CHAPTER V
COURCELETTE (continued).
The afternoon battle, which gave Courcelette solidly into our hands, was, as we have seen, the affair of the 5th Brigade, under Brigadier-General A. H. McDonnell, C.M.G., D.S.O. All the morning, fired by the successes of the 4th and 6th, the Brigade, held in reserve, had been fretting on the curb. As the G.O.C., with his Battalion Commanders, watched the fierce fighting and exultant progress of the other two Brigades, they began to wonder uneasily if the rôle of spectator was the only one that would fall to them in this great adventure. All doubts, however, were presently removed. At 3.30 came orders for the Brigade to take the village of Courcelette that same afternoon.
It was what in commercial terms would be called a "rush order," but the Brigade, already strung up to the highest pitch of expectancy, had no hesitation in undertaking to fill it. Operation orders were drawn up in haste; but that there was no sacrifice of explicitness and detail, on account of this haste, was proved by the accuracy and smoothness with which they worked out in the application. Officers and N.C.O.'s had to be instructed in their parts, yet all was so expeditiously managed that by 5 o'clock the advance, starting from its rendezvous point, was working its way up across the open under heavy shell-fire to the positions captured in the morning. It was from these new positions that the assault was to begin.
The three Battalions which made the attack—the three which actually carried out the storming of Courcelette—were the 22nd (French-Canadians, of Montreal), the 25th (Nova Scotia), and the 26th (New Brunswick). The 24th Battalion (Victoria Rifles of Canada) was held in reserve. The right of the attacking line was allotted to the French-Canadians, whose objective was the whole of the village to the right of the main street, running north. The left of the line was taken by the Nova Scotians, whose task was to storm the left half of the village. The steeple of the village church formed the landmark dividing the two objectives. The New Brunswickers followed close behind to support the assault, to deal with strong points which had proved too obdurate for the attacking waves, and thoroughly to mop up the whole village.
The action being a direct frontal attack, with no feints or flank diversions, and carried to its triumphant conclusion along its whole front, on schedule time and in precise accord with orders, the story of it does not afford that intense dramatic interest, those soul-racking fluctuations, those moments of terrible suspense, those snatchings of victory out of defeat, which may be found in the accounts of many lesser engagements. There were practically no fluctuations; and there was never, in the assailing waves, a moment of doubt as to the result. From flank to flank the advance was so irresistible, so implacable and undeviating, that within one hour and a quarter from the first lift of our barrage, the report went back to Headquarters that Courcelette was completely in our hands and that the work of consolidation was under way. Considering the distance and nature of the ground fought over and the tremendous obstacles to be overcome, it is obvious that there was no time for varying fortunes. By the very perfection and glory of the achievement the story of it must suffer.
Envisaged as a whole, the action may best be presented as the steady onflow of our waves close behind the successive lifts of our barrage. The movement was as deliberate and as strictly co-ordinated as if it were being executed on the parade-ground; for the enemy's fury of shell and machine-guns, though it could slash gaps in our lines, could not either check or hurry their inexorable march. Now here, now there, the lines would break into a little seething vortex of body-to-body struggle as they swept around and engulfed some rock of obstinate resistance. But for the most part these stubborn points were left to the uncompromising attention of the New Brunswickers, whose "mopping up" was thorough; and, having confidence in that thoroughness, the attacking lines refused to be delayed, but bombed and bayoneted their way straight on to their final objective. They gained it, and the most furious counter-attacks which an able and hardy enemy could afterwards hurl against it never availed to shake their grip upon it.
To grasp the details of the action it is necessary to follow the fortunes of the attacking Battalions individually. The total depth covered in the advance, as we have seen, was about 3,000 yards, and every yard of it under heavy shelling. The 22nd Battalion, on the right, led by Lieutenant-Colonel Tremblay, the Battalion Commander, in person, negotiated this portion of the advance in extended order at three paces interval (that is, in non-technical language, in an open line with a space of three yards between man and man). The two leading companies in this formation occupied a front of about 900 yards. One hundred and fifty yards behind them, in the same formation, came the other two companies of the Battalion. Two hundred yards behind them, again, came two companies of the 26th Battalion, also in two lines, to do the mopping up for their predecessors.
This first thin line, looking frail and inadequate indeed for the great task before it, moved on through the storm of death as steadily as if upon manoeuvres. But even upon manoeuvres it is difficult enough for a line so extended to maintain formation and direction. Now, with great gaps blown in it here and there, and each individual compelled to thread his way between endless shell-holes, some old and cold, some still smoking with poison fumes, the line took ground insensibly to the right and fell off toward Martinpuich. Its left was losing touch with the 25th Battalion across the Bapaume Road. Colonel Tremblay, perceiving the error in time, doubled across the whole front, swung up the right flank, and got the line once more facing its true objective. Three times he was thrown down and half-buried by shells exploding near him, but impatiently recovering himself he continued to guide the attack. The Battalion swept over the heads of the surprised 4th Brigade in Candy Trench, and then, pivoting on the Sugar Refinery, whirled to the left till its right rested on Gun Pit Trench. Fronting now due north, with shouts and cheers and shrill cries of exultation the excited French-Canadians stormed forward into Courcelette.
In their eagerness, these dark little men from the docks of Montreal were hardly to be restrained. They entered the outskirts of the village fairly on the heels of their own barrage, and suffered some loss from it before it lifted forward. The platoons of their extreme right ran into a torrent of machine-gun fire, which took heavy toll of them. But as soon these guns were located the little men were on to them like wild-cats, and from that quarter there was no further trouble.
