7

THE SECOND DAY: 26 SEPTEMBER 1915

26 September 1915 was a day of disaster for the BEF. Primarily remembered for the abortive attack on the German second line by the reserve divisions (21^st and 24^th Divisions) and their subsequent retreat from the battlefield, it also featured heavy fighting around Hill 70, Hulluch and the Quarries as the British attempted to capitalise upon their gains of the previous morning. And while the character of the fighting could differ greatly on each side of the battlefield, from the close-fought bombing attacks on the northern sector, to the sweeping infantry movements further south, the experiences of I, IV and XI Corps during the day were remarkably similar. Early German counterattacks unbalanced the British and when First Army attempted to get forward, its operations were characterised by poor organisation, weak artillery support and a lack of information. Many of the attacks were also terribly rushed. Little ground was secured, heavy casualties were sustained and for the reserve divisions at least, the day ended in ignoble retreat.

Making sense of the second day of the Battle of Loos can be problematic. Although the fighting on the first day was at times confusing, it is not too difficult to trace the movements of different battalions throughout the day. Units began 25 September in clearly defined positions and with familiar objectives. On the following day, however, things were different. They began it scattered, considerably below strength (excepting, of course, the reserve divisions) and with little or no idea of where they were supposed to be going and what resistance lay in their path. The fighting that subsequently occurred was so close, fluid and free flowing that it is at times impossible to assess what happened accurately. Nevertheless, without gas and smoke to confuse the issue, it is clear that Haig’s ambitious plans for 26 September fell apart rapidly when confronted with the situation at the front. Lacking artillery support and suffering from a catastrophic breakdown in command and control (including poor staff work, few adequate maps and a lack of planning for the secondary stage of the offensive), the renewed attacks were lamentable failures, with the attacking battalions unable to progress in the face of unsuppressed enemy machine gun fire and uncut belts of barbed wire.

Before discussing what has traditionally been regarded as the main drama of the day – 21^st and 24^th Division’s attack on the German second line – it is necessary to examine the operations that were intended to stabilise First Army’s position on the northern sector of the battlefield, which had been under increasing pressure since the afternoon of the previous day. At 1a.m. part of 117^th Division, reinforced by 26 Reserve Brigade, delivered an attack on the British positions around Fosse 8 and the Quarries. This operation was part of a series of local counter-attacks ordered the previous afternoon by the commander of IV Corps, General Sixt von Armin, and did much to determine the character of the second day. By nightfall on 25 September, the Quarries were garrisoned by a mixture of British units from 20 and 21 Brigades (7^th Division), all under-strength, tired and soaked to the skin. For the next two hours utter chaos reigned in this sector and at 2a.m., after getting word that the Quarries had been abandoned, an intense British bombardment began, forcing the surviving defenders to retire. By 3 a.m. most of the British units had retreated back to the old German front line in some confusion.¹

The loss of the Quarries on the night of 25/26 September highlighted the real difficulties that the British found in trying to react to the enemy and counterattack effectively at this period of the war. It also marked the loss of British initiative on the northern sector of the battlefield, which First Army would spend the rest of the battle trying desperately to regain. It is little wonder that a slightly bewildered corps commander, Lieutenant-General Hubert Gough, could later write how he was ‘faced with fresh anxieties’.² Instead of planning to get into Cité St Elie and the second German line, he was forced to concentrate on shoring up his own position. But this was not easy. The difficulties of organising reinforcements, moving up troops and getting artillery forward that had been experienced on 25 September were to be repeated in the following days. As the supporting battalions and reserve brigades had already discovered, moving through the maze of trenches and getting into the correct positions took a great deal of time and effort. Brigadier-General W.A. Oswald’s 73 Brigade (24^th Division) had been ordered to relieve 26 Brigade (9^th Division) at 5.21p.m. the previous evening.³ According to one regimental officer:

No clear view of the ground, still to be covered, had been possible by daylight, and in the darkness the business of crossing a maze of muddy trenches, shell holes, broken entanglements and the debris of battle caused endless confusion, loss of direction and stragglers.⁴

This was not an unusual experience and those battalions tasked with recapturing the Quarries faced similar difficulties. One of 7^th Division’s staff officers, Lieutenant-Colonel G.H. Boileau, grimly noted how the men of 9/Norfolk (71 Brigade) were ‘dropping with fatigue’ from their exhausting approach march by the time they had reached the front line.⁵

First Army made two attempts to recapture the Quarries; two attempts to enter Hulluch; and two attempts to retake Hill 70 on 26 September. All failed, and for similar reasons. They were rushed, piecemeal attacks against a hardening defence, and were conducted with poor artillery support, woefully inadequate preparation and almost non-existent staff work. The battalions involved tended to be already tired and hungry when they went into action – in some cases they had suffered heavy casualties, were mixed up and leaderless – and because the situation was often vague, they were only given a basic objective with the bare minimum of battlefield intelligence. The first attempt to secure the Quarries was made by 9/Norfolk, which had been detached from 71 Brigade the previous evening,⁶ and never had a chance of succeeding. Such was the state of the British trenches that the battalion had only reached the old German front line by 5.30a.m., and as a result, had little time to reconnoitre the ground. The attack at 6.45a.m. was a predictable failure.⁷

Subsequent attacks fared little better. 2/Worcestershire experienced a whole catalogue of problems as it endeavoured to move up to the front.⁸ The battalion received its orders to move out at 1.15a.m. on the morning of 26 September. It was to ‘march today so as to reach the fields west of Annequin and south of the La Bassée road at 9a.m. tomorrow to form part of a detached brigade under Colonel [B.C.M.] Carter’. Because the message had been handed to brigade signallers at 12.55a.m., some confusion was experienced about what day the order was referring to. Battalion staff were, however, eventually informed that the attack was to be delivered on 26 September. Just over an hour later the battalion received a more detailed order concerning the exact line of march it was to take. Unfortunately, the wrong map square was given and further delay was caused in correcting this error. The battalion started marching at 4a.m. and it was over twelve hours later (4.15p.m.) when it reached the British front line from where the assault was to take place! The subsequent attack, horribly rushed, was beaten back by heavy enemy gunfire, with the survivors taking cover in an old half-dug German trench in the middle of no-man’s-land.

