BEHEMOTH
The Somme district is composed of chalk pits; wherever the ground was
dug up it showed white. This afforded an excellent opportunity for the
enemy birds to spot any work we were doing. While in this section every
man in the ranks looked very much like a white-wash artist--white dust
everywhere, filling our eyes, ears, noses, mouths. Lord! when I think of
that chalk dust!
For five days after the first advance of the tanks they were lying, six
of them, immediately at the right of our battery on the edge of the
road; no one seemed to know what they were doing there or what was
contemplated. Then they moved up four miles to the edge of Pozières
Woods, where they believed they would be safer from view, and for the
further reason that they would not have so far to travel when the next
drive was pulled off. They waddled in there at night, but the following
morning Fritz's keen eye searched them out, wirelessed the necessary
directions to their heaviest battery, and in almost less time than it
takes to write it tremendous shells came smashing around, damaging one
of them pretty severely, and the other five immediately waddled back to
a safer place in the rear.
That same night canvas dummies were drawn up by mules and set up in the
same place. Again the keen-eyed birds of the air spotted them, flashed
their range back to their heaviest mouthpieces, and for the better part
of the day the entire batteries of their heaviest caliber, expended
their energies and their shells on the dummies; there was no kind or
character of explosive shell that did not land on the frauds.
Late in the afternoon two of the air birds wanted to get down a little
closer, undoubtedly to satisfy themselves as to how the work of
destruction had progressed, and one of our little observation planes
gave battle to the visitors, engaging the nearest one first. His
companion bird made for ours, but before he could get underneath to do
anything, the first German bird had been winged and downed. Our
anti-aircraft guns now made it so warm for the other bird that he beat
it. The visit, however, must have had beneficial results for Fritz, for
immediately after the plane returned to their lines, he ceased paying
any attention whatever to the dummies. That night we put the real tanks
behind the dummies and the day following not a single shell broke over
or near them, and that same night they crept down into Pozières Valley
under shelter of a bombardment made to prevent the keen ear of Fritz
detecting the throbbing of their engines.
By this time batteries had been and were being installed everywhere at
Pozières where there was room to place a gun: like beavers the men were
working as busily as men could work, although they were constantly
subjected to the severest strafing; but on the Somme it seemed that
nobody minded. For my part I had the firm conviction that death would
come when it would come and not till then, and I went about my work
absolutely careless of any possible hurt. And I can positively testify
to the same state of mind in each one of my comrades,--not one of whom
seemed to think of his personal safety in any way whatsoever when there
was work to be done.
Here the British soldier's fatalism was exemplified in the superbest
manner!
On that same night that the tanks went forward again, I was detailed to
go to the trenches to assist the telephonist, who was hard pressed for
help, and in the morning I was in the front-line trench assisting the
Captain with his observation work. All the time on the Somme all hands
were busy doing something. Immediately after dawn, at five o'clock, the
guns belched forth with an ear-splitting, deafening roar and
simultaneously over the top appeared the five behemoths, one of them
passing within a few feet of me.
The gunfire from our pieces at this time was immensely superior to the
enemy's and his trenches had been flattened, but the wires still stood,
and here it was the tanks did the work. On they came! Rolling through
and making gaps 10 to 15 feet wide the Infantry plunging along in their
wake. Forgetting my orders to stay where I was, I hopped in with the
Infantry and reached Fritz' second-line trench.
"Gawd!" yelled a Tommy. "Wot the bloody 'ell will Fritz think of these
beauties? 'E'll think its Satan's advance guard!"
On and yet on they reeled and rolled, one of them dipping nose first
into a crater, and when I saw it going over the top of this huge hole my
heart gave a bound of fear, as I surely thought its usefulness was now
over. In this crater there were about 300 German soldiers when the tank
plunged into it, and under its huge bulk 75 of them had their lives
mashed out.
