9
The Morning

Unlike the mass assault of 7.30 A.M., there was no regular pattern to the follow-up attacks to which the fresh battalions were due to be committed as the morning wore on. According to the original plan, these new units had certain specific tasks to perform depending on the importance of their sector, the anticipated strength of the opposition, the distance to the final objective and various other factors. Although they were not all to leave their trenches at the same time, it had been planned that their attacks should all take place before mid-morning. This time-table had already suffered severe setbacks, but this battle was on such a vast scale and news was so slow to reach the rear that there was little chance of these secondary infantry attacks being cancelled. The demands of the plan had to be met.

The men who had attacked in the first assault may have been nervous and frightened as they waited to go over but at least they were confident of success. Those who were to follow them could be under no such illusion. As they struggled forward through the communication trenches, often under heavy shell fire, they heard stories about or saw with their own eyes the devastation of the first attack. Many battalions suffered heavy casualties from this shelling before they even reached the front-line trenches. They met a continuous stream of wounded men from the first attack who left them in no doubt about the ferocity of the German defence. Even so, there is no record of any battalion hesitating in its attack.

Let us follow the steps of one battalion, the 11th Sherwood Foresters. It was the decision to confirm the attack of this battalion that had caused Brig.-Gen. Gordon such anxiety. The Foresters were to follow three other New Army battalions which had already gone over and, passing through these, were to be at the final objective, Mouquet Farm (‘Mucky Farm’), 2,000 yards away, by 11 A.M. There, they had been promised a hot meal from field cookers which would follow their attack.

As they moved up to the front line the Foresters found that the German shelling had caused terrible casualties among the men of the 9th Yorks and Lancs who had preceded them. ‘Before the battle we had helped to dig assembly dugouts just off the communication trench. These were not deep, having about two feet of head cover, but were each big enough to hold a platoon of men. When we moved up for our attack we found that many of these had been hit by German shells, killing or wounding the men inside. That place was full of dead men, torn-off limbs and badly wounded who begged for help, but we dared not stop. The communication trench almost ran with blood that morning.

‘While we were waiting in our front line to go over, a German machine-gun was spraying the top of the trench, flicking up dirt from the parapet. When the whistle blew, the first man up my ladder was an American, Private Martin. As soon as he reached the top he was shot through the wrist. He came straight back. “I’ve got mine,” he said. “I’m off.” ’ (Pte F. W. A. Turner, 11th Sherwood Foresters)

On many parts of the front, men had to face a fearful prospect: ‘I found that I wasn’t alone, as a second-lieutenant was standing beside me, shaking like a jelly, which nearly made me jittery myself. He was just a youngster, about my own age, and had just joined the battalion a few days before. I shouted at him to get over the top but he just looked at me forlornly and couldn’t seem able to speak. I whipped out my bottle of rum, I had been saving it for several days, and offered it to him but he must have been a teetotaller as he only took a sip. I told him to take a good drink, which he did. You never saw a man find his courage so quickly. He pulled out his revolver, climbed the ladder and went charging after the men like a hare. If we hadn’t had our rum, we would have lost the war.’ (Pte G. Brownbridge, 13th Northumberland Fusiliers)

In most places the attacks of these follow-up battalions foundered almost as soon as they began. Since they were often the only troops out in the open on their own particular sector, they immediately drew fire from every German within range. Most got only a few yards before their attack wilted, leaving still more dead and wounded to join those already strewn across the battlefield. ‘We set off across the open at 9 A.M. Casualties, of course, began at once and my impression was that, in spite of the noise and dust of the shell bursts, it was the machine-guns that were doing the damage. I hadn’t gone far, I couldn’t now and couldn’t then be sure whether I had actually got to our own wire, so disfigured was the landscape by the shelling, when I felt a thud in the upper leg.’ (Lieut A. Sainsbury, 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers)

‘Imagine stumbling over a ploughed field in a thunderstorm, the incessant roar of the guns and flashes as the shells exploded. Multiply all this and you have some idea of the Hell into which we were heading. To me it seemed a hundred times worse than any storm. On top of all this we were losing a lot of men. When I say men, I should really say boys, because we had been drafted to a battalion of public schoolboys. They were a nice lot of lads and I hated to think of them going up against trained men of the German Imperial Army.’ (Pte E. Houston, Public Schools Battalion)

There were always a few men, luckier or more persevering than the rest, who managed to get as far as the German wire, but all they could do there was to take shelter in shell holes and join the survivors of the leading battalions. On these sectors, the attack had broken down completely. The primary assault had failed; the secondary assault had failed.

On just such a sector, near Beaumont Hamel, was Pte Albert McMillan, the enthusiastic young Cockney who had been looking forward to his first day of war. The Public Schools Battalion had gone over the top in support of the leading troops and had immediately caught the usual German fire. Only a few reached the German wire but could get no farther; one of these was Albert McMillan. Sharing his shell hole was a man with a bad shrapnel wound in the back. He could not dress the wound himself so McMillan attended to him, although neither could move freely because their hole was so shallow. In his ignorance and haste, McMillan broke the top off his iodine bottle and poured the whole of the contents into the open wound. The man screamed with agony but McMillan secured the bandage and was relieved to see his comrade crawl away towards the British trenches during a quiet spell.

The Germans seemed quite content to defend their trenches without counter-attacking to drive the British away from their wire. On the whole eighteen-mile front the Official History only records one incident, throughout the morning, where a few Germans came out to clear away the Leeds Pals from their wire, but once this was done they soon returned to their own trenches: ‘Away on the left, a party of Germans climbed out of the trench. They kicked one or two bodies; any showing signs of life were shot or bayoneted.’ (Pte A. Howard, Leeds Pals)

Elsewhere the Germans merely manned their trenches, although some were so confident that they continued to stand up on the parapets to get a better aim or to jeer at the British. No Man’s Land now contained many British soldiers in good cover, armed with powerful rifles and ample ammunition. They were unable to continue the attack, to force the enemy defences, but they could, quite easily, shoot the standing Germans off their parapets. The firing started gradually as some British soldier, more daring than the rest, gathered his wits after the terror of the earlier part of the morning, selected his target, fired and a German toppled back into his trench. Soon the German parapets were cleared but the sniping continued all morning from No Man’s Land as the British found that they could hit back.

‘Eventually I took shelter in a shell hole with two other men from the battalion; we were all wounded. I looked over the edge and could see the Germans in their trench again. I suddenly became very angry. I had seen my battalion mowed down by machine-guns and one of them trapped in the wire. I thought of my particular pal who had been killed a few days before by a shell. I thought we were all doomed; I just couldn’t see how any of us would get out of it alive and, so far, I hadn’t done anything to the Germans. I made up my mind to get one of them, at least, before I was killed.