The attempt to secure Hulluch by 3 Brigade (1^st Division) was an even more vivid example of how First Army had in many cases completely lost control of its front-line battalions on 26 September. Orders for 2/Welsh only arrived at 10.20a.m., barely forty minutes before they were supposed to move out. The battalion was to take the village of Hulluch in conjunction with 1/Black Watch and 1/South Wales Borderers (also of 3 Brigade), but it seems that a combination of unexpected enemy movements and heavy shelling, which destroyed the only telephone set at battalion headquarters, resulted in 2/Welsh attacking alone.⁹ The assault was swept away by heavy machine gun fire from six German machine gun teams in the upper storeys of the Hulluch. When the remaining two battalions of 3 Brigade finally advanced against Hulluch at midday, the same gunners, who had proved so devastating to the attack of 2/Welsh, also raked the battalions with heavy fire.¹⁰

The renewed attempt to secure Hill 70 also failed. By the morning of 26 September the situation of 15^th (Scottish) Division was highly precarious. Units were mixed up, often leaderless, tired, short of ammunition, food and water, and were occupying only thin trenches below the crest. Half of 45 Brigade was sheltering in Loos, while two battalions (13/Royal Scots and 11/Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders) had relieved several groups of mixed-up Scottish troops and were spread out on the slopes of Hill 70. The unpromising situation did not go unnoticed and Major-General F.W. McCracken (GOC 15^th Division) complained about renewing the attack, but was overruled by his corps commander (Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Rawlinson).¹¹ Disregarding the opinion he had formed following the Battle of Neuve Chapelle (10–12 March 1915) that ‘when the enemy has been able to man his second line of defence it is a waste of life to attack him until the heavy guns are able to pulverise these localities’, Rawlinson does not seem to have been too perturbed by the difficulty of the operation.¹² In any case, he made no attempt to communicate any private fears higher up the chain of command. He later recorded in his diary that ‘All looked well for breaking enemy’s last defences’.¹³ To be fair to Rawlinson, there was little he could do. The taking of Hill 70 and Hulluch were operations vital to the success of the main attacks to take place later in the morning. If Hill 70 and Hulluch were still in enemy hands by the time the remaining units of 21^st and 24^th Divisions attacked at 11 a.m., German troops would be able to enfilade the advance onto the second line, which would place the whole operation in jeopardy. Whatever his reservations the objectives had to be taken.

Major-General McCracken’s fears were, however, justified. Orders for the attack had arrived at the headquarters of 15^th Division at 5a.m., but as might have been expected, they took much longer to reach the battalions in the front line.¹⁴ While some battalions of 45 Brigade received their orders in good time, others were only handed theirs between 7 and 8a.m., just as the preliminary bombardment was about to begin. Indeed, orders only reached 13/Royal Scots at 9a.m.¹⁵ The attack was to be led by 45 Brigade at 9a.m., supported from the north by 62 Brigade, after an intensive bombardment lasting an hour. It seems that the troops had advanced punctually, but against heavy enemy rifle and machine gun fire, progress was limited. Although elements of the attacking battalions (7/ Royal Scots Fusiliers, 11/Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders and 13/Royal Scots) managed to push on through the perimeter trench and drive the enemy garrison from the redoubt, as was typical of such poorly organised attacks, the gains were impossible to preserve.¹⁶ Fierce enfilade and cross fire swept the summit, causing heavy casualties and forcing the battalions to settle back below the crest line where cover was available.

Why had it proved so difficult to take Hill 70? Lack of artillery support was a key factor. Although a number of batteries had managed to get forward during the previous day, most had been moved back during the night, and the majority of 15^th Division’s guns were still behind the British front line on the morning of 26 September.¹⁷ For those few batteries that had moved forward, heavy enemy shelling was a constant problem. The war diary of LXXIII Brigade RFA recorded that after reaching a position north of Loos, its guns were ‘subjected to artillery, rifle and maxim fire’, which was fortunately directed too high.¹⁸ Similarly ‘B’ and ‘C’ Batteries had three horses killed, and when LXXI Brigade RFA moved forward to a position west of Loos, it was heavily shelled all day.¹⁹ Poor organisation only hampered matters. The history of the Royal Artillery admitted that ‘the heavies continued to work on counter-battery tasks and their fire was not really co-ordinated with the rest. Indeed, ammunition soon became so short that rates of two rounds per battery per minute were being imposed!’²⁰ Ironically, the bombardment was ‘extremely accurate’,²¹ but owing to the lateness that many units received their orders, a number of battalions had been unable to move back in order to avoid the shellfire and suffered accordingly.²²

The late arrival of orders seems to have been a particular problem for 62 Brigade. Scheduled to support the attack from the north, 13/Northumberland Fusiliers did not receive notification of the preliminary bombardment and that they would be required to pull their companies back to avoid the shelling. The war diary recorded that ‘before the withdrawal could be ordered our shells were dropping amongst our own men’.²³ The battalion was forced to retreat and then had to abandon the attack. The war diary of 45 Brigade bitterly lamented the performance of 62 Brigade because it ‘never came on, though had it done so it seems extremely probable that the position would have been carried’.²⁴ However, this was never likely. 62 Brigade had originally been asked to support the Scots from the north, but owing to difficulties of getting the men into the correct positions, it had been decided that 62 Brigade would simply support 45 Brigade closely in the rear.²⁵ Two battalions (10/Yorkshire and 12/Northumberland Fusiliers) had taken part in the attack, advancing towards Hill 70 on either side of the Loos-Hill 70 track, about 200 yards behind 45 Brigade. But, as might have been expected, under heavy enemy gunfire the attack wavered and while parties of 12/ Northumberland Fusiliers managed to get over the crest and break into the enemy trenches, they ran into ‘very severe’ machine gun fire and were forced to retreat.²⁶

While the flanking operations on 26 September have been largely forgotten, the actions of the reserve divisions have been the subject of much myth and misunderstanding. It is commonly assumed that both 21^st and 24^th Divisions advanced upon the German second line at 11a.m., losing over 8,000 men in ‘little over an hour’ in the long grass of what became known as the ‘Leichenfeld von Loos’ (the ‘field of corpses’).²⁷ Although often repeated, this is incorrect. According to official figures, 21^st Division suffered 4,051 casualties, and the 24^th Division another 4,178.²⁸ But these, it should be noted, were sustained during the whole day and not in ‘little over an hour’ as is commonly assumed. Exact German casualties for 26 September are harder to ascertain. They were much less than the British, although certainly not the ‘zero’ as quoted by Alan Clark.²⁹ Regarding the actual operations, historians have often confused two separate actions. Only one and a half brigades of 24^th Division actually reached the ‘corpse field’ – half of the division had been sent to bolster the line further north – while two brigades of 21^st Division had been heavily counterattacked by 153 Infantry Regiment around Bois Hugo and Chalk Pit Wood since daylight and never reached the German second line.

Dealing first with the German counterattack through Bois Hugo, which has been consistently neglected in writing about the second day of the Battle of Loos, it will be seen that this was one of the most important events of the day, fatally unbalancing 21^st Division and doing immense damage to 72 and 71 Brigades when they advanced later in the day. What had happened? During the hours of darkness 63 Brigade had taken up advanced positions around the Chalk Pit and Bois Hugo and started digging in, but by as early as 9a.m. enemy pressure had begun to increase. 63 Brigade was facing the brunt of a vicious German counter-attack conducted by troops of 153 Infantry Regiment (8^th Division), part of 106 Regiment and 178 Regiment (123^rd (Saxon) Division) from the far side of Bois Hugo.³⁰ Although British resistance, especially rifle fire, seems to have been most effective – ‘heavy casualties’ were apparently caused in the attacking German waves³¹ – by 10.15a.m. parties of 8/Lincolnshire and 12/West Yorkshire were flooding back across the Lens–Hulluch road to the cover provided by the Chalk Pit.³² Although a second line was quickly formed, barely fifteen minutes later large parties of the brigade were retreating steadily westwards.³³

Command and control had clearly broken down under the stress of battle. When two companies of 10/York & Lancaster were sent to reinforce 8/Lincolnshire, the order was misunderstood and the whole battalion rushed down through Chalk Pit Wood into an enemy bombardment. Despite being only 1,000 yards apart, a message from 63 Brigade took over an hour to reach 64 Brigade.³⁴ By 10.30a.m. 14/Durham Light Infantry, which had been sent forward to support the troops in Bois Hugo, collided with the retiring elements of 63 Brigade. According to 64 Brigade’s war diary:

On coming round the northern end, and seeing the 14/Durham Light Infantry against its western edge they [elements of 63 Brigade] apparently [mis]took them for Germans owing to their wearing long greatcoats, and made a change of direction as if to attack the 14/Durham Light Infantry in flank.³⁵

The error was soon realised, but not before 14/Durham Light Infantry had passed through the lines of retreating men into heavy machine gun fire from Bois Hugo.³⁶ Unfortunately, the harrowing fate that befell 14/ Durham Light Infantry was not unique to 64 Brigade, and the day witnessed a number of errors, mistakes and ‘blue on blue’ incidents.

