the wooded area about half a mile north-west of De Wippe Cabaret,
where half the Battalion was requisitioned for long, heavy, and
unpleasant fatigues across shelled ground into forward areas, which
led to a small group of casualties. Accommodation in the woods was
insufficient, and many slept where they could under the trees (no
bad thing with wandering planes at large); but the weather held fine
and hot. And then, with everything ready to loose off, the attack
was delayed. The reason given was that the French were to spend a
few days more in making sure of success before carrying out their
end of it. A battalion takes the smallest interest in its neighbours
at any time, and on the edge of battle less than usual. All that the
men knew was that the French were on their left, where the Belgians
had been, and they hoped that they were strong in .75’s. (“Ye can
hear the French long before ye can see them. They dish out their
field-gun fire the way you’d say it was machine-guns. A well-spoken,
quiet crowd, the French, but their rations are nothing at all.”)
There is pathetic interest on the entry of the 26th July that the
C.O. (Eric Greer) “wrote out Operation Orders for Father Knapp”—a
dead man, as the Fates were to decree it, for a dead man. Those
orders were as simple as the problem before the Battalion. They
had to advance straight to their front, with the 1st Scots Guards
on their right, the latter Battalion’s right being neatly bounded
by the Langemarck-Staden railway which again was the dividing line
between the Guards and the Thirty-eighth Division. If luck held, and
pill-boxes did not turn out to be too numerous, they would all fetch
up eventually on the banks of the Steenbeek River, three thousand
five hundred yards north-east by east from their starting-point.
A happy mixture of chance and design had shown that the enemy were
in the habit of abandoning their front line along the canal during
daylight, and of manning it lightly at night. General Feilding,
commanding the Guards Division, promptly took advantage of the
knowledge to throw the 3rd Coldstream across and establish them on
the far bank. The coup was entirely successful, and it saved the
Division the very heavy casualties that would have followed a forcing
of the canal had that been held in strength.
On the 27th, at a conference of C.O.’s, they were told that the
enemy had further withdrawn on that sector, about five hundred
yards up the stage, so to speak, and were resting their front line
on a system known to us as Cariboo and Cannon trenches. One of our
scouting-aeroplanes had been searching the ground at two or three
hundred feet level, and was of opinion there was nobody there who
cared to shoot back. It was a curious situation, for though the
Battalion had rehearsed and rehearsed what they were to do till,
as men said, they could have done it in their sleep, nobody was
at ease. (This, by the way, disproves the legend that battalions
know by instinct whether they are going to win or lose.) Late that
night a hostile plane came over the forest area and woke them up
with bombs. Lieutenant Arthur Paget, attached to the M.G.C., was
slightly wounded. On the same day a draft of ninety men arrived as
reinforcements. Their position was that of supers, for in a corps
trained as the 2nd Irish Guards had been to carry out this one affair
in a certain way, no amateurs were allowed. Greer had seen to it that
every soul over whom he had authority should study the glass, sand,
tin, and twig model of the ground till he knew it by heart, and had
issued, moreover, slips of paper with a few printed sentences (“like
home post cards”) to serve for unit commanders’ reports in action. On
the back of these was a map of the sector itself, and “every one was
instructed to mark his position with an X.” The results were superb,
though Greer did not survive to see them.
The Division had its battle-patrols out and across the canal on the
night of the 28th July, pressing forward gingerly, digging themselves
in or improving existing “slits” in the ground against shell-fire.
The Battalion did much the same thing at the back, for all the world
where they walked with cautious shoulders was very unwholesome, and
the barrages clanged to and fro everlastingly. Yet, had they been
asked, they would have said, “Our guns were doing nothing out of the
way.” Men were so broke to the uproar they hardly noticed it.
On the 29th July two companies (1 and 2) of the Battalion moved
out to relieve the leading companies of the 3rd Coldstream, who
had been for some time on the far side of the canal. All went well
in the summer afternoon till a hostile aeroplane saw them filing
across, and signalled a barrage which killed or wounded forty men,
wounded Lieutenant Hannay of No. 2 Company, and killed Captain Synge
in command of No. 1. Synge was perhaps one of the best company
commanders that the Battalion had ever known, and as popular as he
was brave.
