Perhaps it was with a view to quieting any such murmurings, along with generally boosting morale, that numerous formation commanders assembled their men for a series of sabre-rattling talks. Most were convened in the days immediately before battle, and several on 30 June. In 50th Brigade, Brigadier-General William Glasgow told the Yorkshires to ‘give them hell, no prisoners. . . . Now is the time to get your own back.’105 Hunter-Weston fronted various battalions of VIII Corps and told his men the attack would be a walkover. ‘What a load of bullshit he talked,’ said a less-than-convinced Private Donald Cameron, 12th York & Lancasters.106 Such reactions, whatever their pithy appeal, were extreme even at the time. The widespread absence of such comments in literally hundreds of soldiers’ memoirs and diaries from the day suggests this disgruntled soldier — and several others like him in VIII Corps — were responding more to ‘Hunter Bunter’ and his reputation as a bungler than to Haig and Rawlinson’s battle plan. Even then, there were exceptions within VIII Corps. As Captain Collis-Browne wrote, Hunter-Weston’s message was ‘conveyed to my men, it gave us all good heart.’107 Lieutenant Lewis was upbeat after Temporary Major-General Hugh Trenchard, head of the RFC, gave a pep talk to his squadron. ‘We were all sure that victory was certain. That the [German] line would be broken, the cavalry put through, and the Allies sweep on to Berlin.’108 Most servicemen remained reticent, however; they well knew death and injury were very real risks in battle, regardless of how impressive the shellfire appeared or what some jawboning officer had said beforehand.
Back in the danger zone, empathy for German soldiers varied. Lieutenant Goodwin, who would be shot dead on 1 July while snared in barbed wire near Ovillers, told a friend that ‘I wouldn’t be a Bosche just now for a good deal.’109 Lieutenant Lushington doubted whether a ‘human being could live under that terrible blasting and hammering!’110 Rifleman Smith noted the comments of men in his platoon: ‘“Let ’em have it.” . . . “Give them a dose of their own medicine.” . . . “Keep it up, boys.”’111 And later, ‘fellows were laughing for joy as they contemplated the shaking this bombardment was giving the Germans.’112 Hunter-Weston, a ‘rubicund little man,’113 wrote that it was ‘very satisfactory that we are now able to repay them in their own coin.’114 Private England was one of several ‘almost moved to be sorry for the Hun.’115 Some regarded the bombardment as payback for hostile shellfire past, others contemplated the suffering foisted upon their enemies; all were pleased that they were not on the receiving end of the metal tornado themselves.
Across the other side of no-man’s-land, Baden, Württemberg, Prussian and Bavarian dugout dwellers were short of food, water and sleep. Many lived on coffee, and the occasional tepid stew brought up by ration parties at night.116 Not all of the ration parties made it through the shellfire, though.117 Drinking water was scarce, let alone water for bathing or shaving in the hot, candle-lit chambers. Gefreiter Kuster said no provisions reached his parched platoon near Thiepval: ‘We collected rain water from the trench and made coffee on the little spirit burner.’118 Another complained that the ‘English offensive has been known long enough to permit more arrangements being made to prevent this.’119 Toilets were buckets, run upstairs and slopped out into a shell hole when full. Within days the dugouts were ripe with stale air, tobacco smoke and body odour. One soldier said his bunker was a ‘beastly hole.’120 Oberleutnant-der-Reserve Heinrich Vogler, IR180, said ‘my men’s mood was low, but they were in no way lacking in courage or determination. Many were still writing letters to their loved ones at home.’121 Privations compounded as the shellfire continued. ‘We are getting no rest day or night,’ said one soldier, ‘sleep is quite a secondary thing, and as for food, that is the same.’122 Wilhelm Geiger, RIR111, was ready to ‘drop with tiredness and wanted to snatch some sleep.’123 Leutnant-der-Reserve Gerster said the ‘uninterrupted high state of readiness, which had to be maintained because of the entire situation . . . hindered the troops from getting the sleep that they needed because of the nerve-shattering artillery fire.’124 Leutnant-der-Landwehr Max Lazarus, RIR109, wrote: ‘Every one of us in these five days has become years older. We hardly know ourselves.’125
Starvation, thirst, exhaustion and shellfire brought fatigue, which soon became chronic. Gerster described the mood in his dugout:
Tired and indifferent to everything, the troops sat it out on wooden benches or lay on the hard metal beds, staring into the darkness when the tallow lights were extinguished by the overpressure of the explosions. Nobody had washed for days. Black stubble stood out on the pale haggard faces, whilst the eyes of some flashed strangely as though they had looked beyond the portals of the other side. Some trembled when the sound of death roared around the underground protected places. Whose heart was not in his mouth at times during this appalling storm of steel?126
This maddening existence was commonplace.
