2
The Western Front
When the soldiers landed in France they found a harsh contrast between their new living conditions and those they had left behind in England. They were to lead a spartan existence that made the small privations of their training camps seem very mild. The inexperienced, newly arrived units suffered many hardships but they quickly learned the art of making the best of it from the ‘old hands’.
The men found they had landed in a poor, inhospitable region. There were no fit young Frenchmen, only a few war-disabled, and all the work in the countryside had to be done by the women and by men too old for the war. As the 3rd Manchester Pals marched away from the coast, Paddy Kennedy noted that fallen fruit was going rotten and that crops had not been harvested. Just before they had left England they had been issued with many last-minute items of equipment. The authorities at home had fixed ideas of what would be needed in France and were determined that every man should go out fully equipped. The Pals marched along, bowed down under the heaviest loads they had ever carried.
At one of their halts in a very poor French village, one of the ‘old sweats’ in the battalion promptly started sorting out his equipment. Everything he considered superfluous he gave away to an eager villager. Soon the whole battalion followed suit and when it marched off a few minutes later under lighter loads, both soldiers and civilians were delighted by the transaction.
When the B.E.F. crossed to France in 1914 they were rushed up to the front and were in action within a few days of landing. The other Regular divisions, and most of the Territorials which followed, had the same experience.
When the later Territorials and the first of the New Army arrived in 1915, they had a more gradual introduction to the war. As these battalions only contained a handful of men who had seen any of the war in France, before returning to England wounded, they were unready for service in the trenches. There was more training to be done, but this time more realistic than the Boer War methods used at home. They were also introduced to that feature of life in France which was to be such a torment to them – fatigues.
The nature of trench warfare and the needs of an army which was largely unmechanized resulted in a vast amount of manual labour, mostly digging and carrying. Although special labour units were brought in later in the war, some from as far away as China, there were never sufficient, and an infantry battalion, out of the line at rest or training, could all too easily be called upon to fill the gap. It was unskilled, physical labour of the hardest kind; for the pre-war labourer it was something he had done all his life, but for the professional or commercial men – shop-keepers, clerks and the like – and for the young boys who had enlisted in the ranks (officers and senior N.C.O.’S were excused) it was pure drudgery.
‘Another man and myself were detailed to fill sand-bags for the whole of one night. As dawn broke, after a wet, cold night, the rain ceased and a beautiful sunrise spread a bright light over the fair land of France. I straightened up and said to my pal, “Look Charlie, isn’t that a wonderful view?” Charlie didn’t unbend or look round but replied, “We’re making a bloody mess of it putting it all away in sand-bags then!” ’ (Pte R. Love, Glasgow Commercials)*
The time arrived for the battalion to be introduced to trench warfare. Firstly, selected groups of fifty or so men, mainly officers and N.C.O.’S, and then larger parties, would go into the line for instruction with an experienced battalion.
Billy McFadzeari and his fellow Belfast men were attached to a battalion of the Royal Warwicks. One night a party of bombers drawn from both battalions was sent out to patrol No Man’s Land. One young Belfast man was handed three grenades with no instruction at all. Although supposed to be a trained bomber, he had never handled live grenades before. Later, lying in No Man’s Land with a Warwick, he started to examine them, not very carefully. Angrily the Warwick took them from him. ‘Leave them alone. You’ll blow us all up!’ Fortunately they all got back safely.
Others weren’t so lucky. A Sheffield City Battalion man was killed during his instruction period and his belongings were sent back to where the rest of the battalion was billeted. A stretcher-bearer was given the job of sorting out his kit and found, with horror, that the hat still contained his comrade’s brains.
‘Our first experience of trench warfare took place on 27 January 1915, the Kaiser’s birthday, and, believe me, this proved a very nerve-racking experience, with the Germans celebrating the occasion by a heavy bombardment all the day long on our front line.’ (Pte W. B. Corbett, 1st Edinburgh City Battalion)
Kitchener’s New Army had reached the war.
The reader might imagine that life for the soldier in France was full of violent action, either of furious attack or desperate defence. There were such moments but they took up no more than two or three days a year for the average soldier. The remainder of his time was spent in the dull routine of trench warfare.
The normal trench system had three lines of trenches: the front line, the support and the reserve. All were built in a right-angled zig-zag pattern, to minimize the effect of shells bursting in the trench, each short straight stretch being known as a bay. The three lines of trenches were joined to each other by communication trenches, and the whole system was entered from the rear by an access trench which started in ground invisible to an enemy.