The experience of 64 Brigade on 26 September can be divided into two sections, which although separate, were remarkably similar, and can be briefly summarised. The first concerns the harrowing experience of 14 and 15/Durham Light Infantry. In accordance with the orders to resume a large-scale advance, both battalions had been ordered forward to secure Puits 14 at 11a.m., but instead of moving eastwards, the battalions were drawn to the right and advanced southeast. As they did so they were fired upon by German troops in Bois Hugo and Chalet Wood. However, instead of dealing with these enemy positions, they continued marching towards Hill 70, where they were finally brought to a halt by heavy machine gun fire from the crest. The war diary of 106 Reserve Regiment, part of which garrisoned Hill 70, noted that the effect of this fire from two sides ‘was very considerable, whole lines being mown down by the machine guns’.³⁷ The second part of 64 Brigade’s operations on 26 September concerns the remaining two battalions (9 and 10/KOYLI), which were again also unwittingly diverted south-east. Brigadier-General G.M. Gloster (GOC 64 Brigade) had originally been ‘averse to throwing in the battalions’, and thought it best to remain in position and await further developments or reinforcements.³⁸ Unfortunately, and seemingly without any orders, 9/ KOYLI suddenly began moving off eastwards at 1.45p.m. In some alarm and confusion, and having completely lost control of his own battalion, the commanding officer (Lieutenant-Colonel C.W.D. Lynch) ran after it in a vain attempt to stop the advance. In his absence, it was hurriedly decided that 10/KOYLI should follow up in support, but the two battalions were not to go further than the Loos–Hulluch road. But it seems that these orders did not reach a number of company commanders and advancing into storms of shellfire, the battalions marched past the road and continued up the slope of Hill 70, straight into a number of trenches held by survivors of 15^th Division. 9 and 10/KOYLI did not last long; they were ‘crumpled up by flanking enemy machine gun fire and shrapnel’, and then began to retreat, coming back towards the British lines.³⁹

At 11a.m. therefore, owing to the failure to secure Hulluch and Hill 70, and the disabling effects of the German counter-attack through Bois Hugo, the ‘main’ British attack would now only consist of 72 Brigade, supported in the rear by two battalions of 71 Brigade. This was woefully inadequate to take such a strongly defended and wired position. By the morning of 26 September, the German second line between Hulluch and Cité St Elie was manned by six composite battalions of infantry.⁴⁰ The second line had not been ‘softened’ to any great extent by the preliminary bombardment, and in any case, extra wire entanglements had been thrown out during the night. Details of the epic march of the six battalions through shellfire across open ground (which would be later christened the ‘corpse field’) up the low rise upon which lay the German second line can be found in numerous regimental histories, war diaries and personal accounts. All make for harrowing reading. It is clear that the failure to secure the flanks meant that 72 Brigade not only came under machine gun and rifle fire from German troops manning the second line, Bois Hugo and Hulluch, but was also shelled by the artillery of 117^th and 8^th Divisions.⁴¹ During the advance to the ‘corpse field’, Colonel E. Vansittart (CO 8/ Royal West Kent, 72 Brigade) urgently penned a message reporting ‘very heavy frontal, as well as enfilade fire from both flanks, and shelling from our left rear’.⁴² It is also possible that 9/East Surrey came under reverse fire from Bois Hugo.⁴³ A more unpromising position can hardly be imagined and, as might have been expected, when the thinned ranks of 72 Brigade reached the German wire, which was uncut, covered in long grass and about twenty yards deep,⁴⁴ the advance came to a standstill. The German position remained unbroken. General Haig’s gamble had failed.

Reaction to the failure of 21^st and 24^th Divisions to break the German second line was swift and not entirely praiseworthy from British High Command. When Haig received the news later that afternoon he became angry and threatened to have the man who had sent it court-martialled for spreading alarmist reports.⁴⁵ Rawlinson was equally dismayed, believing that the divisions involved had ‘behaved badly’.⁴⁶ In a letter to Lord Kitchener, written three days later, his opinions had not changed. He felt that the attack on the second line had failed because of ‘Bad discipline and want of food and secondly to attacking an entrenched position strongly wired and held without adequate artillery support’.⁴⁷ Haig also confided to his diary that the reason for the debacle ‘is said to be that the men had not been fed’.⁴⁸ Haig, and to a lesser extent Rawlinson, fought on a ‘moral battlefield’ and it is clear that fears over the ‘quality’ of the New Army clouded their judgements and, in effect, excused the lamentable failures of the second day. Although exact information about the fate of the reserves would take several days to gather, it was generally accepted by Haig and his staff that the reason for the failure of the attacks was because of the inexperience of the troops (with their late arrival) and not because they had been given an impossible task to perform. As Haig’s diary recorded, the new divisions ‘did not look out for themselves’.⁴⁹

But was this correct? How much of the disaster was down to internal weaknesses (such as poor training, morale and fighting skills) within the divisions, as Haig and Rawlinson stressed, and how much related to other factors? The bulk of the evidence, especially that emanating from the battlefield, does not support the view taken by the British High Command. Indeed, on reading the numerous war diaries and personal accounts, it is very difficult to take any other view that the reserves, especially 21^st Division, were committed to an extremely dangerous situation, hampered by a catastrophic series of handicaps, including lack of information, the poor condition of the men, heavy enemy attacks and very little artillery support. As regards 24^th Division, to paraphrase Rawlinson, the main and only reason the attack failed was because of ‘attacking an entrenched position strongly wired and held without adequate artillery support’ and not simply ‘want of food’. Haig and Rawlinson’s reaction was consistent with their belief in the importance of morale, discipline and ‘offensive spirit’ on the battlefield, and reflected both their suspicions of wartime volunteers and the difficulty there were having in coming to terms with the changing nature of warfare with its industrialised levels of slaughter.

Sir James Edmonds was of a similar opinion. The verdict recorded in the British Official History was kinder to the reserve divisions, but did not completely exonerate them. Edmonds spent several pages discussing the ‘many legends’, which ‘have grown up as regards the failure of the 21^st and 24^th Divisions at Loos’.⁵⁰ Although the troops were admittedly brave, Edmonds believed that the attacks were doomed to fail because of the lack of adequate staff work and training, particularly so that officers could ‘take advantage of every opportunity and meet every situation’. While he believed that the ‘exertions demanded’ of them were ‘small as compared with those of the original five divisions of professional soldiers of the BEF’, he was forced to admit that the divisions were ‘asked to do a nearly impossible task’. He squared this circle by blaming Sir John French for his decision to keep the reserve divisions under his own control and neglecting the tactical decisions made by First Army once the reserve divisions were on the battlefield. Edmonds was clearly not telling the whole story.

