by Lloyd, Nick
By 11 a.m. the Canadian Corps had captured its first and second objectives – four miles inside the German lines – and was waiting for 4th Division, in support, to push on to the third. Likewise, the Australians had also moved off with great speed. A wireless message received at GHQ from Monash’s headquarters at 5.40 a.m. simply read ‘Everything splendid’.10 On the right, the French XXXI Corps had taken the village of Mézières at 3 p.m. – Moroccan tirailleurs storming forward with the cry of ‘en avant’ – while to the south the two remaining corps contented themselves with maintaining heavy artillery fire on the German lines around Montdidier.11
For the German Army things were anything but splendid. General von der Marwitz spent 8 August at his headquarters, frantically trying to find out what was going on; he was, as he put it, ‘nailed’ to his telephone all day. Within hours of the opening attack, he was desperately searching for reinforcements to plug the gaps in his shattered front line. Three of his reserve divisions had already been engaged, but Marwitz immediately ordered the other three – all of which were resting north of the Somme – to march to the sound of the guns. He also spoke to General Oskar von Hutier, the commander of Eighteenth Army, on his left, and obtained permission for another division to be sent northwards as soon as possible.12 For the Commander of Second Army – like many other senior German officers – the defeat was due to enemy tanks. He openly admitted that he had previously thought the value of armoured vehicles had been over estimated, but now there could be no denying the weapon’s effectiveness. Calling it an ‘evil weapon’, he immediately scribbled off messages to OHL asking for motorized artillery batteries to be supplied to his men. But without these capabilities, Second Army would have to resist as well as it could. It was little wonder that he would plead in his diary, ‘May God help us.’13
Marwitz was certainly correct to attribute much of the Allied success to the mass use of tanks. In many places they were undoubtedly effective, helping the infantry to advance, engaging German troops, crushing machine-gun nests, and crossing trenches with ease. The Tank Corps proclaimed that the ‘moral effect’ of the tanks emerging through the fog was ‘overwhelming’. ‘Many machine guns were run over and crushed, prisoners surrendered freely and on the centre and right the objectives were won with comparative ease.’14 Infantry–tank cooperation proved a little more difficult, however, particularly during the first few hours of the assault when the vehicles had to find their own way across the darkened landscape. They maintained direction by compass bearing and were often only able to locate the enemy by the flashes of machine-gun fire.15 When it got light cooperation improved and many tanks snaked their way across the battlefield led by section commanders who pointed out targets while infantry parties mopped them up. An incredible story of what happened when 41st Division was attacked was recorded by Hauptmann Hatzfeld of III Battalion (152 Regiment) in the German official account. After coming under fire and hearing rumours that the British were coming, Hatzfeld wanted to hold on to his command post for as long as possible – ‘to give the Reserve Division time to mount a counter-attack’ – but that did not happen. Instead, through the fog, he saw the awful sight of a British Mark V tank coming straight at him.
The three machine guns immediately opened heavy fire, but failed to bring it to a halt. It drove straight over them. As Lieutenant Frantzius (Commander of 3rd Machine Gun Company) later established, a machine gun was destroyed and a number of the operating team were killed. Shortly after, the right flank and the command post came under machine gun fire from the right, whereupon the adjutant standing behind me, Reserve Lieutenant Albrecht, was shot in the face by a bullet coming from the side. At the same time, a second tank approached along the road from the front and the machine gun in front of me opened fire on it, but without success. It rolled past the command post without stopping; the machine gun team dodged to the right to get out of its way, and in doing so both gunners were killed.
By this point, Hatzfeld and his officers came under Lewis gun fire from Australian troops, but they managed to keep them at bay, until a third tank arrived. ‘In the wake of this monster rolling along the road,’ he remembered:
we jumped into the tunnel entrance nearest to us and skidded quickly down the stairs, followed by hand grenades which were also already flying into both entrances. The game was up! I ordered diaries, files and cards to be destroyed. Then we waited to see what the Tommies might do next. To start with, they did nothing. It was not until around 8.00 in the morning that a man came cautiously down and called to us, then came closer upon hearing me answer and let us clamber up the steps (smashed to pieces by hand grenades) into the open air.
