by Ian Uys
“Standing up and keeping a good lookout for an enemy attack, I noticed the tree leaves close above our heads dropping steadily every now and then. It suddenly struck me that it was not yet autumn — those leaves should not be falling — they were being cut down by bullets.
“We got down very quickly and soon machine-guns were raking us from two sides. The fresh earth on our parapet came tumbling down on us as the bullets swept along it. Two men close by were wounded by this fire, one very badly.
“There was, as it were, a blanket of stupendous noise everywhere, yet only now, as heavy shells and falling trees crashed near us, did we hear it. As the day wore on new artillery tactics were used on our line of slit trenches. At about 3 o’clock they used high velocity shells, the ones we called whizzbangs, searching up and down our line. They burst in pairs just above our heads.
“We heard them exploding on their way up over us, past and then coming down again. On the second trip up, the two burst just above our trench with a crash. A piece came flying back past my ear and drawn up legs and struck in my right thigh. There was a scream from the next little trench as a poor sergeant was badly smashed up and mortally wounded by the same shell.
“Gussie at once bandaged my leg and said ‘You have a lovely Blighty, get out’. I was dazed and shocked by the concussion and at first refused to leave for what seemed a small wound. Soon the leg stiffened and I realized I would be useless in combat.
“Waiting for a lull, two of us made our way slowly back through the wood. Midway we had to take shelter in a shell-hole from the heavy explosions close around us. We went on though it seemed impossible to get through.
“We reached a log-and-sandbag shelter full of wounded in the care of a medical orderly, hoping to shelter from the terrific bombardment. The orderly said, ‘Don’t stay, rather take a chance outside. We expect to go up any moment’. With the heavy shells falling we feelingly agreed there was little future for these poor fellows and went on.
“With the aid of a branch as a stick I hopped along and somehow by watching the spots where there seemed fewer bursts we got through to the road leading to Montauban.
“There we were joined by a young fellow named Botha wearing a German overcoat. His bare chest was bandaged and as we passed a dressing-station sited in a shelter dug into the bank of the sunken road, a doctor ran out and looked at our late-comer in surprise for he had been shot clean through the chest, where the doctor said his heart should have been. (Pte John Grabil Botha of Pretoria survived this severe wound only to be severely wounded in the last weeks of the war.)
“The doctor then looked at us two and advised us to keep moving. We needed little encouragement for the Bosch was sending over regular salvos and the road was littered with dead. I suggested getting off the road and walking a little distance off and parallel to it.
“This we did and escaped the heavy stuff we could hear coming before they landed on the road. We reached Montauban and here returned to the now fairly quiet road. All along our way men ran out from these funk holes and gave us cups of lovely hot tea.
“Passing through the village we reached a light rail line and joined a number of wounded on a trolley that ran us down to a dressing-station, and from there were taken by ambulance to a clearing-station some miles back. Here, of all luxuries, a warm bed on the grassed floor of the large tented ward, and a hot meal.”
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Corporal Ernest Doitsh was proud of the way in which his men fought hand-to-hand with the enemy.
“The South African war-cry in these woods on these two nights was most inspiring. We were itching to get at the enemy and to go to the assistance of our boys. But what were we to do? The trench I was in had to be held, but it was with great difficulty that I held the boys back.
“However, the lads were equal to the occasion when it came, and they got at the enemy with cold steel. Our turn came on the second night … Well, our turn was short and merry. The enemy made the next attempt from my front. I waited for the right moment then with bombs and bayonet illustrated to the Bosch the stuff South Africa is made of.
“In the general mêlée I suddenly bumped against a Bosch weighing about 20 stone (280 lbs). I parried his bayonet, missed the mark with my own, and found myself sitting on his face, knocking spots off him and doing my best to alter his good looks. But it was an unsavoury job, with his teeth firmly gripped in my thigh.
“The bayonet must have gone through his skin, judging by the blood about him. We had both fallen into a shell-hole; he had fallen on the top of our rifles, and I could not release my bayonet from under him. He had gripped my leg and the pain was agonising, but at the same time I was losing no time in inflicting all the damage I could upon him.
“A timely bullet from one of our officers who had come up, being attracted by the yelling that was coming from Fritz and myself, put an end to his earthly career.
“I pulled myself together again, and was in the scrap when we had to tackle a retreating foe. Bombs served the occasion well. After a hot encounter on both sides, I returned to my trench.
“Sleep for any of us, and I found myself with only eight men, was impossible. We had to be on the alert all night, as one of the regiments of our division was ordered to clear the wood of the enemy who had broken through at our weak points, and the firing from them was hard to distinguish from that of the enemy.
“We had continually to alter our front, one moment facing the front, and the next the rear, and this meant a very keen lookout. When it is a matter of life and death, I fancy sleep is far from one’s thoughts, as the intense excitement counteracts it. But at the same time one cannot do without this necessary asset, and I found myself falling off to sleep standing up, a thing I had never done before.”
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William Healy, 22, a cabinet-maker from Cape Town, had served with the CPR for nine months. He trained as a Lewis gunner and was placed in the machine-gun section. He stood 5 ft 6V2 ins and weighed 132 lbs.
