THE BATTLE OF NEUVE CHAPELLE.
We now return to the sodden plains of Flanders, where the torn and
slashed fields, the riven woods, and the tattered hedgerows are
beginning to don the livery of spring. Men looking out of their trenches
are gladdened by the pale sunshine, the tender green of the young
leaves, the songs of the birds, the patches of blue in the showery sky,
and the early flowers that coyly peep out amidst the grass. These signs,
which in the happy days of peace foretell the manifold delights of
summer, have no such meaning for the men in the trenches; yet they are
welcome, for they indicate that the long inactivity of the winter is
drawing to a close. The day will soon arrive when the soiled and
battered men who have watched each other so long from muddy holes in the
ground will come to close grips again. Fierce, relentless warfare will
begin once more; with what result only the future can tell. One thing is
certain--many of those who now watch the miracle of spring will never
see the glory of summer.
The month of March has come. The trenches are in much the same position
as they were in the preceding November. The gains and losses of the last
five months have been trifling. But amongst the Allies there is a
feeling that their day has at last arrived. Especially strong is this
belief in the British lines. New troops are crossing the narrow seas
every day; the Canadians and many Territorial divisions are in the
field, and before the month is over there are half a million Britons on
French and Flemish soil. Never before have we arrayed such a mighty
army. It is fifty-five times as great as that with which King Harry
charged the French at Agincourt, twelve times as great as that with
which Wellington won victories in the Peninsula, twenty-five times as
great as the British part of the mixed army with which he made an end of
Napoleon at Waterloo, and twice as great as that which brought the
South African War to a close. Four months ago the little British army
had barely been able to beat off the fierce attacks of an overwhelming
enemy. By miracles of valour alone had our much-tried soldiers been able
to stem the torrent in the first onset of its fury. Now, for every man
who kept the gate at La Bassée and Ypres there are four. Britons and
Germans have now changed parts. It is ours to attack, theirs to defend.
* * * * *
By the middle of February our General Staff felt itself strong enough to
take the offensive. In Chapter IX. I told you how the French in
Champagne had punctured the German line by means of an intense
bombardment of the opposing trenches. We were now ready to make a
similar attempt. If you look at the map on page 132, you will see a
thick black line showing the position of our trenches about midway
between La Bassée and Estaires. In front of the village of Neuve
Chapelle this line makes a distinct sag to the westward. It was upon
this section of the line that we meant to operate, and we hoped that we
might not only capture the village and straighten out our line, but push
the Germans off the Aubers ridge, from which coign of vantage the La
Bassée-Lille railway line could be commanded. If fortune were kind, we
might even reach Lille itself.
Though Neuve Chapelle is only a small village, its fame is now world
wide, and it will figure in the history books of the future. It is an
unimportant collection of houses and small farms scattered about a
junction of country roads, with a church in its centre. Our soldiers
looking eastward from the British front could see the long, straggling
line of houses among gardens, and the white church standing up tall and
clear from the flat, marshy land. Let us suppose that we are aviators
flying over the pretty village. What do we see? First, we notice the
broad highway running from La Bassée to Estaires (AA), and from this
road see two other roads, less than a mile apart, running parallel in a
north-easterly direction (BB and CC). A road (DD) almost parallel to the
broad highway (AA) connects these roads, and thus forms a diamond-shaped
figure which is divided into two by a winding cross road (EE). Neuve
Chapelle lies within the northern half of the diamond. Along the road
(DD) the houses are small, and stand close together; those along the
roads CC and EE are surrounded by gardens and orchards. At the
north-east of the village (F) there is a small piece of ground filled
with enclosures, and bounded on three sides by roads. Here the Germans
have made a strong post so as to flank the approaches to the village
from the north. Between the houses and the La Bassée-Estaires road are
meadows and ploughland, seamed with German trenches. At the northern
angle of the diamond our own trenches are but 100 yards away from those
of the Germans. In other parts of the line the distance is greater.