In a report written by Major-General G.T. Forestier-Walker (GOC 21^st Division) on 15 October 1915, he cited seven reasons for the retirement as well as seven other points for consideration.⁵¹ These included the effect of artillery fire on new troops; the exhausted state of the men; the loss of senior officers at critical times (especially in 63 Brigade); the assault on Hill 70 taking place two hours before the main attack; the poor state of British artillery and heavy casualties. Forestier-Walker also mentioned the lack of water, intermingling, loss of officers and the loss of equipment. He was certainly not happy with the way his division had been employed. He later complained that ‘even seasoned regular divisions would have had to do extraordinarily well to have coped successfully with not only the enemy in front, but with the bad staff work of higher commanders, the frequent counter-orders and the disgraceful lack of organisational control in the district behind the front line’. To employ the two reserve divisions in such a situation was, according to him, ‘nothing short of criminal’.⁵² A report by Major-General J.E. Capper (appointed GOC 24^th Division, 3 October 1915) concurred with Forestier-Walker’s opinion, if a little more tactfully. It noted that ‘unofficial reports… cast a most undeserved slur on the conduct of the infantry in this division’.⁵³ Capper was of the opinion ‘that the conditions before the men were engaged were very trying indeed, that when called upon to act, both officers and men advanced gallantly and did their best, and that the best trained troops in the whole of the British or any other army would have found it difficult to succeed where the infantry of the 24^th Division failed’.

Whatever Haig and Rawlinson may have thought, the attack on the ‘corpse field’ showed the excellent cohesion, bravery and determination possessed by many New Army battalions. According to eyewitness accounts, the advance of 72 Brigade towards the enemy position, despite requiring a quarter-circle move in its line, was carried out with perfect precision. And although advancing into a lethal re-entrant in the German line and being under ‘very heavy frontal, as well as enfilade fire from both flanks, and shelling’,⁵⁴ the battalions managed to reach the enemy wire in sufficient numbers to have broken the line had there been a way through. Captain B.A. Fenwick (9/East Surrey, 72 Brigade) believed that the wire ‘was reached in sufficient force to take the position but it was absolutely intact’.⁵⁵ Colonel Vansittart agreed. He later remarked to Edmonds that ‘had the wire entanglement been cut, we should assuredly have carried the position’.⁵⁶ As one regimental history recorded, although ‘the position was desperate… some gallant but unavailing efforts were made to get through the wire’.⁵⁷ But this was impossible. Although numerous fire-suppression and wire-cutting parties were hurriedly arranged and went to work, most of the men were left ‘trying to tear away uncut German wire with their hands’.⁵⁸

A point of some criticism was the manner of 21^st and 24^th Division’s retirement from the battlefield and there are a number of conflicting reports on this. Even as to the basic fact of whether it was a retirement, retreat or rout, there is no agreement. The most severe indictment can be found in the 2/Welsh war diary, which recorded that ‘To [our] amazement and disgust the whole corps [sic] on our right turned around and bolted in wild panic – throwing away equipment. In this rout they all bunched together and made a good mark for German shrapnel and machine guns in Hulluch and consequently lost twice as many as they did advancing.’⁵⁹ Rawlinson also believed that the reserve divisions had ‘bolted’ and been panicked by German gas shells.⁶⁰ Apparently several senior officers attempted to rally scattered parties of men, but with seemingly little success. According to a report by 46 Brigade:

Many attempts were made by General Matheson [GOC 46 Brigade] and other officers to check this tide, but all in vain, with the exception of a few of 15 Division who somehow had got mixed up in it and who at once obeyed the orders given them. No attempt was made by any of these troops to stand. The men seemed incapable of grasping what was said. Ordered to get into the trenches and reform, the men merely stared vacantly into ones face and walked on. They appeared bereft of comprehension and yet not a sign of a German was to be seen.⁶¹

How true was this? It seems that the retreat from the second line began at about 1.30p.m. At roughly the same time the survivors of 21^st Division on the slopes of Hill 70 started to retire. Although a number of British infantry held out in the long grass before the German lines sniping and helping the keep enemy fire down, they were relatively few in number.⁶² The remaining survivors drifted back desolately until being rallied at the old British front line (around Lone Tree) by several senior officers.⁶³ Although it is evident that some equipment was either lost or thrown away, there was no large-scale casting away of arms, and as for the accusation that the men ‘bolted in wild panic’ this seems unlikely.⁶⁴ Certainly the advances of both 72 and the two battalions of 71 Brigade had been conducted with the utmost sangfroid, and the retirement seems to have been equally calm.⁶⁵ Capper believed that the retirement as carried out ‘on the whole in an orderly manner, though from loss of officers and NCOs there was naturally some confusion in places’.⁶⁶ The Official History also recorded that the men, ‘came back at a walk, but without order or formation’.⁶⁷ By 6a.m. the following morning, 21^st and 24^th Divisions (except 73 Brigade) had been taken out of the line and were sleeping among the wet fields around Noyelles and Sailly La Bourse.⁶⁸ It was evident that something had gone disastrously wrong.

On reflection, a mixed picture of the capabilities of 21^st and 24^th Divisions emerges from the battle. Although those units of 24^th Division that reached the ‘corpse field’ showed incredible cohesion, determination and fighting spirit in the face of grave odds, the operations further south around Bois Hugo and Hill 70 revealed weaknesses in both leadership and training. Good leadership is vital in maintaining fighting ability against the ‘friction’ of war. But as Gary Sheffield has written, one of the reasons for the poor performance of XI Corps was ‘the failure of battlefield leadership’.⁶⁹There was no shortage of officers willing to follow the unspoken code of heroic leadership, but some officers were certainly substandard and found it very difficult to cope in such bewildering circumstances. 64 Brigade’s war diary admitted that during the retirement ‘regimental officers and NCOs did not give much assistance in trying to rally the men’ and even noted that the NCOs were ‘useless’.⁷⁰ Similarly, the retreat of 12/West Yorkshire (63 Brigade) from its positions around 10.30a.m. seems to have emanated from its CO, Lieutenant-Colonel R.A.C.L. Leggett, rather than from any specific enemy threat.⁷¹ 8/Bedfordshire (71 Brigade) also seem ‘to have been badly led’.⁷²

Weaknesses were evident from their training. Even such a staunch defender of his men as Forestier-Walker admitted that the soldiers of 12/West Yorkshire and 10/York & Lancaster (both of 63 Brigade) ‘did not behave with credit’, and that at least 300 men of the division ‘abandoned their rifles without excuse’.⁷³ According to the war diary of 63 Brigade, 10/York & Lancaster showed ‘a certain amount of reluctance to remain in the trenches under shellfire’,⁷⁴ and similarly, men of 12 and 13/Northumberland Fusiliers (62 Brigade) would not take cover in a trench because it contained several dead bodies, owing to a miners’ superstition.⁷⁵ Although it was attached to I Corps between 25 and 27 September, the experience of 73 Brigade sheds useful light on these weaknesses. According to Brigadier-General R.G Jelf (GOC 73 Brigade from 26 September 1915):

no communication of any kind had been established with my battalions either by wire or orderly and I attribute this to the fact that all battalions and the brigade staff were quite ignorant of the rudiments of what to do in the trenches, and how communications etc. were established, and the method of drawing rations etc., they have never been in trenches in their life before.⁷⁶

But while these examples do not reflect well on the units concerned, they were not solely the result of poor soldiers being poorly led, and as Jelf had hinted at, they were reflective of a larger failure. The reserve divisions were totally inexperienced, having had only rudimentary training in musketry, marching and digging, with few large-scale manoeuvres and little combined training, let alone any chance at holding front-line trenches.⁷⁷ Their training had also overlooked the use of the navigating officers that had been found necessary in pre-war manoeuvres.⁷⁸ Equipment was another problem area. 24^th Division was particularly short of spare parts for its machine guns, having had to borrow supplies from other units, and the Guards Division was reported as being thirty-eight miles short of telephone wire two days before the battle.⁷⁹ And again, in what was a considerable oversight at GHQ, XI Corps was issued with only the standard establishment of wire-cutters.

