The rest is a story of complete and absolute surprise. The attack came from the least threatened side of the enemy position. Two machine-gun teams tried to resist, but after several had been killed, the rest threw up their hands. Altogether about 160 prisoners were taken in the village.
Posts were established on the outskirts of the village, but it was not found possible to occupy the station, where the enemy was strong and thoroughly roused, and so the momentary hope that Brunemont might also be surprised, vanished.
At 6 a.m. two platoons of the supporting company came up and were used to reinforce the posts already established.
The enemy now began to show fight. Two machine guns worked up close and gave Capt. Sloan a lot of trouble. They were engaged with rifle grenades and rushed successfully. The remaining portion of the support company was moved across the canal and into the village.
As the morning advanced and the light grew better, the infantry observation posts in Quesnoy Wood reported parties of the enemy moving towards Aubigny. These were quickly dispersed, with many casualties, by the artillery, who also put to flight the crews of several trench mortars which were giving some trouble.
About ten o’clock a heavy enemy barrage was put down on the village, together with a concentration of machine-gun fire. This lasted for half an hour, and was followed by a most determined attack, with a force estimated at a battalion, from the north, and a smaller force from Brunemont. In spite of heavy losses, the Germans pressed on and slowly outflanked one post after another, greatly aided by trench mortars. The 2nd Londons were pressed back to La Petite Navie stream, where a stand was made and the enemy prevented from debauching from the village.
Being familiar with the ground, however, the enemy made full use of the hedges, and although the four Stokes mortars of the brigade battery, which supported the 2nd Londons, did exceedingly good work, it became advisable to fall back farther to the canal bank.
A bridgehead was maintained for some time, but at 5 p.m. all troops had returned to the southern bank. They brought with them three enemy machine guns, and threw ten others into the canal.
But in the early morning, when still dark, a patrol started to cross over the bridge with the object of establishing a post on the north bank. The enemy was so close that the end of the bridge was within bombing distance. This caused the men to “bunch,” with the result that the bridge broke. Cpl. McPhie and Sapper Cox, of the 416th Field Coy. R.E., jumped into the water and held the cork floats, which supported the structure, together, getting their fingers badly trodden on by the patrol. But the patrol crossed before the two gallant men let go. Cpl. McPhie, realising the serious position of the men who had crossed to the north side, set about gathering material to repair and strengthen the bridge. Daylight came on apace, but the corporal never wavered in his intention. Having assembled what he wanted, in the nature of wood, he led the way with the curt remark to his men: “We’ve got to make a way for the patrol—it’s a death-or-glory job.”
The patrol on the north bank helped him to the best of their power, but they had the slenderest hold on that side of the canal. It was daylight, and enemy snipers were concealed in every hedge. The corporal started to work with bullets cracking like whips round his ears. He was shot in the head and fell in the water. Sapper Cox tried to pull him out, but Cpl. McPhie had sufficient strength to tell him to leave go, as he himself “was done.” Sapper Cox persisted in his efforts. The enemy fire increased: the corporal was hit again and again; Sapper Cox