Exactly at 7.30 A.M. an uncanny silence fell over the battlefield. The British barrage suddenly ceased as it lifted from the German front line and gun-layers adjusted their sights for the next target. By a strange coincidence, the German guns, too, were silent. It was eerie; the sun was shining out of a cloudless sky, birds hovered and swooped over the trenches, singing clearly. To the men it seemed a weird anti-climax. ‘Suddenly, for a few seconds, all seemed silent, the firing had quietened down. I walked up and down the footboards saying to the men, “It’s a walk-over.” I had almost a feeling of disappointment. It was short lived.’(Lieut M. Asquith, 1st Barnsley Pals)
After a few seconds the quiet was shattered as the British barrage fell upon the next line of enemy defences. In their own trenches whistles blew, shouts came from the platoon and section commanders. The Battle of the Somme had started.
The first away were those lying out in No Man’s Land. The long lines rose, men looked to left and right as if to correct their dressing on a parade ground and set off after their officers at the steady, well-rehearsed pace towards the enemy. There was no rushing, no shouting.
For most, however, it was a case of over the top. First up the ladders were the platoon commanders; behind them the heavily loaded men struggled to get out quickly, urged on by those following. Officers ran along the parapet shouting encouragement, leaning in and giving a hand to pull the over-burdened soldiers up and out.
Before these men could form up in their waves they had first to pass through their own barbed-wire defences. Some units took duck-boards over with them and placed these on the wire to make bridges, but most had to file through paths cut the previous night before they could get into the open. Now that the action had begun most men lost their fear; they knew what they had to do, their friends were all around them, their officers leading. They pushed through the wire and took their places in the waves.
The Germans, however, were alert; their reaction was swift and deadly. An attacker at Gommecourt could hear a bugle as a look-out called the Germans from their dug-outs to man the trenches. The first machine-guns were soon in action and found easy targets. British soldiers struggling out of their trenches were hit and tumbled back, some dead before they fell. ‘The German machine-gun fire was terrible. Our colonel was hit after only a few steps along the trench. I helped to prop him up against the trench side. Then, we climbed on to the top of the trench. I had not reached my full height when a machine-gun bullet smacked into my steel helmet. I felt as if I had been hit with a sledge hammer. I caught a glimpse of my helmet; it was completely smashed in.’ (Pte W. H. T. Carter, 1st Bradford Pals)
The Germans spotted some of the gaps in the British wire and their machine-guns soon turned these narrow alleys into death-traps; men trying to avoid their dead and wounded comrades got caught and were themselves hit.
In spite of the unexpected opposition there was no hesitation as more and more men left the trenches and, if they could, formed up into their waves. They were bewildered; the Germans were all supposed to be dead. ‘We had no idea what it was going to be like but a few yards from our trench, a Whizz Bang caught my platoon sergeant in the throat and his head disappeared.’ (Pte J. Devennie, Derry Volunteers) There was no time for logical thought; discipline and training took control of their bodily movements. ‘The only feeling I had was to get to the objective and stay there and the thought that was uppermost in my mind was the phrase “For England”, which I seemed to be repeating continually. This is the truth and not put in for heroics. To be perfectly truthful, I was scared stiff.’ (Pte W. L. P. Dunn, 1st Liverpool Pals)
At Gommecourt, the attack by the North Midland Division started badly; everything seemed to be going wrong. This sector had had the worst of the wet weather and some of the men had spent the night up to their knees or waists in mud and water. The German shelling had been very heavy during the night and there had been many casualties. A smoke-screen, although it may have shielded the attackers from the enemy, combined in some cases with a liberal rum issue to cause confusion. On the extreme left Bugler Bill Soar went over with the second wave of his battalion but it was impossible to get the men lined up properly. Soar and those others who could be mustered were formed up in makeshift fashion and set off into the smoke-screen towards the German trenches.
In the 8th East Surreys, Capt. Nevill’s four platoons, each with a football, competed for their company commander’s prize. Nevill himself kicked off. ‘As the gun-fire died away I saw an infantryman climb onto the parapet into No Man’s Land, beckoning others to follow. As he did so he kicked off a football; a good kick, the ball rose and travelled well towards the German line. That seemed to be the signal to advance.’ (Pte L. S. Price, 8th Royal Sussex)*
Those who had been able to get out of their trenches and form up into waves without being fired upon started their advance. As far as the eye could see, lines of men moved forward, their rifles held across their chests, bayonets glinting in the morning sun. ‘As we advanced out of our trenches the sun was shining gloriously and it seemed as if every bird in the sky was trying to outsing the noise of the guns.’ (L/Cpl L. C. Palmer, Glasgow Commercials) At La Boisselle another sound competed with the din of battle; the four Tyneside Scottish battalions’ pipers played their men into action.
When the Sheffield City Battalion men went over they looked for the white tapes left out the previous night to guide them to the gaps in the German wire, but the tapes were gone. The Germans had pulled them in during the night.
All along the eighteen-mile front, the leading waves paced farther across No Man’s Land, into ground where no man had stood in daylight for nearly two years. There were, as yet, few shell holes here and animals were still living amid the wild flowers and rank summer grass. At Gommecourt a subaltern in the London Division disturbed a hare which ran off from under his feet and across the battlefield; both were startled by the encounter.
