Blood and Thunder

by Alexandra J Churchill

  From Doullens, Billy and his men continued their march south in blistering weather. Three days later he was about to be placed under his father’s command and he accompanied his brigadier to a conference at Walter’s headquarters. Then, having travelled ahead of the men, they left his father and went to reconnoitre the area around Montauban where they were to take up residence.

  The men arrived and began to settle in Walter Congreve’s sector where Billy’s priority remained getting to know the lay of the land. As Marc Noble arrived and began bombarding Mametz Wood further north, Billy took twenty of the brigade’s officers and men up towards Caterpillar Valley in a lorry in the pouring rain where they remained until the early hours. On 8 July the 76th Brigade, which comprised one battalion each of the Suffolk, Royal Welsh Fusiliers, King’s Own Lancaster and Gordon Highlanders regiments, began occupying the trenches in front of Montauban, whilst Billy and the rest of the brigade staff took up residence at Bronfray Farm nearby. The Germans continually shelled the 2nd Suffolks in the trenches with gas shells, but as for actual fighting there was more going on to either side of them in Mametz Wood and at Trônes Wood than in the brigade sector.

  This appeared to be about to change when 76th Brigade received orders to the effect that they were to be part of an attack on the important ridge behind Longueval on an as yet unspecified date. They began preparing in earnest. As it turned out, all the work they put in creating ammunition dumps, reconnoitring wire defences, practising and carrying stores under increasingly heavy shell fire was to pave the way for different troops when the brigade was pulled from the line and put in reserve. On 14 July the replacements attacked the German second line at Bazentin-le-Grand and Bazentin-le-Petit whilst the battalions under Billy’s jurisdiction remained digging to the rear. Their replacements sent a thank you for all the hard work undertaken by 76th Brigade when they enjoyed relatively smooth progress.

  Rawlinson’s army had in fact scored broader success on 14 July but a decisive breakthrough was very much still out of reach and any hope of one was diminishing. German reserves began to arrive on the scene. Rawlinson put a veto on any more random, localised attacks that would decimate manpower before a proper, large-scale assault could be launched over which he could exercise proper control, but the slaughter carried on regardless of his instructions.

  Delville Wood summed up the state of affairs after 14 July. Behind Longueval, which was also coveted, it was a death trap that troops had nicknamed ‘Devil’s Wood’. Attempts to grab it commenced in force on 15 July. Wave after wave of men were sent into an inferno of shells. The South African Brigade was battered out of all recognition. They came out with less than 800 men of 3,200. On 17 July Billy Congreve’s brigade received short-notice orders to follow their expensive example and assault the village of Longueval and the north-west corner of the wood the following morning. The 1st Gordon Highlanders were selected to undertake the task with the Lancasters in support. Officers were rushed up to look at the ground that they were to be attacking in just a few hours and brigade headquarters quickly shifted forward to a quarry just north of Montauban. Overnight any hopes of a calm before the storm were obliterated by constant gas shelling by the enemy and at 2 a.m. the Highlanders moved forwards to get ready for the attack.

  They were to move around the north of Longueval, clear the orchards about the north end of the village, clear the houses in the village south of the road that connected Longueval with High Wood, and also to push patrols through the north-west corner of Delville Wood to gain touch with more British troops.

  The artillery had tried to quieten the Germans in front of them as much as possible given the lack of notice. There had been a steady bombardment of the position for one hour previous to the assault, then one or two intense bursts lasting five mintutes. Before the Highlanders went off they threw a last fierce flurry of shells at their objectives.

  The attack moved off at 3.45 a.m. The north of the village was behind too much uncut barbed wire and it was too well shielded by enemy rifles and machine guns to make a proper advance. The orchards too were ‘veritable quagmires’ from the recent rain. Germans were found to be entrenched in the village itself, again shielded by uncut wire. The Highlanders were pushed back. They suffered very heavy casualties and some of the King’s Own Lancasters were quickly pushed through the village to help consolidate their positions.

