ST. ELOI
Canadians in a serious engagement—The old German line—The new British line—The effect of the eruption—Trenches little better than drains—The Second Division in "No Man's Land"—The situation described by General Turner—A gap in our line—The call for additional guns—Welcome relief—The importance of rear exits—Evacuation of the wounded—Our weak spot discovered—Prompt and intelligent action by General Turner—Steadfast endurance—The bravery of Privates Smith and Bowden—Conspicuous gallantry of Captain Meredith—Miscalculation—The enemy dashes through the zone of our artillery—Desperate situation of the Canadians—Communication by telephone intermittent—Confusion in the trenches—Under bombardment for sixty hours—The enemy's artillery preparation begins—Pandemonium inevitable—Clogged rifles and machine-guns—A brave struggle for existence—A moment of doubt—The enemy gains the craters—An unfortunate mistake—Unorganised retirement—Precipitate action—A case for help—Dilemma of the Higher Command—Trench mortars put out of action—Full story of the retirement cut short by death—A hand-to-hand encounter—Failure less welcome than success—Reasons for retirement only appreciated by those experienced in trench warfare—The Fates unpropitious—The error of the craters—Success denied though well deserved.
April 3rd, 1916.
On the night of April 3rd began the most serious engagement in which Canadian troops had been involved since the Second Battle of Ypres. The 2nd Division was ordered to occupy the ground won by the 3rd British Division in the two successive actions on March 27th and April 2nd. To understand the protracted battle which ensued it is necessary to have a clear grasp of the ground over which it was fought. The opposing lines opposite St. Eloi ran almost due east and west, instead of the north and south frontage which marked the usual direction of Allied and German trenches. The old German line had been a salient north pushed out towards St. Eloi and receding from it right and left. The new line captured by the 3rd British Division was a salient thrust due south into the German position and receding again slightly on its right and abruptly on its left, to meet the old British line. In other words, the old British line had been the arc of a bow turned north and the new line became the arc of a bow pushed south. The distance between these bows never exceeded 500 yards, and both of them were less than 1,000 yards in length from end to end, with a direct frontage of 600 yards. In the middle, running as the string of both concave bows and separated by 200 or 250 yards from either old or new line, was the original German line blown to atoms in most places and represented throughout the centre part of its length by a series of four huge minecraters. These crowned the mound of St. Eloi, a rise in the ground which dominated the surrounding country.
To hold the craters and the mound was to look down into your enemies' trenches. The explosion of the great mine had leapt to heaven in a colossal shower of yellow smoke and débris; it could be seen from miles away and shook the earth like the sudden outburst of a volcano. The effects of the eruption on a narrow space of 600 yards were tremendous. Trenches on both sides collapsed like packs of cards under the shock; old landmarks were blotted out, and right in the centre of the arc of the bow stretched a line of huge tumbled débris. In front lay the new trenches captured by the 3rd British Division on April 2nd. Behind lay the remains of the old line, while the crater stood as an almost impassable bar between troops holding the one and troops holding the other. To get to the new front trench, you had to enter it from the left or the right, and a line to which supports cannot be brought up from the rear is always in grave danger. So much for the general position; its particular features have yet to be considered.
We have learned from a study of the French reports at Verdun what can be effected by concentrated artillery fire on a selected area. The frontage at St. Eloi was that of 600 to 1,000 yards, and against it was directed for over three weeks a colossal concentration of German fire, answered shell for shell by our own artillery. Under the combined efforts of the artillery of both sides and the result of the mine explosions, the whole face of the country was altered. The "high hills were laid low and the valleys were exalted" until an officer of the 3rd British Division who had stayed behind to assist the newcomers, twice confessed himself utterly unable to recognise the ground destroyed by man as bearing any resemblance to the ground he had known designed by Nature.
In this change will be found the explanation of much that followed. But there was to be added another cause, the inclemency of the weather. In this battered soil was nothing but mud. Every shellhole was a pond, every step might lead one up to the waist in the sticky element, and earthworks fell in from the flood as much as from the shell-fire of the enemy. It is then under a doubtful star that we must conceive of the whole action being fought. The trenches in the first firing line were little better than scattered drains—behind was the crater barrier—underfoot were the mud and the water, and above the unceasing whine of the shells. The air was heavy with a damp mist, even by day, and by night all objects were magnified and uncertain till a shell-hole appeared a crater, an advance of fifty yards like one of 500 yards, and an hour grew into years! The battle was fought in "No Man's Land"—a débris of shattered trees, sudden pool-holes, and upraised earth, "where no man comes, nor hath come since the making of the world."