When the corps commander, Richard Haking, spoke to survivors soon after the retirement, a common reply was apparently ‘We did not understand what it was like’.⁸⁰ This reflected a common truth. It should be emphasised how inexperienced all ranks were, and how appalling were the conditions they faced on 26 September. According to the British Official History, the thirteen battalions of 21^st Division contained only fourteen regular or ex-regular officers.⁸¹ A similar proportion of regulars was contained within 24^th Division, and while most of the senior officers within both divisions were regulars, most were retired Indian Army officers, including Major-General Sir J.G. Ramsay (GOC 24^th Division). And when considering the harrowing inferno they entered on 25 September, it is little wonder they found it so difficult to adjust to the tempo of battle. Indeed, while he had criticised various aspects of 73 Brigade’s performance in the trenches, Brigadier-General Jelf confidently asserted that ‘after many months of trench warfare… it would have taxed to the utmost the resources of any Regular brigade with plenty of experience behind them, to have kept themselves supplied under similar conditions’.⁸² This seems a fair conclusion.

Reviewing the events of 26 September it will be seen that the failure of the British to secure either Hulluch or Hill 70, or break the German second line in between, stemmed from a number of interrelated factors. Perhaps the most weighty was the information vacuum on the battlefield; something which, according to one war diary, was ‘nothing short of disastrous’.⁸³ All units were afflicted by this lack of information. For example, Lieutenant L.G. Duke (8/Queen’s, 72 Brigade) received an order to attack written in indelible pencil. Because of the wet weather it was almost illegible.⁸⁴ Similarly, the adjutant of 8/Lincolnshire (63 Brigade), a Captain Topham, apparently complained to one of his fellow officers how ‘it’s awful. I’ve got no orders, no nothing, not even a compass bearing’.⁸⁵ As Major J. Buckley (9/KOYLI, 64 Brigade) later wrote:

The historian has no conception of the vagueness of everything at the time… nobody, from the brigade commanders downwards, had any idea of the situation at any stage of the proceedings.⁸⁶

It seems that even divisional headquarters were equally starved in this matter. According to Captain H. Pattison (8/Lincolnshires, 63 Brigade), when he arrived at 21^st Division Headquarters on the afternoon of 26 September, trying to obtain entrenching tools, he was personally asked by Forestier-Walker, ‘where brigade HQ was and where the battalions were, as neither he nor his staff had the least idea’.⁸⁷ Forestier-Walker later echoed this to Edmonds, writing that no information ‘of the slightest value’ had been given to him.⁸⁸

Considering this information vacuum, it is of no surprise that artillery support was consistently poor on 26 September. As might have been expected, a great deal of difficulty and frustration was experienced as the artillery of the reserve divisions endeavoured to get into the correct positions with the correct orders. A central problem was that there did not seem to be any prior arrangements for artillery support. As many of the artillery batteries of the reserve divisions arrived at Le Rutoire, the congestion rapidly began to cause serious problems. According to one artillery brigade, ‘the night was pitch dark; heavy rain was failing, the roads and fields crammed with cavalry, infantry, cooks, carts, pontoons and men’.⁸⁹ Orders were few and far between, often contradictory or simply irrelevant. The experience of Major Hon. R.G.A. Hamilton (CO CVIII Brigade RFA, 24^th Division), in his vain efforts to locate Brigadier-General B.R. Mitford (GOC 72 Brigade), was a common one. According to him:

We wandered about in the dark for three hours, being shelled all the time by heavy guns. It was an absolute nightmare: everyone we asked said something different; that the brigade was just in front, that it was two miles to the right, that it was a mile to the left, and so on.⁹⁰

And while Hamilton never did find Mitford, Lieutenant-Colonel D.R. Coates (CO CVII Brigade RFA, 24^th Division) also spent most of the night of 25/26 September in a fruitless search for Brigadier-General M.T. Shewen (GOC 71 Brigade). Coates’s instructions said that Shewen should have been at Le Rutoire, but ‘no trace’ could be found, and with neither officers nor orderlies to guide him, ‘nor could it be ascertained definitely that he [Shewen] had ever been there’. By 1a.m. on 26 September Coates had still not been able to find Shewen. Because his artillery batteries were required to support the attack of 71 Brigade that morning, he was forced to entrench east of Le Rutoire and await further orders.⁹¹

This complete lack of organisation resulted in many batteries occupying positions that were either too exposed or too far to the rear. Because there had been little reconnaissance of the ground, and it was in any case difficult to locate anything on such a ‘featureless plain’, instead of being under the cover of the Lone Tree Ridge, a number of artillery brigades were situated on open ground to the west and south-west of Le Rutoire. As soon as the morning mist lifted and they began firing, flashes from their barrels attracted enemy attention.⁹² For example, XCV Brigade RFA (21^st Division) was ‘heavily shelled with gas’ at 2p.m. and had to abandon its headquarters,⁹³ and the shooting of XXII Brigade RFA (7^th Division) was hindered by not only ‘active sniping’ but also by heavy shelling.⁹⁴ Poor staff work only aggravated matters. Despite ‘D’ Battery of CIX Brigade RFA being ‘pushed well forward... owing to a misunderstanding its ammunition supply failed and… [it was] temporarily withdrawn’.⁹⁵ There are also numerous complaints about shells falling short, but how widespread this was is difficult so say. As the war diary of 64 Brigade laconically noted, British guns were ‘assaulting our own people in the back most of the day’.⁹⁶ But some batteries were able to provide effective support. 30^th Battery (XXVI Brigade RFA, 1^st Division) apparently stopped an enemy counter-attack south of Hulluch during the morning and 117^th Battery caused the same force ‘heavy casualties’. ⁹⁷ Similarly, ‘C’ Battery of XCIV Brigade RFA (21^st Division) shelled Hill 70 and ‘D’ Battery ‘turned effectively’ on German troops deploying north-west of Bois Hugo.⁹⁸ But such examples seem to have been rare. Why was artillery support so poor? While this certainly reflected the hurried construction of XI Corps, it also had much to do with the situation that existed at First Army headquarters. Lieutenant-Colonel C.G. Stewart (GSOI 24^th Division) believed that the ‘almost total absence of any arrangements for artillery support’ stemmed from the fact that it ‘appeared to be regarded as unnecessary owing to the defeat of the Germans’.⁹⁹ Therefore, from Stewart’s testimony it would seem that the over-optimism and ambition that pervaded all aspects of First Army’s pre-battle preparation also leaked into artillery planning.

