Vizefeldwebel Albert Fickendey, Infantry Regiment 66 (IR66), described the months leading up to Stein’s directive and immediately after as ‘der Maulwurfskrieg,’ or ‘the mole’s war.’ He said spades and picks were used so frequently there was no time for the blades to rust. The men soon became accustomed to the graft: ‘Some, who previously sat behind desks in educational institutions and had enlisted voluntarily now spat in their hands in despair. Where had their well-manicured hands of study gone? They had been replaced by hard, calloused German fists that were not afraid of work!’72
Materials used in the building of these trench systems were the domain of construction companies, which comprised up to several hundred infantrymen-cum-tradesmen. Their rate of work was phenomenal. RIR109’s records for April 1915–January 1916 revealed that its construction company provided, among many other items: 2560 ladders for climbing out of trenches, 9819 beds for dugouts, 13,049 planks, 41,276 boards, 27,060 wooden posts, 212,965 sandbags, 25,175 pounds of nails, 38,010 duckboards, 13,394 barbed-wire balls and coils, 3309 rolls of barbed wire and 27,452 iron rods.73 Additionally, the company supplied 30,000 workshop-made tallow candles to provide light inside dugouts that were constructed in April–August 1915.74 Tons of ammunition were also hauled forward. These supplies were for just one of Stein’s 20 infantry regiments and excluded the often competing demands of independent pioneer, engineer, artillery, machine-gun and trench mortar units. Construction companies put in incalculable hours to keep pace with requirements, and Stein drove them and his other soldiers hard to complete the work.
‘The extent of the position was far beyond the level one normally expected from a division,’ said Stein of the 26th’s lines,75 although he might as easily have been speaking of those belonging to 2nd Guards Reserve, 52nd Infantry or 28th Reserve Divisions. ‘The general situation forced us to do so,’ he said, referring to the expected offensive.
Stein held his subordinates responsible for transforming his corps’ defences.76 He repeatedly visited the front during 1915 and 1916 and noted various issues that needed attention. ‘We were at first reduced to making up the number of machine-guns, and even batteries of artillery, from the reserves, from captured materiel, and by begging them from other depots.’77 But Stein’s eyes could not be everywhere and he was reliant on his divisional commanders. Borries, the 52nd’s dynamic commander, padded daily through his trenches. Unteroffizier Lais wrote of Borries: ‘Usually unaccompanied, wearing a shabby windcheater, he went along the trenches, climbed down into the dugouts, clambered over the spoil, squeezed at night through the lanes of barbed wire, was here, was there, was everywhere.’78 Lais continued: ‘The divisional commander [Borries] checks everything! In the opinion of us other ranks, His Excellency just has a “digging-mania.”’79 Soden, Süsskind-Schwendi and Hahn were also relentless critics of their men’s work. Soden was another who risked death or injury by stalking through the trenches, redoubts and artillery lines, chatting with officers and startling private soldiers with unheralded arrivals. Leutnant-der-Reserve Eugen Rueff, RIR119, later recalled Soden’s purpose:
The cooperation between artillery and infantry was encouraged. Nearly every day he [Soden] was in the front line, monitoring the fortifications with his own eyes, not just on paper. No major enterprise [to improve the defences] was carried out without the divisional commander assessing the terrain and possible employment of artillery and infantry fire.80
By contrast, Châles de Beaulieu appears to have been hands-off at Montauban,81 his headquarters acting more as a clearing house for Stein’s orders rather than driving their implementation. Commanders who actively evaluated their defences and engaged with their men were more effective in ensuring the work met or even exceeded Stein’s standards.
Not all of XIV Reserve Corps’ defences were created equal. North of Hill 110 they were progressed by motivated commanders who appreciated the ground’s tactical and strategic value. Those around Mametz and particularly Montauban, however, were not built with anywhere near the same level of determination or foresight. The root cause was hidden by a corps-wide reorganisation in May 1916, and also by numerous regiments being revolved through this part of the line. While Hill 110 had been converted into a stronghold,82 this did not apply to the trenches running east through Carnoy Valley and past Montauban towards the Somme. None of the units in these trenches in 1915–16 appear to have attached much tactical value to them.83 During the warmer months of 1915 they were developed for static trench warfare, rather than to the more rigorous standards required for withstanding a determined infantry–artillery attack, such as that experienced at Serre.84 Work effectively ceased in the autumn and winter,85 and from early spring 1916 these trenches were again maintained rather than materially improved according to Stein’s guidance.86 When RIR109 inherited these positions around Mametz just before 1 July it was too late for remedial work; the regiment was thereby condemned to military disaster and heavy casualties on the first day of the Somme.
