by John Taylor
Soon yet another machine became stuck fast, and Lieutenant Gerald Edwards had to take desperate measures to avoid the same fate in his wire-crushing tank D34 Diallance: ‘I just missed being ditched too, in a dug out. Had to use a dead Jock under the right track to get a purchase on the ground to swing.’19 The attack was too important to fail, and by helping another tank to get across, the dead man had increased his comrades’ chances of survival, in keeping with the motto of the 51st Division: ‘Là á Bhlàir’s math na Càirdean’, or in English, ‘Friends are good on the day of battle’.
To the right, the tanks of E Battalion were also tackling the ‘truly formidable obstacle’ of the Hindenburg line, leading to ‘a few exciting moments’ for Second Lieutenant Fred Dawson in E45 Elles II. ‘First, poised over the deep and wide excavation; then, releasing the fascine – would it drop all right? – we saw it lumber beautifully into the bottom. But could we get over? One can imagine our doubts, as we had witnessed a few ghastly failures at Wailly. Anyhow, down we dropped and up, up, up – no one thought of the “balance point” – until at last we crashed upon the other side, splitting open my section commander’s head, and petrol cans, oil cans and ammunition boxes scattered all over the place.’20
This accident meant the battle was over before it had begun for his section commander, Captain Ernest Gregory. The wound was a ‘Blighty one’, although the medical board that examined him heard a different version of events, and recorded that he was ‘hit by fragments of shell causing superficial gutter wounds … followed by unconsciousness for a short time’.21 Officers could claim a gratuity if they were wounded in action, and surely none of us would begrudge him this payment, even if the cause was not exactly as stated.
E Battalion faced an even more tragic setback when one of their machines suffered a direct hit almost on the start-line – a specially cruel stroke of fate considering the feebleness of the German counter-barrage. A note in the logbook of E27 Ella states: ‘Tank blown up, direct hit on cab, not more than 5 minutes after the show commenced.’ The commander, Second Lieutenant William Stobo Haining and his driver, Gunner Leslie Halkes Wray, were killed, and the rest of the crew wounded.22 In one of his poems, Gunner Wray had contemplated death in terms reminiscent of Rupert Brooke: ‘If I should fall grieve not that one so weak and poor as I should die … Think only this; … He died for England’s sake.’ His fellow crewmen wrote to his parents expressing their grief, but did not lose sight of the practicalities on which their own lives depended: ‘We are very sorry to have lost such a faithful friend … We cannot speak too highly of his good nature and the way he kept his engine.’23 No tank driver could wish for a finer epitaph.
* * *
One British officer later wrote: ‘How often one has wondered what were the thoughts of the immediate enemy at precisely 6.21 on the morning of the 20th November, 1917!’24 Fortunately some did record their impressions, among them Leutnant Adolf Mestwarb of No. 7 Company, 84th Infantry Regiment, which found itself directly in the path of D Battalion’s tanks:
During the night of 19–20 November the English artillery remained relatively quiet, even towards morning it was remarkably silent – the calm before the storm! I stayed in the outpost line for almost the entire night, sending out patrols to insure against any surprises, but there was nothing unusual to be seen. When dawn broke I decided it was time to fortify myself with a bite of breakfast, and for that purpose I went back to the sentry post into the dugout. But hardly had I got things ready when the storm broke. Soon after 7 a.m. [i.e. 6 a.m. UK time] English drum-fire erupted at once along the whole of our front line. I jumped up, grabbed the flare pistol, filled my pockets with red and green cartridges, and dashed back up above. There I immediately realized the barrage was falling on the front-line trenches behind us, which were presently engulfed in smoke and flames. The sentries in front instinctively pulled back to the outpost, whose defensive positions were manned in the meantime. Meanwhile we kept a sharp lookout.
