by Nick Lloyd
The stunning effect of Plumer’s mass of artillery was particularly evident in the main assault by I ANZAC Corps, with 1st and 2nd Australian Divisions attacking side by side. In 7/Battalion (2nd Division) Lieutenant Alexander Hollyhoke went forward with his men, following what he called ‘a wall of dust and fumes, intermingled with shell bursts’ as the creeping barrage chewed up the ground in front of them. Far from being overawed by the spectacle, Hollyhoke’s men took it in their stride, lighting pipes or cigarettes and ‘advancing steadily behind the barrage with a cheerful smile on their faces’.
Here and there a dead German was seen–killed by the barrage or a shot from the advancing troops. Prisoners, cowed and broken, began to come in in groups, or crouched in shell holes until sent to the rear. Short sharp fights were often carried out by small parties of troops around ‘pill boxes’ or concrete German blockhouses left intact or only slightly damaged by shell fire. A bomb or two in the entrance generally reduced the occupants to surrender. During the whole advance there was the continual swish, swish, of shells overhead–some high, some low–some indeed too low. With shells bursting around, many indeed were narrow escapes. Most men were hit at times by flying pieces of high explosive or shrapnel. Unless a man was badly hit all went eagerly on.10
Hollyhoke’s men did what they were there to do: take the furthest objective (the Green Line), ‘mop up’ their sectors, and then consolidate. The barrage then halted for two hours to give them enough time to dig a new line and establish communication with the rear.
It was a similar story across I ANZAC Corps. Places that had been fought over for months had now fallen, including the shattered remnants of Glencorse Wood and a small copse known as Nonne Boschen. Although some resistance was encountered at Black Watch Corner (at the southwestern tip of Polygon Wood), elsewhere Australian troops were able to subdue enemy pillboxes and pick their way through what remained of the German defences. ‘The enemy did not show the resistance that was expected, and in no case did he hold out in pockets in rear of our advancing lines’, a report later noted.11 In 2nd Division it was concluded that there were a number of reasons why the attack had been so successful, including extensive training; the physical fitness of the men; thorough reconnaissance; the ‘systematic establishment of battle dumps’ and lines of approach at the front; the depth of the artillery and machine-gun barrage; and the urgency with which the attacking battalions went forward: ‘the men followed the artillery barrage so closely and rushed each position so quickly that the enemy had not time, in most cases, to open fire.’ Moreover, because many of the Germans in shell holes and trenches had been ‘dazed’ by the artillery fire, they could put up only ‘feeble’ resistance.12
Further to the south, the attack of X Corps, striking on to the Gheluvelt Plateau, proceeded on schedule, despite hard fighting. ‘Heavy rain had fallen during the night making movement over the cratered ground very difficult’, recorded the war diary of 39th Division. ‘At dawn a steady drizzle was still coming down whilst a thick mist and low clouds, combined with a strong wind, made observation and aerial reconnaissance almost impossible.’ When the troops went over the top, they were met with heavy gunfire from a number of concrete blockhouses and machine-gun emplacements. These had to be taken out ‘by a series of determined rushes covered by Lewis Gun and Rifle Grenade fire’. By 6 a.m. the division was on the Red Line (the western edge of Bulgar Wood), and a little over two hours later the supporting units had ‘leapfrogged’ on to their second objective (having cleared most of the wood) and were busy digging in.13 Elsewhere, 23rd Division encountered heavy resistance getting through Inverness Copse and a string of undamaged German bunkers along the Menin Road. Although casualties were heavy, ‘so thoroughly did each man know his individual task that formations and direction still continued to be well maintained and each section made independently for its own objective on the Blue Line’. Consolidation continued, in spite of sniper fire, for the rest of the day.14
It was on this sector that two of the most outstanding feats of bravery during the entire battle took place. William Burman, a twenty-year-old NCO with 16/Rifle Brigade (39th Division), won the Victoria Cross during the advance across no-man’s-land. Burman’s Company Commander was astonished at what happened:
Sergeant Burman is the finest fellow that ever lived, standing only 5ft 4in, but with the heart of a lion, knowing no fear. When we had gone halfway to our objective, a machine-gun opened fire at us from 30 yd range in a shell-hole position, and my poor fellows were falling down everywhere. Sgt Burman went on all alone in face of what appeared to be certain death, killed the three gunners and captured the gun, saving, by his gallant deed, the lives of his chums behind and allowing the company to continue to advance. He carried the gun all the way to the final objective, and turned it on the retiring enemy, and his courage and fortitude throughout were amazing to see.15