Colonel Greer went up into the line directly afterwards with
Captain D. Gunston as his second in command, and Lieutenant Hanbury
as adjutant. They were cruelly short of combatant officers—past
casualties had reduced the number to ten; and the only ones left in
reserve were Major Ferguson and Lieutenant Hely-Hutchinson. The day
and night were spent by the two companies in digging in where they
were, while Nos. 3 and 4 waited on.
Early on the morning of the 30th July the French on their left and
the whole of the Fifth Army put down a half-hour barrage to find
out where the enemy would pitch his reply. He retaliated on the
outskirts of Boesinghe village and the east bank of the canal, not
realising to what an extent we were across that obstacle. In the
evening dusk the remaining two companies of the Battalion slipped
over and took up battle positions, in artillery (“pigtail”) formation
of half-platoons, behind Nos. 1 and 2 Companies, who had shifted from
their previous night’s cover, and now lay out in two waves east of
the Yper Lea. By ten o’clock the whole of the Guards Division was in
place. The 2nd and 3rd Guards Brigades were to launch the attack,
and the 1st, going through them, was to carry it home. A concrete
dug-out in the abandoned German front line just north of the railway
was used as a Battalion Headquarters. It was fairly impervious to
anything smaller than a 5.9, but naturally its one door faced towards
the enemy and had no blind in front of it—a lack which was to cost us
dear.
July 31st opened, at 3.30 A. M., with a barrage of full diapason
along the army front, followed on the Guards sector by three minutes
of “a carefully prepared hate,” during which two special companies
projected oil-drums throwing flame a hundred yards around, with
thermit that burned everything it touched. The enemy had first shown
us how to employ these scientific aids, and we had bettered the
instruction.
His barrage in reply fell for nearly an hour on the east bank of the
canal. Our creeping barrage was supposed to lift at 4 A. M. and let
the two leading battalions (2nd Irish Guards and 1st Scots Guards)
get away; but it was not till nearly a quarter of an hour later
that the attack moved forward in waves behind it. Twelve minutes
later, Nos. 1 and 2 Companies of the Battalion had reached the first
objective (Cariboo and Cannon trenches) “with only one dead German
encountered”; for the enemy’s withdrawal to his selected line had
been thorough. The remaining companies followed, and behind them
came the 1st Coldstream, all according to schedule; till by 5.20 A.
M. the whole of the first objective had been taken and was being
consolidated, with very small loss. They were pushing on to the
second objective, six hundred yards ahead, when some of our own guns
put a stationary barrage on the first objective—Cariboo trenches
and the rest. Mercifully, a good many of the men of the first and
second waves had gone on with the later ones, where they were of the
greatest possible service in the annoying fights and checks round
the concreted machine-gun posts. Moreover, our barrage was mainly
shrapnel—morally but not physically effective. No. 2 Company and
No. 4 Company, for example, lay out under it for a half and three
quarters of an hour respectively without a single casualty. But no
troops are really grateful for their own fire on their own tin hats.
About half-past five, Colonel Greer, while standing outside advanced
Battalion Headquarters dug-out in the first objective line, was
killed instantly by shrapnel or bullet. It was his devoted work, his
arrangement and foresight that had brought every man to his proper
place so far without waste of time or direction. He had literally
made the Battalion for this battle as a steeple-chaser is made for a
given line of country. Men and officers together adored him for his
justice, which was exemplary and swift; for the human natural fun of
the man; for his knowledge of war and the material under his hand,
and for his gift of making hard life a thing delightful. He fell on
the threshold of the day ere he could see how amply his work had been
rewarded. Captain Gunston took command of the Battalion, for, of the
seniors, Captain Alexander was out ahead with No. 4 Company, and
Major Ferguson was in Regimental Reserve. Headquarters were moved up
into Cariboo trench, and by six o’clock the second objective had been
reached, in the face of bad machine-gun fire from Hey Wood that had
opened on us through a break in our barrage.
