THE CARRIER TANKS.
(_January 31st to August 1st, 1918._)
At my leisure I visited the Headquarters of the Tank Corps in Regent
Street, and after a somewhat undignified appeal to the good nature of a
corporal--the staff captain was busy, or out at lunch, or dictating--I
obtained a fortnight's leave. The fortnight passed expensively, but it
was pleasant, if dull, to take the train at the end of it from Waterloo
and not from Victoria. In due course I arrived at Wool Station, and
with two cheery subalterns, who had experienced enthralling adventures
in Bournemouth, I drove in a taxi along narrow winding lanes to the
camp on the crest of a hill.
I reported, but the charming officers who received me had not been
warned of my arrival and were perplexed. Majors, it appeared, were a
drug on the market--unattached majors swarmed in Bovington. Would I go
to the Depot at Wareham? I refused politely. I knew something of the
Depot. Two skeleton battalions were just being formed? They might not
go out to France this year? I refused again: I did not intend to stop
at Bovington any longer than was necessary.
At last it was suggested that I should be posted to the "Carrier
Tanks." I had not heard of them, and asked for information. I was told
vaguely "that they would carry infantry about," and it was expected
that they would embark within the next three months.
So I found my way through the nice, clean, well-ordered camp to the
lines of the Carrier tanks. That night I slept uncomfortably on a
borrowed blanket in a bare and chilly hut. It had never struck me that
I should require my camp-kit at home.
In the morning I was given the command of the 4th Infantry Carrier
Company.
The six Carrier Companies were under the command of Lieut.-Colonel
L. A. de B. Doucet, R.E. They were to consist of tanks specially
constructed to carry infantry. In the past the infantry had followed
the tanks. Now it was intended that they should go forward in the
tanks. If, for example, it was necessary to storm a village, the
Carrier tanks would fill up with infantry and deposit them in the
middle of the village, to the confusion of the enemy. The prospect was
certainly exhilarating.
But soon these hopes began slowly to disappear. Perhaps the plan was
a little startling. The Carrier Companies would not carry infantry
"at first." They must begin their lives by carrying supplies. We
were called "Tank Supply Companies," and we began to suspect that
we should become finally a branch of that splendid Corps, the Royal
Army Service Corps. We struggled vigorously against the depression
which the prospect produced--we felt we were not worthy. We refused
to believe that we should never carry infantry through a barrage to
certain victory. The Staff, however, were brutally frank. An order was
published, informing us that although we were not "fighting troops,"
we should remember that discipline was useful. This order was none too
helpful, especially since it was firmly believed both by officers and
men that an officer, alleged to have spent three years of the war in
England, was responsible for it. Of course there was no truth in this
rumour or the allegation!
From the 12th February to the 12th June I was at Bovington Camp, and
never have I liked soldiering less. Bovington Camp must have been
designed to encourage men to serve in France. In France there was life,
interest, even glamour. At Bovington the bones of soldiering stuck out
disgustingly. We saw too clearly the formalities, the severities. But
I had not been at the Base. If I had, I should have been more prepared
for Bovington.
The raw material of my company was splendid--eighteen out of the twenty
officers, and the majority of the men, had served overseas--and, since
the company was over strength, I was able to weed out the weaker
brethren in the course of training. I found it increasingly difficult
to realise that my officers and men were not "fighting troops."
For the first three weeks we concentrated on drill. Then batches of
officers and men were sent to be trained by the instructors of the
camp. At the beginning of May we drew Mark IV. tanks, and used them by
a system of reliefs from dawn to dusk. Towards the end of the month,
when we waited breathlessly for every scrap of news from France, we
began to train as a Lewis Gun Company, in case it should be necessary
for us to be sent overseas at once; but the crisis passed, and we
returned to our tanks.
It had been almost unbearable to sit lazily in the hot garden of a
Dorchester villa and read of the desperate happenings in France. Why
should the newspapers doubt, when we had never doubted, ... but it
was impossible that our line should ever be broken? Those civilians,
these young fellows who had never been to France, did not understand
what it meant. And my old Company? What had happened to them? They,
at least, had had their lesson, and would not be caught unprepared.
