were in reserve in the ruined houses of Givenchy on both sides of the
canal. The village post office was used as Battalion Headquarters with
the Signal Station in the cellar.
The tour was a distinctly peaceful and uneventful one, which later
on would scarcely have been mentioned in a letter home, but the
regimental diary describes it in detail and tells how, after a quiet
day, things livened up at night and in the reserve billets “a curious
sound is heard every few seconds--smack, smack, as bullets spend
themselves on the walls around. These are probably fired by the Germans
at our fellows in the trenches, and, going high, hit the houses at
a height of perhaps ten feet from the ground. Others, however, are
probably fired from fixed rifles at gaps where we are supposed to
pass frequently--along the bridge and other places, and a lucky shot
might catch one of us. At nine o’clock we are startled by a tremendous
explosion. It is one of our big guns, nicknamed ‘Little Willie,’ on a
railway mounting. It moves along the railway by the canal, and after
firing four or five rounds it wisely goes home.”
The Companies changed round on the second day, and in the evening of
the third day the Battalion was relieved by the 1st Herts Regiment,
and returned to the college at Bethune. The troops now felt they were
real soldiers, though doubtless some were surprised to find that they
could spend three days in the line without seeing a German. The only
unpleasant feature in an otherwise very satisfactory forty-eight hours
in the line was the casualty just before the relief to Private R.
Pulman, of “D” Company, who was badly wounded in the head by a bullet.
Private Pulman died in hospital in Bethune the following day, and his
platoon attended the funeral.
The only other casualties were also in “D” Company--Sergeant G. F.
Anderson and Private I. Spielman--both wounded.
The novelty of front line trenches had not yet worn off, and having
had a not unpleasant taste of trench life, the troops were quite keen
to go in again. So it is recorded that “We had heard a rumour that
after doing our forty-eight hours in the trenches we were to return to
Cauchy, so we are now pleased when we hear that we are to go again to
the trenches to-day (the 19th of April)”.
The second trip to the line was very much like the first one, but on
the first morning the Battalion lost one who for many years had served
with great distinction. Private A. E. Snellgrove, of “B” Company, who
was killed outright by a bullet through the head, had been a crack shot
in the Regiment as long ago as the Volunteer days. Although he had left
the Regiment some time before the war, he was one of the first men to
rejoin in August, 1914. A quiet, modest and unassuming fellow, Private
Snellgrove had many friends in the Regiment, to whom his death came as
a great shock. He was buried in the Guards’ Cemetery at Givenchy.
The Battalion was holding a section of the line immediately north of
the previous sector, and the area now held included what was known as
the “Keep” at Givenchy. This was an old farm building with a courtyard
in which the Guards had made a flower bed, which they called St.
James’s Park. Here were regimental badges of various Guards Regiments
worked in box or privet hedging. Not to be outdone, the Civil Service
Rifles planted their crest in privet hedging alongside the others.
Two days in this sector, one day’s respite in billets at Le Preol, and
then two more days in the former sector B1, brought to a close the
first experience of the 140th Infantry Brigade in holding the front
line, for on the 24th of April the Brigade was relieved and the Civil
Service Rifles marched via Beuvry, Bethune and Chocques to rest billets
at the village of La Beuvrière--a village a little larger than Cauchy
and a little more pleasantly situated.
The village lay between two well-wooded uplands. Companies were
billeted in small farms by the side of main roads and the men slept
warmly on straw of suspicious character. As often as not there was
a pigsty next door. Battalion Headquarters was in a house in the
square next the grey old monastery--then used as a hospital. The
parade ground was down the hill over the railway, bounded on one side
by a swift-flowing brook good for a dip after a game of football. A
favourite morning’s training was to steer a way by compass through the
thick undergrowth of a wood, six square miles in area, to the east of
the village.
The troops now felt quite familiar with the trenches, and were glad
to have an opportunity of talking over their experiences in the
comparative comfort of the estaminets. As there had been no further
casualties there was a fairly cheerful atmosphere to greet the
remainder of the first reinforcement--twenty-eight N.C.O.’s and men who
joined from Havre on the 27th of April. The Battalion had, however,
lost a good many men through sickness--an outbreak of measles being the
chief cause. Already two officers, Lieutenants Radice and Benké, had
returned to England through sickness, and, in addition, 2nd Lieutenant
F. J. Smith, “A” Company, was so badly injured in a football match at
La Beuvrière on the 2nd of May against the Post Office Rifles, that he
had to return to England. The loss of Frank Smith was keenly felt in
the Battalion, of which he had been a member since 1906. As a sergeant
in “B” Company he was very popular, both with his brother N.C.O.’s
and with the men. He was a thorough sportsman in every way, and his
appointment to a commission in the Regiment only about a month before
was very popular with all ranks.
It was while at La Beuvrière that the Battalion received for each
Company a travelling kitchen. Hitherto cooking had been done in the
camp kettle, or “dixie,” and there had been very little variety in
the meals. After a long march, there was always a tedious waiting for
meals, but the “Company Cooker” was to revolutionise that, for dinners
could be cooked on the march--and what is more, they were. So the
infantryman salutes the inventor of the “Company Cooker.”
After nearly a fortnight’s rest the Division went back to war, and
the Civil Service Rifles, pausing for one night in very dirty reserve
billets at the village of Gorre, found themselves on the 9th of May on
the fringe, as it were, of the battle of Festubert, where they were
holding the intermediate line of breastworks, behind the 6th London
Regiment.
Although Festubert was not a battle of such magnitude as the operations
of 1916 and later, it was an event of no small importance at the time.
The first attack was delivered on the 9th of May with the object,
ultimately, of gaining the Aubers Ridge--which dominates Lille and La
Bassée. The battle went on intermittently for some days and in the end
was not successful.
But although the Battalion held a kind of “watching brief” during this
battle, recollections of Festubert are not by any means pleasant.
The ground was so marshy that it was impossible to dig trenches, and
the line hereabouts was held by a series of sandbagged barricades,
approached by two roads (Willow Road and Yellow Road) devoid of any
kind of cover. Having negotiated these roads, the men of the front line
of barricades were little, if any, better off than those in support at
the so-called Welsh Chapel, while the Reserve Company “billets” between
Welsh Chapel and Le Plantin could not be called healthy.
It was at Festubert that the Battalion first became acquainted with
the realities of war, and although the men were employed practically
throughout in holding the line, burying the dead, and on working and
carrying parties, with a little patrol work thrown in, there were many
gallant deeds done, and at the same time many gallant fellows were lost.
The most vivid impression of Festubert is associated with the enormous
number of dead, who were not only lying about the ground, but in some
places actually formed the barricades. It was often necessary for the
members of burying parties to wear the primitive gas masks, and it
was here that “Paddy” Brett, the C.S.M. of “D” Company, a man in his
forty-third year, smoked for the first time in his life.
The actual number of dead buried by the Civil Service Rifles in this
area is not known, but a very reasonable estimate puts it at 350 in
three days.
The survivors of “B” Company, in particular, have most unpleasant
recollections of the night when they had to crawl over piles of corpses
in order to go forward to occupy an advanced position.
Among other incidents of Festubert, mention should be made of the
scouting and patrolling done almost nightly by 2nd Lieutenants W.
E. Ind and F. F. Trembath, Sergeant B. K. Ware, Lance-Corporal G.
C. G. Andrews, and Privates R. W. Kelley and T. Taylor. The work of
patrolling No Man’s Land was not at this time so simple and commonplace
as it became later on, and the patrolling done by these men is
mentioned specially, not because it was the first time it had been done
in the Battalion, but because more than at any other time it was done
in earnest, and was productive of really useful information.
But although the first day of the battle was uneventful so far as the
Civil Service Rifles were concerned, it must not be imagined that no
fighting at all was done at Festubert. For it was here that the first
decorations for gallantry in the field were awarded to men of the
Battalion. On the night of the 25th of May, eight bombers were sent
to the assistance of the Post Office Rifles in an attempt to clear a
trench. After a stubborn fight the position was captured, but of the
eight bombers only four returned alive, and two of these were wounded.
The excellent work of these four was recognised by the award to each of
them of the D.C.M. These were thus the first members of the Regiment to
receive decorations in this war:--
Private W. H. Brantom, “B” Co.
Private H. Harris, “A” Co.
Private S. Lawrence, “C” Co.
Private S. W. Mills, “A” Co.
The four who were killed were Privates W. S. Curtis, “B” Company; A. J.
F. Tracey, “D” Company; P. A. L. Madell, “D” Company; and A. N. Sharp,
“C” Company.
On the same night Lieutenant R. Chalmers, known affectionately as
“Cissie,” was in charge of a working party of “B” Company digging in No
Man’s Land, when he had occasion to take out a small patrol. He came
across a party of bombers of the Post Office Rifles who were short
of bayonet men. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lieutenant Chalmers
picked up a rifle and bayonet from a man who had become a casualty, and
joining the bombers, rallied them on the parapet to resist an enemy
“rush.” He was soon in the thick of the fight and, while gallantly
leading this party of strangers, he received two bullet wounds which
afterwards proved fatal. Like the unselfish fellow he had always been,
he ordered the stretcher-bearers to attend to the other wounded first.
When he himself was afterwards carried back, he died in hospital at the
village of Chocques.
It is difficult indeed to do justice to Lieutenant Chalmers. He had
only just joined the Regiment when war broke out, but from the first
he proved himself a real enthusiast, thoroughly unselfish, and ever
ready to volunteer for any work--however unpleasant. He became a
great favourite with the N.C.O.’s and men who served under him, and
his death was keenly felt by his many friends in the Regiment. He had
already been commended by the Commanding Officer for good work in the
front line on three occasions, and his behaviour at the time when he
was mortally wounded was typical of one of the bravest fellows any
Battalion could wish for.
The 25th of May was indeed a bad day for the Battalion for, in
addition to Lieutenant Chalmers and the bombers before mentioned, many
of the stalwarts were killed or wounded on that day. Captain A. E.
Trembath,[12] O.C. “C” Company, who had served with great distinction
in the South African War, was killed in helping one of his wounded
officers (Lieutenant F. C. Olliff). It was an unfortunate affair for
“C” Company, who also lost old friends in Lance-Sergeant J. Smith
(killed) and Lieutenant A. C. Bull (wounded) at the same time. “C”
Company having already lost more than their share of old stagers in
this area could ill afford to lose any of these, and another who had
had long service in the Company was Lance-Corporal Battersby--well
known for his football and long distance running--who was so severely
wounded on the 17th of May that he lost an eye.
[12] Captain Allen Edward Trembath, born 22nd October, 1879, joined
12th Middlesex before the Boer War, transferred to Middlesex Yeomanry,
1899. South Africa mentioned in despatches, D.C.M.; later, wounded and
invalided. Granted commission Middlesex Yeomanry; returned to South
Africa till end of war. 1914 rejoined Civil Service Rifles, later
taking a commission.
The “C” Company losses by no means exhaust the Battalion’s chapter of
accidents, for “B” Company lost one of the finest men in the Battalion
in Lance-Corporal G. S. Scarr, who died on the 26th of May in hospital
at Chocques from wounds received on the previous night. Lance Corporal
Scarr was well known throughout the Battalion for many years for his
pure unselfishness and nobility of character. He was a man who always
played for his side and not for himself.
It was at Chocques, too, that Lieutenant H. R. E. Clark, the Battalion
Machine Gun Officer, died of wounds received on the 24th of May. He had
joined the Battalion soon after the outbreak of war, and had quickly
won the confidence and respect of the men whom he led so well. The
loss of Lieutenant Clark was a particularly sad blow for his father,
Lieutenant and Quartermaster W. H. D. Clark, who for many years had
been such an enthusiastic worker for the good of the Regiment. The
hearts of all ranks went out to him in sincere sympathy in his very sad
bereavement.
[Illustration:
(_Photo by Hennigan, Watford_).
W. H. BRANTOM, D.C.M. 1st Batt. Afterwards 2nd Lieutenant 2nd Batt.
Killed in Action at Souchez, 3rd July, 1916.]
[Illustration: (_Photo by Coles, Watford_).
CAPT. ALLEN EDWARD TREMBATH, D.C.M. D.C.M., South Africa, 1900.
Commission Middlesex Yeomanry. In 1914 rejoined Civil Service Rifles
and later took a Commission. Killed in Action at Festubert, 25th May,
1915.]
[Illustration: (_Copy by Plâté_).
LIEUT. ROBERT CHALMERS. Born April 13th, 1894; Died 25th May, 1915, of
wounds received in Action at Festubert.]
_To face page 66._
Amid so many bitter memories it is good to have one incident of an
amusing nature, and the story of the capture by “B” Company, assisted
by a platoon of “D” Company, of what became known afterwards as “Civil
Service Trench,” affords the one note of comic relief in the dismal
story of Festubert. The gallant charge was led at dead of night by
Major H. V. Warrender (who was then commanding “B” Company), ably
supported by the veteran Robb, who was in charge of the Company
Officer’s Mess. Robb, it is said, was armed with a Primus stove, but
it is not known whether this was meant for a miniature flammenwerfer
attack or whether it was to ensure a hot meal for his Company Commander
on arrival at the objective! Any hopes of V.C.’s in the Company were
doomed to disappointment, for the trench when reached was found to be
deserted, save by the few corpses that had been left behind. So at
last an operation was undertaken without a casualty, and shortly after
this the merry (!) month of May came to an end, and the Battalion said
good-bye to Festubert--the land of mud, blood and stench!
CHAPTER III
A “BON WAR”
The inhabitants of the little mining village of Les Brebis displayed
little or no surprise when they were called from their beds in the
middle of the night to greet the Civil Service Rifles on their arrival
from Sailly Labourse--another mining village where a peaceful week had
been spent after Festubert.
The natives of Les Brebis were now quite accustomed to being awakened
at all hours of the night to receive new lodgers, for their houses were
the billets of the Battalion in reserve to the front line at Grenay and
Maroc, near by.
The heat during the day of the 7th of June had been of the real
midsummer variety, and it was little better at night, when the march
from Sailly Labourse took place. It was not a long march, but the
troops were very thankful when it ended, for they found their equipment
very heavy on that hot June night.
Les Brebis had had a most extraordinary experience during the war. Here
was a village only about two miles from the front line, practically
untouched, and fully inhabited with civilians who still went about
their daily round as in pre-war times. The mines were still being
worked, and an excellent bathing place was found under the water tower
of the electric light works.
The men were billeted for the first time in France in close billets,
six men on an average sleeping on the small attic floors of the miners’
cottages. The miners and their families were very friendly disposed
towards the Civil Service Rifles to judge from the scribe who says:
“Mesdames were very good to us and cooked the delicacies we
purchased in the town with the utmost care. There was a barrel
of beer in almost every billet, and veal cutlets, cut thin and
‘done to a turn,’ with pommes de terre frites, egg salad and
stewed fruit made a favourite meal. Indeed, a French housewife,
whose mari was having a hard time in the Vosges on a couple of
sous a day expressed her conviction in a burst of confidence
that ‘English soldat do no work and eat too much.’”
The early months of the summer of 1915 were passed very pleasantly in
this mining district without any event of importance.
The front line was well furnished with various home comforts taken
from the almost deserted village of Maroc, the enemy was some distance
away, there was little shelling and there were very few casualties.
Indeed it was, after Festubert, very much in the nature of a picnic. No
Man’s Land was a field of waving corn, with scarlet poppies and blue
cornflowers to complete the rural scene. New potatoes and other fresh
vegetables, red currants and gooseberries could be picked in abundance
from the gardens near the trenches, and there are men who claim to have
slipped away from the line to a neighbouring estaminet “to have a quick
one” between their turns of sentry duty in the line.
