by Peter Hart
The scene was more than sad; it was tragic. Everywhere were fugitives: Territorials, joyeux,12 tirailleurs, Zouaves, artillerymen – without weapons, haggard, greatcoats thrown away or wide open, running around like madmen, begging for water in loud cries, spitting blood, some even rolling on the ground making desperate efforts to breathe. I shall see for a long time, in particular, a staggering joyeux who with loud cries demanded water and noticing me, called, ‘Colonel, those bastards have poisoned us!’ No effort was made to stop the bewildered fugitives. We soon gave that up. It was no longer soldiers who were escaping but poor souls who had become suddenly insane. All along the canal was the same scene: without noticing bullets or shells, a crowd of unfortunate sufferers on both banks had come to beg for water to relieve their horrible sufferings.13
Colonel Henri Mordacq, Headquarters, 45th Division
As the French broke and ran, the 1st Canadian Division of the recently arrived Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF) was next in line to the south. They immediately bent back and shuffled across to try to block the gap that threatened the security of the whole salient. Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Currie was caught up in the drama.
We had stayed a trifle too long in the village of St Julien while the streets were filled with this deadly gas. Some of our orderlies could hardly escape and several of the headquarters staff had to be sent to the hospital. I had taken on a pretty stiff cargo of it myself. When it is first breathed it is not unpleasant, smelling not unlike chloroform, but very soon it stings the mucous membrane of the mouth, the eyes, and the nose. The lungs feel as if they were filled with rheumatism. The tissues of the lungs are scalded and broken down, and it takes a man a long time to recover, if he ever does fully recover after having some of the ‘upholstering’ of his lungs destroyed. We did not then quite realise the horror of this new form of cowardly and inhuman warfare, but we should have known that the Germans consider war a game without an umpire or a referee.14
Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Currie, 3rd Brigade, 1st Canadian Division, CEF
This was the prevailing reaction to the German use of gas: that it was unsporting and inhuman. The Canadian front line troops largely escaped the worst of the gas, but reserve units moving forward suffered a great deal. In the end they held on by dint of their own courage, coupled with a paucity of German reserves near the Ypres front to take advantage of their success. The very secrecy demanded by the presence of so many vulnerable gas cylinders in the front line, coupled with a lack of confidence in their own crude respirators, militated against any forceful follow-up by the German Fourth Army. Attacks would not properly resume until 24 April, by which time the Canadians had to some extent sorted themselves out and would fight brilliantly to stem the tide. The British moved up reserves to bolster Smith-Dorrien’s Second Army, which had overall responsibility for most of the Ypres Salient. Among these reserves were a significant number of battalions of the Territorial Army. These units were part of a long-standing British tradition of part-time soldiers, originally in various forms of militia, but reorganised in 1908 to create volunteer battalions within the county regiments, training on a drill night, on weekends and at an annual camp. Originally intended for home service, but soon offered the chance to serve overseas, the best regarded units had begun to reach the Western Front in 1914. Nicknamed the ‘Saturday night soldiers’, these men’s training fell below the old ‘regular’ standards, but they were often remarkably keen to learn. By 1915, the process of reinforcement was accelerating but there were still questions as to whether they were adequately prepared for action. For the 50th Division, a Northumbrian formation, Ypres would be a harsh induction to war for raw troops with inexperienced officers.
We found that the only way to advance was for a few men, under an officer or an NCO, to make a short rush forward, and then to lie down flat and regain their breath. It was a case of every man using his own intelligence with courage. We made a good deal of progress, and took up a strong line with a hedge in front of it, which afforded some shelter. In front of this position was a large open field, and at the other end of it, a few hundred yards distant, lay the village of St Julien and the Germans. To cross this field, without adequate artillery support, was impossible, and yet we had been ordered to advance. Our present position by the farm, however, was being shelled to such an extent that, as far as our safety went, it did not much matter where we were. We began our last advance, and made two or three short rushes. I had just finished the last of these, and was going to lie down, when I received a staggering blow on the back, and fell forward. I suffered an agonising pain, and soon felt another blow on the back, also extremely violent. I began to find difficulty in breathing and wondered if I would ever leave this spot.15
Captain William Watson-Armstrong, 1/7th Northumberland Fusiliers
Many of the British counter-attacks ordered by Sir John French had little chance of success and the resulting casualties were heavy. But when the Germans resumed the offensive they found that the British lines generally held firm. At what cost can be indicated by this account from Private William Quinton, who was in the support line on Hill 60 when his battalion fell victim to a gas attack on the evening of 1 May.