Soldiers’ moods worsened as fatigue set in. Feldwebel Eiser pondered how many ‘men would a battalion or infantry regiment still have who were fit to fight?’127 One despairing soldier of RIR111 concluded, ‘we cannot hold out much longer.’128 Leutnant-der-Reserve August Bielefeld, Reserve Foot Artillery Regiment 16 (RFtAR16), said the ‘continuous artillery bombardment got on our nerves,’129 aggravated by dugout claustrophobia and a lack of contact with the outside world. Leutnant Westmann saw that men ‘became hysterical and their comrades had to knock them out, so as to prevent them from running away and exposing themselves to the deadly shell splinters.’130 Unteroffizier Friedrich Hinkel, RIR99, found the ‘torture and the fatigue, not to mention the strain on the nerves, were indescribable!’131 Infanterist Theodor Eversmann, RIR99, recorded his mood decline, from ‘uncertainty is hard to bear’ to a despairing ‘How long will it go on?’132 Finally, Eversmann, who was killed on 1 July, contemplated his own mortality:
One’s head is a madman’s; the tongue sticks to the roof of the mouth. Five days and five nights, a long time, to us an eternity. Almost nothing to eat and nothing to drink. No sleep, always wakened again. All contact with the outer world cut off. No sign of life from home, nor can we send any news to our loved ones. What anxiety they must feel about us. How long is this going to last? Still there is no use thinking about it. If I may not see my loved ones again, I greet them with a last farewell.133
Heavily fatigued soldiers who were unable to cope with the stress succumbed to nervous exhaustion and, less frequently, breakdown.
Nobody doubted what the shellfire meant. Fahrer Maute thought ‘the British are going to open an offensive and this seems to be starting.’134 Others were more expansive. Soldat Wilhelm Lange, RIR99, knew the ‘big attack that had been expected for a long time would now follow.’135 Generalleutnant Franz Freiherr von Soden, whose 26th Reserve Division held almost half of the besieged ground, realised it heralded the ‘beginning of the long-expected attack.’136 Eversmann wondered when the attack would begin: ‘tomorrow or the day after? Who knows?’137 A soldier in RIR111 commented midway through the bombardment that although no British attack had yet materialised, ‘we are prepared.’138 An officer in RIR121 said it was ‘a deliverance as you finally knew where you stood,’ meaning he expected an imminent attack.139 Vizefeldwebel Weickel felt there ‘could no longer be any doubt. This was deadly serious. It was a matter of life and death and the enemy was going all out for destruction.’140 German soldiers expected an attack, and soon, but the exact date and time remained unknown to them.
These soldiers remained generally willing to defend their positions. Oberstleutnant Vischer overstated the case when he claimed the mood in IR180 was ‘excellent’ and that his men ‘look forward to the coming attack.’141 Leutnant-der-Reserve Gerster was nearer the mark when he said many were ‘seized by a deep bitterness at the inhuman machine of destruction which hammered endlessly. A searing rage against the enemy burned in their minds.’142 Leutnant-der-Reserve Friedrich Stutz, RIR121, felt similarly: ‘This thought completely dominated our mood. Everything else, danger to life, f
ood shortages, hardships and suffering combined into anger towards the English.’143 Hinkel shared these opinions:
There was just one single heartfelt prayer on our lips: ‘Oh God, free us from this ordeal; give us release through battle, grant us victory; Lord God! Just let them come!’ and this determination increased with the fall of each shell. You made a good job of it, you British! Seven days and nights you rapped and hammered on our door! Now your reception was going to match your turbulent longing to enter!144
Other veterans, however, were more measured. One simply said that when the bombardment ended ‘we will have it out between us.’145 Leutnant-der-Reserve Kassel later recalled that he and his dull, apathetic men were ‘prepared to defend ourselves whatever the cost.’146 A battery commander in RFAR20 said the British ‘expected to reap the success of the fire that was designed to wear us down — and were [to be] badly disappointed.’147 There were exceptions, of course: near Mametz some soldiers of RIR109 mulled the merits of surrendering over resistance and likely death.148 German soldiers were, overall, well prepared to meet the British attack when it eventually came, and many were motivated by a desire to exact bloody payback for their ordeal by shellfire.
