THE ATMOSPHERE OF OPTIMISM engendered by the dramatic successes of 14 July was to prove the cruellest false dawn of the whole Somme campaign. During the next few weeks it seemed as if every lesson that might have been learnt from that success—the devastating use of massed artillery in support of an attack on a reasonably wide front using imaginative infantry tactics—had been deliberately and perversely cast to the winds and replaced with the tactics of a lunatic asylum. If this was a learning curve then it was a sad travesty of geometry. For the infantry the ‘High Summer’ on the Somme was a dispiriting litany of suffering, failure and ‘successes’ that were so expensive in lost lives that only the criminally short-sighted would regard them as worthwhile. Once again obscure villages, woods and trenches would attain a notoriety that would still strike a real resonance of despair some decades later.
General Sir Henry Rawlinson certainly appreciated that the situation had changed as the German reserves arrived in some considerable force. He consequently intended a moratorium on piecemeal attacks before a properly coordinated attack on a broad front could be organised—which eventually occurred on 23 July. The sense of drift in the Fourth Army was heightened by the realisation that whatever its army commander may have intended, his subordinates were still intent on launching isolated attacks to attain local objectives. Time after time his divisional commanders launched attacks that had little or no chance of success. All the old faults so evident in the period that had preceded 14 July were once more fully in evidence.
Inevitably, the overall character of the battle changed as the Germans moved up more of their artillery. Although the Royal Artillery still had superiority in the number of guns deployed, they had a far more onerous role in that it was required to destroy the whole fabric of the German lines, whereas the German guns merely had to break up British attacks and support infantry counter-attacks. Whenever either side launched an attack the guns would redouble or triple their efforts, flaying the frontline sectors and reaching back to seal off the area from reserves.
Delville Wood
Perhaps the most futile series of attacks were launched against a small wood with a burgeoning reputation as a hell-hole and the name to match—Delville Wood. Indeed part of the official nomenclature for the Somme refers glumly to the period 15 July to 3 September as the ‘Battle of Delville Wood’, as the British struggled to capture and then hold the blighted wood and the ruins of the adjoining village, Longueval. In peacetime the 156-acre wood had a typically sylvan aspect, with mingled oak and birch trees interspersed with thickets of hazel and undergrowth, the whole divided into sections by a series of ‘rides’ or breaks in the trees. But by mid-July the trees were smashed down, ripped into tangled heaps by the shells and the ‘Devil’s Wood’, as the troops unsurprisingly called it, presented a fearsome prospect.
On 15 July the 9th Division, who had captured the bulk of Longueval on 14 July, were given the task of completing the capture of the wood. Few could have imagined what a protracted saga they were embarking on. The South African Brigade was ordered to capture the wood at ‘all costs’ on 15 July. The three attacking battalions were placed under the command of Lieutenant Colonel William Tanner the commanding officer of the 4th South African Regiment, and the attack duly went in at 0615.
We arrived at the edge of the wood at about dawn, everybody on tenterhooks and just as the last man got in old Fritz opened fire with big and little guns, rifle and machine-gun fire. What a time we had! Our men were being rolled over like ninepins, but on went the boys and by 8.30 we had accomplished our task. We gave old Fritz the time of his life. I took a slow and steady aim and made every shot tell. My only regret was that I did not get my bayonet into him. Later there was a lull and it was during this lull that I was hit. I was on guard at the time and it was my duty to keep a sharp lookout over the parapet. I had only been on a few minutes when old Fritz sent a huge shell right in front of our trench. It blew away a portion of the trench and knocked a tree over on top of us. One of the splinters of the shell landed me one on the right cheek, which of course put me out for a few moments. It made a nasty hole. I did not wish to leave, but I was told to take another wounded man into safety. We were shelled all the way to the dressing station, but I got him away without any further mishap. On my way through the wood I saw many of our brave lads dead.1
Private Hugh Mallett, 2nd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
There was considerable confusion over the tactical position in and around the wood as no one could say for sure where exactly the amorphous front line was.
We are engaging troops advancing on wood from south and east. There is some uncertainty as to who they are. Can you say whether French or Huns? Am much perturbed as to uncertainty who we are fighting.2
Captain E.V.Vivian, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
They managed to capture all but the north-western portion of Delville Wood but, as the severity of the German counter-attacks increased from all around the salient, almost every available man was needed to repel them.
In view of the fact that there is no wire in front of my firing line—neither is there any in front of the Huns and No Man’s Land is only about 300 yards—I think an ample supply of ammunition for Lewis Guns chiefly should be on hand with me. It was most difficult work getting the men to husband their ammunition—especially as we had to allow several hundred Huns to go in peace at a range of 800 yards. But it paid as we caught them at 500 yards. My supply of ammunition is very short.3
Captain Medlicort, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
The South Africans held on till nightfall and set to entrenching the wood perimeter—no small task in ground filled with twisted roots and mangled trees. This, however, was only the beginning: there would be no relief for days and the South Africans were ordered to hold their ground—again ‘at all costs’. Inspirational orders are undoubtedly easier to give out than to follow. Since Captain Vivian had been wounded, another young officer had taken over command of the company and was desperately struggling to cope.
The enemy continued shelling the wood very heavily all last night, inflicting many casualties. The Vickers machine gun has been put out of action and the gun withdrawn. Nothing has been heard or seen of the 3rd Division. I was given to understand that they were attacking at dawn. My company has been so depleted, and the remaining few are now so exhausted that I do not consider we could put up an effective resistance if the enemy were to attack.4
Lieutenant Owen Hubert de Burgh Thomas, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
The German shells were raking across the wood, the ceaseless roar gradually increasing in volume as more and more guns were brought up to the line. To allow the Germans free rein across the wood the German garrison of the north-west section were pulled back. On 18 July it has been calculated that around 20,000 shells fell on the single square mile of Devil’s Wood reaching a crescendo at the phenomenal rate of seven crashing down per second.
Absolute hell turned inside out. I never expected to get out whole. Shells dropping everywhere. We get orders to return in the afternoon late. I think, in fact I am almost sure, that our lives were saved when a very brave officer, Captain Hoptroff, made his way to our position. He wasted no time, ‘Get out!’ he said, and was almost immediately hit by a bullet and killed outright. It is strange how, in the most urgent and tragic circumstances, one notices things of minor importance. For as Captain Hoptroff dropped, my eye caught sight of his very beautiful gold wristlet watch; and I have never ceased to regret that I did not take it off, and send it to his family. I am sure that they would have appreciated it.5
Private Frank Marillier, 2nd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
All around the wood perimeter young South African officers were recognising the prosaic truth that human courage alone cannot withstand huge quantities of high explosive and shrapnel.
I am now the only officer left in A Coy. One Lewis Gun crew have been blown up. Can you send another crew? I have wounded men lying all along my front & have no stretchers left, and they are dying for want of treatment, my field dressings being all used up. Can you obtain stretcher bearers? Urgent. I consider the position is now untenable, and have had my breastworks all blown in. It is impossible to spare men to take wounded away and my front is now very lightly held with many gaps. To save the balance of men it will be necessary to withdraw. Most of the men here are suffering from shell shock and I do not consider we are fit to hold the position in the event of an enemy attack.6
Lieutenant Owen Hubert de Burgh Thomas, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
The South Africans had given all they could give. Despite their orders to stick it at all costs several reluctantly began to fall back on Prince’s Street, as the Scots had quaintly named the main ride that cut across the wood from Longueval to its eastern border. Colonel Tanner had been evacuated wounded and Colonel Thackeray of the 3rd South Africans had therefore taken effective command of the brigade. Their new positions were amongst what remained of the wood, and a new and deadly threat soon made itself apparent.
We made our way back, joining Colonel Thackeray and about seventy survivors in a reserve trench. Here we set up our Lewis gun with tragic results. In succession ten of my mates were killed and it looked as if my own turn was next. Whilst at the gun, one bullet grazed the side of my face, near the eye. Another hit the stock. But the bullets were not coming from the direction our gun was facing. After our tenth comrade had been killed, one of our chaps thought he saw a slight movement in a tree, some distance to our rear. We gave the tree a burst, and out dropped a German sniper. A brave man, he must have crept into the wood in the darkness of the previous night, and set himself up, well hidden, in the branches. I am sure he would have known that his chances of survival were very slight. I was indeed lucky not to be his next victim.7
Private Frank Marillier, 2nd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
Although by this time exhausted, running out of food and water, the increasingly shell-shocked South Africans clung on to their makeshift shallow trenches. As each hour passed there were fewer men left standing to face the next German counter-attack.
