Chapter 5

1918 – Endgame

‘Only fools and those who have never seen war will talk of “the glories of war”. There are no glories of war, in the ordinarily accepted meaning of the word… but there is glory in devotion and sacrifice that others may benefit.’

Reginald A. Colwill, Torquinian present at Bois des Buttes

The year 1918 began with more privations on the Home Front, the Reverend Jacobs urging his townspeople to stick it out in the name of solidarity:

‘Before you lies the path of real sacrifice, of discipline in food, of a more rigid economy… Those abroad will never let those at home down, cost it even life itself. Let those at home be just as heroic and ready to sacrifice as those abroad. If the two armies, that at home and that abroad, pull together, there is absolutely no doubt as to the result. We have to hold on to the bitter end.’

Anger bubbled up to the surface and a spat broke out between Torquay and Brixham when insinuations were made that people were buying cream without the correct documentation in Brixham. This soon drew an angry response:

‘Is there no one in Torquay who has purchased cream without a certificate? Methinks that our neighbouring “delightful summer resort” is just a little jealous that this little fishing port has in the past been extra fortunate in their supplies. Another honourable member suggests the Utopian ideal of “meat without bone” which we fortunate folk of Brixham enjoy. Oh! That it were true. Let the gentleman come here with his coupons and purchase his next Sunday’s joint!’ Despite the belt tightening Torquay was still contributing to the war effort; the government had proposed that the town raise £100,000 for a submarine and, taking enthusiastically to the cause, Torquay raised £127,536 by mid-March, shattering the amount expected. Manuel II of Portugal and his wife were once again in town and the former Australian Prime Minister Andrew Fisher also arrived for a short break.

One Torquinian holidaying elsewhere was Pierre Brottin, who wrote to say that he’d been temporarily discharged due to severe wounds and was residing at Eastbourne. Having served since 1914 it was a deserved rest.

Elsewhere, despite being banned from the town’s public houses, the New Zealanders were making the most of their high wages. The Directory rather blatantly reprinted a letter from The Times warning families to be wary of overseas troops proposing to their daughters. These warnings did little to put off the locals, there were reports of women being absent from war work and of many marriage proposals. In a sign of how fully Torquay had taken these men to her heart a detachment of soldiers left the town for New Zealand taking with them 150 women they had married during their stay.

The other major event of that winter was women finally being given the vote. Lady Acland, who had so eloquently urged Torquay’s women to get behind the war effort in 1914, stated:

‘It is perhaps hard for men who have always possessed the franchise to realise the relief which many women will now feel, that in future their opinions, remonstrances and advice will carry equal weight with those of male voters. The sense that “I am only a vote-less woman, and cannot expect any attention from members of parliament” has been at the bottom of much bitterness.’

Torquay, despite having an unusually large percentage of women, had never been a hotbed of suffragettes but nevertheless the news was met with much satisfaction.

Following Passchendaele, Lloyd-George was no longer content to acquiesce to the BEF’s demands. Haig requested 615,000 men as reinforcements but Lloyd-George refused, providing only 200,000 while forcing Haig to take control of a new sector of the front from St Quentin to the Oise River. The positions forced upon the BEF were in an extremely poor state and the dearth of reinforcements meant that it lacked the manpower needed to repair them. The BEF would now have to hold more of the line than ever with fewer soldiers than previously.

As Haig and Lloyd-George argued, the Prime Minister openly considered replacing his adversary, with Plumer being among the favourites, but ultimately decided to leave Haig in position. Having spent the winter reorganising the Italian Front, Plumer received the call to return to Ypres, he boarded a train back to France, little realising what he would return to.

