THE PRISON
It has already been observed that the 55th (West Lancashire) Division,
after a hot time on the Somme, particularly at Guillemont and Ginchy,
had come up the Salient in October, 1916. So when I joined the Division
it was in the 8th Corps, commanded by Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston
("Hunter-Bunter," as I remember Best-Dunkley calling him), in Sir
Herbert Plumer's Second Army. The 55th Division was responsible for the
sector between Wieltje and the south of Railway Wood.
The 55th Division was commanded by Major-General Jeudwine, of whom it
has been said: "No General ever was more devoted to his Division: no
Division ever was more devoted to its General."[2] The three infantry
brigades in the Division were the 164th Brigade (Brigadier-General
Stockwell), the 165th Brigade (Brigadier-General Boyd-Moss), and the
166th Brigade (then commanded by Brigadier-General Lewis). The 2/5th
Lancashire Fusiliers, who had been commanded by Colonel
Best-Dunkley--an officer who had previously been Adjutant on the
Somme--since October 20, 1916, were in the 164th Brigade.
In those days a brigade consisted of four battalions. The other three
battalions in the 164th Brigade were the 1/4th King's Own Royal
Lancaster Regiment, commanded by Colonel Balfour, the 1/8th King's
Liverpool Regiment (Liverpool Irish), commanded by Colonel Heath, and
the 1/4th Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, commanded by Colonel Hindle,
who, after winning the D.S.O. and Bar, was killed at the head of his
battalion at Heudecourt during the great Battle of Cambrai on November
30, 1917. When the necessity for "infiltration" brought about the
reduction of the strength of brigades from four battalions to three, the
Liverpool Irish were afterwards transferred to the 57th Division. But
throughout the whole of the period with which this narrative deals the
Liverpool Irish were still with us.
It is interesting to note the summary of the situation written by the
chronicler of the 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers in the 1917 _Lancashire
Fusiliers' Annual_:
"On May 26th, the Battalion moved back to the Prison. Lieutenant-Colonel
B. Best-Dunkley went on leave the same day, leaving Major Brighten in
command.
"Then began a very memorable 17 days--Ypres was shelled heavily every
day, particular attention being paid to the Prison.
"By night the Battalion was occupied in digging a new communication
trench, Pagoda Trench. The digging was finished in two nights, but there
was all the riveting to do as well. Every night the working parties have
to pass through a barrage. Our casualties during this period totalled 60
or 70. The _moral_ of the men was very high all the time. The continual
shelling, paradoxical as it must seem, hardened and prepared them as
much as anything for the great day which every one knew was not far off.
"We had our first serious gas attack on June 3rd. It was preceded by a
heavy bombardment of Ypres, after which some 25,000 gas shells were put
over, lasting from 10 p.m. to 4 p.m. We were fortunate in having very
few casualties."
That was the position of the Battalion when I set off to join it in the
Prison cells on the morning of June 5, 1917.
I rose at 10 a.m. It was a rowdy morning. The guns were still unusually
lively. While we were having breakfast shells were bursting three or
four hundred yards away from our hut, and we could hear occasional H.E.
dropping as far back as Poperinghe behind us.
The following letter which I wrote home from my cell (which I shared
with three other second-lieutenants, Gilbert Verity, Bernard Priestley
and H. A. Barker) in the Prison, dated June 6, 1917, describes my
journey to Ypres:
"At 11 a.m. I set off up the road with another officer to the city where
my unit is stationed. We got a lift in a motor as far as a town
half-way. This town (Vlamertinghe) was almost entirely in ruins. There
has been an ancient church there, but only the front of the tower and
all the crucifixes remain. Shells were bursting all about. We sat down
on a fence and waited for another lift. It was most exciting. I have not
got the 'wind up' yet; I am more interested than anything else. I
contemplated a famous hill on my right. Then we got on another motor.
This ride was _most_ exciting, the excitement consisting in whether we
could reach the city without being blown to pieces by the shells which
were exploding to front of us, to right of us, to rear of us, and to
left of us! The road was cut up by shells which had exploded on it, and
trees were felled across it. We jogged a good deal riding over this
debris. We saw one of our batteries on the left of the road which had
been smashed by a German shell. A good many of the transport horses had
been killed on the road last night, but the bodies had been removed by
now. We got out of the car just outside the city and walked into it.
