share their dangers, and always ready with a word of cheer in the
hottest corner. 'We could have gone anywhere and done anything for
him, if only he had been there to see it.' Such was the epitaph that
the gallant Northumberlands gave him when he fell. I found his
old-world courtesy of manner and aristocratic bearing most inspiring.
And he knew the right way of getting a thing done without being cross
or overbearing. A splendid type of chivalrous soldier, he stands out
in my memory as a beacon of light when I have felt inclined to grumble
at the Army system. I can call to mind a score of acts to me, which
revealed the kindly, generous heart beneath that cold exterior. One of
the first things he said to me when I joined the Brigade was this:
'Buckley, mind you make your authority felt with these adjutants.
Remember, for the purposes of bombing, you are the General.' How could
he have shown more generous confidence or encouraged me more for the
new rôle I had to play?
Major Rowan, our Brigade-Major, was another typical officer of the old
Regular Army, who was generally liked. I did not get to know him so
well, as he left us for higher Staff duties before two months had
passed. I always found him kind and considerate.
Capt. D. Hill had been Staff-Captain ever since the Brigade came out
to France, and what he did not know about the job was not worth
knowing. He often astonished me by his knowledge of what could be
done, and by his serene confidence when things were looking difficult.
Never ruffled, the kindest and most genial of men, he often proved a
good friend and counsellor.
Capt. G.E. Wilkinson stayed with us a short time and then left to join
a mess of his own Machine-Gun Officers. A man of the brightest
good-humour and gaiety, he always kept us lively and amused. He went
far in the war--from 2nd-Lieut. to Colonel of a battalion in eighteen
months. I need say nothing further of his qualities as a soldier. He
was at Oxford when I was there, and I remembered seeing him at our Law
Lectures.
Lieut. G.S. Haggie, the best of fellows too, was always a kind friend
to me, and made me feel at home in my new surroundings. I saw a lot of
him both now and later on when we did many a strange hunt together for
ammunition dumps in the most impossible of places. He was a tremendous
walker and could get over really bad muddy ground at an amazing speed.
I was destined also to see much of the Brigade Signaller, Lieut. A.E.
Odell, who was quite a remarkable character. He was a lion in the
guise of a dove, an autocrat in the guise of a radical, a rigid
disciplinarian in the guise of an army reformer. He won the M.C. and
Bar and earned them both. He worked his men hard but himself harder
still. He had the curious faculty of being able to work for hours by
day and to spend the whole night in some muddy ditch up in the front
line. His kindness to and consideration for his signallers, were only
exceeded by his conscientious devotion to duty. He made me respect and
like and envy him, even if he occasionally made me smile.
Major Rowan left us, I think, at La Clytte or Dranoutre, and Capt. W.
Anderson became Brigade-Major in his place. He had joined the 6th N.F.
at the outbreak of war and got his company and the M.C. at the Battle
of St. Julien. In January 1916 he was appointed G.S.O. III at 50th
Division H.Q. 'Bill' Anderson was a great man, and combined the
fearlessness of the Northumbrian with a great brain. He was probably
the best 'civilian' tactician in the Army, and had he decided to join
the Regular Army I should have expected him to rise very high indeed.
I know what the 149th Infantry Brigade owed to him; but I doubt
whether many others know quite as well. And I have always thought that
he was never given full scope for exercising his wonderful ability. A
tall soldierly figure, with noble features and piercing blue eyes that
could harden almost to ruthlessness, I carry him in my mind as my
ideal of a Staff Officer. He could get men to do anything for him; his
kindly tact and sympathy, his rare appreciation of your efforts,
however clumsy, made you ready to work for him like a slave. He has
been a good friend to me throughout, and he has done more for me than
any other man in France.
At Bruloose the officers of the Brigade had small wooden huts of the
Armstrong type for offices and sleeping rooms. The mess room was in
the farm-house. Naturally it was a great change from the rude
accommodation of a Company Mess. M. Bunge, the French interpreter,
looked after our comforts well.
Next to B.H.Q. was a large and fairly useful bombing ground, where the
Brigade Bombing School was carried on; and I spent a good deal of time
there, as I was in charge of the school. On two days out of every four
I spent the morning there, and in the afternoon I was free to visit
the trenches, some four miles away. On the other two days I could go
up to the trenches in the morning.