The chief enemy was the ferocious fly, which, according to one victim,
“crawled under our clothes, down our backs, between our eyelids and
into our mouths and ears. Over one dug-out a wit had inscribed Itch Den
(Ich Dien) below the Prince of Wales’s feathers, testifying to the fact
that we were now not only doing our bit but being well bitten in the
process.”
More than one scribbler relieved the monotony of trench routine by
recording this phase of the Great War in his diary:
“‘The chief fatigues,’ according to Loxdale, ‘were
sand-bagging, water fetching and dug-out digging, and the
game in connection with them all was to dodge them. This was
generally effected by never being about when fatigues were
going. Other methods which still worked occasionally were
preoccupation with imaginary duties, profound slumber, or
serious indisposition at the psychological moment.’”
A night fatigue was humorously described by Beatty as follows:
“To the uninitiated who have only witnessed the carrying of
a plank along the King’s highway, plank-carrying may appear,
at first sight, a very humdrum occupation. But when two men
endeavour to negotiate the twists and turns of a tortuous
trench--some alliteration, what!--bearing on their shoulders a
12 ft. plank, the possibilities are endless.
“It was a beautiful summer night: the stars were starring in
the heavens as is their wont: the poppies on the parapet were
gaily popping and Ebo Smith and I were lying in the trench
bottom wrapped in slumber, overcoats and waterproof sheets.
“Suddenly we were rudely awakened by the raucous voice of an
N.C.O. exclaiming, ‘Five men wanted for fatigue.’ We told him
‘Yes,’ and went to sleep again. But it was no use. He kept on
chanting in a dismal monotone:
“‘Five men from No. 2 are wanted for fatigue,’ and we had
perforce to rise and follow him. After wandering for some
distance, we reached a pile of planks which we had to carry,
and this is where the fun started.
“The diabolical malice of things inanimate is well known.
The propensity for bread-and-butter to fall face downwards
on the best Brussels carpet, and the elusive gambols of the
wily collar stud are everyday occurrences; but for absolutely
fiendish cunning commend me to a 12 ft. plank.
“We had not gone more than one hundred yards along the trench
before my rifle got between my legs and the piling-swivel
caught in my puttee. I, naturally enough, leant the plank on
the parapet and bent down to unfasten my leg. This was the
opportunity for which the plank, having lulled us into a false
sense of security by its apparent docility, was waiting. With
diabolical malice it leapt from the parapet and smote me on
the back of the head. As there were no stretcher-bearers in
the neighbourhood I quickly recovered, and we proceeded on our
pilgrimage.
“Ere long we arrived at an exceedingly sharp turn, the
projecting piece being made of sandbags. We were just thinking
of sitting down to discuss the matter when one of the men in
the traverse came to our aid. Poor lad! He didn’t know that
plank.
“‘We’ll shove it over the top,’” quoth he! and, seizing one
end, leapt lightly to the top of the pile of sandbags ere we
could warn him.
“His retribution was swift. The pile of sandbags collapsed,
our good Samaritan was hurled through the air, the plank swung
round and hit him on the head, while the avalanche of sandbags
buried Ebo Smith. I dug Ebo out. We thanked our friend, hoped
we hadn’t upset him, and left him seated and thinking deeply
amidst the debris of this ruined traverse.
“Whether the plank had satiated its lust for blood or whether
it was again a case of the triumph of mind over matter, I know
not, but it gave us no more trouble, and we returned to our
slumber glowing with self-satisfaction at the thought of work
well done.”
These long spells of trench life gave splendid opportunities for
letter writing, and P. J. Tickle, in one of his letters, tells how the
Battalion thus early had experience of the guide who got lost--a bitter
experience which became all too common later on.
“After three days at Le Philosophe we wended our weary way to
the beginning of the small French communication trench, where
we picked up a guide from the battalion we were relieving. Did
I say ‘Guide.’ By all the gods man ever swore by, but he was
_no_ guide. Before reaching the support line there is only one
turning--newly cut by the British and perhaps the narrowest
I have ever cursed about. This guide managed to get us a
mile down it before discovering his mistake. We didn’t half
laugh. It’s an hour’s hard pushing to achieve such a distance
through such a trench in full marching order. Not satisfied
with having lost his way, he endeavoured to make up for lost
time, and finished the course an easy first with the rest of us
breathless and knocked, straggling at wide intervals....”
So the summer wore on, the war being so quiet that it was not uncommon
for the Battalion to remain sixteen days in the front line without
relief. One tour was very much like another, and the following by
Irving is an excellent description of a typical relief and march to
billets.
“24th July, 1915.
“Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurray!!! I’m clean! clean! clean! Also lice
free! Oh, it is simply great!
“After a second stay of 16 days we left the firing line on the
night of the 22nd in the usual downpour. These affairs are
rather impressive in a way. Let us try to give you an idea.
“First of all, there’s the packing up and the cleaning of the
trench and dug-out for the new-comers. Then the long wait, each
man in his firing position, for the relief. Then the crushing
past the full laden crowds in the narrow trench.
“Then the long winding, never ending, communication trench
with its slippery floor, treacherous holes and deep muttered
oaths in the caressing whisper of the drizzle and the soft
darkness. Till you emerge into the quiet deserted streets of
the cemetery-like town, cross the main road, enter the twisted
iron gates and pass up the dark avenue of trees--a long, black
line of dirty, merry warriors. Now you’re within the shadow of
the ruined church, fit place for poets to weep. There it is
outlined against the flying clouds, its jagged grey tower, its
dead clock always pointing at ten to two--and the huge gaping
black wounds in its sides. As you pass, the edifice is lit up
grotesquely and ghostlike by the pale light of a distant trench
flare, and you catch a fleeting glimpse of the ruined interior
where now the rude winds roar over the heaps of debris and
round the tottering pillars and broken altar making sport of
all these sacred things long held dear by so many--the whole an
eloquent and terrifying protest against the God-defying Hun!
“Then you go out into the wind-swept plain, following the
line of broken telegraph poles, dodging stray wires and shell
holes--the long, dark, single file--trudging, silent and
sodden. Till at last you reach the warm shadows of the village
with its odd lights veiled, and at the far end our farm billet
with its clean straw and a dry and dreamless slumber.
“That was the night before last.
“Yesterday was a good day’s work. I cleaned up everything
I had, equipment and kit, and with wild glee flung myself
into washing all my underclothes, socks and handkerchiefs,
and drying them, for it was a washing day to gladden
Mother’s heart. And to crown all, a starko behind the yellow
stack--free, unfettered and with an unlimited supply of water.
One of God’s most wonderful creations. How we worshipped it
body and soul. Oh, the glory of it! To be clean again is great!
Great!!!! We sang and danced and ran and jumped and shouted and
flung our glad laughter to the blue skies, and were thankful
withal. Oh, Earth and Sky, and Wind and Trees, and Green Grass
and Strength of Man, Glory!”
“W. J. IRVING.”
* * * * *
During the whole of this time the French were making a desperate
struggle in the neighbourhood of Souchez and the Lorette Heights--and
occasional glimpses of this area were to be had, though it was mostly
enveloped in a thick cloud of smoke from the bursting shells. The
efforts of the French, however, may have diverted the attention of the
Boche, for he was certainly very kind to the neighbourhood of Grenay
and Maroc during this pleasant summer weather. In fact, he seems to
have been more severe on the villages of Le Philosophe and Mazingarbe
(where the Battalion was sometimes billeted when in reserve) than he
was on the front line. At Le Philosophe on one occasion a shell hit
Battalion Headquarters, wounding a number of Headquarters Company,
including all the regimental police.
The event of the summer was the granting of leave to England to a small
party of the Battalion. The news was first received on the 4th of July
at Mazingarbe, and the C.O. (Colonel Renny), the R.S.M. (Sergeant-Major
A. Toomey) and Sergeant F. S. Thurston were the first in the Regiment
to enjoy the most coveted privilege of the British soldier in France.
Thereafter the allotment of leave to the Battalion was at the rate of
two officers and four other ranks per week, though this rate was not
kept up for very long.
Colonel Renny, it should be mentioned, did not return from leave, as he
was detained in hospital in England. As Commanding Officer, he was very
popular with all ranks, and for his age his energy was marvellous. The
Battalion was very sorry to lose its “little Indian Colonel,” as he was
called. The men felt they would miss him most in the front line, where
it was a very familiar sight to see him wandering round, indifferent
to danger or discomfort, but determined to see things for himself.
Colonel Renny was succeeded by Major H. V. Warrender, who had hitherto
commanded “B” Company. Major Warrender was gazetted Lieutenant-Colonel
in August, and remained in command until the end of 1916. He thus holds
the distinction of having commanded the Battalion in war for a longer
period than any other commanding officer.
Trench life in the Grenay lines got very monotonous by July and the
popular grouse in the Battalion hereabouts referred to the absence of
the much-advertised Kitchener’s Army. A notice chalked on a billet door
in Quality Street read:
“Lost, stolen or strayed,
Kitchener’s Army.
Last seen in England in early spring.”
and the ditty often sung about this time which ended
“If Kitchener’s Army don’t come out very soon
’Twill be all up with this ’ere blasted platoon.”
gives evidence of the general feeling of boredom which began to
threaten the Battalion.
[Illustration: BREVET COL. A. M. RENNY, Ret. Ind. Army.
Commanded 1st Battalion, November, 1914-July, 1915.
_To face page 72._]
However, a portion at least of Kitchener’s Army appeared in due course
in this area, and during the last two days spent in trenches to the
right of the Double Crassier marked on the map as W-2, the Battalion
shepherded a kilted regiment on its trial trip in the trenches.
They were Scotch right enough (15th Division), both in speech and
character, and one of them, after breakfast on the first day, asked
in all seriousness what time the “char-rge” was. He considered there
ought to be at least one every day. Another canny one, suspecting the
“bona-fides” of his tutor, when asked what port he had embarked from,
replied “Ah’ll no tell ’e.” Yet another youthful Jock when told to go
on sentry immediately climbed out in front and began to march up and
down at the slope.
Their commissariat went wrong and they got no food for twenty-four
hours. Their hosts saw to it that they had enough to eat, and before
dawn had picked sufficient mushrooms for the combined messes, and
by dinner enough young new potatoes, carrots, red currants and
gooseberries for a good meal.
After a few days in trenches at Le Philosophe, the 47th Division moved
into Corps Reserve, the Civil Service Rifles occupying their old
billets at La Beuvrière early in August.
The Battalion now lost a very old friend in Lieutenant and
Quartermaster W. H. D. Clark, who was ordered to England to take up
an appointment in the Ministry of Munitions. Lieutenant Clark had
joined the Civil Service Rifles as a private in 1888, and had served
continuously since that time, rising through the various ranks of
N.C.O. to R.Q.M.S. until he was appointed Quartermaster in 1910.
Mr. Clark had been at all times a most enthusiastic worker for the
Regiment, and his energy knew no bounds. He took away with him the
most cordial good wishes of all ranks. Another old friend in R.S.M. A.
Toomey, a Scots Guardsman who for many years had been on the permanent
staff of the Battalion, succeeded to the appointment of Quartermaster,
and C.S.M. Jolliffe of “C” Company acted as R.S.M. Bernard Jolliffe was
undoubtedly one of the most popular members of the Regiment, and it
was distinctly unfortunate that ill-health compelled him to return to
England a few months after taking up his new duties.
The time at La Beuvrière was spent in Sports (Brigade and Divisional),
Football and Cricket, Inspections and Training.
The Battalion distinguished itself by easily defeating both the 6th
London Field Ambulance and the Post Office Rifles at cricket and the
4th London Field Ambulance at football. As these teams had previously
done well, it was considered a fine performance on the part of the
Civil Service Rifles to beat them all. G. Wright, H. E. R. Warton
and J. H. Hunt of “D” Company shone as batsmen, and Wright and Second
Lieutenant Stevens were the most successful bowlers. Lance-Corporal C.
Palser of “C” Company won the quarter mile at the Brigade Sports, and
Corporal Williams of the Transport Section was second in the High Jump
at the Divisional Sports, where Private W. H. Domoney, an “A” Company
bomber, won the open competition for bomb throwing.
It was not all Sports and Pastimes at La Beuvrière, however, and soon
the numerous parades and inspections began to pall even as trench life
had done. The now historic Brigade Order ordaining that in future the
brass tabs on the equipment and the metal parts of entrenching tool
handles were to be polished caused one of the Regimental scribes to
break into verse, and his effort was a popular item at Company and
Regimental Concerts. It was described as the turn of the evening at
a Regimental Concert held some months later, and attended by the
offending Brigadier himself and the Commanding Officer.
CHAPTER IV
LOOS AND THE SPINNEY
A return was made to the trenches at Maroc on the 1st September, when
it was found that the war had livened up considerably during the three
weeks’ absence at La Beuvrière. The aerial torpedo made its first
appearance to the Battalion, and to judge from the following letter
home from a member of “B” Company, caused some consternation:--
“When we first took these trenches over from the French there
was hardly a shell or a bullet all day. Now Hell is let loose.
The very first morning we were introduced to a novelty in the
shape of a gigantic bomb. The trench trembled and the air
rushing into our dug-outs almost blew us off our seats. We
rushed out to see what damage had been done, and could hardly
believe our eyes when we found that the bomb had exploded about
300 yards in front of the trench. The next one burst not 40
yards away, and after the blinding flash and the crash of the
explosion I felt nothing. The explosion is apparently upward
rather than outward. It is thought that the offending mortar
works on a pair of rails and is whisked back by the force of
the recoil into the side of the slag heap. Smoke rises when
the bomb is fired, but a heavy shelling at this spot failed to
silence it. Now an Artillery Observation Officer watches the
spot all day, and immediately the smoke is observed his battery
fires and tries to catch the mortar before it gets back under
cover.”
* * * * *
Preparations for the big attack at Loos now overshadowed everything
else, and the Battalion was out every night on working or carrying
parties--such light jobs as carrying gas cylinders, digging assembly
trenches and bridging trenches. All who took part in them are agreed
that these gas cylinder fatigues were the most strenuous they ever
had to do. On the first night there were two men to each cylinder.
The cylinder weighed 180 lbs., and the men in addition carried their
rifles and 100 rounds of ammunition in bandoliers. The numerous turns
in the trenches were almost impassable obstacles, and to realise the
difficulty of lifting the cylinders round the corners one must have
done the deed. Arrived at last at the front line, the cylinder had to
be lifted up high and a sort of juggling feat indulged in to get it
into the correct position desired by the critical Royal Engineer.
Fatigues generally in these days were much more difficult than at any
other time of the war. Light railways had not yet been developed, and
it was not realised at this time how great a handicap it was for a man
to have two bandoliers of ammunition swinging round his neck while he
worked.
Apart from the working parties, a happy time was spent at the little
village of Houchin, where there was much cricket and feasting and very
little drill, and it was here that the Battalion first had the use of
motor buses in France.
When the battle eventually took place on the 25th September, the Civil
Service Rifles, as at Festubert, held a watching brief, being in
Brigade Reserve to the 6th and 7th Battalions, and it was thought that
this was the origin of the title of “God’s Own.”
To the Civil Service Rifles the battle of Loos was chiefly a spectacle,
since, with the exception of two platoons of “B” Company, the whole
Battalion looked on from the reserve trenches. The fate of those two
platoons, however, brought home to their friends the realities of
battle.
Soon after the attack started, No. 6 Platoon went forward over the top
as a bomb-carrying party. Starting out twenty-five strong the party
soon suffered heavy losses, and only three men of the party survived
unhurt. No. 8 Platoon went to the rescue, and although their fate was
much better, they, too, had their losses.
The killed included the ever-popular Lance-Corporal Tommy Dodge, a
great personality both in the Civil Service Rifles and in the Civil
Service Rugby Football Club.
