Deborah and the War of the Tanks

by John Taylor

  At precisely 6.30 a.m. [i.e. 5.30 a.m. UK time], artillery fire began on the foremost enemy position, and exactly three minutes later dropped back onto the enemy front line. It was perfectly positioned, and at the same moment – I was holding a watch and compass with luminous hands … – I fired a flare as a signal for the infantry to attack and for the pioneers to blow their charges [i.e. to clear a way through the barbed wire] … We threw some hand-grenades, and with cheers we broke into the English trenches … With the flashlights we had brought with us, we found the enemy sentries at their posts flattened against the sandbagged walls of the trench … Meanwhile the trench was searched, and with the first light of dawn breaking, I gave the order to withdraw.7

  Fähnrich Carstens and his team also rushed forward on the signal:

  In a few bounds we were in the trench, right where an English double sentry-post stood. But instead of firing, both Tommies tried to escape to the left. That was a bad move, because in the meantime, the assault team from No. 8 Company had entered the trench there, so we had them in a trap. The other assault groups had also collared a few Tommies, and we then headed back on the signal from our leader. At the outpost our esteemed battalion commander, Hauptmann Soltau, was already waiting to congratulate us on our success. The raid had been worthwhile, we had brought six prisoners including a trainee officer and a lanky corporal … We were all delighted to have shown the Tommies that German soldiers would not let themselves be provoked with impunity, but still had the old fighting spirit in them, which our enemies have so often learned to fear.8

  For the Germans, the raid was a triumph of co-ordination and courage, but for the British it was no more than a minor setback. The War Diary of 1st Bn Royal Irish Fusiliers gave a brief summary: ‘At 5-30 a.m. the enemy, after a night in which persistent efforts had been made to cut our wire round “E” Sap, succeeded in rushing 1 post. 6 of our men are missing. The enemy’s previous attempts had been driven off by our bombers but on this occasion he put down a box barrage of trench mortars etc. and succeeded in entering the Sap under cover of the noise and rushing the right hand post.’9

  The incident confirmed the wisdom of leaving a human screen in place to stop the enemy discovering that fresh divisions were moving into position. It was true that some men had been captured, but they knew very little about the forthcoming operation, and the secret should be safe as long as they kept their heads, and kept their mouths shut. Sir Douglas Haig himself was concerned until he received reassurance from the commander of Third Army: ‘General Byng states that the prisoners taken by the enemy did not know of our intended operations. I was very anxious lest they might have given away information of these plans.’10

  But when the Germans began interrogating the prisoners at their divisional headquarters in Cambrai, they could hardly believe what they heard.

  * * *

  For the men of D Battalion, 18 November was the day when they would finally learn the full details of the coming attack. The broad pattern of the operation was known by now, and they had already been given maps and aerial photographs, but the time had come for Frank Heap and his driver to get their first sight of the actual terrain, guided by ‘Contours’ – the company’s reconnaissance officer (or R.O.), Second Lieutenant Horace Furminger. After a long approach walk along communication trenches, the tank commanders and drivers of No. 12 Company eventually reached the reserve line where troops were peacefully brewing tea, and after that they were in for a shock. All too often, the front line consisted of a muddy ditch manned by a few sentries, but as Second Lieutenant Macintosh described, this was something else:

  Instead, they came into a perfect example of the traversed trench, revetted and duck-boarded, with neat shelters and bomb-stores all carefully labelled, furnished with a broad and convenient fire-step and inhabited by a number of imperturbable and immaculate Jocks, who greeted them with polite smiles and went on cleaning their rifles.

