CONCLUSION: LOOS, THE BEF AND THE ‘LEARNING CURVE’

Military operations at Loos did not officially cease until 4 November 1915, but the failure of the attack on 13 October effectively brought the battle to an end. The fighting between 27 September and 13 October had made little gain at considerable cost and merely postponed the inevitable reckoning after the battle. Intrigues against Sir John French began almost as soon as the attack on the German second line on 26 September had failed.¹ ‘Within days Haig was complaining to Kitchener about French’s apparent mistakes over the reserves,² and Sir John’s despatch, published in The Times on 2 November,³ brought the disagreements between GHQ and First Army to boiling point. Containing misstatements over the movement and timing of the reserve divisions, the despatch presented Haig with a heaven-sent opportunity. He quickly outmanoeuvred the embattled Commander-in-Chief and demanded the full story be published. Sir John’s tepid efforts to kill the subject failed abysmally and by 6 December he had been forced out, setting sail for England a few days before Christmas.

This study has explained both how the BEF came to be involved in a major offensive in the autumn of 1915 and how it planned and executed such an operation. It is now necessary to review what conclusions can be drawn before looking at the influence of Loos on future British battlefield performance. As regards the political and military situation in the summer of 1915, as demonstrated in Chapter 1, the enormous influence of the Eastern Front needs to be understood if a clear picture of British strategic thought in this period is to emerge. Although the autumn witnessed the waning of Lord Kitchener’s power and authority over his cabinet colleagues, he was still able to exert a considerable influence over the direction of the British war effort between May and August. The increasing number of depressing – some bordering on alarmist – reports emanating from the east have been largely neglected by historians, but it is evident that Russia was of singular significance for the Secretary of State. While rumours of French war-weariness undoubtedly caused concern, it is clear that the ‘Russian news’ unsettled Kitchener and proved to be the main factor in his decision to sanction British participation in Joffre’s offensive.

The portrait of Field-Marshal Sir John French that emerges from these pages is consistent with the findings of his modern biographers, Richard Holmes and George Cassar. But two points need to be stressed. French’s oft-repeated mercurial temperament may have been evident throughout the early stages of the planning process, but his determination, once his mind had been made up against attacking north of Lens, should not be underestimated. Considering how insecure he felt during this period, his stubborn refusal to be bullied into committing his troops to an offensive in a murderous landscape of slagheaps was laudable. Sir John’s failing state of health should also be noted. This seems not to have been noticed, or to have often been brushed over with little comment by historians, but it is clear that French’s poor health between late August and early September badly affected his handling of allies and subordinates alike. And even if Sir John had been absolved of blame for XI Corps’ disastrous debut at Loos, it is likely that he would have been unable to cope with the strain of another campaigning year.

What about the First Army commander? Understanding Haig’s role in both the planning and execution of Loos is crucial and has been extensively discussed in Chapter 2. He was, in many ways, the key figure. Although Haig emerged from the battle with his reputation enhanced – by December he was Commander-in-Chief – his performance at Loos was clearly flawed. Indeed, the planning of the battle at both operational and tactical levels was problematic. Haig’s report of 23 June had been a realistic and sober appreciation of the difficulties of the proposed ground, but in the following months this attitude disappeared. Ordered to attack to the ‘full extent’ of his power, Haig was allowed considerable operational leeway in how he did this. But he seems to have misunderstood these orders and instead of planning for a subsidiary (albeit powerful) supporting attack, he committed First Army to a major breakthrough effort that it simply could not achieve.

Why did Haig do this? In order to understand why this was so it is necessary to understand both Haig’s character and education. The lessons that Haig had learnt at the Staff College in the late 1890s meant that he saw warfare in a very traditional and structured way. According to Haig’s teachers, victory went to the side with the highest discipline and morale. This would be achieved by a series of ‘all-out’ offensives that would wear out the enemy’s main forces before the ‘decisive’ blow was struck by one’s own reserves. This was the framework in which Haig planned the Battle of Loos, which was designed to be an ‘all-out’ and ‘decisive’ attack, not the limited, supporting operation that has sometimes been assumed. Haig’s character – in particular his consistent optimism – should also be considered. This is an important, and perhaps insufficiently appreciated, factor in how the battle was fought. This manifested itself in three ways. Firstly, despite being well aware of the deficiencies of his artillery, both in guns and ammunition, he persisted in spreading his fire across too large an area, believing (despite much evidence to the contrary) that it would deal effectively with the enemy defences. Haig’s attitude to gas has been poorly understood, but it can be seen that far from being unimpressed by the new technology, Haig believed that, given the correct winds, it would prove utterly devastating and allow his men to bypass two lines of German defences without much resistance. Sadly, Haig proved impervious to the nagging doubts from some of his subordinates about the likely effectiveness of gas. It seems that on 22 August, after attending a demonstration of cylinder-released chlorine, Haig’s mind was made up. Gas would give him the decisive victory. But if doubt remains over the extent of Haig’s chronic optimism in the run-up to the battle, his conduct once the fighting began is revealing. Despite disturbing evidence about the strength of German resistance emanating from the battlefield, Haig rushed XI Corps into action as aggressively as possible, with disastrous results.

