I wrote to you hurriedly last night, and am trying to take more time
to-day to tell you more about things that have been taking place
these last days. Now that things are over, there does not appear to
be any objection to telling what took place. We knew more than a
week ago that we were to make an attack on a certain date which would
be given us later, and great preparations were made for it, and had
indeed been going on for many weeks. Engineers spent weeks and weeks
in widening main roads leading towards the trench line, and nearer
the time more batteries of artillery were brought up, more infantry,
more engineers, more signallers, some cavalry and more field
ambulances.
At last we were told that the attack would commence at an early hour
on Saturday morning, May 8th. Our Battalion was given its position
in the assembly trenches (in rear of main trench), and given its
orders as to direction of advance and its objective on the other side
of the German trenches. Every man carried two days' rations on him
and 250 rounds of ammunition, and, besides this, great stores of both
rations and ammunition were heaped behind our main trenches. One
night some weeks ago my transport took up to one of these stores
500,000 rounds for the use of a certain section of the trench line.
Great-coats and blankets were left behind; and men, and Officers too,
carried a Cardigan jacket and waterproof sheet in addition to other
necessaries such as mess tin, water bottle, entrenching tools and
haversack, till everyone felt just like a Christmas tree.
On Friday evening it was raining, but we were all quite cheerful, and
the feeling I had reminded me very much of the feeling one always has
as one sits in an Eight in the middle of the river, stripped, and
waiting for the starting gun to go!
The Battalion was all ready to march off to its assembly trenches in
rear of the main trench, when an order came from the Brigade that
operations were postponed for 24 hours and that all orders held good
for the following day.
I happened to be senior of all the six Transport Officers in the
Brigade, and so I was told that I would perform the duties of Brigade
Transport Officer, and that all orders for movement of the transport
of all six Battalions would be sent to me direct from the 8th
Divisional Headquarters. There are four Regular Battalions and two
Territorial Battalions in our Brigade.
At two minutes to five o'clock on Sunday morning our Artillery
bombardment started, and continued for two hours, tapering off after
the first hour and a half. It was my duty to stay back with the
Brigade transports about three miles from the trenches. Everything
was ready to move at a moment's notice, and I could do nothing but
await orders.
About 7.30 the first motor-ambulance came down the road leading from
the trenches with wounded on it, then they became more frequent, then
groups of men and single men came walking back with slight wounds to
arms and hands, then more ambulances with lying-down cases in them,
and men sitting beside the drivers with bandaged heads.
Then the stream seemed to stop for several hours and only a few came
back at intervals.
You can imagine how we who were kept back watched all this.
Despatch-riders on motor-cycles came tearing along the road in both
directions. There was no speed limit; they passed like streaks.
Mounted orderlies came back from our Artillery positions at full
gallop, and we knew that it was ammunition that they had been sent
for. Later on up the road came the teams with their loads, team
after team of six horses, some at the trot but most at the gallop,
with their riders sitting tight with their right arms over the
shoulders of their off horses. The limbered wagons with their load
of shells rattled behind the horses' hoofs. Towards the afternoon
things seemed to be a little quieter, and rumours came back about all
sorts of things. Then, after all that waiting, my turn came at last.
Just before eight o'clock p.m., a Despatch rider on a motor-cycle
brought me a message from the Headquarters of the Division.
It said that the Brigade would be moved to a certain place given by a
map reference, at a time not definitely known, and that I was to get
into touch with the Brigade and arrange for the bringing up of
rations. It was getting dark by this time. I sent round a message
to all the Transport Officers to have everything ready to move up
when I gave the order, and I set out to find the Brigade. I took my
fastest horse and had with me the Transport Officer of the Second
Battalion Scottish Rifles and three mounted Orderlies. What a relief
to get something to do! Off we went down the road towards the
trenches at a gallop. My horse,--bought at Carluke,--was the fastest
of them all and I led the way. Within about half a mile of the
trenches we dismounted, and, leaving our horses at a farm in charge
of the orderlies, we--that is Stirling (the other Officer's name) and
I--went forward on foot. The positions of the different roads and
fields were quite familiar to us, as we had been there many times
before under the comparatively peaceful conditions of merely holding
the trench line, and we knew approximately where the Headquarters of
the Brigade might possibly be.
It was by this time 9 o'clock, and the night was dark. We had to
turn along a road that ran parallel to the trenches, go along it
perhaps a quarter of a mile, then take a track across fields in the
direction of the trenches till we struck a second road, also running
parallel with the trench line. Then the next thing to be done was to
go along this road, and try to get touch with the Brigade by field
telephones, which are laid between Brigade Headquarters and Artillery
Batteries.
Crossing these fields the fire had been bad enough, but when we
reached this second road there was a perfect inferno round about us.
There were our own guns in every field along its length shooting
across the road just over our heads, and the German shells were
searching for them. Flash followed flash lighting up the
darkness,---bang followed bang with terrific force, as shells went
from our side and shells burst from their side, and rifle bullets
pinged and whistled through the air. There were blazing hay-stacks
on one side of the road, that lit up the darkness with a weird light.
Along it we went from battery to battery. The first one told us that
they had been speaking to our Brigade, but that the plug had now been
taken out. On we went to the next one: 'Sorry, the wire must be
cut,' they said. On to the next: 'Can't do it, sir,' they said.
Then on again. The firing was getting worse, and we doubled to the
next place, where they had their telephone down in a cellar. This
time they could do it, and I sent a message down to arrange a spot to
which I would bring rations and water for the Brigade. Then we set
out again on that same road to order up the Transports of the six
Battalions. When we were about to leave the shelter of this place on
the backward journey, the shells were bursting so near us and in such
rapid succession that I said we must wait till this quietens a
little. We made certain arrangements between us about the carrying
back of the message, that, if either of us was knocked out, the other
would 'carry on,' and then we started and ran for about
half-a-mile--then lay down flat on our faces to recover breath--then
up and on again, stopped under cover of a farm building to get breath
again, then started down that track across the fields once more, and
here we walked, for there were too many telephone wires about the
height of one's chin across the pathway to make running much good.
By now we had got out of the hottest part of it, and it was only an
occasional shell that came across us and an occasional bullet that
whistled close.
At last we reached our horses, but how we ever returned alive from
our journey on that open road, where cover there was none, God knows.
It must be that He honours the prayers of those at home who care for
us. I was given a feeling of quiet confidence that we would get
through, and all fear seemed to be taken away.
'As Thou didst help our fathers.
Help Thou our host to-day!
* * * *
Jehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, hear!
What a Sabbath it was! The earth seemed full of anger; and as
morning began to dawn, and the thunder of the guns died away, we
thanked God for the lives of those we cared for in the trenches; very
few of our men were hit, and not a single Officer in our Battalion.
Unfortunately it has been otherwise with several of the other
regiments in our Brigade.
I am not at liberty to give you the military result of this fighting
for our portion of the line. Conditions here are more normal and now
we realize how very different the mere holding of the line is from a
definite battle. The former means desultory firing only on the part
of artillery, machine-guns, and rifles;--the other is something else.
In the 'Big Fight' of May 9th, the 6th Scottish Rifles had been
singularly favoured in losing none of their Officers. It was not to
be expected that such immunity would be long continued. The first to
fall, just a week later, was one for whom Captain Lusk had a
specially warm regard. The loving care which he bestowed upon the
memorial to mark his resting-place was wholly like him. His own
account, which follows, is supplemented by one from the Chaplain of
the Battalion:--