"Ernest" roused me. I sneezed several times, and felt a burning in the
throat. This was undoubtedly gas. Hubbard I found to be a heavy
sleeper, but by punching hard enough I made him open his eyes, and we
put on our box-respirators. It was half an hour before the gas sergeant
reported that the air had cleared. We slept once more. Half an hour
before zero time the gas rattle sounded again, and indeed we were
wearing our respirators, when at 5.20 the usual sudden crackle and
rumble all along the front announced the opening of the barrage. Judged
by the quickness with which he put down a retaliatory barrage, the
enemy was prepared for our attack. Nothing could now hold "Ernest." He
dashed tirelessly north, south, east, west, towards whichever point of
the compass he heard a gun firing or a shell exploding. "I'm sure that
dog's mad," commented the colonel when we breakfasted at 7 A.M. "I
watched him from my dug-out for three-quarters of an hour after the
barrage started. He passed the opening eighty times, then I got tired
of counting. He seems to take a marvellous interest in shells.... It's
a pity the staff captain can't use him for ammunition returns."
While we were conducting a settled defence of the line, or registering
our guns for a battle, no one visited the "O.P.'s," or the front line,
more than the colonel. Many and many a morning, with a couple of
sandwiches and a slab of chocolate in his pocket, he tramped to the
O.P. and stayed there until dark, criticising the shooting of the
batteries and finding fresh targets for their fire. But during a set
battle he did all his work on the telephone, in touch with Divisional
artillery one way, and with the batteries, the F.O.O.'s, and the
infantry the other. There is never much news during the first hour, or
even until the full artillery programme has been completed. By that
time the Brigade expects definite reports as to whether the infantry
have reached their objectives, and upon what new points they require
artillery assistance for consolidating positions, or for repelling
counter-attacks.
But on this occasion the first message reached Brigade at 5.50 A.M. C
Battery reported that immediately the barrage opened the Boche
retaliated upon them with 5.9's. They had had six killed and ten
wounded. The killed included the sergeant who so splendidly commanded
C's forward sniping-gun on that bewildering, nerve-testing March 21st.
I spoke to the other batteries. D Battery, and B, who had horses handy
to move forward when the first objective was taken, had been little
troubled, but A had had their mess smashed in, and three of the
servants wounded. I rang up "Buller," who was doing liaison with the
--th Infantry Brigade, and he said it was understood that two companies
of the ---- had lost their way, but generally the attack proceeded
well.
The uncertainty lasted until 11 A.M., when the colonel completed a
telephone conversation with the brigade-major. The Division on our left
had not gained its first objective because of exceedingly stout
opposition on the part of a German corps, who had gained a fine
fighting reputation during the past two weeks. The --th south of our
Division had done very well, capturing and advancing beyond the village
of Templeux le Guerard. Our Divisional infantry had cleared Ronssoy
after tough fighting, but their farther progress was checked because of
the hold-up on the left. Reserve battalions of the Division chiefly
affected by this resistance were to attack as soon as possible.
"The Australians have done extraordinarily well down south," the
colonel told me. "They simply marched through with their tanks,
capturing guns and prisoners wholesale, and are on their most distant
objective."
Then he rang up Major Simpson. "Don't take your battery forward until
you get definite orders from the Brigade," he said. "The enemy still
hold the high ground north of us."
Major Bullivant, always keen on making an early reconnaissance during a
set battle, rang up at noon to say that he had been as far as a high
wood, a mile and a half in front of his battery. "I got a very long
view from there," he went on, "and saw no sign at all of any Boche...."
The colonel, putting on his pince-nez, studied his map and asked the
major for the exact position. "Yes," he observed, "that's on the 140
contour, and you must have seen as far as ---- copse."
His next remark revealed how his mind was working. "Did you notice any
tracks from the wood towards the batteries?... Two tracks!... but my
map shows a line of barbed wire running across.... Good! ... there is a
useable track as far as 19 c, and by striking east before you come to
the cross tracks it is possible to find an opening in the wire....
Good, Bullivant.... I expect I shall move the batteries that way....
No, no orders to move yet!"
At 1.15 P.M., after further talks with the brigade-major, the colonel
told me to send out this message to the four batteries:--
"Brigade will advance as soon as possible to position in F 20,
or if that locality is full up, in F 21 c. Prepare to advance,
and report to Brigade commander at F 20 c 4, 2."
