Final Days of Passchendaele

In light of the previous picture taken of the men of the 6th & 8th Battalions in October, here is an account of the final days of the Battle of Passchendaele from the book “The Seventeenth Highland Light Infantry (Glasgow Chamber of Commerce Battalion) Edited by John W. Arthur and Ion S. Munro

Whilst not perfect it gives a good feel to the conditions of the terrible battle that men were thrown into:-

The Battalion left the camp on November 22nd for Poperinghe where they entrained to continue the journey up the line, and arriving at St. Jean Station, detrained and marched to "Irish Camp."
On the afternoon of the 23rd a start was made for the Passchendaele front line system, the route taken by the Battalion being for the greater part over the duck board walks "Mouse Trap Track," which covered ground won in the recent big push at Passchendaele. The take-over was not completed without casualties, but these were comparatively few considering the dangerous nature of the going, which was in the open over shell-pitted ground. The Battalion relieved by the 17th was the 1st Northamptonshire Battalion. During the night the 17th captured its first prisoner in this area—a corporal of the 315th Regiment. According to his statement he had been out on patrol when he lost one of his boots in the mud and in trying to find it he had strayed into our lines and been taken. During their initial tour of the Passchendaele system much heavy work was done in converting the shell-hole defence line into trenches, and patrolling. Several casualties were reported each day and the mud was thick and sticky. On the 26th the Battalion was relieved and proceeded to Dambre Camp in the Vlamertinghe area where everybody rested and completed the preparations for the forthcoming offensive at Passchendaele.

It may be said at the outset that the element of surprise intended in the Passchendaele attack failed entirely, as the enemy were aware of the British intentions and fully prepared. In addition, the fact that the artillery barrage proper did not open until zero plus eight minutes, allowed the enemy entire freedom of action in his front posts with rifles and machine guns.

The Battalion moved into the line on the evening of December 1st in conjunction with the other Battalions of the Brigade—2nd K.O.Y.L.I.; 16th H.L.I.; 11th Border Regiment; and the 15th Lancashire Fusiliers (attached). The 16th Northumberland Fusiliers of the 96th Infantry Brigade were attached to the 97th Infantry Brigade as counter-attacking troops to be used in the event of a strong hostile counter-attack on the Brigade front. The frontage taken over by the Brigade was one of 1,850 yards approximately along ]the Passchendaele Ridge. There were two objectives to be taken, of which sections were detailed as the job of the 17th—a slice which included two formidable "pill-boxes" known as the "Vat and Veal Cottages."

The Battalion assembled on a frontage of 400 yards and at Zero Hour (1.55 a.m.) moved forward to the attack. Companies deployed from a two platoon frontage in snake formation—this method having been adopted owing to the shell torn nature of the ground—and advanced in four waves. "A" and "B" Companies were to capture the first objective, mopping up all occupied points in the way, including the two pill boxes, while "C" and "D" were to "leap-frog" through them, carry the next objective and consolidate.

The initial stages of the attack were successfully carried through, but the enemy—as was afterwards learned—knowing of what was on foot, waited in readiness. Suddenly he opened heavy machine gun fire upon the advancing Companies, inflicting heavy casualties which, in the dark and over the difficult ground, had the effect of splitting up the sections and creating some confusion. The officers and men of the Battalion gallantly pressed on against these odds, however, and succeeded in reaching their objective; but the enemy machine gun and rifle fire became so intense that their advanced positions were rendered humanly untenable. Our men, though forced to retire in places, established themselves in shell-hole posts, where an attempt was made to consolidate.

The artillery and machine gun barrage, though intense, had failed, owing to the enemy's fore-knowledge of the attack, to effect its purpose. His strong points were heavily garrisoned and wired and he was also found to be established in strong lines of trenches also effectively wired. The Battalion hung on all through that awful night in its isolated positions, for orders were received that the attack would be renewed in the morning, but these orders were afterwards cancelled.

