The hurricane bombardment had left the officers of 2nd Battalion, 84th Infantry Regiment, in no doubt that a full-scale attack was under way. Leutnant Johannes Langfeldt, who had spent the previous evening relaxing over a glass of wine in the Stollenweg, was now confronted there by a ‘breathless and rather panicky’ Leutnant Herbert Mory, who told how almost his entire company had been captured, and talked of ‘a vast number of tanks’. It was a rude awakening for Leutnant Langfeldt, who did not think an attack was possible: ‘I still recall how the scales fell from my eyes when I heard the word “tanks”.’1 Leutnant Adolf Saucke, commander of No. 6 Company, described Leutnant Mory as ‘slightly wounded, completely out of breath and psychologically shattered’, while even the battalion commander Hauptmann Harro Soltau was ‘highly agitated’ and could not take in that they had vacated the front line, and were not even in a position to hold the second. ‘He ordered K2 [the second line] to be held, whatever the cost.’2
By now more and more men were flooding back into the Stollenweg, as described by Leutnant Langfeldt: ‘First of all, disorganized parties who had lost their heads and were in headlong flight surged back along the sunken road. We had to use all the power we could summon to bring the men to reason and make them stop. The personal example of Hauptmann Soltau had a further effect on the majority and brought them to their senses.’ A few slipped away across the Grand Ravine, but members of four companies were soon gathered in the Stollenweg until it was ‘crammed full’.3
Unable to make contact with the headquarters of 84th Infantry Regiment, Hauptmann Soltau called together his officers, who recommended withdrawing until they had artillery support and could mount a counter-attack. Instead, his response showed he was still haunted by events at Fort Douaumont, and this was to seal their fate: ‘A Prussian officer does not retreat.’4
Although they were cut off, a runner did get through to Flesquières with a message from Hauptmann Soltau, and this suggested the drama had reached its final act: ‘We are keeping K2 [i.e. the support trench] so far still manned. K3 [i.e. the third-line trench] will be held under all circumstances. Tanks level with us and beyond. Six to eight tanks advancing on K1 North. Artillery must fire on K1 and K2. Reinforcements to the Stollenweg immediately. We will hold on till the last man.’5 Soon afterwards another message reached Flesquières: ‘Am holding on with brave members of my battalion. On both sides of the Stollenweg … Artillery are not firing at the numerous tanks. Support – bring guns up to Flesquières.’6 With that, the curtain fell.
The Stollenweg was now under sustained attack from tanks which patrolled the rim, pouring down fire on the defenders as the number of dead and wounded rose. Leutnant Saucke was standing with Unteroffizier (i.e. Corporal) Hans Glindemann when a shell splinter ripped open the NCO’s arm from wrist to elbow. Saucke told how ‘blood shot from the torn artery and my tunic was soaked in an instant. I managed to bind Glindemann’s upper arm with a tourniquet, while he remained astonishingly calm.’ As the losses mounted it was obvious that, in Saucke’s words, ‘the game was up’. Even Hauptmann Soltau had become strangely quiet: ‘There was a peculiar expression in his eyes, as if he knew death was close at hand.’7
Despite his determination to stand firm, Hauptmann Soltau now joined the survivors as they dashed back towards a narrow trench called the Kabelgraben (known to the British as Chapel Alley), which was their only hope of getting back to Flesquières. In the words of Leutnant Saucke:
We have hardly gone back a hundred metres when we bump into some Englishmen [sic] at a bend in the trench, who are coming down the trench towards us. The escape route is now completely blocked. Hauptmann Soltau leaps out of the trench, the leading NCO behind him. A couple of machine guns open up. The next moment the NCO falls back into the trench, bleeding from an arm wound, with the cry: ‘Hauptmann Soltau has fallen!’ I watch as our adjutant, Leutnant Elson, neatly dressed with black breeches and gleaming boots, half-raises himself out of the trench. I see a sudden blow strike his body. A shot through the heart has brought him a fine soldier’s death. His body blocks the trench … I myself peer cautiously over the rim of the trench. Half-left from me, no more than fifty metres away, stand two tanks. To their right in the sunken road are around a dozen of our men, disarmed. Quite automatically I raise my rifle and fire two or three shots. My lead finds its lodging in one of the short-skirted men.8
His shots were almost the last act of resistance by 2nd Battalion, and it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Hauptmann Soltau would have done better to order withdrawal when his officers suggested, rather than waiting until it was too late. But he had met a proud end, and at least he was spared the ignominy of capture, unlike many of his men. Years later Leutnant Saucke was still seething with anger:
A young Scotsman fell on me, with his first grasp he tore the Iron Cross from my chest, and with his second ripped open my tunic to remove my watch with a satisfied smirk. The bandit didn’t find much more on me. I had already thrown my Browning, map-case, binoculars, and little double-edged dagger into a muddy shell-hole. My wallet, which was thrust into my hip pocket, evaded the scoundrel, and the fact that I was wearing gloves saved my gold-coloured ring, the gift of a fellow student from Heidelberg. All my comrades had the same experience. They were plundered one after another using every trick in the book. Even wedding-rings were taken from the married men. Everything came under the heading of ‘souvenirs’, or military mementoes, whereby English officers later sought to excuse the outrageous conduct of their men.
