CHAPTER XVI
THE ADVANCE
The advance of the British troops under Sir Julian Byng, who was to win in this engagement the sobriquet of "Bingo" Byng, marked a departure from rules of warfare as it had been conducted up to date in the greatest of all conflicts. Heretofore, heavy cannonading had always preceded an advance in force. Heavy curtains of smoke from the great guns had been flung over the enemy's lines to mask the movements of the attackers.
While this smoke curtain had protected, to some extent, the movements of the assaulting party, it also had the effect of "tipping off" the foe that an attack was about to be launched. Now the British were about to advance without the protection of the smoke screens.
But General Byng's army moved forward in the wake of even a more formidable protection than smoke.
British "tanks," armored tractors, showed the way.
General Byng's attack covered the whole length of what had become known as the redoubtable and supposedly impregnable "Hindenburg line," so called because it had been established by that greatest of all German military geniuses, Field Marshal von Hindenburg. From Drocourt, just to the northwest of Douai, the line stretched for forty miles in a fairly straight line down through Vitryen-Artois, Villiers, Cagnocourt to Queant and Pronville, thence on to Boursies, Havrincourt, Gour Zeacourt, Epehy and St. Quentin.
The first, or upper section of this line—from Drocourt to Queant—was
called the Wotan line. The lower section had become known as the
Siegfried line. Both together formed the general scheme of the
Hindenburg front.
It was along this line, then, that the British struck on the morning of Nov. 20, 1917. The drive had for its chief objective the capture, or possible isolation, of Cambrai, one of the most important positions in this sector in German hands. Cambrai was a railroad center in those days, a terminus from which the German general staff supplied various points of the long line with munitions, food and men, the latter when required.
The capture of Cambrai, it was apparent, would mean the ultimate fall of St. Quentin and Lille, both points of strategic advantage.
General Byng ordered his third army forward shortly before daylight so that when the moment came for the first blow his men would have daylight with which to go about their work.
As has been said, there was no preliminary bombardment of the enemy's positions sufficiently in advance to give the enemy time to prepare his resisting measures. Instead of the uprooting barrage, British tanks cleared the path for the infantry, and what few cavalry was used in the attack. Thus the enemy was given no warning.
The attack was a complete surprise—and a surprise attack in this great war had been called well nigh impossible. Even the German air service was fooled. As a result of its inability to anticipate General Byng's movements, the German fighting machine naturally lost some of its efficiency.
As dawn broke, the British tanks bore down on the foe steadily and without the appearance of undue haste; in fact, the tanks could not have made haste had such been General Byng's plan. Formidable instruments of warfare that they are, they do not number speed among their many accomplishments.
Hundreds of these tanks, bearing every resemblance to mythical monsters of a prehistoric day, crawled across the ground that separated the opposing armies. What must have been the surprise of the German general staff when the break of day showed these monsters so near?
Having had no warning of the impending attack, the enemy naturally was taken at a disadvantage. The warning of the advance was flashed along the German first-line defenses the moment daylight disclosed the hundreds of tanks advancing to the fray. The second-line defenses were made ready to withstand an attack should the first line be beaten back, and, although it was not within the comprehension of German leaders that it could be possible, the third-line defenses also were made ready to repel the invaders.
Between the German first-line trenches and the British front at this point the distance was something under half a mile. Between the various German lines of defense, the distance was almost an even mile. As the British tanks advanced across the open ground, smashing down barbed-wire entanglement and crawling in and out of shell craters as though they did not exist, defenders sprang to their positions. Rapid-firers opened upon the British from every conceivable angle; but the shells dropped harmlessly from the sides of the armored tanks. The tanks just seemed to shake their heads and passed on.
Behind the tanks the infantry advanced slowly, flanked here and there by squadrons of cavalry, the horses of which could hardly be held back, so anxious did they seem to get at the foe.
The British tanks spat fire from the rapid-fire guns that formed their armament. Streams of bullets flew into the German lines, dealing death and destruction.
From the rear the great British guns dropped high explosive shells in the German trenches.
The German first-line defenses, prepared with days of hard labor, and formed of deep ditches, of concrete and pure earth, offered no difficulties to the British tanks. Straight up to these emplacements they crawled, shoved their noses into the walls, and uprooted them; then crawled calmly over the debris.
Into the gaps thus opened, the British infantry poured, while cavalrymen jumped their horses across the gaps and fell upon the foe with sword and lance.
The Germans fought bravely, but they were so bewildered by this innovation in the art of warfare that their lines had lost their cohesion long before the tanks plowed into them, and they scattered as the British "Tommies" dashed forward, after one withering volley, with the cold steel of the bayonet.
Here and there small groups collected and offered desperate resistance, but their efforts to stem the tide of advancing British were in vain.
An hour after daylight first-line defenses of the entire Hindenburg line were in the hands of the British.
But General "Bingo" Byng was not content to rest on these laurels. He ordered his left wing—those of his troops who had advanced against the Wotan line—to advance farther, and also threw his center into the conflict again. Troops opposed to the Siegfried line he held in reserve, that he might strike a blow in that sector of the field should his main attack fail.
Again the British on left and center dashed to the attack. Again the tanks plowed over the uneven ground, and advanced against a second apparently impregnable barrier. Flushed with victory, the British "Tommies" cheered to the echo, as they moved forward gaily.
Many a man fell with a song on his lips, as he stumbled across the shell craters that made walking so difficult, for the Germans from their second-line defenses poured in a terrible fire, but the others pressed on as though nothing had happened. There was no time to pause and give succor to a wounded comrade, the command had been to advance. Besides, the Red Cross nurses and the ambulance drivers would be along presently to take care of those who could no longer take care of themselves. It was hard, many a man told himself, but he realized that the first duty was to drive back the foe.
Shell after shell struck the British tanks as they waddled across the rough ground. One, suddenly, blew into a million pieces. An explosive had struck a vital spot. For the most part, however, the shells fell from the armored sides like drops of water from a roof.
German troops lined the second-line defenses and poured a hail of bullets into the advancing British. It was no use. The British refused to be stopped.
Straight to the trenches the tanks led the way, and nosed into them. Down went emplacements that the Germans had spent days in making secure. The tanks rooted them up like a steam shovel. Men fled to right and left, and there, at command from their officers, paused long enough to pour volleys of rifle fire into the Britons, as they swarmed into the trenches in the wake of the tanks.
From the second-line defenses the tanks led the way to the third line, where they met with the same success. This, however, took longer, and when the British found themselves in possession of these, with Cambrai, the immediate objective, less than four miles away. General Byng called a halt. He felt that his men had done enough for one day. There would be a renewed attack on the morrow, but now he realized that the most important thing was to straighten out his lines, consolidate them against a possible counter-assault, and work out his plan of attack for the following day.
Therefore, the "Tommies" made themselves as comfortable as possible in their newly won positions. Prisoners were hurried to the rear, and captured guns were swiftly swung into position to be used against their erstwhile owners should they return to the fight.
In these positions the British third army spent the night.