  By 9.a.m. all movement to the north of the village was impossible because of machine-gun fire. The Germans then began shelling Delville Wood and the village. With no major advance on a broad front to keep them busy, the enemy was able to direct all of their artillery attentions on this one position and they flung shells at Billy’s brigade with ‘unparalleled intensity’ for nearly five hours. At 4.30 p.m. they launched a counter-attack. The northern half of the village was by now completely untenable and when the Germans came on in four waves the British troops withdrew to the south. The 2nd Suffolks began to arrive as reinforcements and together the combined elements of Billy’s brigade managed to strengthen their positions and began digging in.

  The following day things did not go well at all. General Haldane, commanding the division to which they belonged, travelled through the ruined village of Montauban into the very south of Longueval where he found brigade headquarters ensconced in the quarry. They were under a heavy artillery barrage and Billy had just returned from a dangerous visit about the village to assess the situation. He looked tired, but Haldane said nothing. ‘I knew that if I said he was overworking he would scorn the idea.’ Billy had worked himself into a state of exhaustion. Cameron was snapping at his heels, urging him to calm down but Billy characteristically told him to shut up.

  The brigade was shelled very heavily until dawn on 19 July. Brigade headquarters was hit repeatedly with gas shells and they all had to evacuate. Billy was pulling casualties out of harm’s way with a medical officer despite having been exposed to the gas himself; not the only instance of him attempting to help treat wounded men under heavy shellfire. That evening orders arrived for them to attack again the following morning. At 10.30 p.m. Billy arrived at the 2nd Suffolks to inform the battalion of their task. He spoke to all officers and platoon commanders and explained that they were to push off east, clear Longueval and sweep north-east along a road running through the splintered remains of Delville Wood to gain touch with the 10th Royal Welsh Fusiliers. They were then to consolidate the entire area together.

  Having explained the plan, Billy then went out to superintend arrangements for the attack. The Suffolks were in place by 3 a.m. but the Royal Welsh Fusiliers had a much harder time getting to their jumping off point thanks to lost guides and shoddy intelligence and had already had to repulse two German attacks whilst they were trying to get ready. It was mayhem and a testament to their resolve. The brigade had been told that ‘Princes Street’, running east through the centre of the wood, was in British hands but this statement appeared to be rubbish and they could not get more than 150 yards further into the wood from the southern edge. To make matters worse, the leading company of Welshmen was being shot at by their own side because the commander of the nearby 11th Essex Battalion had not been told that friendly troops would be moving about on his front, or even that there was to be an attack.

  The Suffolks went off at 3.35 a.m. and the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, despite all that they had thus far endured, ten minutes later. The Welsh were hit hard and because they were unable to co-operate with each other, the attack folded and they had to be withdrawn. They fell back to where the baffled Essex battalion was situated with a contingent of Berkshire men and dug in, changing tack from offensive to defensive.

  Reports coming back to the brigade from wounded men and prisoners initially had seemed to indicate that everything was going well. Nothing else came back though and worry began to seep in. Patrols were sent out but could not make any contact with the two companies that had gone out. It was feared that the men of the 76th Brigade had been wiped out entirely.

 
Billy had been on the move all day trying to establish just what was actually going on. Standing on a road leading to Longueval from the west, he was attempting to get the 2nd Suffolks to secure their position. He had just about decided that he had gathered all the information that he could and was looking to the higher ground in front when from inside the cornfield he was observing a German sniper fired a single bullet. It struck just below the breastbone and 25-year-old Billy Congreve was dead soon after he hit the ground.

  His father was still attempting to command the battle. Word reached a member of his staff early in the afternoon via telephone. Events at Delville Wood had reached a critical juncture and Walter was about to send his men forward again in ‘a very important and very daring operation’. General Congreve had to be informed, but his keeping his head was absolutely essential for XIII Corps. A staff officer entered the room and gently informed the general that his eldest son had fallen.

