YPRES, 1915.
(_a_) July to October.
The Battalion was now in the VI. Corps of the Second Army. Several
days were spent in the wood near St. Jans ter Biezen and the men never
had any cover there, but, fortunately, it was early July and the
nights were not cold. No one was allowed outside the wood in daylight
except on duty. Some training was carried out, particularly bombing,
instruction in which was pushed on as fast as possible; occasionally
short route marches were made in the failing light and cool of the
evening. But more time was occupied in the inspection of gas helmets
than in anything else. Three inspections of these were held daily,
by the platoon commander, company commander, and battalion commander
respectively; it can easily be imagined how long a time it took the
Commanding Officer personally to inspect the helmets of a strong
battalion. On July 2nd, the Battalion was inspected by General Sir H.
Plumer, who had formerly been G.O.C. Northern Command, and was now
commanding the Second Army. The 49th was the first Territorial Division
to be detailed for a long spell in the Ypres Salient, and this probably
increased General Plumer’s interest in it, in addition to the fact
that much of its training in England had been carried out under his
supervision. Whether there is any truth in the rumour or not, it was
always an article of faith in the Battalion that Plumer had a “soft
spot in his heart” for the 49th Division. The next day it was again
reviewed, this time by Lieut.-General Sir J. Keir, G.O.C. VI. Corps.
The Ypres Salient bore a very evil reputation--not without cause.
Reconnaissance of the forward area began soon after the Battalion’s
arrival at St. Jans ter Biezen, and it was at once obvious that
Ypres was a very different proposition from Fleurbaix. The earliest
experience of A Company is worth quoting as an indication of what was
to be expected. One day Capt. M. P. Andrews, at that time commanding A
Company, spent a day in the line with the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin
Fusiliers. There he made the acquaintance of three officers of the
company which he was soon to relieve. Thirty-six hours later one of
his subalterns visited the same company, only to find that, during the
short intervening period, all the three had become casualties--one
was dead, a second had been lost on patrol, while the third had been
evacuated wounded. This was indeed a rude awakening after the quiet
life at Fleurbaix.
At scarcely any period of the war could the neighbourhood of Ypres
be called quiet. In the autumn of 1915 the British held only a small
bridge-head to the east of the Ypres-Commines Canal. Frequent attempts
were made to extend this, and the enemy was just as anxious to drive
the British out of the salient altogether. When the Battalion arrived
in the area things had barely settled down after the Second Battle
of Ypres, in which the enemy had won for himself all the commanding
ridges, except Mont Kemmel. Since then minor operations had kept the
front lively. One of these took place near Boesinghe only two days
before the 49th Division took over the line, and the 148th Infantry
Brigade in particular came in for a good share of the “liveliness”
which followed it.
On July 7th, the Battalion moved to Canada Wood, near Elverdinghe,
where one night was spent. The next evening it relieved the 2nd
Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers in the Lancashire Farm Sector. In
spite of the narrowness of many of the trenches, the relief passed off
very quickly. As the Battalion filed in the Dublins filed out, only too
glad to hand over their charge to someone else.
The 49th Division now held the extreme left sector of the British line.
Its left rested on the Ypres-Commines Canal near Boesinghe, abutting on
the French, whose line however was west of the canal. The 6th Division
was on the right. The dominating feature of the sector was the Pilkem
Ridge; this was entirely in the hands of the enemy, who thus possessed
every advantage of high command and superior observation. This sector
the 49th Division was destined to hold until the end of December--six
months of continuous trench duty in the very worst part of the British
line. Reliefs were so arranged that two brigades held the line while
the third was back in rest. Thus the Battalion found itself in several
different sub-sectors during its stay in the Ypres Salient. On every
sector the defence scheme was simplicity itself--the front line was to
be held at all costs; not an inch of ground was to be lost.
During the first tour in the Lancashire Farm Sector A and D Companies
held the front line, B Company was in support, and C Company in
reserve. One of the main features of the sub-sector, and indeed of the
whole divisional front, was the confusing network of old and disused
trenches. Many of these had been hastily dug in the heat of battle and
afterwards abandoned when they were found to be badly sited. Some,
however, were gradually being incorporated in the regular system. The
original notes on the sector, which were handed over by the Commanding
Officer of the Dublins, have been preserved; their outstanding feature
is the continual reference to “work to be done.” He was right. Never
did the Battalion find itself harder worked than during the next few
months.
The tour was a very anxious one. Away on the left the 148th Infantry
Brigade was having a very rough time of it, the enemy making frequent
counter-attacks to recover the ground which he had lost a few days
before. Not knowing when the enemy’s attention might be turned further
south, the Battalion had to be very much on the alert. No one slept
at night, and two officers per company were always on duty during the
day. The men in the front line trenches were fully occupied with sentry
duties and working parties, and it was deemed inadvisable for any of
them to go away from their positions. Thus, all carrying fell on the
reserve company, which had a very hard time of it. Trolley lines were
not yet in use, and all rations and R.E. material had to be carried
right up to the line from the Canal Bank--a distance of well over a
mile. But all ranks worked magnificently.
“This is a very noisy place after Fleurbaix” is the War Diary’s
comment on the day the line was taken over. It was! Though nothing
extraordinary for the Ypres Salient, the enemy artillery activity was
a great increase on anything the Battalion had experienced before.
Lacrimatory shells were much in evidence and these were, at that time,
rather an unknown quantity. The front line, at one spot, was only
about seventy yards from the enemy, but this did not procure for it
any immunity from shelling. There, too, the Battalion received its
first introduction to trench mortars, and it had nothing effective
to retaliate with. Machine gun and rifle fire were also severe. As
at Fleurbaix, there were many very accurate snipers among the enemy,
and these were always on the look-out for targets. So, from one cause
or another, the Battalion suffered a number of casualties before its
five days’ tour was over. The most important of these were Lieut. E.
Lee and C.S.M. A. Parkin of B Company. The former was shot through the
head while instructing some of his men of the Machine Gun Section how
to repair a weak spot in the parapet. He was the first officer of the
Battalion to be killed, and his loss was very deeply felt by all who
knew what a fine, keen and enthusiastic fellow he was. C.S.M. Parkin
had an arm blown off by an enemy shell.
On July 13th, the Battalion was relieved by the 5th Battalion Duke
of Wellington’s Regiment, and went into Brigade Reserve on the Canal
Bank. During the relief part of the area was heavily bombarded with
lacrimatory shells. This considerably interfered with the operation,
for the teaching at the time was that men should always remain as still
as possible when any form of gas was about. Such action was certainly
advisable when no better protection than the P. helmet was available,
for it was so stuffy that any movement became a torture to the wearer.