The sentry beside me suddenly noticed something extraordinary; his words were: ‘Sir, something square is coming.’ I took a close look and realized straight away that it was a tank, which really did have a square appearance because of the gigantic bundle [i.e. fascine] lying on top of it. Now, we were all ready for one or two tanks – we had no idea about a large number of them – and immediately opened fire, but unfortunately without making the slightest impression on the brute. It moved further forward, firing as it went, then veered to the left to make room for those behind, which were now appearing one after another from behind the corner of the wood in front of us. What a splendid target that corner would have made for our artillery! But they did nothing to make themselves known, not a single shot fell. I sent up flares as soon as the first tanks appeared. All the cartridges I had I fired off, but nothing happened. Runners were sent to the battalion – the telephone was destroyed right at the start – but we heard nothing from them, so we were now completely cut off.
Meanwhile the tanks came rapidly further forward, across the trenches away to the left and right, firing all the time. Some stayed in place to cover the trenches, some went further across the second line [known as K2]. What could we do? The fact that we were completely powerless to stand up to these monsters, and the silence of our artillery had a depressing effect. In addition, numerous aircraft flew low over the trenches and vigorously poured down fire. This was no longer a battle, it was a one-sided massacre. Leutnant Mory [the company commander] had completely lost his head right at the start, when he was told about the tanks, but something had to be done. I ordered the neighbouring outpost by runner to pull back to the front line as well, taking everyone who could still go with them. The communication trench was under fire from both sides, and you could only negotiate it bent double, and had to run along in this way under a hail of bullets. That was a dreadful scramble, and we didn’t bring many men with us.25
They reached the front-line trench to find it had already been evacuated, so headed straight for the second line where they found the men of No. 6 Company were already pulling back, led by their commander Leutnant Adolf Saucke. The survivors of No. 7 Company went with them, led by Leutnant Herbert Mory, but Leutnant Mestwarb was exhausted and stopped for a rest, only to find his escape route cut off by tanks: ‘Our fate was sealed. Shortly afterwards masses of English [sic – they were actually Scottish] appeared from all sides and harassed us with hand grenades. Badly wounded by two splinters, I was unable to fight on and was taken prisoner … That was the end of No. 7 Company, with which I had stuck through so many fierce battles with hardly a break from the Vosges on to Champagne, Russia, Verdun and Flanders. It was grim!’26
* * *
Although a number of D Battalion tanks were ditched, they had still enabled the infantry to get through the wall of wire into the enemy’s trenches. Working with them on the left were 5th Bn Gordon Highlanders, who described what happened: ‘On reaching the Hindenburg Line, it proved to be so wide and deep that very few tanks succeeded in crossing it and at least three were completely ditched. Their presence was, however, sufficient to enable the front wave to capture the trench, which contained two machine guns.’27
Once the Gordons had broken into the front line the enemy were powerless to resist the Highlanders, as described by their battalion commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Maxwell McTaggart:
With a yell of excitement our infantry were in the trench pursuing them down the track as hard as they could, inflicting terrible losses on them with bayonet, bullet and bomb. On close examination this front trench of the Hindenburg line was seen to be a wonderful piece of workmanship. Fully ten feet deep, and twelve to fifteen feet wide, it was indeed a serious obstacle for any tank to cross, and a great many were temporarily ditched. But they had effected their principal task. They had enabled the infantry to set foot in the German trench system, and if no tank was available to crush the wire above the ground, the men could get under the wire by running down the communication trenches.28
With only one tank still supporting them, the attack by 5th Bn Gordon Highlanders hung in the balance, but their report boasted how ‘the situation was tackled with great dash and determination’ as the infantry swarmed through the trench system, hurling phosphorus bombs into the deep dug-outs and killing or capturing anyone they encountered.29 The accounts do not mention it, but this fearsome onslaught would have been accompanied by the skirl of bagpipes.
As they rushed through the first and second line trenches, they soon came upon a deep sunken road running at right angles to the main trench system and down towards the Grand Ravine. The Germans called this the Stollenweg, or ‘Bunker Way’, and it formed the heart of their defences in this sector. Its elaborate dug-outs housed the headquarters of the 2nd Battalion, 84th Infantry Regiment, and as the defenders were driven back, they now prepared to mount a last desperate stand.