From dawn onwards artillery fire slackened somewhat, but the enemy machine gunners and snipers kept up harassing fire from their well established posts against the men in their exposed and isolated posts.

It was obvious that a hostile counter-attack might be expected, and this took place about 4 p.m. on the afternoon of the 2nd, preceded by an intense artillery barrage. Owing to the terrible difficulties of their position, and the sweeping casualties inflicted, the line was forced back, but the actual enemy attack which followed his barrage was met by the rifle fire of the shattered 17th, and after the Bosches had approached within a certain distance of the posts, they broke and turned back in retreat.

Though the withdrawal of the Divisional line had been almost general, some of the Battalion posts were still hanging on to the advanced positions on the 3rd. Many wounded were lying out, suffering the most appalling rigours of war and the Battalion stretcher-bearers displayed great devotion to duty in ignoring the heavy fire while bringing them in to comparative shelter. The work at first was extremely dangerous, but later on in the day a lull occurred when it was possible to carry on this labour of mercy under less trying conditions. And it must be recorded, as far as this battle is concerned, that from this point onward the German reversed his frequent policy and shewed respect for the Red Cross Flag, only one instance of sniping taking place when one of the Battalion stretcher-bearers was shot dead while bending over a wounded comrade. Enemy stretcher-bearers were also at work and in some instances they reciprocated attentions given to their wounded, by dressing and carrying our casualties. In this way all the wounded were got in before the Brigade was relieved that night. The Battalion frontage was taken over by the 5/6th Royal Scots. The relief was successfully completed and the remnants of the Battalion reached "Hilltop Farm" in the early morning, entraining later for Hospital Camp in the Vlamertinghe area. The casualties were particularly heavy among Officers and N.C.O.s, and gives trenchant evidence of their self-sacrificing gallantry in seeking by utter disregard for danger to turn a forlorn hope into victory, and by personal example and incentive to make still richer the honourable traditions of the 17th in the face of such overwhelming odds, and amidst such overaweing devastation. In this action seven officers were killed and five wounded. Of other ranks 41 were killed, 130 wounded and 13 missing.

The Battalion was organised as far as possible in its depleted condition and work and training carried on until December 10th, when once more the unit moved up the line to Hilltop Farm, N.E. of Ypres. During their stay here, Mr. Fred A. Farrell, the well-known Scottish artist, visited the 17th on a commission from the Corporation of Glasgow to execute drawings of the Glasgow Battalions and the places in which they were operating.

Near Railway Wood, Ypres Sector.

This picture is taken on 28th October 1917. Near Railway Wood, Ypres Sector in Belgium.

Men of the 6th & 8th Battalions.

To All Brave Men

This little poem was published in the British Nursing Journal on February 19th 1916

The author is a L. A. J. who had this printed originally in the Glasgow Herald.


TO ALL BRAVE MEN:
They wind along in endless fours,
From every shire from Thames to Dee :
I know that uniformed in brown,
They all go East to fight for me.

More than a year has passed, and still
The air I breathe is fresh and free;
I know above, like tireless hawks,
Soar those who hold that .air far me.

Where far away white horses leap,
Where sky and wave in one agree;
I know that there those fearless ride
Who curb these snowy steeds for me.

A sheeted and a shotted load
Slides swiftly to the heaving sea,
I know the ocean holds in trust
Some sailor-man who watched for me.

Rough crosses rise in Flanders, France,
And climb each hill, and dot each lea;
I know they mark the nameless graves
Of those who countered death for me.

But this I know not, when will fade
From Honour’s Roll, and cease to be,
Those gallant gentlemen’s renown,
Who watch, and fight, and die for me !

L. A. J. in the Glasgow Herald.

The Canadians - German Offensive March 1918

This article comes from ‘The Great War in a Different Light’ and was originally published in ‘'the War Illustrated' on 29th June, 1918.

'What Canadian M.M. Gunners Did' by Hamilton Fyfe gives a wonderful account of the Great German offensive in March and April 1918.