‘I took out my clips of cartridges and laid them out ready for use. I checked the sights on my rifle, settled myself into a comfortable position, took aim and fired. One of the Jerries threw up his arms and fell backwards and the others ducked down.’ (Pte H. C. Bloor, Accrington Pals)

Probably the most frustrated of all the soldiers involved in the battle were the battalion commanders. The breakdown of the attack and the danger in any movement above ground level had robbed them of the ability to perform their proper function – the command of their battalions in action. Instead, they had to watch their fine commands of eager volunteers being smashed before their eyes. But one did not rise to command a battalion of British infantry and allow these things to happen without making every effort to regain control of the situation.

The lieutenant-colonels should have stayed in their own trenches, leaving their company and platoon commanders to lead the initial attack; no one could command a unit as big as a battalion in the confusion of No Man’s Land. Indeed, many c.o.’s had been specifically ordered not to take part in the attack; they were to join their troops only when the objectives had been taken. But the c.o.’s not so ordered to remain behind invariably attacked with their men because their feelings prevented them from taking the safer but more reasonable course of action.

Those who had survived the crossing of No Man’s Land set up their H.Q.’S in the captured trenches. Their big problem was the lack of fast and reliable communication. They had many devices for signalling back to the British trenches but few were successful under the conditions of that day. The visual methods, the flags, signal shutters and lamps, on which the signallers had spent hours of practice, often brought death to the operator as soon as he exposed himself. Rockets sometimes did more harm than good, for the Germans had rockets too and, from the British trenches, the observers could not tell whose rockets were being fired. Field telephone links suffered frequent breakdowns as shells cut the cables running back over No Man’s Land, and there was a constant need for running repairs: ‘As a linesman I had to run through No Man’s Land with the cable in my hand until I came to the break. Then I squatted in a shell hole, patiently waiting for a signaller from H.Q. to trace his end. When he arrived we joined the two ends and tested the line with our portable telephones. This happened so often that we had to give up and revert to runners.’ (Pte J. R. Parkman, 2nd Devons) In the last resort it was always the company or battalion runner who had to take the messages. As this was the infantryman’s most dangerous job, the messages frequently did not reach their destination.

Lieut-Col. Reginald Bastard was one c.o. who suffered from this breakdown in communications. His mixed force in the German trenches, subjected to continuous counterattack, was being pressed back gradually and still there was no sign of reinforcements. Eventually his force was so weak that the survivors were forced out of the German trenches altogether and took cover near the German wire. The Lincolns c.o. left them there with orders to hold on, while he went to fetch more men; he was determined to continue the attack.

Bastard managed to get back to the British trenches without being hit but found that the fourth battalion in his brigade, from which he had expected support, had been ordered not to go over. He rounded up every fit man he could find from the other three battalions and ordered them to go with him to reinforce the party he had left near the German wire. One can imagine the feelings of these stragglers as they were ordered over the top again in the middle of the morning, but they had to obey the lieutenant-colonel’s orders. Bastard led them out into No Man’s Land but they did not get far. Accurate German fire caused heavy casualties and he was soon down to thirty men.

Reginald Bastard had been very fortunate personally, for many of the c.o.’s who had gone over the top had become casualties, the duties of leadership making them prominent targets for German marksmen. Those who survived did their best but eventually had to recognize the inevitable and take refuge in shell holes.

Those lieutenant-colonels who had remained in the British trenches knew they could do little to help their battalions pinned down in No Man’s Land, but every instinct led them forward: ‘I was a field clerk with Colonel Machell and the adjutant. The previous day the c.o. had said, “If things go badly, I’ll come up and see it through.” Everyone was tense as no messages were received from the companies. The colonel was fidgeting and watching the progress of his men and eventually decided to go and lead them on himself but as soon as he left the trench he was shot through the head and killed. Then the adjutant was severely wounded as he leant over the colonel’s body. The second in command had already been wounded. The c.o.’s batman, his bugler and two runners were all killed but I was only knocked over by a shell and stunned.’ (L/Cpl F. Allan, 11th Border) Within a few seconds this battalion had become completely leaderless.

Another c.o. was saved by his bugler: ‘Colonel Ritson had watched the leading companies in No Man’s Land. I vividly remember him standing in the British front line, tears streaming down his face, saying over and over, “My God! My boys! My boys!” I had to restrain him from going over himself. He would have been killed if he had.’ (L/Cpl S. Henderson, Newcastle Commercials)

Among those c.o.’s who had gone on to the battlefield the casualty rate was high. ‘I was ordered to stay with Colonel Hind at all costs. When we got to the German wire I was absolutely amazed to see it intact, after what we had been told. The colonel and I took cover behind a small bank but after a bit the colonel raised himself on his hands and knees to see better. Immediately, he was hit in the forehead by a singlebullet.’(Pte A. H. Tomlinson, 1/7thSherwood Foresters)

Another battalion commander to become a casualty was Lieut-Col. Sandys of the 2nd Middlesex who had worried so much about the German wire in Mash Valley. Some of his men had in fact managed to cross the 750 yards of No Man’s Land and a few had briefly occupied the German trenches before being turned out. But the battalion’s casualties had been enormous. Sandys had followed his men and was soon hit himself. His wound was not serious but he had to go to the rear.

Even brigade commanders became casualties. Brig.-Gen. C. B. Prowse was so frustrated as German opposition held up his brigade’s attack, that he went forward himself to organize a fresh attempt and was badly wounded. One report says that he was hit while attacking a German machine-gun post with a walking stick, but his wound was actually caused by a shell. He was rushed to a Casualty Clearing Station but died soon afterwards.

In all, two brigade commanders, fifty battalion commanders and an R.A.M.C. lieutenant-colonel became casualties during the day. Of these, thirty-one, an unusually high proportion, lost their lives.^*

The Germans now began to eliminate some of the smaller and less secure of the British gains in their trenches. The German soldier was always very quick to react after being attacked and the British were often in such small numbers that it was inevitable that they should eventually lose some of their hard-won gains.

After Lieut-Col. Bastard’s second attack, his brigade commander realized that any further attempts would be hopeless and decided that no more were to be made. On receipt of these orders, Bastard crossed No Man’s Land again, joined his men in their exposed positions by the German wire and gave instructions for the depleted force to withdraw. A captain from another battalion, wounded and sheltering in a nearby shell hole, watched their withdrawal. ‘I spent the next few hours in a shell hole, but from there actually saw a platoon of the Lincolns come back to our line. They came back in perfect formation.’ (Capt. K. E. Poyser, 8th K.O.Y.L.I.)^* Even when retiring the Lincolns did things in style, for what the captain had seen was almost certainly Bastard’s force withdrawing.