The second VC was won by Corporal Ernest Egerton of 16/Sherwood Foresters, who took out an enemy strongpoint almost singlehandedly in what his commanding officer called ‘the most reckless piece of gallantry I ever saw’. In the confusion of the advance, a German pillbox had been missed, but Egerton–who was mourning the death of his elder brother, killed in August–ran forward seeking revenge. ‘I first shot the man who was firing the gun’, he remembered; ‘then I shot the second, who was waiting with another belt of cartridges, and I also shot the third man who was a bomber.’ With that the German garrison, stunned by the ferocity of the attack, shuffled out, their hands in the air.16 Elsewhere, 41st Division had cleared its first objective by 7.47 a.m. (pushing on to the Albrecht Line); had secured the Blue Line by 10.15 a.m. (crossing over the Basseevillebeek stream); and by eleven o’clock observers had spotted British troops on the Tower Hamlets Ridge.17 Now the most crucial part of the battle began: the German response.
The Eingreif divisions had been assembled and readied to go forward by 8 a.m., but they were unable to intervene as planned. The almost complete collapse of communication at the front meant that it was impossible to gain a detailed picture of what was going on. Moreover, pilots of the RFC had been in the skies above the Salient as soon as it was light and proved highly effective at interfering with German plans. More than 28,000 rounds of ammunition were fired and over sixty bombs were dropped on ground targets that day, including columns of infantry marching to the front, artillery batteries and machine-gun nests. Unlike 16 August, when bad weather had effectively prevented aerial observers from pinpointing German reserves, British aircraft were able to provide vital information on the movement of the Eingreif divisions, which were so crucial to the second phase of the battle. Air reports notified British artillery of at least eight counter-attacks, including at Zonnebeke at 8.30 a.m., Polygon Wood at 10.20 a.m. and east of Zandvoorde at 2–2.30 p.m.18 Using ‘zone calls’, the aircraft were able to direct devastating shellfire on to their targets and, according to the German Official History, ‘cripple the momentum of the reserves’.19
It was only in the afternoon that the full-scale counter-attacks, which were so critical to Germany’s defensive tactics, were able to make any headway. From about two o’clock, ominous reports of ‘enemy concentrations’ began coming into British divisional and corps headquarters. Elements of three reserve divisions, 16th Bavarian, 236th and 234th, were marching to the front from the direction of Menin, Moorslede and Westroosebeke. This had been anticipated by Second Army intelligence and artillery barrages were immediately ordered on the likely deployment areas with every available medium and heavy gun, while long-range machine-gun fire added to the maelstrom of steel that came down. By 5 p.m. the Eingreif divisions had arrived on the battlefield, but could do little to dent the storm of fire in front of them. When they moved forward into the open, they were torn apart, with whole sections being brutally wiped from the battlefield under an enormous weight of firepower.20 ‘They managed to push back the British at different points and retake some important terrain features,’ noted the German Official History
, ‘but in general, the attacks against already secured opponents had only limited success.’21
Such curt, official language underplays the horror and carnage of what happened that afternoon. In contrast to the elegant theory of flexible and effective counter-attacks flooding against an enemy that had already been weakened and overstretched, the Eingreif divisions were frequently poorly prepared, lacking orders and clear objectives, and running up against an enemy that was well dug in. A German soldier, Kleine, left a brief description of what it was like to be in one of the counter-attack divisions that day. He was a member of 459 Infantry Regiment, part of 236th Division, and when his regiment tried to make its assault, it found the whole area swept by fire. ‘In attempting to get forward and close with the enemy on the slopes to the front, our assault companies and their supporting battery suffered severe casualties.’ A direct hit on their command post wiped out fourteen of his comrades; he was wounded in the groin by a fragment of shell, while a corporal lost his mind and began rushing around in blind panic, foaming at the mouth. Although they were able to make some minor gains around Schuler Farm (600 yards east of Saint-Julien on the Zonnebeke–Langemarck road), where they pushed back 55th Division, it had been a terrible day.22
This combination of confusion and carnage seems to have been a common experience. 11 Infantry Regiment (part of 16th Bavarian Division) had received reports at 11.30 a.m. that the Wilhelm Line had been overrun and that the enemy was already digging in. What happened over the next six hours, recorded in a series of breathless despatches, illustrated some of the difficulties that German units had in trying to respond to Plumer’s advance.
