The Forgotten Spy

by Nick Barratt

  Most of January 1918 was spent training, although on several occasions severe snow interrupted the various drills and practice. The seasoned soldiers would have known what was coming – an imminent spell in the line. Sure enough, a warning order was received on 20 January about a move and, two days later, the battalion covered the 12 miles from Suzanne to Rosières-en-Santerre in five hours, followed by a further 8-mile march the next day to Guerbigny, where they stayed for a couple of days.

  On 25 January, they marched out for a couple of miles and were doubtless glad to be met by motorised transport that took them to Berlancourt, at which point they marched to overnight billets at Beine. The next day they tramped to Montescourt, not far from Jussy, near the banks of the Somme, where they were warned to prepare for the trenches. All through 27 January they waited in nervous anticipation before the order came through at 5.20 pm to proceed to the front at St Quentin, relieving the French 413e Infantry Regiment on the left sector. D Company, including Oldham, and C Company were in the trenches, with A and B companies in reserve. It was an uneventful duty and they remained in position until 2 February when the surprise orders were received that the battalion was to be disbanded as part of a reorganisation. Troops would be reallocated to other regiments of the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry in order of company. Oldham and his comrades in D Company were sent to join the 1st Battalion and the promise of more front line duty.

  Before the men dispersed to their new postings, commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Smith was moved to say a few words about the farewell order and the gallantry his charges had shown during the previous years:

  You have fought valiantly and never lost a trench or failed to do what was required of you.

  You have often been hungry and thirsty, had to endure intense cold and rain, mud and discomfort, had to work and march in the course of your duty, till you had hardly strength to stand. You have done all this without a murmur and with a cheerfulness which has been beyond all praise.

  I know full well that you will carry on the same splendid work in the other battalions of the dear old corps that you are going to. No regiment in the British service has a finer record and, remember this, it is each one of you who help to keep that record unsullied and its honour bright. It has been the proudest and happiest time of my life during which I have had the honour of commanding you, and I still hope I may continue to solider with you.43

  Stirring stuff, and with these words ringing in his ears, Oldham marched off to join the 1st Battalion, part of the 16th Infantry Brigade, 6th Division, stationed in the Lagnicourt sector, where he and 30 other ranks arrived on 12 February.44 Unfortunately, this was exactly where the Germans had planned to launch Operation Michael as part of the so-called spring offensive, made possible following the withdrawal of the Russians from the war under the terms of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk on 3 March.

  The Russian withdrawal was a direct result of domestic turmoil throughout 1917. Tsar Nicholas II had been forced to abdicate at the end of the February Revolution and was replaced by a provisional government that in turn failed to repress the anti-war, radical Bolsheviks. This ultimately led to the October Revolution that saw Vladimir Lenin sweep to power and establish rule by local soviets – councils run by the workers – in the new Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic. Almost immediately, the ‘White’ Army of monarchists and liberal reformers confronted the Bolshevik ‘Red’ Army, sparking the Russian civil war that engulfed the country in 1918 and dragged on until 1922.

  Recognising the catastrophic effect that the war was having on the Russian economy, the Bolshevik government secured an armistice with the Central Powers in December 1917. However, peace negotiations collapsed and after German forces made rapid gains along the Eastern Front, the Russians were forced to accept considerably less favourable terms and the peace treaty was signed on 3 March. As a result, Russia abandoned the Triple Entente and made large territorial concessions, while Germany was free to move nearly 50 divisions to the Western Front.

  For almost a week, since unusual enemy activity was reported on 14 March and Oldham’s battalion stood to at battle positions in the early hours, there was an uneasiness amongst the troops holding the line ‘as to the enemy’s intention to attack’, according to the official unit war diary.45 Then, on 21 March, the German assault began. Operation Michael was the main attack of four planned offensives that day, the plan being to punch through Allied lines with the overwhelming numerical advantage gained by the move of the divisions from the Eastern Front. The first objective would be to pour as many men through a breach as possible and outflank the British troops who held the line that ran along the Somme to the Channel. The aim was to cut off supply lines in a repeat of the original 1914 strategy. In theory this would render the British forces inoperative and hasten the French to the negotiating table.

  A summary of the action in the unit war diary records the events as they unfolded from the perspective of Oldham and his men based just outside St Quentin.