No. 3 Company on the right of our line, next to the Scots Guards,
found themselves at one point of this advance held up by our
own barrage, and had the pleasure of seeing a battery of German
field-guns limber up and “go off laughing at them.” Then they came
under oblique machine-gun fire from the right.
Lieutenant Sassoon,[2] commanding No. 3, got his Lewis-gun to cover
a flank attack on the machine-gun that was doing the damage, took it
with seven German dead and five wounded prisoners, and so freed the
advance for the Scots Guards and his own company. As the latter moved
forward they caught it in the rear from another machine-gun which had
been overlooked, or hidden itself in the cleaning-up of Hey Wood.
Sassoon sent back a couple of sections to put this thing out of
action (which they did) and pushed on No. 4 Company, which was
getting much the same allowance from concrete emplacements covering
machine-guns outside Artillery Wood. Captain Alexander launched an
attack at these through a gap in our barrage, outflanked them and
accounted for three machine-guns and fourteen Germans. There was
some slight difficulty at this point in distinguishing between our
barrage, which seemed to have halted, and the enemy’s, which seemed
to be lifting back. So Captain Alexander had to conduct his advance
by a series of short rushes in and out of this double barrage, but
somehow or other contrived to consolidate his position without undue
delays. (“Consolidatin’ positions at Boesinghe meant being able to
lie down and get your breath while the rest of ye ran about the
country hammerin’ machine-gun posts an’ damnin’ our barrages.”)
Thus occupied, he sent back word to Captain Gunston that in the
circumstances he waived his seniority and placed himself under the
latter’s command. “The pace was too good to inquire.”
This was in the interval before Ferguson, acting Second in Command,
who by regulation had been left behind, could get word of Greer’s
death, reach Battalion Headquarters and take over, which he did a
little later. On his way up, their brigadier (Ponsonby) told him that
“he could not find words strong enough to express his appreciation
of the way in which the Battalion had behaved, and for its dash and
devotion to duty.” Indeed, they admitted among themselves—which is
where criticism is fiercest—that they had pulled the scheme off
rather neatly, in spite of their own barrages, and that the map and
model study had done the trick. By ten o’clock of the morning their
work was substantially complete. They had made and occupied the
strong points linking up between their advanced companies and the
final objectives, which it was the business of the other brigades to
secure. As they put it, “everything had clicked”; and, for a small
reward, Fate sent to Battalion Headquarters the commanding officer
and adjutant of the 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers who had been captured
near the second objective, and who wore in gold braid on their left
sleeve the word “Gibraltar” in commemoration of the siege when that
regiment, as Hanoverian, fought on the English side. The adjutant
spoke English well, and thought that the U.S.A., coming into the war
at last, would be bad for Germany. When they asked him if he wanted
peace he replied: “The country wants peace. The men want peace, but
_I_ am an officer, and an officer never wants peace.” Herein he spoke
more truly concerning his own caste than was ever realised by the
British politician.
He was immensely interested, too, in our “Zero” hour and its
arrangements, but seemed unable to grasp the system. “How,” he asked,
“do you manage your—love hour, your nought hour—how do you call
it?” He appeared to think it was something like lawn-tennis, and
they explained to him in the wet-floored dug-out, which had already
received two direct high-explosive souvenirs, that there was, as he
might have observed, very little of “love” about a British Zero.
Then there fell, most naturally, a great thirst upon all the world,
for bottles had been drained long ago, and a carrying-party of the
3rd Grenadiers had gone astray in that wilderness, and word had come
in from Brigade Headquarters that the pontoon bridge over the canal
was not yet finished, so they would have to draw on the water-dump
on its west bank. Fatigue parties were sent off at once from the
two companies panting there. The other two in the second objective
further on would ... but orders had scarcely been issued when
Lieutenant Nutting pushed up with a string of pack-beasts and made
a forward water-dump just behind the first objective, which saved
trouble and that exposure which means men’s lives. (“All that time,
of course, the battle was ragin’—that is to say, we was being shelled
and shot over as usual—but, ye’ll understand, we wanted water more
than we minded the shells. Thirst is stronger than death with the
need on ye.”)