However, it proved an effective protection against the lacrimatory
shells of the period. About this time Major-General T. S. Baldock,
C.B., was wounded by shrapnel at Divisional H.Q. Major-General E. M.
Perceval, C.B., succeeded to the command of the 49th Division.
[Illustration: Capt. M. P. ANDREWS.
(Killed).]
[Illustration: Capt. E. E. SYKES, M.C.
(Killed).]
[Illustration: Capt. W. F. DENNING.]
[Illustration: Capt. T. D. PRATT.]
During its stay in the Ypres Salient, the Battalion occupied more
than one position on the banks of the Ypres-Commines Canal. All
were much alike. Officers and men were accommodated in shelters built
into the sunken banks. Things were not always any too quiet. The
enemy knew perfectly well that considerable numbers of troops lived
there, and naturally selected the canal as one of his barrage lines.
As a result, strict orders against loitering near certain points were
issued, much to the disappointment of some enthusiastic fishermen in
the Battalion. The outstanding feature of this, and all other periods
of Brigade Reserve--indeed, of every day of the latter months of
1915--was WORK. During the day men ate and slept. At night there was
no rest for officer or man. Many were employed on the construction
of communication trenches, sometimes only just in rear of the front
line. Great efforts were made to get the trench railways into going
order and, when this work was completed, the resting battalions had
to do a great deal of truck-pushing along them. One of the main
difficulties to be contended with was water. Even in July there was
a good deal of rain; it had rained while the Battalion was relieving
the Dublins--surely an indication of what the future held. Water lay
so near the surface that much digging was useless, and all work had to
be built up and revetted. Looked at in the light of later experience,
it seems a pity that no drainage scheme was instituted at the very
beginning. It was obvious that, as soon as the autumn rains began, the
trenches must become water-logged. Yet nothing was done. Perhaps the
higher authorities still hoped that an advance would be made ere the
wet weather came. Working parties were not free from danger. There was
little artillery fire at night, but machine guns were very active, and
rifle batteries frequently played on obvious places like the trench
tramways. Slowly, but steadily, the Battalion’s total of casualties
mounted up. Yet, in spite of all, the men worked magnificently. They
possessed almost boundless enthusiasm, and were now reaping the benefit
of their training near Fleurbaix. Without exception, officers who
served with them during this early period show the greatest enthusiasm
when they speak of the splendid spirit of the Battalion. The private
soldier, of course, had the hardest time of all; but his officers were
little better off. In order to obtain continuity of work a Brigade
Field Officer of the week was appointed from one of the battalions in
reserve, his duty being to supervise all work. The job was no sinecure.
He was as hard-worked as any honest, though grousing, private. And some
people called these spells in Brigade Reserve “rest” periods!
After five days on the Canal Bank, the Battalion did a second tour in
the Lancashire Farm Sector. Fears that the enemy was about to make
an attack on the French postponed the relief for a few hours, but
eventually it passed off smoothly. The only event of any interest
during this tour was a gas alarm practice. Shell cases and klaxon
horns had been plentifully distributed about the line, and one day a
highly successful, full-dress rehearsal was held by all companies.
It evidently puzzled the enemy, for he put down a protective barrage
along the canal. It also puzzled Battalion H.Q., which no one had
thought of warning, and numerous terse, though hardly polite, “chits”
circulated in consequence. It is worth while to note here that the
highly-organised system of reports, which in later days was a perpetual
worry to luckless company commanders and adjutants, had not yet
developed. If a company commander wanted to send out a patrol he simply
sent one; he never dreamed of informing Battalion H.Q., much less of
asking its permission or submitting a report after the event.
On July 24th, the Battalion moved back to the woods near Oosthoek for
its first spell in Divisional Reserve. This can hardly be called a
“rest” period, except that baths and clean clothing were available. A
little training was attempted, but it was seriously interfered with
by the large working parties which had to be found. Some of these
were employed in the forward area, moving up and returning daily by
motor bus. Others were set to work to convert Trois Tours into a
defended locality. The men worked well, but perhaps without quite their
earlier enthusiasm. The novelty of active service had worn off. They
never properly understood the necessity for all their work. Labour
companies and coloured units were then unknown; everything fell upon
the hard-worked infantrymen. The following official communication,
circulated by 49th Division “G” to Brigades about this time, shows
a certain appreciation of the situation on the part of the higher
authorities:--
“If all the troops with all the tools
Should dig for half a year,
Do you suppose,” our Captain asked,
“That then we should be clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Adjutant,
Knowing the Brigadier.
It is not often that the General Staff stoops to such frivolity in
the transaction of business. But let no mistake be made. The hard
conditions under which the men lived were not the fault of dear old
General Brereton.
The Battalion returned to the Lancashire Farm Sector on July 30th.
Apart from considerable activity on the part of enemy trench mortars,
and a good deal of sniping, the tour which followed was an uneventful
one. A little patrolling was done, but nothing more important than
a dead Frenchman and a few rats was discovered. Further over to the
right, however, there was considerable activity. It was during this
tour that the Hooge mine went up, and the 14th Division was attacked
with flammenwerfer.
To regain the ground thus lost to the enemy, the 6th Division was
brought up. They attacked early on the morning of August 9th and
carried all their objectives, but suffered heavy casualties in doing
so. The 49th Division co-operated in this attack, though only in a
passive way. Gaps were cleared in the wire, dummy bridges were laid
over the canal, and artillery fired at intervals on the enemy front
line, in an endeavour to distract the attention of the Germans from
the real objective. The Battalion took no part in these activities,
being in reserve on the Canal Bank at the time; but it suffered some
casualties from the enemy barrage. Later in the day, Battalion H.Q.
and B and C Companies were ordered up at short notice to relieve a
corresponding portion of the 7th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt.
who were suffering from a sudden outbreak of ptomaine poisoning, which
was so severe that about a hundred of them were sent to hospital. Two
days later the other two companies of the 7th Battalion were also
relieved.
The sector now occupied by the Battalion was called the Glimpse
Cottage Sector, and was held with three companies in the front line
and one in support. Two months later it was to be the scene of the
Battalion’s first serious encounter with the enemy, and so a detailed
description of it is held over until then. But the tour in August
was also a very active one, and during it the Battalion suffered two
serious losses. The first was R.S.M. J. McCormack, who was killed on
August 12th. The second was even more serious, and is especially worthy
of attention as a conspicuous example of gallantry and self-sacrifice.
Late in the afternoon of August 14th, a dugout in A Company’s line was
blown in and a number of men were buried amid the wreckage. Capt. M. P.