The chronic congestion on the battlefield on the evening of 25/26 September also meant that it was very difficult for first line transport, especially the cookers, to link up with the forward troops. Only 72 Brigade received a hot breakfast on the morning of 26 September; the other brigades having to be content with their iron rations.¹⁰⁰ But while their empty stomachs certainly made the men uncomfortable, the lack of enough water strained their morale even further. One veteran remembered how the men were ‘awfully thirsty’.¹⁰¹ Ironically the constant drizzle and rain did bring some relief. The British Official History generally absolved the staff officers of 21^st and 24^th Divisions of too much blame, recording their ‘tremendous efforts’ to bring rations up:

The Quartermasters had made many attempts during the night to get in touch with their units, but, after wandering aimlessly in the dark through the mud and debris of the battlefield, they had, with few exceptions, abandoned the search.¹⁰²

But others were not so forgiving. Brigadier-General R. Ford (DA&QMG XI Corps) believed that the problem lay in the ‘total inefficiency’ of two AA&QMGs: Colonel R.H.D. Thring and Colonel H.T. Kenny of 21^st and 24^th Divisions respectively. Showing a typical disdain for Indian Army officers, Ford recalled that they were both ‘elderly, and with Indian experience only, knew nothing of their jobs, and I was instrumental in having both instantly removed’.¹⁰³ Ford was being perhaps a little hard on the officers concerned. He seems not to have liked any of the senior officers within 21^st and 24^th Divisions. His comments do, however, reveal how poor relations were between the two divisions and its parent corps. It is doubtful whether any other officers could have done a great deal better if placed in a similar situation. The crowding and confusion behind the British lines were not the sole fault of these men, but were symptomatic of larger failures within First Army.

As has been shown previously, successive British attacks against the Quarries, Hulluch and Hill 70, as well as the main assault on the German second line, were fatally handicapped by the complete breakdown in command and control. Because there had been little attempt to structure the opening advance, and compounded by heavy officer casualties, many battalions had little idea where they were supposed to be going or what they were supposed to be doing. Indeed, many units operated in a fog of uncertainty. Often without orders, or only receiving them hours late, they were unable to operate effectively on the battlefield. Nevertheless, this should not blind the historian to failures in the British system of command. Indeed, it is impossible to understand the events of 26 September without reference to a number of consistent problems experienced at this time.

Command was clearly a problem within XI Corps. It seems that the senior officers did not work well together and relations between them rapidly frayed once in action. Admittedly, this probably had much to do with the very rushed formation of XI Corps, which was only born on 29 August 1915, did not appoint a CE (Brigadier-General L. Jones) until 11 September, and only had a BGRA from 12 September, but one also suspects that personality clashes occurred. The commander of 24^th Division, Major-General Ramsay, who was relieved shortly after the battle, did not possess the confidence of his men or his superiors. Ramsay was an experienced 59 year-old Indian Army officer who had been ‘dug out’ of retirement in 1914 and sent to command 24^th Division. He was clearly unsuited to the pace of modern war on the Western Front. According to Brigadier-General Ford, on the morning of 27 September, ‘while in bed Ramsay… tendered his resignation which the corps commander readily accepted’. Ford added that Ramsay was ‘entirely unfitted to command a division and he knew it’.¹⁰⁴ As Brigadier-General H.M. de F. Montgomery (BGGS XI Corps) later told Edmonds, ‘The whole thing was a nightmare of uncongenial companions and impossible situations, and while… I have the feeling that, although I have no reason to complain at having been made a scapegoat after the melancholy fiasco was over, as I undoubtedly made serious mistakes, there were others who might with equal or greater justice have shared the same fate.’¹⁰⁵

Problems within XI Corps were not confined to poisonous relationships between its senior officers. In a letter to the British Official Historian after the war, Lieutenant-Colonel C.G. Stewart (GSOI 24^th Division) complained about a number of problems he had experienced on 25–26 September. It will be recalled that according to Edmonds the reason why elements of XI Corps had been ordered to make the disastrous attack on the German second line on 26 September emanated primarily from poor communication on the battlefield. Edmonds wrote that ‘rumours had been stated as facts, and the great losses suffered in the first assault had been scarcely mentioned’ and British High Command had, therefore, not realised how bad the situation was in the front line. Stewart, however, objected to this:

How could it occur that one division after another received and forwarded incorrect reports of what was happening up in front? And, who was responsible for ‘rumours’ being reported and accepted as ‘facts’? It was common knowledge in the Army that F.S.R. [Field Service Regulations] laid down that the reliability of information requires consideration and if necessary confirmation; and that a ‘rumour’ is not good enough. Also, that the superior authority must be kept informed as to the state and condition of the fighting troops. Did this not point to some defect in our training[?]¹⁰⁶

Stewart did indeed believe that this was so. ‘I think the cult of optimism in such matters was carried too far. In this case, a “rumour” was accepted without apparently being confirmed, because it was optimistic. But when a message is sent, which endeavoured to give an accurate idea of what was taking place, it is described as “despondent”; and the author… gets himself disliked, to use a mild term.’ Stewart spent over four hours at the front with 21^st and 24^th Divisions and reported the poor situation to Brigadier-General B.R. Mitford (GOC 72 Brigade), who apparently called him ‘despondent’. According to Stewart ‘I was told at the time, that because my message was written in red pencil, it was a sign that the officer who sent it was unnerved!’

What was going on? Admittedly, Stewart’s comments may have suffered from some exaggeration, but his letter highlights a number of serious systematic failings in the British command structure that cannot simply be ignored. Why did situations like this occur? In part it reflected the deteriorating situation at the front, which brought out latent problems within the British command structure, which was ‘top-down’, rigidly hierarchical, distrustful of giving subordinates too much freedom and weighted towards the offensive in war.¹⁰⁷ But it also stemmed from the great pressure that Haig’s ‘all-out’ attack placed upon subordinates, particularly corps and divisional commanders, who were reluctant to cancel attacks. Many senior officers were undoubtedly aware that if they did not achieve the required results, their positions could be in danger. More work needs to be done on the pattern of promotion and dismissal within the BEF, but from a cursory study of salaries, it is clear that many senior officers who held temporary rank (which were not substantive or permanent) would face a not inconsiderable drop in salary if they were ‘degummed’ and sent home.¹⁰⁸ Many were perhaps understandably keen to retain their positions and avoid incurring the wrath of senior officers.

How much pressure did Haig place upon his subordinates? Haig was not a particularly ‘hands-on’ commander and in many ways he was not in the habit of getting involved in specific tactical matters. There are, however, a number of references to pressure that Haig placed upon subordinates. At 2.15p.m. on 27 September Haig visited Gough at his headquarters and was ‘Visibly worried’, ‘sharp’ and ‘cross’; perhaps because he had just been informed of the death of Major-General George Thesiger (GOC 9^th Division).¹⁰⁹ It is evident that following this visit Gough became somewhat ‘sharp’ himself. He later admitted that ‘I also must have been very worried, and perhaps those below me thought the same of me’.¹¹⁰ But in many respects Haig did not have to pressurise his corps commanders, who were all well aware of the scope and ambition of the attack. Haking was unlikely to offer any dissent, being a confident ‘thruster’ with an inherent faith in the power of the offensive.¹¹¹ Haig may have ordered XI Corps forward onto the German second line, but Haking took his men in without any doubts. One observer recalled a speech Haking gave to the men of 2 (Guards) Brigade shortly before the battle. Apparently he ‘spoke very confidently, comparing the German line to the crust of a pie, behind which, once broken, he said, there is not much resistance to be expected. He ended up by saying, “I don’t tell you this to cheer you up. I tell it you because I really believe it.”’¹¹² It is evident that Haking took too little account of the ‘despondent’ news emanating from the battlefield.