Hatzfeld and his men, their hands up, were taken prisoner.16
Hatzfeld’s recollections show how irresistible the combination of tanks and infantry was on this part of the battlefield, particularly when no anti-tank weapons were available. His men could fire their machine-guns at the Mark Vs, but the bullets would just bounce off, leaving them with the choice of continuing to fire – which some did – or getting out of the way. Even when machine-guns were loaded with special armour-piercing SmK ammunition, this did not always work. One officer of 152 Regiment (41st Division) fired 4,000 bullets at one tank, including 500 rounds of SmK ammunition, but without success.17 It is evident that some machine-gunners continued to fire until the tanks were upon them. When Paul Maze drove up to the old front line he noticed the ghastly sight of several dead Germans who had been run over by the tanks. They were, he said, ‘lying flattened out like pancakes’.18 Nevertheless, heavy tanks, particularly the slower Mark Vs, remained extremely vulnerable on the battlefield, often when their supporting infantry had fallen away or where German batteries remained in operation. One German veteran, Leutnant Reisinger of 43rd Division, remembered seeing four tanks around Cerisy in the north. They were ‘immediately dispatched by direct fire’ and were, as he put it, ‘burned’.19 Indeed, even on such a successful day as 8 August, losses were heavy. The Mark V may have been protected by 14mm of plate armour, but it was widely noted that German artillery batteries, usually the 77mm field gun, were brutally effective against it. For example, of the thirty-four tanks that were supporting 4th Canadian Division, only six were able to reach the final objective, known as the Blue Dotted Line. ‘A’ Company of 1st Battalion, in particular, lost nine tanks owing to heavy anti-tank fire from Le Quesnel, and were unable to cross the open ground in front of the village without being hit. It was no surprise that after-action reports would later stress the importance of engaging field guns ‘immediately they are observed, irrespective of any other targets that may present themselves’, even suggesting that Whippets should be sent ahead of the heavier, slower Mark Vs ‘in order to draw fire and so disclose the positions of anti-tank guns’.20 Le Quesnel was the one objective that would remain out of Canadian hands on 8 August.
Rawlinson had placed great hopes on the use of cavalry and Whippet tanks to continue the advance and prevent any meaningful resistance in the rear of the German line. Although much was achieved, they did not work particularly well together. The Whippets were too slow over rough ground to keep up with horses, and the cavalry had to dismount to take on machine-guns when their armoured support was not available. Nevertheless, by late morning Fourth Army had broken into the German rear areas, overrunning a number of regimental headquarters, seizing hundreds of dazed prisoners and spreading chaos and terror. Paul Maze, who was operating with Canadian cavalry, found himself sweeping through a regimental beer garden ‘with ingeniously constructed huts and tables made of branches, on which we caught a glimpse of plates with untested food still in them’; testimony to how quick and decisive the opening advance had been.21 One soldier, Oberleutnant Schreder, Adjutant of 18 Regiment (41st Division), was at Framerville, seven miles behind the front line, where the Germans had stationed one of their infamous rail guns. Schreder had come from the front and was well aware of how devastating the attack had been. He spoke to the operator and told him
to move the gun away to the east, but the man would not listen. Soon afterwards, two RAF biplanes that had been zooming low over the battlefield spotted the gun and dropped several bombs, one of which struck the ammunition wagon ‘and tore the already-moving train into pieces’.
Things only got worse for Schreder and the German stragglers who were coming from the front line and heading for the rear. By this point the village of Framerville was full of soldiers, a ‘rabble of people retreating further south’, when ‘a frantic commotion suddenly erupted’. Schreder recorded that:
A large number of lightweight armoured cars were attacking the area from the Roman road, along with cavalry from the southwest. At the same time, 80 or 90 enemy aircraft appeared over the village at heights of no more than 100 metres, and further increased the commotion in the area with bombs and machine gun fire. No wonder then that a few officers and men with little experience of the front line joined the panicked retreat of the tradesmen companies, convoys, cars and other vehicles that were stationed in Framerville.