What struggles have taken place here! One could hardly realize that in
pre-war days this had been a great and flourishing city. Just a few
buildings remain standing, and those all in ruins; debris everywhere,
shells constantly exploding everywhere. It is reckoned that the rate of
casualties in this city just now is a thousand a week; military, of
course--there are no civilians here; it is a battlefield where battles
have been fought, where strafing is going on now, and around which a
great battle is about to be fought. One battalion in our brigade went
over the top on a raid last night. Our guns are even now conducting the
preliminary bombardment along the line which precedes a great offensive.
And the Germans are giving it us back too! My companion was very anxious
that we should reach the Prison without personally encountering any
shells. He told me that the corner round which we were passing was a
windy one! But we got inside the Prison safe and sound, and here I now
am writing this while the shells are flying and our guns stationed in
the city are speaking. The top of this building is in ruins as shells
are constantly hitting it, but we are down below, and we have
wire-netting to catch the falling debris.
"I was received by a young Major and the Adjutant, Lieutenant Andrews. I
had lunch with them and the other officers in the (Headquarters)
mess-room."
There let us pause for a moment. There are scenes in one's life,
pleasant and otherwise, which one can never forget, which ever rest
vividly in the eye of the mind. There were many such scenes during my
experiences in France and Belgium; but none do I recollect more clearly,
and few with more satisfaction, than this my first meal with the 2/5th
Lancashire Fusiliers. Never was a subaltern given a more friendly
welcome than that which Major Brighten extended to me. I was made at
home at once. Padre Newman, who seemed little more than a young
undergraduate with a gay and affable countenance, but with that
unselfish and utterly unostentatious heroism depicted in every
feature--a typical example of the kind of hero which our public schools,
with all their failings, have sent forth in hundreds and thousands
during the last five years--was placing jolly records on a gramophone
when I entered the little cell; and the mess-waiters were preparing
lunch on a table which had been erected for the purpose.
In England I had been accustomed to "battalion messes," but out here
such an arrangement was very rare. "Company messes" were the thing out
here. There were generally five messes in all--Headquarters and the four
companies. Major Brighten at once invited me to stay for lunch at
Headquarters and, when the meal was announced to be "served," told me to
sit next to him. I found him extremely interesting. The conversation
was most entertaining. The subject upon which his wit pivoted during a
good part of the meal was the Brigadier (always an interesting topic!),
his latest sayings and possible future career 'after the war'--a period
which Major Brighten always declared to be in the very near future. The
first thing which struck me about Major Brighten was his youth; he was
only twenty-seven. I had not been accustomed to such young senior
officers in England. In fact, youth seemed to be the foremost
characteristic of the Battalion. Nearly all the officers were extremely
young. And I learnt that Colonel Best-Dunkley himself was only
twenty-seven! It was the pride of the Battalion that it was led by
youth. If ever a proof were required of the truth of Disraeli's famous
maxim "The youth of a nation are the trustees of posterity," it is here
in the brilliant record of the 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers. Let Mr. Alec
Waugh and the League of Youth and Social Progress carefully note that,
for here, surely, is a feather in their cap!
After lunch I was posted to a company--"B" Company; and I was conducted
to another cell where I found my company commander, Captain H. H.
Andrews, sitting up in bed, looking very happy. It was quite the thing
to stay in bed until the afternoon in those days, because the nightly
working parties did not get back until just before dawn. It was a day of
pleasant surprises. I had already been very favourably impressed by the
magnetic personalities of Major Brighten and Padre Newman; now I was
ushered into the presence of another amiable military genius, Captain
Andrews. I had not been in his presence two minutes before I
congratulated myself on my good fortune in having "clicked" for so
delightful a company commander as Captain Andrews. Though older and very
different in appearance, he was another officer of the same stamp as the
lovable and brilliant Major Brighten. He was an ideal company commander.
One could not hope for a better either from a military or from a social
point of view. He was ability, wit, and sociability combined. Those were
great days.
