Beaten Down By Blood

by Michele Bomford

  South of Péronne, the 15th Brigade relieved the 7th in the line and ‘the front was vigorously patrolled during the night and the following day but at no place could a crossing be effected across the swamp.’ Posts were established close to the destroyed bridges leading into the town, but the Australians remained entrenched on the western bank.11

  Monash spent 30 August in consultation with Rawlinson, Montgomery, his own Chief of Staff Thomas Blamey and his divisional commanders, commenting that ‘progress on all fronts somewhat slow today’ and acknowledging the difficulties of crossing the Somme because of strong opposition on the east bank. Perhaps feeling rather frustrated, he went to survey his new headquarters at Méricourt Château, finding it badly knocked about and in need of repair.12

  Amended plan for 30 August.

  A most severe and ticklish day’s work

  The 3rd Division had been operating over difficult topography north of the Somme since 20 August. When its commander, Major General John Gellibrand, was appointed to replace Monash in June 1918, both the new corps commander and Sir William Birdwood, now the administrative head of the AIF, had doubted his suitability for the task. Indeed, there had been some fiery exchanges between Gellibrand and Monash. Gellibrand’s biographer, Peter Sadler, argues that he proved his worth as a divisional commander during the days of intense activity between 20 August and 10 September. From 29 August ‘the 3rd Division, without break or relief, became responsible for creating the conduit through which the 2nd and 5th Divisions could cross the Somme, as well as providing north flank protection for the operation.’ Monash drove its ‘over-extended and depleted brigades’ ruthlessly.13

  On the night of 29/30 August, Gellibrand ordered the 10th Brigade to capture Cléry. The 38th Battalion was just settling down to sleep near Curlu, having been constantly moving since the morning of 26 August. Brigadier General Walter McNicoll arrived at 38 Battalion headquarters ‘for a snooze’ — or so the men thought. Instead, he gave the battalion commander 20 minutes’ notice to move as ‘Cléry was burning and if possible your headquarters are to be there tonight.’14 By the time the 38th moved into trenches around the village at 9.00 pm on 29 August, it had been 84 hours without rest. Patrols moved into Cléry without seeing a German and passed through the village until they came to a fortified post in a broken building on a rise immediately to the north of the Ommiécourt crossing. Everything was very quiet, leading the men to believe that Cléry was deserted.

  At 2.30 am on 30 August, the 37th Battalion and the 34th Battalion of the 9th Brigade, supported by a company of the 33rd Battalion, began the battle for Mont St Quentin and Péronne by attempting to thrust along the Bouchavesnes ridge. It was pitch dark and the men had to work by compass. The ground was uneven and reconnaissance impossible. There was no planned barrage and the men had not had time for a hot meal. On the left, the 34th Battalion reached its first objective and moved to the outskirts of Road Wood from where it was pushed back during the morning.

  The 37th Battalion initially made progress and reached its first objective in Berlingots Trench, but the attack stalled in the face of heavy machine-gun fire and the men were pushed back. At daybreak, A Company had only one officer, two NCOs and ten men left unwounded after becoming hopelessly lost moving up. It was cut off and unable to get messages through in the dangerous and deceptive tangle of old trenches which the Germans had reoccupied, burying the Australian dead after taking the boots off every one of them.15 The 10th Brigade war diary branded 30 August ‘the most severe and ticklish day’s work the Brigade had yet had’.16

  Frank Farquharson, from Kiama in New South Wales, was 16 when his older brother Walter enlisted in 1915 and, despite pleading with his parents, Percy and Emma, they would not allow him to join. Finally, on 6 May 1917, when Frank had just turned 18, they gave their consent, unaware that Walter, serving with the 19th Battalion, had just been killed at Bullecourt. Initially Walter was reported missing and, through the remaining months of 1917, his parents did not know whether he was alive or dead, Percy pleading with the authorities for more information because his wife was distraught. In December he was declared ‘killed in action’ and the news relayed to his family in January 1918. In February, Frank was taken on strength of the 33rd Battalion, was wounded in April and fell ill in July. On 30 August his company was in action on the Bouchavesnes ridge where he suffered a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Taken from the 9th Field Ambulance to the 53rd Casualty Clearing Station near Daours, he died of his wounds on 31 August. He was 19.17