A mixed picture also emerges of those lower down the chain of command. From the evidence presented, the performances of First Army’s corps commanders, Gough, Rawlinson and Haking, will cause little drastic revision to their reputations. Gough performed reasonably well, although the decision to renew the attack of 28 Brigade and the dismissal of Brigadier-General W.A. Oswald (GOC 73 Brigade) were indicative of his natural aggression and frustration when the battle did not develop as planned. The starvation of reserve units from I Corps on 26 September effectively meant that Gough’s attacks were allowed to die out without any large-scale attempt to push through the second line in his sector, although it did not prevent him from urging 28^th Division to conduct a number of rushed and wasteful operations in increasingly difficult circumstances. Regarding IV Corps, Rawlinson’s capabilities as a commander, including his role in the Battle of Loos, have been examined in some detail in Command on the Western Front (1992).⁴ His preference for limited ‘bite and hold’ attacks, and his reluctance to upset Haig’s desire for more ambitious operations, was a recurring feature of Rawlinson’s war. His experiences at Loos were little different. While being one of the most tactically astute commanders in the BEF, he proved sadly deficient in using his insights about artillery and the ‘bite and hold’ to conduct operations effectively.⁵ When looking at the third key corps commander, Richard Haking, it will be seen that although he undoubtedly faced a difficult job in welding together XI Corps into an efficient fighting force for Loos, he proved unequal to the task. The poor relations between the senior staff under his command do not reflect well on his managerial skills. Haking’s performance on the battlefield was even more lacklustre. He had relatively little to do on 25–26 September. He seems to have ‘lost’ his corps and had little involvement in the tactical plans for the attack on the second day. In any case, he offered no dissent to Haig’s plans. His performance during the later stages of the battle was also poor and, like Haig, his over-optimism, traditional understanding of artillery and underestimation of the enemy were constant problems.

What about the rest of the BEF? As shown in Chapter 3, the logistical arrangements prior to the battle were impressive in scale, but weak in detail. The installation of over 5,000 gas cylinders in the front trenches had been a miracle of improvisation, hard labour and determination, but suffered from clumsy organisation. Loos was simply too big and too ambitious a battle for the BEF at this time. Although an unprecedented amount of manpower, supplies and firepower was assembled for the main operations south of the La Bassée canal, and a massive digging operation was conducted, lack of trained staff – from medical personnel to traffic control officers – hampered the efforts that were made. These factors were again in evidence during the preliminary bombardment. Whilst on paper the numbers of guns and ammunition available were impressive, there were too many targets and too many yards of enemy trench to bombard. Mechanical breakdown was common, many shells were of poor quality, intermittent bad weather did not help and not enough was done by the infantry manning the front line trenches to make sure that the enemy garrisons did not repair their defences. The failure of the preliminary bombardment along at least half of the British front line meant that much would depend, as Haig had always believed, on the effect of the discharge of chlorine gas and smoke. Unfortunately the misunderstandings that had bedevilled the planning of the attack were never resolved and First Army attacked on 25 September into indifferent wind conditions. With this in mind, and when considering the German anti-gas measures (as well as the dilution of the chlorine across such a wide front), it will be seen that the gas attack was never likely to achieve its ambitious goals. While reports can be conflicting, the gas discharge seems to have helped on the southern sector of the British front (which probably owed much to the good ground conditions), but was highly damaging further north.

When the leading British battalions finally went ‘over the top’ on the morning of 25 September, their attack was undoubtedly pressed with courage and determination (as shown by their high casualty rates), but the secondary attempts to reinforce and capitalise upon these gains highlighted the inherent difficulties of conducting a successful ‘all-out’ attack. As at Neuve Chapelle, adequate command and control broke down almost as soon as the leading waves began crossing no-man’s-land. Because they had lost so many officers, many attacking battalions were virtually ‘decapitated’ by the time the German front line had been taken. Thus it proved extremely difficult for these units, exhausted and having suffered heavily, to continue onto the German second line against intermittent machine gun fire. Reserve units, often equally as tired, fared little better. Although still outnumbering the enemy, British infantry simply did not have the fighting power to subdue those localities that needed capturing. Artillery support was generally poor on both days. Hampered by bad weather, heavy enemy shelling and its technological limitations, British artillery was unable to open a way to the second line.

What of XI Corps and the debacle of the second day? Logistical confusion and poor staff work loom large in any discussion of the fate of the reserve divisions. It will be seen that the debacle of the reserves on 26 September stemmed from a number of interrelated causes, both internal and external. At the broadest level it was the result of the differing conceptions between French and Haig over how the reserves were to be used and who had control of them, but it perfectly highlighted a number of other weaknesses in the BEF. 21^st and 24^th Divisions were very ‘green’, with only a handful of experienced regulars, few maps, little information, poor artillery support and shortages of water. It can be no surprise that they failed in capturing the German second line. Nevertheless, the dire situation on the front of First Army on the morning of 26 September meant that even had both reserve divisions been hardened veterans with good support, the results would not have been much different to what actually occurred. Haig’s decision to use 21^st and 24^th Divisions to make renewed attacks on the second day was clearly a gross mistake.