The colonel's horses had been ordered up from the waggon line. "Hubbard
and I will go on," he told me, "and Hubbard can commence laying out
lines to the batteries' new positions. You will remain here to keep in
touch with Division. I shall be back before we move, and batteries are
not to go forward until orders are issued from here."
He returned at 4 P.M. and told me to send out orders for an immediate
advance to the positions chosen. I was returning from the signallers'
dug-out when a young major belonging to the ----s passed, followed by a
sergeant. The major looked pale and worn, but walked quickly. There are
moments when personal acquaintance with members of other branches of
the Service possesses a very direct value. I did not know Major ----
very well, but a habit contracted through frequent visits to the
Infantry made me call out "Any news?"
"Our Brigade's doing a clearing-up attack at five o'clock," he answered
without stopping.
"We don't know anything about that," I said, catching him up. "How long
is it since orders were issued?"
"I've only just left the General," he replied, still walking ahead.
"Can you spare two minutes to explain the scheme to the colonel," I
pressed. "Our batteries are just about to move up."
"I hardly have time to get to the battalion," he answered with a frown
of dissent.
"Two minutes!" I pleaded--and succeeded. We hurried to the mess. There
was a quick, clear exchange of words between the major and the colonel.
The major sped away as the colonel thanked him. "Telephone at once to
the batteries to prevent them moving!" said the colonel, turning to me.
Before five minutes had passed, the colonel, after a telephone talk
with the brigadier-general, had arranged a short barrage programme for
the batteries.
"There's usefulness in your being a gossip, you see," he smiled, a
quarter of an hour later.
The orders for the batteries to advance still held good, and
immediately the barrage ceased they pulled out. By 6 P.M. the colonel
had ridden forward again. My instructions were to remain until the
divisional signalling officer had laid a line to the new Brigade
Headquarters. At eight o'clock, followed by "Ernest" and the Brigade
signallers who had stayed with me, I rode through St Emilie and dipped
into a cul-de-sac valley crowded with the field batteries of another
Division. Our way took us toward and across gorse-clad, wild-looking
uplands. Night approached. Just as we halted at a spot where two
puddly, churned-up sunken roads crossed, guns behind and on either side
of us belched forth flame and rasping sound. Eighteen-pounder shells
screamed swiftly over us; the whole countryside spurted flashes. One of
the horses plunged with nervousness. "It's an S.O.S. call, sir," said a
driver who had put his horse under a bank, raising his voice against
the din. "Ernest," his little body quivering with excitement, was
already racing backwards and forwards. I told my groom to take my horse
into the sunken road, and started to look for the colonel and the
headquarters party. A sticky walk up the track to the left took me
within a couple of hundred yards of the village of Ronssoy, where most
of the Boche shells were falling. No signs of Headquarters up there.
After a lot of shouting to persuade the dog to keep near me, I turned
back and went through the mud again, past the cross-roads junction, and
along a still slimier, water-logged cart-track. I found every one on
Headquarters digging shelters in the side of the road. The servants had
rigged up a corrugated-iron habitation for the colonel. The brigade
clerks, the signallers, and the cooks had dug hard, and made use of
trench-covers, with the swift resource that long experience of
trench-life had developed into a kind of second nature. Hubbard had
arranged an "elephant," raised on two rows of ancient sandbags, for
himself and me to snuggle under.
"I've sent out S.O.S. lines to the batteries," said the colonel, who
was sitting on a box in a long-disused gun-pit. "We'll turn this place
into a mess to-morrow."
The firing died down. I sent some one to tell the groom to take the
horses back to the waggon line which was being established at the
headquarters position we had just left. The cook prepared us a simple
meal. By 10 P.M. the brigade-major had telephoned instructions for the
night-firing with which the batteries were to busy themselves. Our
night was disturbed by the swish-plop of gas shells, but none came near
enough seriously to disquiet us.
XV. "ERNEST" IS LOST
Sept. 19: That morning Bob Pottinger reported at Brigade Headquarters,
smiling all over his face. An extra leave warrant had come in, and it
was his turn to go. For weeks past every one had known of his eagerness
to get home, in order to conduct certain matrimonial projects to the
"Yes or No" stage. Leave to England was going nicely now. Dumble, young
Beale, Judd, and Hetherington were away, and the men were going at the
rate of five per day. Officers had to be five months in France since
their last leave--mostly it ran to seven; the men's qualification was
twelve months. Happy is the army that is attacking! Only when the enemy
has full possession of the initiative is leave entirely cut off.