A constant problem at Loos was getting orders to the right formations at the right times. Too often units were handed their orders with only minutes to spare; sometimes they were hours out of date. This resulted in attacks that were appallingly rushed, often with dire consequences. For example, because orders had not arrived (they would do so at 5.20p.m.), 72 Brigade was verbally informed by a staff officer that it was to attack the German second line at 9.45a.m. on 26 September.¹¹³ When battalions were ordered to attack, despite failures of preparation and communication, a number of protests emerged from officers who were unwilling to carry out their orders. So low did Lieutenant-Colonel E.H.D. Stracey (CO 9/Norfolks, 71 Brigade) consider the chances of a successful counterattack against the Quarries that he protested (in vain) about ‘the futility of attacking so strong a position with only one battalion’.¹¹⁴ Major-General McCracken had also protested about renewing the attack on Hill 70 in the morning, but had been overruled by his corps commander. Admittedly, such protests were firmly in a minority, with most officers obeying their orders as directed, but they do nevertheless merit further analysis for the light they shed on the nature of command in the BEF at this period of the war. One of the fundamental principles of Field Service Regulations (1909) may have been the faith placed in ‘the man on the spot’, but it seems that this was not always followed, especially when a seeming lack of sufficient ‘offensive spirit’ was shown. As Tim Travers has explained, between 1914 and 1916 a not-insignificant proportion of officer removals – or ‘degummings’ as they were called – were motivated by a desire on the part of British High Command to promote the correct level of aggression and fighting spirit.¹¹⁵ For those that did not show such spirit, little mercy could be expected. According to Travers, ‘Faced with obviously hopeless attacks, commanders were reluctant to complain, suggest alternatives, or even refuse to attack, for fear of GHQ reprisals, although some brave souls did’.¹¹⁶

One notable dismissal occurred on 26 September and although it was not connected to a refusal to carry out orders, it seems to have had something to do with a lack of aggression and ‘offensive spirit’. Brigadier-General W.A. Oswald (GOC 73 Brigade, 24^th Division) was ‘degummed’ by Hubert Gough as he moved up to the front with his troops. Why had Gough taken such a drastic step? Although he gained a reputation during the war for being particularly ruthless towards subordinate officers whom he did not consider were good enough, Gough tended not to do it when the unit concerned was heavily engaged.¹¹⁷ It seems that Gough was deeply concerned about the capacity of 73 Brigade to hold its positions around Fosse 8 in the face of fierce bombing attacks from men of 91 Reserve Regiment.¹¹⁸ Almost as soon as 73 Brigade had begun relieving 26 Brigade, the attacks began; 27 Brigade’s later withdrawal from Fosse Alley and the loss of Quarries only adding to the beleaguered situation.¹¹⁹ But in spite of considerable difficulties, 73 Brigade held its ground. Curiously, Gough seems to have believed that 73 Brigade’s problems stemmed not from the difficult position they were in, having recently taken over unfamiliar positions under attack with little support, but rather from the capability of their commanding officer, Brigadier-General Oswald. So concerned did Gough eventually become that Oswald was relieved of command during the morning.

Brigadier-General H.R. Davies (GOC 3 Brigade) believed that Oswald had apparently ‘broken down mentally’, but there seems little supporting evidence for this.¹²⁰ On the contrary, according to a report by 12/Royal Fusiliers, ‘B’ company and half of ‘A’ company were led to their positions ‘in person’ by Oswald, which hardly suggests someone on the verge of collapse.¹²¹ However, the Brigade Major of 26 Brigade, who was present when 73 Brigade reached the headquarters of 26 Brigade at 9p.m. on the evening of 25 September, had some damning words for 73 Brigade.

They imagined they came for a normal trench relief. The brigadier’s first question to me was ‘What are the trenches like which we take over? Is it a quiet sector? ’An old and earnest man… he was removed by the corps commander that night.¹²²

Although from this it would seem that Oswald was not in total control of the situation, it reflected badly on both First Army’s and I Corps’ staff work. When considering the complete lack of information or support Oswald’s brigade received, he did well in keeping his men together. But if Oswald had not broken down, then why was he relieved at such a crucial time? It seems that Gough’s notorious antipathy for Indian Army officers, especially retired ‘dugouts’ – both of which Oswald was – had a decisive impact on his decision. While it does not seem that, Oswald aside, any senior British officers were relieved during the battle (although several were relieved afterwards), the threat of dismissal was never far from the surface as is illustrated by the curious case of 64 Brigade.

The disastrous series of events that resulted in the dismemberment of 64 Brigade (21^st Division) highlight what damage an inflexible and rigid command structure could do. As will be recalled, one of the most puzzling mysteries of the day was the unexpected movement of 9/KOYLI at 1.45p.m. towards Hill 70, seemingly without orders. According to Lieutenant-Colonel K. Henderson (Brigade Major 64 Brigade) this was prompted by the ‘misplaced zeal’ of a ‘very gallant and zealous but over-excited junior divisional staff officer’.¹²³ The staff officer – who was later identified as GSO3 21^st Division – arrived at 63 Brigade Headquarters just before 9/KOYLI had started off. The staff officer apparently ‘arrived breathless and excited from their direction and had been trying to stem the flood of retreat… and urged a fresh attack at all risks and with every available man’. He urged Brigadier-General G.M. Gloster (GOC 64 Brigade) to resume the advance at once, adding that he was ‘sure the divisional commander would insist on attacking again’.¹²⁴ Henderson was nonplussed:

In spite of my vehement dissent, he overbore Brigadier-General Gloster, and it was then the COs of the two KOYLI battalions were summoned to take their orders; orders which were nipped in the bud by the action of the 9/KOYLI.¹²⁵

Why did Gloster listen to the young and clearly excited staff officer, and ignore his presumably trusted Brigade Major? Gloster’s later comment to Henderson, that if he ‘did nothing he might be blamed, whereas if we at least tried he would be free from censure’, provides a clue.¹²⁶

As darkness fell on 26 September it was obvious that General Haig’s grand plan for an advance up to the Haute Deule canal lay in ruins. Repeated attempts to secure the Quarries, Hulluch and Hill 70 had failed, the main attack on the German second line had been bloodily repulsed, and I Corps’ position around the Hohenzollern Redoubt and Fosse 8 was weakening in the face of constant enemy pressure. Indeed, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that 26 September had been anything other than a complete disaster for First Army. Every attack it launched was beaten back. Little ground was gained. The fighting around Hill 70, Bois Hugo and the ‘corpse field’ was simply a shambles. Units blundered into the enemy, into other British units (particularly 63 and 64 Brigades of 21^st Division), retired, advanced and lost in most cases half their strength. Nobody knew what was happening, what to do or where to go.

