Carrying on from yesterday this article is also from ‘The Great War in a Differnet Light’ and was originally published in the 'From All the Fronts' by Donald Mackenzie (1917).
Wildlife in the Trenches
Life in the trenches has brought many men into close touch with Nature, and made them take a great interest in birds and other wild animals whose haunts had been rudely disturbed by the clamour and ravages of war. Flocks of migrating swallows have been seen, at times, in France and Italy, scattering in confusion through the drifting smoke of the big guns, but still they have continued to migrate southward and northward in season as of old without changing their routes in flight. Airmen tell that they sometimes meet in France with swarms of birds soaring high above the clouds. In February, 1917, one flying man saw great flocks of migrating plovers at a height of about 6ooo feet.
Among the lovely Vosges mountains herds of wild pigs have been driven from their lairs by bursting shells. Some have scampered into camps, where they were promptly hunted down to provide a change of diet for the fighting men. One day a wild boar charged down a trench, and wounded two French soldiers before it was laid low by a well-directed bullet.
Sometimes swarms of hares and rabbits have scrambled amidst the network of trenches, seeking refuge from shrapnel and bullets, only to be seized by ready hands and sent to the cook house.
Rats showed no signs of alarm. They clung to the new haunts of men, made themselves at home, and increased in numbers. In trenches and dug-outs they found numerous scraps of food and fared well. But they proved a great nuisance to the soldiers, especially at night, by running over their bodies as they lay asleep in their dug-outs, and nibbling and scraping in every corner in the darkness.
In France singing birds became accustomed to gun-fire, and after a bombardment lasting several hours, could be heard chirping among the branches of trees which concealed the guns. They even made friends with the British gunners, who threw crumbs to them.
One early spring morning, while a little company of blackbirds, thrushes, robins, and sparrows were feeding on scraps that were laid for them on the frosty ground, a big scared -looking cat came creeping stealthily from the ruins of a village near by. The birds rose fluttering and chirping excitedly, but pussy scarcely glanced at them. It had caught a glimpse of an artillery officer peering out of his dug-out, and ran towards him. "Pussy, pussy!" he called softly. The ruffled animal rubbed itself against his leg, and, when it had been stroked gently, began to purr with delight.
It had been somebody's pet, and seemed glad to be among human friends again. Some condensed milk was poured into a pannikin, and the hungry cat licked it up greedily, pausing now and again to look with solemn tender eyes at its new friend, who kept repeating: "Poor old pussy; poor old girl; get on with your breakfast."
The cat finished the milk, licking the pannikin quite dry. Then it lay down to smooth out its coat, evidently feeling quite at home.
On a branch of an apple tree which hung over the entrance to the dug-out a little red-breasted robin watched the cat intently. It seemed to be greatly annoyed at pussy's presence, and kept hopping to right and to left, bunching out its feathers and chirping excitedly, as if telling the other birds what was happening. The officer watched all that was going on as he ate his breakfast at the door of the dug-out. The cat, having finished its toilet, crept between the officer's legs, and began to take a keen interest in the robin, who chirped louder and faster, as if calling out, "Here he comes! he's actually staring at me. 'Mr. Impudence' - that's what I call him." He was joined by two other robins and a sparrow, while a couple of wrens began to scamper up and down the trunk of the tree. All the birds chirped together as if trying to scare the intruder. Pussy bent his legs, fluffed his tail, and showed his teeth as it crept forward, ready to pounce on a bird bold enough to come within reach.
A gun team close at hand was preparing for the morning bombardment, while an officer shouted commands through a megaphone. Then suddenly a gun bellowed with a deafening crash. Pussy sprang into the air with alarm, and bounding back into the dug-out, crept under some clothing and lay still. But the birds never moved. They were accustomed to gun-fire, and knew it didn't hurt. What seemed of more interest to them was the fact that the cat had disappeared. Then the robin who had given the alarm began to think about its rights, and drove the other robins off its branch.
When fighting on the Gallipoli Peninsula our soldiers could not help becoming amateur naturalists. The district was teeming with wild life, and seemed just like a natural zoo. Hyenas prowled through the scrub, and growled and showed their sharp white teeth when soldiers suddenly roused them from their hiding - places. Being cowardly animals, they usually took flight at once. One day a big Highlander was crawling through a clump of bushes to spy on the Turkish lines, when he roused a hyena. It sprang up, with its back against a ridge of rock which jutted out of the soil, and snarled at him like an angry dog. He did not wish to fire, because he knew there were Turkish snipers not far distant, and it seemed to him as if the hyena knew this too. So he could do nothing else but stare at the fierce brute, which looked as if it were about to spring at him.
By and by it quailed before his steady gaze, and began to edge round the rock. Remembering he had read somewhere that wild animals can-not resist the power of the human eye, he followed its movements, staring as fiercely as he could, and not moving a muscle of his face or making any sound. The hyena grew more and more uncomfortable, and began to blink like one who comes out of the darkness into a brightly-lit room. Then it suddenly turned tail and fled. The Turkish snipers caught sight of it a few minutes later, and a shower of bullets spattered all round the soldier; who crept forward to take shelter behind the rock. He lay very still. Some time afterwards, when he moved forward again, he caught a glimpse of the hyena's body lying in the long grass. The snipers had caught it in their fire, thinking, no doubt, they had disposed of a British soldier.
During lulls in the fighting the British and Turkish fighting men held what might be called sporting competitions. In the month of September large numbers of pelican migrated from the shores of the Aegean Sea towards Egypt. They flew over the peninsula in V-shaped flocks, and as soon as a flock appeared in the sky, fire was opened on them with rifles and machine-guns.
One afternoon a flock, which seemed to have come a long distance, began to wheel round in the air as if preparing to settle down on the Salt Lake marsh in Suvla Bay. Suddenly a British machine-gun sent a rippling stream of bullets towards the birds. Not a single pelican was struck, but the whole flock at once became greatly agitated. Then the onlookers noticed that they were under the command of a leader, who made them behave like well-trained soldiers under fire. Shrill screams, like words of command, came through the air, and the birds rose up in extended formation until they were far beyond range and quite safe from attack. Then they continued their flight towards Egypt. As they passed over the Turkish lines, several v9lleys from machine-guns were fired at them; but the clamour only made them fly faster, and ere long they vanished from sight.
After this the British "Tommies" and "Jocks", and the "Johnny Turks", as our soldiers called their enemies, crouched low in their trenches again, waiting for the next flock of pelican. Sometimes, as the birds flew overhead, one was brought down, but it was hardly worth the ammunition wasted upon it. The men on both sides, however, seemed to find the sport exciting, and cheers broke from the trenches when a shot "got home", and a long-necked pelican came tumbling down through the air from what our soldiers called "the flying regiments".
Lots of tortoises crawled about the Gallipoli trenches, and some of our men tried to make pets of those they laid hands on. But a tortoise is never in a hurry to make friends. It is never in a hurry to do anything. A corporal, who kept one tied to a post for a week, coaxed it at length to feed out of his hand, and when he thought it had grown quite tame allowed it to go free. As soon as evening came on it vanished and was never seen again. "You should try and tame a scorpion next," a friend advised the "tortoise tamer", as he called the corporal. " No, thanks!" was the prompt reply. All the soldiers hated the scorpions with their bright-red armour plates, crab-like toes, and uncanny sting-tipped tails, and killed them at sight. Snakes were also dreaded. They came creeping into the dug-outs, and caused many a soldier to jump up with a shout of alarm. One morning, soon after dawn, a big Yorkshire-man woke up to find a snake coiled up on his blanket. He flung the blanket and snake right out of the dug-out, and then, seizing a trench spade, struck at the squirming reptile with such force that he not only cut it in two, but made great rents in the blanket also. It was the first live snake he had ever seen, and he thought the sergeant who told him that it was a non-poisonous one was only making fun of him. "Snakes are snakes all the same," he declared. "Do you expect a man to wait and see if he's going to be stung before he strikes at one?" There are, of course, poisonous as well as non-poisonous snakes on the peninsula.
Then there were the flies, which were even more troublesome than the scorpions or the snakes!
It seemed as if Gallipoli was always suffering from a plague of flies, and our men remembered the Bible story of fly plague in ancient Egypt,. in which Moses repeats to Pharaoh the Divine message: "I will send swarms of flies upon thee, and upon thy servants and upon thy people, and into thy houses: and the houses of the Egyptians shall be full of swarms of flies, and also the ground whereon they are. . . . And the Lord did so.
The land was corrupted by reason of the swarm of flies."
Black clouds of flies came through the air as soon as our men had settled down in their Gallipoli trenches; the insects crawled over the ground, they blackened the dug-outs, they covered men's bodies; they attacked the mules and made them kick and snort and lash themselves with their tufted tails; they crawled over food, and crept into pots and kettles, and were drowned in hundreds when these were filled with water. The flies were a constant nuisance. Men were always brushing them from their faces, out of the corners of their eyes, out of their ears, off their bare arms. And how they buzzed when they were disturbed! Sometimes when the cooks were busy at their work the buzzing of the flies about them was so loud that they had to shout to one another when only a few yards apart. "One morning," a cook has declared, "the humming of myriads of flies reminded me of the noise of a cotton mill in a Manchester street."
When a soldier lay down to sleep during the daytime the flies settled on him in hundreds. Each time he moved and disturbed his tormentors a loud buzzing broke out. If he covered his face with a handkerchief they went crawling over it in such great numbers that it became as heavy as a bit of blanket, and he had to throw it off When, at length, he fell asleep the flies began to take liberties. They ran over his hair, into his ears, and across his face. If his jaw dropped they crept into his mouth. "It was a common thing," a soldier tells, "to see a sleeper who had been on duty during the night sitting bolt upright, half awakened, and beginning to cough and splutter while flies darted out of his mouth. Occasionally a few were swallowed, much to the poor chap's disgust."
At meal-times hundreds of flies "mobbed" every soldier. If one should spread jam on a slice of bread the flies dropped on it at once, and, as a victim once wrote home, "made it look like a slice of currant cake". Another has described how the men took jam with their bread. "First of all," he wrote, "you make a little hole in your jam tin, and keep a thumb on it. You eat the bread dry, and when you want jam you suck it out of the tin, and then press your thumb on the hole again. The flies swarm round your thumb and over your hand, as if trying to make you let go so that they may get a chance of creeping into the tin. You ask me if I have been in a battle yet. I am always in the battle of flies. The flies are harder fighters than Johnny Turk."
Besides the flies there were other insects "too numerous to mention", wrote a Welsh soldier. "There are hundreds of different kinds of grotesque insects, big and small, that crawl about or fly through the air. New arrivals get many shocks. I have seen men who were more afraid of a swarm of insects than a battalion of Turks." He then went on to relate an amusing experience he and others had. "A fresh regiment was having its troubles with the insects one evening when a gale began to blow. It sprang up as suddenly as a bird from the scrub, and came in fierce and rapid gusts that took one's breath away. A great long belt of sun-dried thistles stretched across No-Man's-Land, and the wind cut through the prickly mass like a scythe, shearing off the tops and brittle leaves and severing the stalks, which came whirling in clouds towards our trenches in the evening dusk. A private, who was greatly worried about the strange insects and reptiles he saw prowling about, was cleaning his rifle when a bit of prickly thistle darted past his cheek like a living creature. He sprung back, gasping, 'What is that?' Then another bit scratched his hand as it skimmed down the trench.
A yell broke from his lips. 'I've been stung!' he declared. Hundreds of prickly stalks and leaves then came whirling and darting about the men's ears. Those who thought they were being attacked by swarms of horrible insects of a~ sizes and shapes began to dart into dug-outs; but soon the cries of alarm were changed to shouts of laughter, for word was passed along that the supposed winged furies were simply bits of Gallipoli thistles. As the wind increased in fury the thistle plague grew gradually worse. Heaps of dry prickly stalks and leaves collected in the trenches, and the men were kept busy shovelling them out. Some parts of the trenches were filled to the top. The wind fell before dawn, and when the sun rose you could see piles of thistles all along the line of trenches. It looked as if these prickly heaps would prove troublesome again later on, but in the forenoon another gale sprang up and scattered them across the Salt Lake marsh. As the men watched them they were not surprised that the 'green hands' had been alarmed on the previous evening. The broken thistles skimmed through the air like locusts, and bumped and darted on the ground like giant grasshoppers."
The Gallipoli ants were a source of great interest to the fighting men. They continued diligently working in and about the trenches as if nothing unusual was taking place. "I have watched them for hours on end," a Londoner wrote to his friends, "and wondered at their intelligence. As I write a little fellow is trying to carry a crumb of bread to the nest. He has stuck. The load is too heavy. What will he do now? He is signalling for help, I declare. Here comes a friend to give him a hand! The new arrival has got behind the crumb and is pushing it, while the other hauls again. Now they are making progress. . . . They have halted suddenly. It looks as if they are out of breath. Here comes another helper, I declare! He gets behind the crumb also and they haul and push all together. Up they climb to the door of the ant house. They are going to get the crumb for themselves, sure enough. Well done! They have hauled it inside, and are now, I suppose, packing it into the larder. What wonderful little fellows they are!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Dogs in the Trenches
This article is from ‘The Great War in a Differnet Light’ and was originally published in the 'From All the Fronts' by Donald Mackenzie (1917).
'Dogs in the Trenches'
The dog has long been called "the friend of man", and in this great war it has proved itself to be a friend indeed. Many stories are told of dogs leaving home and tracking their masters to the trenches, and of their wonderful courage under fire. But it is not as a pet alone that the dog has proved itself a "friend", but also as a worker, whether doing red-cross work, sentinel duty, or hauling sledges with supplies over snow - clad hills.
One of the famous French army dogs is "Marquis", which did splendid service carrying dispatches. This faithful animal showed great intelligence, and ran and crept through bullet-swept zones carrying important messages when no human being could venture to do so. More than once Marquis helped whole companies to get out of tight spots by bringing them warnings in time, and it also kept officers in touch with their superiors, when heavy bombardments cut telephone wires, by scampering from point to point with messages.
One morning Marquis was sent out on his last journey with a dispatch in his mouth. The Prussians were attacking heavily at the time. Shell-fire burst above and behind the French trenches, and it was impossible for a soldier to attempt to leave cover. Marquis ran off - going briskly so long as it was under cover. Then he had to cross an open track of country where the bullets pattered down like hailstones. He crept low, and made short rushes from bush to bush, while anxious eyes followed its movements. For a time all went well. Then, when it seemed as if the dog would succeed, it was struck by a bullet and fell on the ground. An officer, who had been watching through his field-glasses, uttered a cry of regret, and began to sorrow for poor Marquis. For a time the dog lay very still. Then he began to come back. Slowly he crept on, suffering pain and very weak from loss of blood. At length, after a great effort, Marquis returned to his master, and, dropping the blood-stained dispatch at his feet, fell over and died. That evening the French soldiers, with bared heads and heavy hearts, buried the faithful dispatch dog, and set up a little monument to mark his grave.