Back in the British lines, gunners were frustrated by equipment failures. Among the heavy batteries numerous guns broke down through overuse or shoddy manufacture. No fewer than 29 (7%) of Fourth Army’s 427 heavy artillery pieces failed during the bombardment, usually due to damaged bores, wear and tear and a host of other reasons.149 Failures among the 6-inch, 9.2-inch and 60-pounder guns were commonplace, as they were among the 4.7-, 6- and 15-inch howitzers.150 Often these guns were out of action for at least one day, possibly more. Moreover, the 4.7-inch guns were obsolete, and many of the 6-inch howitzers were limited in range and lacked hydraulic recoil systems, meaning they had to be repeatedly re-aimed.151 The 8-inch howitzers were bastardised coastal guns that also lacked hydraulic recoil systems. No wonder that Lieutenant Heath thought such weapons to be ‘antediluvian monsters.’152 Field artillery batteries also struggled with breakdowns. Buffer-spring trouble among 18-pounders was rife. No fewer than 64 (6%) of Fourth Army’s 1010 field artillery barrels were sidelined for at least one day, if not more.153 ‘We had never expected to have to fire so many shells in such a short space of time and the guns had become overheated,’ said Sergeant Robert Sutterby, RFA.154 The number of guns out of action for at least one day was probably closer to 10%, if not more, which was a sizeable dilution of the firepower on which so much depended.
Weapons were repaired with whatever parts were to hand or could be scrounged. Eighteenth (Eastern) Division had exhausted its supplies of 18-pounder buffer springs by the end of June.155 ‘I had to improvise,’ wrote Sutterby of salvaging parts from derelict weapons. ‘With the aid of a few gunners some drag ropes and a few stumps of trees, I lashed the [derelict] gun to a tree stump and the men held on to the ropes. As I released the tension on the recuperator front nut, they let the gun piece move steadily until it had expended all its savage rebound.’156 Twenty-four hours later Sutterby’s 18-pounders were again contributing to the bombardment. ‘The boys were surprised at seeing how it was done.’157
Many of the shells, fuses and cartridges were faulty, unreliable or unusable. Numerous reports referred to them as ‘not so good,’ ‘unsatisfactory,’ or simply ‘bad.’158 Problematic fuses were the most common cause of ‘dud’ shells, meaning those that failed to detonate.159 Lieutenant-Colonel Arthur Jenour, RGA, complained that Americanmade ammunition ‘was not very good, quite an appreciable proportion being duds.’160 Fuses exposed to moisture often failed to detonate, or threw accuracy out by hundreds of yards.161 Third Corps said 2000 rounds for its 6-inch howitzers lacked model-44 fuses or adaptors.162 Thirteenth Corps’ artillery was plagued by numerous bad-quality fuses, its 6-, 4.5- and 8-inch howitzers firing numerous duds.163 Fuses for 8-inch howitzers so frequently failed that the battlefield was in places littered with unexploded munitions; attempts to fix the problem flopped when the fuses unscrewed themselves in flight.164 Model-100 fuses for explosive shells were supposed to blow on impact and cut barbed wire, but the wet ground absorbed the shells and reduced blast effectiveness. Had the ‘quality of the ammunition been good [which even then suggests plenty of room for improvement], the quantity might have sufficed,’ wrote the British official historian.165 The number of dud shells might have totalled as much as 10–20% — it is difficult to estimate precisely — meaning the bombardment’s effectiveness was reduced by at least this much.
One German soldier used a sliver of chalk to scrawl ‘I don’t want war!’ on the belly of a dud British 38-centimetre shell. Soon a smaller-calibre missile landed nearby and also failed to blow. Someone scribbled ‘Neither do I!’ on its side. ‘This childish little joke,’ wrote a German soldier, ‘stood out against the seriousness, horror and death.’166
The preparatory bombardment provided a steep learning curve for many gunners. Captain Innes Ware, RGA, learned a ‘certain amount about the intricacies of gunnery’ on the Somme.167 The different shell diameters, the multitude of fuses each with different purposes, and the variety of brass-cased cartridges to fire the projectiles made the job a complex one: ‘These charges had varying degrees of velocity attached to them. They had something on our range tables and we had to make allowances for that. Really it was quite a complicated matter.’168 Inevitably some gunners either did not fully understand the charts, or simply did not attach sufficient importance to them. Major Musard Nanson, RGA, said many artillery officers failed ‘to make accurate use of the data then supplied in the range tables of their guns for the purpose of the correction of their shooting to allow for changes in the meteorological conditions since a registration of accurate shooting had been obtained.’169 As another artillery officer later said, ‘In truth the problem of semi-siege warfare and the large concentration of guns necessary for the work had never been studied by the General Staff in peace, nor by any of the leading gunners, or gunnery schools, [so] we had to learn our lesson in the pitiless school of war.’170 Pitiless, indeed, and with so very much riding on the success of the bombardment and on the gunners providing it.