[Illustration]
From our lofty eyrie we look eastward, and make out a clearly-marked
ridge which is well known to us as the Aubers ridge. We see at a glance
that Neuve Chapelle is the gateway to this ridge. Between the ridge and
the village runs a small stream, and behind it, to the south-east, is
the Biez wood. Along the stream is the German second line of defence,
with strong posts at the bridgeheads. We notice that the stream crosses
the La Bassée-Estaires road, and that to the north of it is a group of
ruined buildings which our men call "Port Arthur." A mile eastward from
the village is Pietre[27] Mill, with a tall chimney, which is a landmark
for miles around. From the mill to Port Arthur runs a great network of
German trenches. Earthworks are also to be seen in the Biez wood to the
south-east of the stream. It is clear that before our soldiers can
attain the ridge and threaten Lille they must carry this formidable
line.
[Illustration: The Battle of Neuve Chapelle.
The black line shows the general position of the British front before
the battle. A, 24th Brigade; B, 23rd Brigade; C, 25th Division; D,
Garhwal Brigade; E, Dehra Dun Brigade.]
On 8th March Sir John French called his commanders together and
explained his plans. The main assault was to be made by the First Army,
and two Indian divisions were to share in it, while the Second Army was
to form a general support. In order to prevent the Germans from sending
up reinforcements to the scene of the main attack, two other attacks
were to take place at the same time, the one from Givenchy, the other
just south of Armentières. A great mass of artillery was to be brought
up, and a bombardment four times as intense as any which we had yet made
was to be undertaken. Then when the German trenches were wrecked, our
infantry were to go forward and attempt to drive a deep wedge into the
German line. If all went well, we might be in Lille within a few days.
On the 8th and 9th of March our big guns were brought up very quietly
and placed in position. We were able to do this quite unknown to the
Germans, because our aircraft had gained the upper hand of theirs. All
sorts of big guns were massed together, and their positions are roughly
shown on the map (page 132). Meanwhile, from ten o'clock that evening
endless files of men marched silently down the roads leading towards our
trenches. Watch the troops as they file by. Here are sturdy Garhwalis,
with slouch hats and kukris at their belts, and farther down the road
you see Gurkhas. Here, too, are the Leicesters--"the Tigers," as they
are called from their badge. Yonder go the Lincolns and the Berkshires.
You see the silver cross of the Rifle Brigade, the star and bugle of the
Scottish Rifles, the Black Watch in their bonnets, the North Hants and
the Worcesters, heroes of Ypres. Halted by the road are the Middlesex,
the West Yorks, the Devons. Every British dialect is heard; men are here
from Land's End to John o' Groats. All are eager for the fray; all long
for the moment when the whistles will blow and the command will be
given, "Over the parapet! Charge!"
* * * * *
Before morning our trenches were literally wedged with men, waiting in
silence for the dawn. From the enemy's front there was as yet no sign of
alarm, though their trenches at many points were less than one hundred
yards away. A prisoner afterwards said that his captain noticed the
massing of our men, and sent urgent messages to the artillery to open
fire, but with no result. Before sunrise on the morning of the 10th hot
meals were served out all along our line, for, as everybody knows, a
Briton fights best when his inner man is satisfied. Then came another
long wait in tense silence. Aeroplanes buzzed aloft, and every now and
then officers looked at their watches. Every man knew that with the
earliest light of morning the guns would begin to speak, and that some
time later he and his fellows would be out in the open, making for the
enemy's line as hard as they could pelt. The minutes dragged on. Would
the dawn never come?
Away to the east the faint light of a gray and sullen day now began to
appear. The heavy clouds hung low in the sky, and ahead the mist
shrouded the view. Before long the Germans knew that a big attack was
preparing, but they took no steps to meet it. Our artillery now began to
boom; "ranging shots" were being fired, but soon all was silent again.