D Coy retired without passing up any word, so did those on their left. My orders were to hold on. I was on point of salient and furthest force pushed out. A and C Companies on my right not being dug in were scattered—one platoon D Company did well on my left. I used 4th Regt in reserve trench as reinforcements. Ammunition scarce. Mud caused ammunition to be useless—also wounded men’s rifles jammed with mud. No cleaning material—all consumed. Two guns, one Lewis and one Maxim knocked out. Our own field guns killed and wounded many of us. Difficulty owing to this to extend to my left. D Coy retired when the attack came at probably 5 p.m. or later; however beat Germans off. Many killed 7 yards from my trenches. Remnants of A and C Companies overpowered. I learnt this after heat of attack abated, with machine guns enfilading us from my right. By passing up five rounds at a time from each man I kept machine guns and one Lewis gun going sparingly. Killed many Germans. I divided my front i.e. alternate men facing alternate fronts. Sent bombing party and patrol under officer to try and clear my right and get away to retire to Waterlot Farm or our old Regimental Headquarters. German held trenches at latter place and machine guns up trenches on my right. Determined to hold on.8
Captain Medlicort, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
Despite all their valiant efforts, Captain Medlicort and his men were finally overrun by the Germans at dawn on 19 July.
Exhausted machine gun ammunition. Drove off attack from wood but had to chuck it soon after 8 a.m. Handed back, sorry to say, all German prisoners captured during the day. I got not a wink of sleep for four nights. Could not sleep in the night of the 18th. Got Lieutenants Guard and Thomas in a safe place (both wounded) with German prisoners. I was satisfied at our marksmanship, so many dead Germans round us in the wood. I was too busy waiting for the moment of attack which was maturing during the day. The enemy shell fire was chiefly 5.9-in. Too intense to think of retiring. The Germans were rattled with our gunfire. Our men, who at that time owing to want of water and sleep were cold and stiff, were calm and had a ‘don’t care a damn’ appearance.9
Captain Medlicort, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
Amongst the thoroughly exhausted prisoners was Private Victor Wepener.
We were shelled from all sides. At times men were killed next to me while I was talking to them. Though I always had ammunition, the rain and mud got into our rifle bolts and caused them to jam. When the Germans eventually overran us, I was impressed by a very aristocratic officer who wore a cap instead of a steel helmet. He kept his hand over his pistol holster whilst we ‘remnants’ were being collected in an open glade. A German soldier with a bandaged head and his rifle and bayonet slung over his shoulder called me, ‘Kamerad’. I didn’t quite know what to say as I didn’t fancy being his comrade. The German soldiers on average were jolly good chaps. I then helped carry Lieutenant Guard who had been shot in the leg. Some of the wounded had to be left behind. I was one of the few to escape unscathed. We were then marched through their lines and we saw many Germans lying there waiting to attack. A couple of our chaps carried a German with a stomach wound on a groundsheet. Our artillery opened up and we were amused to see our guards ducking away and running for cover. After what we had been through we didn’t worry about shell bursts anymore.10
Private Victor Wepener, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
Colonel Thackeray and the scattered remnants of the 3rd South Africans were left clinging on to the last line of defence running along Prince’s Street and then bending back along Buchanan Street. Grimly hanging on by their fingertips to just a small corner of the wood they waited for the long promised relief. Time and time again they were promised assistance but nothing concrete resulted. To add injury to insult the South Africans were constantly plagued by British shells dropping by accident or design right into the wood.
Urgent. My men are on their last legs. I cannot keep some of them awake. They drop with their rifles in hand asleep in spite of heavy shelling. We are expecting an attack. Even that cannot keep some of them from dropping down. Food and water has not reached us for two days—though we have managed on rations of those killed, but must have water. I am alone with Phillips who is wounded and only a couple of sergeants. Please relieve these men today without fail as I fear they have come to the end of their endurance.11
Lieutenant Colonel E. F.Thackeray, 3rd Battalion, South African Regiment, South African Brigade, 9th Division
At last the news came the men had been praying for. The 53rd Brigade of the 18th Division was temporarily attached to the 9th Division and duly sent forward to relieve the beleaguered South Africans. When the South African Brigade finally emerged from what remained of the wood there were only 780 of the 3,153 men present to answer the roll call. The South Africans would never forget Delville Wood.
So it was that on 19 July it fell to the 53rd Brigade to move forward without prior reconnaissance to make an attempt to recapture the southern half of Delville Wood. It is the sheer ubiquity of such attacks that gave them an aura of futility and horror that resounds to this day. This time it was the turn of Private Thomas Jennings of the 6th Royal Berkshires to go forward with his friends into the maw of battle in Delville Wood. Just reaching the wood was a trial of biblical proportions.
Shovels were in the proportion of five to one of picks. A pile of these were passed along the line, and all of us replacements found ourselves with a pick stuck down our back under our haversack. This wasn’t by chance for the older members of the Berkshires had a spade, a much lighter and easier tool—we live and learn. There was only one entrance to the wood on the south side and the way from Longueval to this entrance was under direct machine-gun fire. The 8th Norfolks went in first, then the 10th Essex and the 6th Berks in the centre. At the sound of a whistle we moved forward. It is amazing, indeed astounding, that in spite of the enemy’s barrage of HE, we went on in columns of four. It seemed ages before the order to thin out in extended order was given. We now passed the field gunners who were stripped to the waist, and gained the cover of the sunken road. We stopped there for a while, then went on a yard or so, then stopped again, and so on. It seemed such slow progress, it must be that A Company was finding it difficult to push forward, they were in front. As we crouched against the bank there came from out of the blue a terrific explosion, the air was thick with black smoke and a thousand bells rang in my head. When everything cleared I saw in front of me a soldier lying on his back in a pool of blood from a gaping wound. He called out, ‘Mother, take ’em away, take ’em away!’ He died a few minutes later. I then realised that another chap in front of me didn’t move. I almost touched him and I could see that his water bottle was dripping water tinged with blood. A further look at him told me he was dead, indeed I heard his last gasp. My feelings were awful; this was just plain murder. To make things even worse a dozen or so soldiers were crying and staggering about with shell shock.12
Private Thomas Jennings, 6th Battalion, Royal Berkshire Regiment, 53rd Brigade, 18th Division
As Jennings neared the front, the shelling steadily increased and the awful sights and sounds pressed deeply on his bewildered senses.
We moved on again and reached a communication trench running alongside a road and a wood the other side. A couple of Jerry soldiers passed us on the way back; these were prisoners, and scared to hell, making signs that they were not officers. It still seemed slow progress as we made our way along that trench. Shrapnel pegged us down somewhat and the evidence of this was the ‘ping’ on the tin hat. As Captain Hudson was talking to the regimental sergeant major, a German sniper saw them, killed the RSM and put a bullet through the captain’s tin hat. Looking above the trench at times I could see stretcher bearers with their burdens lying dead. The red cross on their sleeves didn’t protect them from being killed. Slow progress was made again along the trench with the dead and dying all around us. We halted many times for several minutes. On one occasion I found myself squatting on a corpse that was covered with earth, except for his head, which was minus his scalp and hair worn away by the traffic of heavy boots.13
Private Thomas Jennings, 6th Battalion, Royal Berkshire Regiment, 53rd Brigade, 18th Division
At last they reached the end of the trench where it met a road. Ahead of them lay the terrible tangle of Delville Wood.
Our captain was there to give us the signal when to go. I shall always remember his words, ‘Follow your sergeant—go!’ The sergeant was a tall heavily built chap, who shot across the road as if from a gun. Each man ran singly under withering machine-gun fire and shelling, which increased in severity once the attack had been launched. I followed suit, but lost my sergeant and myself in the wood. I wandered around for a moment or so and then dived into a shell hole. That action didn’t give me much consolation. The thoughts that ran through my head were, ‘If the Germans saw me there, would they take me prisoner or lob a couple of hand grenades at me?’ I was duly relieved of these thoughts by seeing a couple of our lads approaching and they asked me what I was doing. I had no answer, but was glad to get out of that hole and set forward in the direction we thought we should go. With a bit of luck we found a platoon of khaki uniformed soldiers in a waist-high trench. On speaking to them we learned that they were South Africans. One of them told us that he had been a Boer soldier and fought against us in that war in 1901. He proved to be quite a decent chap. All the time the din, the racket and the fearful noise continued, machine gun and gunfire, trees crashing down from HE. We were then prompted by our South African friends to go in the direction they thought we might find our company of the 6th Berks. We did eventually find them on the extreme edge of the wood with a mound of earth in front of their heads and equipment piled in front of that. This was the only quick way to protect their heads against rifle fire; it was all bewildering to me.14
Private Thomas Jennings, 6th Battalion, Royal Berkshire Regiment, 53rd Brigade, 18th Division
Having reached the wood they were confronted by the usual problems of fighting in a woodland, smashed by shell fire and haunted by ambushing snipers. The Berkshires had no Colonel Frank Maxwell VC to seize the situation by the scruff of the neck. Thwarted by the Germans in front and on either side, they were cut off by the barrage line of German shells falling behind them from any chance of reinforcements or supplies.