The Canadians were not in "the big show." I heard many of-them say this regretfully. They wanted to be in it. They chafed against inaction while not far from them the great battle was being fought. They were doing good service, but it was the service of those who "stand and wait," and that is not the kind of service to which the Canadians are accustomed. "If only the Boche would start in on us !" they said. They meant it, too.

But while the Dominion troops were holding a sector in which, during those crowded March and April days, there was "nothing doing," the Canadians were not altogether unrepresented in the successful effort of the British armies to bring up short of its aims the first stage of the German offensive. Indeed, the contribution which some Canadian motor machine-gunners put in was of the greatest value. It saved many British lives. It accounted for many Germans. It tided over a number of difficult moments during the battle.

This unit, consisting of armoured cars with machine-guns, which could either be worked from the cars, or taken out and used independently, was formed in Canada by several rich men at the instigation of a French Canadian of distinguished ability and enterprise. The unit had not yet been in action when it was suddenly called upon to take part in fighting some of the rearguard actions required for the protection of our armies as they fell back. Its machine-guns were actually in the trench system when the call came.

Ready Wherever Wanted

At nine o'clock in the evening on March 21st a telegram was received. "Can you send your machine-gunners?" it asked, and "How soon can they be ready to start ?" The reply was made that two batteries would pull out before midnight, and the remainder by five o'clock in the morning. Orders were sent to the men in the trenches to come with their guns as quickly as possible. By five a.m. all the batteries were on the road.

They had a long way to go before they came to the battlefield, but they drove like men who knew they were wanted, and that same day, March 22nd, they were in action in two places.
Their task was to stiffen resistance to the German advance wherever our line was weak. The officer in command of the cars wrote in one of his reports that his cars were "in constant demand." To every demand for their help the men responded. After five days' fighting, during which they had only about twenty hours' sleep, they were reported to be in the best of trim.

"Every man is cheerful and full of fight." That was their commanding officer's testimony.

They had heavy losses. That was not to be avoided. They were doing dangerous work. One battery was in action with its guns on the ground. They checked the enemy time after time, but he came on after every check, and at last their ammunition began to run out. The battery commander saw that he must think about getting his guns away. He left a few to keep up a brisk fire while the rest were got into the cars. Unluckily, before the packing up was finished, the gunners, who had been left firing, found they had no ammunition left.

They saw that the cars were not ready to start. They knew that unless the Germans were held up somehow the cars would be captured. They had a small supply of bombs, and with these they kept the enemy back for a few minutes. Then they pulled out their revolvers and used up all their cartridges. Still the cars did not start. The Germans were getting nearer every moment. Something must be done to check them just a little longer. The one possibility was to charge.

Charge With Bare Fists

They had no bayonets. They had no rifles even. The only weapons available were spare machine-gun barrels. They picked up these, and with a shout ran into the open. It meant certain death, and they must have known this. But not one of them hesitated. Those who had not been able to get a gun-barrel used their fists. They were all killed, but they saved the cars. Their comrades got away, and told with affectionate gratitude the story of their gallant sacrifice.

At Maricourt, near Peronne, a battery fought till it had only three men left. All the rest were either killed or wounded. Their orders here were to cover the extrication of the heavy guns and of a number of Tanks. These move slowly. The Canadians' job turned out to be a long one. At first they were firing from positions protected by wire. But they found that the wire hindered their view, so they boldly carried their guns out in front of it.

They went on working (hem in the open until the enemy got round one of their flanks. Then they started to get back through the wire again. No more than three — a sergeant and two privates — remained unwounded. One of the privates, a motor-cyclist, with his machine handy, was sent to fetch up the cars, while the other two kept a couple of guns going. The cars came, the wounded were picked up, and the remains of the battery got safely away under its commander, who had had his arm blown off.