Another factor in the British failure to exploit the initial gains was the performance of the German Sixth Army, particularly General Sixt von Armin’s IV Corps, which bore the brunt of First Army’s main assault. Although heavily outnumbered and out-gunned, the defensive tenacity of the German defenders south of the La Bassée canal was remarkable. Admittedly the strength of the German defences took the sting out of much of the British attack, but the fighting skill of the machine gun teams, who were able to move into position relatively quickly (particularly into the villages on the second line) and inflict enough damage onto the clumsy British attempts to move forward, was enough to prevent any major exploitation. German counter-attacks in the open were not as effective, however, particularly the abortive operation on 8 October, but in the close-fought trench warfare around the Hohenzollern Redoubt and the Quarries, superior German equipment in bombs and trench mortars, combined with poor British command and control (with battalions rushed into ill-advised and poorly prepared attacks), meant that First Army was never able to recapture these localities after being counterattacked in the days after 25 September.

A neglected feature of the battles of 1915 was their lethality. Officer casualties were a particularly grisly feature of Loos. A close analysis of casualty statistics contained on the CD-ROM Soldiers Died in the Great War, 1914-1919, reveals that the first day of the Battle of Loos was very similar to the day usually cited as the worst in the history of the BEF: 1 July 1916.⁶ On average, for 25 September 1915, 1,058 soldiers died per division. The figures for 1 July 1916 reveal that 1,017 soldiers died per division. Although 1 July was the bloodier day because it had three times as many divisions involved, the figures for Loos show that for those engaged, it was certainly as devastating, and perhaps even slightly worse.⁷ Officer casualties were particularly disastrous. Within two days of battle over forty senior officers, including a divisional commander and several brigadier-generals, had become casualties, twenty of them fatalities. Such wastage could not be sustained. It was clear that the BEF – already critically short of experienced officers – simply could not afford to lose such valuable men. For Sir William Robertson (CGS GHQ) this was a huge problem. Reeling from the loss of another divisional commander (Major-General F.D.V. Wing, GOC 12^th (Eastern) Division, was killed on 2 October), Robertson wrote:

Three divisional commanders have been killed in action during the past week. These are losses the army can ill afford and the Field-Marshal Commander-in-Chief desires to call attention to the necessity of guarding against a tendency on the part of senior officers such as divisional and corps commanders to take up positions too far forward when fighting is in progress.…⁸

The BEF, as Robertson fully realised, was now paying the price for fighting a major action against a formidable foe, with an army that was ill-equipped, half-trained and too few in number to gain the victory wanted so badly.⁹ Following the disappointing results of the renewed offensive at Loos, fighting died down on the British sector of the Western Front. The winter would see a continuous stream of New Army divisions arriving in France and Belgium and the extension of the British front line further southwards through the rolling chalk hills of Picardy. This would be the location for the next offensive undertaken by the BEF. Following the joint Allied conference at Chantilly between 6 and 8 December 1915, it was agreed that the coming year would see four simultaneous Allied offensives, with the Italians, Russians, French and British all making concentric assaults designed to put the Central Powers under crushing pressure without the chance to use their interior lines to shuffle reserves to and from the threatened sectors. The British part in this Allied offensive was the Battle of the Somme, which began on 1 July 1916 in conjunction with the French Tenth Army. The results of the first day on the Somme have often been discussed and it remains the worst single day in British military history, with nearly 60,000 casualties being sustained in a desperate day of unrelenting enemy machine gun and shellfire.

Reviewing the experience of the BEF during this period, it would seem at first glance that very little was learnt from Loos because of the poor results and heavy casualties of 1 July. This, however, would be a gross oversimplification. Notwithstanding the disappointing results of the opening of the Somme offensive, Loos undoubtedly had a considerable effect on British operational methods and marked an important milestone in the BEF’s ‘learning curve’. The BEF that existed in July 1916 was very different to the force that had gone into battle at Loos. The decision to concentrate Britain’s fighting strength on the Western Front meant that the BEF gradually increased in size and complexity throughout the winter of 1915–16. On 1 January 1916 the BEF contained 38 infantry divisions (including two Canadian divisions) and five cavalry divisions split into three armies and which totalled just under one million men.¹⁰ By 1 July it had absorbed another nineteen divisions, including a New Zealand division, four Australian divisions and five territorial divisions.¹¹ It also began taking over more trench frontage from the French and by the opening of the Somme offensive, the British front line ran from the Ypres Salient in the north to Maricourt just north of the river Somme.