Andrews immediately hurried to the spot and, under heavy artillery and
rifle fire, succeeded in extricating the men. Three were found to be
dead and three wounded, one so seriously that, unless he could receive
proper attention at once, there was little hope of his recovery. The
trenches were too narrow for the wounded man to be carried along them
on a stretcher. There was nothing for it but to carry him across the
open. Capt. Andrews did not hesitate. Getting out on the top himself,
he assisted to raise the wounded man, and then set out across the open
with the stretcher party. He paid for his devotion with his life. The
ground was swept by bullets and, before the party could reach the
shelter of a communication trench, he was hit in the head and died
almost at once. So perished one of the most gallant gentlemen and
conscientious officers who ever served with the Battalion. Word of
what had happened was despatched at once to Battalion H.Q., while the
stretcher-bearers, true to their duty, remained in the open, trying
in vain to stop the flow of blood. Lieut. B. Hughes, R.A.M.C., then
Medical Officer to the Battalion, at once hurried up the line. But he
was too late. Capt. Andrews was already dead. The event cast a gloom,
not only over A Company, but over the whole Battalion.
About this time the Battalion transport was having a very rough
passage, and they too soon recognised the difference between Ypres and
Fleurbaix. Almost nightly, heavy shelling of the roads used by the
ration convoys caused much inconvenience and some loss. On August
14th, in particular, two horses were hit and, for a time, the column
was much disorganised. Cpl. E. Ashworth was in charge and, by his own
gallantry and coolness under fire, he restored order and confidence,
and was able to deliver his charge. For this he was afterwards awarded
the Distinguished Conduct Medal.
When next the Battalion went into Brigade Reserve it occupied a number
of farms north-east of Brielen. Though not so safe as the shelters on
the Canal Bank, these farms were more comfortable, and they did not
suffer so much from enemy artillery fire. Work continued as before, a
new feature being the erection of “elephant” frames in the Battalion’s
new billets.
The next two tours in the front line were spent on the extreme left
sector--a part of the line which the Battalion was to know only too
well in later days, and to which the minds of most “old timers” turn
when Ypres in 1915 is mentioned. It bore an ominous reputation. The
trenches lay at the north of the Ypres bridge-head, where it flattened
out to join the canal. On the extreme left a tiny sap ran out to a
point only fifteen yards from the nearest enemy post. Nowhere was
No Man’s Land more than sixty yards across. There was very little
shelling of the front line by either side; the trenches were much too
near together for this to be carried on without serious danger of
injuring one’s own men; but the enemy used many trench mortars, some
of which were of the real “minnie” type. There was also an enormous
amount of bombing on both sides, for grenades could easily be lobbed
from one front line to the other in several places. The trenches were
very confusing--a result of the July attack which had taken place just
before the 49th Division moved into the line near Ypres--and so narrow
that in places a stout man could easily stick fast. Everywhere they
were dominated by the enemy’s positions.
The French were on the Battalion’s left, but their line was on the west
side of the canal and thus they were comparatively secure from sudden
attack. They proved themselves very helpful and sympathetic neighbours.
When they saw that the Battalion was having a bad time from enemy
trench mortars they were always only too ready to help. They did not
wait to be asked; they simply cleared all their men, save a skeleton
garrison, into deep dugouts or the British support line, and then
opened fire on the enemy with every type of infernal engine they had
available. It always amused them to see the enemy turn his wrath from
the British and start pounding their deserted lines. They were, at this
time, much better supplied with trench mortars than the British, not to
speak of their 75’s.
After two tours in this sector the Battalion went back for its second
spell in Divisional Reserve. Casualties had been a good deal heavier
than the Battalion had experienced previously, but the men had stuck
to their work splendidly, and many instances of gallantry and devotion
to duty brighten the otherwise sordid picture. The little sap on the
extreme left was the main centre of activity and there trench-mortaring
and bombing were almost continuous. It was constantly being damaged,
and as frequently repaired; on one occasion a heavy trench mortar
dropped right into it, causing six casualties. How near it was to the
Germans is shown by the fact that, on August 26th, they were able to
throw the following message from their lines into it:--
“Dear Tommy,--Brest Litovsk fallen to-day. Rippelin, Lieut.”
An hour or two after the arrival of this message loud cheering was
heard in the enemy lines, presumably rejoicing at the news. During this
tour Sec.-Lieut. W. L. Anderton was shot through the head and died
almost immediately.
On August 26th, the Battalion moved back to the woods near
Coppernollehoek for twelve days’ rest. A little more training was
done this time, but large working parties were still the order of the
day. Endeavours were made to smarten up the men; among other things
the cleaning of buttons was instituted for the first time since the
Battalion had left England. A somewhat novel duty was the rounding up
of spies in the neighbourhood of Proven; this was entrusted to Capt.
E. E. Sykes, with a party of forty-five other ranks. He was away for
thirty-six hours, but no record has been preserved of what success,
if any, he had. While near Coppernollehoek the Battalion was again
inspected by General Plumer, who was accompanied by the Earl of
Scarborough and Brigadier-General Mends. Probably the G.O.C., Second
Army, noticed a change in the men whom he had reviewed about two
months before; they were no longer light-hearted and cheery novices,
but fully-blooded and hard-bitten veterans. A short time in the Ypres
Salient had worked wonders. A sad loss to the Battalion about this time
was Sergt. D. H. Fenton, who was accidentally killed by a bomb on the
very day his commission was announced.
When the Battalion again returned to the line it took over the Turco
Farm Sector, on the extreme right, abutting on the 6th Division. This
was the best and quietest sector on the divisional front. In places
No Man’s Land was several hundreds of yards across. Of course there
was plenty of work to be done, but the trenches were, on the whole,
good. After a quiet tour the Battalion came out to a new position on
the Canal Bank. Here there was little shelling and the opportunity was
seized to hold some swimming sports; D Company won the inter-company
team race. During this period in Brigade Reserve, Lieut.-Colonel E.
J. Pickering, formerly Brigade Major of the 148th Infantry Brigade,
arrived to take command of the Battalion.
On September 21st, the Battalion returned to the Turco Farm Sector.
The tour which followed is chiefly noteworthy for the events of
September 25th--the day on which the battle of Loos began. No very
serious operation was planned for the Ypres front, but a demonstration
was arranged in the hope of distracting the enemy’s attention and
drawing his reserves northwards. The 6th Division was to attack on
the right and capture Bellewaarde Farm and Lake. At the same time the
British artillery was to cut gaps in the German wire opposite the 4th
Battalion, while a smoke screen was to be put up on both its flanks.
It was hoped that this demonstration would cause the enemy to evacuate
his front line, in which case the Battalion was to advance and seize
the unoccupied trenches. At 4-30 a.m. the bombardment and smoke screen
began. The enemy retaliation was quick and heavy. Shells rained down
on the front line and the communication trenches; machine gun and
rifle fire swept the ground. It was soon obvious that the Germans had
no intention of evacuating any part of their trenches, and so no
advance was attempted on the front of the 49th Division. By 7-30 a.m.
the artillery fire on both sides had practically ceased. So far as the
Battalion was concerned, the only results of the day were a number of
casualties and much damage to the lines from the enemy bombardment.
