“Officers, N.C.O.s and men of the East Lancashire Division, I congratulate you on your valiant deeds, and in the name of our King and Country, I thank you for the good work you have done.
“As to the future, I remain confident that, if possible, even better work will be done, and the enemy will have further cause to regret meeting the East Lancashire Division.”
The Division was no less proud of its Commander, and its confidence in him was unbounded.
CHAPTER XII
THROUGH THE HINDENBURG LINE
(September 7-30, 1918)
Along the entire front from the Belgian coast to Alsace the Allied advance progressed with a vigour and speed that surpassed the hopes of the civilized nations, and now began seriously to sap the morale of the Hun. One of the many satisfactory results of this rapid progress was the shortening of the front, in consequence of which divisions were squeezed out of the line at the conclusion of each move forward by the overlapping of divisions on either flank. Sometimes a division that had penetrated farther than its flanking divisions would be squeezed out when these drew level; at times a division that had encountered greater opposition, and had had to fight for every yard of ground, would be overlapped by troops which had advanced beyond it across less difficult country. Divisions were thus given more frequent opportunities for recuperation and reorganization, and for the training of the new drafts which were being hurried across the sea to repair the heavy losses inseparable from even the most successful assault.
Though the casualties of the 42nd Division had been small in comparison with the value of its accomplishment and the loss it had inflicted upon the enemy, it had suffered severely; and a fortnight of rest, recreation, and training in villages through which its recent victorious advance had been made was a boon that was much appreciated. A number of tents were provided, but the greater part of the troops had to dig in, or repair damaged German shelters. There was no lack of material, so weather-proof and fairly comfortable quarters were soon available. Each brigade of the Divisional Artillery was granted a brief respite of three or four days in which to “wash and brush up,” and get a little sleep after their exacting toil. D.H.Q. was at Riencourt in a German ammunition dump, at one end of which was a kind of museum containing a specimen of every variety of shell in the dump. The whole area from Bus-en-Artois to Ytres was utterly devastated, and the once flourishing town of Bapaume was a heap of brickdust. Horrible evidences of recent fighting and of the battles of early spring were oppressively apparent. But the Division was now inured to horrors—not callous to suffering, but accustomed to death, and able to look it in the face. Men would risk all to save an injured comrade, and would even do much to assist a badly wounded enemy, but once a man was dead they accepted philosophically the fact that there was no help for it, and they had better think of something else. The interest and physical effort of sports and games, hard work and training helped men to forget. The training was of a thoroughly practical nature in attacks against strong positions, all arms co-operating; and officers and men threw themselves into it with a zest that clearly indicated their determination not only to “go one better” than the enemy, but also to eclipse their own previous performances. The spirit of the men is illustrated by a story told to the C.R.A. by the Commander of the N.Z. Division. A diminutive Lancashire lad was found in the New Zealanders’ trenches. On being asked what he was doing there he replied, “Just looking round,” and added in explanation: “We’re waiting out at rest just behind you chaps until the next attack starts. We’re the Storm Troops, you see!”
Ever since first meeting the New Zealanders in the early spring, about Hébuterne, the two divisions had been firm friends. The N.Z.s were very big men with big strength, ideas, and hearts, but they exhibited great liking for their brothers of smaller stature from Lancashire, and recognized that small bodies may contain very big hearts. They were unfailingly ready to co-operate in any work that would help to beat the Boche. The nickname of “The Pull-Throughs,” which they gave to the Division, contained an uncomplimentary allusion to the size of the men—the flannel pull-through measuring four inches by two inches—and at the same time an appreciative reference to the way in which they invariably pulled through each task entrusted to them. Another division with which the 42nd had been brought into the closest touch was the 37th—a very fine division. The relations between the 37th and 42nd were always most cordial, and each knew that it could always rely upon the other’s whole-hearted co-operation.