A company of tanks

MliniES :^i:3HA^>«%

UC-NRLF

$B 7M3 DEI

fMUDIE'S^Si^LIBRARY,

^ LI M ITED

30 TO 34, NEW OXFORD STREET, W.r'

|I32,KENSINGT0N HIGH
BRANCH OFFICES.^ 48,QUEEN VICTC

\ SUBSCRIPTION ,

TWELVE SHILLINGS PER ANNUM & U

/

1

/.

A Company of Tanks

"The words of an eye-witness, flowing naturally from
first impressions, are frequently more expressive, and
convey ideas more just than studied descriptions ;
though the language may often be such as it would
scarcely be allowable in other persons to write."

Captain James Burnev, 1806.

A Company of Tanks

BY

Major W. H. L. WATSON

D.S.O., D.C.M.

AUTHOR OF 'ADVENTURES OF A DESPATCH-RIDER'

WITH SKETCH MAPS

William Blackwood and Sons

Edinburgh and London

1920

ATT Jfrnur^ /? ir c /s" p i^ c n

i

\

y^

TO

TAT RICK AND "JDAVJD.

458075

Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive

in 2008 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/companyoftanksOOwatsricli

CONTENTS.

^:r^y

CHAP. PAGE

I. ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT I

(October to December 1916.)

II. FRED KARNO'S ARMY I4

{January to April 1917. )

III. BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 26

{March and April 1917. )

IV. THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT . . . 50

{April II, 1917.)

V. THE SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT . . 73

{May 3, 19 17.)

VI. REST AND TRAINING 89

{May and June 1917.)

VII. THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES — PREPARATIONS. Ill
{July 1917.)

VIII. THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES — ST JULIEN . I3I

{August 1917.)

Vlll CONTENTS

IX. THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES — THE POEL-

CAPELLE ROAD 1 48

{September and October 1917.)

X. THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI— FLESQUIERES . . 1 62

(November ^th to -zoth, 1917.)

XI. THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI— BOURLON WOOD . 1 82
{November 21st to z^rd, 1917. )

XII. THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI— GOUZEAUCOURT . 1 94

{November 24tA to December 1st, 1917.)

XIII. HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 2IO

{December ist, 1917, to January ^ist, 1918.)

XIV. THE CARRIER TANKS 224

{January ^xst to August ist, 1918.)

XV. THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 237

{August ist to August T.'jth, 1918.)

XVI. THE HINDENBURG LINE 257

{August 27th to October Zth, 1918.)

XVII. THE SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU . . .275

{October gth to October yith, 1918.)

XVIII. THE END OF THE WAR 290

{October 21st, 1918, to Ja?iuary xzth, 1919.)

A Company of Tanks.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE XIth corps FRONT.

{October to December 1916.)

The village of Locon lies five miles out from
Bethune, on the Estaires road. Now it is broken
by the war : in October 1916 it was as comfortable
and quiet a village as any four miles behind the line.
If you had entered it at dusk, when the flashes of
the guns begin to show, and passed by the square
and the church and that trap for despatch-riders
where the chemin-de-fer vicinal crosses to the left of
the road from the right, you would have come to a
scrap of orchard on your left where the British
cavalrymen are buried who fell in 1914. Perhaps
you would not have noticed the graves, because
they were overgrown and the wood of the crosses
was coloured green with lichen. Beyond the
orchard was a farm with a garden in front, full of
common flowers, and a flagged path to the door.
Inside there is a cheerful little low room. A
A

2 A COMPANY OF TANKS

photograph of the Prince of Wales, a sacred pic-
ture, and an out-of-date calendar, presented by the
* Petit Parisien,' decorate the walls. Maman, a dear
gnarled old woman — old from the fields — stands
with folded arms by the glittering stove which pro-
jects into the centre of the room. She never would
sit down except to eat and sew, but would always
stand by her stove. Papa sits comfortably, with legs
straight out, smoking a pipe of caporal and reading
the * Telegramme.' Julienne, pretty like a sparrow,
with quick brown eyes, jerky movements, and fuzzy
hair, the flapper from the big grocer's at La Gorgue,
for once is quiet and mends Hamond's socks. In
a moment she will flirt like a kitten or quarrel with
Louie, a spoilt and altogether unpleasant boy, who
at last is going to school. The stalwart girl of
seventeen, Adrienne, is sewing laundry marks on
Louie's linen. It is warm and cosy.

The coffee is ready. The little bowls are set out
on the table. The moment has come. From
behind a curtain Hamond produces, with the
solemnity of ritual, a battered water-bottle. He
looks at Papa, who gravely nods, and a few drops
from the water-bottle are poured into each steaming
bowl of coffee. The fragrance is ineffable, for it
is genuine old Jamaica. . . .

We talk of the son, a cuirassier, and when he
will come on leave ; of the Iron Corps who are
down on the Somme ; of how the men of the Nord
cannot be matched by those of the Midi, who, it
is rumoured, nearly lost the day at Verdun ; of
Mme. X. at Gonnehem, who pretends to be truly
a Parisienne, but is only a carpenter's daughter out

ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT 3

of Richebourg St Vaast ; of the oddities and benev-
olence of M. le Maire. Adrienne discusses learnedly
the merits of the Divisions who have been billeted
in the village. She knows their names and numbers
from the time the Lahore Division came in 1914.^
We wonder what are these heavy armoured motor-
cars of a new type that have been a little successful
on the Somme. And we have our family jokes.
" Peronne est prise," we inform Maman, and make
an April fool of her — while, if the line is disturbed
and there is an outbreak of machine-gun fire or
the guns are noisy, we mutter, " Les Boches
attaquent ! " and look for refuge under the table.

In April of last year, when the Boche attacked
in very truth, Maman may have remembered our
joke. Then they piled their mattresses, their
saucepans, their linen, and some furniture on the
big waggon, and set out for Hinges — Bethune was
shelled and full of gas. I wonder if they took with
them the photograph of the Prince of Wales ?
There was bitter fighting in Locon, and we must
afterwards have shelled it, because it came to be
in the German lines. ...

Hamond knew the Front from the marshes
of Fleurbaix to the craters of Givenchy better than
any man in France. Pie had been in one sector
of it or another since the first November of the
war. So, when one of the companies of the Xlth
Corps Cyclist Battalion, which I commanded, was
ordered to reinforce a battalion of the 5th Division
in the line at Givenchy and another of my com-

^ Every intelligent person in every French village or town knew the
numbers of all the divisions in the neighbourhood.

4 A COMPANY OF TANKS

panics to repair the old British line by Festubert,
and to work on the "islands,"^ I determined to
move from my dismal headquarters in a damp
farm near Gonnehem and billet myself at Locon.
It was the more convenient, as Hamond, who
commanded the Motor Machine - Gun Battery of
the Corps, was carrying out indirect fire from
positions near Givenchy.

We lived in comfort, thanks to Maman and
Starman, Hamond's servant. I would come
in at night, saying I was fatigue de vivre. Old
Maman, understanding that I was too tired to live,
would drag out with great trouble grandfather's
arm-chair, place a pillow in it, and set it by the
stove. And Julienne, a little subdued at my
imminent decease, would forget to flirt.

We would start, after an early breakfast, in
Hamond's motor-cycle and side-car, and drive
through the straggling cottages of Hamel, where
the Cuirassiers, in October 1914, protected the
left flank of the advancing 5th Division, through
Gorre, with its enormous ramshackle chateau, and
along the low and sordid banks of the La Bassee
Canal. We would leave the motor-cycle just short
of the houses near Pont Fixe, that battered but
indomitable bridge, draped defiantly with screens
of tattered sackcloth.

I would strike along the Festubert road, with
the low ridge of Givenchy on my left, until I came
to the cross-roads at Windy Corner.

A few yards away were the ruins of a house

^ Detached posts, which could not be approached by day, in front of
the main trench system.

\

ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT 5

which Brigadier-General Count Gleichen,^ then
commanding the 15th Infantry Brigade, had made
his headquarters when first we came to Givenchy,
and were certain to take La Bassee. That was
in October 1914, and the Hne ran from the houses
near Pont Fixe through the farm-buildings of
Canteleux to the cottages of Violaines, whence
you looked across open fields to the sugar factory,
which so greatly troubled us, and the clustered
red walls of La Bassee. The Cheshires held
Violaines. They were driven out by a sudden
attack in November. The line broke badly, and
Divisional Headquarters at Beuvry Brewery packed
up, but a Cyclist officer with a few men helped to
rally the Cheshires until a battalion from the 3rd
Division on the left arrived to fill the gap. We
did not again hold Violaines and Canteleux until
the Germans retired of their own free-will.

Now once again, exactly two years later, the
5th Division was in the line.

I would take to the trench at Windy Corner, and
tramp along to call on the cheery young colonel
of the battalion to which my men were att:ached.
There is a little story about his headquarters. A
smell developed, and they dug hard, thinking it
came from a corpse. The sergeant - major dis-
covered the cause. A fond relative had sent the
mess -waiter a medicated belt to catch the little
aliens in the course of their traditional daily
migration. . . .

We would go round the line, which then was

^ Now Major- General Lord Edward Gleichen, K.C.V.O., C.B.,
C.M.G., D.S.O.

6 A COMPANY OF TANKS

quiet, exploring the intricacies of Red Dragon
Crater. Afterwards I would walk through the
complicated defences of Givenchy to join Hamond
at " Dirty Dick's," ^ by the shrine, for the ride
back. . . .

The 5th Division was afraid of an attack on
Givenchy at this time. It was a key position. If
Givenchy went, the line south of the can^l must
crumble and the left flank of the Loos salient
would be in the air. But the attack did not come
until April 1918, and the story of how Givenchy
held then, when the line to the north was flowing
westwards, is history.

On the left of Givenchy the Hne ran in front of
Festubert through stagnant fields, where the water
in the summer is just below the surface. It is
dreary country, full of ghosts and the memories of
fighting at night. It is all a sodden cemetery.

There my men were rebuilding the breastworks
of the old British line, for in these marshes it was
impossible to dig trenches, and working on the
** islands."

Breastworks continued to the north. Our lines
were overlooked from the Aubers Ridge. In winter
they were flooded and men were drowned. Behind
were dead level meadows, often covered with water,
and dismal ruined villages. The country was filthy,
monotonous, and stunted. In the summer it stank.
In the winter it was mud. Luckily, for many
months the line was quiet.

In November of this year the Corps, to vary the
picture, took over the Cuinchy sector on the right

1 A famous dug-out.

ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT 7

of Givenchy and immediately south of the La
Bass6e Canal. It was a unique and damnable
sector, in which a company of my men were set to
dig tunnels from the reserve to the support and
front trenches.

It was unique by reason of the brick-stacks, and
damnable by reason of the Minenwerfer and the
Railway Triangle. Our line ran in and out of a
dozen or so brick-stacks, enormous maroon cubes
of solid brick that withstood both shell and mine.
Some we held and some the enemy held. Inside
them tiny staircases were made, and camouflaged
snipers, impossible to detect, made life miserable.
Occasionally we tried to take each other's brick-
stacks, but these attempts were unsuccessful, and
we settled down, each as uncomfortable as he well
could be. And in this sector the enemy employed
minenwerfer with the utmost enterprise. Our
trenches were literally blown to pieces. In the
daytime we ran about like disturbed ants, ever
listening for the little thud of the "minnie's" dis-
charge and then looking upwards for the black
speck by day or the glow of it by night. For
" minnies " can be avoided by the alert and skilful.
Finally, a triangle of railway embankments, fortified
until they had become an impregnable field-work,
held for the German the southern bank of the canal.