The last days of September were spent at Elverdinghe, where Battalion
H.Q. occupied the Chateau and officers and men were accommodated in
tents in the grounds. Early in October a move was made to a camp by
the Poperinghe-Woesten Road, where another period, very similar to the
previous ones, was spent in Divisional Reserve. The Battalion had now
been about three months in the Ypres Salient. During that time, in
addition to the normal wastage through sickness, 120 casualties had
been incurred in action. But far worse was in store. Before, however,
entering on an account of the events of October 16th, and of the
terrible wet months which culminated in the gas attack of December
19th, there are one or two points which deserve fuller treatment than
they have yet received.
The high proficiency of the enemy in sniping has already been
mentioned on more than one occasion. Gradually the Battalion came
to realise that the most effective way of dealing with this form of
annoyance was to adopt similar tactics. Luckily, the very man was to
hand--Sergt. A. McNulty. A combination of all the qualities needed
by a first-class sniper is rarely to be found in one individual; but
this N.C.O. possessed them all to an exceptional degree. A magnificent
rifle shot and a first-class observer, he had the patience of a Job,
and was also an exceptionally good instructor. Before long there was
little that he did not know about marksmanship, telescopic sights,
the building of snipers’ posts, and observation. He constructed his
own posts and waited in them patiently, hour after hour, for suitable
targets. How many Germans he had to his credit, no one ever knew;
it is more than doubtful whether he knew himself. But certain it is
that the enemy had good reason to curse that Winchester of his, and
he did much to counteract the hostile sniping which was menacing the
Battalion so much. For a time he was taken away to be an instructor at
the newly-formed Divisional Technical School, where his energies were
not restricted to sniping. Among other things, he was one of the very
few men who mastered the intricacies of that awful invention--the West
Spring Gun. The Battalion had much to thank Sergt. McNulty for and,
later in the war, when he went to America as an instructor--how the
Americans ever understood his accent was beyond the Battalion--he was
greatly missed.
Another feature of the period was the appearance of trench mortars.
Almost from the very beginning of trench warfare the Germans had made
use of these weapons and, so effective did they prove, that the British
soon tried to imitate them. Their first attempts were very crude.
The earliest trench mortars to appear in the line had, apparently,
been dragged from the obscurity of some museum, and, needless to say,
were not to be compared with the “minnie.” The two-inch trench mortar
followed, firing its weird, round cannon-ball--affectionately known as
a “plum-pudding”--on the end of a rod. Stokes guns were unknown at that
early period.
(_b_) October 16th.
On October 14th, the Battalion relieved the 1/5th Battalion West
Yorkshire Regiment in the Glimpse Cottage Sector, C Company going in
on the right, A Company in the centre, and D Company on the left; B
Company was in support. The main feature of the sector was a sharp
salient in the enemy line, opposite the centre company front. From this
salient an old communication trench--a relic of the days when both
front lines had been part of the same system--crossed No Man’s Land to
the British line. Both sides had established bombing blocks in this
trench, and the locality was the main centre of activity on the front.
Owing to folds in the ground, it was impossible to cover the sap-head
by rifle fire; but machine guns fired into the dead ground and some
two-inch trench mortars, in emplacements near by, helped to protect it.
The sap-head itself was held by a squad of battalion bombers. It often
received attention from enemy trench mortars.
The story goes that, a few days before the Battalion took over the
sector, the enemy had started shelling the sap-head and the adjacent
front line, and most of the garrison had withdrawn into the supervision
trench, which ran about thirty yards in rear. Only a weak party had
been left in the sap. The bombardment had been followed by a small
daylight raid to secure a notice-board which had been hung out to
announce some allied success. Whether there was any truth in the story
cannot now be said.
The first two days of the tour were comparatively quiet. About 1-30
p.m. on October 16th, the enemy opened an intense artillery and trench
mortar bombardment on the greater part of the Battalion area. It was
soon apparent that something unusual was happening. Trench mortars
were raining down near the sap-head, 5.9’s were whistling overhead and
bursting in the supervision trench, shrapnel and high explosive were
falling on practically the whole area, as far back as Battalion H.Q.
Stand to was ordered at once. Two platoons of B Company were moved up
into close support, and were employed carrying up bombs and ammunition.
The garrison of the sap, on which point it was obvious that much of the
enemy’s attention was directed, was reinforced. The men crouched down
under their parapets--strict orders had been issued that there was to
be no firing until the word was given--and waited for the enemy’s next
move.
The situation was not a pleasant one. It is true that the majority
of the shells were bursting behind the front line, but there were
sufficient “shorts” to make things very uncomfortable. The wire was
torn to shreds, parapets were breached, and many casualties were
suffered, particularly by the two flank companies. It was the first
time that the Battalion had had to stand a really heavy bombardment in
the front line, and they came through it splendidly. For three hours
they waited, while the shells crashed around them, longing for the
moment when the enemy would appear and they would have the chance to
“get a bit of their own back.” About 4-30 p.m. their opportunity came.
A party of Germans, clad in fatigue dress, emerged from the trenches
opposite and began calmly to cut a passage through their own wire, near
the sap-head. This was too much for A Company. Perhaps it would have
been better had fire been withheld a little longer, until an actual
attack came. But no one thought of that at the time. Tired of his long
inactivity under heavy shelling, every man was at once on the fire step
working his bolt for all he was worth. Shells were still bursting all
around, but none paid attention to them. There was the enemy in the
open; nothing else mattered. And the wire-cutting part of the operation
came to an abrupt conclusion.
By this time, the sap-head had been blown in by a well-directed shell.
But the garrison, with whom the indefatigable company commander, Major
R. E. Sugden, spent most of his time that day, simply extricated
themselves from the debris and set to work to construct a fresh
bombing block. Shortly after, the enemy made his next move. A party of
Germans, about twenty in number, wearing bombing aprons filled with
stick grenades, crawled up in the folds of the ground and began to bomb
the sap-head. A brisk encounter ensued. Most of the German grenades
fell short and the British proved that they could easily out-throw
the enemy. With the assistance of a Maxim gun the attack was driven
off with comparative ease, as were two further attacks of a similar
character. About the time that the third was made, another party of the
enemy was seen moving along a hedge row in the direction of the British
line. Fortunately this move was detected early by the crew of a machine
gun, which soon drove them to cover. All this time the bombardment
continued.