On the stroke of 7.30 some 350 guns suddenly spoke with an overpowering
din that racked the brain and split the ears. The terrific roar was
incessant, and the discharges were so rapid that it seemed as if they
came from a gigantic machine gun. The very earth shook as though struck
by Thor's[28] hammer. The first shells that hit the German position
raised huge clouds of smoke and dust, and nothing could be seen but the
green fumes of lyddite and the spouting columns of red earth.
Barbed-wire entanglements were blown into a myriad fragments, parapets
crumbled like sand castles, and trenches on which men had worked for
months were flung into shapeless ruin. Bodies of mangled men were hurled
high into the air, and ghastly fragments were blown back into the
British lines. Four shells were hurled on every yard of the German
trenches, and more ammunition was used in the thirty-five minutes during
which the bombardment lasted than in a year and a half of the South
African War. Long before the awful cannonade ended the German trenches
had ceased to exist. They were reduced to a welter of earth and dust.
While the bombardment lasted our troops could walk outside their
trenches in safety, for the Germans were so "pinned to the ground" that
those of them who remained alive dared not lift their heads. From behind
the ragged clouds in the sky where the aeroplanes were sailing the sun
now began to shine, making still darker the black pall that hung over
the German position, and flashing back from the rows of gleaming
bayonets in the British trenches. At five minutes to eight our gunners
lengthened their fuses, and shells began to fall fast and furiously on
the village itself. Some of the houses were seen to leap into the air.
Columns of dust like the sand spouts of the desert sprang up; trees went
down like wheat before a sickle; bricks and stones fell in torrents.
Then came the great moment. Whistles blew; our men swarmed over the
parapets and rushed towards the German trenches.
[Illustration: The Rifle Brigade racing headlong through the Ruins of
Neuve Chapelle during the Attack on the Village.
(_From the picture by Christopher Clark. By permission of The Sphere._)
"The village," says a writer who visited the scene a few days after the
battle, "was a sight that the men say they will never forget. Once upon
a time Neuve Chapelle must have been a pretty little place, big as
villages in these parts go, with a nice clean church (whence it probably
got its name), some neat villas, half a dozen inns, a red-brick brewery,
and on the outskirts a little old white château. Now hardly stone
remains on stone. It was indeed a scene of desolation into which the
Rifle Brigade--the first regiment to enter the village, I believe--raced
headlong. Of the church only the bare shell remained; the interior was
lost to view beneath a gigantic mound of rubbish. Of all that once fair
village but two things remained intact--the great crucifixes reared
aloft, one in the churchyard, the other over against the château. From
the cross that is the emblem of our faith the figure of Christ, yet
intact, though all pitted with bullet marks, looked down in mute agony
on the slaying in the village."]
Five separate infantry attacks were made on the village. The first
attack was made by the 24th Brigade, to the north of the village; the
second, by the 23rd Brigade, against its north-east corner; the third,
by the 25th Division, against the village itself; the fourth, by the
Garhwal Brigade of Indians, against its south-west corner; and the
fifth, by the Dehra Dun Brigade, against Port Arthur. The 25th pushed
into the wreckage of the German trenches without difficulty. They were
only occupied by the shreds and tatters of the dead and a few dazed and
stupefied men, their faces yellow with fumes, their clothes torn from
their backs, and their equipment and weapons destroyed. In some places a
few machine guns which had escaped destruction kept up fire from
concealed positions, and snipers took toll of our men as they advanced.
The first to reach the goal were the 2nd Lincolns and the 2nd Royal
Berkshires, who opened out to let the Irish Rifles and the Rifle Brigade
pass through them and take the village. From a trench in front of the
Berkshires came the rattle of machine-gun fire. Two German officers,
alone, were working the gun, and they continued to fire until they fell
beneath the bayonets of our men. Equally gallant deeds were done on the
British side. A lance-corporal who had been wounded three times and had
been told to lie down insisted on advancing with his fellows. Nor was he
the only wounded man who plied bayonet and grenade on that red day.
The village was now only a rubbish heap; the church was a broken shell,
and the very graves in the churchyard had been torn open by our shells.