Schreder and his men seized a machine-gun and a few rifles and occupied the village, firing into sections of Canadian cavalry which were menacing them. Fortunately, ‘as if by a miracle’, they survived; ‘the armoured cars also turned round and headed back towards the Roman road’.22 Schreder’s experience was typical of what happened in the German rear areas that afternoon and evening. Many other accounts speak powerfully of coming under heavy fire from aircraft flying low over the battlefield dropping bombs or firing machine-guns; of units being outflanked by squadrons of fast tanks that seemed to be everywhere, firing into them without mercy; of a situation that was as catastrophic as it was surprising. This kind of thing had never been seen in the German Army before.
8 August would be one of the most remarkable days of the war. Although the position of all units was not known, the Allied assault had driven between six and eight miles into the German lines, shattering Second Army and unhinging the flank of Eighteenth Army on its left. German casualties had been staggering. The official history estimated that they were as high as 48,000 men, including 33,000 missing or taken prisoner. Four hundred guns had been lost as well as hundreds of machine-guns and trench mortars.23 For the battalions in the front line, often only small groups of survivors remained. 41st Division, which had faced the Australians opposite Villers-Bretonneux, was almost wiped out. It had lost all but three of its guns, and little remained of its front and supporting battalions.24 Equally unnerving was the sight of the survivors from the opening attack. Numerous front-line battalions had been reduced to the size of companies. All that remained were clusters of shell-shocked men; their will utterly broken; their faces grimy; their eyes glassy, staring straight ahead. Their stories were always the same: horrifying accounts of iron monsters clanking out of the mist towards them; of mass infantry attacks; of being cut off and surrounded; of waiting for counter-attacks that never came. Some did not – or perhaps could not – say anything at all. Ludendorff’s worst nightmare was, it seemed, coming true.
Currie’s deception plan had worked perfectly. A German commander captured by 18th Canadian Battalion was horrified to find he was among Canadians. All he said to his captors was that ‘we just got word that you were up in Belgium’.25 Many others felt the same sense of disorientation and shock as more and more rumours of what had happened filtered through to the rear lines. On the outskirts of Cambrai, a pilot, Rudolf Stark, waited for what the following day would bring, watching the flashes of artillery fire on the horizon, rumbling away into the distance. At 11 p.m. his squadron was ordered to hand over every available truck to ferry reinforcements to the front. They only had four available, but they were cheerfully given. ‘Well, as long as they have reserves to throw into the line, all right,’ he said. Stark could not sleep that night. ‘I wander along the aerodrome, sit down on the edge of a ditch and stare out into the night. The roll of the guns grows ever louder to southward. Now the rattle of wheels and the rumble of engines reach me more frequently from the road. More and more lorries, hastening southward, bringing up reserves to the threatened front. Daylight will soon be at hand; then we can fly and shall know for certain what it all means.’26
The Allies would continue their attack the following day, 9 August, but the speed of their advance began to slow. This was the reality of operations in the Great War, when it was difficult, if not impossible, to maintain an offensive momentum over subsequent days. But they tried their best. The liaison officer, Paul Maze, was woken at dawn by the crash of artillery fire on the village of Le Quesnel. ‘There was a stir among the men,’ he wrote, ‘followed by the jingling of chains and the clang of stirrups as the saddles were lifted on to the horses.’27 By the time Maze had got up, the attack had already started – the artillery that he had heard was already ten minutes late. Two battalions of 11 Canadian Brigade had made the assault, the men moving swiftly over the open ground and infiltrating into the village, covered by a barrage of machine-gun fire. Although they ran into heavy resistance, they were not stopped. Within an hour the Canadians’ objective had been secured, the remaining Germans bombed out and the supporting tanks moving up through the long grass. Stage one of the attacks of the second day, it seemed, had gone to plan.