To the occasional tall visitor the main com-
munication trench added irritation and certain
injury to fear. Some ingenious fellow had laid an
overhead rail some six feet above the trench boards.
On this rail material was slung and conveyed
forwards. It was an excellent substitute for a

8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

light railway, but it compelled a tall man to walk
along the trench with his head on one side. This
strained attitude did not conduce to stability on
slippery trench boards. Again, the height of the
rail above the floor of the trench varied. A
moment's absent - mindedness and the damage
was done.

My officers and men worked well. We were
lucky, and our casualties were few, but it was a
trying time. An occasional day in Bethune just
made life bearable.

The one redeeming feature of the Xlth Corps
front was the excellent town of Bethune.

Of all the towns immediately behind the line,
none could rival Bethune in the providing of such
comforts, relaxations, and amenities as the heart
of the soldier desired. The billets were notoriously
comfortable. The restaurants were varied and
good. The patisserie was famous before the war.
The oyster-bar approached that of Lillers. I know
of but one coiffeur better than '' Eugene's." The
shops provided for every reasonable want. The
theatre was palatial. The canteen was surpassed
only by Meaulte, of ill-fated memory. The in-
habitants were civil, friendly, and, in comparison
with their neighbours, not extortionate.

On the morning in October 1914, when the 5th
Division — the first British troops Bethune had
seen — passed through the town to take up the line
Vermelles - Violaines, I breakfasted at the " Lion
d'Or," round the corner from the square. I was
received with grateful hospitality by madame.
An extremely pretty girl of fourteen, with dark

ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT 9

admiring eyes, waited on me. She was charmingly
hindered by Annette, a child of three or four, who
with due gravity managed to push some bread on
to my table and thus break a plate. When I
returned in the summer of igi6, I expected that I
would at least be recognised. I found the tavern
crowded. Agnes, who had just recovered from an
illness, served the mob of officers with unsmiling
disdain. She was not even flurried by the en-
treaties of multitudinous padres who were doubtless
celebrating some feast-day. And Annette, decorated
with appalling ribbons, was actually carrying
plates.

The alternative was the *' Hotel de France " — a
solemn and pretentious hostelry, at which the
staff and French officials congregated. When
the enemy began to shell Bethune, the " Hotel de
France " was closed.

The ** Lion d'Or " carried on until the house
opposite was hit, and afterwards reopened spas-
modically; but in igi6 and 1917 it was wiser to
try the ** Paon d'Or " in the outskirts of the town,
near the canal. At that stuffy restaurant' it was
possible to lunch peacefully while shells dropped
at intervals in the square and centre of the town.

** Eugene : Coiffeur," was an institution. Eugene
must have been dead or ** serving," for madame
presided. She was a thin and friendly lady, with
tiny feet, and a belief that all her customers
required verbal entertainment. It was touching
to see madame seat herself briskly beside a morose
colonel who knew no respectable word of French,
and endeavour, by the loud reiteration of simple

lo A COMPANY OF TANKS

phrases, to assure him that he was welcome and
the weather appalling.

I would linger over Bethune, because no town
has been a greater friend to the soldier for a brief
period out of the line. Now it is shattered, and
the inhabitants are fled.

My headquarters at this time were in a farm near
Gonnehem, six miles or so from Bethune. The
farm was good of its kind, and in summer the
casual visitor might even have called it smart,
after Wiggans, my adjutant, had cleared away
the midden -heap, drained the courtyard, and
had whitewashed everything that would take the
colour — all in the face of violent and reiterated
protests from madame. The centre of the court-
yard, encircled by a whitewashed rope, was par-
ticularly effective.

In winter nd polite epithet could describe the
place. The hamlet consisted of a few farms, each
surrounded by innumerable little ditches, hidden
by rank undergrowth and sheltered by large trees.
At the best of times the ditches were full of soaking
flax, which gave out a most pungent odour. After
rain the ditches overflowed and flooded the roads
and paths. The hedges and bushes sagged with
water. The trees dripped monotonously. Some of
us caught influenza colds : some endured forgotten
rheumatism and lumbago.

We had but one pastime. Certain of our trans-
port horses were not in use. These we were
continually exchanging for riding horses more up
to our weight with a friendly "Remounts" who
lived in solitude near by. In due course Wiggans

ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT ii

became the proud owner of a dashing little black
pony and I of a staff officer's discarded charger.
In spite of the dreariness of our surroundings, we
felt almost alive at the end of an afternoon's splash
over water -logged fields. Nobody could damp
Wiggans' cheerfulness when he returned with a
yet more fiery steed from his weekly deal, and the
teaching of the elements of horsemanship to officers,
who had never ridden, produced an occasional
laugh. We may ourselves have given pleasure in
turn to our friends, the yeomanry, who were billeted
in Gonnehem itself.

To us in our damp and melancholy retreat came
rumours of tanks. It was said that they were
manned by *' bantams." The supply officer related
that on the first occasion on which tanks went into
action the ear-drums of the crews were split. Effec-
tive remedies had been provided. We learned from
an officer, who had met the quartermaster of a
battalion that had been on the Somme, the approxi-
mate shape and appearance of tanks. We pictured
them and wondered what a cyclist battalion could
do against them. Apparently the tanks had not
been a great success on the Somme, but we im-
agined potentialities. They were coloured with
the romance that had long ago departed from the
war. An application was made for volunteers.
We read it through with care.

I returned from leave. It was pouring with rain
and there was nothing to do. The whole of my
battalion was scattered in small parties over the
Corps area. Most of my officers and men were
under somebody else's command. I sent in an

12 A COMPANY OF TANKS

application for transfer to the heavy branch of the
Machine-Gun Corps, the title of the Tank Corps in
those days. I was passed as suitable by the Chief
Engineer of the Corps, and waited.

It was on the 28th December igi6 that I was
ordered by wire to proceed immediately to the
headquarters of the tanks. Christmas festivities
had cheered a depressed battalion, but there was
at the time no likelihood of the mildest excitement.
Hamond had disappeared suddenly — it was ru-
moured to England and tanks. I was left with a
bare handful of men to command. It was still
raining, and we were flooded. I was not sorry
to go. . . .

We set out on a bright morning, in a smart
gig that Wiggans had bought, with his latest
acquisition in the shafts, bedecked with some
second-hand harness we had found in Bethune, and
clattered through Lillers to the Hotel de la Gare.

Lillers was a pleasant town, famous principally for
the lady in the swimming-bath and its oyster-bar.
Every morning, in the large open-air swimming-
bath of the town, a lady of considerable beauty was
said to disport herself. The swimming-bath was
consequently crowded. The oyster - bar provided
a slight feminine interest as well as particularly fine
marennes verts. Lillers was an army headquarters.
Like all towns so fated it bristled with neat notices,
clean soldiers with wonderful salutes, and many
motor-cars. It possessed an under-world of staff
officers who hurried ceaselessly from office to office
and found but little time to swim in the morning
or consume oysters in the afternoon.

ON THE XlTH CORPS FRONT 13

The Hotel de la Gare was distinguishd from
lesser hotels by an infant prodigy and champagne
cocktails. The infant prodigy was a dumpy child
of uncertain age, who, with or without en-
couragement, would climb on to the piano -stool
and pick out simple tunes with one finger. The
champagne cocktails infected a doctor of my
acquaintance with an unreasoning desire to change
horses and gallop back to billets.

At last the train came in. My servant, my
baggage, and myself were thrown on board, and
alighted at the next station in accordance with
the instructions of the R.T.O. . . .

A few months later the Cyclist Battalion went to
Italy, under Major Percy Davies. It returned to
France in time for the German offensive of
April 1918, and gained everlasting honour by
holding back the enemy, when the Portuguese
withdrew, until our infantry arrived. For its
skilful and dogged defence this battalion was
mentioned by name in the despatches of the
Commander-in-Chief.

14

CHAPTER II.

FRED KARNO'S ARMY.

{^January to April 1917.)

My servant, Spencer, and I arrived at St Pol, where
officers going on leave used to grow impatient with
the official method of travel, desert the slow uncom-
fortable train, and haunt the Rest House in the hope
of obtaining a seat in a motor-car to Boulogne.
I had expected that the R.T.O. would call me
into his office, and in hushed tones direct me to
the secret lair of the tanks. Everything possible,
it was rumoured, had been done to preserve the
tanks from prying eyes. I was undeceived at once.
An official strode up and down the platform, shouting
that all men for the tanks were to alight immedi-
ately. I found on inquiry that the train for the
tank area would not depart for several hours, so,
leaving my servant and my kit at the station, I
walked into the town full of hope.

I lunched moderately at the hotel, but, though
there was much talk of tanks there, I found no one
with a car. I adjourned in due course to the
military hairdresser, and at dusk was speeding out
of St Pol in a luxurious Vauxhall. I was deposited

FRED KARNO'S ARMY 15

at Wavrans with the Supply Officer, a melancholy
and overworked young man, who advised me to
use the telephone. Tank headquarters informed
me that I was posted provisionally to D Battalion,
and D Battalion promised to send a box-body.
I collected my servant and baggage from the
station at Wavrans, accepted the Supply Officer's
hospitality, and questioned him about my new
Corps.

Tanks, he told me, were organised as a branch
of the Machine-Gun Corps for purposes of camou-
flage, pay, and records. Six companies had been
formed, of which four had come to France and two
had remained in England. The four overseas com-
panies had carried out the recent operations on
the Somme (September - October igi6). The
authorities had been so much impressed that it
was decided to expand each of these companies
into a battalion, by the embodiment of certain
Motor Machine-Gun Batteries and of volunteers
expected from other corps in response to the appeal
that had been sent round all formations. Thus
A, B, C, and D Battalions were forming in France,
E, F, and sundry other battalions, in England.
Each battalion, he believed, consisted of three com-
panies. Each company possessed twelve or more
tanks, and the Company Commander owned a car.

Primed with this information and some hot tea,
I welcomed the arrival of the box-body. We drove
at breakneck speed through the darkness and the
rain to Blangy-sur-Ternoise. I entered a cheerful,
brightly-lit mess. Seeing a venerable and imposing
officer standing by the fire, I saluted him. He

i6 A COMPANY OF TANKS

assured me that he was only the Equipment Officer.
We sat down to a well-served dinner, I discovered
an old 'Varsity friend in the doctor, and retired
content to a comfortable bed after winning slightly
at bridge.

In the morning I was sent in a car to Bermicourt,
where I was interviewed by Colonel Elles.^ As the
result of the interview I was posted to D Battalion,
and on the following evening took over the command
of No. II Company from Haskett-Smith. . . .

The usual difficulties and delays had occurred in
the assembling of the battalions. Rations were
short. There was no equipment. The billets were
bad. Necessaries such as camp kettles could not
be obtained. That was now old if recent history.
The battalions had first seen the light in October.
By the beginning of January officers and men were
equipped, fed, and under cover.

The men were of three classes. First came the
" Old Tankers," those who had been trained with
the original companies. They had been drawn for
the most part from the A.S.C. : M.T. Some had
been once or twice in action ; some had not. They
were excellent tank mechanists. Then came the
motor machine gunners — smart fellows, without
much experience of active operations. The vast
majority of officers and men were volunteers from
the infantry — disciplined fighting men.