A spirit of wonderful fervor filled me as I saw that our behemoth was
not disturbed in the slightest by the fact that he had gone into a
crater; he continued to waddle all around the huge hole, his machine
guns playing on the balance of the men that were jumping this way and
that, and swarming like ants up, over and on top of it, to escape and
save their lives in some manner. In sheer mad desperation they climbed
over every part of the mammoth, discharging their revolvers at any seam
in the metal or place where they thought it might be effective, breaking
their bayonets on its iron coat--in vain! They could not overcome the
unknown! One man thrust a hand grenade into the muzzle of one of the
guns, but was blown to bits in the try. Still, over and over it they
swarmed, like bees searching for a nook in a flower, the difference
being that instead of getting honey they got hell. Then the poor
desperate devils, in the frenzy of despair, flung themselves from the
top and sides of the titan down into the crater and tried to scamper up
the sides to the top, only to be met with a hail of bullets when they
reached the edge and fall backwards into the crater depths, upsetting in
their fall their companions who were behind them, and also trying vainly
to get out of that hole of hell.
Language is futile to give anything like an adequate description of the
scene in the crater. A few of the Huns, more long-headed than the rest,
still clung to the tank, remaining there until it reached the top, when
they held up their arms, yelling Kamerad at the top of their lungs, and
these were all that were left of that 300--just 20.
The titanic ducks were each of them doing similar work on every part of
the line, but the particular one whose work I was able to follow then
made a call on a whiz-bang battery, smashing one of the guns when it
first stepped upon it, and mowing the gunners down, the rest fleeing as
though from the wrath to come. Many batteries and crews were similarly
smashed, and then their work being done for the day, they all returned
with the exception of one which lay in the German lines for about five
hours, due to engine trouble. While lying there, Fritz did his damndest
to place a mine underneath the helpless hulk, but the earnestness and
the energy with which our boys at the guns worked for the preservation
of their beloved behemoth, prevented him carrying out his purpose; and
while the concert was in full swing all around us, the preserving
messages from our guns whizzing past it in one direction, and the
destructive messages from the German guns coming at it from the other
direction, the tank crew quietly and industriously went about their
work, repaired the engine trouble, said "ta-ta" to Fritz and waddled
back home.
No returning hero from the scene of his glory ever received such a
greeting as did the crews of the mighty monsters when they stepped out
of the sheltering internals of their huge bowels. Clad in pants and
boots, littered with grease, dirt and oil, scarred with bruises incurred
as they were thrown from side to side of their armored shelter by the
swaying of the thing, when they stepped from the door to the ground, the
shouts and roaring cheers of ten thousand times ten thousand men
thrilled them with such a thrill, that they felt fully repaid for
everything that they had done that day.
The Tommies grabbed them in their arms, hugged them, slapped them on the
backs and chests until the wind was fairly knocked out of them, and if
we had been Frenchmen instead of Britishers, our mouths would have been
covered with black grease from kisses imprinted on their cheeks.
All night long, long lines of men in gray were passing through our
sector, in some places as many as 50 of them being escorted by one
soldier; German Red Cross men were carrying out our wounded, eagerly
volunteering for this work in the thought that they would find favor by
so doing.
After taking Pozières and driving over the ridge and on down into the
Courcelette Valley, we took up a position about 500 yards from the
German front lines. Here occurred another of those remarkable escapes
from the Grim Reaper's toll that won for me throughout the unit the
pseudonym, "Horseshoe Grant."
Eighteen loads of ammunition were being hauled to the guns and when
being unloaded, enemy fire opened up on the position, several horses
were hit, the doors of the wagons were flung open and the horses,
stricken with fright, galloped madly about, the shells being strewn over
the ground all the way to the bridge several hundred yards off,--a
bridge that was a vitally important structure to us, because over it
every pound of supplies and ammunition had to cross in order to get to
us. I have often thought what a disaster it would have meant to us had
Fritz ever got to this passageway. The drivers finally managed to close
the wagon doors and get most of them back over the bridge, but the shell
fire had then become so heavy that "Take cover!" was ordered.
The Hun kept up the bombardment for some time and the O.C. thought it
better to let the ammunition lie where it was until daylight, when he
intended to have it gathered up. He did not wait for daylight; in the
middle of the night we were called out to manhandle the ammunition from
an improvised sled that had been built and loaded with it and hauled
over the mud to the bridge. There was no slacking on that job, every man
carrying two of the shells--18 pounders--and when we finally got them
to the guns we were allowed to turn in.