There was great difficulty with regard to water, the only well in the wood was close to where the enemy was strongest, and we received no food supplies the whole of the time we were in the wood. In parts of the wood, patrols, and even single men of the opposing forces were hunted and stalked, one after the other. The air was thick with a horrible stench from dead bodies and the pungent odour of gas. The ‘Devil’s Wood’ was indeed a terrible place. Nightfall came and with it a silence of a kind. No gunfire, just the occasional crack of a rifle. We moved around like ghosts in the darkness, which gave the fellows an opportunity to search the dead for their water bottles. Sergeant Bygraves, one of our senior NCOs, crept over to a severely wounded German prisoner to give him a drink of water. That poor Jerry had been propped up against a tree for at least thirty hours or more. Whenever one of us got near him he feebly put his hands up as a token of surrender. I remember the aide-de-camp to the commander of 53rd Brigade coming up to the front line to see how things were progressing. When this one-armed Guards officer had seen Lieutenant Colonel B. G. Clay, he came across the wounded German. Turning to me he said, ‘Shoot the bastard!’ I thought to myself, ‘He has a revolver, why doesn’t he do it?’ This staff officer then went on his way without waiting for me to carry out his order. As no one else pursued the matter, I decided not to do his dirty work and walked away apprehensively.15
Private Thomas Jennings, 6th Battalion, Royal Berkshire Regiment, 53rd Brigade, 18th Division
They could get no further and their position remained extremely tenuous. Finally, having achieved nothing, they were eventually relieved on the night of 21 July. Their brigadier summed up the operation in a lacerating report that did not mince its words as it lashed home the sheer futility of the ‘gesture’ his 53rd Brigade and the men of the 6th Royal Berkshires had made. The tactical problem of taking Delville Wood was almost insuperable without a large-scale general advance that encompassed the wood. Without that the only effective way of clearing the wood was by utilising the power of the artillery, but once occupied the victors were equally vulnerable to the same treatment.
The Germans, too, were suffering as they launched costly counterattacks that had little real purpose, but their tactical naivety faded into insignificance beside the confused, headstrong, wilful stupidity of some of the British attacks, which cost the Germans only ammunition to repel. Not only did the continuation of such futile British piecemeal attacks leach away the fighting strength of the Fourth Army to no purpose, but the feeling of events spiralling out of control was exacerbated by an unfortunate break in the weather that brought rain and dull overcast skies. This hampered the work of the Royal Flying Corps, led to further delays and gave more invaluable time to the Germans. Minor attacks could be defeated with the defences and resources in place, but the Germans were in a race against time to knit together the integrated defence they would need to hold back another pile-driven assault. Every day counted.
23–29 July 1916:
The plans for the next major attack envisioned a thrust forward of both the Fourth and Reserve Armies in conjunction with the French in the early morning of 23 July. Of all the valuable lessons that could be gleaned from the successes achieved on 14 July it seems perverse that General Sir Douglas Haig and Rawlinson should, at least on the surface, have drawn little more than a near-superstitious belief that a night attack could deflect the power of massed German machine guns and artillery. The skilful tactical use of the cloak of darkness to amass and deploy troops to secure a stunning surprise had indeed been a vital component in the success achieved at the Battle of Bazentin Ridge. Yet the crushing preliminary bombardment was far more crucial in its ability to smash the German front lines, destroying the machine guns and the battery-gun positions. If they were not dealt with then the Germans retained the potential, whatever the degree of visibility, to open a deadly fire on previously determined fixed lines and pre-registered targets. Furthermore, it was unfortunate for the British artillery that the next lines of German trenches were tucked away on the reverse slopes of the low ridges, and hence far better concealed from direct observation man had been the case before 14 July. The British gunners were heavily dependent on artillery registration from the BE2cs of the RFC for their accuracy and the weather had severely hampered flying. When the sun finally re-emerged on 20 July it left far too little time for the hundreds of guns to be registered before the preliminary bombardment began in earnest on 22 July.
The Allied High Command was under pressure while preparing for the next stage in the offensive, for speed was necessary if the Germans were not further to consolidate their positions. In bowing to this imperative plans were conceived, considered, approved and disseminated in excessive haste. In these circumstances it is not surprising that when the reconnaissance flights of the RFC brought back photographs that clearly delineated a newly dug German trench stretching forward of the switch line in front of Bazentin-le-Petit the High Command failed to act in a considered or logical fashion. The new line, unimaginatively christened the ‘Intermediate Trench’ had not been catered for in the original plans but at that late stage all that could be thought of on the spur of the moment was to bring forward the time of attack in the affected sector to 0030 on 23 July. The Intermediate Trench would be rushed at that time, after which the presumed ‘victors’ would join in the main assault at 0130 on the switch line that still lay ahead of them. A similar approach was adopted to deal with Wood Trench, which interfered with the main plans for the attack in the sector between High Wood and Delville Wood, although this time the attack would start even earlier at 2200 on 22 July.
A further complication was provided by the necessity of the XIII Corps to hammer out a compatible assault plan with the neighbouring French, which had resulted in a negotiated start time of 0340 on 23 July. Yet worse was to follow. Perhaps sensibly, the French were anxious not to be ‘rushed’ and at the last moment they announced that they would not in fact be ready to attack until the next day—24 July. Rawlinson was thrown into an invidious position, but reluctantly decided that the British had gone too far down the line to postpone the attack. He therefore reluctantly accepted that the right of his line would be attacking towards Guillemont with their right flanks exposed and, as it was by then too late to change the orders, they would still go over at the anomalous start time of 0340. Last minute changes generated their own confusions and in the event not all the assault divisions along the line received their final start times correctly before it was simply too late.
An additional complication was the decision to increase the contribution made by General Sir Hubert Gough and his Reserve Army to the overall offensive effort. Although it had by no means been inactive, Reserve Army operations since 1 July had largely been conducted on a small scale. Costly localised attacks had been made to ‘improve’ the tactical position and indeed the village of Ovillers had finally fallen on 16 July.
Ovillers has been of special interest to us the last six days. My battalion has seen some sticky fighting. By continually harassing the Boche and working our way round him, we eventually got him out of the village. In his last trench on the outskirts of the village he left a number of wounded, all of whom were agreed that they had had a damnable time. Here I collected all the Germans who could in any way hobble along and sent them back to our brigade dressing station. Would you believe it our damned brigade staff cursed the man in charge of the escort for not sending them down on stretchers. I only wish I had been there. I would have let the blasted maniacs have a bit of mind. As if we were not already busy enough dealing with our own wounded and carrying them back, and using every available man we had got to man the trenches as we collared them. It is this sort of damned impudence from people sitting on their haunches miles in the rear, who not only have no idea of the conditions and strain under which people are working up in front, but also are too idle to come up and find out—which makes the regimental officer despise the staff.16
Lieutenant H.G.Wood, 1/7th Battalion Worcestershire Regiment, 144th Brigade, 48th Division
As ever, an objective captured merely moved the focus on to the next perceived target. In this case it was the village of Pozières, which now lay before the British on the Albert–Bapaume road. The village was strongly defended as part of the original German Second Line defence system on the Pozières Ridge. It was a tactically important location as its capture would not only to some extent destabilise the rest of the German Second Line in that sector, but it would also begin to unravel the German stranglehold on the fortress of the Thiepval Spur, which still barred the way to any advance in the northern sector of the Somme battle front. Several small-scale attempts on the village had done little more than inflate the number of casualties suffered. It was at this point that Haig ordered Gough to capture Pozières as soon as possible, in conjunction with the general night attack being launched by the Fourth Army on 23 July. Gough decided to throw the newly arrived 1st Australian Division into the fray. They would attack at 0030 on 23 July, striking across from the south-east at the junction of the Reserve Army and the Fourth Army rather than straight up the Albert–Pozières road. To their left would be the 48th Division who, in attacking towards the head of Mash Valley, would depend for their lives on an Australian success.