Often daring action was needed to get the full value out of these armoured "landships." At one point the Germans were discovered to be massing in large force upon ground which our infantry fire could not reach. It was sheltered from them in such a manner as to be what is called "dead ground." The only way to get at them and break up their concentration, which threatened to be dangerous, was to work round the sheltering slope and pour in a hot fire from the flank.

Two cars were detailed for this enterprise. They drove at full speed and took up their positions.

Their guns, worked from the cars, caught the Germans unexpectedly and mowed them down. "They lay in heaps," one of the Canadians said afterwards. But very quickly the German artillery got on to the cars. One was hit and disabled. The crew of the other tried to tow it away, but this could not be managed with shells bursting all around. It had to be abandoned. But the desperate effort had succeeded. The German concentration was broken up.

Eight Crowded Days

There were several very brave exploits by individual men. One gunner worked a car all alone when all his comrades had been knocked out. Another man found himself the only survivor of a car crew except for the driver. They were in a village which was just being taken by the Boche. He planted his machine-gun at a corner and played a stream of bullets in the direction of the enemy, while the driver turned the car round. Then he picked his gun up, heaved it into the car, jumped after it, and got away unhit.

One very interesting encounter which the cars had was with a body of German cavalry. Many hold it to be more than doubtful whether cavalry can be of any use against machine-guns. The Canadian commander's report upon the encounter supported this view. "Cavalry," he wrote, "against organised machine-guns, with Canadians firing them, is useless."

For eight days these cars were in a number of the hottest forefronts of the battle. They did all that was asked of them, and they did it well. When they got back to Canadian Headquarters they were sadly reduced in personnel, and their cars were a good deal marked. But they knew they had done good service, and they were thanked by the Canadian commander. Canada and the Empire owe them hearty thanks as well.

A Cake Shower

This interesting article from the British Nursing Journal on February 19th, 1916 advertising the unique idea of having a ‘cake shower’ for the nurses in France.

A CAKE SHOWER.

Cakes are terribly expensive in France just now, so we propose to have a “Cake Shower ” on Wednesday, February 23rd, when we shall be at 431, Oxford Street, to receive the gifts from 2 to 4 p.m., so that they may be sent, to head-quarters in Paris for the ‘ Sisters’ Teas ” now prepared in the office, and to which Sisters passing through Paris and the friends of the Corps are always welcome. Also if we get a good supply they will be sent to Sisters on duty further a field.

A ‘shower ’ is an American custom, and enables anyone generously disposed to ‘shower ” a given article, say, cake, soap, cigarettes, etc., upon the organisation requiring them.

THE BRITISH JOURNAL OF NURSING will give a prize of 5s. for the most delicious looking cake. We shall hope for a goodly supply.

Jam-tins on the wire.

I’ve never read of this before until I came across in R. Hugh Knyvett excellent book: "Over There with the Australians.”

There must have been plenty of used jam-tins and the noise of the tins on the wire would have been very unusal.

“There was another use made of empty jam-tins: they were tied to our barbed wire so that if any Turk tried to get through he would make a noise like the cowbells at milking-time. Talking about barbed wire, Johnny Turk played a huge joke on us on one occasion. As the staking down of wire was too risky, we prepared some "knife-rests" (hedges of wire shaped like a knife rest) and rolled them over our parapet, but opened our eyes in amazement to find in the morning that they had only stopped a few feet from the Turkish trenches. The Turks had sneaked out and tied ropes to them and hauled them over to protect themselves. Thereafter we took care to let Abdul do his own wiring.”

A Danger to Cyclists

The age old problem of roads catering for cyclists was evident at the being of the war. This letter published in the Eastbourne Gazette, is from a concerned cyclist highlighting the dangers of the edge of the road.


A DANGER TO CYCLISTS

Sir

May I through you columns direct the attentions of the Highway Committee to a very serious danger to cyclists, which I am sure they will gladly remove. The danger arises from leaving a ridge, sometimes nearly two inches in height, between the gutter and the roadway.