I must also here relate the sad fate of Leutnant Hinkeldeyn of 2nd Machine Gun Company, who lost his young life through an act of barbarism which mocks all humanity. Hinkeldeyn had already been taken prisoner and was standing there unarmed. An Englishman snatched his wallet, at which a photo or letter fell to the ground. When Hinkeldeyn grabbed for it, the Englishman took a step back, raised his rifle with arms braced, placed it on Hinkeldeyn’s chest and pulled the trigger. A dastardly, cowardly murder which alas, like so many English outrages, will surely never be atoned.9
Sadly there were other similar stories that day. Leutnant Carl Beuck awaited the enemy’s arrival squeezed into the narrow entrance of a dugout near the Stollenweg with two Vizefeldwebel (i.e. company sergeant-majors), Frahm and Jacobsen, their weapons leaning against the trench wall beside them.
Not a minute has passed before a lanky Canadian [sic] appears on the opposite lip of the sunken road, perhaps eight to ten metres away. When he sees the three Germans he put his rifle to his cheek, aims and fires. With a scream, Frahm falls backwards. My left arm supports him; he has been shot in the middle of the chest. The ‘hero’ raises his rifle towards us a second time and again his shot finds its mark: Jacobsen’s right arm is shattered, he is seared with dreadful pain. When will my turn come? Calmly the foe raises his rifle a third time and takes aim. I wait for his shot, my left arm still supporting one wounded comrade and my right arm the other; all three of us, standing upright, are staring the enemy in the eye. Then he lets his rifle drop, reaches his arm out towards us, and says ‘Come on!’10
Leutnant Beuck was spared, but everything he had of value was taken, and Vizefeldwebel August Jacobsen later had his arm amputated in captivity. Another company commander said the behaviour of their captors was not ‘“gentlemanlike”, as the English liked to put it’, and also told of a man who was shot after being disarmed, while everyone was robbed of their valuables: ‘My own shoulder-straps were cut off by an English officer, in whose presence an NCO took my watch.’11 One soldier recorded the English phrases he picked up during his capture: ‘Come on, Gerry!’, ‘Straight on, this way’, and ‘fokking watch’ [sic].12
The trench mortar officer of 2nd Battalion, Leutnant Claus Rickert, said they thought ‘souvenir’ must be the enemy’s battle-cry because the soldiers were shouting it as they took them prisoner, and asked: ‘Were these soldiers or robbers before us?’ To make matters worse, he was nearly bayoneted by a Scotsman ‘who stank of schnapps’, until his fellow captives convinced him that Rickert was responsible for mortars rather than machine guns. While being escorted back they were fired at by another soldier who was lying in wait behind a tank fascine, resulting in a set-to between the two groups of British. During this the prisoners were plundered again, while ‘the officers calmly watched the looting’.13
Not surprisingly, there are few British accounts of prisoners being killed, though Captain Evan Charteris heard from two colleagues in the Tank Corps, one of whom saw ‘a number of Germans being shot by our men after they had given sufficient indication of their inability to resist any further’. Another officer ‘told me that he had seen a Tommy drive a pick through the head of a German as he emerged from a dug-out, and that when he had criticised this as a rather cold-blooded proceeding, the Tommy said: “This morning when I was taking in a prisoner he made a bolt for it, and I’ve ’ad enough of that sort of thing.”’14
On the other hand, there seems to have been a cheerful acceptance that the troops were entitled to enjoy the spoils of war. One officer of 5th Bn Seaforth Highlanders recalled: ‘So sure were some of our own men of success that one of them went across with a canvas water bucket hung round his neck to collect souvenirs from the Boche prisoners and dug-outs; and I understand the bucket was well filled before the morning was far advanced.’15