About 6-0 p.m. the enemy apparently saw that success was impossible,
and gradually the shelling died down. The Battalion was then able to
review the situation and to count its casualties. These latter were
heavy enough. Sec.-Lieut. E. Taylor, C.S.M. V. S. Tolley and twelve
other ranks were killed, or died shortly after of wounds; Lieut. E.
N. Marshall, Sec.-Lieut. F. A. Innes and twenty-two other ranks were
wounded. Much damage had been done to the sap-head and to other parts
of the line. The night which followed passed quietly, but there was
much work to be done. To assist in this the 5th Battalion Duke of
Wellington’s Regt. sent up a large working party, and also provided a
number of stretcher-bearers to remove the wounded and the dead.
Compared with many later events in the history of the Battalion,
this episode is of very minor importance. But, at the time, its
importance loomed large in the eyes of all. It was the Battalion’s
first real fight. After several months of passive warfare, the men
had at length come face to face with the enemy in active operations.
Nothing is harder than to maintain one’s morale when inactive under
a heavy bombardment. But this the men had succeeded in doing. Three
hours of intense shelling had only served to make them the more eager
when their chance came. All ranks came through the ordeal with the
greatest credit, and the hearty congratulations which were received
from Brigade and Division were thoroughly deserved. For their gallant
services on this occasion Sec.-Lieut. F. A. Innes--it was his first
trench tour as he had only recently joined the Battalion--received the
Military Cross, and Lance-Cpl. T. H. Clarke and Cpl. C. Landale were
both awarded Distinguished Conduct Medals. Lance-Cpl. Clarke had been
the N.C.O. in charge of the bombers in the sap-head, and had behaved
with the greatest gallantry throughout the day. Cpl. C. Landale had
worked untiringly on the telephone wires during the bombardment, and
it was mainly due to him that communication between the front line and
Battalion H.Q. was scarcely ever interrupted.
The object of the enemy in making this attack was never understood.
Perhaps he expected the intensity of his bombardment would induce the
Battalion to vacate its front line, and he would be able to occupy it
with comparative ease. If the story of his daylight raid, a few days
before, had any truth in it, he knew that the front line had been
practically evacuated on that occasion, and may have expected similar
tactics again. Certainly his heaviest shelling fell on the supervision
trench. But, whatever his object, he found the Battalion alert and only
too ready to meet him.
The next few days were very fully occupied in repairing the damage
done by the enemy’s shells. So well was this work carried out that,
at the end of the tour, the Battalion was able to hand over the line
in as good a condition as it had been before October 16th. On the
night of October 19/20th Lieut.-Col. E. J. Pickering was wounded. He
had gone up with Major Sugden to inspect the wire, which had been
put out by D Company. The enemy was only about 150 yards away at that
point and evidently saw the party. They opened fire and the Commanding
Officer was severely wounded in the right arm. He had only been with
the Battalion about a month, but during that time he had done a lot to
smarten it and he left a lasting impression on all ranks who served
under him.
[Illustration: Lieut.-Col. C. J. PICKERING, C.M.G., D.S.O.]
[Illustration: Lieut.-Col. G. K. SULLIVAN, O.B.E., M.C.]
On October 21st, after a heavy trench-mortaring which destroyed several
dugouts, the Battalion was relieved by the 1/4th Battalion King’s Own
Yorkshire Light Infantry, and went back to the Canal Bank.
(_c_) The Wet Months.
Towards the end of October His Majesty the King visited Abeele, and
there reviewed representatives of all the Divisions of the VI. Corps.
To this review the Battalion sent a contingent[6] of twenty-five other
ranks, under the command of Lieut. E. N. Marshall. Needless to say they
were a carefully picked body of men, and it is worthy of note that
the detachment from the 49th Division was specially commended by His
Majesty for its smart turn-out that day.
At the end of the month the weather completely broke up and heavy rain
became normal. The Battalion was in comparative comfort on the Canal
Bank, but ominous reports soon began to come in from the units holding
the line. Bad as these reports were, they were mild compared with the
actual conditions under which the men were to exist for the next two
months. On October 30th the Battalion relieved the 7th Battalion Duke
of Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector; and then began for it
such a period of hardship and misery as it has never since been called
upon to endure for so long a time.
In one way the telling of this part of the Battalion’s history is
comparatively easy. During the earlier part of its stay in the Ypres
Salient it had seldom done more than two tours in the same sector. But
from the end of October, until it was finally relieved in December,
the Battalion held no sector of the line except the extreme left;
and, in every way, that sector was the worst on the divisional front.
Its proximity to the opposing trenches, and the commanding position
occupied by the Germans, have already been described. The trenches lay
very little above the water level of the Ypres-Commines Canal and, as
soon as the rains began, they naturally received much of the drainage
from the Pilkem Ridge. They were badly sited and badly constructed.
Consisting mainly of sandbag breast-works, they were the worst possible
type to inhabit in wet weather. They had been considered the worst on
the front during the fine weather; words cannot adequately describe
what they became early in November.
When the Battalion took over the sector on October 30th the trenches
were already in an appalling condition. The front line was in places
more than two feet deep in semi-liquid mud, and parts of it were
entirely isolated from neighbouring posts, except by cross-country
routes; stretches of the communication trenches were waist deep in
water. And this was the result of only about two days of steady rain!
For the next two months the conditions gradually became worse and
worse; occasional short frosts gave a little temporary relief, but
the thaws which followed them only made the trenches more awful than
before. Thoroughly undermined by water, the revetments bulged and caved
in, literally before the eyes of the men. In a few days, hundreds of
yards of trenches had become nothing but cavities filled with mud and
water. The shelters of the sector had never been protection against
anything but bullets and the weather. They ceased to be even that now.
Water from the trenches overflowed into them and flooded the floors,
their supports were undermined, and one by one they collapsed, often
causing casualties to the men who occupied them, until scarcely a
habitable one remained near the front line. The enemy made full use of
his higher position. Pumping the water out of his own line, he allowed
it to flow across No Man’s Land into the British line. Often the water
was so deep in the trenches that thigh-boots became useless. Had there
been a well-planned system of drainage, something might have been done.
But it was only the coming of the rain that opened the eyes of the
authorities to the condition of the sector, and the drainage scheme
which was then started was never far enough advanced to be of much use
while the 49th Division was there. What was to be done with the water?
Most of it had to stop where it was. Occasionally it was possible to
divert a little of it elsewhere--in some cases, it is feared, into
other people’s lines. Only in one small trench on the extreme left
could it be turned back into the enemy lines, and, in order to effect
that desirable operation, the whole had to flow right along the British
front line first.