  At 5.00 am, the enemy heavily bombarded our trenches in the forward area but did not shell the defended area until 5.45 am. He used gas shells and high explosive mixed, and also shelled our batteries around Vaulx and Bois de Vaulx very heavily with high explosives.46

  In fact, over 3.5 million shells were fired in five hours, decimating the lines but also cutting off communication lines at around 7.30 am, making it much harder for the British troops to understand what was going on or coordinate a response with the units on either side in the line. An early morning fog added to the growing sense of confusion, making it very hard to see beyond 10 metres in front. However, those in the front line trenches that had held their position during the bombardment were suddenly faced with thousands of Germans appearing, wraith-like, out of the mist, firing as they came:

  At around 8.00 am the barrage lifted from the front line. Battalion HQ then received a message from officer commanding A Company by runner that B Company was falling back onto A company, and that no officer of B Company had been seen; also that the enemy were right through Noreuil and advancing over ridge towards the left flank of the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry.47

  The daily entry from the diary makes for even more dramatic reading as knowledge of the fate of one’s comrades was often sketchy or down to guesswork as the battle unfolded, with fractured communication making it hard to piece together what was happening from hour to hour:

  21 March

  Desperate enemy offensive commences, remnant of battalion mixed with portions of other units, endeavour to hold the enemy in the Haig Line. Inflicted enormous losses on the enemy; before the retirement to the Haig Line those of the battalion (the great majority under Col HM Smith, DSO, seeing themselves surrounded, determined to fight to the last). Owing to the fact that very few got away from this melee very little is known of the actual details of this fight. Sunset found a handful of the battalion under Lieutenant Rogers MC still in the Haig Line.48

  In fact, all front line units retreated throughout the day under the weight of German firepower, using the communications trenches to fall back to the Haig Line and beyond. They abandoned Noreuil and Lagnicourt – ground held for several years was lost in a matter of hours. Fighting resumed the next day with even greater levels of intensity as officers struggled to prevent the retreat from becoming a rout. Infantry troops desperately sought artillery support, but the guns were taken further back to prevent them falling into German hands. Word came through that German forces had broken through the new defensive positions at Vaulx de Bois, and so the Allied retreat continued – Vaulx itself was lost and under intense fire the British line fell back further.

  22 March

  The remnant of the battalion wedged between 1st the Buffs and 2nd Yorks and Lancasters put up a desperate fight in the Haig line. About 3.00 pm, unsupported by artillery who were moving back, the enemy having succeeded in outflanking the line in overwhelming numbers, it became necessary to fall back on to Vaulx. The retirement was
conducted in good order. At dusk the battalion received orders to withdraw to the G[eneral] H[ead]Q[uarters] line behind Vraucourt.49

  The battalion sustained heavy losses; although Oldham was in the thick of the fighting, he was extremely lucky not to be injured.

  In this, the heaviest fighting the battalion has ever known, ie 21 – 22 March 1918, the battalion loss was in ‘killed, wounded and missing’ 21 officers and 492 other ranks and earned for itself the admiration of all who fought with them and added fresh laurels to the history of a gallant regiment. Only 77 other ranks survived on the evening of the 22nd of those who were in the battle.50

  The shattered remnants of the battalion were relieved the next day, battle-scarred, weary and lucky to be alive. However, they had to march to Achiet-le-Grand, where they collapsed on trains bound for Doullens. Arriving at 8.00 pm, they set up bivouacs in the moat of the citadel and rested. Further marches were required on 25 March before they reached Chauny camp in the early hours of the following morning. At this point, the strength of the battalion was assessed; only 13 officers and 272 other ranks remained.

  Fighting continued along the line until early April and the Germans advanced over 40 miles into Allied territory, taking over 75,000 prisoners of war, 1,300 artillery pieces and 200 tanks. However, the orderly retreat meant that the Germans were unable to outflank the British and reach the coast and the advance slowed to a halt. Furthermore, the captured ground was very difficult to defend as it was effectively muddy wasteland created by years of artillery fire. Losses were horrific on both sides – around 178,000 British troops killed, wounded, imprisoned or missing, with a further 75,000 French troops suffering the same fate. Around 250,000 Germans were lost in the slaughter, a large proportion being elite troops who were very hard to replace. This had been the main throw of the German dice and once the attack lost its impetus Allied reinforcements were able to pour into the area.

  Oldham’s battalion spent early April in training and drills before stepping back into the front line at Ypres towards the end of the month. There they faced further bombardment – including heavy gas attacks during 20 and 21 April which incapacitated 95 men and killed three others. The troops fell into a regular pattern of trench duty followed by defensive works throughout the remainder of the month and May.

  Oldham left to join the transport unit on 28 May and, during this time, made discreet inquiries about the possibility of applying for a post on Military Intelligence Staff, before formally submitting an application on 18 June to the division’s Intelligence Officer. Given his Foreign Office pedigree and a glowing commendation from his colleagues across the Channel in London – ‘his service whilst employed by them gave entire satisfaction’51 – he would have been confident that his skills would make him a useful asset in the various aspects of work that the Intelligence Corps undertook. This included prisoner debriefing, identification of enemy agents among Allied forces, analysis of aerial photography secured by Royal Flying Corps observers, signals intelligence and even undercover missions behind enemy lines. By mid-1918 the corps was around 1,300 strong and primarily focused on the Western Front, although plans were in place to raise a new company to support the campaign on the Italian front.

  By this stage of the war, a more formal process was in place to recruit intelligence officers as third-class agents – the level at which Oldham was aiming, given his rank. Assessment where possible involved the Intelligence Personnel section of the War Office. Candidates were tested on language skills, especially German, and on military knowledge. It is also possible that Oldham underwent some elementary counter-intelligence fieldwork – including a demonstration of his ability to extract information from a stranger and the art of disappearing in crowds.