The trenches contained only the crudest living accommodation; small holes dug into the ground, dug-outs, housed only the officers and the senior N.C.O.’S, and other ranks had to find shelter in smaller holes scraped into the side of the trench or often simply under a waterproof sheet. The floor of the trench was covered with slatted timber sections known as duckboards and on the side facing the enemy a fire-step was built so that the men could repel any attack.
The opposing trench systems were separated from each other by No Man’s Land, which could vary in width from half a mile in very open country to a few yards where neither side was prepared to concede a vital position to the other. Each side protected its front-line trench and sometimes its support and reserve lines with thick belts of barbed wire.
Daily routine in the trenches followed a set pattern. Before dawn all men were roused for ‘stand to’, when they would man the fire-step in case of a German attack at first light. Sometimes ‘stand to’ was accompanied by ‘morning hate’, when both sides nervously fired off large quantities of rifle and machine-gun ammunition at each other.* As both sides were also careful to keep their heads down, there were few casualties.
After ‘stand to’ it was hoped that a quiet day would follow. Breakfast was cooked over little fires ; men would shave and get washed although water, which had to be carried to the trenches, was always short. Food was plentiful but mostly tinned and always monotonous; fresh food was eagerly sought. In quiet sectors, both sides observed a truce in this morning domestic period. Any friendly artillery which did not observe it was roundly abused because it only encouraged prompt retaliation from the enemy.
Men tried to use the remainder of the day to relax or catch up on sleep, but it was never possible to enjoy an unbroken period of rest. Other men walked by, kicking the sleeper’s legs; officers inspected the trenches; jobs were found; an odd shell arrived.
At dusk, the ‘stand to’ and ‘hate’ of the morning might be repeated. Then followed the best part of the day. In some units rum was issued and hot food brought up from the rear. In theory every soldier was entitled to a carefully measured tot of thick, strong rum each day but some commanders refused to accept the issue, partly on religious grounds but mostly because they thought it would befuddle their men in a crisis. There were some sectors where the German trenches were near and, if occupied by an easy-going enemy, an evening sing-song might take place. Each side would take turns, and as darkness fell applause and encores would sound out across No Man’s Land. But for the most part the two sides neither saw nor heard their opponents for long periods.
When the night had properly fallen, both sides set to work; rations and stores had to be fetched from the battalion transport who had come up as far as the trenches, and repairs were made to the day’s damage in the trenches.
Only at night was it safe to appear above ground level. Even then, however, men were vulnerable to random fire. Parties went out to repair the wire and scouts or patrols would cross No Man’s Land, inspecting the German wire and defences or trying to hear their sentries talking. Some men liked this solitary type of warfare; it was one of the few occasions a man could use his initiative. The Germans, suspecting activity, fired occasional bursts of machine-gun fire or sent up flares or rockets. Those caught in the open by the flares had to ‘freeze’ immediately and hope to escape unseen.
Back in the trenches sentries were posted for the night to guard against an enemy raid. A man’s turn for this duty lasted up to two hours and he had to struggle to keep awake; the penalty for being found asleep on sentry duty could be severe. So the long night hours would pass until gradually the horizon over the German trenches grew light again. Another routine day had dawned on the Western Front.
Although the enemy could not be seen, spasmodic warfare was waged between the combatants. As the armies had retired below ground level, direct small-arms fire was no more than a gesture. Of all wars ever fought, in none was the artillery more dominant than in this static encounter. Given good observation and plenty of shells, the gunner had his enemy at his mercy. Soldiers in the line could never free their minds from the fear of instant death or mutilation from shell fire at any time in the war. The sudden hurricane bombardments that could start at any moment were almost certainly the ultimate terror for the infantryman. There was nothing he could do to retaliate or protect himself, except cower and hope for survival.
The British soldiers soon learnt to distinguish between the different shells fired at them. Shells from the German 15-cm. guns, bursting with a violent explosion and clouds of black smoke, were called ‘Coal Boxes’ or ‘Jack Johnsons’ (after the American boxer who was world heavyweight champion at the time). A lighter gun, which the Germans could bring right up into their trenches, was much feared by the British. Unlike a normal shell, which heralded its approach with a long shriek, the flat trajectory and high velocity resulted in the shell from this gun arriving unannounced and it was known to the British as a ‘Whizz Bang’.
A German mortar, the Minnenwerfer, fired a large metal canister which was reputed to be filled with pieces of scrap metal. Wounds from this weapon would sometimes leave fragments from old clocks and other domestic instruments in the body.