The planned assault on 23 July would, therefore, be no single smashing blow, but in essence nothing more than a succession of isolated attacks, each of which would succeed or fail essentially on the basis of its own merits. With each complication and last-minute adjustment to the plans, the overall concept of a single coordinated blow was fatally diluted. The end result was a crazy mélange of start times amongst the X, ANZAC, III, XV and XIII Corps that spread out across a period of some five and a half hours between 2200 and 0340. It was a recipe for disaster.
The preliminary bombardment for the attacks commenced at 1900 on 22 July. The first assault was made three hours later by the men of the 5th Division, who attacked Wood Trench, which ran between Delville Wood and High Wood. The troops went over the top at 2220 that night—for the survivors it would prove an unforgettable experience.
It was a night of such kaleidoscopic effects that I can still see them vividly. It must have been terrifying in its utter inhumanity to the men of the new drafts from England. Every variety of sound, colour and odour assailed and overwhelmed our senses, so that we felt immune to the perpetual threat of death or mutilation—until it came. Loaded with rifle, bayonet, extra ammunition and an unwieldy field telephone in the hope of keeping contact with the rear, I went sprawling in the fitful darkness into a shell hole just short of a new explosion. When I recovered, I moved on, but not before glancing around the whole scene into which I was trudging at a half-trot. The wood was alive with points of light from machine guns, vivid with shell flashes and coloured by the urgent signal flares of Bengal lights; patches of black smoke and flickering red came from the burning debris. From Longueval, almost behind me came the reflected flashes of an exploding dump.17
Private Francis Fields, 15th Battalion, Warwickshire Regiment, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
Before they were spotted the 15th Warwicks made some considerable progress until they crossed the ridge and found themselves in view of the Germans. Lost in a nightmare the survivors were forced to take shelter in a scratch trench that offered only an illusion of protection.
Some of us, survivors of two platoons of A Company manned a trench about an eighth of a mile in advance of the British front line, and beyond the limit reached by the British and Indian cavalry after their charge through waving corn up the slope topped by the ill-famed woods. Behind, bodies of horses and men lying under the hot sun did not let us forget the incident. The trench itself was a mere ditch and poor protection from the exploring German gunners, especially shrapnel as I knew to my cost when a red hot particle lodged near my left eye. We turned corpses out to improve the parapet. Here, a plane would come over at dawn, just visible through the mist, to assure headquarters we still held the position. We were surprisingly immune from attack and could watch that sector, all around us, without inhibitions. Once, there was a short liquid fire attack on the edge of High Wood; again, on the far corner of Delville Wood there were yells and a few running figures. The ground was littered with the blackened remains of Highlanders and Fusiliers. As a signaller I was either alone or working with a companion, Harry Ellis usually. Exploring this area for wire and souvenirs, I came face to face with a figure round a small shrub—a Highlander on all fours—staring, rigid, forever immovable. I guided a complete stranger who was utterly helpless, abandoned with ‘shell shock’. He moved leaning forward, his head projected, arms limp, all control of his face had gone. He could not hear me; he did not respond in any way, just slouched steadily forwards.18
Private Francis Fields, 15th Battalion, Warwickshire Regiment, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
Fields was sent to establish whether there was any contact between the right of his company and the neighbouring village of Longueval. Amongst the ruins was a strange reminder of more innocent times.
I was tracing a wire up an old German trench towards the village defences. Advancing boldly towards me came a tiny friendly little ball of fur, something utterly incongruous in that setting; a kitten, mewing and tail erect. Evidently the village pet, still surviving the devastation.19
Private Francis Fields, 15th Battalion, Warwickshire Regiment, 13th Brigade, 5th Division
On the right of the line the 30th Division had the task of attacking Guillemont without any support from the neighbouring French. The 19th Manchesters moved out from the edge of Trônes Wood, heading directly across the open ground to the battered village at 0340 on the morning of 23 July.
We attacked just before dawn, I being told off to carry a coil of barbed wire on a stake. We had 1,000 yards to go over the open. I soon dropped the barbed wire and lost the spade off my back—the Germans were waiting for us!20
Private Albert Andrews, 19th Battalion, Manchester Regiment, 21st Brigade, 30th Division
This was unsurprising as the British had by then been sending in isolated attacks for four hours. Yet despite all the problems and the added stress of uncut barbed wire, the Manchesters managed against all the odds to burst through to capture Guillemont. This, however, was just the opening gambit in a battle that would rage all day long. The inevitable German counter-attacks hit home hard, isolating and destroying the first two waves of Manchesters, and taking a heavy toll of the rest. Private Albert Andrews was one of the casualties, receiving a wound in the right shoulder. With considerable difficulty, battling with increasing faintness and thirst, he made his way back as one of the walking wounded.
I was just about done and was staggering along, I think I would have given up some time since, but my nose was towards home. A parson saw me nearly fall, picked me up and carried me into the dressing station at Billon Farm, where he gave me a drink of tea. While I was drinking this a general came, looked at my shoulder and said, ‘Manchesters’, asking where I was wounded. I told him, ‘Guillemont!’ He seemed as if he could hardly believe it, until a Yorks said to him, ‘Yes, Sir, the Manchesters are in Guillemont.’ He turned to me and said, Are they in it now?’ I said, ‘They were when I left, but were being hard pressed in a counter-attack by the Germans!’ He waited no more and off he went with some other officers. I asked who he was, with him being so anxious, and was told it was General Rawlinson.21
Private Albert Andrews, 19th Battalion, Manchester Regiment, 21st Brigade, 30th Division
Of course their heroism proved all in vain. Cut off by the German artillery and hounded by ceaseless counter-attacks the Manchesters could not hold on to their cherished gains and ultimately fell back to their start lines by the early afternoon. They had fought hard but the odds were always against them. The situation was replicated more or less all along the front of the Fourth Army during their attacks on 23 July. Rawlinson had presided over an unfocused attack and his men had paid a grim price. No ground was gained and the casualties were made all the more painful by the sacrifices being all in vain.
Meanwhile, on the Reserve Army front, the 1st Australian Division, fresh from all their wasted endeavours at Gallipoli, were experiencing for the first time the reality of warfare on the Western Front. The supporting British artillery flayed the ruins of Pozières from 19 July with an ever-increasing intensity in preparation for their attack, which was scheduled for 0030 on 23 July. At about midnight the Australians moved out to their jumping-off tapes and many crept out into No Man’s Land to get as close as possible to the barrage line when it fell, thereby accepting the risk of casualties from shells that dropped even a few yards short. At 1228 the massed guns roared out together and the Australians saw for the first time the stupefying lethal power of an artillery bombardment.
Down came our barrage on to the enemy lines and Pozières village, the Germans replying with artillery and machine-gun fire. As we lay out among the poppies in No Man’s Land we could see the bullets cutting off the poppies almost against our heads. The flashes of the guns, the bursting of the shells and the Very lights, made the night like day, and, as I lay as flat to the ground as possible I was expecting to stop one any time. Jamming my tin helmet down on my head I brought the body of my rifle across my face to stop anything that might happen to drop low. In the tumult it was impossible to hear orders. My ears were ringing with the cracking of bullets. A man alongside me was crying like a baby, and although I tried to reassure him he kept on saying that we would never get out of it. Suddenly I saw men scrambling to their feet. Taking this to be the signal for the charge I jumped up and dashed across.22
Sergeant H. Preston, 9th Australian (Queensland) Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
The surviving German machine guns gave the Australians the unwanted chance to judge the killing potential of these guns in the relatively open fields of the Somme battlefields compared to the enclosed gullies of ANZAC. When Zero hour came the officers’ whistles went for the most part unheard, but their men followed them forward as fast as they could. The bombardment had done its grim work and they soon forced their way into Pozières Trench, which barred the way to the village.
At the point where I entered there was a German doctor, who afterwards did good work among the wounded. Private Jack Rogers, who reached the trench with me, bayoneted two Germans, and after a sharp fight the trench was cleared, and we immediately set to work to improve our position. Captain S. N. Lawrance was in charge of this work. The trench was in good order, with dugouts let into the sides. The dead bodies, which had to be thrown out, were used in building up the parapet.23
Sergeant H. Preston, 9th Australian (Queensland) Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
The 9th Battalion were on the right flank of the Australian attack and thus had to contend with the threatening presence of the German OG1 and OG2 lines. A German strong point immediately to their right was still holding out. Private John Leak was awarded a VC as he rushed a machine gun and bayoneted the whole crew. The fighting that ensued had a particularly vicious intensity.