Of the survivors, mention must be made of Corporal F. H. Chinn, who had
been sent with five men to establish a bomb store in the second German
trench. As the five became casualties, he made three journeys up the
side of the Double Crassier alone, carrying each time as many bombs as
he could collect.
* * * * *
After Loos there was a short rest at Verquin and Nœux-les-Mines, where,
on the 8th October, the Battalion lost the valuable services of Captain
H. H. Kemble, who became second in command of the 23rd Battalion.
As officer in command of “D” Company, Captain Kemble had won the
admiration and respect of all ranks who served with him, and who were
genuinely sorry to lose him.
The winter campaign of 1915-1916 now set in in earnest, and from this
time onwards there was a long struggle against the rain, mud, and
trenches that were continually falling in.
A fleeting visit was paid to the neighbourhood of Hulluch, where the
Battalion was in reserve during the struggle on the 13th October, and
narrowly escaped the fate which befel a Battalion of the Black Watch
who went down in attempting the impossible feat of cutting their way,
under very heavy machine-gun and artillery fire, through enemy wire of
incredible thickness.
On the 28th October, “A” and “C” Companies had the honour of
representing the Battalion at an inspection by His Majesty the King in
a field near the village of Haillicourt.
Soon after their return the weather went from bad to worse. Everywhere
men were huddled on the firestep with just a ground-sheet rigged over
a couple of rifles placed across the trench--the “shelter” thus formed
carefully collecting and depositing the rain-water down the neck of the
passer by! On every ration fatigue to the “lone tree” you floundered up
to the knees in mud and water. Private Beatty, of “A” Company, soothed
his feelings one night on slipping head first into a slimy shell-hole
with the following impromptu:--
“Mis-ry unspeakable,
Horrible, shriekable,
Groundsheets unleakable,
I don’t think.
Rain never ending,
On us descending,
Simply heartrending.
Gawd----!”
when he fell backwards into another shell-hole, and the rest is
unprintable.
The effect of the incessant rain and water-logged trenches began to
tell on the spirits of all ranks. The days of hot meals in trenches had
not then arrived. Sheepskin coats, leather jerkins and woollen gloves
had not, at any rate, been issued to the Civil Service Rifles, while
gum boots, though sometimes heard of, were seldom, if ever, seen. On
many occasions, too, the only implements available for the work of
baling out the water and thin mud from the trench bottom were picks and
shovels!
It is characteristic of the spirit of the troops that there are so many
good stories told of this period of discomfort. Although it was found
that the working parties increased as the strength of the Battalion
decreased, it was also found that the rum ration increased, and one man
of “A” Company benefited so much by the extra ration that when his next
turn for sentry duty came, he faced the wrong way on the fire step and
called the attention of his platoon sergeant to a wood, which he said
he could swear was not in front of him during his previous turn of
sentry duty!
Another story is told of the same man, who was a Scotsman, during
another of his turns of sentry duty. His platoon commander suspected
him of being asleep, and brought his sergeant along to confirm or
allay his suspicions. The man was resting his head on the parapet and
apparently gazing straight to his front. The platoon sergeant said he
felt sure the man was awake, but suggested to his officer that he might
test him with a franc. The officer thereupon slipped a franc note on to
the parapet in front of the sentry’s face. Without taking his eyes off
his “front,” the sentry promptly opened his mouth and took the bait.
“The franc is yours,” said Lieutenant Bates, whose doubts as to the
alertness of his sentry were now dispersed.
By way of a diversion, the Battalion was inspected during one of the
short rests in support trenches, by a civic dignitary from London,
accompanied by his Press photographer. Of all the discomforts of life
in France few, if any, were more irksome to the British soldier than
being visited by a civilian, looking clean, and fat, and comfortable,
who would return home and have it duly advertised in the Press that he
had just been to the front to see things for himself.
It will always be a mystery to the troops why so many civilians were
allowed to come on these “Cook’s tours” to France at the nation’s
expense, and if the visitors had only thought for a moment what effect
their “patronage” had on the weary soldier, who generally had to give
up a few hours of his well earned rest for an extra parade, there
would not perhaps have been so many photographs in the Press of “Mr.
---- wearing his steel helmet and box respirator while visiting the
troops in France.” The troops would not have minded so much if only the
distinguished civilian had included a visit to the front line in his
“tour of the trenches”!
In addition to the physical strain due to the continuous exposure to
atrocious weather, Companies in turn occupying the “Spinney” trenches
towards the end of the period had their nerves sorely tried by the
eccentricities of enfilade fire. Shells burst against the inside of
the parapet, and there were some parts of the line in this very narrow
salient which appeared to be exposed to fire from the rear as well as
other directions!
There were as many as thirty casualties a day--a high average for a
trench tour. At one place in front of a steep quarry--subsequently
evacuated during bombardments--men were constantly employed in filling
and placing sandbags on the parapet as fast as they were knocked down.
The communication trenches were impassable and consequently the wounded
could not be taken down until night, when a perilous journey had to be
made over the open country, the stretcher bearers picking their way
between shell holes filled with water. There were no roads leading up
to the line, the district seemed to be unusually difficult to explore,
and parties of men were continually going astray.
The wastage in personnel due to the appalling weather and shelling had
so mounted up, that when eventually relief came, the Battalion marched,
or rather dragged itself out only about 300 strong.
The following extract from the diary of a bomber gives a characteristic
description of the close of this extraordinarily uncomfortable period
of the winter campaign of 1915-16.
“We were thankful, I can tell you, to make tracks at last for
the reserve line, but it was raining hard and it damped our
spirits to find our new trench waterlogged. We bombers had not
been in our dug-out an hour before one earth wall collapsed
and buried our equipment and belongings. We were too tired
to grumble, but propping up the fallen corrugated iron roof
to form a side, we slept soundly beneath the ruins. In the
morning, in spite of the rain and liquid mud, we set to and
made a dug-out with groundsheets and one or two pieces of
corrugated. Our new abode was the envy of our comrades. It had
even a covered in hall where we cleaned our boots before being
permitted to enter. Then we won a brazier, collared some wet
coke, charcoal and wood logs and kept up a good fire. I took
off my boots every time I came in from a fatigue and dried my
socks and puttees. We sat round the brazier at night, and by
the light of the glowing and smoking logs--for candles we had
none--told stories and sang songs and were some company. But
our nerves were still strung, and when whizbangs came over
our way we fell down on the floor in strategic positions. The
mud was still awful, and everywhere the trench and ramshackle
shanties were falling in.
“It happened, however, a fine frosty night on that 13th
November, when we were relieved by the 1st Cameron
Highlanders--as fine a regiment of Scotch troops as you could
wish to see. The Highland accent was particularly soothing. We
marched as far as Mazingarbe that night.
“Next morning was the day for Divisional Relief, and as
the Battalion marched out of the village, other troops
were marching in. It was a fine, dry, frosty morning, and
official War Office cinema operators took pictures all along
the route--we with our trench mud still on us, some wearing
sleeping helmets in lieu of caps buried in fallen trenches, a
be-draggled and motley band, hardly able to put one foot before
another--and the incoming troops marching on the other side of
the road spotlessly clean and fit.
“As we neared the railhead at Noeux les Mines the Battalion
found its old self and tried to sing with as much vigour as
trench throats would allow:
‘As we’re marching down the Broadway side,
Doors and windows open wi--de:
We know our manners,
We spend our tanners,
We are respected wherever we may go,
We are the London Bhoys!’”
“It was fine to be in the train again, and to see cows once
more browsing at peace in the fields. We all fell in love with
Lillers and soon forgot our troubles.”
* * * * *
Memories of what was afterwards known as “the 1st Lillers” (for the
Battalion visited Lillers again at the next Corps Reserve) are of
the pleasantest. The billets were good, there were plenty of sports
and amusements, and there was an appreciable increase in the leave
allotment to the Battalion.
CHAPTER V
WINTER IN THE LOOS SALIENT.
The last month of 1915 found the Civil Service Rifles in trenches
in what was justifiably called a “hot corner.” After the holiday at
Lillers, the Battalion went to occupy the well-known Hairpin trench,
near Loos.
Some months previously the general run of the German front trench
had been along the crest of a ridge, the English line being parallel
and about 100 yards below. An attempt to capture the crest had only
partially succeeded, and about fifty yards of the German trench was
occupied by English troops. A trench was dug from each end of this
strip to the English front line, thus forming the Hairpin. On each side
of the captured piece of trench a stretch of about 50 yards was left
unoccupied by either side, but obstructed by the usual block guarded by
bombers.
To connect up their front line again the Germans dug a trench in front
of the captured piece.
It will readily be understood that this was not a healthy spot, and the
advantage of holding the captured 50 yards of German trench was a very
doubtful one, as the occupants came in for a very liberal bombardment.
But _the_ tragedy of the Hairpin came on the night of the 20th
December, when the Battalion was ordered to send all its bombers,
together with some bayonet men from “B” Company, over the top on the
right of the Hairpin to jump into the German trench and bomb along
it, while a party from the 7th Battalion restored a barricade (in the
German front line adjoining the afore-mentioned captured strip of 50
yards) which the Germans had rushed early that morning.
The attack was most gallantly led by the Battalion Bombing Officer,
2nd Lieutenant A. M. Thompson, an officer of the 14th Royal Fusiliers,
attached to Civil Service Rifles, but from the outset there was not the
slightest chance of success. However, 2nd Lieutenant Thompson and the
N.C.O.’s and men with him went to their end unflinchingly, and though
the enemy put down an impenetrable barrier of bombs, rifle grenades and
machine-gun bullets, the tragic scheme went on until all officers and
N.C.O.’s taking part had been put out of action.
There were many most valuable lives lost on that night unfortunately,
as it turned out, to no purpose, for the Germans a few days later blew
up the whole trench and a number of the 23rd London Regiment, who were
holding it, went with it.
Although Second Lieutenant Thompson had only been with the Battalion
a few months, he had speedily won the confidence and respect of all
ranks, for at all times he set a fine example of courage and devotion
to duty. He was buried the next evening in the right leg of the Hairpin.
Of Lance-Corporal L. H. Druett, who died a true hero’s death in that
disastrous enterprise, it is difficult indeed to speak sufficiently
highly. His sterling qualities as a soldier, a companion, and a real
white man, won for him the respect and admiration of the most careless.
Associated for a long time with Lance-Corporal Druett was Private A.
B. Evans, otherwise “Taff” Evans, known to the bombers as “The Bird”
(having a trick of putting his head to one side like a magpie), another
of the stalwarts who lost his life in the struggle at the Hairpin while
going to the assistance of another bomber; and, among others, mention
must be made of Lance-Corporal M. Roach, who was in charge of a large
party of “B” Company bombers and bayonet men, and who was fatally
wounded whilst working on one of the barricades, after doing splendid
work that night, and of Private E. G. Crockett, who, although severely
wounded in the stomach, walked unaided to the Dressing Station over
100 yards away, but it was impossible to save his life, and he died in
hospital nearly a fortnight later. Both were great favourites in “B”
Company, where they had been well known for their good sportsmanship
and cheerfulness.
The bombers were naturally hit harder than other sections in this sad
business, and another who could ill be spared was Private H. M. Nash, a
modest and unassuming fellow, who had only recently become a bomber. It
is said that he threw his bombs like a cricket ball some 45 yards, and,
after his officers and N.C.O.’s had been hit, he performed many deeds
of gallantry before he met his death.
Enough has been written to give an idea of the losses at the Hairpin.
They were all men whose places it was felt could never be adequately
filled, and consequently the Battalion was not in a particularly joyous
mood for Christmas, which was spent in trenches and cellars near the
Water Tower at Vermelles. The conditions did not lend themselves to
a merry Christmas, for there was no chance at all of celebrating
Christmas Day, and it was not until Boxing Day that the Christmas
letters and parcels were received.
In consequence of an alarm, a sudden move had to be made on
Christmas Eve to support positions at Vermelles, and the whole of that
day and Christmas Day were spent in “standing to,” so there was little
opportunity for merry-making. But on Christmas night the alarm died
down and a move was made to huts at Noyelles, where some succeeded in
dining not wisely but too well on parcels from home, puddings from the
_Daily News_, and Army rum. The Battalion canteen managed at this time
by Ibbett, had now got into its stride, and its stock included welcome
barrels of stout, in addition to champagne, port, sherry, whisky and a
few other “dainties.”
[Illustration: BETHUNE SQUARE.]
[Illustration: DOUBLE CRASSIER, LOOS, 1915.
_To face page 82._]
New Year’s Eve was not even as cheerful as Christmas Eve, for the
Battalion was now in the front line at the Hohenzollern Redoubt, and
the artillery on both sides were busy playing the old year out--the
infantry in the front line getting the full benefit of it.
But before the New Year was many hours old, the Battalion had a real
stroke of good luck--a German mine blew up prematurely in front
of them, thus saving them from what was easily the most unpopular
frightfulness of the war!
The New Year was also marked by an act of gallantry which was
afterwards recognised by the award of the Military Medal to the two men
concerned--Corporal P. J. Tickle and Drummer H. Hogwood.
The Hohenzollern Redoubt was not a pleasant spot. There had been a good
deal of fighting in the neighbourhood during the past three months, and
khaki figures still lay stiff and grim in No Man’s Land where they had
fallen. There were therefore no regrets when the Division was relieved
by a Cavalry Division about the middle of January, 1916, and the 47th
Division relieved the 18th French Division in the Loos sector.
The Civil Service Rifles brought to a close its long association with
this neighbourhood by a short spell of trench warfare in the trenches
on the eastern fringe of the village of Loos, and on the famous Double
Crassier. The situation on the Double Crassier was unique in a way, for
both English and German trenches ran across these two big slag heaps.
The troops invariably returned from these trenches looking like so many
coal miners, for there was coal dust floating about everywhere.
The district lived up to its peace-time reputation as a centre of
mining activity, for the hated mine warfare was pursued freely about
this time with the usual accompaniment of minenwerfers. Otherwise
life hereabouts was more or less uneventful, except for a big display
of war-time fireworks on the Kaiser’s birthday, January 27th. It was
thought the great War Lord would celebrate his birthday by making a
big attack, but on the front occupied by the 47th Division he was
apparently satisfied with a heavy bombardment.
There have been numerous poets in the ranks of the Civil Service
Rifles, and there are many creditable effusions which, perhaps through
the modesty of the poet, will never see the light of print. Some,
however, have been saved, including some verses on the exploits of
Private Beatty, a bomber of “A” Company, an odd, scraggy little man,
with a husky voice, known to his intimates as Potgut Woodbine. He is
immortalised by Hanna in his
NEW SONG OF HIAWATHA.
“Came my youngling--Pip. Q. Emma,
She the youngest of my offspring,
She the peardrop of my eyelid--
Grinning, dribbling, gurgling came she.
Thus the buxom Pip. Q. Emma--
‘Say, oh, Father Potgut Woodbine,
Thou who could’st outrun the lithe louse;
Thou who never more wilt form fours,
What did’st thou when on the warpath
Strode the Hare-Hun-Scare-Hun-Willies?’
Breathless paused she for an answer.
Childling, daughter of the prairies,
Born where rushing waters thunder
(Near the Elephant and Castle
Hard against the Old Kent Gas Works)--
Listen how my kinsman Potgut
Put to flight the wily Hun-bird;
Popped it right up Hiawatha,
Fritz von Rudolph Hiawatha
And his spouse, Frau Minen Werfer.
Know you first how Hiawatha
Wooed his buxom Minen Werfer--
Learned the names of all her spare parts,
Learned her--barrel, charge and striker,
Strength of charge and detonator--
Took to parts her complex innards,
At her home, the Trench Mawt Ah Skool.