Another famous dog was named Lutz. It won its reputation near Verdun. One dark night a force of Germans were stealing towards a French position all unknown to the sentinels. Lutz, however, scented them and began to growl. "Hush! lie down!" a sentinel said in a low voice, but Lutz only grew more restless and excited. The attention of an officer was drawn to the dog's behaviour, and a warning was issued. The French soldiers were roused from sleep and stood ready to deal with any unexpected danger. Ere long they became aware of the near presence of Germans, and a withering fire broke out from the French trenches. The German surprise attack failed completely because of the warning given by Lutz. A large number of this raiding force were killed at point-blank range, and most of the survivors were taken prisoners.
Dogs like Lutz are trained to act as helpers of sentries. They do not all growl and bark when danger is near, however. Some simply "point" like "pointer dogs" used by sportsmen on the moors. When these wise animals scent the enemy, they thrust their noses forward, stiffen out their backs, and signal with their tails, keeping perfectly silent. One dark night a pointer, named Paul, stood beside a sentry. Suddenly the dog began to sniff and grow restless. Then he pointed stiffly towards a point where he had scented the enemy. An officer was informed that the dog was "pointing". He shrugged his shoulders and said, "The dog can't be trusted." Paul was taken down a trench and led to another sentry post. There he sniffed again and "pointed" in the same direction as formerly. "Now, Paul," the officer said, "we shall put you to the test." He ordered rockets to be sent up. Flares of vivid light cut through the darkness, and three Germans on "listening post" duty were seen crouching on the ground less than twenty yards distant.
Their duty was to spy on the French position and find out whether any preparations were being made for a night attack. This they could do by listening to hear words of command and the movements of soldiers getting ready to creep out in the darkness. If such preparations were being made, it was their duty to creep back and give the alarm. Having been pointed at by Paul, this particular "listening post" party was rounded up by the French, the three men being brought in as prisoners. The officer patted Paul, and calling him "a treasure", said: "I shall see, good dog, that you are mentioned in dispatches."
The dogs that do ambulance work have saved many lives by going out in the darkness over "No-Man's- Land", after an attack had taken place, finding wounded soldiers, and carrying food and stimulants to them. The intelligent way in which these animals behave is very wonderful. When a red-cross dog finds a stricken soldier, it runs back and leads a party towards him. On the outbreak of war the French had only a few dogs trained for ambulance work, but these proved to be so useful that their numbers were speedily added to. In less than two years' time there were nearly 3000 dogs at work, and it is estimated that owing to their help about 10,000 lives have been saved.
Among the Vosges mountains large numbers of dogs from Labrador and Alaska have been used to pull sleighs loaded with food or ammunition over trackless wastes, and also to drag small trucks on narrow lines of railway. When snow lies heavily on the ground, and a crust is formed on it by the hard frosts, the dogs can scamper up and down the mountain slopes at great speed. Long teams are yoked to the sledges, and the drivers have exciting enough spins. Sometimes it takes them all their time to keep the animals under control. Running in packs, they often become greatly excited, and scamper at such a rate that there is always the danger of an accident taking place. More than one sledge has been overturned during a wild rush down a steep snowy slope. The dogs follow a leader, who picks out a track by instinct, and occasionally swerves this way and that to avoid a danger spot, such. as a piece of jutting rock, or a deep hollow over which the snow lies thinly. But the bounding animals never swerve if there should happen to be men or mules in front of them. One day a company of French soldiers were crossing a little valley, when a team of carrier dogs swept down the long sloping hill-side and ran pell-mell towards them.
In another minute three or four soldiers found themselves struggling in the snow with foaming and excited dogs tumbling over them. The sledge was overturned, and the driver thrown a dozen yards into a heavy snow-wreath, from which he came out shouting protests, and shaking himself like his dogs to get rid of the sheets of snow that clung about his shoulders and neck. Fortunately no one was seriously hurt. When the sleigh was righted again, and the dogs were got in hand, the driver set his team scampering merrily down the valley. Much more trouble is caused if the dogs should happen to run into a group of pack mules. The mule is never, as a rule, too good-tempered, and if he is tripped up, he bites and kicks so much that it is dangerous to go near him. One evening, just as the sun was setting in a blaze of red over the snow-clad hills, a mule, which was thrown over by a scampering dog team, kicked out so fiercely as it sprawled in the snow that it killed three dogs and injured another half-dozen. The sleigh was loaded with ammunition, but by good luck ran down a sloping bank clear of the animal's hoofs. The dogs' traces had to be cut, and three of them escaped, and scampered away out of sight in a few minutes, but they were found next day to have returned to the camp from which they had set out.
As a rule, these sleigh dogs are somewhat wild. They are greatly given to fighting among them-selves, and if one of them should happen to escape from a kennel, they bark and howl at a great rate, and cannot be silenced until the comrade who has won freedom is caught and taken back again. It takes a skilled driver to deal with them when they grow fierce and excited.
They are, however, very obedient to, and even quite gentle with, those who feed them readily, and, being most intelligent, answer readily to their names. But for these dogs, the problem of sending supplies of food and ammunition through the passes of the Vosges during winter would have been a very difficult one. Often when the light railways were buried in snow and rendered quite useless, and teams of pack mules were hardly able to make their way through the wreaths, the northern dogs scampered along, hauling the sleighs and keeping the soldiers well supplied with all they required.
'Dogs in the Trenches'
The dog has long been called "the friend of man", and in this great war it has proved itself to be a friend indeed. Many stories are told of dogs leaving home and tracking their masters to the trenches, and of their wonderful courage under fire. But it is not as a pet alone that the dog has proved itself a "friend", but also as a worker, whether doing red-cross work, sentinel duty, or hauling sledges with supplies over snow - clad hills.
One of the famous French army dogs is "Marquis", which did splendid service carrying dispatches. This faithful animal showed great intelligence, and ran and crept through bullet-swept zones carrying important messages when no human being could venture to do so. More than once Marquis helped whole companies to get out of tight spots by bringing them warnings in time, and it also kept officers in touch with their superiors, when heavy bombardments cut telephone wires, by scampering from point to point with messages.
One morning Marquis was sent out on his last journey with a dispatch in his mouth. The Prussians were attacking heavily at the time. Shell-fire burst above and behind the French trenches, and it was impossible for a soldier to attempt to leave cover. Marquis ran off - going briskly so long as it was under cover. Then he had to cross an open track of country where the bullets pattered down like hailstones. He crept low, and made short rushes from bush to bush, while anxious eyes followed its movements. For a time all went well. Then, when it seemed as if the dog would succeed, it was struck by a bullet and fell on the ground. An officer, who had been watching through his field-glasses, uttered a cry of regret, and began to sorrow for poor Marquis. For a time the dog lay very still. Then he began to come back. Slowly he crept on, suffering pain and very weak from loss of blood. At length, after a great effort, Marquis returned to his master, and, dropping the blood-stained dispatch at his feet, fell over and died. That evening the French soldiers, with bared heads and heavy hearts, buried the faithful dispatch dog, and set up a little monument to mark his grave.
Another famous dog was named Lutz. It won its reputation near Verdun. One dark night a force of Germans were stealing towards a French position all unknown to the sentinels. Lutz, however, scented them and began to growl. "Hush! lie down!" a sentinel said in a low voice, but Lutz only grew more restless and excited. The attention of an officer was drawn to the dog's behaviour, and a warning was issued. The French soldiers were roused from sleep and stood ready to deal with any unexpected danger. Ere long they became aware of the near presence of Germans, and a withering fire broke out from the French trenches. The German surprise attack failed completely because of the warning given by Lutz. A large number of this raiding force were killed at point-blank range, and most of the survivors were taken prisoners.
Dogs like Lutz are trained to act as helpers of sentries. They do not all growl and bark when danger is near, however. Some simply "point" like "pointer dogs" used by sportsmen on the moors. When these wise animals scent the enemy, they thrust their noses forward, stiffen out their backs, and signal with their tails, keeping perfectly silent. One dark night a pointer, named Paul, stood beside a sentry. Suddenly the dog began to sniff and grow restless. Then he pointed stiffly towards a point where he had scented the enemy. An officer was informed that the dog was "pointing". He shrugged his shoulders and said, "The dog can't be trusted." Paul was taken down a trench and led to another sentry post. There he sniffed again and "pointed" in the same direction as formerly. "Now, Paul," the officer said, "we shall put you to the test." He ordered rockets to be sent up. Flares of vivid light cut through the darkness, and three Germans on "listening post" duty were seen crouching on the ground less than twenty yards distant.
Their duty was to spy on the French position and find out whether any preparations were being made for a night attack. This they could do by listening to hear words of command and the movements of soldiers getting ready to creep out in the darkness. If such preparations were being made, it was their duty to creep back and give the alarm. Having been pointed at by Paul, this particular "listening post" party was rounded up by the French, the three men being brought in as prisoners. The officer patted Paul, and calling him "a treasure", said: "I shall see, good dog, that you are mentioned in dispatches."
The dogs that do ambulance work have saved many lives by going out in the darkness over "No-Man's- Land", after an attack had taken place, finding wounded soldiers, and carrying food and stimulants to them. The intelligent way in which these animals behave is very wonderful. When a red-cross dog finds a stricken soldier, it runs back and leads a party towards him. On the outbreak of war the French had only a few dogs trained for ambulance work, but these proved to be so useful that their numbers were speedily added to. In less than two years' time there were nearly 3000 dogs at work, and it is estimated that owing to their help about 10,000 lives have been saved.
Among the Vosges mountains large numbers of dogs from Labrador and Alaska have been used to pull sleighs loaded with food or ammunition over trackless wastes, and also to drag small trucks on narrow lines of railway. When snow lies heavily on the ground, and a crust is formed on it by the hard frosts, the dogs can scamper up and down the mountain slopes at great speed. Long teams are yoked to the sledges, and the drivers have exciting enough spins. Sometimes it takes them all their time to keep the animals under control. Running in packs, they often become greatly excited, and scamper at such a rate that there is always the danger of an accident taking place. More than one sledge has been overturned during a wild rush down a steep snowy slope. The dogs follow a leader, who picks out a track by instinct, and occasionally swerves this way and that to avoid a danger spot, such. as a piece of jutting rock, or a deep hollow over which the snow lies thinly. But the bounding animals never swerve if there should happen to be men or mules in front of them. One day a company of French soldiers were crossing a little valley, when a team of carrier dogs swept down the long sloping hill-side and ran pell-mell towards them.
In another minute three or four soldiers found themselves struggling in the snow with foaming and excited dogs tumbling over them. The sledge was overturned, and the driver thrown a dozen yards into a heavy snow-wreath, from which he came out shouting protests, and shaking himself like his dogs to get rid of the sheets of snow that clung about his shoulders and neck. Fortunately no one was seriously hurt. When the sleigh was righted again, and the dogs were got in hand, the driver set his team scampering merrily down the valley. Much more trouble is caused if the dogs should happen to run into a group of pack mules. The mule is never, as a rule, too good-tempered, and if he is tripped up, he bites and kicks so much that it is dangerous to go near him. One evening, just as the sun was setting in a blaze of red over the snow-clad hills, a mule, which was thrown over by a scampering dog team, kicked out so fiercely as it sprawled in the snow that it killed three dogs and injured another half-dozen. The sleigh was loaded with ammunition, but by good luck ran down a sloping bank clear of the animal's hoofs. The dogs' traces had to be cut, and three of them escaped, and scampered away out of sight in a few minutes, but they were found next day to have returned to the camp from which they had set out.
As a rule, these sleigh dogs are somewhat wild. They are greatly given to fighting among them-selves, and if one of them should happen to escape from a kennel, they bark and howl at a great rate, and cannot be silenced until the comrade who has won freedom is caught and taken back again. It takes a skilled driver to deal with them when they grow fierce and excited.
They are, however, very obedient to, and even quite gentle with, those who feed them readily, and, being most intelligent, answer readily to their names. But for these dogs, the problem of sending supplies of food and ammunition through the passes of the Vosges during winter would have been a very difficult one. Often when the light railways were buried in snow and rendered quite useless, and teams of pack mules were hardly able to make their way through the wreaths, the northern dogs scampered along, hauling the sleighs and keeping the soldiers well supplied with all they required.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Germans and Machine Guns
This article comes from the excellent “Letters from France” by C. E. W. Bean.
This book details the Australian action on the Somme in 1916, especially the action at Pozieres. As Bean puts it in his preface - “The record of the A.I.F., and its now historical units in their full action, will be painted upon that background some day. If these letters convey some reflection of the spirit which fought at Pozières, their object is well fulfilled.”
Here he describes the German defenses and the use of machine-guns.
Twenty miles behind the lines, or more, you can see every night along the horizon in front of you a constant low flicker of light—the flares thrown up by both sides over the long ribbon of No Man's Land—the ribbon which straggles without a break from one end of France to the other.
We were getting very close to that barrier now—within a couple of miles of it; and the pure white stars of these glorified Roman candles were describing graceful curves behind a fretwork of trees an inch or two above the horizon. Every five or six seconds a rifle cracked somewhere along the line—very different from the ceaseless pecking of Gallipoli.
Then a distant German machine-gun started its sprint, stumbled, went on again, tripped again. A second machine-gun farther down the line caught it up, and the two ran along in perfect step for a while. Then a third joined in, like some distant canary answering its mates. The first two stopped and left it trilling along by itself, catching occasionally like a motor-car engine that misfires, until it, too, stuttered into silence. "Some poor devils being killed, I suppose," you think to yourself, "suppose they've seen a patrol out in front of the lines, or a party digging in the open somewhere behind the trenches." You can't help crediting the Germans—at first, when you come to this place as a stranger—with being much more deadly than the Turks both with their machine-guns and their artillery.
But you soon learn that it is by no means necessary that anyone is dying when you hear their machine-guns sing a chorus. They may chatter away for a whole night and nobody be in the least the worse for it.
Their artillery can throw two or three hundred shells, or even more, into one of its various targets, not once but many times, and only a man or two be wounded; sometimes no one at all.
War is alike in that respect all the world over, apparently; which is comforting.
This book details the Australian action on the Somme in 1916, especially the action at Pozieres. As Bean puts it in his preface - “The record of the A.I.F., and its now historical units in their full action, will be painted upon that background some day. If these letters convey some reflection of the spirit which fought at Pozières, their object is well fulfilled.”
Here he describes the German defenses and the use of machine-guns.
Twenty miles behind the lines, or more, you can see every night along the horizon in front of you a constant low flicker of light—the flares thrown up by both sides over the long ribbon of No Man's Land—the ribbon which straggles without a break from one end of France to the other.
We were getting very close to that barrier now—within a couple of miles of it; and the pure white stars of these glorified Roman candles were describing graceful curves behind a fretwork of trees an inch or two above the horizon. Every five or six seconds a rifle cracked somewhere along the line—very different from the ceaseless pecking of Gallipoli.
Then a distant German machine-gun started its sprint, stumbled, went on again, tripped again. A second machine-gun farther down the line caught it up, and the two ran along in perfect step for a while. Then a third joined in, like some distant canary answering its mates. The first two stopped and left it trilling along by itself, catching occasionally like a motor-car engine that misfires, until it, too, stuttered into silence. "Some poor devils being killed, I suppose," you think to yourself, "suppose they've seen a patrol out in front of the lines, or a party digging in the open somewhere behind the trenches." You can't help crediting the Germans—at first, when you come to this place as a stranger—with being much more deadly than the Turks both with their machine-guns and their artillery.
