At noon, after four and a half hours of bitter fighting, the fortunes of the day were almost decided. For the British commanders and their men, the second part of the morning had brought no dramatic improvement despite the commitment to the battle of nearly 100,000 British infantrymen from 129 battalions.
In Gen. Rawlinson’s Fourth Army the right wing was the only sector which could give cause for real satisfaction. The divisions attacking northward, from the lower arm of the ‘L’, had all made good progress, although none had done as well as the 30th with its spectacular capture of Montauban. The 30th Division was the only one of the thirteen assaulting divisions to take and hold all its objectives during the morning.
Turning the corner of the ‘L’ it was mostly a heartbreaking story of failure on the remainder of the Fourth Army front all the way to Serre nine miles away, the only exception being the blazing success of the Ulster Division near Thiepval. Astride the main road to Pozières and Bapaume, on Rawlinson’s vital centre, there had been no improvement. Similarly, Hunter-Weston’s attack with three divisions, which would have formed the northern flank guard, had been completely repulsed. But as there had been no progress in the centre, there was now no flank to be guarded. On all these sectors some of the earlier captures of small stretches of German trenches had been lost, the attackers having been driven out, as were Reginald Bastard’s men, or wiped out like the Tyneside Irish party.
In the diversionary battle at Gommecourt the North Midland Division had fared badly and those few of its men who had got into the German trenches had been forced back, killed or captured. When 2nd Lieut Arthur and the Queen’s Westminsters’ bombers pushed through behind the village, the Germans had been in complete control of all their positions on the north of the salient. The London Division still held most of its captures, although it had recoiled from its farthest advance.
What was the best course of action open to those directing the actions of both the London Division and the Ulster Division? The Londoners belonged to the Third Army and were taking part in a diversion, the Ulstermen were part of the main Fourth Army attack; but the problems facing the commanders in both cases were identical: what to do about a successful division stranded in the German lines. Each division still had a firm grip of the German trenches, albeit on a narrow frontage. Properly reinforced and directed, these lodgements could be exploited to the flanks and used to bring about the collapse of further German positions. The hard-won early successes would not then have been in vain. But could the divisions be reinforced and could further operations be competently directed? A second option would be to press the divisions alongside the Ulsters and Londoners to resume their attacks. Or again, the commanders might assess the prospects of further success as slim, refuse to risk any more troops and recall the men in the German trenches with the least possible loss. The worst policy of all would be to do nothing and leave the survivors unsupported in the German lines where they would surely be overwhelmed.
It was on decisions being made in various army and corps headquarters that the fate of the Ulster and London Divisions depended.
Looking once more at the whole battlefield, there was complete failure on two thirds of the attack front, while on the right wing there was success and, at Gommecourt and Thiepval, partial success but potential danger. An estimate of the losses at midday shows that nearly 50,000 British soldiers had been killed or wounded. Whatever the afternoon brought, it was going to be a black day for the British Army.
On the fringes of the battlefield were all those arms of the army whose role it was to support the infantry. Where the battle had gone according to plan they had done their duty well, but elsewhere they found it almost impossible to help their infantry comrades.
The newly formed Machine Gun Companies had had a particularly frustrating morning. Their heavy Vickers machine-guns were too vulnerable in the open and, from their position in the British trenches, could give little close support to the infantry in the confused fighting. Even those who had managed to get across No Man’s Land and set up their positions in captured trenches could give little help, since the fighting was mostly with grenade and bayonet. Similarly, the Trench Mortar Batteries which had joined in the last few minutes of the artillery bombardment just before the infantry attack had been able to give little support since then, because of the difficulty in knowing which trenches were held by their own troops and which by the enemy. Both the machine-gunners and mortar gunners had suffered heavy casualties from German shelling.
The main task of the Royal Engineers and the Pioneer infantry battalions was to construct new communication trenches across No Man’s Land. Shallow tunnels had often been dug there before the battle, leaving only the head cover to be removed on the day of the battle and so provide ready-made trenches. Where the battle had gone well they had been able to do this, but more often the shelling and machine-gun fire had prevented them working and the tunnels had collapsed under German shell fire or become blocked with frightened or wounded infantry. Other sappers and pioneers had been ordered to build trench bridges and clear away barbed wire to enable field guns and cavalry to follow the advancing infantry. But these plans, like so many others, were now irrelevant.