Skool am Trenchgranatenkruppe
Bureau Bomski vor Vlamingen
Mawt Ah Markwun Star How Itza
Teufel Bligh Mee Mawt Ah Oh Mi.
Took he Minnie to his bosom,
On his deer-skin wore her totem,
Wore he swankily Kross Mawt Ahs,
Token of his life’s gymkhana.
Not that Fritz’s life was one huge joke!
Or as ripe as Methu-Selah’s--
Trained he three moons with his Minnie,
Three moons--no leave--hell’s sweat--oh, hell!
Three months with the Umpteenth Na Poos.
Up the line went Hiawatha
In a truck designed for cattle
Labelled ‘London via Calais,’
By a poor misguided Fun-Man,
Poor, deluded fool Hun-Fun-Man,
Reveller in Herr Wolffe’s Folk-lore--
Grimm, Hans Andersen and Æsop
(Mighty joss-men in invention,
Fertile in imagination).
Westward on his way to Calais
Blithely journeys Hiawatha,
Counts the hours till on the Boulevard
He shall dance with Minen Werfer;
Counts the hours--and in the meantime
Bully beef imbibes--and curses.
To a full stop came the puff-puff,
Is this Calais, guard, or Paris?
Houndsditch, Croydon, Piccadilly?
New Cross Empire or the Abbey?
Tersely came the answer--‘_Hulluch_.’
Up the trench went Hiawatha,
With his jolly old Trench Mawt Ah,
Grunting, sweating, cursing, went he,
Vanished all his former blitheness.
On his side the British Tumai,
Mustered in his front-line trenches,
Mustered. Picked men of the Lun-duns.
From the Base Camps, o’er the Prairies,
Came the Warriors from The Village,
Little Village by The River,
Lun-Dun, homestead of the Cocquenays.
Came the Blackfoot Cee Essah Hipes,
Came the jolly old Westminsters.
Came Loo Eeza’s own Shoshonies,
Came the Choctan Stepney Long-Bows.
Came the Amazon-like Scott Ish,
Sinkers of the raiding ‘Emden,’
Maid-like clad, yet Mighty Warriors.
Never could one say of ‘Minnie’
As of Darling Clementine--
‘Light she was and like a fairy’--
For her Bore was 4·9,
Treble ply in all her braces
(Which were not the same as Fritz’s)
Manners none had Minen Werfer,
Minen Werfer, Strafe-ing Mawt Ah.
Spat she openly with gusto,
Vomited great land-torpedoes--
Spat she rations of contumely
At the grim-faced, grimy Tumai.
In the trench among the Tumais,
Sore-strafed, half-drowned, tortured Tumais,
Was thy kinsman Pot-Gut Woodbine,
Bomber Pot-Gut Bee Tee Woodbine,
Crouching red-faced o’er his brazier,
Puffing, blowing at the embers,
Heeding not the rage of Minnie.
Reckless he of flying fragments
Till a piece dropped in his dixie,
Flopping, dropped right home to Dixie.
Up rose Pot-Gut in his anger,
In his hand he seized a Mills Bomb,
In a loud voice bellowed ‘Pin Out’
(War-cry of the Cee Ess Bombers).
Strong of arm was Pot-Gut Woodbine,
He could throw ten Mills Bombs upward,
Throw them with such strength and swiftness,
That the tenth had left his fingers
Ere the first to earth had fallen.
In the neck, poor Minen Werfer
Got she six of Pot-Gut’s Mills Bombs;
In the neck, or rather barrel,
Other four got Hiawatha,
Got, nor thanked the Lord for sending.
Woke he in the med’cine wig-wam,
Life had ceased to be one Huge Joke,
‘Where is now my Minen Werfer,’
Cried he, and from out the darkness,
Through the noise of many waters
Came the answer, ‘Minnie? Fini!
Fini! Na poo! Compris. Got me?’
Loud his voice raised Hiawatha
In a howling lamentation--
‘Farewell,’ said he, ‘Minen Werfer’
‘Farewell, O my Strafeing Mawt Ah,’
Both my ears are buried with you,
All my hair you’ve taken with you!
Come not back again to labour,
Come not back again to swelter
Up the line with post and rations.
Soon your footsteps I shall follow
To the regions of the cursed.
To the Hell reserved for Hun-men.’
This did I, O Pip. Q. Emma,
In the Great War with the Hun-man,
Thus fought I, your mighty kinsman,
Bomber Bee Tee Pot-Gut Woodbine.
From my knee slid Pip. Q. Emma,
What a liar! Pot-Gut Woodbine!”
It was agreed by all that this gem should not be lost to the world,
and it was reproduced some months afterwards in the _Hazeley Wail_, a
magazine published by the 1st Battalion wounded who had returned to the
Reserve Battalion.
* * * * *
Hopes were now raised by rumours of another period in Corps Reserve and
a return to Lillers, but the Division was not destined to leave without
a little excitement, for in the early hours of the 15th of February,
the last day at Loos was heralded by the blowing of a big mine by
the Germans under the front line held by the 7th London Regiment on
the immediate right of the Civil Service Rifles. A diary of a bomber
describes it thus:--
“This morning I had just fallen asleep, after an arduous night
fatigue, followed by a cold stand-to, when the earth walls of
the dug-out shook with so violent a tremor that I thought we
should have been buried alive. I rushed outside to find the
enemy firing like mad! Rifle grenades, trench mortars, aerial
torpedoes, and death-dealing whiz bangs were falling in all
directions. Some 50 yards to our right a new volcano now reared
its ugly sides to Heaven. The Teutons had got their own back.
The mine was theirs. But before the earth had finished falling,
our Private Sugars (attached 140th Brigade Machine Gun Company)
from the front line trench, about 50 yards from the mine had
turned his machine gun on to the position, and his continuous
stream of lead stopped the German attempts to rush the crater.
Indeed, a heap of slain told the losses of their bold but
fruitless attacks. Alas! a party of the Seventh had met the
fate we so dreaded ourselves! They had gone up with the mine!
Truly our luck was in.
“In half an hour all firing ceased as if by consent, and
we settled down to prepare breakfast. Bulldog Harris, the
C.S.M. of ‘C’ Company, had been issuing rum at the time of
the explosion. With great presence of mind he had saved the
precious liquid from the falling debris with his cap. So we got
our ration. Many of the new draft needed such a pick-me-up, for
we quite thought the strafe was a prelude to a German attack.
The enemy was said to have massed his reserves on this front in
readiness for an offensive.
“Thank God we are to be relieved to-night! To-morrow we should
be on terra firma again, far away from the terrors of mines and
counter-mines. There will be no need to watch the sky for those
fatal rockets or to fall flat on the trench path to escape the
full fury of the nasty tearing Minnie.
“To good old Lillers with its ancient market place and quaint
mediæval images of the saints carved in niches over the
principal shops--a town now flowing with Bass, Worthington and
cheap champagne--snug Auberges, too, where you can dine in
luxury for 1 franc, 75 cents. To Lillers!”
* * * * *
The troops were naturally in the best of spirits on the morning of the
departure for Lillers. The transport had to go the whole way by road,
and started in a perfect blizzard at about 5.0 a.m.
The rest of the Battalion went by rail as usual from Nœux-les-Mines,
and, soon after arriving at Lillers, the welcome news arrived that the
Division had said good-bye to the Loos sector, and on its return to the
front line would try conclusions with the Boche in a new area.
There were many informal “celebrations” of the completion of the first
year in France during a very pleasant fortnight spent in Lillers,
where, in spite of intense cold and much snow, all ranks contrived to
be merry and to forget the war, except for the various alarms, notably
the two days’ stand-to in billets for Verdun.
A typical Company “celebration” held at the Restaurant Picot on the
27th of February has been recorded:--
“Covers were laid for 40. Our spirits were high and our
appetites huge as we tucked into two helpings each of soup,
sardines, tongue, chicken and peas, fruit, blanc mange and
dessert. At 6.0 p.m. we could toast each other in French beer,
cheap champagne and port.
“During some of the courses, Cooper, Lawman and others warbled
sweetly at the piano, and by the time the dessert course
was reached, the fun had become fast and furious. Old Picot
himself, a fat and jovial Frenchman of 50, danced and frolicked
with the youngest.
“There were no speeches made or toasts drunk to those whose
faces we so sadly missed at the festive board, but was it
altogether fancy that made us feel their presence?”
* * * * *
The occasions on which an infantry soldier in France was able to have
a bath were so few and far between in these early days, that the event
was usually recorded in the official Regimental War Diary. In the
mining districts advantage was generally taken of the civilian baths
at the mine heads, but sometimes the Divisional baths were installed
in breweries, electric light works, or, in fact, anywhere near a water
main. The baths naturally could not be near the billets of all units in
the Division, so that a bath was often preceded and succeeded by a long
march in full marching order at a most inconvenient time of day.
These objections were ultimately overcome in the Civil Service Rifles
by Lieutenant-Colonel Segrave, who brought canvas baths
from London, won a Soyer stove or two from Ordnance, and instituted
the Civil Service Rifles baths, which were open daily whenever the
Battalion was out of the line.
[Illustration: MACHINE-GUN POSITION,
GIVENCHY,
April, 1915.]
[Illustration: FESTUBERT CHURCH,
May, 1915.]
[Illustration: FRONT TRENCH, OPPOSITE HULLUCH,
Held and consolidated by Civil Service Rifles after unsuccessful attack
by 1st Division on 13th October, 1915. A Machine-Gun Officer and a Gun
Team in “Cubby Holes” cut in sides of trench.]
[Illustration: LEWIS GUNNERS OF CIVIL SERVICE RIFLES,
Vermelles, Christmas Day, 1915.]
[Illustration: “THE TOWER BRIDGE,” LOOS,
View from Firing Line on Hill 70, February, 1916.]
[Illustration: GARE ALLEY, LOOS,
November, 1915.]
The ceremonies at the Divisional baths generally took place during a
Battalion’s rest in Divisional or Corps Reserve, and a scribe of “B”
Company was so impressed with the baths at Lillers as to write the
following account in a letter home:--
“Platoons went in turns to the brewery for a bath. Imagine,
if it is not too shocking, twelve of us at a time bathing in
a mash-tub, and the unusual spectacle of 24 feet and I don’t
know how many toes meeting in the middle. No wonder somebody
described the atmosphere as ‘foetid.’ You kept on losing the
soap and diving for it under other fellows’ legs.”
At Poperinghe, later on, the baths were run by a hustler who could
now get a lucrative appointment on the District Railway. After three
weeks of trench life, a man was allowed exactly thirty seconds under
the hot spray and was then allowed to dry himself in a strong breeze
while the minions of the Divisional Laundry Officer disinfected his
clothing, which in some baths had to be strung up in a bundle on a hook
to protect him from pickpockets.
* * * * *
The first year in France was rapidly drawing to a close, and though
many gaps had been caused in the ranks by casualties and many by
members of the Regiment being appointed to commissions in other
Regiments, the Battalion as a whole had undergone little change. The
work of the first year could be looked upon with satisfaction, and
although “God’s Own” Civil Service Rifles had not taken part in any big
assault, there had been many little items of “dirty work” done.
The short stay at Lillers passed all too quickly and soon the Battalion
trekked out in the snow, the remainder of the time in Corps Reserve
being spent in training at the villages en route to the new area.
CHAPTER VI
NOTRE DAME DE LORETTE
The new area proved to be the northern end of the famous Vimy Ridge,
which the Battalion approached by easy stages, for although the
Division took over the “Carency Sector” of the line on the 13th of
March, it was not until the 10th of April that the Civil Service Rifles
went into the front line. The interval had been spent in reserve
billets in the French huts in Bouvigny Woods, in the partially deserted
village of Villers au Bois, the wholly deserted village of Carency,
the fully inhabited and rather pretty (for the Pas de Calais) village
of Fresnicourt, and in the support trenches on the hill known as Notre
Dame de Lorette (or Lorette Spur). These trenches had looked down on
the long struggle by the French in 1915 for Souchez, the famous Zouave
Valley, and for a footing on Vimy Ridge.
Lorette Spur was the most popular of all trench areas with the men,
for by day there was no movement allowed and they were thus left
undisturbed. It was here that the first anniversary of landing in
France was spent. What little shelling there was went to Battalion
Headquarters in the ruined village of Ablain St. Nazaire, and by night
the working parties were all in the neighbourhood of the trenches
occupied by the men themselves.
The Lewis Gunners were particularly happy on Lorette Spur, for they had
good dug-outs and little or no work to do. It was in these trenches
where Private Roessli (a Lewis Gunner) distinguished himself as a
sculptor, for he had ample opportunities and much good material in the
chalk with which the dug-outs were lined.
Evidence of the popularity of Lorette Spur is found in Corporal “Paddy”
Guiton’s description:--
“Shortly after this we wended our weary way to the trenches
lying in the valley under one of the spurs of the Lorette
heights. There we relieved a battalion of the Yorkshire
Regiment, ‘the old tin pots.’ I asked one of the outgoing
N.C.O.’s what the place was like. He replied in his quaint
northern dialect: ‘It’s like convalescent whoam, lad.’
“We lived in the so-called dug-outs, or rather surface shanties
in this region, and ‘C’ Company, at any rate, had quite a
‘cushy’ time. There were numerous fatigues, of course, but
the Hun let us alone, and we had great comfort--derived from
the fact that we had fires with real coal as fuel. There was
quite a good fireplace in my lair, which was inhabited by
four other N.C.O.’s, and our picnics here even on rations
(without parcels) were singularly delightful. These fires were
only allowed during the hours of darkness as the smoke might
otherwise be perceived by enemy observers.
“We renewed our coal periodically by making nocturnal visits to
the old sugar refinery at Souchez, nothing of which now remains
but a mass of twisted iron girders and a heap of stones mixed
with coal slack. This ground is that so valiantly won back by
the French during our attack at Loos, and previously in May,
1915, was the scene of the most bitter and desperate fighting.
The ground in the neighbourhood is scarred with the almost
obliterated remains of old trenches and we found an interesting
pastime in reconstructing the scenes and locating the various
trenches held by our allies and the enemy.
“Sometimes in the evening we held sports meetings, of which
an organised rat hunt formed the principal feature. On these
occasions, Sergeant Chick distinguished himself greatly. Even
now I can see his lean figure, leading the chase, a thick stick
brandished in his right hand.
“My enjoyment of the life at Notre Dame de Lorette was too full
to last, and one evening quite unexpectedly, ‘Bulldog’ Harris
warned me to prepare for leaving with the billeting party.
“Good-bye, Loretto! I earnestly hope that all the troops who
are bearing the heat and burden of the day will find the same
calm and contentment that I did under the shadow of your
frowning cliffs.”
* * * * *
The front line trenches on Vimy Ridge were considerably cleaner than
those at Loos, and although there was an extraordinary amount of mine
blowing, there were times in the early spring of 1916 when life even in
the front line was not too bad.
Out at rest, excellent sport was to be had in the nightly rat hunts
in Bouvigny Woods, as well as cricket and football, and the Officers’
Riding School under Lieut. W. H. Craig, the new Transport Officer, who
had originally come to France as Transport Sergeant.
The situation in the front line astride the Souchez River was somewhat
uncommon, for there was no trench at all, the line being held by means
of three breastworks, each holding about a platoon, about 100 yards
apart. The remainder of the Battalion occupied a quarry and an old
trench behind.
It became quite a daily practice of the enemy at this time to blow a
mine at sunrise and sundown.