If the opposing trenches were close the two sides might bombard each other with grenades. One battalion had its own original method. ‘The bombers made a grenade launcher with a plank of wood, 6-in. nails and some strong elastic. As soon as this started firing, the Jerries naturally took cover.* One day our bombing sergeant decided to have some fun. Instead of grenades, he sent the Germans a succession of tinned stuff: jam, pork and beans, bully beef. After a bit he said, “Now I’ll make the Germans blow their bugle for their stretcher-bearers”, and he sent over a live grenade. Sure enough, we could hear the German bugle blowing.’ (Pte T. Easton, 2nd Tyneside Scottish)
Those sectors of the front where the soil was suitable and No Man’s Land narrow became mining sectors. Sappers tunnelled their way under the opposing trenches and laid explosive there. The explosion when these were blown destroyed the trenches, killing or burying those men who happened to be occupying them, and leaving a large crater. The debris blown skywards would fall around the crater causing a ‘lip’ which, being a few feet above the surrounding ground, constituted a minor defence in any open fighting. Sometimes mines were blown for nuisance value. But whenever they were part of an attack, troops would rush forward to occupy the crater and thus to establish a foothold in the opposing line.
Soon after Bill Soar had joined his battalion he went into the line on a mining sector. One night he was detailed to help some French tunnellers by removing the spoil from the mine shaft. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion and the Frenchmen came up shouting ‘Allez, allez!’; the Germans had blown their own mine. Soar rushed off into the dark but unfortunately he lost his way and stumbled into the newly blown crater, only to find it already occupied by the Germans. Poor Bill Soar, just out from England and only eighteen, was terrified but, keeping his head, he crawled out of the crater undetected and made off in what he thought a safe direction. Suddenly, in the pitch dark, he was stopped by a revolver pressed to his head. Thinking the worst, he kept still but found, to his great relief, that one of his own officers had come to look for him.
Even in the so-called ‘quiet’ times, a battalion could expect to lose about thirty men each month through death and wounds and a similar number through sickness. Lightly wounded or sick cases were mostly treated in France but more serious cases were evacuated to England, or ‘Blighty’ as it was known to the soldiers; a wound that needed prolonged treatment was therefore known as a ‘Blighty wound’.
So the dull months of trench warfare passed. Battalions did their tour of four to eight days duty in the trenches and then went back to their billets in the rear for a rest, although within a few hours they were soon drilling, training or back on the endless labouring fatigues. Very often they stayed on the same sector for month after month until their trenches became home to them. In summer the life could be tolerated; in winter, especially in wet sectors, it was pure misery.
Being so close to England, the army received many prominent visitors. After the 2nd Lincolns had arrived in France from Bermuda a party from Capt. Reginald Bastard’s company was selected for special drill. After many rehearsals, they were turned out, with Bastard himself in charge, as a guard of honour for a party of important visitors. These were King George V, the French President Poincaré and the French Commander-in-Chief, General Joffre (known as ‘Papa’ Joffre from his fatherly appearance).
One member of the Royal Family who made himself very popular with the men was the young Prince of Wales (later King Edward VIII) who was attached, as a serving officer, to one of the headquarters. The men admired him because, unlike most visitors, he insisted on seeing the troops as informally as possible, often in the front-line trenches. Many a soldier was surprised to find the Prince appearing in his trench, chatting to the men and handing out cigarettes (usually Abdullahs, much better than the routine issue).
An infantryman’s home was his battalion, a unit nominally composed of thirty-six officers and 1,000 men although, after some time in France, rarely at full strength.
There was a small headquarters with a lieutenant-colonel as c.o.; a major who acted as second-in-command; the adjutant, a captain who was the c.o.’s administrative officer, and the regimental sergeant major, the senior N.C.O. in the battalion.
The majority of the men in the battalion were in the four rifle companies, which were nominally commanded by majors; but, by 1916, casualties or promotion had taken so many of these that most companies were under the command of captains.
The company of 1916 was a very big sub-unit with 240 men on its strength. These were formed into four platoons of sixty men, each commanded by a lieutenant or a second-lieutenant. Like the majors, most of the lieutenants had gone and platoon commanders were usually newly commissioned second-lieutenants. The platoon in turn was subdivided into four sections each under a junior N.C.O.
The platoon rarely saw some of its members, for these were the specialists whose work kept them elsewhere: signallers, much envied because they heard important news before anyone else; bandsmen, who became stretcher-bearers in battle; cooks, sanitary men, transport men, clerks, pioneers and many more. The actual fighting strength of the platoon was fifty men and of the battalion about 800.
Many of the specialists never went into the trenches or took part in attacks but remained at a village in the rear which was the battalion’s home when out of the line and was known loosely as the ‘transport lines’. It was this part of the battalion that was the permanent core of the unit. As the original fighting men faded away and were replaced by the reinforcements, it was the ‘transport’ who passed the spirit of the battalion on to the newcomers. This was particularly so when a battalion had lost heavily in a big battle.