The progress of the Battalion through the village was, in the main, one irresistible rush, scarcely delayed by the savage hand-to-hand encounters which developed all along its progress. Here and there a party of two or three would delay, perforce, to unearth and destroy a dangerous sniper's post or to bomb a threatening dug-out. But for the most part the front waves passed straight on, their left bounded by the main street running north, their right by the trenches outside the sunken road which forms the eastern limit of the village. They were not in the mood for stopping to take prisoners in their haste, but they gathered in about 300, unwounded, as they went. By 6.45 they had pushed clean through the maze of houses and established their lines clear beyond the Stone Quarry, which occupies the extreme north-eastern apex of Courcelette. They had utterly overthrown, destroyed, or captured a garrisoning force numerically superior to themselves and holding all the advantages of position and preparation.
This kind of fighting, this battling through the maze of half-ruined cottages, wrecked gardens, and tumbled walls was exactly to the taste of these eager and wiry Montreal Frenchmen. The variety of it, the scope it offered to individual adventure, appealed to them. Into such individual adventure they threw themselves with zest. A fiery sergeant, having captured a store of German bombs, loaded himself with them and set out to put them to the best possible use. He bombed a dug-out crowded with Huns. He rushed on to another and cleaned it up with equal effectiveness. He then, still single-handed attacked a third, but was shot down before he could throw his bomb. In spite of the heavy casualties which they suffered from beginning to end of their advance, the French-Canadians carried it through at a pitch of enthusiasm which made devotion easy and sacrifice of no account. But having thus gained their prize, the holding of it was presently to prove a more searching test of their quality. Throughout the next forty-eight hours they were to show, under terrible trial, as we shall see, a tenacity, an endurance, and a toughness of fibre no less admirable than the fire and élan of their attack.
Meanwhile, how had it been faring with the 25th Battalion, the men of Nova Scotia, on the left? The objective set them, it will be remembered, was that portion of Courcelette—the larger portion, as will be seen by reference to the map—which lay west of the principal street running north and south. Courcelette at this time, though much damaged, was still recognisable as a village. There were still streets to fight through, still houses and walls to serve as ambush for machine-gun or sniper. And the village church in the main street still stood, still held aloft its ancient spire, which was the landmark to guide the right flank of the Nova Scotians' line. It was the ceaseless—and futile—German bombardment of the place, after it had passed once for all into our hands, which pounded Courcelette into the dust and made of her one stony desolation with Pozières, Ovillers, and La Boiselle.
The first wave of the 25th Battalion was led by its commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel E. Hilliam. It was made up of "D" and "A" companies, led by their respective company commanders, Major Brooks and Major Tupper. And it occupied, in extended order, a frontage of about half a mile. For the work before it this line was daringly thin, but the coolness and steadiness of these Nova Scotian men fully justified the confidence of their leader, and the wide extension of the line kept down the casualties in passing through the heavy German barrage. In spite of this furious shelling; and the tortured ground to be traversed (which was nothing more than a jumble of shell-holes), this difficult formation was preserved as methodically as it on inspection parade, the whole battalion responding to its leader as a well-tuned machine responds to the touch of the operator.
At a distance of 600 yards from the village the advance came under very heavy machine-gun fire, and Major Brooks, who was leading D Company, the left half of the line, was killed, as was also Captain Dickey, the Adjutant, who accompanied Colonel Hilliam. Through this destructive fire the line swept on unwavering, without either delay or haste, to within 200 yards of the first houses. It was from among these houses that the stream of leaden death was issuing. Colonel Hilliam gave the word to charge, and the position—consisting of the whole southern outskirts of the village from the main street on the right, to the sunken road on the left—was captured with a rush. In this rush one of the enemy's machine-guns was taken, but the rest were successfully carried off by the survivors of their crews into the more northerly portion of the village.
The Nova Scotians were now somewhat ahead of their scheduled time—so much so, indeed, that they were beginning to get peppered with fragments from their own barrage. Colonel Hilliam, therefore, halted them, under cover of the cottages and garden walls, to take breath for the next thrust. He moved through the ranks, talking to each man personally, and found that, in spite of their casualties, they had small need of cheering or encouragement. Amid toppling walls and hurtling death and a pandemonium that no words can describe, they were smoking and chaffing as if their halt was a mere route-march rest along a peaceful roadside. But under this gay and laughing surface was the thrill of a fierce exultation, and, in the words of their commander, they were "like hounds straining on the leash" for the renewal of the attack. A few minutes more and the barrage lifted. The leash was loosed. The front line burst forward, and, bearing down all opposition in its rush, swept straight through to its objective, 300 yards beyond the northern boundary of the village. Here they at once began to dig in, and so judicious was the siting of their trenches that the enemy's artillery did not succeed in locating them till the next day. Colonel Hilliam, though wounded, remained on duty, personally supervising the task of consolidation. The second line, some fifty yards behind, came on more deliberately, finishing what its predecessor had left half-done, and taking up its position in support of the first. Numbers of the enemy were seen fleeing wildly up the slope and over the crest of the ridge beyond the village. They were pursued at once by the deadly individual fire of our sharpshooters and by the collective fire of certain sections working as fire-units as deliberately as if at range practice Though bomb and bayonet had been their chief weapons of late, the men had not forgotten the fine points of their musketry, and it was but a thin remnant of the fugitives that escaped over the ridge. These sons of Nova Scotia had proved themselves to be of the same indomitable temper as their forbears in "the land of the glens and the mountains and the heroes." They had displayed that blend of cold resolution and fighting fire which we associate with such storied Scottish regiments as the Gordons and the Black Watch.
Ten minutes later the Montreal men, enveloping the Stone Quarry, had joined up on the right. This was at 7 o'clock in the evening of the 15th. The whole of Courcelette was in our hands, and our grip was locked upon it, never to be shaken loose.