The increase in the size of the BEF was mirrored in a vast increase in the scale and complexity of its logistical base. In particular, more resources were being put aside to deal with the inevitable toll of casualties. For the offensive on the Somme, the number of regimental stretcher bearers per battalion was doubled to thirty-two, special relay posts were established every 10,000 yards, a number of extra communication trenches were constructed solely for the removal of wounded from the trenches, and regimental aid posts and advanced dressing stations were improved by increasing protection, accommodation and comfort.¹² Unfortunately, even these rigorous arrangements proved inadequate for the scale of the casualties suffered on 1 July 1916. The Battle of Loos also sparked a major reappraisal of traffic control within the BEF. The inglorious and exhausting approach march of XI Corps has already been discussed, but it illustrated the limited resources, lack of preparation, and poor staff work that existed in the areas behind the front line of First Army. According to Gary Sheffield, the problems that had been experienced with traffic control at Loos ‘brought about the birth of modern traffic control in the British Army. The high level of success in campaigns since Loos can be attributed in large part to the Corps of Military Police learning from their mistakes on 25 September 1915.’¹³ For future operations it was made clear that the quartermaster staff needed to work closely with the APM to make sure that traffic was properly co-ordinated and controlled. Policing and traffic control in the rear areas of the British front became ever more sophisticated following the debacle at Loos. For example, in July 1916, 18 ^th Division’s sector included ‘diversionary tracks, roadside bays and a breakdown lorry for the clearance of wrecked vehicles’.¹⁴ This should be contrasted with the confusing road traffic arrangements prior to Loos when a staff officer complained that ‘it was most difficult to effect a traffic circuit at all, without encroaching on the areas of other divisions’.¹⁵

As well as undergoing organisational and administrative changes, the weapons systems available to the BEF began to mature. Chief amongst these developments was the continued growth and evolution of the Royal Artillery. By 1 July 1916 British artillery was more accurate than it had been the previous year, although it still suffered from ‘dud’ shells and worn guns.¹⁶ The numbers of guns and shells available increased dramatically during 1916, although whether there was still enough for the coming offensive was a source of some discussion in the British War Cabinet. By June 1916 Britain was producing between 140-150 heavy guns and 120,000 shells per week.¹⁷ For the attack on 1 July Fourth Army had at its disposal 1,000 field guns, 233 howitzers and 180 counter-battery guns.¹⁸ ‘Cap-badge’ resistance from certain sections of the Royal Artillery was beginning to weaken and more use was being made of meteorological, atmospheric and technical readings to improve the accuracy of shelling. Of particular importance was the systematic development of counter-battery fire.¹⁹ Field survey companies were formed on 10 February 1916 and given executive authority to employ the new methods of flash-spotting and sound-ranging to locate enemy batteries.²⁰ The accuracy of British artillery was also helped by the continual expansion of the RFC. When the Somme offensive began it had grown from twelve squadrons to twenty-seven squadrons – of eighteen machines as opposed to twelve in 1915 – and contained improved types of aircraft such as the F.E.2b, the D.H.2 and the French Nieuport Scout.²¹

How the BEF handled its guns was also improving. On 23 October 1915 the position of GOCRA, which replaced the old BGRA at corps headquarters, marked a further step forward in the command of artillery. While BGRAs had been merely advisors with no power to actually command batteries, the GOCRA possessed executive power to command batteries within each corps. This arrangement did, however, take until the end of 1916 to become definite.²² The bombardments that British artillery fired also became ever more complex after the Battle of Loos. It is possible that a rudimentary ‘creeping’ barrage – a moving wall of shells that would ‘lift’ or ‘jump’ onto further targets with the infantry following in its wake – was fired by 15^th (Scottish) Division at Loos,²³ but it was still a very novel technique when the Somme offensive began. Although several corps utilised ‘a creeping element’ in their barrages on 1 July 1916 (to make sure that differences in terrain were adequately covered by shellfire), most corps used a ‘lifting’ barrage.²⁴ The fighting that occurred during the summer and early autumn on the Somme proved a vital testing ground for new artillery techniques. The ‘creeping’ barrage, which had not been fully understood and was only executed ‘shakily’ in July 1916, had been – as the history of the Royal Artillery comments – ‘perfected and with confidence’ by October and November.²⁵ By the end of the battle there was also a noticeable decrease in the amount of faulty or ‘dud’ ammunition that was being fired.

Concurrent with these developments in artillery were changes in the structure of the British division. Many senior regular officers instinctively regarded the New Armies with great suspicion and the inglorious circumstances surrounding 21^st and 24^th Divisions on 26 September 1915 did nothing to allay these concerns.²⁶ But how was the BEF to turn these ‘green’ divisions into hardened formations, able to survive the test of battle? Several solutions were drawn up in the months following Loos, including the ‘stiffening’ of New Army divisions with the substitution of a regular brigade for one of its original brigades,²⁷ and the development of the raid – known somewhat caustically as ‘winter sports’ – to inculcate battlefield craft into inexperienced units.²⁸ The amount of firepower that divisions could wield also increased. By September 1916, an average British division contained an extra field artillery brigade, three medium trench mortar batteries and a heavy trench mortar battery. Instead of having four Vickers machine guns, each infantry battalion was now equipped with twelve Lewis guns, three brigades of light trench mortar batteries and an extra sixteen Vickers machine guns brigaded into machine gun companies.²⁹ The urgent need for a reliable and effective grenade had been recognised early in 1915, but it was not until the arrival of large numbers of Mills bombs in 1916, with their safe time-fuse mechanisms, that British troops were able to hold their own during bombing fights with the enemy. These bombs could either be thrown or fired from the muzzle of a rifle with a blank cartridge. By 1 July 1916 all British units had also been issued with steel anti-shrapnel helmets.

