At some stage Frank Heap had to face the final, and most forbidding, stage of his initiation: namely meeting the commander of No. 12 Company, Major R.O.C. Ward.
Each tank battalion was divided into three companies which formed the principal administrative and fighting units, and each of these had its own distinctive character, as Second Lieutenant Horace Birks explained: ‘There were 10, 11 and 12 Companies in D Battalion, and they were very close together but extraordinarily detached, to be thoroughly Irish. You had nothing to do with 10 Company except to pinch their tools when they weren’t there … And when you went into Poperinghe for a night out they’d give you a lift in their lorry, but it was their lorry not your own. But on the other hand you were all … very much D Battalion.’1
The company commanders therefore bore the main responsibility for their men and tanks both in and out of battle, and in this respect Frank had landed on his feet, though it may not have felt that way. Robert Oscar Cyril Ward had been one of the pre-war stars of the Harlequins rugby team, and embodied the kind of muscular leadership that transferred easily from the sports field to the battlefield. He was known to sports fans by the acronym ‘ROC’, but when Frank Heap was ushered into the Major’s presence in his makeshift headquarters at La Lovie, the reason for his other nickname would have become clear. With his thick-set features, brawny physique and powerful personality, he was known as ‘The Bull’.2
R.O.C. Ward seems to have born to the role of commanding men in battle, but he was actually another New Army man who had joined up a fortnight after Frank. Before that he had trained as a lawyer and worked as an accountant, and his pre-war military experience was limited to the school Cadet Corps.3 Since the outbreak of war, however, he had fought ferociously both as an infantry and tank officer, and had cheated death several times – most recently in a dreadful accident which left his body permanently peppered with splinters from British hand grenades, and can have done nothing to improve his outlook on life.
Ward seems to have inspired almost universal admiration, with one NCO describing him simply as a ‘marvellous man’. Interestingly though, he was not regarded with affection by all his junior officers. His volcanic style of leadership may have been ideal in combat, but he was also a hard taskmaster and seems to have lacked what we would now call ‘people skills’. Second Lieutenant James Macintosh recalled an incident at Wailly, the area of captured German trenches that was used for tank training, where an officer managed to submerge his tank in a large pond, leaving the crew to wade ashore from their stranded machine. The reaction of R.O.C.’s deputy, Captain Walter Smith, was typically derisive: ‘Damn it, man, you ought to be in the Inland Water Transport!’4 Ward’s response was very different, and illustrated his approach to command:
The Major, however, saw little occasion for mirth in the situation. He was proud of being in command of the best Company of the best Battalion in the Corps, and he foresaw endless chaffing if the story once got about. Further, he considered this a splendid opportunity for exhibiting that cast-iron discipline for which he would fain be famous. Accordingly, he applied the standing order that crews of ditched tanks will in all cases remain with their tank until ordered to abandon it, thus dooming our friend to a cheerless night in some dug-out in the old Boche line. A special order was issued to all ranks forbidding mention of the occurrence, while, early next morning, two tanks sallied forth, and, pulling in tandem, dragged the unfortunate from its inglorious position.5
Another junior officer in No. 12 Company, Second Lieutenant Ralph Cooney, was even more forthright when asked about his memories of the war:
Cooney: Our company commander was a fellow called R.O.C. Ward who used to play for England [sic] in the Harlequins.
Interviewer: What was he like to work with?
Cooney: He wasn’t very popular. He was a great big chap and he was inclined to be a bit hard, I think. He was streets better than we were at all sorts of things [laughs].6
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We can therefore be fairly sure what Frank Heap made of R.O.C. Ward as he fidgeted uneasily in front of him. As for Ward, he had seen many young officers come and go from the units under his command, and all too often their departure had been both catastrophic and terminal. He was probably not much impressed by Heap’s mild-mannered appearance, nor by his spectacles. On the other hand he would have appreciated his cheerfulness and keenness, though he had seen those often enough before, and had paid tribute to them in many a letter of condolence.
No doubt Ward expressed polite interest at the fact they were both Cambridge ‘Blues’, having represented the university in their chosen sports – though in Ward’s case these were rugby and boxing, whereas Frank had played lacrosse, which did not have quite the same ring to it. Both of them had first seen action in the Battle of Loos, but Frank had been behind the lines on his motorbike, whereas Ward had been in the thick of the fighting. There was not much else to say for now, other than to wish Heap the best of luck, but at least the formalities were over and the Major could get back to more pressing matters, and Frank could get back to the mess.
In fact the social gulf between them was not great, since they were both the sons of men who became rich through their own enterprise. Ward’s father acquired his wealth from an import and export business which took him to British Columbia in Canada, where his diary noted one day in 1881: ‘Bright & showery & windy. Boy born.’ This was R.O.C., and when the Wards returned home at the turn of the century they brought no fewer than seven children who had been born in Canada.7 The family settled in a smart area of London, and R.O.C. went to the prestigious Trinity College, Cambridge.8 However, like Frank his varsity career was chiefly distinguished for its sporting achievements and he became a ‘Double Blue’, winning the heavyweight title in both public schools and inter-university boxing;9 he was said to be the only man who ever lasted more than one round in the ring with John Hopley,10 one of the finest heavyweights in the British Empire.