On parade the company looked a motley crew,
as indeed it was. Men from different battalions
knew different drill. Some from the less combatant
corps knew no drill at all. They resembled a

1 Now Major-General H. J. Elles, C.B., D.S.O.

FRED KARNO^S ARMY 17

** leave draft," and nobody can realise how undis-
ciplined disciplined men can appear, who has not
seen a draft of men from various units marching
from the boat to a rest camp. The men are indi-
viduals. They trail along like a football crowd.
They have no pride in their appearance, because
they cannot feel they are on parade. They are only
a crowd, not a company or a regiment. Corporate
pride and feeling are absent. The company was
composed of drafts. Before it could fight it must
be made a company. The men described them-
selves with admirable humour in this song, to the
tune "The Church's one foundation" —

"We are Fred Karno's army, the Ragtime A.S.C.,
We do not work, we cannot fight, what ruddy use are we ?
And when we get to Berlin, the Kaiser he will say —
* Hoch, hoch, mein Gott !
What a ruddy rotten lot
Are the Ragtime A.S.C. !'"

The company lived in a rambling hospice, built
round a large courtyard. The original inhabitants
consisted of nuns and thirty or forty aged and
infirm men, who, from their habits and appearance,
we judged to be consumptives.

The nuns were friendly but fussy. They allowed
the officers to use a large kitchen, but resented the
intrusion of any but officers' mess cooks, and in
putting forward claims for alleged damages and
thefts the good nuns did not lag behind their less
pious sisters in the village. We were grateful to
them for their courtesy and kindliness; yet it
cannot be said that any senior officer in the com-
pany ever went out of his way to meet the Mother
Superior. She possessed a tactless memory.

B

i8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

The consumptives had a large room to themselves.
It stank abominably. Where they slept at night
was a mystery. They died in the room next to my
bed-chamber.

The door of my room was inscribed *' Notre
Dame des Douleurs," and the room justified its
title. All operations planned in it were cancelled.
The day after I had first slept in it I fell ill.
Colonel Elles, with Lieut.-Colonel Burnett, came
to see me in my bed. I had not Shaved, and my
temperature made me slightly familiar. I could
never keep the room warm of nights. Once, when
I was suffering from a bad cold, I put out my hand
sleepily for my handkerchief, and, without thinking,
tried to blow my nose. It was a freezing night, and
I still have the scar.

The majority of the men had wire beds, made by
stretching wire-mesh over a wooden frame ; but the
rooms were draughty. We made a sort of dining-
hall in a vast barn, but it was cold and dark.

In these chilly rooms and enormous barns the
official supply of fuel did not go far. The coal
trains from the " Mines des Maries" often rested for
a period in Blangy sidings. I am afraid that this
source was tapped unofficially, but the French
naturally complained, strict orders were issued, and
our fires again were low. It was necessary to act,
and to act with decision. I obtained a lorry
from the battalion, handed it over to a promising
subaltern, and gave him stern instructions to return
with much coal. Late in the afternoon he returned,
on foot. The lorry had broken down six miles
away. Three tons of coal made too heavy a load

FRED KARNO'S ARMY 19

in frosty weather. The lorry was towed in, and
once again we were warm.

I did not ask for details, but a story reached my
ears that a subaltern with a lorry had arrived that
same morning at a certain Army coal dump. He
asked urgently for two tons of coal. The Tanks
were carrying out important experiments : coal they
must have or the experiments could not be con-
tinued. Permission was given at once — he would
return with the written order, which the Tanks had
stupidly forgotten to give him. A little gift at the
dump produced the third ton. To a Heavy Gunner
the story needs no comment.

The mess was a dining-hall, medieval in size,
with an immense open fireplace that consumed
much coal and gave out little heat. We placed a
stove in the middle of the hall. The piping was
led to the upper part of the fireplace, but in spite
of Jumbo's ingenuity it was never secure, and
would collapse without warning. The fire smoked
badly.

As the hall would seat at least fifty, we specialised
in weekly guest-nights, and the reputation of the
company for hospitality was unequalled. In those
days canteens met all reasonable needs : the allot-
ment system had not been devised ; a worried
mess-president, commissioned with threats to obtain
whisky, was not offered fifty bars of soap in lieu.
And we bought a piano that afterwards became
famous. Luckily, we had an officer, nicknamed
Grantoffski, who could play any known tune from
memory.

Our mess was so large that we were asked to

20 A COMPANY OF TANKS

entertain temporarily several officers from other
units of the Tank Corps in process of formation.
Several of these guests came from the central v^^ork-
shops of the Tank Corps at Erin, and later returned
our hospitality by doing us small services.

One engineer, who remained with the Tank
Corps for a few weeks only, told us a remarkable
story. We were talking of revolvers and quick
shooting and fighting in America. Suddenly to our
amazement he became fierce.

** Do you see my hand ? You wouldn't think it,
but it's nearly useless — all through a Prussian
officer. It was in Louisiana, and he went for me
although I was unarmed. I caught his knife with
my bare hand — it cut to the bone — I jerked back
his wrist and threw him. My pal had a Winchester.
He pushed it into the brute's face, smashed it all
up, and was just going to pull the trigger when I
knocked it away. But the sinews of my hand were
cut and there was no doctor there. . . . I've been
after that Prussian ever since. I'm going to get
him — oh yes, don't you fear. I'm going to get him.
How do I know he is still alive ? I heard the
other day. He is on the other side. I've pursued
him for five years, and now I'm going to get him ! "

He was a Scots engineer, a sturdy red-faced fellow
with twinkling eyes and a cockney curl to his hair.

The mess was a pleasant place, and training
proceeded smoothly, because no company com-
mander ever had better officers. My second-in-
command was Haigh, a young and experienced
regular from the infantry. He left me after the
second battle of BuUecourt, to instruct the Ameri-

FRED KARNO'S ARMY 21

cans. My officers were Swears, an " old Tanker,"
who was instructing at Bermicourt, Wyatt, and
** Happy Fanny," Morris, Puttock, Davies,. Clark-
son, Macilwaine, Birkett, Grant, King, Richards,
Telfer, Skinner, Sherwood, Head, Pritchard, Bern-
stein, Money, Talbot, Coghlan — too few remained
long with the company. Of the twenty I have
mentioned, three had been killed, six wounded,
three transferred, and two invalided before the year
was out.

Training began in the middle of December and
continued until the middle of March. Prospective
tank-drivers tramped up early every morning to the
Tank Park or "Tankodrome" — a couple of large
fields in which workshops had been erected, some
trenches dug, and a few shell-craters blown. The
Tankodrome was naturally a sea of mud. Perhaps
the mud was of a curious kind — perhaps the mixture
of petrol and oil with the mud was poisonous.
Most officers and men working in the Tankodrome
suffered periodically from painful and ugly sores,
which often spread over the body from the face.
We were never free from them while we were at
Blangy.

The men were taught the elements of tank driving
and tank maintenance by devoted instructors, who
laboured day after day in the mud, the rain, and
the snow. Officers' courses were held at Bermi-
court. Far too few tanks were available for instruc-
tion, and very little driving was possible.

" Happy Fanny " toiled in a cold and draughty
out-house with a couple of 6-pdrs. and a shivering
class. Davies, our enthusiastic Welsh footballer,

22 A COMPANY OF TANKS

supervised instruction in the Lewis gun among
the draughts of a lofty barn in the Hospice.

The foundation of all training was drill. As a
very temporary soldier I had regarded drill as un-
necessary ritual, as an opportunity for colonels and
adjutants to use their voices and prance about on
horses. ** Spit and polish " seemed to me as
antiquated in a modern war as pipeclay and red
coats. I was wrong. Let me give the old drill-
sergeant his due. There is nothing in the world
like smart drill under a competent instructor to
make a company out of a mob. Train a man to
respond instantly to a brisk command, and he will
become a clean, alert, self-respecting soldier.

We used every means to quicken the process.
We obtained a bugle. Our bugler was not good.
He became careless towards the middle of his calls,
and sometimes he erred towards the finish. He did
not begin them always on quite the right note. We
started with twenty odd calls a day. Everything
the officers and the men did was done by bugle-call.
It was very military and quite effective. All move-
ments became brisk. But the bugler became worse
and worse. Out of self-preservation we reduced
the number of his calls. Finally he was stopped
altogether by the colonel, whose headquarters were
at the time close to our camp.

Our football team helped to bring the company
together. It happened to excel any other team in
the neighbourhood. We piled up enormous scores
against all the companies we played. Each succes-
sive victory made the men prouder of the company,
and more deeply contemptuous of the other com-

FRED KARNO'S ARMY 23

panics who produced such feeble and ineffective
elevens. Even the money that flowed into the
pockets of our more ardent supporters after each
match strengthened the belief in the superiority of
No. II Company. The spectators were more
than enthusiastic. Our C.S.M. would run up and
down the touch-line, using the most amazing and
lurid language.

Towards the middle of February our training
became more ingenious and advanced. As painfully
few real tanks were available for instruction, it was
obviously impossible to use them for tactical schemes.
Our friendly Allies would have inundated the Claims
Officer if tanks had carelessly manoeuvred over their
precious fields. In consequence the authorities
provided dummy tanks.

Imagine a large box of canvas stretched on a
wooden frame, without top or bottom, about six feet
high, eight feet long, and five feet wide. Little slits
were made in the canvas to represent the loopholes
of a tank. Six men carried and moved each dummy,
lifting it by the cross-pieces of the framework. For
our sins we were issued with eight of these abortions.

We started with a crew of officers to encourage
the men, and the first dummy tank waddled out of
the gate. It was immediately surrounded by a mob
of cheering children, who thought it was an imitation
dragon or something out of a circus. It was led
away from the road to avoid hurting the feelings of
the crew and to safeguard the ears and morals of the
young. After colliding with the corner of a house,
it endeavoured to walk down the side of the railway
cutting. Nobody was hurt, but a fresh crew was

24 A COMPANY OF TANKS

necessary. It regained the road when a small man
in the middle, who had been able to see nothing,
stumbled and fell. The dummy tank was sent back
to the carpenter for repairs.

We persevered with those dummy tanks. The
men hated them. They were heavy, awkward, and
produced much childish laughter. In another com-
pany a crew walked over a steep place and a man
broke his leg. The dummies became less and less
mobile. The signallers practised from them, and
they were used by the visual training experts.
One company commander mounted them on
waggons drawn by mules. The crews were tucked
in with their Lewis guns, and each contraption, a
cross between a fire-engine and a triumphal car in a
Lord Mayor's Show, would gallop past targets which
the gunners would recklessly endeavour to hit.

Finally, these dummies reposed derelict in our
courtyard until one by one they disappeared, as the
canvas and the wood were required for ignobler
purposes.

We were allowed occasionally to play with real
tanks. A sham attack was carried out before hill-
tops of generals and staff officers, who were much
edified by the sight of tanks moving. The total
effect was marred by an enthusiastic tank com-
mander, who, in endeavouring to show off the paces
of his tank, became badly ditched, and the tank was
for a moment on fire. The spectators appeared
interested.

On another day we carried out experiments with
smoke-bombs. Two gallant tanks moved slowly up
a hill against trenches. When the tanks drew near,

FRED KARNO'S ARMY 25

the defenders of the trenches rushed out, armed
with several kinds of smoke - producing missiles.
These they hurled at the tanks, and, growing bolder,
inserted them into every loophole and crevice of the
tanks. At length the half-suffocated crews tumbled
out, and maintained with considerable strength of
language that all those who had approached the
tanks had been killed, adding that if they had only
known what kind of smoke was going to be used
they would have loaded their guns to avoid partial
asphyxiation.

In addition to these open-air sports, the senior
officers of the battalion carried out indoor schemes
under the colonel. We planned numerous attacks
on the map. I remember that my company was
detailed once to attack Serre. A few months later
I passed through this ** village," but I could only
assure myself of its position by the fact that there
was some brick-dust in the material of the road.

By the beginning of March the company had
begun to find itself. Drill, training, and sport had
each done their work. Officers and men were proud
of their company, and were convinced that no better
company had ever existed. The mob of men had
been welded into a fighting instrument. My
sergeant-major and I were watching another com-
pany march up the street. He turned to me with
an expression of slightly amused contempt.

