by Simon Jones
An exaggerated claim for the possibilities of mining at Loos was put forward by Grieve and Newman in 1936, who appeared unaware of the four mines on the 2nd Division front and asserted that the Tunnellers were required to do no mining for the attack:
…why were the possibilities of mine warfare so completely ignored? … Suppose a dozen large mines had been fired at the moment of battle? It would not have been impossible, and the results might have been farreaching?30
To place a dozen mines on the Loos front would have required perhaps a four-month delay to the offensive, which was not an option as the date as well as the location of the British attack was dictated by the French. Placing mines under the German lines of a determined and skilful enemy was especially difficult in the Loos area, which would require going deep into the chalk, in which it was almost impossible to work silently. The use of mines at the Battle of Loos exhibited problems of mine warfare that were to appear again. Firstly, a legacy of active mine warfare was the deeply cratered no man’s land which, while it might offer cover for advancing troops, could also impede and confuse the attackers. Secondly, by ordering the mines to be blown at two minutes before zero, rather than precisely at zero, there was confusion on the staff over the danger of casualties amongst the infantry from falling debris, which it was believed might cause the attack to waver. As will be seen, this confusion remained unresolved into 1916, despite a growing body of experience in the BEF.
Away from the developing experience on the Western Front, mining was actively pursued following the landings in Turkey on the Gallipoli peninsula by British and Anzac troops in April 1915. Fighting was deadlocked in trench warfare and mining was initiated in May by the Turks at the Anzac front and by the British at Helles. Mining units were formed in both sectors. At Helles the 8th Corps Mining Company operated under Captain H.W. Laws, a temporarily commissioned mining engineer in the Royal Naval Division. Not everyone, however, regarded mining as beneficial:
Personally I could never appreciate what material advantage we gained from our labours, nor did I ever meet any one who was particularly enthusiastic over the work, with the very notable exception of the O.C. Mines, 8th Corps … (Surgeons Geoffrey Sparrow RN and J.N. MacBean RN, Royal Naval Division).31
After the British advance in June and July, 8th Corps resumed mining near the Vineyard and Fusilier Bluff, attacking local objectives using small charges from shallow tunnels. At Fusilier Bluff, galleries were driven through the sandstone to create positions looking over the Turkish positions, in the manner of mining at Gibraltar during the siege of the 1780s. In softer ground there were numerous contacts underground, especially in the clay at the Gridiron and the Vineyard. From the comparatively shallow tunnels, miners buried alive were sometimes able to dig themselves out. Joseph Murray, a Durham miner attached to the 8th Corps Mining Company, described regaining consciousness after a Turkish blow to find that he and a comrade were trapped in a collapsed tunnel beneath no man’s land:
Alec and I groped about in the dark, looking for our candles and matches. We found neither so decided to explore the gallery to ascertain where the explosion had occurred. The level part was reasonably clear. Several minor falls of roof had taken place but we had no difficulty in climbing over these obstructions to reach the rising part. From here we should have been able to see daylight, but we couldn’t.
We knew now that we were entombed but the gallery was still open. We groped our way up the rising gallery and at once realized we should not be able to go much further. Everywhere was broken up. Timber—not broken but dislodged—prevented any further movement up the slope and we did not know if this blockage was the seat of the explosion or only another fall. We tugged at the timber until we got it free. Quite a lot of earth came away with it which told us we had no more gallery left and our only hope of survival would be to claw our way upwards through the broken earth, knowing full well that if it was too loose it would suffocate us. We estimated that we were at least twenty-five feet below the surface... and decided that if we endeavoured to burrow slantwise, making steps as we went, we would have further to go but would be able to get rid of some of the earth and, at the same time, have more room for air.
I began to burrow, with Alec behind me heaving the lumps of clay down the eight feet or so of the sloping gallery. We changed over repeatedly and, as time passed, found it increasingly difficult to clear the earth away. The burrow behind us had closed in and the roof kept caving in. We were unable to extricate ourselves from the earth we had clawed away and the constant falling of the roof altered our direction.
We burrowed where the earth was loose, clawing side by side now, with only our arms free. Inching our way upwards, we clawed with our hands and pushed with our legs to keep us moving. We had very little room but the air seemed better. The earth felt more lumpy and we found it difficult to move. Lumps of earth were wedged between us and were most uncomfortable.
Twisting and turning in an effort to free my legs, I fancied I saw daylight for a fraction of a second. Alec did not see it, but believed me. With new hope we struggled on; our time was running out and we both knew it. Again and again we were completely buried but, in time, managed to clear ourselves. After one fall of earth I could feel what I believed to be clothing. It certainly was not earth—and I was violently sick.