The year of his graduation in 1904 was also memorable for his parents’ move to Oak Lawn, a substantial estate in Surrey, where Robert Ward senior ‘lived the quiet life of a country gentleman’.11 But a quiet life was not what his sons had in mind, and both R.O.C.’s younger brothers had joined the armed forces, with Victor becoming one of the first officers in the Royal Navy’s newly-formed submarine service,12 and Horace seeing service as an infantry officer in the Boer War. R.O.C. chose a less dashing career in commerce and soon became secretary of a printing company,13 but there were thrills aplenty on the rugby pitch, and with his brother Horace – known as ‘Holly’ – he became a mainstay of the Harlequins team forged by the legendary Adrian Stoop, whose inspired leadership turned it into one of the country’s top clubs and established Twickenham as the home of English Rugby Union. R.O.C. was noted for strength rather than speed, and one writer observed that ‘perhaps few forwards of his weight used their weight more than he’.14
R.O.C. also shared a special bond with his brother Victor, for in 1909 they married two sisters, the daughters of a wealthy landowner, at a joint ceremony in the south London suburb of Putney.15 The local paper was almost overcome with excitement: ‘The weddings were of a very picturesque description, as on one side it was a full naval wedding, the bridegroom, best man, and several others being in full naval uniform … Mr. R.O.C. Ward is well-known in Rugby football circles, having been for several seasons one of the most useful of the Harlequins’ forwards and a county player.’16
With his new bride, R.O.C. settled in the respectable town of Watford where he became accountant to a firm of wholesale drapers. Despite their comfortable circumstances, married life did not begin easily and their first child died soon after he was born in 1912. The couple moved back to London where another son was born later that year, followed by a daughter in June 1914.17 By now the family had moved to a spacious villa in Putney, close to his wife’s childhood home, handy for the Harlequins’ ground at Twickenham, and an easy train ride from the capital.
* * *
When war came, R.O.C. Ward must have envied his brothers who had already staked their places in the great adventure. Despite his lack of military experience, there was no chance he was going to stay on the sidelines, and fortunately the expansion of the army threw up plenty of opportunities. R.O.C.’s brother Holly was in the East Kent Regiment, known as The Buffs, and this now underwent rapid growth with the creation of new ‘service’ battalions manned by those who had answered Kitchener’s call. In October 1914, R.O.C. travelled to Purfleet Camp in Essex to be commissioned as a lieutenant in the newly-formed 6th Battalion of the Buffs.18 A month later, Holly was captured in a series of battles that became known as the ‘race to the sea’, and spent the rest of the war as a prisoner in Germany.19 But R.O.C.’s army career was just beginning, and after training his battalion left England in June 1915, when, in the words of the regimental historian, ‘yet another warlike body of Buffs made the great move and sailed for France to show of what stuff the old regiment was made’.20
Despite their keenness, it was some time before 6th Buffs got the chance to prove themselves. As with Frank Heap’s division, they first had to learn the skills of trench warfare, and were sent to a quiet sector where the enemy could sometimes be heard but were seldom seen. Both sides were busy sniping and tunnelling under each other’s positions to bury explosives, and R.O.C. did his best to liven things up by leading patrols, hurling grenades into the German trenches, and even setting off a mine when an attack seemed imminent.21
Their first taste of real fighting came in the Battle of Loos, a crushing encounter which left the citizen soldiers of the New Army in no doubt as to the power and professionalism of their opponents. On 13 October, in the closing stages of the battle, it was the turn of 6th Buffs to go over the top in an attack at Hulluch – an ugly name, and an ugly memory for those who survived. They were supposed to advance behind a smokescreen, but the War Diary described what happened: ‘At 1 p.m. a smoke cloud was created along the line … By about 2 p.m. all the smoke had cleared. At 2.15 p.m. the order was given to charge … The men were met with a terrific fire, machine guns on three sides while the Germans were lying on their parapets giving rapid fire. The three [companies] were practically wiped out.’22
Around 190 men from 6th Battalion died that day, with as many more wounded or missing.23 Ten of the thirteen officers who took part were killed,24 among them Second Lieutenant Douglas Lambert, an England rugby star and R.O.C. Ward’s team-mate in the Harlequins. His dazzling speed counted for nothing in this cruel game, and he was shot down along with his men. His body was lost for ever in the mud of Hulluch, and he never knew the son who was born two months later.25
Somehow R.O.C. emerged unscathed from this bloodbath, but he was a man of intelligence as well as action, and must have realized that sooner or later he would also end up throwing his life away for nothing. There had to be a better way of attacking heavily defended positions than simply hurling men and shells at them, and the same point had struck some members of the British General Staff. A wooden prototype had already been created of a mobile armoured fortress which could cross broken ground, crush barbed wire and support the infantry as they advanced. But it would be nearly a year before these machines were ready to go into action, and R.O.C. would have several more brushes with death before he was able to join his destiny with theirs.