** They can't march like us, sir ! "

26

CHAPTER III.

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE.

{March and April 1917.)

In the first months of 1917 we were confident that
the last year of the war had come. The Battle of
the Somme had shown that the strongest German
lines were not impregnable. We had learned much:
the enemy had received a tremendous hammering ;
and the success of General Gough's operations in
the Ancre valley promised well for the future. The
French, it was rumoured, were undertaking a grand
attack in the early spring. We were first to support
them by an offensive near Arras, and then we would
attack ourselves on a large scale somewhere in the
north. We hoped, too, that the Russians and
Italians would come to our help. We were told
that the discipline of the German Army was
loosening, that our blockade was proving increasingly
effective, and we were encouraged by stories of many
novel inventions. We possessed unbounded confi-
dence in our Tanks.

Late in February the colonel held a battalion
conference. He explained the situation to his

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 27

company commanders and the plan of forthcoming
operations.

As the result of our successes in the Ancre valley,
the German position between the Ancre and Arras
formed a pronounced salient. It was determined to
attack simultaneously at Arras and from the Ancre
valley, with the object of breaking through at both
points and cutting off the German inside the salient.

Colonel Elles had offered two battalions of tanks.
He was taking a risk. Officers and crews were only
half-trained. Right through the period of training
real tanks had been too scarce. Improved tanks
were expected from England, but none had ar-
rived, and he decided to employ again the old
Mark I. tank which had been used in the operations
on the Somme in the previous year. The two
battalions selected were " C " and ** D."

When we examined the orders for the attack in
detail, I found that my company was destined to go
through with the troops allotted to the second
objective and take Mercatel and Neuville Vitasse.
It should have been a simple enough operation, as
two conspicuous main roads penetrated the'German
lines parallel with the direction of my proposed
attack.

On March gth I drove to Arras in my car with
Haigh, my second-in-command, and Jumbo, my
reconnaissance officer. We went by St Pol and the
great Arras road. The Arras road is a friend of
mine. First it was almost empty except for the
lorry park near Savy, and, short of Arras, it was
screened because the Germans still held the Vimy
Ridge. Then before the Arras battle it became more

28 A COMPANY OF TANKS

and more crowded — numberless lorries, convoys of
huge guns and howitzers, smiling men in buses and
tired men marching, staff-cars and motor ambulances,
rarely, a waggon with slow horses, an old Frenchman
in charge, quite bewildered by the traffic. When
the battle had begun, whole Divisions, stretching
for ten miles or more, came marching along it, and
the ambulances streamed back to the big hospital at
St Pol. I saw it for the last time after the Armis-
tice had been signed, deserted and unimportant,
with just a solitary soldier here and there standing
at the door of a cottage. It is an exposed and
windy road. The surface of it was never good,
but I have always felt that the Arras road was
proud to help us. It seemed ever to be saying:
" Deliver Arras from shell and bomb ; then leave
me, and I shall be content to dream again." . . .

We drove into Arras a little nervously, but it was
not being shelled, and, hungry after a freezing ride,
we lunched at the Hotel de Commerce.

This gallant hotel was less than 2500 yards from
the German trenches. Across the street was a field
battery in action. The glass of the restaurant had
been broken, the upper stories had been badly
damaged, the ceiling of the dining-room showed
marks of shrapnel. Arras was being shelled and
bombed every night, and often by day; German
aeroplanes flew low over the town and fired down
the streets. The hotel had still carried on ever
since the British had been in Arras and before.
The proprietress, a little pinched and drawn, with
the inevitable scrap of fur flung over her shoulders,
presided at the desk. Women dressed in the usual

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 29

black waited on us. The lunch was cheap, ex-
cellently cooked, and well served — within easy range
of the enemy field-guns. After the battle the hotel
was put out of bounds, for serving drinks in
forbidden hours. Indeed, A.P.M.'s have no souls.
It reopened later, and continued to flourish until
the German attack of April 1918, when the enemy
shelling became too insistent. The hotel has not
been badly hit, and, if it be rebuilt, I beseech all
those who visit the battlefields of Arras to lunch
at the Hotel de Commerce — in gratitude It is
in the main street just by the station.

We motored out of Arras along a road that was
lined with newly-made gunpits, and, arriving at a
dilapidated village, introduced ourselves to the
Divisional staff. We discussed operations, and
found that much was expected of the tanks. After a
cheery tea we drove home in the bitter cold.

On the 13th March we again visited the Division.
I picked up the G.S.O. III. of the Division, called
on a brigadier, with whom I expected to work,
and then drove to the neighbourhood of the dis-
reputable village of Agny. We peeped at the
very little there was to be seen of the enemy
front line through observation posts in cottages
and returned to Arras, where we lunched excel-
lently with the colonel of an infantry battalion.
I left Jumbo with him, to make a detailed recon-
naissance of the Front. . . .

The Arras battle would have been fought ac-
cording to plan, we should have won a famous
victory, and hundreds of thousands of Germans
might well have been entrapped in the Arras

30 A COMPANY OF TANKS

salient, if the enemy in his wisdom had not retired.
Unfortunately, at the beginning of March he
commenced his withdrawal from the unpleasant
heights to the north of the Ancre valley, and,
once the movement was under way, it was predicted
that the whole of the Arras salient would be
evacuated. This actually occurred in the following
weeks ; the very sector I was detailed to attack
was occupied by our troops without fighting.
Whether the German had wind of the great attack
that we had planned, I do not know. He certainly
made it impossible for us to carry it out.

As soon as the extent of the German withdrawal
became clear, my company was placed in reserve.
I was instructed to make arrangements to support
any attack at any point on the Arras front.

The Arras sector was still suitable for offensive
operations. The Germans had fallen back on the
Hindenburg Line, and this complicated system of
defences rejoined the old German line opposite
Arras. Obviously the most practical way of
attacking the Hindenburg Line was to turn it — to
fight down it, and not against it. Our preparations
for an attack in the Arras sector and on the Vimy
Ridge to the north of it were far advanced. It
was decided in consequence to carry out with
modifications the attack on the German trench
system opposite Arras and on the Vimy Ridge.
Operations from the Ancre valley, the southern re-
entrant of the old Arras salient, were out of the
question. The Fifth Army was fully occupied in
keeping touch with the enemy.

On the 27th March my company was suddenly

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 31

transferred from the Third Army to the Fifth
Army. I was informed that my company would
be attached to the Vth Corps for any operations
that might occur. Jumbo was recalled from Arras,
fuming at his wasted work, and an advance party
was immediately sent to my proposed detraining
station at Achiet-le-Grand.

On the 29th March I left Blangy. My car was
a little unsightly. The body was loaded with
Haigh's kit and my kit and a collapsible table.
On top, like a mahout, sat Spencer, my servant.
It was sleeting, and there was a cold wind. We
drove through St Pol and along the Arras road,
cut south through Habarcq to Beaumetz, and
plunged over appalling roads towards Bucquoy.
The roads became worse and worse. Spencer was
just able to cling on, groaning at every bump.
Soon we arrived at our old rear defences, from
which we had gone forward only ten days before.
It was joyous to read the notices, so newly obsolete
— ** This road is subject to shell-fire " — and when
we passed over our old support and front trenches,
and drove across No Man's Land, and saw the
green crosses of the Germans, the litter of their
trenches, their signboards and their derelict equip-
ment, then we were triumphant indeed. Since
March 1917 we have advanced many a mile, but
never with more joy. Remember that from October
1914 to March 1917 we had never really advanced.
At Neuve Chapelle we took a village and four
fields, Loos was a fiasco, and the Somme was
too horrible for a smile.

On the farther side of the old German trenches

32 A COMPANY OF TANKS

was desolation. We came to a village and found
the houses lying like slaughtered animals. Mostly
they had been pulled down, like card houses, but
some had been blown in. It was so pitiful that
I wanted to stop and comfort them. The trees
along the roads had been cut down. The little
fruit-trees had been felled, or lay half- fallen with
gashes in their sides. The ploughs rusted in the
fields. The rain was falling monotonously. It
was getting dark, and there was nobody to be
seen except a few forlorn soldiers.

We crept with caution round the vast funnel-
shaped craters that had been blown at each cross-
road, and, running through Logeast Wood, which
had mocked us for so many weeks on the Somme,
we came to Achiet-le-Grand.

Ridger, the town commandant, had secured the
only standing house, and he was afraid that it
had been left intact for some devilish purpose.
Haigh and Grant of my advance party were estab-
lished in a dug-out. So little was it possible in
those days to realise the meaning of an advance,
that we discovered we had only two mugs, two
plates, and one knife between us.

In the morning we got to work. A supply of
water was arranged for the men ; there was only
one well in the village that had not been polluted.
We inspected the ramp by which the tanks would
detrain, selected a tankodrome near the station,
wired in a potential dump, found good cellars for
the men, and began the construction of a mess in ,
the remains of a small brick stable. Then Haigh
and I motored past the derelict factory of Bihucourt

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 33

and through the outskirts of Bapaume to the ruins
of Behagnies, on the Bapaume-Arras road. After
choosing sites for an advanced camp and tanko-
drome, we walked back to Achiet-le-Grand across
country, in order to reconnoitre the route for tanks
from the station to Behagnies. After lunch, Haigh,
Jumbo, and I motored to Ervillers, which is beyond
Behagnies, and, leaving the car there, tramped to
Mory. Jumbo had discovered in the morning an
old quarry, hidden by trees, that he recommended
as a half-way house for the tanks, if we were
ordered to move forward ; but the enemy was a
little lively, and we determined to investigate
further on a less noisy occasion.

That night we dined in our new mess. We had
stretched one tarpaulin over what had been the
roof, and another tarpaulin took the place of an
absent wall. The main beam was cracked, and
we feared rain, but a huge blazing lire comforted
us — until one or two slates fell off with a clatter.
We rushed out, fearing the whole building was
about to collapse. It was cold and drizzling. We
stood it for five minutes, and then, as nothing
further happened, we returned to our fire. . . .

In some general instructions I had received from
the colonel, it was suggested that my company
would be used by the Vth Corps for an attack on
Bullecourt and the Hindenburg Line to the east
and west of the village. It will be remembered
that the attack at Arras was designed to roll up
the Hindenburg Line, starting from the point at
which the Hindenburg Line joined the old German
trench system. General Gough's Fifth Army, con-

c

34

A COMPANY OF TANKS

sisting of General Fanshawe's Vth Corps and
General Birdwood's Corps of Australians, lay south-
east of Arras and on the right of the Third Army.
The Fifth Army faced the Hindenburg Line, and,
if it attacked, it would be compelled to attack
frontally.

Third Army

attack ^

^^
Arras <

ViMT

Ridge

Fifth Army
attack

The disadvantages of a frontal attack on an
immensely strong series of entrenchments were
balanced by the fact that a successful penetration
would bring the Fifth Army on the left rear of that
German Army, which would be fully occupied at
the time in repelling the onset of our Third Army.

The key to that sector of the Hindenburg Line
which lay opposite the Fifth Army front was the
village of Bullecourt.

In the last week of March the Germans had
not taken refuge in their main line of defence, and
were still holding out in the villages of Croisilles,
Ecoust, and Noreuil.

We were attacking them vigorously, but with

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 35

no success and heavy casualties. On the morning
of the 31st March Jumbo and I drove again to
Ervillers and walked to Mory, pushing forward
down the slope towards Ecoust. There was a
quaint feeling of insecurity, quite unjustified, in
strolling about " on top." We had an excellent
view of our shells bursting on the wire in front
of Ecoust, but we saw nothing of the country we
wanted to reconnoitre — the approaches to Bulle-
court. Ecoust was finally captured at the sixth
or seventh attempt by the gth Division on April ist.

In the afternoon I paid my first visit to the
Vth Corps, then at Acheux, twenty miles back.
I motored by Bapaume and Albert over the Somme
battlefield. The nakedness of it is now hidden by
coarse grass and rough weeds, but in March of
1917 it was bare. There was dark -brown mud
for mile after mile as far as the eye could see —
mud churned and tortured until the whole surface
of the earth was pitted with craters. Mud over-
whelmed the landscape. Trees showed only against
the sky; dead men, old equipment, derelict tanks
blended with the mud. At Le Sars bits of walls
and smashed beams lay embedded in the mud.
At Pozieres the mud held a few mud -coloured
bricks. I was glad when I came to Albert.

We took the Doullens road and found the Corps
well housed in the chateau at Acheux. I announced
the imminent arrival of my tanks, but the news
did not kindle the enthusiasm I had expected.
The Vth Corps had already used tanks and knew
their little ways. After tea I consulted with the
lesser lights of the staff. Satisfactory arrangements

36 A COMPANY OF TANKS

were made for supplies, rations, and accommodation,
and I demanded and obtained the use of a troop
of Glasgow Yeomanry, on the plea that they were
required to cover the tracks of my tanks. I wanted
a horse to ride.

I decided to return by Puisieux-le-Mont. It
was apparent that the Albert- Bapaume road would
soon become uncomfortably crowded. I wanted
to reconnoitre the only alternative route, and at
the same time to inspect the village of Serre,
which, on paper, I had so often and so violently
attacked.

Never have I endured a more ghastly ride. In
comparison with the country on either side of the
Puisieux road, the Somme battlefield from the
highway between Albert and Bapaume was serenely
monotonous. After Mailly-Mailly the road became
a rough track, narrow and full of unfilled shell-
holes. Crazy bridges had been thrown across the
trenches. The sun was setting in a fiery sky, and
a reddish light tinged the pitiful tumbled earth,
and glittered for a moment on the desolate water
of the shell-holes. The crumbling trenches were
manned with restless dead. In the doubtful light
I thought a dead German moved. He lay on his
back, half-sunken in the slimy mud, with knees
drawn up, and blackened hand gripping a rusty
rifle. Mercifully I could not see his face, but I
thought his arms twitched.

It grew darker, and so narrow was the track that
I might have been driving over the black mud of
the battlefield. A derelict limber half-blocked the
road, and, swerving to avoid it, we barely missed

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 37

the carcass of a horse, dead a few daj^s. Our pro-
gress was slow. Soon we lit the lamps. The track
was full of horrible shadows, and big dark things
seemed to come down the road to meet us — shattered
transport or old heaps of shells. On either side of
the car was the desert of mud and water-logged
holes and corpses, face downward under the water,
and broken guns and mortars, and little graves, and
mile-long strands of rusty wire. Everywhere maimed
ghosts were rustling, and the plump rats were patter-
ing along the trenches.

It is unwise to go through a battlefield at night.
If they make the Somme battlefield a forest, no
man will be brave enough to cross it in the dark.

We came to lights in the ruins of a village, and
I stopped for a pipe and a word with my driver. . . .

My tanks arrived at Achiet-le-Grand just after
dawn on April ist. We had taken them over from
the central workshops at Erin, and had drawn there
a vast variety of equipment. The tanks had been
driven on to the train by an Engineer officer. The
railway journey had been delayed as usual, and the
usual expert — this time a doctor — had walked along
the train, when shunted at Doullens, and had pointed
out to his companion the ** new monster tanks."

In the morning we hauled off the sponson-trolleys
— their use will be explained later — but we thought
it wiser to wait until dusk before we detrained the
tanks.

Tanks travel on flat trucks, such as are employed
to carry rails. They are driven on and off the
train under their own power, but this performance
requires care, skill, and experience. A Mk. I. or

38 A COMPANY OF TANKS

a Mk. IV. tank is not too easy to steer, while the
space between the track and the edge of the truck
is alarmingly small. With two exceptions, my
officers had neither experience nor skill.

It was an anxious time — not only for the
company commander. The office of the R.T.O.,
at the edge of the ramp, was narrowly missed on
two occasions. Very slowly and with infinite care
the tanks were persuaded to leave the train and
move down the road to the tankodrome we had
selected. Then it began first to sleet and then to
snow, while an icy wind rose, until a blizzard was
lashing our faces.

In the old Mark I. tank it was necessary to detach
the sponsons, or armoured ** bow-windows," on
either side before the tank could be moved by rail.
This was no easy matter. The tank was driven
into two shallow trenches. A stout four-wheeled
trolley was run alongside, and a sort of crane was
fitted, to which slings were secured. The sponson
was girt about with these slings, the bolts which
secured the sponson to the body of the tank were
taken out, and the sponson was lowered on to the
trolley.

My men, of whom the majority were inexperi-
enced, carried out the reverse process on a dark
night in a blizzard. Their fingers were so blue
with cold that they could scarcely handle their
tools. The climax was reached when we discovered
that we should be compelled to drill new holes in
several of the sponsons, because in certain cases
the holes in the sponsons did not correspond with
the holes in the tanks.

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE

39

If the men never had a harder night's work, they
certainly never worked better. Half the tanks fitted
their sponsons and reached Behagnies by dawn.
The remainder, less one lame duck, were hidden
in Achiet-le-Grand until darkness once more allowed
them to move.

Every precaution was taken to conceal the tanks
from the enemy. My troop of Glasgow Yeomanry,
under the direction of Talbot, who had been a
sergeant-major in the Dragoons, rode twice over the
tracks which the tanks had made in order to obHterate
them by hoof-marks. At Behagnies the tanks were
drawn up against convenient hedges and enveloped
in tarpaulins and camouflage nets. In spite of our
efforts they appeared terribly obvious as we surveyed
them anxiously from one point after another. Our
subtle devices were soon tested. An enterprising
German airman flew down out of the clouds and
darted upon two luckless observation balloons to
right and left of us. He set them both on fire
with tracer bullets, came low over our camp, fired
down the streets of Bapaume, and disappeared into
the east. The sporting instinct of my men responded
to the audacity of the exploit, and they cheered him ;
but for the next twenty-four hours I was wondering
if the camouflage of my tanks had been successful,
or if the attention of the airman had been concen-
trated solely on the balloons. Presumably we were
not spotted, for while at Behagnies we were neither
shelled nor bombed.

The preparations for my first essay in tank-fighting
were beginning to bear fruit. Eleven tanks lay
within two short marches of any point from which

40 A COMPANY OF TANKS

they were likely to attack, and my crews were busy
overhauling them. One crippled tank was hidden
at Achiet-le-Grand, but the mechanical defect which
had developed in her must have escaped the notice
of central workshops. Cooper^ was engaged night
and day in taking up supplies and making forward
dumps. The Corps had provided us with a convoy
of limbered waggons drawn by mules — the forward
roads were not passable for lorries — and the wretched
animals had little rest. We were ordered to be
ready by the 6th, and the order meant a fight
against time. Tanks consume an incredible quantity
of petrol, oil, grease, and water, and it was necessary
to form dumps of these supplies and of ammunition
at Mory Copse, our half-way house, and at Noreuil
and Ecoust. Night and day the convoy trekked
backwards and forwards under Cooper or Talbot.
Mules cast their shoes, the drivers were dog-tired,
the dumps at Noreuil and Ecoust were shelled,
both roads to Mory were blocked by the explosion
of delayed mines, — in spite of all difficulties the
dumps were made, and on the morning of the battle
the convoy stood by loaded, ready to follow the
tanks in the expected break through.

Haigh had ridden forward to Ecoust with a hand-
ful of Glasgow yeomen in order to keep an eye on
the dump and reconnoitre the country between
Ecoust and the Hindenburg Line. He started in
the afternoon, joining an ammunition column on
the way. They approached the village at dusk.
The enemy was shelling the road and suspected

^ Major R. Cooper, M.C., Royal Fusiliers, had replaced Captain R.
Haigh, M.C.

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 41

battery positions short of the first houses. The
column made a dash for it at full gallop, but a
couple of shells found the column, killing a team
and the drivers.

Haigh and his men wandered into a smithy and
lit a small fire, for it was bitterly cold. The shelling
continued, but the smithy was not hit. They passed
a wretched night, and at dawn discovered a cellar,
where they made themselves comfortable after they
had removed the bodies of two Germans.

The reconnaissances were carried out with Haigh's
usual thoroughness. Tank routes and observation
posts were selected — '*lying-up" places for the tanks
were chosen. Everything was ready if the tanks
should be ordered to attack BuUecourt from the
direction of Ecoust.

On April 4th I was introduced to the Higher
Command. The Vth Corps had moved forward
from Acheux to the ruined chateau at Bihucourt.
There I lunched with the General, and drove with
him in the afternoon to an army conference at Fifth
Army Headquarters in Albert. The block of traffic
on the road made us an hour late, and it was 'inter-
esting to see how an Army commander dealt with
such pronounced, if excusable, unpunctuality in a
Corps commander.

The conference consisted of an awe-inspiring col-
lection of generals seated round a table in a stuffy
room decorated with maps. The details of the
attack had apparently been settled before we arrived,
but I understood from the Army commander's
vigorous summary of the situation that the Third
Army would not attack until the 7th. The greatest

42 A COMPANY OF TANKS

results were expected, and the Fifth Army would
join in the fray immediately the attack of the Third
Army was well launched. As far as I was con-
cerned, my tanks were to be distributed along the
fronts of the Australian and Vth Corps. The con-
ference broke up, and the colonel and I were asked
to tea at the chateau. It was a most nervous
proceeding, to drink tea in the company of a
bevy of generals; but the major-general on my
right was hospitality itself, and the colonel im-
proved the occasion by obtaining the promise
of some more huts from the major-general, who
was engineer -in -chief of the Army. Eventually
we escaped, and the coloneP drove me back to
Behagnies, where battalion headquarters lay close
by my camp.

On the night of the 5th, as soon as it was dusk,
my tanks moved forward. One by one they slid
smoothly past me in the darkness, each like a
patient animal, led by his officer, who flashed
directions with an electric lamp. The stench
of petrol in the air, a gentle crackling as they
found their way through the wire, the sweet purr
of the engine changing to a roar when they
climbed easily on to the road — and then, as they
followed the white tape into the night, the noise
of their engines died away, and I could hear only
the sinister flap -flap of the tracks, and see only
points of light on the hillside.

Tanks in the daytime climbing in and out of
trenches like performing elephants may appeal to
the humour of a journalist. Stand with me at night

^ Now Brigadier-General J. llardress Lloyd, D.S.O.

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 43

and listen. There is a little mist, and the dawn
will soon break. Listen carefully, and you will
hear a queer rhythmical noise and the distant song
of an engine. The measured flap of the tracks grows
louder, and, if you did not know, you would think
an aeroplane was droning overhead. Then in the
half-light comes a tired officer, reading a map, and
behind him another, signalling at intervals to a grey
mass gliding smoothly like a snake. And so they
pass, one by one, with the rattle of tracks and the
roar of their exhaust, each mass crammed with
weary men, hot and filthy and choking with the
fumes. Nothing is more inexorable than the slow
glide of a tank and the rhythm of her tracks.
Remember that nothing on earth has ever caused
more deadly fear at the terrible hour of dawn than
these grey sliding masses crammed with weary
men. ...

