by Ian Uys
“It was later learnt ‘The Mad Major’ had specially arranged with our artillery observers, to get the range and eliminate this vicious enemy nest at all costs. On occasions he pulled out of his dive only 50 feet from the ground before darting up and away, only to repeat the effort. The pilot faced almost certain death in every dive he made.
“We learnt later this brave man managed to stagger back to an emergency landing ground where it was found hundreds of bullets had hit that sturdy aircraft. The pilot found four bullets had pierced his flying coat but he was not wounded. No individual feat of bravery in that vast battle gave greater pleasure to the troops who were delighted to learn ‘The Mad Major’ was given the immediate award of the DSO.
“The sequel to this incident occurred 27 years later when I was a major in the South African Air Force. I was spending the evening at a training squadron in Queenstown. Lieut-Col Allister Miller was the Officer Commanding. In the course of our chat, ‘Mac’ as he was affectionately called, learnt I had been wounded in Delville Wood.
“I explained to him the brave action I had witnessed with so many others in the wood. ‘Mac’ smiled and said he was glad not to have been among the footsloggers on the ground during the Somme Battle. When I explained in detail what we had seen that brave pilot do at a vital period of the battle, ‘Mac’ smiled and said I was the first infantryman he had met who saw ‘The Mad Major’ and especially that effort 27 years earlier.
“‘That good old Morane literally fell to pieces when I landed’ he said. ‘I was only a captain then, fanatically determined to get our gunners onto that beastly machine-gun nest. That’s when they gave me this DSO’, he concluded.”
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General Lukin’s report began by describing the dawn attack on the north-west corner.
“Two companies of the South African Infantry were to assist the 27th Brigade, if required, in carrying out this operation. (1st Battalion A and B Coys.)
“I ordered the Officer Commanding, 1st SAI to detail two companies to be ready to assist the 27th Brigade, if required, and the Officer Commanding, 2nd SAI was instructed to order his men holding Strand Street (B Coy) to move forward slowly to narrow down the front of our troops attacking from Princes Street as soon as that attack started.
“This attack was duly made, but it also failed to dislodge the enemy.
“The company which moved forward from Strand Street to co-operate met with strong resistance and had to fall back on to its original line.
“I visited Delville Wood on the morning of the 17th and discussed the situation fully with Lieut-Colonels Tanner and Thackeray.
“Although I took the opportunity of again impressing upon these officers the necessity of digging-in to the utmost, I was satisfied in my own mind that everything that could be done in that direction under the existing circumstances was being done.
“Officers and men were undoubtedly fully aware of the advantage to be obtained from digging-in, and they were only too eager to do so for their own sakes.
“I was impressed with the signs of strain and fatigue visible on the faces of officers and men, and fully appreciated what both Lieut-Colonels Tanner and Thackeray stated — that the strain and fatigue were seriously telling on their men.
“On my return to Brigade Headquarters I was told that you (Gen Furse) wished to speak to me on the telephone.
“On your doing so you informed me that the corps commander desired you to impress upon me the grave responsibility of holding Delville Wood at all costs. I replied that I fully realised this from the various orders which I had received.
“At the same time, in justice to the brigade, I asked that the corps commander should be informed that I had just returned from Delville Wood and desired to draw his attention to the condition of the men, who were much exhausted after capturing the wood and with the strain of holding it for two days and two nights.
“In the course of the day a party of the 4th SAI, sent out by Lieut-Col Tanner to endeavour to clear up the situation in the north-west corner of the wood, encountered the enemy in considerable force.
“Some 30 or 40 of the enemy were in a trench which the officer in charge of the party erroneously placed as being to the east of Strand Street.
“On receiving this report (4.30 pm) Lieut-Colonel Tanner immediately reported to me that he feared that the company which had held Strand Street had been forced, in the operations in the earlier part of the day, to fall back considerably — possibly as far as Regent Street — and that in the meantime the enemy had dug a trench between Strand and Regent streets.
“I reported this at once to divisional headquarters.
“Lieut-Colonel Tanner was ordered by me to take immediate steps to attack the enemy and drive him back west to Strand Street.
“At 6.40 pm a further report was received from Lieut-Col Tanner to the effect that the officer in charge of the patrol had mistaken the streets, taking Strand Street for Regent Street, and that the report regarding the enemy being east of Strand Street was wrong.
“The position, he stated, was exactly as it had been since we first occupied the wood.
“Immediately he received the report of the officer in charge of the patrol referred to above, he had taken steps to confirm it or otherwise, but as he considered the matter of vital importance he wasted no time in reporting it.
“Shortly after this Lieut-Colonel Tanner was wounded, and Lieut-Colonel Thackeray took over the command of the troops in the wood.
“At 7.30 pm orders were received to occupy, before dawn the following day, the trench dug by Germans which runs parallel to and 200 yards distant from the south-east edge of Delville Wood”.
“I immediately got in touch with the Officer Commanding 3rd SAI (Thackeray), who reported that the trench referred to had been carefully reconnoitred and that it was reported to be strongly held by the enemy with several machine-guns in it.