11.30: Terrain to the west and south of Becelaere as far as the Polderhoek Ridge under a heavy barrage from the enemy.
14.10: Reconnaissance patrols [have been] sent out [and] attack will be continued after clarification.
14.30: III Battalion, 21 Infantry Regiment, reports that the enemy is just east of the Wilhelm position without being fired on at all. The Wilhelm position itself is held firmly. [There is] a very large number of English machine-guns close together; only a flanking attack can be carried out from the northeast; a frontal attack is not currently possible with the severely shrunken battalion. Battalion had sustained heavy losses and has lost many machine-guns.
15.45: Message received that the enemy is holding the Wilhelm position with powerful forces; artillery support [is] essential for any further advance.
16.00: Regiment again telephones the reserve brigade and requests artillery fire, otherwise attack [is] not possible, as it has been established beyond doubt that the Wilhelm position is held by the English.
17.30: Report that the Wilhelm position is definitely held firmly by the enemy, and that the enemy is working there openly and without being fired on at all. Formations are still intermingled. The penetrating effect of artillery is a prerequisite of a successful attack. Stretcher-bearers are urgently requested.23
It was evident that 20 September would be unlike 31 July or 16 August. This time there would be no overstretched or vulnerable British forces ripe for swift and decisive counter-attacks. Now they were ready: dug in and well-supported by artillery.
Haig, watching events at GHQ, was delighted. ‘All reports show that Enemy’s losses have been most severe’, he wrote in his diary, ‘about 20,000.’24 Although British losses were not inconsiderable, there was a sense that a signal victory had been achieved. Apart from in a handful of locations–around Schuler Farm and Tower Hamlets–both Second and Fifth Armies had been able to secure their objectives (including Inverness Copse, Glencorse Wood and large sections of the Wilhelm Line) and, crucially, hold on to them, doing enormous damage to the Eingreif divisions as they did so. It had certainly not been an easy battle, but they were–inexorably and doggedly–inching their way up the high ground. Indeed, General Plumer had seemingly done the impossible: reversed the tactical dilemma that he had faced in late August. This time the further the Eingreif divisions advanced, the more disorganized they became and the stiffer the resistance they faced. Plumer had turned their famed defence-in-depth totally on its head.