On the afternoon of the 29th of April, 1916, a mine was blown under the
front line held by the 6th Battalion, on the immediate right of the
Civil Service, who were astride the Souchez River. The 6th suffered
heavy casualties and two sections of bombers and two Lewis Gun teams
were sent from the Civil Service to assist them. Sergeant E. M. Knapp
in charge of the bombers, was conspicuous throughout for his fearless
and untiring work on the crater. He himself organised the bombing
posts, not only of his own men, but also those of the 6th Battalion.
In recognition of his splendid work on this occasion, Sergeant Knapp
was awarded the D.C.M. This gallant conduct was typical of all the
work done by Sergeant Knapp, who was a real tower of strength to the
Battalion bombers. As a leader of men he was unrivalled, and his zeal
and enthusiasm were a constant inspiration to the men he loved so much
and who in turn loved him. As a parade N.C.O. Sergeant Knapp was once
described as a “Ragtime” soldier, but his enthusiasm and sterling work
in the face of danger endeared him to the hearts of all men in the
Battalion. All members of the 1st Civil Service Rifles were justly
proud of “Knappski”--a leader whom the men would follow anywhere.
Other members of the Regiment who distinguished themselves on the 29th
of April immediately the mine was blown were Corporal (afterwards
Sergeant) E. M. Nottingham, attached to the 140th Brigade Trench Mortar
Battery, who gained the D.C.M., and Corporal Smedling, also with the
Trench Mortar Battery, who gained the M.M.
From the time of his arrival in France in March, 1915, to the time of
his death at the battle of Messines in June, 1917, Sergeant Nottingham
had proved himself a man who scorned danger and loved the life of the
trenches. The exploit which won him his D.C.M. was only one of many
such in the life of a most capable leader, who will never be forgotten
by those who served with him.
The month of May, 1916, opened with a pleasant picnic in Bouvigny
Woods, followed by a restful spell in the trenches on Lorette Spur.
Here there was an excellent view one night of the explosion of six
British mines in rapid succession on Vimy Ridge, accompanied by an
unparalleled display of fireworks of all descriptions. As the men
watched the display from a comfortable distance at the top of Notre
Dame de Lorette, not one had the least suspicion that it was very soon
to be the cause of the most severe blow that fortune had so far dealt
to the Civil Service Rifles.
CHAPTER VII
VIMY RIDGE, 1916
On a gloriously sunny afternoon in May, a man was dozing outside his
hut in the pretty little woods at the village of Camblain L’Abbé, where
the Civil Service Rifles were billeted in Brigade Reserve. The Brigade
had just taken over the Berthonval sector of trenches on Vimy Ridge,
and the Civil Service Rifles were to spend a week in what appeared to
be the most delightful village they had visited in Northern France.
It was one of those days when it feels good to be alive. The birds sang
sweetly in the trees, and the delightful natural fragrance of spring
was everywhere.
The afore-mentioned man, like many of his friends, had partaken of a
comfortable dinner, washed down with what was known as Royal Shandy--a
mixture of stout and sweet champagne, and as he settled down to a
comfortable afternoon nap he reflected that, after all, war was not too
bad. Some of the more energetic of his friends had gone for a walk to
the neighbouring village of Aubigny, others were busy writing letters,
but he preferred to have a lazy afternoon of pleasant reflection. There
would be many more opportunities for excursions to Aubigny, as the
Battalion had a whole week before it in these delightful surroundings.
Perhaps in the evening he would visit the local cinema, as he had not
been to see “the Pictures” for some time. However, that could wait too
if he did not feel energetic. How he wished the Division could stay
in this sector for the rest of the war! There had not been much front
line work lately--a Battalion only seemed to get one week in four in
the front line, and when there it was not too bad--a few mines to make
a little excitement, but then these were very regular, as they always
went up at sunrise and sunset in this district, so you knew when to
expect them. Yes, he thought, as he dozed off to sleep, “It’s a bon war
here.” He had just fallen asleep when he was roughly shaken and told
that the Battalion was to “fall in” at once.
“I think they might have left us alone on a Sunday,” he groused as he
quickly got his equipment together. “Who is it this time, I wonder? The
Bishop of London or Horatio Bottomley? And why have we to march to
Villers au Bois to see him? If he wants to preach to us why can’t he
come here? However, perhaps it’s one of these infernal training gags.
Major General wants to see how long it takes to move his reserves about
on a summer Sunday evening. Wonder if we shall get back before the
estaminets close?”
Similar thoughts were expressed by other members of the Battalion, for
the only order was “Battalion will parade at once and march to Villers
au Bois. Dress, full marching order.”
Although the order came round in the middle of tea, the Battalion was
on the road in an astonishingly short space of time, and after a hot
and dusty march a halt was called in a field near the battered old
church of Villers au Bois. Here many of the men took the opportunity to
strip to the waist and rub themselves down with towels. Speculation was
still rife as to what it all meant, but the general opinion was that
it was a training stunt, which was regarded as the very worst taste on
the part of those in authority. Rumours of “dirty work afoot,” however,
began to spread through the ranks, and soon the order came to occupy
what was known as the Maistre Line--a line of trenches that had been
planned as a third line of defence in this sector.
Once outside the village a wonderful sight met the eye. About two or
three miles away, hanging over the area of the front line trenches
on Vimy Ridge, was a dense cloud of bursting shells, and to make the
scene more weird, not a sound could be heard, either of guns or of the
explosion of the shells, although it was a beautiful still evening. The
bombardment, although confined to an area of little more than a square
mile, was by far the most intense yet witnessed by the Civil Service
Rifles.
The Battalion was no sooner in position in the Maistre Line--a trench
about two feet deep, than orders were received to move forward by
Companies.
“B” Company led off, followed by “C” Company, two Lewis guns, two
sections of bombers, Battalion H.Q. and “D” Company, and the remaining
Lewis guns brought up the rear. “A” Company remained behind to bring up
rations and water.
The advance was along a very shallow and narrow communication trench,
and the scene of slaughter was approached through a barrage of tear
gas. Owing to the movement of other bodies of troops progress was very
slow, with the result that the Battalion endured some hours of tear
gas, but the line moved slowly but surely towards the Cabaret Rouge
on the Bethune-Arras Road, the site of a ruined estaminet where the
Brigade Headquarters was now situated, just on the western side of the
Zouave Valley.
In the words of the Regimental Diary:--
“The enemy was indulging in the most intense bombardment we
had witnessed. He must have employed guns of every possible
calibre. The air was just one solid mass of bursting shells.”
* * * * *
“We had little or no information as to what was happening, and
as darkness had now gathered and we were in entirely strange
trenches, there did not seem much chance of finding out.”
* * * * *
The leading Company (“B”), under Captain H. B. Farquhar, reached
Brigade Headquarters at Cabaret Rouge at 10.15 p.m., and was ordered
to report to the Commanding Officer of the Battalion holding the left
of the 140th Brigade Front. After being loaded up with bombs and an
extra 100 rounds of ammunition per man, they staggered forth through
the barrage of the Zouave Valley, where the bombardment raged with
its most intense fury, and arrived almost exhausted at the Battalion
Headquarters of the left sub-sector of what was known as the Berthonval
Sector shortly after 1.0 a.m., on May 22nd. The awful barrage of the
valley had been negotiated almost without loss.
The Company Commander was told on arrival at Battalion Headquarters
that the line of resistance and support line had been lost, and that
his Company would deliver a counter attack at 2.0 a.m. It was then
1.30 a.m., and there was therefore no time to make any reconnaissance,
nor was it possible to get any information at all as to the precise
situation. Captain Farquhar was told that on his right the 6th and
7th Battalions would co-operate, on his left a company of the London
Irish, and with him would be a party of bombers and details of the
Post Office Rifles, but where any of these troops were to be found was
not vouchsafed to him. He was told that one of his flanks would rest
on Ersatz Trench, but as he had never heard of Ersatz Trench, nor was
anyone there to show him where it was, he might just as well have been
told to rest his flanks on the Unter den Linden. He was unable to find
out whether there were any British troops between him and the Bosche,
or how much of the line he was supposed to capture.
However, with these scant particulars, and with the information that
the objective was about 600 yards up the side of the Ridge, Captain
Farquhar was ordered to start his counter attack at 2.0 a.m.
He called his Platoon Sergeants and his only other officer (Lieutenant
B. Scott) together, and acquainted them with the scheme, and arranged
his men in two waves, 6 and 8 Platoons under Lieutenant Scott in the
first wave, and 5 and 7 Platoons in the second wave.
Reports differ considerably as to what exactly happened afterwards, for
it must be remembered that the operations were carried out in total
darkness, save for the fitful glare of the German rockets and Verey
lights, and as it is difficult to get a reliable description of any
battle, even in daylight, it is even more difficult to describe this
scramble in the dark, in country which was strange to the attacking
forces, few, if any, of whom knew where to look for friends or foes.
But there is no doubt that the attack was launched at 2.0 a.m., and
that “B” Company advanced in two waves up the slopes of Vimy Ridge,
with no artillery, machine guns or Lewis guns supporting them, and
that very soon they came under such a murderous and intense fire from
enemy artillery, trench mortars, machine guns and rifles, that very
few survived unwounded. As far as can be gathered from survivors, it
appears that after taking the British front line at 9.0 p.m., the
enemy at once put out a barbed wire obstacle, and the survivors of “B”
Company claim that a number of their men actually reached the wire,
where, of course, they were helpless.
The vast majority of “B” Company having been killed or wounded, the
foremest of the unwounded survivors, finding they were now in a
hopeless position, appear to have decided to take cover in shell holes
and await developments. Here they remained throughout the whole of
the following day in scorching sunshine, looking for the best way of
escape, and at nightfall they were able to make their way back.
So much, and no more, is known of the fate of “B” Company, but “C” and
“D” Companies, who had followed them through the valley, were more
fortunate, for the former, under Captain G. A. Gaze, arriving at the
Battalion Headquarters at 1.50 a.m., were ordered to support the 18th
Battalion (London Irish) at once. As he was unable to get in touch
with the London Irish, Captain Gaze, assisted by a Company of the Post
Office Rifles, formed a defensive flank in Granby Street, where “C”
Company, dog tired as they were, set to work at once to make a decent
position, and at the same time scoured the country around in search of
the wounded, many of whom were rescued. It was in this work of rescue
that C.S.M. R. H. Harris (Bulldog Harris) excelled himself. He went far
afield in his search for his bosom friend, “Kaffir” Howett, who, as
C.S.M. of “B” Company had gone down in the van of the attacking party.
Harris was unable to find his friend who was so dear to him, but he
succeeded in bringing in several others of the wounded, and carried on
his work of rescue untiringly until daylight. It should be remembered
that the whole of this rescue work was done under incessant machine gun
and artillery fire.
Another who accomplished great deeds on this occasion was Sergeant
T. P. Chick, of “C” Company. It was daybreak when his attention was
caught by a wounded man of the Post Office Rifles, who was lying out in
front of the trench. He at once announced his intention of going out
to assist him, if possible, and although it was now fully light, he
persisted in going out once more, and safely reached the wounded man.
Sergeant Chick was crawling back, and was not more than ten yards from
the parapet, when he was shot just over the heart, and died about ten
minutes afterwards.
He died for another, and his end was typical of his life of noble
self-sacrifice in the interests of others.
It became a habit at one time among some troops in the Division to
estimate the amount of work done by a unit by the number of casualties
suffered, but although a heavy casualty list certainly indicates a
“bloody” time, it does not follow that a unit which suffers few or no
losses has done nothing.
Of the three Companies involved in the fighting at Vimy (for “A”
Company took no part in the operations beyond carrying rations), “C”
and “D” Companies appear to have got off comparatively lightly so far
as casualties are concerned, though it was due to the efforts of these
two Companies that a new front line was established so soon.
Under Captain A. Roberts, “D” Company was the last to cross the Zouave
Valley, and on arriving at Battalion Headquarters the Company was
ordered to support “B” Company. Captain Roberts had least time of all
in which to find out anything about the situation, but he led his
men up the slope and they eventually occupied the old Reserve Line
of the Battalion originally holding the sub-sector. This line they
now converted into the British front line, and “D” Company, with a
few remnants of the Post Office Rifles, held it from Granby Street to
Ersatz Trench--the intended flanks of “B” Company’s counter attack.
Prominent among the “D” Company men who helped in the rescue of the “B”
Company wounded was Corporal R. J. B. Beazley, described by his C.S.M.
as one of the best little fellows in the Regiment. He made at least
half a dozen journeys “out in front” always returning with a wounded
man.
A feature of the operations so far had been the entire silence of
the British Artillery--it was afterwards said that the enemy attack
took place in the middle of an artillery relief. But no sooner had
“D” Company dug a decent front line trench than the British Artillery
began to knock it about, and Captain Roberts had to complain of shorts
several times during the day.
The situation became quiet soon after daybreak and “C” and “D”
Companies were able to carry on with their work in peace for a few
hours, but during the day the enemy from time to time put down an
intense barrage, lasting generally for about half an hour, when the
whole valley was filled with smoke, debris and sheets of flame.
Happily, there were few further casualties on this account, and
although the dose was repeated late at night when the Battalion was
relieved by the 24th London Regiment, there was little further loss and
the Zouave Valley was left as it had been found--in a mass of smoke and
bursting shells.
The battle of Vimy Ridge, although not much more than a minor
operation--it is believed to have been the sequel to the blowing of the
six British mines in the vicinity on the night of the 15th of May--has
been described at some length because it was the most important
event so far in the life of the Civil Service Rifles in France.
Hitherto the Battalion had succeeded in preserving more or less its
original identity, but here, in the short space of twenty-four hours,
practically all that was left of the original “B” Company had been
swept away. It is perhaps because of the sudden nature of the operation
that the losses came as such a shock to the surviving members of the
Battalion.
Captain H. B. Farquhar had long been the idol of “B” Company, and a
great favourite in other Companies in the Battalion. He had done what
he could to save his men from the awful disaster, but as a soldier he
had to obey orders, and, having called his platoon sergeants together
and told them all he knew he bravely bade them good-bye, and, like the
rest of his Company, went to his doom without flinching.
Captain Farquhar has often been described as the finest Company
Commander the Battalion ever possessed.
He was keen, energetic and unselfish, a real pattern to his officers,
N.C.O.’s and men. A survivor of the “B” Company of Captain Farquhar’s
day has written an admirable character sketch of “the skipper” and his
henchman, Lieutenant Bobby Scott, who perished with the first wave at
Vimy.
“CAPTAIN FARQUHAR.--The skipper was a strong man. For all his
wit, sometimes sardonic, but always merry, he could be a man of
beaten steel on occasion.
“‘Old’ ‘B’ Company knew him well at Watford, but ‘old’ ‘C’
Company really made his acquaintance in France.
“In the line he ignored danger in a matter-of-fact way that
inspired us as much as the theatrical bravado of a shallower
man would have unsettled us. In those never-ending front line
spells just before the ‘first Lillers’ he heartened us through
many a weary night as no other man I know could have done. To
me, as a hardened and persistent night sentry, he seemed to
be an almost permanent feature of the landscape of ‘No man’s
land,’ strolling serenely up and down as if taking a leisurely
constitutional. He was always on the spot when anything
happened, and I think we got his habit of never shirking any
objectionable job which could possibly be considered ‘up to us’
to do.
“LIEUTENANT SCOTT.--‘An officer and a gentleman’ is probably
the most overworked if not the most misapplied phrase in the
military dictionary. It is too often thoughtlessly bestowed on
any nice-mannered, band-box officer. But it fitted Mr. Scott.
He was a real soldier and he was an instinctive gentleman.”
Captain Farquhar had been ably supported by his C.S.M., F. Howett,
known for many years throughout the Battalion as Kaffir Howett.
* * * * *
The Kaffir had made a name for himself long before the war broke out,
for he was for a long time associated with “Bulldog” Harris as the life
and soul of the Regimental School of Arms. These two inseparables were
also prominent members of the Civil Service Rugby Football Club.
