On the Somme.
At the beginning of August, the Division detrained in the neighbourhood
of Doullens, and, proceeding in a southeasterly direction, the Brigade
established itself near the small village of Couin. In a few days’ time
we went “in,” and the Battery took up a position on the southern
outskirts of Hebuterne, overlooking the enemy stronghold at Serre. This
portion of the front was now in a normal state once more, as, on the
opening day of the great battle, the British assault from Hamel,
northward to Gommecourt, had met with no success, and the attack was
not further pressed. The enemy was content to remain quiet, and most of
the firing was carried out by us. A considerable number of hostile
“Minnies” made conditions somewhat unpleasant for the infantry in the
trenches, and during the night the battery position was subjected to
indirect machine-gun fire, which necessitated a certain amount of
caution in moving about. The O.P.’s were well placed, and afforded us
an excellent view, for we overlooked the enemy’s lines, and could see
some distance beyond them. We were now on the fringe of the battle, and
away half right, on clear days, we could see the struggle progressing,
as a considerable dent had already been made. The sight was a very
grand one, especially after dark. The Verey Lights and various S.O.S.
rockets, which were frequently sent up by our opponents, made a fine
spectacular display, far finer than any firework exhibition we had ever
witnessed in our own country in pre-war days.
Gradually the Division was side-slipped to the south, and our next
position was close to the station of Mailly. We did not remain there
long, however, as the time had now arrived for us to put in an
appearance in the battle itself. We spent one night close to Amiens,
and availed ourselves of the opportunity to hold a dinner there, which
was attended by all the original officers in the Brigade—a last night
of fun and merriment before the long, stiff fight ahead of us, for who
knew how many would survive the ordeal. The next day brought us to
Vaux, on the River Somme, and, in the first week in September, we found
ourselves immersed in the battle. We took up our first position in the
lately captured second line German system, facing Montauban and
covering Guillemont, which had just been taken by an Irish Division.
Very stiff lighting was in progress on this sector, as we were now
nearing the summit of the Ridge, the possession of which would be
invaluable, as the enemy’s territory would be laid bare to us, and he
would lose his observation over us. It was not surprising, therefore,
that he fought with the courage of despair and initiated counter-attack
upon counter-attack, all of which we had to meet with great
determination. The weather was extremely hot, which added much to the
discomfort: and, as progress had been very slow for some time, it was
impossible to clear up the battlefield, and the stench was almost
insupportable. At length the village of Guinchy was captured, and, with
our men installed on the further side of the slope, the fighting for
position came to an end. We were now entering on the third stage of the
great battle, which had commenced more than two months previously. An
attack, on a large scale, was planned, the object being to drive the
enemy down the slope of the hill into the low-lying country beyond.
Field batteries were moved up into forward positions, in order to
assist the infantry, by placing a creeping barrage—a new and most
successful invention, afterwards employed on all occasions—in front of
the advancing waves of men: and the “heavies,” of which, for the first
time, we possessed a preponderance, pounded the enemy communications
far behind his lines.
The assault was delivered over a wide area, early in the morning of the
15th of September, but in no way did it come up to expectations—in
fact, it might almost be counted a reverse. Some divisions did well,
and took their objectives, but others were completely held up, at
certain strong points, which necessitated the withdrawal of the
remainder, in order to keep the line uniform. The Guards met with
instant success, and took their final objectives, only to discover that
the Division on each side of them had made little progress and could
get no further. They were reluctantly forced to return, and it was
while doing so that heavy casualties were inflicted on them, as they
were raked with fire from the sides as well as in front. During the
withdrawal, a party of machine-gunners occupied a trench, and attempted
to screen the retirement of the main body of troops, by holding the
enemy at bay. In order to use this machine-gun to the best advantage,
the piece was placed on top of the parapet, exposed to the full view of
the oncoming hordes, but our men never wavered in serving it, and, as
soon as one gunner dropped at his post, another instantly took the
vacant place, although it meant certain death within a few moments.