Strange to say, while houses and trees were falling, a crucifix at the
cross roads remained untouched, and spread its gaunt arms in mute
protest above the terrible scene of slaughter and destruction. Once more
our gunners lifted their sights and lengthened their fuses, and between
the village and the German supports in the rear created a curtain of
fire through which no living thing could pass. Then our men swept into
the battered streets. Through the thick pall of smoke Germans were seen
on all sides, some holding up their hands, others flying for life, and
others, again, firing from the windows, from behind carts, and even from
behind overturned tombstones. Machine guns clacked viciously from houses
on the outskirts, and many a Briton fell a victim to them. Nevertheless,
before long the village was wholly ours.
The Garhwalis to the right of the 25th were equally successful. Within a
quarter of an hour after the assault began they had carried the first
line of German trenches, and soon afterwards the 3rd Gurkhas met the
Rifle Brigade in the southern outskirts of the village. Together they
swept on past the heap of ruins which had once been the hamlet of Port
Arthur into the woods at the foot of the rising ground.
Now comes the tragical part of the story. The 23rd Brigade, which
attacked to the left of the 25th, advanced, you will remember, against
the north-east of the village. Unhappily, the artillery had not properly
shelled this part of the German position, and in a slight hollow the
wire entanglements and the trenches were almost untouched. When the 2nd
Devons, the 2nd West Yorks, the 2nd Scottish Rifles (Cameronians), and
the 2nd Middlesex pushed forward they found themselves up against
unbroken wire. The Cameronians suffered severely. A storm of bullets
from rifles and machine guns assailed them, but they never wavered. Go
on they could not; go back they would not. Men were seen in that zone of
death tearing at the wire with raw and bleeding hands, while their
comrades were falling fast around them. Those who survived were obliged
to retire and lie down in the open under a tornado of shot and shell,
until one company made a gap and broke through the line of defence.
Fifteen officers, including the commander, Colonel Bliss, were killed or
wounded, and when the terrible day was over only 150 men out of 750
answered the roll call. "You have many noble honours on your colours,"
said Sir John French, when he addressed the gallant remnant some days
later; "none are finer than that of Neuve Chapelle, which will soon be
added to them."
The 2nd Middlesex had a similar trial, and bore it with the same
bravery. Machine guns were turned on them from several points, and as
they pressed forward men fell at every step. Three times they strove to
reach the trench, but three times they failed, and were forced to lie
down in the open until a message was sent back to the artillery. Guns
were relaid on the trench, and before long the entanglements were
destroyed. When this was done the Middlesex, aided by a bombing party,
carried the position, and were able to move forward to an orchard on the
north-east of the village, where they joined the Devonshires. The 1st
Battalion of the King's Liverpool, which was attached to the ill-fated
division, also found itself up against unbroken wire. A company
sergeant-major spent five minutes under the entanglement trying to cut
it, and miraculously escaped with his life. The colonel, though wounded,
refused to leave his men, and remained with them throughout the day. A
young officer who had been shot down near the wire kept shouting to his
men to come on until his breath failed him. In this battalion alone 100
men were killed and 119 were wounded.
[Illustration: Neuve Chapelle, March 10, 1915.
(_From the drawing by D. Macpherson. By permission of The Sphere._)
This picture shows a batch of the Prussian Guards surrendering to the
2nd Battalion of the Middlesex Regiment at the first line of trenches
before the village of Neuve Chapelle. The distance at this point from
the British advanced line was about sixty-five yards, and our men were
upon the enemy while most of them were still dazed from the effects of
the terrific bombardment. The prisoners were taken in batches of thirty
or forty, and were handed over to the oncoming lines of supports until
they were passed back to headquarters, the captors meanwhile sweeping on
with the advance.]