It was in these open spaces in the middle of No Man’s Land that the German machine-gunners found their choicest targets. From their trenches came the ‘tac-tac-tac’ of the guns as they traversed to and fro along the endless lines of advancing men. Whole waves were swept over by the fire. The dead lay in long rows where they had fallen, the wounded lay with them, pretending to be dead, or took cover wherever they could – in a fold in the ground, in one of the rare shell holes. Many huddled behind the body of a dead comrade. If a wave or part of it was missed by the first sweep, back would come the traverse of fire seeking out the survivors.‘The long line of men came forward, rifles at the port as ordered. Now Gerry started. His machine-guns let fly. Down they all went. I could see them dropping one after another as the gun swept along them. The officer went down at exactly the same time as the man behind him. Another minute or so and another wave came forward. Gerry was ready this time and this lot did not get so far as the others.’ (Pte W. J. Senescall, The Cambridge Battalion)
‘For some reason nothing seemed to happen to us at first; we strolled along as though walking in a park. Then, suddenly, we were in the midst of a storm of machine-gun bullets and I saw men beginning to twirl round and fall in all kinds of curious ways as they were hit – quite unlike the way actors do it in films.’ (Pte W. Slater, 2nd Bradford Pals)
Just outside Mametz, the 9th Devons did not attack from their front-line trench which had been badly damaged by shell fire, but from the support line. As Capt. Martin led his company forward at zero hour, they were for some time sheltered by the small hill at Mansel Copse but, as the Devons topped the rise and moved downhill, they were in full view of any enemy who might have survived the bombardment.
A single machine-gun, built into the base of the crucifix on the edge of the village, exactly where Capt. Martin had forecast, was only 400 yards away – easy range for a competent machine-gunner. The crew had survived; the gun was not damaged and, when it opened fire, it caught the Devons on the exposed slope. Scores of men went down, among them Capt. Martin, killed at the exact spot by Mansel Copse that he had predicted from his model would be where his company would be doomed.
In spite of the terrible fire, the infantry kept going. Although the leading waves had been broken, individual survivors kept to their steady, disciplined pace. The waves behind them met the same fire and always a few men survived and kept going. Men could hear the German machine-guns; they could see, farther along their wave, comrades falling silently into the grass or crying out as bullets struck home; they could sense the fire scything towards them. They suffered a variety of emotions, from astonishment and anger to numbness or absolute terror, but few wavered.
When the main salvo of mines had gone off at 7.28 A.M., one had not exploded. The R.E. officer waiting to detonate the mine under the German-held position at Kasino Point was horrified to see British infantry all around him climbing out of their trenches and setting off across No Man’s Land before he had blown the mine. He was in a dilemma. The mine (of 5,000 pounds) was all ready and a German machine-gun at Kasino Point was firing on the British infantry as they crossed No Man’s Land. He decided to fire the mine and as he pressed the plunger there was the usual roar and blast of the explosion.
A section leader of the 10th Essex was out in No Man’s Land as the mine went up: ‘I looked left to see if my men were keeping a straight line. I saw a sight I shall never forget. A giant fountain, rising from our line of men, about 100 yards from me. Still on the move I stared at this, not realizing what it was. It rose, a great column nearly as high as Nelson’s Column, then slowly toppled over. Before I could think, I saw huge slabs of earth and chalk thudding down, some with flames attached, onto the troops as they advanced.’ (L/Cpl E. J. Fisher, 10th Essex)
In addition to the late firing of the mine there must have been a defect in the placing of the charge. It was while working on this mine that the tunnellers had broken into a German dug-out by mistake; perhaps the charge had been placed too shallow. Whatever the reason, the debris of the mine, instead of rising straight up and falling back around the crater in the normal manner, spread out and fell over a wide area. British soldiers from at least four different battalions were struck by falling stone and soil, suffering many casualties.
The late explosion certainly surprised the Germans. Their machine-gun post at Kasino Point had, of course, gone sky-high, the gun crew blown into eternity; nearby posts were also destroyed or badly shaken. The fire faltered, the British recovered and swept forward on either side of the crater and over the German trenches.
L/Cpl Charles Matthews and his section were about 300 yards away from the mine, still in the British reserve trench. The Northamptons knew nothing of the existence of the mine and as the debris flew into the air and started falling they presumed that it was an enemy mine blown under the British front line. A huge lump of chalk and earth crashed down onto the edge of the trench near Matthews and then, disintegrating, fell over him before he could move out of the way. So brutal was the fall that his rifle was broken and he was buried from the waist down. A bag of grenades Matthews had been holding was buried with him; fortunately no pins came out and they did not explode. He was the only one wounded and his companions started dragging the rubble away from him. But Matthews was so badly crushed that every movement caused him great pain.
Now a new danger menaced the British. The German artillery had, until now, been firing steadily on the British gun positions, the rear and the trenches. But once it was clear that the British were attacking, the German batteries opened their defensive barrage on the centre of No Man’s Land and the British front-line trench system. The scale and accuracy of the German shell fire was a rude shock to the British, who believed that the seven-day bombardment had destroyed most of the German batteries. Along the centre of No Man’s Land a long line of bursting shells could be seen. The accuracy was astonishing; as each battery fired, the fountains of earth and black smoke appeared as straight and as evenly spaced as a row of trees.