A number of Tank Corps officers did condemn the looting, but mainly on the grounds that it disrupted and delayed the advance. One anonymous officer, almost certainly Major Alexander Gatehouse of E Battalion, recalled meeting ‘a sergeant of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders who had collected 18 watches and 24 gold rings by the time he had got as far as the Grand Ravin [sic]’. He added: ‘There is no doubt that looting, which went on all through the battle, slowed the infantry up seriously.’16
Any sympathy for the Germans over the loss of their possessions may be tempered by the knowledge that in withdrawing to the Hindenburg Line, they had devastated a large swathe of French farmland, systematically destroying farms and villages, felling orchards and poisoning wells. Nevertheless, they clearly felt that the behaviour of their captors had transgressed the rules of war, and they were probably right: the Hague Convention, which all the major powers had signed, stated that prisoners of war must be humanely treated and their personal belongings remained their own property.17
Leutnant Rickert was so aggrieved by the theft of his wallet containing 300 marks that he subsequently tried to claim compensation from the British War Ministry, but was told this was impossible unless he could produce a receipt. He noted darkly that this sum should be added to the reparations bill following the next war, though it was then only 1924.18
* * *
The German accounts speak of several tanks joining in the assault on the Stollenweg, but the Gordon Highlanders reported that they were supported by a single tank: ‘In the Sunken Road, heavy casualties were inflicted on the enemy. The tank’s 6-pounder did great execution and the dug-outs were effectively bombed by “B” Company, who killed and captured a great number of the enemy here. Among the prisoners was a commanding officer with his whole staff. This party was not captured without a sharp fight, as the Germans had mounted a machine gun firing along the Sunken Road and inflicted several casualties on our men.’19
The tank that played such a key role was almost certainly D47 Demon II, commanded by Second Lieutenant James Vose. Colonel Baker-Carr told how it ‘cleared out many troublesome [machine guns] from a sunken road where our infantry could hardly advance. When the tank commander was satisfied that our infantry could advance he signalled them and they came up to take a bag of 100 or more prisoners without any trouble.’20 The divisional historian praised the tank for doing ‘magnificent execution’ with ‘shell after shell bursting in the midst of panic-stricken Germans’.21
By 10 a.m., the battle for the Stollenweg was over. As around 400 prisoners streamed back towards the rear, 5th Bn Gordon Highlanders settled into the quarters recently vacated by 84th Infantry Regiment and found them ‘an amazing example of ingenuity and labour’. The battalion commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Maxwell McTaggart, described the headquarters and nearby medical aid post as ‘underground palaces’:
Room after room had been laboriously excavated, and the walls and ceilings lined with expensive timber. Well-made chairs, tables, bedsteads, cupboards and shelves were to be found everywhere. The medical arrangements left nothing to be desired. So numerous were the shelters that there was no difficulty in housing the whole battalion, no matter where they might be. The dug-out I occupied was a gorgeous chamber, and its recent occupant must have been something of a ‘knut’ [i.e. a dandy or swell] as it smelt strongly of hair-oil and scent and numerous bottles of ‘elixir’ were found on his washing-stand. The fire trenches were equally well prepared – boarded and lined and drained in such a way that mud did not exist. The Germans are truly a wonderful people.22
Major William Watson came down the same sunken road in the wake of his tanks, and was similarly impressed:
On either side were dug-outs, stores, and cook-houses. Cauldrons of coffee and soup were still on the fire. This regimental headquarters the enemy had defended desperately. The trench-boards were slippery with blood, and fifteen to twenty corpses, all Germans and all bayoneted, lay strewn about the road like drunken men.
