counter-attack nor organised bombardment
by the enemy took place, but much sniping and machine-gun fire
continued, making it almost impossible to move about. Our loss in
Lewis-gunners was particularly heavy. Callender, the acting company
commander of A Company, had been killed before the attack commenced,
and Sergeant-Major Cairns was now the mainstay of that company, whose
men were thoroughly mixed up with B. Upon the left the 48th Division
had failed to reach Winnipeg, with the result that this flank of A and
B Companies was quite in the air. On the Battalion's right the failure
of C Company, in which Brucker had been wounded, to pass Pond Farm
left the flank of D Company exposed and unsupported. But the position
won was kept. Ground to which the advance had been carried with cost
would not be lightly given up. Moberly, Company Sergeant-Major
Cairns, and Guest--the latter by volunteering in daylight to run the
gauntlet of the German snipers back to Headquarters--greatly
distinguished themselves in the task of maintaining this exposed
position during the night of August 22 and throughout August 23. Some
of our men had to remain in shell-holes unsupported and shot at from
several directions for over fifty hours. During the night of August
23/24 the Battalion was relieved, when those whom death in battle had
not claimed nor wounds despatched to hospital marched back through
Ypres to the old camp at Goldfish Château.
The attack, in which the Bucks had successfully co-operated on the
right of our advance, earned credit for the Brigade and the Battalion.
It had been, from a fighting standpoint, a military success. But from
the strategical aspect the operations showed by their conclusion that
the error had been made of nibbling with weak forces at objectives
which could only have been captured and secured by strong. Moreover,
the result suggested that the objectives had been made on this occasion
for the attack rather than the attack for the objectives. The 184th
Brigade had played the part assigned to it completely and with credit,
but what had been gained by it with heavy loss was in fact given up by
its successors almost at once. Withdrawal from the Kansas trenches
became an obvious corollary to the German omission to counter-attack
against them. Ground not in dispute 'twas not worth casualties to
hold. On the Battalion's front Pond Farm, a small concrete
stronghold, remained the sole fruit of the attack of August 22. It was
after the 61st Division had been withdrawn, wasted in stationary war,
that what success could be associated with this third battle of Ypres
commenced. Judged by its efforts, the 61st was ill paid in results.
On August 25 the Battalion, and with it the rest of the Brigade, moved
back from Goldfish Château to Query Camp, near Brandhoek. The weather,
which had been fairly fine for several weeks, now again broke in
thunderstorms and rain. Trees were blown down along the main road to
Ypres. The clouds hung low or raced before the wind, so that no
aeroplane nor kite-balloon could mount the sky. This meteorological
revulsion stood the Germans in great stead. Mud and delay, fatal to
us, were to them tactical assets of the highest value. As can easily
be appreciated, to postpone a complicated attack is a proceeding only
less lengthy and difficult than its preparation, nor can attacks even
be cancelled except at quite considerable notice. Thus it befell that
some of our attacks, before they had commenced, were ruined by deluges
of rain when it was too late to change the plans. On August 27 a
further attack upon Gallipoli, Schuler Farm and Winnipeg was made by
the 183rd Brigade in co-operation with the 15th and 48th Divisions.
The mud and enemy machine-gun fire alike proved terrible. The contact
aeroplane soon crashed, the advance failed to reach the 'pill-boxes'
from which the Germans held out, and before night a return had to be
made to the original line.
On August 30 the Brigade went forward once again to Goldfish Château.
The camp had not been improved by our predecessors, who had attempted
to dig in. Holes filled with water were the result, and nearly all the
tents and shelters had to be moved. Since the stagnation of the battle
German shelling in the back area had much increased. The field where
the camp lay was bounded on three sides by railways or roads. Some of
our 12-inch howitzers were close in front. Despite our best attempts
to sever association with such targets we had a share in the shells
intended for them. One night especially the long howl of German shells
ended in their arrival very near our tents. The latter had been placed
at one side of the field in order to escape, as we expected, the
shells more likely to be aimed by German gunners at the main road and
railway as targets. We changed our 'pitch,' but the next morning came
a pursuing shell on an old line of fire, which made it clear that the
best place was the deliberate middle of the field.
The passage overhead of German aeroplanes made nights uneasy. Darkness
was lit by those huge flashes in the sky, which denoted explosions of
our dumps of shells. The ground shook many times an hour with great
concussions. Sometimes the crash of bombs and patter of machine-guns
firing at our transport lasted till pale dawn appeared or its approach
was heralded by the bombardment of our guns, whose voice pronounced
the prologue of attack.
On both sides the concentration of artillery was very great. Though
the bad weather had shackled our advance from the start, our staff yet
hoped to gain the ridge of Passchendaele before winter set in. The
Germans, too, held that the stake was high. Our guns, which were
advanced as far as Wieltje and St. Jean and stood exposed in the open,
became the object of persistent German shelling. Sound-ranging and
aerial photography had reached a high development, and few of our
batteries went undiscovered. For the Artillery life became as hard as
for the Infantry. Gunner casualties were very numerous. Our batteries
for hours on end were drenched in mustard-gas. Into Ypres as well
large quantities of 'Yellow Cross' shells, cleverly mixed up with
high-explosive, were fired with nocturnal frequency. The long range of
the enemy's field-guns made the effect of these subtle gas-shells,
whose flight and explosion were almost noiseless amid the din of our
own artillery, especially widespread. The enemy's activity against our
back area was at its height at the end of August, 1917. Casualty
Clearing Stations were both bombed and shelled. Near Poperinghe nurses
were killed. No service forward of Corps Headquarters but had its
casualties. Our lorry-drivers' work was fraught with danger. The
Germans were waging a war to the knife and employing every means to
serve their obstinate resistance.
[Illustration: VLAMERTINGE--THE ROAD TO YPRES]
The 'defence in depth,' practised to some extent at Arras, had become
the enemy's reply to our destruction by artillery of the trench
systems on which, earlier in the war, he had relied with confidence.
Destruction of prepared positions had reached so absolute a stage
that the old arguments of wire and machine-guns brought up from deep
dug-outs to fire over parapets, were no longer present. The ground to
a distance of several thousand yards behind the enemy's front line
could be, and had been, churned and rechurned into one brown expanse.
For four miles east of Ypres there was no green space and hardly a
yard of ground without its shell-hole. Positions where the enemy held
out consisted in groups of concrete 'pill-boxes,' which had been made
from Belgian gravel and cement in partial anticipation of this result
of the artillery war. They in all cases were carefully sited and so
small (being designed to hold machine-guns and their teams) that their
destruction by our heavy shells was almost impossible. These
'pill-boxes' were also so designed as to support each other, that is
to say, if one of them were captured, the fire of others on its flanks
often compelled the captors to yield it up. Garrisons were provided
from the _élite_ of the German army. One cannot but admire the
steadfastness with which, during this phase of warfare, these solitary
strongholds held out. Indeed, the only way to cope with this defence
was to press an advance on a wide front to such a depth as to reduce
the entire area in which these pill-boxes lay into our possession. By
attacking spasmodically we played the enemy's game.
Our methods of attack which had been practised through the spring and
summer still consisted, broadly speaking, in the advance of lines of
Infantry behind a creeping barrage. These lines were too often held
up by pill-boxes, against which the creeping barrage was ineffectual,
and once delay which had not been calculated on occurred, the creeping
barrage was proved doubly useless, for it had outdistanced the speed
of the advance. The change in tactics necessary to reduce these
concrete strongholds was soon appreciated, but troops who had been
trained in the older methods were slow, in action, to adopt the new
ones requisite. Partly from such a reason the 61st Division scored
little success against the pill-box defence, but lack of tangible
results was not joined with lack of honest attempts. The mud, the
nibbling tactics passed down from above, inadequate co-operation by
the divisions fighting side by side with us, and the failure of our
artillery to hit the pill-boxes which we had hoped could be put out of
action by our heavy shells, further combined to paralyse efforts
which, had they been directed to more easy tasks, would now, as often,
have earned for the Division the highest military success.
CHAPTER XI.
THE ATTACK ON HILL 35,
SEPTEMBER, 1917.
Iberian, Hill 35, and Gallipoli.--The Battalion ordered to make the
seventh attempt against Hill 35.--The task.--A and D Companies
selected.--The assembly position.--Gassed by our own side.--
Waiting for zero.--The attack.--Considerations governing its
failure.--The Battalion quits the Ypres battlefield.
'At 4 p.m.' said the 61st Divisional Summary for the twenty-four hours
ending 12 noon, September 11, 1917, 'we attacked the Battery Position
on Hill 35. This attack was not successful.' A grim epitaph. The terse
formula, as though wasted words must not follow wasted lives, was the
official record of the seventh attempt to storm Hill 35.
Against the concrete gunpits which crowned this insignificant ridge
the waves of our advance on July 31 had lapped in vain. Minor attacks
designed to take Gallipoli, a German stronghold set behind the ridge,
and against the sister position of Iberian on its flank, proved
throughout August some of the most costly failures in the 5th Army
operations. The defence of the three strongholds, Iberian, Hill 35,
and Gallipoli provided a striking example of German stubbornness
and skill, but added an object-lesson in the squandering of our
efforts in attack. Operations upon a general scale having failed to
capture all three, it was fantastically hoped that each could be
reduced separately. Iberian, Hill 35, and Gallipoli supported one
another, nor was it feasible to hold any without holding all. Yet to
take Hill 35 on September 9 the 2/4th Oxfords were specially selected.
The spirit of A and D Companies, chosen by Colonel Wetherall for the
attack, was excellent. We confidently believed that we could succeed
where others failed. Optimism, so vital an ingredient in morale, was a
powerful assistant to the English Army. It was fostered, perhaps
unconsciously, throughout the war by the cheerful attitude preserved
by our Generals and staff, but its foundation lay in our great system
of supply. The A.S.C., which helped to win our victories, helped, too,
to temper our defeats.
[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON HILL 35 SEPTEMBER 10 1917]
On September 7 Brown and myself went up through Ypres to view the
scene of the attack. At Wieltje, where Colonel Wetherall and B and C
Companies already were, we descended to a deep, wet dug-out and that
night listened to a narrative brought by an officer who had
participated in the last attempt to take the hill. He dispensed the
most depressing information about the gunpits, the machine-guns, the
barrages, and last, but not least terrible (if believed), the new
incendiary Verey lights used by the Germans to cremate their assailants.
The description of a piece of trench, which we were to capture and
block, particularly flattered our prospects. 'Wide, shallow trench,
enfiladed from Gallipoli, filled with --th Division dead,' it ran. The
tale of horror becoming ludicrous, we soon afterwards clambered on to
the wire bunks and slept, dripped on, till the early morning.
The next day was misty. Our 15-inch howitzers on whose ability to
smash the enemy's concrete strongholds reliance was staked, could not
fire. The attack was postponed until September 10, but that decision
came too late to stop our companies quitting the camp according to
previous orders and marching up through Ypres. They could have stayed
at Wieltje for the night, but the men's fear that by so doing they
would miss their hot tea, decided their vote in favour of a return to
Goldfish Château. Tea is among the greatest bribes that can be offered
to the British soldier.
Accordingly the march through Ypres, or rather, round it (for no
troops chose to pass its market place) was repeated on the morrow. The
tracks towards the line were shelled on our way up, but we came safely
through. Dusk was awaited in a much war-worn trench in front of
Wieltje.
As daylight fades we file away, each man with his own thoughts. Whose
turn is it to be this journey?
Along the tortuous track of tipsy duckboards we go for a mile, until
acrid fumes tell that the German barrage line is being passed. This is
a moment to press on! To get the Company safely across this hundred
yards is worth many a fall.
... Presently the shattered pollards of the Steenbeek are left behind
and flickering Verey lights cast into weird relief the rugged surface
of the earth. At Pommern Castle our front trenches, in which figures
of men loom indistinctly, are reached. At one corner, where the trench
is littered with fragments, we are cautioned by a sentry, whose voice
is a little shaken, not to linger; the entrance to a pill-box (which
faced the enemy) was hit a short time ago. From the trench we proceed
further into No-Man's-Land, where the Bucks are said to have linked up
shell-holes since nightfall. (Those will be our 'assembly position'
for the attack to-morrow afternoon).
By now all shells are passing over our heads; we are level with where
Verey lights are falling, and the sweep of bullets through the air
shows that the enemy is not far off. Figures appear as if by magic.
All at once there is a crowd of men, rattling equipment and talking in
suppressed voices. A few commands, and the relief is complete. We are
in No-Man's-Land, strung in a line of shell-holes, from which in
sixteen hours' time the attack is to start.
* * * * *
Soon after 3 a.m. I set out to visit all the scattered groups of men
to give my last instructions, for from dawn onwards no movement would
be possible. It was an eerie situation. The night was filled with
multifarious noise--peculiar 'poops,' the distant crash of bombs, and
all the mingled echoes of a battlefield. At one time German howitzers,
firing at longest range, chimed a faint chorus high above our heads;
anon a hissing swoop would plant a shell close to our whereabouts.
Lights rose and sank, flickering. Red and green rockets, as if to
ornament the tragedy of war, were dancing in the sky. Occasionally a
gust of foul wind, striking the face, could make one fancy that
Death's Spectre marched abroad, claiming her children....
Our guns fired incessantly. Their shells came plunging down with an
arriving whistle that made each one as it came seem that it must drop
short--and many did. Mist drifted fitfully around and hid, now and
again, two derelict tanks, at which a forward post of my company was
stationed. This post I was on my way to visit, when, suddenly, what
seemed trench-mortar bombs began to fall. About twenty fell in a
minute, the last ones very close to where I stood.
They were gas. It was a sickening moment; surprise, disaster, and the
possibility that here was some new German devilry fired at us from
behind, joined with the fumes to numb the mind and powers. Half-gassed
I gave the gas-alarm. By telephone I managed to report what had
happened. The Colonel seemed to understand at once; 'I've stopped
them,' conveyed everything of which it was immediately necessary to
make certain.
[Illustration: HILL 35, from an aeroplane photograph taken a week
before the attack of Sept 10. Note the four derelict Tanks]
For it was an attack by our own gas. Some detachment, without
notifying our Brigade staff or selecting a target which sanity could
have recommended, had done a 'shoot' against my company's position
under the mistake that the enemy was in it. Two casualties, which I
believe proved fatal, resulted. Many men vomited. I was prostrated for
two hours. The effect on the morale of some of my men was as pitiable
as it was amply justifiable.
For this dastardly outrage I fancy that no person was ever brought to
book. Infantry loyally condoned the so-called 'short shooting' by our
guns. Out of thousands of shells fired at the enemy some must and did
fall in our lines. But from such condonation is specifically to be
excepted this instance of a gas projection carried out with criminal
negligence upon my comrades. For or by its perpetrator no excuse was
offered; and yet the facts were never in dispute.
Proverbially the worst part of an attack was waiting for it. On
September 10, from dawn till 4 p.m., A and D Companies lay cramped in
shell holes on the slopes of Hill 35. In my own hole, so close that
our knees touched, sat Sergeant Palmer, Rowbotham, my signalling
lance-corporal, Baxter, another signaller, Davies, my runner, and
myself. With us we had a telephone and a basket of carrier pigeons.
At 8 a.m., while some of us were sleeping heavily, there came a crash
and a jar, which shook every fibre in the body. An English shell had
burst a yard or two from the hole wherein we lay. Voices from
neighbouring shell-holes hailed us--'Are you all right?': and we
replied 'We are.' We had no other shell as close as that, but all day
long there were two English guns whose shells, aimed at the Germans on
the ridge in front, fell so near to where we lay that we became
half-used to being spattered with their earth. As the air warmed the
error of these guns decreased, but we counted the hours anxiously
until the attack should liberate us from such cruel jeopardy.[8]
[Footnote 8: At this stage in the war the barrels
of many of our guns and howitzers in use on the
Western Front were very worn. That fact alone and
not any want of care or devotion on the part of our
Artillery or staff would have accounted for the
'short shooting' which I record. To locate a worn
barrel, when scores of batteries were bombarding
together according to a complicated programme, was
naturally impossible. Infantry recognised this.]
The intolerable duration of that day baffles description. The sun,
which had displaced a morning mist, struck down with unrelenting rays
till shrapnel helmets grew hot as oven-doors. Bluebottles (for had not
six attempts failed to take the hill?) buzzed busily. The heat, our
salt rations, the mud below, the brazen sky above, and the suspense of
waiting for the particular minute of attack, vied for supremacy in the
emotions. The drone of howitzers continued all the day. Only at 2.30
p.m., when a demonstration was made against Iberian, did any variety
even occur. There was no choice nor respite. Not by one minute could
the attack be either anticipated or postponed.