In response to the sobering experience at Loos British infantry tactics began to evolve. Because a large number of Royal Engineer field companies had gone forward with the assaulting battalions on 25 September, they had sustained heavy casualties. It was decided that in future such companies should remain further to the rear and only go forward when the situation was suitable.³⁰ The influence of Loos was also evident in Fourth Army’s ‘Tactical Notes’ of May 1916. For example, on ‘The General Form of Attack’, it was stressed that ‘each body of troops must be given a definite objective to attack and consolidate’.³¹ If successive waves of men were passed through onto its final objective, this would obviate the ‘confusion and lack of control that is bound to occur when one body of troops is given too distant an objective, and reached it in an exhausted and somewhat disordered condition, and is in consequence unable to resist a counter-attack successfully’. This was precisely the situation that 15^th Division had found itself in once it had reached Hill 70 on 25 September 1915. As regards the employment of reserves, the influence of Loos was clear. ‘Tactical Notes’ stressed that reserves ‘must be placed so that they can follow up directly’ and that they must ‘know exactly what is expected of them’. It was noticed at Loos that because a number of battalions had lost direction once the German front line had been crossed, future attack schemes ‘should be simple and involve as few changes of direction as possible’.

There were a number of technological developments in the BEF between the Battle of Loos and the beginning of the Somme offensive that should also be considered. Perhaps the most revolutionary weapon that emerged from the battles of 1915 was the British ‘tank’. Although not employed on 1 July, tanks made their debut on the Western Front on 15 September 1916. They were not a decisive, war-winning weapon – the Mark I tank was 26 feet in length, weighing 28 tons with a top speed of only 3 mph³² – but their appearance undoubtedly marked a major accession of strength for the BEF and they would gradually improve throughout the war. Gas was another weapon that was continually improved and refined. The widespread disappointment with gas that followed the Battle of Loos did not hinder the development of British chemical warfare. Although gas would never again be the central component of a British offensive, it would prove an important auxiliary weapon, particularly when it was fired from shells in counter-battery shoots. By February 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Foulkes’s Special Brigade had grown to a strength of 5,000 officers and men, split into twenty-one companies. Foulkes was also beginning to experiment with different types of agent (including phosgene and white phosphorous) and with various methods of delivery (such as mortars, flamethrowers and the infamous Livens projector).³³ Cylinder discharge was not used on a large scale on 1 July 1916 but the Special Brigade had conducted thirty gas attacks during the previous week (using both red and white star gas), which contributed to the general weakening of German defenders and their morale before the battle.³⁴

Notwithstanding these improvements the period between September 1915 and July 1916 was not notable for any fundamental change in the way British High Command planned and devised operations. It seems that following the sobering experience at Loos a number of key lessons remained unlearnt by a number of senior British commanders and was to prove disastrous for the much bigger operation that was attempted on the Somme. Much of the blame lies with the commander who had been primarily responsible for the ambitious ‘all-out’ attack at Loos, General Sir Douglas Haig. He remained suspicious of any attempt at battle that did not aim at a total ‘decisive’ breakthrough and again attempted to do this on 1 July 1916. When this was combined with his difficult relationship with Henry Rawlinson (GOC Fourth Army), who was in charge of the attack on the Somme, a hopelessly muddled plan was developed that ended in disaster.

At the beginning of 1916 Haig reaffirmed his faith in the ‘decisive’ battle. In a paper entitled ‘General Factors to be Weighed in Considering the Allied Plan of Campaign During the Next Few Months’, dated 16 January 1916, Haig discussed the need for a simultaneous Allied offensive to be conducted in the coming year in order to ‘deprive the enemy of the advantages of his interior lines’.³⁵ After discussing the relative merits of a series of smaller operations designed to wear down the enemy – something akin to Rawlinson’s ‘bite and hold’ idea – Haig finally opted for his preferred method of a decisive offensive. He believed (rather spuriously) that such an attack would be quicker to mount and consume less ammunition than smaller, less ambitious attacks. Why did Haig continue to believe that a ‘decisive’ offensive was not only possible but also within his grasp in 1916? The events of Loos clearly had some resonance with Haig and influenced his approach to the campaign of 1916. Almost as soon as news from the fighting began to filter into the various headquarters on the morning of 25 September 1915, British commanders began assessing the results of the assault and trying to glean important lessons for future operations. But, as will be seen, Loos defied obvious explanation and the lessons of the battle were (seemingly) not straightforward with many senior British officers taking totally different things away from the battle. It seems that the debacle over the reserves and the dismissal of Sir John French clouded many of the real reasons for the failure of Loos, particularly the scope of the ambitious attack that had been planned and developed within First Army headquarters. It allowed many senior officers to write the battle off as a near miss that could have been so much more had the General Reserve been in place, and look no further for the causes of defeat. It was generally accepted that as long as sufficient reserves were in place for future operations the breakthrough would look after itself.