I did not miss a day's visit to the trenches and once or twice I went
up twice in the day.
The journey was done on foot, so I had quite a good day's exercise. My
duties in the trenches were to see that the battalions in the line had
a proper supply of grenades; these were taken up by the battalion
transport at night. Also that the grenades in the trenches and all
bomb stores were properly stored and cleaned. I had also to see that
sufficient rifle-grenades were fired at night to harass the enemy's
working-parties, and that our bombing-posts were properly manned.
During our stay at Bruloose I had nearly 2000 grenades taken out of
the trenches and replaced by new ones; this was hard work for the
transport. But the transport officers[5] were very obliging; and I
found on firing these old grenades at the school that about 30 to 40
per cent did not burst properly or even at all. The situation in the
trenches was getting very bad. Shelling by the enemy's artillery was
now less frequent, but the annoyance from enemy trench-mortars was
something cruel. Not only large oil-cans, full of explosives, came
over both by day and by night, but a horrible 9-inch trench-mortar now
made its appearance and blew large craters in the C.T.s and supports.
I had two of the oil-cans pretty close to me at different times, and
they were not pleasant. Eventually the trench-mortaring got so severe,
that the V Corps had a 12-inch howitzer brought up on the railway, and
several of these huge shells were fired into Petit Bois when the
German trench-mortars started. Another feature to be reckoned with was
the approach of the enemy towards K.1 and J.3 by means of a series of
fortified mine craters. These craters were worked on at night, and by
the General's orders they had to be kept under constant fire from
rifle-grenades. Several nights I went up to the trenches to see this
carried out, once accompanied by the General himself. I had at the
Bruloose bomb store a fairly good stock of smoke and incendiary bombs,
like large cocoa tins, only containing red or white phosphorus. It
occurred to me that they might be used with effect against the Germans
working in the craters. So I carried a number of these bombs up to the
trenches, and they were duly fired from the West spring-thrower or
from the trench-catapult. The Germans did not seem to like them, as
their discharge always drew a lot of machine-gun fire in reply. We
also tried to get some more noxious bombs (e.g. 'M.S.K.'), but no
supply could be obtained from the Base. The Bombing Officers[6] of the
6th and 7th N.F. carried on the harassing fire with such effect that
eventually the Germans took to sending showers of 'fishtails' whenever
a rifle-grenade was loosed off. The 'fishtail' was a small
trench-mortar bomb, which the Germans substituted for the
rifle-grenade and used with great effect. Needless to say our
demonstrations were not very popular with the infantry in the front
line. But Capt. Vernon Merivale, M.C., appeared to take a special
delight in these harassing shoots.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Brigade Transport, Capt. Kinsella; 7th N.F., Capt. B. Neville; 6th
N.F., Lieut. F. Clayton; 5th N.F., Lieut. M.G. Pape; 4th N.F., Lieut.
W.M. Turner.
[6] 2nd-Lieuts. Toon and Thompson (6th N.F.) and Lawson and Woods (7th
N.F.).
X
THE BRIGADE BOMBING SCHOOL
The staff of instructors at the Bombing School consisted of three
highly trained sergeants--two of these had been instructors at the
50th Divisional Bombing School which was now given up. Sergt. Hogg of
the 5th N.F. and Sergt. P. Flannigan of the 4th. N.F. took it in turns
to be at the school and at the Brigade Bomb Store. So with Sergt.
Moffat, who was now appointed Brigade Bombing Sergeant, I had always
two to help me at the school.
On the two bombing days sixteen untrained men came from the battalion
resting at Locre and sixteen others from the battalion resting at R.C.
Farm.
During the two days these men had to be sufficiently instructed to
throw three live Mills grenades. Generally they threw one live grenade
apiece after the first day's instruction, and the two others the
second day. The first thing was to give a lecture to the men,
explaining the nature of the Mills grenade and the proper way to hold
it and throw it.