Unfortunately, the attack on Le Quesnel would prove to be the only part of the operations on the second day that went this way; 9 August was, according to the British official historian, ‘a day of wasted opportunities’.28 Given the degree of success achieved on 8 August, it was perhaps inevitable that the morning of the following day dawned with something approaching a hangover for the Allies. Getting orders out to the forward battalions and the batteries that had moved up was difficult and time-consuming because their locations were not always known and despatch riders had a habit of turning up late or not at all. Renewed attacks did not proceed at the arranged time and frequently they were either delayed or pushed forward, often going ahead without adequate flanking protection or sufficient artillery support. Because the location of units was not always known, most brigades attacked on their own in an uncoordinated fashion. It had originally been planned for 1st, 2nd and 3rd Canadian Divisions to push on to the villages of Roye and Chaulnes at 10 a.m., but it was noon before they got going. Similarly, Monash had wanted 1st Australian Division to leapfrog his 5th Division and move on towards Lihons at 11 a.m., but it was two hours later before the infantry turned up.29
For the tank crews, already exhausted, the morning brought new challenges. Many of them had had little sleep and much of the night had been dedicated to frantic repairs, trying to make sure the engines, the gear boxes, the steering, the machine-guns, were in working order before it got light. Even if they were fortunate most of the crews were suffering from minor ailments: cuts and grazes from bullet ‘splash’; burns from the engines and exhausts; and confusion and exhaustion brought on by carbon monoxide poisoning and petrol fumes. If they were unlucky, they were likely to have sustained more serious casualties, perhaps fatalities, and already certain sections of the battlefield were littered with the ghastly remains of burnt-out tanks and incinerated crews. Moreover, because a considerable proportion of tanks had been put out of action, it was necessary to form composite battalions – often composite crews – from unfamiliar units in unfamiliar tanks. It was no wonder that the second, third and fourth days of Amiens were, in the words of Hugh Elles, ‘a great test of training and the spirit of cohesion in the corps’. Considering these conditions it is incredible that the tanks continued to have success on the battlefield, yet it was becoming clear to everyone involved: tanks could only be employed in limited numbers for limited periods of time; and now the clock was definitely ticking.30
For the German Army, 9 August also dawned with unease and confusion. At 7 a.m. Crown Prince Rupprecht, commander of Germany’s northern Army Group, was briefed on the situation. Second Army had already mounted local counter-attacks (with 79th Reserve and 221st Divisions, the former without its artillery), but the enemy was sti
ll advancing along the crucial Amiens–Roye road and General von der Marwitz’s commanders were recommending an immediate retreat behind the line of the River Somme. All available reserves were being rushed to the front, but this would not be enough. After listening to his staff officers, and poring over maps of the front, Rupprecht was convinced that his Army Group would have to fall back, although he was conscious of not creating salients that would be difficult to defend. He eventually decided on a gradual withdrawal on the line Chipilly–Rosières–Roye, during which Second Army would ensure that its left would hold, so as to not uncover the right flank of Eighteenth Army. ‘Yet even this is insufficient and only a temporary measure,’ he opined. ‘In order to preserve our strength, we must drop back further . . . and aim to link up with the Ninth Army at Carlepont. A lasting improvement in our situation can only be achieved by positioning ourselves behind the Somme and along the east bank of the Crozat canal . . .’ Yet as Rupprecht knew only too well, OHL would not look kindly on this view of the situation.31
Scraping together reserve units was one thing, but getting them to the front, with all their equipment, and in good condition, was quite another. For the German divisions that had been rushed to the front, the situation was deeply worrying. Battalions often travelled in lorries; bumping along the narrow French roads towards the sound of the guns and the increasingly depressing prospect of getting to the front. Some were engaged by low-flying Allied biplanes and a number of columns were badly shot up. In any case, because they had been moved forward at such speed, they frequently left behind their supporting units and artillery. As soon as they reached the front, battalions were quickly formed up and marched forward, often pushed into hasty and ill-prepared counter-attacks over ground with which they were unfamiliar, and always suffering losses. When leading elements of the elite Bavarian Alpine Corps arrived at the front (to cover the junction of Second and Eighteenth Armies at Hattencourt), they found a situation of chaos and confusion. ‘No one could give a clear idea of the actual position at the front; no one knew anything about troops on right and left, or above the divisions in position . . . individuals and all ranks in large parties were wandering wildly about, but soon for the most part finding their way to the rear . . . only here and there were a few isolated batteries in soldierly array, ready to support the reinforcing troops.’32