When the 1st SAI went over the parapet to the attack he stuck to his gun after the balance of his team were killed or wounded. When his gun jammed he repaired the damage under heavy fire and continued alone. He served his gun the whole day in front of the parapet and carried it safely back to the trench when exposed to the enemy’s snipers and machine-guns. That night he served the gun alone in the face of terrific machine-gun and rifle fire.
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Another CPR man in the machine-gun section was Arthur Stanley, who captured a German who knew South Africa well.
“I am No 1 on a machine-gun, that is the man who actually fires, and as we fought in dense formation a few yards away I believe I had a very decent score. One prisoner we took used to have a barber’s shop in Johannesburg, and he enquired very anxiously for South African news when he recognised his captors.
“The terrible, awful fear that a concentrated bombardment gives you is indescribable. You hear the shell coming, and cower in the bottom of the trench, and then, say 50 yards away, the trench flies in the air in a blinding flash and an awful noise, and men you know have been utterly blotted out. No piece is ever found, and if it was a 12-inch there is a hole that an oxwagon could hide in, and this goes on at the rate of thousands of shells per hour on a front of 500 yards, yards.
“The great consolation is our guns fire about 10 shells to the Huns’ one, and ours never cease. On one unfortunate night they fired a few rounds short and quite spoilt my evening.”
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Private Thomas Holiday was detailed to guide Gen Lukin to Col Dawson.
“Another time I took a general (Lukin) and staff officer up to our colonel, who was in the trenches whilst an attack was on. We arrived safely, but had not been there very long when Fritz shelled us heavily, during which the staff officer got hit in the hand, and I being near him seized his hand and stopped the blood flowing. I then took out my own field-dressing and bandaged him up and had to take him with some other wounded men out of the trenches through the village, which was bei
ng heavily shelled all the way.”
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Lance-Corporal William Walter Daniel Ryan, 25, was formerly a boilermaker at the Salt River Works. He was 5 ft 6 ins tall and had served a year with the Cape Garrison Artillery and a year with the CTH. At Delville Wood he was to know the horror of being buried alive.
“On Sunday morning they started to shell us, and one did not know where to stand. They seemed to follow one all over the show. Well, the unlucky one came along and it fell about six yards from me.
“I was sitting in a dug-out I made, and all of a sudden I was buried alive, and my chums had to dig me out. My officer and six men were wounded in my platoon. When I got out there I felt a bit shaky and faint, but it all wore off and I carried on.
“Then my sergeant told me and another fellow to take a box of ammunition up to the front line. We had just got round the corner of the trench when another shell came along and fell about four or five yards from us and threw the two of us twelve yards along the trench, and that finished me.
“It was about 10 o’clock in the morning, and I was unconscious until 4 o’clock that afternoon, to find myself in a dug-out used as a dressing-station, formerly belonging to ‘square-heads’. On asking how I came there and how soon I could rejoin my platoon, I was told I could not go back, as I was unfit.”
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Archie Dagnin was buried twice by the shelling.
“The following morning we advanced and took the whole wood and then dug ourselves in. We weren’t in possession of the wood more than half an hour before we were shelled out of our positions. The Germans threw over 32,000 shells in 24 hrs and had 600 guns trained on the wood alone, which broke our brigade.
“I then had three men and myself left out of fifty. I was blown out of a trench three times and buried twice but one of my chums pulled me out in time.”
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Sergeant John Adams received his Blighty at 11 pm.
“I was struck by a piece of shrapnel on the right foot, just missing my instep; it is not a serious wound. Without a doubt my heavy army boots saved my foot, and I consider myself very lucky getting off so lightly.
“It was raining and a very dark night. Our dressing-station was about a mile away. I managed to walk about half-way, when the hole in my foot pained so much that I was unable to walk further, so I crawled on my hands and knees, but had to give it up at last. I was afraid I would crawl into the German lines, so laid down in an old shell-hole. By this time I was covered in mud, and waited for the daylight.
“In the morning two of our chaps found me and, assisted by an officer, carried me to our dressing-station, an old French house in the village of Longueval. As I was being carried in, the Germans were shelling the place, and I quite expected the place to come down on us. From here the stretcher-bearers carried me about a mile to the motor ambulances, and very soon I was in England.”
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Colonel Tanner was aware of the strategic importance of his headquarters position at the junction of Buchanan and Princes streets. He requested the sappers of the 64th Royal Engineers to construct a proper trench to enable his men to protect their flank and rear. A covered communication trench to Longueval was opened as well. This defensive position around the headquarters in the wood was to prove invaluable later.
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Private Eddie Fitz assisted Henry Oldfield in clambering over the fallen trees and shell-torn earth as they left the wood.
“In the early morning we went to a dressing-station which I had noted was just outside the wood’s boundary. We got his arm in a sling to keep his shoulder up. As soon as we got into this dressing-station a chap said, ‘No, I can’t look after you — get back down the road!’
“So we went down the road toward Bernafay Wood. When we got there they wouldn’t look at either of us. They simply gave us an anti-tetanus injection, put an anti-tetanus label on us and said, ‘Get the hell out of it.’ When we came out of the wood in the morning you could hear the ‘dickie’ birds calling, it was so quiet.