Of the attack itself the short outline is soon given. Promptly at 4
p.m. the creeping barrage started. In a dazed way or lighting
cigarettes the men, who had lost during the long wait all sense of
their whereabouts, began to stumble forward up the hill. Our shrapnel
barrage was not good. One of the earliest shells burst just behind
the hole from which I stepped. It wounded Rowbotham and Baxter (my two
signallers) and destroyed the basket of carrier pigeons. Of other
English shells I saw the brown splash amongst our men. Prolonged
bombardment had ploughed the ground into a welter of crumbling earth
and mud. Our progress at only a few dozen yards a minute gave the
Germans in their pill-boxes ample time to get their machine-guns
going, while correspondingly the barrage passed away from our advance
in its successive lifts. Heavy firing from Iberian commenced to
enfilade our ranks. Long before the objective was approached our
enemies, who in some cases left the pill-boxes and manned positions
outside, were masters of the situation. The seventh attempt had failed
to struggle up the slopes of Hill 35.
Despite the disappointment of this immediate failure of the
enterprise, I realised at once the impossibility of its success. Yet
on this occasion less was done by the men than the conduct of their
leaders deserved. Almost as soon as bullets had begun to bang through
the air some men had gone to shelter. Those who stood still were mown
down. A handful of D Company, led by the company commander, by short
rushes reached a ruined tank, close to the enemy, but the remainder
disappeared into shell-holes, whence encouragement was powerless to
move them. Only in A Company was any fire opened.
No sense of anti-climax could be demanded of the English soldier,
whose daily shilling was paid him whether he was in rest-billets,
on working-party, or sent into the attack.[9]
[Footnote 9: Nowhere is this truth better expressed
than in the words of 'Tommy's' own song, the
refrain of which ends:--
'But you get your "bob" a day, never mind!']
On the part also of the Artillery less was done than the scheme
promised or our attacking Infantry had counted on. By shell-fire the
issue of Hill 35 was to have been placed beyond doubt. When the
artillery machine broke down, achievement of success demanded more
initiative on the part of the Infantry than if no artillery had been
used. In a sense our loss of a hundred guns at Cambrai a few weeks
later became a blessing in disguise, for it restored the scales in
favour of the Infantryman as the decisive agent on the field of
battle.
So ended the attack on Hill 35. Upon its slopes were added our dead to
the dead of many regiments. But our casualties were few considering
that the attack had been brought to a standstill by machine-gun fire.
Of D Company officers Guest was wounded (he had behaved with gallantry
in the attack) and Copinger missing. Viggers, a very brave sergeant,
was killed. Three lance-corporals, Wise, Rowbotham, and Goodman, had
been wounded. The total casualties to the Battalion, including several
in B Company Headquarters from a single shell and others in passing
afterwards through Ypres, were, happily, under fifty.
A few days after its attack on Hill 35 the Battalion marched away from
Ypres, never to return. What credit had been earned there by the
61st Division was principally associated with the work of the 184th
Infantry Brigade and of the 2/4th Oxfords. Improvement in morale
flowed from the test of this great battle. The losses of the Battalion
had been heavy; fourteen officers and 260 men were its casualties. The
final winning of the war could not be unconnected with such a
sacrifice. Like others before and others after it, the Battalion at
Ypres gave its pledge to posterity.
CHAPTER XII.
AUTUMN AT ARRAS AND THE MOVE TO CAMBRAI,
OCTOBER, NOVEMBER, DECEMBER, 1917.
The Battalion's return to Arras.--A quiet front.--The Brigadier
and his staff.--A novelty in tactics.--B Company's raid.--A
sudden move.--The Cambrai front.--Havrincourt Wood.--Christmas
at Suzanne.
From Arras the 61st Division came to Ypres: to Arras it returned.
After a week spent in the back area, advance by the usual stepping
stones was made to the front line. The 184th was the last Brigade to
go into the trenches; not till the beginning of October did it take
over the line. The front held by the 61st Division stretched from the
Chemical Works of Roeux upon the right to a point south of Gavrelle
upon the left. Two Brigades were in the line at once and stayed
twenty-four days, Battalions changing places during the period. A rest
of twelve days back at Arras followed.
This process of relief and the general conditions brought a return of
trench-warfare almost on its old lines. As autumn waned gumboots were
even spoken of. The trenches were mostly of chalk, and had been left
by the 17th Division in excellent condition. The experience of a former
winter prevented the error being made, at all events in theory, of
leaving trenches unfloored and unrevetted, until winter, bringing its
consequence of mud, arrived. Especially the mile-long communication
trenches called 'Chili' and 'Civil' Avenues, if they were to be kept
passable, required attention. A thorough programme of work with R.E.
and the Pioneers was put in hand. Dry trenches would have repaid its
labour spent in carrying and digging, had the Battalion stayed in this
sector for the winter. As not unexpectedly happened, we had left the
scene of our labours before winter set in.
More than three weeks of October were spent by the Battalion in the
trenches. This was no great hardship. Half of the time was spent
nearly two miles behind the line in an old German trench known as the
Gavrelle Switch. In this position there was little restriction, if
indeed there could ever be any--short of its prohibition--on the
making of smoke, and with good rations and day working parties the men
were happy enough. But these long periods in the trenches, when no
proper parades or drill were possible, though acquiesced in by the men
themselves, were bad for the Battalion's discipline. Much regard was
always paid--especially in the 61st Division--to what is called 'turn
out.' This meant more than button-polishing. It was that quality of
alertness and self-respect which even in the trenches could be
maintained. Trench-life bred loafers, and loafers never made the
best soldiers. It was a good thing when October 28 came and the
Battalion moved back to Arras for a twelve days' spell in rest.
Billets were the French prison, whose cells provided excellent
accommodation.
Arras in the autumn of 1917 was an attractive place. The clear
atmosphere, through which the sun shone undimmed by factory-smoke,
lent to its majestic ruins almost Italian colouring. Upon the western
side of the town quite a number of undamaged houses still remained; at
its centre the theatre and concert hall had luckily escaped
destruction, and to hear the various divisional troupes most crowded
audiences assembled every night. The streets, though unlighted, were
thronged with jostling multitudes. The Arras front, as though in
acknowledgement of greater happenings elsewhere, had become dormant
since midsummer. Against the trenches themselves little activity by
the enemy was shown, and in the back area, pending a change of policy
by us, quietude reigned during the early autumn. A big German gun
occasionally threw its shells towards our Transport lines at St.
Nicholas or into Arras Station. One day a party which had come several
hours early to secure good places on the leave train was scattered by
the unscheduled arrival of a shell.
[Illustration: A STREET IN ARRAS]
During the stay of the Battalion at the prison, Thomas, our champion
boxer, issued a challenge to the divisions near the town. A man from
the 15th Division, heavier than Thomas, accepted. In the fight which
ensued before many spectators the Oxford man won on a knock-out in
the fourth round. So strong at this time was the Battalion in boxing
that Brigade competitions became foregone conclusions.
Another feature of this period was a Brigade school, with Bennett as
its commandant, at Arras. A week's course was held for each platoon in
the Brigade. The school was well run and partly recompensed for the
lack of training during the long tours in the trenches.
More than a year had passed since General White first took command of
the 184th Infantry Brigade. During that time the Brigade had improved
out of all recognition. For such result its commander was more than
partially responsible. The General had to the full the quality called
'drive'; that, rather than profound knowledge of military science,
made him a first-rate Brigadier. War is a department of the world's
business, in which capacity not only to work oneself, but to make
others work, begets success. I should hesitate to say of General White
that he 'used' others, but his prudent selection of subordinates
ensured that all units in his Brigade were well commanded. He was more
than a good judge of character: hollow prevarication was useless with
him, and bluff--though, when he liked, he was himself a master of
it--a dangerous policy. Among the shrewd qualities of this man there
were the abilities to summarize rapidly whatever he had been told, and
to remember most of everything he saw. His power of observation was so
developed that sometimes the actual picture of some detail--such as a
dirty rifle, a man without equipment, or a few sand bags laid
awry--lent him a false impression of the whole. Yet his memory and
rapid power of observation made him a real tactician--I use the
adjective advisedly. No man who knew less, and there were few who knew
more, of the front line than he did, could afford to argue with him
about the position of a machine-gun, although if the matter had been
presented as of theory at some headquarters rather than upon the
ground, the machine-gun expert would perhaps have held his own.
'Bobbie' did not interfere with his staff officers in their
'paper-work,' but if ever occasion demanded he did not hesitate to
draw his pen, not in self-defence, but in defence of the Brigade and
his subordinates. He was no party to that unctuous politeness that
sprang up during the war when staff met staff upon the telephone. He
thought nothing of ringing up Corps, and expected speech with the head
of a department, for he was the enemy of all high-placed
obstructionists. His fame spread widely on the telephone. Impatient of
camouflage, he learnt with difficulty the language of code-names under
which it was sought to disguise our units to the enemy. 'Brigadier of
184 speaking,' he would say; 'Are you the Bucks.... What regiment are
you?' There was an 'amplifier' at 'Tank Dump'; it was always most
faithfully manned about 8 p.m.
[Illustration: "TANK DUMP"]
The example which the General set was especially fine. He spent every
day and nearly all day in the front line. Nothing annoyed him more
than, say, at 9 a.m. to receive the message of a divisional conference
fixed for his headquarters at 11. Equipped in his short overalls and
shrapnel-helmet (conspicuous in a light cover) and carrying a white
walking-stick, he used to quit Brigade Headquarters with matutinal
punctuality. His outset borrowed something of the atmosphere of 'John
Peel' on a fine morning. Battalion Headquarters, if not warned
surreptitiously of his arrival, would scramble through their breakfast
(not that the General designed to interfere either with rest or
eating) as his form outlined itself in the doorway, accompanied by
cheery greeting. In the front line itself his visits were refreshing.
Prospects of shelling never deterred him. No post was too far forward
for him to pay it a call. Often, when shells fell, he deliberately
remained to share the danger. Once I knew him to return to a trench,
which had been quite heavily shelled while he was there, because the
Germans started on it again. A prodigious walker, he tired of daylight
imprisonment to trenches and chose the 'top.' His figure must have
been familiar to enemy observers. But his route was so erratic that,
though he drew fire on many unexpected places after he had left, he
was rarely himself shot at during his progress.
The General is a great representative of _esprit de corps_, and
believes strongly in military comradeship. In a sense his claim for
'esprit de Brigade' was a little far-fetched, for Battalions held to
themselves very much, and the fact that they relieved each other,
though often a bond of alliance, was sometimes also a cause of
friction. Between Battalions he did not shrink from making comparisons.
'My Berks' had done this; 'My Bucks' should do the same. Much good
resulted. The standard of efficiency was raised. Though at times he
was discovered to be naïvely inconsistent, one thing was certain--the
184th Brigade felt throughout its members that it was the best in the
Division. The war has not produced many great men, but it has produced
many great figures--amongst whom Robert White is by no means the
least.
If it was well commanded by its General, the 184th Brigade was as well
served by its staff. Gepp, the Brigade Major at Laventie, had been the
pattern of a staff officer. His advice was at the service of the most
recent company commander or newest subaltern. With Gepp as author, no
march-table ever went wrong. Moore fell no whit short of his
predecessor in ability. He was alike eager to acquire and to impart
his knowledge, which in military matters was both profound and
practical. He made friends readily with regimental officers, for he
remained one of them at heart and in outlook. His powers were truly at
the service of the whole Brigade. When George Moore left in September,
1917, to take command of a Battalion, the third Brigade Major who
makes a figure in my history appeared--H. G. Howitt. In the sequence
fortune continued to favour the Brigade. Howitt was a Territorial
whose prowess had been proved in the Somme fighting. In place of a
long staff training he brought business powers. He was indulgent of
everything save fear, laziness, and inefficiency. Stout-hearted
himself, he expected stoutness in others; this was the right attitude
of a staff officer. Though a business man by training, he did not
negotiate with the war; in him everything was better than his writing.
Of these three, Gepp, Moore, Howitt, it would be difficult to name the
best Brigade Major; the 184th Brigade was happy in the trio.
On November 9 the 2/4th Oxfords returned to the trenches in weather
that was still relatively fine. The Brigade sector had been changed;
its front now stretched across the Douai railway below the slope of
Greenland Hill. The previous quietude of the trenches now gave place
to more activity. German shelling much increased. The ruins of the
famous Chemical Works, which covered several acres of ground, were
daily stirred by the explosions of shells among the tangled wreckage
of boiler-pipes and twisted metal. In the front line trench-mortaring
became frequent. On November 14 Cuthbert was wounded by a bomb which
fell inside the trench, and other casualties occurred, including the
General's runner. Many new officers and men had joined since Ypres.
Wiltshire took up the adjutantcy when Cuthbert left.
Plans were afoot for a big demonstration to cover the surprise by
English tanks at Havrincourt on November 20. A series of gas
projections, smoke barrages, and raids were to take place. The better
to maintain secrecy from the German 'listening-sets' no telephones
were used. The Battalion bore its share in the programme; already at
Arras plans for a novel raid were under contemplation. Cuthbert had
devised a scheme, which Colonel Wetherall adopted and chose B Company,
under Moberly, to carry out. The details of this raid, inasmuch as
their novelty is of some historical interest, demand an explanation.
Gas fired in shells was of two sorts, lethal and non-lethal. The
former was a deadly poison. Unless taken in large quantities, the
latter had no fatal, nor indeed serious, effects; designed to irritate
the throat and eyes, it caused such sneezing and hiccoughing that
whosoever breathed this sort of gas lost temporarily his self-control.
Lethal and non-lethal gas were intermingled both by the Germans and
ourselves with high explosive shells; the effect of each assisted the
effect of the other. If one began to sneeze from the effect of
non-lethal gas, one could not wear a gas-helmet to resist the lethal;
the high-explosive shells disguised both types. Now it was planned by
Wetherall to fire lethal gas against the enemy for several nights. On
the night of the raid and during it, non-lethal only would be used.
The two gases smelt alike and the presumption was that on the night of
the raid the enemy would wear gas-helmets.
[Illustration: IN A GERMAN GUN-PIT NEAR GAVRELLE]
On the evening of November 17, only an hour before the raid was to
take place, it was announced that the wrong type of shells had been
delivered to the artillery. Barely in time to avert a fiasco, the
affair was cancelled. Two nights afterwards, when the wind luckily was
again from the right direction, the raid was carried out. The Germans,
of whom some were found in gas-helmets, had no inkling of our plan. B
Company, though they missed the gap through the enemy's wire, entered
the trenches without opposition and captured a machine-gun which
was pointing directly at their approach but never fired. Wallington,
the officer in command of the storming party, killed several Germans.
As often, there was difficulty in finding the way back to our lines;
in fact, Moberly, the commander of the raid, after some wandering in
No-Man's-Land, entered the trenches of a Scotch division upon our
right. His appearance and comparative inability to speak their
language made him a suspicious visitor to our kilted neighbours.
Moberly rejoined his countrymen under escort.
For a long time it seemed that no material results had been achieved
in the raid. But the next morning Private Hatt, who for his exploit
gained the D.C.M., crawled into our lines carrying the machine-gun
which he had hugged all night between the German lines and ours. This
raid took place the night preceding the great Cambrai offensive, and
the success of Moberly and B Company formed part of the demonstration
designed to attract enemy reserves away from the area of the operation
mentioned.
On the last day of November the Division was withdrawn from the Arras
sector: its move to relieve some of the troops who had been severely
handled by the enemy at Bourlon Wood seemed probable. Events occurred
to change the destination. The Battalion, after two nights at Arras,
entrained amid all symptoms of haste on the morning of November 30 and
travelled without the transport to Bapaume. The noise of battle and
excited staff-officers greeted its arrival. In the back area it was on
everybody's lips that the enemy had broken through. Bapaume was being
shelled, many officers had travelled unprepared for an early
engagement with the enemy, and the General was not yet on the scene;
the situation was as unexpected as it was exciting. At 3 p.m. we were
placed in buses under Bicknell's directions and moved rapidly to
Bertincourt, a village four kilometres west of Havrincourt Wood. The
night of November 30/December 1 was spent in an open field. It was
intensely cold. At 4 a.m. a flank march was made to Fins, where some
empty huts were found. Enemy long range shells, aimed at the railway,
kept falling in the village. Through Fins at 10 a.m. on December 1 the
Guards marched forward to do their famous counter-attack on
Gouzeaucourt; on the afternoon of the same day the Battalion moved up
to Metz, whither Brigade Headquarters had already gone. During the
night, which was frosty and moonlight, the Colonel led the Battalion
across country to occupy a part of the Hindenburgh Line west of La
Vacquerie. On the following morning the enemy delivered a heavy attack
upon the village, from which, after severe losses in killed and
prisoners, troops of the 182nd Brigade were driven back. To assist
them C Company was detached from the Battalion. The trenches--our
front was now the Hindenburg Line--were frozen, there was snow on the
ground, and the temporary supremacy of the enemy in guns and sniping
produced a toll of casualties. It was an anxious time, but the
Battalion was involved in no actual fighting; the German
counter-attack, for the time-being, was at an end.