Responsibility for these tactical-level failings belonged to the formation commanders involved. For those of the trenches in Carnoy Valley and in front of Mametz this was Châles de Beaulieu and not Hahn; the latter simply had the misfortune of taking over his predecessor’s tardy work. For those before Montauban it was Châles de Beaulieu, again, and, before him, General-der-Infanterie Albert Ritter von Schoch, commander of 1st Bavarian Infantry Division, which was not part of Stein’s corps. RIR109, a regiment noted for building excellent defensive positions,87 received the Mametz trenches in mid-June 1916 from IR23, which was in Châles de Beaulieu’s division, and found them unfit for purpose, with the second and third defensive lines not properly developed.88 There were insufficient telephone lines, a shortage of forward ammunition and food depots, and inadequate barbed wire. The number of dugouts was insufficient and their shallowness meant they were unable to withstand concerted shellfire.89 It was much the same story in the positions that Bavarian Reserve Infantry Regiment 6 took over from Infantry Regiment 62 (IR62) on the eve of battle.90 IR62 had received them from Schoch. Moreover, because large sweeps of the ground between Mametz and Montauban were open to British observers, the weeks of maintenance work undertaken were frequently unpicked by shellfire.91 One solution was to construct a robust line further back, perhaps on the southern crest of Caterpillar Valley, with ground-holding trenches before it, but such an idea was ahead of its time and precluded by the German army-wide focus on front-loaded defences. Châles de Beaulieu’s and Schoch’s failures to convert their positions into defensive fortresses had a lot to do with their shortcomings as commanders, frequent unit changes, failure to attach appropriate strategic and tactical value to the task at hand, and Below and Stein’s belief that the Allied vanguard would attack further north.
STEIN AND BELOW allocated their limited number of artillery batteries according to the military value they attached to specific ground. In total, XIV Reserve Corps had about 147 batteries totalling about 570 field and heavy guns.92 The vast majority supported the trenches that would be attacked by Third and Fourth Armies. The number of batteries and guns allocated to each division varied. The 52nd had about 28 batteries (106 guns), and to the south, the 28th had about 33 (125–130 guns).93 On either flank, 2nd Guards Reserve Division and the 12th had about 22 batteries (80 guns) and 25 batteries (95–100 guns) respectively.94 The 26th had 39 batteries (154 guns), by far the most of any division; the fact that about a quarter (26.5%) of Stein’s artillery was deployed in support of this division between Ovillers and just south of Serre underlined the fact that this was regarded as must-hold ground to XIV Reserve Corps and Second Army.
Less obvious problems included the quality of guns available. Bavarian Foot Artillery Regiment 10 reported a ‘serious’ lack of heavy artillery in the 28th’s area, meaning the number of guns with the range to shoot at targets well behind enemy lines was limited, and that other heavy guns were lower-quality captured weapons.95 Crewing bigger guns was a matter of pride among ar
tillerymen. It was with this in mind that Unteroffizier Willi Traumüller, Foot Artillery Battery 550, excitedly wrote home ‘Guess who is going to be working on a heavy gun!’96 This lack of bigger-calibre weapons reported in the 28th’s area was a story repeated across XIV Reserve Corps and Second Army.97 Soden’s barrel inventory was broadly representative. Of his division’s 154 guns, only 96 (62.3%) were either modern 7.7-centimetre field guns or 10.5-centimetre light field howitzers.98 Thirty-eight (24.7%) were older, obsolete or captured guns, among them Russian heavy field howitzers that were prone to breaking down after only a short period of firing. A further 20 (13%) older 9-centimetre German guns lacked recoil mechanisms, meaning they were prone to lurching out of position with each shot and needed to be constantly re-aimed. Stein’s concentration of guns was barely sufficient for the defensive role he had allocated to them and even then, based on the 26th’s figures,99 more than a third were unreliable and unsuited to that work before a single shot was fired.