  However, either Oldham’s German was not up to scratch or his military knowledge deemed too limited and he was not selected. It did not help that, at the time he was applying, a request to the War Office to expand the Intelligence Corps establishment in the light of increased signals activity was rejected, with the note that any new capacity for wireless and communications work had to be found from existing numbers.52 Doubtless dejected at this setback, Oldham returned to the front line on 14 July.

  By this stage, the Second Battle of the Marne was about to start – a key moment in which French forces first repulsed and then reversed a German assault, resulting in a series of counter-attacks known as the Hundred Days Offensive, as Allied numerical superiority against stretched defences finally punctured the German lines. The Battle of Amiens that started on 8 August and was described as ‘the black day of the German Army’ created a 15-mile gap, shattering German morale; the Second Battle of the Somme which opened a week later produced similar results. From this point onwards, the German Army was in retreat towards the Hindenburg Line.

  During this period, Oldham’s battalion was stationed at Dickebusch and in the lines at Ouderdom, and thus escaped most of the fighting. However, towards the end of August, they were on the move – including a ‘very trying march’ from St Momelin to Quelmes on which one of the soldiers actually died.53 From there, they moved to Licques on 28 August and were treated to a battalion dinner at the Hôtel des Voyageurs. Thereafter followed several weeks of intensive attack training interspersed with rest, including bathing in the River Ancre at Heilly or baths for those who did not want a dip. There was also a variety of evening performances performed by a local troupe of entertainers called the ‘Kancies’ in the grounds of Heilly Château.

  On 11 September the battalion moved back into action, first marching to Aubigny and then embarking on 14 September onto buses and driving the 30 or so miles to their final destination at Trefcon, arriving at 1.30 pm the same afternoon. Having settled in their billets, they spent the next few days in reconnaissance operations, checking the line were they were to be posted to, ostensibly in case of enemy attack but in reality to put all the recent assault training into practice – ‘making preparations for the coming show’, as their commanding officer wrote in the war diary.54 The coming show turned out to be the Battle of Épehy, an attack on German outpost positions that were stationed on high ground in front of the Hindenburg Line – a preliminary attack ordered by Field Marshal Haig before a planned major offensive along the entire line. This was sparked by an earlier success at the Battle of Havrincourt on 12 September that saw Allied troops breach the Hindenburg defensive line for the first time. It was none other than General Sir Harry Rawlinson who oversaw operations.

  From their base at Trefcon, the men of the battalion made their final preparations. On the afternoon of 17 September, the troops moved up to the west side of St Quentin wood in readiness for an assault on the German lines the next day. At 8.30 pm, the company commanders met up with the senior officers to receive their instructions for the next morning’s action, with all necessary stores moved in readiness for the attack. The officers returned to their men and ordered everyone to don service dress. By 11.00 pm it had started to rain and a torrential thunderstorm thereafter raged constantly from midnight until the early hours, the nervousness of the soldiers compounded by heavy enemy bombardment.

  At 3.20 am on the morning of 19 September, with rain still falling heavily, the sodden men under the cover of complete darkness slowly made their way towards their positions and formed up into their attack deployment, as ordered by the officers who were struggling to read their papers in the dark and wet. To maintain the element of surprise, British artillery did not clear the German lines with an advance barrage. Instead, at 5.20 am prompt – zero hour – a creeping barrage was laid down, behind which the first British troops were given the signal to advance, stumbling forward amidst the falling shells and rain.

  The King’s Shropshire Light Infantry were part of the second wave and received their orders to attack at 7.00 am, but visibility was extremely poor on account of a very heavy mist which obscured Badger Copse, their target landmark. Because the 2nd York and Lancaster Battalion had failed to take their own objectives in the f
irst wave of attacks, the advancing troops encountered heavy German machine-gun fire from Fresnoy le Petit on their right, which pinned them down for most of the morning. The war diary records that ‘the fighting grew very bitter’55 and the operational instructions no longer bore any semblance to the reality of the situation. The composite battalions within the brigade were mixed up and by 10.30 am the battalion HQ was forced to move forward to try to sort out the mess, since orders on the ground were no longer effective.

  With no further objectives gained throughout the day, the commanding officers held a conference at 5.00 pm and decided to consolidate their position. The attack had not succeeded so a decision was reached to try again the following morning. The unit war diary hints at the reaction of the field officers when they heard the news, as well as the appalling conditions they were working under.

  Without warning, brigade operation orders were received at 1.30 am at the new battalion HQ at Trout Copse to attack Fresnoy le Petit at 5.30 am. Great difficulty presented itself in writing battalion operation orders owing to no lights being possible, however those were written in the bottom of a trench and despatched about 3.00 am. Casualties to runners prevented them being received by the officer commanding D (support) Company and officers commanding front line companies found great difficulty in reading them before dawn.56