Suddenly over the top of our front line we saw what looked like clouds of thin grey smoke, rolling slowly along with the slight wind. It hung to the ground reaching to the height of 8 or 9 feet, and approached so slowly that a man walking could have kept ahead of it. ‘GAS!’ The word quickly passed round. Even now it held no terror for us, for we had not yet tasted it. From our haversacks we hastily drew the flannel belts, soaked them in water and tied them round our mouths and noses. Suddenly, through the communication trench came rushing a few khaki-clad figures. Their eyes glaring out of their heads, their hands tearing at their throats, they came on. Some stumbled and fell, and lay writhing in the bottom of the trench, choking and gasping, whilst those following trampled over them. If ever men were raving mad with terror, these men were. What was left of our section still crouched at the support end of the communication trench. Our front line, judging from the number of men who had just come from it, had been abandoned, and we now waited for the first rush of the Germans. But they did not come. Our biggest enemy was now within a few yards of us, in the form of clouds of gas. We caught our first whiff of it: no words of mine can ever describe my feelings as we inhaled the first mouthful. We choked, spit, and coughed, my lungs felt as though they were being burnt out, and were going to burst. Red-hot needles were being thrust into my eyes. The first impulse was to run. We had just seen men running to certain death, and knew it, rather than stay and be choked into a slow and agonising death. It was one of those occasions when you do not know what you are doing. The man who stayed was no braver than the man who ran away. We crouched there, terrified, stupefied. A large shell burst on the parapet just where we were sheltered. We were almost buried beneath the falling earth. Young Addington, a chap about my own age, was screaming at the top of his voice and trying to free his buried legs. He got free and before we could stop him he rushed off – God knows where! We then saw the reason for his screams. His left arm was blown off above the elbow. He left a trail of blood over my tunic as he climbed over me in his mad rush to get away.16
Private William Quinton, 1st Bedfordshire Regiment
Later Quinton’s battalion moved forward to take over the front line, where they found the men who had been unable to run from the gas cloud.
Black in the face, their tunics and shirt fronts torn open at the necks in their last desperate fight for breath, many of them lay quite still, while others were still wriggling and kicking in the agonies of the most awful death I have ever seen. Some were wounded in the bargain and their gaping wounds lay open, blood still oozing from them. One poor devil was tearing at his throat with his hands, I doubt if he knew, or felt, that he had only one hand, and that the other was just a stump where the hand should have been. This stump he worked around his throat as if the hand were still there, and the blood
from it was streaming over his bluish-black face and neck. A few minutes later and he was still except for occasional shudders as he breathed his last.17
Private William Quinton, 1st Bedfordshire Regiment
Gradually the British troops received gas masks which at first were all but useless, but later far more effective. And gas became just another weapon in the huge arsenal of war. The British, for all their initial moral objections, would be using gas themselves before the year was out.
The fighting stirred up at Ypres did not die down for months – officially the battle lasted from 22 April to 31 May, during which time British casualties were 60,000 (their ill-considered counter-attacks swelling the numbers), while the Germans were estimated to have lost 35,000 dead, wounded and missing. There was some bitterness at British High Command that the French did not send in reinforcements to replace their two shattered divisions, but this sidesteps the British prior not-yet-honoured commitment to take over the defence of the Ypres Salient. In the end the British had no choice but to withdraw from the extremities of the salient exposed by the initial German breakthrough on 22 April. At great cost a new line was carved out which, although tested time and time again by the Germans, did hold. Perhaps the BEF should have abandoned the dangerous Ypres Salient entirely and fallen back to a straighter, more easily defensible line. Yet there was very little room for manoeuvre and the emotional investment in holding the last corner of Belgium not under German control was difficult to ignore. So the Ypres Salient became a place of dread for British troops.
The Spring Offensives, May 1915
Joffre was determined to launch another great offensive. He was confident that France had learnt the lessons of the Artois, Champagne and St Mihiel offensives and he sought to take advantage of the German reduction in strength on the Western Front while at the same time alleviating pressure on the Russians and the Serbs. Joffre was intent on another attack on Vimy Ridge in the Artois. The great question was, who had learnt most from the earlier battles of 1915? Joffre conceived of a massive continuous unrelenting offensive: ‘Attackers at all echelons will be imbued with the idea of breaking through, of going beyond the first trenches seized, of continuing to attack without stopping until the final result.’18 Had the French and British finally devised a method of breaking through the German lines? Or had the Germans discovered a more effective way of keeping them out? For the Germans had certainly been busy putting into effect their own conclusions as to how best to resist attack. Although it remained a mantra that the front line was to be defended to the death, and that every inch of ground must be regained through immediate counter-attacks, there was also a widespread acceptance of the need for multiple defensive lines connected by communication trenches, with deep dugouts to protect the troops under artillery bombardment. Trenches were also being strengthened to resist artillery bombardments, with special well-protected machine gun posts carefully sited to attain the best possible enfilading fire across No Man’s Land, while ever more, ever thicker belts of barbed wire were built for attackers to contend with. These needs, however, were tempered by the shortage of the labour required for such a programme of defence works. This was not a single learning curve; no simplistic story here of unremitting progress as one side mastered the problems of trench warfare and moved seamlessly towards victory. Rather, it is of two roller-coasters: one Allied and the other German, running side by side on their own separate tracks, with their relative position ‘high’ or ‘low’, ‘rising’ or ‘falling’, depending on a combination of their own latest tactical innovations, their success in assimilating the lessons of the fighting, the tactical advances of their enemies, and the restricting factor of the availability (or otherwise) of military resources. Thus a tactic that seemed to work well one month might result in disaster just a few weeks later.