Map—St. Eloi area
Into this area the 2nd Division came on the night of 3rd April. The 6th Brigade, under Brigadier-General Ketchen, took over the immediate front, while the 5th and 4th Brigades were in reserve. The post of honour was given to the 27th (Winnipeg) Battalion, commanded by Lieut.-Col. Snider, on the right of the line and to the 31st. (Alberta) Battalion, under Lieut.-Col. Bell, on the left. The 29th (Vancouver) Battalion, under Lieut.-Col. Tobin, was in support of the 27th, while the 28th (North-West) under Lieut.-Col. Embury, occupied a position behind the craters and in the centre, with its left supporting the 31st. It is on the first two regiments that attention must be concentrated for the moment, for they had to occupy the southern thrust of the line and to file into their new positions from the old line on either flank.
A glance at the map will show the position, while Gen. Turner has given a lucid description of the state of the various defences three hours after the men were in. From the right of the old British line, the Canadian communication trench, built by the 4th Canadian Brigade—as elsewhere mentioned—broke straight out to the left and ran east with a touch of south, until it met the original German firing trench at a point known as Sackville Centre, of which we shall hear more in the future. The General described it as 250 yards in length, "a wet, shallow communication trench." This was held by a company of the 27th, under Lieut. Wilson. Continuing to our left the line crossed the first of the two roads (that to Wytschaete) which run from north to south and meet in St. Eloi; here the front, after going south-east for about fifty yards, swung round due east until it reached Bathurst Butts, near the second road; it then bent sharply north, so as to complete the salient by striking the old German firing trench again at Campbelltown Corner.[[1]] This bit was about 540 yards in length, and consisted of a deep untraversed firing trench, with a few firing platforms facing north: that is, the wrong way.[[2]] Apparently the 3rd British Division had been unable to turn it about after they took it by storm. The last two hundred yards were—adds the General—badly battered. The frontage was fairly evenly divided between two companies of the 27th. The left-hand company thus secured the most shaky point in the frontage—a 200 yards which proved a miniature gap of Alsace to the Germans. From Campbelltown Corner to the original British line the circuit was completed by one company of the 31st. Here the old British line continued due east to the canal and was occupied by two more companies of the 31st, with a third in support.
Machine-guns were also posted at intervals along the line. It was found necessary, owing to the extent to which these were being constantly put out of action, to call for additional guns. These were supplied by the 5th Brigade, the 22nd, 24th, 25th, and 26th each sending up a Lewis gun and team; but they were not available till the night of the 5th just before the German attack, when they were posted by Lieut. McLorg, of the 28th.
The relief, in the language of the official reports, was successfully concluded during the night of the 3rd and 4th. How much doubt, how much discomfort, how much danger a single sentence can cover! As the Canadians slipped and struggled along the wretched drains, or clambered over the places where shell-fire had destroyed them, they found everywhere the men of the 61st British Brigade, 3rd British Division in a state of considerable exhaustion. They had been fighting what was practically a continuous general action for five days under terrific shell-fire. The last push, which had driven the Germans 200 or 250 yards south of the craters, left the British in such casual shelter as they could obtain, encumbered with the dead on both sides and with their own wounded, whom they were unable to evacuate. A firing trench with no direct way in or out from the rear exposes its occupants to every horror and hardship and danger. The supply of food, water, and ammunition, is intermittent and uncertain, while the knowledge that supports may take hours to come up in case of attack is added to the mental torture and physical staleness induced by a persistent bombardment by heavy guns. But the presence of wounded men in a crowded trench passes the limit of horror. The dreadful nature of the injuries inflicted by high explosive, the irrepressible cries and moans of pain; the impossibility of bringing relief to the sufferers form a combination of sight, sound and sensation which if protracted for many hours absolutely unnerves the unwounded survivors and forms the nightmare of their sleep for years.
April 3rd and 4th, 1916.