The Kaiserschlacht, Germany’s Spring Offensive was the last throw of the dice, a grand plan designed to win the war before the Americans could deploy in force or the German home front collapsed. With over a million reinforcements arriving following Russia’s withdrawal from the war, Ludendorff planned a series of huge offensives with the intention of knocking the British out of the war before defeating the French. Operation Michael, the first of the Kaiserschlacht offensives, began at 4.40am on 21 March near the old battlefields of the Somme. Seventy-six German divisions attacked against just twenty-six under-strength British. The Reverend Jacobs wrote of the opening bombardment: ‘The bombardment started at 4am… They poured in gas and made a terrific barrage. In one place they had eight divisions in the space usually occupied by two divisions, and have evidently been hoping they would smash the British by sheer weight of numbers’.

German stormtroopers infiltrated the devastated British positions as a heavy fog lingered, many slipping past the defenders and into the rear before the British even realised the offensive had begun. Regular soldiers followed in their wake and chaos erupted across the front. No communications could get through, battalions were surrounded and attacked from all sides with no hope of escape. By early afternoon Gough’s FifthArmy had been forced to order a fighting retreat, forcing the right of Byng’s Third Army to follow. The German advance reached eight miles deep in some sectors, more than the entire advance at the Somme or Passchendaele. Two British armies were in retreat and threatening to open a dangerous gap between themselves and the French and, for the first time since 1914, open warfare resumed. During the chaos Torquay suffered six deaths. Fighting over the following two days descended into localised actions as the hard pressed British soldiers were forced back across the old Somme battlefields. Soldiers staggered in confusion through the winding streets of Albert where they were bombed and strafed by German aircraft and many wounded men had to be left where they fell:

‘[I was] smothered in dust and soaked in blood from lifting wounded into the only ambulance available – ignoring a doctor who at first refused to take those who were obviously on the way out...I shall never forget the appealing look in the eyes of one of our sappers who was refused. I always look for his name on the war memorial on Torquay seafront when I am there.’

As Gough and Byng’s armies fell back, Ludendorff drove his armies towards the vital railway hub of Amiens. This was a critical change from his initial plan of cutting off the BEF and pushing it northwards. By 24 March the Somme had been lost and the Reverend Jacobs wrote home about the seriousness of the situation:

‘I verily believe that even now there are people in England, perhaps even in fair Torquay that corner of paradise so far removed from the horrors of the war, who are not yet irate with Germany, the foul traitor to the human race, to God, to pity and honour, but who are only cross because the war causes them inconvenience. I wish such people could be brought here, and stand face to face with the heroic, unselfish, brave French… We must, and I hope the people in England will say, we shall fight to a finish. Better death than the nightmare of existence under the Kaiser.’ Surprisingly the advance now began slowing, heavy casualties had been suffered, the advance over the devastated Somme was causing huge logistical problems and serious issues with discipline were emerging. Coming across Allied supply dumps after months of privation the German soldiers began looting and getting drunk.

On the Allied side Ferdinand Foch had been made Supreme Commander of the Allied armies and had fully committed the French Army to the defence of Amiens after fears the French would retreat upon Paris. On 28 March, Ludendorff switched focus to hammer the Third Army around Arras, this poorly prepared attack was a total failure, the same day Gough was sacked and replaced by Henry Rawlinson. Despite his poor leadership at Passchendaele, Gough had performed heroics throughout March but someone had to carry the blame for the immense losses suffered. The German armies had advanced a huge distance but on the front held by Byng’s ThirdArmy, where Ludendorff needed to breakthrough to isolate the BEF, results had been less impressive. The improving situation amongst the BEF was reflected in an over optimistic but revealing letter from a Torquinian officer:

‘the spirit of the men is wonderful. They are as bright and cheerful as ever, despite the fact they are going through absolute hell; it is far and away the worst phase of the war up to the present, but there is no need to get the wind up. One thing which did strike me was the arrival of thousands of young recruits, lots of them from Devon. I came across boys from Exeter, Plymouth, Newton, Torquay and one from Churston Ferrers, which was very interesting. The sight of these youngsters alone ought to make those who are fit and of military age fly to the colours. I can assure you that every man who is fit will be needed to make the issue successful… As far as Amiens is concerned, I don’t think for a moment that the Germans will ever take it.’