I was with a party that was ordered to the right in an endeavour to force a way into the stronghold. This, however, proved difficult as it was strongly held by the enemy whose egg bombs could be thrown farther than our Mills. After a sharp fight our bomb supply ran out, and we were forced to barricade the trench and rely on rifle and bayonet until more grenades arrived. Men were spread out along the trench and the bombs were passed from man to man. The Germans at first tricked us by putting helmets and caps on their rifles and walking along with them held above the parapet. When our men put their heads up and attempted to shoot them, they were shot by other Germans farther along the trench. But it did not take us very long to wake up to this ruse, and very soon we were playing the same game. While all this was going on we were tunnelling under a road into the strong post, and by this means we succeeded in getting into the enemy trench. This movement startled the Germans, who dashed out and across the ridge towards Pozières village, making an excellent target for our rifles and machine guns. In the meantime, other Australians had entered Pozières and driven out its garrison who were making their way to the stronghold. So out over the top we went and chased the confused and panic-stricken enemy over the ridge in the direction of the old windmill. A good many were overtaken and shot or bayoneted.24
Sergeant H. Preston, 9th Australian (Queensland) Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
The capture of most of the village meant that consolidation was the priority as the troops awaited the inevitable violent German reaction. Once it realised the situation the German artillery was not idle, it took a steady toll of the Australians; it isolated them, in an attempt to cut them off from reinforcements and basic supplies. This tactic was obvious and expected, but almost impossible to counter without a concerted prior attempt to knock out the German batteries.
Most of the fire was in enfilade, and as the line ran parallel and close to the main road, our position was accurately marked down. As fast as one portion of the trench was cleared another was blown in. There were no dugouts in which men on post could take shelter, and the only thing to do was to grin and bear it. The shells, which were dropping almost perpendicularly, could be clearly seen in the last 40 feet of their descent, and the whole trench was methodically dealt with.25
Captain J. R. O. Harris, 3rd Australian (New South Wales) Battalion 1st Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
This bombardment was not falling on virgin ground; by this time it had been thoroughly pounded, thrown up time and time again until it was merely a treacherous amalgam of loose earth, bricks and helpless soldiers.
The men who were not wounded were kept busy digging out men who were buried alive by the explosions caving in the trench sides. I had occasion to bless my ‘tin hat’ for in our portion of the trench the parapet was composed of the debris of a ruined house—and a shell pushed over a barrow load of bricks on to my head with no other ill effect but some bruises on the shoulders.26
Captain J.R.O. Harris, 3rd Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 1st Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
There was nothing for the survivors to do but endure as best they could.
Without doubt Pozières was the heaviest, bloodiest, rottenest stunt that ever the Australians were caught up in. The carnage is just indescribable. As we were making our attack after the 3rd Brigade had gone through we were literally walking over the dead bodies of our cobbers that had been slain by this barrage. I can’t imagine anything more concentrated than the artillery barrage of the Germans at that particular stunt. He was even shelling our front line with great ‘coal boxes’. His artillery was registered right smack on it. The bay on our left went in, two or three chaps were killed; the bay on our right went in. I said to this chap, ‘Its our turn next!’ I hadn’t said it before we were buried. I was quite unconscious, buried in what had been the German front-line trench. I was picked up and sent back to the battalion first aid post. I was given a bottle of sal volatile or something—I wish it had been rum! I was sat in a corner of this aid post for a little while, but then the wounded just streamed in and the chap in charge of the post said, ‘Oh well, you’ve had enough rest, you’d better get back again!’ And I went back. During the whole of that period I can’t remember anything more nerve-wracking than the continuous shelling day and night.27
Private Frank Brent, 2nd Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 1st Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
Whatever the men did, whether they moved to left or right they could not second guess the random machinations of high technology and blind fate that guided the shells to their final resting place.
The heavy shells were falling, so it was estimated, at the rate of three a minute. It was not long before the area became unrecognisable, and as time went on even the unwounded felt sick. Food and water were not too plentiful, and we did not know when any more would be available. After our iron rations had gone we were compelled to fall back upon any that could be found on the dead.28
Private P. Kinchington, 3rd Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 1st Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
In such circumstances, it was imperative that risks were taken if the Australians were to maintain a foothold in Pozières. Ration parties were sent back towards Contalmaison to try and get some desperately needed water. Sergeant Preston volunteered to lead a party in this prosaic but excessively dangerous mission.
Big shells were falling thickly. We could see them like black streaks coming down from the sky just before they hit the ground. Often times we were thrown to the ground with concussion, great clods of earth showering us and making our steel helmets ring. One member of the party, Private Fitzgerald, was partly buried, but was quickly dug out and left in the nearest trench to await the stretcher bearers. Eventually we reached Contalmaison, got some water in benzene tins, and made our way back to the front. On the way we passed Fitzgerald, badly wounded, but still alive. The water, as can be imagined, had a strong benzene flavour.29
Sergeant H. Preston, 9th Australian (Queensland) Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
At 0830 on 25 July the long-expected, major counter-attack at last materialised from the direction of the windmill further along Pozières Ridge.
As I happened to be on the right flank, I found myself right in the thick of it. The enemy came over the ridge like swarms of ants, rushing from shell hole to shell hole. Our men, full of fight and confidence, lined the parapet and emptied magazine after magazine into them. Some of the boys, anxious to get a shot at the Germans, pulled one another down from the firestep in the midst of the fight. Under this fire and that of our machine guns and the artillery, which tore great gaps in the advancing lines, the enemy attack withered. The survivors were later seen retiring beyond the ridge, which was barraged by our artillery.30
Sergeant H. Preston, 9th Australian (Queensland) Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, Australian Imperial Force
The Australian lines held, but by the time they were finally relieved by their comrades of the 2nd Australian Division they had lost over 5,000 casualties.
Gough was a vigorous commander and he remained determined to launch a resumption of the drive through Pozières as soon as possible. Partly in consequence the 2nd Australian Division was inveigled into launching an attack without adequate preparation. The fresh troops had no chance to settle in to their new surroundings and reconnoitre the ground ahead of them. At 0015 on 29 July, the 7th Australian Brigade attacked the OG1 and OG2 lines and then the Pozières Windmill that lay beyond them. A stretcher bearer watched the doomed advance of the proud ANZACs of the 28th Battalion.
They marched across No Man’s Land as if they were on the parade ground with their own shells screaming in droves over their heads and the German shells blowing them to bits. The men dropped like flies, the German wire remained intact and they could go neither forward nor back. They tore at the barbed wire with their hands, searching for openings under one of the most intense machine-gun barrages Australians ever faced.31
Private Tom Young, 27th Australian (South Australia) Battalion, 7th Brigade, 2nd Division, Australian Imperial Force
Trapped in front of the thick barbed wire the survivors had little or no chance and most took shelter in shell holes. On their flanks the other battalions of the 7th Brigade faired better and overran part of the OG1 line, but floundered against the wire of the OG2 line. This was of small consolation to the men of the 28th Battalion.
We left a long line of the best and bravest boys that Australia ever produced lying along that wire; some fell across it with the wires in their hands. Others died with the wire cutters still on the wire, but they were glorious lads every one of them. I got into a shell hole right under his wire and could go no further forward, so I sent my supply of bombs in the direction of his machine gun right in front of me. I cannot vouch for the result. By this time everything was in a state of chaos and I took the risk of going from shell hole to shell hole trying to get the boys together for another try. The word came up for us to withdraw to our original front line. They all did this, but I stayed and did my best for several wounded fellows.32
Corporal Percy Blythe, 28th Australian (West Australia) Battalion, 7th Brigade, 2nd Division, Australian Imperial Force
Amongst the men he was able to assist was Private Norgard, who had been badly hit in the first rush.
I ‘stopped it’ and promptly dropped into a shell hole. I took what was left of my boot off and bandaged the wound as quickly as possible. Our poor chaps were falling like ninepins everywhere. I assumed a very painful crawl and got back to our starting point with a couple more minor hits on the ribs. Percy Blythe got me safely back to the aid post.33
Private E. R. Norgard, 28th Australian (West Australia) Battalion, 7th Brigade, 2nd Division, Australian Imperial Force
For his earlier determination and courage in assisting the wounded Blythe was awarded the Military Medal. A few trivial gains were made but on most of the 7th Brigade front the men ended up back in their jumping-off trenches. Their casualties had been sobering—the 28th Battalion lost some 467 men.