Reginald Bastard had now crossed No Man’s Land four times under fire, besides spending some time fighting in the German trenches. He was extremely lucky to have come through unharmed. His story illustrates the determination of a good officer but, in the end, all his efforts and those of his men had been in vain.^†

Elsewhere another eye-witness, this time in the British front line, watched a less successful withdrawal: ‘We saw the survivors of a kilted battalion returning down an enemy communication trench [probably men from the 2nd Seaforth Highlanders]. Then they spread out in what is called Extended Order as though they were on a barrack square. The officer or N.C.O. in charge rose and held up his arm. On his signal they all set off at a trot in perfect line towards our trenches. Within seconds, a German machine-gun was traversing them until the last man fell. I remember standing on the fire-step and screaming “Bastards! Bastards! Bastards!” That was a word I never used.’ (Pte W. E. Aust, Hull Commercials)

On the extreme left of the battlefield, near Gommecourt, Bugler Bill Soar and four other men from the Sherwood Foresters were isolated in the open just beyond the German front line. The attack there appeared to have broken down completely and three Germans in a trench behind them were both blocking any retreat and firing rifle grenades at the Nottingham men. Already one of Soar’s fellow buglers had been badly hurt in the foot; he was urging Soar to leave him and attempt an escape.

Soar didn’t want to leave his friend but he dared wait no longer or he would be killed or forced to surrender. He got up and ran straight at the trench. In spite of his heavy load of equipment he jumped clean over the heads of the three Germans; he could hear their gasps of surprise as he landed on the far side. He ran on, through a gap in the wire, heading for a large bed of reeds that he could see in No Man’s Land. The Germans were so astonished by his tremendous leap that Soar gained this shelter without being fired upon.

The Germans could not believe that Soar seriously intended to escape and called out to him ‘Come in, Tommy! Come in!’ When this did not persuade him to surrender they started firing rifle grenades into his hiding place. Although one of these caused a painful injury to his arm, Soar kept perfectly still.^*

Near La Boisselle, the remnants of the Tyneside Irish had decided to make for Contalmaison, their original objective, although they were completely alone in the German trenches. Someone in authority had realized by now that the attack on this sector had failed and an order was sent out that no further attempts should be made to advance. Unfortunately, the order failed to reach this Tyneside Irish party. Whoever was in command, probably a junior officer, led the Geordies towards Contalmaison, partly along German trenches and partly over open ground. It can only have been luck that allowed them to avoid any large numbers of the enemy on this journey, but when they reached Contalmaison their luck ran out; thirty or so men could not tackle a German village fortress completely on their own that day and survive.

As soon as they ran into the German fire they must have realized that they were doomed. Those who survived the brief fight turned in an attempt to retrace their steps, but they had left it too late. This small, determined body of men had achieved the distinction of advancing farther than any other unit during the day on the whole of the battle front. They had come 4,000 yards under fire since they started. They died 2,000 yards inside the German lines.^*

The fate of some of the British soldiers who had got into the German trenches will never be known. Small parties, often without leaders, or isolated individuals, were hunted down by the Germans and eliminated. The ultimate casualty figures were to show that very few of these men surrendered. They fought to the end and met unrecorded deaths in some squalid corner of a German trench.

In some places the British had got into the German trenches in sufficient strength to keep their gains but were not strong enough to improve them. Just such a place was the Quadrilateral Redoubt (called by the Germans Heiden Kopf, after one of their officers). This position jutted right out into No Man’s Land which was very narrow at that point. The Germans had previously decided that in the event of an attack it could not be held, and had left only one machine-gun crew, who were to inflict as much loss on the attackers as possible, and some engineers to blow a demolition charge when the machine-gunners had to withdraw. Through a fault, the charge had exploded earlier than planned, killing both engineers and machine-gunners.

Not far away, Sergeant Major Percy Chappell, with his company commander and some of their men, had fought his way through the first two German trenches and had reached a third which was found to be empty. Here the captain ordered his men to consolidate. The dug-outs were checked to make sure that they were empty and barbed wire pulled down to make barriers at each end of their little position. Besides Chappell and the captain, there was only a sergeant and nine men. Although the noise of battle was all around them, their immediate vicinity was clear of Germans and very quiet.

The company commander decided to reconnoitre still farther and ordered Chappell and the sergeant to accompany him. They set off up to an empty communication trench and reached the next German trench; still there were no Germans. It was a peculiar sensation to be so deep into the enemy lines and find them deserted. They were now joined by a wounded Somersets officer and, after the two officers had consulted together, Chappell was told to take charge of the men while the officers went back for fresh orders.

Chappell watched the officers go with some misgivings and he and the sergeant discussed what to do next. Their minds were made up for them when the noise of a fierce bombing fight behind them showed that they were cut off from their men, who were under heavy attack. At the same time a crowd of Germans appeared over a rise in front of them and started throwing grenades, which, fortunately, were falling short. Chappell and the sergeant were caught between two superior enemy forces. He had no intention of remaining to be trapped, so, calling to the sergeant to run for it with him, he set off in what he hoped was the safe direction. Making his way over open ground, dodging from shell hole to shell hole, he dropped into an empty trench. He looked back, but there was no sign of his companion.

Cautiously, Chappell looked around him. About 150 yards away he could see a line of British soldiers, but between him and them was a trench containing Germans. He hesitated, but when a grenade burst near him, he made up his mind to try to reach the British troops. He climbed over the parapet and ran. Bullets whizzed around his ears but Chappell was leading a charmed life. Crossing the German-held trench with a mighty leap, he ran on again without being hit and threw himself down among British soldiers.

Chappell was in the Quadrilateral and found himself near a lieutenant-colonel of the Seaforth Highlanders who was organizing the defence of the redoubt. The Germans in the trench he had just leapt were able to fire right into the British positions and the Seaforth colonel decided that they would have to be driven out. The order was passed along: when a whistle was blown every man would fire five rounds rapid and charge. But even while this message was being circulated, a Seaforth corporal collected an armful of grenades and walked steadily towards the Germans, shouting and swearing in broad Scots, throwing grenades as he went. He caused confusion and loss among the Germans, but as he reached their trench he fell dead, hit by several bullets. Inspired by this brave action, the whole British line rose and charged the enemy, shooting and bayoneting, until the trench was clear of Germans and the redoubt secure again.^*

After this action things quietened down somewhat. There were men in the Quadrilateral from no less than five different battalions and the colonel ordered each party to make itself responsible for the defence of part of the redoubt. Chappell was delighted to find nearly fifty men from the Somersets but without an officer, so he took charge of them and prepared to defend their allotted section. They were very low on ammunition but a search of some dug-outs revealed a good stock of German grenades.

During the rest of the morning, the beleaguered garrison had to beat off several half-hearted German attacks, but there were also long periods of calm.

In spite of the early disasters on the majority of the British attack front, they had achieved three substantial, if separated, advances into the German trenches: by the London Division in the diversionary attack at Gommecourt; by the Ulster Division at Thiepval and by the four divisions on the right wing who were attacking alongside the French.

Two Territorial divisions from the Third Army were attacking the Gommecourt Salient, the 46th (North Midland) from the north and the 56th (London) from the south. It had been planned that, in the first stage each would seize the German trench system on the shoulders of the salient, and then they would attempt to link up behind the village, thus cutting off the garrison there.