  Ruins of a fortified house east of Clery, captured by the Australians on 30 August 1918. Photo taken 26 December 1918. (AWM EO4028)

  In Cléry itself the post protecting the crossing came to life at dawn, machine-guns firing down the main street and along the river bank at anything that moved, blowing up the bridges at Ommiécourt and leaving unexploded mines attached to the remnants. The 5th Brigade, which had orders to cross there and attack Mont St Quentin at 5.00 am, had no hope of reaching its position on time and at 4.40 am the attack was cancelled. Mark Lowndes, a 25-year-old painter from St Leonards in Sydney and a private with the 20th Battalion, wrote that the 5th Brigade would never have made its objective and captured Mont St Quentin if it had attempted to cross those bridges, as ‘the German artillery had the bridges accurately ranged and their guns in readiness to put down a barrage on them and the casualties would have been very heavy.’18

  Monash issued new orders for an attack at 5.00 am on 31 August. Private Percy ‘Doc’ Morris of A Company, 20th Battalion, a former bootmaker from Helensburgh in New South Wales, declared that the troops were bamboozled by the number of orders that had been issued and cancelled during the last few days as men ‘stood to’ and ‘stood down’ in seemingly rapid succession. By 7.30 am on 30 August, the 17th, 18th and 20th Battalions were breakfasting near Mereaucourt Wood still south of the Somme, ‘a fine hot breakfast’ according to Percy.19 It had become abundantly clear that the Germans were not going to give up their bridgeheads on the Somme easily. Intelligence reports suggested that they were desperate to destroy all crossings and offered incentives such as the Iron Cross 1st Class, 14 days’ leave and monetary rewards to men who would cross destroyed bridges in order to reach those still intact and blow them up.20

  Not to be deterred, however, the 5th Field Company, Australian Engineers, had managed to repair a bridge at Feuillères which the Australians had taken on 29 August, about two miles to the west of Cléry. Major General Charles Rosenthal ordered the 5th Brigade to use this crossing, part of which was a pontoon bridge. By 11.00 am on 30 August the lead battalion, the 20th, at last moved off on the other side of the river. Negotiating ridges and chalk cliffs lined with German dugouts and strong posts which provided excellent cover for snipers, as well as a network of German trenches, it moved, in Doc Morris’ words, ‘up hill and down dale, in marshy and boggy country’ until it struck the main road to Péronne, where it linked up with troops of the 37th Battalion who were very pleased to see it as they now had a right flank and their wounded could be taken out. The 20th moved off the road into Eleu Alley, an old trench 1000 yards long and barely three feet deep, which they hoped would get them as far forward as possible with some sort of cover. The Germans had used it as horse standings, and the men had to break these barriers down as they crawled along ‘under all sorts of unpleasant things including machine-guns and “iron foundaries [sic]”’.21

  Meanwhile, the under-strength B Company of the 40th Battalion, 10th Brigade, now assisted by some men of the 20th, finally cleared Cléry. They rushed the fortified post, having crawled on their stomachs to get close to the building, and captured the village’s commandant, Lieutenant Staehler. He was very depressed with the state of affairs and fearful for his reputation.22 The Australians routed the garrison from the 21st Division, taking 55 prisoners and four machine-guns which were used against the fleeing German remnants.

  Lieutenant Daniel Anthon, 20th Battalion (seated) with brother Ernest, who enlist
ed in 1914 and was one of the 1914 men repatriated to Australia in October 1918. Another brother, Eric, served with the 2nd Division artillery in 1918. The three brothers survived the war.

  The men of the 5th Brigade moved from Eleu Alley into the ‘Eleu system’ of old trenches which had supposedly been fully subdued by the 38th Battalion that morning. Their assembly point for the attack on Mont St Quentin was a ridge just to the east of the village. However, as they tried to approach it they met heavy machine-gun fire from positions still occupied by the Germans. A tenacious fight now began for the trench system east of Cléry. Percy Morris recalled the enemy throwing ‘potato mashers’ at them ‘by the score, which we took little or no notice of ’. But in some places the machine-gun fire was so intense that it held up the advance.