A Highland sergeant who, with a handful of men, was now in charge of the place, came out to greet us, puffing at a long cigar. All his men were smoking cigars, and it was indeed difficult that morning to find a Highlander without a cigar. He invited us into a large chamber cut out of the rock, from which a wide staircase descended into an enormous dug-out. The chamber was panelled deliciously with coloured woods and decorated with choice prints. Our host produced a bottle of good claret, and we drank to the health of the Fifty-first Division.23
One of his tank commanders, Lieutenant Gerald Edwards, added: ‘In this sunken road were the most luxurious dug-outs I have ever seen. One was papered with plate glass mirrors reaching from floor to ceiling, like a Lyon’s Café.’24 Brigadier-General Henry Burn, commander of 152nd Infantry Brigade which attacked to their right, occupied another underground headquarters, built of concrete ‘with panelled walls in which was carved at foot of steps (in German of course), “We fear nought except God & our own Artillery”’, which at least gave the lie to the claim that the enemy had no sense of humour.25
In the words of the Gordon Highlanders’ official history, it had been ‘a great day’ for them, having seized the enemy’s stronghold in this sector with the loss of six men killed and fifty-six wounded.26 Lieutenant-Colonel McTaggart – described as ‘a most gallant little man; all blood and thunder’27 – summed up the situation in a telegram: ‘The men are in capital fettle especially as they have suffered so few casualties. Rations & water have arrived and every man has a dugout … They will all therefore be fit for anything tomorrow.’28
For now the 5th Gordons could enjoy the spoils of war, but they would not have long to do so. The 7th Black Watch had already passed through their positions to conduct the next phase of the operation, and even now the attack was rolling steadily on towards the ridge of Flesquières.
* * *
To the right of 5th Gordons, the other leading battalions of 51st (Highland) Division encountered far less resistance – probably because they were facing not the battle-hardened warriors of 84th Infantry Regiment, but the maturer members of 387th Landwehr Infantry Regiment who took a more pragmatic view of their duty to the Fatherland. The German high command were well aware of this weak link in their defences and planned to replace the regiment a few days later. But that was no help now as the storm broke over the Landwehr men, who had encountered neither tanks nor Highlanders until waves of both burst out of the mist on that terrible morning.
Unlike the 84th, there is no detailed record of their actions, but we can draw our own conclusions from the ease with which their positions were overrun, and from their casualty figures which amounted to five dead, nine wounded and 1,582 missing (i.e. mostly taken prisoner).29 They were, in the words of one German account, simply ‘swept aside’.30
The clearest portrait of them comes from Captain Douglas Wimberley of 232nd Machine Gun Company, which formed part of 51st Division. As he advanced he saw ‘a few disconsolate prisoners looking for someone to surrender to’,31 and later ‘quite a number of Germans running about trying to escape from the tanks. They’d left the trenches and they’d left their dugouts – probably rightly – because had they stayed there no doubt they would have got the Mills bombs of the Jocks. They were a very poor type of German.’32
Wimberley and his men came across a group of prisoners walking towards them, ‘all alone and without escort but as harmless as sucking doves, their morale being at zero’. They were set to work clearing a way through the barbed wire, and cut their hands to ribbons in their willingness to help. ‘They were a miserable lot of men, unshaven of course, but so were we, but dirty, consumptive and small, or grossly fat, some of them very young, but most of them middle-aged men … quite a lot of them were wearing spectacles, rather like the cartoons of the time of what Germans were supposed to look like. They were a Landsturm [this should be Landwehr] division of “duds”, poor devils … What a shock they must have had to see lines of great armoured tanks followed by the bayonets of the Jocks.’33 As they swept forward, 8th Bn Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders also encountered ‘parties of Germans too dazed and frightened to offer much resistance. Every now and then batches of prisoners were despatched to the rear, some without escort, while others were shepherded by the recipients of “blighty yins”’ [i.e. wounds serious enough to require evacuation to Britain].34
On reaching their objective, the Argyll and Sutherlands dropped a grenade into one deep dug-out and heard a voice and footsteps below. According to their company commander: ‘We fully expected to see a number of Germans appear, but to our surprise only one came up, an elderly man – he must have been at least fifty years of age – holding a huge piece of black bread which he carried on eating quite unconcernedly. He was left to his bread, with an added cigarette or two, until the next lot of prisoners was sent back.’35 The officer added: ‘Unlike this old man, many of the Germans seemed to be terror-stricken – probably the effect of their first real encounter with tanks.’36
