THE BEGINNING OF THE GREATER PUSH
"HAIG has occupied Bapaume and Péronne, encountering little
opposition."
Such was the news that greeted second-lieutenant Ralph Setley on
disembarking at Boulogne. Bapaume and Péronne--places that for
months and months had been practically within sight of the British
trenches, and yet seemed as far remote as Peru. Miles and miles of
deep concrete reinforced earthworks, hundreds of machine-guns, acres
of formidable barbed wire, and the pick of the Kaiser's legions, had
been in front of those two towns; and yet the Huns had
gone--retreated.
"A voluntary retirement, according to our plans." Ralph smiled when
he read the mendacious German official report. Can any sane
individual imagine a voluntary retirement in these circumstances.
After two years of hard work, fortifying and defending those deep-dug
trenches, would any belligerent voluntarily abandon ground gained and
maintained at such a cost of blood and treasure?
At a certain place, well behind the lines, Ralph was put through a
hurried yet comprehensive "course" in Tank work. In company with half
a dozen other young subalterns, he was under instruction from morning
to night, with only brief intervals for meals. It would be difficult
to find a squad more eager to grasp the intricacies of their future
commands. They were, one and all, as "keen as mustard." Technical and
practical work, intermixed with lectures on motors, machine-guns and
quickfirers, hints on strategy and tactics, map-reading and
dynamics--all were drummed into the active brains of the
probationers, regardless of the adage, "A little knowledge is a
dangerous thing."
"Dangerous for the Boches, let's hope," remarked Danvers, a young
second-lieutenant recently transferred from the Air Service, owing to
a wound that rendered him unfit to fly, although his capacity in
other directions was unimpaired. He had chummed up with Setley, and
the two got on admirably. In private life Danvers had been a civil
engineer, until the call of the sword took him from the plane-table
and theodolite to the sterner profession of war.
"I want to impress upon you fellows," said the major--who acted as
instructor--"that you must not run away with the idea that landships
are invulnerable."
The class nodded their heads sagely. Considering most of them had
seen derelict Tanks--in many cases showing huge rents in their
armoured sides, caused by the impact of heavy shells--this
announcement seemed superfluous.
"However useful the Tanks have been and are," continued the major,
"they have their limitations. They are not perfect. Perfection means
finality--and the end is not yet. Landships are a means to an end,
nothing more. So don't run away with the idea that you can do
anything when in charge of a Tank. It will do a lot. As an adjunct to
an infantry attack it is most efficient. When first brought into
action landships scored heavily, owing to their novel
characteristics. The Huns have now found certain means to counter
their offensive, and these means must in turn be negatived. So in the
attack exercise discretion until you are astride the enemy trenches.
Then you can go for all you're worth. Self-sacrifice is commendable
in certain circumstances, but little is gained if you blunder into a
pitfall through sheer impetuosity."
Instructor No. 2 adopted a different line.
"Tanks attacking in company," he declared, "should advance straight
for their objective and at their maximum speed. Preferably the
formation should be _en échelon_; then, should the leading landship
be 'bogged,' the others will have a chance to avoid the pitfall."
Then came the actual practice. Across ground gradually increasing in
difficulty the instruction Tanks were taken, first with a qualified
hand in charge of each and then with one of the new hands in command.
At the end of a few days Ralph was "passed out" as being competent to
take a landship into action.
It took two days to bring his command up to the Front. Too heavy and
unwieldy to be conveyed by rail the landship squadron lumbered
towards the Arras sector, in company with hundreds of guns of all
calibres, enormous lorries crammed with shells, and transport of all
descriptions laden with munitions and food. Dense columns of marching
infantry, regiments in motor waggons, individual units, were swarming
everywhere, the Tommies marching with elastic gait and resolute mien,
confident that once more the German arms were about to suffer defeat.
"It's Easter Day," observed Danvers, when the Tanks were "parked" for
the night and concealed from the prying eyes of a chance hostile
airman--the Hun fliers were very chary of late of venturing over the
British lines--by means of futurist-painted canvas. "Rummiest Easter
I've ever spent. Wonder if the Huns use a similar form of service to
ours. Can you imagine the Germans making use of the words of the
Litany: 'To have pity upon all prisoners and captives'?"
