The Third Battle of Ypres opened on July 31st, 1917, with an attack by two British Armies—the Second Army on the right and the Fifth Army on the left—supported by a French Army Corps to the north. At first a considerable advance was made, but the unusually wet weather of August greatly hampered operations. During September the weather improved and progress continued, but the fighting was exceptionally severe, the enemy stubbornly defending every inch of the ground. Notwithstanding all difficulties, by the beginning of October the Second Army was in touch with the Passchendaele Ridge, which was the last natural barrier between the British and the fertile, low-lying plains of Belgium. Though this ridge proved so serious an obstacle to the British advance, it is by no means conspicuous. At no point is it as much as sixty metres above sea level, and its average height is little more than fifty metres.
Some description of the battlefield, which the Battalion entered early in October, is necessary. For nearly three years the enemy had been fortifying the area east of Ypres, making use of every method and device known to modern warfare—and throughout the war the Germans were unsurpassed as field engineers. The result was a mighty fortress, covering many square miles of ground, second to none on the Western Front, or, for that matter, in the world. The ground was covered with trenches, constructed according to the latest ideas of fortification, and crammed with every device for offence and defence. Thousands of miles of barbed wire had been used in the construction of obstacles. Hundreds of “pill-boxes”—massive but low-lying structures of reinforced concrete, invulnerable unless they received direct hits from at least an 8-inch shell—covered the country-side and sheltered thousands of machine guns. The German artillery was extremely powerful and magnificently handled; and as every ridge, up to the battle of Messines, was in enemy hands, his gunners had all the advantages of superior observation. Such was the country that the British had been attacking, and slowly penetrating, during the last two months.
This country the British and German artillery had turned into a desolation unparalleled even on the Somme battlefield in the previous year. Literally, every inch of ground had been torn up by shell fire. The whole appearance of the country-side had changed—most of the roads had almost disappeared, thick woods had become nothing but collections of broken and distorted tree-stumps, of some villages there was scarcely a trace. Everywhere the ground was littered with the awful debris of war—dead bodies of men and animals, derelict tanks and guns, shattered wagons and every conceivable form of what was known to the men as “salvage.” To crown all, the heavy rains of the late summer and early autumn had converted the whole area into a quagmire, the drainage system having been completely destroyed by artillery fire. Cross-country travelling was extremely difficult for a man on foot, for even when he picked his way carefully he was often bogged well above the knees; transport and animals could not move at all except by the newly-made roads and tracks. Every effort had been made to deal with the situation by the construction of plank roads, gridded tracks and light railways, but transport difficulties and the activity of the enemy artillery seriously interfered. Could the prophetic eye of Dante have looked so far forward into the future, he might readily have introduced this desolation as the setting to one of the lowest circles of Hell.
The Battalion was about to settle down for the night in Red Rose Camp when an urgent order from 147th Infantry Brigade H.Q. altered everything. In spite of the rain that day, a particularly successful attack had been made on a wide front; all objectives had been reached, and, in some cases, passed. Luck had been on the side of the British for once, for that same morning the enemy had planned a big counter-attack. Unfortunately for him his zero hour had been fixed a few minutes later than the British, whose barrage, 1,000 yards in depth, had passed slowly over three enemy divisions, assembled in close order in the open, and had almost annihilated them. So promising had been the situation at one time that the 147th Infantry Brigade was within an ace of being thrown into the battle that very day, to exploit it. This, however, had not been done, but the Battalion now received orders to move up and relieve the 1st Battalion Canterbury Regt., in reserve to the 2nd New Zealand Infantry Brigade. At once all was bustle and excitement, and, soon after 11-0 p.m. the Battalion, in battle order and at battle strength, marched out of camp to play its part in the battle for the Passchendaele Ridge.
The night was very dark and wet, and great difficulty was found in carrying out the relief. The route to Pommern Castle, where Battalion H.Q. was located and round which the whole Battalion was posted, lay along No. 5 Track—a single line of grids, in particularly evil condition, with fearsome mud on both sides. Relief was not complete until after dawn. Some anxiety was felt as to what should be done in case the enemy attacked, for not a man of the Battalion had any clear idea where he was, or where the front line lay. Accommodation was very bad. One or two low-lying, very wet, and extremely uncomfortable pill-boxes were occupied by Battalion H.Q.; but nearly everyone had to be content with a shell-hole over which he could spread his waterproof sheet. October 5th was spent mainly in trying to build habitable shelters.
On the night of October 5/6th the Battalion moved up to the line, where it relieved two New Zealand battalions. D and C Companies held the front line—D Company to the south of, and C Company along, the eastern edge of Berlin Wood; A Company was in support on Abraham Heights, and B Company in reserve near Otto Farm, where Battalion H.Q. was situated. Abraham Heights were rather heavily shelled at intervals, but, apart from this, nothing of importance happened during the twenty-four hours that were spent in the sector. The enemy was undoubtedly very disorganised after the attack of two days before, and was in no condition to be aggressive.
The night of October 5/6th was a particularly bad one for the Battalion transport men. Owing to the appalling condition of the ground, supplies could only be taken up on pack animals, and that night, for the first and last time, Texas packs were used. These proved most unsatisfactory, the loads could not be properly secured, and constant halts were necessary to readjust them. The amount of traffic on the roads was amazing. From Vlamertinghe to Ypres, and up beyond Wieltje, the whole road was packed with every conceivable form of vehicle and pack animal. Blocks were constantly occurring and causing wearisome halts. Soon after the convoy started it became split up, owing to vehicles pushing in between the animals. Beyond Ypres the conditions became even worse, and eventually the convoy returned to Red Rose Camp without having reached the Battalion. But soon after dawn a fresh convoy set out and succeeded in delivering the rations.
The next night the Battalion was relieved by the 2/5th Battalion Manchester Regt. (66th Division) and returned to Pommern Castle. The next two days were spent in active preparation for the attack which was to take place on October 9th. Large carrying parties were found for establishing forward dumps, and all officers reconnoitred routes up to the line and assembly positions for the attack.
This operation was on a very big scale. The 49th Division was to attack on the extreme left of the Second Army, with the Fifth Army attacking on its left and the 66th Division on its right. The main details of the attack were as follows:—