But you soon learn that it is by no means necessary that anyone is dying when you hear their machine-guns sing a chorus. They may chatter away for a whole night and nobody be in the least the worse for it.
Their artillery can throw two or three hundred shells, or even more, into one of its various targets, not once but many times, and only a man or two be wounded; sometimes no one at all.
War is alike in that respect all the world over, apparently; which is comforting.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Bombing School on a French Farm
This article comes from “My Year of the War”, by Frederick Palmer.
Here he describes a ‘Bombing School’ on a French farm, and the making of a ‘Jam Tin’ bomb.
A School In Bombing
It was at a bombing school on a French farm, where chosen soldiers brought back from the trenches were being trained in the use of the anarchists' weapon, which has now become as respectable as the rifle. The war has steadily developed specialism. M.B. degrees for Master Bombers are not beyond the range of possibilities.
Present was the chief instructor, a Scottish subaltern with blue eyes, a pleasant smile, and a Cock-o'-the-North spirit. He might have been twenty years old, though he did not look it. On his breast was the purple and white ribbon of the new order of the Military Cross, which you get for doing something in this war which would have won you a Victoria Cross in one of the other wars.
Also present was the assistant instructor, a sergeant of regulars—and very much of a regular—who had three ribbons which he had won in previous campaigns. He, too, had blue eyes, bland blue eyes. These two understood each other.
"If you don't drop it, why, it's all right!" said the sergeant. "Of course, if you do———"
I did not drop it.
"And when you throw it, sir, you must look out and not hit the man behind you and knock the bomb out of your hand. That has happened before to an absent-minded fellow who was about to toss one at the Boches, and it doesn't do to be absent-minded when you throw bombs."
"They say that you sometimes pick up the German bombs and chuck them back before they explode," I suggested.
"Yes, sir, I've read things like that in some of the accounts of the reporters who write from Somewhere in France. You don't happen to know where that is, sir? All I can say is that if you are going to do it you must be quick about it. I shouldn't advise delaying decision, sir, or perhaps when you reached down to pick it up, neither your hand nor the bomb would be there. They'd have gone off together, sir."
"Have you ever been hurt in your handling of bombs?" I asked.
Surprise in the bland blue eyes. "Oh, no, sir! Bombs are well behaved if you treat them right. It's all in being thoughtful and considerate of them!" Meanwhile, he was jerking at some kind of a patent fuse set in a shell of high explosive. "This is a poor kind, sir. It's been discarded, but I thought that you might like to see it. Never did like it. Always making trouble!"
More distance between the audience and the performer. "Now I've got it, sir—get down, sir!" The audience carried out instructions to the letter, as army regulations require. It got behind the protection of one of the practice-trench traverses. He threw the discard behind another wall of earth. There was a sharp report, a burst of smoke, and some fragments of earth were tossed into the air.
In a small affair of two hundred yards of trench a week before, it was estimated that the British and the Germans together threw about five thousand bombs in this fashion. It was enough to sadden any Minister of Munitions. However, the British kept the trench.
"Do the men like to become bombers?" I asked the subaltern.
"I should say so! It puts them up in front. It gives them a chance to throw something, and they don't get much cricket in France, you see. We had a pupil here last week who broke the throwing record for distance. He was as pleased as Punch with himself. A first-class bombing detachment has a lot of pride of corps."
To bomb soon became as common a verb with the army as to bayonet. "We bombed them out" meant a section of trench taken by throwing bombs. As you know, a trench is dug and built with sandbags in zigzag traverses. In following the course of a trench it is as if you followed the sides of the squares of a checker board up and down and across on the same tier of squares. The square itself is a bank of earth, with the cut on either side and in front of it. When a bombing-party bombs its way into possession of a section of German trench, there are Germans under cover of the traverses on either side. They are waiting around the corner to shoot the first British head that shows itself.
"It is important that you and not the Boches chuck the bombs over first," explained the subaltern. "Also, that you get them into the right traverse, or they may be as troublesome to you as to the enemy."
With bombs bursting in their faces, the Germans who are not put out of action are blinded and stunned. In that moment when they are off guard, the aggressors leap around the corner.
"And then?"
"Stick 'em, sir!" said the matter-of-fact sergeant. "Yes, the cold steel is best. And do it first! As Mr. MacPherson said, it's very important to do it first."
It has been found that something short is handy for this kind of work. In such cramped quarters—a ditch six feet deep and from two to three feet broad—the rifle is an awkward length to permit of prompt and skilful use of the bayonet.
"Yes, sir, you can mix it up better with something handy—to think that British soldiers would come to fighting like assassins!" said the sergeant. "You must be spry on such occasions. It's no time for wool- gathering."
Not a smile from him or the subaltern all the time. They were the kind you would like to have along in a tight corner, whether you had to fight with knives, fists, or seventeen-inch howitzers.
The sergeant took us into the storehouse where he kept his supply of bombs.
"What if a German shell should strike your storehouse?" I asked.
"Then, sir, I expect that most of the bombs would be exploded.Bombs are very peculiar in their habits. What do you think, sir?"
It was no trouble to show stock, as clerks at the stores say. He brought forth all the different kinds of bombs that British ingenuity had invented—but no, not all invented. These would mount into the thousands. Every British inventor who knows anything about explosives has tried his hand at a new kind of bomb. One means all the kinds which the British War Office has considered worth a practice test. The spectator was allowed to handle each one as much as he pleased.
There had been occasions, that boyish Scottish subaltern told me, when the men who were examining the products of British ingenuity—well, the subaltern had sandy hair, too, which heightened the effect of his blue eyes.
There were yellow and green and blue and black and striped bombs; egg-shaped, barrel-shaped, conical, and concave bombs; bombs that were exploded by pulling a string and by pressing a button—all these to be thrown by hand, without mentioning grenades and other larger varieties to be thrown by mechanical means, which would have made a Chinese warrior of Confucius' time or a Roman legionary feel at home.
"This was the first-born," the subaltern explained, "the first thing we could lay our hands on when the close quarters' trench warfare began."
It was as out of date as grandfather's smooth-bore, the tin-pot bomb that both sides used early in the winter. A wick was attached to the high explosive, wrapped in cloth and stuck in an ordinary army jam tin.
"Quite home-made, as you see, sir," remarked the sergeant. "Used to fix them up ourselves in the trenches in odd hours—saved burying the refuse jam tins according to medical corps directions—and you threw them at the Boches. Had to use a match to light it. Very old- fashioned, sir. I wonder if that old fuse has got damp. No, it's going all right"—and he threw the jam pot, which made a good explosion. Later, when he began hammering the end of another he looked up in mild surprise at the dignified back-stepping of the spectators.
"Is that fuse out?" someone asked.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," he replied. "It's safer. But here is the best; we're discarding the others,"
he went on, as he picked up a bomb.
It was a pleasure to throw this crowning achievement of experiments. It fitted your hand nicely; it threw easily; it did the business; it was fool-proof against a man in love or a war-poet.
"We saw as soon as this style came out," said the sergeant, "that it was bound to be popular.
Everybody asks for it—except the Boches, sir."
Here he describes a ‘Bombing School’ on a French farm, and the making of a ‘Jam Tin’ bomb.
A School In Bombing
It was at a bombing school on a French farm, where chosen soldiers brought back from the trenches were being trained in the use of the anarchists' weapon, which has now become as respectable as the rifle. The war has steadily developed specialism. M.B. degrees for Master Bombers are not beyond the range of possibilities.
Present was the chief instructor, a Scottish subaltern with blue eyes, a pleasant smile, and a Cock-o'-the-North spirit. He might have been twenty years old, though he did not look it. On his breast was the purple and white ribbon of the new order of the Military Cross, which you get for doing something in this war which would have won you a Victoria Cross in one of the other wars.
Also present was the assistant instructor, a sergeant of regulars—and very much of a regular—who had three ribbons which he had won in previous campaigns. He, too, had blue eyes, bland blue eyes. These two understood each other.
"If you don't drop it, why, it's all right!" said the sergeant. "Of course, if you do———"
I did not drop it.
"And when you throw it, sir, you must look out and not hit the man behind you and knock the bomb out of your hand. That has happened before to an absent-minded fellow who was about to toss one at the Boches, and it doesn't do to be absent-minded when you throw bombs."
"They say that you sometimes pick up the German bombs and chuck them back before they explode," I suggested.
"Yes, sir, I've read things like that in some of the accounts of the reporters who write from Somewhere in France. You don't happen to know where that is, sir? All I can say is that if you are going to do it you must be quick about it. I shouldn't advise delaying decision, sir, or perhaps when you reached down to pick it up, neither your hand nor the bomb would be there. They'd have gone off together, sir."
"Have you ever been hurt in your handling of bombs?" I asked.
Surprise in the bland blue eyes. "Oh, no, sir! Bombs are well behaved if you treat them right. It's all in being thoughtful and considerate of them!" Meanwhile, he was jerking at some kind of a patent fuse set in a shell of high explosive. "This is a poor kind, sir. It's been discarded, but I thought that you might like to see it. Never did like it. Always making trouble!"
More distance between the audience and the performer. "Now I've got it, sir—get down, sir!" The audience carried out instructions to the letter, as army regulations require. It got behind the protection of one of the practice-trench traverses. He threw the discard behind another wall of earth. There was a sharp report, a burst of smoke, and some fragments of earth were tossed into the air.
In a small affair of two hundred yards of trench a week before, it was estimated that the British and the Germans together threw about five thousand bombs in this fashion. It was enough to sadden any Minister of Munitions. However, the British kept the trench.
"Do the men like to become bombers?" I asked the subaltern.
"I should say so! It puts them up in front. It gives them a chance to throw something, and they don't get much cricket in France, you see. We had a pupil here last week who broke the throwing record for distance. He was as pleased as Punch with himself. A first-class bombing detachment has a lot of pride of corps."
To bomb soon became as common a verb with the army as to bayonet. "We bombed them out" meant a section of trench taken by throwing bombs. As you know, a trench is dug and built with sandbags in zigzag traverses. In following the course of a trench it is as if you followed the sides of the squares of a checker board up and down and across on the same tier of squares. The square itself is a bank of earth, with the cut on either side and in front of it. When a bombing-party bombs its way into possession of a section of German trench, there are Germans under cover of the traverses on either side. They are waiting around the corner to shoot the first British head that shows itself.
"It is important that you and not the Boches chuck the bombs over first," explained the subaltern. "Also, that you get them into the right traverse, or they may be as troublesome to you as to the enemy."
With bombs bursting in their faces, the Germans who are not put out of action are blinded and stunned. In that moment when they are off guard, the aggressors leap around the corner.
"And then?"
"Stick 'em, sir!" said the matter-of-fact sergeant. "Yes, the cold steel is best. And do it first! As Mr. MacPherson said, it's very important to do it first."
It has been found that something short is handy for this kind of work. In such cramped quarters—a ditch six feet deep and from two to three feet broad—the rifle is an awkward length to permit of prompt and skilful use of the bayonet.
"Yes, sir, you can mix it up better with something handy—to think that British soldiers would come to fighting like assassins!" said the sergeant. "You must be spry on such occasions. It's no time for wool- gathering."
Not a smile from him or the subaltern all the time. They were the kind you would like to have along in a tight corner, whether you had to fight with knives, fists, or seventeen-inch howitzers.
The sergeant took us into the storehouse where he kept his supply of bombs.
"What if a German shell should strike your storehouse?" I asked.
"Then, sir, I expect that most of the bombs would be exploded.Bombs are very peculiar in their habits. What do you think, sir?"
It was no trouble to show stock, as clerks at the stores say. He brought forth all the different kinds of bombs that British ingenuity had invented—but no, not all invented. These would mount into the thousands. Every British inventor who knows anything about explosives has tried his hand at a new kind of bomb. One means all the kinds which the British War Office has considered worth a practice test. The spectator was allowed to handle each one as much as he pleased.
There had been occasions, that boyish Scottish subaltern told me, when the men who were examining the products of British ingenuity—well, the subaltern had sandy hair, too, which heightened the effect of his blue eyes.
There were yellow and green and blue and black and striped bombs; egg-shaped, barrel-shaped, conical, and concave bombs; bombs that were exploded by pulling a string and by pressing a button—all these to be thrown by hand, without mentioning grenades and other larger varieties to be thrown by mechanical means, which would have made a Chinese warrior of Confucius' time or a Roman legionary feel at home.
"This was the first-born," the subaltern explained, "the first thing we could lay our hands on when the close quarters' trench warfare began."
It was as out of date as grandfather's smooth-bore, the tin-pot bomb that both sides used early in the winter. A wick was attached to the high explosive, wrapped in cloth and stuck in an ordinary army jam tin.
"Quite home-made, as you see, sir," remarked the sergeant. "Used to fix them up ourselves in the trenches in odd hours—saved burying the refuse jam tins according to medical corps directions—and you threw them at the Boches. Had to use a match to light it. Very old- fashioned, sir. I wonder if that old fuse has got damp. No, it's going all right"—and he threw the jam pot, which made a good explosion. Later, when he began hammering the end of another he looked up in mild surprise at the dignified back-stepping of the spectators.
"Is that fuse out?" someone asked.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," he replied. "It's safer. But here is the best; we're discarding the others,"
he went on, as he picked up a bomb.
It was a pleasure to throw this crowning achievement of experiments. It fitted your hand nicely; it threw easily; it did the business; it was fool-proof against a man in love or a war-poet.
"We saw as soon as this style came out," said the sergeant, "that it was bound to be popular.
Everybody asks for it—except the Boches, sir."
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Machine Guns
This article comes from the Military Instructors Manual by James P. Cole and Oliver Schoonmaker.
Published in America for the American Forces it is an informative article in the correct use of a Machine gun and its properties.
Machine Guns.
1. Properties of the machine guns are divided into three general classes: Mode of action, fire, and inconspicuousness.
a. THE MODE OF ACTION.—The machine gun acting only by its fire can prepare an attack or repulse an offensive movement, but it does not conquer ground. The latter role is almost exclusively that of infantry which is fitted for crossing all obstacles. When it will suffice to act by fire, employ the machine gun in preference to infantry, preserving the latter for the combined action of movement and fire. By the employment of the machine gun economize infantry, reserving a more considerable portion of it for manoeuvre purposes.
b. FIRE.—Machine gun fire produces a sheath, dense, deep but narrow. The increase of the width of the sweeping fire gives to the sheath a greater breadth, but when the density becomes insufficient, the effect produced is very weak. Machine gun fire will have its maximum power upon an objective of narrow front and great depth. With the infantry fighting normally in thin lines the preceding conditions will generally only be realized when these lines are taken in the flank. "The fire of the machine gun parallel to the probable front of the enemy—a flanking fire—must therefore be the rule." The fire perpendicular to the front will be employed generally on certain necessary points of passage as, bridges, roads, defiles, cuts, roadways, communicating trenches, etc., where the enemy is generally forced to take a deep formation with a narrow front, or where he is in massed formation.
c. INCONSPICUOUSNESS.—By reason of its small strength the machine gun section can utilize the smallest cover, and can consequently hide from the enemy; the machine gun therefore, more than the infantry, has the chance to act by surprise. The opening of the fire by surprise will be the rule; the machine gun will avoid revealing itself upon objectives not worth the trouble. Flank action and surprise are the two conditions to try for under all circumstances.