Even with fair weather and solid defences a night relief has its trials; under the conditions of the night of April 3rd, its success was an achievement. As the 27th (Winnipeg) and the 31st (Alberta) succeeded to this bed of thorns, in the pitch dark of night, they discovered that the officers of the 61st (British) Brigade, through no fault of theirs, but owing to the lie of the ground and the conditions of the assault, could tell them practically nothing of the whereabouts of the enemy. They looked out into a noisy darkness which covered the Unknown. Such a state of affairs is by no means uncommon in trench warfare. Furthermore, while the line throughout could nowhere be held continuously, that portion of it between Bathurst Butts near the second road, and Campbelltown Corner could only be held by small bombing posts linked together by visiting patrols. By daylight it was altogether untenable for any body of men in sufficient number to resist a resolute attack. There was thus a gap sparsely and insecurely occupied by patrols of the 27th between the left of that regiment and the right of the 31st Battalion. This was the joint in the harness, and against it the Germans directed a continuous shower of heavy explosives.
It was obvious to the Higher Command that if the position was to be made secure or even tenable, a drastic scheme of consolidation must be set on foot. General Turner grasped the situation firmly and clearly; and after consulting General Haldane (3rd British Division) put forward the following plan. He proposed to repair the front line, to dig communication trenches through the intervals between the craters, so as to link old and new lines together, to make good the damage done to the old line, and finally to dig another trench about halfway between the firing line and the craters where supports could be kept handy. Dummy trenches were also to be made in the lips of the crater and both lines wired. The work was carried out by small parties, one N.C.O. and a few men of the 28th, centre support battalion, and most of them were overwhelmed by the German onrush on the morning of April 6th.
This plan would have saved the situation had time or opportunity been given to carry it out, but the Fates ruled otherwise.
The first thing to do was to evacuate the British wounded, and this gruesome task was accomplished during the morning to the accompaniment of heavy shelling, which began at ten o'clock and lasted at intervals nearly all day. Lieut. McCaw and his company, holding the bad part of the line, endured, without shifting an inch, a terrible bombardment which destroyed the greater part of their position from under their very feet. Out of the 90 men present (for 40 had been sent back as there was no cover for them), 67 were killed or wounded—a notable example of endurance. The trenches were blown out of existence and men lay down in the open under what cover they could find. As one wounded man was seen to fall, Private Smith dashed out to render first aid under the shower of high explosives; he was himself struck down at once. Private Bowden went in his turn to the two men, dressed their wounds, and remained with them until they both died, with no cover against the rain of shell except a shovel over his head.
Wading in many places waist-deep in the mud, Capt. Meredith, of the 27th, who behaved with conspicuous coolness and gallantry in the action which ensued, found that the day's bombardment had practically wiped out the position he was to occupy. There was a little cover on the right, just east of the second road; but to the left, in the Gap itself, it was impossible to do more than put out isolated groups of sentries and bombers, to crouch in shell holes, or behind improvised shelters, and trust that one would not be observed. A single fact speaks volumes; although Capt. Meredith had only 110 men for his company, it was found impossible to get cover by daylight for more than a few isolated posts, and the remainder of the men had to be sent back in the early morning of April 5th, to come up again on their weary journey as soon as it was dark. There was, in a word, no longer a line for over 250 yards of the front. Some 40 men were trying to hold the position of a strong company of 200.
Night, April 5th and 6th, 1916.
On the following night, that of the 5th and 6th, it was decided to relieve the two sorely-beset companies of the 27th. Capt. Gwynn, of the 29th Battalion, was to take over from Capt. Meredith the left of the line, and Lieut. O'Brien, of the same regiment, was to relieve the company of the 27th on the right. It was during the concluding stages of this relief that the German attack took place. The blasting fire of our artillery had been well maintained on the German second and third line trenches, and it was supposed that this barrage[[3]] had proved effective in preventing any considerable force of the enemy reaching through to their own front line. This did not prove to be the case. The German 214th Battalion, with some units of the 216th, had—according to the accounts of prisoners—succeeded in passing through the barrage into the front line, from which they launched their assault.
On the night of the 5th, the Germans had dashed through the zone of our artillery fire in a succession of small parties in extended order, and had thus, by choosing their occasions, escaped with comparatively small casualties, and massed in strength within striking distance of our front. It may be said that throughout the action the Germans showed a far greater aptitude for fighting in small parties than is usual with them, and that they nowhere attempted the mass formation attack which has generally been a prelude to their defeat.
But while the Germans are forming up for the assault at dawn, we must return to the fortunes of the Canadians. The working parties are out for the second night in succession, and a strong second line trench with barbed wire entanglements has been constructed in front and south of the craters. Behind and north of the craters a third supporting line is being dug, while the reliefs of the 29th are struggling up through the delays of mud and barrage to reach the battered 27th.
Night, April 5th and 6th, 1916.