The utter collapse, and consequent evacuation, of long stretches of the
line considerably altered the method of holding it. Many of the posts
were completely cut off from one another, except by movement across
the open. Such movement was extremely hazardous by day, for the enemy
snipers and machine gunners were only too ready to take advantage of
the many opportunities which the new state of affairs gave them. With
parapets sliding in and trenches filling, it was soon impossible for a
man to move about in daylight without exposing himself. By night there
was an additional danger. It required a man, with a very good sense of
direction, to move over that area of water-logged and derelict trenches
without losing his way. The case of Pte. T. Atkinson--the first
prisoner the enemy secured from the Battalion--was a good illustration
of this. In company with another man, he had successfully delivered
rations to an isolated front line post, but, on the way back, the two
disagreed about the direction of their own lines and separated, each
going his own way. The other man rejoined his platoon in safety; Pte.
Atkinson, apparently, walked straight across No Man’s Land into the
arms of the enemy.
The greatest hardships were suffered by men who were wounded in the
front line. If a man had the misfortune to be hit early in the day he
could seldom be got away until after dark; often in great pain, and
always under the most miserable conditions, he would have to wait for
many hours before he could receive proper attention. Even when dusk
came his lot was a most unenviable one. The journey to the Canal Bank
often took two or three hours, and there was a good chance that he
might be hit again before he arrived at the Aid Post, for machine gun
fire swept the ground intermittently all night.
One important result of the new conditions was a great increase in
patrolling. Now that large portions of the line were entirely deserted
and posts were isolated from one another, this was very necessary, for
at night the enemy could enter the trenches unseen almost as easily
as the British could leave them. Most of this patrolling was purely
defensive, but occasionally useful reconnaissances were made, one of
which will be described in detail later. There was little opportunity
for the men to show an offensive spirit. A little bombing was indulged
in, but soon the general policy became one of “live and let live.” Had
the enemy attempted an infantry advance the defence must have placed
its main reliance on the bayonet; in that waste of mud rifles could not
be kept properly clean, and few would have fired more than two or three
rounds rapid.
Each company held a section of the front line, with two platoons
in front and two in support. Usually these platoons inter-relieved
every forty-eight hours, but towards the end of the time reliefs were
sometimes carried out every twenty-four hours. The Battalion spent four
days in the line and four in brigade reserve; these latter periods were
sometimes passed on the Canal Bank and sometimes in the farm houses
further back. While in brigade reserve every available man was kept
hard at work in the forward area either on the new drainage scheme,
or trying to clear some of the mud and water from the communication
trenches. Only twice during the wet weather did the 147th Infantry
Brigade have a spell in divisional reserve, and even then there was
not much comfort. The prevailing bad weather had its effect on the
back area camps and they were soon deep in mud. Much work was done to
improve them. Early in November a number of wattle and mud huts were
put up in place of some of the tents; some wooden huts were also in
course of erection. When the Battalion came back to the same camp at
the end of the month they found things more comfortable, for the work
had been continued and accommodation improved. But, at the best, it
was a poor form of rest for men who had just spent sixteen days in the
forward area, and were looking forward to another spell of the same
kind.
Everything possible was done for the men’s comfort, but, at first, the
available supplies of suitable stores were quite inadequate. Until
the wet weather began, no one seems to have dreamed of the conditions
which would prevail during the winter. At the beginning of November
thigh-boots were almost non-existent, though, later, sufficient were
available to equip every man. However, the communication trenches
were so bad that frequently men lost their boots on the way up to the
line. It was no uncommon thing for a man to stick so fast in the mud
that he had to be dragged out by his companions, often leaving his
boots behind. He would then have to complete his journey in his socks;
sometimes he might find a spare pair of boots when he arrived in the
front line. Dry socks were always available for men in support, but
they could seldom be supplied to men in the front line. Foot grease was
provided and periodical foot-rubbing ordered; but how could the men
obey the order? Seldom could a man in the line find a dry spot to sit
down on while he removed his boots. The result was soon apparent in
the enormous number of trench feet which developed; during November,
1915, no less than 146 other ranks were sent to hospital for this cause
alone. Sheep-skin coats were provided and proved a great boon. There
was plenty of rum--more than during any subsequent winter. Every effort
was made to provide hot food and drink, but the difficulties of getting
it to the companies before it was cold were almost insuperable. Any
attempt to light a fire was bound to draw the attention of the hostile
artillery or trench mortars, and so only “Tommy’s Cookers” could be
used.
Such were the conditions under which the Battalion held the line in
the November and December of 1915. For utter misery they have only
been equalled once--on the Passchendaele Ridge in December, 1917--and
then for a much shorter period. A man had a ghastly prospect in front
of him when his turn came to form part of a front line garrison for
forty-eight hours. For all that time he would be thoroughly soaked and
terribly cold; his boots would be full of water, he would stand in
water and mud; physical pain, mental weariness and bodily fatigue would
be his constant burden. The chances were that he would not complete his
tour of duty--that before his time was up he would succumb to the enemy
snipers, or be on his way to hospital, a physical wreck. One example is
sufficient to show what appalling casualties were suffered during this
period. About the beginning of December, an officer of the Battalion
took up twenty-four other ranks for a forty-eight hour tour of duty in
the front line. At the end of that time he brought out with him one
signaller and three other ranks. Every other man had become a casualty.
But what of the spirit of the men of the Battalion during this time?
How did they bear their hardships? Many writers have paid tribute to
the gallantry of British troops in battle, but few have written of
the heroism of those who held the line under such conditions as the
4th Battalion did in the autumn of 1915. The soldier in battle has
excitement, and a good deal of exhilaration, to help him through; but
the Yorkshiremen who faced the enemy near Boesinghe in 1915 had neither
of these. Theirs was heroism of a far higher order--the heroism which,
with no excitement to buoy them up, can make men coolly and quietly
face horror and death in their worst forms. Such men as Kipling must
have been thinking of when he wrote,
“If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them ‘Hold on’.”
They were MEN, were those of the 4th Battalion, who held the line
in 1915. Men of the quiet, tight-lipped and dogged type, who talked
little, though occasional flashes of humour brighten even this ghastly
picture, but simply obeyed orders without question and held on. Perhaps
their feelings can best be expressed by quoting the remark of one of
them, when on short leave from that hell. “Well, sir, we either have to
laugh or cry, and we prefer to laugh.”
Few specific events of this period need be recorded. On November 9th
Lieut.-Col. G. K. Sullivan, formerly Adjutant of the 1/5th Batt. King’s
Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, assumed command of the Battalion. His
stay was a very brief one. Eleven days after his arrival he was wounded
by a shell splinter on the Canal Bank. As Major E. P. Chambers had
been sent to hospital with a sprained ankle the previous day, Major
R. E. Sugden assumed command of the Battalion until the arrival of
Lieut.-Col. E. G. St. Aubyn. The latter had been second in command of a
battalion of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps in the 14th Division. Though
always in weak health, he retained command of the Battalion for nearly
a year. He was a very quiet, but exceptionally competent, Commanding
Officer, who earned the respect of all, and the most sincere affection
of those who knew him best.