The London Division was probably the best Territorial division in France at that time. Its battalions had seen much action yet still contained a high proportion of well-trained pre-war volunteers. The soldiers themselves were mostly well educated, intelligent men from London’s commercial class and many would have become officers in other divisions. The Londoners’ assault had started well. Within an hour four battalions – the London Rifle Brigade, Queen Victoria’s Rifles, the Rangers and the London Scottish – attacking from their newly dug trench in No Man’s Land had seized nearly every one of the German trenches which were their objectives. ‘By 9 A.M. we had taken our final objective, although the German trenches were so badly smashed up, we didn’t really know where we were. From my company of 150 men there were only thirty-five who were not wounded. That final trench was, then, the safest post in the whole countryside, for our own guns were not firing on it, nor were the Germans; they were not sure whether their own men had been ousted or not.’ (Maj. C. J. Low, D.S.O., 1st London Scottish)

A fifth battalion, the Queen’s Westminster Rifles, had followed the leading troops and was preparing to attempt the second phase, the link-up behind Gommecourt village with the North Midland Division. The infantry of the division all came from London, but the divisional Pioneer battalion was the 1/5th Cheshires. Some of the Cheshire platoons followed the London battalions to construct strong-points in the German trenches. The platoon with the Westminsters was commanded by a second-lieutenant, George Stuart Arthur.

At 9 A.M., the Westminsters were due to send a bombing party up the German trench which led to the rear of Gommecourt village and the projected meeting with the North Midland men. The Westminsters had suffered so many casualties that none of their own officers could be found to organize the bombers. But 2nd Lieut Arthur was there and, leaving his pioneer work, he took over the Westminster bombers and led the attack himself, although he had been slightly wounded in the arm.

The party succeeded in bombing its way up 400 yards of German trench until just short of the point where it should have met the North Midland men coming down from the other side of the salient. But the North Midlanders were not there. Instead, 2nd Lieut Arthur and his bombers met a strong force of Germans. A fierce bombing fight took place in which the Westminsters’ grenades were soon exhausted. 2nd Lieut Arthur ordered his men to retire whilst he remained behind to hold the Germans a little longer. As the Westminsters made their way back to safety they could hear the sounds of fighting as the Pioneer officer covered their retreat. He was never seen again.^*

The most extensive and promising British success was that of the four divisions of Rawlinson’s right wing. These had nearly all taken their first objectives; only Fricourt still held out in the German front line. Now the divisions were proceeding, with varying fortunes, to their next objectives.

In their captured dug-out in Lonely Trench, near Fricourt, Lieut Philip Howe’s small force of 10th West Yorks had managed to keep the Germans at bay for most of the morning, but by midday their ammunition was dangerously low. Howe asked his men whether they wished to fight their way back to their own trenches, or whether they preferred to surrender. He was very relieved when it was agreed that they would give themselves up when their ammunition ran out. Just before this happened, however, they heard the sounds of bombing coming along the trench to their left. Howe and his men waited. If these were more Germans, they were finished.

But the men who came were friends, soldiers of the 10th Yorks and Lancs. All the trenches on the left were now securely held by the British. A delighted Philip Howe took his party through the British-held trenches and back across No Man’s Land. As they approached their original trenches the second-lieutenant said lightheartedly to Howe, ‘Let me put my arm around your shoulder and we can stagger in like wounded heroes’, thinking to impress the rest of the battalion which they expected to meet there. Instead, they found that of the original 800 men, only forty could be mustered including Howe’s party. The second-lieutenant went off to have his wounded leg treated but Howe decided to stay, in spite of the bullet hole in his hand, as there were no other officers. He spread his men out along the whole of the battalion front, for the trenches opposite them were still held by the Germans.

Five miles to the north, the 36th (Ulster) Division was performing a glorious feat of arms. Six of its battalions were to capture the German front line on a wide, open plateau between the village of Thiepval and the River Ancre; two more, on the other side of the river, were to clear out some German positions on the edge of the marshy river valley. Behind the German front line in the division’s main attack sector lay one of the biggest German redoubts, the Schwaben, and, beyond this, the German second main position. This sector was on that part of the front where Haig had persuaded Rawlinson to include the German second line in his objectives. For this purpose, the third Ulster brigade would follow the leading troops, pass through the captured Schwaben Redoubt and attack the German second line.

For their opening attack, the Ulstermen had one great advantage; their own front line was on the edge of the Thiepval Wood so that their assembly positions were hidden from the enemy. By 6 A.M., ten battalions had assembled in the wood; desultory German shelling caused some casualties (it was here that Billy McFadzean was killed in the grenade accident) but most of the attackers were safe.

The Ulstermen awaited the attack in a state of emotional, religious fervour. Many were members of the Orange Order and some had sent for the orange sashes of their order and wore these over their bulky equipment. Hymns were sung, prayers were said. The Ulstermen were ready for battle although at least one had succumbed to an old Irish failing: ‘Next to me was a man who was a well-known drinker; his water bottle was full of some French stuff and he was drinking all night. When it was time to go over, he collapsed, drunk. I heard, later, that he came round, went over the top fighting mad and got taken prisoner.’ (L/Cpl J. A. Henderson, Belfast Young Citizens)

The leading battalions had been ordered out from the wood just before 7.30 A.M. and laid down near the German trenches. On one part of their frontage they had the added advantage of a sunken road, which ran along No Man’s Land, and many men assembled there. At zero hour the British barrage lifted. Bugles blew the ‘Advance’. Up sprang the Ulstermen and, without forming up in the waves adopted by other divisions, they rushed the German front line. The wire was well cut; the Germans were slow coming up from their dug-outs. After a short, fierce fight, the front-line trench was captured along most of its length. By a combination of sensible tactics and Irish dash, the prize that eluded so many, the capture of a long section of the German front line, had been accomplished.

Fresh men pressed forward from the wood and took the fight into the Schwaben Redoubt, but two things happened to hold up the Ulsters. The advance of the 32nd Division on their right had broken down almost as soon as it had started; the reader will remember how the C.O.’S of the battalions attacking the Thiepval Spur had refused to commit their last companies to an attack they thought had failed. From the ruins of Thiepval village and the château on the spur, a network of German machine-gun posts, having beaten off the attack on their own front, turned on the Ulster Division. These machine-guns could fire straight down the old No Man’s Land outside Thiepval Wood and every Ulster soldier that followed the leading troops had to brave this fire.

The second obstacle was the fierce resistance of the Schwaben garrison. These Germans had not been caught in their dug-outs like some of the front-line defenders. The Ulsters had to fight hard for the redoubt but their Irish spirit was roused; they had captured one German trench, they could capture the Schwaben.