So day after day passed, and on the worst days I had no heart to
train my new company. At last the clouds began slowly to clear, but
I was not satisfied until I had heard that my company was still in
being and fighting as a Lewis Gun Company on the Lys Front. Well, it
meant beginning all over again, and perhaps the sheer number of the
slow Americans would make up for the lack of that skill which hard
experience alone can give....
Gradually the company began to find itself, and to feel that the 4th
Carrier Company was without doubt the finest company at Bovington. Once
again my company's football team was invincible. Our equipment and
our transport arrived. Soon we were ready, and eagerly awaited our
marching orders.
I have not wearied you with details of training or of life at
Bovington, because I have no desire to recall them, but it would not
be fair to write only of soldiering. I should be churlish, indeed, if
I did not set down how an amateur soldier, stale and tired of war, was
refreshed and encouraged. The cold flame of gorse in the clear dusk,
the hot lawn of the shabby rectory, the healthy noise and bustle of
Dorchester streets, the simple magic of Maidûn, the steady tramp from
stuffy Abbotsbury over Black Down with its cleansing winds and through
the quietude of Winterborne, the smooth rich downs by Charminster, the
little footpath walk at evening by the transparent stream under the
dark trees to the orderly cottages of Stinsford, the infinite stretch
of half-seen country from the summit of Creech Barrow--these memories
bred a stouter soldier than any barrack-square.
At 9 A.M. on June 12th we paraded for the last time at Bovington. The
usual farewell speech was made. We marched off in bright sunshine.
The band, whose strange noises in the huts behind my orderly-room had
so vilely disturbed me, played us down to the station. At Southampton
there was the usual delay. In the afternoon we embarked on the
_Archimedes_ for Havre, and sailed at dusk.
Four years before--in August 1914--I had crossed from Dublin to Havre
in the _Archimedes_. Then I was a corporal, slept on a coil of rope,
and drew my rations from among the horses. Now I was "O.C. Ship,"
with an Adjutant who saw that my orders were obeyed, slept in the
Captain's cabin, and dined magnificently. During those four years the
_Archimedes_ had been employed without a break in carrying troops, and
the Captain had received a decoration. It was a proud "O.C. Ship" who
stood on the bridge as the _Archimedes_ made her stately way into the
harbour.
We disembarked at the same old quay, though, instead of the Frenchmen,
who in 1914 crowded to help us, singing patriotic songs, there was in
1918 a baggage party of Americans with marked acquisitive tendencies.
Whether No. 2 Rest Camp was an improvement on the wool warehouses with
their fleas is a matter of opinion.[25]
When we were not drawing rations, testing our gas helmets and attending
lectures, undergoing medical inspections or feverishly endeavouring
to comply with the myriad regulations and formalities of the camp, we
would sit in the cosmopolitan mess. Americans in hundreds were passing
through, some quietly confident that their army had absorbed the best
from all other armies, some humbly hopeful and thirsty for knowledge,
and some, as the evening grew late, a little irritating to us who had
been in France since '14. Then there were men on leave from Italy with
strange tales of mountain sickness, of No-Man's-Land a few miles wide,
and adventurous leaves spent in Rome. Or we would discover in a corner
a bunch of sickly, cheerful fellows, who would eagerly persuade you
that Salonica was no child's play, tell you how the army was riddled
with malaria, and how leave came to them only once in a lifetime.
It was not too cheerful a mess. On the whole I preferred the wool
warehouse.
We entrained, as the 5th Divisional Signal Company had entrained,
at Point Six, Hangar de Laine; but this time, instead of travelling
through to Landrecies, with cheers at every level-crossing, we spent
the day at Rouen, to the benefit of that sumptuous tavern, Hôtel de
la Poste. At dawn on the 15th we found ourselves at Etaples, where we
managed to give the men breakfast, and shave and wash, and at 9 A.M.
we arrived at Blangy, where the 4th Battalion was once again billeted,
and marched wearily to Blingel Camp half-way between Blangy and
Auchy-lez-Hesdin.
