CHRISTMAS ON THE SOMME,
DECEMBER, 1916.
The move from Martinsart to Hedauville.--Back to Martinsart.--
Working parties.--Dug-outs at Mouquet Farm.--Field Trench.--
Return to the front line.--Getting touch.--Guides.--An historic
patrol.--Christmas in the trenches.
On December 2, 1916, the Battalion moved from Martinsart to
Hedauville, on its way passing through Englebelmer, the home of one of
our 15-inch howitzers, but no longer of its civilian inhabitants. The
march was regulated by Pym, the new Brigade Major, who had replaced
Gepp a few days before. The latter had proved himself a most efficient
staff officer, and his departure to take up a higher appointment was
regretted by everybody.
Hedauville was an indifferent village, but our billets were not bad.
Brigade Headquarters were at the château. One heard much about the
habitual occupation of the French châteaux by our staffs during the
war. On this particular occasion the Brigade had only two or three
rooms at its disposal, and on many others would be licencees of only a
small portion of such buildings. The 184th Infantry Brigade Staff was
always most solicitous about the comfort of battalions, and its
efforts secured deserved appreciation from all ranks. During the
winter Harling retired from the office of Staff Captain, and after a
brief interregnum Bicknell, a Gloucester officer, who already had been
attached to the Brigade for some time, received the appointment. For
the ensuing three years Bicknell proved himself both an excellent
staff officer and a consistent friend to the Infantry.
After scraping off the remains of the mud it had carried from the
trenches, the Battalion settled down at Hedauville to a normal
programme for ten days. The weather was bad, and a good deal of
sickness now occurred among the troops, until so many officers were
sick that leave for the others was stopped. Of general interest little
occurred to mark this first fortnight of December. At its close the
Battalion marched back to Martinsart and reoccupied its former huts.
Battalion and Brigade were now in support, and our energies were daily
devoted to working parties in the forward area. As these were some of
the most arduous ever experienced by the Battalion I will describe an
example.
I take December 16--a Saturday. My company was warned for working
party last night, so at 6 a.m. we get up, dress, and, after a hurried
breakfast, parade in semi-darkness. As the outing is not a popular one
and reduction in numbers is resented by the R.E., the roll is called
by Sergeant-Major Brooks (recently back from leave and in the best of
early morning tempers) amid much coughing and scuffling about in the
ranks. At 7 a.m. we start our journey towards the scene of labour,
some 80 strong (passing for 100). We go first along a broad-gauge
railway line (forbidden to be used for foot traffic) and afterwards
through Aveluy and past Crucifix Corner to near Mouquet Farm.
After a trivial delay of perhaps 40 minutes, the D.C.L.I. or 479 have
observed our arrival and tools are counted out and issued, the homely
pick and shovel. The task is pleasantly situated about 150 yards in
front of several batteries of our field guns (which open fire directly
we are in position) and consists in relaxing duckboards, excavating
the submerged sleepers of a light railway or digging the trench for a
buried cable.
Perhaps the work only requires 50, not 100 (nor even 80) men. Very
well! It is a pity those others came, but here are a thousand sandbags
to fill, and there a pile of logs dumped in the wrong place last
night, so let them get on with it!
For six hours we remain steadily winning the war in this manner and
mildly wondering at the sense of things and whether the Germans will
shell the batteries just behind our work--until, without hooter or
whistle, the time to break off has arrived. By 3 p.m. the party is
threading its way back, and as darkness falls once more reaches the
camp. Cries of 'Dinner up' and 'Tea up' resound through the huts, and
all is eating and shouting.
By December 20 it was once more the Brigade's turn to relieve the
front line. Berks and Gloucesters again took first innings in the
trenches, while the Bucks and ourselves stayed in support. Battalion
Headquarters with A and B Companies were in Wellington Huts, near
Ovillers; C and D went two miles further forward to some scattered
dug-outs between Thiepval and Mouquet Farm. My own headquarters were
at the farm, to whose site a ruined cellar and a crumbling heap of
bricks served to testify. The Germans had left a system of elaborate
dug-outs, some of which now housed Brigade Headquarters, but others,
owing to shelling and rain, had collapsed or were flooded. On each of
the four nights spent at Mouquet Farm my company supplied parties to
carry wire and stakes up to the front line. These journeys were made
through heavy shelling, and we were always thankful to return safely.
My policy was never to allow the pace to become that of the slowest
man, for there was no limit to such slowness. I myself set a pace,
which I knew to be reasonable, and men who straggled interviewed me
next day. By this policy the evening's work was completed in
two-thirds of the time it would otherwise have taken, and my disregard
of proverbial maxims probably saved the Battalion many casualties.
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP to show Trenches held by 2/4th Oxf. & Bucks.
in Nov and Dec 1916]
Since our last tour in the line real winter conditions had set in.
Shell-holes and trenches everywhere filled with water till choice of
movement was confined to a few duckboard tracks. Those in our area led
past Tullock's Corner and from the Gravel Pit to Mouquet Farm, and
thence to the head of Field Trench, with a branch sideways to Zollern
Redoubt. Field Trench, an old German switch, led over the Pozières
ridge, whose crest was well 'taped' by the German guns. The British
advance having reached a standstill, the enemy's artillery was now
firing from more forward positions and paid much attention to places
like Mouquet Farm, Tullock's Corner, Zollern Redoubt and Field Trench.