  The visitors were by this time filled with amazed hilarity. But more was to come. The R.O. wished to show them the lie of the country. Instead of cautiously erecting a periscope and offering each in turn a peep he climbed on the fire-step, unconcernedly popped his head above the parapet, and invited them to come and have a look. Picture the scene, ye who have known front lines which were unsafe on hands and knees – two bays full of young officers, each with a map, gazing cheerfully across direct into the Boche line!11

  They stared out over a No Man’s Land that was around 1,200 yards wide, though with various saps running into it from both sides, and almost completely unmarked by shellfire. No. 11 Company was carrying out a similar reconnaissance, and Second Lieutenant Horace Birks described the prospect before them: ‘It was possible to see that the going was firm and unbroken, carpeted with long dank grass which had been uncut for years. The outline of the Hindenburg line could just be seen here and there, but it was mostly invisible, being skilfully placed just behind the reverse side of a gentle ridge, its position defined by a most monstrous belt of wire unbelievably deep which ran across the whole front like a rusty grey river.’12

  Beyond the concealed front line, the ground dipped further down to a valley lined by trees, of which only the tops were visible. This was the Grand Ravine, and its name was enough to trigger a surge of anxiety, since it would have to be crossed before they could approach their final objective. Maps and aerial photographs suggested that despite its name, it was nothing more than a narrow stream in the bed of an open valley, but they still had to prepare for any eventuality – no doubt recalling that the Steenbeek at St Julien looked just as innocuous on the map, but had been blasted into an impenetrable swamp. Major Clough Williams-Ellis commented that some people ‘apparently coupled it in their minds with the Grand Cañon of Colorado’,13 while Brigadier-General Hugh Elles recalled: ‘We spent many weeks trying to find out exactly how wide this imposingly named trench was and we never got reliable information.’14 The infantry were also much exercised about the possible problems, and one officer recalled ‘the rumours of planks and ladders that were to be carried to bridge the ravine, and of ropes to pull men through the water!’15 Even if it did not turn out to be as much of a physical obstacle as they feared, it seemed likely the Germans would put up fierce resistance here, and if the valley was as broad and open as it looked, it could easily turn into a killing-field.

  Beyond the unknown gulf of the Grand Ravine, the ground rose to a well-defined ridge on which stood the village of Flesquières, screened by woodland, with the trenches of the support system visible on the slopes in front of it. This would be the final objective for D Battalion, and in particular for Deborah and the other tanks of No. 12 Company. The surviving tanks of the first wave would also join in the second phase of the attack, though Second Lieutenant Birks of No. 11 Company commented: ‘It was strange how little attention was directed to this feature.’16

  All in all, the visit to the front line had given a further boost to their confidence, according to Macintosh: ‘The condition of the ground was all that could be desired; landmarks were plentiful; trenches might be wide, but were not impassable; and it was with a very definite and justifiable optimism that [No. 12] Company looked forward to the day so nearly approaching.’17 They might have been less confident if they had known that all this activity had attracted the attention of the enemy. Hauptmann Otto Fürsen, commander of 3rd Battalion, 84th Infantry Regiment, told how ‘on the afternoon of 17 November, which was bright and sunny for a few hours, my adjutant … and I watched through periscope binoculars as two English officers from a sap held a map spread out on the edge of their trench, while one or the other apparently reconnoitred our position.’18 It looked as if the British were planning something, but there was no clue what it might be.

  * * *

  On the evening of 18 November, after ‘a hearty meal’,19 it was time for Major R.O.C. Ward to issue his orders, and the full details of the attack were finally revealed to Frank Heap and his brother officers. It was less than three
weeks since they had left the Salient, and in that time they had been briefed about certain aspects of the operation, viewed the ground they were to attack, and heard innumerable rumours, so it was with a sense of relief that they finally learned the full picture. By this time their expectations were sky-high, and they were not to be disappointed, for it was no exaggeration to say this was a battle in which the Tank Corps would either make history, or become history.