The first waves had mostly crossed before the barrage started but, as salvo after salvo fell, the following waves could not avoid challenging this new barrier. ‘On my left I could see large shell bursts as the West Yorks advanced and saw many men falling forward. I thought at first they were looking for nose-caps (a favourite souvenir) and it was some time before I realized they were hit.’ (Pte E. C. Stanley, 1/8th Royal Warwicks) ‘Men were falling right and left of me, screaming above the noise of the shell fire and machine-guns – guns we had been assured would have been silenced by our barrage. No man in his right mind would have done what we were doing.’ (L/Cpl J. J. Cousins, 7th Bedfords) ‘Before we had advanced far, Jerry’s guns had joined in the deafening roar and I actually saw a howitzer shell of large calibre plunge out of the air, bury itself, explode and blow one of A Company over backwards. He jumped up immediately and advanced with the rest. I don’t think he was wounded in any way.’ (Cpl J. Norton, 8th Norfolk)
So far, Dick King had been lucky. Before zero hour his platoon had gone out a few yards into No Man’s Land and lain down waiting for the signal to attack. Promptly at 7.30 A.M. the platoon commander blew his whistle and the K.O.Y.L.I.s rose. At that very moment a German machine-gun opened fire on them and caused many casualties. His brother Frank was badly wounded just as he was getting to his feet by a bullet which passed through his arm and lung.
Dick King survived this moment of danger and made good progress with the Lewis gun team up a gentle, grassy slope. The sun was already hot, making them sweat under their loads, but in some ways it was a relief to be on the move. Then, without warning, the German barrage fell in the centre of No Man’s Land, a salvo of heavy shells landing among the leading wave. When the survivors emerged from the smoke and dust, Dick King was not with them. One of the bursting shells had been so close to him that he had been, quite literally, blown to pieces.*
C.S.M. Percy Chappell’s company of the Somerset Light Infantry was supposed to leave the British front line three minutes after another battalion, but before that interval had elapsed, more troops from the rear had arrived, anxious to get on. Chappell had consulted with his company commander, who decided not to wait. They had reached the far side of No Man’s Land and were almost at the enemy wire before the barrage fell behind them. Chappell blessed the decision to start early which had put his company on the safe side of the shells. Looking back he saw the following companies of the Somersets advance without hesitation into the line of shell-bursts and reappear on his side just as steadily but pitifully reduced in number.
It is easy to use words like courage and determination but this display by thousands of ordinary infantrymen, burdened down with their huge loads and facing several hundred yards of bullet and shell-swept open ground before they could get near the enemy, was superb. The British soldiers were showing themselves at their best as, keeping at the same steady pace, they walked towards what they must have thought was certain death.
Even some wounded men who could have been excused for taking shelter in the shell holes which were appearing all over No Man’s Land or for turning back, kept going, determined not to let down their friends. ‘For some time I walked across No Man’s Land with a man who had a severe wound in his jaw and he kept going until he collapsed.’ (Pte G. T. Rudge, 2nd Essex)
Those attackers who had survived the shells and bullets approached the German trenches, where they were at least free from the worst of the shelling, and, here, some met their first Germans, the unseen enemy who had been tormenting them for months. A Lewis gunner describes his first encounter: ‘Up and over, the first thing I noticed, how the top of the tall grass was flying up in a bit of a mist; this was caused by the machine-guns traversing at waist height against us. Then we were calling Jerry everything. My men were falling all round, some shouting, “I’m hit” or “I’ve got it”, and some not a word. Then, as we were advancing, a bunch of Jerries loomed up from nowhere. I let a burst into them but, when we got to them, we found they were surrendering.’ (L/Cpl W. G. Sanders, 10th Essex)
‘When I got near the German trenches I could see some of them coming out with their hands up but, when they saw how many of us had been hit, they changed their minds and ran back again.’ (Pte A. Fretwell, Sheffield City Battalion)
Lieut Philip Howe had made a good crossing of No Man’s Land. His objective was a German trench well behind their front line named Lonely Trench. He had been ordered to take his platoon, which was in the leading wave, and to stop for nothing until he reached his objective. Howe had gone over the top promptly and crossed No Man’s Land as quickly as he could. He could hear bullets whistling all around him but, heeding his instructions, he kept going and did not bother about those behind him. As he reached the German wire he could see that it was well cut and in the German front-line trench he could see only one of the enemy.
This solitary German, an officer, came out towards them and started throwing grenades at the West Yorks, almost as though he wanted to take on the whole British Army on his own. There followed a short duel around some shell holes between Howe with his revolver and the German officer with his grenades, the affair being settled when the German was shot dead by one of Howe’s platoon with a rifle. After this diversion Philip Howe set off again to his objective, Lonely Trench, which was still some distance away.