Meanwhile the success of the 25th Brigade had turned the flank of the
Germans north of the village, and when the 23rd Brigade at last managed
to struggle through the orchard and join hands with the 24th Brigade,
which had attacked to their left, the time had come for the combined
force to sweep onward to the Aubers ridge. The Germans were still dazed
with surprise, and completely paralyzed by the heavy bombardment of the
morning; while our men were flushed with victory, and were eager to
press forward. But at this moment there was a long delay. The telephone
wires had been cut by the bursting shells, and it was difficult to get
orders quickly to the first line. The check to the 23rd Brigade had
thrown everything out of gear. A halt had to be called for fresh troops
to come up, and they were very slow in arriving. The village was ours by
noon, but not until 3.30 did the reserve brigades arrive. Had they been
brought up promptly the Aubers ridge would have been won. As it was, we
were robbed of a great victory. A splendid chance had been thrown away,
and an unavailing sacrifice of life was to follow.
The newly-arrived brigades, all belonging to the 7th Division, which had
won such glory in the October battle round Ypres, formed up on the left
of the 24th Brigade, and the attack began again; but everywhere
difficulties were met with. The Germans had taken advantage of the lull
to strengthen their third line of trenches, and had brought up
reinforcements. When our men advanced they were ready to receive them.
The Indian brigades pushed through the wood towards the ridge, but could
make but little headway, and suffered terrible losses. One of the Indian
battalions would have been entirely cut off but for a splendid bombing
attack by the 2nd Leicesters. It was at this point of the battle that
the 3rd London--a Territorial regiment--made a brilliant charge to aid
the front line, and won the cheers of their regular comrades by their
gallantry and devotion.
Further to our left the 25th Division was checked along the line of the
little river, while the 24th Brigade and 7th Division were held up by
machine-gun fire from the cross roads and the defences of Pietre Mill.
The line of the river could not be forced without artillery
"preparation." Everywhere in this part of the line there were German
positions which our big guns had not touched. To push infantry against
them was simple murder. So, as the evening closed in, we busied
ourselves in strengthening the positions which we had already won. The
village was ours; we had gained a mile, and had straightened out our
line. We had, however, failed in the bigger business of seizing the
Aubers ridge.
Not until darkness fell did the 1st Brigade of the First Corps arrive.
Next morning our guns began to boom again, but they could not repeat the
surprise of yesterday. The Germans had pulled themselves together; their
lines were strongly reinforced, and mist prevented the artillery
observers from directing the fire of their guns. More than once our
infantry were caught by their own shells. We could make no further
headway, and on the 12th the Bavarians advanced against Neuve Chapelle,
an officer on horseback with drawn sword leading them right up to the
Worcesters, who met them with a shattering fire. At another point
twenty-one machine guns were turned against them, and they fell by the
hundred. So fierce was the fire that the survivors were forced to
protect themselves behind ramparts of their own dead.
All that day the 7th Division struggled to carry Pietre Mill, while the
rest of the line attacked the bridges over the river and the German
trenches in the wood. Round about the mill the fighting was very fierce;
ground was gained and lost again; houses were captured and recaptured;
and friend and foe were mixed up in confused hand-to-hand fighting. Here
it was that the 6th Gordons lost Lieutenant-Colonel Maclean. A subaltern
found him lying in the open behind the trench with a bullet in his back,
and sinking fast. The young officer brought him morphia to ease his
pain, and when he had taken it he said, "And now, my boy, your place is
not here. Go about your duty." So died a very gallant gentleman.
Victoria Crosses were won on this part of the front by Private Edward
Barber and Lance-Corporal Wilfred Fuller of the Grenadiers for a
brilliant bombing attack, of which we shall read later. Further south,
the 2nd Rifle Brigade managed to carry a section of German trenches, and
Sergeant-Major Daniels and Corporal Noble did deeds of outstanding
valour which won them the proudest decoration that a soldier can wear.
Unhappily, their unit, the Rifle Brigade, was enfiladed and forced to
fall back on its old lines.
By the evening of the 12th Sir John French was convinced that nothing
more could be won, and he ordered the attack to be suspended for the
present. All the 13th was spent by our weary soldiers in digging
themselves in on the banks of the little river which they had failed to
cross. So worn out were many of the men that they fell asleep while
standing at their loopholes. Counter-attacks were to be expected, and
they soon began, but met with no success. Only at one point, north-east
of the village, did the Germans manage to get into our trenches, and
their stay was brief indeed. In one of their attacks they lost more than
600 prisoners, and the captured men seemed glad to be out of the
terrible fighting.