The 61st Division was left holding a line of snow-bound trenches
between Gonnelieu and La Vacquerie, consisting of fragments both of
the Hindenburg Line, the old German front line, and our own as it
stood before the Cambrai battle opened. Except in the 184th Brigade
the casualties suffered by the Division during the heavy German
counter-attacks had been heavier than those at Ypres. The 2/4 Oxfords
by luck had escaped a share in this fighting, and the Battalion's
casualties during these critical events were few.
The German counter-attack from Cambrai was an important step in the
war's progress. At the time it was considered even more important than
it was. Judged by the rapidity with which they were replaced, the loss
of guns and stores by us was not of high moment; it mattered more that
for the first time since the Second Battle of Ypres the enemy had driven
back our lines several miles. A counter-surprise had been effected. On a
small scale the panic of defeat was proved by its physical results
upon the ground. The valley north-east of Gouzeaucourt was littered
with all kinds of relics, which in trench warfare or in our attacks
had been unknown. Whole camps had been sacked and their contents, in
the shape of clothing, equipment and blankets, were strewn broadcast.
Packets of socks and shirts showed where an English quartermaster's
stores had been, and flapping canvas and dismantled shelters were
evidence of a local _débâcle_ to our side. The sight of derelict
tractors, motor cars, and steam rollers, left in the sunken road at
Gouzeaucourt, produced a sense of shock. A broad-gauge railway train,
captured complete with trucks and locomotive and recovered in our
counter-attack, bore witness to a victory seized but not secured. The
battles of Ypres and Cambrai, 1917, though well-fought and not without
results, robbed the British army for the time being of the initiative
upon the Western Front. America became spoken of--1918, it was said,
would be a defensive year. Yet the German success had in reality no
effect upon our Infantry's morale. By the troops engaged in it Cambrai
had been almost forgotten before Christmas. Less than a year
afterwards the Germans had lost, not only Cambrai, but the war.
The end of 1917 was as cold as its beginning. Snow and frost, destined
to play utter havoc with the roads, laid their white mantle on the
battlefield. Fighting had slackened when the Battalion went into the
line in front of Gonnelieu. The trenches there ran oddly between
derelict tanks, light railways, and dismantled huts; in No-Man's-Land
lay several batteries of our guns.
[Illustration: THE CANAL DU NORD AT YPRES]
On December 7 the 183rd Brigade relieved the Battalion, which moved
back to tents in Havrincourt Wood. It was bitter! Shells and aeroplane
bombs made the wood dangerous as well as cold. On the 10th a further
tour in the front line commenced This time trenches north-east of
Villers Plouich were held. Wiring was strenuously carried out, but
save for activity by trench-mortars the enemy lay quiet. The Battalion
returned to Havrincourt Wood on December 15 and remained in its frozen
tents until the Division was relieved by the 63rd. After one night at
Lechelle the Battalion entrained at Ytres and moved back to Christmas
rest-billets at Suzanne, near Bray.
Huts, built by the French but vacated more than a year ago and now
very dilapidated, formed the accommodation. In them Christmas dinners,
to procure which Bennett had proceeded early from the line, were
eaten. And O'Meara conducted the Brigade band.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE GREAT GERMAN ATTACK OF MARCH 21,
JANUARY, FEBRUARY, MARCH, 1918.
The French relieved on the St. Quentin front.--The calm before the
storm.--A golden age.--The Warwick raid.--The German attack
launched.--Defence of Enghien Redoubt.--Counter-attack by the
Royal Berks.--Holnon Wood lost.--The battle for the Beauvoir line.
--The enemy breaks through.
The Battalion's mid-winter respite was brief. On New Year's Eve, 1917,
the 2/4th Oxfords quitted the wretched Suzanne huts and marched
through Harbonnières to Caix. No 'march past' was necessary or would
have been possible, for so slippery was the road that the men had to
trail along its untrodden sides as best they could. Old 61st
Divisional sign-boards left standing nearly a year ago greeted the
return to an area which was familiar to many. The destination should
have been Vauvillers, but the inhabitants of that village were
stricken with measles. Better billets and freedom from infection
compensated for a longer march. At Caix the Battalion was comfortable
for a week.
The Division's move from the Bray-Suzanne area to south of the Somme
heralded a new relief of the French, whose line was now to be
shortened by the amount on its left flank between St. Quentin and La
Fère. About January 11 the Battalion found itself once more in Holnon
Wood, where a large number of huts and dug-outs had been made by the
French since last spring. The front line, now about to be held between
Favet and Gricourt, was almost in its old position. The outpost line
of nine months ago had crystallised into the usual trench system.
Those courteous preliminaries, so much the feature of a French relief,
were, on this re-introduction to scenes soon to become so famous--and
so tragic--a little marred by an untimely German shell which wounded
Weller, who had accompanied the Colonel to see the new line.
Industrious calm succeeded the relief. Since the Russian break-up and
the consequent liberation from the Eastern Front of fresh German
legions, the British army had been on the defensive. A big effort by
the enemy was expected, and when it came, the St. Quentin front was
not unlikely to receive the brunt of his massed attack. The months of
January and February and the first half of March were ominously quiet.
Shelling was spasmodic. After the artillery activity of the last
summer and autumn our guns seemed lazy. So quiet was it that Abraham
used to ride up to the two small copses that lay behind our front.
For the time being the 'offensive spirit' was in abeyance; our paramount
task was the perfection of our defensive system. By this time in the
war it was acknowledged that against attacks in weight no actual
line could be held intact. Faith in 'lines' became qualified in favour
of the series of 'strong points' or redoubts, which were constructed
to defend 'tactical features.' This policy, founded on our experience
of the German defence during the Third Battle of Ypres, was very
sound. All the redoubts constructed in the area occupied by the 184th
Brigade were so well sited and so strongly wired that the faith seemed
justified that they were part of one impregnable system. But against
loss of one important factor no amount of industry could serve to
insure. 'Strong points' must act in concert and for such mutual action
'on the day' good visibility was essential. As we shall see, this
factor was denied. In rear of these redoubts, which lay along the
ridge west of Fayet, a line known as the 'Battle Line' was fortified,
and in rear again a trench was dug to mark the 'Army Line,' where the
last stand would be made. These lines were strong, but more reliance
was apt to be placed upon their mere existence on the ground than, in
default of any co-existent scheme to fill them at a crisis with
appropriate garrisons, was altogether justified.[10]
[Footnote 10: For the _terrain_ referred to in this
chapter see the maps ante pp. 83 and 95.]
Early in the year the Bucks had been taken from the Brigade (now like
all Infantry Brigades reduced to three Battalions) and went to Nesle
to work as an entrenching Battalion. Many old friends, including
especially Colonel 'Jock' Muir, had to be parted with. The three
Battalions which remained were now arranged in 'depth,' a phrase
explained by stating that while one, say the Berks, held the front
line 'twixt Fayet and Gricourt, the Gloucesters as Support Battalion
would be in Holnon Wood and ourselves, the Oxfords, in reserve and
back at Ugny. When a relief took place the Gloucesters went to the
front line, ourselves to Holnon, and the Berks back to Ugny. The
Battalion holding the line was similarly disposed in 'depth,' for its
headquarters and one company were placed more than a mile behind the
actual front.
After the January frost and snow had gone, a period of fine, clement
weather set in. This, in a military sense, was a golden age. Boxing,
thanks to encouragement from the Colonel and Brown and under the
practical doctrine of 'Benny' Thomas, the Battalion pugilist,
flourished as never before. Each tour some officers, instead of going
to the line, were sent to worship at the shrine of Maxse. The
Battalion reached the zenith of its efficiency. Early in March some
reinforcements from the 6th Oxfords, who had been disbanded, arrived;
they numbered two hundred. Among the new officers who joined were
Foreshew, Rowbotham, and Cunningham. Foreshew received command of C
Company, whose commander Matthews went to England for a six months'
rest. To Hobbs also, our worthy quartermaster, it was necessary to bid
a reluctant farewell. His successor, Murray, a very able officer from
the 4th Gloucesters, arrived in time to check the table of stores
before the opening of the great offensive.
On the night of 18/19 March the Battalion went into the front line. C
Company was on the right, in front of Fayet; B Company, under the
command of Wallington, was on the left, just south of Gricourt. A went
to Fayet itself and D Company, commanded in Robinson's absence by
Rowbotham, provided the garrison of Enghien Redoubt, which was a
quarry near Selency Château; Battalion Headquarters also were at this
redoubt. During the night of March 20 a raid on the Battalion's right
was carried out near Cepy Farm by the 182nd Brigade. It was successful.
German prisoners from three divisions corroborated our suspicion that
the great enemy offensive was about to be launched. From headquarters
to headquarters throbbed the order to man battle stations. Ere dawn
was due to lighten the sky a dense mist shrouded everything and added
a fresh factor to the suspense.
Early on March 21, only a short time after the Colonel had returned
from visiting the front line posts, the ground shook to a mighty
bombardment. At Amiens windows rattled in their frames. Trench mortars
of all calibres and field guns, brought to closest range in the mist
and darkness, began to pound a pathway through our wire. Back in
artillery dug-outs the light of matches showed the time; it was 4.50
a.m. The hour had struck. Our guns, whose programme in reply was the
fruit of two months' preparation, made a peculiar echo as their shells
crackled through the mist. Some 'silent' guns[11] fired for the first
time.
[Footnote 11: Defensive artillery, whose inactivity
prior to the German attack was intended to ensure
against discovery by enemy sound-rangers and
observers.]
On all headquarters, roads, redoubts, and observation posts the
enemy's howitzer shells were falling with descending swoop, and battery
positions were drenched with gas.
In the back area the fire of long-range guns was brought with uncanny
accuracy to bear against our rest billets, transport lines, and dumps.
Cross-roads, bridges, and all vital spots in our communications, though
never previously shelled, were receiving direct hits within a short
time of the opening of the bombardment. The Berks had casualties at
Ugny. Some English heavy batteries, recent arrivals on the front and
seemingly undiscovered by the enemy, were now knocked out almost as
soon as they had opened fire. The Artillery level crossing was hit by
an early shell which blocked the road there with a huge crater. Never
in the war had the Germans flung their shells so far or furiously as
now.
By daylight all front line wire had been destroyed, and our trenches
everywhere were much damaged. The mist hung thick, but the Germans did
not yet attack. About 9.30 a.m. the barrage was felt to lift westwards
from Fayet and the fitful clatter of Lewis guns, firing in short bursts
with sometimes a long one exhausting a 'drum,' was heard. In the front
line showers of stick bombs announced the enemy's presence. Everywhere
it seemed that quick-moving bodies in grey uniforms were closing in
from either flank and were behind. In the mist our posts were soon
over-run. Few of our men were left to rally at the 'keeps.' A messenger
to A Company's platoons, which had been stationed in support at the
famous 'Sunken Road,' found that place filled with Germans. Before
noon the enemy had passed Fayet and his patrols had reached Selency
and the Cottages.
At Enghien Redoubt Battalion Headquarters had received no news of the
attack having begun; the dense mist limited the view to fifty yards.
The earliest intimation received by Colonel Wetherall of what was
taking place was enemy rifle and machine-gun fire sweeping the
parapet. At one corner of the redoubt some of the enemy broke in but
were driven out by D Company with the bayonet. Outside Headquarters
the first three men to put their heads over were killed by Germans,
who had crept close along the sunken road which leads from Favet to
Selency Château. The rifles and machine guns of the garrison opened up
and gained superiority. The defence, destined to last for many hours,
of Enghien Redoubt proved an important check to the enemy's advance
and helped to save many of our guns.
At 12 noon, after several patrols had failed to find out whether the
enemy had captured Holnon, the Colonel himself went out to see all that
was happening. He did not return, and shortly afterwards Headquarters
were surrounded by the enemy, who had made ground on either flank.
Nevertheless till 4.30 p.m. Cunningham, the officer left in command,
held out most manfully. Of all the companies, Jones and less than
fifty men had escaped capture. They reached the 'Battle Line' of
trenches east of Holnon Wood, and there joined the Gloucesters, who
had not yet been engaged in the fighting. The enemy, having captured
Maissemy, Fayet, and Holnon, paused to reorganise as evening fell.
Towards evening on the 21st the Berks, who were in reserve when the
attack started, were sent to counter-attack against Maissemy, which
had been lost by the division on our left. Near the windmill, which
stands on the high ground west of the village, Dimmer, the Berks V.C.
Colonel, was killed leading his men on horseback. This local attempt
to stem the German onslaught proved of no avail. At 10.30 a.m. on
March 22 the enemy, whose movements were again covered by mist,
pressed the attack against the Battle Line. Almost before the
Gloucesters knew they were attacked in front, they found themselves
beset in flanks and rear.
At noon the enemy from its north side had penetrated Holnon Wood.
Gloucesters and Oxfords fell back to join the garrison of the Beauvoir
Line, all parts of which were heavily engaged by evening. A gallant
resistance, in which the Gloucesters under Colonel Lawson were
specially distinguished, was made by the 184th Infantry Brigade. The
General encouraged the defence in person. But the line was too weakly
manned long to withstand the enemy; though parts of it held till after
8 p.m. on March 22, before midnight the whole of this last Army Line
had been lost. The enemy had 'broken through.'
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BRITISH RETREAT,
MARCH, 1918.
Rear-guard actions.--The Somme crossings.--Bennett relieved by the
20th Division at Voyennes.--Davenport with mixed troops ordered to
counter-attack at Ham.--Davenport killed.--The enemy crosses the
Somme.--The stand by the 184th Infantry Brigade at Nesle.--Colonel
Wetherall wounded.--Counter-attack against La Motte.--Bennett
captured.--The Battalion's sacrifice in the great battle.
After the battle for the Beauvoir Line the 184th Infantry Brigade was
ordered back to Nesle. At Languevoisin on March 23 we find the relics
of the 2/4th Oxfords under the command of Major Bennett, who with a
force including other members of the Battalion had been providing
rear-guards at the crossings of the Somme. What force was this? To
understand the story it is necessary to go back a little and see what
had been happening behind the line since March 21.
When the attack was known to have commenced, all transport,
quartermasters' stores, and men left out of the line were ordered back
to Ugny, where Bennett as senior Major present formed all our divisional
details into a composite Battalion some 900 strong. Early on March 22
Colonel Wetherall, limping and tired, arrived. He bore the tale of
his adventure. During the 21st we saw him disappear from Enghien
Redoubt to go on a reconnaissance. Near Holnon he was surrounded by an
enemy patrol and led a prisoner towards St. Quentin; but when the fire
of 6-inch howitzers scared his escort into shell-holes, the Colonel
escaped, and the same night, choosing his opportunity to slip between
the German digging parties, contrived to reach our lines.
As March 22 lengthened out, the tide of battle rolled nearer and
nearer towards Ugny, above which air fighting at only a few hundred
feet from the ground was taking place. At 7 p.m. Bennett had orders to
move his men westwards across the Somme. Soon afterwards a runner came
post-haste. He told of the fighting on the Beauvoir line; the intrepid
General had been wounded in the head while with his shrapnel helmet in
his hand he waved encouragement to his men. Colonel Wetherall had
already started on the way to Languevoisin but was caught up at
Matigny. He the same night (22nd) regained the Beauvoir line and took
command of the Brigade. As we have seen, he moved back with the
Brigade on the next day.
Further developments soon diverted Bennett's force, whose fortunes we
are following. At Matigny he was ordered by the Major-General with
half his force to guard the Offoy bridgehead and with the other half
to hold Voyennes. The Offoy garrison was despatched under Moberly, who
was commanding the details of the 184th Brigade, including a hundred
Oxfords. Moberly's force comprised many administrative personnel.
'What your men lack in numbers they must make up in courage,' was the
Major-General's encouragement.
But the men were not at once put to the test. The 20th Division, which
was covering the retreat across the Somme, relieved the Offoy
rear-guard, of which Davenport had now assumed command, early in the
morning of March 23, and Bennett was likewise relieved in his duties
at Voyennes, where the bridge was blown up. Though the Offoy
bridgehead had been taken over by the 20th Division, Davenport's
troops were kept in support along the railway embankment at Hombleux,
for it was feared that the enemy had already commenced to cross the
Somme at Ham. During the morning of the 23rd Davenport received
peremptory orders to make a counter-attack against the town with the
object of regaining possession of its bridgehead. Considerable success
resulted; Verlaines was cleared of the enemy's patrols, and the
advance reached the ridge east of that village.
