COURCELETTE (_continued_).
The afternoon battle, which gave Courcelette solidly into our hands,
was, as we have seen, the affair of the 5th Brigade, under
Brigadier-General A. H. McDonnell, C.M.G., D.S.O. All the morning,
fired by the successes of the 4th and 6th, the Brigade, held in
reserve, had been fretting on the curb. As the G.O.C., with his
Battalion Commanders, watched the fierce fighting and exultant progress
of the other two Brigades, they began to wonder uneasily if the _rôle_
of spectator was the only one that would fall to them in this great
adventure. All doubts, however, were presently removed. At 3.30 came
orders for the Brigade to take the village of Courcelette that same
afternoon.
It was what in commercial terms would be called a "rush order," but the
Brigade, already strung up to the highest pitch of expectancy, had no
hesitation in undertaking to fill it. Operation orders were drawn up
in haste; but that there was no sacrifice of explicitness and detail,
on account of this haste, was proved by the accuracy and smoothness
with which they worked out in the application. Officers and N.C.O.'s
had to be instructed in their parts, yet all was so expeditiously
managed that by 5 o'clock the advance, starting from its rendezvous
point, was working its way up across the open under heavy shell-fire to
the positions captured in the morning. It was from these new positions
that the assault was to begin.
The three Battalions which made the attack--the three which actually
carried out the storming of Courcelette--were the 22nd
(French-Canadians, of Montreal), the 25th (Nova Scotia), and the 26th
(New Brunswick). The 24th Battalion (Victoria Rifles of Canada) was
held in reserve. The right of the attacking line was allotted to the
French-Canadians, whose objective was the whole of the village to the
right of the main street, running north. The left of the line was
taken by the Nova Scotians, whose task was to storm the left half of
the village. The steeple of the village church formed the landmark
dividing the two objectives. The New Brunswickers followed close
behind to support the assault, to deal with strong points which had
proved too obdurate for the attacking waves, and thoroughly to mop up
the whole village.
The action being a direct frontal attack, with no feints or flank
diversions, and carried to its triumphant conclusion along its whole
front, on schedule time and in precise accord with orders, the story of
it does not afford that intense dramatic interest, those soul-racking
fluctuations, those moments of terrible suspense, those snatchings of
victory out of defeat, which may be found in the accounts of many
lesser engagements. There were practically no fluctuations; and there
was never, in the assailing waves, a moment of doubt as to the result.
From flank to flank the advance was so irresistible, so implacable and
undeviating, that within one hour and a quarter from the first lift of
our barrage, the report went back to Headquarters that Courcelette was
completely in our hands and that the work of consolidation was under
way. Considering the distance and nature of the ground fought over and
the tremendous obstacles to be overcome, it is obvious that there was
no time for varying fortunes. By the very perfection and glory of the
achievement the story of it must suffer.
Envisaged as a whole, the action may best be presented as the steady
onflow of our waves close behind the successive lifts of our barrage.
The movement was as deliberate and as strictly co-ordinated as if it
were being executed on the parade-ground; for the enemy's fury of shell
and machine-guns, though it could slash gaps in our lines, could not
either check or hurry their inexorable march. Now here, now there, the
lines would break into a little seething vortex of body-to-body
struggle as they swept around and engulfed some rock of obstinate
resistance. But for the most part these stubborn points were left to
the uncompromising attention of the New Brunswickers, whose "mopping
up" was thorough; and, having confidence in that thoroughness, the
attacking lines refused to be delayed, but bombed and bayoneted their
way straight on to their final objective. They gained it, and the most
furious counter-attacks which an able and hardy enemy could afterwards
hurl against it never availed to shake their grip upon it.