But to continue the reproduction of the letter quoted above:
"I am attached to B Company, commanded by Captain Andrews, and I have
been appointed by him to command the seventh platoon. Just before tea
Captain Andrews had me in his room and gave me maps of the district and
explained--with reference to the maps--the situation. He also told me
the plan of campaign and explained what Haig's intentions for the whole
summer offensive are and what he requires us to do; so I now know the
general idea, and I also know in detail what this battalion, this
company, and my own platoon have got to do--and when; but as it is all
very secret information only for officers, I, unfortunately, cannot give
it you. My opinion is that the general plan is good, with the exception
that I do not quite appreciate the point with respect to the particular
part which this battalion (and brigade) has to play in a few days; it
strikes me as being rather foolish, though it may be all right.
"While we were having tea the Germans set up a most terrific bombardment
of this prison. Shells exploded just outside the window-opening, causing
quite a wind inside the room. It is going on still; shells keep striking
the wall outside. There it goes--bang! And there are our guns smashing
back at them. There again--debris scattering in the quad, the other side
of the door. Whizz-bang! It is extraordinary that any walls in this city
can remain standing at this rate. They say that this goes on day and
night. When a shell explodes the room is temporarily darkened by the
cloud of smoke which rises. This is _some_ bombardment; it is worse than
the worst of thunder-storms.
"I have found Verity here. He has been here some time, and is alive and
in the best of health.
"Well, I really must stop now; though I could go on recording every
bang as it comes; there are about two explosions during every sentence
which I write.
"Now do not get anxious, we manage to exist through it all; and I do not
see why my luck should desert me. I am on the one point on the Western
Front where I had a desire to explore. There is something doing here."
And "something doing" there was, much sooner than I expected. I had
reached the Prison at Ypres just in time to hear and feel the best
staged battle in history--the Battle of Messines. The following letter
written home on the evening of June 7, describes Messines Night:
"Since I wrote to Mother yesterday a good deal has happened. About 6.30
I attended a conference consisting of the officers and sergeants of B
Company in Captain Andrew's room; and Captain Andrews explained the
scheme which he had explained to me earlier on; though he did not tell
them quite as much. I, of course, will not tell you what the scheme was!
Then dinner. Things were much quieter now--quieter than they had been
all day. A working party of the Battalion was to leave after dinner. The
2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers are the battalion in reserve to General
Stockwell's brigade at present: we hang out here in the day-time, and go
out on working parties in the trenches in the Salient at night. But
Captain Andrews said that I need not go out with them on this occasion.
So I remained behind and censored letters. While doing so my eyes began
to water--about 11 to 11.30. Then the Company mess-waiter, Private Saul
(Captain Andrews' batman), came in and told me that the Germans were
sending over 'tear gas.' So on with my gas helmet. The gas shells were
bursting outside the windows; but I thought it safe to take off my
helmet after a few minutes; my eyes watered a good deal, that was all.
At about midnight I went to bed.
"For three hours I slept quite comfortably. At 3.15 I was awakened by a
terrific row. The whole place was shaking like an earthquake; the wall
was quivering; our guns were firing rapid as fast as ever they could go;
every gun in the city, in fact, every gun on the British Front for
miles, was pounding the enemy with shells. A man came in to say that the
order was 'everybody down in the cellar.' So I threw some clothes on and
went down there. There was a crowd down there. The parties which had
been out working had returned, but not without casualties; there had
been a few killed and wounded. At a table in the centre of the room, a
lamp on it, sat Captain Andrews, in his shirt sleeves, and other
officers, seriously contemplating a message which had arrived, the
purport of which they were trying to understand. The man who had
brought it was under arrest as a suspected spy; but after inquiries had
been made at Brigade it was discovered that he was perfectly _bona
fide_; So Major Brighten ordered him to be set free.