Stein nevertheless resolved to conserve and make the best possible use of his limited and ageing pool of artillery. He said there were to be at least twice as many battery positions as guns, and each position was to have at least two shell-proof observation posts and separate dugouts for the gun crew and ammunition.100 Most of the artillery was deployed at least 2000 yards behind the front line,101 and each battery was to be protected by belts of wire and equipped with stores of hand grenades and demolition charges in the event of an enemy break-in.102 Liaison officers were attached to infantry headquarters. Buried telephone cables connected batteries with various headquarters and calls for artillery support on these had priority.103 Infantry could also use flares to call down a barrage or vary its range. ‘When an infantry attack is threatening, intense artillery fire will be directed on the enemy’s trenches. . . . When the assault is launched, barrage fire will be opened,’ wrote Stein.104 He insisted artillery officers use initiative and open fire when the intensity of British shellfire suggested an imminent attack:105
The artillery, so far from waiting for light signals or telephone messages from the infantry (both means of communication may fail), should shell the enemy’s trenches with an intensity increasing in proportion to the enemy’s fire, in order to prevent his infantry from leaving its trenches. Immediately it becomes evident, from the enemy’s artillery fire, at what point he intends to break through, the fire of every battery . . . will be directed on to the portion of the enemy’s front line trench which is opposite the sector threatened.106
Even humble infantrymen in the trenches saw few shades of grey when it came to the role of the batteries behind them. ‘The artillery is decisive,’ wrote Unteroffizier Wilhelm Munz, RIR119.107 Stein’s guns were purposely grouped and deployed to provide close defensive fire support for XIV Reserve Corps’ front line, breaking enemy attacks as they formed or crossed no-man’s-land, and isolating any break-ins from reinforcement.108
Gunners used teams of surveyors and observers in tethered balloons and aircraft to register the fall of their shot. This data was used to improve the accuracy of defensive barrages and counter-battery work, the latter a systematic targeting of British artillery guns. As Stein’s guidelines put it, ‘The enemy’s artillery must be constantly weakened by shelling individual battery positions which are known for certain to be occupied.’109 Survey sections plotted the location of British guns by watching for their muzzle flashes at night, while observers in the kite balloons worked day and night. Several months into the Somme offensive, Leutnant-der-Reserve Martin Hieber, Artillery Air Detachment 229, described the view over the River Somme marshes and hinterland at the southern end of what had been XIV Reserve Corps’ sector:
The almost flat landscape here on the Somme is exceptionally beautiful from above. The broad valley with its shimmering marshes; the villages with their lush meadows; the yellowishgold of cornfields; the roads pencilling delicate lines through this mosaic; the intervening shadows of hills: all this constitutes such a wealth of colour and from that one can hardly take in all the details at once.110
Hieber, a 25-year-old law student from Stuttgart, would be killed in 1917.
Aeroplanes were essential to the artillery’s role. Artillery Air Detachment 221 flew 75 sorties over the British positions opposite 26th and 28th Reserve Divisions in April–June 1916.111 Thirty-nine were for gun registration and target-spotting, and 27 were for reconnaissance.112 This information helped planners segment the British lines into detailed artillery target zones from mid-1915, with guns allocated to each.113 This meant shellfire could be landed accurately day or night, with repeated testing and increased infantry–artillery co-operation improving response times.
There were problems, as Leutnant-der-Reserve Georg Büsing, Reserve Field Artillery Regiment 20 (RFAR20), later lamented: ‘Firing activity ranged from worthwhile targets, to retaliatory fire on settlements and identified enemy batteries. Ranging-in exercises were conducted with the help of our flying detachment, however, good results were seldom achieved and exercises mostly had to be cancelled due to the low number of aircraft available and enemy superiority in the air.’114 Yet there were also benefits, as Leutnant-der-Reserve Gerster explained:
The importance of infantry–artillery links was recognised ever more. As a result the communications system was subject to constant improvement. Rocket signals, semaphore flags and light signals by night, which were received by artillery observation points, served this purpose. . . . Over the months these measures led to perfect co-operation between the two arms of service, to trust of the artillery by the infantry, which was not shaken by the occasional unavoidable dropping short of shells. In this way the foundation for the effective countering of an enemy attack was laid.115
The result was a responsive artillery scheme that complemented the corps- and army-wide emphasis on stopping an enemy attack at or well before the front line.
