One of our flying men attacked and silenced four machine-gun teams in a strong emplacement. Others cleared trenches of German soldiers, who scuttled like rabbits into their dug-outs. They fired everything they carried at anything which would kill the enemy or destroy his material. Having used up all his Lewis-gun ammunition upon marching troops, one lad fired his Very-lights, his signal-rockets, at the next group of men he saw. They flew at field-gunners and put them to flight, at heavy guns crawling along the roads on caterpillar wheels, at transport wagons, motor-lorries, and one motor-car, whose passengers, if they live, will never forget that sudden rush of wings four feet overhead, with a spasm of bullets about them. The aeroplane was so low that the pilot thought he would crash into the motor-car, but he just planed clear of it as the driver steered it sharply into a ditch, where it overturned with its five occupants. The airman went on his journey, scattered 500 infantry and returned home after a long flight never higher than 500 feet above the ground.
Meanwhile during the progress of the battle our air squadrons appointed for artillery observation work were all over the enemy's batteries, signalling to our gunners and sending back "O.K." flashes when our counter-battery work was effective. There were an amazing number of "O.K.'s." One air squadron alone helped a group of heavies to silence seventy-two batteries. Everywhere over the battle-ground our air scouts were out and about, watching the progress of infantry, speaking to them by signals, picking up their answers, flying back to headquarters with certain information; so that the direction of the battle was helped enormously by this quick intelligence. It was a day of triumph for the Royal Flying Corps, and for all those boys with wings on their breasts, who, after their day's flight, come down to the French estaminets to rattle ragtime on untuned pianos, and give glad eyes to any pretty girl about, and fling themselves into the joy of life which they risk so lightly.
In this battle of Messines there was not any body of our men who did not spend all their strength and take all risks with a kind of passionate exultation of spirit. The Manchester men dug a six-foot deep trench-line to our new front on the ridge, beating all records. Flinging off tunics and shirts so that they were naked to the waist, New-Zealanders who took Messines dug as inspired diggers, fast and furiously, and before next day had dawned had two long, deep trenches as secure defences against German counter-attacks.
The stretcher-bearers, the water-carriers, the transport men with their pack-mules went up through shell-fire as I saw them yesterday, and never tired. The stretcher-bearers were heroic fellows, as in every battle from which I have seen them coming back with their burdens across the cratered ground of dreadful fields such as that of Wytschaete and Messines, still shelled heavily by the enemy, whose fury at losing that long-held ground is proved by his bombardment of their ruins—the red brick-heap of Wytschaete Château, the black tree-stumps which is all that is left of Messines.
Our casualties remain light, as figures of losses go in this war and in proportion to the greatness of this battle. My own estimates, based upon what I can hear of the losses of different bodies of troops engaged, work out at something like 10,000 for the day of battle. It is less than a fifth of what I should have reckoned to be the cost of this capture of Messines Ridge, and gives the lie to German claims. It is one of the greatest and cheapest achievements of British arms throughout this war, though the loss of so many gallant men is sad enough, God knows, and for the enemy it is as hard a blow as our taking of the Vimy Ridge two months ago, when he was staggered by his loss.
IV
THE EFFECT OF THE BLOW
June 11
The effect of our capture of Messines and Wytschaete has been such a stunning blow on the enemy that he has not as yet made any attempt at counter-attacking on a big scale. The rapid advance of our men below the farther slopes of the ridge and the rush forward of our guns made it impossible for him to rally his supporting troops quickly, and as the hours pass it becomes more impossible for him to storm his way back. His early attempts to assemble troops in the Warneton neighbourhood were annihilated instantly by enormous shell-fire directed by the new observation we had gained at Messines, and during the past twenty-four hours, up to the time I write, he shows no further sign of asking for trouble, but is obviously engaged in reorganizing his forces, demoralized by defeat, and getting his guns into safer positions. Many of his guns lie battered and buried about the battlefield, and some of his batteries, put out of action by our bombardment, remain between our new lines and his, but so covered by our fire that he has a poor chance of getting them away. His losses in guns, trench-mortars and machine-guns must be alarming to him, for I have no doubt at all, after seeing the frightful effect of our bombardment, that these were destroyed on a great scale, so that the number of our trophies will not at all represent his actual loss in weapons and material of war.