"I found myself next to Verity, so I asked him whatever all this hubbub
was about. He replied that it was the expected push on our right--'the
Messines push'--taking place. The New Zealanders (and Australians, the
36th Ulster Division, the 16th South Ireland Division, the 23rd
Division, and the 47th London Division) were going over the top, and
this was our barrage. Captain Andrews said that this was a bombardment
which our guns were conducting, double in intensity to any which we
inflicted upon the enemy during the Battle of the Somme! It was a row
indeed, and it continued for some time. Then dawn broke, and it had
slackened. At 5.30 we came upstairs and had some refreshment in the
mess; the gramophone was set going ('The Bing Boys'--'Another little
drink wouldn't do us any harm'--was the precise record which was put on
as soon as we entered the mess!); things were much quieter, but we were
expecting the Germans to retaliate."
It was at these early morning breakfast parties in the Prison that the
grim significance of the word "Gate" impressed itself upon me. "Which
gate did you come in at?" was a very common question which one officer
would ask another on their return from work in the trenches. "I came in
by the Dixmude Gate," or "I came in by the Menin Gate," would be the
reply. And some would say that they had avoided "gates" altogether and
threaded their way across the open. These gates were places of evil
omen. The enemy had the exact range of them, and knew when working
parties would be likely to be passing them. And upon no spot was
conferred a greater legacy of awe than upon the Menin Gate. It was
always one of the most terrible spots in Ypres. People were killed there
every day. To go past the Menin Gate was considered to be asking for it.
So a terror of the Menin Gate was bred in me before I had ever seen the
gruesome, stinking spot. And the Menin Gate had taken its toll on
Messines Night.
My letter continues: "At 6 I went to bed again. Just as I was doing so,
gas shells began to burst once more, but we did not smell much; the wind
could not have been very favourable to the enemy. I soon got to sleep
again. We all did. In my room, apart from myself, there are Verity,
Priestley, and Barker. They are in different companies from me.
"We got up at midday to-day. Things are very much quieter; there are
only, on an average, about one or two bangs per minute; and those are
generally caused by our guns firing shells on the enemy. Very few German
shells have burst here to-day since the terrible bombardment in the
early hours of the morning. We lost no officers last night, but a few
non-commissioned officers and men were killed and wounded while
returning last night. An official message has come through that all our
objectives were captured this morning."
It was on this afternoon that Major Brighten gathered all officers
together for a conference in Headquarters Mess, and read out to us, in
great exultation, a "secret" Special Order of the Day by Sir Douglas
Haig dated, if I remember rightly, the day before Messines. I wish I had
a copy of that Order in my hands now in order that I might quote it
verbatim here. In the course of his Order I remember the Field-Marshal
declared that another such blow as those which we had inflicted upon the
enemy on the Somme, on the Anare, and at Arras would win the war! Major
Brighten, with his eternal optimism, honestly believed it; and so did
everybody else. Everybody was effervescing with excitement about
Plumer's brilliant victory at Messines. I hold now with Mr. John Buchan,
and I realized then, that "Sir Herbert Plumer had achieved what deserves
to be regarded as in its own fashion a tactical masterpiece"; but, as I
have already pointed out, I took a much more telescopic view of the
World War than that. So, while sharing the satisfaction of the others in
the Messines success, I could not endorse the ultra-optimistic view of
the course of the campaign which Sir Douglas Haig had inspired. Major
Brighten was beaming with delight as he read out Sir Douglas Haig's
Order, and informed us that General Jeudwine and General Stockwell, with
whom he had just been conversing, were equally "bucked" about it all.
And he laughingly chaffed me upon my pessimism. I told him quite frankly
that I did not share the general opinion.
That night only one company had to go out to work, and the company
detailed was C Company; so I was not affected.
In the course of a letter written the following day (June 8) I wrote:
"I went to bed about 10 last night. About 2, Barker, Priestley, and
Verity returned from their working parties. Priestley was very doleful;
he was mournfully discussing the horrors of the war, and of his
evening's experiences in particular. And it appears that there was some
reason, for he had been in command of a party of eight whose mission had
been to fetch back some steel helmets from the trenches. (A ruse had
been played upon the Boche on Messines Night. A large number of helmets
had been placed in such a position as to encourage the Boche to think
that we were concentrating troops there instead of, or as well as, at
Messines and Wytschaete!) They were returning, and Priestley was
remarking that the Boche was very quiet just at present, when a shell
burst amongst them. Four of his party were wounded and one killed; and a
piece of shrapnel went right through the tube of his box-respirator, he
himself escaping unhurt. A near shave! 'Well, do you think those helmets
were worth the life of one man and injury to four others?' I heard him
asking."