On the night of December 11/12th, Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, with
Sergt. Kitchen, carried out an extremely daring and highly successful
patrol. The glow of a light had been noticed at a particular point in
the enemy line, and they made straight towards it. No Man’s Land was
not more than sixty yards across but it was no mean obstacle, owing to
its water-logged condition. The enemy wire was very thick and difficult
to negotiate but, after much trouble, the two found themselves at the
foot of the enemy parapet. Leaving his companion at the bottom, Everitt
carefully crawled up the parapet and looked into the enemy trench. He
found it to be deeper, better revetted and much drier than the British
trenches were. Slowly he moved along the parapet, examining the trench
at different points. At length he reached the place where the glow had
been observed and suddenly found himself looking into the corner of a
bay, almost exactly at the point where an enemy sentry was standing. As
he looked the German raised his rifle, and Everitt slid gently down the
parapet. He had not been observed, but the chance shot of the sentry
passed only just over his head. He had now seen all he could. The light
was explained; it came from a brazier which evidently warmed a shelter
hollowed out of the traverse near which the sentry was posted. Two or
three Germans were warming themselves round it. There was nothing more
the patrol could do. With a thick wire obstacle behind and only one
man to support him, it would have been suicidal for Everitt to attempt
anything against the enemy post. Besides, his orders were to make a
reconnaissance, and the information he had gained would be useless if
he did not return to report it. So, regretfully, he turned his back
on the enemy, and succeeded in reaching his own line without being
discovered. This patrol caused a good deal of stir in the Brigade,
for no previous patrol had got so far. It had obtained very valuable
information about the condition of the enemy trenches, and had proved
that the Germans were very much on the alert. All agreed that the
Military Cross, which Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt afterwards received for
his work that night, was thoroughly well earned.
On December 12th Major R. E. Sugden was severely wounded in the arm by
a bullet. The bridges over the Canal were always dangerous spots. Not
only were they well marked by the enemy artillery, but machine guns,
posted further to the north, could fire straight down the Canal in
enfilade. It was while he was crossing one of these bridges that Major
Sugden was hit. He had served continuously with the Battalion since it
had been mobilised and his loss was greatly felt.
(_d_) December 19th.
The enemy first made use of poison gas in the spring of 1915, about
the time the Battalion landed in France. On that occasion he employed
pure chlorine, but in so weak a concentration that the results were
not nearly so disastrous as they might have been. After this first
trial--it was probably more an experiment than anything else--he made
no use of gas on a large scale for several months. This was fortunate,
for it gave allied scientists time to study the whole problem and to
devise means of protection, not only against chlorine, but against
other harmful gases also. It is true that anti-gas measures were far
from perfect at the end of 1915. But the allied armies were better
prepared for that form of attack than they would have been had they had
no preliminary warning. In particular, the possibility of the enemy
using phosgene had been guarded against by the introduction of the P.H.
helmet. This was a considerable advance; its two stout glass eye-pieces
were a great improvement on the single mica window of the P. helmet,
and the outlet valve made it much less stuffy and more comfortable to
wear.
There is no doubt that, about the beginning of December, some rumour
that the enemy was soon to try a second gas attack on the Ypres Salient
had filtered through to the British. One of the reasons for the patrol
of Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, already described, was to discover
whether any gas cylinders were in position in the enemy lines. New P.H.
helmets had been issued to all the men in the Battalion, but, as the
available supply only admitted of one per man, a P. helmet was still
carried as a reserve. Much gas helmet drill had been done, and all
ranks were warned to be specially on the alert.
On December 17th, the Battalion relieved the 6th Battalion Duke of
Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector. All knew that this
was to be their last tour in the line for the time being and that,
on relief, they were to go back for a long period of rest. At night
patrols were very active on the Battalion front, on the look-out for
indications of the presence of gas cylinders. They reported much
hammering in the enemy lines and, on the night of December 18/19th, a
great deal of coughing. A raid was contemplated, but that never came
off. Much work was in progress, for attempts were being made to put the
trenches into better condition for the relieving unit. Working parties
from the 6th Division, which was then in Corps Reserve, came up nightly
to assist; and the Battalion was also engaged in putting out a great
deal of wire on its front.
A special artillery “shoot” had been arranged for the early morning
of December 18th. This, it was hoped, would not only damage the
enemy trenches, but would also destroy any gas cylinders which were
in position for an offensive. As the opposing trenches were so near
together, the enemy front line could not be bombarded without grave
risk to the British themselves. Hence, it was arranged that the
Battalion should evacuate its front line at 5-0 a.m. and not reoccupy
it until the next night. This was done, but the bombardment did not
come off as the morning was too misty for satisfactory observation. So
similar arrangements were made for the next day.
The night of December 18/19th was comparatively quiet. It was bright
and clear, with a gentle breeze blowing from the north-east--in every
way ideal weather for an enemy gas discharge. About 5-0 a.m. on the
morning of December 19th all front line platoons, except those of A
Company, began to withdraw according to plan. Many had actually reached
their positions for the day when, at 5-30 a.m., flares suddenly shot up
all along the enemy lines. Whether they were red or green is a matter
for dispute among those who saw them; but the point is not important.
They were evidently a signal for the attack to begin. Immediately,
what is described by survivors as a “sizzing” noise was heard, a
greenish-white cloud appeared over the enemy parapet and began to drift
towards the British lines, and a terrific bombardment with artillery
and trench mortars was opened on the Canal, the British communication
trenches and reserve positions. Within a few minutes every bridge,
except one, was shattered, great damage had been done to the trenches,
and every telephone line was broken. And over all drifted that deadly
cloud.
Many men were caught in their shelters and gassed before they could
be alarmed. Others were caught on their way back from the line and
suffered terribly. A Company just managed to get the one word “gas”
over the ’phone before the line to Battalion H.Q. broke. But soon
gongs and horns were crashing out their warning, while men frenziedly
adjusted their helmets, seized their arms, and rushed to their battle
positions. There was hurry and confusion almost everywhere, but panic
nowhere. Indeed, that day there was not a single case of straggling in
the 49th Division.
Fortunately, the British artillerymen were thoroughly on the alert.
They were standing to their guns ready for the pre-arranged shoot and,
probably for the first time in their experience, they had more shells
than they could fire. They saw the S.O.S., they heard the alarms, and
soon they themselves were surrounded by the gas. With helmets on they
worked their guns as they had never had the chance of working them
before. The storm of projectiles which descended on the German lines
must have taught the enemy that his age of artillery predominance
was near its end. Warning had been sent to the 6th Battalion Duke of
Wellington’s Regiment, which was in Brigade Reserve, and before long it
appeared, moving up across the open. The enemy saw it too and put down
a barrage in its way. But the men came forward splendidly and were soon
manning their battle stations on the west bank of the canal.