The reader may be interested to know what the various ranks were paid for their responsibilities or the dangers they faced (see table on next page).
These basic daily rates could be supplemented in various ways; the officers received field allowances of 2s. 6d. a day and the men could earn proficiency pay for various skills. But no one in the army was paid less than the infantryman. The Guards were paid more than the county regiments; all Empire troops were paid several times more than those from the Homeland. The Newfoundlanders were frequently involved in arguments with jealous English troops, who called them the ‘Fucking Five Bobbers’. Many men from poor families sent half of their pay home, leaving them less than 4s. a week. The soldiers drew their pay in francs and spent it in military canteens or in estaminets when out of the line.
| Rank | Responsibility | Daily pay |
| Lieutenant-colonel | a battalion of 35 officers and 1,000 men | 23s. |
| Captain | a company of 5 officers and 240 men | 12s. 6d. |
| Second-lieutenant | a platoon of 60 men | 7s. 6d. |
| Lance corporal | a section of 14 men | 1s. 3d. |
| Private | himself | 1s. |
Every infantryman had his own weapon even if only eighty per cent of them went into battle. The officers had revolvers or swords, both of which were useless at other than short range and only made their owners conspicuous to German marksmen.
The N.C.O.’S and men were armed with the .303 Lee Enfield rifle, to which could be attached a long sword-like bayonet which was useful for chopping wood and other domestic work. The Lee Enfield was accurate up to 1,000 yards in the hands of a good shot, but seldom did the soldier of 1916 have the chance to use it. Some carried their rifles through several years of war but never had the opportunity to fire a single shot aimed at an enemy.
Two specialist infantry weapons were the Lewis machine-gun and the hand grenade (called a Mills bomb after its inventor). The Lewis was effective when all went well but it frequently jammed and took six men to operate it in an attack: the firer, one man carrying spare parts and four more carrying ammunition.
The Mills bomb was ideal for trench fighting and clearing dug-outs, its explosion being more lethal than that of its German counterpart. But the German hand grenade was mounted on a short stick and the leverage obtained from this gave it a slight, but important, advantage in range.
Grenadiers, or ‘bombers’ as they were called, were specially trained men (Billy McFadzean was one), who wore a small grenade on their sleeve as the mark of their trade. It was rumoured, almost certainly untruly, that the Germans had crucified captured bombers in retaliation for the damage caused by grenades in night raids on their trenches. But, because of the rumour, bombers often removed their grenade badge before they went on such raids.
Various items of clothing were issued to the men as protection from winter conditions. In the winter of 1915 Billy MacFadzean’s company of Belfast men were paraded one day while they were out of the line and issued with fur jackets ready for their next tour of duty in the trenches. The jackets had been made from a variety of furs of different colours and shapes and some smelt strongly. The company paraded in new jackets and was inspected by a major mounted on horseback. After a long, silent look he said, ‘Well, C Company, you look just like a lot of London prostitutes. Dismiss.’
Another novelty, only issued as late as the spring of 1916, was the steel helmet, intended to reduce the number of head wounds. Until then the men had nothing better than their soft service caps. The helmets were so effective that such wounds were reduced by seventy-five per cent, but one divisional commander, who also forbade the issue of rum, refused at first to permit the use of steel helmets. He considered that it would encourage the men to get soft.
If a soldier’s first loyalty was to his battalion, then his second was to his division.* This was the largest formation to hold the same units permanently and its function was to operate the fighting infantry and the immediate supporting arms. The divisional commander held the rank of major-general. His infantry was divided into three brigades (of four battalions each) under brigadier-generals. In 1915 when the nature of trench warfare became apparent, a thirteenth infantry battalion, the divisional Pioneers, was added to help with labouring and construction work.
Where possible, divisions contained battalions of the same type, so that the Regular, Territorial and New Army spirit was reflected in complete divisions. The Territorials always kept their divisions exclusive but, after the Battle of Loos when the first New Army divisions in action had made a shaky start, some Regular and New Army battalions were exchanged to stiffen the inexperienced New Army men.
Of the units supporting the infantry, the most immediate were the brigade Machine Gun Companies and light Trench Mortar Batteries. Both were manned by infantrymen and both operated infantry weapons. As these new weapons had developed and multiplied, the heavier models of the machine-guns, the Vickers, and all the mortars had been withdrawn from the battalions and were operated under brigade control in specially formed units. The machine-gunners and mortar-gunners worked very closely with the battalions and occupied the same trenches.