Alec was delighted though; in his super-human effort to free his legs so that he might also feel the body, he brought down more earth and shouted that he, too, had seen daylight. This time I did not see it—I was too sick and my eyes were closed, but… was satisfied that we were near the surface… This body we could feel must have been in the line; if only we could manage a few more feet!
With renewed strength we clawed but the daylight—if it was daylight— remained out of sight.
We had burrowed a long way and the hope of a while ago had long since gone. I think we slept from exhaustion. We had lost all sense of time and it seemed that we had been entombed all our lives.
I was awakened by Alec shouting that he could see daylight again. The air was certainly fresher. I had lots of energy now and, after another fall of earth, we had our heads above the surface. My arms were pinned with the rest of my body and the glare of the light, even though it was almost dark, compelled me to keep my eyes closed… Strangely enough, neither of us made any attempt to free ourselves. We were satisfied to have our heads above ground. We were on the Turkish side of a huge crater, about five feet below the rim. (Able Seaman Joseph Murray, 15 September 1915)32
At Anzac tunnels became a major feature of the fighting on ‘Second Ridge’ both, as at Helles, for shallow level mine warfare, but also in the use of underground saps by which the front line was pushed forward (described in Chapter 9). Cyril Lawrence worked on an underground sap driven from the Pimple towards Lone Pine, which was extended to make a mine gallery:
Last night I arrived at our sap mouth B5 about 1.30a.m. instead of midnight due to my having been hunting for the damn thing in the dark. As I said before, the trenches are just full of sleeping men and one cannot walk about very freely; consequently it took some time to get round and find the thing. Before I went up, it had been decided to continue our operations underground instead of breaking through the surface. This will give us more protection and will be better in many ways. With our tunnel which is called B5 we are in about 120 feet. The tunnels are about five feet six inches high and three feet wide. All the earth is carted out in sand bags and then shovelled on to a dump in some convenient spot. It is jolly hard work picking and shovelling by candlelight and after working for a while you are wringing wet and then you spell and immediately get cold, because down here in these burrows it is both cold and damp. I was not sorry when we knocked off this morning at 8 o’clock and got back to camp. (Lance Corporal Cyril Lawrence, 2nd Field Company, Australian Engineers, 6 June 1915)33
The intense mining activity resulted in numerous break-ins and underground fights, especially at Anzac. However, perhaps as a result of the deb
ility caused by the conditions on the Peninsula, there were also instances of ‘live and let live’ above and below ground. An example of this occurred at Lone Pine when 2nd Australian Field Company blew a charge of 30lbs guncotton on 11 September after sounds of Turkish working. After the tamping was removed an opening was discovered into the Turkish tunnel and both sides built barricades and posted sentries within yards of one another.34 Cyril Lawrence described, and drew, the situation in his diary five days later:
Near one of our tunnels, old Johnno had been working against us for some days and it was decided to blow him. The mine was laid and fired in due time, poor Johnno working away right up to the last moment. What happened to him we never found out, but as the trenches were so close we could not place a large charge for fear of damaging our own lines. Consequently all we did was to blow a hole into their tunnel. Immediately both sides erected barricades something after this style, and for some days firing went on from both sides, no one being hit. During this time we started further back in our tunnel and burrowed in and down eight feet-odd and then along as shown dotted. We eventually blew the whole concern up – Turk and all. (Lance Corporal Cyril Lawrence, 2nd Field Company, Australian Engineers, 16 September 1915).35
The strength of the defences above ground at Anzac meant that from September offensive work moved underground and the corps commander, Birdwood, ordered a comprehensive scheme along much of the sector. The plans of Major General J.G. Legge, commanding the 2nd Australian Division, for Lone Pine were the most ambitious, with a low-level system at 60ft commenced on 20 October and a yet deeper pair of tunnels (‘Arnall’s Folly’ – described in Chapter 9) intended to enable infantry to emerge behind the Turkish lines.36 By mid-November the mines along the Anzac position were either approaching, or in many places actually beneath, the Turkish trenches. Charles Bean speculated in the Australian Official History about the possible impact of these mine galleries on the Turks:
Drawings by Cyril Lawrence of the break in on the southern flank of Lone Pine, September 1915. From The Gallipoli Diary of Sergeant Lawrence.
The position was then such that, if all the mines had been exploded simultaneously, there could undoubtedly have been administered to him a shock only comparable to that inflicted upon the Germans two years later by the firing of the mines at Messines.37
He claimed that a general attack launched at the moment of the explosion might have met with important success, but for the fact that reserves were no longer to be allocated to Gallipoli.