Where the British had suffered particularly heavily the few survivors could see the Germans were actually standing up on the parapets of their trenches, so confident and exultant that they were shouting and taunting their seemingly beaten foes. ‘As I approached the German trenches, I could see a wall of German soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder right along the parapet of their front-line trench, waving to us to come on.’ (Pte L. Ramage, Glasgow Boys’ Brigade Battalion)
Next, the men arrived at that most controversial barrier, the German barbed wire. They had been told that the artillery and mortar barrage would have blown it away but patrols had come back with stories that it was intact. Were the rumours exaggerated? On a front eighteen miles long there could be no precise answer; as with so much in a big battle it was a matter of luck for each individual soldier. There were many like Philip Howe who had found the wire so well cut that they were able to pass over it and on to their objectives with nothing but a passing glance. Others found it partially cut but tossed into big coils up to ten feet high; if they were careful they could find a passage through. For most, however, the encounter was a tragic disappointment after the promises of their officers. They found themselves faced with a wide belt of uncut wire and, beyond that, the Germans.
At Gommecourt a soldier found one reason why the wire had not been cut. ‘I was in the first wave. My first impression was the sight of hundreds of unexploded mortar bombs. As large and round as big footballs, I thought how like oranges they looked, they were bright orange-yellow. They were supposed to destroy the German wire which was almost untouched. I doubt if one had exploded.’ (Pte G. S. Young, 1/6th North Staffs). These bombs, known as ‘plum puddings’ or ‘toffee apples’, were fired, attached to a stick, from a mortar; only recently introduced, the sticks often came off in flight resulting in duds.
Desperately, men struggled to get through the wire but only got more enmeshed; their equipment caught on the long barbs and made them helpless. They were picked off at leisure by the German riflemen, bodies jerking in their death throes, in the writhing, twanging wire. ‘I could see that our leading waves had got caught by their kilts. They were killed hanging on the wire, riddled with bullets, like crows shot on a dyke.’ (Pte J. S. Reid, 2nd Seaforth Highlanders)
On the worst sectors, frantic men ran along the wire searching for gaps but, if they did discover one, often found themselves in a death-trap. The German machine-gunners were covering every gap.
Isolated men finding themselves without support and faced with uncut wire took cover where they could and waited either for fresh waves to come up if the attack went well, or for the Germans to come out and kill or capture them.
After his long, hazardous crossing of No Man’s Land, and if he was lucky enough to find the wire well cut, the soldier arrived at his first objective – the German front-line trench. In theory this, like the wire, should have been completely destroyed and the defenders all killed by the bombardment. But it was already painfully clear that the Germans were very much alive and determined to defend their positions. Although the trenches had been badly damaged by the bombardment there was still adequate cover for those Germans who had managed to survive. Instead of strolling over them ‘with pipes lit and rifles at the slope’, the British infantry had to fight hard to capture the enemy front lines, but it was essential that they did so, otherwise their rear waves and the follow-up battalions would suffer the same fate as the leaders coming across No Man’s Land. There was one consolation; at last they were near enough to hit back at the Germans.
Only in a few places had the promise of the bombardment been fulfilled, with the German trenches destroyed and only little opposition. Where the losses coming across No Man’s Land had been heavy, the men from the leading waves who survived and found an easy entry into the German trenches sometimes had to act on their own and some had weird, lonely experiences until the following waves caught them up.
‘Out of breath and to gather my wits and strength I dropped into a shell hole just in front of the German wire. I peeped over the edge, fired a shot at a round hat on a German head that suddenly appeared, rushed the last few yards and jumped into the German trench. I saw nobody there, friend or foe. It was very eerie but I recall facing our old front lines and being appalled at the poor positioning of them. They were absolutely clearly overlooked by the enemy for all those terrible months preceding the battle. Sitting ducks we must have been, I thought.
‘I then went on to the second-line trench and jumped in, to see a German soldier lying on the parapet. With fixed bayonet I approached, then I saw his putty-coloured face which convinced me he was mortally wounded. The German brought up an arm and actually saluted me. I understood no German language but the poor chap kept muttering two words “Wasser, Wasser”, and “Mutter, Mutter”. It took me a minute or so to realize he wanted a drink of water. The second word I could not cotton on to. I am glad to this day that I gave him a drink from my precious water.’ (Pte G. R. S. Mayne, 11th Royal Fusiliers)
Some men had been ordered not to wait at the front-line trench but to push on to more distant objectives. ‘I found the German wire well cut and their front-line trench flattened. There were one or two dead there, that’s all. But only three out of our company got past there. There was my lieutenant, a sergeant and myself. The rest seemed to have been hit in No Man’s Land. I had the wind up and the officer said, “God, God, where’s the rest of the boys?”
‘We could see a long way on either side of us, but we couldn’t see a soul. We went on still further and nearly reached the village [La Boisselle]; then I felt a sharp stab in my arm and blood spurted out. The others helped me to take my equipment off and then they set off again. I thought to myself “They’ll never get back” – and they didn’t.’ (Pte L. Dodd, 4th Tyneside Scottish)
Bugler Bill Soar, in the second wave, found that some of the first had managed to get through the wire and over the deserted German trench. Soar, with four others, the remnants of his wave, followed them. When they got over the front line they found that the leaders were under fire from the next trench, so the five took cover behind them. Soar looked round but could see no more Sherwood Foresters following. Instead, he watched three Germans in their shirt-sleeves emerge from a dug-out behind him. They were armed and immediately started firing rifle grenades at the Nottingham men.
