It was obvious to the dullest man that the Division was intended to take part in some business more enterprising than the mere holding of a section of trenches. The whole hinterland behind the trenches was a hive of industry and traffic. Swarms of troops from every part of the kingdom were to be seen in every village; at night the roads groaned with the passage of guns of all sizes and of transport carrying every conceivable variety of material, and the whole countryside was covered with dumps containing R.E. material, bombs, shells, and stores of all kinds. Hospitals and aerodromes formed additional villages in the district. The back areas of the Somme in the summer of 1916 were the busiest centres of activity in the whole world. It was a wonderful exhibition of the resources of the British Empire, and a visible proof of the diligence with which workers at home had applied themselves to the manufacture of munitions of war. It was not a feverish bustle that one witnessed, but a steady and systematic application of labour; every movement was directed by an organisation that was not surpassed by any other nation in the war. The whole of the work performed by Britain in its administrative arrangements has probably never been appreciated at its full value. It had a most heartening effect on all who saw it, and gave the men an inspiring confidence in the determination and ability of the Allies to achieve a complete victory.
All this industry and all these preparations were the obvious prelude to a great battle, and on the 15th June the Division received from the Corps instructions for the attack that was to be made. The XIII Corps was on the right flank of the British army, and its plan was to assault with two divisions, the Thirtieth on the right and the Eighteenth on the left, with the Ninth Division in reserve.
A feeling of optimism buoyed up both civilians and soldiers, though the events of 1915 had completely shattered the sanguine expectations aroused by the victory of the Marne. The Russians had been driven from Poland and had suffered a smashing defeat, from which they never fully recovered, though a censored press had represented the rout rather as a Russian triumph than as a German victory. That disaster, which was falsely believed in this country to harden the purpose of the great Slav Power, caused Russians to interpret the comparative inactivity of the Western Powers as a selfish neglect of her interests, and to detest the Government that had callously thrown into the slaughter men without arms or equipment. The brutal incompetence of the Russian bureaucracy was revealed in all its nakedness, and inspired the loathing and contempt that led eventually to its downfall. The tale of disaster did not end here; for Von Mackensen, assisted by the crafty and calculating treachery of Bulgaria, drove the Serbs from their country and all but secured Greece in the Teutonic net. The Salonica expedition, though it failed to render any service to Serbia, prevented Greece from joining the enemy. In the East, British prestige suffered two damaging shocks; the Dardanelles project ended in failure, and the Mesopotamian expedition, after a promising beginning, resulted in the surrender of a British force at Kut in April 1916.
The only offset against these misfortunes was the entry of Italy into the war in May 1915, but from the first her armies were employed solely on exclusively Italian interests. The offensive against Trieste, even if successful, could not have exerted a decisive influence on the course of the war, nor did it prevent Austria from using the larger portion of her forces in the East against Russia. Nevertheless a general feeling prevailed that our misfortunes had been due more to bad luck than to bad management, and on the principle that the dawn succeeds the darkest hour, 1916 was expected to prove as glorious as 1915 had been disappointing. More men were now in the field, and the supply of high explosives, which some thought to be more important than generalship, had been greatly increased. The poster of the most blatant of British weeklies, with the glaring inscription, “1916. Thank God!” accurately reflected the mind of the average man.
Thus the time seemed ripe for an action by the British forces on a big scale. The great German offensive against Verdun in April had been watched with feverish interest both in this country and in France. The first five days of that assault brought the enemy within measurable distance of his objective. It was feared that the famous fortress would fall into his hands, and hasty critics denounced the supine inactivity of the British armies. But at that time the preparations of Sir Douglas Haig were not completed, and a premature counter-attack would only have served the interests of the enemy. As it turned out, the defenders of Verdun, under the masterly generalship of Pétain, worked out their own salvation. The German thrust was stopped, but even at the end of June large forces still menaced the fortress, and it was necessary that the British forces, stronger and better prepared than they had ever been, should do something to take the strain off their gallant ally.
Events in other theatres of war seemed also to call for immediate action. The attack by the Austrians in the Trentino in May threatened such serious consequences for Italy, that Russia, which appeared to have recovered from her defeat, was compelled to launch her offensive in the month of June. The brilliant successes of General Brussilov brought immediate relief to the armies of Italy, though they did not lessen the German pressure on Verdun. It was, therefore, sound policy to strike at the enemy, not merely to relieve Verdun, but also to assist our Allies in the other theatres of war by preventing the enemy from transferring troops from the West to other fronts.
The other object of the British Commander-in-Chief[35] was to wear down the strength of the enemy by a steady offensive. The choice of the battlefield was governed by the fact that the British armies were not sufficiently numerous to take the offensive on a large scale without the co-operation of the French, and the district selected was therefore in Picardy, where the two armies joined.
Picardy was one of the most delightful spots in France. Here there were none of the grimy coal-pits and slag-heaps that had figured so prominently in the Battle of Loos. This was the agricultural part of France, with wide open and rolling country, in which there was hardly a fence to be seen. The numerous small villages that broke the fields seldom contained more than a few hundred inhabitants. On the battle front the prominent feature was the extensive ridge running from Thiepval to Combles, with alternate spurs and valleys thrown out to the south-west. This ridge, which afforded the enemy magnificent observation over the British trenches and hinterland, was the main watershed of the high ground that stretched from the valley of the Somme in a north-easterly direction to the low-lying ground between Lens and Cambrai. Beyond this were the plains of Douai. On the western side the slopes, steep and rugged, were a formidable obstacle, but towards the north-east, the ridge fell in a gradual slope, rising again to a gentle ridge on the farther side of Bapaume. Beyond this second ridge, which was about a hundred feet lower than the main one, the country, broad and undulating, offered no great difficulty to an army that had won its way to it. But stiff fighting would be necessary to reach this, because these ridges formed the buttress that shielded the great railway centres of Cambrai and Douai. A feature of the terrain, especially in the south, was the large number of woods thick with summer foliage and carpeted with a dense undergrowth that made progress, except by means of the small paths running through them, all but impossible. These woods played an important part in the battle.
The main object of Sir Douglas Haig is indicated by his description of the Somme campaign as the “wearing-out battle.” It is more commonly referred to as the policy of attrition, and under that name has been subjected to a good deal of criticism. But there is no question that the policy was based upon sound military principles that could not be neglected. The basis of good generalship is to wear down the enemy, force him to absorb his reserves and then smash him with fresh troops, and the Somme was intended to carry out this programme as far as possible.
The method adopted by Sir Douglas Haig to achieve his object was the result of the experience of Loos. On that occasion the Allies had grasped at more than they were able to hold, so it was now decided to carry on the advance by limited stages in order that the infantry, without being unduly exhausted and still within the supporting range of their artillery, would be able without great difficulty to parry the hostile counter-stroke. It was expected that a methodical advance on these lines, always adequately supported by powerful and efficient artillery, would eat into the enemy’s strength and at the same time be carried out at a light cost.