Deborah and the War of the Tanks

by John Taylor

  The media also did their bit, and back at La Lovie the officers of G Battalion had a visit from the correspondent William Beach Thomas, who filed a jubilant account for the newspapers: ‘Yesterday’s operation was practically a trial of strength between our movable landships and the stationary concrete forts, and the latter were hopelessly outmatched … In several of the forts the tank crews found the Germans just about to begin breakfast, and our men sat down and ate the meals gratefully.’13

  After so many setbacks, the tank crews finally had something to celebrate; indeed Major Clough Williams-Ellis, who had played his part as reconnaissance officer of 1st Tank Brigade, implied that this ‘brilliant little exploit’ had helped to assure the future of the Tank Corps.14 But for those involved in the operation, there was a frustrating sense that much more could have been achieved. One of the tank commanders, Second Lieutenant Douglas Browne, felt there had been nothing to stop them taking Vancouver, Springfield and Winnipeg as originally planned. ‘The Germans were then completely surprised, in ignorance of what actually was happening (on account of the very effective smoke barrage), and, for the time being, thoroughly demoralised … The task, however, had been left unfinished.’15 Confirming the low state of German morale, the advancing troops reportedly found a German officer hanged inside one of the captured strongpoints,16 though it was unclear whether he could not stand any more of the bombardment and did away with himself, or whether his men could not stand any more of their officer, and did away with him.

  Either way, there was further promising evidence in a report from Haig’s intelligence chief, Brigadier-General John Charteris, containing comments from a captured member of 125th Infantry Regiment. The prisoner criticized the training of officers, and claimed they sometimes took command after only four weeks’ military training: ‘A large proportion of the present officers are university students and young business men who know little or nothing about methods of warfare. He has known instances of officers receiving orders to have a trench dug or to fortify a position and they have had no idea how to commence the work. The men are very well trained … but they are badly led.’17 Perhaps the prisoner was simply telling his audience what they wanted to hear, and if so there were many who felt the same could be said of Charteris.

  However, the attack showed that the Tank Corps had come up with a winning formula that could be repeated to capture more of the enemy strongholds, including those that were in the original attack plan for 19 August. But this would not be a job for G Battalion, who were now withdrawn to rest and regroup. Instead it was time for the more experienced men of D Battalion – including the crew of D51 – to come out of reserve, since in the words of Second Lieutenant Browne: ‘D Battalion, one of the old originals, as it never failed to remind us by word and behaviour, had not yet been into action at all.’18

  * * *

  Before following their progress it will be instructive to do what they could not, and pick our way across No Man’s Land to see the day’s events from the viewpoint of the German 125th Infantry Regiment, which was holding the line opposite. Whatever the British intelligence reports implied, it was a regiment with a long and proud history which had fought against the French in the Napoleonic Wars and again in 1870, then against the Russians on the Eastern Front in 1914, and then against the British on the Somme and at Arras. The regiment was named in honour of Kaiser Friedrich, King of Prussia, but formed part of the army of Württemberg, the smallest of the four kingdoms whose armies had been united following the creation of a unified German state in 1871.

  The 125th had previously been resting in a number of quiet sectors – one near the French town of Cambrai, where the defences were so impregnable that a peaceful tour of duty was guaranteed – before being plunged into the ‘Flandernschlacht’, or Flanders battle. The men moved into the front line on the night of 17/18 August, and their commanding officer, Oberst (i.e. Colonel) Reinhold Stühmke, immediately realized the rules had changed:

  The very manner in which the regiment had to be deployed here indicated that this was not about trench warfare in the hitherto accepted sense of the word, but rather – for the time being, at least – a continuous battle across open country which could bring many surprises. Behind a thin outpost line (or forward position), small detachments maintained a foothold in order to take the initial impact and repel weaker attacks. Behind them lay the attack companies, and even further back, widely and deeply distributed, the attack battalion. In this haphazard position there was no question of a continuously held line, or a clear parade-ground formation. The forward soldiers were posted in shell-holes, all the rest were swallowed up by folds in the ground or clung to the hedgerows, wherever they thought they could best hide from the eyes of the enemy, also in the busy skies, and thus be exposed as little as possible to the enemy’s artillery fire.19

  The majority of German military records were destroyed in the Second World War, but those from the army of Württemberg have survived and provide a revealing picture of their day-to-day activities. Whereas British War Diaries often give the impression of being scribbled in a dugout with a stub of pencil, their German counterparts – true to stereotype – are detailed, methodical and often neatly typewritten. Each has its volume of appendices containing maps, orders and sketches. Professional and precise, they give no clue that they were written in hell.

  For despite the British perception that their enemies were all safely ensconced in concrete bunkers, the truth was very different. While the pillboxes provided the lynch-pin of the German defences, most of their men were simply huddled in shell-holes with no defence against the devastating power of the British artillery, or the often appalling weather. Even the bunkers themselves were more vulnerable to shelling than is often supposed, and could easily prove a death-trap for the defenders as well as the attackers.