“The Officer Commanding, 3rd SAI, stated that he could not furnish more than 200 men for this operation without endangering Delville Wood.
“On the matter being represented in this light to divisional headquarters the order to occupy the enemy trench referred to was cancelled.”
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The men doing commissariat work had to move about where others hugged shelter. Sergeant Leonard Arrons found July 17 to be an eventful day, never to be forgotten.
“Our lads simply did superhuman work. The cost may have been terrific, but it was well worth the price paid. We gained our objective and held it.
“That day the Huns opened a terrific bombardment on our line. Do not be surprised or think it impossible, but they hurled 15,000 shells at us. Just think, 15,000 shells!!!
“The roads were impassable and the woods untenable, men were being blown all over the place. In the woods and village nothing could live. Yet our lads held on, dug in a few feet, and hung on like grim death. Things became so intense that we were told we would be required as reinforcements.
“To go or attempt to run through that fire meant certain death, but it had to be done, and halfway up the road a message came through that we were not required and so we had to run the gauntlet back to the dump. How we got through is beyond me, but some lives were lost.
“That night water was required urgently, and we had a very trying time, but succeeded. After the bombardment ceased, the Germans advanced, and the remnants of our brigade charged them, and the Huns ran like h--l. I am also pleased to state our fellows held on to their objective until relieved, so all was well.
“General Lukin is a gentleman and a great soldier. One could see him continuously to and from the firing line, always bucking us up and talking to the wounded; the staff officers likewise. That front was vital for us, and had to be gained and held at all costs.
“Shells — why I should think during the time we were in action there must have been 30,000 shells hurled at us, apart from bombs, machine-gun fire, and snipers’ bullets, and all sorts of shells — coalboxes, Jack Johnsons, whi
zzbangs, tear-shells, delayed action gas shells, high explosive, shrapnel and every diabolical method of murder was used by the Huns. Yet we successfully did the work allotted to us.”
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The mortar battery at Montauban was heavily shelled and of the three mortars in action one was blown up. As the safety pins had been removed from 28 mortar shells in its vicinity only five exploded.
Gordon Forbes had a surprisingly restful day. “Got wet through and spent a miserable early morning. Had a good sleep from 9 am to dinner time though ordered up to Longueval but could not pass as the Bosches had a machine-gun trained on the road. Back again.”
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Captain Patterson and Capt Deane found it necessary to move about a great deal in organising the logistics.
“Received word from Lieut Patrick that one of his guns had been badly hit and teams very much reduced. Went to Talus Boise, where I had left the sergeant-major and an orderly to look after our things, and to Glatz Redoubt. As a result of the wanderings I got a team together and sent them off with the gun we had saved from Bernafay Wood together with belt boxes I had found, a tripod, spare parts etc. Told the corporal in charge to report to Lieut Patrick.
“Nothing of importance occurred until 10 pm when the enemy began to bombard with gas shells. They searched all the ground from Montauban to Maricourt. It was most unpleasant in Bn HQ outside which several shells burst. We had two mules killed on the road outside and Lieut Connal received a good dose of gas. The bombardment was practically continuous till about 3.30 am 18.7.16.
“Two of our drivers were gassed also two mules.”
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John Buchan, in his book The South African Forces in France, praised the work of the SAMC.
“The work of the Field Ambulance and of the regimental medical officers during these days deserved the highest praise, and it was due to their gallantry and resource that the sufferings of the men in the wood were not more horrible. The weather was now hot sun, now drenching rain, and the task of getting out the casualties was one long nightmare.”
Major RN Pringle of the 1st SA Field Ambulance was in charge of the bearer-section and had first cleared the ground of wounded men of the Black Watch, Gordons, Yorks and Wilts.
On one occasion he took a party of 35 men to Longueval in response to an urgent appeal and worked until five of his men were wounded. He then withdrew in the face of severe fire. At all times his example inspired his bearer-party.
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An SAMC private later wrote to his parents describing that evening’s work.
“We did not have to go on duty again until the morning of the 17th, as the RAMC had relieved us. We proceeded to Bernafay Wood, which was under an extremely heavy shell fire, and owing to this we could not go up to Longueval to fetch the wounded. As the fire had not abated by about 6 pm our officer decided to go up, as there were a large number of cases waiting to be removed from the village.
“Accordingly we started off, four men to a stretcher, at a distance of about 20 yards apart. We had not done more than half a mile when ten of our bearers were knocked over and had to be taken back to the wood. We then went up again (about 24 of us in all), and reached the village in safety, though we had some very narrow escapes on the way.
“It was a horrible job removing the patients, as the roads were one mass of shell-craters, at a distance, in a large number of places, of only 2 feet apart; and as it had been raining for nearly five days these were mostly half-full of water, and we were constantly falling into them, patient and all. Our greatcoats and equipment we had disposed of long before, and we were all wet through to the skin.
“We were knocked down twice owing to the concussion of shells bursting quite near us, and it was a miracle that we were not all blown to pieces. Three trips we managed safely, but on the fourth a shell burst very close to us — we were carrying the stretcher on our shoulders, one man to each handle — and we were all flung down again. The patient was killed, the three other bearers wounded, while I escaped with a piece of shrapnel through my coat and my steel helmet being knocked off. I patched the other bearers up as best I could, and we managed to get safely down to the wood.”