To grasp the details of the action it is necessary to follow the
fortunes of the attacking Battalions individually. The total depth
covered in the advance, as we have seen, was about 3,000 yards, and
every yard of it under heavy shelling. The 22nd Battalion, on the
right, led by Lieutenant-Colonel Tremblay, the Battalion Commander, in
person, negotiated this portion of the advance in extended order at
three paces interval (that is, in non-technical language, in an open
line with a space of three yards between man and man). The two leading
companies in this formation occupied a front of about 900 yards. One
hundred and fifty yards behind them, in the same formation, came the
other two companies of the Battalion. Two hundred yards behind them,
again, came two companies of the 26th Battalion, also in two lines, to
do the mopping up for their predecessors.
This first thin line, looking frail and inadequate indeed for the great
task before it, moved on through the storm of death as steadily as if
upon manoeuvres. But even upon manoeuvres it is difficult enough for a
line so extended to maintain formation and direction. Now, with great
gaps blown in it here and there, and each individual compelled to
thread his way between endless shell-holes, some old and cold, some
still smoking with poison fumes, the line took ground insensibly to the
right and fell off toward Martinpuich. Its left was losing touch with
the 25th Battalion across the Bapaume Road. Colonel Tremblay,
perceiving the error in time, doubled across the whole front, swung up
the right flank, and got the line once more facing its true objective.
Three times he was thrown down and half-buried by shells exploding near
him, but impatiently recovering himself he continued to guide the
attack. The Battalion swept over the heads of the surprised 4th
Brigade in Candy Trench, and then, pivoting on the Sugar Refinery,
whirled to the left till its right rested on Gun Pit Trench. Fronting
now due north, with shouts and cheers and shrill cries of exultation
the excited French-Canadians stormed forward into Courcelette.
In their eagerness, these dark little men from the docks of Montreal
were hardly to be restrained. They entered the outskirts of the
village fairly on the heels of their own barrage, and suffered some
loss from it before it lifted forward. The platoons of their extreme
right ran into a torrent of machine-gun fire, which took heavy toll of
them. But as soon these guns were located the little men were on to
them like wild-cats, and from that quarter there was no further trouble.
The progress of the Battalion through the village was, in the main, one
irresistible rush, scarcely delayed by the savage hand-to-hand
encounters which developed all along its progress. Here and there a
party of two or three would delay, perforce, to unearth and destroy a
dangerous sniper's post or to bomb a threatening dug-out. But for the
most part the front waves passed straight on, their left bounded by the
main street running north, their right by the trenches outside the
sunken road which forms the eastern limit of the village. They were
not in the mood for stopping to take prisoners in their haste, but they
gathered in about 300, unwounded, as they went. By 6.45 they had
pushed clean through the maze of houses and established their lines
clear beyond the Stone Quarry, which occupies the extreme north-eastern
apex of Courcelette. They had utterly overthrown, destroyed, or
captured a garrisoning force numerically superior to themselves and
holding all the advantages of position and preparation.
This kind of fighting, this battling through the maze of half-ruined
cottages, wrecked gardens, and tumbled walls was exactly to the taste
of these eager and wiry Montreal Frenchmen. The variety of it, the
scope it offered to individual adventure, appealed to them. Into such
individual adventure they threw themselves with zest. A fiery
sergeant, having captured a store of German bombs, loaded himself with
them and set out to put them to the best possible use. He bombed a
dug-out crowded with Huns. He rushed on to another and cleaned it up
with equal effectiveness. He then, still single-handed attacked a
third, but was shot down before he could throw his bomb. In spite of
the heavy casualties which they suffered from beginning to end of their
advance, the French-Canadians carried it through at a pitch of
enthusiasm which made devotion easy and sacrifice of no account. But
having thus gained their prize, the holding of it was presently to
prove a more searching test of their quality. Throughout the next
forty-eight hours they were to show, under terrible trial, as we shall
see, a tenacity, an endurance, and a toughness of fibre no less
admirable than the fire and _élan_ of their attack.