[Illustration: THE RETREAT BEHIND THE SOMME.
Sketch map illustrating the rear-guard actions of 184 INF BDE
between HAM and NESLE on March 24 and 25 1918]
With fresh troops acting on a concerted plan something might have been
accomplished. Davenport's men were a disorganised mixture of many
battalions, including, besides the Oxfords and other representatives
of the 184th Brigade, a number of Cornwalls and King's Liverpools.
They were unfed, and the demoralisation of the retreat was beginning
to do its work. As always on these occasions, when officers of
different services were thrown together, divided counsels were the
result. Moberly, an officer who could have been relied upon to make
the best of the situation, was wounded in the leg during a moonlight
reconnaissance with Davenport.
By March 24 the position was unaltered; the troops were still lining
the ridge east of Verlaines and awaited the enemy's next move with
their field of fire in many cases masked by, or masking, that of their
comrades. Against this type of defence the enemy's tactics did not
require to be as infallible as they perhaps seemed. Our pity is drawn
to these English troops, disorganised, without their own proper
commanders, unsupplied with rations--the stop-gaps thrust forward in
the last stages of a retreat.
At 9 a.m. the enemy, whose patrols had during the night of March 23/24
been feeling their way up the slopes from the Somme Canal, commenced
to press forward in earnest. The mixed troops, who were lining the
ridge, had been 'down' too long to offer much resistance. They melted
away, as leaderless troops will. Davenport, a gallant officer who to
the very last never spared himself, was killed, shot through the head
at Verlaines. The enemy, whose advanced artillery was already in
action from behind Ham, had secured Esmery Hallon by the evening.
Nesle was threatened.
[Illustration: LIEUT.-COL. H. E. de R. WETHERALL. D.S.O., M.C.]
On the same day of which I was last speaking--March 24--the 184th
Brigade, minus those Oxfords who were in action with the 20th
Division, though sadly wasted in numbers, formed up again to make a
stand. Colonel Wetherall, the acting Brigadier, had received orders to
hold the line of the Canal east and south east of Nesle. On the left
of this line stood the Oxfords under Bennett, 200 Berks under Willink
were in the centre, while the Gloucesters, about 120 strong under
Colonel Lawson, guarded the right. At 11 a.m. on March 25 the enemy
attacked. As often during these days, when a line was held solidly in
one place, it broke elsewhere. By noon the enemy had captured Nesle,
and the left flank of the Brigade was turned. During the fight Colonel
Wetherall was wounded in the neck by a piece of shell and owed his
life to the Brigade Major, Howitt, who held the arteries.
The line was driven back to Billancourt and the same night (25th) the
remnants of the XVIII Corps withdrew in darkness to Roye, a town where
our hospitals were still at work, evacuating as fast as possible the
streams of wounded from the battle. One of the last patients to leave
by train was Wetherall, who at this crisis passed under the care of
Stobie, the Oxfords' old M.O.
On March 26 we see the 184th Brigade held in reserve near Mezières, to
be suddenly moved at midnight of March 27/28 by lorries. The lorries
made towards Amiens, and it appeared that the battered relics of the
Brigade were being withdrawn. The belief was disappointed. At Villers
Bretonneux Bennett received orders from a staff officer to go to
Marcelçave, where the 61st Division was being concentrated for a
counter-attack at dawn against the village of La Motte. In the darkness
the route was missed and the convoy drove straight into our front
line. Marcelçave was reached eventually, but so late that a dawn
attack was impossible. At 10 a.m. on March 28 the forlorn enterprise,
in which the 183rd Brigade, the Gloucesters, and the Berks shared,
was launched from the station yard. The troops were footsore, sleepless,
and unfed. They were mostly men from regimental employ--pioneers,
clerks, storemen--to send whom forward across strange country to drive
the enemy from the village he had seized on the important Amiens-St.
Quentin road was a mockery. Such efforts at counter-attack resulted in
more and more ground being lost. Still, the men staggered forward
bravely, to come almost at once under fierce enfilade machine-gun
fire. The losses were heavy. Craddock, a young officer now serving
under Bennett, moved about among the men, encouraging them by his
example of coolness and gallantry.
When 350 yards short of La Motte the advance was driven to take cover.
It was useless to press on; in fact, already there was real danger of
being surrounded. Bennett, whose leadership throughout was excellent,
with difficulty extricated his men by doubling them in two's across
the open. Towards evening those that got back were placed in trenches
outside Marcelçave.
By now that village was being severely shelled and bombed, and in
danger of becoming surrounded by the enemy. Soon after dark it was
attacked in earnest. Bennett stayed too long in Marcelçave attempting
to get news of the situation and some orders. Brigade Headquarters had
in fact already left, before Bennett, instead of returning to his
former headquarters, decided to join his men in the trenches before
the village. Those trenches were no longer being fought for. Near the
railway bridge he ran straight into the enemy as they swarmed towards
the village and was captured. The remains of the Battalion were driven
back on Villers Bretonneux, the contents of which village had to make
up for absent rations. Robinson, who had returned from leave in time
to take part in the La Motte affair, assumed command. The Australians
were at hand; fresh troops arrived to relieve those worn out by a
week's continuous fighting. After four days at Gentelles all that were
left of the 2/4th Oxfords, together with the other fragments of the
61st Division, were withdrawn for rest and reorganisation west of
Amiens.
A Battalion is too small for its historian to enter into any
controversy upon the measures taken for the defence of the St. Quentin
front. Whatever else the Oxfords could have done would have had no
effect upon the main issues of this great attack. But for the mist the
German onslaught, delivered in the preponderance of four to one, would
hardly have achieved the same historical result. The Battalion had
stood in the forefront of the greatest battle of the war. Accounts,
already growing legendary, tell how our men acquitted themselves that
day. Some posts fought on till all were killed or wounded. There were
few stragglers. Of B Company, only one man returned from the front
line. It is said of A Company that, when surrounded by the enemy,
Brown formed the men into a circle, back to back, and fought without
surrender.
The monument which stands above Fayet is happily placed. It is inscribed
to the sons of France who fell in action nearly fifty years ago. On
March 21, 1918, it was enriched by its association with a later
sacrifice. The credit won in this lost battle gives to the 2/4th
Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry a share of honour in the war equal to
that which has been earned by our most successful troops in the
advance.
The loss in all ranks had been so heavy that the killed and missing
could only be computed by counting over those few that remained.
Bennett and all four company commanders in the line were missing. The
Colonel and Moberly had been sent to England wounded. Jones was the
only officer from the front line who remained safe. Cairns, the
Sergeant-Major of A Company, had come through and earned distinction.
The loss in Lewis gunners, signallers, and runners had been especially
heavy. Douglas, the Regimental Sergeant-Major, after most valuable
work in the Battalion, had been killed. Transport and stores, for
extricating which credit was due to Abraham and Murray, alone came out
complete.
CHAPTER XV.
THE BATTLE OF THE LYS,
APRIL-MAY, 1918.
Effects of the German offensive.--The Battalion amalgamated with the
Bucks.--Entrainment for the Merville area.--A dramatic journey.--
The enemy break-through on the Lys.--The Battalion marches into
action.--The defence of Robecq.--Operations of April 12, 13, 14.
--The fight for Baquerolle Farm.--A troublesome flank.--Billeted
in St. Venant.--The lunatic asylum.--La Pierrière.--The Robecq
sector.
The closing phases of the war are so comparatively fresh and vividly
remembered that a less close description need be attempted of them
than of more early periods. I feel that justice cannot easily be done
to the events of last year, events which in dramatic force eclipsed
any since the Battle of the Marne. Of 1918, moreover, the facts have
not yet had time to drop into that relief which a historian prefers
before reducing them to chronicle. It is unlikely that, in years
hence, when the full history of the war is written, the German
offensive of 1918 will not be taken as the turning point in the great
conflict. For the second time since the invasion of Belgium and for
the first since conscription, readers of the _Times_ saw a black line
sagging across the map towards the English Channel. In France at the
end of March conditions meriting the popular description of 'wind up'
were recognisable. Bases were crowded to overflowing. Train services
were seriously deranged by the German approach to Amiens. The traffic
upon the main roads in the Somme valley was an eloquent intermingling
of troops, guns, and civilians evacuating as much of their property as
possible upon wagons and carts, which were piled high with children,
tables, utensils, bedsteads, farm implements, and always mattresses.
The shelling of Amiens Cathedral and the long gun which played on
Paris were signs of the destructive ascendancy of the enemy. Our
railways, which depended on a few junctions now placed none too far
behind the line, were attacked vigorously by the enemy in the hope of
their disorganisation. St. Pol station was shelled to ruins;
Hazebrouck, Chocques, and Doullens were nightly targets for German
bombs. Already at Tinques and Achiet the R.T.O.s had been killed. (We
had done the same and more to the Germans for two years). Our
railwaymen and engine drivers showed staunch devotion to duty and were
as much responsible as any branch of the service for keeping our
armies fighting during the critical months of the spring and early
summer.
To Avesne, a remote village behind Amiens, the 2/4th Oxfords were
withdrawn early in April for completion with new drafts and for
refitting. An amalgamation--which was a great advantage to both
units--of the Battalion with the Bucks now took place. As the 25th
Entrenching Battalion the Bucks had been engaged in the fighting round
Nesle, when they became attached to a Brigade of the 20th Division.
They were now most anxious to be sent to join us or at all events to
rejoin the 61st Division. Unable to obtain the orders they desired,
the Bucks availed themselves of the prevailing confusion to march away
'without authority' and were already at Avesne when the Oxfords
arrived.
The addition of some 300 N.C.O.s and men, with whom came such valued
officers as Clutsom, Buttfield, Kemp, Lodge, Boase, Kirk, and several
others, acted as an infusion of new blood and vigour into the
Battalion which had given nearly all of its best in the St. Quentin
fighting. As the senior officer now present, I was placed in command
of the Battalion after the amalgamation, for which no more suitable
surroundings could have been found than Avesne, whose château and
grounds we had to ourselves. On April 7, before the regimental tailors
had half finished substituting the red circles for the black ones
previously carried by the Bucks, a large draft of 431 men joined the
Battalion from England. Many of these were boys, but among them stood
a few veteran soldiers who had been out before and been wounded. With
this draft, which I believe was posted without the knowledge that the
Bucks had joined us, the Battalion reached the strength of over 1,000
men. It was a goodly force, unhampered by passengers. With Abraham,
Murray, and Regimental Sergeant-Major Hedley (from the Bucks) those
departments of the Battalion not purely tactical were sure to be well
managed. I felt quite confident in the command of this force of men,
and General Pagan, the new Brigadier, was kind enough to express his
confidence in my ability.
Our billets at Avesne--the entire Battalion was accommodated in the
buildings of a large château from which some army school had been
precipitated by the German advance--were too good for much hope to be
entertained of a long stay in them. The unified command from now
onwards brought more rapid moves than formerly had been the custom.
Thus at a few hours' notice 'billeting parties' were ordered, not back
towards Amiens, but to Merville and St. Venant. The 61st was to become
a Division in G.H.Q. reserve behind the old Laventie sector. But
before Battalions could follow their representatives and while the
billeting was still in progress the Germans attacked and broke through
on the Lys, south of Armentières. We marched, however, from Avesne on
April 11 in happy ignorance of this new battle. Not till Hangest, and
there by means of a Continental _Daily Mail_, was the changed prospect
of our destination revealed. The Hangest R.T.O. was half beside
himself with excitement and delay. There were several hours to spend
in waiting, and during this time the kits were retrieved from the
station yard and a prudent change was made from soft hats into
shrapnel helmets and fighting equipment. After a rapid entrainment we
at last pulled out at about 2 p.m. So strong was the Battalion that D
Company, which itself numbered over 200, was unable to travel with us
and had to follow by a later train. In its early stages the journey,
though similar to most of the kind, produced one formidable incident,
for at the top of the steep gradient between Candas and Doullens the
train snapped in half; its hind portion was left poised in a cutting
for an hour, until two locomotives arrived to push it on to Doullens,
whither the forward half, in gay ignorance, had run.
The night was overcast, a fact which doubtless saved us from the
attention of enemy aeroplanes. The journey from St. Pol through
Chocques and Lillers to Steenbecque is stamped on the memory by its
more than many halts, the occasional glare of mines and munition
factories which, in anticipation of another break-through, seemed to
be working at tensest pressure to evacuate coal and manufactured
stores from capture by the enemy; by the loud booming of artillery, to
which the train seemed to draw specially near at Chocques and
Isbergues; and the final sudden grinding of the brakes at Steenbecque,
distracted railwaymen, and the small hut in which Bennett and the
Brigade Staff were exhibiting a mixture of excitement, impatience and
a sort of reckless familiarity with this apparent repetition of the
Somme retreat. At Steenbecque station, which is three miles short of
Hazebrouck and hidden behind the Nieppe Forest, we received the latest
news of the battle into which we were being so dramatically plunged:
the enemy had broken through the feeble resistance of the Portuguese
and was outside Merville. My orders were to take up a line, which was
at present covered by the 51st Division, between Robecq and Calonne
and for that object to detrain and move forward immediately. The
station yard was ill-suited to a rapid detrainment, there being few
ramps or sidings, and despite the impatience of Bennett, a Divisional
Staff Officer, who was most anxious to get finished before dawn, we
were kept seated in the train for nearly two hours. This delay was
really most valuable, for it enabled me to appreciate the situation
and issue detailed orders, which otherwise it would never have been
possible to give.
As the dawn of April 12, 1918, was breaking, we set foot to the long
pavé road which runs through the Nieppe Forest to St. Venant, followed
by the transport and the cookers, from which at the cost of never so
much delay I felt determined to give the men, who had had no proper
meal for twenty-four hours, a good square feed before becoming
involved in the uncertain and possibly rationless conflict which lay
before us in country that was likely to have been looted by the
retreating Portuguese. Nevertheless, during this breakfast, taken at
the eastern edge of the great Forest of Nieppe, feverish messages
arrived, which said that the enemy was in Robecq and already crossing
the La Bassée Canal. This, of course, was not true, but troops who are
moving up towards an advancing enemy, though met by exaggerated and
conflicting reports of the hostile progress, are almost confined,
until actual encounter occurs, to this species of information. By now
Corps Headquarters, after a three years' sojourn at Hinges, had
commenced to scour the country west of Aire for a suitably remote
château. Except for Howitt there was no staff officer upon the spot,
and we found after passing St. Venant towards Robecq that it was every
man for himself in the task of stemming the German attack. Parts of
the Division, notably the 5th D.C.L.I. and the 2/6th Warwicks, which
had been detrained earlier than ourselves to join in the battle, had
been roughly handled in fighting south of Merville during the night of
April 11/12. The 51st Division was to all intents out of action, and
there was a gap of more than a mile between Robecq and Calonne on the
morning of April 12. Into, but not through, this gap German patrols
had penetrated, and at Carvin had crossed the streams Noc and
Clarence. As a matter of fact these enemy were but the flankers of an
advanced guard, whose objective at this time lay in the direction of
Haverskerque. Thus it befell that the Battalion came into no direct
conflict with the main enemy forces on April 12.
[Illustration: BIRD'S-EYE MAP OF THE ROBECQ AREA]
Still the situation at 9 a.m. was both obscure and difficult. Until
their ammunition seemed to be expended, our artillery, which had
withdrawn behind the La Bassée Canal, kept up a fire upon the open
ground between Les Amusoires, where the Battalion was concentrating,
and the Calonne road, which it was necessary for us to cross.
Doubtless this untoward shelling was due to the reports spread by
stragglers, of whom there was a considerable number from different
units. Shortly after this occurrence I had the good fortune to meet a
gunner subaltern, and for the next few days, pending a reinforcement
of the artillery, what guns there were gave us excellent support. A
greater menace came from the long dumps of our shells north of Robecq
cemetery, to which some irresponsible person had set fire. An acre
of explosives was ablaze, barring progress across a wide area. Later a
fusillade of small-arms ammunition broke out near St. Venant station,
suggestive of fighting in our rear. There also it had been the final
errand of some dump-keeper, in a fancied performance of duty, to
destroy ammunition of which there was a crying need. Subsequently St.
Venant was quite heavily bombed by our own aircraft--an example of
what could happen during the time that our higher organisation was out
of gear.