On 30 March and 4 April the weakened German armies lunged towards Amiens but few gains were made and Operation Michael finally ran out of steam. Haig had been left with just one division in reserve. The BEF had survived the first thrust of the Kaiserschlacht but it had been a close run thing and Torquay had suffered sixteen casualties. Operation Michael surprisingly harmed the Germans to a greater extent than the British.

Lloyd-George, who had contributed greatly to the BEF’s struggles, began releasing reinforcements immediately and combined with the arriving Americans the losses suffered would soon be replaced while the Germans had suffered 239,000 casualties which they could barely replace. The advance had reached 40 miles deep in places but Amiens and Arras remained under British control and much of the ground now under German control was useless. Having failed to win the war on the Somme, Ludendorff’s attention now turned to Plumer’s SecondArmy, standing sentinel on the ridges above Ypres.

On 1 April amongst the confusion of the Kaiserschlacht, the RAF was officially created, followed by the establishment of RAF Torquay. The Torquay base, Number 239 Squadron, was based on Beacon Quay and consisted of twelve seaplanes and a number of observation balloons to combat the submarine threat. Six American submarine chasers also arrived in Torquay to undergo training.

At the height of Operation Michael, Plumer had been forced to release his best divisions southwards and in return had received the shattered remnants of those caught up in the fighting and new drafts of raw 19-year-olds. This new Second Army was far from the battle hardened formation of the previous year and Plumer would now face the brunt of the second Kaiserschlacht offensive, codenamed Operation Georgette by the Germans and for the Allies the Battle of the Lys.

It began on 9 April smashing into General Horne’s FirstArmy to the south of Plumer. The Germans had the good fortune of hitting an exhausted Portuguese division and by the end of the day an advance of six miles had been made. The following day they threatened to break through to the railway centre of Hazebrouck and recaptured Messines, throwing Plumer’s men back to the outskirts of Wytschaete. In an attempt to encourage his men Plumer was regularly on the front lines visiting his divisions and encouraging them but the Germans were steadily grinding their way towards Ypres. Haig now issued his famous ‘Backs against the Wall’ speech making clear what was at risk:

‘Many amongst us are now tired. To those I would say that victory will belong to the side which holds out the longest. The French Army is moving rapidly and in great force to our support. There is no other course available to us but to fight it out. Every position must be held to the last man; there must be no retirement. With our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause each one of us must fight on to the end. The safety of our homes and the freedom of mankind alike depend upon the conduct of each one of us at this critical moment.’

With Messines in German hands, the British hold on the Passchendaele Ridge became precarious. In desperate need to shorten his front line Plumer considered the unthinkable, to relinquish the ridge that so many lives had been given to capture; his anguish must have been immense. On 14April he made his decision, when his chief of staffHarrington pressed upon Plumer the need to retreat, he refused and walked out of the room before returning and placing his hands on Harrington’s shoulder stated, ‘You are right. Issue the orders’. The withdrawal was conducted flawlessly but the BEF had now lost all the gains of 1917 and the front line was once more at the gates of Ypres. Here the BEF would stand or fall.

Three days later the Germans switched focus, launching themselves at the range of hills that spread westward from Messines in an attempt to encircle Ypres, battles ground on for days but Operation Georgette spluttered to a halt. Plumer’s motley army had survived and when the dust settled Georgette had made fewer gains than Michael. By the end of these operations the BEF had suffered 236,300 casualties, including 24 Torquinians, and been pushed to the limit of its endurance; but a further 270,000 British soldiers had arrived on the Western Front alongside six new American divisions. The clock was ticking.