Next day they were pulled out to refit, and, as they marched back to
rest, a very touching sight was witnessed. A certain battalion, a mere
remnant, swung along, headed by its band. All the officers had become
casualties, and the Battalion Sergeant-Major was in command, but as
many of the dead officers as could be recovered were brought back on
stretchers and placed each in his proper position. Headed by the body
of their late Commander, the column proceeded on its way, the men
marching at attention, and, although covered with mud and
blood-stained, they might have been proceeding down the Mall. Such is
the discipline of the Guards, and every tribute of respect was paid
them by the troops through whom they passed.
The next battle was timed for the 25th inst., and our infantry came
back to the line a couple of days before that date. There was much
suppressed excitement and curiosity, for the mysterious Tanks were to
participate on this occasion for the first time, and it was thought
that the secret had been so well kept that they would come as a
complete surprise to the enemy. This proved to be the case, and the
attack was a great success. What was known as the Flers line was
everywhere penetrated, and all gains were held. The Tanks did splendid
work. They advanced well ahead of the infantry, and battered down
barbed wire, overran trenches, smashed machine-gun emplacements,
killing the gun crews, and even waddled as far as the village of
Gueudecourt. There they effected much execution and caused great panic
among the enemy reserves, which were concentrating for the inevitable
counter attack.
Thus the battle continued, sometimes breaking out into fierce fights
and at other times reduced to isolated scraps, but all the time the
enemy was being gradually and relentlessly pushed down into the valley,
and the villages of Morval, Les Boeufs, and Gueudecourt fell into our
hands.
It was almost uncanny the way in which villages would completely
disappear. For instance, at the time when these hamlets first came
within our vision, on our reaching the crest of the hill, they appeared
almost intact, but a few days rendered them unrecognisable—they had
become merely so many heaps of rubble. There are many places on the
Somme which have literally not one brick standing on top of another,
and one would never imagine for a moment that a prosperous little
village had ever existed there.
Many changes of battery positions were made, and, whenever possible, we
burrowed down into the ground, as the enemy’s heavy pieces were out
after our blood. The great concentration of guns and the few suitable
localities for placing them in action added to our difficulties, and we
were thus rendered an easy target for the hostile counter batteries.
Innumerable brigades were huddled close together, in what was known as
the Death Valley, for the simple reason that there was no other
suitable spot wherein to place them, and heavy casualties resulted. We
had the good fortune, however, to be somewhat isolated from the others,
and occupied a forward position, where the guns were hidden in an old
German communication trench. The enemy never found it, but subjected
us, now and again, to a general burst of harassing fire: his main
volume of hate passed us by far overhead.
And, meanwhile, what of our friend the F.O.O.? In those days his lot
was by no means an enviable one, and it was a task of no mean magnitude
to keep communications going between the trenches and the guns.
However, it had to be done, or at least attempted, and the following is
a brief account of a typical day in the life of a gunner subaltern.
Orders would be given that a certain hostile trench was to be subjected
to a severe, annihilating bombardment, and this necessitated the laying
out of a wire to a part of our front line, from which the shoot could
be registered, as the target could not be observed from any other
locality than the trench immediately opposite it. The F.O.O. rises
early in the morning, and sets out with his little squad of
telephonists and linesmen. He requires to post a signalman and linesman
at frequent intervals, called Relay Stations, in order to preserve
communication, as the wire is being continually broken by hostile
gun-fire. Progress, in a case like this, is necessarily slow, and he
has to pick his way among the shell-holes, seeking as much protection,
for the line, as circumstances will permit. The signallers follow in
his footsteps, staggering along under the weight of a large reel of
wire. All goes well until they reach the summit of a ridge, when,
suddenly, a barrage from a “whizz bang” battery is placed right down on
top of the party. There is nothing for it but to remain crouched in a
friendly shell-hole, which affords a little protection, until the storm
blows over or to risk the chances of being hit in the open. The journey
is then resumed, and much relief is felt when at last the ground over a
nasty dip is traversed without mishap, as this is known to be a
favourite target for hostile gunners. A muddy, unkempt
communication-trench is now entered, and the party proceed, up a slope,
towards the support system, and eventually arrive at their
destination—a post in the front line overlooking its objective.