The appearance of the Battalion, which could easily have passed for a
Brigade of Infantry as it issued, about 10 a.m., from among the trees
of Les Amusoires, may have been a moral factor in itself sufficient to
indispose the German outposts to remain longer upon the outskirts of
Robecq. From my former knowledge of the ground I decided to use no
delay in occupying the network of orchards and as many of the farms as
possible along the Calonne road before hostile opposition increased.
After sharp fighting and some 30 casualties, mostly in C Company,
which was on the left, a line was reached beyond Noc river, between
Robecq and Calonne. On the right we linked up with the Berks (who
placed their headquarters in the estaminet at Robecq cross-roads) and
on the left with the 2/7th Warwicks, whose line bent back at a right
angle across the Calonne road towards La Haye. During the afternoon
fighting for the possession of Baquerolle Farm and its adjacent
orchards engaged the Battalion's left flank. In this fighting Lodge, a
young officer to whom command of C Company had fallen in consequence
of a wound to Captain Buttfield, and also Boase much distinguished
themselves. To them and to the N.C.O.s of C Company, and also to the
conduct of the new draft, was owing the success of the day's
operations. By 3 p.m. not only had the Battalion accomplished the task
assigned to it twenty-four hours previously, when the extent of the
German advance was unknown, but ground was being made and the enemy
was being driven backward upon Calonne. Robecq was guaranteed.
All day very severe fighting was in progress a mile to our left.
Merville and Calonne were almost blotted out in smoke, and the air was
thronged with aeroplanes. The heap of shells behind us still burned.
By now the clouds which rose from this bonfire had become such a pall
in the sky that the German balloons--the enemy was expert in moving
forward this machinery of observation--could see nothing of the
surrounding country. The Robecq district was remarkable for its
well-stocked farms, and with the general flight of the civilians large
numbers of unmilked cows, geese, goats, hens, and all manner of
farmyard creatures commenced to stray across the fields and down the
roads. Battalion Headquarters, which were ultimately established at a
large farmhouse in Les Amusoires, as dusk approached, seemed to become
the rendez-vous for lowing cattle, hens, pigs, goats, and small armies
of geese, to manage all of which a certain number of cowherds and
farm-hands had to be detailed. Nor was it only at Battalion
Headquarters that these movable larders were in the process of
congregation.
At nightfall, when the companies--D Company had rejoined during'
the afternoon--were settled into a secure outpost position and the
Brigadier (General Pagan) had visited and approved the dispositions,
an order from Corps was received to retreat a mile and to dig trenches
across the open, hedgeless fields which stretched between Robecq and
St. Venant. The whole of the Calonne road was to be abandoned. It was
difficult to account for such a policy, which meant, not only the
relinquishment of two bridge-heads of some importance and numerous
farms and orchards which had been carried at expense and since
garrisoned to good purpose, but the adoption instead of a position in
rear, which was condemned with every tactical disadvantage and in
which it would be impossible to remain once the enemy had secured
possession of the ground we were now ordered to give up. I am happy to
say that these orders, which can only have emanated from some staff
inadequately informed upon the situation, were cancelled during the
night and before the Battalion had acted on them. The fact is, I
expressly remained in the forward position until at least rations had
been delivered to the men, and by the time that had been done the
staff pendulum had swung again. The salient of Baquerolle Farm, which
it had cost valuable lives to reach, was retained.
On the morning of April 13 the enemy, under cover of a dense mist,
which allowed his use of close-range artillery, attacked St. Floris,
in front of which the Gloucesters were stationed. A demonstration
against the Battalion accompanied, and in the mist it was uncertain
whether an enemy attack on Robecq were not developing. The attack
died down without the Germans having penetrated the Gloucesters, who
put up a stout defence. Our line elsewhere was firm.
On the next day it was decided to use an opportunity to improve the
position of our outpost line by occupying a group of cottages which
lay in front. A platoon of A Company practically reached the nearest
cottages without a sign of hostile opposition being shown. The fate of
this little operation was the fruit of my miscalculation of the
enemy's strength. The Germans knew better than ourselves how to sit
still behind their machine-guns and avoid discovery. French civilians
were moving about among the cottages at the time when our advance to
occupy them was made and it seemed impossible that the enemy could be
holding them even weakly. Civilians, too, were mingled in the fray as
well on this as on later occasions. After trench-warfare days there
was an incongruity in some episodes, which was not devoid of humour.
One old Frenchman, at an hour when his farm was actually being fought
over, arrived at Company Headquarters with a special passport to feed
his beasts; and the tenacity of an old woman in clinging to her
household goods terminated in her discovery, at the time of an attack,
in a shell-hole in No-Man's-Land, where she was sheltering from the
machine-gun barrage under a large umbrella (one felt that she at least
deserved a copy of the operation orders!) During the ensuing weeks
visits by French civilians to the front line became such that almost
as many sentries were required to watch or restrain their movements
as were needed against the enemy.
[Illustration: ROBECQ OLD MILL & BRIDGE]
A more serious attack, in which the 4th Division upon our right was
intended to co-operate, was made by B Company at 7.30 p.m. on April 15
against the same cottages, which formed part of the hamlet called La
Pierre au Beurre. Our bombardment in support of this attack was almost
due to start, when an urgent message from the line announced that
large forces of the enemy were massing opposite our front. To have
called for S.O.S. fire by the artillery would totally have upset the
programme of attack, and one could only hope that our zero would be
the earlier. Luck was in our favour. Whatever else happened that
night, it is certain that the enemy received a severe shelling from
our guns.
The attack, carried out by B Company under Stanley, with D in support,
was quite successful in its plan but not in its result. From a cause
such as every series of complicated operations in open warfare
threatened to introduce, the troops of the 4th Division on our right
failed to co-operate as we expected. O'Meara, whom Stanley had placed
in charge of his leading troops, after securing the cottages named as
his objective, found himself attacked by the enemy from the very
direction whence he had counted on assistance. After ineffectual
attempts by our 'liaison' officer, Kirk, to get our neighbours to do
their share, B Company had to be withdrawn to their original position.
The 4th Division at this time were the flank division of one corps
while we were of another. To reach the Battalion acting on our right
a notice of our plan had to climb up through our Brigade, Division,
and Corps to Army and down again as many steps the other side. A
staff-officer from Army or from Corps should have been on the spot.
Coucher and Kemp, two capital officers, were killed during the evening
when this attack took place. Our other casualties were Killed, 2;
Wounded, 18; Missing, 1.
Throughout April 13 and for several days afterwards desultory
fighting, in which our trench-mortars under Miller performed good
service, was maintained for the possession of Baquerolle Farm and
another lying 150 yards south of it and christened Boase's Farm. Both
remained in our hands. With the troops on our left flank there was
some difficulty. Their line bent back awkwardly, and when the enemy
shelled the houses on the Calonne road, where their right flank
rested, they showed signs of withdrawing and leaving our C Company 'in
the air.' The Germans quickly benefited by this irresolution, for they
commenced to push forward from house to house along the Calonne road,
until Baquerolle Farm was in danger of being taken in its rear. The
prompt determination of Lodge, the officer I have already mentioned as
commanding C Company, served to avert critical consequences. He
delivered a local counter-attack, capturing a machine-gun and killing
several of the enemy. Our neighbours thus reoccupied their former
positions, but were warned in Divisional Orders not to give up any
more of the Robecq-Calonne road. This incident, which rightly
earned for 'Tommy' Lodge a Military Cross, had a vexatious sequel a
few days later. In quoting where the left flank of the Battalion in
fact rested I made a slip in the co-ordinates of its map reference. By
that mistake I was trapped, when it appeared as black and white in
relief orders, into having to hand over 100 yards of extra frontage,
and had the mortification of causing several hours of troublesome
delay to the front line, besides innocently saddling my successors
with responsibility that was not honestly theirs to receive.
By April 16 the tactical situation was already stable. On that
night--in reality during the early hours of April 17--the Battalion
was relieved almost in the ordinary way by the Gloucesters, who came
forward from the luxury of St. Venant and took over the line between
Carvin and Baquerolle. St. Venant had been Portuguese G.H.Q. but was
so no longer. It was by now receiving plenty of 5.9s and was rapidly
losing the character of the quiet, well-to-do little town in which
part of the Division was to have been billeted when it left the Amiens
district. Still, for the time being, what St. Venant received in
shells it paid for in choice vintages and fine houses. The Germans
were not the only people to taste a glass of French wine during the
Great War. About this time Colonel Boyle, who had commanded the 6th
Oxfords until their disbandment, arrived to assume command of the
Battalion. He remained till Wetherall, whose wound had taken him to
England, returned.
For the rest of April and during May the Battalion continued to do
tours in the Robecq sector, which, owing to its proximity to Givenchy
and Béthune, was never quiet so long as the enemy was planning to
attack those places. An alteration of the front was brought about on
April 23, when the Gloucesters under Colonel Lawson advanced in
co-operation with the 4th Division and captured Riez du Vintage and La
Pierre au Beurre. Of this victory some spoils fell to the Battalion,
which was holding the front line. Company Sergeant-Major Moss, of D
Company, who went out to reconnoitre two hours after the attack had
taken place, brought in forty-five prisoners, and during the following
night half-a-dozen machine-guns were collected by the company.
German shelling at this time was often heavy. The tracks across the
open up to the front line were rendered specially unpleasant by the
pernicious '106' fuzes, with which the enemy's artillery was well
supplied. From Robecq, which was steadily being shelled to ruins and
through which one passed with reluctance, a disinterested salvage
party, consisting of Stanley and the officers of B Company, brought a
piano, which was destined to be an historic instrument. On more than
one occasion the Battalion returned from its spell in the front line
to the St. Venant Asylum, a large institution said to be the second
largest of the kind in France. Its protesting inmates had been removed
in lorries at the time of the German capture of Merville, and the long
galleries and rooms thereafter became filled with troops. The ample
bath-house, laundry, and kitchen of the Asylum, though ravaged by
shelling and rifled by the mysterious depredations of looters, more
than provided for the Battalion's wants. I have to record a very
regrettable incident in connection with St. Venant Asylum. On the
morning of May 21, during some shelling, when most of us had descended
to cover, a German shell pierced the building where C and D Company
Headquarters were and dropped through into the cellar, where it
exploded. Several men were killed and also 'Tommy' Lodge, the officer
whose conduct had earned him distinction three weeks before at
Baquerolle Farm. Robinson, too, was wounded and was lost to the
Battalion.
At the Asylum, despite its comfort, it was difficult to feel at ease.
On May 7 the Orderly Room was struck full on its door by a 5.9.
Headquarters had many an anxious moment (as when a large aeroplane
bomb was heard coming through the air; it fell 30 yards from the
Mess). At the end of May rest billets were altered to La Pierrière, a
small straggling village west of the La Bassée Canal, where few shells
fell but whither the civilians were as yet timid to return. At La
Pierrière, whenever the Battalion came out for its four days' rest,
the Canteen was established on the most up-to-date lines with a full
stock, including beer and the current newspapers from England. During
the summer several local papers were kind enough to send me copies
every week for free distribution to the men. I make this an
opportunity to thank Mr. Stanley Wilkins and the Bucks Comforts Fund
for most generous gifts of 'smokes,' which more than once helped to
stave off a cigarette famine.
The Canteen, though I have not before mentioned it, was a great
feature in Battalion life. For the last eight months of the war, while
I was President of the Regimental Institute, I was most anxious that
our Canteen should be as good as possible. But my anxiety would have
been worthless without the industry and enthusiasm of Lance-Corporal
Kaye and Private Warburton, who managed every detail.
At this stage in my history, when, almost reluctantly, I am drawing
towards its close, there are many features of the Battalion life which
crowd upon me in their demand for mention. The Pioneers lining out for
their match in six-a-side football against the Shoemakers and Tailors,
the Stores piled high with 'hay-packs' and wicker baskets filled with
unissued signalling equipment, Sergeant Birt quietly demanding last
month's war-diary, Connell the arch-footballer, Kettle, the
Sergeant-Cook, arguing about an oven, and the four Company
Quartermaster-Sergeants whose vote was always unanimous--to proceed
further would be to enumerate a list of people and things over whom it
is my regret to pass so rapidly.
At the end of my chapters I have so often shown the Battalion marching
back to rest that I shall leave it this time in the line. You must
picture a medley of small fields and orchards, bounded on one side by
the Calonne-Robecq road (which is the avenue of supply to the front
line and much shelled) and on the other by the small streams called
Noc and Clarence. Among the orchards stand numerous farmsteads, of
which a large one known as Gloucester Farm had been our Battalion
Headquarters in 1916, during a period of back-area rest. It has again
been Battalion Headquarters. Recently the farm was shelled and the
Berks Colonel, then in occupation, quitted it in favour of a
two-storied house called Carvin. In the domed cellar of Baquerolle
Farm--an old-fashioned building looking out across a wide midden to
numerous cowsheds and outhouses--were usually the headquarters of C or
D Companies and the Trench-Mortars. This farm was freely shelled. On
April 24 the early-morning attention of the German guns set fire to
the buildings; and Robinson was obliged to leave the cellar and repair
with his headquarters to a trench to windward. The Posts themselves,
as spring deepened into summer, became half lost in the crops and
grass, until many of them could be reached in daylight. This fact,
combined with his undaunted spirit of enterprise, led Colonel Lawson
of the Gloucesters to crawl forward one morning to the German lines.
His reckless bravery paid the penalty, for he was killed when only a
short way from where a German post was lurking. Lawson was a brilliant
soldier and a fine example of English character; his sudden and
needless death cast a gloom over the whole Brigade.
On the evening of May 13 the last raid to be made by the Battalion was
carried out by No. 1 Platoon, commanded by Rowlerson. The affair was a
small one but satisfactory, for two prisoners were brought in and we
had no casualties.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE TURNING OF THE TIDE,
MAY, JUNE, JULY, AUGUST, 1918.
Rations and the Battalion Transport.--At La Lacque.--The bombing
of Aire.--General Mackenzie obliged by his wound to leave the
Division.--Return of Colonel Wetherall.--Tripp's Farm on fire.--
A mysterious epidemic.--A period of wandering.--The march from
Pont Asquin to St. Hilaire.--Nieppe Forest.--Attack by A and B
Companies on August 7.--Headquarters gassed.--A new Colonel.--
The Battalion goes a-reaping.
Though used to being told that our army was the best fed of any in the
war, few English people have any idea how rations reached the line.
They came up every day from the Base by train as far as Railhead--which
meant a convenient station as far forward as possible while still
being outside the range of ordinary German guns--and were thence
conveyed, normally in lorries, by the A.S.C. to the various 'refilling
points' assigned to Infantry Brigades. From the refilling point, which
was only a stretch of the roadside, the Transport collected the
Battalion's rations and delivered them to the Quartermaster's stores;
and by means of the Transport the Quartermaster, after their necessary
division between companies, forwarded rations to the front line.
Latterly it was rarely possible to cook in the trenches and it never
was during active operations, so to Murray, our Quartermaster, and his
staff fell the duty of sending up cooked food. It is impossible for me
here to explain the system practised; but by means of food-containers,
specially improvised from petrol tins and rammed into packs stuffed
with hay, we were able to supply the men with hot food in the front
line. Murray's organisation was excellent, and the four Company
Quartermaster-Sergeants--Holder, Freudemacher, Taylor, and
Beechey--and the Company Cooks earned equal credit in the performance
of these important duties, which never miscarried.
The Battalion was fortunate in keeping as its Transport officer 'Bob'
Abraham. He suited the job, and the job him. He had organised the
Transport in 1914 and brought it overseas. Several pairs of mules,
which had come out with the Battalion in 1916, were still at work and
thriving three years later. By a riding accident Abraham was lost to
the Battalion for a time, but his place was taken by Kirk, who proved
himself an excellent substitute, and when Kirk left Woodford carried
on with equal efficiency.
Long before the war was reaching its close I had ceased really to
envy the Transport Officer, nor did our men in the trenches forget the
responsibilities and danger of the drivers. In their turn the transport
men felt that it was their duty to make up for the part they were not
called upon to play with bomb and bayonet by never failing to deliver
promptly and faithfully at company headquarters their limber-loads of
rations. In its turn-out, whether at a Brigade horse-show, a
veterinary inspection or on the line of march, our Transport set a
high standard; men and animals were alike a credit to the Battalion.
During the warm weather of the spring, when the canal banks were lined
with bathers, our Transport was situated at La Lacque, a village a few
miles west of Aire. Not far off stood the tall chimneys of the
Isbergues steel works--a large factory, which, like Cassel and
Dunkirk, had in the early days of the war attracted occasional shells
from German long-range guns. Now that the line was only a few leagues
distant the steel works became the almost daily target for 'high
velocities.' Once the tiles had been shaken from the workshops no
visible damage seemed to result from the many hundred shells which
fell inside the factory's area. None the less the continuous shifts of
workmen afforded a striking example of the national devotion of French
industry, to be compared with that total dislocation of London
business which even an air-raid warning was sufficient to engender.
Isbergues village was now crowded with Portuguese, who spent their
time tormenting dogs and washing themselves in the canal, but who
officially were employed in making trenches, which they could be
trusted to dig deep. At La Lacque a second Brigade School was
established. The details of its management were under Coombes, who
possessed considerable ability in this direction. The Battalion
instructors were Sergeants Brooks and Brazier, both of whom were well
versed in regimental drill and tradition and shewed much zeal in the
work. Than Sergeant Brazier no more hearty sportsman ever belonged
to the Battalion.
At the end of May, 1918, when the whereabouts of his next attack were
yet uncertain, the enemy's power reached its apparent zenith. A
Canadian corps had been in reserve along the line of the La Bassée
Canal for three weeks in expectation of a renewed attempt against
Hazebrouck and Béthune. From prisoners' statements more than once an
attack upon the Battalion seemed imminent and special precautions were
adopted. All this time our artillery had been recovering its
ascendancy, until the enemy, cooped up as he was within a salient
bounded by canals, became faced with the two alternatives of attack or
retreat. Meanwhile his aircraft used the fine nights of the early
summer to wreak the utmost spite on our back area. During one night
Aire, which had hitherto been left unscathed was so severely bombed
that one could have fancied the next day that the town had been
convulsed by an earthquake. St. Omer, though less damaged, was
frequently attacked. In northern France the visits of German
aeroplanes became such that all towns, alike by military and civil
populations, came to be deserted before nightfall.
How I should introduce appropriately and with becoming respect a
reference to our Major-General has somewhat puzzled me. Sir Colin
Mackenzie, K.C.B., had commanded the 61st Division through many
difficult vicissitudes. His watchful eye and quiet manner gained
everywhere the confidence and admiration of his regimental subordinates,
who saw in him great soldierly qualities. The General's bearing and
his string of real war-ribbons made many an eye rove at an inspection.
By a wound he was obliged in June, 1918, to retire from command of the
Division. He was much missed.
Towards the end of May Colonel Wetherall returned to take command of
the Battalion. To be his Second in Command was both a pleasure and a
privilege. Similar feelings were evoked towards the Brigadier, General
Pagan, in whose small frame beat a lion's heart. When the frontage of
the Brigade was changed from one to two battalions, we had to give up
Baquerolle and Carvin and occupy instead the barren fields on the
other side of the Calonne road, where most wretched front-line
accommodation existed. Headquarters for the new sector were in Les
Amusoires; and rations came up each night as far as a farm, called
Tripp's Farm, forward of which neither cooking could be done nor any
water obtained. One night German shelling, that tune to which rations
were usually carried, set light to Tripp's Farm. Quartermaster-Sergeants,
mules' heads, and guides were mingled in the glare, while from a
concrete pill-box hard by machine-gunners (its rightful occupants)
were compelled to avoid roasting by flight. About this time both St.
Venant and Robecq were burning for several days. Of the former, most
of the remaining houses near the church (which had been frequently
struck) were destroyed, but in Robecq the fire almost confined itself
to the famous café near the cross-roads. To quench these conflagrations
no measures were, or could be, taken, for their occurrence was a
great gratification to the German artillery, which always redoubled
its efforts in the hope of spreading a fire as far as possible.
In the middle of June, during a stay at La Pierrière, the Battalion
was ravaged by a mysterious epidemic, which claimed hundreds of victims
before it passed. Starting among the signallers, it first spread through
Headquarters, and then attacked all Companies indiscriminately. Among
the officers, Cubbage and Shields (the doctor) were the first to go to
hospital; soon followed by Clutsom, who was adjutant at this time, and
Tobias the very doctor who had come to replace Shields. The Colonel and
myself were the next victims, and when the time came for the Battalion
to go into the line, it was necessary to send for Christie-Miller,
of the Gloucesters, to take command and to make Murray from
quartermaster into adjutant. This epidemic was not confined to the
Battalion, nor to the 61st Division. Isolation camps had hastily to be
formed, for the evil threatened to dislocate whole corps and even
armies. Among the Germans the same complaint seems to have spread with
even greater virulence; indeed, it may well have prevented them from
launching a further offensive against Béthune and Hazebrouck. By
doctors it was classified under the name of Pyrexia of Unknown Origin
('P.U.O.') while in such guarded references as occurred our Press
spoke of it as 'Spanish Influenza.' The symptoms of the illness
consisted in high temperature, followed by great physical and mental
lassitude. Most cases recovered within a week, but some took longer,
nor was a second attack following recovery from the first at all
uncommon. Such was the only epidemic of the war. Thanks to the care
and efficiency of our Regimental M.O.s the dreaded scourges of past
wars--cholera, dysentery, and enteric--in France could together claim
few, if any, victims.
On June 25 it was time for the 184th Infantry Brigade to move out of
the line to Ham and Linghem, two villages south-east and south of
Aire. The relief took place, but at the last minute it was decided
that the 182nd Brigade was so depleted by the epidemic that it was
necessary for the 2/4th Oxfords to remain at La Pierrière to assist
them in holding the line. At the Brigade sports, held at Linghem on
July 7, the Battalion easily carried off the cup offered for
competition by General Pagan. In the relay race Sergeant Brazier
accomplished a fine performance, while in the boxing we showed such
superiority that no future Brigade competition ever took place.[12]
[Footnote 12: In the realm of sport a later
achievement of the Battalion deserves record. On
July 27 at the XI Corps horse-show our team won the
open tug-of-war.]
[Illustration: THE HEADQUARTERS RUNNERS, JULY 1918]
Before we left La Pierrière what can well be looked back to as a
red-letter day was spent in sports and a full programme of
entertainments, including the Divisional 'Frolics,' who were prevailed
on to perform in a farmyard. Jimmy Kirk also brought his coaching
party of clowns--who on this occasion avoided a conflict with the
Military Police--and of course the Battalion Band regaled us with
choice items throughout the day. In the sports a race had to be re-run
because one of the competitors, instead of waiting for the 'pistol'
(A. E. G. Bennett with home-made 'blanks') started at the report of
our 6-inch gun in the next orchard, which occurred a fraction of a
second earlier. The evening was saved from bathos by the news that the
Division was to be relieved. Life operates by contrast, and though the
war was going on a few miles to the eastward I believe as much pleasure
was experienced that day in the small orchard behind Headquarters at
La Pierrière as in any elaborate peace celebration in this country.
Indeed, to see the crowd 'celebrating' the armistice up and down the
Strand was enough to make one recall with regret such an occasion of
the war as I have described.
On July 10 we moved back, most of the way by 'bus, to Liettres, a very
pretty village well behind the line and south-west of Aire. Hardly
were we settled before we were ordered to move, which we did with no
very good grace to St. Hilaire, a much inferior village. Two days
later our tactical location was discovered to be still unsatisfactory,
so we tried a march northwards to Warne, where for the third time in
ten days a quartermaster's store had to be built from the materials we
had managed to drag along with us. Almost before our headquarter
runners had learnt the whereabouts of companies we were on the road
again. This time we left the XI Corps, with which so many of the
Battalion's fortunes and misfortunes had been associated, and passed
into General Plumer's Army as part of the XV Corps. The paradise which
every division, sent back for 'rest,' fancies will have been prepared
for it, now degenerated to a mere field. Still, there are many worse
places, if some better, than a grass field; footballs were soon
bouncing merrily, and on the air floated the monotonous enumeration of
'House.' One evening the Colonel, myself, and the company commanders
returned wet-through from a voyage of inspection of the Hazebrouck
defences, for a German attack was still anticipated. The last of these
shuttle-cock moves occurred on July 31, from our field at Pont Asquin
back to St. Hilaire, whose billets few of us were anxious to revisit.
As I have not loaded my narrative with marches my readers shall hoist
full pack (no air-pillows allowed!) upon their backs and fall in with
the Battalion. It is already dusk as the sanitary men, like so many
sorcerers, stoop in the final rites of fire and burial. Some days ago
I taxed the band-master, Bond, with the possibility of playing in the
dark; for a moment his face was as long as Taylor's bassoon, but since
then by means of surreptitious practice and, I fancy, the sheer
confiscation of his bandsmen's folios, the impossible has been
achieved. Every band is the best in France, but only ours can play in
darkness. Thus, as the column swings past the pond and waiting
cookers, the Band strikes up one of its best and loudest marches....
Such midnight music, if it drowned the drone of German aeroplanes,
which ever and anon swam overhead, looking like white moths in the
beams of our searchlights, served also to arouse the village
inhabitants, whose angry faces were framed for an instant in windows
as we passed. Our musical uproar set dogs barking for miles, cocks
crowed at our passage, and generals turned in their second sleep to
hear such martial progress in the night. The march--through Racquinghem
and Aire--was long, lasting nearly all night. To flatter its interest
a sweepstake had been arranged among the officers for who should name
the exact moment of its conclusion. Years of foot-slogging in France
made my considered guess formidable in the competition. More dangerous
still was that of the Colonel, for to him would fall the duty of the
decisive whistle-blast, and his entry ultimately was not accepted by
the 'committee.' As in most sweepstakes, the first prize fell to a
most undeserving winner.
July closed with a feeling of dissatisfaction at the cycle of moves
which had rendered futile both rest and training. Consciousness that
one was helping to win the war was more often imputed than felt. Early
in August, 1918, the 61st relieved the 5th Division in front of the
Nieppe Forest. Minor attacks had already cleared the enemy from the
eastern fringe of the forest and driven him back towards Neuf Berquin
and Merville. At 7 p.m. on August 7 A and B Companies attacked and
captured the trenches opposite to them, causing the enemy to retire
behind the Plate Becque, a stream as wide as the Cherwell at Islip but
far less attractive. We had a dozen casualties in this attack, which
was rewarded by half as many German prisoners and a machine-gun.
Sergeant Ravenscroft, of B Company, for an able exploit during the
advance, received the D.C.M.
[Illustration: THE NIEPPE FOREST]
Already the Forest of Nieppe had become notorious for German gas. It
was now a nightly programme of the enemy to drench the wood, which
was low-lying and infested with pools and undergrowth, with his
noxious 'Yellow Cross'--shells whose poisonous fumes bore the flavour
of mustard. Throughout the night of August 7/8, when things generally
were very active, a heavy gas-bombardment was kept up. The Colonel was
away from his headquarters at the time. He returned after the shelling
to find that gas helmets had been taken off. No harm was expected, but
the next day, after the sun's heat had awakened dormant fumes, the
Colonel, Symonds (the adjutant), Kirk, who had brought up the rations,
and Cubbage, as well as the Regimental Sergeant-Major and many
signallers and runners, all found that they were gassed. Their loss
was serious. It was known that Wetherall would soon have to leave the
Battalion, for he had been appointed to a command in the Machine Gun
Corps; indeed already his successor, Colonel Woulfe-Flanagan, had
arrived to take his place. Under the present unlucky auspices (for
more than half Headquarters were knocked out) the interchange took
place.
Herodotus says of the kings of Sparta that the last was always
regretted as the best the country had ever had. Colonel Wetherall's
merit did not depend on his being the last of a series. Phrases such
as 'he was worshipped by the men' have become so hackneyed as to be
meaningless, nor shall I use an even worse commonplace, that 'he was
sparing of his words.' Wetherall was just a rattling good Commanding
Officer, a true friend, and a fine soldier. His successor, E. M.
Woulfe-Flanagan, came from the East Surreys. He bore a distinguished
record of pre-war service and had been wounded in the Mons retreat. A
regular soldier of the old school, in ideas and methods he differed
widely from his predecessor. But he was worth his salt every time.
Certainly no braver officer ever set foot in France.
After we had finished our first tour in the Nieppe Forest sector, both
the Berks and Gloucester were sent forward against the enemy, who was
rightly suspected by the staff to be on the point of retreating from
the Lys salient. The attack had to cross the Plate Becque, whose
eastern bank the enemy was fighting hard to hold. Gloucesters and
Berks rushed forward at misty dawn and flung bridges over the stream;
but the machine-gun fire was too intense, and though some parties got
across, others did not, co-operation broke down, and the attack gained
no result. A few days afterwards the Germans went back, giving up
Calonne, Merville, and Neuf Berquin-villages which our artillery had
utterly pulverised. As in the March retreat of 1917, the 184th Brigade
had no immediate share in following up the enemy as he retired. The
Oxfords had withdrawn on August 14 to Spresiano Camp, in the forest,
and waited without eagerness to be ordered forward to the new devastated
area. It is curious to reflect that at this time, so distant did the end
of the war still seem, we grumbled at losing our comfortable base at
Steenbecque, which we hoped to keep perhaps through the winter. Most
thinking people could see neither value nor wisdom in pursuing the
Germans in their retreats, planned and carried out in their own time,
from salients. Hardly on one occasion did we hustle them, and the
policy, deprecated by most commanders of lower formations, of snatching
at the first morsels of abandoned territory always cost us heavy
casualties. Between war and chess there is a close analogy. In front
of Nieppe Forest there were now a hopeless crowding of the pieces,
moves aimlessly made from square to square, and the reckless calling
of 'check,' which to a good opponent means time and renewed chances to
escape defeat.
[Illustration: MERVILLE CHURCH, SEPTEMBER 1918]
During the early stages of the retreat the Battalion was sent to fresh
fields of conquest among the crops, which the German withdrawal had
done nothing to ripen but had at least removed from shell range. Plans
were afoot to harvest a large area adjacent to the forest and present
its fruits to the rightful owners. If harvesting weather should be
hot, conditions were ideal. This novel form of working-party at first
delighted the men, who set about the crops in goodly earnest. In a
short space of time wheat, oats, and barley were added to our
battle-honours. But if the spirit was willing, our reaping implements
were correspondingly weak. The Corps 'Agricultural Officer' had collected
from surrounding farms a fantastic assortment of cast-off scythes,
jagged hooks, and rusty sickles, which fell to pieces 'in the 'ands'
and refused to do more than beat down the crops to which they were
opposed. The scythes seemed hardly able to stick their points, in the
approved manner, into the ground, sickles were back-to-front or
left-handed, and the entire panoply issued to this Reaping Battalion
should have been seconded for duty at a music-hall or gazetted out
of agricultural service as old iron. The Major-General, visiting the
scene of our labours, was scandalised to find that fewer acres of corn
had been put out of action than reports from other parts of the
harvest front inclined him to expect. A 'stinker' followed, to which
we could only retaliate by posting sentries the next day to warn us of
the General's approach. Of course he came by a fresh road. And now, to
avoid the inevitable anti-climax, I will ring down the curtain as the
General steps from his car, demoralised reapers bestir themselves into
some semblance of activity, and the commander of the party simply is
not.
CHAPTER XVII.
LAST BATTLES,
AUGUST TO DECEMBER, 1918.
German retreat from the Lys.--Orderly Room and its staff.--The new
devastated area.--Itchin Farm, Merville and Neuf Berquin.--Mines
and booby-traps.--Advance to the Lys.--Estaires destroyed.--
Laventie revisited.--The attack on Junction Post.--Lance-Corporal
Wilcox, V.C.--Scavenging at the XI Corps school.--On the Aubers
ridge.--The end in sight.--Move to Cambrai.--In action near
Bermerain and Maresches.--A fine success.--Domart and
Demobilisation.--Work at Etaples.--Off to Egypt.
While the Battalion harvested the corn behind Nieppe Forest, on the
other side of it hue and cry were being raised after the enemy, whose
tail was well turned in his last retreat. The Lys salient, which had
proved so useless to him, was being evacuated. On the evening of
August 20, 1918, the Battalion was ordered forward from Spresiano Camp
to occupy the old trenches near Chapelle Boom, a quaint moated farmhouse
on the eastern outskirts of the forest. We found the area already
overstocked with troops; indeed Chapelle Boom itself, though assigned
to us, was the headquarters of not less than two units of the 183rd
Infantry Brigade. The arrival of the Battalion, loaded as it was with
the encumbrances of advance, further contributed to the congestion. In
a few days the Suffolks and Northumberland Fusiliers suddenly
disappeared, and Chapelle Boom fell into our power. There we stayed
until the Colonel went upon a course.
[Illustration: BATTALION HEADQUARTERS AT CHAPELLE BOOM]
As usually when the Germans genuinely retired, to use their own
phrase, 'according to plan,' early immunity from shells preluded days
when the last spite of their artillery was flung as far as possible.
Harassing fire against our exits from Nieppe Forest was cleverly
manipulated by the enemy. Our guns, which had the choice of few orchards
or buildings to screen their flashes, were vigorously searched for when
they opened fire. Bonar Farm, Dene Farm, Rennet Farm--places of ill
name during the fighting for the Plate Becque--were freely shelled.
From the explosion of a chance 4.2 Ellis and several men in D Company
were casualties. Whilst in reserve we bathed in the river and for a
time resumed our harvesting pursuits. The method became more unique
and amateur than ever--we were directed to pluck the ripe ears of corn
by hand. I laid down the standard task of one sandbag-full per day per
man. Some men used nail-scissors, and it was found that a 'one hour
day' was ample to ensure a good 'return.' Soon a pile of bags lay by
the roadside. One wonders instinctively what became of the corn and
whether it was used.
The word 'return' should set some readers agog. I am sure no battalion
had a better Orderly Room than the 2/4th Oxfords. Though only a
Company Commander, I was struck by its efficiency when I joined the
Battalion. Units were apt to be judged by the promptness and accuracy
of their returns, and Cuthbert, who for longer than anyone was
Adjutant of the Battalion, won a deserved reputation in this respect.
But inside the Battalion as well as out of it his efficiency was
understood and valued. Cuthbert was a good instance of an officer
without pre-war training whose common-sense and agreeability made him
the equal in his work of any Regular. In the office Sergeant Birt had
now for two years been a pillar of reliability; few officers or men of
the Battalion but owed something to him. Spring 1918 brought an
interregnum in the adjutantcy, till R. F. Symonds, formerly of the
Bucks, returned from a staff attachment to take the post. Symonds had
a remarkable gift for office work. Wrapped up in the routine of the
Battalion, he was never happier than in Orderly Room with a full
'basket.' Since the gassing of Headquarters, Shilson, a recently
arrived officer with antecedents in the A.S.C., had acted adjutant;
right creditably did he acquit himself in the duties suddenly cast
upon him. Other new officers were now filling important positions in
the Battalion. Faithfull, another disciple from the A.S.C., whom also
we got to like very much, was now in command of D Company; Clutsom
commanded C, and Young, who had seen long service with the 48th
Division, B Company; Jones still led A. Time had wrought changes among
the Sergeant-Majors of the Companies. At this period in Cunningham of
A, Mudd of B, Smith of C, and Brooks of D, we had a quartet of tried
experience. The recurrent conflicts about 'strength'--a word which in
effect meant the number of men employed with Quartermaster's Stores
and at Headquarters--were now at a high pitch. After much
'camouflage,' by aid of Bicknell, of the real facts, we had
reluctantly to choose between the 'return to duty' in the line of
either Band or Buglers. The choice was hard, but in the end we kept
the Band intact, for loss of a few bandsmen as casualties might leave
such gaps as would prevent the Band from playing at all.
On August 24 we relieved the 5th Suffolks in the outpost line, which
had remained stationary for several days. It lay upon the eastern fringe
of Neuf Berquin, through whose scattered ruins one picked a way to
find the posts. Headquarters were some distance back, but most
wretchedly accommodated in an orchard close to a lonely brick-stack
known as Itchin Farm. The German guns showed marked persistency, not
actually against the holes which formed Headquarters, but all around.
No area more dismal could be imagined than the flat, dyke-ridden
country north of Merville. So thoroughly had our artillery during the
last four months plastered the ground behind his former lines that
little scope had been left for the retreating frenzy of the enemy. By
bombs and shells we had driven the Germans not only from such places
as Merville and Neuf Berquin, but from the mere proximity to roads or
houses. They had concealed themselves as best they could in ditches
and narrow tunnels made with corrugated iron or planks. The 'Huns,'
indeed, had been meeting with their deserts. Their life in the Lys
salient must have been a nightmare. One required only to read a few of
the notices displayed to realise the difference of life behind their
line and ours. Everywhere appeared in big letters the word
'Fliegerdeckung!' _i.e._ cover from aircraft. No testimony more
eloquent of British superiority could have been offered.
Further behind, round Estaires and La Gorgue, the Germans were busy
blowing up and burning ere their retreat ebbed back across the Lys.
Black palls of smoke rose daily from where mills and factories were
aflame. One day the tall church of Sailly had simply vanished; the
next, one looked vainly for Estaires' square tower. Often, when idly
scanning the horizon or watching aeroplanes, eyes were arrested by
huge jets which sprang into the air to become clouds as large as any
in the sky. Combining with this present orgy of destruction numerous
booby-traps were left behind, whose action was delayed till our
advance should provide victims for their murderous art. Cross-roads
and level-crossings especially 'went up,' or were expected to, and so
many houses were mined that it became impossible to rest secure in
any. In fact, the 182nd Brigade ordered its men out of all buildings.
Some measure of vile ingenuity must be accorded to the authors of
these booby-traps; but whether bombs under beds or attached to pump
handles can be included in legitimate warfare is a case for judgment.
At short notice we attacked from Neuf Berquin on August 28. In some
places the advance was quite successful, but in others not. German
counter-attacks obliged A Company, which had made good progress south
of the Neuf Berquin-Estaires road in the morning, to withdraw its
patrols at dusk. A few days later, however, the opposition lessened,
and companies went forward several miles. Soon afterwards the 182nd
Brigade took turn as the advanced guard, the Lys was reached and
crossed, and presently patrols were passing through the old 'posts'
and grass-grown breastworks which used to lie behind our front-line
system. We followed, and for several days lived in reserve among the
scattered farms and houses north of Estaires, over the ruins of which
Crosthwaite, an officer of mature service, who had just joined the
Battalion, was appointed Town Major. His task was not entirely enviable.
Houses, roofless or otherwise, had to be subdivided into safe, doubtful,
or certain to 'go up.' I cannot help regarding this Flanders retreat
as a subject supremely dull. The constant suspicion of mines and
booby-traps rendered doubly sordid the polluted ruins which formed the
landmarks of our advance. One feature alone provided interest to some.
We were approaching, from an odd direction as it seemed, the old area
where the Battalion had first held its trenches. La Gorgue, Estaires,
Laventie were places rich in association. How much the two former were
altered! La Gorgue, where in 1916 Divisional Headquarters and Railhead
had been, was heaped in ugly ruin. Its expensive church had been blown
in two. Of Estaires proper little more than its charred walls
remained. In such shape was victory passing into our hands.
When the enemy was holding the line Picantin--Junction Post, the
Battalion went forward to hold an outpost line north-east of Laventie.
On September 10, while he was taking over his new piece of front,
Clutsom, of C Company, was badly wounded by a German shell. No officer
could have been more regretted. I am glad to say his wound healed
steadily and he was soon writing cheerful letters to his friends from
England. Command of his company passed to Stanley.
[Illustration: CORPORAL A. WILCOX, V.C.]
Headquarters now were in the old dressing station at Laventie. It was
a house of quite pretentious size, left standing by the enemy.
Although its floors were heaped with shavings, prophets of all ranks
assigned a violent end to tenants of such a residence. For the next
tour we were content to move into Laventie North Post, but all the
time the house belied our fears, nor have I evidence that any mine
existed. I walked through the village, and I must say it seemed less
damaged than I had expected. Most of its buildings were quite
recognisable. The house formerly Battalion Headquarters might, with
labour, have been made to serve again. The line of small plane trees,
which gave Laventie the meretricious semblance of a garden city, was
standing yet. In the war's passage over it Laventie suffered less
havoc than had seemed probable.
At a few hours' notice and in weather calculated to make any operation
a fiasco, the Battalion on September 12 attacked Junction Post, a
grass-bound breastwork where the enemy was offering a stubborn
resistance. Though finally unsuccessful in result, the fighting, which
was accompanied by driving storms of rain, produced two noteworthy
incidents. Rowlerson, one of C Company's platoon commanders, after
reaching the German trenches, somehow lost touch and was captured with
several of his men. In A Company an exploit was performed, which
gained for the Battalion its second Victoria Cross. Lance-Corporal
Wilcox came to close quarters with some enemy defending a piece of
trench with four machine-guns. Each of these guns Lance-Corporal
Wilcox, followed by his section, successively captured or put out of
action. Wilcox was shortly afterwards wounded and was in hospital in
England when news of the award arrived. His deed lent lustre to a
profitless attack.
A few days later the Battalion was relieved and spent a period in
reserve among fields and orchards west of Sailly-sur-la-Lys. We
suffered much from the night long attention of the German 'pip-squeak'
guns, whose range, longer considerably than that of the English
18-pounder, was made fullest use of by the enemy. A move came as a
welcome surprise. Under mysterious directions the Battalion was
ordered back as far as Linghem, a village I have mentioned before as
lying south of Aire. Arrived there, we were placed in some huts,
destined for eventual occupation by the XI Corps school. More than a
day elapsed before the object of our visit was explained: the
Battalion was to sweep and clean the camp for its inspection by the
Corps Commander. We were not present at the ceremony, but for a week
preceding it all four companies were daily engaged weeding potato
patches, tarring roofs, and evacuating a dump of several hundred
thousand empty tins. Rarely were the energies of an Infantry Battalion
more curiously devoted.
At Laventie no startling events had filled our absence. But after our
return--Junction Post had not yet fallen, so that the outpost line was
still in front of Rouge de Bout--developments began. On September 30
the enemy lost Junction Post to a spirited attack by the Gloucesters,
the line that he had been holding for three weeks was broken, and his
retreat became fast and general. After relieving the Gloucesters our
companies were hard put to it to advance rapidly enough to keep touch.
At last we stood upon the Aubers Ridge itself. Lille was almost in
view; but at this point the Division was relieved by the 59th and sent
southwards to join our armies before Cambrai, where the final issue
between British and German arms was destined to be decided.
Out of the closing phases of the war I feel there must be material
from which historians will find that climax which so grand a conflict
deserves as its termination. But I confess that I find scarcely any.
After its dramatic and sinister opening the war seemed almost
belittled by its tame conclusion. Years of nerve-racking experiences,
the hardships, and the immutable association which towns like Ypres,
Arras and Albert, and the trench-dwellings of Flanders and the Somme
possessed, had indisposed the mind to receive new impressions from the
last battle of the war. Patient from a hundred moves from trench to
billet, from billet to trench, the British soldier accepted with
characteristic resignation moves which were sweeping him to Victory.
By gas, liquid fire, night-flying aeroplanes, and long-range
artillery, the war had in four years demonstrated the incredible. The
mere collapse, on one side, of the agencies military and political
which lay behind, was in itself commonplace.
The Battalion joined the XVII Corps half way through October, 1918,
and was soon put into important fighting. The enemy, who had lost
Lille, Douai, and St. Quentin early in the month, was now in full
retreat between Verdun and the sea. To preserve his centre from being
pierced and his flanks rolled up, rear-guards eastward of Cambrai were
offering the maximum resistance. Most villages, though they passed
into our hands nearly intact and in some cases full of civilians, had
to be fought for. The German machine-gunners rarely belied their
character of fighting to the end. In an attack on October 24 from
Haussy, the Battalion, advancing rapidly in artillery formation,
captured the high ground east of Bermerain; and the next day B and D
Companies (the latter now commanded by Cupper) again attacked, and
captured the railway south-east of Sepmeries. For these operations the
weather was fine, the ground dry, and the leadership excellent. A
period followed in reserve at Vendegies and afterwards at Bermerain,
villages which were liberally bombarded by the German long-range guns.
Moving up again on November 2, the Battalion made its last attack of
the war. A fine success resulted. The objectives--St. Hubert and the
ridge east of it--were captured, together with 700 prisoners, 40
machine-guns, and 4 tanks, recently used by the enemy in a
counter-attack. The fruits of this victory were well deserved by the
Battalion, the more because so often in the course of the war it had
been set to fight against odds in secondary operations. It was a good
wind-up.
Of some battalions it was said that on November 11, 1918 they found
themselves standing within a mile or two of where they first went into
action in 1914. We, naturally, could claim no such coincidence; yet a
dramatic touch was not wanting when the telegram, which bore the news
of the cessation of hostilities, was read out by the Colonel to a
parade formed up at Maresches upon the very ground whence the
Battalion had started in its last attack.
[Illustration: OFFICERS OF THE BATTALION DECEMBER 1918]
[Illustration: GENERAL THORNE AND 184th INFANTRY BRIGADE STAFF,
CHRISTMAS 1918]
The Battalion was never in the Army on the Rhine. After time spent at
Cambrai we travelled back to Domart, a village mid-way between Amiens
and Abbeville. In duration the journey surpassed all records. Three
days we spent impatiently waiting for a train, and two more patiently
waiting in the train itself; and we arrived at the destination faced
with a ten-mile march in rain and pitch darkness. Happily the war was
still sufficiently recent for such delay to pass as comedy. At Domart
the one real topic was Demobilisation. I could set myself no harder
task than a description of the workings of this engine. Few people
understood how they were themselves demobilised, and fewer cared how
others were. That the scheme worked on the whole well and justly was
in great measure due to Symonds, whose zealous energy, though the
Battalion was lessoning daily, never flagged. For two months Battalion
drill and the 'Education Scheme' occupied our mornings, football our
afternoons. Christmas was a great festival. The 'Frolics' pantomime
visited the village, in which the Battalion pioneers, under the
direction of Cameron, the Brigade signalling officer, had transformed
an empty building into a capital theatre. General Thorne, who had so
successfully commanded the 184th Infantry Brigade in its last battle,
was unstinting in his efforts to give the men's life in the army a
happy and useful conclusion. He secured visits from all the best
concert parties and raised a fund to finance the department of
Brigade entertainments, of which Nicholas, the Brigade Major, was
chief minister. A weekly magazine was started, which ran to its fourth
number. Truly the arts flourished.
In a windy field south of the village the Battalion was in January
presented with its colour by Major-General Duncan. The occasion passed
off well. Its feature was the admirable speech made by the Colonel.
In February the Battalion, which it was known would be made up with
drafts and retained for service as a unit, was sent to Etaples to
assist in the Demobilisation scheme. For a month we remained meeting
trains, escorting parties to camps, sorting clothing, and driving
herds of the demobilised through the intricacies of a machine called
the 'Delouser,' until the arriving trainloads decreased, dwindled, and
finally stopped. In March several large drafts of officers and men, to
replace all those who had been, or would be, demobilised, joined the
Battalion, which, after a pause at Le Tréport and some leave, sailed
for Egypt. Thither my story does not follow it. When peace was signed,
the cadre of the Battalion had not returned to Oxford. On Christmas
Dav 1919 the 2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry was
still serving overseas.
[Illustration: THE ADJUTANT AT HIS DESK]
[Illustration: CAMBRAI: THE HOTEL DE VILLE]
[Illustration: THE BATTALION COOKS AT STAPLES]
[Illustration: LIEUT.-COL. E. M. WOULFE-FLANAGAN. C.M.G. D.S.O.]
[Illustration: REGIMENTAL SERGT. MAJOR HEDLEY]
[Illustration: REGIMENTAL QUARTERMASTER-SERGEANT HEDGES]
COMPOSITION OF THE BATTALION ON GOING OVERSEAS
_Headquarters._
Colonel W. H. Ames, T. D.
Major G. P. R. Beaman, 2nd in Command.
Major D. M. Rose, Adjutant.
Lieut. C. S. W. Marcon, Signalling Officer.
2/Lieut. H. E. Coombes, Intelligence Officer.
Lieut. G. H. G. Shepherd, Machine-gun Officer.
Lieut. R. L. Abraham, Transport Officer.
Lieut. W. A. Hobbs, Quartermaster.
Captain A. Worsley, Medical Officer.
_Company Commanders._
Captain H. J. Bennett, A Company.
Captain H. N. Davenport, B Company.
Captain A. H. Brucker, C Company.
Captain R. F. Cuthbert, D Company.
_Regimental Sergeant-Major._
T. V. Wood.
_Regimental Quartermaster-Sergeant._
W. C. Hedges.
_Company Sergeant-Majors._
C. A. Witney, A Company.
A. Ball, B Company.
W. F. Campion, C Company.
W. Douglas, D Company.
COMPOSITION OF THE BATTALION AT THE ARMISTICE
_Headquarters._
Lieut.-Colonel E. M. Woulfe-Flanagan, C.M.G., D.S.O.
Major G. K. Rose, M.C., 2nd in Command.
Captain R. F. Symonds, Adjutant.
Lieut. T. S. R. Boase, M.C., Signalling Officer.
Lieut. W. A. F. Hearne, Intelligence Officer.
Captain J. W. Shilson, Assistant Adjutant.
Lieut. G. W. Woodford, M.C., Transport Officer.
Captain W. G. Murray, Quartermaster.
Lieut. E. P. Neary (U.S.), Medical Officer.
_Company Commanders._
Captain H. Jones, M.C., A Company.
Captain R. E. M. Young, B Company.
Captain J. Stanley, M.C., C Company.
Captain J. H. D. Faithfull, D Company.
_Regimental Sergeant-Major._
W. Hedley, D. C. M.
_Regimental Quartermaster-Sergeant._
W. C. Hedges.
_Company Sergeant-Majors._
C. R. Holder, A Company.
A. J. Mudd, B Company.
S. Smith, D.C.M., C Company.
M. T. Brooks, D Company.
INDEX
Ablaincourt, 55, 56, 75.
Abraham, Capt. R. L., 14, 80, 157, 172, 175, 193.
Aire, 194, 195, 201.
Aitken, Lieut. R., 85, 86.
Albert, 23.
Allden, Lieut. J. H., 84, 100, 101.
Ames, Col. W. H., 7, 13.
Amiens, 104, 174.
A.S.C., 43, 45, 132, 192.
Arras, 107, 111, 144.
Arrowsmith, Rev. W. L., M.C., 106.
Asylum, St. Venant, 188, 189.
Athies, 79.
Auxi-le-Château, 111, 112.
Aveluy, 35.
Avesne, 174-176.
Band, the, 200, 211.
Baquerolle Farm, 181, 183, 186, 189, 191, 196.
Barnes, Lance-Corpl., 109.
Barton, Lieut. C. J., 14, 86.
Bassett, Col.-Sgt., 1.
Baxter, Pte., 137, 139.
Beaman, Maj. G. P. R., 14, 66.
Beauvoir Line, 163-165.
Beechey, C.Q.-M.S., 193.
Bellamy, Lt.-Col. R., D.S.O., 14, 30, 43, 51, 104.
Bennett, Lieut. A. E. G., 199.
Bennett, Maj. H. J., M.C., 14, 15, 23, 43, 86, 92, 145, 164-170.
Berks, 2/4th Royal, 25, 35, 51, 55, 66, 77, 98, 102, 122, 124, 161,
163, 169, 170, 181, 204.
Bermerain, 218.
Bernaville, 111.
Bicknell, Capt. A., M.C., 34, 152, 211.
Birt, Sgt. J. W., 190, 210.
Boase, Lieut. T. S. R., M.C., 175, 182, 186.
Boyle, Lt.-Col. C. R. C., D.S.O., 187.
Brigade, 182nd Inf., 78, 85, 87, 160, 198, 213.
-------- 183rd Inf., 126, 169, 208.
Brazier, Sgt., 194, 198.
Brooks, C.S.M. E., V.C., 34, 64, 66, 101, 117.
Brooks, Sgt. M. T., 194, 211.
Broomfield, 4.
Brown, Capt. K. E., M.C., 14, 23, 38, 40, 51, 56, 85, 117, 119,
132, 159, 171.
Broxeele, 114.
Brucamps, 49.
Brucker, Capt. A. H., 14, 117, 124.
Bucks, 2/1st, 35, 79, 81, 94, 125, 135, 158, 174, 175.
Buggins, Father, 79.
Buller, Sgt., 109.
Butcher, Sgt., M. M., 101.
Buttfield, Capt. L. F., M.C., 175, 182.
Cairns, C.S.M. J., D.C.M., 124, 125, 172.
Callender, Lieut. J. C., 14, 117, 119, 124.
Calonne, 177, 179-183, 204.
Calonne Road, 19, 183, 186, 190, 196.
Cambrai, 217, 219.
Cameron, Bde. Signalling Officer, 219.
Canteen, the, 189, 190.
Carvin, 179, 191, 196.
Caulaincourt, 81, 86.
Cepy Farm, 94, 102, 160.
Chapelle Boom, 209.
Chaulnes, 49, 56, 60, 78, 79.
Chemical Works, 142, 149.
Chili Avenue, 143.
Chocques, 174, 177.
Christie-Miller, Lieut.-Col. G., D.S.O., M.C., 197.
Christmas Day, 41, 155, 219, 220.
Clarence River, 179, 191.
Clutsom, Capt. C. R., 175, 197, 211, 214.
Coles, Corpl., 63, 66.
Collett, Sgt., 30.
Connell, Bugler, 190.
Contay Wood, 22.
Copinger, Lieut. J. P., 117, 140.
Coombes, Lieut. H. K., 117, 194.
Coucher, Lieut. G. W., 186.
Craddock, Lieut., 170.
Crosthwaite, Capt. H. T., 213.
Cubbage, Lieut., 197, 203.
Cunningham, C.S.M., 211.
Cunningham, Lieut. J. C., 159, 162.
Cupper, Lieut. H. J., 218.
Cuthbert, Capt. R. F., M.C., 14, 30, 51, 63, 149, 210.
Davenport, Capt. H. N., M.C., 7, 9, 14, 38, 75, 166, 168.
Davies, Pte. A. H., 137.
Dawson-Smith, Lieut. C. F., 117.
D.C.L.I., 1 5th, 34, 36, 166, 179.
Deniécourt, 51.
Desire Trench, 25, 26, 38.
Dimmer, Lt.-Col. J. S., V.C., 168.
Division, 4th, 183, 188.
5th, 201.
15th, 122, 126, 144.
17th, 143.
20th, 166, 168, 175.
32nd, 55, 90.
48th, 122, 124, 126.
51st, 177, 179.
59th, 84, 85, 217.
Domart, 219.
Douglas, R.S.M.W., 14, 172.
Doullens, 174, 177.
Dugan, Br.-Gen. W. J., C.M.G., D.S.O., 14.
Duncan, Maj.-Gen. F. J., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., 207, 220.
Ellis, Lieut., 210.
Enghien Redoubt, 160, 162, 165.
Estaires, 17, 212-214.
Etaples, 220.
Fabick Trench, 23.
Faithfull, Capt. J. H. D., 211.
Fauquissart, 10.
Fayet, 90, 94, 96, 98, 157, 158, 160-163, 171.
Field Trench, 36, 37.
Foreshew, Capt. C. E. P., M.C., 159.
Framerville, 76, 80.
Freudemacher, C.Q.-M.S., 193.
'Frolics,' the, 198, 219.
Fry, Lieut., 61.
Gas, 114, 128, 136, 150, 203.
Gascoyne, Lieut., 117, 124.
Gepp, Bde.-Maj., 33, 148, 149.
Gloucester Farm, 19, 191.
Gloucesters, 2/5th, 15, 35, 84, 85, 90, 162, 163, 169, 170, 183,
184, 187, 188, 204, 216.
Goldfish Château, 120, 125-127.
Gonnelieu, 153, 154.
Goodman, Lance-Cpl., 140.
Gouzeaucourt, 152, 153.
Grandcourt, 24, 28.
Greenland Hill, 105, 149.
Guest, Lieut. H. R., M.C., 117, 125, 140.
Guildford, Lieut., 64.
Ham, 166, 168.
Hangest, 176.
Harbonnières, 49.
Harling, Major R. W., 34.
Harris, Capt. H. T. T., 117.
Hall, Pte., D.C.M., 151.
Haussy, 218.
Havrincourt Wood, 154.
Hawkes, Lieut. T. W. P., 117.
Hazebrouck, 177, 195, 200.
Hedauville, 30, 33, 34, 43.
Hedges, R.Q.M.S. W. C., 14.
Hedley, R.S.M. W., D.C.M., 175, 203.
Herbert, Lieut. S. E., 109.
Hessian Trench, 30, 37, 38, 40.
Hill, Lieut. T. A., 117.
Hill 35, 131-140.
Hinton, Sgt., M.M. 15.
Hobbs, Capt. (Q.-M.) W. A., 14, 21, 45, 159.
Holder, C.Q.-M.S. C. R., 193.
Holnon, 90, 91, 102, 157, 159, 162, 163.
Hombleux, 88, 166.
Howland, Sgt., 1.
Howitt, Capt. (Bde.-Maj.) H. G., D.S.O., M.C., 148, 169, 178.
Hunt, Lieut. C. B., 25, 29, 64, 65.
Infantry Hill, 105.
Isbergues, 177, 194.
Itchin Farm, 212.
Jones, Capt. H., M.C., 44, 100, 101, 117, 162, 171, 172, 211.
July 19th, 1916, Operations of, 12, 13.
Junction Post, 214-216.
Kemp, Lieut. S. F., M.C. 175, 186.
Kilby. Sergt., 100, 101.
Kirk, Lieut. J., 175, 193, 198, 203.
Kettle, Sgt., 190.
La Gorgue, 10, 212, 214.
La Lacque, 194.
La Motte, 169-171.
La Pierre au Beurre, 185, 188.
La Pierrière, 189, 197-199.
Languevoisin, 164, 165.
Laventie, 8, 10, 176, 214-216.
Lawson, Lt.-Col. A. B., D.S.O., 163, 169, 188, 191.
Leatherbarrow, Sergt. J., 98, 101, 117.
Les Amusoires, 179, 181, 182, 196.
Les Fosses Farm, 107.
Le Vergier, 84, 85.
Liettres, 199.
Lindsey, Lieut., 109.
Linghem, 198, 216.
Lodge, 2/Lt. T., M.C., 175, 181, 186, 187, 189.
Loewe, Lieut. L. L., 43.
Longford, Pte., 26, 66.
Longley, Pte., 66.
Lyon, Lieut., 44.
Lys River, 176, 212, 213.
Mackenzie, Maj.-Gen. Sir Colin, K.C.B., 49, 165, 195.
Maison Ponthieu, 42, 45, 49.
Maissemy, 81, 90, 163.
Marcelçave, 49, 169, 170.
Marchélepot, 56, 60, 79.
Marcon, Capt. C. S. W., 57.
Maresches, 219.
Martinsart Wood, 31, 33, 34.
Matthews, Capt. C. S., 117, 159.
Merville, 8, 10, 17, 176, 177, 179, 182, 188, 201, 204, 212.
Miller, Capt. J. G. R., 186.
Moated Grange, 17.
Moberly, Capt. W. H., D.S.O., 9, 117, 125, 150, 151, 165, 166, 172.
Monchy-le-Preux, 105, 106.
Montolu Wood, 81, 86.
Monument, at Fayet, 90, 171.
Moorat, 23.
Moore, Capt. (Bde.-Maj.), L. G., D.S.O., 92, 93, 98.
Moore, Col.-Sgt., 1.
Mouquet Farm, 23, 35, 36.
Moss, C.S.M., 188.
Mowby, Sergt. W., 100.
Mudd, C.S.M. A. J., 211.
Muir, Lt.-Col. J. B., D.S.O., 158.
Murray, Capt. (Q.M.) W. G., 159, 172, 175, 193, 197.
Nesle, 168, 169, 175.
Neuf Berquin, 201, 204, 211-213.
Neuve Chapelle, 10.
Neuvillette, 20, 104.
Nicholas, Bde.-Maj., 220.
Nieppe Forest, 177, 178, 201-206, 209.
Noc River, 20, 179, 181, 198.
Noeux, 111, 112.
Northampton, 3.
O'Connor, Lance-Cpl., 100.
O'Meara, Lieut. R. A., M.C., 155, 185.
Offoy, 165, 166.
Omignon River, 79, 84.
Orderly Room, 210, 211.
Oxford, Battalion billeted in colleges, 2.
Oxfords, 6th, 159, 187.
Pagan, Brig.-Gen. A. W., D.S.O., 176, 183, 196, 198.
Palmer, Sgt., 117, 137.
Parkhouse Camp, 6.
Parsons, Sgt., 43.
Patrols, 29, 40.
Plate Becque, 201, 204, 210.
Pond Farm, 122, 124, 125.
Ponne Copse, 86.
Poperinghe, 115, 119.
Portuguese, 177, 178, 187, 194.
P.U.O., 197.
Pym, Bde.-Maj., 33.
Raid, at Ablaincourt (by enemy), 58, 63, 64.
by A Coy., 15.
by B Coy., 9.
by C Coy., 191.
by D Coy., 92.
Rainecourt, 49, 77.
Ravenscroft, Sgt., D.C.M., 201.
Regina Dug-out, 26.
Regina Trench, 25, 27, 30, 38.
Riez Bailleul, 17, 19.
Robecq, 19, 20, 177-184, 187, 188, 196.
Roberts, Pte., 66.
Robinson, Capt. A. J., 14, 23, 25, 38, 51, 56, 160, 171, 189, 191.
Rockall, Corpl., 29, 61.
Rose, Maj. D. M., 14.
Rowbotham, Capt. G. V., M.C., 159, 160.
Rowbotham, Lance-Cpl., 66, 137, 139, 140.
Rowlerson, Lieut. G. A., M.C., 191, 215.
Ruthven, Maj. W. L., 43.
Sailly-sur-la-Lys, 212, 216.
St. Hilaire, 199, 200.
St. Hubert, 218.
St. Omer, 195.
St. Pol, 174, 177.
St. Quentin, 82, 87, 89, 90, 103.
St. Venant, 176, 178, 181, 183, 187, 196.
Schuler Farm, 122.
Scott, Lieut. W. D., 7, 117, 119, 124.
Selency, 90, 160, 162.
Sepmeries, 218.
Shields, Capt. (M.O.), 197.
Shilson, Capt. J. W., 211.
Short, Pte., 66.
Sloper, Sgt., M. M., 101, 117.
Smith, Pte., 66.
Smith, C.S.M. S., D.C.M., 211.
Soyécourt, 81, 82.
Spresiano Camp, 204.
Stanley, Capt. J., M.C., 185, 188, 215.
Stobie, Capt. W., O.B.E., 26, 79, 106, 169.
Stockton, Capt. J. G., 7, 23, 43, 51, 84, 117, 124.
Suffolks, 5th, 209, 211.
Sunken Road (Fayet), 90, 94, 96, 161.
Suzanne, 155, 156.
Symonds, Capt. R. F., 203, 210, 219.
Taylor, Lieut., 97, 100, 101.
Taylor, C.Q.-M.S., 193.
Tertry, 81.
Thomas, 'Benny,' 144, 159.
Thompson, Pte., 66.
Thorne, Brig.-Gen. A. F. A. N., C.M.G., D.S.O., 219.
Tiddy, Lieut. R. J. E., 7, 15.
Tilly, Lieut., 86.
Timms, Pte., 25, 63, 66.
Transport, the, 192-194.
Tremellen, Lance-Cpl., 75.
Tripp's Farm, 196.
Tubbs, Capt. A., 94.
Tullock's Corner, 36.
Ugny, 159, 164, 165.
Uzzell, Lance-Cpl., 64.
Vendegies, 218.
Verlaines, 166, 168.
Vermandovillers, 77, 79.
Viggers, Corpl., 76, 97, 140.
Villers Bretonneux, 169, 171.
Vlamertinghe, 120.
Voyennes, 165, 166.
Waldon, Col.-Sgt., 1.
Wallington, Lieut. C. H., M.C., 151, 160.
Warwircks, 2 6th, 179.
2 7th, 181.
Watkins, Sgt., 82, 84.
Wayte, Lieut. J. P., M.C., 85, 86.
Webb, Lieut. E. S. F., 117.
Weller, Lieut. B. O., 157.
Wetherall, Lieut.-Col. H. de R., D.S.O., M.C., 104, 111, 132,
150, 187, 196, 203, 204.
White, Brig.-Gen. the Hon. R., C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., 15, 39, 48,
93, 112, 121, 145-148, 163, 165.
Wilcox, Lance-Cpl. A., V.C., 215.
Wieltje, 132, 134.
Williams, Col.-Sergt., 1.
Willink, Capt. G. O. W., M.C., 169.
Wiltshire, Lieut. G. H., 149.
Winchester Post, 10.
Winnipeg, 122.
Wise, Lance-Cpl., 140.
Wood. R.S.M. T. V., 1.
Woodford, Lieut. G. W., M.C., 193.
Woulfe-Flanagan, Lt.-Col. E. M., C.M.G., D.S.O., 203, 220.
Wright, Bugler, 66.
Writtle, 4.
Young, Capt. R. E. M., 211.
Ypres, 58, 119, 120.
Zeder, Lieut. J. H., D.C.M., 7, 9.
Zollern Redoubt, 36, 38.
HOLYWELL PRESS, OXFORD.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Page 94: The word "and" has been added in the sentence "The attack
was ably dealt with by Tubbs' company of the Bucks-and-had proved
abortive for the enemy".
Page 109: "Another development which was destined to play an ever
increasing part in the war and to make its closing phases worse in
some respects that its early, was the long-range high-velocity gun."
The word "that" has been changed to "than".
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