Meanwhile, the Battalion was bearing the full force both of the gas
and of the enemy bombardment. The men who had been warned in time
were unharmed by the gas, for the P.H. helmet proved a very effective
protection. But many men had been gassed before they could do anything,
and among them the sights were ghastly. They lay in agony on the
ground, sickly greenish-white in colour; they foamed at the mouth
and gasped for breath; some even tore open their own throats in the
paroxysms of their pain. None who saw these sights can ever forget
them, and none will ever forgive the enemy who first made use of such
fiendish means of destruction. Among them moved Capt. S. S. Greaves,
the Battalion Medical Officer; none worked more devotedly that day than
he, and many a man owed his life to him.
Several distinct discharges of gas were made. They seemed to come about
once every twenty minutes. Probably the enemy hoped that some men,
thinking all was over, would have removed their helmets. About 7-0
a.m. the attack ended, but the air was not clear enough for helmets
to be removed with safety until half-an-hour later. Indeed, in some
parts of the trenches, the gas lay about the whole day and all through
the next night. Intermittent enemy shelling continued all day and the
British fire did not slacken for hours. After their terrible ordeal of
the early morning all the men were very “jumpy,” and false alarms were
frequent. But no more attacks came on the front of the 49th Division,
though a fresh discharge was made against the French further north,
about 9-0 a.m.
Some account must now be given of A Company, which was holding the
extreme left of the Battalion sector. Two platoons were in the front
line--in F34 and F35 respectively, as the trenches were commonly
called--one platoon near Company H.Q., and a fourth in dugouts on the
west side of the canal. Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt was in command in
F34 and Sergt. A. Stirzaker in F35, each isolated from the other and
from Company H.Q. except by highly dangerous routes across the open.
Like the other front line troops they were to have withdrawn in the
early morning, but, as they had not so far to go, they had not moved
off so soon. Hence, they were still in their positions when the gas
discharge started, and helmets were adjusted so promptly that not a man
was gassed. It was obvious at once that their duty was to remain in
and defend the front line, and this each of the commanders decided to
do. Everitt succeeded in getting a message over the ’phone to Company
H.Q. just before the line was broken; he then stood to with his men and
opened rapid fire until their rifles were red hot. Sergt. Stirzaker
kept his men carefully in hand and allowed no firing; his numbers were
very small and he feared that, by opening fire, he would only be giving
away this fact to the enemy. Everitt’s message and the gas arrived at
Company H.Q. almost simultaneously, and many of the support platoon
were gassed before any warning could be given. Lieut. E. N. Marshall
immediately collected every available man and set off with them to
reinforce the garrison of the front line. Half he sent across to F34,
but most of these became casualties before they reached the comparative
safety of that position; the remainder he led himself up to F35.
Then followed a weary period of waiting. Harassed by enemy fire and
surrounded by gas, in almost complete ignorance of the situation but
expecting an enemy attack at any moment, they hung on.
It was long before they had any news from outside. At length Lieut.
Marshall decided to send a messenger to Battalion H.Q. The way lay
across ground which was swept by machine gun fire; only one bridge was
left over the canal and that was being heavily shelled. It required
no mean courage to volunteer for such a mission. Just then Pte. W.
Bancroft crawled into F35 with a report from Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt.
This man knew well the dangers of the journey for he had been with
Sec.-Lieut. W. E. Hinton, when the latter had been wounded on that
very ground only a few days before. Yet, as soon as he heard what was
wanted, he offered to take the message. He reached Battalion H.Q.
unhurt, delivered his message, and supplemented it with a very clear
report of his own. He then returned to Lieut. Marshall with a cheery
message from the Commanding Officer, and afterwards crawled back to his
post in F34. Few Distinguished Conduct Medals have been better earned
than the one he received for his gallantry on this occasion.
The day came to an end at length and, with the darkness, came relief.
The 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. had volunteered to take
over A Company’s front, so that the latter might spend a night in
comparative peace near Battalion H.Q. The relieving troops were not
equipped for a tour in such a line; they had come up that morning in
fighting order, and they had no thigh-boots. Nevertheless, they carried
out the relief. The following night the rest of the Battalion was
relieved, and the whole moved back to near Elverdinghe.
On December 19th the enemy made practically no attempt to follow up
his gas discharge and bombardment by an infantry attack. Small patrols
were reported at one or two points further to the south, but no German
infantry was seen on the Battalion front. Probably, the heavy barrage
put down by the British artillery, and the resolute front shown by the
few men of A Company deterred the enemy from making an attack. The
gas he used that day was a mixture of chlorine and phosgene--far more
deadly than the plain chlorine of his earlier attack.
The casualties suffered by the Battalion on December 19th were very
heavy, particularly when it is remembered how low its fighting strength
was at the time. The majority were due to gas, but the bombardment also
claimed many victims. Sec.-Lieuts. J. A. Hartley and F. W. O. Fleming,
R.S.M. C. C. MacKay and thirty-seven other ranks were killed, or died
within the next few days. Lieut. E. N. Marshall, C.S.M. E. Walsh and
about forty other ranks were wounded, or suffering severely from gas
poisoning. It was a fitting climax to the ghastly months which had
preceded it.
The cool courage and the steadiness of the 49th Division on December
19th were fully appreciated by all who knew what the men had had to
endure. Congratulations from the higher authorities soon began to flow
in. “The coolness of the troops saved the Army from a disaster,” wrote
the G.O.C. VI. Corps. A few days later he expressed himself again, in
no uncertain terms, in a private letter to the Divisional Commander:--
“My dear Perceval,
Although I have already expressed to you and to your Brigade
Commanders the admiration I feel for the gallant stand made
by those under their command against the recent German gas
attack, I should like to place on record how very highly I
value the services rendered by all ranks. I do not think that
the importance of their success can be over-estimated. It has
re-established a complete confidence in our power of defence
which had been severely shaken by the German gas success gained
in the Spring, a confidence which however had never deserted the
6th Corps.
Yours very sincerely,
J. L. Keir.”
The Battalion may justly claim a considerable share of this praise.
And so the Battalion’s first stay in the Ypres Salient came to an end.
It had arrived at the beginning of July, inexperienced and practically
unknown. It left towards the end of December with a magnificent
reputation. But it had paid the price. There, in the vicinity of Ypres,
the original Battalion, which had mobilised, trained, and gone out to
fight, was disbanded. Its men were scattered in a dozen cemeteries and
scores of hospitals.
[Illustration: YPRES. 1915.]