As a soldier, Kaffir Howett had many of the sterling qualities of his
Company Commander. He was a stern disciplinarian and was fearless in
the line, but while, he too, had a subtle sense of humour, he was more
of the “strong silent man” than of the “merry and bright.”
The only consoling reflection about the loss of these more than
gallant fellows is that they could not have died in better company,
but what magnificent deeds would have been done later in the year by
such fellows as Farquhar, Scott, Howett and Chick, and to them must be
added Sergeant A. J. Andrews (Long Andrews or Driver Andrews to his
intimates) another old pillar of “B” Company, who before the war had
made a name on the football field, and Corporal S. Crocombe, a staunch
N.C.O. of “B” Company, who, although rescued on the night of the
battle, succumbed to his wounds five days later.
Besides the killed, a number of the stalwarts of the Battalion were
wounded. In “B” Company alone, these included Sergeants A. W. Hodgson,
who had already been wounded once, and F. Tyler (known as Wat Tyler),
and Corporals H. W. Rowland and F. Plaster, four N. C. O.’s who had
been prominent members of the Company for many years, whilst “D”
Company had to deplore the loss of Sergeant G. Wright, who in addition
to his fine military record, performed great deeds on the cricket field.
The Lewis Gunners also had their losses, the outstanding one being
Lance-Corporal “Cocky” Oliver (wounded) whose ready wit on all
occasions was such a valuable asset to the Lewis Gun Section.
CHAPTER VIII
CALONNE RICOUART AND SOUCHEZ
It will be gathered from the foregoing that, in whatever light the
operation on Vimy Ridge was regarded by the General Staff, to the Civil
Service Rifles it was a battle of some importance, and the loss of
so many of the leading members naturally plunged the survivors into
something approaching deep depression as they trudged wearily back
to Camblain l’Abbé on the morning of the 23rd of May. The Transport
limbers were met at Villers au Bois, and many weary men were thankful
to shed their equipment here, and some of the more exhausted managed
even to secure a lift for the rest of the journey.
The Transport Section, too, had played its part in the battle, for
every available horse and man had been employed during the 22nd of
May carrying bombs and ammunition across the track to Cabaret Rouge
in daylight. Fortunately they had escaped any loss, either of men or
horses.
Camblain l’Abbé was now very different from the quiet little village
that had seemed so far removed from the war two days before. The whole
Brigade occupied the billets recently allotted to the Civil Service
Rifles, and it was here that the news of the counter attack by the
142nd Infantry Brigade was awaited with such keen interest on the night
of the 24th. The attempt, however, like that of another Division a few
days later, was unsuccessful, and the crest of Vimy Ridge remained in
German possession until the Canadian victory of the 1st of April, 1917.
“The feelings of men leaving the danger zone for a period of rest defy
accurate portrayal. Each one has his own individual thoughts, but they
may be summed up in one word ‘contentment.’” Thus writes a well-known
N.C.O. of “C” Company, who went so far as to say that the tension had
been so great for a short period that, on knowing himself to be out
of immediate danger for the time being, he felt as if he could have
marched fifty miles, with full pack and blankets thrown in!
“Every force has a recoil,” he continues, “and most men feel
tremendously bucked on leaving the trenches for a spell out of the line.
“It was thus with feeling of great relief that the Battalion marched
to Calonne Ricouart on the 25th of May, there to forget their sorrows
in the work of training and reorganisation.”
It is pleasing to be able to record the recognition, in the shape of
honours and awards, of some of the many acts of gallantry performed in
the Battalion on Vimy Ridge, and while at Calonne Ricouart it was heard
that the work of C.S.M. R. H. Harris and Second Lieutenant F. Osborne
was recognised by the award of the Military Cross; and Lance-Corporal
Mark W. Hall, the leading stretcher-bearer of “B” Company, Sergeant W.
R. McKinley of “A” Company, Private S. H. Bressey of “D” Company and
Private L. Flanagan of “B” Company were awarded the Military Medal.
Sports Meetings of various descriptions were held at Calonne Ricouart,
and as the billets were good and the weather generally was fine, the
troops soon began to recover their good spirits.
The Transport field was approached by a one-sided rustic bridge over
a stream. On one occasion almost the entire section endeavoured to
make “Onions,” the mascot, mule take a bath from this bridge. The old
lady, however, was proof against all efforts, and the only thing that
happened was that the side of the bridge gave way. Lower down the road
was a picturesque water mill, and next to this an estaminet, “Au Joli
Pêcher,” provided liquid refreshment. Here Mlle. Felicité always had a
roomful of thirsty _soldats_ who required a great deal of la bière to
wash the dust out of their throats.
Large drafts of officers and men began to arrive from England, and very
soon the Battalion became once more up to strength, and to complete the
refitting, short rifles were now issued to all N. C. O.’s and men in
place of the long Lee Metfords with which they had hitherto been armed.
The event of the “rest” was an original revue entitled “Spit and
Polish,” performed on the afternoon of the 10th of June at the Cinema,
Divion. The “leading lady” has given the following account of the
affair.
“The first rehearsal took place in Lieutenant Sharratt’s
billet. After a lot of smoking and talking, but very little
rehearsing, the parts were allotted as follows:--
The Bogus Brigadier Private Teasdale.
Adjutant Private Graham.
Sergeant-Major Private Lloyd.
Colonel Straws, I.D. Private Chisholm.
Real Brigadier Second-Lieutenant W. H. Brantom.
Hon. Lady Lizzie Private C. Cooper.
“The plot was written round the Hon. Lady Lizzie, who, bent on
war work, obtained a situation as typist in the orderly-room
where two Tommies--one disguised as a Brigadier and the other
as an Adjutant--had decided to run the war in their own way.
Eventually the real Brigadier comes on the scene. Lady Lizzie
turns out to be his daughter and marries the bogus Brigadier,
Sir Charles Chaplin!
“The revue was performed four days after the first rehearsal.
Fortunately little memorising was needed as we relied chiefly
on gags. On the morning of the performance Captain Ind came
over to Divion to censor the dress rehearsal. Needless to
say he cut out some of the best things, though, even then,
the show had some ‘kick’ left in it. And perhaps the revue
_was_ a trifle crude in places. But there was no holding a
man like Teasdale. With his quick wit and fertile brain it
required some nimbleness of mind to keep pace with him in
_everything_--especially as I was playing the girl’s part!
“I don’t think anybody who was there will forget the occasion.
The battalion had marched from Calonne, a distance of three
miles, and arrived at the Cinema three-quarters of an hour
before time, thus giving the boys an opportunity for a concert
to themselves.[13] The noise was terrific, the bombers singing
their particular songs and being howled down by the Lewis
Gunners with their own pet ditties, and vice versa. When ‘Posh
Harry’ arrived he was greeted with the refrain:
[13] The pioneers (of whom the lengthy Foote and Ginger Facon were
notorious members) in the meantime prepared the stage, proving
themselves expert stage carpenters.
“I wish I were an R. S. M.
Earning lots of dollars.
Etc., etc., etc.”
“The first half of the programme consisted of single turns
frantically applauded. Then came the revue.
“I won’t attempt to describe it fully, but who will quite
forget the beauty chorus of those thirty nice, smart soldiers,
headed by Knapp, singing in harmony to the tune of ‘Boiled Beef
and Carrots,’ that opening chorus:
“Spit and Polish! Spit and Polish!
Our fathers said in days of yore.
That Spit and Polish would win this war.
Don’t walk about like dirty dogs
Or lads from Eton College,
The only way to win this war
Is--Spit and Polish!”
“Of this chorus, Sidwell, he of the staring eyes, was great as
the man who fainted on actually seeing the kidneys and best
parts of the meat handed to his Company when drawing rations at
the Q.M. Stores!
“The great moment, however, was Teasdale’s entry as the
Brigadier (on a chair with the back for the horse’s head) with
umpteen ribbons on his chest, wonderful top boots--his whole
appearance a thing of joy! He kept the house in a boisterous
thunder of hilarious applause right through to his final
inspection of the beauty chorus when he presented a tin of
Brasso to poor old Knapsky!”
The revue was a happy conclusion to a very enjoyable stay at Calonne
Ricouart, and shortly afterwards a return was made to the front line
trenches known as the Souchez Sector, a little north of the village of
Souchez.
The outstanding features of life in this area were the heavy trench
mortars used by the Bosches in the line, and the very happy days in
Noulette Woods, near the village of Aix Noulette, when out of the line.
Early in July the Battalion was ordered to raid the enemy trenches in
the Bois en Hache, just north of Souchez, but although five officers
and 100 other ranks were specially trained for the event, it was a
dismal failure, and it has long been a forbidden topic of conversation
in Civil Service Rifles circles. Fortunately the casualties were few,
and the Battalion left the area shortly afterwards to return to the
dreaded Berthonval sector on Vimy Ridge.
On this occasion, however, a very peaceful time was spent in the front
line, and it was hard to believe that it was the scene of the big fight
of two months ago.
The thoughts of every one were now turned to the big offensive in the
Somme district, and for some time the distant rumble of guns, heard
daily from morning till night, had given rise to discussions as to when
the 47th Division would move south to join in the fray.
It was therefore no surprise when the Civil Service Rifles marched out
of Camblain l’Abbé on the 26th of July, 1916, after four very happy
days in that pleasant village, to start the great trek to the Somme
district.
CHAPTER IX
THE TREK
During its career in France, the Civil Service Rifles have frequently
moved over long distances by route march--a practice known as
“trekking”--but the great march of 1916 seems so to have dwarfed all
other performances of a similar nature, that it is always referred to
simply as “the trek,” and it is agreed by all who took part in it, that
the trek was one of the most enjoyable experiences the Civil Service
Rifles had during the war.
At the same time the period was one of the most strenuous, the daily
programme of work being sometimes so crowded that it hardly seemed
worth while to go to bed. The Divisional Commander was evidently a firm
believer in early rising, for réveillé was often sounded at the early
hour of 3.30 a.m.
The route from the mining district to the valley of the Somme was
distinctly roundabout, and for the first two or three weeks of the trek
the Division got farther and farther away from its destination, until
eventually it came to rest near the coast in the Abbéville district.
A pleasant march on the first day brought the Civil Service Rifles
to the village of Houdain, where Lieutenant G. G. Bates organised a
very successful Mess Dinner for officers at the Café du Centre, and on
the following day, after a short march, the village of Valhuon, near
St. Pol, was reached, where four enjoyable days were spent in lovely
summer weather. The weather, indeed, was a little too summer-like
on the day of the march from Valhuon to Croisette. Not only was it
so far the hottest day of the year, but the march took place during
the hottest time of the day, and when Croisette was reached at 3.30
p.m. many had fallen by the wayside. Other units of the Division had
similar experiences, and hereafter early rising was the order of the
day, réveillé generally being sounded about an hour before dawn so that
training could be finished before the heat of the day.
A common occurrence during the marches on the trek was the failure to
observe the infantryman’s most valuable charter--ten minutes’ halt in
every hour. The marches were usually by Brigades, and the starting
point was often a mile or so away from the billeting area. For some
strange reason the march to the starting point was wont to be hurried,
and what should have been the first halt was omitted altogether.
Towards the end of the march, again, the leading Battalion, on
approaching the village in which it was to be billeted, would often cut
out the halt as the appointed time was reached, and go straight on to
the billets. The succeeding Battalions on such occasions would follow
like sheep, irrespective of whether they were billeted in the same
village or in another one two or three miles farther on.
In these circumstances it is not surprising that marches which on paper
looked nothing out of the ordinary were found to be very arduous and
trying, and men were frequently guilty of the “crime” of falling out on
the march.
At first early rising was voted a success by all ranks, but when an
afternoon parade was introduced and later an evening parade just to
fill up the day, the troops began to feel that though it was “nice to
get up in the morning,” it was certainly “nicer to stay in bed.”
A day’s rest at Croisette was followed by a march to Fortel, where,
during a four days’ stay, a delightful bathing place was discovered
in the swift-flowing, icy cold waters of the River Canche. “A” and
“D” Companies and the Lewis gunners have happy recollections of this
stream, for the most part of the two hours’ route march by Companies
which formed part of the daily programme was spent in and around the
bathing place.
The 4th of August at Conteville was marred by the sudden introduction
of an evening parade. The move from Fortel had taken place in the
early hours of the morning, and after a very short march Conteville
was reached at about 10.0 a.m. The troops were still congratulating
themselves on their luck when the order came round that all units in
the Division would at once start to practise an attack on a wood or
village.
The wandering life was resumed on the 5th of August, when the Division
moved to the training area near Abbéville, the Civil Service Rifles
being billeted in the little village of Drucat. The Division now
settled down to serious work, and for three weeks the troops trained
strenuously every day. It is interesting to note that the Division
trained for its share in the battle of the Somme near the historic
battlefield of Crécy.
But although there was much hard work and the billets at Drucat were
poor--so poor that in many cases both officers and men slept in gardens
or fields--and the inhabitants inclined to be hostile, memories of
August 1916 are among the happiest of the war.
A great drawback, however, was the scarcity of beer. The estaminets
in the village had none at all, nor did they attempt to get any, for
they were thus able to get rid of their stock of atrocious wines. The
Regimental Canteen eventually came to the rescue by securing a supply
of beer from Abbéville.
The weather at first was all that could be desired, and bathing was
indulged in daily. At the end of the fields occupied by the Lewis gun
section and the Transport lines ran a narrow, shallow stream. The men
of the Transport section, by damming the stream with a wall of filled
sandbags, managed to construct a pool just big enough for a man to
plunge in, and the bathing pool was thoroughly appreciated by officers
and men alike.
A number of N.C.O.’s and men were allowed to go to Abbéville each day,
and a merry day in the old French town usually ended with the hiring of
antiquated “voitures” for the journey home. The said “voitures” were
invariably driven by members of the Civil Service Rifles, the lawful
owners or drivers always being willing to hand over the reins, and many
were the chariot races run on the road from Abbéville to Drucat by
rival parties from the Civil Service Rifles, the winning post being the
Company parade ground, where the races ended just as the Company was on
parade for roll call.
Cricket was played in the Lewis gun field, where, also, an al fresco
concert was given one day by a concert party sent by Miss Lena Ashwell.
The weather was most unkind that day, but the spirits of the concert
party, like those of the troops, were not to be squashed by the rain,
and the artistes, five charming English ladies and two gentlemen,
gallantly stuck it until the deluge became so terrific that the noise
of it drowned the efforts of the whole party to sing “Chalk Farm to
Camberwell Green.”
What testimony to the attractiveness of the party could be more
eloquent than the simple fact that none of the audience left the field!
The appreciation of the audience was not limited to the performance. It
was a rare and refreshing feast to see those five pretty English girls,
especially to those, and they were many, who had not been privileged to
see an English girl for more than a year. Moreover, the Civil Service
Rifles were told that they were the first real fighting troops to be
entertained by these ladies, who had hitherto had to content themselves
with entertaining those whose duties kept them at the Base.
Colonel Warrender thanked the artistes in his most delightful style and
expressed the sentiments of all ranks when he said that it was the most
enjoyable concert that had ever been given to the Battalion.
While at Drucat the Battalion received a consignment of what at first
were thought to be toy bread-carts, such as are used in London suburbs.
But on inquiry it was found that these were the new “Hand Carts, Lewis
Gun,” intended to replace the limbers.
These little carts were first “tried out” on the departure from Drucat
on the 20th of August with disastrous results. The shafts broke before
the first halt, and ere long each team of Lewis gunners was stripped to
the waist, their clothes and equipment piled high on to the carts while
they tugged and pushed at their vehicles, gallantly struggling to keep
up with the Battalion. But in spite of these determined efforts they
were all very badly “tailed off.”