At the same time as Georgette was raging, the navy launched a raid against Zeebrugge and Ostend in an attempt to put their submarine bases out of action, it had mixed success with two blockships being successfully sunk in the mouth of the Zeebrugge-Bruges Canal but the marines involved in the operation had encountered heavy resistance. Amongst them was Lieutenant Commander Arthur Leyland Harrison, English Rugby Union international from Torquay. Harrison died while leading a detachment of marines at Zeebrugge. In the words of the London Gazette:

‘The silencing of the guns on the Mole head was of the first importance, and though in a position fully exposed to the enemy’s machine-gun fire Lieut.-Commander Harrison gathered his men together and led them to the attack. He was killed at the head of his men, all of whom were either killed or wounded.’

As Harrison fell to the ground dead, Captain Edward Bamford, another Torquinian, attempted to salvage something from the chaos:

‘When on the mole and under fire he displayed the greatest initiative in the command of his company, and by his total disregard of danger, showed a magnificent example to his men. He first established a strongpoint on the right of the disembarkation, and, when satisfied that that was safe, led an assault on a battery to the left with the utmost coolness and valour.’

For their efforts both Harrison and Bamford were awarded the Victoria Cross. It was the first time a Torquinian had won the Victoria Cross in the war and it elicited great pride. Unfortunately submarines were operating from Zeebrugge again within months but for Torquay the raid will always be associated with Harrison and Bamford.

Attention now turned back to land where Ludendorff was preparing another sledgehammer blow with Operation Blücher-Yorck. Unlike previous operations it would hit the French but six battle-ravaged British divisions lay in the line of advance. These exhausted divisions would meet the full fury of the offensive and in doing so one battalion of the Devons would write its name into history.

Following Operation Michael, the 2nd Devons had moved to the Chemin des Dames to recuperate. Initially they had a quiet time but by 26 May the peaceful relaxation was over and they were ordered to prepare for battle. At the headquarters of their brigade on the night before the offensive, Captain Phillip Ledward reflected on what was to come: ‘There was an ominous silence of the German guns all night, but ours kept banging away. Grogan made the pretence of going to bed, but I sat up reading Blackwood’s magazine, with my watch on the table in front of me. It was a hot still night and the feeling of suspense and tension was, speaking for myself, very acute. I haven’t now the faintest notion of what I was reading.’

That evening the 2nd Devons received their orders to form the brigade reserve in the Bois des Buttes, occupying trenches on two hills within the woods and sheltering in tunnels that cut through them. At 12.45am on 27 May, Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Anderson-Morshead, commanding officer, held a conference with his company commanders, explaining that an attack was to occur at 1am and reminding them of the French instructions that not a foot of ground was to be given up, the men then shared a bottle of whisky. ‘How quiet it all is,’ observed one officer. Anderson-Morshead looked at his watch. The time had come and sure enough two dull thuds were heard. Gas shells. Then the German artillery erupted. Captain Sydney Rogerson, at brigade headquarters, described the bombardment:

‘A thousand guns roared out their iron hurricane. The night was rent with sheets of flame. The earth shuddered under the avalanche of missiles, leapt skywards in dust and tumult. Even above the din screamed the fierce crescendo of approaching shells, ear-splitting crashes as they burst. All the time the dull thud, thud, thud of detonations and drum fire. Inferno raged and whirled around the Bois des Buttes….It was a descent into hell.’

Two million shells were fired in little more than four hours. Throughout the early morning the Devons remained underground, sheltering as loose soil fell from above. Gas masks were hurriedly pulled on as gas seeped into their underground refuge through every available crack. What the soldiers huddling together in the cramped tunnels were thinking can only be guessed. Some of the more sarcastic old timers told the youngsters that they would all be ‘blown to bits before breakfast’. At 3.40am the first stormtroopers began to advance and hit the West Yorks and Middlesex men in the front line trenches. The Devons were now on their own.