"From all accounts they are badly using our men who have had the
ill-luck to fall into their hands," said Setley. "A platoon of the
Chalkshires got cut off, I hear. The men are kept in the German
reserve trenches."
"Yes," added another subaltern. "And our fellows are mad about it.
The Huns will feel sorry for themselves when the infantry go over the
top and get to work with the bayonet. Hullo! the great strafe is
commencing."
The artillery fire, constant for the last twenty-four hours, was
increasing in violence. The guns of all sizes, from the giant
twelve-inch to the fifteen-pounders, were belching forth their hail
of devastating projectiles upon the enemy trenches. Vainly the German
guns attempted to reply. Literally pulverized by an immensely
superior weight of metal, their efforts were hardly of consequence.
"Does a fellow good to see that," observed a grey-haired major, as he
watched the incessant glare of the shells bursting in the Hun
trenches. "We're top-dog now. I remembered at Ypres we were battered
for a week or more and hardly able to reply. Now the boot is on the
other foot, and, you fellows, wait till the morning. We've a nice
little surprise for Fritz."
There was no sleep that night for the officers and men of the Tanks.
All inclination to rest was dispelled by the stupendous violence of
the bombardment. The night was rendered as light as day by the
incessant flashes, the din was indescribable, while the earth
trembled with the crash of the guns.
Rapidly the "dump" diminished, but as fast as the reserve of stacked
shells was exhausted more were brought up. The dragon's teeth of
ancient Greek mythology were not in it: the projectiles at the
disposal of the hardworked but enthusiastic gunners were greater in
number as the hours sped. Thanks to the splendid organization of the
munition workers at home, the artillery was not in danger of being
starved.
"There won't be any work left for us to do," remarked Danvers. "The
German trenches must be flattened out by this time."
"You'll soon see," rejoined a lieutenant, consulting his watch. "It's
now close on five. The infantry go over the top at the half-hour.
Hullo! here's the C.O. It's about time we started."
Already the men had stripped the canvas coverings from the massive
mobile fortresses. The roar of the exhausts almost drowned the
thunder of the guns. The air reeked with petrol vapour, mingled with
the acrid, pungent fumes from the cordite charges from the nearest
batteries.
"All correct, sir," replied Ralph's sergeant, as the subaltern
scrambled through the narrow armoured door in the afterside of the
sponson and gained the complicated interior of the Tank.
Setley gave the word and the mammoth ambled off, fifty yards in the
wake of another Tank, three others following at regular intervals. It
was still night. Dawn was close at hand, but any indications of the
break of day were concealed by the huge clouds of smoke that hung in
impenetrable curtains over the German lines. It was snowing. Frozen
flakes were whirling through the smoke-laden air. In places the
ground was covered to a depth of four or five inches, although
everywhere the pure white mantle was rapidly churned into brownish
slush by the constant movement of vehicles and men.
Half-past five. To the second the British guns lifted, raining their
hail of projectiles on the hostile support trenches and putting up
such a tremendous barrage that no living thing could endure in that
sector of bursting shells. To those of the high explosive type were
added others of a terrible but totally different character. Fritz was
being paid back in his own coin and with compound interest. Oft-times
the cultured Huns had made use of liquid fire--a hideous barbaric
means of attack. Retaliations had been reluctantly decided upon by
the British authorities. At last the time-honoured maxim, "an eye for
an eye, a tooth for a tooth," was being put into force.
Splendid in their terrible work, the liquid fire shells burst with
admirable precision over the crowded reserve trenches. Unable to
retreat owing to the barrage, reluctant to face the bombs and
bayonets of the British infantry as they kept pace with the lifting
artillery fire, the Germans were trapped.
Almost without meeting any resistance the Tommies swarmed over the
hostile trenches, and soon a steady, ever-increasing stream of
prisoners--men dazed with the horror of the bombardment, hungry,
dirty, and devoid of spirit--set in towards the advance cages.
"We're out of it this trip," thought Ralph. "There's nothing for the
Tanks to do. By Jove, there is, though! A viper's nest wants
flattening out."