Of the 5 P.M. attack carried out the night before by the --th Brigade,
all that we knew was that unexpectedly large numbers of the enemy had
been met. The fighting had been fierce, and the Boche still held some
of the ground the Brigade had set out to take. Right through the night
our guns had been busy firing protective bursts.
The mystery of the Boche's unlooked-for strength was explained by a
Divisional wire that reached us about 8 A.M. It stated that a prisoner
captured by the --th Brigade said that at 7 A.M. on the 18th,
following urgent orders resulting from the British offensive at 5.20,
a whole Boche division came by bus from Maretz, fourteen miles back.
Their mission was to make a counter-attack that would win back the
original line. They deployed at Bony, near the canal, and completed
their march in readiness for an attack at 6 P.M. But the 5 P.M. thrust
by our --th Brigade completely surprised them, and in fact broke up
their offensive. The prisoner also reported that many casualties had
been caused by our artillery fire.
The brigade-major, telephoning at 9 A.M., told us further details about
the main offensive of the day before. The hold-up on our left had
continued until late in the evening, in spite of renewed attacks on a
big scale. "The German Alpine Corps have some of the stiffest fighters
we have run against for a long time," he went on. "On the outskirts of
Epehy one post was held by three officers and forty-five men until 7.45
P.M. When they surrendered there were only seventeen not wounded."
The sunken road we were occupying led towards the red-brick,
modern-looking village of Templeux-le-Guerard. A German encampment,
quite a large one, containing several roomy huts newly built and well
fitted up, stood outside the eastern edge of the village. The colonel
had just pointed out that any amount of material for the improvement of
our Headquarters was to be had for the fetching, and I had despatched
the wheeler and a party of servants and signallers to the German
encampment when the telephone bell rang.
It was the brigade-major again. "We're doing another attack," he said
cheerfully, "to finish the work started last evening.... I want you to
open on line F 10 c 2.0 to F 16 b 0.8.... Dwell there till 11.20....
Then creep 1100 yards in a north-easterly direction--100 yards each
four minutes--to F 11 a 4.0 to F 11 d 2.5.... Dwell twenty minutes....
Then creep 100 yards each four minutes to F 11 b 1.3 to F 11 d 8.7....
4.5 hows. on Sart Farm.... Open at Rapid Rate on start-line for first
four minutes.... Then go to Normal Rate for the creep, and Slow on
final protective barrage.... Is that clear?... Right!... Good-bye."
I had repeated the map co-ordinates as the brigade-major gave them, and
had written them down; and the colonel, coming in to the mess, followed
the telephone conversation on his map. I handed him my note-book, and
for five minutes he worked in his rapid silent way, with his ivory
pocket-rule and scale for measuring map co-ordinates. Then he told the
telephonist on duty to get him each battery in turn; and the Brigade
was soon a stage nearer in its preparations for supporting the Infantry
brigade selected to make the attack.
Ten minutes later the brigade-major again rang up to say that the how.
battery was required to fire smoke-shells on certain points.
Before the fight began the colonel made a tour of the batteries. The
party sent to the German camp returned with forms and tables, and
plenty of corrugated iron and boards; and it was while I was detailing
a party of them to dig a sleeping-place for the colonel farther into
the bank that a group of officers, headed by a red-tabbed staff
captain, came along. Even if I had not recognised him from his
portraits--or because two winters before the war he and I stayed in the
same hotel at Nice--there was no doubt as to his identity. Name and
title appeared written in indelible pencil on his box-respirator. He
told me he was looking for a headquarters for his brigade, and he had
heard that the sunken road was a likely spot. "I don't know how long
we shall be here," I replied, "but we intend to carry out as many
improvements as possible. It will be a decent place to take over when
we leave." And I indicated the digging party. "Ernest," as usual, was
extremely affable, and received any amount of petting and patting from
the visiting officers. Just as they departed the assistant brigade
clerk came to me with a batch of men's leave warrants. I went into the
mess, and was occupied signing the warrants and other documents for ten
minutes or so. When I came out there was no sign of "Ernest." Ten
minutes later the attack started and the air was fluttered with the
swish and scream of shells.
An hour passed. The colonel returned. We lunched. Afterwards the
colonel removed his jacket, did a bit of sawing, and directed the
wheeler and his party in the task of boarding-in our gun-pit mess, so
as to leave it no longer exposed to wind and rain on two sides.