After this a party of sixteen men were lined up in two lines, about
forty yards apart, and each of the eight men in turn threw a dummy
grenade towards the man opposite him. The instructor had to be careful
that the man threw in the correct way and held his grenade right. The
action of throwing the grenade was more like bowling overhand than
throwing. After about an hour of this the first party of men, eight in
number, went down to the firing-trench, which had to be 200 yards
clear of any troops. There were two sandbag walls, breastworks, about
five feet high--the one in front with a small traverse wall. At the
front wall stood the recruit, the sergeant-instructor, and the Brigade
Bombing Officer. In front about thirty yards away was a deep pit,
mostly full of water, which had been excavated by innumerable grenades
thrown into it. The other seven men took refuge behind the second
wall, until it was their turn to throw. Before the grenade was thrown
the officer had to blow two blasts on his whistle. The first meant
'Get ready to fire'--i.e. draw the safety-pin, the second meant
'Fire.' Some men of course were more confident than others; but on the
whole the Northumberlands were easy to teach, for many were miners and
accustomed to explosives--in fact, it was sometimes difficult to make
them take cover properly. When the grenade was thrown, every one
ducked down behind the wall and waited for the explosion. If it went
off all right, all was well; and the next man came along for his turn.
If, however, the grenade did not go off, it had if possible to be
retrieved and the detonator taken out. This was the most exciting
work I had to do. Generally the sergeant and I took it in turns to
pick up these 'dud' grenades as they were called. After some
experience it was possible to tell the moment the grenade was thrown
why it did not go off, for example the fuse might be damp and never
light; or the cap might misfire; or, worst of all 'duds,' the striker
might stick fast through rust or dirt.
Before I gained the experience of picking up these 'duds' and drawing
their teeth, I had one lucky escape. The grenade in question had a
'hanging striker' and burst on the ground within five yards of me. It
was not, I think, a very good explosion, but one of the pieces caught
me on the thigh--happily it cut into the seam of my breeches and then
turned, following the seam out and leaving me with a bruise and two
holes in my clothes. I never liked picking up these 'duds,' but later
on I got to know from the sound what was the matter with them; and
then it was just a matter of experience getting them to pieces safely.
The live grenades when they burst in the pit, sometimes threw out old
'dud' grenades lying in the mud. One of these latter burst in mid-air,
but hurt no one; and another time the grenade dropped right into the
firing-trench but did not go off. Another nasty thing was when the
grenade burst too quickly; many men have been killed by premature
bursts during practice. But though some grenades went off too quickly,
I never had one burst in less than a second, by which time the
grenade was fairly well away from the trench. Besides these thirty-two
untrained men, the bombers from the battalion at Locre used to come
and practise on the ground under their own Bombing Officer. But if any
of these men wished to pass the live firing test, to qualify them to
wear the Bombers badge (a red grenade on the right arm), I had to test
them with six live grenades. Three out of the six had to fall within a
narrow trench about twenty-five yards from the firing point.
Of course I had to watch the grenade till it reached the ground--and
pray that it would not burst prematurely. What a blessing those steel
helmets were during live bombing practice! They were proof against
bomb splinters and gave you a feeling of confidence.
The battalion bombers were also trained at the school to fire live
rifle-grenades. No risks were taken with the Newton rifle-grenade;
during firing all men had to be behind a barricade and the rifle was
fired off with a string and held in position by an iron stand. But we
used to think the Hales rifle-grenade quite safe, so that men were
trained to fire off these grenades holding the rifle to the ground in
the kneeling position. On one occasion several of us had a lucky
escape. The grenade burst at the end of the rifle, instead of bursting
120 yards away on contact with the ground. Sergt. Hogg and another
bomber of the 5th N.F. were holding the rifle and both got knocked
over, Sergt. Hogg with a slight cut on the head, the latter shaken but
unhurt. The Bombing Officer of the 5th N.F. and I both got scratched
on the face with splinters.
During our stay at Bruloose about 420 men went through the recruits'
course and over 1700 grenades were fired.
Later on I had to be content with much less elaborate bombing grounds.
Sometimes they had to be improvised from nothing, at other times a
bombing-pit of a sort was found, and we had to make the best of it.
After the battle on the Somme far less attention was paid to bombing;
but for a time it was thought desirable to have every man trained in
bombing, even at the expense of the rifle.
XI
ST. ELOI AND NEUVE EGLISE
About July 2 the Brigade came out of the line for a short time, and
B.H.Q. moved to a camp between Mont Rouge and Westoutre. During this
stay I was able to carry on the training at the Bruloose Bombing
School. There was a fine view of the trenches from Mont Rouge. We
could of course hear the sound of the bombardment on the Somme, but at
this distance it was more distinct some days than others.