In my next letter (June 9) I wrote:
"There was only one working party last night. I went to bed at 10 p.m.
At 10.20 there was a terrible row on our front. A big artillery duel was
going on, machine-guns were firing continuously, and flares were going
up! I sat up in bed and watched it all through the prison bars. It went
on for about twenty minutes! I should think it must have been a raid of
some sort. Shortly after this, Priestley came to bed, and, later, Verity
and Barker. We had quite a long discussion upon all kinds of topics
ranging from the conduct of the war (East versus West), and the doctrine
of the Apostolical Succession, to the character and policy of Winston
Churchill (whom, of course, they all detest!), and the pre-war morals of
civilian Ypres, concerning which Barker held very decided views. We
went on arguing until dawn broke! Then we got to sleep.
"I rose at 10 this morning. When I entered the mess for breakfast I was
greeted by the inquiry from Captain Andrews: 'How's Palestine?' They all
think that the war will end out here and in two or three months' time!
They think that the next great offensive will end it. I admit that there
is a great deal to be said for their theory; our plans are good, and if
successful, will probably do the trick; but I am none too sanguine. We
shall see. I hope they are right. Everybody does. Everybody is 'fed up'
with the war; that goes without saying. I have not read a single one of
the men's letters in which they do not say that. To say that, and to
inform their people that they are 'in the pink' is the stock substance
of their letters!
"I ought now to tell you something about my platoon. To give you the
names of my non-commissioned officers is surely not giving away any
information which would be of use to the enemy! So I do not see why I
should not do so.
"As I may already have told you I am in command of No. 7 platoon. My
platoon sergeant (second-in-command) is Sergeant Williams. (He was a
waiter in Parker's Restaurant in St. Ann's Square, Manchester, in
pre-war days). A platoon consists of four sections, each of which is
commanded by a corporal. My sections are as follows: Rifle Section
commanded by Lance-Corporal Tipping; Bombing Section commanded by
Lance-Corporal Livesey; Lewis Gun Section commanded by Lance-Corporal
Topping; and Rifle Grenade Section commanded by Corporal Baldwin. You
will notice that a Lewis Gun Section is part of every platoon; I think
that is sufficient answer to your question whether the fact of my
attending lectures on the Lewis Gun meant that I should go into a Lewis
Gun Section.
"There has not been much to do to-day; nor has anything very notable
happened during the day up to now. It is now 6.40 p.m. So I will close."
"June 10th.
"Last night the whole Battalion went out on working parties; so I had
command of a party. My party was detailed to repair the parapet of a
communication trench just behind our front line. I set off with Sergeant
Williams and a party of fourteen men of my platoon at 9.40, just as it
was getting dark. We were soon in the open fields and so could see all
around us the ruined buildings of the great city. Three shells fell
across the path we had traversed, _after_ we had passed the points.
Fritz was just a little too late on each occasion! We went on in the
dusk, amidst the flashes of booming guns and exploding shells and
flares lighting up the weird ruins and ghostly country, as far as a dump
(Potidje) where the remainder of the Battalion appeared to be
congregated. It occurred to me what a number would have been knocked out
if a shell had burst just by this dump just then! Fortunately no such
thing happened. Tools were drawn here; then we proceeded on our way by
platoons. The whole region was swarming with little wooden crosses where
lie the thousands who have fallen on this oft-fought, long-fought, ever
contending, battlefield. We threaded our way along a winding
communication trench (Pagoda Trench). We passed a party in the trench
with bayonets fixed--a party of one officer, Lieutenant Alexander, and
thirty men of the 1/4th King's Own--waiting to go over the top for a
bombing raid on a section of the enemy front line. 'Good-byee!' they
laughed as we passed them. Eventually we reached the point at which we
were to commence work. Flares were going up the whole time; the enemy
_must_ have seen us: the whole crowd of us all in the open by the side
of the trench which was to be repaired! When a flare goes up the whole
place is as light as day for a few seconds; and they were going up all
round the Salient--what remains of it, one side disappeared on Thursday
morning! Now and then a machine-gun would rattle a few rounds, and we
would all duck down; but none of them were ranged on our party.