Immediately behind the infantry stood the divisional artillery, whose weapons were the 4.5-in. howitzers, the 18-pounder field-guns and the heavy mortars. All these were manned by the Royal Field Artillery. The R.F.A. worked very closely with the infantry and a battalion in the trenches normally had a Forward Observation Officer and his signallers attached to it to give immediate artillery support.
Within the division the Royal Engineers had two responsibilities. The R.E. Signal Company was responsible for communications between the units in the division, although the infantry and artillery provided their own internal signals. The Field Companies supervised the construction and maintenance of trenches and dug-outs and the storage of ammunition in the trench system, although most of the actual work was done by the infantry, which led the men of one battalion to make up the following rhyme:
‘God made the world,
Bees make honey.
The Essex do the work,
The R.E.s get the money.’
(L/Cpl W. G. Sanders, 10th Essex)
The medical services were operated by the Royal Army Medical Corps. Its most forward element was the battalion Medical Officer, who, with a handful of R.A.M.C. orderlies, occupied a dug-out in the trenches which was his first-aid post. It was his duty to give elementary treatment only; all but the lightest cases were evacuated to the next R.A.M.C. units. These were the Field Ambulances, a confusing term, since they were operational units and not the motor ambulance vehicles themselves. Field Ambulances had no facilities for major surgery or for holding large numbers of patients. Their function was simply to get sick and wounded men back as quickly as possible to the next R.A.M.C. units, the Casualty Clearing Stations, which were outside the battle area, beyond the range of enemy guns.
In 1916 the major-general had in his division a powerful and well balanced force. It lived and moved as an entity and fought as a team. His infantry and artillery could produce fire from 10,000 rifles, 204 machine-guns (compared with only twenty-four in 1914), forty trench-mortars and sixty-four guns.
It might interest the present-day reader to know that, to serve the 19,372 men in the division, there were over 5,000 horses but only sixty-one motor vehicles, of which three only were lorries.
The divisional commander was in a unique position. He held general’s rank and at the same time he commanded a permanent infantry unit. Many became well known to their men and frequently shared their dangers. The commander of the 34th Division, which contained the Tyneside Irish and Scottish Brigades, was Maj.-Gen. Ingouville-Williams – ‘Inky Bill’ to his men. One day three wagons, loaded with trench-mortar bombs, were shelled on an exposed stretch of road. Two escaped safely but the driver of the third took cover, leaving his load in the open. ‘Inky Bill’, who had watched the episode, left the safety of a nearby trench, mounted the wagon himself and drove it to safety.
The majority of the actual fighting was done by the infantry divisions, but the B.E.F. also contained a miscellany of other units all necessary to command, feed, administer and support the divisions. The direction of the B.E.F. was in the hands of the Commander-in-Chief at General Headquarters;* between him and the divisions were two intermediate formations – ‘army’ and ‘corps’. These performed two operational functions. First, they were the means whereby the c.-in-c.’s orders were passed down to the fifty-odd infantry divisions, and secondly, they operated the specialist units which supported the infantry but did not fit into their divisions.
There were four British armies on the Western Front by the spring of 1916 and they each comprised, on an average, four infantry corps which, in turn, contained an average of three divisions each. The big difference between armies and corps on the one hand and divisions on the other, is that the former did not hold infantry units on a permanent basis whereas the divisions did. Subject to major reorganization, a division contained the same brigades and battalions permanently, but the divisions themselves were frequently transferred from the control of one corps, or army, to another. Army and corps were merely headquarters units and formed part of the chain of command linking the c.-in-c. with the front-line troops. The ordinary soldier rarely knew or cared to which corps his division was attached at any given time.
The overall direction of the war, as far as the British Army was concerned, was in the hands of the War Committee (later re-named the War Cabinet) in London. This was a body of civilians, politicians from the Liberal Government of the time, strengthened by representatives from the leading Empire countries. The War Committee was responsible to the Cabinet and eventually to Parliament, and attempted to direct the war effort of the British Empire throughout the world. The Western Front, although the greatest, was only one of their responsibilities. As it had to rely heavily upon the advice of the military and consult frequently with its allies, the War Committee’s orders all too often represented a consensus of opinion or vague guidelines rather than firm direction.
The War Committee expressed its wishes (one hesitates to use a firmer word) to the Minister of War, who passed them on to the Chief of the Imperial General Staff whose responsibility it was to translate them into action. But, as with the War Committee, his interests too were world-wide.
The next link in the chain of command was the c.-in-c. of the B.E.F. He received only general instructions from London on what was expected of him and was then left to choose his own course of action. Communication between G.H.Q. and London on detailed matters was virtually nonexistent. The c.-in-c. sent Despatches to the Government every few months but these only told of what had happened in his command since the last Despatch.* Of his future plans, he would give few details.