An example, of which there are plenty, may be found in the gutter facing the London City and Midland Bank, in Terminus Road. Owing to the congestion of traffic, especially motor cars, the easy-going cyclist is driven to take the extreme edge of the road and sometimes even the gutter.

The gutter is generally slippery enough in itself, but when there is a ridge, as is too often the case, the cyclist in attempting to regain the road is in serious danger of sideslip and of being thrown under the wheels of the quick moving car.

The edge of the gutter ought to be levelled off so as to allow the cyclist to regain the road without difficulty of danger. I notice that in some places an indifferent attempt at such bevelling has been made, but in many other places no bevelling at all has been done. In case a cyclist were injured though such carelessness who would be responsible?

Pathfinder
Motcombe Lane
Eastbourne

The Cootie

This article about the perils and torture of the common louse comes from the book ‘A Yankee in the Trenches’ by R. Derby Holmes

The Cootie was the name given to the too common, ‘body louse’. As Holmes put it ‘Everybody has 'em.’

“Back in billets the very first thing that comes off is the big clean-up. Uniforms are brushed up, and equipment put in order. Then comes the bath, the most thorough possible under the conditions. After that comes the "cootie carnival", better known as the "shirt hunt." The cootie is the soldier's worst enemy. He's worse than the Hun. You can't get rid of him wherever you are, in the trenches or in billets, and he sticks closer than a brother. The cootie is a good deal of an acrobat. His policy of attack is to hang on to the shirt and to nibble at the occupant. Pull off the shirt and he comes with it. Hence the shirt hunt. Tommy gets out in the open somewhere so as not to shed his little companions indoors—there's always enough there anyhow—and he peels.

Then he systematically runs down each seam—the cootie's favorite hiding place—catches the game, and ends his career by cracking him between the thumb nails.

For some obscure psychological reason, Tommy seems to like company on one of these hunts. Perhaps it is because misery loves company, or it may be that he likes to compare notes on the catch. Anyhow, it is a common thing to see from a dozen to twenty soldiers with their shirts off, hunting cooties.

"Hi sye, 'Arry," you'll hear some one sing out. "Look 'ere. Strike me bloomin' well pink but this one 'ere's got a black stripe along 'is back."

Or, "If this don't look like the one I showed ye 'fore we went into the blinkin' line. 'Ow'd 'e git loose?"

And then, as likely as not, a little farther away, behind the officers' quarters, you'll hear one say:
"I say, old chap, it's deucedly peculiar I should have so many of the beastly things after putting on the Harrisons mothaw sent in the lawst parcel."

The cootie isn't at all fastidious. He will bite the British aristocrat as soon as anybody else. He finds his way into all branches of the service, and I have even seen a dignified colonel wiggle his shoulders anxiously.

Some of the cootie stories have become classical, like this one which was told from the North Sea to the Swiss border. It might have happened at that.

A soldier was going over the top when one of his cootie friends bit him on the calf. The soldier reached down and captured the biter. Just as he stooped, a shell whizzed over where his head would have been if he had not gone after the cootie. Holding the captive between thumb and finger, he said:

"Old feller, I cawn't give yer the Victoria Cross—but I can put yer back."

And he did.

The worst thing about the cootie is that there is no remedy for him. The shirt hunt is the only effective way for the soldier to get rid of his bosom friends. The various dopes and patent preparations guaranteed as "good for cooties" are just that. They give 'em an appetite. “

To Our Sporting Man by Gladys I Wallis.

I love this poem, published in the Eastbourne Gazette in September 1914; it really captures the patriotic fervour of those early days.

To Our Sporting Man by Gladys I Wallis


Why are you playing and watching
Cricket and tennis here?
Why are you hesitating
When your country’s need is clear?

Lay down your bat and racket
And if need be lay down your life
Your King and Country are calling
You’re wanted to end this strife.

Then when you’ve beaten the Germans
They’ll be time enough for play.
So hasten to answer the call, boys
If you are sporting at all – JOIN TO-DAY