To their right, 5th Bn Seaforth Highlanders also advanced virtually unopposed, although Lance-Corporal Robert McBeath won the Victoria Cross after he dealt with five machine guns which were holding up their advance from the village of Ribécourt, in the neighbouring divisional sector. The battalion also seized four field guns, ‘the gunners scuttling for dear life before the kilted advance’. Even more satisfying was the capture of a horse-drawn field kitchen: ‘The first wave pounced upon the waggon with the horses yoked and the Boche dinner cooking away merrily, but the driver elected to run away, much to his own detriment, for he did not run far. The morning air had created a keen appetite among the members of this Company, and right heartily did they tackle that hot meal of beef and vegetables which the cooker contained.’37
Despite the levity, the prisoners flooding back to the rear brought news that the attackers did not want to hear. At 10.20 a.m. the headquarters of IV Corps flashed a warning to its infantry divisions, along with 1st Tank Brigade and 1st Cavalry Division: ‘Prisoners report that warning of our attack was conveyed to the Germans as the result of a raid by them. It is therefore possible that opposition may be encountered.’38
* * *
As they struggled to make sense of the chaos before them, the German commanders in Flesquières desperately sought to regain the initiative. Hauptmann Wille and the survivors from 1st Battalion, 84th Infantry Regiment, were still clinging on behind Havrincourt as the attackers flowed around them, while the 2nd Battalion under Hauptmann Soltau had, in the words of one of his officers, ‘shattered without flexing, like a pane of glass’.39
Reinforcements were available from 27th Reserve Infantry Regiment, which had been rushed towards Flesquières in response to the prisoners’ warning of an impending attack, and two companies were now thrown forward to relieve the defenders and meet the British advance head-on.
As the counter-attack got under way, the men of No. 7 Company headed down the communication trench known as Havrincourt-Riegel (or Cemetery Alley to the British) in a bid to reach Havrincourt. Gefreiter (i.e. Lance-Corporal) Wilhelm Bär described what happened when they paused at the railway embankment:
The company’s officers seemed unsure whether they should stay and hold [the embankment] under the circumstances, or press on, but the order from battalion was: ‘Forward at all costs’. Without further ado, our brave and beloved company commander Leutnant Hermann gave the order: ‘Fix bayonets and charge over the embankment by sections,’ as English machine guns were sweeping the railway tracks. We got over and away with few casualties, and then No. 7 Company deployed into extended line as calmly as on the parade ground and moved forward up the fire-spitting ridge ahead, towards the enemy. Here and there a man fell dead or wounded as we advanced fearlessly under the heaviest machine-gun fire, the English yielding everywhere at our onslaught.
We were about 500-600 metres beyond the railway embankment when suddenly masses of English infantry and numerous tanks bore down on our company from all sides, while we were given hell by very low-flying English aircraft, two of which I saw crash.
‘Into the shell-holes and rapid fire,’ rang out the command, as appalling, almost volcanic fire erupted from all sides; we defended ourselves like demons. ‘Fire at the infantry,’ I screamed in the terrible uproar of battle. They were advancing behind the tanks, and the Englishmen fell in heaps. Without artillery, we were powerless against the tanks. They literally showered us with bullets, and our losses were heavy … The firefight raged on, the ammunition giving out bit by bit as General Haig hurled more fresh forces against us. Faced with this superiority and surrounded on almost every side, the company went under and were taken prisoner.40
A few men managed to escape, but many including Gefreiter Bär were captured. Meanwhile, No. 6 Company set off down a parallel communication trench (the Grenzweg, known to the British as Ravine Alley) making for the Stollenweg. They soon ran into the same overwhelming force of tanks, infantry and aircraft, as described by Unteroffizier (i.e. Corporal) Senftleben:
Our feet hurry over collapsed sections of trench. There on the right beside the trench stands a small barn or shed, its roof still resting on a few posts. Here all hell breaks loose. Then we abandon the trench, dash across the open road, and come closer to our objective. A sudden hold-up, shouts from ahead: ‘Go back!’ Schleswigers [i.e. from 84th Infantry Regiment] hurry past us: ‘Turn round, comrades, Tommy’s in the trenches!’ They have already gone past; we stay where we are, though shells are falling close at hand. A question from behind: ‘Who gave the order to go back?’ … Now that’s what I call a real Prussian, German sense of duty!’41
However, they did turn round after an officer of the 84th explained the situation, and their own company commander had been killed:
We make our way back up the trench, across the road again at a bound. At the barn, the trench is almost buried. Again our feet fall still: in the trench, blasted by a direct hit in the base, five comrades are lying in their blood. Over there lies a leg, a chunk of blood and brains is stuck to the trench wall, his head is missing and fixes us once more with a broken stare … Slowly we steal past. No-one pays any attention to the bursting shells, concerned only with doing no further harm to the fallen.42
When he heard about the failure of the mission, their battalion commander decided to take things into his own hands. At the age of forty-six, and with one leg stiff and shortened from a previous war wound, Major Günther Stubenrauch led his two remaining companies forward in a final attempt to halt the British advance.