  Lieutenant Daniel Herbert ‘Herb’ Anthon, a 27-year-old store manager from Petersham in Sydney and popularly and accurately known as ‘Tubby’, singlehandedly bombed and charged a machine-gun post, capturing seven men and the gun. Taking a few other 20th Battalion A Company men with him, he used a flanking movement to capture a pocket of seven or eight machine-guns along the railway line, taking 54 prisoners and killing or wounding several other Germans. This nest, as well as holding up the advance, had been protecting the Ommiécourt bridgehead. Percy Morris, Anthon’s runner and batman, was present during this ‘exciting’ exploit, and remarked that ‘the Huns threw up their hands and cried and howled for mercy’, almost crying ‘tears of blood’ as Anthon brandished them with his walking stick and revolver. Percy, ‘after asking for souvenirs’ and receiving ‘donations’ took them to the rear, where his company commander, Captain Harold Barlow, ‘was as pleased as a dog with two tails’.23

  As the Australians advanced, the Germans were bayoneted or bombed ‘and the dead bodies were so numerous as to render the passage of the troops extremely difficult.’24 The trench system was cleared after dark and a line established from which to launch the attack on Mont St Quentin. The 5th Brigade men were exhausted, having had little rest since 28 August, and the lead battalion, the 20th, about 320 strong when it crossed the river, was now reduced to only 260 men. The Mont St Quentin ‘stunt’ seemed ‘a very windy prospect’.25

  Casualties no longer matter

  When the 9th and 10th Brigades resumed the attack on the Bouchavesnes ridge on 31 August, they were held up by unexpectedly strong resistance, particularly from machine-gun nests. On the left, the 33rd Battalion of the 9th Brigade ‘had their hardest fighting up to date’ when the men came up against the Augusta Regiment of the 2nd Guard Division. After several changes of plan, the 33rd Battalion had received its final instructions at 2.45 am for the attack to go in at 5.42 am, and there was no time for reconnaissance or to explain orders to the men. Battalion strength was down to 11 officers and 183 other ranks.26

  The strongpoint of Road Wood, on important high ground, ‘literally swarmed with machine guns’ and the battalion was held up there at around 6.20 am. Private George Cartwright displayed great gallantry in the face of withering machine-gun fire, facilitating the attack by standing up, firing his rifle from the shoulder at a machine-gun, killing three Germans who attempted to man it, throwing a bomb into the post and, when it exploded, rushing forward to capture the gun and nine Germans. His mates stood up and ‘vociferously cheered him’ as he performed this exploit for which he was awarded the VC, the first of eight such awards for Australians in this battle.27

  Road Wood (Bois Madame) looking towards Clery, photo taken by the author, May 2010.

  Emulating this success, Private William Irwin, a 40-year-old Aboriginal soldier and former shearer born at Coonabarabran in north-western New South Wales, was fatally wounded in single-handedly and in the face of heavy fire, rushing three separate machine-gun nests, capturing the guns and crews and attempting to take a fourth. He was awarded the DCM, but his family only learnt of his death in a letter returned to his brother and simply marked ‘deceased’. No relative could be found to submit an inscription for his grave in Daours Communal Cemetery Extension, west of Corbie, where he died of his wounds. His name is not recorded on the Coonabarabran War Memorial.28

  The wood was cleared as individuals and small parties worked round and forward, getting to the rear of strong posts and leading the Germans to believe they were being attacked by a much larger force. A few days later, 120 dead Germans were found in the wood. On the left, the British 58th Division of Alexander Godley’s III Corps captured the strongpoint of Marrieres Wood in ‘fine style’ and was advancing on the ‘nonexistent’ village of Bouchavesnes.

  The 33rd Battalion pushed on to the Feuillaucourt–Bouchavesnes road, continuing to use accurate and deadly bombing tactics to catch the Germans in their dugouts, which became death traps. Lewis guns blazed and the men captured a battery of six 77-mm guns, its commander holding on until shot with a revolver. Crossing the road, they captured a quarry which had a commanding position and brought in some Tommies to hold it. When the Londoners asked which would be the best way to retreat or withdraw, they were promptly told that ‘neither would be allowed’. The 33rd, supported by B Company, 42nd Battalion of the 11th Brigade, now faced the strongpoint of Quarry Farm, bristling with machine-guns. Neither the British on their left nor the 10th Brigade on their right had kept up, and the 33rd and 42nd were forced to pull back, almost out of ammunition, hungry and with too few men to hold the positions gained. This was the story of 31 August.