For Sir Douglas Haig the results of the Battle of Loos seemed to underline all that he held true for operations on the Western Front. Indeed, far from causing him to modify his ambitious faith in an ‘all-out’ decisive battle, the disasters of the second day only confirmed what he saw as the fundamental validity of his methods. Haig remained true to his long-cherished principles and simply interpreted the battle through these beliefs. His attitude to what had happened on the first day and the confused deployment of the reserves all fitted into this mental paradigm. This was revealed in his somewhat urgent letter to Kitchener on 29 September 1915.

You will doubtless recollect how earnestly I pressed you to ensure an adequate Reserve being close in rear of attacking divisions and under my orders! It may interest you to know what happened. No reserve was placed under me. My attack, as has been reported, was a complete success. The Enemy had no troops in his second line, which some of my plucky fellows reached and entered without opposition. Prisoners state the Enemy was so hard put to it for troops to stem our advance that the officers’ servants, fatigue-men, etc., in Lens were pushed forward to hold their end line to the east of Loos and Hill 70.³⁶

Haig subsequently complained that the reserve divisions only arrived on the battlefield at 6p.m., when they should have gone into action ‘12 hours previously’.‘This, you will remember,’ Haig continued,‘I requested should be arranged by GHQ and [Sir William] Robertson [CGS GHQ] duly concurred in my views and wished to put the reserve divisions under me, but was not allowed.’ As a result the enemy had been given precious time to bring up reinforcements and defeat the later British attempts to move forward. Needless to say, that this was a partial and not entirely accurate account of the battle did not occur to Haig. Loos had simply been a defeat snatched from the jaws of victory owing to the incompetence of Sir John French.

Why did Haig remain aloof from the real problems experienced at Loos? In many ways, it was not in Haig’s character to be self-critical. He was a robust, stubborn and deeply confident man. He had been given command of the BEF following the departure of Sir John and perhaps could be forgiven for thinking that this promotion vindicated the methods he had used at Loos. He could also have been unaware of the true depth of the problems experienced during the battle, possibly because he did not bother to order a thorough investigation. Because he (partly) blamed the failure of the 21^st and 24^th Divisions (and also 46^th Division) on their lack of discipline, morale and ‘offensive spirit’, it was relatively easy not to look for the causes of defeat closer to home. Haig also remained robustly optimistic. He wrote to Lady Haig on 18 October of how he believed that ‘the situation for the Allies is more favourable now than at any previous time in the war’.³⁷ Given the imminent ruin of the Balkans, the near collapse of the Russian war effort, the recent failure of the large Allied offensives on the Western Front, and the continued stalemate in the Dardanelles, it is difficult to see where Haig’s faith came from. It is perhaps noticeable that from this time, as John Terraine has written, ‘an element in him – certainly not new, but hitherto less evident – begins to be marked: a religious faith, planted in him by his mother in his earliest years.³⁸

Even the more perceptive Sir Henry Rawlinson initially seems to have concurred with Haig’s views. As he explained to Lord Kitchener (and reiterated in letters to other correspondents), if the reserve divisions had been on the battlefield at midday on 25 September, ‘I am quite certain that they would have been successful and that we should have broken through the enemy’s second system of defences and been able to send on the cavalry to Pont à Vendin and Carvin.’³⁹ Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson have suggested, probably correctly, that Rawlinson’s post mortem of the Battle of Loos suffered from‘an inability on his part to reach a dispassionate judgement on military events in which he had been intimately involved’ as well as his desire to seek the dismissal of Sir John French. Nevertheless, Rawlinson’s natural inclination towards limited-objective ‘bite and hold’ attacks remained and would again surface during the lengthy discussion process prior to the Battle of the Somme. Ominously, by as early as March 1916 Rawlinson was anticipating a ‘tussle’ with Haig over the choice of a limited or unlimited attack on the Somme.⁴⁰

The views of Haig and Rawlinson – that Loos would have been a complete success but for the late arrival of XI Corps – would later become enshrined in the British Official History. However, not all officers who had been involved in the battle were convinced of this rosy appreciation and some had nagging doubts about the ambition of the attack, the effectiveness of gas and the issue of the reserves. Brigadier-General C.E.D. Budworth (BGRA IV Corps, MGRA Fourth Army 1916) believed (correctly) that the lack of artillery support had been the crucial factor in the failure at Loos. According to Budworth, in future the British should either fire short ‘hurricane’ bombardments or wait until they had enough guns and shells to totally destroy the German position.⁴¹ In a lecture about Loos and its implications for future operations, Rawlinson’s Chief of Staff at IV Corps, Brigadier-General A.A. Montgomery, believed that there were ten main lessons to be drawn from the battle.⁴² These included the importance of a defensive flank; the need for reserves to be held in readiness close behind the assaulting troops; careful preparation; and the dangers of positioning divisional or brigade headquarters too close to the front where they could be shelled. Of more interest was Montgomery’s discussion of the scope of future operations. He commended the attack of 47^th (London) Division, but noted that its mission was ‘far easier’ than the tasks given to the other divisions deployed further north, which had to make ‘all-out’ attacks. Nevertheless, because the limited objective attack was ‘easier’ Montgomery noted that ‘it does not follow that it is always the correct one’, adding that the failure of the ‘all-out’ attack did ‘not prove it was a mistake’. According to Montgomery, the ‘all-out’ attack failed because of a ‘faulty method of execution’ and not the ‘the selection of the wrong form of objective’.