  Little more than a day after the Württembergers had taken over the sector, they faced the first of the surprises that their commanding officer had referred to. Early on 19 August the bombardment increased to fresh intensity, cutting the telephone wires, and at 6 a.m. (i.e. 5 a.m. UK time) the regimental headquarters received a message by flashlight from the front line: ‘Feindlicher Angriff’ (‘Enemy attack’). Further details followed: ‘The enemy has broken through between 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 125th with a tank, of which eight are reported to be on their way.’20

  The obvious assumption was that a full-scale infantry attack would follow, and when this failed to materialize, the Germans could only conclude that it had been stamped out by their artillery fire. The headquarters of 51st Infantry Brigade, which included 125th Infantry Regiment, tried to make sense of events as they unfolded:

  As far as the situation can be assessed from the currently available reports, the enemy planned an advance against 125th Infantry Regiment … during the morning in conjunction with their heavy artillery barrage and the use of tanks. This attack, being identified in good time by our infantry in the foremost line, was nipped in the bud by the requested curtain barrage and annihilating fire. The tanks definitely came forward but the enemy infantry did not follow, probably caught by our artillery fire while assembling, or prevented by it from advancing. From the behaviour of the tanks, it was supposed they were cruising aimlessly round the countryside in expectation that the infantry would follow them.21

  Colonel Baker-Carr would no doubt have been annoyed, or possibly amused, to see the British tactics dismissed in this way.

  As they advanced, the tanks were exposed to fire from a concrete bunker that controlled the crossing of the Langemarck-Zonnebeke and St Julien-Poelcappelle roads. This position was known to the British as Vancouver, and was one of those that had been removed at the last minute from G Battalion’s objectives for the day. The Germans did not normally name their blockhouses, which were simply referred to by the nearest code-number (or ‘red-point’) marked on their trench-maps – in this case, red-point 325.22 However, this one was about to earn a name for itself. The bunker was under
the command of Leutnant Staiger, a company commander in 125th Infantry Regiment. He described events on the morning of 19 August, soon after they had moved in:

  It was high time. Outbreaks of fire barking out over the foremost positions did not bode well. At 6 in the morning [i.e. 5 a.m. UK time] a heavy bombardment, red flares, smoke shells. ‘The enemy are attacking!’ Already cut off by tanks, the foremost outpost line under Leutnant Wender fights its way through to our building. Tanks! We’re a little unfamiliar with them; they’re a new acquaintance. Everything is got ready for the defence, two machine guns under Vizefeldwebel [i.e. company sergeant-major] Auwärter, and two infantry sections. Right! Here they come, creeping up the road, and there they stay; on this occasion the terrain of Flanders is our ally. Now the infantry are coming as well, but our machine guns stop them in their tracks. But the tanks! Two come ever further forward, one behind the other, and so into our flank. A few metres more and they’ll be firing directly in the door. Already a shot from the revolver cannon [i.e. the tank’s 6-pounder gun] whistles past our heads, machine gun bullets smack into the walls. With so few rounds of armour-piercing ammunition we’re relatively defenceless. Hold on, what’s that? One of the tanks is sinking into a large shell-hole. It struggles visibly to get out again. It doesn’t succeed; the other turns tail and heads off. Now it’s easier for us; the attack has been beaten off. We have held onto our building. A minor skirmish goes on between the grey monster and our machine guns. As soon as it opens its peepholes, a few shots go whistling over. As soon as we make a move, they come rattling back. The whole day is spent squabbling like this. Night falls and passes peacefully. We’re ready for anything.23

  From then on, the bunker was known as the ‘Staigerhaus’ in honour of its commander’s staunch defence.

  For anyone familiar with the British accounts and their jubilation over the seizure of various strongholds, the main response to the German war diaries is to wonder if they can be talking about the same battle. There are some references to the British infantry working their way forward, and a map shows the enemy front line now incorporating red-point 320 (in other words, the Cockcroft), but there is no mention of the loss of any key positions, and no sense of suppressed catastrophe. In fact, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that the captured ground was simply not that important to the Germans. This was consistent with their doctrine of flexible defence, under which the forward outposts were thinly manned and not intended to be held at all costs. Of course, they could still cause heavy losses to the attackers, so it remained a major achievement for the British to have taken them with so few casualties.

  Overall, the Germans felt the day had gone well. A bulletin was issued by 26th Infantry Division, to which all the units belonged: ‘The enemy did not achieve any success. The division is fully in possession of the positions it held this morning. Strong enemy infantry, who were ready to attack 125th Infantry Regiment between the Steenbeek and the Langemark-Zonnebeke road at midday, were caught by our frontal and flanking annihilation fire. They did not attack. Only weak elements of the enemy are to be found east of the Langemarck-Zonnebeke road. Red-point 325 is in our hands.’24

  Despite this, it was clear the defenders were coming under increasing pressure – but from the British artillery, rather than infantry or tanks. In total the 125th lost twenty officers and men killed, ninety wounded and one missing during the day, which they considered heavy casualties.25 Needless to say there is no mention of any officers hanging themselves, or being hanged.