CHAPTER 26
Till the Last Man
The hurricane bombardment had left the officers of 2nd Battalion, 84th Infantry Regiment, in no doubt that a full-scale attack was under way. Leutnant Johannes Langfeldt, who had spent the previous evening relaxing over a glass of wine in the Stollenweg, was now confronted there by a ‘breathless and rather panicky’ Leutnant Herbert Mory, who told how almost his entire company had been captured, and talked of ‘a vast number of tanks’. It was a rude awakening for Leutnant Langfeldt, who did not think an attack was possible: ‘I still recall how the scales fell from my eyes when I heard the word “tanks”.’1 Leutnant Adolf Saucke, commander of No. 6 Company, described Leutnant Mory as ‘slightly wounded, completely out of breath and psychologically shattered’, while even the battalion commander Hauptmann Harro Soltau was ‘highly agitated’ and could not take in that they had vacated the front line, and were not even in a position to hold the second. ‘He ordered K2 [the second line] to be held, whatever the cost.’2
By now more and more men were flooding back into the Stollenweg, as described by Leutnant Langfeldt: ‘First of all, disorganized parties who had lost their heads and were in headlong flight surged back along the sunken road. We had to use all the power we could summon to bring the men to reason and make them stop. The personal example of Hauptmann Soltau had a further effect on the majority and brought them to their senses.’ A few slipped away across the Grand Ravine, but members of four companies were soon gathered in the Stollenweg until it was ‘crammed full’.3
Unable to make contact with the headquarters of 84th Infantry Regiment, Hauptmann Soltau called together his officers, who recommended withdrawing until they had artillery support and could mount a counter-attack. Instead, his response showed he was still haunted by events at Fort Douaumont, and this was to seal their fate: ‘A Prussian officer does not retreat.’4
Although they were cut off, a runner did get through to Flesquières with a message from Hauptmann Soltau, and this suggested the drama had reached its final act: ‘We are keeping K2 [i.e. the support trench] so far still manned. K3 [i.e. the third-line trench] will be held under all circumstances. Tanks level with us and beyond. Six to eight tanks advancing on K1 North. Artillery must fire on K1 and K2. Reinforcements to the Stollenweg immediately. We will hold on till the last man.’5 Soon afterwards another message reached Flesquières: ‘Am holding on with brave members of my battalion. On both sides of the Stollenweg … Artillery are not firing at the numerous tanks. Support – bring guns up to Flesquières.’6 With that, the curtain fell.
The Stollenweg was now under sustained attack from tanks which patrolled the rim, pouring down fire on the defenders as the number of dead and wounded rose. Leutnant Saucke was standing with Unteroffizier (i.e. Corporal) Hans Glindemann when a shell splinter ripped open the NCO’s arm from wrist to elbow. Saucke told how ‘blood shot from the torn artery and my tunic was soaked in an instant. I managed to bind Glindemann’s upper arm with a tourniquet, while he remained astonishingly calm.’ As the losses mounted it was obvious that, in Saucke’s words, ‘the game was up’. Even Hauptmann Soltau had become strangely quiet: ‘There was a peculiar expression in his eyes, as if he knew death was close at hand.’7
Despite his determination to stand firm, Hauptmann Soltau now joined the survivors as they dashed back towards a narrow trench called the Kabelgraben (known to the British as Chapel Alley), which was their only hope of getting back to Flesquières. In the words of Leutnant Saucke:
We have hardly gone back a hundred metres when we bump into some Englishmen [sic] at a bend in the trench, who are coming down the trench towards us. The escape route is now completely blocked. Hauptmann Soltau leaps out of the trench, the leading NCO behind him. A couple of machine guns open up. The next moment the NCO falls back into the trench, bleeding from an arm wound, with the cry: ‘Hauptmann Soltau has fallen!’ I watch as our adjutant, Leutnant Elson, neatly dressed with black breeches and gleaming boots, half-raises himself out of the trench. I see a sudden blow strike his body. A shot through the heart has brought him a fine soldier’s death. His body blocks the trench … I myself peer cautiously over the rim of the trench. Half-left from me, no more than fifty metres away, stand two tanks. To their right in the sunken road are around a dozen of our men, disarmed. Quite automatically I raise my rifle and fire two or three shots. My lead finds its lodging in one of the short-skirted men.8
His shots were almost the last act of resistance by 2nd Battalion, and it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Hauptmann Soltau would have done better to order withdrawal when his officers suggested, rather than waiting until it was too late. But he had met a proud end, and at least he was spared the ignominy of capture, unlike many of his men. Years later Leutnant Saucke was still seething with anger:
A young Scotsman fell on me, with his first grasp he tore the Iron Cross from my chest, and with his second ripped open my tunic to remove my watch with a satisfied smirk. The bandit didn’t find much more on me. I had already thrown my Browning, map-case, binoculars, and little double-edged dagger into a muddy shell-hole. My wallet, which was thrust into my hip pocket, evaded the scoundrel, and the fact that I was wearing gloves saved my gold-coloured ring, the gift of a fellow student from Heidelberg. All my comrades had the same experience. They were plundered one after another using every trick in the book. Even wedding-rings were taken from the married men. Everything came under the heading of ‘souvenirs’, or military mementoes, whereby English officers later sought to excuse the outrageous conduct of their men.
I must also here relate the sad fate of Leutnant Hinkeldeyn of 2nd Machine Gun Company, who lost his young life through an act of barbarism which mocks all humanity. Hinkeldeyn had already been taken prisoner and was standing there unarmed. An Englishman snatched his wallet, at which a photo or letter fell to the ground. When Hinkeldeyn grabbed for it, the Englishman took a step back, raised his rifle with arms braced, placed it on Hinkeldeyn’s chest and pulled the trigger. A dastardly, cowardly murder which alas, like so many English outrages, will surely never be atoned.9
Sadly there were other similar stories that day. Leutnant Carl Beuck awaited the enemy’s arrival squeezed into the narrow entrance of a dugout near the Stollenweg with two Vizefeldwebel (i.e. company sergeant-majors), Frahm and Jacobsen, their weapons leaning against the trench wall beside them.
Not a minute has passed before a lanky Canadian [sic] appears on the opposite lip of the sunken road, perhaps eight to ten metres away. When he sees the three Germans he put his rifle to his cheek, aims and fires. With a scream, Frahm falls backwards. My left arm supports him; he has been shot in the middle of the chest. The ‘hero’ raises his rifle towards us a second time and again his shot finds its mark: Jacobsen’s right arm is shattered, he is seared with dreadful pain. When will my turn come? Calmly the foe raises his rifle a third time and takes aim. I wait for his shot, my left arm still supporting one wounded comrade and my right arm the other; all three of us, standing upright, are staring the enemy in the eye. Then he lets his rifle drop, reaches his arm out towards us, and says ‘
Come on!’10
Leutnant Beuck was spared, but everything he had of value was taken, and Vizefeldwebel August Jacobsen later had his arm amputated in captivity. Another company commander said the behaviour of their captors was not ‘“gentlemanlike”, as the English liked to put it’, and also told of a man who was shot after being disarmed, while everyone was robbed of their valuables: ‘My own shoulder-straps were cut off by an English officer, in whose presence an NCO took my watch.’11 One soldier recorded the English phrases he picked up during his capture: ‘Come on, Gerry!’, ‘Straight on, this way’, and ‘fokking watch’ [sic].12
The trench mortar officer of 2nd Battalion, Leutnant Claus Rickert, said they thought ‘souvenir’ must be the enemy’s battle-cry because the soldiers were shouting it as they took them prisoner, and asked: ‘Were these soldiers or robbers before us?’ To make matters worse, he was nearly bayoneted by a Scotsman ‘who stank of schnapps’, until his fellow captives convinced him that Rickert was responsible for mortars rather than machine guns. While being escorted back they were fired at by another soldier who was lying in wait behind a tank fascine, resulting in a set-to between the two groups of British. During this the prisoners were plundered again, while ‘the officers calmly watched the looting’.13
Not surprisingly, there are few British accounts of prisoners being killed, though Captain Evan Charteris heard from two colleagues in the Tank Corps, one of whom saw ‘a number of Germans being shot by our men after they had given sufficient indication of their inability to resist any further’. Another officer ‘told me that he had seen a Tommy drive a pick through the head of a German as he emerged from a dug-out, and that when he had criticised this as a rather cold-blooded proceeding, the Tommy said: “This morning when I was taking in a prisoner he made a bolt for it, and I’ve ’ad enough of that sort of thing.”’14