Difficulty is experienced in preserving the wire from the unguarded
feet of infantrymen, who look askance at the party as it passes,
cursing the idiosyncrasies of each fire bay. The instrument is
connected with the end of the wire, and all hold their breath in order
to hear the answering buzz which tells them that they are through to
the battery. Several futile buzzes may be made by the telephonist, and
then, no response being forthcoming, a linesman is sent down the wire
towards the first relay station. A break in the wire is discovered and
speedily mended, the next attempt is successful, and the battery is
called to action.
During registration the wire often breaks, and serious delays occur,
but, at length, the last gun is duly pronounced O.K. by the officer.
Just in the nick of time, too! for the enemy commences a sharp
retaliation on the portion of the trench occupied by the little party.
Refuge is sought in an old enemy shaft close by, and there it awaits
the time for the “show” to commence. Several other batteries also take
part in the shoot, and it is quite impossible to pick out the shells
which belong to each one as they fall. Complete success crowns the
effort, but on the particular day here described the F.O.O. and party
failed to see the end of the bout, as they were subjected to very heavy
fire, and were all blown down the mouth of the shaft by the explosion
of a shell. Luckily, though badly shaken, all escaped without injury.
Meanwhile the wire has been broken in many places and is beyond repair,
but it has already served its purpose, and, when fire has died down,
the party starts on the return journey. On arriving at the first relay
station, the telephonist on duty is found dead at his post, the
receiver still clutched in his hand and held to his ear. A nasty gash
in the forehead reveals the place where he has been hit and instantly
killed. His companion is nowhere to be found, although bloodstains
denote that he has at least been wounded, and, on investigation, it is
ascertained that the linesman has been hit, picked up by passing
comrades, and taken to an aid-post. The journey is resumed, the party
carrying the dead with them, and presently another hostile barrage is
encountered. Again the men lie low until it ceases, and then pick up
the remaining linesmen, and return to the battery utterly exhausted.
Many questions are asked, and it frequently happens that the F.O.O. is
cursed by his Battery Commander for not keeping the wire going, and
even the Brigade joins in the chorus. The young officer pays little
heed, and inwardly reflects that they should be extremely thankful that
communication was established at all, and that those of the party who
returned did so in safety. So, in spite of everything, he consumes a
hearty dinner and retires to bed, sleeping the sleep of the just, and
soon becomes oblivious of all his little worries and sombre
surroundings.
Towards the middle of October the weather broke, and conditions became
intolerable. The roads, which had been partially repaired, were still
soft and broken, and developed into quagmires—mud and water to a depth
of two and three feet made vehicular traffic almost out of the
question. All ammunition had to be transported to the guns by means of
horses carrying pack saddles, a slow and tedious method, which took a
lot out of men and beasts alike. As yet no decca-ville railways had
been constructed as far as battery positions. Very heavy work thus fell
on those at the wagon lines, who were kept busy most of the day and
night. Although the distance to the gun position was under five miles
there and back, the journey rarely took less than ten hours to
accomplish. If a horse fell down in this sticky mud, heavily laden as
it was, attempts at rescue proved unavailing, except on rare occasions,
even with the aid of drag-ropes, and the unfortunate animal had to be
“dispatched.” Was it a sense of humour that prompted those in authority
to send the subalterns, in turn, to the wagon lines for a “rest”?
Anyhow, it was considered anything but that by the poor unfortunates
who went, and right glad they were when the time came round for their
next period of duty with the guns!
As the weather rapidly became worse, operations came to a standstill,
and all proceeded to dig themselves in for the coming winter. Every
endeavour was made to make our quarters water-proof, as well as
shell-proof, and some attempts at mining were commenced, but the
condition of the ground was all against such an undertaking, and the
work was abandoned. Then whispers spread abroad that we were to be
relieved for a short rest, and, after ten weeks of incessant fighting,
we were withdrawn from the line and marched to a little village named
Hangest, a few miles west of Amiens. There we were glad to find
ourselves installed in billets with a roof covering us once more. A
week of leisure helped greatly to restore our spirits, and again we set
out for the line. Our destination this time was Combles, and we took
over a battery position from the French, who politely made us
acquainted with our new surroundings. Our allies, who had been fighting
side-by-side with us on our right flank throughout the great battle,
were then withdrawn, and the British front was extended to the south as
far as the banks of the River Somme. Evidence was speedily forthcoming
to convince us of the severe nature of the recent fight. The ground was
strewn with wreckage and material of all descriptions, and many hostile
guns were found abandoned or lying where they had been put out of
action by the irresistible dash of the Poilus.