As the news trickled back Haig blamed the over-confident attitude of the ANZACs for the failure. It is easy to see why the brash confidence of the Australians might grate on his more restrained susceptibilities, but it was still unfair.
The attack by the 2nd Australian Division upon the enemy’s position between Pozières and the windmill, was not successful last night. From several reports I think the cause was due to want of thorough preparation. After lunch I visited headquarters Reserve Army and impressed upon Gough and Neill Malcolm that they must supervise more closely the plans of the ANZAC Corps. Some of their divisional generals are so ignorant and (like so many Colonials) so conceited, that they cannot be trusted to work out unaided the plans of attack.34
General Sir Douglas Haig, General Headquarters, British Expeditionary Force
Sometimes it seemed that the proverb, ‘more haste less speed’ could have been coined with the Somme in mind. Yet it was unwarranted to blame the Australian commanders, as they had been pushed into the attack with no chance for proper groundwork. To add further insult Haig took the opportunity to personally berate Lieutenant General Sir William Birdwood, during a visit to ANZAC Corps Headquarters by sharply lecturing him that they were not fighting the Turks now!
Early August 1916 Pozières Ridge
Before the australians had any chance to redeem themselves with another attempt on the redoubtable OG1 and OG2 lines, the 8th Royal Fusiliers and the 6th Buffs of the 12th Division, who stretched alongside them to the left of Pozières, launched a night attack at 2315 on 3 August. Their objective was Fourth Avenue.
There were 300 or 400 yards to go to their trench and because of the attacks that had gone before, there was no wire—we knew there was no wire between us and the Germans. We lay out under cover of darkness about 100 yards in front of our front line. There was a short five minutes or so of mortar barrage, no artillery barrage. When the mortar barrage ended we were to advance. We did and jumped into the trench which was full of Germans. They were sheltering from the bombardment of our mortars. We were all armed and they immediately surrendered. There was as many Germans in the trench as their were British soldiers, it was a bit embarrassing for a bit but they were gradually ushered away and forced to go back over No Man’s Land. We had wounded Germans in the trench and unfortunately they had to stay there because our stretcher bearers were so busy that they took our own men first, naturally. Our men were kind to them, they gave them water, cigarettes, it depends how badly they were wounded. We tried to tie them up or put a tourniquet on.35
Corporal Arthur Razzell, 8th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, 36th Brigade, 12th Division
They took ninety-two prisoners in all. Some British bombers managed to work their way up the communications trenches to gain a tenuous foothold in Ration Trench, which marked the next major obstacle to progress. The next day the 2nd Australian Division attacked towards Courcelette, finally overrunning the tough German resistance centred on the strong OG1 and OG2 lines. At the same time, 2115, the neighbouring 12th Division made another gallant attempt to take Ration Trench.
The order came, ‘Platoon sergeants to come to headquarters!’ Well, we went along and there was Captain Cazalet, and this is the sort of orders we got: ‘We are going in behind curtain fire, we don’t know exactly how far this trench is, but it’s between 200 and 300 yards. Sergeant Turnbull will take the first wave, I will go over with the first; Mr Firefoot will go over with the second; Sergeant Quinnell, with your platoon, you’ll be in the second wave. Now go along and tell your men to be ready and as soon as the curtain fire starts, we move!’ Back along the trench we went and told our men what to do. Well my men in the second wave, the tip I gave them was to: ‘Run like hell and catch up with the first wave!’ That wasn’t an order it was just a tip, because my experience told me that when you’re out in No Man’s Land you’re standing there naked, but if you catch the first wave, the sooner you get over and get your job done, the fewer casualties you’ll have.36
Sergeant Charles Quinnell, 9th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, 36th Brigade, 12th Division
The British knew there was no barbed wire in front of them, which of course simplified matters enormously. The Germans had not had any chance to attend to this defensive necessity in the maelstrom that was Pozières Ridge.
My men got over, we caught up with the first wave behind this curtain fire and we were into the Germans with the first wave—we ran like hell. When we got to the German trench, there was this German kneeling on the floor of the trench and the poor bugger was dead scared. At any rate, while I’m wondering whether to stick him or shoot him, a German jumped out of the trench away to my left, another one on the right, so I jumped down on this German, pinned him down, knelt on his shoulders, shot the German on my left, worked my bolt, put another one up the spout and shot the German who was running away on the right. By this time all our men had reached the trench and I went along to report to the captain. He said, ‘Good, now let’s have a quick roll call!’ I counted my men and I’d only lost three coming over, which was a marvellous performance. It was a surprise attack you see, and the Germans didn’t have time to drop their barrage down. Once we were over there and in the German trench, the barrage came down behind us and my tip paid off, otherwise we would have caught the barrage.37
Sergeant Charles Quinnell, 9th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, 36th Brigade, 12th Division
As this incident illustrates, the learning curve did not only apply to the generals. The ordinary soldiers that had the good fortune to survive their first experience of battle swiftly learnt how to maximise their chances of staying alive in the most deadly of environments.
The German bombardment, when it came, was a dreadful experience for the 8th Royal Fusiliers in Ration Trench as it eroded their strength one by one.
Of course they knew the range to the yard and they began a terrific bombardment which went on hour after hour. About two in the morning, when the bombardment had been on for a couple of hours or more, a sergeant asked me to see how many men we had left in our platoon, because we were getting casualties all the time. The trench was no longer a trench it was just a series of shell holes. I went along where the trench had been and I found an odd man here and an odd man there. I went back to him and I wrote a little chit saying we had six men in our platoon. He was sitting at a ‘T’ junction with a communication trench and at that point the trench was in rather good condition. So I sat next to him on the floor, gave him the chit and was talking to him when there was an explosion quite near and I felt my helmet go and I realised that I was wounded.38
Corporal Arthur Razzell, 8th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, 36th Brigade, 12th Division
As Corporal Razzell set off back to the rear for medical assistance, for those left behind in Ration Trench there was little or nothing to alleviate the overall gloom. In the absence of a general advance in that sector they were left merely occupying a tenuous lodgement in the German front line. Barricades were established to both left and right flank and in all communications trenches leading forwards and then the men sat down to await their fate. Sergeant Quinnell and his men were fortunate in that they entirely escaped the German shelling that had devastated their neighbours. It was their considered opinion that in the mad tangle of trenches the German artillery simply did not know where they were. But there were other weapons available to the Germans and their response was to use one of the most loathed advances in the noble art of warfare—the flammenwerfer.
Over this barricade on our right flank came a German with a canister of liquid fire on his back; squirting liquid fire out of a hose he burnt twenty-three of our chaps to death. I plonked one into his chest, but he must have had an armoured plated waistcoat on, it didn’t stop him. Someone threw a Mills bomb at him and it burst behind—he wasn’t armoured plated behind, he went down. But at any rate he’d done a lot of damage. The bombers bombed the Germans back from the barricade. Plenty of chaps were wounded with this liquid fire as well as those that were killed; it practically wiped out Tubby Turnbull’s platoon. Then we got an order from the Captain. I hope I never hear it repeated again. We must shorten our front—so he gave us an order to make a barricade of the dead, the German dead and our dead. We made a barricade of them and retreated about 40 yards back towards my platoon. Now I’d got a barricade on my left to look after, there was the front, plenty of Germans out there and sniping from behind. I’d got these chaps—green as grass! When we went over we only had two bombs apiece which we had in our tunic pockets. Everybody handed their bombs into the right-hand flank, because that was the danger point, all our bombs were taken to the barricade there. That afternoon these Germans behind us were winkled out of their trench and that night our pioneer battalion dug a 7-foot communication trench from our own British front line to where we were. They must have worked like Trojans—they were a battalion of Northamptons.