While the six leading battalions fought for the redoubt, the follow-through brigade, four Belfast battalions, moved up for their attack on the German second line. When they tried to cross No Man’s Land they suffered heavy loss from the machine-guns in Thiepval and from the usual German artillery barrage. When some of his men wavered, one company commander from the West Belfasts, Maj. George Gaffikin, took off his orange sash, held it high for his men to see and roared the traditional war-cry of the battle of the Boyne: ‘Come on, boys! No surrender!’ This action drew a whole crowd of men after him over No Man’s Land.

Instead of an easy passage to the German second line, the Belfast Brigade had to join in the fight for the Schwaben. There were now men from at least eight battalions fighting in the redoubt. No battalion staffs had been allowed across, by divisional order, but two lieutenant-colonels had disobeyed; one was killed as soon as he moved off from the wood, the other failed to get into the Schwaben. The fighting there was an uncoordinated, vicious, close-quarter mêlée: ‘We were being fired at by a sniper; he got five or six of us before we found him. My boy-oh was wounded and sheltering behind a rolled-up stretcher. Our sergeant major took Jerry’s rifle away from him and smashed it across his head.’ (Pte J. Grange, Belfast Young Citizens)

‘I was firing on some Germans when there was a loud explosion near me and part of the torso of a man, clothed in a khaki jacket, landed just in front of my Lewis gun.’ (Pte R. Irwin, Tyrone Volunteers)

‘Another chap and myself were in a shell hole, near a trench, and we could see a party of Germans coming down it, just their helmets showing. I told the other chap, “I’ll take the first one; you cover the second.” We had to wait some time, until they came into a shallower part of the trench, and then we both let fly. I think I got mine and the rest all scampered back like a lot of scalded cats. Later, I heard some bombing about 100 yards away, so I peeped over to have a look and found myself looking down the barrel of a German rifle, only twenty yards away. I got the hell out of it as fast as I could.’ (C.S.M. R. S. Drean, M.C., East Belfast Volunteers)

‘We came to three dug-outs, which we thought contained Germans. We threw the contents of three full bags of grenades down the steps. The yells and screams of those boys down there were wicked. The German dug-outs had fire-places with chimneys or they may have been ventilation shafts. Some of the men from our trench-mortar battery were there and were pulling the pins out of the trench-mortar bombs and dropping them down these pipes. We could hear them explode down below.’ (Pte J. Devennie, Derry Volunteers)

‘I found a German, badly wounded. I could see from his face that he was mad with thirst. I gave him my water, although it was against orders. Then I found one of our men; he was terribly wounded, shot in the head and his leg nearly off. He begged me to kill him but I couldn’t do it.’ (L/Cpl J. A. Henderson, Belfast Young Citizens)

It was in this fierce fighting that the Ulster Division earned its second Victoria Cross of the day. Capt. Eric Bell, a Tyrone Volunteers officer attached to a Trench Mortar Battery, advanced with the infantry into the Schwaben. His many acts of bravery included throwing trench-mortar bombs at the Germans. He was killed whilst leading infantrymen who had lost their own officers.

By mid-morning the fight was over. The whole of the Schwaben was in the Ulstermen’s hands and 500 Germans had been taken prisoner. Patrols were sent out to the flanks; one, that tried to get into Thiepval village, was repulsed but another went up a trench behind the village and found it empty. But the troops had not rehearsed a move to the flanks and, with no central command in the Schwaben, no one took advantage of this opportunity. If a strong force had pushed along the trench, Thiepval could have been attacked from the rear.

The advance to the German second line had been rehearsed, however. But, instead of a brigade, casualties and confusion had left only two small parties to make this attack. Leaving the shelter of the Schwaben, these advanced over open ground to the wire of the German second line, but, for once, the attackers were ahead of schedule. A German soldier tells what happened: ‘At 9 o’clock, I was down in a dug-out in the Feste Staufen (Stuff Redoubt) when someone shouted down to me in an amazed voice “The Tommies are here.” I rushed up and there, just outside the barbed wire, were ten or twenty English soldiers with flat steel helmets. We had no rifle, no revolver, no grenades, no ammunition, nothing at all; we were purely artillery observers. We would have had to surrender but, then, the English artillery began to fire at our trench; but a great deal of the shells were too short and hit the English infantrymen and they began to fall back. If the English could have got through, they would have only met clerks, cooks, orderlies and such like. For a distance of several hundred metres to right and to left from us there were no German soldiers. It was a decisive moment.’ (Feldwebel Felix Kircher, 26th Field Artillery Regiment)

Unfortunately, the advance was on too narrow a frontage and the Ulsters had spent too much of their strength getting across No Man’s Land and through the Schwaben Redoubt. ‘We were pinned down in the open just outside the German wire which was covering their second line. It was just Hell; the British artillery were at us, the German artillery were at us and rifle and machine-gun fire as well.’ (Cpl G. A. Lloyd, West Belfast Volunteers)

‘There were precious few of us who got to the next German line; the wire was hardly cut. I could see right through into what was left of Grandcourt village and saw, quite clearly, a crowd of Germans there, getting ready to counter-attack. We tried to get through but it was no good and we had to go back.’ (C.S.M. R. S. Drean, M.C., East Belfast Volunteers)

The glorious advance of the Ulster Division was, for the time being at least, over. These were the only men to reach the German second line anywhere. It was a penetration nearly as deep as that of the Tyneside Irish and the Royal Scots near Contalmaison and certainly the farthest advance by a major unit. The Ulster Division had no Regular battalions attached to it as ‘stiffeners’, as had some of the New Army divisions, and it was fighting its first battle. But the Ulsters had committed every one of their battalions to the battle. The divisions on either side had still not resumed their attack; indeed, for four miles on either flank there was no advance to distract the German defence. As a result, the Ulstermen in the Schwaben Redoubt were being pounded by shell, mortar and machine-gun. The Germans were gathering reserves for counter-attacks and they so dominated No Man’s Land that the Ulster Division was virtually besieged.

The most spectacular of the early successes was that of the 30th Division on the extreme right. The division contained four Liverpool and four Manchester battalions, whose first battle this was, and four Regular battalions, which had been in France since 1914. The initial attack had been completely successful. Four Pals battalions, three from Liverpool and one from Manchester, had stormed and taken the whole of the German front line. At the same time the French on their right and the 18th Division on their left had also successfully carried out the first phase of their attacks. The way to Montauban village, on the top of a slope 1,000 yards away, was open.

Three battalions had been ordered to pass through the leading troops and attack the village. They were the 1st and 2nd Manchester Pals, which would lead the advance, and a Regular battalion, the 2nd Royal Scots Fusiliers, whose c.o. was in overall command of the attack.

Paddy Kennedy and his two friends had been in the old British front line since their escape from the accidental explosion which had blown up the trench-mortar, the mortar gunners and most of the half-platoon of Manchesters who had been waiting to carry forward the mortar bombs in the advance. No one had given the three survivors any orders; they had no idea where their own battalion was. When more Manchesters reached this trench on their way to Montauban, the three decided to join them. Before doing so, Kennedy took off his heavy load and, keeping only a few items, dumped the remainder. He made careful note of its position, hoping that he could recover it later. When the 800 men of the 1st Manchester Pals moved on they were joined by these three self-appointed reinforcements.