[Illustration: Behemoth in Battle]
Just before daylight a counter attack started and we were ordered to
repel it, which we did with all the ammunition that was capable of being
used; lots of it we could not use as the mud and dirt prevented; it had
to be thoroughly cleaned and oiled before being fired. The battle lasted
well until noon, and having accomplished our work we got a "Stand down!"
after which came the usual hurry and scurry to clean and oil our pet and
get her all in readiness for the next act. There was still some
ammunition left lying on the ground that had been spilled, and we were
instructed to gather it in at once, clean and oil it and put it in the
gun pit. While busy at this job I glanced overhead and noticed an
airplane: "I believe that's a German," calling attention to it. The
fellows didn't agree with me, they holding it was a British bird, and we
all went on with our work. I kept my eye on it, however, for some
reason, and saw it finally go over the ridge and turn, and as it
turned--Kr-kr-kr-p! and a shell lit on the ridge 25 yards in our front;
it was about an 8-incher and showered the dirt in all directions. We
scurried like rabbits into our pit, emerging in a few minutes when the
dirt and dust had blown away. Glancing up again I noticed the air bird
turn again, and instantly another one came, this time landing near the
gun pit, throwing a shower of mud and dirt on it, and causing
considerable profanity for the extra work given us by Fritz. Instant
orders were given us to take cover as a strafing was in sight, and we
shot out of the gun pit, jumped into the trench and ran along. Two of
the fellows were immediately ahead of me, Dinghy and Graham, and
Graham's footwork was so slow that I jumped up on the parapet of the
trench to get past him, and over the top I skedaddled toward our 30-foot
dugout, which had formerly been the home of the Germans; like most of
their quarters it was large, roomy and comfortable. To get to the dugout
we had to go through a German gun pit which was then being used by us as
a cookhouse. Just before I reached my destination a shell had landed
squarely in this gun pit, where a number of the men were lined up
waiting for supper. The effect of this shell was not only deadly in the
extreme, but very peculiar in its action. At the right hand side corner
of the gun pit was the dugout for the left section, and the right
section occupied the dugout on the left hand side corner. The shell
struck the edge of the right section dugout in which four men at the
bottom were having a card game; the fuse tore its way down the steps,
knocking large chunks of the steps off in its course, and down into the
center of the card game, scattering the money in every direction and not
injuring a single member of the party. The back lash of the deadly
visitor, however, ripped the life out of the men waiting for supper at
the cookhouse and the side lash of its stroke caught the men in the
right hand side dugout in which were two soldiers sitting on a box,
munching biscuits. One of them had the upper half of his head blown off,
scattering the blood and brains over his chum, who escaped without a
scratch.
I reached the gun pit about one minute after the explosion. God in
Heaven! What a sight met my eyes! The floor of the pit was strewn with
the men in all directions, six of them dead and the balance fearfully
wounded. I dashed out for stretcher bearers and Fritz just then started
increasing his fire; he had kept an eye on the men running through the
trench to the gun pit. He therefore knew that there must be a nest of us
there.
In spite of the gain in the enemy's gunfire, we started our wounded pals
to the officers' dugouts; most of the lads had been so severely
shell-shocked that we had a most trying time to keep them in their
stretchers. Men who have been shell-shocked most usually exhibit it by
wanting to run off in all directions; I have seen them with wounds that
ordinarily would cause them to collapse, but under the influence of the
shock exert themselves with such strength and violence that it would
take a couple of sturdy men to hold them. There is a trite saying that
every disadvantage has a corresponding advantage and I wondered that
night when I got back to the gun pit if nature intended that the
advantage from this disaster was the increase in our supper ration due
to the death and wounding of my soldier pals!
A few days after, we were notified we were going to drive forward
another stage, and I went to the trench with the telephonist party for
the purpose of making our communication as clear as possible; I was
detailed especially to assist the Captain in this work.
The attack was launched at daybreak, with a ten-minute bombardment
preceding, and then our fellows were up and over. As before, the tanks
blazed the way, one of them passing about 30 feet to my right just
before I went over the top. As I lay in the trench, the darling old
titan passed me, leveling the wire in front, and I had then an even
keener realization of what it meant for Fritz to have these monsters
piling over and smashing him under foot just about as a man would tread
on a worm and mash it. And if there ever was one time during my entire
three years of campaigning, when I felt an atom of sympathy for the
gray-clad devils, it was at that moment.