The country, in this part, was undulating, and better suited to the
concealment of battery positions, and nowhere was the enemy able to
overlook our territory. Our area included the defence of the joint
villages of Sailly-Saillisel, situated on commanding ground, which the
French had recently bravely stormed. Combles, too, which lay in a basin
shaped hollow, was interesting as having been the centre of supplies
for the southern portion of the German Army operating in the battle,
and much booty was discovered in the huge catacombs which ran
underneath the town.
’Xmas passed in much the same way as in the previous year. A smart
bombardment was carried out in the morning in order to advise the enemy
that anything in the way of fraternising would not be countenanced by
us. At mid-day the men partook of their ’Xmas fare, which had been
fetched from Amiens, and a short service was conducted by the Padre in
one of the gun-pits. A slight disturbance took place at dusk, when the
S.O.S. went up from the front line and all batteries immediately opened
out. It seemed a rather extraordinary occurrence, as the evening was
unusually quiet, and, presently, it was discovered to have arisen
through an error, due to the fact that the enemy had put up a coloured
light in between two ordinary Verey lights which constituted our own
S.O.S.
About this time the enemy caused considerable annoyance to a certain
Battalion Headquarters, situated in a quarry close behind the lines, by
occasionally dropping a shell right into it, the position having
probably been discovered by his aircraft. Retaliation tactics were
adopted, which consisted of subjecting the hostile trenches to a sharp
half-hour’s bombardment from eight batteries, firing a total of 2,000
rounds. The enemy was well known to be very thick-skinned, but these
measures met with instant success, and it was only necessary to remind
him once again that we were not to be trifled with in this way.
After the New Year, a severe spell of frost set in, with an occasional
heavy fall of snow, and we were somewhat annoyed when orders came
through to sideslip our position further south, as we had made our
quarters fairly comfortable by this time, and expected to remain
undisturbed throughout the winter. The new position was situated behind
the ruined village of Rancourt, facing St. Pierre Vaast wood, and was
one of the worst and most disagreeable localities it was ever our lot
to occupy, as we were, more or less, water-logged the whole of our time
there. Much difficulty was experienced by both friend and foe in
entering their respective front line, so much so that, by common
consent, sniping by rifle fire was discontinued until parapets were
constructed and made fit for occupation. However, sniping was still
indulged in by the artillery, and no parties of any size were permitted
to go about freely near the front line under observation. Affairs
continued thus until the middle of February, when it became apparent
that something unusual was taking place in enemy territory, and great
explosions were heard, after which volumes of smoke were seen to rise
in large columns. These, as was afterwards proved, were due to
preparations being made by the enemy to evacuate the low-lying country,
into which they had reluctantly been forced, as the result of the
battle of the Somme, prior to falling back upon the great prepared
defences known as the Hindenburg Line.
Instantly every one was on the alert for further signs of evacuation,
and one morning a patrol reported that the enemy had vacated their
front line. Further patrols were at once pushed out, through St. Pierre
Vaast wood, in order to maintain contact with the retreating foe. Every
precaution had to be taken, as it was soon discovered that many forms
of booby-traps had been cunningly laid by him in his wake, and progress
was necessarily slow. Added to this, there was great difficulty in
manœuvring the guns over the innumerable trenches which existed in the
neighbourhood, and the pieces sank up to their axles in the clogging
mud, and were only extricated after hours of labour. The enemy retired
slowly and most methodically, destroying everything of value and
wantonly reducing the small villages and hamlets to mere shells, by
means of incendiary bombs. The inhabitants also were removed
beforehand, and, when the troops advanced, they might have been
traversing a wilderness, so complete was the ruin and desolation on all
sides.
The time had now arrived for the Brigade to have a much-needed rest and
also to refit, so, at the end of March, we were withdrawn from the
contest. Marching westward, we arrived at the village of Morlancourt in
the first week of April, well content at the prospect of returning to
civilization for a protracted period.
Division from Brigade R.F.A. Guards Division.” “Division from Brigade
R.F.A. Guards Division.”