  ‘He was absolutely calm to all outward appearance, and after a few seconds of silence said quite calmly, “He was a good soldier.” That is all he allowed to appear; and he continued dealing with everything as it came along in the same imperturbable and quietly decisive way as usual.’ But the member of his staff was not at all fooled. ‘You know perhaps better than I,’ he wrote to a friend, ‘what the loss of that son meant to him.’

  Cameron was utterly heartbroken but fiercely determined to go up under fire and bring Billy’s body back. As he was carried to safety the men of the Gordon Highlanders were following with wild poppies and cornflowers to lay upon him. Eight of their officers carried him into Carnoy and he lay there overnight with Cameron keeping unceasing vigil beside him. In accordance with Walter Congreve’s wishes two of Haldane’s aides, his chauffeur and his servant, the latter who was ‘devoted’ to Billy, took him to Corbie where he was laid to rest.

  Billy had excelled himself on the Somme. In the build up to the attack he had personally reconnoitred the enemy and taken out patrols over 1,000 yards in front of the British lines. He also escorted one of the brigade’s battalions to their jumping-off point to make sure they got it right and then remained in the line of fire to get an accurate assessment of how the fighting had played out. For his example he was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross and at 25 became the first infantry officer in the Great War to be awarded all three gallantry medals available to him1.

  Old Etonians were still marching south to be thrown into the carnage as July progressed on the Somme. ‘The Three Generations’ were a group of gentlemen well known in Dumfries. Resident at Spottes Hall, the eldest; the bearded kindly grandfather, Alexander Young-Herries, was 89 years old when war commenced and a widower of some forty years. His son, William, was a Cambridge man who had devoted many years to the militia and then the territorial battalion of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers. William had married in 1891 but mourned his young wife almost immediately in 1892 as she died after giving birth to their son, the third of the generations, Alexander Dobree, or ‘Alick’, Young-Herries. ‘Scarcely may his father have borne it’ had it not been for the little bundle that she left behind.

  Alick’s temperament was not darkened by this early tragedy. He was a ‘bright and happy little creature’ not only doted on by his father and his grandfather but by his beloved Nana, who would wheel him about Edinburgh in his perambulator. As a child Alick’s days were regimented by prayers and reading at Spottes. Conversation on religion was encouraged greatly in his pious household and resulted in a passion for scripture. His faith would carry him through his experiences at the front. ‘His trust in Jesus Christ never wavered, even amid the darkness and the horror of the war.’ Alick was educated at home until he was eleven under his father’s supervision and with as much flexibility as possible ‘to ensure that the acquisition of knowledge became a pleasure rather than a chore’. In addition to lessons he would study insects, birds and shells with his father or retreat to the shed with his grandfather for woodwork or to develop photographs.

  After a stint at prep school Alick arrived at Eton in 1906 and eventually, after the unfortunate demise of his housemaster, ended up with Mr Conybeare. He claimed that this confident, hardworking, helpful young man never gave him a moment’s trouble. Never a classicist, Alick specialised eventually in science and excelled, not surprisingly, in divinity.

  At Eton Alick forged a friendship that would last throughout school, university and then into the abyss of the Great War. Francis Ellicott was the grandson of a bishop and they were ‘thrown together’ from the first at school. They studied together, sang together in the musical society, rowed together and even sparred together in the boxing ring. In 1911 they went up to Cambridge together and were at Trinity when war came.

  Like his father Alick had ties as a Terrier with the King’s Own Scottish Borderers and he was hesitant about returning to Cambridge following the summer holidays in 1914. He believed strongly that it was necessary to resist German arrogance and aggression, and was incensed by the invasion of Belgium. His father let him decide for himself what he should do and so it was that he offered himself for service overseas within days of the declaration of war.