Two artillerymen in 28th Reserve Division have left us descriptions of their work. Feldwebel Karl Eiser, Reserve Field Artillery Regiment 29, peered over the British lines through binoculars from Contalmaison church spire: ‘We watched endless columns of lorries making the journey between Bray-sur-Somme and Albert every day. These convoys often consisted of 100 lorries. We frequently saw great artillery convoys, so long that it would take three hours for each to pass a given point.’116 This intelligence was fed back to headquarters, and target locations issued to the batteries covering those areas. Leutnant-der-Reserve August Bielefeld, commanding a 15-centimetre howitzer battery in Reserve Foot Artillery Regiment 16 near Mametz Wood, was involved in this type of work:
We bombarded distant targets including the approach road Bray–Albert, rest camps at Albert and Bécourt, as well as the approach roads Albert–La Boisselle, Albert–Fricourt and several others. For each gun the objective was targeted and determined in order to be able to fire by map reference in case of a failure of the observation. The battery had good success, particularly on the approach road Bray–Albert and the rest camps which lay at the side of the roads.117
This integration of observation, communication and target zones was mostly replicated throughout Stein’s divisions.
In practice, there was considerable variance in the quality of Stein’s artillery positions. Those north of Fricourt, and particularly beyond the Albert–Bapaume road, were generally better made than those south, where less tactical importance was attributed to the ground and also due to Châles de Beaulieu’s failings. Many of the 26th’s gun pits and observation posts were made of concrete, supported by hefty beams and lined with stout timber, while deep dugouts were sunk to protect gun crews and ammunition.118 Reserve Field Artillery Regiment 27 described its gun lines as prepared by ‘all [the] experiences of trench warfare,’ with the best observation points selected.119 Improvements continued until 24 June, when the British bombardment began.120 At Gommecourt some under-developed gun positions of 2nd Guards Reserve and 52nd Infantry Divisions provoked a ‘dubious shaking of the heads,’121 but
were quickly upgraded. ‘All lines and levels of effectiveness were improved,’ wrote Leutnant-der-Reserve Büsing.122 ‘The fire distribution plans were kept up to date taking into consideration all reinforcements that arrived, protection was checked, permanent observation posts were established in the fighting trenches, and signalling was systematically organised for the event that the telephones failed.’123 South of Fricourt, particularly behind Mametz, the 28th’s recently acquired gun pits were essentially earthworks supported by timber beams, devoid of any structural strengthening.124 Photographs reveal that many of the 28th’s guns were protected by nothing more than a canopy of foliage resting on flimsy wooden frames. Moreover, the 28th’s artillery telephone lines were often laid over-ground and exposed to shellfire, which meant they were more easily severed.125 The story was no different in the 12th’s gun lines behind Montauban.126 This north–south dichotomy in the build quality of XIV Reserve Corps’ gun positions went unchanged prior to 1 July.
Against this backcloth the number of German guns and their battery positions were eroded by increasing British shellfire from early March. A four-gun battery of RFAR20 at Gommecourt was spotted by the RFC soon after it began firing.127 Its camouflaged positions were shelled, three of four guns destroyed and the gun pits wrecked. As Büsing explained, ‘The destroyed guns were replaced straight away; the emplacements were rebuilt again in one night using beams prepared in the pioneer park.’128 Oberst Mack, commanding BFAR19, complained bitterly about British aerial superiority, the RFC’s quick location of battery positions, and the subsequent loss of guns and men in poorly prepared positions:129 ‘The human losses were bearable, but it was impossible to replace the loss of material.’130 Near Fricourt, Feldwebel Eiser said British artillery claimed gunners and observers in almost every battery of his regiment.131 Over at Serre, Reservist Christian Eberle, Infantry Regiment 180 (IR180), complained that a brick building long used for observation was ‘now almost completely gone.’132 Further south, the observation benefits of Hill 110 were marginalised by the ‘furious shelling, and the continuous trenches and long stretches of the main front were levelled,’ Eiser said.133 Another soldier grumbled that the ‘enemy artillery does not forget to send us greetings at night as well as by day. They seem to know our dug-outs better than we do ourselves.’134 This intensifying artillery activity through the spring months of 1916 not only began eroding the German artillery but also further signposted an attack.
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