Although Montgomery’s lecture certainly pointed in the right direction, the dissemination of lessons from recent operational experience was hampered in the BEF by what Tim Travers has called a ‘proper system for learning’ and ‘a proper system for rational decision making’.⁴³ This meant that apart from the efforts of a few dedicated officers, it was very difficult for an empirical appreciation of Loos to emerge. It seems that in 1915–16 the BEF was really undergoing two separate, and often divergent, ‘learning curves’. For while there was continual growth and development lower down the chain of command as divisions, brigades, the RFC and Royal Artillery got to grips with new technology and tactics and tried to understand how to use them effectively, the British High Command did not undergo a similar empirical advance in wisdom. Some lessons were learnt, but the consistent desire for ‘decisive’ breakthrough operations, which was in line with pre-war thought, meant that most major British attacks would be plagued by over-optimism well into 1917.

This conflict was noticeable in the approach to the Somme offensive of 1916. The planning of the Somme has been discussed at length, most recently by Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson.⁴⁴ At the highest level, it was, in many ways, not much of an improvement on that before Loos. The crucial relationship between Haig and Rawlinson remained difficult throughout 1916 and resulted in the hopelessly muddled plan for the Somme.⁴⁵ Haig favoured a deep breakthrough operation following a ‘hurricane’ bombardment, but Rawlinson preferred a more deliberate operation. Whereas at Loos, Haig, spurred on by the thought of using gas, had dismissed Rawlinson’s concerns and opted for an ‘all-out’ attempt to break through the German lines, he was not as firm before the Somme. The two officers exchanged numerous letters, reports and many hours of conversation, but – in a situation that was reminiscent of Loos – do not seem to have ironed out their basic differences of opinion. An uneasy compromise was eventually reached, with the far-reaching objectives remaining, but the short bombardment being sacrificed in order for a longer, more methodical shoot to take place. And again, the preliminary bombardment was spread over too wide an area of front, with both Haig and Rawlinson being mesmerised by the unprecedented numbers of guns and shells available and ignoring worrying concerns from lower down the chain of command. Over 1.5 million shells were fired at the German defences, but their effect on the hardened dugouts and deep belts of wire was not enough to allow the waves of attacking British infantry to crash through the German front line. Only on the right of the British line (XIII Corps) was any progress made.

The attack on 1 July revealed that serious mistakes had been made by British High Command. Indeed, it is difficult to deny that although definite improvements occurred in the months after Loos, a number of important lessons from the fighting of 1915 were ignored or forgotten. These lessons then had to be painfully re-learnt during the brutal five-month campaign on the Somme. British infantry tactics, codified in Fourth Army’s ‘Tactical Notes’, remained primarily based upon the linear module of ‘waves’ based upon weight of numbers and the bayonet. There was also an emphasis consistent with pre-war thought on the continuing relevance of discipline, morale and human factors. Because British High Command remained sceptical of the ability of New Army units to conduct the relatively sophisticated ‘fire and movement’ tactics possessed by the regular army, ‘Tactical Notes’ laid down an exhaustive list of practices, including specific infantry formations and the correct use of machine guns, mortars and artillery support. Curiously, General Rawlinson made no attempt to enforce these ideas and as at Loos, corps and divisions were left to devise their own formations. Although this was helpful when commanders used modern tactics – for example, Brigadier-General J.B. Jardine (GOC 97 Brigade) ordered his men out into no-man’s-land before the attack – such good practice was not enforced until much later. For example, Haig and Rawlinson were both aware of the partial success of smoke in shielding the attacking infantry at Loos on both 25 and 27 September, but did not use it on 1 July 1916. Had it been used, it is probable that casualties amongst the attacking battalions would have been reduced considerably.

Counter-battery fire operated on a similar basis. One of the key lessons of the battles of 1915 had been the difficulty of reinforcing forward troops through a curtain of shellfire, and if the British were to rediscover manoeuvres on the battlefield, it was essential that enemy shellfire be reduced to a minimum. But counter-battery fire was given a low priority during the preliminary bombardment for the Somme. As Prior and Wilson have noted, Rawlinson may well have been convinced after Loos that the key to battlefield success was reducing German artillery fire, but for various reasons he seems to have paid little attention to it. As a result counter-battery fire was ‘allowed to degenerate under Fourth Army neglect into a matter wholly at the whim of the individual corps commanders’.⁴⁶ Why was counter-battery fire given such a low priority given its fundamental importance to the success of the infantry assault? Possibly the unprecedented artillery resources available to Fourth Army blinded Haig and Rawlinson into thinking that it would be enough to devastate all the German defences over a wide area, but one is still left with the lingering suspicion that not enough had been done to analyse previous operations and improve on them for future attacks.