The large number of wounded and the heavy shelling had turned many of the British trenches into a nightmare of congestion and suffering. It was difficult enough to get a badly wounded man away on a stretcher in normal times but, with dead and wounded everywhere, shell fire levelling the trenches and bullets from machine-guns passing just overhead, the stretcher cases could not be moved in any quantity.
Strangely, other trenches were almost deserted. ‘The trench was now almost blocked with dead and wounded. One of the latter with both legs shattered was screaming in agony but, scrambling my way a little farther along in the blown-in remains of the trench, I realized that I was now entirely alone. For some time I remained in the ruins of one of the bays, accompanied only by the corpse of a man in number 5 Platoon and a mole, disturbed from its burrow by a shell.’ (Pte R. N. Bell, Leeds Pals)
Still alone and trapped by fallen debris in a British trench was L/Cpl Charles Matthews of the 6th Northamptons. He had managed to raise himself to a half-sitting position, but no farther. He had been stuck in this painful attitude until a passing soldier had laid him down again but then hurried away. Matthews spotted a small niche in the side of the trench a few yards away in which he could shelter, but because of his injured leg he could only edge his way forward slowly, using chin and elbows. Every few minutes he had to flatten himself to the floor of the trench as what he was coming to regard as his own personal German battery fired a salvo which exploded a few yards away.
This crawl was interrupted by another visitor, a soldier badly wounded in the face and wrist, who suddenly dropped into the trench beside him. He could not speak but, by mime, appealed to Matthews to dress his wounds, offering only a filthy handkerchief to staunch a prodigious flow of blood. Matthews did what he could but still the blood spurted out, so he directed the wounded man down the trench towards the rear. The poor man would not go but clung to Matthews, soaking his tunic in blood. With his own painful injury, the constant shelling and this man refusing to leave him, Matthews began to think he would go crazy but was saved when a passing signals officers, out inspecting his cables, led the wounded man away but left Matthews to continue his crawl. When he reached the niche, it had taken him just three hours to crawl four yards. He felt exhausted and in severe pain, but at least a little safer from the nearby shell bursts. At midday he was still there wondering whether he ever would be rescued.
There were many wounded, like Charles Matthews, whose condition was desperate. ‘A shell landed next to me and I was hit all down my left side. I was in insane agony and took a handful of my morphia tablets and was just going to swallow them when one of my men knocked them out of my hand. He said, “Stop that, you daft bugger.” ’ (Lieut W. J. White, 3rd Tyneside Irish)
‘One incident impressed on my mind was one of my company, wounded in the head and apparently dead. I noticed a movement in his scalp and, on examination, saw his brain pulsing where the bone of the scalp had been smashed. I found a stretcher party and the casualty was taken back and I heard, later, that he had survived.’ (P e N. H. Norton, 8th Norfolks)
All along the line those wounded who were able to do so were getting out of the trenches as best they could. ‘I saw wounded coming down our trench and, to my astonishment, one of them was my brother, who was wounded in the knee by shrapnel, using his rifle and shovel for crutches. I remember asking him if he had any fags as we hadn’t a smoke between us. He gave us a 50 tin of Capstans. He made our day.’ (Pte E. Green, 23rd Brigade Machine Gun Company)
‘The wounded were coming back and passing within two yards of our Lewis gun position. One sergeant shouts to me, “Give them hell; they’ve shot my bloody lug off.” And sure enough his right ear hung in shreds.’ (Cpl J. Norton, 8th Norfolks)
By midday the medical services were at full stretch. The divisional units, the Field Ambulances, were coping well, despite the huge number of wounded coming back to them. Those of the divisions actually in action were being helped by the Field Ambulances of nearby reserve divisions, whose own infantry were not yet fighting. From the Field Ambulances the wounded were being passed back as quickly as possible to the Casualty Clearing Stations (C.C.S.’s), so that the forward medical units could continue to accept casualties.
At the C.C.S.’S, however, something had gone wrong with the evacuation process. In spite of Gen. Rawlinson’s personal request for eighteen ambulance trains for his army, only one had arrived by midday. At 9 A.M., No. 20 Ambulance Train had left Vecquement for the base hospitals at Rouen with a load of 487 patients, but more than half of these were sick and most of the remainder were wounded from the previous day.