Capt. Gwynn, of the 29th, had already been informed that the left of his line would only be occupied by machine-guns, bombing, and sentry posts, and with some 40 men, picked out for these danger posts, he went on ahead of the remainder of his company and found Capt. Meredith near Bathurst Butts at 2 o'clock on the morning of the 6th. The position was rapidly becoming desperate. One of Capt. Meredith's subalterns, Lieut. Dunlop, had been out under a rain of shells to try to find the original line to the left, held by the 31st, and the posts holding it. He returned to say that he could find no vestige of either the trench or the posts. Everything had been wiped out; and two machine-guns and their crews perished with the exception of a single man, who crawled back wounded hours after. A party of the 31st who had made a similar attempt to keep connection from their right, returned with the same news. Under the circumstances, Capt. Meredith could supply no guides into the unoccupied chaos of shell-holes which represented his left, and the two officers having completed their relief in the small fraction of surviving trench, returned to the nearest telephone, at Fredericton Fort, to get orders from the Colonel of the 29th Battalion. It was at this point in the line alone that the telephone was working, and that only intermittently, in spite of the heroic conduct of the signallers in going out into the open again and again to repair the shattered wires. Lieutenant Browne of the 22nd (French Canadians), of the 4th Brigade, with his machine-gun party, remained behind with the 40 men of the 29th on the left of Bathurst Butts. The two officers and the men who had been relieved reached Fredericton Fort successfully at about 2.45 a.m., and found there several officers of the 27th, and also Lieut. O'Brien of the 29th, who was trying to relieve Lieut. Wilson's company of the 27th. Less fortunate than Capt. Gwynn, he had not succeeded in finding the officer he was to replace, but none the less he appears to have got his men somewhere near the trench he was to occupy. This place he found full of stray units, ration-carrying parties of the 27th, many of whom had lost their way, and having placed his men in position, he also returned to the telephone at Fredericton Fort in the hope of finding someone in authority.
The Canadian communication trench was by this time practically abandoned under heavy shell-fire. For the rest, then, one must conceive the remains of the front line as held, where there was any cover, by isolated groups of the 29th, intermingled here and there with men of the 27th who had not been relieved or who had missed their way, and with a gaping space on the left. Beyond this, the line on the left still held firm for the moment.
The 27th Battalion, the relief of which was by now more or less complete, had suffered a terrible experience. It had been almost continuously under heavy shell fire in hopeless trenches for about sixty hours, during which sleep, rest, or refreshment had been practically out of the question. Major Kitson had conducted the defence of the first line with skill and judgment, and the Company Commanders, Capt. Meredith, Lieut. McCaw, Lieut. Wilson, and their subalterns had shown great courage and coolness in the face of adverse circumstances. Lieut. R. E. N. Jones, of the same battalion, met a gallant death in the early morning of the attack in an attempt to keep touch with and collect the left of the regiment during the retirement. He went out into the open under a terrific fire and was killed almost instantly.
April 6th, 3 A.M.
It was by now three o'clock of a misty morning; and as the officers around the telephone dug-out discovered that the line was cut, and were taking counsel together, the German artillery preparation began.
The shelling—heavy but intermittent—rose to a roar and the night overhead became pandemonium, while the ground underneath shook with the concussion or dissolved under the explosions. Officers endeavoured to rejoin their units, but it most cases found it impossible, and every group turned to their official or natural leader for orders. It is easy for those whose experience of the movements of bodies of men is confined to reviews in peace time, or to the organisation of a big political demonstration, to consider that this state of affairs is not to be expected of an army. Such a view simply springs from ignorance of conditions. Not here was a broad plain, smiling in the sun, on which battalions could be moved with uniformity; or the familiar pavements, where every street turning is known to the marshals of the delegations; not here the frictionless chess-board of the war game, with its moves pondered silently long in advance. The ground on which to move is certain death; the shattered and almost impassable trenches; the vast distance away in time of any supports; the blindness in the sense of direction which affects nearly every man on unknown country in the dark; the line of craters behind and the noise of the shells overhead: these are the elements making up the picture of the situation which, on that April morning, the 6th Canadian Brigade had to face. The rifles and machine-guns on which armed men are accustomed to depend for their lives, were half-clogged and useless. The very position of the enemy was unknown. But the native hardihood of the race asserted itself; groups made up of every unit formed themselves for the struggle for existence, fought where they could and retreated or died when the choice became retirement or passive annihilation.
April 6th, 3.30 A.M.