The assault on Vimy Ridge would be made by the French Tenth Army, now commanded by General Victor d’Urbal, while the BEF launched a supporting attack in the Aubers Ridge sector. On the left the Tenth Army would attack along the hill of Notre Dame de Lorette while the main thrust on the right would push for Vimy Ridge itself. This was an ambitious plan as the Germans had made considerable headway in creating a strong defensive system. The French preparations were extensive, with aerial photographic reconnaissance used to pinpoint targets for what was then considered a heavy artillery bombardment by over 1,000 guns, which opened on 4 May. When the infantry went over the top at 10.00 on 9 May, only the XXXIII Corps, commanded by General Philippe Pétain, made any real progress in the centre, smashing their way up on to Vimy Ridge. This triggered a strong German counter-attack which hurled them back before nightfall. The problem was becoming increasingly evident: the methodology employed to seize a tactical feature could also be used by the other side to reclaim it. The fighting degenerated into a murderous slog as the French battered their way slowly across the Notre Dame de Lorette Spur. This was a true slaughterhouse.
Meanwhile the British contribution had been the Battle of Aubers Ridge, in which Haig’s First Army launched two attacks converging on the ridge. His infantry attacked at 05.40 on 9 May after a 40-minute bombardment by 636 guns. This proved inadequate to deal with the German defensive preparations which nullified the British tactical advances tested at Neuve Chapelle just two months before. The infantry were for the most part slaughtered in No Man’s Land. At the same time it was evident the war was gaining in depth. Now, not only were the Germans digging more lines but their artillery was gaining the expertise to pound the front line or splatter communication trenches with shells. The reinforcing troops were in danger long before they arrived at the front.
High explosive shrapnel and common shrapnel was sweeping the 500 yards of communication rampart leading up to the front line. A solid wall of shells seemed to be everywhere. The enemy’s ramparts and all the country for further than 800 yards was in a fog of yellow smoke, through which flashes appeared. These fumes literally darkened the sun. All around were crashing branches and trees being felled. Occasionally a huge shell would land in a ruined house and the brick dust would form a London fog in itself. Every now and then a huge black smoke shell would blow up in our rampart killing and maiming people. Campbell, Merrilees’s servant, was unrecognisable minus two arms, head and one leg. Carson in my platoon was worse off as his remains could have been buried in a cigarette case. Meanwhile heavy German rifle fire was sweeping overhead so I kept under the parapet. It seemed impossible to me that we could ever reach the first line. At last we marched off. We rushed along the communication [trench] at awful speed. The wounded were crawling about in the passage and dead there were innumerable. At last we reached the front line.19
Second Lieutenant Lionel Sotheby, 2nd Black Watch
Haig’s First Army was soon in dire trouble: not enough guns, not enough ammunition, defective shells, but worst of all the German trenches were improving and their artillery were beginning to act in concert, with the capability to generate impenetrable barrages which could seal off the front, rendering the British assaulting infantry even more likely to be overwhelmed by German counter-attacks. The combination of the exploding shells and the bodies of the dead, the dying and the wounded littering the trenches made it almost impossible for reinforcements to get forward. When the 2nd Black Watch finally charged over the top they suffered some 500 casualties in a few hours – and that pattern was being repeated up and down. It had a severe psychological effect on the troops.
I feel a changed person at present and unable to laugh, or smile, or anything, feeling almost in a dream. Next time the Germans will get it. Given a chance with wire down and at close quarters, they will be slaughtered, and I feel quite mad at it, and long for a decent smash at them. I shall get the chance yet with any luck.20
Second Lieutenant Lionel Sotheby, 2nd Black Watch
Haig called off the attack after the failure of a second attempt. The British had failed to make a telling contribution to the main Artois battle still raging to the south. Pressure from
the French forced another attempt at the Battle of Festubert, launched on 15 May. It was a disaster. The relatively inexperienced British had still not mastered the complexities of artillery support, the detailed command and control arrangements or the multi-layered briefings and special training required to carry them out.
In the Arras area, step by miserable step the French tried to grind their way forward, seeking to capture valuable tactical vantage points before launching the next big phase of the Artois Offensive on 16 June. The barrage opened some six days before, a wide-ranging affair, which attempted to conceal what was going on by switching between targets. Every barrage seemed to dwarf its predecessor, but there never seemed to be enough. It was already becoming evident that, although a long barrage might guarantee the destruction of the German defences, it also alerted the Germans to where and when the next blow was going to fall, allowing them to make their own preparations. When the assault finally went in, the gains were derisory for another swathe of terrible casualty figures. The offensive was formally suspended on 25 June. France was bleeding herself dry.