Somme
Page 38
Shrill blast from the whistles blown by the company and platoon commanders warned us that it was three o’clock and time to attack. The infantry commenced to scramble over the parapets and our crews of Vickers machine gunners to move up the saps in No Man’s Land. Almost at the same moment the German front which for several hours had been uncannily quiet, broke into violent action with a great crash of artillery, trench mortars, field guns, howitzers and siege guns—everything they had. At the same time their trench garrisons let off into the ranks of the attacking British troops a blaze of rifle and machine gun fire, and a shower of stick bombs.10
Private Arthur Russell, 13th Company, Machine Gun Corps, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
Private Russell with the Vickers gun and the supporting team of four other gunners and one ammunition carrier did not get far towards the head of the sap before disaster struck.
A terrific explosion blew me off my feet; earth and sandbags cascaded down and the sides of the trench caved in on top of me. Stunned and dazed I dragged myself out of the tumbled debris and retrieved the Vickers gun which had fallen off my shoulders into the trench bottom. Two yards in front of me the gunner who had been carrying the tripod lay face down in the bottom of the trench with a large gory gash across the small of his back where a large piece of shell had ploughed its way through his equipment and clothing cutting deeply into his flesh in its path—he was groaning and just conscious. Where were the rest of my mates? Turning round I saw another gunner on his knees, a great wound at the back of his neck from which blood was spurting freely, his head had gone forward and his steel helmet held suspended by its strap was hanging down below his face; it was full of blood and overflowing—he was dead. Then I saw the attached infantryman extricate himself from the tumbled heap of earth and sandbags, apparently unhurt. There were still two of the team to be accounted for. Pulling at the sandbags and earth piled in the trench their limp and lifeless bodies were soon revealed.11
Private Arthur Russell, 13th Company, Machine Gun Corps, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
The 4th King’s Liverpools were on their own in a maelstrom of fire as it was impossible for Russell and the one ammunition carrier infantryman to get the gun forward and into action. The result was a slaughter and there were very few survivors left to return to the British lines when the attack fell apart. It is almost unnecessary to say that High Wood was not captured.
The experience of Russell and the 4th King’s Liverpools was typical of a very bad day for the Fourth Army. A few trenches were gained but the cost was utterly exorbitant. Although this time the attacking divisions went across at the same time, they did so in isolated pockets of a battalion here and there, interspersed along the line. To make matters even worse some of the attacking battalions only sent a couple of companies forward. The attacking troops were consequently still rendered vulnerable to deadly local flanking fire from the German positions on either side of them, which were not under direct attack. Furthermore a succession of minor attacks along the rest of the Fourth Army front north of High Wood had once again dissipated the artillery effort to no practical diversionary purpose. In no way was this a coherent mass assault to punch its way through to the objective—the artillery barrage was not yet concentrated enough to clear the way and there were simply too few troops committed to swamp resistance and consolidate any gains. The painful failure meant that Rawlinson was in trouble up to his neck. Haig’s mind was already turning to the next great attack all along the German Third Line of the original Somme defences that would mirror the efforts on the First Line system on 1 July and the Second Line system on 14 July. Yet, as ever, before they could attack the Third Line they needed to secure a good start line not too far away and with no flanking menaces like the German fortresses at High Wood, Ginchy, Guillemont and Falfemont Farm. Rawlinson had been floundering since mid-July and was getting nowhere in attaining these vital objectives. He simply had to get a grip on affairs and Haig hammered home the point in no uncertain terms.
The only conclusion that can be drawn from the repeated failure of attacks on Guillemont is that something is wanting in the methods employed. The next attack must be thoroughly prepared for in accordance with the principles which have been successful in previous attacks and which are, or should be, well known to commanders of all ranks. The attack must be a general one, engaging the enemy simultaneously along the whole front to be captured, and a sufficient force must be employed, in proper proportion to the extent of front, to beat down all opposition. The necessary time for preparation must be allowed, but not a moment must be lost on carrying it out.12
General Sir Douglas Haig, General Headquarters, British Expeditionary Force
There was no mistaking the threatening tone. He even lectured Rawlinson on his personal responsibilities as an army commander.
In actual execution of plans, when control by higher commanders is impossible, subordinates on the spot must act on their own initiative, and they must be trained to do so. But in preparation close supervision by higher commanders is not only possible but is their duty, to such extent as they find necessary to ensure that everything is done that can be done to ensure success. This close supervision is especially necessary in the case of a comparatively new army. It is not interference but a legitimate and necessary exercise of the functions of a commander on whom the ultimate responsibility for success or failure lies.13
General Sir Douglas Haig, General Headquarters, British Expeditionary Force
It was some time before Haig’s strictures could be put into action. The onset of rain severely delayed preparations and the date for a new attack was finally set for 3 September. This time it was intended that all the ‘start-line objectives’ prior to the next big offensive would be finally overrun: High Wood, Ginchy, Guillemont and Falfemont Farm. Rawlinson was determined to make no further mistakes and had tried to ensure that he had amassed sufficient resources to guarantee success, despite the difficult tactical situation that faced his troops. In addition, an attempt was made to improve the tactical positions by digging trenches in No Man’s Land to the north-west of Guillemont, which would allow the attacking troops the chance to take the Germans holding the village from the flank. Yet the artillery support was still not adequate to support such an extended front. It was becoming apparent that this was another intractable problem: if they attacked on a narrow front then a crushing bombardment could be achieved, but the German artillery and machine guns could pour in fire from the flanks; yet if they attacked on a wide front then the concentration of shells was inevitably reduced, which left German defensive positions intact and able to resist the troops directly attacking them. It was extraordinarily difficult to square the circle.
When the attack went in the results were patchy in the extreme, except in Guillemont where the German resistance finally crumbled to the concentrated attack of the 20th Division. Alongside it, aligned next to the French, the 5th Division was facing the dreaded Falfemont Farm. For the attacking infantry it was certainly difficult to discern the trappings of victory amidst the usual misery.
I lay crouched in a shell hole in No Man’s Land. My leg, arm and side were numb and bleeding fast and I was half blinded by blood from a slight shrapnel wound above one eye. With my teeth and right hand, I struggled to tear the first aid dressing and iodine phial from my tunic lapel. I began to realise I was not alone in that shell crater. Two still figures hung over the lip. Spouting earth and soft ‘phuts’ made me thank my lucky stars they were protecting me from the traversing machine guns. A voice was sobbing nearby, ‘Water!’ or ‘Mother!’ I could not tell which. An Edinburgh lad from the earlier King’s Own Scottish Borderers attack was lying beside me, his thigh and knee shattered. Already his eyes were beginning to glaze. I pressed my water bottle to his lips, and took the last sip myself, as the burning thirst from loss of blood was becoming intolerable. Then I realised that the clean face turned towards me from one of the protecting corpses was Larry. Larry, from one of the May
drafts, was precise in manner and dress and would go to any lengths to perform a clean shave. Early that same morning we had scrounged some extra tea dregs for him to shave. Only one arm hung over the crater lip from the other inert figure. I looked casually at the hand, then again, a long glance, for a few black hairs curled over the lower arm and wrist. I tugged at the arm with all the final strength of despair, pulling the body down the incline. Yes—it was George.... His face was completely relaxed, at peace. The sweeping bullets had twice cut across Larry and George breast high; the same sweeps had only caught my arm and side. I slipped down beside them, utterly exhausted.14
Private Francis Fields, 15th Battalion, Warwickshire Regiment, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
In between periods of merciful oblivion, he was prepared to fight to the last should it be the German who found him in his shell hole in No Man’s Land.