On this scene of incertitude and disturbance the day began to break. It was the hour when men rub their eyes and shiver in the cool air and stand to arms to meet that period which is most likely to bring the attack. The light of dawn, stealthy and suspicious, was showing in the east over a scene of ruin and desolation, and in this valley of dry bones something began to move. To the group of watchers in the trenches dark forms advancing could be seen through the mist. They came straight on without hesitating up the St. Eloi-Wytschaete road, towards Sackville Centre. It was known to our men that some Pioneers were out in that direction wiring the front. A whisper of doubt ran along the line. Were they the enemy or one of our working parties gone astray? One group evidently had made up its mind, and a sputter of fire broke out—how different in volume and intensity, alas! from the full-throated crash of musketry from a strongly-held, well-filled trench! It was enough, at any rate, for the Germans. They had thought to find nothing alive in the area on which their guns had wrought such havoc. The dark line turned half-right and swung round like a wave, seeking an inlet through some rocky barrier. Instantly every gun and rifle which would work was brought to bear. But the result was one to break the hearts of men trained to regard their weapons as their unfailing friends in the hour of need and danger. The foul mud splashed over them in torrents by the bombardment had worked into breech and magazine, and men threw down their choked rifles with curses, and snatched for one left behind by some dead or wounded man. But these, too, after a shot or two, refused to do their work! All along the line the remaining Lewis guns jammed, groups were too isolated to make a concerted counter-attack with the bayonet; and the Germans passed along our front until they found the fatal gap in the line. As they came opposite the last post on our left, Lieut. Browne, a machine-gunner of the 22nd French Canadians, turned his Lewis gun and what rifles the party had full on to them at short range. Some fifteen or twenty Germans were seen to fall, and the remainder threw themselves flat on their faces. Then the inevitable happened, and the gun went out of action. As the fire dribbled away to the crack of a single rifle, the enemy jumped up, swung to the left of the outpost, and headed straight through the undefended breach for the craters 150 yards behind.
The light had now grown brighter, and the officers at Sackville Centre could see the Germans breaking through to Craters 2 and 3. They turned their remaining men half-left rear, and fired with every rifle which would work. But the damage was done. The working parties on the second line, which was being built in front of the craters, had been withdrawn before light, and the small groups of the 28th Battalion in the craters themselves must have been overpowered by the 200 or 300 Germans who broke in on them. Once over the rim, the enemy were for the moment safe, and they promptly set about digging themselves in, and getting the machine-guns they had brought with them into position.
In all, then, some 200 or 300 Germans succeeded in occupying the two craters on the right of our position. From this point they began to work towards our left, and in the course of the day or the following night became possessed of Craters 4 and 5. This movement would have placed them in the rear of the men of the 31st Battalion at Campbelltown Corner had that still been occupied. As a matter of fact, however, the extreme right and south position of the 31st had been abandoned and destroyed in the course of the preliminary bombardment. At dawn a tremendous fire had been directed on the top line towards Shelley Farm,[[4]] and the trench between Campbelltown Corner and the old British line became untenable. To stay in it was certain and useless death. Part of its garrison got back into the original line. Other parties occupied the two small and ancient Craters 6 and 7, immediately in advance of it, under the impression, arrived at without due thought, that these were Craters 4 and 5; while one platoon cut off by the barrage moved to their left into an old advanced trench which afforded them some cover.
April 6th, 4:30 A.M.
At 4.30 in the morning, or an hour after the attack on the 27th, about 200 of the enemy made a second attack and attempted to overwhelm the party holding Craters 7 and 6; Major Doughty, of the 31st, organised the defence with skill and resolution. He allowed the Germans to advance within effective range, and then brought a concentric fire to bear on them. The isolated platoon enfiladed them on the left, the men in the craters enfiladed them on the right, while the original occupants of the old front line just behind and to the left of the craters mowed them down from the front. The attack recoiled in confusion.