The route march concluded with an outpost scheme, and in the evening
the Civil Service Rifles were billeted in Villers Sous Ailly, a pretty
little village, conspicuous for the excellent spirit of hospitality
shown by the inhabitants--a welcome change from recent experiences. The
only regret about Villers was that the Battalion had to leave the next
morning.
The farce of the Lewis gun handcarts was continued, and in spite of
a great display of inventive genius by the Lewis gunners, they were
quite unable to keep up with the Battalion. Perhaps the best suggestion
was that of the man who said the Lewis gunners should take turns at
carrying the carts on their backs!
It was said the carts had passed a severe test in the courtyard of the
War Office and had been found to run smoothly when empty.
Leaving Villers Sous Ailly, two uncomfortable nights were spent at
Naours and Mirvaux (considered by many to be the most dilapidated
village in Europe outside the “forward area,” and where one man pushed
a whole wall down by simply leaning against it!), and on the 23rd
of August the 140th Infantry Brigade reached Franvillers, near the
Amiens-Albert road. Here there appeared to be a concentration of all
the flies on the Western front, and it was thought that these were to
take part in a new form of attack!
Franvillers and district was used as a kind of “finishing school” for
troops in training for any particular phase of the battle of the Somme
in 1916, and as it was fairly near to the battlefield, it had become
an unusually busy centre. Troops from all parts of the United Kingdom
seemed to have passed through and every available inch of space was
used for billets. The billets, owing chiefly to overcrowding, were very
uncomfortable and very dirty, and the natives were beginning to get
tired of the troops.
The training was of the very strenuous type--drills before breakfast,
attack practice after breakfast, musketry and digging in the
afternoon, and route march in the evening. It was now known that the
attack which was being practised daily over a taped course was to be on
a certain wood, but the name of the wood was so far kept secret.
But in spite of this crowded programme, there were some who found time
for trips to Amiens, and there were many who enjoyed the excellent
bathing in a natural pool in the Ancre at Heilly, a village south of
the Amiens-Albert road.
It was at Franvillers that Sergeant R. F. M. Bigby earned the gratitude
of his comrades by securing an issue of rum for all. According to his
story he was drinking beer in an estaminet, when the Regimental Medical
Officer came in on a tour of inspection, accompanied by the A.D.M.S.
A mild outbreak of enteric in the Division was causing the medical
fraternity some anxiety at the time, and efforts were being made to
discover the cause of it. The A.D.M.S. asked Sergeant Bigby what he was
drinking, but, on being informed, instead of ordering any, as Bigby
had expected, the doctor inquired about the quality of it. The gallant
sergeant assured the medicos that the quality was poor, but that if
followed by a ration of rum there were no ill effects. On the contrary,
a ration of rum at night, especially during bad weather and in bad
billets, had been found to be a pretty sure prevention against enteric,
which complaint, added Bigby--as the medicos were doubtless aware--was
getting rather troublesome at Franvillers. But then, there had not been
an issue of rum so far in that village, so could one be surprised?
When, very shortly after this interview, a ration of rum was issued to
the troops, there were few in the Division who did not acclaim the name
of Bigby!
Early in September it became known that the 47th Division was to
attack the German positions in and around High Wood--positions which
had already been captured by more than one Division, but afterwards
retaken by the Germans, who, throughout six weeks of heavy fighting,
had resisted all attempts to dislodge them permanently. To the Civil
Service Rifles were allotted the first German lines in the wood itself,
with the 7th Battalion on their right and the 17th Battalion on their
left. Henceforth there was a state of suppressed excitement in the
Battalion, and all ranks took the very keenest interest in the full
dress rehearsals over a marked-out battlefield, which occupied the last
days of training at Franvillers. These “shows” were attended by the
whole Division, including Artillery, Trench Mortars, and the contact
aeroplanes attached to the Division, and the attack was practised with
zero at every possible hour of the day or night.
By the time Franvillers was left, on the 12th of September, every man
understood what he had to do and where he had to go in the battle.
A few privileged persons had been to see a demonstration of the great
secret of the war--the Caterpillars, as they were called in those days,
also frequently referred to at this time as the “Hush! Hush!” These
new engines of warfare, which soon became known as Tanks, were to make
their first bow to the public by assisting in the attack on High Wood,
where two of them were eventually allotted to the Civil Service Rifles
in place of an artillery barrage.
After leaving Franvillers, the Battalion took the fine Route Nationale
to Albert, “a city of empty and ruined houses, some occupied by our
troops, others barred and bolted as if a very plague had taken off the
population.” The Civil Service Rifles passed right under the shadow
of the ruined cathedral with the gilded Madonna and Child hanging
face downwards from the top of the steeple. From Albert the Battalion
marched to Becourt Wood and relieved the 2nd Royal Sussex in what
looked like a big rubbish tip, remaining there in reserve until the
14th.
The scene which met the eye after passing through Albert has been
recorded by Corporal De Ath, who was attached to the 140th Trench
Mortar Battery.
“I shall never forget the sight that met our eyes on the other
side of the town,” writes De Ath. “It took us some time to
realise that we were looking on what was to us, an almost
incredible and unheard of thing--a vast armed camp just behind
the trenches and well within shell fire. As far as the eye
could see there were miles of tents, bivouacs, limbers and
horse lines. Huge dumps of supplies and ammunition covered
the ground, and between them, in any old corner, were the big
guns--huge monsters roaring incessantly and devouring the great
piles of shells stacked around. Everywhere were scenes of the
greatest activity, and one could only rub one’s eyes and gasp
at this astounding spectacle. The colossal cheek of that great
camp rather shocked us, but there it was, unconcerned and
undisturbed, thanks to our magnificent aircraft, constantly
patrolling above with never an enemy plane daring to do
likewise.
“We pitched our bivouacs on the crest of a ridge just behind
the old front line, and to the left of Becourt Wood. From that
high point we got a good view of the surrounding country. At
our feet the usual flotsam and jetsam of abandoned trenches
with their tangled heaps of barbed wire. Away behind us was
the wooded country-side which came as a change after the drab
monotonous scenery of the Flemish Flats. Closer at hand the
ruined Cathedral caught one’s eye.
“But away in front, in the wake of the advance, the picture
was entirely different. It was a scene of desolation--a desert
of low ridges, scarred and marked by blurred lines of chalk
trenches and shell holes. Here and there a few jagged tree
stumps stood out, but nearly every feature of the landscape
had been swept away by the furious pounding of our shells.
“All along the sky line our heavy shells and shrapnel were
bursting continually, so that the smoke never ceased. Now and
again it would slacken only to break out again with double
intensity. Behind and around us the ‘Heavies’ boomed and
roared, whilst in front in every little valley and hollow, even
in the open without pretence of cover, our 18-pounders snapped
and barked viciously, alternating with the deeper notes of the
4·5’s and the 60-pounders. Between whiles one heard the heavy
‘crump’ of the Hun shells.
“A confused blur showed where a village once stood, but only
a heap of rubble and dust was left, revealed more often than
not by the junction of several roads. In the dip below lay
Fricourt, to the left Thiepval and Pozieres where bloody fights
raged on July 1st. Further away the green mass of Mametz Wood,
still providing excellent cover in spite of the thinning out
it had undergone. Further on lay Contalmaison, Montauban and
the Bazentins, with Delville Wood to the right, and there on
the crown of the ridge a little bunch of tree stumps marked
the wood that was to be our goal, the key to the desperate
game that we were to play on the morrow. The country seemed
surprisingly difficult. A series of low hills and ridges
plentifully dotted with woods and villages and traversed by
numerous sunken roads, culminated in the ridge which overlooked
the plain of Bapaume. Most of that ridge was already ours, but
in many places the enemy still hung out with stubborn tenacity.
It looked terrible country to fight through--naturally strong
and made almost impregnable by German science and skill.
It was realised that the Civil Service Rifles were about to go through
the most severe test in their history, by the side of which Festubert,
Loos, and even Vimy Ridge would be insignificant. The thorough training
which had just been completed, however, had filled all ranks with
confidence, and the great Somme trek, which ended on the 14th of
September with the relief of the 1st Surrey Rifles in the front line
trenches in High Wood, brought to a close a period of training which
for really strenuous work has never been beaten. Some, in fact, allege
that the Division was overtrained at this time, and that the “finishing
school” at Franvillers had nearly finished them off. But in spite of
these allegations, it is believed that the Battalion had never been
better prepared for battle.
CHAPTER X
HIGH WOOD
What a wonderful scene it was along the New German Road on the
afternoon of the 14th of September--a never-ending transport column
moving along in broad daylight, conveying ammunition and R.E. material
for the big fight. An object of special interest to the Civil Service
Rifles was one of the tanks which was passed on the road. The men
studied it critically and expressed a pious hope that it would turn up
all right on the day.
Although the road was so crowded with traffic, there was little
shelling, and after passing Bazentin-le-Grand the long communication
trench was entered and the front line reached without loss.
High Wood was about the last vantage point that the enemy held along
the ridge. Only a few jagged trees remained and the ground was littered
with broken limbers and pitted with innumerable shell holes which
literally intersected one another. Various trenches ran through the
Wood, of which the greatest part was held by the enemy.
The relief over, it became known that zero for the attack would be
at 5.50 a.m. on the morrow, and thereupon a weird silence fell over
all the area of the assembly trenches, where the men were packed like
sardines in a tin. Many chapters have been written in an attempt to
describe the eve of a battle, but the finest description ever written
falls very short of expressing the feelings and thoughts of the men as
they wait in their assembly trenches for the dawn.
No attempt will be made here to describe the eve of High Wood. Suffice
it to say that it was a very quiet night; that the troops, as they
stood squashed up in Black Watch Trench, fervently hoped that their
fate on the morrow would be better than that of the Battalion whose
name the trench bore; and that the only fellows who got any sleep were
those who crept out into No Man’s Land to lie down in shell holes.
Rum was issued at dawn, and after a sleepless night it was unusually
welcome.
And now zero hour approached, and thoughts turned to the tanks, which
were due to be on the German front line five minutes before zero. The
time drew nearer, but no tanks appeared, and a few minutes before zero,
Company Commanders received a message telling them to send an officer
to guide the tanks, if seen. Thus, the Civil Service Rifles were
handicapped at the start, for the tanks were neither seen nor heard.
Owing to the irregular formation of the assembly trenches, “B,” “C” and
“D” Companies had been instructed to creep out before zero, so that
when the attack started they would be forming a straight line with “A”
Company, who were on the extreme right. These Companies accordingly
began to creep up soon after 5.30 a.m. The fight, therefore, can be
said to have started well before zero, for at once as these men left
their trenches, German rifles opened fire, followed by machine guns,
and by zero hour the three left Companies of the Civil Service Rifles,
together with the Battalion on their left, were already being treated
to a murderous fire from a multitude of machine guns and rifles in
the German front line trenches. At the same time down came the German
artillery barrage on the assembly trenches. As there was no artillery
support whatever, the attack at this point was held up, but not before
about four-fifths of “B,” “C,” and “D” Companies had been either killed
or wounded.
“A” Company, on the right, fared much better. They did not leave their
trenches until zero, and their course led them out of the wood almost
immediately. Consequently, when they started, the German machine guns
were already busily occupied with the other Companies, and “A” Company
carried the first and second German trenches outside High Wood with
comparatively little loss. Arrived at the objective, a certain amount
of hand-to-hand fighting took place, in which Sergeant H. B. Riddell
and Second Lieutenant L. L. Burtt, distinguished themselves, the former
being chiefly instrumental in putting a machine gun out of action,
though he was wounded in the fight.
The Battalion signallers following up “A” Company had established a
station in the captured trench, and as their lines held for some time,
the details of how “A” Company had fared were quickly sent down to
Battalion Headquarters.
“A” Company had already taken a number of prisoners, and they now
proceeded to bomb along the captured trench towards where they expected
to find “B” Company, but it was soon realised that the other Companies
had been held up. The situation with these Companies was very grave.
The Company Commanders of “B” and “D” Companies, Captains Leslie Davies
and Arthur Roberts, had been killed, while Captain Geoffrey Gaze,
commanding “C” Company, was wounded, but refused to go down. Captain
Gaze, in fact, was the only officer in these three Companies remaining
at duty. A good many of the senior N.C.O.’s had also been killed and
wounded, but thanks to the timely efforts of C.S.M. Brett of “D”
Company, C.S.M. Harris of “C” Company, and the surviving N.C.O.’s of
all three battered Companies, the remnants were formed up again in the
assembly positions, ready for another attempt.
[Illustration:
_Photo by Coles, Watford._
CAPT. LESLIE DAVIES.]
[Illustration:
_Photo by Hana Studios, Ltd._
CAPT. A. ROBERTS.]
[Illustration:
_Photo by Coles, Watford._
CAPT. GEOFFREY A. GAZE.
Killed in Action 1916, and buried in one grave at High Wood, 15th
Sept., 1916.
_To face page 112._]
Meanwhile the tanks had not shown up, though one of them later on,
after nearly smashing up Battalion Headquarters, got stuck in a
communication trench, and materially interfered with the removal of the
wounded. Its pilot got out, and, going into Battalion Headquarters,
asked the Commanding Officer where High Wood was. Colonel Warrender’s
reply is not recorded.
The other tank eventually got into action somewhere in front of “D”
Company’s objective, and then caught fire.
At 11.0 a.m. the 140th Infantry Brigade Stokes mortar battery came to
the rescue. Captain Good, who was in command, had had his guns on the
spot overnight, and had been anxious to give the attacking infantry
some support. On the ground that surprise was to be the key-note of the
attack, however, the authorities decided to keep the Stokes guns, like
the artillery, silent. Captain Good and his men responded magnificently
when they were given the permission they sought so eagerly, and for
twenty minutes, “feeding their voracious little pets with bombs until
they grew too hot to touch,” as De Ath says, the battery put down such
an accurate and intense bombardment on the German front line that
“C” and “D” Companies, when they went forward again, carried their
objectives without much difficulty. The trench mortars had fired close
on 800 rounds in twenty minutes--a feat afterwards described by 4th
Army Headquarters as the most brilliant piece of work in the history of
trench mortars.
“C” Company was gallantly led for a second time by Captain Gaze, but he
was killed before reaching the objective.
By noon the whole of High Wood was in British possession, together
with what was known as the Switch Line beyond, and the Civil Service
Rifles had taken many prisoners and machine guns. The price of victory,
however, was terrible, and only 150 of the four Companies reached their
objective.
The foregoing is an attempt at a description of the first phase of the
battle of High Wood, as it appeared to one who was present on the spot.
A well-known war correspondent seems to have had a better view of the
fight, for he related in detail in a London newspaper how the tanks
captured High Wood!
The first stage of the battle was over, but there was much more to
follow. The remnants of the Battalion advanced a little beyond the
trench known as Switch Line and dug themselves in in a new trench, and
the afternoon was spent in hard work in consolidating these positions,
which were, however, subject to considerable shelling by heavy
artillery.
During the day the 6th and 8th Battalions had pushed through to take
trenches some distance beyond, known as the Flers Line (connecting
the village of Flers with Eaucourt L’Abbé), and the Starfish, an
intermediate line.
These operations only partially succeeded, so at 5.30 in the evening
of the 15th of September, the 1st Surrey Rifles, who were in reserve,
were sent out to attack the western half of the Starfish Line and the
strong point known as the Cough Drop. The Civil Service Rifles were
to occupy the Starfish when the 1st Surrey Rifles vacated it. The
latter, however, on emerging from High Wood in artillery formation,
were immediately caught by an intense enemy artillery and machine-gun
barrage, and the attack failed.