With my right hand and using my head as a butt, I forced the rifle out of Larry’s grasp, checked the magazine, and then wedged it between his limbs so that it was sighted on the irregular rim of the nearby German trench line. As all four of us carried an extra belt of ammunition, I could hold out for quite a time, I thought. I then remembered that, as a signaller in the first attacking wave, I carried a Mills bomb in each pocket. These I laid out in a row. It would be easy to remove the pins with my teeth before lobbing them into the enemy line after drawing their fire with my rifle. Then came a blank. My next recollection is of a complete metamorphosis, for I was lying on my back. Darkness was above me, save for the stars and occasional flashes like distant summer lightning. There was a heavenly silence, but for the jingle of harness, creaking wheels and groans beside me when the wagon lurched. Spasms of cramp and still the burning thirst. For us at least the Battle of the Somme was over.15
Private Francis Fields, 15th Battalion, Warwickshire Regiment, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
The gains made, however, had to be defended. Everyone was aware that the Germans were unlikely to react with passive acquiescence. The counter-attacks would be deadly. Lieutenant Paviere was ordered forward with a machine gun section from the 61st Machine Gun Company to reinforce the front line.
The ground was strewn with mud and multiple shell holes full of water. Shelling was intense and accurate. I therefore ordered the section to crawl forward, each gun crew keeping a good distance from one another as there were no communication trenches. By the time I reached the company and reported to the commander, I was covered in foul mud. Pieces of dank, decaying, stinking flesh clung to my fingers which had pierced the bodies of corpses as I moved forwards. There, after consultation with the commander, I placed the four machine guns with their crews in positions with good fields of fire. The parapet of the so-called trench consisted mainly of stacks of German and British dead. As the afternoon wore on and night fell, shelling became more and more intense resulting in the death of the captain and his two subalterns who were killed in front of my eyes. There were numerous other casualties. Two of my guns with the majority of their crews were blown to pieces and the others rendered useless. Mustering the troops in my own vicinity, I counted twenty–thirty all told, including the survivors of my own crews out of a total of more than one hundred the afternoon before. Communication with the rear was lost entirely through the destruction of the field telephone system. Soon afterwards, our own artillery began to shell us also, assuming that we had lost the trench, having received no message for support. The troops around me were dazed, one young boy begging me to take him home to his mother. Convinced that my own end was near, I prayed that death might be other than by being bayoneted. I dreaded the thought of my body being pierced by a bayonet in the event of a German charge. Gradually, a strange peace of mind followed, and all fear of death disappeared. I felt that passing on was to be so simple and easy.16
Lieutenant Horace Paviere, 61st Company, Machine Gun Corps, 20th Division
All this was in the sector of the front where the attack had been relatively successful. Elsewhere the situation was simply disastrous. Any progress made in front of Ginchy, Wood Lane and High Wood was soon reversed by strong German counter-attacks that simply swept the British back to their start lines. Here there was no ‘victory’ to console the wounded and mentally shattered men. Rawlinson reacted by simply ordering a series of renewed attacks over the next week, which centred on Ginchy. This phase of the fighting seems almost Kafkaesque to the modern mind as the valiant troops of the 7th Division lurched forward time and time again in utterly futile isolated attacks, till there were simply too few left to hold their place in the line. The artillery did its best, but it was all so totally confusing.
It was difficult to keep direction. Ran into the tail end of our own 18-pounder shrapnel barrage—very unpleasant! Mist cleared about 9 p.m. Ginchy very much knocked about. Coldstream Guards hold the north-west edge of the village. Crept up to a point from which I could see the strong point on the north east corner of Delville Wood which had caused us so much trouble. As usual we found the line cut and had to send a signaller back to try and mend it. This was very exasperating because from where we were lying in a shell hole I could see a row of Huns in enfilade in Pint Trench which looked very battered. They were about 150 yards off. There was an officer standing next to a machine gun looking through his field glasses. I saw him tap his gunner on the shoulder to swing the machine gun on us and fire a burst. The noise of the battle was terrific. Our shell hole was rather shallow and the guardsman next to me got a bullet which entered his shoulder and ran for about 10 inches along his back just under the skin. There was another guardsman and a sergeant in our shell hole. We patched up the wounded one and as I could not do any good there with no line, I returned down the line to see what had happened to my linesman. Communication during a battle was a desperate business, one was lucky to get through to the battery for more than a few minutes at a time. If I had a line to the battery I could have blown the Hun out of Pint Trench in a few minutes.17
Lieutenant Y. R. N. Probert, 35th Brigade, Royal Field Artillery 7th Division
In front of High Wood the 1st Division had taken over the line and they were flinging themselves forward in penny-packets in the same old style. On 9 September they were responsible for a diversionary attack on High Wood, while Rawlinson ordered a concentrated full-scale effort by the 16th Division on Ginchy. The diversionary attack was a depressingly inevitable failure. The 1st Northamptonshires attacked High Wood itself. The story remained the same.