Meanwhile, how had it been faring with the 25th Battalion, the men of
Nova Scotia, on the left? The objective set them, it will be
remembered, was that portion of Courcelette--the larger portion, as
will be seen by reference to the map--which lay west of the principal
street running north and south. Courcelette at this time, though much
damaged, was still recognisable as a village. There were still streets
to fight through, still houses and walls to serve as ambush for
machine-gun or sniper. And the village church in the main street still
stood, still held aloft its ancient spire, which was the landmark to
guide the right flank of the Nova Scotians' line. It was the
ceaseless--and futile--German bombardment of the place, after it had
passed once for all into our hands, which pounded Courcelette into the
dust and made of her one stony desolation with Pozières, Ovillers, and
La Boiselle.
The first wave of the 25th Battalion was led by its commanding officer,
Lieutenant-Colonel E. Hilliam. It was made up of "D" and "A"
companies, led by their respective company commanders, Major Brooks and
Major Tupper. And it occupied, in extended order, a frontage of about
half a mile. For the work before it this line was daringly thin, but
the coolness and steadiness of these Nova Scotian men fully justified
the confidence of their leader, and the wide extension of the line kept
down the casualties in passing through the heavy German barrage. In
spite of this furious shelling; and the tortured ground to be traversed
(which was nothing more than a jumble of shell-holes), this difficult
formation was preserved as methodically as it on inspection parade, the
whole battalion responding to its leader as a well-tuned machine
responds to the touch of the operator.
At a distance of 600 yards from the village the advance came under very
heavy machine-gun fire, and Major Brooks, who was leading D Company,
the left half of the line, was killed, as was also Captain Dickey, the
Adjutant, who accompanied Colonel Hilliam. Through this destructive
fire the line swept on unwavering, without either delay or haste, to
within 200 yards of the first houses. It was from among these houses
that the stream of leaden death was issuing. Colonel Hilliam gave the
word to charge, and the position--consisting of the whole southern
outskirts of the village from the main street on the right, to the
sunken road on the left--was captured with a rush. In this rush one of
the enemy's machine-guns was taken, but the rest were successfully
carried off by the survivors of their crews into the more northerly
portion of the village.
The Nova Scotians were now somewhat ahead of their scheduled time--so
much so, indeed, that they were beginning to get peppered with
fragments from their own barrage. Colonel Hilliam, therefore, halted
them, under cover of the cottages and garden walls, to take breath for
the next thrust. He moved through the ranks, talking to each man
personally, and found that, in spite of their casualties, they had
small need of cheering or encouragement. Amid toppling walls and
hurtling death and a pandemonium that no words can describe, they were
smoking and chaffing as if their halt was a mere route-march rest along
a peaceful roadside. But under this gay and laughing surface was the
thrill of a fierce exultation, and, in the words of their commander,
they were "like hounds straining on the leash" for the renewal of the
attack. A few minutes more and the barrage lifted. The leash was
loosed. The front line burst forward, and, bearing down all opposition
in its rush, swept straight through to its objective, 300 yards beyond
the northern boundary of the village. Here they at once began to dig
in, and so judicious was the siting of their trenches that the enemy's
artillery did not succeed in locating them till the next day. Colonel
Hilliam, though wounded, remained on duty, personally supervising the
task of consolidation. The second line, some fifty yards behind, came
on more deliberately, finishing what its predecessor had left
half-done, and taking up its position in support of the first. Numbers
of the enemy were seen fleeing wildly up the slope and over the crest
of the ridge beyond the village. They were pursued at once by the
deadly individual fire of our sharpshooters and by the collective fire
of certain sections working as fire-units as deliberately as if at
range practice Though bomb and bayonet had been their chief weapons of
late, the men had not forgotten the fine points of their musketry, and
it was but a thin remnant of the fugitives that escaped over the ridge.
These sons of Nova Scotia had proved themselves to be of the same
indomitable temper as their forbears in "the land of the glens and the
mountains and the heroes." They had displayed that blend of cold
resolution and fighting fire which we associate with such storied
Scottish regiments as the Gordons and the Black Watch.
Ten minutes later the Montreal men, enveloping the Stone Quarry, had
joined up on the right. This was at 7 o'clock in the evening of the
15th. The whole of Courcelette was in our hands, and our grip was
locked upon it, never to be shaken loose.