Blingel Camp had a history. It had been designed many months before as
a brigade camp, and beautiful blue prints were in existence, showing
positive streets of huts, and a plethora of canteens, recreation rooms,
bath-houses, messes, and incinerators. The camp had been commenced. In
a few weeks somebody had not been quite certain whether after all the
Tank Corps would expand, and the work in the camp stopped. The staff
in due course relented, and back came the sappers and the Chinamen--to
be taken away in a month or so for more important duties. When we
arrived only a small part of the camp had been built. So we helped the
three sappers and the five Chinamen,--it was never completed. That was
characteristic of the long-suffering Tank Corps, which, in fact, became
finally and properly organised ten days after the Armistice.
The command of a brand-new unit, freshly landed in France, possessed
its trials, annoyances, and humours. There were so many little tricks
of the trade that the Company as a whole had to learn. Veteran officers
who had been three months in France came over from other units to smile
and advise, and so closely were we all connected that it was hard to
explain that some of us had been a little longer than three months
in France on a previous occasion. We were regarded, too, with slight
disdain, as something newfangled and non-combatant, for by June 1918
the enthusiasts and the experts of the early days were outnumbered
in the Tank Corps by the mass of officers recruited from home and
transferred, for example, from the cavalry, who regarded machinery as a
necessary evil, and anything new as an infernal nuisance. We realised
this attitude--the tank battalions had met it from the infantry
eighteen months before--and we encouraged ourselves by saying to each
other, "We'll show them!" But General Elles can never have realised how
he broke our hearts, when he inspected us on our arrival, by telling
the three proud company commanders that the men were too good for the
Carrier Companies, that probably we should have to send them as drafts
to the fighting battalions and receive in their place inefficients,
invalids, and crocks. We just pretended that we didn't mind....
We remained at Blingel until July 20th, suffering from that fatal
inspection, an epidemic of Spanish influenza, and lack of whisky. We
drew twelve tanks (Mk. IV.) from old friends at Erin, and trained
mightily, carrying out a number of competitions and experiments.
Forgetting for the moment that we were not "fighting troops," we
discovered and used a revolver-range, and, like proper Tank companies,
practised battle-firing at Fleury. We might be Carrier Tanks, whose
only duty is to "supply," but you never know.
While I had been snugly at home, my old company had fallen upon hard
times. They had moved up in February to the neighbourhood of Peronne,
and their tanks had been placed in position immediately in the rear of
the trenches. Then came the great German offensive, and they were swept
back to Amiens, losing on the way the majority of their tanks, because
the bridges over the Somme were destroyed before the tanks could
cross, and all their kit and the famous piano, because all the lorries
available were required to transport Battalion Headquarters. In front
of Amiens they were used as a reserve Lewis Gun Company. Then they were
"lorried" to the Lys front, and for weeks held grimly a section of the
line. Now they were back once again in Blangy, refitting and drawing
the new Mk. V. tanks. It was sixteen months since they had left Blangy
to detrain in a blizzard at Achiet-le-Grand and fight in the snow at
Bullecourt.
There had been a rumour afloat soon after we had arrived in France
that in August or September we should turn and rend the enemy. We
were inclined to scoff at the thought--the situation was then none
too favourable--but staff officers, though mysterious, were decidedly
insistent. We did not expect, in consequence, to be employed until this
boasted offensive materialised, but on July 19th we received orders
to relieve the 1st Tank Supply Company, who were helping the 2nd Tank
Brigade to guard the Arras front. So once again I was driving along
that stout ally, the highroad from St Pol to Arras.
The 2nd Tank Brigade at this period consisted of the 10th, 12th, and
14th Battalions. To each of the battalions was allotted an area of
manoeuvre, in which it would co-operate with other arms in organised
counter-attacks, for the First Army was on the defensive, and Prince
Rupprecht was expected to attack. The old method of stationing tanks
behind or in the battle zone had been discarded.
The Carrier Company in this scheme of defence was reduced to carrying
tank supplies. Each of my sections would attend to the wants of one
battalion. In the event of an enemy attack the battalion would dash
into the fray, and at the end of the day's work would meet a section of
Carrier tanks at a rendezvous and refill without reference to lorries,
trains, or other more fallible means of transport.
We moved forward in a multitude of lorries, leaving behind us the tanks
which we had begun to "tune" with such ardour. We had been ordered to
take over a scratch lot of Mk. IV. tanks from the Company which we were
relieving, and that Company, a maid-of-all-work in the Brigade, had not
found time to repair them or to keep them in good order.
