They were MEN, were those of the 4th Battalion, who held the line in 1915. Men of the quiet, tight-lipped and dogged type, who talked little, though occasional flashes of humour brighten even this ghastly picture, but simply obeyed orders without question and held on. Perhaps their feelings can best be expressed by quoting the remark of one of them, when on short leave from that hell. “Well, sir, we either have to laugh or cry, and we prefer to laugh.”
Few specific events of this period need be recorded. On November 9th Lieut.-Col. G. K. Sullivan, formerly Adjutant of the 1/5th Batt. King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, assumed command of the Battalion. His stay was a very brief one. Eleven days after his arrival he was wounded by a shell splinter on the Canal Bank. As Major E. P. Chambers had been sent to hospital with a sprained ankle the previous day, Major R. E. Sugden assumed command of the Battalion until the arrival of Lieut.-Col. E. G. St. Aubyn. The latter had been second in command of a battalion of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps in the 14th Division. Though always in weak health, he retained command of the Battalion for nearly a year. He was a very quiet, but exceptionally competent, Commanding Officer, who earned the respect of all, and the most sincere affection of those who knew him best.
On the night of December 11/12th, Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, with Sergt. Kitchen, carried out an extremely daring and highly successful patrol. The glow of a light had been noticed at a particular point in the enemy line, and they made straight towards it. No Man’s Land was not more than sixty yards across but it was no mean obstacle, owing to its water-logged condition. The enemy wire was very thick and difficult to negotiate but, after much trouble, the two found themselves at the foot of the enemy parapet. Leaving his companion at the bottom, Everitt carefully crawled up the parapet and looked into the enemy trench. He found it to be deeper, better revetted and much drier than the British trenches were. Slowly he moved along the parapet, examining the trench at different points. At length he reached the place where the glow had been observed and suddenly found himself looking into the corner of a bay, almost exactly at the point where an enemy sentry was standing. As he looked the German raised his rifle, and Everitt slid gently down the parapet. He had not been observed, but the chance shot of the sentry passed only just over his head. He had now seen all he could. The light was explained; it came from a brazier which evidently warmed a shelter hollowed out of the traverse near which the sentry was posted. Two or three Germans were warming themselves round it. There was nothing more the patrol could do. With a thick wire obstacle behind and only one man to support him, it would have been suicidal for Everitt to attempt anything against the enemy post. Besides, his orders were to make a reconnaissance, and the information he had gained would be useless if he did not return to report it. So, regretfully, he turned his back on the enemy, and succeeded in reaching his own line without being discovered. This patrol caused a good deal of stir in the Brigade, for no previous patrol had got so far. It had obtained very valuable information about the condition of the enemy trenches, and had proved that the Germans were very much on the alert. All agreed that the Military Cross, which Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt afterwards received for his work that night, was thoroughly well earned.
On December 12th Major R. E. Sugden was severely wounded in the arm by a bullet. The bridges over the Canal were always dangerous spots. Not only were they well marked by the enemy artillery, but machine guns, posted further to the north, could fire straight down the Canal in enfilade. It was while he was crossing one of these bridges that Major Sugden was hit. He had served continuously with the Battalion since it had been mobilised and his loss was greatly felt.
(d) December 19th.
The enemy first made use of poison gas in the spring of 1915, about the time the Battalion landed in France. On that occasion he employed pure chlorine, but in so weak a concentration that the results were not nearly so disastrous as they might have been. After this first trial—it was probably more an experiment than anything else—he made no use of gas on a large scale for several months. This was fortunate, for it gave allied scientists time to study the whole problem and to devise means of protection, not only against chlorine, but against other harmful gases also. It is true that anti-gas measures were far from perfect at the end of 1915. But the allied armies were better prepared for that form of attack than they would have been had they had no preliminary warning. In particular, the possibility of the enemy using phosgene had been guarded against by the introduction of the P.H. helmet. This was a considerable advance; its two stout glass eye-pieces were a great improvement on the single mica window of the P. helmet, and the outlet valve made it much less stuffy and more comfortable to wear.
There is no doubt that, about the beginning of December, some rumour that the enemy was soon to try a second gas attack on the Ypres Salient had filtered through to the British. One of the reasons for the patrol of Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, already described, was to discover whether any gas cylinders were in position in the enemy lines. New P.H. helmets had been issued to all the men in the Battalion, but, as the available supply only admitted of one per man, a P. helmet was still carried as a reserve. Much gas helmet drill had been done, and all ranks were warned to be specially on the alert.
On December 17th, the Battalion relieved the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector. All knew that this was to be their last tour in the line for the time being and that, on relief, they were to go back for a long period of rest. At night patrols were very active on the Battalion front, on the look-out for indications of the presence of gas cylinders. They reported much hammering in the enemy lines and, on the night of December 18/19th, a great deal of coughing. A raid was contemplated, but that never came off. Much work was in progress, for attempts were being made to put the trenches into better condition for the relieving unit. Working parties from the 6th Division, which was then in Corps Reserve, came up nightly to assist; and the Battalion was also engaged in putting out a great deal of wire on its front.
A special artillery “shoot” had been arranged for the early morning of December 18th. This, it was hoped, would not only damage the enemy trenches, but would also destroy any gas cylinders which were in position for an offensive. As the opposing trenches were so near together, the enemy front line could not be bombarded without grave risk to the British themselves. Hence, it was arranged that the Battalion should evacuate its front line at 5-0 a.m. and not reoccupy it until the next night. This was done, but the bombardment did not come off as the morning was too misty for satisfactory observation. So similar arrangements were made for the next day.
The night of December 18/19th was comparatively quiet. It was bright and clear, with a gentle breeze blowing from the north-east—in every way ideal weather for an enemy gas discharge. About 5-0 a.m. on the morning of December 19th all front line platoons, except those of A Company, began to withdraw according to plan. Many had actually reached their positions for the day when, at 5-30 a.m., flares suddenly shot up all along the enemy lines. Whether they were red or green is a matter for dispute among those who saw them; but the point is not important. They were evidently a signal for the attack to begin. Immediately, what is described by survivors as a “sizzing” noise was heard, a greenish-white cloud appeared over the enemy parapet and began to drift towards the British lines, and a terrific bombardment with artillery and trench mortars was opened on the Canal, the British communication trenches and reserve positions. Within a few minutes every bridge, except one, was shattered, great damage had been done to the trenches, and every telephone line was broken. And over all drifted that deadly cloud.