2. OFFENSIVE REINFORCEMENT OF A FRONT MOMENTARILY STATIONARY.—The machine guns assisted by small elements of infantry cover thoroughly the getting in hand of the main body, the machine guns presenting to the enemy a line of little vulnerability. The machine guns assist in securing the possession of the ground previously taken, and will permit time to prepare for the resumption of the forward movement. Preparation of the attack—machine gun fire completes the preparation done by the artillery, either by acting on the personnel or by opening breaches in the accessary defenses. At times the machine guns alone may be charged with the preparation of the attack where it is necessary to act very quickly as in pursuit, exploitation of a success. Whatever the situation, concentrate the machine gun fire on one or several points. Machine guns cover the flanks of attacking troops. They follow the advance of these troops remaining on the flanks, so as to be able to fire instantly on all points from which an attack might come. Machine guns will likewise be employed in intervals created intentionally or accidentally between units. It is here a powerful weapon which can rapidly be put into action by the Commander. The personnel and material must be protected as far as possible from the effects of fire.
3. DEFENSIVE.—It is here that the flanking fire is especially necessary. In the defensive preparation of a position the machine guns must be so placed that they will provide along the front several successive fire barriers. The machine guns must be ready at all times to stop by instantaneous fire all hostile attack. In order to have machine gun protection at all, it is absolutely necessary that they be protected from bombardment. This is best done by the following: Place the machine guns under solid cover; make their emplacement invisible; echelon the machine guns in depth. The cover must be placed where it can be hidden from the sight of the enemy, such as a counter slope, a position where it is impossible to blend it, relief with an accentuated slope of the ground, woods, brush, etc. It is essential that the principal parts of the machine gun casemate be prepared in the rear. Only in this manner will the work be done solidly and rapidly. While the machine gunners and helpers do the excavating, specialists in rear prepare the parts for assembling. The latter are then transported to the position and, the casemate is established, hiding the work with the greatest care from enemy observation.
Remember that it is of the utmost importance that the machine gun be invisible, so the firing emplacements must be made outside of the shelter, but near enough for the gun to be brought out instantly and put into action. All communicating trenches leading to the firing emplacement must be concealed. Enough emplacements should be built to avoid firing daily from the emplacements especially reserved for cases of attack. Do not place too many machine guns in the first line; in case of a violent bombardment they are sure to be destroyed. The object to be attained is to install the machine guns in conditions such that if the enemy penetrates our first line, by aid of his bombardment or asphyxiating gas, his infantry, as it advances, comes under the fire of machine guns echeloned previously in depth, under whose fire it must stop. It is not a matter of sweeping a wide sector, but of giving over certain strips of ground flanking fire which will cut down surely the enemy's waves when they push forward. The commander should, therefore, divide between the first line and the terrain in rear, the machine guns which he controls, organizing for each particular case a firing emplacement in accord with the surrounding ground and the purpose in view.
GENERAL RULES FOR INSTALLATION.
Machine gunners must under no circumstances abandon their positions. They must, when necessary, allow themselves to be surrounded and defend themselves in their place to the end. In many cases the heroism and tenacity of a few machine gunners have permitted the rapid retaking of a lost position. To provide for this resistance to a finish, the machine gun emplacements must fulfil the following conditions:
1. Be surrounded by a wire entanglement of irregular trace and as invisible as possible.
2. In the enclosure thus created having several firing emplacements, in case one or more becomes useless.
3. The personnel must have all the means for protection against gas and have in addition rations, water and abundant ammunition.
EMPLOYMENT OF FIRE AND INSTRUCTION.
The more grazing the fire of a machine gun the more effective it is. This causes the principal employment of the machine gun to be at distances where the trajectory is flattest, that is under 800 or 1,000 yards. However, the effort to obtain a grazing fire must not exclude long distance fire. This latter will always be justified when directed upon important objectives, or necessary points of passage. For this fire to have some efficacy, it is necessary to calculate the range with the greatest precision. On the defensive indirect fire will be employed sometimes to annoy the supply, reliefs, etc. To give results, great quantities of ammunition will have to be expended. All of the officers and non-commissioned officers and as many men as possible must be capable of firing the machine gun, so that at the time of an attack no gun will remain idle for want of personnel. It is, moreover, essential to keep up the training of the personnel by having them fire at least twice a month, and, if possible, once a week.
RESUME.
Machine guns must be utilized in the greatest measure in order to economize the infantry.
Seek to employ them always in a flank fire.
Conceal them so as to get surprise fire.
Echelon them and shelter them so as to avoid their premature destruction.
POINTS BEFORE FIRING.
1. Thoroughly overhaul the gun to see that no part is deficient, and that the mechanism works freely.
2. See that the barrel is clean and dry.
3. See that the barrel mouthpiece is tight.
4. See that small hole in gas regulator is to the rear.
5. Thoroughly oil all working parts, especially the cam slot and exterior of the bolt, and the striker post and piston.
6. Weigh and adjust the mainspring.
7. See that the mounting is firm.
8. Examine the magazines and ammunition.
9. See that the spare parts and oil reserve are handy.
POINTS DURING FIRING
1. During a temporary cessation of fire, re-oil all working parts.
2. Replace a partly emptied magazine with a full one.
3. Examine the mounting to see that it is firm.
4. See that empty magazines are refilled without delay.
POINTS AFTER FIRING.
1. Unload.
2. Oil the bore and chamber, piston rod and gas cylinder.
3. Sort out live rounds from empty cases.
4. See that mainspring is eased.
5. Thoroughly clean and oil the gun on returning to quarters. Clean the bore daily for several days.
It is of the greatest importance that the points before, during, and after firing, should be carefully attended to as otherwise the number of stoppages will be unnecessarily increased.
Nine out of ten stoppages are due to want of care.
Immediate action must become instinctive and automatic.
Published in America for the American Forces it is an informative article in the correct use of a Machine gun and its properties.
Machine Guns.
1. Properties of the machine guns are divided into three general classes: Mode of action, fire, and inconspicuousness.
a. THE MODE OF ACTION.—The machine gun acting only by its fire can prepare an attack or repulse an offensive movement, but it does not conquer ground. The latter role is almost exclusively that of infantry which is fitted for crossing all obstacles. When it will suffice to act by fire, employ the machine gun in preference to infantry, preserving the latter for the combined action of movement and fire. By the employment of the machine gun economize infantry, reserving a more considerable portion of it for manoeuvre purposes.
b. FIRE.—Machine gun fire produces a sheath, dense, deep but narrow. The increase of the width of the sweeping fire gives to the sheath a greater breadth, but when the density becomes insufficient, the effect produced is very weak. Machine gun fire will have its maximum power upon an objective of narrow front and great depth. With the infantry fighting normally in thin lines the preceding conditions will generally only be realized when these lines are taken in the flank. "The fire of the machine gun parallel to the probable front of the enemy—a flanking fire—must therefore be the rule." The fire perpendicular to the front will be employed generally on certain necessary points of passage as, bridges, roads, defiles, cuts, roadways, communicating trenches, etc., where the enemy is generally forced to take a deep formation with a narrow front, or where he is in massed formation.
c. INCONSPICUOUSNESS.—By reason of its small strength the machine gun section can utilize the smallest cover, and can consequently hide from the enemy; the machine gun therefore, more than the infantry, has the chance to act by surprise. The opening of the fire by surprise will be the rule; the machine gun will avoid revealing itself upon objectives not worth the trouble. Flank action and surprise are the two conditions to try for under all circumstances.
2. OFFENSIVE REINFORCEMENT OF A FRONT MOMENTARILY STATIONARY.—The machine guns assisted by small elements of infantry cover thoroughly the getting in hand of the main body, the machine guns presenting to the enemy a line of little vulnerability. The machine guns assist in securing the possession of the ground previously taken, and will permit time to prepare for the resumption of the forward movement. Preparation of the attack—machine gun fire completes the preparation done by the artillery, either by acting on the personnel or by opening breaches in the accessary defenses. At times the machine guns alone may be charged with the preparation of the attack where it is necessary to act very quickly as in pursuit, exploitation of a success. Whatever the situation, concentrate the machine gun fire on one or several points. Machine guns cover the flanks of attacking troops. They follow the advance of these troops remaining on the flanks, so as to be able to fire instantly on all points from which an attack might come. Machine guns will likewise be employed in intervals created intentionally or accidentally between units. It is here a powerful weapon which can rapidly be put into action by the Commander. The personnel and material must be protected as far as possible from the effects of fire.
3. DEFENSIVE.—It is here that the flanking fire is especially necessary. In the defensive preparation of a position the machine guns must be so placed that they will provide along the front several successive fire barriers. The machine guns must be ready at all times to stop by instantaneous fire all hostile attack. In order to have machine gun protection at all, it is absolutely necessary that they be protected from bombardment. This is best done by the following: Place the machine guns under solid cover; make their emplacement invisible; echelon the machine guns in depth. The cover must be placed where it can be hidden from the sight of the enemy, such as a counter slope, a position where it is impossible to blend it, relief with an accentuated slope of the ground, woods, brush, etc. It is essential that the principal parts of the machine gun casemate be prepared in the rear. Only in this manner will the work be done solidly and rapidly. While the machine gunners and helpers do the excavating, specialists in rear prepare the parts for assembling. The latter are then transported to the position and, the casemate is established, hiding the work with the greatest care from enemy observation.
Remember that it is of the utmost importance that the machine gun be invisible, so the firing emplacements must be made outside of the shelter, but near enough for the gun to be brought out instantly and put into action. All communicating trenches leading to the firing emplacement must be concealed. Enough emplacements should be built to avoid firing daily from the emplacements especially reserved for cases of attack. Do not place too many machine guns in the first line; in case of a violent bombardment they are sure to be destroyed. The object to be attained is to install the machine guns in conditions such that if the enemy penetrates our first line, by aid of his bombardment or asphyxiating gas, his infantry, as it advances, comes under the fire of machine guns echeloned previously in depth, under whose fire it must stop. It is not a matter of sweeping a wide sector, but of giving over certain strips of ground flanking fire which will cut down surely the enemy's waves when they push forward. The commander should, therefore, divide between the first line and the terrain in rear, the machine guns which he controls, organizing for each particular case a firing emplacement in accord with the surrounding ground and the purpose in view.
GENERAL RULES FOR INSTALLATION.
Machine gunners must under no circumstances abandon their positions. They must, when necessary, allow themselves to be surrounded and defend themselves in their place to the end. In many cases the heroism and tenacity of a few machine gunners have permitted the rapid retaking of a lost position. To provide for this resistance to a finish, the machine gun emplacements must fulfil the following conditions:
1. Be surrounded by a wire entanglement of irregular trace and as invisible as possible.
2. In the enclosure thus created having several firing emplacements, in case one or more becomes useless.
3. The personnel must have all the means for protection against gas and have in addition rations, water and abundant ammunition.
EMPLOYMENT OF FIRE AND INSTRUCTION.
The more grazing the fire of a machine gun the more effective it is. This causes the principal employment of the machine gun to be at distances where the trajectory is flattest, that is under 800 or 1,000 yards. However, the effort to obtain a grazing fire must not exclude long distance fire. This latter will always be justified when directed upon important objectives, or necessary points of passage. For this fire to have some efficacy, it is necessary to calculate the range with the greatest precision. On the defensive indirect fire will be employed sometimes to annoy the supply, reliefs, etc. To give results, great quantities of ammunition will have to be expended. All of the officers and non-commissioned officers and as many men as possible must be capable of firing the machine gun, so that at the time of an attack no gun will remain idle for want of personnel. It is, moreover, essential to keep up the training of the personnel by having them fire at least twice a month, and, if possible, once a week.
RESUME.
Machine guns must be utilized in the greatest measure in order to economize the infantry.
Seek to employ them always in a flank fire.
Conceal them so as to get surprise fire.
Echelon them and shelter them so as to avoid their premature destruction.
POINTS BEFORE FIRING.
1. Thoroughly overhaul the gun to see that no part is deficient, and that the mechanism works freely.
2. See that the barrel is clean and dry.
3. See that the barrel mouthpiece is tight.
4. See that small hole in gas regulator is to the rear.
5. Thoroughly oil all working parts, especially the cam slot and exterior of the bolt, and the striker post and piston.
6. Weigh and adjust the mainspring.
7. See that the mounting is firm.
8. Examine the magazines and ammunition.
9. See that the spare parts and oil reserve are handy.
POINTS DURING FIRING
1. During a temporary cessation of fire, re-oil all working parts.
2. Replace a partly emptied magazine with a full one.
3. Examine the mounting to see that it is firm.
4. See that empty magazines are refilled without delay.
POINTS AFTER FIRING.
1. Unload.
2. Oil the bore and chamber, piston rod and gas cylinder.
3. Sort out live rounds from empty cases.
4. See that mainspring is eased.
5. Thoroughly clean and oil the gun on returning to quarters. Clean the bore daily for several days.
It is of the greatest importance that the points before, during, and after firing, should be carefully attended to as otherwise the number of stoppages will be unnecessarily increased.
Nine out of ten stoppages are due to want of care.
Immediate action must become instinctive and automatic.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Battalion Moves Out
This excellent chapter comes from the book "The Amateur Army" by Patrick MacGill.
After many weeks of waiting his Battalion was finally given orders to go to France, here he vividly describes the process and the excitement of the moment.
READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES
Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move, so every one stated, except our officers, and official information was not forthcoming.
"You are going between midnight and five o'clock to-morrow morning," announced my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.
"How do you know?" I inquired.
"Because I can't get any coal to-morrow--line's bunged up for the troops."
"No, he'll be going on Tuesday," said his wife, whose kindliness and splendid cooking I should miss greatly.
"Is that so?" I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A sore toe eclipsed all other matters for the time being.
"The ration men have served out enough for two days, and it doesn't stand to reason that they're going to waste anything," the little lady continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.
Parades went on as usual; the usual rations were doled out to billets and the usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We were weary of false alarms, waiting orders, and eternal parades. Some of us had been training for fully six months, others had joined the Army when war broke out, and we were still secure in England. "Why have we joined?" the men asked. "Is it to line the streets when the troops come home? We are a balmy regiment."
One evening, Thursday to be exact, the battalion orders were interesting. One item ran as follows: "All fees due to billets will be paid up to Friday night. If any other billet expenses are incurred by battalion the same will be paid on application to the War Office."
Friday evening found more explicit expression of our future movements in orders. The following items appeared: "Mess tin covers will be issued to-morrow. No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by the battalion overseas. All deficiencies in kit must be reported to-morrow morning. Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers who have not yet received a copy of the New Testament can have same on application at the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.
"Where are we going?" we asked one another. Some answered saying that we were to help in the sack of Constantinople, others suggested Egypt, but all felt that we were going off to France at no very distant date. Was not this feeling plausible when we took into account a boot parade of the day before and how we were ordered to wear two pairs of socks when trying on the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested the trenches and cold, certainly not the sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or the burning sands of Egypt.
Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered in front of the quartermaster's stores drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets, ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity discs, new belts,
water-bottles, pack-straps, trousers, tunics and the hundred and one other things required by the soldier on active service. In addition to the usual requisites, every unit received a cholera belt (they are more particular over this article of attire than over any other), two pairs of pants, a singlet and a cake of soap. The latter looked tallowy and nobody took it further than the billet; the pants were woollen, very warm and made in Canada. This reminds me of an amusing episode which took place last general inspection. While standing easy, before the brigadier-general made his appearance, the men compared razors and found that eighty per cent. of them had been made in Germany. But these were bought by the soldiers before war started. At least all affirmed that this was so.
Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries at midnight, and no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced that night. I drew my boots at eleven o'clock, and then the streets were crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends. Wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears.
Sunday.--No church parade; and all men stood under arms in the streets. The officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty wrist-watches. They now appeared in web equipment, similar to that worn by the men, and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous by his uniform.
Our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement which had been waited for so long. "To-morrow we proceed overseas," he said. "On behalf of the colonel I've to thank you all for the way in which you have done your work up to the present, and I am certain
that when we get out yonder," he raised his arm and his gesture might indicate any point of the compass, "you'll all do your work with the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now."
This was the announcement. The men received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation broke out in the ranks. "We're going at last"; "I thought when I joined that I'd be off next morning"; "What price a free journey to Berlin!"; "It'll be some great sport!" Such were the remarks that were bandied to and fro. But some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter.
A little leaflet entitled "Rules for the Preservation of Health on Field Service," was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a few quotations.
"Remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to keep it outside."
"Don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water."
"Never start on a march with an empty stomach."
"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is. Socks should be taken off at the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. Put on a clean pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and vice versa."
"Remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_."
"Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no other part of the body."
At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. I heard the transport wagons clattering on the pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.
Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. Another day had to be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our quarters. The orders were posted up as usual at all street corners, a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality:
The battalion moves to-morrow.
Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.
Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence.
I rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnishing bayonets and oiling the bolts of the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the night before.
When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, buttered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. The morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to beat sharply against our legs. It was still very dark, only a few street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed of being noticed. Men in full marching order stamped out from every billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins, stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the other, were preparing to call the roll.
Ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man, and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected and identity discs examined by torch-light. This finished, we were allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the biting hail. Our blankets were already gone. The transport wagons had disappeared and with them our field-bags. I suppose they will await us in ---- but I anticipate, and at present all we know is that our regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive, we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.
We stood by till eight o'clock. The day had cleared and the sun was shining brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who wept and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."
Three trains stood in the sidings by the station. Places were allotted to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-class.
Soon we were hurrying through England to a place unknown. Most of my comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall songs that told of home. There were seven with me in my compartment, the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold
hours of the early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the rifles while I cooked breakfast in the morning; Bill, the Cockney youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument in the coffee-shop of which I have already spoken, and the Oxford man. The other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a Dickens character in _Pickwick Papers_; another who soon fell asleep, his head warm in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been waxed at one end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.
Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of the window to read their names, but was never successful. Cigarettes were smoked, the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "fag-ends." Rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers and equipment piled on top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:
"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"
"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.
"With two pairs of socks to one boot!" Mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. He had been a great traveller and knows many countries. His age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church.
"But the job was not one for me," he says, "and I threw it up." He looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.
Our train journey neared the end. Bill was at the window and said that we were in sight of our destination. All were up and fumbling with their equipment; and one, the University man, hoped that the night would be a good one for sailing to France.
If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.
After many weeks of waiting his Battalion was finally given orders to go to France, here he vividly describes the process and the excitement of the moment.
READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES
Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move, so every one stated, except our officers, and official information was not forthcoming.
"You are going between midnight and five o'clock to-morrow morning," announced my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.
"How do you know?" I inquired.
"Because I can't get any coal to-morrow--line's bunged up for the troops."
"No, he'll be going on Tuesday," said his wife, whose kindliness and splendid cooking I should miss greatly.
"Is that so?" I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A sore toe eclipsed all other matters for the time being.
"The ration men have served out enough for two days, and it doesn't stand to reason that they're going to waste anything," the little lady continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.
Parades went on as usual; the usual rations were doled out to billets and the usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We were weary of false alarms, waiting orders, and eternal parades. Some of us had been training for fully six months, others had joined the Army when war broke out, and we were still secure in England. "Why have we joined?" the men asked. "Is it to line the streets when the troops come home? We are a balmy regiment."
One evening, Thursday to be exact, the battalion orders were interesting. One item ran as follows: "All fees due to billets will be paid up to Friday night. If any other billet expenses are incurred by battalion the same will be paid on application to the War Office."
Friday evening found more explicit expression of our future movements in orders. The following items appeared: "Mess tin covers will be issued to-morrow. No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by the battalion overseas. All deficiencies in kit must be reported to-morrow morning. Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers who have not yet received a copy of the New Testament can have same on application at the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.
"Where are we going?" we asked one another. Some answered saying that we were to help in the sack of Constantinople, others suggested Egypt, but all felt that we were going off to France at no very distant date. Was not this feeling plausible when we took into account a boot parade of the day before and how we were ordered to wear two pairs of socks when trying on the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested the trenches and cold, certainly not the sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or the burning sands of Egypt.
Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered in front of the quartermaster's stores drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets, ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity discs, new belts,
water-bottles, pack-straps, trousers, tunics and the hundred and one other things required by the soldier on active service. In addition to the usual requisites, every unit received a cholera belt (they are more particular over this article of attire than over any other), two pairs of pants, a singlet and a cake of soap. The latter looked tallowy and nobody took it further than the billet; the pants were woollen, very warm and made in Canada. This reminds me of an amusing episode which took place last general inspection. While standing easy, before the brigadier-general made his appearance, the men compared razors and found that eighty per cent. of them had been made in Germany. But these were bought by the soldiers before war started. At least all affirmed that this was so.
Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries at midnight, and no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced that night. I drew my boots at eleven o'clock, and then the streets were crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends. Wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears.
Sunday.--No church parade; and all men stood under arms in the streets. The officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty wrist-watches. They now appeared in web equipment, similar to that worn by the men, and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous by his uniform.
Our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement which had been waited for so long. "To-morrow we proceed overseas," he said. "On behalf of the colonel I've to thank you all for the way in which you have done your work up to the present, and I am certain
that when we get out yonder," he raised his arm and his gesture might indicate any point of the compass, "you'll all do your work with the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now."
This was the announcement. The men received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation broke out in the ranks. "We're going at last"; "I thought when I joined that I'd be off next morning"; "What price a free journey to Berlin!"; "It'll be some great sport!" Such were the remarks that were bandied to and fro. But some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter.
A little leaflet entitled "Rules for the Preservation of Health on Field Service," was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a few quotations.
"Remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to keep it outside."
"Don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water."
"Never start on a march with an empty stomach."
"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is. Socks should be taken off at the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. Put on a clean pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and vice versa."
"Remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_."
"Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no other part of the body."
At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. I heard the transport wagons clattering on the pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.
Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. Another day had to be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our quarters. The orders were posted up as usual at all street corners, a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality:
The battalion moves to-morrow.
Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.
Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence.
I rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnishing bayonets and oiling the bolts of the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the night before.
When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, buttered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. The morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to beat sharply against our legs. It was still very dark, only a few street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed of being noticed. Men in full marching order stamped out from every billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins, stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the other, were preparing to call the roll.
Ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man, and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected and identity discs examined by torch-light. This finished, we were allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the biting hail. Our blankets were already gone. The transport wagons had disappeared and with them our field-bags. I suppose they will await us in ---- but I anticipate, and at present all we know is that our regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive, we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.
We stood by till eight o'clock. The day had cleared and the sun was shining brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who wept and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."
Three trains stood in the sidings by the station. Places were allotted to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-class.
Soon we were hurrying through England to a place unknown. Most of my comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall songs that told of home. There were seven with me in my compartment, the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold
hours of the early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the rifles while I cooked breakfast in the morning; Bill, the Cockney youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument in the coffee-shop of which I have already spoken, and the Oxford man. The other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a Dickens character in _Pickwick Papers_; another who soon fell asleep, his head warm in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been waxed at one end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.
Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of the window to read their names, but was never successful. Cigarettes were smoked, the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "fag-ends." Rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers and equipment piled on top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:
"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"
"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.
"With two pairs of socks to one boot!" Mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. He had been a great traveller and knows many countries. His age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church.
"But the job was not one for me," he says, "and I threw it up." He looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.
Our train journey neared the end. Bill was at the window and said that we were in sight of our destination. All were up and fumbling with their equipment; and one, the University man, hoped that the night would be a good one for sailing to France.
If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.
Monday, March 07, 2011
The Defence of Amiens - April & May 1918
This article comes from the book “The Story of the Great War, Volume VII (of VIII)”.
Although it was written for an American market it gives a good oversight to the Australian defence of Amiens during April and May 1918.
It also mentions the defence of Ypres in the Battle of Lys where the 1st Australian Division played a very significant role.
THE GERMAN OFFENSIVE RENEWED—YPRES THREATENED—THE ALLIES' HEAVY LOSSES
The comparative quiet which had reigned for some days in the battle area was broken on April 23, 1918, when the Germans, using two divisions, attacked the whole British front south of the Somme, as well as the French forces on the British right. Villers-Bretonneux, the Germans' objective, stands on a ridge southeast of Amiens, an important position in reference to that place.
A preliminary bombardment started at 3 o'clock in the morning and continued for nearly four hours, when their infantry advanced upon Villers-Bretonneux and the village of Cahy, from Hangard Wood, Marcelcave, and from below Warfusee. Among the German troops engaged were the Fortieth Guards Division, which had been fighting recently on this front, and the Seventy-seventh Division, fresh from Russia and in action here for the first time. At the hour the attack was launched a third German division, the Thirteenth, of Westphalian troops, fell upon the French near Castel to the south of the British forces. The Germans, after a fierce struggle, succeeded in gaining a little ground, when the French troops pivoted from the right and threw them back.
On the British front the Germans used tanks for the first time in an offensive, three of them advancing with the German infantry down the road to Cahy and Domart.
German attacks on the northern and southern sectors of this front were repulsed by the Allied troops, but the enemy made progress at Villers-Bretonneux. The fighting here continued throughout the day with unabated intensity and did not cease when the Germans captured the village in the early evening.
Their attacks broke down on the northern bank of the Somme and north of Albert. The British carried out a successful local operation northwest of Festubert, where they recaptured a post which the Germans had won on April 22.
British positions east of Robecq now came under strong enemy fire and were subjected to several strong attacks. The British line remained unbroken after every assault and the Germans were forced back, losing eighty-four men as prisoners and a number of machine guns.
In the night British and Australian troops launched several counterattacks against the positions the Germans had newly won in and around Villers-Bretonneux.
The Germans had been long enough in possession of the town and the neighborhood to set up strong defenses, and countless machine guns had been placed wherever they could do the most harm. When the British were driven out of the village after a hard fight it was late in the day and the Germans evidently thought that they would not attempt a counterattack until the following morning. But the British did not purpose to give the enemy any time to bring up fresh troops, and prepared for a night attack. They recognized the importance of Villers-Bretonneux, as it gave the enemy full observation of the British positions on both sides of the Somme Valley beyond Amiens.
The job of recapturing the village was given to the Australians who had made a brilliant record in carrying out night attacks and rarely failed of success. About midnight they set out, unpreceded by any artillery preparation, feeling their way along in the dark and relying solely on the weapons they carried with them.
The Australians broke into the village before the enemy woke up, and supported by several British battalions spent the night in clearing the Germans out of the place. The Germans were not disposed to surrender such an important observation point and put up a stiff fight, and the struggle raged for hours in the streets. Finally the British and Australians gained the upper hand and the village proper was freed of the enemy, who fell back on positions in the neighborhood. Fighting in the outskirts of the village continued in the morning. There was no gunfire even then, for the British, Germans, and Australians were so closely engaged in the struggle and so mixed up that the gunners on both sides were afraid of killing their own men.
On the western side of the village German machine gunners, cut off from their lines by the sudden counterattack, were stoutly defending themselves here and there among the remains of ruined buildings and dealt the British some shrewd blows before they could be driven out, or made prisoner. The British had escaped without severe casualties, while the German toll of dead was costly, especially in officers. In this operation the British captured between 700 and 800 prisoners.
In the Lys salient the Germans, employing large forces and aiming at Mont Kemmel, launched a succession of violent attacks from Wytschaete to Bailleul. The Allies made a brave resistance, but were compelled to fall back on prepared positions toward the Locre River.
Mont Kemmel is a hill of great tactical importance. It is almost covered with woods and stands out somewhat in front of the range of heights extending westward to the Mont des Cats, and to some extent dominating its western neighbors.
In the course of the fighting in this region (April 25-26, 1918) nine German divisions (about 120,000 men) were engaged, and the Allies, borne down by overwhelming numbers, were forced to give up the village of Kemmel, the near-by summit of Kemmel, and the village of Dranoutre to the south.
In the Somme-Avre battle area the French had been pitilessly hammered by overpowering numbers of German troops. The fighting in and around Hangard Wood was especially intense.
On April 25, 1918, the French repulsed seven assaults made on their lines north of the wood and in Hangard, which changed hands several times during the day. South of the Luce River the Germans were driven out of important positions which the French occupied and held firmly against repeated attempts made by the enemy to drive them out.
The Germans had by this time advanced to within three miles of Ypres, which was now threatened. The struggle for Voormezeele, the point at which the Germans had pushed closest to Ypres from the south, was prolonged and intense. They made a costly and futile effort to capture the wood southwest of the town on the 26th. The attack was desperately pushed, but met with disaster. Not only were their losses heavy in dead, but several hundred prisoners were taken by the Allied troops. Meanwhile the French were successful on their front from La Clytte to Locre (two miles west of Kemmel). Strong bodies of German troops under General von Arnim after four violent assaults captured Locre, but the French organized a strong counterattack and regained the village. They also won Hospice and Locrehof Farm, both strong points lying southeast of the place.
Ypres now came under heavy fire of the German guns; high explosives and gas shells rained down upon the ruins of the city for the first time in some months. Fields and villages around hitherto untouched by fire were showered with shells. The purpose was to catch the traffic on the roads and destroy soldiers' camps, but the only result was a few women and children killed.
Throughout the night of April 28, 1918, German batteries were active from the Belgian front down through Flanders to the districts about Béthune. About 6 o'clock in the morning, on the 29th, an attack was made according to the plan of General von Arnim after gaining Kemmel Hill; this was the capture of the chain of hills running westward below Ypres to Poperinghe, among them such familiar landmarks as Mont Rouge and Mont Noir. These hills, held at the time by the French, were of great tactical importance, forming the central keep, as it were, in the Allies' defense lines south of Ypres.
It was the purpose of the Germans, in case their frontal attacks against the French failed, to break the British lines on the French left between Locre and Voormezeele and on the French right near Merris and Meteren, but all their efforts failed.