Nearly every c.c.s. had, by now, accepted large numbers of patients from the forward units, and a steady stream of motor ambulances was bringing in more with every hour. Most of the tents and other accommodation were full and the latest arrivals were having to be left outside, laid in long rows in a field on either a blanket or some straw. Harrassed orderlies tried to provide some shade from the hot sun for the wounded outside and attend to their other needs, but were hard pressed to cope with so many. R.A.M.C. officers were ringing up the local railway officers, wanting to know where the ambulance trains had got to.
The British artillery was still potentially the decisive weapon which, properly handled, could have eased the lot of the infantry by shelling the German machine-gun posts which dominated No Man’s Land and breaking up the counter-attacks which the Germans were beginning to mount. Some brigade and divisional commanders ignored higher orders and brought their guns back on to more realistic targets, but the danger of hitting friendly troops, whose exact position was unknown, prevented the closest support. Serre and Thiepval, two villages that were full of Germans and were causing heavy British casualties, hardly received a British shell all day because of mistaken reports that British troops had been seen in them. Serre was, however, shelled by the Germans; the confusion was not all on one side.
When the divisions making the initial attack had left their trenches, their places on some sectors had been taken by the reserve divisions which theoretically should have joined the cavalry in any penetration of the German rear. When the Tyneside Irish left the Tara-Usna Line, astride the main road outside Albert, eight battalions from the 19th (Western) Division started to take their place there. These troops marched through the outskirts of ruined Albert and by 10 A.M. were installed in the trenches. They could see little of the battlefield only a mile away because of the smoke and dust; but the long bursts of German machine-gun fire, the absence of prisoners and the stream of returning British wounded soon showed them that the attack on this sector had broken down. They waited here all morning, wondering if they would have to attack in the afternoon where others had failed.
It was quite possible for one part of a unit to be fighting furiously while the remainder, left out of the battle, spent the day in relative safety. A company commander in the London Division’s Pioneer battalion describes his day while a fellow-officer, 2nd Lieut Arthur, was losing his life leading, a bombing party in the German trenches: ‘My recollection, after all these years, is of being in a trench discussing the rumours, helping with the wounded (we had four men killed) and occasionally lying in a bit of shelter, reading Pickwick Papers and watching the activities of a fat and grey rat.’ (Capt. P. H. Jolliffe, 1/5th Cheshires)*
Farther back, reserve battalions were on the move, the long columns of men tramping towards the front being covered with dust from passing ambulances, supply lorries and despatch-riders; the motor cyclists shouting out their snatches of news, before disappearing on their urgent business. ‘At first the rumours were good: “Gommecourt is taken.” “Serre has fallen.” “The French have broken through.” But later the news became worse. “The K.O.S.B.s only gained a foothold.” “The London Scottish were cut up at Gommecourt.” “The 46th Division has been wiped out.” “Two generals have committed suicide.” ’ (Cpl J. T. Brewer, 1/6th Gloucesters)
Also waiting just behind the front were the three divisions of cavalry. These had risen before dawn and moved up as near to the front as they could. At first the troopers sat in their saddles, ready for action, but as the morning wore on they were allowed to dismount and ease their horses. One cavalry division, the 2nd Indian, was deployed behind the successful infantry divisions on Rawlinson’s right wing, admirably placed if it was decided to exploit the infantry success there in the afternoon.
After the clearance of the early morning mist it had become ideal operating weather for the R.F.C.† A succession of aircraft kept watch over each sector of the front trying to maintain visual communication with the attacking troops and passing details of their progress back to the infantry H.Q.’S, observing the fire of the British heavy artillery batteries or keeping German aircraft from the battlefield.
The ground patrols .were often fruitless since the British infantry, too close to the Germans, refused to reveal themselves. All morning, the planes flew up and down over No Man’s Land and the German trenches hoping to be able to report progress. But the other R.F.C. operations were more successful. The British were so superior in the air on this day, that no German aircraft was able to interfere in the battle. ‘Just as we were consolidating our position three German planes flew over from their lines and, before we could say anything at all, one of ours appeared from out of the blue and went after the Fritz planes. They just turned tail and disappeared.’ (Pte W. R. Thompson, 6th Northampton) In all, nine ‘dog fights’ took place and one German aeroplane was shot down.