  The major’s orders began with an overview: ‘The general plan of operations is to break through the enemy’s Hindenburg Line between Gonnelieu and Havrincourt on a front of two Corps with the assistance of tanks, and to open a way through his defensive system by which cavalry can pass to exploit the success gained by the infantry.’20

  The Hindenburg Line was the British name for one of the most formidable defensive positions on the entire Western Front, known as the ‘Siegfriedstellung’ to the Germans who had prepared it far in the rear while the Battle of the Somme was raging to the west. It had therefore been designed and constructed away from the eyes of the enemy, and the Germans were able to build an extensive network of trenches and bunkers, protected by a barricade of barbed wire and occupying the best possible ground from a strategic point of view. In spring 1917 they had abandoned the former Somme battlefield and withdrawn to this new position, freeing up thousands of men by reducing the length of their front line, and leaving the British to advance across a region devastated by a ruthless scorched-earth policy.

  There had been various Allied proposals for attacking this seemingly impregnable position, and the idea was taken up by senior officers of the Tank Corps as a more fruitful alternative to the doomed offensive in the Salient, following their meeting in August 1917 to discuss the ‘advisability from a tank point of view of switching off the present operations and initiating a tank attack on some other part of the line’.21

  Despite the strength of the enemy’s trench system, they realized it could be vulnerable to an entirely new form of attack, occupying as it did well-drained downland which would be perfect tank country as long as it was not churned up by a long preparatory bombardment. The line was relatively thinly manned since the Germans were confident of their engineering skills, and knew the barbed wire would take days to blast aside by artillery fire, giving them plenty of time to bring up reserves at the slightest hint of a threat. The operation would therefore rely on secrecy, with tanks suddenly emerging from hiding to crush a way through the wire for the infantry and cavalry, while the artillery would launch a hurricane bombardment using guns that had not been registered in advance – in other words, they had not fired the usual ranging shots and observed where they fell, in order to ensure the guns were on target. This was also a major innovation which was only made possible thanks to major technical advances in ranging techniques, and to extraordinarily detailed planning.

  Using these methods, the aim was to break through the German positions along a six-mile front between two canals – the St Quentin Canal to the east, and the Canal du Nord to the west. Once this first phase was complete, the cavalry would advance through the gap to seize the high ground of Bourlon Wood, which dominated the area under attack and therefore had to be taken on the very first day. As soon as the bridges over the St Quentin Canal had been captured, other cavalry units would flood across them to encircle the town of Cambrai – an important German railhead and communication centre. They would then wheel round in a great sweeping manoeuvre to seize the crossings over the Sensée River to the north, preventing the Germans from bringing up reinforcements. This would leave a substantial area ringed by various waterways, within which the enemy’s forces would be caught and crushed by the British advance.

  The implications of all this were summarized in the orders from 1st Tank Brigade: ‘The first phase of the operations is dependent on surprise, so that the enemy may have had no warning to strengthen his garrison and to bring up extra artillery. The measure of further success is entirely dependent on the speed with which the operation is carried out. The Bourlon position will be seized as rapidly as possible and advanced guards of all arms will be pushed forward for this purpose. It is very important that it should be captured the first day.’22

  The tanks of D and E Battalions would be involved in the first phase of the operation only, with the first wave advancing as far as the so-called Blue Line which ran along the valley known as the Grand Ravine, and the second wave passing through the village of Flesquières to the Brown Line beyond. To their left, the first wave tanks of G Battalion would take the village of Havrincourt and then pass to the west of Flesquières, moving much further ahead to take the crossings on the Canal du Nord and the distant village of Graincourt. For this purpose their normal strength was supplemented by sixteen tanks attached from D and E Battalions.23

  Major Ward’s orders explained all this and covered the details of objectives, approach routes, boundaries, location of headquarters, and the timetable for the barrage. This was the first battle in which sections of tanks would operate as fighting units, so the section commanders also issued their own orders. This meant Captain Graeme Nixon was able to brief the crews of the three tanks under his command, namely D49 Dollar Princess under Second Lieutenant John McNiven, D50 Dandy Dinmont under Lieutenant Hugo Armitage, and D51 Deborah.24 As the only male tank, D50 would play a crucial role in tackling any bunkers and other strongpoints once they reached their objective in the village of Flesquières.