They disposed themselves for the afternoon, Nos. 1 and 2 Companies
taking over from the 1st Scots Guards in the first objective, and
Nos. 3 and 4 in the second, with linked strong posts connecting
both lines. They also withdrew a couple of platoons sent forward
from Nos. 1 and 2 Companies to the final objective (all objectives
had now been reached) to rejoin their companies. At three o’clock
Father Knapp appeared at Battalion Headquarters—that most insanitary
place—and proposed to stay there. It was pointed out to him that
the shelling was heavy, accommodation, as he could see, limited,
and he had better go to the safer advanced dressing-station outside
Boesinghe and deal with the spiritual needs of his wounded as
they were sent in. The request had to be changed to a reasonably
direct order ere he managed to catch it; for, where his office was
concerned, the good Father lacked something of that obedience he
preached. And a few hours after he had gone down to what, with any
other man, would have been reasonable security, news arrived that he
had been mortally wounded while tending cases “as they came out” of
the dressing-station. He must have noticed that the accommodation
there was cramped, too, and have exposed himself to make shelter for
others. Captain David Lees, the Battalion M.O., seems to have been
equally careless, but luckier. He walked through what is described
as “an intensely hostile” barrage (there were not very many friendly
ones falling that day) to the corner of Artillery Wood, where he
found a batch of wounded exposed to barrages and machine-guns. He was
shelled all the time he was dressing them, and when he had finished,
he carried, in turn, Lieutenant Buller, Sergeant McNally, and Private
Donoghue to a safe trench just outside the barrage zone. To do this
he had to go four times through the barrage before he could continue
his round of professional visits which took him through it yet a
fifth time.
During the afternoon, though there was a general bombardment by
the enemy of the first and second objectives for ten minutes every
half-hour, the bulk of the shelling was aimless and wandering, as
though the gunners could not hang on to any target. Men were killed,
but not with intention, and the living could feel that the sting
had gone out of the affair. They finished the interminable day
under a barrage of gas-shells and H.E., which suggested at first a
counter-attack behind it. At that moment, Nos. 2 and 4 Companies
were holding an advanced position near Captain’s Farm towards the
last objective; and it looked as though they would have to be left
there all night, but by eleven o’clock the shelling had died out,
the mopping-up companies of the 1st Coldstream relieved our outlying
two, and a quarter of an hour later, dripping and muddy, the whole
Battalion got away to a low, wet, and uncomfortable camp in the
Roussel area, whose single mitigation was a rum-issue.
They had lost in the past three days three officers (Greer, their
C.O.; Synge, by shrapnel, on the 29th; and Lieutenant Armfield,
found shot on the 31st, not far from the dug-out they had converted
into Battalion Headquarters). Lieutenants Crawford, Buller, and
Vaughan-Morgan were the wounded. Casualties in other ranks came
to 280, a large part due to machine-gun fire. It was a steadying
balance-sheet and, after an undecided action, would have been fair
excuse for a little pause and reconstruction. But a clean-cut all-out
affair, such as Boesinghe, was different, though it had been saddened
by the loss of an unselfish priest who feared nothing created, and
a commanding officer as unselfish and as fearless as he. The elder
and the younger man had both given all they had to the Battalion,
and their indomitable souls stayed with it when, next day (August
1), the authorities inquired whether it felt equal to going into the
line again for what would certainly be an unusually abominable “sit
and be hit” tour. The Battalion replied that it was ready, and spent
the day cleaning up and putting in recommendations for awards for the
battle. Among these were Lieutenant Black, the intelligence officer
who in the course of his duties had had to wander for eighteen
hours over the whole position captured by the Battalion, reporting
situations, meeting crises as they arose, and keeping his head and
his notes under continuous barrages. His right-hand man had been
Sergeant Milligan, who “succeeded in establishing advanced Battalion
Headquarters in the first objective five minutes after it had been
captured, in spite of the fact that the barrage fell on that line for
the next half-hour.” He then found a company, all of whose officers,
save one, had been wounded, helped to “reorganise it” with a strong
hand and a firm voice, went on with it, assisted in outflanking
three machine-gun positions, and kept communication unbroken between
the front and back of their attack. Be it remembered that the right
sector over which the 2nd Irish Guards and the Scots Guards moved was
much more blinded with houses, woods, and the like than the left; and
there was room for every sort of trouble if the sectors did not work
together. But Greer’s insistence that the men should know the model
of the ground, and their officers the aeroplane maps of it, and his
arrangements whereby all units could report lucidly at any moment
where they were, had brought them success. So, with 50 per cent. of
their strength gone, and the dismal wet soaking the stiff survivors
to the bone, they hobbled about, saying, “If _he_ were only here now
to see how he has pulled this off!”