My own headquarters were near Caucourt, in a delicious valley sheltered
by woods, where happy singing Chinamen were working lazily. Our Nissen
huts were gaily painted. Peas and potatoes had been planted, and we had
geraniums. In summer the camp was perfection. There was even a demure
maiden, who brought us each morning eggs, butter, and milk.
Of my four sections, Ryan's was in Noulette Wood, behind Vimy;
Harland's and Westbrook's near the vile and dirty village of
Montenescourt, where Brigade Headquarters had been during the Arras
battle; and Ritchie's in the famous Winnipeg Camp. We were all
contented, and during the daylight safe, but at night we soon learnt
that in the past few months the enemy had discovered how to bomb. We
were kept awake.
Our one trouble was the Mk. IV. tanks, which for our sins we had
inherited. Some of them looked clean: some of them looked dirty. All of
them required thorough overhauling and repair, and we worked upon them
day and night in case Prince Rupprecht should take it into his head to
attack, or we should anticipate his attack by a local offensive.
A visit to the headquarters of the Canadian Corps on our right hurried
our preparations. The Canadians, jealous of the reputation which
the Australians had won, were longing for a fight. There was talk
in the higher and more careful circles of an operation to recapture
Monchy-le-Preux.
We soon decided to concentrate the company in the centre of the area,
and the staff captain of the brigade and myself went exploring to find
a suitable site for the camp. The Bois de la Haie pleased us. It was
bombed, but so were all woods, and this particular wood was not too
conspicuous. We called two sappers into consultation and planned a camp
complete with all the most modern improvements, down to the very latest
thing in grease-traps. We began to say farewell to our gentle damsel.
But the camp was never built.
For on the 28th, when I had returned from my daily round rather
late--there was much movement of troops on the roads--and was calling
for tea, buttered toast, and the cake that had come in the parcel,
a code message was handed to me. We did not know the code--Carrier
companies were often forgotten--but we interpreted the message that
we were now in G.H.Q. Reserve, and should be ready to entrain at
twenty-four hours' notice. The order might mean anything or nothing. I
suspected a move to the neighbourhood of Amiens, where two successful
little tank actions had already taken place, and sent McBean, my
reconnaissance officer, to make a corner in Amiens maps. We returned to
our repairs with desperate vigour and waited in excitement for further
orders.
After mess on the 30th I was summoned urgently to Brigade Headquarters
and instructed verbally by the General over a glass of excellent
port to entrain at Acq early on the 1st. The utmost secrecy was to
be observed. The entrainment was to be considered as a practice
entrainment. With my doubtful tanks no time was to be lost. Mac
plunged into the night with orders for Ryan, who was ten miles from
railhead, while my despatch-riders bustled off to Ritchie, Harland,
and Westbrook. I was more than doubtful whether the tanks under repair
would be ready.
Mac reached Ryan in the early hours of the morning, and the section
was on the move by 6.45 A.M. Much happened to the tanks on the way,
but with the exception of one they made Acq in the course of the
afternoon, and the laggard arrived during the night.
Ritchie, who was always thorough, covered his tank with branches, and
his moving copse caused much excitement. Westbrook and Harland, who
each had a tank in hospital, so inspired their enthusiastic crews that
by dawn on the 1st every tank was more or less able to entrain. We were
not helped by the fact that we were ordered to entrain "full," that is,
with our tanks crammed with petrol, oil, and ammunition. Since before
entraining it is necessary to push in the sponsons until they are flush
with the sides of the tank, the order involved unloading the sponsons
at railhead, pushing them in and then loading the tanks again. We
wondered bitterly if there were no supplies at our destination.
We discovered that we were bound for Poulainville, a railhead near
Amiens. I looked proudly at our box of maps--the battalions were still
asking for them days later. Early on the 1st our convoy of lorries
took the road. At 3 P.M. the first train left Acq, and at 5 P.M. the
second. All the tanks had managed to scramble on board, although none
of my drivers had ever before driven a tank on to a train: that useful
accomplishment was not taught us at Bovington. I watched the second
train pull out--the men were cheering--and left in my car for the
scene of battle. It was quite like old times. What part the Carrier
tanks would play in the great offensive I had not the remotest idea: I
knew only that I was sorry to leave the milk, the fresh eggs, and the
butter.