On April 28, 1918, British flyers discovered the Germans massing troops on the road between Zillebeke and Ypres. A dense fog prevailed at the time, and a surprise attack was evidently planned. This never developed, for the assembly was promptly shelled by the British gunners and dispersed. After a tremendous bombardment that shook the whole countryside the German troops again assembled in the misty dawn and were again dispersed by British guns. The fighting in this area was almost continuous throughout the following day.
Around the Scherpenberg and Mont Rouge the Germans fiercely assailed the French lines and succeeding in making a wedge for a time, captured the crossroads, but were counterattacked by General Pétain's men, who drove them out of most of the ground they had gained there.
A tremendous barrage was flung down by the German gunners from Ypres to Bailleul, and somewhat later they began the battle by launching an attack between Zillebeke Lake and Meteren. South of Ypres they crossed the Yser Canal near Voormezeele with the purpose of striking the British, while they tried to push past Locre against the French holding the three hills. As a result of the day's fighting the British lines remained intact, while General von Arnim's hosts were shattered and decimated. On the French front the Germans won a little ground, but it was unimportant in relation to the situation.
On April 29, 1918, French troops carried out a brilliant counterattack in the night, recovering ground on the slope of the Scherpenberg and advanced their line 1,500 yards astride the Dranoutre road. They alone drove the Germans out of positions around Locre and entered into full possession of the village itself.
The Germans still occupied Mont Kemmel, but their hold on the height was of little value, as the Allied artillery kept the summit smothered with shell fire, making it impossible for the enemy to maintain any considerable body of troops there.
The French and British were elated over the outcome, for the greatest effort made by the Germans in the Flanders offensive had failed. In addition to a large number of divisions in position (p. 303) at the beginning of the battle the Germans had employed about thirty fresh battalions of reserves. Von Armin's great thrust had been carefully planned and his troops fought with reckless bravery if not with distinction. The French and British had defeated him with relatively smaller forces and had shown that their men were more than equal to the best German soldiers. Owing to the close fighting and frequent hand-to-hand encounters, the Franco-British capture of prisoners (over 5,000) was less than might have been expected in a struggle of such magnitude.
While the Germans up to the first of May had failed to make any farther advance on the scale of the first days of the big offensive, they were still a menace to be reckoned with. It was estimated that they had already thrown 2,000,000 men into the line, but many fresh divisions were available for further efforts. They had enough men in their depots in the interior to fill all their gaps for some time; but reconstituted divisions, as is well known, never equal in fighting quality the original formation, as a large number of slightly wounded men after recuperation is included.
As the Germans did not publish their losses, no correct estimate could be formed. Conservative opinion placed the number as over 350,000 men. The Germans had 186 divisions on the western front when the offensive began, and reenforcements brought from Russia and other fronts raised the number to 210 divisions; a German division consisting of about 12,000 men.
For some time it was a mystery to the Allies as to how the Germans succeeded in bringing forward new divisions into the battle area and so often escaping the notice of the vigilant French and British observers. This the Germans accomplished by exercising the greatest precaution and cunning.
In the first place the territory occupied by each German army corps was divided into two zones, the first of which might be under observation of the Allies' lookouts, and the other only from captive balloons which had a wide radius of view. According to German army orders, infantry occupying the first zone were forbidden on clear days to move in any greater number (p. than four men together, mounted men not more than two together, and vehicles not more than two at a time, with a minimum of 300 yards between groups. In heavy, misty weather, these restrictions were relaxed and the movement of groups of forty foot soldiers, twenty cavalrymen, and ten vehicles was permitted.
In the second zone it was permissible to form groups of the size allowed in the first zone, on days of poor visibility, but there must be intervals of 500 yards. It was in this manner that the Germans' military movements were often hidden from the Allies' observers. German divisions making forced marches in the night slept in the villages during the day, and were heavily punished if they showed themselves in the streets.
No infantry operations were attempted by the Germans on May 1-2, 1918, but German gunners continued at regular intervals to bombard the Franco-British lines. General Pétain took advantage of the lull in the fighting to advance his lines between Hailles and Castel (south of the Avre), meeting with little opposition, capturing Hill 82 and the wood near by bordering on the river.
The Germans became active again on May 3, 1918, when, after a heavy artillery barrage, they attacked British positions south of Locon (on the southern flank of the Lys salient). They were easily repulsed and made no further attempt that day to renew the attack. On May 4th, 1918, British and French troops carried out a successful operation between Locre and Dranoutre, gaining ground on a half-mile front to an average depth of 500 yards and capturing a number of prisoners. The Germans were driven from three ruined farms that were perfect strongholds, and high ground was won by the Allies near Koutkot (west of Dranoutre). All these local successes were of real value, for they strengthened the Allied defenses of the approach to Scherpenberg and Mont Rouge.
May 5, 1918, was a great day for those irrepressible fighters, the Australians, who gave the Germans a bad thrashing west and southwest of Morlancourt between the Ancre and the Somme Rivers.
The Australians' attack was made on a front of 2,500 yards unheralded by any preliminary bombardment, but the British guns became active after they were on their way, keeping roads and tracks under fire to prevent the enemy from bringing up supports.
The German garrison on this front did not occupy any definite trench system, but occupied scattered rifle pits and rifle trenches just large enough to afford shelter for small groups and machine-gun crews. These hornets' nests were dangerous things to tackle, but the Australians had dealt with such conditions before and went about their work in a cool and businesslike manner. With bombs and bayonets the Germans were killed or driven out of their holes, and as they were all picked men selected for their courage and long experience in warfare they made a gallant resistance. The Australian generally fights better when he has a desperate opponent, and the struggle became intense and at close quarters. In the end the men from overseas crushed all opposition, killing over 150 Germans and taking about 200 prisoners. The success of this minor operation was of some importance, as it enabled the Allies to advance their line 500 yards.
At this time, in the course of the offensive, the Germans introduced, as a new form of "frightfulness," a sneezing powder, that was fired by high explosive shells. The sneezing powder sifts down through the gas masks and causes sneezing when the wearer is forced to take off his mask and receives the full effect of the lethal gases which the Germans had spread abroad.
Preparations were now under way for a new offensive. It was known to the Allies that Ludendorff had already massed 70 divisions and that reenforcements of men and guns were daily brought into the fighting area. The Germans now sought for a basis for a new drive, feeling their way by making thrusts here and there on the Allies' front. On May 8, 1918, they made a drive at the British lines in the battle area north of Kemmel in the Lys salient, penetrating trenches between La Clytie and Voormezeele. About 25,000 German troops took part in this attack. In the night General Haig's men came back in force and drove them out, but the Germans contested the field again and (p. 306) again during the following day. They won a little ground here and there, but were eventually thrown back and the British remained in sole possession of the terrain.
North of Albert the Germans captured a small but important strip of trenches on high ground. Their temporary success was dearly won, for they suffered terrible slaughter from the rifle and machine-gun fire which poured into their ranks as they advanced up the slopes. By a brilliant counterassault the Germans were driven out of the position won before they could organize the defenses. East of Bouzincourt, where the British occupied positions on high ground, the enemy followed much the same tactics, but they were unable to gain even temporary foothold in the British defenses. The graycoats advanced, shouting in English "retire," in the hopes of confusing the British. The response of the defenders was such a fierce fire that the Germans acted on their cry and fell back in disorganized masses, leaving hosts of dead on the field.
Along the greater part of the front military operations were now confined to small enterprises. The Allies assumed a waiting attitude expecting that the enemy would show his hand. The Germans had brought a large number of divisions into the line facing Amiens, indicating an offensive in that direction. The attempts to "feel out" the Allies' strength had received so many setbacks that they hesitated to begin any new operation on a large scale.
Days passed and still the Germans failed to start a great offensive. It was a period officially called "quiet," though on many parts of the front the guns were active, and raids and minor operations were carried out every day and night. There was continued fighting between French and Germans for the possession of Mont Kemmel, which changed hands again and again. Its value lay in the fact that the hill dominates considerable territory, and for that reason was long a thorn in the flesh of the ambitious Germans.
The anticipated German offensive so long delayed was begun on May 27, 1918. At 1 a. m. a terrific bombardment in which gas shells predominated was opened along a forty-mile front (p. 307) between Noyon and Rheims. The hurricane of fire continued undiminished for three hours when the Germans launched an assault with about 325,000 men against the Franco-British lines.
The German objective was the famous plateau, the Chemin-des-Dames, a long, bare ridge whose widest part is on the west and narrowest above Craonne. It was against this narrowest point on the ridge that was held by a British division that the main blow was aimed. The German forces, which far exceeded in numbers the defenders of the ridge, included some of the specially trained units that had fought in Von Hutier's army in March, two divisions of the Prussian Guards, and other crack formations. Having gained the ridge at a heavy cost, the Germans pressed on westward. The Allies retreated toward the Aisne, inflicting, as they fell back, heavy losses on the Germans, who drove forward great masses of troops over their dead comrades' bodies. The Germans pushed on over an eighteen-mile front in pursuit of the Allies and crossed the river.
North of the Aisne the Germans carried by storm a number of towns and drove a wedge southward from the Aisne to Fismes on the River Vesle, which the Germans crossed at several points. In the sector northwest of Rheims the British troops were forced back toward Berry-au-Bac and across the Aisne-Marne Canal. As a result of the first day's fighting the Germans advanced 10 miles and claimed the capture of 15,000 prisoners.
On the second day of the offensive the Germans continued their attacks on the French troops on the right wing of the Aisne offensive, and forced them to evacuate Soissons except for the western outskirts. German forces of the center were now in possession of the territory between the Aisne and Vesle Rivers, and a considerable area to the south of the last-named stream, having extended their advance in this region four miles.
The fighting continued unabated all day on May 30, 1918, in the Aisne-Vesle area between Soissons and Rheims. The German flanks near these two cities being firmly held by the French, the Germans were throwing their entire strength southward evidently with the intention of establishing themselves on the Marne. This would enable them to direct their main efforts westward, counting on the river to protect their flank. On the whole southern front the fighting was of the most violent character, and it was here that the Allies had to give most ground. Fère-en-Tardenois, four or five miles south of the farthest point of the German advance on the 29th, was occupied by the Germans. They also captured Vezilly to the eastward. In the Rheims sector the crown prince's forces occupied the northern parts of La Neuvillette and Betheny, a mile nearer to Rheims on the northwest and northeast.
The most serious blow to the Allies in the German advance was not the loss of 35,000 men which the Germans claimed as prisoners, for that was a comparatively small number in an offensive of such magnitude, but the loss of artillery and stores which was enormous. The depth of the German advance had carried their lines beyond the positions of even the heaviest guns of the Allies. It is a slow process to move great cannon, as tractors are required, and so in the swift onrush, many were captured with ammunition dumps containing great stores of shells.
On May 31, 1918, the Germans extended their effort on the right as far as the Oise by heavy attacks in the region of the Ailette. The French were driven back, fighting, on positions to the north of the line of Blerancourt-Epagny. In the region of Soissons, and farther south, the German assault was shattered by the brilliant fighting of the French, who maintained their position on the western outskirts of the town, and along the road to Château-Thierry. In the center the Germans were advancing north of the Marne and gained positions south of Fère-en-Tardenois. This forward movement of about eight miles, which the Germans had carried out in the space of twenty-four hours against strong opposition, was indeed a notable military achievement. They also forced the withdrawal of French lines northwest of Soissons toward Noyon, thus linking up the Aisne operations with those on the Picardy front.
Although it was written for an American market it gives a good oversight to the Australian defence of Amiens during April and May 1918.
It also mentions the defence of Ypres in the Battle of Lys where the 1st Australian Division played a very significant role.
THE GERMAN OFFENSIVE RENEWED—YPRES THREATENED—THE ALLIES' HEAVY LOSSES
The comparative quiet which had reigned for some days in the battle area was broken on April 23, 1918, when the Germans, using two divisions, attacked the whole British front south of the Somme, as well as the French forces on the British right. Villers-Bretonneux, the Germans' objective, stands on a ridge southeast of Amiens, an important position in reference to that place.
A preliminary bombardment started at 3 o'clock in the morning and continued for nearly four hours, when their infantry advanced upon Villers-Bretonneux and the village of Cahy, from Hangard Wood, Marcelcave, and from below Warfusee. Among the German troops engaged were the Fortieth Guards Division, which had been fighting recently on this front, and the Seventy-seventh Division, fresh from Russia and in action here for the first time. At the hour the attack was launched a third German division, the Thirteenth, of Westphalian troops, fell upon the French near Castel to the south of the British forces. The Germans, after a fierce struggle, succeeded in gaining a little ground, when the French troops pivoted from the right and threw them back.
On the British front the Germans used tanks for the first time in an offensive, three of them advancing with the German infantry down the road to Cahy and Domart.
German attacks on the northern and southern sectors of this front were repulsed by the Allied troops, but the enemy made progress at Villers-Bretonneux. The fighting here continued throughout the day with unabated intensity and did not cease when the Germans captured the village in the early evening.
Their attacks broke down on the northern bank of the Somme and north of Albert. The British carried out a successful local operation northwest of Festubert, where they recaptured a post which the Germans had won on April 22.
British positions east of Robecq now came under strong enemy fire and were subjected to several strong attacks. The British line remained unbroken after every assault and the Germans were forced back, losing eighty-four men as prisoners and a number of machine guns.
In the night British and Australian troops launched several counterattacks against the positions the Germans had newly won in and around Villers-Bretonneux.
The Germans had been long enough in possession of the town and the neighborhood to set up strong defenses, and countless machine guns had been placed wherever they could do the most harm. When the British were driven out of the village after a hard fight it was late in the day and the Germans evidently thought that they would not attempt a counterattack until the following morning. But the British did not purpose to give the enemy any time to bring up fresh troops, and prepared for a night attack. They recognized the importance of Villers-Bretonneux, as it gave the enemy full observation of the British positions on both sides of the Somme Valley beyond Amiens.
The job of recapturing the village was given to the Australians who had made a brilliant record in carrying out night attacks and rarely failed of success. About midnight they set out, unpreceded by any artillery preparation, feeling their way along in the dark and relying solely on the weapons they carried with them.
The Australians broke into the village before the enemy woke up, and supported by several British battalions spent the night in clearing the Germans out of the place. The Germans were not disposed to surrender such an important observation point and put up a stiff fight, and the struggle raged for hours in the streets. Finally the British and Australians gained the upper hand and the village proper was freed of the enemy, who fell back on positions in the neighborhood. Fighting in the outskirts of the village continued in the morning. There was no gunfire even then, for the British, Germans, and Australians were so closely engaged in the struggle and so mixed up that the gunners on both sides were afraid of killing their own men.
On the western side of the village German machine gunners, cut off from their lines by the sudden counterattack, were stoutly defending themselves here and there among the remains of ruined buildings and dealt the British some shrewd blows before they could be driven out, or made prisoner. The British had escaped without severe casualties, while the German toll of dead was costly, especially in officers. In this operation the British captured between 700 and 800 prisoners.
In the Lys salient the Germans, employing large forces and aiming at Mont Kemmel, launched a succession of violent attacks from Wytschaete to Bailleul. The Allies made a brave resistance, but were compelled to fall back on prepared positions toward the Locre River.
Mont Kemmel is a hill of great tactical importance. It is almost covered with woods and stands out somewhat in front of the range of heights extending westward to the Mont des Cats, and to some extent dominating its western neighbors.