Over the German rear, the artillery-spotting planes went about their work, finding plenty of targets as the Germans were at last forced to reveal the position of their artillery batteries. Using primitive morse ‘buzzers’, the aerial observers sent back messages which were picked up, if all went well, by R.F.C. wireless operators who were attached to the artillery batteries. These ground operators, who often suffered casualties because they were so close to the front line, rarely saw the rest of the R.F.C. and regarded themselves as the forgotten men of the air arm, but they provided the essential link between the observing planes and the guns.
Above Pozières, a British airman directing artillery fire watched the results of his efforts: ‘A Hun 4.5-battery behind a hedge was still firing. This battery was a good one and the commander a sportsman, as he was being heavily strafed by several of our heavies and lighter guns and shells were falling on and round his battery, but he refused to stop firing. Eventually only one gun was left which he kept in action and was still firing when we returned to our ’drome.’ (Lieut T. W. Stallibrass, 3 Squadron R.F.C, from his log book)
During the day, forty bombing flights were made by the R.F.C. and a total of four tons of bombs was dropped on such targets as billets, artillery positions, trenches and various forms of transport. A direct hit was claimed on an ammunition train at Cambrai, twenty-five miles behind the front. One pilot was in the air for over five hours, a feat of endurance in the open cockpits of 1916. Another, Lieut J. C. Turner of 27 Squadron, could not release one of his two bombs while bombing Bapaume. In spite of being under attack by two German planes, he flew over the target twice more, finally making the bomb fall by pushing at it with both hands whilst flying the aeroplane with his knees.*
The British H.Q.S farther away from the front were now getting more accurate reports of what had happened to the attacking divisions, and decisions were being taken that would affect the progress of the battle in the afternoon. Sometimes it was a fresh formation that was ordered forward to join in the battle; at others, battered units that had failed in the morning received orders, which were backed up by the whole weight of the chain of command, that somehow their attacks should be renewed. Brig.-Gen. Gordon, who three hours earlier had ordered his last battalion into a hopeless attack, was in turn pressed by his divisional commander to attack again. Gordon’s quiet reply on the telephone was, ‘You seem to forget, sir, that there is now no 70th Brigade.’*
The corps commanders controlling the battle at Thiepval and at Gommecourt had both reached decisions about their divisions which were all but cut off in the German trenches. Both were far from admitting that all hope of success had passed and were determined to continue the attack. Lieut-Gen. Morland’s main move was to send part of his reserve division into Thiepval Wood with orders to cross No Man’s Land and reinforce the Ulster Division in the Schwaben Redoubt. Lieut-Gen. Snow of VII Corps at Gommecourt chose a different tactic. His 46th (North Midland) Division had failed to penetrate the German trenches on the northern part of the salient in the morning. Snow ordered that division to repeat its attack in the afternoon, in a fresh attempt to encircle Gommecourt village. Snow must have known that the attack of his corps had already fulfilled its diversionary function. By this fresh order, either he, or his army commander, Gen. Allenby, was turning Gommecourt into a separate little battle in its own right.
At Fourth Army, reports had been coming in from the corps all morning, but either the corps were reluctant to repeat the truth and were only sending back the more optimistic reports, or the staff officer responsible for keeping the Fourth Army’s Diary was himself an incurable optimist.
8.46 A.M. A wounded captain from the 10th Lincolns reports: ‘Germans had had heavy casualties .... Lincolns have got over No Man’s Land with very few casualties.’
The captain was either a fool or had been misquoted. The Grimsby Chums had lost nearly 500 men and very few of the remainder were in the German lines.
9 A.M. 10th West Yorks are in the northern edge of Fricourt.
Except for Lieut Philip Howe and a handful of men, no one knew where the 10th West Yorks were. They had disappeared.
9 A.M. 29th Division held up in German wire.
This was the first adverse report in the Diary.