‘Menin Road battle. Big British success. The woods carried’, reported The Times on the morning of Friday, 21 September. ‘Great success was achieved by our troops east of Ypres yesterday on an eight-mile front athwart the Ypres–Menin road. Positions of considerable military importance were won, heavy casualties were inflicted on the enemy, and more than 2,000 prisoners were taken.’25 More details emerged over the coming days. On 22 September The Times detailed the number and variety of troops that had taken part: Australians at Glencorse Wood; North Country regiments at Inverness Copse; Scottish and South African units at Vampir and Borry Farms; and West Lancashire Territorials at Iberian Farm. Moreover, it was evident that an important success had been achieved. German prisoners spoke of the ‘overwhelming character of our artillery fire and the brilliance of the infantry advance’ and, according to the ‘special correspondent’, the whole attack was ‘as perfectly prepared as was the brilliant Messines success, which, of all operations in this war, it most closely resembles’.26
Within hours of the battle, staff officers at GHQ were analysing what could be learnt from it. ‘The fighting during the last three days has been more severe than was expected’, wrote Charteris on 23 September. ‘The German methods were precisely as predicted; no attempt to support the front line but well-organized immediate counter-attacks.’ He reckoned that eleven separate counter-attacks had been delivered by German forces opposite Fifth and Second Armies, with all but one being repulsed.27 At Cassel, Second Army quickly produced its own set of comments on the battle. While there was much to be encouraged about–including the pace of the barrage (‘suitable’); the ‘great value’ of laying out tapes and ‘well-prepared tracks’ to guide the infantry; and the use of flares to signal to passing aircraft–Plumer’s Chief of Staff, Tim Harington, also emphasized the need for better training. ‘It becomes more and more evident that greater stress must be laid on training in open warfare to encourage initiative and power of leading in the ranks of Junior N.C.O.s and Privates, which are so necessary when Officers become casualties.’28
Aside from the tactical issues that emerged from the fighting, there was the larger question of whether Plumer’s methods had worked. Was Menin Road an example of how the battle should have been fought since 31 July? Did it prove that Second Army’s ‘step-by-step’ approach was better than Gough’s more ambitious attacks on a wider front? Plumer has certainly received many of the plaudits that have been denied to Gough. Historians have generally viewed his more limited, artillery-heavy, approach as the only viable tactical response to the awful conditions in the Salient.29 Yet doubts have occasionally surfaced. The historians Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson argue that Menin Road was not the unqualified success its proponents have claimed, rather ‘a triumph over adversity’. They suggest that Plumer’s methods secured only limited amounts of ground at too high a price in casualties. At Menin Road 21,000 men were killed or wounded for a gain of just over five square miles (or 3,800 casualties per square mile)–roughly equivalent to what the enemy had lost. When this is compared with the results of 31 July, Menin Road seems curiously expensive. For example, according to Prior and Wilson, Gough’s much maligned opening attack gained eighteen square miles for the loss of about 1,500 casualties per square mile.30 This was less than half what Plumer had sustained on 20 September–so what was going on?
Gough’s defenders have always argued that his main assault on 31 July has never been given the recognition it deserved. According to Gough’s biographer, Fifth Army ‘fought its way forward over ground and defences no less formidable than that on the ridge’, and did so with less artillery and across a wider front.31 Moreover, Gough’s attack held out the possibility of exploitation and breakthrough, whereas Plumer’s modus operandi permitted nothing of the sort. Because Plumer’s objectives were subordinated to what the artillery could cover, there was no pos
sibility that the plan could be amended or diverted, no matter how favourable the situation. Arguing along these lines, Prior and Wilson state that the reason why Plumer’s operations have been perceived as more successful was their context: ‘Gough’s accomplishment on 31 July has been judged, not in terms of a limited advance even though that was all he was attempting, but of the large expectations of a breakthrough to the Belgian coast, which Haig had aroused.’ Plumer’s operations, on the contrary, held ‘no such expectations’. Therefore, Menin Road was hardly the unblemished triumph that Second Army proclaimed it to be.32
Yet there was more to Menin Road than such a cold exercise in statistics. The attack on 31 July may have gained more ground than 20 September, but much of that had been abandoned by the German Army before the attack went in–in line with the theory of defence-in-depth. On the contrary, the battlefield over which Plumer’s men advanced in late September was ground that the German Army very much intended to fight over and could less afford to lose. Furthermore, that repeated attacks by the full weight of Germany’s counter-attack divisions had failed to dent Plumer’s advance was highly disconcerting. Whereas on 31 July British units had been swept back from their foremost gains, this had not happened on 20 September, bringing into sharp focus the effectiveness of German defensive tactics. Indeed, the German reaction to events on the Menin Road was far sharper and more worried than it had been on 31 July. Then Gough’s attack had been greeted with relief and pride in what German regiments, and their defensive tactics, had accomplished. On 20 September, on the contrary, there was no such pleasure, only dark, worried concern.33 Because German commanders, whether they admitted it or not, were scared of General Plumer.