In the course of the fighting in this region (April 25-26, 1918) nine German divisions (about 120,000 men) were engaged, and the Allies, borne down by overwhelming numbers, were forced to give up the village of Kemmel, the near-by summit of Kemmel, and the village of Dranoutre to the south.
In the Somme-Avre battle area the French had been pitilessly hammered by overpowering numbers of German troops. The fighting in and around Hangard Wood was especially intense.
On April 25, 1918, the French repulsed seven assaults made on their lines north of the wood and in Hangard, which changed hands several times during the day. South of the Luce River the Germans were driven out of important positions which the French occupied and held firmly against repeated attempts made by the enemy to drive them out.
The Germans had by this time advanced to within three miles of Ypres, which was now threatened. The struggle for Voormezeele, the point at which the Germans had pushed closest to Ypres from the south, was prolonged and intense. They made a costly and futile effort to capture the wood southwest of the town on the 26th. The attack was desperately pushed, but met with disaster. Not only were their losses heavy in dead, but several hundred prisoners were taken by the Allied troops. Meanwhile the French were successful on their front from La Clytte to Locre (two miles west of Kemmel). Strong bodies of German troops under General von Arnim after four violent assaults captured Locre, but the French organized a strong counterattack and regained the village. They also won Hospice and Locrehof Farm, both strong points lying southeast of the place.
Ypres now came under heavy fire of the German guns; high explosives and gas shells rained down upon the ruins of the city for the first time in some months. Fields and villages around hitherto untouched by fire were showered with shells. The purpose was to catch the traffic on the roads and destroy soldiers' camps, but the only result was a few women and children killed.
Throughout the night of April 28, 1918, German batteries were active from the Belgian front down through Flanders to the districts about Béthune. About 6 o'clock in the morning, on the 29th, an attack was made according to the plan of General von Arnim after gaining Kemmel Hill; this was the capture of the chain of hills running westward below Ypres to Poperinghe, among them such familiar landmarks as Mont Rouge and Mont Noir. These hills, held at the time by the French, were of great tactical importance, forming the central keep, as it were, in the Allies' defense lines south of Ypres.
It was the purpose of the Germans, in case their frontal attacks against the French failed, to break the British lines on the French left between Locre and Voormezeele and on the French right near Merris and Meteren, but all their efforts failed.
On April 28, 1918, British flyers discovered the Germans massing troops on the road between Zillebeke and Ypres. A dense fog prevailed at the time, and a surprise attack was evidently planned. This never developed, for the assembly was promptly shelled by the British gunners and dispersed. After a tremendous bombardment that shook the whole countryside the German troops again assembled in the misty dawn and were again dispersed by British guns. The fighting in this area was almost continuous throughout the following day.
Around the Scherpenberg and Mont Rouge the Germans fiercely assailed the French lines and succeeding in making a wedge for a time, captured the crossroads, but were counterattacked by General Pétain's men, who drove them out of most of the ground they had gained there.
A tremendous barrage was flung down by the German gunners from Ypres to Bailleul, and somewhat later they began the battle by launching an attack between Zillebeke Lake and Meteren. South of Ypres they crossed the Yser Canal near Voormezeele with the purpose of striking the British, while they tried to push past Locre against the French holding the three hills. As a result of the day's fighting the British lines remained intact, while General von Arnim's hosts were shattered and decimated. On the French front the Germans won a little ground, but it was unimportant in relation to the situation.
On April 29, 1918, French troops carried out a brilliant counterattack in the night, recovering ground on the slope of the Scherpenberg and advanced their line 1,500 yards astride the Dranoutre road. They alone drove the Germans out of positions around Locre and entered into full possession of the village itself.
The Germans still occupied Mont Kemmel, but their hold on the height was of little value, as the Allied artillery kept the summit smothered with shell fire, making it impossible for the enemy to maintain any considerable body of troops there.
The French and British were elated over the outcome, for the greatest effort made by the Germans in the Flanders offensive had failed. In addition to a large number of divisions in position (p. 303) at the beginning of the battle the Germans had employed about thirty fresh battalions of reserves. Von Armin's great thrust had been carefully planned and his troops fought with reckless bravery if not with distinction. The French and British had defeated him with relatively smaller forces and had shown that their men were more than equal to the best German soldiers. Owing to the close fighting and frequent hand-to-hand encounters, the Franco-British capture of prisoners (over 5,000) was less than might have been expected in a struggle of such magnitude.
While the Germans up to the first of May had failed to make any farther advance on the scale of the first days of the big offensive, they were still a menace to be reckoned with. It was estimated that they had already thrown 2,000,000 men into the line, but many fresh divisions were available for further efforts. They had enough men in their depots in the interior to fill all their gaps for some time; but reconstituted divisions, as is well known, never equal in fighting quality the original formation, as a large number of slightly wounded men after recuperation is included.
As the Germans did not publish their losses, no correct estimate could be formed. Conservative opinion placed the number as over 350,000 men. The Germans had 186 divisions on the western front when the offensive began, and reenforcements brought from Russia and other fronts raised the number to 210 divisions; a German division consisting of about 12,000 men.
For some time it was a mystery to the Allies as to how the Germans succeeded in bringing forward new divisions into the battle area and so often escaping the notice of the vigilant French and British observers. This the Germans accomplished by exercising the greatest precaution and cunning.
In the first place the territory occupied by each German army corps was divided into two zones, the first of which might be under observation of the Allies' lookouts, and the other only from captive balloons which had a wide radius of view. According to German army orders, infantry occupying the first zone were forbidden on clear days to move in any greater number (p. than four men together, mounted men not more than two together, and vehicles not more than two at a time, with a minimum of 300 yards between groups. In heavy, misty weather, these restrictions were relaxed and the movement of groups of forty foot soldiers, twenty cavalrymen, and ten vehicles was permitted.
In the second zone it was permissible to form groups of the size allowed in the first zone, on days of poor visibility, but there must be intervals of 500 yards. It was in this manner that the Germans' military movements were often hidden from the Allies' observers. German divisions making forced marches in the night slept in the villages during the day, and were heavily punished if they showed themselves in the streets.
No infantry operations were attempted by the Germans on May 1-2, 1918, but German gunners continued at regular intervals to bombard the Franco-British lines. General Pétain took advantage of the lull in the fighting to advance his lines between Hailles and Castel (south of the Avre), meeting with little opposition, capturing Hill 82 and the wood near by bordering on the river.
The Germans became active again on May 3, 1918, when, after a heavy artillery barrage, they attacked British positions south of Locon (on the southern flank of the Lys salient). They were easily repulsed and made no further attempt that day to renew the attack. On May 4th, 1918, British and French troops carried out a successful operation between Locre and Dranoutre, gaining ground on a half-mile front to an average depth of 500 yards and capturing a number of prisoners. The Germans were driven from three ruined farms that were perfect strongholds, and high ground was won by the Allies near Koutkot (west of Dranoutre). All these local successes were of real value, for they strengthened the Allied defenses of the approach to Scherpenberg and Mont Rouge.
May 5, 1918, was a great day for those irrepressible fighters, the Australians, who gave the Germans a bad thrashing west and southwest of Morlancourt between the Ancre and the Somme Rivers.
The Australians' attack was made on a front of 2,500 yards unheralded by any preliminary bombardment, but the British guns became active after they were on their way, keeping roads and tracks under fire to prevent the enemy from bringing up supports.
The German garrison on this front did not occupy any definite trench system, but occupied scattered rifle pits and rifle trenches just large enough to afford shelter for small groups and machine-gun crews. These hornets' nests were dangerous things to tackle, but the Australians had dealt with such conditions before and went about their work in a cool and businesslike manner. With bombs and bayonets the Germans were killed or driven out of their holes, and as they were all picked men selected for their courage and long experience in warfare they made a gallant resistance. The Australian generally fights better when he has a desperate opponent, and the struggle became intense and at close quarters. In the end the men from overseas crushed all opposition, killing over 150 Germans and taking about 200 prisoners. The success of this minor operation was of some importance, as it enabled the Allies to advance their line 500 yards.
At this time, in the course of the offensive, the Germans introduced, as a new form of "frightfulness," a sneezing powder, that was fired by high explosive shells. The sneezing powder sifts down through the gas masks and causes sneezing when the wearer is forced to take off his mask and receives the full effect of the lethal gases which the Germans had spread abroad.
Preparations were now under way for a new offensive. It was known to the Allies that Ludendorff had already massed 70 divisions and that reenforcements of men and guns were daily brought into the fighting area. The Germans now sought for a basis for a new drive, feeling their way by making thrusts here and there on the Allies' front. On May 8, 1918, they made a drive at the British lines in the battle area north of Kemmel in the Lys salient, penetrating trenches between La Clytie and Voormezeele. About 25,000 German troops took part in this attack. In the night General Haig's men came back in force and drove them out, but the Germans contested the field again and (p. 306) again during the following day. They won a little ground here and there, but were eventually thrown back and the British remained in sole possession of the terrain.
North of Albert the Germans captured a small but important strip of trenches on high ground. Their temporary success was dearly won, for they suffered terrible slaughter from the rifle and machine-gun fire which poured into their ranks as they advanced up the slopes. By a brilliant counterassault the Germans were driven out of the position won before they could organize the defenses. East of Bouzincourt, where the British occupied positions on high ground, the enemy followed much the same tactics, but they were unable to gain even temporary foothold in the British defenses. The graycoats advanced, shouting in English "retire," in the hopes of confusing the British. The response of the defenders was such a fierce fire that the Germans acted on their cry and fell back in disorganized masses, leaving hosts of dead on the field.
Along the greater part of the front military operations were now confined to small enterprises. The Allies assumed a waiting attitude expecting that the enemy would show his hand. The Germans had brought a large number of divisions into the line facing Amiens, indicating an offensive in that direction. The attempts to "feel out" the Allies' strength had received so many setbacks that they hesitated to begin any new operation on a large scale.
Days passed and still the Germans failed to start a great offensive. It was a period officially called "quiet," though on many parts of the front the guns were active, and raids and minor operations were carried out every day and night. There was continued fighting between French and Germans for the possession of Mont Kemmel, which changed hands again and again. Its value lay in the fact that the hill dominates considerable territory, and for that reason was long a thorn in the flesh of the ambitious Germans.
The anticipated German offensive so long delayed was begun on May 27, 1918. At 1 a. m. a terrific bombardment in which gas shells predominated was opened along a forty-mile front (p. 307) between Noyon and Rheims. The hurricane of fire continued undiminished for three hours when the Germans launched an assault with about 325,000 men against the Franco-British lines.
The German objective was the famous plateau, the Chemin-des-Dames, a long, bare ridge whose widest part is on the west and narrowest above Craonne. It was against this narrowest point on the ridge that was held by a British division that the main blow was aimed. The German forces, which far exceeded in numbers the defenders of the ridge, included some of the specially trained units that had fought in Von Hutier's army in March, two divisions of the Prussian Guards, and other crack formations. Having gained the ridge at a heavy cost, the Germans pressed on westward. The Allies retreated toward the Aisne, inflicting, as they fell back, heavy losses on the Germans, who drove forward great masses of troops over their dead comrades' bodies. The Germans pushed on over an eighteen-mile front in pursuit of the Allies and crossed the river.
North of the Aisne the Germans carried by storm a number of towns and drove a wedge southward from the Aisne to Fismes on the River Vesle, which the Germans crossed at several points. In the sector northwest of Rheims the British troops were forced back toward Berry-au-Bac and across the Aisne-Marne Canal. As a result of the first day's fighting the Germans advanced 10 miles and claimed the capture of 15,000 prisoners.
On the second day of the offensive the Germans continued their attacks on the French troops on the right wing of the Aisne offensive, and forced them to evacuate Soissons except for the western outskirts. German forces of the center were now in possession of the territory between the Aisne and Vesle Rivers, and a considerable area to the south of the last-named stream, having extended their advance in this region four miles.
The fighting continued unabated all day on May 30, 1918, in the Aisne-Vesle area between Soissons and Rheims. The German flanks near these two cities being firmly held by the French, the Germans were throwing their entire strength southward evidently with the intention of establishing themselves on the Marne. This would enable them to direct their main efforts westward, counting on the river to protect their flank. On the whole southern front the fighting was of the most violent character, and it was here that the Allies had to give most ground. Fère-en-Tardenois, four or five miles south of the farthest point of the German advance on the 29th, was occupied by the Germans. They also captured Vezilly to the eastward. In the Rheims sector the crown prince's forces occupied the northern parts of La Neuvillette and Betheny, a mile nearer to Rheims on the northwest and northeast.
The most serious blow to the Allies in the German advance was not the loss of 35,000 men which the Germans claimed as prisoners, for that was a comparatively small number in an offensive of such magnitude, but the loss of artillery and stores which was enormous. The depth of the German advance had carried their lines beyond the positions of even the heaviest guns of the Allies. It is a slow process to move great cannon, as tractors are required, and so in the swift onrush, many were captured with ammunition dumps containing great stores of shells.
On May 31, 1918, the Germans extended their effort on the right as far as the Oise by heavy attacks in the region of the Ailette. The French were driven back, fighting, on positions to the north of the line of Blerancourt-Epagny. In the region of Soissons, and farther south, the German assault was shattered by the brilliant fighting of the French, who maintained their position on the western outskirts of the town, and along the road to Château-Thierry. In the center the Germans were advancing north of the Marne and gained positions south of Fère-en-Tardenois. This forward movement of about eight miles, which the Germans had carried out in the space of twenty-four hours against strong opposition, was indeed a notable military achievement. They also forced the withdrawal of French lines northwest of Soissons toward Noyon, thus linking up the Aisne operations with those on the Picardy front.
Friday, March 04, 2011
The Australians at Villers-Bretonneaux
This article from ‘The Great War in a Different light’ was originally published in 'the War Illustrated' on 21th July, 1918 by the famous war correspondent Hamilton Fyfe .
Entitled - My Impressions of the Great Offensive. It recounts how the Australian Divisions held the line on front a Amiens during the German Offensive in April 1918.
“A good show " — that is the usual term applied by the Army to any successful fighting. The phrase illustrates our persistent refusal to admit that we take anything very seriously. The Germans speak of their successes as "unforgettable triumphs." The French speak, of "glorious victories." We say "a good show."
The Australians have had several good shows during the past three months. The first effect of their being put into the line during the critical times at the beginning of the offensive was seen in the relieving of the German pressure towards Amiens. Enemy battalions were pushing in on Villers-Bretonneaux. Carey's force was doing its best to hold them, but needed help. That help was given by the Australians and by one of our finest cavalry divisions. The Germans were thrown back. A month later there was another attack on Villers-Bretonneaux. This time the Germans in large force got into the little town and drove us out. The attacking troops included the Prussian Guard Division, composed of assault troops, and a division fresh from the Russian front. It was evident the enemy meant business. At first it looked as if he had done a good stroke.
Beneath Moving Tanks
It was in this battle that he first used Tanks ; they helped him a good deal. They were bigger Tanks than ours, but not so fast or so handily turned. They looked like huge turtles, and their six machine-guns — two in front, two at the back, one on each side — spat out bullets with vicious energy. They carried a small field-gun as well, chiefly for use in case of an encounter with other Tanks, such as occurred before the Villers-Bretonneaux episode was over.