Map—St. Eloi
Some fled, others threw themselves down into shell-holes and lay there unobserved as long as the daylight lasted. Our line was suffering now the fate of a taut rope cut in the centre. Each end recoiled instinctively to its point of connection with the old British trenches. It cannot be maintained that the retirement on the right, albeit it was from an untenable position, was carried out in a very skilled or organised fashion. This fact was due partly to the general nature of the ground and the situation, which has been sufficiently dwelt on, and partly to the number of different units on the same front. The time of relief—and the relief of the 27th was not yet fully accomplished though nearly so—with two sets of officers and men on the same front moving contrary ways, is always a period of some little confusion, and for that reason reliefs are not carried out at dawn, because it is the likely time for an attack. In this case the circumstances made it impossible to get the reliefs up earlier. But, apart from this, there were small parties of Pioneers scattered about in or in front of the line. It was not, of course, the business of these latter to await the Germans, but to get back into their own line, but the precipitancy and thoroughness with which they executed this movement added to the prevailing disturbance. At any rate, on the right every party from Bathurst Butts and the extreme right of their original line was between two fires and in imminent danger of being surrounded. So the scattered groups began to retire towards Sackville Centre and Fredericton Fort, where Capts. Gwynn and Meredith were organising the defence. Their party consisted of some subalterns of both their regiments, sixteen men of the 27th, and five Pioneers. These officers determined to hold on in spite of the heavy machine-gun fire from the craters in the rear, and to give time for the more easterly parties to rally on them. They got the telephone to work and asked for reinforcements; they tried to establish a continuous line down the Canadian communication trench, which had been deserted at its easterly end, and they asked for fire to be directed on the captured craters from the guns and trench mortars. Col. Snider, of the 27th, was the nearest Commanding Officer to them, and he did his utmost to come to their assistance. Their last request verged on the heroic, for their own trenches were only a hundred yards beyond those of the enemy, and their precise position could not be known to our gunners far to the rear. All this time men were falling fast. The cover was poor, and to show one's head was to invite an almost inevitable bullet. None the less, Lieut. Jackson, of the 29th, volunteered to go out with four men of the 27th and try to locate more precisely the positions the enemy had taken up. So murderous was the fire that within a few minutes he and one private returned alone. The other three had been killed almost instantly.
The requests for assistance from guns and men from the Brigade could not be very adequately met. The Higher Command were under a double difficulty. In the first place, so heavy was the German fire on the communication trenches that it was impossible to move supports up to them in the daylight hours of that morning. In the second place, the continual breakdown in the telephone service made all information as to the precise state of affairs in the front line impossible to obtain from minute to minute. In so far, however, as messages came through they continued to confirm the original evidence which had given the Brigade a radically false view of the whole situation. The view of the Brigade was that the Germans were simply a small raiding party who had broken through a weakly-held part of the line and seized on Crater 2, and possibly Crater 3. There they were, surrounded on every side except that by which they had come in, by parties of our troops in the closest proximity to them. Capts. Gwynn and Meredith were close behind their line on the right; and it was quite wrongly believed that Major Daly and the 31st were cheek by jowl with them in Craters 4 and 5 on the left; in the centre, of course, was our main force. To start a heavy bombardment was therefore impossible, for it would have killed more Canadians than Germans; it would have been using a steam-hammer to crack a nut and cracking one's own finger instead. A bombing and rifle attack was the only way to deal with such intruders. That was the obvious argument, and it would have been correct had the premises on which it was based borne any relation to the facts. The difficulties with which General Ketchen was confronted can best be appreciated in the light of the fact that he was not definitely informed till 5 o'clock on the morning of the 6th that the two Craters—2 and 3—were lost, and that all communication with the front then ceased for two and a half hours! As it was, under the urgent pressure of Col. Snider, of the 27th, and Capt. Gwynn, artillery fire was finally opened on Crater 2.
The trench mortars in our original right-hand trenches, whose gunners were near enough to see what they were doing, were out of action. Eventually, however, some 18-pounders were turned on the enemy. Capt. Gwynn, who observed the bombardment by Fredericton Fort, was doubtful of its efficacy, but the testimony of prisoners taken during the ensuing night proves that the garrison of Crater 2 lost heavily, though not heavily enough to induce them to retire. But the main reliance was placed on a bombing and infantry attack from the north and north-east, and the 28th Battalion, which had not yet been in action, was ordered to come up from its trenches behind the centre of the position and assist in the assault.
In the meantime, the isolated parties of the 27th and the 29th were making their way back as best they could from the east to the rallying point in front of Crater 1. The stories of these successive retirements will, in the main, never be told—for too often they were cut short by death. The machine-gun teams of the 5th Brigade were also involved in the retreat. Lieut. Browne commanded the 22nd, Sergt. Naylor the 24th, Lieut. White the 25th, Lieut. Lockhart the 26th. Of all these, only one gun was brought out of action—that of Sergt. Naylor, of the 24th Battalion, who showed great presence of mind in mitigating the confusion of the mixed units in the retreat, and saved the majority of his team. The character of the force is well illustrated by the private occupations of his team. The sergeant was a storekeeper, Lance-Cpl. Rose a patternmaker, Lance-Cpl. Duley a bank teller, Private Arundel a ledger-keeper, Private Clarke a salesman, Private Burchell a private secretary.