Hubbard, who was proud of his strength, climbed on top and pulled and
shifted the three six-inch girders to more suitable positions. I took a
turn with pick and shovel in the improvement of the colonel's dug-out.
The dog had not come back. One of the orderlies thought he had seen him
running along with the officers who had called before lunch.
About half-past three the brigade-major called for our 18-pounders to
drive off another Boche wave with a half-hour's shower of shrapnel; he
also wanted our how. battery to devote itself to Sart Farm and Holland
Post, which forward observers reported to be little strongholds of
enemy trench-mortars and machine-guns. Still no sign of "Ernest." The
mess-cart arrived at five o'clock, and as a last resource I scribbled a
note to the doctor, who was as fond of the dog as any of us, describing
the titled staff captain, and urging him to scour the countryside
until he struck a trail that would lead to "Ernest's" recovery.
At 7.30 P.M. an S.O.S. call, telephoned by Drysdale, who was doing
liaison with the --th Infantry Brigade, showed how desperately the
Boche was contesting the occupation of the strong points on this
portion of the front, although a Corps Intelligence Summary, delivered
about the same time, told us that 60 officers and 2315 other ranks,
wounded and unwounded, had passed through the Corps prisoners of war
cages since 6 A.M. the day before, and that the strength of the average
Hun infantry company had been reduced to 60 rifles.
As the colonel, Hubbard, and myself sat down to dinner, the following
message was handed to me:--
"Wire has been laid out to O.P. at F 16 c 42 by B and C
Batteries. The contours on the small paper 1/20,000 map are not
correct in this neighbourhood. New zero line was registered on
Tombois Farm."
"Yes, I've already warned the batteries that the special maps are not
reliable," commented the colonel.
The end of the day found our infantry in possession of most of the
strong points they had striven to seize, but at a heavy cost. And all
through the night our batteries poured forth fierce deadly fire to
harass and nullify Hun efforts to loosen our grip.
It was the same sort of warfare next day. The fighting was carried out
yard by yard. There was a certain post, Doleful Post, very valuable to
the Boche because it dominated the immediate neighbourhood. It was our
batteries' business to make it hellishly uncomfortable for him. At 10
A.M. the colonel, after a talk with Division, ordered the Brigade to
bring harassing fire to bear during the next twenty-four hours upon
Doleful Post and the valley running north-east from it. The three
18-pdr. batteries were to work in two-hour shifts, firing 50 rounds an
hour; the 4.5 how. battery was to fire 15 rounds per hour continuously.
Next day the infantry were to storm the post, and thus secure a
jumping-off spot for another forward leap.
With a more or less settled programme laid down--for twenty-four hours
at any rate--the colonel, Hubbard, and I devoted some thought to the
building of our headquarters. "It looks as if we were in for a spell of
trench warfare without the protection we were accustomed to in
trench-warfare days," observed the colonel. "There are no mined
dug-outs to hide in." The cook, a Scottish miner, had contrived a kind
of two-storied habitation in his little stretch of the bank; and he and
Manning and my servant felt themselves moderately safe. The colonel's
home--heavy "elephant" roof and wooden walls stuffed well into the
bank--being complete, the wheeler, the servants, Hubbard, and myself
put backs and forearms into the task of fashioning a similar shelter
for Hubbard and me. I, of course, could not stray far from the
telephone. The staff captain wanted to talk about new ammunition dumps
and gun-repairing workshops. Major Bullivant inquired whether he
couldn't be selected for the next gunnery course at Shoeburyness. Major
Veasey thought it time another captain relieved Drysdale as liaison
officer with the Infantry Brigade. And all the time there were routine
papers and returns to be looked through and signed.
"There's something that will do for the September War Diary," said the
colonel, putting in front of me a letter sent to him by the
brigadier-general commanding one of our Infantry brigades. It ran:--
"I am anxious that you and your officers and men should know how
grateful I and my battalion commanders are to you for the
excellent barrage you gave us yesterday morning (Sept. 18) under
such very difficult circumstances. They all realise that with
the moving of batteries, getting up the ammunition, and the
frequent barrages you are called upon to provide, besides the
harassing and the normal shooting, a very great strain is placed
on your Brigade. And the success we had yesterday was largely
made possible by the splendid work of your people."