As soon as the trench was dug, up came a Stokes trench mortar, also boxes and boxes of rifle grenades, like a pineapple on a stick. I’d been trained for firing rifle grenades—they had to be fired by a very powerful blank cartridge, it was a specialist job. By this time Tubby Turnbull was wounded, Mr Firefoot was wounded and that left Captain Cazalet and I. We had a consultation as to where to site this Stokes trench mortar, we put it about 50 yards back from the barricade. I trained three of these rookies how to load and prepare the rifle grenades. The next time an attack came over this barricade—the same performance: a man coming over with a liquid fire canister—he got a very, very hot reception. The Stokes trench mortar opened up and dropped the mortars just the other side of the barricade. I’d three men loading up these rifle grenades and I peppered the whole line—I couldn’t miss, I was in the same trench you see—peppered it from 75 yards to 200 yards and judging by the shouts and screams I was taking a very good toll. The Stokes was the barrage that prevented them coming over and I was doing the peppering with the rifle grenades. All told we had five attacks over this barricade. The first was the disastrous one, for which we paid very heavily, but in the other four we took a very, very heavy toll and we didn’t lose a man.39
Sergeant Charles Quinnell, 9th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, 36th Brigade, 12th Division
Alongside the 12th Division, the battered 2nd Australian Division was finally relieved on 6 August by which time it had suffered some 6,800 casualties in two attacks. It had eventually attained the crest of the Pozières Ridge and thereby secured a tactically valuable vista extending over Courcelette, and Martinpuich towards Bapaume. As the tattered remnants moved back out of the line they were replaced by the 4th Australian Division. As the men of the 14th Australian Battalion moved up through Sausage Valley they had to cross the devastated hinterland, which all too clearly bore the scars and detritus of the awful events of the last few weeks.
We gained the entrance to the communication trench and passed along it in single file. The trench was a particularly long one and uncomfortably narrow. Loaded up as we were, it was difficult to worm our way along it, and the knuckles of the hands became skinned in consequence. Ghastly sights were witnessed on that journey through the sap. Scores of bodies had been partially buried in the soft earth, and bloody hands and feet protruded at frequent intervals. Boxes of rations and ammunition were scattered about, telling plainer than words that the fatigue parties had come under violent artillery fire and had been annihilated.40
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Corporal Smith who served with 5th Platoon was fortunate indeed in his officer, for it was none but the renowned Lieutenant Albert Jacka, who had already won a Victoria Cross as an acting lance corporal, when he had led a desperate counter-attack to throw the Turks out of their trench at Courtney’s Post, during the Turkish offensive on the small ANZAC beachhead at Gallipoli on 19 May 1915. But as all the Aussies of the 4th Division had discovered, the conditions on the Turkish peninsula were nothing compared to those on the Somme.
Dead were scattered everywhere. Broken trenches, twisted barbed wire, mutilated rations and military equipment, stretchers with their once human contents, and bearers now cold and stiff—all gave mute evidence of the recent carnage. Lieutenant Jacka was in charge of the platoon and such a cool level-headed officer seemed strangely suited to such grim surroundings, for he inspired confidence in all with whom he came into contact. Here indeed was a test of courage even before the firing line was reached. Leaving the company in the sap, Lieutenant Jacka and the officer commanding (Major Fuhrmann) hopped over the sandbags and went to investigate. After a time he returned and told us to leave the trench in parties of two and three and double across the open in a direction half-left, they leading the way. We did so, bullets whizzing uncomfortably the while. A number of partly connected shell holes formed the firing line, and into these we jumped.41
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The Victorians thought they had taken up positions in the support line following the advance made by the 2nd Australian Division the previous day. However, in the chaos they were actually in the front line and hence liable to be counter-attacked by the Germans at any moment.
The most remarkable thing about the trench was the number of dead that blocked access to it. Many of the previous occupants had been killed by concussion alone, for they were sitting as if asleep in little ‘funk-holes’ dug in the earth. Before commencing deepening operations in the sap, we first had to eject these corpses—a very unpleasant job. That done we removed our equipment and worked furiously with picks and shovels.42
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
It was as well that they did. They had been lucky to travel up the communication trench without coming under German shelling. Now they were to receive the full force of the German artillery in all its destructive majesty.
A fearful bombardment from the enemy commenced. He seems to have registered our range perfectly. Several men near me were killed by falling earth, and others killed outright. Some who had recently joined up as reinforcements were killed in their first night or two under fire. Many were literally blown to fragments. Our little stretch of trench was fast losing all semblance to one, and it seemed we were completely at the mercy of the German artillery. For myself, I was temporarily stunned, on one or two occasions, by the concussion, and the wonder of it is that anyone survived to tell the tale. Few did, in fact. My party of three were still unwounded, but their nerves, of course, like my own, were not unshaken. Communication had long since been severed with the remainder of the platoon on the right, and on the left it was as bad—a dead end. Neither was there communication with the rear. We tried to continue our task of digging during that infernal uproar, but all to no effect. The trench was blown in faster than we could empty it.43
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Smith had been sent with a small party of men to cover the left flank of the platoon, where the ‘line’ they were occupying inconsequentially petered out into nothingness, with a yawning 60-yard gap before the next elements of the battalion. As the shells crashed down and the casualties mounted he decided to pull back.
Common sense told me to lead the way to the survivors of the platoon, whatever the risks. Better to be killed thus than as rats in a trap. Finally, acting partly from the entreaties of my comrades, and partly from what I judged best, I decided on the move. How it was accomplished I do not know, for it was indeed hard to find the course of the one-time trench in the darkness. At times we had to dash across the open, then jump over corpses in shallow shell holes, always amid the infernal bursting of the high explosives. Not a living soul did we see. Suddenly, in the lightning-like flashes of the shells, the dugout entrance sprang invitingly into view, and into this we disappeared without ceremony. Friendly voices hailed us and we soon discovered that the remainder of the platoon had taken refuge there.44
Corporal Charles Smith, 4th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Despite, and because of, the searing traumas of the day, nature had its way and the exhausted men fell asleep in the stygian darkness of the dugout. Perhaps the best security blanket was the reassuring knowledge that the redoubtable Lieutenant Jacka had survived and stood alongside them, ready for anything.
About 3 or 4 a.m., someone asked Lieutenant Jacka the time, I forget what he answered, but he announced his intention of leaving the dugout to have a look around on top to make sure everything was OK. This he did, and returned shortly afterwards with the information that things were just the same.45
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The absolute confusion of the Pozières Ridge battlefield was such that the men had not yet realised that they were in the front line and still firmly believed that they were holding the support lines—in other words that there was an additional line of soldiers protecting them as they tried to recover and make sense of the day’s events in that dark dugout. They were soon to be rudely disabused of this comforting notion.
Just before daylight, a terrific explosion occurred at the bottom of the dugout steps, and two revolver shots rang out almost simultaneously. What had happened was this: the bombardment was but a preliminary to a counter-attack by the enemy. This barrage at 4.45 a.m. had gradually lifted off our front line, the enemy following in its wake. Passing our dugout, a German had thrown a bomb into it, and Jacka had immediately replied with a couple of revolver shots. Naturally, the explosions awakened all of us, and, grasping the situation immediately, a wild scramble towards the steps resulted. It was still pitch dark down there, and I don’t think any of us ever expected to reach the top alive. Certainly, I did not. Two of our chaps had been badly hit by the bomb and lay groaning at the foot of the stairs. Cruel though it seemed, we had to climb quickly over their bodies to meet the enemy. Reaching the top we looked around and saw Germans everywhere. We were surrounded!46
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Unsurprisingly, it was Lieutenant Jacka who had reacted first. He raced up the dugout steps and pitched straight into the Germans who were threatening to overrun their trench. This was no time for thought; instinct, luck and the primal urges were all that could help him
There were four Huns in a shell hole. All I could see were their heads, shoulders and rifles. As I went towards them, they began to fire point-blank at me. They hit me three times and each time the terrific impact of the bullets fired at such close range swung me off my feet. But each time I sprang up like a prize fighter, and kept getting closer. When I got up to them, they flung down their rifles and put up their hands. I shot three through the head and put a bayonet through the fourth. I had to do it—they would have killed me the moment I turned my back. I think another fellow must have fired at me and missed. I looked round and saw a Hun who must have weighed 17 or 18 stone. I aimed at his belly and he almost fell on me.47
Lieutenant Albert Jacka VC, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
His men were still stumbling round far behind him with no idea what was happening or where their officer had gone.
Jacka had disappeared somewhere, as had all our NCOs. The Germans appeared to be bombing parties, for they did not seem to possess rifles; instead they were throwing stick bombs—some with effect. As most of our chaps, including myself, had left their rifles and equipment in the shell holes when deepening the line, we were unarmed. Action was needed if we were to escape with our lives. I picked up an old rifle, choked with dirt, nearby, and, grabbing a bandolier of ammunition that someone handed up from the dugout steps, let fire for all I was worth.48
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
In the absolute chaos the two sides were thrown together in a haphazard confusion where the surreal mixed with the grim certainties of close-quarter fighting, when men gave quarter only at vastly increased risk to their own safety.