The plans and preparations for the Somme offensive may have been faulty at the highest level, but for those troops on the ground, the run-up to the battle was ironically a much more encouraging experience than it had been before Loos. Whereas the attacking divisions (apart from 47^th Division) on 25 September had been issued with very little information, few maps and told to attack ‘all-out’ and go off ‘into the blue’, the Somme offensive was a much more thoroughly organised affair. As one veteran of both battles later commented, the ‘secrecy and fog regarding the tactical situation and the topography’ of Loos ‘contrasted with the minutely detailed preparation and complete information imparted to all ranks before the Somme attack on 1 July 1916’.⁴⁷ The attacking divisions were issued with hundreds of maps and aerial photographs of their sectors, and were able to rehearse over practice grounds in the rear of the line. However, an unfortunate similarity between the two offensives was the amount of labour entrusted to the British infantry who were plagued by working-parties and fatigues. Many divisions only had one week to train their men before the assault on 1 July.⁴⁸

Despite its infamous opening, by the end of the Somme campaign the BEF had been blooded and was a much leaner, fitter fighting machine. Vital experience had been gained at all levels and 1917 would see the fruits of this bitter campaign, with a succession of promising set-piece attacks at Arras, Messines, Third Ypres and Cambrai. As the BEF grew more experienced during 1916–17, more and more command was devolved to subordinates. As Andy Simpson’s work has shown, far from being the ‘postbox’ of 1914, British corps began to assume increasing levels of responsibility during 1915–16, particularly in the artillery fireplans for attacks.⁴⁹ The formal recognition of the corps artillery commander (GOCRA) in December 1916 reflected the increasing centrality of artillery in the BEF’s operations. The infantry were also evolving. In December 1916 GHQ issued SS 135, a pamphlet entitled Instructions for the Training of Divisions for Offensive Operations, and this was followed in February 1917 by Instructions for the Training of Platoons for Offensive Actions (SS 143). These pamphlets placed a great emphasis on the platoon becoming a self-contained firebase and recognised the need to adopt looser, more flexible infantry formations without losing cohesion.⁵⁰

There can be little doubt that Haig improved as a commander during the war. In particular, he learnt to appreciate logistics during 1916. While logistics had not featured too heavily in his plans for Loos, the partial breakdown in supply on the Somme during August 1916 meant that it could no longer be ignored. Haigs enthusiastic support for the former Deputy General Manager of the North-Eastern Railway, Sir Eric Geddes (appointed Director General of Transportation at GHQ on 6 December), who conducted a far-reaching reform of British logistical and transport infrastructure, from the base ports to the front, was indicative of a new concern for the problems of sustaining a mass army.⁵¹ According to Prior and Wilson, both Haigs and Rawlinson’s performances improved when they had, in effect, less to do. While at Loos they were deeply involved in planning the battle and devising how to use the available technology, including artillery and gas, they gradually assumed less and less responsibility for these matters as the war progressed. During the later stages of the war, particularly by 1918, Haig and his army commanders could concentrate on setting operational objectives and count on their subordinates, who were by now fully versed in their respective roles and using technology that was familiar and had been well developed over the previous four years to carry them out.⁵² This was simply not possible in 1915.

It is hoped that this study will contribute to a growing appreciation of a poorly understood period of the BEF, but much work remains to be done on 1915. Neuve Chapelle has been discussed in some detail, but First Army’s battles of May and June remain neglected, especially the important operations around Festubert that followed the debacle at Aubers Ridge. And while the Second Battle of Ypres has recently attracted some welcome attention, a truly satisfactory operational history is still required.⁵³ The mechanics of command during this period also merit attention, especially the movement and promotion of what became the middle ranks of the BEF in 1916–18 from a tiny base in 1914–15. A comparative study between First and Second Armies during 1915 would also yield important results on whether the methods of both armies were different and why this was so.

The subsequent controversy about the reserves, and why they had arrived on the battlefield so late, effectively ended Sir John French’s tenure as Commander-in-Chief. But this scandal helped to mask some of the more fundamental problems with the Loos attack, so riven was it with contradiction. Although he had once been a protégé of Haig’s, Hubert Gough provided one of the most intelligent critiques of Haig’s performance during the battle. Commenting on the drafts of the Official History in 1926, Gough asked whether, even if an attack had to be staged to help the French and to pin German reserves, it should have been planned ‘on the very ambitious scale that Sir Douglas Haig adopted’.

Should not the attack have been strictly limited in its objectives? Such an attack, if successful, would have drawn as many reserves as it actually did. It would not have caused such heavy casualties and such disappointment. If the French had met with some marked success in our vicinity it would then not have been difficult to organise and launch fresh attacks on our front. If they failed, as turned out to be the case, heavy casualties in attempting to get forward would have been avoided.⁵⁴

‘Haig’s optimism in these operations, as in many others,’ added Gough, ‘obscured his judgement and led to heavy casualties in attempts to advance and decisively defeat the German army, with very insufficient means. ’And although these comments were made in the safety of post-war anonymity, it is difficult to disagree with them. Nevertheless, despite suffering from poor health, Sir John cannot escape censure. He should have made it clear, early on, exactly where he wanted the reserves, which would have straightened out Haig’s misunderstandings about what type of attack he was expected to make. But French seemingly lost all interest in the battle after Kitchener had forced his hand, and his moral courage, so noticeable in his discussions with Joffre, deserted him when facing Haig.