At first all went well. As the three battalions advanced in perfect order up the slope, a few German shells fell among them, but the ground had been so pulverized by the British bombardment that the explosions in the soft earth caused few casualties. But the attackers were now in an exposed position with both flanks wide open, for the French had decided to go no farther and the 18th Division was held up by strong opposition.

On the left a single German machine-gun crew spotted the Manchesters and Scots Fusiliers and opened fire. The attack faltered. ‘German machine-gun fire was dropping our men by the hundred and when we came to a sunken road we halted in it for cover, although it was wrong to do so. Fortunately our quartermaster sergeant, who was twice the age of most of us and had served his time as a Regular with the Coldstream Guards, came along and very quickly did the necessary rallying and urged us on with his great shouts of what I might call “cheerful command”.’ (L/Cpl F. Heardman, 2nd Manchester Pals) A Manchester Lewis gunner engaged the German post and silenced it, but not before it had caused heavy casualties to all three battalions, particularly among the officers. All the leading company commanders were killed or badly wounded, one major losing both eyes.

The machine-gun fire had thrown the leading troops into confusion and the meticulous formation of the early advance was lost. Two separate crowds of men charged the village. The capture proved to be easy; the Germans holding a trench outside the village surrendered with hardly a fight. The village itself was in ruins; a French heavy mortar battery had been firing on it for a week. The only living thing to be seen in Montauban was a fox. The Manchesters pushed on to the final objective, a trench just beyond, and this, too, was swiftly taken with more prisoners.

Germans could be seen streaming away from this last trench, Montauban Alley, and fleeing over a wide valley. Artillery observation officers had accompanied the advance and were able to bring their guns to bear on these easy targets. The infantry joined in as well. ‘When I got to the far end of Montauban I laid down and fired at a retreating German gun team who were dragging their gun away by a rope. I well remember adjusting my aim for the weight of the bayonet, as taught.’ (Pte A. A. Bell, 2nd Manchester Pals) Some of the Manchesters swept down into the valley and, killing or capturing the German gunners, took the guns and hauled them back in triumph to Montauban. Privates Dawson and Aldcraft of the 1st Pals claimed their capture by chalking their names and that of their battalion on two of the guns.

Meanwhile, the Scots Fusiliers had been clearing Montauban’s cellars and the surrounding trenches. Over 200 prisoners were collected at the village pump. One of these was an English-speaking doctor who was put to work tending the wounded; many were to speak of his fine work. It proved so difficult to dislodge one sniper that R.E.s placed explosive against his concrete post and blew him up.

The successful troops in Montauban Alley gazed in wonder on an amazing sight. Before them they could see open country and peaceful woods. There was no sign of enemy defences and the only Germans they could see were those fleeing in the distance. Was this the beginning of the breakthrough they had all been told about? Would they receive orders to move still farther forward and seize these seemingly empty woods and fields? Or would the cavalry come up and, passing through them, spread havoc in the German rear?

The men of the 30th Division had achieved a great success. They had taken many prisoners, three field guns and Montauban, the first village to fall in the Battle of the Somme, although the heap of ruins that was all that remained of Montauban had little practical value. The capture of the village had cost nearly 700 casualties, mostly in the two Manchester battalions. A high proportion of this loss had been caused by the one machine-gun on their left flank.

What was particularly gratifying about the success of the 30th Division was that Gen. Rawlinson had been so uncertain of its ability to fulfil its task that he had nearly taken it out of the line before the battle and replaced it with another.

On these sectors where the British advance had been successful, the first task after the capture of the German trenches was the operation known as ‘mopping-up’ – the final clearance of German trenches and particularly of their dug-outs. Special parties of men, equipped mainly with hand grenades, had been detailed for this essential duty, but there were other methods: ‘In clearing the dug-outs, which normally had two entrances, we first of all shouted for the occupants to come out. If this had no effect, we would throw a heavy stone down one entrance which would generally send them all racing out of the other end.’ (Pte W. C. Bennett, 8th Norfolks)

‘My platoon commander and I came to a dug-out; we thought there were Germans inside. I fired down the steps with a Lewis gun and then they surrendered. There were twenty-three of them, but they gave us no trouble; they were as scared as we were.’ (Cpl T. McClay, M.M., Tyrone Volunteers)

‘One of our bombers, ignoring instructions, pulled a hessian curtain aside in the entrance of a dug-out, instead of calling out first. As he bent down to call out, a German hiding behind the curtain delivered an upper-cut. Infuriated that a German should punch him on the jaw, he screamed at him to come out. It was a low entrance, the German had to emerge bending down. The bomber raised his knobkerrie and felled the German with one blow.’ (L/Cpl H. C. Lancashire, 1/4th London)^*

The British often over-estimated the value of their grenades which were not sufficiently powerful to kill all the occupants of a large dug-out. Because of this, dug-outs which had been ‘cleared’ once often came to life later with unfortunate results. One man soon found the answer to this problem: ‘I remember my platoon sergeant kicking a full box of grenades with the pins removed down the steps of a dug-out but I didn’t wait to see what happened.’ (Pte W. B. Bird, 12th Middlesex)

After months of trench warfare, when the enemy had never been seen, the taking of German prisoners made the British soldier realize that his opponent did indeed exist and that he could even be mastered in battle. ‘I came face to face with a great big German who had come up unexpectedly out of a shell hole. He had his rifle and bayonet at “the ready”. So had I, but mine suddenly felt only the size of a small boy’s play gun and my steel helmet shrank to the size of a small tin lid. Then, almost before I had time to realize what was happening, the German threw down his rifle, put up his arms and shouted “Kamerad”. I could hardly believe my eyes.’ (L/Cpl F. Heardman, 2nd Manchester Pals)

It is not surprising that in the fury of the battle and after the advice given to them by their senior officers, some British soldiers should refuse to take prisoners. ‘In the heat of the attack, a German came running past us, surrendering. One of us dropped a grenade with the pin out into his wide pocket and waved him back. When it went off we all laughed, me included.’ (Pte T. S. Frank, 2nd Green Howards)

‘We are filled with a terrible hate. Our actions are born of a terrible fear, the will to survive. Some of the Germans were getting out of their trenches, their hands up in surrender; others were running back to their reserve trenches. To us they had to be killed. Kill or be killed. You are not normal.’ (L/Cpl J. J. Cousins, 7th Bedfords)

‘I watched our troops bringing German prisoners back, trying to make them walk in the open alongside a communication trench. The Germans kept going down into the trench. This annoyed the escorts so much that, eventually, they threw some grenades among the Germans and left them to it.’ (Lieut A. W. Lee, M.C., 22nd Infantry Brigade H.Q.)