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Staff-Sergeant L H Walsh, who was with the stretcher-bearers, vividly recalled the difficulties they faced in evacuating the wounded.
“The road from Longueval to Bernafay Wood was in an indescribable condition. It was impossible to carry from the front of the regimental aid posts at Longueval, owing to the sniping, which was at times very severe and accurate. The rear was a mass of ruins, wire entanglements, garden fences, fallen and falling trees, together with every description of debris and shattered building material.
“It is one thing to clear a path along which reinforcements may be brought, but quite another to make a track on which four men may carry a stretcher with a modicum of comfort to the patient …
“Besides this road there was a narrow sunken lane, which at first afforded some safety, but later became so pitted with shell-holes that the bearers were compelled to take to the open.
“In addition to these difficulties, it must be remembered that these roads were shelled heavily day and night. At times the enemy would put up a barrage with heavy stuff, which meant that no stretcher-bearing could be done until the fire was over. Parties who were unfortunate enough to be caught in one of these barrages spent moments of nerve-racking suspense, crouching in shell-holes or under banks, or wherever cover was available.
“One of the worst experiences of this kind was when it was decided to shell Longueval once more. Very short notice was given to clear all the regimental aid posts, and only two men per stretcher could be spared. Padres, doctors, and odd men were pressed into service to enable all patients to be removed.
“As the party left, the bombardment began on both sides. Scrambling, pushing, and slipping amid a tornado of shell fire, they headed for Bernafay Wood. It was impossible to keep together, and in the darkness squads easily became detached and lost touch.
“The noise of bursting shells was incessant and deafening, while the continuous sing of the rifle and machine-gun bullets overhead tried the nerves of the hardiest. To crown all, it was raining, and the roads were almost impassable for stretcher work. In fact, had it not been for the light of the German star shells, the thing could not have been worked at all.
“As the night wore on squad after squad of tired, soaked, and mud-covered men stumbled into Bernafay Wood. Here came a medical officer covered with grime and mud from top to toe, carrying a stretcher with a kilted Scot. Then a tall parson (probably Hill) unrecognisable under a coating of mud, with a stretcher-bearer as partner, whose orders he obeyed implicitly. When word was passed round in the morning that all had returned alive, some were so incredulous that they started an inquiry of their own.”
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Private William Harris, 18, had been promoted to medical officer’s orderly on 3 March. He was possibly transferred from the infantry on account of his size, being 5 ft 2 ins tall and weighing 136 lbs. After leaving school at Kimberley, Harris had served with the 9th Dismounted Rifles and the Veterans Regiment in SWA.
When the regimental aid posts were cleared in Longueval, Harris displayed great courage. He ensured that all the patients were dressed properly and assisted in making arrangements for evacuating the wounded. At all times he showed exceptional courage and did much for their relief.
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Private Charles Dunn lay in the muddy trench for over twelve hours, drifting in and out of consciousness. At one stage some friends who thought he was dead began digging his grave with their bayonets, but were told by their sergeant that there was no time for that and that they should move on. When stretcher-bearers eventually collected him he heard the mud sucking loudly as they pulled him out of its grip.
“It was about 1 am early Monday morning 17 July 1916, that a stretcher-bearer came along. To tell the truth I was that far gone from sheer weakness that I did not care what happened to me. It
took six men to lift me out of the trench onto a stretcher — it was still very dark when I was carried out.
“The bearers had not gone far before they were obliged to put me down and to lie flat down themselves. The reason for this was that Maxim bullets were flying pretty close by so we were obliged to keep very low.
“On getting me out of the wood they had to get me to the first dressing-station in the village — the village itself was nothing but a mass of ruins with dead men lying everywhere. Some of the shells fell so close that the stretcher that I lay on got quite full of mud from the explosions. On our arrival at the dressing-station the doctor gave the order that all wounded had to be taken to the dumps — that is right behind the lines altogether.
“So another terrible journey commenced. How I managed to live through it all, I don’t know. Now all this time my wound had not been seen to and each time I tried to move the blood would pour out like a river. It was still raining and the stretcher was simply full of water.
“It was at 6 am on the Monday morning that we reached the dumps. The first thing that was done to me was the dressing of my wound. As the doctor was dressing it, he told me that I was a very lucky man. I was shot through the left breast just above the heart. The watch which I had in my pocket was knocked into me — it was smashed to pieces. I also had a New Testament, which also saved my life. It was either a sniper or Maxim bullets that popped me over as it must have been two shots to have done all that damage.
“After dressing my wound he then innoculated me after which I was given something to drink. The RAMC bearers carried me to the ambulance, which then conveyed me to a larger dressing-station in Corbie. On arriving at this station my uniform had to be cut from me — my clothes simply stuck to my body and my tunic was drenched in blood. I was unable to move at all. I had got that weak that the nurse had to cut my clothes off with a pair of scissors.”