  Alick was amongst the first officers to be sent to the front and arrived on the Aisne in September 1914. It was hard for him to marry his religious beliefs with the idea of fighting a war:

  I do feel most strongly that Britain is fighting for her own life. We are not only out as avengers of poor little Belgium, which is quite enough to justify our being here – but we are fighting in defence of our friends and our homes, who will most certainly suffer a worse fate than Belgium if those Germans aren’t squashed now. Yet I cannot help thinking war is not Christian.

  On 31 October 1914 Alick was sent into Messines on board a bus when the 9th Lancers clung onto it for dear life and then returned home in time for Christmas quite broken down. His worried grandfather hovered over him day and night at Portland where his father was with the reserve battalion of the Borderers. Whilst he was there Ellicott arrived, Alick having secured a commission in the regiment for his friend. On 24 April Frank was married to a sweetheart from their Cambridge days with a reception at the Royal Hotel in Weymouth. The couple were keen to be married before he was sent to war and Alick acted, naturally, as his best man.

  A few nights after the wedding Alick was sitting down at dinner with the rest of the Three Generations when an urgent message arrived ordering him back to the front. Acting nonchalantly he put together his belongings and set off towards Boulogne and then into the Ypres area where he found his men at Vlamertinghe. He took up command of his precious B Company, which he found had been whittled down to half strength on the salient. Trench warfare took its toll mentally on Alick. He arrived home on leave with two bullet holes in his tunic but refused to talk about them or how they got there. He was Alick ‘but he appeared older, graver but still gentle and humorous’.

  It was becoming apparent that, as summer approached, momentous events were in the offing. All leave was stopped, training escalated and twice orders to attack a position at Wailly had been cancelled when they were all but ready to go. It was therefore no surprise when, on 2 July, the battalion was pulled from the lines and put on notice to be ready to march immediately.

  Less than two weeks later, unaware that Frank Ellicott had been killed elsewhere on the battlefield, Alick and the 2nd King’s Own Scottish Borderers began to move southwards. They marched furiously, carried gratefully part of the way by buses, and arrived south-east of Albert on 17 July. Here they found themselves amongst a huge mass of troops that had been gathered for Rawlinson’s big push, now due to take place on 23 July.

  Two days later Alick’s battalion was on parade when orders came. They were told to make their way up to the lines immediately. Marching past Fricourt and Mametz they made their way towards High Wood, another battered collection of trees and shell holes that lay to the north of Longueval. Their guides, when they finally turned up, began taking them through the darkness to the fro
nt lines. All around, the guns raged. ‘The far flung duel increased in fury as the night advanced, filling the air with a deafening clamour and lighting up the landscape with lurid flames.’ They groped their way along in the dark for nearly 3 miles, past Montauban and across a valley to a front-line trench that lay in between Bazentin-le-Grand and Longueval whilst they were ‘nearly shelled to death’.

  At 1 a.m. on 20 July Alick made his way down the trench giving his platoon officers their instructions. High Wood lay 1,200 yards ahead in German hands. That night another brigade was to try to take it. As they did so the Borderers were to attack a road junction that ran away from the site. Alick’s would be one of three companies going over the top, across gentle rising slope. When they reached the road they were to dig like mad and establish a trench that could be used as a jumping-off point for the battle that was to follow on the 23rd.

  At 3.30 a.m. the signal was given, the barrage lifted and Alick led his men over the top. Their task was a daunting one. They climbed steadily, Alick at the front, whilst the German gunners took potshots at them. They reached the road in the face of intermittent rifle fire and began to dig frantically to establish some form of cover. Alick urged them on. ‘His bravery went straight to the hearts of the men.’ Grimly they held on to their makeshift trenches till midnight. Alick was prominent in keeping the men going, especially when his company sergeant major was badly hit. Before the gravely injured man was carried to a nearby dressing station, Alick clambered up on to the parapet and made a dash to him to be able to hold his hand and wish him well. At the end of the day he managed to scribble a note off to his father. ‘Just a line to report all well. It is most interesting (though pretty energetic) here.’