11.8 A.M. Ovillers and north of the Bapaume Road is very quiet with hardly any shelling.
Also at Fourth Army H.Q. was Lieut-Gen. Gough, the commander of the cavalry, with a small staff. The only order he sent to his three cavalry divisions during the morning was one at 11.30 A.M. telling them that they would not be moving until 2 P.M. at the earliest. As Gough watched the Fourth Army staff officers marking up their maps, he must have wondered whether Rawlinson would allow him to use the 2nd Indian Cavalry Division to exploit the infantry success of the right wing. Some of its units were quite close to the old British front line opposite Montauban. How Gough must have longed for the order to come.
But to many staff officers, 1 July was just another routine day. ‘In the middle of the battle, two runners were sent from brigade with a message; one was hit on the way and the other handed over the message to me. It read, “Please re-submit drawing of the foot of Pte Warke, size of boot 13.” Pte Warke, who had particularly big feet, was in the middle of the Schwaben Redoubt at the time. I was furious that such a stupid message should be sent at such a time and stamped it into the mud.’ (Capt. N. Strong, Derry Volunteers)*
Another unknown staff officer circulated the following order to many of the units which were in action:
PORK AND BEANS
Certain complaints have been received that no pork can be found in the tins… Troops must not be misled by the name pork and beans, and expect to find a full ration of pork; as a matter of fact the pork is practically all absorbed by the beans.*
For the German soldiers it had been a long morning. The frenzy of the opening attack had passed in most places but sometimes the Germans had to fight hard to maintain their positions against attacks which had been partially successful. ‘We built a block in the trench between us and the English who had broken into the trenches on the left. We couldn’t see very well when they were coming, but some of our men behind us had better observation, so they would call out to us every time the English approached and then we threw grenades for all we were worth. I’ve no idea how many we threw; these people attacked us at least fifteen times. We had a big advantage because our grenades were on a stick and with the extra leverage we could throw further.’ (Soldat Wilhelm Lange, 99th Reserve Regiment).†
On the British right wing the Germans appeared to be fighting a losing battle. Many fought to the end but there were also others who allowed themselves to be taken prisoner. The fighting was confused and bitter. The following quotations all come from men of a Baden regiment who were gradually succumbing to the attacks of the 7th and 18th (Eastern) Divisions between Mametz and Montauban.
‘There were five of us on our machine-gun when I saw an English soldier about twenty metres away to our left. Then our eldest soldier, a painter who came from Pforzheim and had five children, was shot in the forehead and dropped without a word. Next I was shot in the chest. I felt blood run down my back and I fell; I knew the war was over for me. He shot three of us before I even had the chance to use my rifle. I would like to meet that English soldier. He was a good shot.’ (Grenadier Emil Kury, 109th Reserve Regiment) ‡
‘One of the men in my group went completely mad from thirst during the day. He was foaming at the mouth and, despite our shouts, he ran blindly out of our trench towards the English and was shot down.’ (Unteroffizier Paul Scheytt, 109th Reserve Regiment)
‘We were being fired on from the rear. We thought this was our own infantry, so we jumped out of our trench, all waving and shouting “Higher! Higher!” Then we saw two or three of our men drop wounded and we realized it was the English who were behind us, so we jumped back into our trench. There we had a conference as to whether to surrender. One or two wanted to fight on but there were many in our regiment who were over forty and, unlike the younger men, these had family ties and were the first to suggest surrendering. In the end the others were swayed. We tied a handkerchief to a rifle and waved it and the English came and rounded us up. We were very depressed but we knew that once we had surrendered the English wouldn’t shoot us. We could see from their faces that they were as pleased as we were that it was all over, but they took all our watches from us.’ (Unteroffizer Gustav Luttgers, 109th Reserve Regiment)
But, on the majority of their front, the Germans were able to look out triumphant, if tired, on to their beaten enemies in No Man’s Land. Outside Serre, ‘There was a wailing and lamentation from No Man’s Land and much shouting for stretcher-bearers from the stricken English. They lay in piles but those who survived fired at us from behind their bodies. Later on, when the English tried again, they weren’t walking this time, they were running as fast as they could but when they reached the piles of bodies they got no farther. I could see English officers gesticulating wildly, trying to call the reserves forward, but very few came. Normally, after 5,000 rounds had been fired we changed the barrel of the machine-gun. We changed it five times that morning.’ (Musketier Karl Blenk, 169th Regiment)
There were at least nine more hours of daylight left. Could the British yet recover? Would the Germans still be dominant on these sectors at the end of the day?