Sometimes the killing of prisoners was more cold-blooded: ‘I watched some Germans coming out of a dug-out and surrendering. They were holding up photographs of their families and offering watches and other valuables in an attempt to gain mercy but as the Germans came up the steps, a soldier, not from our battalion, shot each one in the stomach with a burst from his Lewis gun.’ (Pte J. H. Harwood, 6th Royal Berks)

This killing of German prisoners was the exception rather than the rule. The British soldier was, by nature, a friendly man who treated his captives well when the heat of battle had passed. ‘German prisoners were being rounded up and as they passed us, our chaps were giving them cigarettes. I heard one man say to a wounded German, “Give us your mum’s address, mate – and I’ll drop her a line”.’ (Capt. W. Chetham-Strode, 2nd Border)

A wounded Belfast man took shelter from German shelling in a captured dug-out and found himself alone with ten German prisoners. They treated him well, dressing his wound and making him comfortable in a bunk. The Ulster-man passed round a packet of Woodbines and soon struck up a friendly conversation with an English-speaking German. ‘I asked him who would win the war. He replied that no one would win. If either Germany or England lost they would rise again as both nations were too strong to be kept down.’ (Pte J. Grange, Belfast Young Citizens)

It was not always easy to get the captured Germans back to the British trenches. At Gommecourt, where the German barrage fell on No Man’s Land all morning, the battalions of the London Division captured about 300 Germans. These were sent back but only 178 arrived; the remainder were either killed by their own barrage or escaped in the confusion. Similarly, the Ulster Division took many prisoners who were sent back with one Ulsterman as escort to every sixteen Germans. In a race across No Man’s Land the Germans were reported to have won easily. Sometimes the British were so hard pressed that they could not spare sufficient escorts. ‘I was detailed to take back about sixty German prisoners on my own. As they were being marched back I thought all that lot could easily have turned on me. I was only sixteen.’ (Pte H. E. Bathurst, 8th Devons)

Once safely over No Man’s Land and away from the worst of the shelling both prisoners and escorts could relax. The Germans were formed into groups and marched off to the waiting cages. These columns of prisoners were a source of great encouragement to fresh British troops moving up to the fighting. ‘I saw a crowd of prisoners being brought back by the K.O.Y.L.I.s. One small German was whimpering and a much bigger one, next to him, threatened to hit him if he didn’t behave. There were so many prisoners I really thought the war would soon be over.’ (Pte J. P. Turner, 12th Northumberland Fusiliers)

Another group of Germans were more truculent. ‘We watched some Germans being marched by. The leading one was very tall and as he passed us he spoke to the others and they all started laughing because we were wounded. We were near one of our field guns and an artilleryman, only a short man, put down the shell he was carrying and going up to the German, grabbed hold of him and hit him very hard. They all put up their hands promptly and stopped laughing. I felt very proud as I watched this.’ (Pte J. L. Hunt, 6th Royal Berks)

Some soldiers from the Cambridge Battalion found a solitary German wandering about, lost, behind the British line. They took charge of him and solemnly made him salute a photograph of Lord Kitchener.

Once the mopping-up had been completed, calm descended on the captured trenches and those British troops without urgent business were able to look around. The favourite occupation of many was to go souvenir hunting; the ceremonial German helmets, binoculars and revolvers were great favourites. So quiet was it on one sector, that the post corporal of the 6th Royal Berks appeared in the captured trenches and calmly distributed the battalion’s mail.

The British soldiers were able to examine at leisure the dead or captured enemy and their defences. Men from the 3rd Liverpool Pals sorted out the German dead in a trench they had captured and, choosing the largest and smallest corpses they could find, laid the two out side by side as a macabre contrast.

During the battle preceding the capture of these trenches, a single German machine-gun had sometimes held up a whole British battalion or even a brigade. These machine-gunners, specially chosen and trained in their work, often died at their guns, fighting to the last. ‘We found a German machine-gun on its sledge, its dead gunner, a grey-haired, elderly man, still holding its handles, his head dropped forward as if asleep and in front of the gun, a pile of empties almost as high as the gun.’ (Maj. J. K. Dunlop, 53rd Brigade Machine Gun Company)^*

Again, a short distance away, men of the 7th Queens (the Royal West Surreys) captured in Breslau Trench a German chained by his ankle to a machine-gun. ‘The man was wounded in the thigh; a real “tough” who obviously chained himself to his gun out of sheer bravado and not by order. He was probably a Bavarian.’ (Capt. M. Kemp-Welch, 7th Queens)^* After the battle the divisional commander ordered a Court of Inquiry to confirm the accuracy of this incident; it was accepted by him as being true, but gave rise to the story, often repeated but untrue, that the Germans manned their machine-guns with convicts and chained them to their weapons to ensure that they did not run away.

What amazed the British soldiers most was the depth and lavish scale of the German dug-outs. Men wandered from one dug-out to another, amazed at the German ingenuity and envious of the comfort and safety that their enemies had enjoyed. ‘We went down into a dug-out and actually found the electric lights still burning. So much for the artillery preparation.’ (Pte A. McMullen, Donegal and Fermanagh Volunteers) Coarse jokes were made when double beds and women’s clothing, perfume and powder were found. The men were convinced that the Germans had actually entertained their French lady friends in the front line.^†

Among the explorers was Paddy Kennedy. He found a small, nervous, black kitten, the pet of some German soldier. Kennedy took pity on the frightened animal and, deciding to take care of it himself, put it in his small pack and fastened it in. A further find was a bottle of perfume, which Kennedy and his pals lightheartedly splashed over their dusty uniforms. This revelry was interrupted by an officer who ordered them out of the dug-out. ‘Don’t you know there’s a war on?’

The day was going well for the British on the right; but on the numerous sectors where they had been repulsed, there began, in mid-morning, the first of a series of small-scale, hastily organized attacks that were to continue through the day, as divisional and corps commanders tried to redeem lost situations and get their men moving forward again.

Opposite Beaumont Hamel, the commander of the 29th Division had attacked with two brigades but hardly a man had crossed the German wire. The third brigade was to have followed just over an hour later and gone on to the final objective. Before that hour was up, it was known that the initial attack had failed but not the full extent of the failure. Rockets had been seen to rise from the German trenches, but it was not known whether these were British or German. It seemed inconceivable to the divisional staff that, out of the eight battalions that had attacked, none was in the German trenches. The commander of the reserve brigade was informed that the original plan for his men was cancelled and he was ordered, instead, to mount an immediate two-battalion attack to clear the German front line. With so little time he had no choice in which battalions to use; the two nearest the front line would have to go – the 1st Essex and the 1st Newfoundland. The brigade commander issued the necessary orders to them.