At 3.50 p.m. we mounted the firesteps and at 4 p.m. the signal—by Stokes mortar—was given and 15 and 16 Platoons, about sixty men including myself, went over. I was carrying rifle, bayonet, haversack with rations, entrenching tool, 260 rounds of ammo, two gas helmets, one gas goggles, two Mills bombs in each pocket, six more bombs in a bag slung around my neck, two empty sandbags and a first aid packet. One or two men had to carry a shovel extra. Our barrage stopped the instant we went over and consequently we were at the same time met with intense machine gun fire and shrapnel. Of the four on my firestep, one got a bullet in the shoulder and fell back in the trench, my mucking-in mate, Lance Corporal Wymet was killed and Private Huggins badly wounded a few yards on. I got about 16 yards across No Man’s Land and seeing the officer in charge, Captain Martin, taking cover in a shallow shell hole, I dropped in beside him, as also did Private Blount and a second lieutenant. Huggins crawled in with us, with the help of a puttee we slung him and we applied a dressing, but he was in a bad way and attempted to crawl back. He was immediately hit, we pulled him back and he died in the shell hole with us. A message to Captain Martin was later thrown out attached to a stone, to say that the attack was abandoned and to crawl back after dark, the situation being hopeless. After it got dark, the German lit the place up with parachute flares and kept up the fire in bursts. However we four all managed to crawl back one at a time.18
Private Bernard Whayman, 1st Battalion, Northamptonshire Regiment, 2nd Brigade, 1st Division
Of the sixty men who
attacked, the roll call would reveal only twenty left to answer their names. Forty were killed, wounded or missing. Alongside them the 2nd Royal Sussex had the dubious pleasure of attacking Wood Lane Trench. Private Walter Grover was a member of a new draft joining the battalion. It was to be a rough baptism of fire.
You had to clamber out of the trench on a scaling ladder and then double across No Man’s Land. Not knowing what we were going into, we’d never heard a bullet whizzing past. There were the dead lying all over, the Cameron Highlanders and the Black Watch—all their kilts. We had to stumble over those; you couldn’t go in a straight line because it was all pitted with shell holes. Bullets were coming from High Wood they could enfilade us; bullets were coming from in front of us from Wood Lane Trench. So we were getting it all ways. Shrapnel was coming down overhead, all the German artillery banging away at us. We had our own artillery firing over that way. You can hardly credit what it was like; it’s only those who have been through it who know what it was like. We got to the wire and then we got held up. The wire cutters came along, cut the wire and we got through. Then we were held up again in front of Wood Lane Trench and we laid there until it got dark. Then a sergeant came along, got us in line and we got into the German trench. That had to be seen to be believed. The Germans were buried in the sides of the trench still holding their rifles, in grotesque postures; the trench was full of the dead, ours as well as Germans.19
Private Walter Graver, 2nd Battalion, Sussex Regiment, 2nd Brigade, 1st Division
The main attack on 9 September was to be made by the 16th (Irish) Division on the benighted village of Ginchy. Amongst the men going over the top that morning was Lieutenant Tom Kettle who was a prominent Irish Nationalist MP. He was born in Dublin in 1880. A leading intellectual he was elected the first president of the Young Ireland Branch of the United Irish League and became editor of The Nationalist newspaper. In 1906, his burgeoning political career culminated in his victory in the East Tyrone seat for the House of Commons. His life changed when he was in Belgium on a mission to purchase rifles for the Republican volunteers in 1914. Kettle was caught up in the outbreak of war and soon repulsed by witnessing the brutality of the German Army. He firmly identified with invaded Belgium whose position he compared to Ireland and in the end, despite his republicanism he had enlisted into the British Army. His experiences up to that point of war utterly appalled him.