  The next day, however, following further relentless bombardment, 51st Infantry Brigade made a significant comment which partly bears out the British intelligence reports: ‘Heavy losses were incurred again today by the fighting battalions. The sustained enemy fire and high casualties are having a demoralising effect on the troops. In many places sections of men had to move around, hunted by enemy artillery fire, to seek shelter in shell craters in the less badly bombarded areas.’26 Above all, the Germans were under no illusions that they had only won a temporary reprieve, and 26th Division’s orders stated that ‘a continuation of the enemy attacks is to be expected in the near future.’27

  As they waited for the next throw of the dice, both sides could draw some encouragement from the events of 19 August. The British concluded that tanks could outflank and overpower the German strongpoints, enabling the infantry to occupy them with little loss of life. The Germans concluded that tanks were being used to compensate for the weakness of the infantry, and the concrete blockhouses could defy them if their defenders were determined enough, especially as the terrain was so obviously unsuitable for tanks. The time had come for D Battalion, including the crew of D51, to prove that the British interpretation was the correct one.

  CHAPTER 9

  Crossing the Canal

  On the same day that G Battalion’s tanks were apparently sweeping all before them, Second Lieutenant George Macdonald and his crew climbed aboard D51 and steered their way slowly out of Oosthoek Wood to begin the next phase of the attack.1 It was the first time D Battalion had gone into action for more than three months, the first time they had used the latest Mark IV tanks, and their first excursion into the dreaded Ypres Salient. For George, it would also be the first time he had come face-to-face with the enemy in any battle, let alone one in which he was commanding a tank.

  Furthermore, it was the first attack since Lieutenant-Colonel William Kyngdon had taken over as commander of D Battalion in May, so all in all a great deal was riding on the result. It comes as no surprise that for such a high-profile operation, of the three companies that made up his battalion he selected No. 12, which was led by his most experienced and aggressive commander. Major Robert Ward was often referred to by his initials R.O.C., which provided an appropriate acronym for this glamorous prewar star of the rugby field and boxing ring, whose military career had been even more daring, though so far less successful, than his sporting one.

  One of his section commanders, Captain Edward Glanville Smith, described the first stage of their journey to the front: ‘About three weeks after the original attack of July 31st it was learnt that 12 Company were to do the first “show” and in the afternoon of the 19th three fighting sections … moved out of Oosthoek Wood for the first stage of the journey forward … The four-and-a-half miles to Murat Farm, via Brielen, over beaten paths, were covered at an easy pace, and the company arrived and camouflaged up at dusk. Murat was a farm in name only, but had once existed 500 yards west of the Yser Canal; it afforded no cover to the crews, who consequently passed the night under tarpaulins.’2 The men of G Battalion had passed through Murat Farm a few days before, and Second Lieutenant Douglas Browne found it similarly uncongenial: ‘I never saw any vestige of a farm at this place; but there was a row of tall splintered trees hung with camouflage netting, a few muddy enclosures bounded by overgrown hedgerows, and the usual squalid dug-outs and elephant-iron shelters.’3

  Late the next evening, the fateful moment came when the convoy of twelve tanks reached what Captain Smith called a ‘shaky wooden bridge’ over the Yser Canal.4 This was the Brielen Bridge, its superstructure supported on two sunken barges, which provided one of several makeshift crossings that were maintained by the Royal Engineers under persistent shellfire, and for which they paid a heavy toll. As the tank crews coaxed their massive vehicles across the creaking causeway, the dark waters of the canal below them and the dark skies of the Salient before them, it must have been hard not to wonder how many of them would return.

  The slow pace of the journey reflected the challenges of moving their unwieldy machines along slippery, shell-scarred roadways that were also crammed with troops, mule trains and horse-drawn guns. Captain Smith noted that ‘a further two-and-a-half miles via Buffs Road brought the company at dusk to Bellevue, one-and-a-half miles behind the line. Bellevue Farm consisted of a straggly one-time hedge and a pond, and the tanks were camouflaged in the best possible manner, left in charge of a guard, and the crews withdrawn to Murat.�
�5 Again, Second Lieutenant Browne recorded his impressions:

  I do not know the cynic who named the spot Bellevue, but no doubt he had his reasons. It was the site, apparently of a small farm – a building, at least, was marked on the map, although long since invisible to the naked eye; and it was happily situated in the original No Man’s Land, close to the German front line, the remains of whose first trench … bounded this desirable property to the east. For the rest, there was a square of bedraggled hedge, entirely imaginary in places, behind parts of which the tanks, like so many ostriches, believed themselves to be concealed: the usual ground surface of mud, wire, and shell-holes; and in one corner a patch of unmitigated bog where a pond had been.6

  After the crews had left their tanks and made their way back to Murat Farm, they received their orders for the coming operation.

  Their objectives were a series of strongpoints strung out along the Langemarck-Zonnebeke road east of St Julien, immediately to the right of the group that had been seized with such éclat by G Battalion the day before. Other attacks would be conducted at the same time along a longer stretch of the British line, with the tanks of F Battalion attacking to the right of D, and those of C Battalion to their right again. The purpose in each case was to roll up any German outposts that might hinder the next stage of the British advance; or as the Official History put it, ‘local attacks were to be made on the 22nd to establish a starting-line for the 25th’.7