Our men stayed in their trenches in spite of the threatening aspect of these monster travelling forts. Some of them let the Tanks actually pass over them. An officer of the Middlesex Regiment related next day how he had this alarming experience : When he saw the Tank approaching, he calculated that if he took his men out of their shelter they would certainly be shot down. So he decided to stay where he was. As the Tank came up they fired volleys at it, the officer joining in with his revolver; but it took no notice. On it rolled, with its ungainly motion, and lumbered right across the trench. Yet no one was any the worse.
Next day, when our Tanks had been in motion, we captured a German, who said he had gone through the same experience in a shell-hole. He was so unnerved that he fainted, and when he came round to consciousness he found that another Tank was passing over him. But he did not faint again. "One can get use to anything," he said, with a wan smile.
The position, when dark closed in on April 24th, was that the enemy held Villers-Bretonneaux and some ground westward of it. This was dangerous, for it gave them high ground and a good starting-place for a further advance towards Amiens. One of the Australian generals proposed an immediate counterattack. His plan was to form an arrow-head by sending two columns—one from the north, moving south-eastwards ; the other from the south, to work northeastwards.
These would join hands in front of the town, and cut off all the Germans who were in it.
An immediate effort was found to be out of the question, but orders were given for the counter- attack in the form suggested to be made that night. .The chief part in this was allotted to Australian troops. It was the third anniversary of their landing on Anzac Beach, a date which will for ever be known in Australia as Anzac Day. No better occasion for a "good show" could be desired. No better show than the Australians gave has been seen during the offensive. It was a clever tactical operation, boldly and steadily carried out.
An Anzac Day Event
The attacking force started at 10 p.m. The night was overcast and rainy. There was no preliminary bombardment. The idea was to take the Germans by surprise. and it came off. They did not expect a counter-attack. They were not in good shape to receive one. Counter-attacks succeed best, so recent experience has proved, when they are made at once before the enemy has had time to pull himself together after his hard work.
There was some stiff fighting, though. At the start the Australians went at it with the bayonet, but as soon as the Germans got their machine-guns going they had to advance more cautiously. They kept on pushing ahead, however, and by daylight had got within five hundred yards or so of the point where they were to meet the other attacking force.
This had not encountered such serious opposition, but it had suffered more heavily. It reached the rendezvous long before the northern column had fought its way through, and its aim was fully realised. The town was retaken, and not far from a thousand prisoners with it. They came up out of cellars, where they had taken refuge, and surrendered readily, asking for something to eat. They said our gunners had interfered with their food supply. They certainly were very hungry.
Some German Prisoners
While the two Australian columns were encircling the town, English troops attacked it directly from the west. The Berkshires and the Northamptons were prominent in this, fighting. Both had a fair proportion of new and young soldiers in their ranks. Though fresh to warfare, they stood their ground well. All their officers spoke highly of them. But, as I said before, it was the Australians who' had the principal role in the operation. They took most of the prisoners. I saw several hundreds at one of their divisional headquarters next morning.
Lying on the grass before the French chateau, they were smoking cigarettes which their captors had given them, after they had had a square meal. They were enjoying the sunshine and the - freedom from their usual duties and discipline, when, all of a sudden, I saw them jump and stand to«attention with the rigidity of statues. A sergeant, who had been made prisoner, had been told to assemble them and march them off under escort with fixed bayonets. He barked out words of command, and the German soldiers felt that discipline had pursued them; they looked fifty per cent, less cheerful than before.
Going away, I met more on the road. They were white-faced and looked shaken. I asked what accounted for the difference between their appearance and the carefree aspect of the others. " We had an accident on the way," an Australian officer told me. " Two of the Boche shells burst among us, and knocked out thirty of the prisoners. It was a nasty-thing to happen. Poor devils, I felt sorry for them — killed most of them, the rest badly wounded. You'll meet them on stretchers farther back."
Not quite a month afterwards, on May 10th, the Australians did an equally effective piece of work, though on a smaller scale. They closed in upon the hamlet of Ville, on the Ancre, killed a great many Germans, and took four hundred prisoners. The operation was skilfully planned and executed with that tough vigour for which the Australians are famous.
Surrender — to a Piano
The scheme was similar to that which succeeded so well at Villers-Bretonneaux. Two bodies attacked—one from the north, across the river, which they had to wade with the water up to their waists ; the other from the south, along a spur of high ground, from which they rushed the village in the hollow. The action moved according to time-table. The two bodies joined half an hour after it had begun. Hundreds of the enemy were hemmed in. Some fought, some surrendered — none got away. One of the surrenders was amusing. Some Australians, hunting for hidden Germans, found a piano in a cottage. One of them sat down and began to play. He had not played long before a cellar-flap was pushed up, and a sergeant, with several men, came up. They could not endure the torture of hearing the piano so maltreated, so the other Australians said.
Along with these well-directed blows I must mention the one the New Zealanders delivered at the beginning of April near Hebuterne. There was a ridge which we wanted. The enemy were known to be in large force on the ridge and below it, but it was suspected that after their rapid advance they were rather mixed up. A plan was made for a sudden spring. At two o'clock in the afternoon the New Zealanders attacked, and in seven minutes they had done the trick — the ridge Was ours, and not the ridge only, but nearly three hundred prisoners and a hundred machine-guns. The Germans were in a confused state. They were trying to sort out the units which had got muddled up together. Catching them thus disorganised, our troops rounded up prisoners without much difficulty, after they had made their unexpected and irresistible rush. It was that which carried the operation to success.
It is because their commanders have initiative, and are encouraged to be enterprising, and because the men respond so gladly when they are called upon for an effort, that the Australians put up so many "good shows."
Entitled - My Impressions of the Great Offensive. It recounts how the Australian Divisions held the line on front a Amiens during the German Offensive in April 1918.
“A good show " — that is the usual term applied by the Army to any successful fighting. The phrase illustrates our persistent refusal to admit that we take anything very seriously. The Germans speak of their successes as "unforgettable triumphs." The French speak, of "glorious victories." We say "a good show."
The Australians have had several good shows during the past three months. The first effect of their being put into the line during the critical times at the beginning of the offensive was seen in the relieving of the German pressure towards Amiens. Enemy battalions were pushing in on Villers-Bretonneaux. Carey's force was doing its best to hold them, but needed help. That help was given by the Australians and by one of our finest cavalry divisions. The Germans were thrown back. A month later there was another attack on Villers-Bretonneaux. This time the Germans in large force got into the little town and drove us out. The attacking troops included the Prussian Guard Division, composed of assault troops, and a division fresh from the Russian front. It was evident the enemy meant business. At first it looked as if he had done a good stroke.
Beneath Moving Tanks
It was in this battle that he first used Tanks ; they helped him a good deal. They were bigger Tanks than ours, but not so fast or so handily turned. They looked like huge turtles, and their six machine-guns — two in front, two at the back, one on each side — spat out bullets with vicious energy. They carried a small field-gun as well, chiefly for use in case of an encounter with other Tanks, such as occurred before the Villers-Bretonneaux episode was over.
Our men stayed in their trenches in spite of the threatening aspect of these monster travelling forts. Some of them let the Tanks actually pass over them. An officer of the Middlesex Regiment related next day how he had this alarming experience : When he saw the Tank approaching, he calculated that if he took his men out of their shelter they would certainly be shot down. So he decided to stay where he was. As the Tank came up they fired volleys at it, the officer joining in with his revolver; but it took no notice. On it rolled, with its ungainly motion, and lumbered right across the trench. Yet no one was any the worse.
Next day, when our Tanks had been in motion, we captured a German, who said he had gone through the same experience in a shell-hole. He was so unnerved that he fainted, and when he came round to consciousness he found that another Tank was passing over him. But he did not faint again. "One can get use to anything," he said, with a wan smile.
The position, when dark closed in on April 24th, was that the enemy held Villers-Bretonneaux and some ground westward of it. This was dangerous, for it gave them high ground and a good starting-place for a further advance towards Amiens. One of the Australian generals proposed an immediate counterattack. His plan was to form an arrow-head by sending two columns—one from the north, moving south-eastwards ; the other from the south, to work northeastwards.
These would join hands in front of the town, and cut off all the Germans who were in it.
An immediate effort was found to be out of the question, but orders were given for the counter- attack in the form suggested to be made that night. .The chief part in this was allotted to Australian troops. It was the third anniversary of their landing on Anzac Beach, a date which will for ever be known in Australia as Anzac Day. No better occasion for a "good show" could be desired. No better show than the Australians gave has been seen during the offensive. It was a clever tactical operation, boldly and steadily carried out.
An Anzac Day Event
The attacking force started at 10 p.m. The night was overcast and rainy. There was no preliminary bombardment. The idea was to take the Germans by surprise. and it came off. They did not expect a counter-attack. They were not in good shape to receive one. Counter-attacks succeed best, so recent experience has proved, when they are made at once before the enemy has had time to pull himself together after his hard work.
There was some stiff fighting, though. At the start the Australians went at it with the bayonet, but as soon as the Germans got their machine-guns going they had to advance more cautiously. They kept on pushing ahead, however, and by daylight had got within five hundred yards or so of the point where they were to meet the other attacking force.
This had not encountered such serious opposition, but it had suffered more heavily. It reached the rendezvous long before the northern column had fought its way through, and its aim was fully realised. The town was retaken, and not far from a thousand prisoners with it. They came up out of cellars, where they had taken refuge, and surrendered readily, asking for something to eat. They said our gunners had interfered with their food supply. They certainly were very hungry.
Some German Prisoners
While the two Australian columns were encircling the town, English troops attacked it directly from the west. The Berkshires and the Northamptons were prominent in this, fighting. Both had a fair proportion of new and young soldiers in their ranks. Though fresh to warfare, they stood their ground well. All their officers spoke highly of them. But, as I said before, it was the Australians who' had the principal role in the operation. They took most of the prisoners. I saw several hundreds at one of their divisional headquarters next morning.
Lying on the grass before the French chateau, they were smoking cigarettes which their captors had given them, after they had had a square meal. They were enjoying the sunshine and the - freedom from their usual duties and discipline, when, all of a sudden, I saw them jump and stand to«attention with the rigidity of statues. A sergeant, who had been made prisoner, had been told to assemble them and march them off under escort with fixed bayonets. He barked out words of command, and the German soldiers felt that discipline had pursued them; they looked fifty per cent, less cheerful than before.
Going away, I met more on the road. They were white-faced and looked shaken. I asked what accounted for the difference between their appearance and the carefree aspect of the others. " We had an accident on the way," an Australian officer told me. " Two of the Boche shells burst among us, and knocked out thirty of the prisoners. It was a nasty-thing to happen. Poor devils, I felt sorry for them — killed most of them, the rest badly wounded. You'll meet them on stretchers farther back."
Not quite a month afterwards, on May 10th, the Australians did an equally effective piece of work, though on a smaller scale. They closed in upon the hamlet of Ville, on the Ancre, killed a great many Germans, and took four hundred prisoners. The operation was skilfully planned and executed with that tough vigour for which the Australians are famous.
Surrender — to a Piano
The scheme was similar to that which succeeded so well at Villers-Bretonneaux. Two bodies attacked—one from the north, across the river, which they had to wade with the water up to their waists ; the other from the south, along a spur of high ground, from which they rushed the village in the hollow. The action moved according to time-table. The two bodies joined half an hour after it had begun. Hundreds of the enemy were hemmed in. Some fought, some surrendered — none got away. One of the surrenders was amusing. Some Australians, hunting for hidden Germans, found a piano in a cottage. One of them sat down and began to play. He had not played long before a cellar-flap was pushed up, and a sergeant, with several men, came up. They could not endure the torture of hearing the piano so maltreated, so the other Australians said.
Along with these well-directed blows I must mention the one the New Zealanders delivered at the beginning of April near Hebuterne. There was a ridge which we wanted. The enemy were known to be in large force on the ridge and below it, but it was suspected that after their rapid advance they were rather mixed up. A plan was made for a sudden spring. At two o'clock in the afternoon the New Zealanders attacked, and in seven minutes they had done the trick — the ridge Was ours, and not the ridge only, but nearly three hundred prisoners and a hundred machine-guns. The Germans were in a confused state. They were trying to sort out the units which had got muddled up together. Catching them thus disorganised, our troops rounded up prisoners without much difficulty, after they had made their unexpected and irresistible rush. It was that which carried the operation to success.
It is because their commanders have initiative, and are encouraged to be enterprising, and because the men respond so gladly when they are called upon for an effort, that the Australians put up so many "good shows."
Thursday, March 03, 2011
New Allotments Offered
On the topic of allotments, this additional notice was published in the Eastbourne Gazette on 19th August 1914, announcing a meeting for anyone interested in obtaining an allotment with a view to growing food.
Allotments – Notice to Working Men
Those who are desirous of obtaining allotments with a view to producing food during the war are requested to attend a meeting at Southbourne Road, Eastbourne on Saturday, next the 22nd August at 4 p.m. when a representative of the Duke of Devonshire’s estate will be present.
His Grace proposes to set aside a certain area of undeveloped land rent free for the purpose.
In the meantime, Councillor Prior of 44 Whitley Road, will be pleased to answer any preliminary questions.
Roland Burk (Agent)
Compton Estate Office
Eastbourne
18th August 1914.
Allotments – Notice to Working Men
Those who are desirous of obtaining allotments with a view to producing food during the war are requested to attend a meeting at Southbourne Road, Eastbourne on Saturday, next the 22nd August at 4 p.m. when a representative of the Duke of Devonshire’s estate will be present.
His Grace proposes to set aside a certain area of undeveloped land rent free for the purpose.
In the meantime, Councillor Prior of 44 Whitley Road, will be pleased to answer any preliminary questions.
Roland Burk (Agent)
Compton Estate Office
Eastbourne
18th August 1914.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Allotment Crops
Early in there was an effort to become as self reliant as possible. This notice published in the Eastbourne Gazette on 19th August 1914 shows how the Duke of Devonshire was doing his part by foregoing the next years allotment rents.
The Duke’s Allotment – Additional Crops
In a notice issued on Saturday from the Compton Estate Office, Eastbourne, Mr. Roland Burke says –
“With a view to enabling the allotment tenants of the Duke of Devonshire to take the fullest advantage of their ground by getting additional crops so as to make provision for possible necessities of the coming winter and spring consequent of the war, His Grace will be pleased to forego one year’s allotment rent in the confident hope that every tenant on his estate, will do his best to produce as much as possible from his garden.
“The coming year’s allotment rents will, therefore, not be collected.”
The Duke’s Allotment – Additional Crops
In a notice issued on Saturday from the Compton Estate Office, Eastbourne, Mr. Roland Burke says –
“With a view to enabling the allotment tenants of the Duke of Devonshire to take the fullest advantage of their ground by getting additional crops so as to make provision for possible necessities of the coming winter and spring consequent of the war, His Grace will be pleased to forego one year’s allotment rent in the confident hope that every tenant on his estate, will do his best to produce as much as possible from his garden.
“The coming year’s allotment rents will, therefore, not be collected.”
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