If the c.-in-c. was able to plan free of close control from London, he did have to consider his Allies. There was no combined command between the British, French and Belgian Armies but there was a close liaison between them. The British had started the war as a small contingent almost lost among the huge French Army and the British c.-in-c. had to conform to the moves of his ally. As his own army grew in size, the British commander’s position became stronger but he was still the junior partner in 1916 and felt obliged to be guided in his strategy by the French c.-in-c.
Militarily, too, he was forced into this position. The B.E.F. was in a foreign country, cut off from its homeland by the sea. Any attempt to act independently could have led to its isolation and destruction by the Germans. The position in mid-1916, then, was that the British c.-in-c. was influenced as much by the French as by his own government.
In his relations with his subordinate commanders the c.-in-c. had no difficulty and strict obedience was ruthlessly enforced at all levels in the chain of command. So in 1916, the c.-in-c. sat at his G.H.Q. in France; behind him only weak political direction; alongside him the French from whom he was in theory independent but whom he could ignore only at his peril; in front of him the biggest army Britain had ever put into the field, completely compliant to his wishes.
When the c.-in-c.’s orders eventually reached the private soldiers they had been passed down through eight intermediate commanders. One of the tragedies of the First World War was the gulf between leaders and led. Of the commanders in the chain of command, only those below brigade level actually lived in the trenches. Brigade commanders would visit the trenches often, divisional commanders sometimes; above that level visits were rare. Corps and army commanders had no direct interest in the transient units passing through their commands. The trenches on their sectors were numerous, intricate and difficult of access from their H.Q.’S. With a few exceptions, they satisfied themselves with visits to the battalions out of the line, training or resting, to Casualty Clearing Stations to see the wounded and to divisional H.Q.’S.
The result was that corps and army commanders and the c.-in-c. himself had never experienced trench warfare, had no direct knowledge of the living conditions of the men at the front and had not been involved personally in the abortive attacks of 1915. At a time when aerial bombing was rare, the zone of danger in France was limited to the range of the heaviest German guns. Beyond this the senior generals and their staffs could live in absolute safety and, due to the habit of setting up their H.Q.’S in the best châteaux, in some luxury.
One might imagine from the size of the British Expeditionary Force that it was responsible for defending a large and vital part of France and Belgium, but this was not so. Its zone was of a rectangular shape bounded on the west by the sea, on the east by the front line and on the north and south by the Belgian and French zones. This rectangle measured a mere sixty miles, by fifty miles and was the same size and shape as the county of Lincolnshire. The junction with the Belgians would be on the River Humber and with the French at the Wash.
Because the front line was anything but straight the total length held by the British was eighty-five miles (in mid-1916); this compared with the French front of about 300 miles and the Belgian of only fifteen. A comparison between the Allies on the lengths of front held, however, is not a fair one. Much of the French line in the south was quiet for the whole of the war; for neither side was the territory there vital. On one sector near Switzerland the French even sat just inside Germany for the whole of the war and were hardly disturbed. On the B.E.F.’s northern flank the Belgian Army was never strong enough to mount an offensive, but remained defending the last corner of its country not occupied by the Germans. The sectors held by the British were, on the average, fought over harder than any others.
The British-held trenches started just north of Ypres (‘Wipers’ to the soldiers) in Belgium, wound past the frontier into northern France, through the mining area near Lens, past Vimy Ridge, over the River Scarpe near Arras and finally down through the Somme region to the junction with the French.
When the war of movement had ceased in 1914 it was found that the Allies, for this was mostly a French Army area in 1914, had held a series of small towns usually in ground lower than the surrounding countryside. The Germans had pressed forward on either side of the towns so that they usually held the higher ground overlooking them on three sides. These front-line towns, Ypres in Belgium and Armentières, Arras and Albert in France, were to be important factors in the next four years and were to be at the centre of most of the great British offensives.
Other parts of the front became quiet sectors and, apart from the petty bickering of trench warfare, would see no large-scale action for years. On one sector, south of the River Lys, there was no major battle for nearly four years and the lines did not move until the war of movement was resumed late in 1918.
Between the front line and the coast were the lines of communications. It was in this region, at the little town of Montreuil, that G.H.Q.was situated; also in this area were the five divisions of cavalry, patiently waiting for their chance of open warfare and mounted action. They were never allowed near the front with their horses unless action was probable; they needed so much fodder that they would have placed an intolerable strain on transport resources in the battle area.