My tanks were safely camouflaged in the old
quarry at Mory Copse before dawn on April 6th.
I joined them in the morning, riding up from the
camp at Behagnies on a troop-horse I had com-
mandeered from my troop of Glasgow Yeomanry.
The quarry was not an ideal hiding-place, as it
lay open to direct though distant observation from
the German lines ; but the tanks were skilfully
concealed by the adroit use of trees, undergrowth,
and nets, the hill surmounted by the copse pro-
vided an excellent background, and we were com-
pelled to make a virtue of necessity as the open
downs in the neighbourhood of Mory gave not
the slightest cover.^ The village itself was out of

1 Paget, the Corps Camouflage Officer, was of the greatest assistance.

44 A COMPANY OF TANKS

the question : the enemy were shelling it with
hearty goodwill.

We lay there comfortably enough, though un-
necessary movement by day and the use of Hghts at
night were forbidden. No enemy aeroplane came
over, but a few shells, dropping just beyond the
copse on a suspected battery position, disturbed our
sleep. The tanks were quietly tuned, the guns were
cleaned, and officers were detailed to reconnoitre the
tank routes to Ecoust and Noreuil.

The offensive was postponed from day to day, and
we were growing a little impatient, when at dawn
on April gth the Third Army attacked.

It had been arranged at the last Army Conference
that the Fifth Army would move when the offensive
of the Third Army was well launched. My tanks
were to be distributed in pairs along the whole front
of the army, and to each pair a definite objective
was allotted. I had always been averse to this
scattering of my command. The Hindenburg Line,
which faced us, was notoriously strong. Bullecourt,
the key to the whole position, looked on the map
almost impregnable. The artillery of the Fifth
Army was to the best of my knowledge far from
overwhelming, and gunners had told me that good
forward positions for the guns were difficult to find.
I realised, of course, that an officer in my sub-
ordinate position knew little, but I was convinced
that a surprise concentration might prove a success
where a formal attack, lightly supported by a few
tanks scattered over a wide front, might reasonably
fail. I planned for my own content an attack in
which my tanks, concentrated on a narrow front of

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 45

a thousand yards and supported as strongly as
possible by all the infantry and guns available,
should steal up to the Hindenburg Line without a
barrage. As they entered the German trenches
down would come the barrage, and under cover of
the barrage and the tanks the infantry would
sweep through, while every gun not used in
making the barrage should pound away at the
German batteries.

I was so fascinated by my conception that on the
morning of the 9th I rode down to Behagnies and
gave it to the colonel for what it was worth. He
approved of it thoroughly. After a hasty lunch
we motored down to the headquarters of the Fifth
Army.

We found General Gough receiving in triumph
the reports of our successes on the Third Army
front opposite Arras.

" We want to break the Hindenburg Line with
tanks. General," said the colonel, and very briefly
explained the scheme.

General Gough received it with favour, and
decided to attack at dawn on the following morning.
He asked me when my tanks would require to start.
The idea of an attack within twenty-four hours was
a little startling — there were so many preparations
to be made ; but I replied my tanks should move
at once, and I suggested air protection. General
Gough immediately rang up the R.F.C., but their
General was out, and, after some discussion, it was
decided that my tanks would have sufficient time to
reach the necessary position if they moved off after
dusk. We drove at breakneck speed to the chateau

46 A COMPANY OF TANKS

near, which was occupied by the Australian Corps,
and were left by General Gough to work out the
details with the Brigadier-General of the General
Staff.

The colonel allowed me to explain the scheme
myself. All my suggestions were accepted ; but the
concentration of men and guns that I had imagined
in my dreams was made impossible by the fact that
General Gough had ordered the attack for the
morrow.

I took the colonel's car and tore back to
Behagnies. I wrote out my orders while Jumbo,
helped by two reconnaissance officers who were
attached to us for instruction, rapidly marked and
coloured maps for the tank commanders. My
orders reached Swears, who was in charge at Mory
Copse, by 6.30 p.m., and by 8 p.m. the tanks were
clear of the quarry.

After dark I walked down the Bapaume road
and presented myself at the headquarters of the
Australian Division, with which my tanks were
operating. It was a pitch-black night. The rain
was turning to sleet.

Divisional Headquarters were in *' Armstrong " or
small canvas huts, draughty and cold. I discussed
the coming battle with the staff of the Division and
Osborne, the G.S.O. II. of the Corps. We turned
in for a snatch of sleep, and I woke with a start —
dreaming that my tanks had fallen over a cliff into
the sea. At midnight I went to the door of the
hut and looked out. A gale was blowing, and
sleet was mingled with snow. After midnight I
waited anxiously for news of my tanks. It was a

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 47

long trek for one night, and, as we had drawn thejm
so recently, I could not guarantee, from experience,
their mechanical condition. There was no margin
of time for any except running repairs.

At one o'clock still no news had come. The
tanks had orders to telephone to me immediately
they came to Noreuil, and from Noreuil to the
starting - point was at least a ninety - minutes*
run.

By two o'clock everybody was asking me for
information. Brigade Headquarters at Noreuil had
neither seen tanks nor heard them, but they sent
out orderlies to look for them in case they had lost
their way. At Noreuil it was snowing hard, and
blowing a full gale.

My position was not pleasant. The attack was
set for dawn. The infantry had already gone
forward to the railway embankment, from which
they would "jump off." In daylight they could
neither remain at the embankment nor retire over
exposed ground without heavy shelling. It was
half-past two. I was penned in a hut with a couple
of staff officers, who, naturally enough, were irritated
and gloomy. I could do nothing.

The attack was postponed for an hour. Still no
news of the tanks. The faintest glimmerings of
dawn appeared when the telephone-bell rang. The
Australian handed me the receiver with a smile of
relief.

" It's one of your men," he said.

I heard Wyatt's tired voice.

** We are two miles short of Noreuil in the
valley. We have been wandering on the downs

48 A COMPANY OF TANKS

in a heavy snowstorm. We never quite lost our
way, but it was almost impossible to keep the
tanks together. I will send in a report. The men
are dead- tired."

** How long will it take to get to the starting-
point ? " I asked.

"An hour and a half at least," he replied wearily.

" Stand by for orders."

It was i}( hours before zero. The men were
dead-tired. The tanks had been running all night.
But the Australians were out on the railway em-
bankment and dawn was breaking.

I went to see the General, and explained the
situation briefly.

" What will happen to your tanks if I put back
zero another hour and we attack in daylight ? " he
asked.

" My tanks will be useless," I replied. " They
will be hit before they reach the German trenches —
particularly against a background of snow."

He looked at his watch and glanced through the
window at the growing light.

" It can't be helped. We must postpone the
show. I think there is just time to get the boys
back. Send B. to me."

I called up Wyatt and told him that the men
were to be given a little sleep. The officers, after a
short rest, were to reconnoitre forward. I heard
orders given for the Australians to come back from
the railway embankment — later I learned that this
was done with practically no casualties — then I
stumbled down the road to tell the colonel.

I found him shaving.

BEFORE THE FIRST BATTLE 49

** The tanks lost their way in a snowstorm
and arrived late at Noreuil. The attack was
postponed."

He looked grave for a moment, but continued his
shaving.

" Go and have some breakfast," he said cheerily.
** You must be hungry. We'll talk it over later."

So I went and had some breakfast. . . .

P

50

CHAPTER IV.

THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT.

{April 11, 1917.)

Later in the morning we heard from Jumbo, who
had returned from Noreuil, the full history of the
weary trek in the blizzard.

The tanks had left Mory Copse at 8 p.m. under
the guidance of Wyatt. In the original plan of
operations it had been arranged that Wyatt's
section should attack from Noreuil and the remain-
ing sections from Ecoust. So Wyatt was the only
section commander who had reconnoitred the
Noreuil route.

No tape had been laid. We had not wished
to decorate the downs with broad white tape
before the afternoon of the day on which the
tanks would move forward. On the other hand,
we had not calculated on such a brief interval
between the receipt of orders and the start of
the tanks. An attempt to lay tape in front of the
tanks was soon abandoned : the drivers could not
distinguish it, and Wyatt was guiding them as
well as he could,

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 51

Soon after they had set out the bHzzard came
sweeping over the downs, blocking out landmarks
and obscuring lamps. The drivers could not always
see the officers who were leading their tanks on foot.
Each tank commander, blinded and breathless,
found it barely possible to follow the tank in front.
The pace was reduced to a mere crawl in order to
keep the convoy together.

Though Wyatt never lost his way, he wisely
proceeded with the utmost caution, checking his
route again and again. Our line at the time con-
sisted of scattered posts — there were no trenches —
and on such a night it would have been easy enough
to lead the whole company of tanks straight into
the German wire.

The tanks came down into the valley that runs
from Vaulx-Vraucourt to Noreuil two miles above
Noreuil. The crews were dead-tired, but they
would have gone forward willingly if they could
have arrived in time. The rest of the story I
have told.

The blizzard confounded many that night. The
colonel told me later he had heard that a 'whole
cavalry brigade had spent most of the night wander-
ing over the downs, hopelessly lost. I cannot vouch
for the story myself.

In the afternoon (April 10) I was called to a
conference at the headquarters of the Australian
Division. General Birdwood was there, Major-
General Holmes, who commanded the Division
with which we were to operate, Brigadier-General
Rosenthal, commanding the artillery cf the Corps,
sundry staff officers, the colonel, and myself.

52 A COMPANY OF TANKS

The conference first discussed the situation on
the front of the Third Army. The initial advance
had been completely successful, but the German
forces were far from defeat, and were continuing
to offer a most determined and skilful resistance.
We certainly had not broken through yet. The
battle, however, was still in its earliest stages ; the
situation had not crystallised ; there was still hope
that the enormous pressure of our offensive might
cause the enemy line to crumble and disappear.
It had been decided, in consequence, to proceed
with the postponed attack on Bullecourt, but
to overhaul the arrangements which had been im-
provised to meet an emergency. The original
idea of a stealthy and silent attack, led by tanks
and supported by a bombardment rather than a
barrage, was abandoned after some discussion, and
the conference agreed to return to more classical
methods.

Two infantry brigades would attack and pierce
the Hindenburg Line on the front immediately to
the east of Bullecourt. The attack was to be led
by tanks under cover of a barrage and a heavy
bombardment. Emphasis was laid on the neces-
sity for strong counter -battery work. The right
attacking brigade would form a defensive flank in
the direction of Queant, and at the same time
endeavour to press through to Riencourt and Hende-
court. The left brigade would work its way down
the German trenches into Bullecourt itself. Im-
mediately the village was reached, the British divi-
sion on the left would extend the front of the attack
westwards.

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 53

Tb push through to
Ri'encourt^nd Hendecourt

Queant
Salient

British Division to
'tack when Australians
reach Bu/lecourt.

Ecoust

flindenburg
Line

^ Cavalry
LJ^ in reserve

VauJx-Vraucourt

My tanks were detailed to co-operate very closely
with the infantry. The right section (Wyatt's)
were given three duties : first, to parade up and
down the German wire immediately to the right
of the front of the attack ; second, to remain with
the infantry in the Hindenburg Line until the
trenches had been successfully "blocked" and the
defensive flank secured ; third, to accompany the
infantry in their advance on Riencourt and Hende-
court.

The centre section (Field's) were required to
advance between the two brigades and plunge into
the Hindenburg Line. This movement was made
necessary by the decision to attack not on a con-
tinuous front but up two slight spurs or shoulders.
The Hindenburg Line itself lay just beyond the
crest of a slope, and these almost imperceptible
shoulders ran out from the main slope at right

54 A COMPANY OF TANKS

angles to the line. It was thought that the de-
pression between them would be swept by machine-
gun fire, and it was decided in consequence to leave
the attack up the depression to the tanks alone.