Their work on the 2nd August was to take over from a 1st Brigade
Battalion on the left of the divisional front next to the French.
The latter’s front here ran several hundred yards in rear of the
Guards, and since their centre was well forward again, the re-entrant
angle was an awkward and unsafe pocket, which necessitated any
battalion that lay on the French right spending men and trouble in
making a defensive left flank. The advance at this point had been
carried forward to within a few hundred yards of the Steenbeek River.
Indeed, on the right of the divisional front the 2nd Grenadiers were
across and established. The Battalion moved up in rain across the
water-logged, shell-pitted ground at dusk, to be welcomed by news
that the enemy were massing. The enemy would surely have stuck in
the mud had they attempted any counter-attack, but the Thirty-eighth
Division on the right seemed to see them advancing in battle-array
and sent up urgent demands for a barrage, which at once brought
the hostile barrage down all along the line. Under this quite
uncalled-for demonstration the companies floundered to their shallow
trenches, which were a foot deep in mud. They had no particular
idea where they or their rendezvous might be, but, obviously, the
first thing was to get into touch with the French and beg them to
straighten up their line where it nicked into ours. This was done
in the dawn of the 3rd August, and before the end of the day our
allies had attended to the matter and advanced up to the line of the
Steenbeek. Then they, in turn, asked us to supply a standing-patrol
to link up their right to our left at Sentier Farm on the extreme
edge of the ground won. It was not a locality, however, where any
move could be attempted in daylight. The 3rd Coldstream had some
men there, but these, for good reason, were lying low till we could
relieve them. Captain Alexander and Lieutenant Hanbury had been
sent down for a rest after their heavy work; and the Battalion,
under Ferguson, was divided into two wings, the right commanded by
Sassoon, with Lieutenants Van der Noot and Kane; the left by Captain
Gunston, with Lieutenant Rea and, temporarily, Lieutenant Black.
The 1st Coldstream turned up just on the edge of dusk to take over
from the Battalion which was to relieve the 3rd Coldstream in the
front line. Here, for once, efficiency did not pay. The handing
over was completed all too well before the light had gone, and as
they moved forward a burst of shrapnel killed one man and seriously
wounded Lieutenant Van der Noot and five men. They disposed two
companies in snipe-bogs at Signal Farm, and the other two, in like
conditions, at Fourché Farm. There was practically no shelter against
heavy shelling. Battalion Headquarters was an eight-by-four concrete
dug-out with three inches of water on the floor, and the only people
who kept warm seem to have been Lieutenant Rea and a couple of
platoons who got into touch with the French and spent the night
making a strong standing-patrol of two sections and a Lewis-gun at
Sentier Farm, which was where the French wanted it. For the rest,
“practically no shelter, incessant rain, continuous shell-fire, and
mud half-way up the legs, but casualties comparatively few, and the
spirit of all ranks excellent.”
The Welsh Guards relieved them on the night of the 4th, and they got
hot tea (the adjutant had gone down on purpose to see to that) at
Bleuet Farm, entrained at Elverdinghe for Proven, and at Porchester
Camp, which they reached on the morning of the 5th, found a dry camp
that had been pitched before the rain, more hot tea, a change of
clothes, socks, _and_ rum waiting for them. They breakfasted “before
retiring to bed.” (“We was dead done, but ye’ll understand, ’twas
nothing more than that. Our hearts was light—except for Father Knapp
an’ Greer; but if they had not been taken that day ’twould have been
later. That sort of men they are not made to live. They do an’ they
die.”)