The Australian Victories in France in 1918

by Sir John Monash

If, in the teachings before the war, it was correct to say that a Commander should hesitate to attack unless he had a preponderance of men and guns of at least two to one, such a dictum assuredly did not take into account field defences of the permanent and elaborate character of the Hindenburg Line. I should hardly venture to fix a ratio of relative strength appropriate in such circumstances.

But this much is clear. The Germans had once already relied successfully upon the impregnability of this great work. They had every justification for believing that it would once again serve them to keep us at bay for just a few weeks longer. Winter was very near, and the Entente peoples might not have been able to hold together to face another year of war.

We, on our part also, had as much justification for the resolve that every sacrifice must be made to overthrow these defences before the end of 1918, and for believing that it would require a great, concerted and intense effort to succeed in this.

It is quite necessary, for a due appreciation of the magnitude of the effort which was actually made, and of the wonderful success with which it was rewarded, that the nature of the defences of the Hindenburg Line should be clearly understood. This can best be done, I think, by making an endeavour to realize the sense of security which the possession of such a line of defence must have afforded to the enemy. We are here interested only in that portion of the line which extends from St. Quentin northwards towards Cambrai.

Between these two cities the country is higher than that adjoining it on the north and the south. It forms, therefore, a watershed, dividing the basin of the Somme from that of the Scheldt. Early in the nineteenth century, Napoleon realized the ambitious project of connecting these two river systems by a great Canal scheme, cutting right through this high country from south to north.

The canal is called, in its southern reaches, Canal de St. Quentin. Before Cambrai is reached it merges into the Canal de l'Escaut. Throughout the whole of that portion which concerns us, it runs in a deep cutting, reaching, for great stretches, a depth of 50 to 60 feet. In certain places where the ground rises still higher, the canal passes through in great tunnels. The southernmost, or Le Tronquoy Tunnel, near St. Quentin, is but short; the northern boasts of the imposing length of 6,000 yards, and extends from Bellicourt,[19] at its southern portal, to Le Catelet at its northern one. From that point northwards the canal flows in "open cut" which gradually becomes shallower as Cambrai is approached.

The canal excavation—except where the tunnels occur—itself affords an excellent military obstacle, the passage of which could be stoutly contested by resolute troops well dug in on its eastern banks, for the descent and ascent of the slopes could be obstructed by wire entanglements, and swept with fire. The water alone, which is too deep to be waded, would seriously impede infantry, while the passage of tanks, guns and vehicles would be impossible once the few high level bridges over the canal had been destroyed.

Such an obstacle would not, however, of itself fulfil the requirements of modern war, with its searching and destructive Artillery fire. It was to be regarded more as the foundation upon which a complete system of defences could be built, and as a last line of resistance à outrance.

The canal had been, naturally, located by its engineers, in the lowest ground available, so that its course closely follows the lines of the minor valleys and depressions of the ground. On both sides, therefore, the canal is flanked by somewhat higher ground, from which its immediate banks can be overlooked. On the western side particularly, there is a regular line of such higher plateaux on which the villages of Villeret, Hargicourt and Ronssoy once stood.