On July 14 the Brigade went into the line again, south of St. Eloi,
the support trenches being in Ridge Wood. B.H.Q. moved to a camp at La
Clytte, farther than ever from the front line trenches.
At La Clytte there was a small bombing ground, but it was not very
safe for live practice, and I was glad when we left it. We did not
stay long in these trenches; but before we left them the bombers of
the 6th N.F. killed a German and he was brought back to our trenches.
It was the first dead German that I had seen.
Our next move was to a quieter part of the line, namely to Wulverghem,
below the Messines Ridge. B.H.Q. went to a canvas camp at Neuve
Eglise, but moved soon after to Dranoutre, where we were billeted in
houses. Lieut.-Col. Turner, O.C. the 5th N.F., came to command the
Brigade for about a week, in the absence of General Clifford, who went
to England on leave. He was a regular officer, with a keen sense of
humour and with an extraordinary dislike of parsons. These new
trenches were quiet enough, but the sniping of the enemy was far too
good. I was nearly caught out before I realised that fact. I was
looking over the parapet the first day with L.-C. Austin, when a
bullet caught the edge of the parapet just in front of us, tearing the
sandbag along the top and stopping within a few inches of our heads.
Of course we dropped down quickly into the trench, but L.-C. Austin
waved his cap over the top to signal a 'miss.' He told me it would
never do to let the German sniper think he had scored a hit. The
'flying pig,' our large trench-mortar, was first used in a bombardment
of the German trenches here, and I believe our Stokes mortar battery
did a record rate of fire on the same occasion. We had a lot of gas
cylinders stored in the front line trenches ready for use. But they
were not required and we had the pleasant job of removing them. They
were always talked about as 'rum jars.'
There was no bombing ground at Dranoutre, and I had to make a place
for live practice in a farmer's field, much to his disgust. 'C'est la
guerre, monsieur!' was all we could say to his expostulations. We
could now hear the great cannonade on the Somme going on to the south
almost day and night.
A large number of wooden ammunition huts were erected along the roads
near Dranoutre, and heavy gun emplacements were being made about
Kemmel. Perhaps it was intended that the Fifth Army should make a big
push here, if the battle on the Somme had been more successful at the
start.
About August 7 we were relieved by two shattered divisions from the
Somme, one of them being the Ulster Division that had seen hard
fighting south of Serre. We had a good idea whither we were bound. But
at first we moved off to the Meteren area, where B.H.Q. were quartered
in a camp of wooden huts for about five days. The censorship now
became very strict, no inkling of our movements was to be given to
anyone at home. Valises too had to be lightened by sending home all
spare kit; and all papers and maps relating to the Kemmel area had to
be destroyed or returned. Amongst other things I sent home my
'slacks,' and never wore them again in France. About August 11 we
moved off to Bailleul railway station and entrained there, leaving
about midnight. Next morning we reached Doullens, where we left the
train. The R.T.O. at Doullens was Capt. Rearden, whom I knew as a boy
at Wellington College and had not seen for sixteen years. But he
recognised me and claimed acquaintance.
We marched that day to Fienvillers, and stayed there two days in a
French house. The next move was to Naours where we spent one night;
and the next night we stayed at Pierregot. On August 17 we marched to
the wood at Hénencourt.
The whole Brigade was encamped in the neighbourhood of the wood. We
had at last arrived in the rest area of the Somme front, and it could
only be a matter of days before we were involved in the great battle.
But before that could happen there was a great deal to do to prepare
the men for their ordeal, and perhaps not a great deal of time in
which to do it. The Division was served out with the short rifle for
the first time. Hitherto we had only had the long rifle such as was
used in the South African War.
XII
THE SOMME[7]
The battle on the Somme was to me the great tragedy of the war. A
glorious noble tragedy, but still a tragedy. Both sides of course have
claimed the victory, the British a tactical one, the Germans a
strategic one. The net result to the Allies from a material point of
view was the recapture of some hundreds of square miles of France, for
the most part battered to bits and as desolate and useless as a
wilderness; and the capture or destruction of so many thousands of the
enemy at a cost altogether out of proportion to their numbers. The
Germans claim, and claim quite rightly, that they frustrated our
attempt to break through their line. On the other hand it can be
little consolation for them to know that a nation of amateur
soldiers[8] drove them out of the strongest fortress in the world;
drove them out so completely that they were glad to take refuge,
morally as well as physically, behind their famous Hindenburg Line.