A similar experiment was tried at 9.0 a.m. the next morning with the
23rd Battalion, but, although they advanced a considerable distance,
they were unable to reach the Flers Line. The Boches, however, obliged
by withdrawing to the Flers Line, and the 6th and 8th Battalions
occupied part of the Cough Drop and the Starfish Line respectively. The
23rd Battalion included two ex-Civil Service Riflemen in Major Kemble
and Second Lieutenant J. H. Hunt, who lost his life in this attack. As
a sergeant in “D” Company, J. H. Hunt had been exceptionally popular,
and the keenest regret was felt among his many friends when he left to
take his commission.
When darkness fell on the first night of the battle, the melancholy
work of the burial of the dead was begun. The special party told off
for this work dug graves in High Wood itself, and all the dead who
could be found were buried side by side there.
The night of the 15th September presented a very striking contrast to
the previous night, when peace and quiet had reigned in High Wood. The
heavy artillery, with which the enemy was so well supplied, pounded
away continually at the new trenches and at the supporting field gun
batteries on the edge of the wood. Amid the noise of the shells could
often be heard the groans of the wounded who had not yet been brought
in, the shouts of the search party of stretcher bearers, and the
curses of a ration or carrying party who had got lost. But above all
was the ceaseless wail of the field guns, echoing over the wilderness.
Listening to them on that night one could almost imagine that they,
too, were mourning for the gallant fellows who had lost their lives
that day, and who were now being laid to rest. To many who were there
the peculiar echo of the field gun ever afterwards brought back vivid
memories of those terrible nights in High Wood.
There were many incidents and sights at High Wood which left a lasting
impression on the minds of the survivors. The impressions of Corporal
M. J. Guiton, of “C” Company, who lost a leg there, are typical of many
others in the Battalion:--
“That day I saw sights which were passing strange to a man of
peace. I saw men in their madness bayonet each other without
mercy, without thought. I saw the hot life’s blood of German
and Englishman flow out together, and drench the fair soil of
France. I saw men torn to fragments by the near explosion of
bombs, and--worse than any sight--I heard the agonised cries
and shrieks of men in mortal pain who were giving up their
souls to their Maker.
“The mental picture painted through the medium of the eye may
fade, but the cries of those poor, tortured and torn men I can
never forget: they are with me always. I would I had been deaf
at the time.”
* * * * *
The day after the first attack was spent in the new trench, where
the garrison was shelled by heavy guns nearly all day. The Adjutant,
Lieutenant W. E. Ind, who had been full of energy from the start, was
a very frequent visitor, and in the evening he brought the good news
that the Battalion was to go forward to occupy a trench which had deep
dug-outs and which wasn’t shelled. Tired as they were, the troops
jumped at the idea, and were ready in less than no time. The Adjutant
led the way in a pitch black darkness to the expected comfort, which
proved in the end to be a trench two feet deep, which had been started
by the Germans as a cable trench.
It had been reported that the 6th Battalion was holding the Flers Line,
and the Civil Service Rifles were accordingly going to occupy Drop
Alley, a communication trench leading from the strong point called
the Cough Drop to the Flers Line. But on arrival at the Cough Drop,
Lieutenant Ind found that the report was untrue, and he had perforce
to squeeze his small body of men in the western half of the Cough Drop
and the afore-mentioned cable trench which ran out of it. It had been
a long and weary journey, but the men set to work like niggers to
dig a decent trench. There were now only two officers and about 100
other ranks, but these included a good sprinkling of seasoned warrant
officers and N.C.O.’s, and the force made up in quality what it lacked
in quantity. C.S.M. Callingham and Sergeant Irving of “A” Company had
done their comrades a very great service by struggling along with a
jar of rum, which was practically all that turned up that night in the
shape of rations, unless mention is to be made of rations sent up by a
thoughtful Quartermaster for the two officers--a bag of candles!
The process of digging in was no sooner finished than the exhausted
troops had to stand to for about an hour and a half, on information
from the 6th that the enemy was “coming over in large numbers.”
So the day went on with a constant succession of alarms, intense
bombardments and standing to. It was indeed a trying time for all that
was left of the four Companies and Lewis gun teams who, forty-eight
hours ago, had been so full of hope. But they all “stuck it” very
valiantly, and the excellent spirits of the men--prominent among whom
were Lance-Corporal F. A. Coward and his Lewis gun team, Privates
Hundleby, Lynch, and E. H. Lyons--together with the splendid example
set by Paddy Brett and Bob Harris, served to sustain the excellent
morale of the Civil Service Rifles. Special mention should be made of
the excellent patrol work done by Sergeant D. Gooding, of “D” Company,
who went out in broad daylight “to find touch on the left.” The left
flank of the position was exposed, and it was not known whether friend
or foe occupied the country beyond. Sergeant Gooding, with two men,
started off, therefore, without any information and, although under
rifle fire from shell holes and isolated posts, they carried out a
complete reconnaissance of the country which separated the Civil
Service Rifles from the nearest friendly troops, four or five hundred
yards away. Many others of that little band distinguished themselves by
their devotion to duty during a day when there was no communication of
any kind from Battalion Headquarters, and the party in the line became
attached to the 6th Battalion in the Cough Drop.
On the 18th, a small reinforcement arrived in the shape of three
officers--Lieutenants W. L. C. Rathbone, G. M. Hoste, and B. K. Ware,
and fifty other ranks, from the “Non Starters” camp in Bottom Wood,
where a few officers and other ranks had been kept out of the fight in
order to form a nucleus for reorganisation in case of heavy losses.
Before being relieved on the night of the 19th September by the 1st
Battalion The Black Watch, the Civil Service Rifles undertook two more
operations. The first was an advance into the Flers Line on the 18th,
but as the enemy had by now evacuated this trench, the advance passed
off without loss.
But the enemy still held the junction of the Flers Line and Drop Alley,
and that portion of the Flers Line west of the junction. The New
Zealanders had a party in the Flers Line between the Bosches and the
Civil Service Rifles, but the Civil Service Rifles had a small force
under Lieutenant B. K. Ware in Drop Alley. These two forces attempted,
by joint bombing attacks, to dislodge the Bosches, but the attempt
failed. The men were now thoroughly exhausted, for in addition to the
enormous amount of work of the past few days and the excitement of the
fray, the last twenty-four hours had been endured in a pitiless rain,
which caused huge chunks of the trenches to give way. There was mud and
rain everywhere and, as there was no shelter, rifles and Lewis guns
eventually became choked with mud. It was while in this state that the
enemy attempted to drive Lieutenant Ware’s party out of Drop Alley. He
partially succeeded at first, but was afterwards driven back. But at
7.0 p.m. on the 19th, he came again with renewed vigour, and got down
Drop Alley, where the defending troops, with rifles and Lewis guns out
of action, and themselves quite worn out, were unable to dislodge him.
They did not give up without a struggle, however, and Lieutenant Ware
died that night in a plucky attempt to achieve the impossible. Thus
ended the operations of the Civil Service Rifles at High Wood, but it
was indeed a skeleton of a battalion that Lieut.-Colonel Warrender led
down the New German Road to Bottom Wood on the morning of the 20th
September. Round a huge bonfire these remnants threw themselves down
to get their first rest since leaving Becourt Wood, and here a pause
was made to count the cost of what was so far the greatest trial of
the Civil Service Rifles and, at the same time, surely their greatest
achievement.
To this day, High Wood is regarded by many as the finest performance
of the Battalion during the war. But whether this is true or no, it
is certain that this battle was the most distinctive landmark in the
history of the Civil Service Rifles, for it was at High Wood where the
first great changes took place in the personnel of the Battalion. Some
say it was the last of the original Battalion, but such a statement is
open to question.
Many old faces had gone, but the old spirit still remained, and there
were enough old hands left to train drafts in the way they should go,
and to tell them what manner of men they had been whose places these
freshmen had the honour to fill.
There fell during the fighting at High Wood, so many of the real flower
of the Battalion that it is impossible to do justice to them by any
eulogy here, and it would be invidious to single out any in particular
among so many illustrious dead. Their names will all be found recorded
elsewhere. Suffice it to say that they died like the true Englishmen of
tradition, every one gallantly and gamely carrying on against odds. In
the four days the casualties amounted to 15 officers, 365 other ranks.
CHAPTER XI
EAUCOURT L’ABBE AND THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT
The so-called camp in Bottom Wood was the essence of discomfort, but
after a meal and a few hours rest, a welcome move was made in the
evening of the 20th September to Albert, where one night was spent in
deserted houses.
The march was continued the following day, and the Battalion arrived at
a tented camp in a wood just outside the village of Henencourt, where
Corps Headquarters was situated in a magnificent château, the grounds
of which were a replica of those of the Palace of Versailles. There
was little to suggest the luxury of Versailles, however, in the camp
occupied by the Civil Service Rifles, for although the Battalion was
depleted, the accommodation was scarce and every one was crowded.
The process of refitting and reorganisation was begun, and to a draft
of one officer and 375 other ranks, who joined at Henencourt was added
a fair sprinkling of officers, N.C.O.’s and men who had missed High
Wood through leave, courses, or other causes. Thus the strength of the
Battalion was restored on paper, but in actual fact it was still but a
shadow of its former self.
The officers spent most of their time at Henencourt Wood in
writing letters of condolence to bereaved parents, and the Company
Quartermaster Sergeants and senior N.C.O.’s were busy packing up and
sending off the personal effects of the killed and wounded, so that on
the whole, the ten days’ sojourn in this camp was not a joyous one.
The Divisional Follies tried to cheer things up by giving a show one
evening, but the proceedings fell flat, and those who wanted a little
diversion while the Battalion was at Henencourt sought it in Amiens.
The last day of the month of September, 1916, found the Civil Service
Rifles once more on the way back to war, for after spending one night
in Albert, they occupied some disused trenches, entirely devoid of
dug-outs, in what was known as the Quadrangle, near Mametz Wood. Here
they waited eagerly for news of the attack by the 141st Brigade on the
village of Eaucourt L’Abbé, for which the 140th Brigade was in reserve.
Numerous contradictory reports reached Colonel Warrender during
the few days spent in the Quadrangle, but at last it became known
definitely that Eaucourt L’Abbé had been captured, and that the 140th
Brigade would go there to relieve the 141st, but would only hold the
line--there would not be any further attack!
The relief which took place on the night of the 4th October, when the
Civil Service Rifles relieved the Poplar and Stepney Rifles in the
Flers Line at Eaucourt L’Abbé, was an ordeal almost as trying as a
battle.
The march from the Quadrangle began at 4.0 p.m. on the 4th, and the
tail of the Battalion reached the Flers Line at dawn the next day. The
event was so unique that no apology is offered for a somewhat lengthy
description:--
All was going well until the corner of High Wood was reached, where,
according to plan, guides would be picked up. There were, however,
several corners to High Wood, and the Lewis gun limbers, mess cart and
medical cart were not taken to the same corner as the one to which the
Battalion went.
After a very long delay, while Lewis guns, etc., were carried
through the wood from the limbers to the Battalion over many awkward
obstacles such as wide trenches and barbed wire, a start was made
by half the Battalion, and about two hours afterwards the remainder
of the Battalion was ready. The way was along a track of sticky mud
of the typical Somme variety. The night was pitch black and the men
slipped about and frequently their feet stuck in the mud. It was often
necessary for two men to pull at another man to get him out of the
mud, and as they got their man out they found themselves stuck in in
turn. At one time Colonel Warrender was heard to tell the M.O. that
a man had fallen down, but he feared it was no use going back to him
“as he must have been trampled in by now.” The progress along the
track, slow as it was, became slower still when one after another the
guides announced that they were lost and had not the slightest idea in
which direction to go. A touch of humour crept into the adventure when
Colonel Warrender, addressing a guide who said he hadn’t the remotest
idea where he was, told him to go back to his Commanding Officer and
report that he was of no use!
After many hours the Cough Drop was reached by the party bringing up
the rear, which included Battalion Headquarters, and here one of the
other Companies was met coming in the opposite direction. They, too,
had a guide who was lost. The Adjutant now took up the running alone
and plunged into the darkness on an exploring tour. He soon came back,
and then led the whole party, now consisting of a good many more than
half the Battalion, through Drop Alley to the Flers Line. The going
now began to tell on the exhausted troops and several there were
who collapsed unconscious in Drop Alley, weighed down by the heavy
loads they were carrying, and did not finish their journey until the
following day.
The Flers Line is chiefly remembered for the number of dead, both
English and German, who were still lying about on the floor of the
trench and on all the firesteps. There were a few hurriedly-made
dug-outs, but these were in such a filthy state as to be unfit to
occupy, and although much hard work was done for the next two days, the
cleaning of the trench was still unfinished when the troops learnt to
their astonishment, on the 7th of October, that they were to attack the
Butte de Warlencourt and the Warlencourt Line--an objective some 2,800
yards distant.
Zero was at 2.0 p.m., and the Companies occupied the same relative
positions as at High Wood, “A” Company again being on the right. The
three Companies on the left were unfortunate once more, for they had to
file through the village of Eaucourt l’Abbé soon after leaving their
assembly trenches and extend into waves again after negotiating the
village. They were caught by the full fury of the German artillery
barrage, and those who got through the village were swept down by a
most intense machine-gun fire. “A” Company on the right made some
little progress, and after crossing the Eaucourt l’Abbé-Le Barque road
dug a new line alongside the remnants of other units of the Division,
all of whom had met a similar fate. Another attempt was made at night
by the 142nd Brigade, but as these troops had not even seen the country
in daylight, their attempt failed so completely that they were all
withdrawn shortly after zero.
The attack on the Butte de Warlencourt failed, like many attacks
subsequently delivered by other Divisions, and the famous Butte did
not fall into English hands until the German retreat from the Somme
battlefield during the winter of 1916-17.
The attack of the 7th of October differed in many respects from that
of the 15th of September. On this occasion there had been no training,
no rehearsal over a marked-out course, and in fact some of the troops
did not even know there was to be an attack until an hour or so
before zero. Even then there were many who were not sure what was the
objective. To this day there are some in the Civil Service Rifles who
talk of it as the attack on Eaucourt l’Abbé. There was an artillery
creeping barrage on this occasion, it is true, but as it moved at the
rate of 100 yards per minute and there were 2,800 yards between the
jumping-off trenches and the objective, the advancing waves of infantry
soon got badly left behind. Tanks were said to be co-operating, but
nothing was seen of them.
There were only two officers per Company present on this occasion, and
the C.S.M. and one or two senior N.C.O.’s of each Company were kept out
of the fight, so the experienced soldier was in a distinct minority.
More than half of the Battalion had never been under fire before, and,
as these had only joined a few days previously, a good many of them
were not known even by name to the older members of their Platoons.
Thus it came about that many men were reported missing on this
occasion, and, as none of the survivors knew them, it was impossible to
say with any certainty where they had last been seen.
The losses on the 7th of October amounted to five officers, 344 other
ranks, and although numerically they are not quite so great as at High
Wood, it should be remembered that on this occasion the Battalion was
not more than 500 strong at the outset.
During the operations around Eaucourt l’Abbé there was one member
of the regiment who added to his already brilliant reputation as
a soldier. The work of Lieutenant W. E. Ind on this occasion was
more than wonderful. Quickly grasping the situation when the attack
failed, by his hard work and resourcefulness he succeeded in restoring
something like order out of chaos, not only in his own unit but also in
several neighbouring units.
The relief by the 7th Seaforth Highlanders on the 9th of October was
a welcome contrast to the previous relief in this sector. The troops
quickly found their way out and before midnight had reached the
transport lines in Bottom Wood.
Three nights were spent in Albert before the Division entrained on the
13th of October for Longpré, near Abbeville, en route for the Ypres
Salient.