Finally, on the coast, were the great bases – Étaples (‘Heel Taps’ or ‘Eat Apples’), Le Havre and Rouen – with their hospitals and infantry reinforcement camps close to the ports connecting the B.E.F. to England.
After the big battles of 1914 the armies had become bogged down in a type of warfare that was almost a replica of the siege warfare of the Middle Ages, but with this difference – the position of neither side could be out-flanked. It is interesting to see how the combatants reacted to the stalemate.
The attitude of the French and Belgians was quite simple. They had both lost much territory and were determined on two things. Firstly, the Germans were not to be allowed to take another metre of ground and, secondly, they were to be driven off that which they had already taken as soon as possible.
The British position was not quite as simple. There was some moral obligation upon them to adopt the same policy as their Allies, although as they were not fighting upon their own soil they did not adopt the policy as passionately. In the British mind there were at least two other factors which counted as much as inter-allied loyalty.
The zone occupied by the B.E.F. was near the sea; at no point was its front line more than fifty miles from the coast in 1916 and in many places the sea was only twenty-five miles away. Another German breakthrough and advance could have separated the B.E.F. from the French Army and even cut it off from the ports. In that event, the B.E.F. would have faced complete destruction, surrender or frantic escape, rather as happened in 1940. Strategically, therefore, the British had to hold the Germans as far from the coast as possible.
Another factor influencing the British attitude was national pride. German pre-war industrial and imperial expansion, and particularly their decision to rival the British fleet, had been seen as a direct threat to the future of the British Empire. Anything other than complete victory over the Germans would have been politically and emotionally unacceptable.
So for different reasons the British, French and Belgians were all committed to the same policy – to hold their present positions and, eventually, to attack and defeat the Germans.
The Germans were in a completely different position. In the autumn of 1914 they had made breathtaking advances without gaining the complete and rapid victory that they considered essential if they were not to be trapped into a war of attrition. After one last effort at Ypres in spring 1915, Germany recognized that stalemate existed on their Western Front. They therefore decided to assume a basically defensive attitude for the time being and were easily able to defeat all French and British attacks. In 1915 they held every advantage and could afford to remain indefinitely on the defensive until some solution appeared – a collapse of the Allied will to fight, a compromise peace or a sudden chance to attack and gain victory.
So deep were they into their enemies’ territory that the exact siting of their defensive positions was flexible. They were prepared to sacrifice a few kilometres in exchange for commanding positions. Once these were occupied, the Germans proceeded methodically to construct intensive defences of great strength – and therein lies the tragedy. Because the British were unwilling to fall back, they were compelled to accept, and to launch their attacks from, inferior positions at nearly every point of the line. In a war when the side having the best artillery observation could dominate every daylight move and a few metres in height were worth thousands of men’s lives, the British soldiers found themselves under the German guns.
The British generals were aware early in 1916 that the victory that they considered inevitable would not be an easy one. The rebuffs of 1915 had convinced them that they would have to wait many months until the strength of their army was such that they could smash through the German trenches and then, in a renewed war of movement, use their greater numbers and particularly their cavalry to gain victory.
In the interval before all this became possible, they could not afford to allow their fighting troops to lose their offensive spirit in the stagnation of trench warfare. We have already seen how far the nature of trench warfare tended to promote tacit inactivity. Whereas the Germans were allowed to strengthen their defensive system, the construction of good, sound defences was discouraged in the British lines and little effort was made to provide adequate building materials. The generals feared that, once the soldiers had made themselves safe and comfortable in their trenches, they would never be made to leave them and get on with the war.
The generals hated trench warfare. It was a denial of every precept they had of war and of their own tactical initiative. In order to keep their troops offensively minded and to keep themselves occupied, they ordered a positive policy of limited offensive action. The slightest action from the Germans was to be met with instant and added retaliation; the slogan was ‘Give them three for every one’. The fact that in any action the better defences and artillery of the Germans meant that the British lost more men didn’t alter the policy; it is possible that the generals didn’t even realize this fact but, if they did, they had plenty of men available. So the orders were issued but, by the time they had been passed down the lengthy chain of command, something the generals had not expected had happened.
The British soldier had gone to war full of patriotism and enthusiasm. He had been led to believe that the German was a barbarian who had trampled over half of Europe, raped women, murdered babies and committed every possible atrocity. He believed, also, that Britain had the most capable generals and the government and people at home were solidly behind him. To many it was more like a crusade than a political war. But after his arrival at the front the soldier’s feelings changed. Although he didn’t see many Germans he came to realize that his opponent was an honest fighter, a patriotic man, who loved his Fatherland as much as the British soldier his country, and that it was the ordinary soldiers who shared the danger and misery of the trenches. This change of attitude by the British soldiers was not immediate, nor was it universal, but it was very widespread.
