2nd Lieut. G. Buxton (wounded) and 2nd Lieut. Coulthurst (killed), who were on the sick list at the time, followed the battalion a few weeks later, and Capt. M. Wright, who was left behind to organize a nucleus company to provide reinforcements, himself came out with a draft during the early autumn.
Major General Baldock was in command of the Division and Brig.-General E. F. Brereton of the brigade.
Arrived at Neuf Berquin the 6th Duke’s was not allowed to remain idle. After three days’ rest the battalion was taken up by detachments for trial trips to the trenches and on April 26th the brigade took over from the London Regiment a portion of the line in front of Fleurbaix. It was at this time that the First West Riding Division became the 49th; the 2nd West Riding Brigade, consisting of the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th Duke of Wellington’s Regiments, became the 147th Infantry Brigade, the whole being attached to the Indian Corps in the First Army.
In after days men commonly looked back on the Fleurbaix era as a time of peace and plenty. It is true that the weather was good and the life not too strenuous. But the sniping was unusually severe. Few reliefs took place without a casualty and the shelling of billets was a far from comfortable novelty. The way the battalion settled down to work in its new surroundings augured well for the future.
On May 9th the men were spectators of one of those early attacks which cost so much and gained so little. The limit of the main attack was the right of the 6th Battalion; and if it had been successful the battalion was also to advance and take a part. But backed by insufficient artillery and faced by relentless machine gun fire, the attack failed to reach the foot of the Aubers Ridge, and the battalion was ordered to stand fast in its trenches. It was a day of tense anxiety and the battalion was lucky to have so few casualties. The signallers especially distinguished themselves, mending the lines back to the brigade as soon as they were cut by shellfire; and few will forget the picture of Lieut. Anthony Slingsby striding upright across the open, while he sternly commanded some diminutive signaller beside him to “keep his head down.”
Quieter days followed, and on June 26th the brigade left those trenches for the last time, handing them over to their gallant fellow-territorials of the 51st Division. The battalion was no longer raw: it had seen its dead. One officer (Lieut. Knowles) had been killed in a bombing accident, and two (Lieut. Petty and Capt. Sarsby) had been severely wounded. About twenty other ranks were among the casualties. And the old grey walls of the ruined abbey, with its little fishpond and the stately remnants of its tower, will always be remembered by those who helped to defend it.
THE YPRES SALIENT IN 1915.
On leaving Fleurbaix the 147th Brigade moved north by rapid marches, and soon the whole Division found itself in the Second Army under Major-General Plumer. The last march, from the neighbourhood of Meteren to St. Jans-ter-biezen Wood, was particularly severe for troops that had just come out of trenches. It was a good fifteen-miles tramp over rough and hilly roads: it was undertaken at night when most men had been on their legs all day, and everyone had to carry all his belongings on his back. When the battalion finally halted in its allotted position in the wood, the men had no difficulty in sleeping where they lay.
Here the battalion bivouacked for a week and underwent inspection by various generals, renewing their acquaintance with the Army commander. On July 7th they moved forward and for the first time entered the never-to-be-forgotten salient of Ypres.
Northward from Ypres runs the Yser canal, and in insecure shelters scratched into the embankments the support battalions had their home. The bridges crossing the canal were enfiladed by the enemy’s machine guns and were constantly destroyed by shell fire: and the rain of shrapnel whistling through the distorted trees caused men moving up either bank to dodge like rabbits from shelter to shelter. But this was a haven of rest compared to the front line. In front of the canal was sheer desolation, with ridges sloping upwards towards the enemy. Wet weather turned the whole country into a quagmire and many were drowned in the mud. Across this waste stretched the trenches, formed of sandbagged breastworks, with arms and legs of dead Frenchmen projecting from them at intervals. The enemy was too close for rebuilding. The line was curiously irregular, as one side or the other had bitten off a piece of the opposing defences, and at more than one place our men were only fifteen yards from the enemy. In some parts the bombing was worst, in others the trench mortars, and in others again the shells: but none were healthy and all smelt abominably. As for retaliation, a few rounds of shrapnel were all the ammunition our artillery could spare in those early days. No regular division had stopped in the line for more than six weeks, even in summer, and the West Ridings looked hopefully forward to an early move. They held that line against shelling and gas, in deepening mud and rising water, for six long months.