After trying to dodge these for some time, Soar took stock of the situation. The men from the first wave appeared to have been killed or taken prisoner and there were no other British troops on either side of them. Soar had achieved the doubtful privilege of being the left-hand man of the whole eighteen-mile attack, but he and his friends were in an exposed position and obviously cut off. One of the men, Soar’s close friend, had been badly injured in the foot by one of the rifle grenades and could not move.
Soar’s predicament was a common one. While the lucky or skilful ones could carry on with their planned advance and were being backed up by the following waves, small unsupported parties like his were being cut off by Germans appearing behind them.
Elsewhere, there was no easy crossing or capture of the German trenches, but a hard fight to get into them. The British infantry took cover outside the wire and furious little battles developed. ‘We dashed forward and I found, right in my line of advance, a patch of thistles and nettles. Reaching this, I pushed the Lewis gun through this small, but dense growth of weeds. This afforded complete horizontal cover to my number two with his ammunition, and for my body. Having pushed the gun through and dividing the nettles, I found my first target of the day, six or eight Germans in a trench firing at our men stranded in the open. One good burst of fire cleared that parapet.’ (Cpl J. Norton, 8th Norfolks)
‘We were soon obliged to fall flat in the grass to escape the hail of machine-gun fire. As we lay there, a comrade beside me raised his head a little and asked me in which direction were the enemy lines. These were the last words he uttered. There was a sound like a plop, he gave a shudder and lay still. The bullet had passed through his eye. It was about this time that my feeling of confidence was replaced by an acceptance of the fact that I had been sent here to die.’ (Pte J. G. Crossley, 15th Durham Light Infantry)
At this crucial stage of the attack these fights were vicious, with no mercy shown by either side. The Germans had the advantage of cover and inflicted heavy casualties. If the British did eventually force their way into the trenches, some Germans, who had fought to the last possible moment, threw down their rifles and tried to surrender. But many left it too late and were shot down or bayoneted. Other Germans fought to the end: ‘One German, only about ten feet away, shot me through the shoulder. Although the bullet came out near my hip, I was not hurt too badly and, instinctively, I threw myself at him and he fell down underneath me. Then the poor man died. He must have been hit before and had saved himself for this last effort. He was a plucky fellow.’ (Maj. C. J. Low, D.S.O., 1st London Scottish)
These trench fights were the scenes of some very brave actions. C.S.M. Percy Chappell had been lucky getting across No Man’s Land before the German barrage had fallen upon it but, at the far side, the battalion they were following, the 1st Rifle Brigade, was held up at the German wire and an indecisive bombing fight was taking place. Suddenly, a Rifle Brigade officer stood up and shouted, ‘Come on, lads. Let them have it!’ and the whole line rose and charged the enemy trench. This resolute action made the Germans bolt and freed the Somersets from being pinned down in the open. The Rifle Brigade and the Somersets found they were in the Quadrilateral Redoubt but the force that gathered there was very weak. Some started mopping-up and consolidating the maze of trenches, dug-outs and tunnels, while others pushed on to the next line of German trenches.
The losses in No Man’s Land had been so heavy that in many places the fight could only be carried on by individuals in lonely and isolated actions. ‘I found myself alone in front of a trench with three Germans firing their rifles. I returned their fire and took what cover was possible, which, at the time, seemed infinitesimal. I saw, some distance away, a young boy from our battalion break cover and run for the German trenches but he was set on by four or five Germans and killed with bayonets. I jumped into the trench, ready with my bayonet to encounter the three Germans but they were all lying about in such awkward looking positions with blood all over them and I laughed outright – the reaction, I suppose.’ (Pte R. Love, Glasgow Commercials)
The British were fighting not only for the trenches but also for the craters left by the newly blown mines, their fresh chalk glistening white in the bright sunshine. These craters would be valuable prizes; the raised lips could dominate the surrounding German trenches; the interiors, still smoking and stinking from the recent explosion, would be a safe haven from the terrible machine-gun fire. As with all crater fighting, it was a race by both sides for possession. At Beaumont Hamel, where the Hawthorn Redoubt mine had been blown ten minutes before the infantry attack, a company of the 2nd Royal Fusiliers was ready. As soon as the debris had settled they rushed the crater and managed to secure the near side but not all of the far side. The Germans had been quick to react and had gained the remainder.
South of La Boisselle, the Grimsby Chums managed to beat the Germans to the Lochnager crater. They lined the lip nearest to the Germans and consolidated this important foothold in the German line. Gradually, wounded and lost men from many units found their way in from the naked expanse of Sausage Valley and took shelter in the crater. The prominent feature soon became the target for German fire. ‘I saw a man near me, shot through his head. He rolled over and over right to the bottom of the crater.’ (Cpl A. Dickinson, Grimsby Chums)
While the leading troops fought for the German trenches the following waves remorselessly continued to set off after them. These contained the rear of the first battalions – their H.Q.S, with the signallers and runners, and the mopping-up parties who would complete the clearance of the captured trenches. On some sectors more than one battalion was making the initial attack, the leading battalions being followed by another or even two more, so that within a few minutes of the opening of the attack, there could be up to twenty waves of men out in the open at once.
Just north of Fricourt, the 10th Green Howards were following a battalion of the Somerset Light Infantry. The Green Howards wavered as machine-guns sprayed the top of their trench. A company commander, Maj. Loudoun-Shand, jumped up onto the parapet and ran along urging his men forward, until he was hit and fell back into the trench. Even then, he insisted on being propped up and continued exhorting his men until he died. His heroism was recognized by the award of the second Victoria Cross of the day.
Opposite the Thiepval Spur, where a ruined château looked down on No Man’s Land, the initial attack had been carried out by the 1st Salford Pals and the Newcastle Commercials. In each, the first three companies had attacked but the German machine-gun fire had cut down all six waves and not a man had reached the German wire. Both c.o.’s issued a sensible order: the last companies were not to go over. Instead, the men were ordered to man the fire-steps and fire on the Germans who could be seen quite clearly on the other side of No Man’s Land, standing on their parapets, shooting at the survivors pinned down in the open. These orders certainly saved many lives but it meant that the attack on the vital Thiepval Spur had been abandoned, at least for the time being.
Near Kasino Point, where L/Cpl Charles Matthews was buried to his waist in debris, the whistles blew: it was time for his section, which was originally designated a mopping-up party, to go over. Matthews’ best friend, Bert Smith, was prepared to disobey orders and stay behind to free him, but Matthews ordered Smith to go, assuring him that either stretcher-bearers would soon release him or some mortar gunners farther down the trench, who had now stopped firing, would come along and help. Reluctantly Smith left his friend and went over with the rest.* The frantic attentions of his friends had been so painful that Matthews preferred to be left for a more leisurely release.
So the following waves set off for their crossing of No Man’s Land. In those sectors where the leaders had done well, the machine-gun fire had eased off but there was still the German barrage falling steadily all along the middle of No Man’s Land. Here the waves crossed, losing men, but arriving at the far side in sufficient strength to renew the momentum of the attack. These were the lucky ones; for most the prospects of getting across safely were grim. There were very few occasions, like that of the two battalions at Thiepval, where the attack was deliberately stopped. Most had to form up in their waves and walk into the fire-swept zone. They met fear-crazed survivors running back and badly wounded men dragging themselves along. They had to step over the bodies of the dead, torn-off limbs and torsos mangled by shell fire, or rows of bodies hardly marked but victims of machine-gun bullets, the eyes already glazing in death. Some did not get far. As with the leading waves, unsubdued German machine-guns soon found their range and whole waves of men were shot down. The attack faltered, the survivors jumping into the nearest shell hole, of which there were now many in No Man’s Land offering protection for those who could reach them.
Opposite Ovillers, Lieut-Col. Reginald Bastard had watched the leading waves of his battalion attack. At first all had gone well, the straight lines of men had got half-way over No Man’s Land without trouble, but then two things happened at once. The Germans, especially those in the fortified village just behind their own front line, poured heavy machine-gun fire into the Lincolns. At the same time the defenders fired red distress rockets which brought down the usual heavy barrage in No Man’s Land. Immediately, the well ordered waves were thrown into confusion. Men went down on all sides and the second and third waves rushed forward to get out of the barrage and became mixed up with the leaders. The remnants who reached the other side fought hard and gained some footholds in the German trench.
Bastard could see only part of this as, with his battalion H.Q., he led the last company into No Man’s Land. Ahead of him he could see the German shells throwing up huge showers of earth and hear the tapping of the machine-guns, but he could also hear the sounds of his own men fighting in the German trenches.
Near Serre, a follow-up party of Durham Pals went over. ‘I was in charge of our small section and one man was carrying a six-foot stick with a red pennant on top; in my opinion a stupid idea. Other specialist squads were carrying a similar emblem of death – “Excelsior” had nothing on us.
Then we got over the top and the first thing that happened in No Man’s Land was a fight between the chap with the flag and ourselves. We threatened to bash him if he did not throw the damned thing away. In the end he left us and all he needed to complete the picture was a dog. We were, at this time, in very high grass, well above our heads, and only his flag could be seen.
‘Later, after I had been wounded, I got back to our line and there, bejabbers, was the man, still holding the pole. Did Excelsior do so well?’ (Pte R. T. Tait, Durham Pals)
One of the German front-line villages, Fricourt, had not been attacked. It was hoped that successful advances on either side would force the village to fall with a frontal attack. In the trenches facing the village was a Yorkshire battalion, the 7th Green Howards, who had been told not to move until ordered to do so. If Fricourt fell they would occupy the village; if not, they would have to attack it later in the day.
The officer commanding the right-hand Green Howards company watched the main attack; all seemed to be going well. Perhaps he thought the Germans in Fricourt must be dead; perhaps he misunderstood his instructions. For whatever reason, he ordered his company to attack. The German machine-guns in Fricourt immediately caught the exposed company of Yorkshiremen, and within moments the company’s advance was halted. The news of this unnecessary disaster went back: ‘I got a message to say that A Company on the right had assaulted at 8.20. I did not believe this but sent the adjutant to find out. He reported that it was true. I could only account for this by supposing that the company commander had gone mad. Later a report came in saying that what was left of the company were lying out in front of our wire and that they were being heavily fired on by machine-guns and snipers.’ (Lieut-Col. R. Fife, 7th Green Howards)*
A Company had attacked with 140 men; 108 had become casualties due to this tragic mistake. The company commander was severely wounded.