British operational and tactical performance on 26 September had been weak in every area. The lack of uniform attack formations that had been noticeable the previous day was again evident on 26 September. While 2/Worcestershire and two companies of 1/KRRC (both of Carter’s Force) attacked the Quarries ‘by alternate platoons and sections, so as to ensure the ‘fire and movement’ of pre-war training’,¹²⁷ other battalions used much simpler formations. Captain L. McNaught-Davis (OC ‘D’ Company, 8/ Lincolnshire, 63 Brigade) personally led three bayonet charges through Bois Hugo before he was captured during the afternoon.¹²⁸ Owing to the confusion on the battlefield certain units of the reserve divisions do not seem to have operated any tactical formation at all. According to Lieutenant-Colonel Henderson, the attack of 9 and 10/KOYLI (64 Brigade) was just a crowd surging forward without any notion of what to do or where to go, except that as before Hill 70 acted as a magnet’.¹²⁹ And while 2/Worcestershire, a coherent battalion, was able to conduct a properly organised attack, because so many other British units – especially those strung out on Hill 70 – were mixed up, disorganised and had suffered heavy casualties, it was extremely difficult to restore order. According to one subaltern, the fighting on Hill 70 was ‘a dog’s breakfast… we were all just fighting as infantry, machine-guns [sic], everybody all mixed up’.¹³⁰

This tactical inadequacy was often, however, combined with heroic leadership, although how effective this was remains unclear. In order to compensate for the disadvantages British troops were operating under, including lack of artillery support and rushed preparations, it seems that many officers resorted to sometimes desperate acts of gallantry and courage. Heroism among officers was common on the second day, especially among those battalions of 21^st and 24^th Divisions that were undergoing their ‘baptism of fire’. For example, during the attack on Hill 70, Lieutenant-Colonel A. de S. Hadow (CO 10/Yorkshire, 62 Brigade) and Major W.H. Dent (alongside two other senior officers) recklessly exposed themselves to enemy fire by shouting ‘Charge!’ and rushing forward. All were shot and killed.¹³¹ Similarly, Lieutenant-Colonel H.E. Walter (CO 8/Lincolnshire, 63 Brigade) died whilst fighting in Bois Hugo, and despite being shot in the shoulder early on, the 64 year-old Colonel R.C. Romer (CO 8/Buffs, 72 Brigade) led his battalion into the ‘corpse field’ until another bullet felled him.¹³² But it was not just officers of the reserve divisions that led from the front. Lieutenant-Colonel A.F. Douglas-Hamilton (CO 6/Cameron Highlanders, 45 Brigade) was a prime example, leading his men in repeated attempts to wrest control of Chalet Wood from the enemy, before finally falling in ‘a gallant but hopeless gesture… at the head of his men’.¹³³

In the absence of reliable communication between the front line and the headquarters in the rear, many senior officers instinctively tried to get nearer to the front. But rather than producing circumstances whereby such commanders could control their units, it brought them into closer touch with the enemy, often with devastating results. Brigadier-General C.D Bruce (GOC 27 Brigade) was captured by a German patrol in the Quarries as he endeavoured to use a telephone set,¹³⁴ and although accounts disagree over the exact circumstances of the death of Major-General Sir T. Capper (GOC 7^th Division) it is clear that he should have been much further back.¹³⁵ Major-General Forestier-Walker was another commander frustrated by this seeming lack of control, so much that he rode up past the German front line in a vain attempt to see for himself, and was nearly killed. According to one onlooker,‘I saw him… approaching from westward, walking along calmly with shells bursting literally all round him.’ Eventually his small party was persuaded to take cover, whereby they ‘all cowered down in the trench… continuously sprayed with dirt and gravel and once nearly buried by falling earth, all from the shelling’.¹³⁶

British casualties on 26 September had again been considerable, heaviest among those brigades of 21^st and 24^th Divisions that had been in action. And as had been a feature of the previous day, senior officer casualties were very high, with another twenty being killed, wounded or captured.¹³⁷ Regimental officers had also suffered devastating losses. Several examples will suffice. While twenty-two officers were hit in 8/Lincolnshire (63 Brigade),¹³⁸ 14/Durham Light Infantry (64 Brigade) lost its commanding officer (Lieutenant-Colonel A.S. Hamilton), four company commanders, the adjutant and another seventeen officers.¹³⁹ During the attack on Hill 70,12/Royal Scots (45 Brigade) suffered appallingly. According to the regimental history:

As soon as ‘C’ Company topped the parapet, Major G.D Macpherson, Captain G.S. Robertson, and many of the men were shot down before they had moved a yard.¹⁴⁰

In its doomed attack against the Quarries, thirteen officers became casualties within 9/Norfolk (71 Brigade),¹⁴¹ and within 72 Brigade, all the officers of 8/Royal West Kents had fallen, and only three emerged unscathed from 8/Queen’s.¹⁴²

Despite the obvious success of the local counter-attacks against the Quarries and Bois Hugo, a picture of German battlefield performance at Loos remains mixed. Many of the same problems that hampered the British, such as the difficulty of moving units into position, especially with sketchy knowledge of enemy deployments, and all whilst in bad weather, applied equally to the Germans. The men of 14^th Infantry Division, who threw the British back from Fosse 8, were ‘up to their knees in mud’, yet they still came on in waves of bombers.¹⁴³ 153 Infantry Regiment (8^th Division), ordered to sweep the British from Hill 70, experienced a whole series of problems as it marched towards the firing line. Units blundered into each other in the darkness, were confused about where British troops were, and which positions they were supposed to be retaking.¹⁴⁴ Indeed, although the German Army would later gain a reputation for being a master of the offensive art,¹⁴⁵ their counter-attacks at Loos were largely bloody failures, being massed infantry attacks that were repulsed by heavy British rifle and machine gun fire. For example, during the night of 25/26 September, poorly executed counterattacks against the eastern side of the Loos Crassier and from Cité St Laurent were both repulsed.¹⁴⁶ According to a German regimental history, the ‘nocturnal’ counter-attack of 153rd and 93rd Regiments (8^th Division) failed owing to a ‘lack of preparation’. Apparently the troops remained out in no-man’s-land until daybreak when they were ‘shot to pieces’ by 15^th and 47^th Divisions.¹⁴⁷ It seems that aided by strong defensive positions, the sketchy German forces were able to do enough damage to the poorly conducted British attacks to safeguard their position south of the La Bassée canal, but when they attempted to manoeuvre in the open, they became vulnerable to many of the same factors that had hampered First Army.

The second day has been almost totally remembered for the tragic failure of the reserve divisions to break the German second line, but as has been shown, this narrow focus has prevented a thorough understanding of the events of 26 September 1915 from emerging. The story of the second day was not simply 72 Brigade’s doomed march towards the ‘field of corpses’, but of the complete breakdown in command and control on the battlefield, the failure of the important flanking attacks and the effective German counter-attack through Bois Hugo at 9a.m. The deteriorating situation on the battlefield also highlighted a number of problems within the British structure and system of command, which could not cope with the information vacuum, the unexpected movement of enemy units and the lack of artillery support. The cumulative effect of these factors meant that by the time the renewed offensive began (at 11a.m.) the enemy had stolen the initiative. The British attacks were thus fatally undermined and left to wither in the face of heavy machine gun and shellfire. But having endured such a disaster, could the BEF continue the battle?