The most severe counter-attack was made not at Neuve Chapelle, but at
the tiny Belgian hamlet of St. Eloi, 15 miles to the north, and at the
junction of two main roads. On the 14th, when mists lay thick on the
flats, the Germans, following our example at Neuve Chapelle, began a
fierce bombardment of our trenches, and at the same time exploded mines
on our front and on a large mound which we held to the south-east of the
village. The infantry attacks of the enemy were very determined; our men
were driven from their trenches, and our whole line had to fall back.
Under cover of the darkness we prepared for a counter-attack, and on the
morning of the 15th managed to win back most of the lost ground. The
mound, which our soldiers called "the Mound of Death," was not
recovered; it lay in the No Man's Land between the rival trenches,
exposed to the gun fire of friend and foe.
In this action Princess Patricia's Own specially distinguished itself,
and won the praise of Sir John French. It co-operated with a battalion
of the Rifle Brigade in an attack on the mound, and advanced with great
coolness and resolution, but was checked by a murderous machine-gun
fire. Three platoons, however, held on to a breastwork, while the
remainder retired across a zone of fire without leaving behind them a
single wounded man. Five days later Princess Pat's lost its commanding
officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Francis Farquhar, one of the bravest and
kindest of men.
You will remember that our assault on Neuve Chapelle was supported by
other attacks on various parts of the German front, in order to prevent
the enemy from suddenly massing reinforcements against our main attack.
I need not describe these operations, for they were only "holding
attacks," and were not expected to succeed. Nevertheless the assault on
a hamlet to the south-east of Armentières was successful, and an advance
of 300 yards on a front of half a mile was made.
Our airmen were very busy during the three days of struggle, though the
weather was against them. Bombs were dropped on railway stations and
bridges behind the German lines, and much damage was done. One daring
aviator flying over Lille hit a house which was used as the German
headquarters.
The Battle of Neuve Chapelle was not a failure, but it was not a
complete success. We straightened out the sag in our line; we won the
village, advanced one mile, took 2,000 prisoners, and killed or wounded
20,000 of the enemy. Our offensive put new heart into our men, who went
into battle with the utmost zeal, joking and laughing even under fire.
It is said that when they crowded into the German first-line trenches
and there was no room for them all to line the parapet, a man would pull
his comrade down, crying out that it was his turn for a shot. The
Indians greatly welcomed the opportunity of fighting in the open, and
the Gurkhas and Garhwalis plied their kukris with deadly effect. Our
losses were very heavy. In the three days' fighting we had about 13,000
casualties: 2,337 men and 190 officers were killed.
Our failure to "make good" at a time when the Germans were almost at our
mercy was as much due to accident as to blunder. Parts of the enemy
lines had not been properly "prepared," and some of our troops were
shelled by their own guns. This was, no doubt, due to the dull sky and
the mists, which prevented the observers from properly controlling the
fire of their guns. It was our first attempt to combine artillery and
infantry on a great scale, and, naturally, mistakes were made. The best
result was the new ardour which inspired our men. "This time," said one
of them, "it was pushing the Germans, instead of trying to hold them.
You can't realize, unless you have been in it from Mons onwards, how
that bucks you up."
* * * * *
The German people took their beating very badly. They accused us of
using German prisoners to screen our advance, and they complained
bitterly that we had brought such a vast force of artillery against
them. "This is not war; it is murder," they said, coolly ignoring the
fact that a mighty artillery onslaught had been their favourite method
of attack since the beginning of the war. When they were given a taste
of their own medicine they cried out in the usual fashion of the bully.
[Footnote 27: _Pee-aitr._]
[Footnote 28: The Thunderer; the blacksmith god of the ancient Norse. He
is represented as wielding a hammer.]