The parties of the 25th and 26th were never seen again. They must presumably have perished, and their stories with them. One tale, however, survives—and that is the march of Lieut. Browne of the 22nd (French Canadians) and his detachment across the front and through the lines of the enemy. As has been already related, Lieut. Browne found himself on our extreme left with a Lewis gun when Capt. Gwynn went back for instructions. He fired on the Germans and saw them pass behind him to the crater. "The enemy," he says, "marched in absolute silence until I opened fire, and they extended and began to shout as they ran forward. In my opinion the enemy did not think that the front line was occupied, which would account for their advancing in close order until struck by our fire." As the enemy swung round his left, there was no outbreak of fire from the Lewis gun of the 25th Battalion—it had been buried and its crew presumably killed. Every gun and rifle save one having jammed, and the enemy being well behind the line, Lieut. Browne took his decision. "Not being able to do any effective work and believing the other crews to be out of action; also seeing the enemy closing on the left towards the craters, I decided to retire to the second line, there to unite with the garrison to make a stand." The party, which consisted of five men of the 22nd and a few others, accordingly started back north, following in the wake of the advancing Germans. There was, however, no garrison in our newly-dug second line south of the craters, for the working party had gone. Instead they encountered the barbed wire the working parties had put in front of the trench. The Germans, by now on the edge of the craters, fired on them as they were struggling through. Lance-Cpl. Lambert, Private Rattè, Private Brisebois, and a man of the 25th fell, but as they gained the other side they came across a digging party which had lost its way, and had not gone back with the others. Hastily gathering these men, Lieut. Browne charged for the spot where they had been fired on. Not a man had a rifle which would work, but they rushed in like the paladins of romance on the armed Germans who were in the trench. These they killed in hand-to-hand conflict with the butts of their rifles. Alter this notable feat of arms the party got into the new second line trench and proceeded along it towards Fredericton Fort. As they came running down the trench, the Germans came out of the crater against them, but Lieut. Browne's detachment managed to elude the enemy. Picking up some of the 29th, and the gun crew of the 24th on the way, Lieut. Browne succeeded in reaching Fredericton Fort, where he found Capts. Gwynn and Meredith. Of his original section only two remained alive. None the less, each new group had rallied round this officer, and were "ready for a fight at any time." Such a story of valour and discretion exceeds all that fiction has ever imagined. April 6th, 7 A.M. At 7 a.m. on the morning of the 6th, all telephone communication with the officers at Fredericton Fort ceased. The last message which came through to Capt. Gwynn (as appeared subsequently) from the Canadian communication trench was a simple and tragic one: "We are retiring." Isolated by now on both right and left, and with the enemy in front and rear, Capt. Gwynn still held firm until he was reasonably certain that the last party from the abandoned line had come in. Finally, some two hours afterwards, no orders having been received, as indeed they could not be, he decided to retire. His men were falling fast in an impossible position and no alternative was open to him.
Fortunately, a message asking for the support of the machine-guns in our original trenches on the right had got through, and under cover of their fire and the shelling of the Crater 2 by our 18-pounders, Capt. Gwynn conducted a successful retirement to the old lines. In this emergency the 27th and the 29th were ably led, and seconded their officers' efforts to the last. The news of this final movement on the right did not reach the Brigade until some time later in the day.
