Never has an army been so ready to fight a defensive battle. The troops and divisional commanders face it full of confidence.
Fritz von Lossberg1
21 June–15 July 1917
‘The longest day of the year, and we have not yet even begun the really big effort’, lamented John Charteris at GHQ. It was 21 June 1917; almost three years to the day since Gavrilo Princip, a Serbian terrorist, had assassinated the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, in the backstreets of Sarajevo. Every evening Charteris would stand outside his office and smoke, listening to the wind in the trees and the frequent birdsong, which was accompanied, as always, by the eternal rumbling of artillery fire at the front. Now, sadly, the endless summery nights began to draw in as the year turned and thoughts fell on the prospect of another winter at war; another winter in the damp, open trenches at the front. It was a sober and unwelcome reminder of the misfortune that had hampered the Allied war effort and of their hopes for victory that seemed to flicker and threaten to die out; a guttering candle surrounded only by darkness.
‘Six months ago I thought by this time we should have been near peace’, Charteris wrote. He was depressed at the prospects of the war not ending any time soon:
Now it looks as if nothing can prevent another full year of war. In six weeks the ‘three years’ that seemed the extreme possible limit will be passed. Except that America is now with us we are not much better off than, if as well as, we were this time last year. Then, as now, we were getting ready for a big attack, but then, Russia was still hopeful and France was fighting well. Now Russia is out of the picture, and so, for the time being, is France. We cannot hope for much from Italy. The Dardanelles venture is dead. Salonika is useless, worse than useless indeed. Mesopotamia does not matter either way. We fight alone here, the only army active.
Despite the all-encompassing gloom, Charteris remained confident in the fighting ability of Britain’s forces. ‘We shall do well, of that there is no reasonable doubt.’ Yet one thing nagged away at him. ‘Have we time to accomplish?’2
It had been two weeks since Plumer’s stunning strike at Messines; two weeks since Crown Prince Rupprecht had lamented the horrifying sight of Bavarian soldiers lying scattered around the battlefield, killed by the explosion of a million pounds of high explosive. Yet there was still no Flanders offensive, and in the hot June weather some could be forgiven for thinking there was no war on. One of Fifth Army’s liaison officers was the artist Paul Maze, who spent his days studying the ground and sketching the positions they were to attack. Every day he would lie ‘hidden among the poppies’ and stare out across the Flanders landscape: from the Passchendaele Ridge on the right, to the ‘heroic remnants’ of Ypres, behind him, with its medieval Cloth Hall (which looked ‘like a birthday cake after the guests have had their share’). Despite the great damage Ypres had sustained from earlier fighting–as well as being a perfect aiming point for German gunners–Maze thought the town ‘impressively strong and undaunted’. ‘Its aspect constantly changed with the varying light. Sometimes it would be a grey mass of walls, like a huge crypt; at other times every house took on a prominence and came out with a distinctness that threw the surrounding landscape into secondary place.’3
In view of how bad the weather would be in late July and August the delay between the attack at Messines and the beginning of the main offensive would have significant repercussions. Henry Rawlinson had originally recommended a pause of only two or three days between the two phases, just enough time to move the guns and register new targets, but in total it would be nearly eight weeks. It took time for Gough to organize his forces and plan his attack, and the addition of Anthoine’s French troops on the left delayed things even further. At La Lovie, Gough watched, with growing unease, the increase in German strength opposite him. Not only were more German air squadrons being encountered by the RFC, but the number of enemy divisions his intelligence was spotting also began to grow disconcertingly. Gough could do little else but emphasize the importance of camouflage and deception to his subordinates, while comforting himself that the German reinforcement was ‘in accordance with Haig’s strategical idea of compelling the Germans to concentrate’ against them rather than the French.4
Gradually the offensive began to take shape. By late June Gough had devised a plan that, he hoped, would allow for a swift and decisive push out of the Ypres Salient. The file he received from GHQ envisaged an advance, during the first day, of about a mile. This would be just enough to capture the German second line, before a further advance–perhaps one or two days later–was made on to the Gheluvelt Plateau on the right. Once this had been secured, operations would then resume in the centre, pushing further eastwards past the Steenbeek and on to the Passchendaele Ridge. After being briefed by Haig (who was very clear about the need to break out of the Salient), Gough redrew these plans to take account of this more ambitious approach. Another objective was added–out to the German third line–and, should that be achieved, his troops would then march on to a fourth objective, another mile eastwards towards the main ridge at Broodseinde. After a pause for several days, the offensive would be renewed towards the apex of the Salient, and then out on to the coast.5
In order to achieve this, Gough put all four of his corps into the line, from left to right along an eight-mile section of front, hoping to spread German defences and guns across his whole sector. He was concerned that if he concentrated his men and guns for a push towards Gheluvelt, this would make it easier for the enemy to contain his advance. At a series of conferences on 26 June, Gough went over many of the key aspects of the operation, including the sequence of objectives and the all-important artillery support. There would be three stages to the attack. The first (the Blue Line) was about 1,000 yards into the German position and included the villages of Hooge and Verlorenhoek. The second (the Black Line) was another 1,000 yards in and ran up to Westhoek, Frezenberg and Pilckem. The final objective (the Green Line) lay about 1,500 yards further on, out towards Polygon Wood and Saint-Julien. Should this ground be taken, Gough then recommended a further advance up to Broodseinde (the Red Line). This took the total advance, should everything go well, up to 5,000 yards–nearly three miles into the German position.6
Just as Gough was finalizing his plans, there was a murmur of concern from GHQ. On 26 June, Brigadier-General John Davidson, Haig’s Head of Operations, sent a memorandum to La Lovie warning of the dangers of pushing the infantry as far as was proposed. Although Haig certainly wanted a major advance, he was happy enough to let Davidson raise the issue. ‘Experience shows that such action may, and often does, obtain spectacular results for the actual day of operations, but these results are obtained at the expense of such disorganization of the forces employed as to render the resumption of the battle under advantageous circumstances at an early date highly improbable.’ Instead of Gough’s ambitious plans, Davidson proposed a ‘deliberate and sustained advance’ at two- or three-day intervals, with units pushing forward between 1,500 and 3,000 yards each time (not the 5,000-yard leap Gough was proposing). Furthermore:
It has been proved beyond doubt that with sufficient and efficient artillery preparation we can push our infantry through to a depth of a mile without undue losses or disorganization, and I recommend strongly that the operations for the capture of the Passchendaele–Staden Ridge should be conducted on the principle of a series of such operations, following one another at short intervals, in such a manner as to avoid at a particular period wholesale reliefs, wholesale displacement of artillery, and the wholesale hurrying forward of guns, troops, ammunition, and supplies over ground which is practically devoid of communications.