A specially venturesome German was walking toward the dugout entrance, evidently with the intention of again bombing it. No one seemed anxious to stop him, and the peculiar part was that he could not be taken prisoner, as his mates were all around us. He could not very well be shot, at a range of a few yards, so the only alternative was to bayonet him. I looked around for a bayonet, but could see none. The rifle I had picked up out of the mud had a pair of wire-cutters attached to the muzzle, and, as these were sharp at the points, I decided to use them instead. I therefore gave the German a sharp prod with them in the back, and he gave a howl. I was afterwards told that Jacka had shot him. I had lost sight of the gallant Jacka.49
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
In the cold light of dawn, the fight had a strange aspect for the men watching it from the trenches scattered across the ridge around them. It was impossible to intervene from a distance without killing their own men as the Australian and German soldiers appeared randomly intermingled in close combat.
Through my glasses I could see some of our boys standing up and firing point-blank at other men. Some figures I could see on their knees in front of others praying for their lives, and several were bayoneting Huns. It was one of the queerest sights I’ve ever seen—Huns and Aussies were scattered in ones and twos all along the side of the ridge. It was such a mix-up that it was hard to tell who were Huns and who were Aussies. Each Aussie seemed to be having a war all on his own.50
Sergeant Edgar Rule, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Lieutenant Jacka was undoubtedly by this time in a very bad state. He had been wounded several times but once again he drew on his phenomenal inner strength in his determination to survive.
A stretcher bearer came, took off my tunic and fixed me up. I asked him to go and bring a stretcher. He went away and I never saw him again. I lay there for a long time, and then began to think of the wounded that were never found. I made up my mind to try and get back by myself, I don’t know how I managed it, but I got back quite a way and some men found me.51
Lieutenant Albert Jacka, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
When his broken body was eventually put on a stretcher and carried back towards ultimate safety the departure of such a legendary figure caused much comment amongst those who witnessed it.
Stretcher after stretcher went by interspersed with the walking wounded. I called out to one set of bearers, ‘Who’ve you got there?’ ‘I don’t know who I’ve got, but the bravest man in the Aussie Army is on that stretcher just ahead. It’s Bert Jacka, and I wouldn’t give a Gyppo piastre for him; he is knocked about dreadfully!’52
Sergeant Edgar Rule, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The situation was still terribly confused. To his regret Sergeant Rule was the man chosen to go forward and sort it out.
Even after all the Huns had been taken to the rear, our officers were in doubt as to who held the ridge, and a few minutes afterwards word came for Lieutenant Dean to advance and clear up the situation. As he was not present, I had to act. I got my boys together and we went along the communication trench leading to the front line, until we came to Major Fuhrmann’s headquarters. He was in charge of B Company. I did not like the job at all, because I knew nothing about the locality, and, what was more, no one else seemed to know. The Major told me to wait a little while before going over, and after a good wait he said he did not need me and my men, as a scout had been across our ridge and reported it free of Huns.53
Sergeant Edgar Rule, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The Australian front line had once again been secured and all the Germans had either been butchered or surrendered.
Pozières had been secured but the next vital objective lay before them—Mouquet Farm, which still barred the way to Thiepval. The Australians were by no means finished with the Somme. Attack after attack was launched but, as so often before, piecemeal assaults led to little more than an accelerated rate of slaughter. An enduring horror had enfolded the Australians struggling on the Pozières Ridge. Insignificant humps and farms had become both the prime focus and unnatural bane of their lives. Advances and retreats were measured in yards and all semblance of objectivity was lost as the Australians and German troops fought to the death over near-worthless ground soaked with the blood of the men that had gone before them.
Just one of these numerous affrays took place at 2230 on 14 August when an Australian attack was directed at the Fabeck Graben Line which lay between the OG1 and OG2 lines in the maze of trenches that crisscrossed the ground to the right of Mouquet Farm. The 13th Australian Battalion went over the top at 1030 p.m. and were fortunate enough to capture their objectives. Unfortunately, in an oft-told tale, it soon became obvious that they were isolated as the flanking units failed to get forward. Once again brave men found themselves facing death in an atmosphere of blended chaos and terror.
Soon it became evident that the enemy was trying to cut us off; and, at the same time, were delivering strong frontal bombing attacks along his communication trench. Immediate retreat was essential, and to effect this under such hostile pressure it was necessary to hold the enemy in check, while retreating along the captured trench, falling back successively on to a number of hastily thrown up strong points. Unfortunately, we had run very short of hand grenades, and the cool, heady, courageous men who pressed us, were well aware of our disabilities and pushed their advantage relentlessly. Cleverly they mixed their attacks, twice trying an ‘over the top’ enveloping movement, but each time a fierce and deadly response from our riflemen and Lewis gunners taught them the futile and dangerous nature of such tactics. From thence onwards they relied on bombing entirely.54
Captain H. W. Murray, 13th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Captain Murray had no choice but to fall back down an old communication trench that providentially led back towards the Australian front line. With the Germans hard on their heels it was an extremely difficult situation demanding both tactical skill and an iron nerve. Maintaining control of his men was all-important as they fell back in stages from one barricade to the next. It was a desperate business, but his men held their nerve even in retreat—potentially the most demoralising of circumstances.
We kept the enemy well in check all the time, and got all our wounded away. Our men were cool, confident and grimly determined, despite the continuous pressure. After each successive minor retirement, Freddy Doust would send a message to me that he was OK, and that was the signal to send most of the front post back, giving them a couple of minutes start, while we made all the show we could. Then we sent the last few remaining riflemen back, following a minute later with the two last ‘diggers’ and the officer.55
Captain H.W.Murray, 1 3th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Captain Murray was responsible for timing the breaks between barricades and, of course, as the officer, it was his duty to bring up the rear. As the supply of bombs began to run out they found it difficult to keep the encroaching Germans at bay as they pressed ever closer during the final desperate scramble up the narrow confines of the communication trench.
Just before reaching the fifth post, and it looked as if we were clear, a bomb dropped one of the two men in front of me. The survivor, half-dazed by the explosion, wounded superficially by metal fragments, and not really comprehending what had happened, continued his flight. I jumped over the body of the prostrate man, who appeared to be dead, but just as I did so his eyes opened, and it was plain he was alive, but how badly wounded it was impossible to say. His leg was doubled and twisted, and although he did not speak his eyes were eloquent.56
Captain H.W. Murray, 13th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Behind him were the Germans and the thought of their naked, cold steel bayonets sent tremors through the length of Murray’s spine. It was a defining moment in his life. He had a simple choice to make: to escape alone in ignominy, or to risk everything for the sake of a wounded man who might well die anyway.
It was then I fought the hardest battle of my life, between an almost insane desire to continue running and save my life, or to comply with the sacred traditions of the Australian Imperial Force and stop to help a wounded comrade. Surely I must be bayoneted if I stopped for an instant. The enemy were coming up at the double. I often dread to think of what I might have done. I was safe enough at the time, and all I had to do was to keep on going; there was only a straight run of 50 yards to my mates. Despite that poor, twisted leg, those mute lips and pathetic eyes, it was really only the mechanical habit engendered by strict discipline, that forced me to do what I did. I dropped on to my shaking knees, caught him in my arms, and pulled him on to my back. He helped like a hero with his one sound leg, and off we staggered, with Fritz just coming into our bay. We outpaced him, however, largely because the impetuosity of his advance had more than once been checked. Already he had been pulled up with a jerk four times, and such things test the mettle of the bravest and most seasoned troops. At last I had reached a haven of temporary safety, and now had others to support us. I was once more among my mates.57
Captain H.W. Murray, 13th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Slowly the Reserve Army inched its way forward on the Pozières Ridge edging towards Mouquet Farm. The old adage of two steps forward, one step back may well have exaggerated the speed of the advance, the ground was so hotly contested.
It was evident that the fighting had descended into an attritional battle of the worst kind. The constant barrages of the British guns were gradually grinding away at the bedrock of the German Army. The rain of shells probed everywhere behind the German lines, causing a ceaseless trickle of casualties which rose to a crescendo in the larger barrages. Yet the incompetent and often uncoordinated tactics of the British meant that when they went into the attack they were losing men wholesale to achieve very little. Both sides were suffering dreadfully and there was no end in sight.