‘On july 1st the weather, after an early mist was of the kind commonly called heavenly’, recalled Siegfried Sassoon. He and his brother officers breakfasted at 6 a.m., ‘unwashed and apprehensive’, an empty ammunition box for their table. At 6.45 the final bombardment began, and there was nothing to do but sit round our candle until the tornado ended. For more than forty minutes the air vibrated and the earth rocked and shuddered. Through the sustained uproar the tap and rattle of machine guns could be identified; but except for the whistle of bullets no retaliation came our way until a few 5.9 [in.] shells shook the roof of our dugout.’ He and another officer ‘sat speechless, deafened and stupefied by the seismic state of affairs, and when he lit a cigarette the match flame staggered crazily’.3

Cpl. Appleyard of the Queen Victoria’s Rifles noted how ‘Every gun in the sector fired rapid. This was kept up for an hour, at the end of which we sent over our smoke bombs. I witnessed the spectacle from the old original front line and it was the finest spectacle I have ever seen. The smoke varied in colour and as each cloud intermingled with the other, it formed beautiful tints.’4

‘The sun rose higher,’ wrote another observer of that morning, ‘and birds chirped and fed in the charlock that garnished some of the trenches.’5 Another recalled: ‘It seemed years before the first ray of light appeared in the Heavens, but gradually the light grew stronger showing up the long line of khaki-clad boys.’6 But for all its poetic delightfulness, the sun was in fact to pose a major problem for the soldiers as they prepared to clamber out of their trenches to do battle. Some British commanders wanted to attack at dawn, before the German machine-gunners could set their ranges properly. The Tommies (as the Germans nicknamed them)—who were generally attacking eastwards except in the southern sector—would otherwise have the rising sun in their eyes. Gen. Rawlinson pressed the French to accept an attack before sunrise, but, as Brig. Edmonds recorded in the Official History: ‘The splendid chance of surprise offered by an assault in the early morning before the enemy machine-gunners could see very far was lost because the proposal for an early start was definitely rejected by the French, who even wished to make Zero Hour 9 a.m. instead of 7.30 a.m.’7 This was a repetition of what had happened at Loos, where Gen. Foch had ordered French infantry not to attack until a full four hours after artillery observation was possible. Yet near the Somme River the mist was heavy, and although it cleared on the uplands it was still too thick at 7.30 a.m. for the German trenches to be seen clearly from the artillery observation posts before the attack.8

The men were massed in the assembly trenches by 4 a.m., so there was time to write last letters home. ‘There is a big attack coming off very shortly, and we are in it’, Lt.Malcolm White—a Shrewsbury schoolmaster in his mid-twenties who had enlisted in April 1915 and was with the 1st Rifle Brigade in the 4th Division north of Beaumont Hamel—wrote to his family.

And there is just a minute to scribble a line to you with my love and greeting. We all hope it will be a success, though it will be a difficult business, I am sure. Our job will be to take the front system of trenches in this area. Man, I can’t write a letter. There is much to think, but nothing to say really. I dare say this will not reach you, but I have asked a friend to send it for me when censorship does not apply any longer… And now, I just want to say to you all, that, if I don’t come through it, you must all be quite cheerful about it. I am quite happy about it, though of course I can’t deny that I’m quite keen to come home again… It seems to me that, if I die in this action, it gives me a great, simple chance to make up for a lot of selfishness in the past… That’s my view of it. It’s not priggish—I hope it doesn’t sound like that. It is also a great comfort to think of you all going on, living the same happy lives that we have led together, and of the new generation coming into it all. I can’t write more, My dearest love to you all.9

Leading his men in the 1st Rifle Brigade’s attack on Beaumont Hamel, White was hit but not badly wounded, until a shell landed nearby soon afterwards and killed him.*1

Morale was high among the men waiting to attack that morning, especially once the bombardment intensified at 7.20 a.m.10 They understood that they would have to fight, but expected that they would be matched against an enemy incapacitated and demoralized by the week-long artillery barrage. Perhaps typical was the experience of Edward ‘Ted’ Higson who had volunteered on the outbreak of war for the Clerks and Warehousemen Battalion of the Manchester Pals (18th Battalion Manchester Regiment). They had been sent to France in November 1915 and when they reached the front the next month ‘As we approached the firing line, we heard first of all the guns booming and many of us wondered how we should behave under fire, hoping for a steady nerve and a brave heart.’11 By 30 June 1916, ‘Everybody was eager to be “over the top”,*2 our first big stunt… There were no white faces, no trembling limbs. In their hearts they were hoping to come through safely, not for their own sake but for the sake of those at home, but on the other hand they were quite prepared to die for the glorious cause of freedom and love.’12*3 As for the sound of the bombardment’s great finale: ‘Hundreds of guns were firing as quickly as they could be loaded; the noise was so intense that one could not hear what the man next to you was saying… to this day I wonder why the drums of our ears were not burst open.’13