When the decision was taken to evacuate the Anzac and Suvla positions, Birdwood, in overall command at Gallipoli since 23 November, wished to use the mines to cover the hazardous withdrawal operation, for which he anticipated up to 2,000 casualties. In addition General Monro, commanding in the Mediterranean while he left the planning of the evacuation to Birdwood, asked firstly for a system of defensive mines to be considered to cover the withdrawal. Secondly he asked that ‘an offensive attitude’ should be adopted to deceive the Turks as to the British intentions. General Godley, now commanding Anzac, and his Chief of Staff replied that in certain carefully selected positions the explosion of mines might assist by forcing the Turks to be cautious. However, overall Godley strongly objected to the offensive to cover the withdrawal and had already started on a reverse tactic of conditioning the Turks to expect periods of quiet, especially at night, so that they would not suspect the ultimate withdrawal of troops.38 General Byng, commanding IX Corps at Suvla, replied to Monro’s request with the information that he was already organising a system of defensive mines, but that attack would be difficult and costly. Birdwood, however, wished serious consideration to be given to offensive action before the evacuation and the use of mines. The result was that a large number of mines were prepared prior to the evacuation and in the event not used, and they lie today beneath the Peninsula. At Anzac sixteen mines containing 14.5 tons of explosive were charged ready for firing in case of emergency (see table). General Godley instructed that, with the exception of three mines at the Nek, they were only to be fired on the order of a senior officer if the Turks were actually to attack. Those at the Nek were to be fired on the discretion of the Rearguard Commander at the very end of the evacuation, to prevent the Turks from following up the retirement. This was done at 3.30am on 20 December, completely destroying the Turkish front line, killing seventy men and forming two large craters. It served to alert the Turks to the evacuation of Anzac, but by this time the garrison was clear of the hills and almost entirely embarked.
Evacuation Mines at Anzac. Only those at Russell’s Top were blown, the remainder were left intact. Total 14.5 tons of which 11 tons were left undetonated.39
The British blew a large number of mines at Helles on 19 December during operations to divert Turkish attention from the evacuations at Suvla and Anzac.40
A similar number of mines were left at Helles as at Anzac. For over a week before evacuation at Helles on 9 January 1916, Joseph Murray recorded that the miners were filling ‘all existing galleries’ with explosives: ‘Every gallery had to have its quota of explosive and most of them were ready for firing.’41
As at Anzac, the mines were for use in case of Turkish discovery of the evacuation and to forestall an attempt by them to advance while it was in progress. Of the large number charged, only six mines on the front of the Royal Naval Division seem to have been blown.42
The large number of mines blown during the Gallipoli campaign from May 1915 to January 1916, as on the Western Front during the same period, arose from intense but extremely local struggles and what were usually small and costly attacks. As such they were a symptom of the deadlock rather than the key to unlock it. There was to be no large set-piece use of mines, as Bean hoped might be made at Anzac, but which might only have achieved the securing of Second Ridge, that is, the objective of the first day.
In Flanders, Norton Griffiths was constantly trying to interest Fowke, the Engineer-in-Chief, in large-scale mining schemes, seemingly unaware that throughout 1915 British attacks were severely limited by the requirement for the BEF to conform to the French command on where and when they should attack, as well as a severe shortage of artillery ammunition. In May 1915 he suggested a means of taking the villages of Wytschaete and Messines, which stood on the rising ground south of Ypres called by the British the Messines Ridge (the Germans called it the Wytschaete Bogen or Bow). He included a crude drawing in his daily report to Fowke, but the suggestion was not taken up. In July Harvey and Norton Griffiths sketched the idea out but, according to Harvey, Fowke rejected it with derision.43
What particularly engaged Norton Griffiths were the possibilities of driving along the blue clay level as a means of getting beneath the German positions. The blue clay was closer to the surface on the low-lying ground, so by starting further back they would not have to sink through a deep expanse of running sand. They would, however, have to drive very long tunnels. In geological terms, therefore, holding the high ground was to be a disadvantage for the Germans. At the Spanbroekmolen, Peckham and Maedelstede Farm positions the Germans would have to sink shafts through up to 81ft depth of running sand to counter the British miners. By December 1915, the tunnellers facing the Ridge were exploring the possibilities independently of Norton Griffiths’s lobbying. The commander of 250 Company, Cecil Cropper, had already begun sinking shafts with the sanction of the Canadian Corps and 2nd Army: