Mud, Blood and Poppycock: Britain and the Great War (Cassel Military)

by Gordon Corrigan

  However the troops got into position, as near as they could to their objective, they would lie down until the signal to advance was given. In general there would be four assault waves. A battalion would have two companies forward in the first wave, and two behind in the second. The third and fourth waves would be provided by another battalion. At company level there would be two platoons up and two back. The purpose was to ensure that the attack had depth: in other words, should a battalion, company or platoon – or even an individual – be held up for whatever reason (which included being killed), there would be troops following on to press home the attack. Each wave was to follow the one in front at a distance of 100 yards.

  At zero hour the artillery bombardment would have to lift, and would switch to the next line of German trenches. The infantry should then only have to cross 100 yards of open ground before reaching a German trench that had been subjected to seven days of constant bombardment. Dugouts and bunkers would have collapsed, defenders would be disorientated and demoralised and the first waves would be able to establish themselves in the German firing line before going on to take the next lines. The casualties would be heavy. Whatever some of the inexperienced optimists may have said, senior officers knew that fighting would be hard until the British got through the forward positions, and they were well aware that the Germans had had eighteen months in which to strengthen and fortify their lines.

  During the night of 30 June the troops who were to carry out the assault moved into the forward British trenches. Because of the two-day postponement some had been waiting close up behind their own lines in temporary bivouacs for up to three days, and rain during the last night did not help. Despite this, all received a hot meal before going into the firing line, and in most battalions each man was issued with the British army’s great morale-booster – a tablespoonful of rum.

  From 0630 hours onwards on 1 July the British troops filed out of their trenches, moved through the gaps in their own wire and out into noman’s land to their allotted positions, where they lay down. There was no interference with this. The German trenches were still being bombarded and there was no one on the German fire-step.

  Shortly before 0730 hours the mines were blown, and at zero hour precisely the whistles blew and the soldiers stood up and began to move forward. The artillery now switched off the German firing line and began to bombard the support line.

  The extreme left of the British attack was the responsibility of 31 Division (Major-General Wanless O’Gowan), of three brigades made up entirely of ‘pals’ battalions. This division was to attack and capture the village of Serre, on a ridge overlooking the British line, and then wheel to their left and form a flank guard to prevent a German counter-attack coming in behind the advancing British. To their north Allenby’s Third Army mounted a two-division diversionary attack against the village of Gommecourt, in order to prevent German reserves from interfering with the main attack.

  The division attacked with 94 Brigade on the left and 93 Brigade on the right, with 92 Brigade in reserve. The troops lay on the ground 100 yards forward of their own trenches until the whistles blew, when they got up and advanced up a gentle incline towards the German lines along the ridge, 150 yards to their front. They moved through a smokescreen, which was quickly blown away by the breeze. The British artillery had to lift, and once it did so the Germans, far less mauled than had been thought or hoped, began to man their trenches. Machine guns were brought up from underground bunkers on wooden sleds, and before the British had advanced more than fifty yards or so, the killing began. It was sudden and horrific. Men who got as far as the German wire found that it was uncut, and moved along it to find a gap. Since the wire was so laid as to channel attackers into killing areas, men crowding together in an attempt to get through were easy targets for the German machine guns and trench mortars, now free from the attentions of the British artillery. There were two regiments (six battalions in German terms) defending Serre, and at least ten machine guns that had escaped the bombardment. The first attacking wave was all but wiped out, while the second, third and fourth waves hardly got off the ground.

  By 1200 hours the attack had petered out. To the right of 31 Division some Territorials of the Royal Warwicks, in 4 Division, did get into the village, but they could not be supported and were soon ejected. All the British could do now was to try and retrieve their wounded from no man’s land, while the Germans did the same on their ridge. There was mutual tolerance until someone on the British side shot a German stretcher-bearer, and then the gloves were off. By nightfall the British were back in their front-line trenches and nothing had been achieved.

  The left-hand brigade of the 31 Division attack, 94 Brigade, had two battalions, 12th Battalion the York and Lancaster Regiment (Sheffield City Pals) and 11th Battalion the East Lancashire Regiment (Accrington Pals), in the first wave. The 12th York and Lancs had seven officers and 241 other ranks killed on that morning, and the 11th East Lancs five officers and 113 men. On the right the leading battalions of 93 Brigade, 15th and 16th Battalions the West Yorkshire Regiment (Leeds Pals and 1st Bradford Pals), had, respectively, fourteen officers and 156 men and nine officers and 140 men killed. Battalions in the succeeding waves suffered less, but a butcher’s bill of seven officers and ninety-three men in the 18th West Yorks (2nd Bradford Pals) and a combined total of nine officers and 164 men killed in the 13th and 14th York and Lancs (1st and 2nd Barnsley Pals), and sixty-seven men killed in the 18th Battalion the Durham Light Infantry, was bad enough. The reserve, 92 Brigade, which consisted entirely of ‘pals’ battalions recruited from Hull and was never even able to leave the forward trenches, got off with five other ranks killed all told. Figures like these seem to bear out the notion of the Somme being a callous slaughter, with inexperienced troops thrown against impregnable obstacles.

  On the extreme right of the British attack, in the area of Maricourt, was another ‘pals’ division, the 30th, commanded by Major-General Shea. The division was to capture the eastern half of the village of Montauban and the German trenches running to the Maricourt road, at the end of which was a strongpoint, known to the British as the Dublin Redoubt. The redoubt itself was to be taken by the French. The German forward positions were 1,000 yards from the British front lines, and although here saps had been dug out into no man’s land, there was still an advance of 700 yards or so across open ground. On the division’s right was 89 Brigade whose objective was the line of trenches between Montauban and the Dublin Redoubt. The brigade consisted of the 17th, 19th and 20th Battalions the King’s (Liverpool) Regiment, all ‘pals’ battalions, and a Territorial Force battalion, 2nd Bedfords. At 0730 hours on 1 July 1916 the men from Liverpool and Bedford got up and advanced towards the German lines. The attack against strongly held positions was a complete success. At the end of the day 89 Brigade had captured all their objectives. In 17th King’s two men were killed, in 19th King’s thirteen men, in 20th King’s one officer and twenty-two men, and in the 2nd Bedfords six men. Forty-five deaths in 89 Brigade at Maricourt; 539 in 94 Brigade at Serre.

  In between the results were mixed. North of the River Ancre there was hardly any advance at all, and the Newfoundland Regiment south of Auchonvillers had 200 men killed in three-quarters of an hour to no result. The British did have some good fortune when the Germans blew up their own redoubt on the northern end of Redan Ridge by mistake, killing the crew of machine-gunners. South of the Ancre things were slightly better. The 36th (Ulster) Division initially made amazing progress.

  The old adage that nothing in Ireland is ever simple is well illustrated by the example of 36 Division. Prior to the outbreak of war there had been four armed and uniformed bodies in Ireland. Two, the British army garrison and the Royal Irish Constabulary, were legal and under the control of the British government. The two others, the Ulster Volunteer Force and the Irish Volunteers, were illegal but the government could do little about them.

  By late 1914 the Irish Home Rule Bill had completed its tortu
ous progress through Parliament in England, and awaited only the Royal Assent to become law. It offered the Irish rather less devolution than Scotland has now, but it aroused powerful emotions. The Ulster Protestants, who feared domination by a largely Roman Catholic south, declared their determination to ‘use all means’ to resist the bill. Urged on by Sir Edward Carson, a Unionist MP, they raised the Ulster Volunteers who were uniformed, commanded by ex-British army officers and equipped with a mixture of British and German arms (Germany being always willing to stir up trouble for the British). In the south of Ireland, as a response, the Irish Volunteers were formed under the aegis of John Redmond, MP, leader of the Irish Nationalist Party at Westminster. They vowed to impose Home Rule, also by force if need be, and were uniformed, commanded by rather fewer ex-British army officers, and likewise armed by the Germans. On the outbreak of war, Carson and Redmond agreed that the German threat was rather more serious than their own differences, and agreed to put the question of Home Rule aside until the war was over. The Ulster Volunteers were absorbed into the British army as the 36th (Ulster) Division, while the Redmondites became the 16th (Irish) Division. Both divisions were given British army officers to command them. The 36th got Major-General Oliver Nugent, a regular officer who until August 1914 had been on half pay, whiling away the idle hours as commander of the Cavan branch of the Ulster Volunteers, and to the 16th went Major-General William Hickie, also a regular officer and a southern Irish Catholic.11

  On 1 July 1916 36 Division was to push half a brigade (two battalions) up the north bank of the Ancre, while the rest were to assault and capture the Schwaben Redoubt, a strongpoint to the south of and overlooking the River Ancre; the redoubt supported and was supported by the German held village of Thiepval. The division would attack from a jump-off line at the edge of Thiepval Wood, and had about 250 yards to go before reaching the first German defence line. Being Irish, the units of 36 Division blew bugles rather than whistles, and at 0730 hours they bounded from their jump-off line up the slope towards the German lines. They bounded because Nugent considered that speed was of the essence. If his men could get onto the Schwaben Redoubt before the Germans surfaced from their underground bunkers, then the day would be his. At first all went as planned. On the right the men of the 11th Royal Irish Rifles and the 9th and 10th Battalions Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers found the German wire cut and reached the redoubt. Speed was a factor, but the Ulster Division was also helped by the fact that most of the German machine guns that would have targeted them were busy firing across in the direction of Thiepval village, which was being assaulted by 32 Division; a further advantage was provided by a farm road (now gone) that ran diagonally across the German positions and offered some dead ground for the attackers.

  The first of July was the anniversary, in the old-style calendar, of the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Not a battle which is instantly recalled by most British students of military history, it has enormous significance in Ulster, for it was on the Boyne river that the army of William of Orange (later William III, co-ruler with his wife Mary) defeated the forces of the Catholic James II and sealed the success of the ‘Glorious Revolution’, one of the seedier political machinations in the annals of the British constitution. Many of the Ulstermen of 36 Division on 1 July wore the brightly coloured sashes of the Orange Order, an organisation originally founded to press for religious toleration, but by now an exclusively Protestant body much opposed to Catholicism. The Orangemen caused some consternation among their English comrades when they went up the hill shouting, ‘No surrender!’ – this was an attack, and surrender had not been contemplated – until it was explained that this was a traditional Ulster cry indicating resistance to the forces of popery.12 It was understandable but unfortunate that the officers in command of the leading troops did not stop at their designated objective – the Schwaben Redoubt – but, seeing an opportunity, plunged on into German territory. By late morning they had penetrated one and a half miles, and had the troops on either side been able to make similar progress, this would have been a great day for Ulster. Sadly, it all now began to go wrong. On the Ulstermen’s right 32 Division could make no progress against Thiepval village, and on the left 29 Division were unable to progress much beyond their own jump-off line. The men of the 36th found themselves occupying a long thin salient with Germans to right and left and ahead of them. In the eagerness to press on, the Schwaben Redoubt had not been properly cleared of Germans, and now the Ulstermen began to be attacked in flank and in rear. Carrying parties with extra ammunition, grenades, wire and digging implements could not get forward, and the lead battalions had no choice but to start retracing their steps. By last light what remained of 36 Division was back in Thiepval Wood. One officer and 133 men of the 11th Royal Irish Rifles were dead, and between them the 9th and 10th Inniskillings lost thirteen officers and 333 other ranks killed. Churchill’s ‘dreary steeples of Fermanagh and Tyrone’ had paid a high price.

  Five and a half miles south-east of the Schwaben Redoubt was the village of Montauban. On 1 July 1916 the left half of Montauban and the German trench systems to the west of the village were the objectives of 18 Division, a New Army division commanded by Major-General ‘Ivor’ Maxse, who would cooperate with 30 Division to the right. Maxse’s Division did dig out into no man’s land, mainly by means of Russian saps, and by zero hour the attacking infantry were well forward of their own trenches, but still with around 500 yards to cover before closing on the German defences.13 By 1600 hours all objectives had been taken, despite German machine guns and a stout defence. Nine British battalions took part in the fighting, and those on the right of the attack, heading for the village, had severe casualties. The 10th Essex had one officer and 208 men killed, the 7th Queen’s six officers and 153 men, the 8th East Surreys five officers and 133 men, and the 8th Norfolks three officers and 105 men. Of the other five battalions involved, the dead varied from eighty-seven other ranks in the 7th Bedfords to one officer and twenty-eight men in the 7th Royal West Kents.

  The attack of 18 Division was a complete success, and the size of the butcher’s bill depended upon whether or not a particular battalion found itself in a killing zone where the German machine guns and trench mortars had not been eliminated. The right-hand company of 18 Division was B Company, 8th Battalion the East Surrey Regiment, and was commanded by Captain Wilfred Percy Nevill, known as ‘Billy’. Nevill had been captain of cricket at his public school, and then went up to Cambridge where he distinguished himself at cricket, hockey and rugby. Contrary to received opinion he was not a professional footballer, and had probably never played soccer in his life. Nevill was six feet tall and regarded as a battalion joker, largely because his dentures fitted loosely and he was a master of funny faces.

  Nevill did not approve of alcohol, and refused to issue the men of his company with a rum ration before the attack on 1 July. Instead he gave each platoon a football, painted with ‘East Surreys versus Barbarians, kickoff 1 July 1916’. This was to take the men’s minds off what was to come, and a prize was offered for the first platoon to get its football into the German lines. The men would probably have preferred the rum. Nevill himself kicked off at zero hour; but the prize was never won, because Nevill was killed a few hundred yards beyond the jump-off line. Much was made of the incident in the English newspapers, where it was seen as an outstanding example of British pluck. The German newspapers too picked it up, interpreting it an outstanding example of British stupidity.

  On the British right the French XX Corps took all its objectives. The commander of the left-hand French battalion even left the jump-off line arm in arm with the commanding officer of the right-hand British battalion. Both survived and they shook hands in the German trenches. South of the Somme too the French achieved all their goals. As dusk fell on 1 July, to the southern end of the combined offensive most objectives, British and French, had been attained.

  Overall, however, it had been an appalling day for the BEF. Commanders realised that ther
e would be casualties, but none had thought that there would be so many, and none had thought that German resistance would amount to very much after seven days of constant artillery bombardment. That none of the objectives north of the river Ancre had been taken, and few between the Ancre and the Albert–Bapaume road, came as a shock.

  There were around 60,000 British casualties on the first day of the Somme offensive, and nearly 20,000 of these were dead. In Bradford 361 black telegrams brought the news of those who were killed on 1 July or who died of wounds in the two days afterwards; for Leeds the figure was 493, for Barnsley 213, for Belfast 839. It is no wonder that the first day of the Somme is engraved in the national memory. In France, however, commanders were trying to piece together what had happened and asking why. Why had the extreme left-hand battalion suffered 248 deaths and the extreme right-hand battalion only two? Why had the New Army 31 Division failed to take Serre, a few hundred yards away, whereas the New Army 18 Division had taken Montauban West, 800 yards away? Why had the French seized all their objectives while the British had only managed to capture a few?

  The reasons for 1 July 1916 being as it was are many. Firstly, despite the best efforts of the gunners the bombardment did not achieve what was hoped. It did cause great destruction to the German positions, but it did not reach all the underground bunkers and dugouts, some up to forty feet deep, that the Germans had been constructing since late 1914. Not only were the infantry new to the job, but so were the artillerymen. Some of the heavy guns were obsolete and the barrels worn from use in the South African War. There was too much reliance on 4.7-inch howitzers manufactured in 1895, and on the six-inch version dating from 1896. The six-inch guns dating from 1898 fired shells weighing 100 pounds each to a range of 17,700 yards, but there were not enough of them. Many of the shells failed to explode or, in the case of some of the heavies, exploded prematurely, killing or injuring the gunners. This was nobody’s fault – British industry simply could not go from supplying a small regular army fighting colonial campaigns to equipping a mass army for intensive war in Europe in less than two years, and the hasty recruitment of workers to manufacture shells led to failures in filling the shells and errors in the tolerances allowed. There was almost a scandal over ammunition made in America as a result of contracts that had been let by the British government after it became apparent that British industry could not yet cope. Anecdotal evidence claimed that some American shells had been filled with sand, and there were stories of machine-gunners going through their ammunition stocks and throwing away bullets made in the USA. Conspiracy theorists saw this as an anti-British plot or the work of Irish sympathisers, although the real reason is almost certainly that American manufacturers were as raw to the business as were the British. Whatever the truth, the claims about dud US ammunition were hushed up: America was a vital source of supply for the Allies and it would have been foolhardy to upset her. By the battles of Arras the following year workforces in both England and America were far more experienced, and these problems did not recur.