The Seventh Manchesters - S. J. Wilson (leveled readers .TXT) 📗
- Author: S. J. Wilson
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guns lay beyond Ypres, and were not for the eyes of the ordinary
infantryman, but evidences of their sound work would be found when the
advance continued. It required very little imagination to picture the
German guns similarly placed and in similar numbers, for this offensive
had alarmed the enemy, for did it not threaten the existence of their
submarine bases in Belgium, to say nothing of their hold upon Lille? His
defence was careful, however, as we found to our cost, and, however much
the papers at home kept up the morale of England by sneers at the
“pill-box,” the soldier on the spot regarded it with extreme caution and
respect. After all they were the only things that stood the test of this
bashing method of fighting and their very existence, when everything
else was destroyed, was ample proof of the fact. Tacticians from the
highest general to the platoon sergeant tried hard to discover the most
effective and least costly manner of “dealing with a pill-box,” and the
highest in the land eagerly snatched at ideas from the man out of the
line if they bore the scent of feasibility about them.
One never knew if it was in pursuit of the solution of these tactical
problems that the higher command persisted during those sad August and
early September days in their policy of “minor” operations. Certainly no
part of the salient was ever at rest. Local attacks were launched here,
there and everywhere, but comparatively few succeeded, or if they did it
was merely a temporary success. While our advance parties were in the
line the Black Watch and the Gordons of the 15th division, executed a
night attack on “Gallipoli” and Hill 35, a job which had been previously
attempted, and very little advance was made. Those who had reached the
foremost position were immediately expelled or captured, or killed where
they stood, by the Boche counter attack next morning. Losses were very
heavy.
The 42nd took over the right portion of this front near the Frezenburg
Ridge, and the 61st division the left. Incidentally, the latter again
attempted Hill 35 but with equal success. The 125th brigade was given
one of these unfortunate tasks, with the 6th Manchesters in support.
They were to take the Iberian, Borry and Beck Farms, now no longer
farms, but strong pill-boxes well defended by a system of outworks. They
carried out the job and suffered heavy casualties, so heavy indeed that
they could not withstand the inevitable Hun counter attack which came in
the evening and was delivered by fresh storm troops brought up for this
purpose from the rear. After they had attained their objective they
realised the peculiarity of the strength of the German defensive system.
They were subjected to heavy cross machine gun fire from the enemy
positions which had not been attacked. It was evident that unless these
latter were taken also they could not hold on. In other words, the
policy of local attacks was suicidal and was, in fact, playing into the
German scheme of defence.
While these things were taking place the 7th had moved from behind
Poperinghe to Toronto Camp near Brandhoek, where it enjoyed its full
share of the evening’s excitement from Hun bombing planes. On September
7th, the battalion went by train to Ypres as far as the Asylum, and from
there filed cautiously by platoons through the town, past the ever
famous Cloth Hall, whose scraggy skeleton could be only dimly discerned
in the darkness, and through the Menin Gate. A short distance along the
Menin Road, and then we turned off and eventually got on “J” track—the
interminable length of duck boards that carried generals, privates,
rations, ammunition, runners, artillery observers, and all the other
various persons and impedimenta of war, through the maze of shell holes
up to the forward positions. There were a number of these tracks all
leading out like arteries from the bases of organisation to the front
line. They were labelled at intervals with small boards bearing the
distinctive letter or number of the track painted in white luminous
paint so that they were equally legible by day or by night. These were
the only guides in this desolate waste, and woe betide the man who in
the night came across a spot where shelling had obliterated a good
portion of the track, for it was a difficult job to pick it up again,
and frequently a nerve-racking experience.
With the exception of a few bursts of 4.2’s at intervals none of which
came uncomfortably close, the battalion were fortunate in having a
peaceful passage that night, and the relief of the 7th Lancs. Fus.
proceeded without incident. We were in support in old German positions
just in front of Cambridge Road, headquarters being established in the
shafts of a dug-out which had filled with water. Oh—how we longed for
the comfort of Havrincourt! But we never allowed this thought to cause
depression, for it was all in the game and other men had had much worse
things to do.
I think the dominant note of our stay in this sector was shelling. It
was an ever present serious factor, and a most disturbing one. Men were
killed and maimed “for doing nothing” so to speak. They were merely on
the spot, and there was nowhere else to go. Tactical reasons demanded
that they should be there, should scratch a little cover and remain, and
there they cheerfully remained—and waited. Officers moved about and
tried to get their men interested in their surroundings, in their
comfort, in their protection, and in the rigging up of a defensive
battle if necessary. The men understood and worked with a will, and
laughter and song rang out over the torn earth. But every man knew that
in a place like this almost anything might happen; however, the worst
would never happen to him—the other fellow perhaps, but not him.