As the British soldier softened his attitude towards the enemy in their trenches a few yards away, his feelings towards those behind him hardened. One of the controversies of the First World War was the extent to which the ordinary soldier lost faith in his generals. Having been in contact with over 500 men of 1916, I have come to this opinion. Initially, the British generals held the complete trust of their men. By their apparent inability to solve the stalemate and their apparent indifference to the sufferings of their men they gradually lost this trust. By 1916 the process had only just started; even by 1918 it was still not complete, for some had faith in the generals to the end. The real bitterness and hatred did not show itself until after the war was over and the men realized the full extent of the tragedy. Even then, a few remained loyal to their old leaders.
Disillusionment with those at home came much quicker. The factor causing this more than any other was the strikes which were occurring in factories. In 1915 and 1916 there were 1,200 stoppages and over five million working days were lost. Many of these were in ammunition factories although a special Act of Parliament forbade such strikes. There had been a steep rise in the cost of living, and the workers were anxious to recover this and to take the opportunity of bettering their conditions generally while they were in an ideal position to force their demands. The strikes were called by the workers unofficial leaders or their shop stewards rather than by the trade unions. Some of the reasons for the strikes were ludicrous: two female workers would not join in the boycott of a factory canteen; a favourite engineer’s release from the army was held up. To the volunteer soldier in the trenches earning 1s. a day it was unbelievable, for, if he deserted his post or downed his arms, he was liable to be put before a firing squad. It seemed unforgivable, therefore, that the politicians were unable to stop these strikes. The stoppages were freely reported in the press and the Germans were amazed. Enemy prisoners told the British that if such a thing happened in their factories the strikers would be sent to the front and replaced by soldiers.
It was against this background of disappearing hatred for the Germans and growing disillusionment with his own people behind him that the British soldier received orders to adopt an offensive attitude in quiet times. The result was an effort to adopt a ‘live and let live’ attitude; something the French generals had done between their big battles from the beginning of the war.
The British soldiers would have liked to have adopted the same policy, but their generals would not allow it. At Christmas, 1914, the British and Germans had held a spontaneous, unofficial and completely successful truce for a full week. Men had met in No Man’s Land, exchanged cigarettes and cap badges, taken photographs of each other, and provided neither tried to go into the other’s trenches, there was no firing at all. On New Year’s Day the truce ended and strict orders were issued by the British generals that it was never to be repeated.
When General Sir Douglas Haig became c.-in-c. in December, 1915, he confirmed this order and one of the first problems he was faced with, after Christmas, was what disciplinary action to take over two officers of the Scots Guards who had immediately broken the order, and been court-martialled. Capt. Miles Barne, an acting battalion commander, was acquitted but Capt. Sir Iain Colquhoun reprimanded. Haig confirmed the sentence.* Opportunities for fraternization in 1914–style were rare, although in one village on a quiet sector near Lens, both sides used the same village pump quite amicably for several months.
The ‘live and let live’ attitude in normal times took a more subtle form; both sides simply refrained from provoking the other and settled down to live as comfortably as they could together. The British soldier was not afraid to fight and die when there was a chance of a successful attack and he would certainly defend his trench against an enemy assault, but he could not understand the belligerent policy forced upon him during quiet times which always brought him more loss than the enemy. There was, therefore, a conflict between the policy adopted by the generals and the attitude of the men in the trenches. The result was that the generals’ orders were not always fully carried out.
It is difficult to pinpoint exactly where in the chain of command the first resistance was met. Army and corps commanders mostly passed orders on enthusiastically; the troops under their command were not permanently theirs and so the losses did not affect them directly; furthermore they were under the immediate eye of the c.-in-c.
The resistance probably started at the level of divisional commander. Most major-generals loved their divisions and wished to preserve them for the big attacks which would give them and their men a chance of glory. On the other hand, they were in a difficult position. The worst thing that could happen to a general in France was to be relieved of his command and returned to England (the two expressions used were ‘stellenbosched’, after a town in the Boer War, and ‘degommered’, from the French word meaning ‘to become unstuck’). A career general would never get another field command; he would lose the temporary rank which most of them held; even death was preferable to the disgrace. To avoid this, any general whose position was threatened by the ‘stickiness’ of a junior would certainly get rid of that junior. This process was repeated in lessening degrees through the remainder of the chain of command, although at lower levels the penalty was a court martial rather than to be sent home. Most lance corporals would have happily gone home and the resulting loss of one stripe would not have bothered them.