* * *
For all their determination, there is no specific mention of any counter-attacks in the British accounts. It seems the German efforts simply did not register as the unstoppable tide of men and machines swept forward. With little enemy artillery fire to trouble them, the tanks could operate more or less with impunity, hindered only by the broad trenches and the withering hail of small-arms fire.
In a letter home, Second Lieutenant George Koe of No. 10 Company called it ‘a topping day’s show’ and ‘the finest scrap I have had the pleasure of being in’. As reconnaissance officer he would not normally have taken part in the fighting, but his company commander, Major Edgar Marris, had other ideas:
At dawn … we heard and saw the beginning of the attack just as breakfast was ready. My C.O. [i.e. Marris] got his first, and then before I had time to drink more than a few mouthfuls of tea he was up and wanted to get away, so off we started, I with a kipper between two slices of bread in my left hand. However, we were too quick, and we got sniped going over No Man’s Land. We stopped in a shell hole, and I got time to finish my breakfast. Well, we soon got into the Boche trenches and waited there for some time. Then along came one of our ’buses [i.e. tanks] which had had some slight trouble and had two men slightly wounded. My C.O. promptly got in and told me to come too. In we went and off we went. I had a machine gun to myself, and had some fine shooting at the Huns, as they ran in large numbers … I guess I fired at least a thousand rounds that morning … It was really ‘Our Day,’ I can assure you.43
The tank they climbed aboard was D11 Dominie, and Colonel Baker-Carr told how it ‘led the infantry across the Hindenburg Line, clearing or killing the enemy with machine-gun fire without a hitch. The complete understanding which existed between infantry and tank crews made for a successful advance until a Hun bombing party was encountered, holding up our infantry. These bombers were annihilated.’44
In his somewhat breathless report, Baker-Carr described other ‘outstanding instances’ involving the tanks of D and E Battalions as they steamrollered their way through the German positions. Among them was D4 Dryad II:
During the 8 hours this tank was in action, 8,000 rounds of [small arms ammunition] was poured into the enemy trenches and emplacements, sweeping a way for our infantry. In an eventful passage D3 [Drone] answered many calls from the infantry and annihilated hostile machine gun teams. Before reaching its final objective this crew cleared large numbers of the enemy from strong trenches in front of Chapel Wood, driving them in flight towards Flesquieres. [D2 Duke of Cornwall II] registered several direct hits with its 6 pounders on enemy machine guns, so smashing the most formidable means of defence offered by the enemy in that section of the Hindenburg Line.45
As so often, Baker-Carr focused on the positives, and concluded optimistically: ‘Many more particulars will be obtainable as soon as the tank commanders can be interviewed and outside information obtained from the infantry commanders.’46 But by then, a very different picture had begun to emerge.
Meanwhile the tanks of No. 12 Company – including Deborah – had moved off 200 yards behind the first wave and followed in their tracks, though that was not always easy, as Second Lieutenant James Macintosh found.
At last the front line came into view, a huge trench whose difficulties had not been over-estimated. Captured obviously, and in our hands; but where were the flags which were to have marked the presence of the first wave’s fascines? Anxiously Tosh peered right and left. No sign of a flag; but away to the right he saw the explanation. Three tanks were ditched there, close together. Either their fascines had fallen off or they had proved useless, and the attempt to cross without had failed. Tosh determined to drop his own fascine. Lifting his hand to the lever he pulled it to one side; with a crackle the great bundle lurched forward, and dropped accurately into the trench. Tosh signalled his driver to go forward; the tank’s nose dropped true on to the fascine, and in a second they were across. A glance behind showed that the nearest tank was preparing to follow him across.47
By 7.30 a.m., just over an hour after zero, the first tanks had already reached the Grand Ravine,48 though some fighting was still going on in the trenches behind them. There would now be time for the tanks and infantry to regroup ready for the second phase of the attack.