"At 11.20 I was informed that Captain Andrews wished to see me; and,
with some difficulty, I found him. He was in a trench with the other B
Company officers and Sergeant-Major Hoyle. He had sent for us in order
to tell us that at 11.35 we must each bring our parties into a certain
trench (Oxford Road) for refuge as we knew that the bombing raid was
coming off at 11.45, and we expected that the Germans would retaliate.
So I brought my party into this trench at the appointed time. We were
there just in time. At 11.45 our barrage--artillery, stokes-mortars and
machine-guns--opened on the section of the enemy trench to be raided
(Ibex Trench from Oskar Farm to The Stables) a little to our right; and
as our barrage lifted, the bombers went into the enemy trench. We could
hear the bombs exploding. The enemy replied by sending 'whizz-bangs' in
the vicinity of the trench in which we were taking refuge. Some of them
burst within a yard or two of us; but we crouched behind the parapet,
and there were no casualties.
"At about 12.30 this morning, when the raid was over and things had
quieted, we emerged from the trench and went back to the job. Just
before we got back an ugly instrument of death familiarly known amongst
the boys as a 'minnie' burst about the spot where our work was. That
was not encouraging! But we went back and set to again. One or two more
'minnies' burst not far from us while we were there. You should have
seen us duck! And the flares continued rising and falling. We constantly
heard the shells from the big guns screaming like express trains over
our heads; and every now and then a machine-gun or a Lewis gun would
spurt forth its bullets. We felt anything but comfortable! One man in C
Company was carried away with very bad shell-shock--a 'Blighty' all
right! None of us were sorry when 2 came. Major Brighten came along just
before it was time to stop. 'Is that you, Floyd? How are you going on?'
he inquired as he passed me. He is liked by everybody. He is awfully
nice.
"Major Brighten is the young Major who is temporarily in command of the
Battalion while the real Commanding Officer--the notorious Colonel
Best-Dunkley--is home on leave. By the way--I have not seen Colonel
Best-Dunkley yet. He was away when I arrived. I am told that it is a
treat in store for me! He is simply hated by everybody. His reputation
as a beast is famed in 'Blighty.' I heard about him in the 5th Reserve;
and Brian Kemp told me about him when we were in Harrogate. He is
discussed here every day. From what I hear he is a horrible tyrant;
nobody has a good word to say for him. So I am looking forward to
seeing this extraordinary man. He is only twenty-seven! His greeting to
Verity when he arrived a month ago was: 'Who the d---- are you?'
"As soon as it was 2 a.m. we set off back. Going back is generally
considered the most dangerous of all; it is then that most of the
casualties occur. When we were going along one winding communication
trench shells began to burst in front of us right in our course. We bent
down and dashed through the hundred yards or so which these shells were
sweeping as fast as we could go. It was very hot, but we did not trouble
about that; that did not matter; to get safely past the shells was the
important thing. We got through all right, and we managed to get all the
way back to the Prison without a single casualty. I can tell you we felt
very happy when we were safely inside. To think that one should look to
the cells of a prison as a haven of refuge!
"In Lieutenant Alexander's bombing raid five German prisoners were
captured--they are in here now--and three killed. Alexander sustained no
casualties whatever, and got back safely.
"We had breakfast at 3 a.m. and I went to bed about 4 a.m. I rose at 12
this morning. At breakfast we learnt some very good news. To-morrow we
are leaving here and going into rest billets a long way behind the line
for some time. Everybody is very happy indeed about it; I think we
shall have a fine time there. So you have absolutely nothing to worry
about now for quite a long time...."
"Things are very quiet to-day. We had our usual gas parade outside this
afternoon.
"Latterly all the men have been walking about with a windy expression on
their faces; now everybody looks gay in anticipation of the time in
front of us. Don't you think I am really exceedingly lucky? I do."
FOOTNOTE:
[2] _Story of the 55th Division_, by Rev. J. O. Coop (page 25).