It was just before dusk when the counterattacks began northward from Wytschaete and southward from Meteren, and although before then there had been a steady slogging of guns and howling of shells, at that time this volume of dreadful noise increased tremendously, and drumfire broke out in fury, so that the sky and earth trembled with it. It was like the beating of all the drums of the world in muffled tattoo, above which and through which there were enormous clangoring hammer strokes from the British and German heavies.
It went on till evening, with a few pale gleams of sun through storm clouds and the smoke of guns, and for miles all this panorama of battle was boiling and seething with bursting shells and curling wreaths of smoke from the batteries in action.
When darkness came each battery was revealed by its flashes, and all the fields around were filled with red winkings and sharp stabs of flame. There was no real darkness of night, for every second the sky was crossed by rushes of light and burning beacons in many places, and gun flashes etched outlines of trees and cottages.
The general situation today is in our favor for the time being by the recapture of Wytschaete and Meteren and the repulse of many German attacks, but it is with natural regret one hears of the withdrawal from the heights east of Ypres in order to straighten the line and economize men. There was one other regret today, though only sentimental. The enemy knocked down the Albert church tower, the tower of the golden Virgin, who had bent head downward over that ruined city with her babe outstretched. It was a great landmark bound up with all our memories.
How General Carey Saved Amiens
A Pivotal Episode in the Great Battle
One of the most dramatic episodes of the battle of Picardy was the disaster which befell the 5th British Army, under General Gough, and the brilliant way in which it was retrieved by Brig. Gen. Sandeman Carey, who was warmly complimented by Premier Lloyd George in his man-power speech, (Page [263].)
Sir Hubert Gough's army was sent down in January to take over from the French a sector forty to fifty miles long. Clearly such a line as this could be held only if it were strongly located and cunningly constructed, and there is no doubt that it was. Three lines were designed: First, an outpost line, then a "line of resistance," and then a "battleline." The outpost line was designed with special care. It consisted of a number of separate posts so located as to provide for a cross-fire on any enemy that penetrated them. It was intended to be held until the last gasp, and it was presumed that the Germans might pass through it, but that they would be terribly punished by the garrisons of the isolated posts.
In one way the attack was not a surprise. General Gough had known for days that it was imminent, and had moved his men up to their positions and made every preparation possible. But one thing he could not foresee or guard against—the mist and fog. Under cover of the mist, which prevented sight for more than thirty yards, the Germans crept forward, and the outpost line was overrun before the alarm could be given. It was simply swamped, and the cross-fire on which so much depended was never delivered.