My left section (Swears') were to precede the
infantry of the left Australian brigade. They were
to obtain a footing in the Hindenburg Line and
then work along it into Bullecourt. Whether, later,
they would be able to assist the British infantry
in their attack on the trenches to the west of Bulle-
court was a matter for their discretion.

The atmosphere of the conference was cheerless.
It is a little melancholy to revive and rebuild the
plan of an attack which has been postponed very
literally at the last moment. The conference was
an anticlimax. For days and nights we had been
completing our preparations. The supreme moment
had come, and after hours of acute tension had
passed without result. Then again, tired and with-
out spirit, we drew up fresh plans. War is never
romantic because emergencies, which might be
adventures, come only when the soldier is stale
and tired.

We hurried back to the camp at Behagnies and
composed fresh orders, while Jumbo re-marked his
maps and reshuffled his aeroplane photographs. At
dusk Jumbo and I started out in the car for
Noreuil, but at Vaulx-Vraucourt we decided to
leave the car as the road was impossible. It
was heavy with mud and slush and we were far
from fresh. We passed Australians coming up and
much transport — in places the road was almost
blocked. After an hour or more we came to the

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 55

valley above Noreuil, full of new gun-pits. Our
tanks lay hidden against the bank at the side of
the road, shrouded in their tarpaulins. My men
were busily engaged in making them ready. One
engine was turning over very quietly. It was
bitterly cold, and the snow still lay on the downs.

We struggled on to a ruined house at the entrance
to the village. One room or shed — it may have
been a shrine — constructed strongly of bricks, still
stood in the middle of the wreckage. This my
officers had made their headquarters. I gave in-
structions for all the officers to be collected, and
in the meantime walked through the street to one
of the two brigade headquarters in the village.

This brigade was fortunate in its choice, for it
lay safe and snug in the bowels of the earth. An
old brewery or factory possessed whole storeys of
cellars, and the brigade office was three storeys
down.

Haigh and Swears were discussing operations
with the brigadier. They were all under the illusion
that the postponed attack would take place as orig-
inally planned, and bitter was the disappointment
when I told them that the orders had been changed.
I gave the general and his brigade-major a rough
outline of the new scheme, and took Swears and
Haigh back with me to the ruins.

All my officers were assembled in the darkness.
I could not see their faces. They might have
been ghosts: I heard only rustles and murmurs.
I explained briefly what had happened. One or
two of them naturally complained of changes made
at such a late hour. They did not see how they

56 A COMPANY OF TANKS

could study their orders, their maps, and their
photographs in the hour and a half that remained
to them before it was time for the tanks to start.
So, again, I set out carefully and in detail the exact
task of each tank. When I had finished, we dis-
cussed one or two points, and then my officers
went to their tanks, and I returned to brigade head-
quarters, so that I might be in touch with the
colonel and the Division should anything untoward
happen before zero.

The night passed with slow feet, while my tanks
were crawling forward over the snow. The brigade-
major re-wrote his orders. Officers and orderlies
came in and out of the cellar. We had some tea,
and the general lay down for some sleep. There
was a rumour that one of the tanks had become
ditched in climbing out of the road. I went out
to investigate, and learned that Morris's tank had
been slightly delayed. It was, unfortunately, a clear
cold night.

When I returned to the cellar the brigade staff
were making ready for the battle. Pads of army
signal forms were placed conveniently to hand. The
war diary was lying open with a pencil beside it and
the carbons adjusted. The wires forward to bat-
talion headquarters were tested. Fresh orderlies
were awakened.

Apparently there had been little shelling during
the early part of the night. Noreuil itself had been
sprinkled continuously with shrapnel, and one or
two 5.9's had come sailing over. Forward, the
railway embankment and the approaches to it
had been shelled intermittently, and towards dawn

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 57

the Germans began a mild bombardment, but
nothing was reported to show that the enemy had
heard our tanks or realised our intentions.

I received messages from Haigh that all my tanks
were in position, or just coming into position, be-
yond the railway embankment. Zero hour was
immediately before sunrise, and as the minutes filed
by I wondered idly whether, deep down in the
earth, we should hear the barrage. I was des-
perately anxious that the tanks should prove an
overwhelming success. It was impossible not to
imagine what might happen to the infantry if the
tanks were knocked out early in the battle. Yet
I could not help feeling that this day we should
make our name.

We looked at our watches — two minutes to go.
We stared at the minute-hands. Suddenly there
was a whistling and rustling in the distance, and
a succession of little thumps, like a dog that hits
the floor when it scratches itself. The barrage had
opened. Constraint vanished, and we lit pipes and
cigarettes. You would have thought that the battle
was over. We had not blown out our matches
when there was a reverberating crash overhead.
Two could play at this game of noises.

Few reports arrive during the first forty minutes of
a battle. Everybody is too busy fighting. Usually
the earliest news comes from wounded men, and
naturally their experiences are limited. Brigade
headquarters are, as a rule, at least an hour
behind the battle. You cannot often stand on a
hill and watch the ebb and flow of the fight in
the old magnificent way.

58 A COMPANY OF TANKS

At last the reports began to dribble in and the staff
settled down to their work. There were heavy
casualties before the German wire was reached.
The enemy barrage came down, hot and strong, a
few minutes after zero. . . . Fighting hard in the
Hindenburg trenches, but few tanks to be seen. . . .
The enemy are still holding on to certain portions
of the line. . . . The fighting is very severe. . . .
Heavy counter-attacks from the sunken road at
L. 6 b. 5.2. The news is a medley of scraps.

Soon the brigadier is called upon to act. One
company want a protective barrage put down in
front of them, but from another message it seems
probable that there are Australians out in front.
The brigadier must decide.

One battalion asks to be reinforced from the
reserve battalion. Is it time for the reserve to be
thrown into the battle ? The brigadier must decide.
They have run short of bombs. An urgent
message for fresh supplies comes through, and
the staff captain hurries out to make additional
arrangements.

There is little news of the tanks. One report
states that no tanks have been seen, another that
a tank helped to clear up a machine-gun post, a
third that a tank is burning.

At last R., one of my tank commanders, bursts
in. He is grimy, red-eyed, and shaken.

" Practically all the tanks have been knocked out,
sir ! " he reported in a hard excited voice.

Before answering I glanced rapidly round the
cellar. These Australians had been told to rely on
tanks. Without tanks many casualties were certain

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 59

and victory was improbable. Their hopes were
shattered as well as mine, if this report were true.
Not an Australian turned a hair. Each man went
on with his job.

I asked R. a few questions. The brigade-major
was listening sympathetically. I made a written
note, sent off a wire to the colonel, and climbed
into the open air.

It was a bright and sunny morning, with a clear
sky and a cool invigorating breeze. A bunch of
Australians were joking over their breakfasts. The
streets of the village were empty, with the exception
of a " runner," who was hurrying down the road.

The guns were hard at it. From the valley
behind the village came the quick cracks of the
i8-pdrs., the little thuds of the light howitzers,
the ear-splitting crashes of the 60-pdrs., and, very
occasionally, the shuddering thumps of the heavies.
The air rustled and whined with shells. Then, as
we hesitated, came the loud murmur, the roar, the
overwhelming rush of a 5.9, like the tearing of a
giant newspaper, and the building shook and rattled
as a huge cloud of black smoke came suddenly into
being one hundred yards away, and bricks and bits
of metal came pattering down or swishing past.

The enemy was kind. He was only throwing an
occasional shell into the village, and we walked
down the street in comparative calm.

When we came to the brick shelter at the farther
end of the village we realised that our rendezvous
had been most damnably ill-chosen. Fifty yards
to the west the Germans, before their retirement,
had blown a large crater where the road from

6o A COMPANY OF TANKS

Ecoust joins the road from Vaulx-Vraucourt, and
now they were shelling it persistently. A stretcher
party had just been caught. They lay in a confused
heap half-way down the side of the crater. And a
few yards away a field-howitzer battery in action
was being shelled with care and accuracy.

We sat for a time in this noisy and unpleasant
spot. One by one officers came in to report. Then
we walked up the sunken road towards the dressing
station. When I had the outline of the story I
made my way back to the brigade headquarters in
the cellar, and sent off a long wire. My return to
the brick shelter was, for reasons that at the time
seemed almost too obvious, both hasty and un-
dignified. Further reports came in, and when we
decided to move outside the village and collect
the men by the bank where the tanks had shel-
tered a few hours before, the story was tolerably
complete.

All the tanks, except Morris's, had arrived
without incident at the railway embankment.
Morris ditched at the bank and was a little late.
Haigh and Jumbo had gone on ahead of the tanks.
They crawled out beyond the embankment into
No Man's Land and marked out the starting-line.
It was not too pleasant a job. The enemy machine-
guns were active right through the night, and the
neighbourhood of the embankment was shelled
intermittently. Towards dawn this intermittent
shelling became almost a bombardment, and it
was feared that the tanks had been heard.^

Skinner's tank failed on the embankment. The

^ We learned later that they had been heard.

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 6i

remainder crossed it successfully and lined up for
the attack just before zero. By this time the shell-
ing had become severe. The crews waited inside
their tanks, wondering dully if they would be hit
before they started. Already they were dead-tired,
for they had had little sleep since their long painful
trek of the night before.

Suddenly our bombardment began — it was more
of a bombardment than a barrage — and the tanks
crawled away into the darkness, followed closely by
little bunches of Australians.

On the extreme right Morris and Puttock of
Wyatt's section were met by tremendous machine-
gun fire at the wire of the Hindenburg Line. They
swung to the right, as they had been ordered, and
glided along in front of the wire, sweeping the
parapet with their fire. They received as good as
they gave. Serious clutch trouble developed in
Puttock's tank. It was impossible to stop since
now the German guns were following them. A
brave runner carried the news to Wyatt at the
embankment. The tanks continued their course,
though Puttock's tank was barely moving, and by
luck and good driving they returned to the railway,
having kept the enemy most fully occupied in a
quarter where he might have been uncommonly
troublesome.

Morris passed a line to Skinner and towed him
over the embankment. They both started for
Bullecourt. Puttock pushed on back towards
Noreuil. His clutch was slipping so badly that
the tank would not move, and the shells were
falling ominously near. He withdrew his crew

62 A COMPANY OF TANKS

from the tank into a trench, and a moment later
the tank was hit and hit again.

Of the remaining two tanks in this section we
could hear nothing. Davies and Clarkson had
disappeared. Perhaps they had gone through to
Hendecourt. Yet the infantry of the right brigade,
according to the reports we had received, were
fighting most desperately to retain a precarious
hold on the trenches they had entered.

In the centre Field's section of three tanks were
stopped by the determined and accurate fire of
forward field-guns before they entered the German
trenches. The tanks were silhouetted against the
snow, and the enemy gunners did not miss.

The first tank was hit in the track before it was
well under way. The tank was evacuated, and in
the dawning light it was hit again before the track
could be repaired.

Money's tank reached the German wire. His
men must have "missed their gears." For less than
a minute the tank was motionless, then she burst
into flames. A shell had exploded the petrol tanks,
which in the old Mark I. were placed forward on
either side of the officer's and driver's seats. A
sergeant and two men escaped. Money, best of
good fellows, must have been killed instantaneously
by the shell.

Bernstein's tank was within reach of the German
trenches when a shell hit the cab, decapitated the
driver, and exploded in the body of the tank. The
corporal was wounded in the arm, and Bernstein
was stunned and temporarily blinded. The tank
was filled with fumes. As the crew were crawling

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 63

out, a second shell hit the tank on the roof. The
men under the wounded corporal began stolidly
to salve the tank's equipment, while Bernstein,
scarcely knowing where he was, staggered back to
the embankment. He was packed off to a dressing
station, and an orderly was sent to recall the crew
and found them still working stubbornly under
direct fire.