In this vast battlefield, with thousands of men playing their parts, and where the overall plan was going hopelessly wrong, it was often left to each individual to decide his own destiny. One cannot blame lone survivors for taking shelter in shell holes but the devotion of many who, finding themselves alone, continued to do their duty, often to find death in the process, is one of the remarkable features of this desperate part of the day.
In Sausage Valley a young signaller set off, one of a party of five men whose task was to follow the leading troops with a large drum of signal wire. Four of the five were soon killed or wounded. The survivor paused to consider what he should do: ‘Well, I suppose this is where the old discipline came in. I dare not stop. I was not wounded; so forward I had to go. I could not carry the drum myself so I did the unforgivable thing and left my rifle behind. Well, I pushed the drum along as well as I could and I had to negotiate corpses, shouting wounded men and large lumps of earth. Puffing and panting, I kept this up for a long time, as I was crawling along on my stomach and progress was slow. At last, I thought, I must have a look round. I had got some thirty yards from Jerry’s trench. I could see the German hats moving about their trench top. That settled it – no use taking the wire to them.’ (Pte J. W. Senescall, The Cambridge Battalion)
Not far away was being played out one of the morning’s epics. La Boisselle, the fortified village on the main road, was the key to the advance to Pozières and any eventual breakthrough to Bapaume. The task of capturing La Boisselle had been given to Maj.-Gen. Ingouville-Williams’s 34th Division. He had placed two brigades in the front line whose duty it was to capture the German trenches on either side of the village and then the village itself. Behind the British front line, and separated from it by Avoca Valley, was the Tara–Usna Line, astride the main road. Posted in this line was his third brigade – the four battalions of Tyneside Irish – the Irish names of Tara, Usna and Avoca forming a suitable setting for their exploits. Their task was to pass through the leading brigades after these had captured the German trenches and the village and push into the rear, helping to create the gap. If a real collapse of the German defences on the sector occurred, the 19th (Western) Division and the cavalry were to follow the Tyneside Irish – Gough’s Mobile Army would get its chance.
The divisional commander’s plan had been a straightforward one. At zero hour every battalion in his division would leave their trenches and advance; he left nothing in reserve. He was clearly determined to force the defences guarding the main road to Pozières. Precisely on time the Tyneside Irish Brigade, 3,000 men strong, rose from the Tara–Usna Line and advanced in waves down the open slopes of the Avoca Valley. They had to cover nearly one mile of completely open ground before they reached the original British front line.
Behind the German front line the defenders of La Boisselle had not been destroyed by the bombardment and the German machine-gunners there dominated all the surrounding ground. As soon as they saw these long lines of men coming steadily down the hillside in front of them, they raised their machine-gun sights and opened fire. An officer from a Pioneer battalion was watching the Tyneside Irish advance: ‘As they moved forward, the sun gradually shone through the mist and the bayonets glinted. They then commenced to have losses but, as each man fell, the men behind increased speed and the pattern was maintained. No man was allowed to stop to assist casualties and the march continued to the beat of a single big drum, centrally placed.’ (Capt. R. Wood, 18th Northumberland Fusiliers)
The effect of the German fire was dramatic. Wave after wave of the Geordies was cut down but still they kept coming on, individual men or small parties stepping out when all around them had gone down. ‘I could see, away to my left and right, long lines of men. Then I heard the “patter, patter” of machine-guns in the distance. By the time I’d gone another ten yards there seemed to be only a few men left around me; by the time I had gone twenty yards, I seemed to be on my own. Then I was hit myself.’ (Sgt J. Galloway, 3rd Tyneside Irish)
Furiously the German machine-gunners fired belt after belt of bullets into this fantastic target. The first to be extinguished were the two left-hand battalions, the 2nd and 3rd Tyneside Irish; very few of these ever reached the British front line. But on the right, the 1st and 4th kept going; their ground was not quite as exposed as that of their sister battalions.
Eventually, after twenty minutes, the survivors reached the British trenches and the chance to shelter from the terrible fire. But they did not rest; their orders had been to follow the leading brigades and the survivors moved on into No Man’s Land, across Sausage Valley, on the far side of which the trenches were still held by the Germans in some places. Still losing men, the Tyneside Irish crossed the 500 yards of No Man’s Land, through the wall of German shell fire and through more machine-gun fire, and two small groups, the survivors of the two battalions, managed to reach the German front line. Here they found troops from the leading brigades holding out but, instead of taking shelter with them, the Tyneside Irish, still mindful of their orders, set off again to fight their way into the German rear completely on their own. Deep in the German lines the two isolated parties met each other and joined. Incredibly the c.o. of the 4th Tyneside Irish was still with them, but he was now recalled; the brigade commander had been wounded and he was needed at brigade H.Q. He did not realize that, apart from the men he was leaving, there was hardly any brigade left.
The Tyneside Irish were now down to less than fifty effective men. They were isolated 700 yards deep into the German trench system, having covered 3,000 yards under fire since starting out from the Tara–Usna Line. They had more than done their duty but in the distance they could see their final objective, the village of Contalmaison, H.Q. of a German division and protected by several more trenches. Undeterred, these brave men set off for Contalmaison. Kitchener’s Army may have lacked skill but it had an abundance of courage.