Shortly thereafter they exited their shelters and took position in the trenches throughout the woods. Most had been pounded flat and telephone communications to the rear were severed. Three companies assembled at the front of the hill, B on the left, D in the centre and C to the right, Anderson-Morshead and A Company remained at the rear. Artillery fire was raining down around them and from his position Anderson-Morshead could not see the full disposition of his companies nor the oncoming Germans in the mist. All attempts to make contact ended in failure. Ahead of him the Germans had already advanced deep into the battle zone trenches. This was repeated across the battlefield, General Duchêne had rejected the idea of defence in depth and as a result large numbers of troops were being overrun. To the left of B Company, 50th Division troops were already falling back leaving B Company’s left flank dangerously in the air. As the Devons emerged, many found stormtroopers already in their trenches. B Company was the first to be hit, an eye witness describing the Devons during this period as ‘merely an island in the midst of an innumerable and determined foe’. Private A.J. Bourne gives a good view of the initial fighting:

‘I was with the Lewis gun team, and we were first in action. All my pals of the team were speedy casualties, including Gennoe and Roberts. Lads were falling right and left, but I had a capital weapon in the Lewis gun, which I was firing steadily at the German hordes. I looked about, and I seemed to be all alone. Still,

I kept firing at them.’

Casualties were high and B Company was quickly surrounded, their spirited defence being extinguished by sheer numbers. As they were being destroyed, the Germans advanced around the left flank of the Bois des Buttes to cut off the Devons’ retreat. D Company was heavily engaged from the front and C Company was being assaulted from the front and right as the enemy also attempted to advance around the right flank. Artillery pounded their positions, machine guns raked them from the front and aircraft strafed them from above. At this point the remnants of the Middlesex and West Yorks soldiers began flooding through the Devons, Captain Ulick Burke describes the scene: ‘We had lots of Middlesex wounded coming back through us. They got over the river, back over the Pontavert Bridge behind us. Then the West Yorks who were in support started coming back and they went through us. The order was to stay put as long as we could – we were not to retire! We stayed where we were. We shot and shot and shot till the fellows in the trenches could hardly hold their rifles.’ Lieutenant Tindall of C Company also noticed the retreating men and engaged in a conversation with his officers about whether they should hold position. It was decided to hold to the last and noticing the German flanking attempt, what was left of C Company attacked. One soldier present described the assault:

‘Lieut. Tindall ordered us to fix bayonets and get ready to charge. We now saw the enemy in tremendous force, and it seemed, from the very start, to be a hopeless thing to charge them. But we had been put there to check the advance, and this appeared the only way to do it. They were almost on us before we had a chance to use the rifle to any extent, but we managed to inflict terrible damage on them.

We had one Lewis gun and until it was put out of action with a hand grenade, L/Corpl. Hannaford [a Torquinian] used it to good purpose’.

As C Company battled to prevent the German flanking attempt Tindall was shot through the head and fell to the ground. C Company fought their desperate stand and D Company in the centre was engaged in an equally epic battle. They traded trenches with the Germans three times, each time repulsing the enemy with bayonets. Lieutenant F.E. Harris at one point noticed a German aircraft flying low over the battle and leapt onto a trench and called upon his men to shoot at it. The pilot noticing this brash act opened fire upon him, slightly grazing his arm, at which he exclaimed: ‘I believe the beggar did it on purpose!’

Another officer amongst D Company, Lieutenant C.E. Pells, fought with almost inhuman ferocity against the oncoming soldiers; his only child had died onboard the Lusitania. C and D companies fought like mad men but had taken exceptionally heavy casualties. As the officers fell, the NCOs took charge and when they fell leadership passed to recruits of eighteen and nineteen. Step by step they were forced back and the companies began to fragment into isolated groups of men fighting desperately to their end. On both flanks the Germans were now encircling those who remained, the few who escaped fell back on what remained of A Company.