  Nonetheless, the 33rd had killed 200 Germans and captured 600 prisoners. These were mostly men from the 2nd Guard Division ‘of a very good type’, well-clothed, well-equipped, with a spare pair of boots and clean underwear — ‘it would seem that they thought they had come to stay’. Included in the tally was a battalion commander from the Augusta Regiment — whom the Australians described as ‘intensely Prussian’ — and his adjutant. The commander’s name was von Kettler, and he ‘came out with gloves on’ and smoking a cigarette with a long holder. He had previously been captured in Russia and escaped.29

  The 33rd suffered almost 130 casualties, most wounds caused by bullets and of ‘a more serious nature than usual’ and, in the uneven ground, it had been difficult to locate the wounded and bring them out.30 The 33rd’s battalion commander, 29-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Morshead — a former school teacher from Ballarat in Victoria — stressed that the German machine-guns were ‘extraordinarily numerous’ and the work done by his men ‘incredible’. This was the same Leslie Morshead who would win fame as commander of the 9th Australian Division at Tobruk and El Alamein during the Second World War, when he was nicknamed ‘Ming the Merciless’ for driving his men to the limits of their endurance. A protégé of Monash on whose staff he served for the demobilisation of the AIF in 1918 and 1919, Morshead obviously learnt a few lessons from his commander.

  The attack by the 10th Brigade on 31 August could justifiably be considered a failure. The 10th was unable to protect the left flank of the 5th Brigade on Mont St Quentin, leaving the 20th Battalion open to counter-attack during the afternoon. Monash considered that the brigade had plenty of opportunity in the morning to take and hold its objectives and, at 8.35 am, desperate to take the Bouchavesnes ridge, wired a message to Gellibrand that ‘casualties no longer matter’.31 However, Monash had underestimated the strength of the resistance. It was a case of fighting for every inch of ground and the 10th also had to repel German counter-attacks.

  The 39th Battalion also experienced difficulties, particularly in its assembly positions. A Company had just established its headquarters in a deep dugout in the chalky banks of a sunken road when a shell burst at the entrance, causing the walls to collapse and the occupants to be buried alive. After an hour of feverish work by the rescue party — only one man at a time was able to dig because of the narrow entrance to the dugout — the men were reached, but three were dead and six were severely wounded. Five of these men later died. The 39th advanced into a hail of machine-gun fire from Bouchavesnes, and the men moved forward in shor
t rushes, suffering heavy casualties.32

  Messages included in the 38th Battalion war diary entries for 31 August offer some explanation for its ‘failure’. These men were beyond exhaustion; in fact, by the end of the day, they could barely write their messages. The battalion had suffered heavily from influenza and diarrhoea throughout August, compounding the men’s fatigue. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. The 38th was meant to relieve the 37th, but could not find it. There was confusion over the jumping-off line and the location of the trench the 38th was meant to occupy. The men were unclear about their objective, certain only that they needed to move forward. When the orders came through at 5.25 am for an attack at 6.00 am, the platoon commanders could not be found and no-one had any idea what time the barrage would come down. At 6.35 am the battalion commander, Major Arthur Maudsley, was killed by a shell and, at 10.00 am (interestingly, just after Monash’s wire to Gellibrand), the commander of the 39th, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Henderson, who was recovering from a serious bout of influenza, assumed command of both battalions, not terribly effectively, for at one stage he did not know where the 39th was — ‘it was a great worry’. During the morning the regimental medical officer (RMO) and his orderly were wounded while dressing a wounded man.

  The battalion’s officers lost control during the attack and its companies were out of position and this is clearly reflected in the messages. Communications were cut and the battalion relied on runners. The whole area was not mopped up properly and the Germans of the Augusta Regiment were ‘a sneaky lot’. A message from an A Company officer at 5.15 pm, probably to Henderson, was quite direct in reflecting the condition of the men, with even the bravest among them now ‘nervous and haggard’ from lack of sleep, this having ‘its effect on the others’.