In March 1916 he took part in another failed attack and was recommended for a gallantry award, though it was never given. A few days later he was wounded by a German trench mortar bomb, but was back on duty a week later.26 When summer came the battalion moved south to join the huge offensive on the Somme, and it was here that fate delivered a final blow to R.O.C., by now a company commander. In the fighting near Ovillers, 6th Buffs determined to seize a position called Point 20, where a short section of trench known as a sap jutted out from the German front line. Boxes of hand grenades (or ‘Mills bombs’) were stockpiled in readiness, while a British trench mortar stood by to soften up the enemy position. What happened next teetered on the borderline between tragedy and farce: ‘About 2.30 p.m. our [trench mortars] again bombarded Pt. 20 but unfortunately dropped one short into all the bombs. About 1,500 of our Mills exploded, one flying 60 yards and wounding Capt. R.O.C. Ward, Lieut. Sir R. Onslow Bart. and an orderly. As all the bombs were lost, the affair had to be given up.’27
The regimental historian described this as a ‘somewhat curious accident’,28 but we can be sure this is not the language R.O.C. Ward himself would have used. He summarized the aftermath in a letter to the War Office applying for a payment known as a wound gratuity: ‘I beg to state I was wounded … by multiple bomb wounds in back & thigh … I was operated upon [in Rouen] & had splinters removed from off my spine & from my left thigh. I was then transferred to King Edward VII Hospital … London, where I was again operated on, but the operation was not successful in removing all the splinters.’29
The accident, though appalling, did at least have one positive aspect: it meant R.O.C. was back in England shortly after the birth of his son in August 1916.30 The spell of enforced inactivity also gave him time to reflect on the frustration of trench warfare, and perhaps the mounting probability of his own demise. If so, the media fanfare that greeted the first tank action in September and the appeal for volunteers to join the Heavy Branch of the Machine Gun Corps would have fallen on fertile ground. Here, it appeared, was an opportunity to bring his courage to bear on the Germans more effectively than by simply charging at their machine guns.
So it was that in January 1917, R.O.C. Ward returned to France to join the HBMGC at its base near St Pol-sur-Ternoise, where the original companies that had conducted the first tank attacks were being expanded to battalion strength. This gave R.O.C., now promoted to major, the opportunity to stamp his considerable authority on his new command, No. 12 Company of D Battalion.31 Major William Watson, who took over No. 11 Company at the same time, was impressed: he described Ward as ‘the great athlete, the very embodiment of energy, the skilled leader of men, the best of good fellows’, and recalled ‘his enormous voice rolling out full-blooded instructions’.32
Four months later the tanks were back in action supporting the offensive at Arras, and the three companies of D Battalion were scattered along a twelve-mile front. If anyone imagined tanks would provide an easy solution to the challenges of trench warfare, the actions at Arras and Bullecourt were enough to disillusion them. R.O.C. Ward’s company went into battle for the first time on 9 April 1917, supporting his former countrymen in the Canadian Corps, but the ground conditions were so bad that all eight tanks ‘bellied’ – in other words, the tracks sank so far into the mud that the tanks could not move and had to be dug out by their crews.
Despite this, the infantry reached their objectives and the Canadian commander was effusive in his praise of 12 Company:
I have never seen a more gallant, efficient, capable or energetic lot in my life, their work was really marvellous and Ward himself was the centre of energy. The action of the members of one of the tanks who carried out repairs standing on the top of the tank while it was under concentrated fire from five guns, and carried out their work as intrepidly as though they had been 10 miles in rear of the line, is only characteristic of the whole work of the whole lot … At any other advance, I hope it may be my good fortune, to have Major Ward and his tanks with the Division for they are certainly the last word in efficiency.33
After this, his tanks were transported south to take part in an attack on Bullecourt on 3 May. According to Watson, their recent failure ‘was naturally a keen disappointment to Ward, and he and his company … were spoiling for a fight’.34 But the Germans had already beaten off another attack at Bullecourt on 11 April, when No. 11 Company had supported troops from Australia who were as dismissive of the tank crews’ efforts as the Canadians were appreciative.
The second attack on Bullecourt, involving both Nos. 11 and 12 Companies, turned out to be no more successful than the first. The infantry were unable to penetrate the enemy lines, and the tanks suffered heavily from armour-piercing (A.P.) ammunition which was now widely available to the Germans. Slowly but surely the attack broke down, as ‘furious messages came back from Ward’.35 One of his officers summarized the outcome: ‘The result of the attack was a tremendous disappointment to all, as we had fondly imagined exploiting “into the blue” … The casualties among the men were very heavy, and of the tank commanders seven out of eight were wounded … The following day was spent counting the number of holes in each tank, caused by A.P. bullets, one tank having between 20 and 30.’36
The failed attack left Ward ‘wrathful but undismayed’,37 though there was nothing more he could do for the time being. The second battle of Bullecourt marked the end of this phase of action by D Battalion, and his men now withdrew for further training and refitting to prepare for whatever fate might hold in store, which turned out to be the even more disastrous Battle of Passchendaele.