At 8.30am, Anderson-Morshead gathered together the shattered remnants and retreated to the rear of the Bois des Buttes. They were now being assaulted from three directions. He split his men into three groups, each covering one route of advance and grimly awaited the inevitable, telling his men: ‘Your job for England, men, is to hold the blighters up as much as you can… There is no hope of relief. We have to fight to the last.’ These remnants fought to their last, many falling in vicious hand-to-hand combat and at 9.30amAnderson-Morshead and his last fifty men charged off the rear of the hill to assault a German artillery detachment where he was shot and killed.

Captain Burke now took command. Despite having nine machine gun bullets in his legs and being incapacitated, he prepared his men to fight their final action:

‘As far as we were concerned there were just twenty-three of us, we had just about 200 rounds of ammunition left… We went on firing until all the ammunition was gone. We held on ‘til about half past twelve when the only ammunition left was six rounds in my revolver. Suddenly, I said “Charge!’... Twenty-three men charged against nearly 10,000 Germans. That finished us”.’

With that last valiant charge the Battle of Bois des Buttes was over and 551 (23 officers and 528 men) of the Devons who had started the battle were posted as killed or missing. The battalion had been destroyed. With their sacrifice they bought vital time and 8th Division’s commander credited their actions with allowing the Allied forces across the Aisne to regroup into some kind of ad hoc defence.

At least three Torquinians were present at Bois des Buttes, Sergeant C.S. Hooper, the previously mentioned Fred Hannaford and Reginald Colwill. Months later reports stated that Hooper was now a prisoner of war perhaps captured during the battle. Bois des Buttes ranks alongside the greatest actions by a British battalion during the war. The Devons had stood and fought to the end and their sacrifice would not be forgotten.

With the Devons defeated the Germans crossed the Aisne, by 30 May they were on the Marne for the first time since 1914 and on 3 June Paris was shelled with a million citizens fleeing. However Operation Blücher-Yorck ultimately failed to capture Paris as did Operation Gneisnau in the middle of June. The GermanArmy outran its logistics and was once again subject to a breakdown in discipline. Allied counter-attacks stiffened and the Americans finally joined the fray. On 15 July Ludendorff launched his last great offensive, the Freidenssturm (Peace Offensive), three days later the French counterattacked using over 300 tanks and forced the Germans to retreat from all their gains since Blücher-Yorck. The Kaiserschlacht was over.

Since 21 March nearly four months had passed, throughout those months a German victory had seemed only a matter of weeks away but through it all the Allies had endured. Torquay lost 49 men during the Kaiserschlacht, the worst offensive of the war other than the Somme and Passchendaele. For Germany the failure sowed the seeds of her defeat. German soldiers had been shocked by the abundant supplies they found which increased the ongoing decline in their morale. Furthermore she had exhausted the last of her manpower reserves and was no closer to victory. The Americans were now joining battle in ever increasing numbers and they were joined by British soldiers returning from distant fronts. Far from breaking the Allies, after the Kaiserschlacht they emerged stronger than before. The war’s final act would soon be played out.

Meanwhile Torquay attempted to continue as best it could. The presence of large numbers of New Zealanders meant that the new celebration of ‘ANZAC Day’ was celebrated with much gusto, the High Commissioner sharing in the celebrations, but everyday life on the home front was increasingly tough and rationing was extended to butter, margarine, lard, meat and sugar. The German offensives had caused yet another influx of wounded soldiers to the town’s hospitals and Torquay Town Hall was now the largest war hospital in Devon with 238 beds, the nearest rival being Plymouth with 185. The Kaiserschlacht had also captured many British soldiers and at least 35 Torquinians were now prisoners of war. Suspicious of the treatment their men were receiving, the town once more mobilised its finances in an effort to raise money to buy items to send to Germany for them.

A surprising number of local men were still serving in the army at this late stage of the war. With a general election scheduled, a census of absent men was held to ensure they received their vote. Some of these censuses still exist, unfortunately not Torquay’s but references in the media give an insight to the number of men still fighting.