About eleven o'clock the doctor, who had ridden from the waggon line,
came in gaily singing "Hail! hail! the gang's all here," to a tune from
the "Pirates of Penzance." "I've located 'Ernest,'" he shouted
triumphantly when he saw me.
"Splendid," I answered, smiling in return. "Have you got him at the
waggon line?"
"No; I saw him as I was coming up here. He was trotting along with a
captain who was going towards that village with the factory, over
there."
"Was he a staff captain, with a Military Cross and another ribbon?" I
asked.... "Didn't you tell him it was our dog?"
"That's so. I told him that, and 'Ernest' came and jumped around when
he saw me; but the captain said it couldn't be our dog, because a
brigadier-general's name was on the collar, and he wasn't going to let
him go; his colonel wanted him. Besides," added the doctor plaintively,
"'Ernest' wouldn't follow me."
"His colonel!" I repeated, puzzled. "Didn't he say 'his General'? A
staff captain is on a brigadier-general's staff.... His colonel?... Are
you sure he was a staff captain? Was he wearing red?"
"I didn't see any red," replied the doctor. "He was walking behind a
waggon that had a pile of wood and iron on it. It looked as if they
were moving."
My face fell. "Did you notice his regiment? Was he a gunner or an
infantryman, or what?" I asked quickly.
"Well, I can't say that I did. I don't know all your regiments."
The colonel joined us. "Laneridge has brought my mare up," he remarked
pleasantly. "You'd like a little exercise, perhaps. When the doctor has
finished his sick parade you take my mare and see if the dog can be
found."
The doctor and I rode across country, and scoured the village he had
pointed to, but there was no trace of "Ernest." We spoke to a couple of
military policemen, told them all about our loss, saw that they
inscribed particulars in their note-books, and then continued our
inquiries among some heavy gunners, who had pulled into a garden near
the sugar factory. I even narrated the story to an Irish A.P.M., who
was standing in the street conversing with a motoring staff officer.
"I've been in this village fully an hour and haven't seen a dog such as
you describe," said the A.P.M. "And I'm sure I should have noticed
him.... I'm fond of dogs, and I notice them all.... I'll help you any
way I can.... Give me full particulars, and I'll pass them round to my
police."
He listened while I tried to obtain further clues from the doctor as to
the branch of the service to which the captain, seen that morning with
"Ernest," belonged. The doctor, his cap tilted backwards, a long dark
cigar protruding at an angle of 45 degrees from the corner of his
mouth, did his best, but it was no good. "I'm sorry--I don't know your
regiments well enough," he said at last.
It was at this point that the doctor's groom--in the building trade
before the war--entered into the conversation. He had heard everything
that had been said since the quest began, but this was the first remark
he had made.
"The officer the medical officer spoke to this morning, sir, was in the
---- Pioneers," he said to me.
"Why didn't you tell us that before?" asked the doctor impatiently.
"Sorry, sir, you didn't ask me," was the toneless reply.
The doctor looked unutterable things, and the lighted end of his cigar
described three or four irregular circles. "Gosh!" he pronounced
briskly. "We gotta put more pep into looking for this dog, or the
war'll end before we find him."
A high-velocity shell bursting on the near side of the factory helped
to decide us. The A.P.M. said that a party of the Pioneers had marched
down the street half an hour ago. The doctor and I bade him good-bye,
went through the village, and were directed to a lane alongside a
railway embankment. In one among a row of wooden huts, where the
Headquarters of the reserve infantry brigade were quartered, we found
the colonel of the Pioneers finishing lunch. He and our colonel were
old friends, and immediately I explained the object of my visit he
became sympathetic. "Yes," he laughed, "we have your dog--at least our
A Company have him. I believe they found him wandering on the other
side of the valley.... Stop and have some lunch, and I'll send for
him."
"No, thank you, sir.... I shall have to be getting back."
A subaltern went off to fetch the dog. The doctor left to pick up the
horses and to return to the waggon line. The colonel invited me to have
a drink. But there was disappointment when the subaltern returned. "I'm
afraid the dog has gone again, sir--about half an hour ago."
"Really!" said the colonel.
"Yes, sir; he was in A Company's mess when two Gunner officers passed,
and he went after them."
"He knows your badge, at any rate," remarked the colonel to me with
twinkling eyes. "I'm sorry you've had your journey for nothing. But
we'll keep a look-out and send him back if he returns to us."
"I'm going to have another search round the village before I go back,
sir," I responded determinedly. "We're getting warmer."