All along the battle front the fight for the German trenches continued. The whole of the initial attacking force had now gone over; a second force of fresh battalions would continue later in the morning but these would expect the whole of the German front line to be captured and No Man’s Land to be safe from machine-gun fire. Both sides knew that the battle hinged upon the capture or loss of these trenches and both sides fought hard, without regard to cost. It was trench fighting of the most confusing nature and this was where individual skill and determination mattered most.
The British were often in such small numbers that captured trenches could not always be regarded as secure; Germans would appear behind them from uncleared dug-outs or from nearby trenches. Ammunition, especially grenades, soon ran out because the carrying parties bringing fresh supplies were unable to cross No Man’s Land. So many officers had been killed that small groups of men were often left leaderless, completely ignorant of how the battle was going. Their knowledge was confined to the few yards of trench in which they found themselves, the next bay was a mystery; they did not know whether it was empty, or occupied by friends or enemies. The sun was turning the morning into a very hot day and the dust and noise of battle was all around. Wounded men were a problem; often they could not be sent back over No Man’s Land. Field dressings were applied to their wounds, they were given a little of the precious water and then made as comfortable as possible.
When rival parties did meet, the action was fierce. ‘About a dozen of us got into Jerry’s trench but then we had a tough fight. I was hit in the face by a grenade but the German had forgotten to pull the pin out and it didn’t go off. The fight only lasted three minutes and we lost nine of our men and had to give up the trench.’ (Pte A. Fretwell, Sheffield City Battalion)
‘Now we came on to a German machine-gun post and there were all the twelve of the crew lying dead around the machine-gun; a short distance away we saw the body of one of our sergeants, formerly one of the king’s footmen who joined up with us at Norwich. He had obviously accounted for the machine-gun crew, before he himself received his death blow. A strange feeling possesses one, at such a moment. It seems as if one is detached and merely looking at a scene of carnage from a great distance.’ (Pte W. C. Bennett, 8th Norfolks)
Lieut-Col. Reginald Bastard emerged safely from the barrage in No Man’s Land and reached the German trenches. He found his men fighting fiercely; they had joined up with the remnants of the 2nd Royal Berks and captured 200 yards of trench. Bastard was the senior officer present, the Berkshire’s c.o. having been mortally wounded while crossing No Man’s Land.
He took command of the mixed force and assessed the situation. The trenches on either side of him were held by the Germans; in front his men had a small footing in the next trench but could get no farther. A few men from a third battalion, the 1st Royal Irish Rifles, crossing after the Lincolns soon joined him but the barrage in No Man’s Land appeared to have stopped all other support. The Irish Rifles had lost their c.o. too, so that Bastard was now commanding the remains of three battalions, but the whole force was still under 100 men. He was determined to hold the gains and, if fresh troops came, he would continue the attack. Bastard knew that a fourth battalion in the brigade had been held in reserve and would possibly be sent across to support them. Swiftly he organized the defence. On both flanks, men were ordered to block the trench with wire and hold off counterattacks. The trench was searched for any German dug-outs that had not been cleared and for stocks of German grenades; their own were running out. He allocated his few men so that the foothold in the next trench ahead could be maintained. The wounded were collected and made comfortable.
The discipline and skill of a Regular officer had turned the survivors of three battalions into an effective force. But, as the Germans pressed their attacks, Bastard recognized that his force could not hold out indefinitely. His casualties mounted steadily and ammunition began to run out. Anxiously he looked back over No Man’s Land for the reserve battalion.
There were many, like Bastard, who found themselves commanding small parties of men holding out in the German trenches: ‘2nd Lieut H. P. Hendin was actually the only officer of the 10th Lincolns to get into the enemy’s trenches; he reached their third line with five men and hung on there. He beat off several counter-attacks with his small party and other men he had gathered together. He said, “It was just luck that I got across and luck that I was able to hold on. I shall never forget the experience and hope never to have another like it.” ’ (Maj. W. A. Vignoles, Grimsby Chums)*
Another man in the German trenches was Lieut Philip Howe. Heeding his orders to push on to Lonely Trench, he had crossed three German trenches – all strangely empty. He still did not look behind, although he was conscious of much firing. Half an hour after setting off he arrived at his objective and this trench, too, was deserted. Then for the first time he turned round, expecting to see the rest of the West Yorks following. To his amazement there were only twenty men, the remnants of two platoons. There was one other officer, a second-lieutenant who was wounded in the leg, and most of the men were wounded too. Of the rest of the battalion there was not a sign; he had no idea what had happened to them.
As they stood in Lonely Trench wondering what to do, a German appeared from the next bay and fired at him. The bullet passed right through the palm of Howe’s right hand. Blood poured from the wound and he felt himself losing consciousness. He fainted, but, within ten minutes, recovered his senses to find that the others had driven off the German and put a field dressing on his wound.
Howe took charge again of the small group of men. They were obviously cut off deep in the German lines and surrounded, but they had found and taken their objective and were prepared to hold it. Finding a deep dug-out, they took shelter in it, placing the badly wounded at the bottom on the floor and the lightly wounded on the steps. The second-lieutenant, the only one who could fire a rifle, stayed at the top of the steps with Philip Howe behind him, ready to reload the rifle. They waited. Who would arrive first, the Germans or the British?