But how can sympathy obtain for devils in human form?
My immediate family was strongly represented in this attack. To my right
among the men who went over, were the Canadian Grenadier Guards, of
which my young brother Billy was a member. This regiment had made an
undying place in the annals of Canadian history in the advance on
Courcelette, having out of its 950 men but 66 men left intact when the
roll was called after the battle, the balance being either killed or
wounded. But they achieved their objective, Courcelette!
Billy and his regiment, which had been mustered up to strength, passed
over the top within four hundred yards of me to the right. On my left,
my older brother, Gordon, who was supporting a trench mortar battery in
the front-line trench, was working away within 500 yards of me. I was
not aware of the presence of either until a comparison of notes later on
apprised me of their presence. To my right hand was Hughey and his
brother Archie and to my left Jim, three brothers, all of them my first
cousins.
Jim had enlisted in New Zealand, Archie in Australia and Hughey in
Canada. The only relative of whose presence in the battle I was aware,
was Hughey. Through a rule obtaining in the army, these three brothers
took the opportunity when they got to France, to get a transfer to the
Canadian army, all in the same unit. Later, however, the casualties
necessitated changing them around somewhat. All three had been wounded
and gassed, but were back again as full of fight as ever. We went over
under the shelter of such a terrific barrage that the German front line
and its occupants were practically annihilated; the work of our
artillery was nothing short of wonderful. Staying there ten minutes we
went on and took the second line, meeting a little more stubborn
resistance as we went forward, but finally taking it. In going over
between the first and second lines it was necessary to jump into shell
holes from time to time. The men ahead of us were mostly Brandenburgers,
Bavarians and Prussians. At one place I had leapt with my pal into a
small shell hole, and over to my right was a kiltie engaged in a
hand-to-hand struggle with a Hun. The kiltie was an undersized chap and
Fritz was about twice his size, and with a much longer bayonet, and Jock
seemed to be getting a bit tired. I didn't think it wise to wait, even
though I felt very certain that Jock could hold his own, and taking
careful aim with my revolver I tumbled the Fritzie over. Looking then to
the left I saw another kiltie in an argument with a Prussian; they were
fencing with their bayonets, and a second Hun was coming up behind and
again I took aim, but before I was able to get my pill started, my mate
robbed me of the honor and sent his pill crashing through Fritzie's
head. So I turned my attention to the immediate opponent, but before I
could shoot, the kiltie's body interposed in my line of vision, and when
I got a glimpse of the Prussian a second later, he was in the throes of
death with a bayonet in his bowels. Further over to my right, two Huns
were trying to bayonet a soldier, but our man was an expert and seemed
to be easily holding his own, in fact, getting the better of it a
little, and I noticed a Prussian jump out of a hole, aim his rifle at
our fellow, and I yelled, "Get that one, Walter!" But Walter had already
seen him and started blazing at him and winged him in the shoulder; he
was later gathered in among the prisoners.
Then we turned to the duel and blazed at one of the Prussians, being
lucky enough to land him, and at the same time Sandy got in his work
with the cold steel on the other Hun. Then, wiping the perspiration from
his face with a swipe of his hand, he looked toward us and hollered
"Gude work, laddies," and dashed on ahead.
All these scrimmages took place in less time than it takes to tell about
them; everywhere, as far as the eye could reach, the cleaning-up process
was going on. This was as far as I could go at this time, because I had
strict orders to remain with my party there for observation purposes,
the Infantry going on ahead and taking the third line.
Resistance was growing more stubborn with the advent of each successive
line, but they cleaned up and started for the fourth, and it fell. It
was on that day that I understood the expression "Seeing red"; there was
only one thought in my mind, kill! kill! kill! kill! The wave forged
ahead for the fifth German line, taking it and smashing down all
resistance in their way. They were in the middle of the cleaning-up
process of the fifth line when the welcome sight of friend tank again
hove in view, arousing cheers. They were needed just then.