The Newfoundlanders had heard the pre-attack bombardment, the explosion of the Hawthorn Redoubt mine and then the German machine-guns when the leading brigades made their attacks. An anxious wait followed while wounded and rumour brought the news that the attack had not been successful. ‘But it was recalled that the awards awaiting them were not confined to the honours of the battle. For had not a prominent St Johns society maiden let it be known, by confiding to her friends, and they to all who would listen, that she intended to marry the first V.C. in the battalion?’ (2nd Lieut C. S. Frost, 1st Newfoundland Regiment)

In his H.Q. dug-out, Lieut-Col. Hadow, the English officer commanding the battalion, received his orders by phone from the brigade commander. These were simple. The Newfoundlanders were to leave their present position as soon as possible and advance to the German front line. The 1st Essex, on their right, would also attack. Hadow asked questions: Were the German trenches held by British or Germans? He was told that the situation was uncertain. Was he to move independently of the Essex? Yes. Colonel Hadow must have been unhappy, but he had been given a direct order. He gave out his own orders and in a few minutes the battalion was ready.

The Newfoundlanders had to go 300 yards before reaching the British front line and then a similar distance across No Man’s Land. In view of the urgency of their orders they went straight over the top from a reserve trench, instead of going to the front line by way of congested communication trenches. As soon as they appeared in the open, the German machine-gunners spotted them and opened fire. No artillery bombardment kept the Germans’ heads down; no other targets distracted them, for the Essex had not appeared. They concentrated their fire on the 752 Newfoundlanders advancing over the open ground less than half a mile away. Before the men could even get into No Man’s Land they had to pass through several belts of British barbed wire. As the Newfoundlanders bunched together to get through the narrow gaps in this wire, the German machine-gunners found their best killing ground. Dead and wounded men soon blocked every gap, but those still not hit struggled on, having to walk over their comrades’ bodies.

More experienced or less resolute men might have given up and sought shelter in such impossible conditions, but not the Newfoundlanders. Those who survived to reach No Man’s Land continued towards the German trenches, but they had no chance. A few dozen men could not cross No Man’s Land without any support in broad daylight and, inevitably, the German fire cut these down. The attack was watched by a survivor of an earlier attack from a nearby shell hole: ‘On came the Newfoundlanders, a great body of men, but the fire intensified and they were wiped out in front of my eyes. I cursed the generals for their useless slaughter, they seemed to have no idea what was going on.’ (Pte F. H. Cameron, 1st King’s Own Scottish Borderers) Only a handful of Newfoundlanders reached the German wire. There they were shot.

The attack had lasted forty minutes. Rarely can a battalion have been so completely smashed in such a short time. Of those who had attacked, ninety-one per cent had become casualties – twenty-six officers and 658 men.^* Every officer who had left the trenches had been killed or wounded, even some who had no right to be there at all: the quartermaster, a captain, whose normal duties kept him behind the lines, was one of the wounded.

What had this battalion, which had sailed with such high hopes from St Johns a year and a half earlier, achieved? It is probable that not a single German soldier was killed or wounded by their attack and no friendly unit had been helped to improve its position. The more experienced Essex battalion had insisted on going up the communication trenches to the front line before starting its attack; this manoeuvre had taken two hours, by which time the Newfoundlanders’ attack was over. The Essex, too, failed to reach the German wire, but their more careful approach kept casualties down to one third of the Newfoundlanders’ terrible total.

As the morning drew to a close, the battlefield lost some of the noise and violence of the early, intense fighting. Where an attack had been successful, the troops rested on their final objectives, not yet much disturbed by the Germans. The small parties which had only precarious footholds in the German trenches had to fight to maintain their positions, but for these, too, there were quiet periods. The British artillery was still in action, but the firing of their guns and the explosions of their shells far away in the German lines had become a background noise, hardly noticed by the men on the battlefield. German shell fire too had slackened on some sectors, but it was quick to return if called for.

Over most of the front, No Man’s Land itself appeared to be completely deserted except for the pitiful bundles of khaki which showed where men had been hit. To the onlooker there was no sign of the thousands of men who had gone to ground there. The sun, high in the sky now, was blazing from a cloudless sky. It was a very hot day and there was hardly a breath of wind. Overhead, an occasional R.F.C. aeroplane swooped close to the ground, looking for signs of life.

For the wounded out in the open the hours seemed endless and they were also in great danger. The Germans were furious at the persistent sniping from wounded British in No Man’s Land. To them the British were defeated, the attack completely broken. Released from the tension of the week of shelling in their dug-outs, they had thrown caution to the winds and jumped up onto their parapets, convinced the British would accept the defeat. To be sniped at from No Man’s Land, especially by wounded men, was, to them, treachery.

Angrily, the Germans retaliated. They shot to kill at anything that moved. No longer was a wounded man shown any mercy. They watched bodies for any sign of movement. If a wounded man moved involuntarily, a shot rang out and he never moved again. Either he was dead or he had learned his lesson. ‘I had been wounded in both legs early in the attack and had fainted from loss of blood. Later in the morning I came round and found my steel helmet was off. I felt terribly exposed without it and reached forward very slowly to try and put it back over my head but as soon as I moved a bullet hit me in the shoulder.’ (Pte H. Kemp, Grimsby Chums)

Those who were safe in shell holes could do little but watch in anguish. ‘It was a real shame to see poor fellows with lovely Blighty wounds being picked off as they tried to crawl away.’ (Pte A. Fretwell, Sheffield City Battalion)

At Gommecourt, Capt. John Green, the medical officer of a Derby Territorial battalion, was hit as he searched for wounded in No Man’s Land. Despite this, he went to help a machine-gun officer, badly hurt and caught fast in the German barbed wire. Capt. Green succeeded in freeing this officer and dressed his wounds in a nearby shell hole, although the Germans were throwing grenades at them the whole time. Capt. Green then dragged his patient over No Man’s Land and had almost reached safety when he was, himself, hit again and killed. The machine-gun officer died that night. Capt. Green was awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross.

Those who were unhurt had settled down in shell holes to make the best of their enforced rest. Provided they stayed out of sight, they were fairly safe: ‘I suppose a shell hole is not the best place from which to admire anything but, believe it or not, waving about just over my head were two full-blown red poppies which stood out in pleasant contrast against the azure blue sky.’ (Pte G. E. Waller, Glasgow Boys’ Brigade Battalion)

Others became pessimistic about their chances of survival: ‘As I crouched there in a shell hole I became so weary of the whole ghastly business that I began wishing that if I was going to be killed I could get it over quickly. I don’t remember praying, although I had been a devout Anglo-Catholic before joining the army. I was more curious about death than afraid of it. Would there be a sudden blackness, like the switching off of a light and would one be aware that this blackness was death? As each approaching shell seemed likely to explode on top of me in the shell hole I braced myself to meet the threatened oblivion. What really frightened me was the possiblity of being shattered by a shell but not killed outright, and then having to lie there unattended until I died miserably and painfully.’ (Pte W. Slater, 2nd Bradford Pals)