“The thing warmed up again during the day. In the meantime Henry Oldfield and I had disappeared out of the scene.”
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When all other stretcher-bearers became casualties three men. Privates Walter Peacock, Clifford Heath and W Bennewith worked day and night to save many wounded men’s lives. They were tireless in their efforts and remarkably brave in fetching in wounded under heavy fire. They repeatedly passed through an area continuously under extremely heavy shell fire and exposed to enemy snipers. Although exhausted they refused to rest and continued to collect wounded.
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At about 3 pm Pte Vlok, who lay with blood-soaked dressings covering his leg and shoulder, again saw Lieut Errol Tatham.
“He spoke to me. I was lying unable to move. He said ‘Vlok, are you still alive? Why are you still here?’ He called two men and told them to take me to the dressing-station out of the firing line.
“While he was tying me up a stretcher was brought and I was put on to it. Before this Lieut Tatham gave me all the water that was left in his water bottle. We were under heavy fire all the time. He told the men to take me away.
“They moved off with me, but came under the barrage fire and put me down. They said the fire was too heavy. Lieut Tatham must have seen them put me down, and he came up to us and ordered the men to pick up the stretcher again and then he went along with us through the barrage.
“I did not think we could possibly get through alive — but we did. He came along with us till we were through the barrage and then he left us and I saw him turn to go back again through the barrage to rejoin his men …
“He was very cool and cheerful. Soon after he left us a German high-explosive shell burst very close to him and covered him with earth and smoke. I thought he was killed, but I saw him come out of the smoke and dust, still going on back towards his men.
“I owe my life to him. He saved my life. I was so grateful to Lieut Tatham for saving my life that I got a man named Almond to write a letter for me from Etaples Hospital thanking Lieut Tatham …”
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Sergeant Tertius Brook, from Durban, the orderly sergeant of the 2nd SAI, was impressed by Lieut Tatham’s conduct while at the headquarters in the wood.
“During that time he carried out his duties with great calmness, which everybody noticed. He went out a great deal visiting company commanders, to see how things were going, and to see about rationing the men. He freely exposed himself in doing this. The fire was very heavy all the day. He took practically no rest during the three days. He just sat down occasionally in the trench and got short snatches of sleep”.
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Colonel Tanner ordered Lieut Walter Hill to take a party to the northern edge of the wood. Private Henry Pauls was included. “No matter how often the Germans attacked, Lieut Hill led us to meet them and with bombs and bayonet we killed many more Germans than our own number.
“This was all due to Lieut Hill’s bravery and I remember him asking Major Burges if he should lead us out through the other side of the wood and capture a German trench. Major Burges would not allow this.”
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Private Charlie Stuart, 22, was with his company on the southern perimeter. His attempts to dig in were frustrated by the tree roots and the incessant shelling and machine-gun fire. His first impression of the wood on the 15th had been of the hundreds of dead Highlanders lying strewn about haphazardly. During the fighting which followed he marvelled at the bravery of the stretcher-bearers, who continued ministering to the wounded in the face of murderous fire.
Charles Birnie Stuart was born at Cala, Transkei, and attended the Kokstad Public School, then worked at the local bank until volunteering for service in the brigade. Stuart saw his first action at the Battle of Halazin in Egypt.
At dawn Charlie Stuart found that he was alone. The enemy had overrun his position and his friends were dead or missing. German infantry had infiltrated the area and he had the uncanny sensation that he was the sole survi
vor of the brigade!
Stuart was grateful that, although a bullet had pierced the metal drinking cup on his back pack, he was unscathed. He felt compelled to seek his comrades. He could see a ruined summer-house ahead, an ideal shelter and observation post.
As he ran toward the derelict building he saw a German drop onto one knee and take aim at him. Stuart swung his rifle around and fired hurriedly. The bullet flew wide, however the German dived for cover, enabling Stuart to reach his destination and slide gratefully into a shell-crater behind the summer-house.
After he recovered from the dash, Stuart crawled to the lip of the crater from where he saw three German officers facing away from him. They were peering through field-glasses and discussing the situation ahead. Stuart decided that his contribution to the war effort would include the threesome, whom he duly despatched. Surprisingly, when he shot one through the head the officers cap shot several feet into the air.
Shortly afterwards a young German soldier who was seeking cover jumped into Stuart’s shell-crater. They stared at each other in the shocked stillness, then the German began shouting that he wished to surrender. Stuart forced him to share the shell-hole, then tried to indicate to the German that no harm would come to him if only he would keep quiet. The German continued shouting for mercy and making such a din that Stuart had to shoot him.
He never forgave himself for this, the horror of which would haunt him to his grave. If only he had not reacted so instinctively, yet this was what training and self-preservation did to one. Later Stuart saw a party of Germans escorting South African prisoners, so glumly raised his arms and stepped out to meet them.
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Lieutenant Lovell Greene had been slightly wounded in Bernafay Wood on the 10th, nevertheless returned to duty. In Delville Wood he went forward in front of the trench line to observe the enemy movements and though severely wounded continued his duty for some hours. He was again severely wounded on his way to the dressing-station.