With this retirement the first phase of the battle comes to an end. The new line has been indubitably lost with the exception of a few outpost positions like the minor craters, and the remainder of the prolonged struggle is devoted to the attempt to reoccupy by a series of counter-attacks ground which has been abandoned, and to oust the enemy from the craters. It will be well to defer to a later stage a full consideration of all the circumstances which prevented a successful issue, but something may be said with advantage on the fighting from the night of April 3rd, when the Canadian 2nd Division took over, to the morning of the 6th, when the German advance succeeded. It is inevitable that the mere event should leave behind it a certain trace of bitterness. To lose trenches, however indefensible, can never be pleasant. Failure must differ from success whatever the real merits of the case may be. And it is part of the tragedy of modern warfare that the real conditions which make such a retirement unavoidable can never be understood to the full by those who have not gone through the experience of a general action in trench warfare. No word painting, however vivid, can make the picture actual to minds which have mercifully been preserved from the experience and to eyes which have never seen a modern battlefield. The shock of squadrons, the bayonet charge, or the exchange of point-blank volleys between opposing battalions has become familiar to us in history-books, and the artist can draw them to the life. It is easy to grasp the recoil of a column down the hill-side under the furious impetus of an overwhelming assault. But to be killed in sections by high explosives and machine-guns in a trench which is rapidly ceasing to exist, so that the agony is prolonged for hours, is an ordeal more difficult to grasp. The mere reiteration of its horrors dulls the sense of the reader as the actuality strains the nerves of the soldier. Every sentence would have to end with the word "shell." The knowledge that to stay is useless because no attack will be made while anyone remains alive; that to bring up supports is impossible under the barrage, and that anyone who came would merely share your fate; the impossibility of keeping pace with the destruction of your only cover; the biting fire from rear, front and flank; the impotence of gripping a useless rifle—these things are indeed worse than the bitterness of death! The men of the 6th Brigade were right in retiring as soon as the line was broken and had become indefensible, and when no supports could be brought up to their assistance. But, apart from the unavoidable necessities of the case, the 2nd Division suffered from ill-luck. In all military operations luck is of primary importance, because even the best planned and most carefully executed schemes are met by such unexpected changes and conditions that they go to ruin through the Unforeseen. Every commander must expect a reasonable share of the favours of fortune. That share was in this action conspicuously lacking. The mistake about the identity of the Craters 4 and 5 was the beginning of all the trouble. Had the 31st Battalion occupied these instead of Craters 6 and 7, when they were blown out of Campbelltown Corner, they might have checked the whole enemy advance and made the Germans in Craters 2 and 3 what they were for long believed to be by the Higher Command, an isolated group partly surrounded by the Canadians. The initial mistake was the precipitate action and belief of the 31st Battalion, due to the fact that no one knew the ground as it had been transformed by mine and shell fire. But the results of the blunder were cumulative.
The counter-attack on the night of the 6th-7th—dealt with in the next chapter—by the 27th and 31st Battalions confirmed and exaggerated the error by failing to get to the real craters, although the men of these battalions were firmly convinced that they had done so. They found men holding what they thought to be Crater 5, and naturally believed them. The result was to immobilise our artillery during the crucial phase of the action and for days afterwards. Had we known that the whole crater line in the centre was held by the Germans, we could almost certainly have blown them out of it. As it was our gunners were crippled by the fear of destroying the positions of their own infantry. Such a mistake is no doubt "the luck of war," and in the ordinary course of events it would soon have been rectified by the photographic pictures taken by our aeroplanes. But here came the crowning blow of a malignant fortune. All through the first fortnight of the action a great gale blew. It not only hindered our actions on the surface of the earth, but it absolutely stopped them in the air. No aeroplane could go up in it, and the vital facts of the position were hidden from the commanders until the morning of April 16th.
Confronted by all these adverse circumstances, the companies of the 27th, 29th and the 31st did all that mortal men could do. In the face of heavy casualties, and holding positions under intolerable artillery fire, they stood their ground firmly so long as defence was possible, and retired, in rallying groups when to hold on was merely suicide they did not command success; they deserved it.
[[1]] The whole of this line from the Canadian communication trench to Campbelltown Corner consisted of German communication, or second and third line, trenches, which had been battered in turn by the guns of both sides.
[[2]] A traverse is the projection of earth back into the firing trench which divides it into sections or firing bays. Its object is to give cover against flank fire, so that if an enemy enfilades you he cannot sweep right down the length of the trench. A trench without traverses is therefore very dangerous.
The firing platform is a ledge of earth from one to two feet high, on which a man must stand in order to see or fire over a parapet. It follows from this that until he gets up on the platform he can, in a good trench, walk about freely, without exposing his head to the enemy. Here, of course, the trench was a German one, and in consequence the parapet and platform were on the north side of the trench, whereas we wanted them on the south side. The first thing to do in capturing a trench from the enemy is to seize the sandbags of the parapet and to drag them across to the other side and then make a new platform below them.
[[3]] A barrage is a concentration of shell fire on a particular point or frontage so as to make it impassable to the enemy. It is also called "curtain fire" by the French. It can be used to prevent an attack on one's own front line, or check reinforcements coming to the enemy first line from the second or third lines.
[[4]] The Farm was not named after the poet, but because of the number of shells it received.