No doubt our grand attack lasting from July to November 1916 cemented
the Alliance with France and saved Verdun from falling. No doubt it
paved the way, in knowledge and morale, for further attacks at a later
date. The fact remains that before its lessons were learnt the slopes
of the Ancre and the Somme were sown with the bodies of thousands of
the finest specimens of the British race. What a cost was paid for the
example and the lesson! Never again during the war had Britain such
fine athletic men, such gallant and heroic sons to fight her battles.
No horror or hardship could subdue their spirit. Again and again,
through shattered ranks and over ground covered with the fallen, they
went forward to the supreme sacrifice as cheerfully and as
light-heartedly as if they were out for a holiday. They knew they
could beat the enemy in front of them, and they went on and did it
again and again, in spite of the wire, in spite of the mud, in spite
of thousands of machine-gun bullets and shells. The tragedy of it all
is written in one word. _Waste_--waste of lives, waste of effort,
waste of ammunition. The fact is now clear that in 1916 the resources
of the British Nation were not sufficiently developed to smash the
German war machine. That was undoubtedly the hope of every one who
took part in the battle, to deliver a final knock-out blow. But this
hope failed, even if it failed by a little. Our artillery, mighty as
it undoubtedly was, was not mighty enough yet to destroy the enemy's
defences and to shatter his power of resistance. Alas, it was a blow
that could never be repeated again with such magnificent human
resources!
After the supreme effort by all ranks a terrible wave of depression
naturally followed. And can this be wondered at? For a time there was
lack of confidence which made itself all too apparent in 1917, a year
of unparalleled disasters. No one who has not set out with such high
hopes can know how awful that depression can be.
The effort of the British Army was never so united, never so intense
as it was in the battle on the Somme. Later on reverses brought
knowledge and knowledge at last brought victory. But for some that
victory had its sad side too; for thousands upon thousands of those
gay and gallant comrades in the Great Endeavour were not there to
share it.[9]
The part of the 50th Division in the battle was not a small one.
Briefly the Division went into the Somme area on August 17, 1916, and
left it about March 10, 1917. Their first attack was launched on
September 15, 1916, in company with the Guards and some of the finest
divisions in the British Army. After almost continuous fighting they
were withdrawn about October 5, and went back to the rest area around
Hénencourt till October 21--after having advanced their line from High
Wood Ridge to the edge of Le Sars.
On October 25 they returned to the same front and made two gallant but
fruitless attacks on the Butte of Warlencourt, in support of larger
operations about Beaumont Hamel. The hardship of the fighting between
October 25 and November 16 cannot be realised by those who did not
actually experience the conditions. From December 28 to January 23 the
Division held the line south of Le Barque and Ligny-Thilloy. After
that they moved farther south and held the line in front of Belloy and
Estrées, trenches that had been captured by the French. No wonder,
after this hard work, that the 50th Division gained the reputation of
a hard fighting division.
I can give no very accurate idea of the casualties suffered by the
Division; but some idea of the losses may be drawn from the casualties
among the bombers of the 7th N.F. Of these I have fairly accurate
details. The bombers of the 7th N.F. went into action on September 15,
1916, about eighty strong--ten N.C.O.s and seventy men. When the roll
was called at Bresle on November 20, 1916, eleven men alone answered.
Of the N.C.O.'s two were wounded and the rest were killed. The bombers
of the 4th N.F. suffered almost as heavily, but I have now no details.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] See Illustration, p. 81.
[8] I allude of course to the New Armies.
[9] These views of the battle, I am told, are unduly pessimistic. But
I let them stand as a record of personal feelings aroused as a result
of the battle.
XIII
HÉNENCOURT
Brigade Head-quarters were accommodated in wooden huts, but the
battalions were mostly under canvas. Strenuous efforts had now to be
made to complete the training of the men, and to initiate them to a
style of warfare that was quite new and strange to them.