  We can get a sense of what he might have said from a surviving set of orders, jotted in pencil on pages torn from a field notebook, that were issued by Captain David Morris of No. 11 Company. Since his tanks were in the first wave, the orders are mostly concerned with how they would drop their fascines and work together to cross the front-line trench system. There was a disturbing vagueness about what would come next: ‘After this, operations will be more or less “into the blue” & all tanks will follow me & support me in flag tank.’ The one place that was likely to cause trouble was the Grand Ravine: ‘Big opposition expected … Rush it with one “line abreast” & fight it hard.’ After this the tanks of the second wave would take the lead: ‘On reaching final objective … we will be relieved by fresh tanks of No 12 Company. Survivors will be prepared to accompany me to further action immediately.’25

  The orders include a rallying-cry to his men: ‘I leave the good name of the section in your hands … – do as usual & I will “thank you”. Good luck to all ranks. Remember we must take Flesquiere [sic].’26

  Finally, he threw down a challenge, referring to the fact that the Tank Corps commander, Brigadier-General Hugh Elles, was personally leading the attack inside one of H Battalion’s tanks away to their right: ‘General Ellis [sic] goes over with the 1st wave i.e. with us. Race him.’27

  Frank Heap and the other commanders now had time to digest these various instructions. In Tosh’s words: ‘There was very little comment on the orders. The major’s operation orders were masterpieces of their kind, and left nothing to be explained. Each tank commander took his map and his aeroplane-photographs, retired to his bivvy, and set about making himself perfectly sure of what he had to do. Then, with hearts beating high with hope and excitement, they lay down to enjoy what might well be their last sleep for some time.’28

  CHAPTER 23

  ‘Things Fall Apart’1

  The Germans had also been busy since the trench raid in which they had captured six members of the Royal Irish Fusiliers. On 19 November, the intelligence officer of Second Army High Command completed his report on their interrogation, a copy of which has recently come to light in German archives. The revelations in it came as a bombshell:

  Among the troops there is general talk of a forthcoming attack which should provide better positions for the winter, and they also say Havrincourt is to be taken … In the past week a number of officers have been seen in the lines from different arms of the service, including artillery and engineer officers, who inspected the trenches and the ground in front. All the p
risoners stated unanimously that large quantities of ammunition and engineering supplies had recently been stockpiled in Havrincourt Wood, and that new gun-pits were also being dug. The artillery in the sector is being greatly increased. One prisoner has personally seen newly arrived heavy guns in Metz-en-Couture. Furthermore, a stationary camouflaged tank was seen in Metz-en-Couture; two more tanks in Havrincourt Wood. One of the prisoners says the attack has been fixed for early on the 20th. Artillery fire will start at 2 a.m. and the infantry attack will take place at dawn.2

  The prisoners also told their captors that fresh troops were in the area, including the elite 51st (Highland) Division:

  The anticipated attack will not be carried out by the 36th Division, but rather by the 51st Division. For this purpose, the relief should already have been under way on 17 November. This information was confirmed by a statement from one of the prisoners, who went back from the saphead to the front line to collect water on the evening of 17 November and found the 1st Royal Irish Fusiliers had already been relieved; by whom, he could not find out in the dark. Before the 1st RIF went into the line on 13 November, the prisoners saw pioneers from 51st Division (8th Royal Scots) in Metz-en-Couture, as well as various men from other battalions of 51st Division (Gordon Highlanders, Seaforth Highlanders and Royal Highlanders) … Besides the Highlanders referred to above, on 17 November one of the prisoners saw officers and NCOs from a West Yorkshire battalion getting their bearings in the front line.3

  The intelligence officer correctly surmised these were from 62nd Division, and were also probably involved in the attack.

  It was fortunate for the British that the prisoners had no idea of the full scale of the offensive – and were unaware that instead of the three tanks they had seen, it would involve more than a hundred times as many. But they had still given away crucial information, and the Germans now began their own frenzied preparations to foil the enemy’s plans.