That, I imagine, was one of the secrets of sticking it.
Undoubtedly the Boche was putting up a fight for this bit of ground, and
his guns never ceased, only in the grey hours of dawn was there any
semblance of peace along the front, and then one felt that he had just
temporarily put a hand over the mouth of the guns in a straining
attitude of watching and listening for a movement on our part. A sudden
withdrawal of that hand and they would all bark forth together in a
terrible chorus. It was a strain for all, and faces began to show the
lines of wearing mentality. Our persons lost their spruceness too. There
was mud clinging to us, we were unshaven, equipment hung rather loosely,
but our rifles and ammunition were still as ever, and Lewis guns would
be found in good condition.
After two nights the battalion occupied the front positions, relieving
the 5th Manchesters, and headquarters were established in a good sound
pill-box at Wilde Wood. Another attack was being planned upon Borry and
Beck, to be carried out by the 5th, with ourselves in support. Meanwhile
our job was to dig new trenches out in front as jumping off places for
the attack. They were successfully completed, but when the enemy saw
them he paid his usual attention to them and as a result 2nd-Lt.
Chatterton (C Coy.) was badly wounded, and eventually lost a leg. He was
an extremely popular figure both with officers and men being known to
everyone as “Joe,” and his absence was keenly felt, for he had gone out
originally with the battalion in 1914.
Luckily the plan of attack was abandoned, and apart from a feeling of
personal relief everyone felt that a wise thing had been done. There was
little hope of the enterprise proving any more successful than that of
the L.F’s., especially as similar attempts had just been made left and
right of us and had failed miserably. It was clear that the only way to
ease the situation was to carry out a big attack on a wide front.
Evidences of the imminence of such an attack showed themselves very
soon, for advance parties from the 9th division came up to learn the
front, and they intimated that they had a “big job on.”
One night one of our patrols out in No Man’s Land, heard not far from
them, feeble calls for help. Making their way across the shell holes
towards the sound they found a man with a smashed leg and absolutely
exhausted. He was brought in and proved to be an Inniskilling Fusilier
who had taken part in an attack some four or five weeks previously! He
stated that he had kept up his strength by eating the food and iron
rations and drinking the water which he had found upon the dead men
around him. It seemed incredible that such a thing could have happened,
but on making inquiries concerning his division, the number of which I
have forgotten, it proved to be perfectly true. Surely this case
presents physiological and psychical problems worthy of consideration.
We were relieved again by the 5th and went back to our old support
position. After two days the L.F’s. came up again to relieve the
brigade, but the bulk of our battalion continued to go up in the evening
to dig in a corps cable which was being laid as far forward as possible.
By the time we completed the last of our journeys to the east of Ypres,
we were a battalion chastened in body and spirit. Many big gaps had been
made in the ranks, and it was when we settled down to the more
comfortable and peaceful existence that these gaps were keenly felt. A
most noticeable absentee was R.S.M. Hartnett. He had been badly hit by a
piece of shell at Bill Cottage, and later died in hospital at Rouen.
Hartnett’s work with the 7th Manchesters has nothing but good to show.
He had been a sergeant instructor with the battalion in pre-war days,
being sent to us by the 1st Manchesters, and had gone out in 1914 to the
Soudan. He stayed on through Gallipoli, and became R.S.M. when Franklin
was made adjutant. A keen, regular, disciplinarian and the scourge of
feeble N.C.O’s., he was an untiring worker in entertainments. His song
in Gallipoli—“Oh, Achi, Achi Baba,” to the tune of the “Absent Minded
Beggar” will never be forgotten, while some of the sketches that he
wrote and had performed were masterpieces of good humour. C.S.M. Clough,
of “D” company, was appointed as his successor and although the post of
R.S.M. is a difficult one to fill, he did some excellent work,
particularly in the line.
Toronto Camp sheltered us again for a night or two after which we moved
nearer to Poperinghe. It was evident by now that we were to leave Ypres
altogether, and no one exhibited any regrets, but there was a peculiar
feeling that the division was rather under a cloud, and apart from a
natural partisanship in the matter, everyone was indignant at the
unfortunate opportunities which had been afforded us to make our
reputation in this country. All were emphatic that had we been given a
sporting chance in a general attack, there would have been nothing
wanting in the final result. However, there was a violent spring clean
through the division. The G.O.C. left us, as well as a number of the
staff. In accordance with an army scheme to move round commanding
officers, Lt.-Col. Cronshaw was exchanged for the C.O. of the 8th
Worcesters—Lt.-Col. Carr, D.S.O.—and bade a sad farewell to the 7th on
September 20th. The men sent a good many regrets after him, for he had
done sound work, and had had a big hand in the creation of the
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