Problems with ground observation added to the difficulties in assessing the field artillery’s wire-cutting. This was important work, noted Lieutenant Moore, who said the German wire — with a thick core and razor-sharp one-and-a-half-inch barbs — was a serious obstacle for infantry. It was mostly ‘held up by wooden stakes, the depth or width of this carpet of wire was seldom less than 20 yards and about three feet high, and it was very dense. In many of the enemy’s more important strategic positions a double row was put down.’171 It was no surprise that the British parapet ‘was lined like the dress circle at a theatre’ with forward observation officers (FOO), said one, but the dense shellfire ‘did not conduce to accurate observation.’172 Third and XIII Corps discovered long grass made assessing damage to the enemy wire difficult.173 Bad weather also affected ground observation.174 Thirteenth Corps said on 26 June that observation was difficult ‘owing to weather and smoke discharge,’175 while XV Corps noted on 27 June that visibility was ‘difficult owing to storms & bad light.’176 On 28 June, X Corps said rain and bad light for most of the day ‘made observation at times impossible,’177 a problem also noted by VIII Corps.178 In spite of these difficulties, FOO reports retained a positive bias. In the northern part of the battlefield, where the lie of the land afforded limited observation, III, VIII and X Corps often described their gunners’ work as ‘satisfactory’ or ‘good.’179 In the southern area, where the British positions yielded better views, FOO reports were couched in strikingly similar language. Fifteenth Corps referred to the wire’s being cut with ‘fairly satisfactory results’ and ‘well and satisfactorily cut’, while XIII Corps said its results were ‘very’ and ‘quite’ satisfactory.180 At times other phrases such as ‘progress made,’181 ‘very effective,’182 ‘everything going well,’183 and ‘successfully completed’184 were used.
The theme of these corps’ reports suggested wire-cutting was — despite marked observational difficulties — going broadly to plan, but in truth they offered no meaningful assessment.
Infantry patrols probing the German lines under veil of darkness discovered all was not well, as records from about 50 patrols in the period 24–30 June reveal. These covered about 20% of the German front line facing Fourth Army.185 At best these presented an ambiguous picture of the state of the enemy’s front-line wire; at worst they suggested significant problems. Of the 50 patrols, 24 (48%) said the wire in their sectors was not cut, 20 (40%) reported it was cut, and six (12%) that it was only cut in some places.186 This ratio did not appreciably improve as the bombardment progressed.187 On a corps-by-corps basis, the wire facing XV and XIII Corps in the Fricourt–Mametz–Montauban area was cut considerably better than that elsewhere, presumably because of the better observation there. Further north, the reports lacked consistency and showed that III and X Corps’ wire-cutting was almost evenly split between positive and negative results.188 In VIII Corps’ area, the wire was intact before 31st Division, reasonably well cut in front of 4th Division and varied from non-existent to strong before 29th Division.189 Rawlinson said on 30 June that he was ‘not quite satisfied that all the wire has been thoroughly cut,’190 but General Sir Douglas Haig firmly believed the job had been done well.191 Rawlinson and Haig were, however, concerned by VIII Corps’ progress, largely because of disquieting patrol reports from that area, and Major-General Beauvoir de Lisle, commanding 29th Division, who was ‘anxious about the success of the attack north of the Ancre.’192 While patrol reports implied almost two-thirds of the wire-cutting had failed outright or in part, Haig — beguiled by generally optimistic corps’ artillery summaries — believed otherwise.
To most corps-level observers the enemy front-line trench system seemed heavily battered. Tenth Corps said on 28 June that its heavy howitzers had been effective in destroying the opposing German defences,193 and two days later that ‘as far as results could be seen’, concentrated shellfire had done satisfactory damage.194 Thirteenth Corps was even more upbeat on 26 June, reporting the German front line was ‘very badly damaged, also much of [the] second line.’195 A day later it noted that ‘Practically whole [German] front line done in except in a few places.’196 Fifteenth Corps reported on 28 June that ‘many strong points and MG Emplacements destroyed,’197 and on the eve of battle that the ‘whole of the hostile trench system appears to be very knocked about.’198 Seventh Corps assessed the German trenches as ‘very much knocked about,’199 adding the bombardment had been ‘very effective.’200 Eighth Corps said the shelling of opposing German trenches was progressing satisfactorily by 27 June, and just 48 hours later that its 4.5-inch howitzers had ‘done considerable damage to front and second line trenches. Judging by [aerial] photographs trenches have been badly battered.’201 Third Corps said its two front-line divisions ‘appeared satisfied with wire & bombardment,’202 and on other occasions that there was ‘noticeable’ and ‘considerable’ damage done.203 From the other side of no-man’s-land, the smoke- and dust-shrouded jumble of debris that was the German line looked increasingly indefensible.
First day of the Somme Page 16