Parties of D.C.L.I. were daily at work upon the latter, duckboarding
and revetting, and completed a fine pioneers' job right up to Hessian.
Field Trench ranked among the best performances of the Cornwalls,
whose work altogether at this time deserved high praise.
On Christmas eve, 1916, the Battalion relieved the front line. Brown
and Davenport took their companies to Desire and Regina. Battalion
Headquarters had an improved position at Zollern Redoubt, and their
old dug-out in Hessian was left to D Company Headquarters. Robinson
with C Company was also in Hessian, to the left of D. His headquarters
possessed plenty of depth but neither height nor breadth. The dug-out
entrance was the size of a large letter-box and nearly level with the
trench floor.
After the march up, the remainder of the night was devoted to the
trying process of 'getting touch.' This meant finding the neighbouring
sentry-posts on each flank--an important duty, for the Germans usually
knew the date and sometimes the hour of our reliefs and the limits of
frontage held by different units (we naturally were similarly informed
about the enemy). For reasons of security no relief could be held
complete before not only our own men were safely in but our flanks
were established by touch with neighbouring posts.
In the course of the very relief I have mentioned, a platoon of one
battalion reached the front line but remained lost for more than a
day. It could neither get touch with others nor others with it.
'Getting touch' seemed easy on a map and was often done in statements
over the telephone. Tangible relations were more difficult and efforts
to obtain them often involved most exasperating situations, for whole
nights could be spent meandering in search of positions, which in
reality were only a few hundred yards distant. Total absence of guiding
landmarks was freely remarked as the most striking characteristic
of this part of the Somme area. I refer only to night movement, for by
day there were always distant objects to steer by, and the foreground,
seemingly a cratered wilderness of mud, to the trained eye wore a
multitude of significant objects.
My last topic introduces the regimental guide. Guides performed some
of the hardest and most responsible work of the war. Staff work could
at time be botched or boggled without ill-effects; for mistakes by
guides some heavy penalty was paid. Whenever a relief took place, men
to lead up the incoming unit into the positions it was to occupy were
sent back, usually one per platoon, or, in cases of difficult relief
and when platoon strengths were different, one per sentry-post. Guides
rarely received much credit when reliefs went well, but always the
blame when they went ill. The private soldiers, who guided our troops
into trench and battle, played a greater part in winning the war than
any record has ever confessed.
I have already spoken of patrols, their difficulties and dangers. Than
General White no man in the Brigade was better acquainted with its
front or a more punctual visitor to the most forward positions. What
'Bobbie' could not himself see by day he was resolved to have
discovered for him by night, and thus a high measure of activity by
our patrols was required. About Christmas the question whether the
eastern portion of a trench, known as Grandcourt Trench, was held by
the enemy, was set to the Battalion to answer. Vowed to accomplish
this task or die, a picked patrol started one dark night. Striking
in a bee line from our trenches, the patrol passed several strands of
wire and presently discovered fragments of unoccupied trench. On
further procedure, sounds were heard and, after the necessary stalking
and listening, proof was obtained that a large hostile wiring party,
talking and laughing together, was only a few yards distant. With this
information the patrol veered to a flank, again passing through wire
and crossing several trenches which bore signs of occupation. A line
for home was then taken, but much groping and long search failed to
reveal the faithful landmarks of our front line. At length, as dawn
was breaking, the situation became clear. The patrol was outside D
Company Headquarters in Hessian, more than 800 yards _behind_ the
front line. The report of German wiring parties laughing and talking
did not gratify, and on reconstruction of its movements it was found
that the patrol had spent the entire night reconnoitring not the
German but our own defensive system. The wire so easily passed
through, the noise and laughter, and the final _dénouement_ at Hessian
allowed for no other conclusion. A few nights later Brown, with a
small party and on a clear frosty night, solved the riddle by boldly
walking up to Grandcourt Trench and finding the Germans not at home.
I mention the story of this first patrol for the benefit, perhaps, of
some who took part in it and who will now, I feel sure, enjoy the
humour of its recollection. I mention it more to show of what
unrequited labour Infantry was capable. The most wholehearted
efforts were not always successful. One had this confidence on patrol,
that one's mistakes only affected a handful. It was otherwise for
artillery commanders who arranged a barrage, commanders of Field
Companies who guaranteed destruction of a bridgehead, or of Special
Companies undertaking a gas projection. Such was the meaning of
responsibility.
The Battalion spent December 25, 1916, in the trenches under some of
the worst conditions that even a war Christmas could bring. Christmas
dinners were promised and afterwards held when we were in rest.
As in previous years, our army circulars had forbidden any
fraternisation with the enemy. Though laughed at, these were resented
by the Infantry in the line, who at this stage lacked either wish or
intention to join hands with the German or lapse into a truce with
him. On the other hand, a day's holiday from the interminable sounds
of shelling would have been appreciated, and casualties on Christmas
Day struck a note of tragedy. This want of sagacity on the part of our
higher staff, as if our soldiers could not be trusted to fight or keep
their end up as well on Christmas as any other day, was a reminder of
those differences on which it is no object of this history to touch.