Swears' section of four tanks on the left were
slightly more fortunate.

Birkett went forward at top speed, and, escaping
the shells, entered the German trenches, where
his guns did great execution. The tank worked
down the trenches towards Bullecourt, followed by
the Australians. She was hit twice, and all the
crew were wounded, but Birkett went on fighting
grimly until his ammunition was exhausted and he
himself was badly wounded in the leg. Then at
last he turned back, followed industriously by the
German gunners. Near the embankment he
stopped the tank to take his bearings. As he was
climbing out, a shell burst against the side of the
tank and wounded him again in the leg. The tank
was evacuated. The crew salved what they could,
and, helping each other, for they were all wounded,
they made their way back painfully to the embank-
ment. Birkett was brought back on a stretcher,
and wounded a third time as he lay in the sunken
road outside the dressing station. His tank was
hit again and again. Finally it took fire, and was
burnt out.

Skinner, after his tank had been towed over the
railway embankment by Morris, made straight for

64 A COMPANY OF TANKS

BuUecourt, thinking that as the battle had now
been in progress for more than two hours the
Australians must have fought their way down the
trenches into the village. Immediately he entered
the village machine-guns played upon his tank,
and several of his crew were slightly wounded by
the little flakes of metal that fly about inside a
Mk. I. tank when it is subjected to really concen-
trated machine-gun fire. No Australians could be
seen. Suddenly he came right to the edge of an
enormous crater, and as suddenly stopped. He
tried to reverse, but he could not change gear.
The tank was absolutely motionless. He held out
for some time, and then the Germans brought up
a gun and began to shell the tank. Against field-
guns in houses he was defenceless so long as his
tank could not move. His ammunition was nearly
exhausted. There were no signs of the Australians
or of British troops. He decided quite properly
to withdraw. With great skill he evacuated his
crew, taking his guns with him and the little
ammunition that remained. Slowly and carefully
they worked their way back, and reached the
railway embankment without further casualty.

The fourth tank of this section was hit on the
roof just as it was coming into action. The engine
stopped in sympathy, and the tank commander
withdrew his crew from the tank.

Swears, the section commander, left the railway
embankment, and with the utmost gallantry went
forward into BuUecourt to look for Skinner. He
never came back.

Such were the cheerful reports that I received in

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 65

my little brick shelter by the cross-roads. Of my
eleven tanks nine had received direct hits, and two
were missing. The infantry were in no better
plight. From all accounts the Australians were
holding with the greatest difficulty the trenches
they had entered. Between the two brigades the
Germans were clinging fiercely to their old line.
Counter-attack after counter-attack came smashing
against the Australians from Bullecourt and its
sunken roads, from Lagnicourt and along the
trenches from the Qu6ant salient. The Australians
were indeed hard put to it.

While we were sorrowfully debating what would
happen, we heard the noise of a tank's engines.
We ran out, and saw to our wonder a tank coming
down the sunken road. It was the fourth tank of
Swears' section, which had been evacuated after a
shell had blown a large hole in its roof.

When the crew had left the tank and were well
on their way to Noreuil, the tank corporal remem-
bered that he had left his " Primus " stove behind.
It was a valuable stove, and he did not wish to. lose
it. So he started back with a comrade, and later
they were joined by a third man. Their officer had
left to look for me and ask for orders. They
reached the tank — the German gunners were doing
their very best to hit it again— and desperately
eager not to abandon it outright, they tried to start
the engine. To their immense surprise it fired, and,
despite the German gunners, the three of them
brought the tank and the ** Primus " stove safe into
Noreuil. The corporal's name was Hay ward. He
was one of Hamond's men.

66 A COMPANY OF TANKS

We had left the brick shelter and were collecting
the men on the road outside Noreuil, when the
colonel rode up and gave us news of Davies and
Clarkson. Our aeroplanes had seen two tanks
crawling over the open country beyond the Hin-
denburg trenches to Riencourt, followed by four or
five hundred cheering Australians. Through Rien-
court they swept, and on to the large village of
Hendecourt five miles beyond the trenches. They
entered the village, still followed by the Austra-
lians. . . .^

What happened to them afterwards cannot be
known until the battlefield is searched and all the
prisoners who return have been questioned. The
tanks and the Australians never came back. The
tanks may have been knocked out by field-guns.
They may have run short of petrol. They may
have become " ditched." Knowing Davies and
Clarkson, I am certain they fought to the last —
and the tanks which later were paraded through
Berlin were not my tanks. . . .

We rallied fifty-two officers and men out of the
one hundred and three who had left Mory or
Behagnies for the battle. Two men were detailed
to guard our dump outside Noreuil, the rescued
tank started for Mory, and the remaining officers
and men marched wearily to Vaulx - Vraucourt,
where lorries and a car were awaiting them.

I walked up to the railway embankment, but
seeing no signs of any of my men or of Davies' or
Clarkson's tanks, returned to Noreuil and paid a

^ An airman who flew over the battlefield is inclined to doubt this
Story. We must wait for the official history.

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 67

farewell visit to the two brigadiers, of whom one
told me with natural emphasis that tanks were ** no
damned use." Then with Skinner and Jumbo I
tramped up the valley towards Vraucourt through
the midst of numerous field-guns. We had passed
the guns when the enemy began to shell the
crowded valley with heavy stuff, directed by an
aeroplane that kept steady and unwinking watch
on our doings.

Just outside Vaulx - Vraucourt we rested on a
sunny slope and looked across the valley at our one
surviving tank trekking back to Mory. Suddenly a
** 5.9 " burst near it. The enemy were searching
for guns. Then to our dismay a second shell burst
at the tail of the tank. The tank stopped, and in a
moment the crew were scattering for safety. A
third shell burst within a few yards of the tank.
The shooting seemed too accurate to be uninten-
tional, and we cursed the aeroplane that was circling
overhead.

There was nothing we could do. The disabled
tank was two miles away. We knew that when the
shelling stopped the crew would return and inspect
the damage. So, sick at heart, we tramped on to
Vaulx-Vraucourt, passing a reserve brigade coming
up hastily, and a dressing station to which a ghastly
stream of stretchers was flowing.

We met the car a mile beyond the village, and
drove back sadly to Behagnies. When we came to
the camp, it was only ten o'clock in the morning.
In London civil servants were just beginning their
day's work.

The enemy held the Australians stoutly. We

68 A COMPANY OF TANKS

never reached Bullecourt, and soon it became only
too clear that it would be difficult enough to retain
the trenches we had entered. The position was
nearly desperate. The right brigade had won some
trenches, and the left brigade had won some
trenches. Between the two brigades the enemy
had never been dislodged. And he continued to
counter-attack with skill and fury down the trenches
on the flanks — from the sunken roads by Bullecourt
and up the communication trenches from the north.
In the intervals his artillery pounded away with
solid determination. Bombs and ammunition were
running very short, and to get further supplies for-
ward was terribly expensive work, for all the ap-
proaches to the trenches which the Australians had
won were enfiladed by machine-gun fire. Battalions
of the reserve brigade were thrown in too late, for
we had bitten off more than we could chew; the
Germans realised this hard fact, and redoubled their
efforts. The Australians suddenly retired. The
attack had failed.

A few days later the Germans replied by a sur-
prise attack on the Australian line from Noreuil to
Lagnicourt. At first they succeeded and broke
through to the guns ; but the Australians soon
rallied, and by a succession of fierce little counter-
attacks drove the enemy with great skill back on to
the deep wire in front of the Hindenburg Line.
There was no escape. Behind the Germans were
belts of wire quite impenetrable, and in front of
them were the Australians. It was a cool revenge-
ful massacre. The Germans, screaming for mercy,
were deliberately and scientifically killed.

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 69

Two of my men, who had been left to guard our
dump of supplies at Noreuil, took part in this battle
of Lagnicourt. Close by the dump was a battery of
field howitzers. The Germans had broken through
to Noreuil, and the howitzers were firing over the
sights ; but first one howitzer and then another be-
came silent as the gunners fell. My two men
had been using rifles. When they saw what was
happening they dashed forward to the howitzers,
and turning their knowledge of the tank 6-pdr. gun
to account, they helped to serve the howitzers until
some infantry came up and drove back the enemy.
Then my men went back to their dump, which had
escaped, and remained there on guard until they
were relieved on the following day.

The first battle of Bullecourt was a minor dis-
aster. Our attack was a failure, in which the three
brigades of infantry engaged lost very heavily in-
deed ; and the ofiicers and men lost, seasoned
Australian troops who had fought at Gallipoli,
could never be replaced. The company of tanks
had been, apparently, nothing but a broken ^eed.
For many months after the Australians distrusted
tanks, and it was not until the battle of Amiens,
sixteen months later, that the Division engaged at
Bullecourt were fully converted. It was a disaster
that the Australians attributed to the tanks. The
tanks had failed them — the tanks " had let them
down."

The Australians, in the bitterness of their losses,
looked for scapegoats and found them in my tanks,
but my tanks were not to blame. I have heard a
lecturer say that to attack the Hindenburg Line

70 A COMPANY OF TANKS

on a front of fifteen hundred yards without support
on either flank was rash. And it must not be for-
gotten that the attack ought to have been, and in
actual fact was, expected. The artillery support
was very far from overwhelming, and the barrage,
coming down at zero, gave away the attack before
my tanks could cross the wide No Man's Land
and reach the German trenches.

What chances of success the attack possessed
were destroyed by the snow on the ground, the
decision to leave the centre of the attack to the
tanks alone, the late arrival of the reserve brigade,
and the shortage of bombs and ammunition in the
firing line. These unhappy circumstances fitted
into each other. If the snow had not made clear
targets of the tanks, the tanks by themselves might
have driven the enemy out of their trenches in the
centre of the attack. If the first stages of the attack
had been completely successful, the reserve brigade
might not have been required. If the Australians
had broken through the trench system on the left
and in the centre, as they broke through on the
left of the right brigade, bombs would not have
been necessary.

It is difficult to estimate the value of tanks in
a battle. The Australians naturally contended that
without tanks they might have entered the Hinden-
burg Line. I am fully prepared to admit that the
Australians are capable of performing any feat, for
as storm troops they are surpassed by none. It
is, however, undeniable that my tanks disturbed
and disconcerted the enem}^ We know from a
report captured later that the enemy fire was con-

FIRST BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 71

centrated on the tanks, and the German Higher
Command instanced this battle as an operation in
which the tanks compelled the enemy to neglect
the advancing infantry. The action of the tanks
was not entirely negative. On the right flank of
the right brigade, a weak and dangerous spot, the
tanks enabled the Australians to form successfully
a defensive flank.

The most interesting result of the employment
of tanks was the break-through to Riencourt and
Hendecourt by Davies' and Clarkson's tanks, and
the Australians who followed them. With their
flanks in the air, and in the face of the sturdiest
opposition, half a section of tanks and about half
a battalion of infantry broke through the strongest
field-works in France and captured two villages,
the second of which was nearly five miles behind
the German line. This break - through was the
direct forefather of the break-through at Cambrai.

My men, tired and half-trained, had done their
best. When General Elles was told the story of the
battle, he said in my presence, *' This is thje best
thing that tanks have done yet."

The company received two messages of congratu-
lation. The first was from General Gough —

** The Army Commander is very pleased with
the gallantry and skill displayed by your com-
pany in the attack to-day, and the fact that the
objectives were subsequently lost does not de-
tract from the success of the tanks."

The second was from General Elles —

** The General Officer Commanding Heavy

72 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Branch M.G.C. wishes to convey to all ranks
of the company under your command his
heartiest thanks and appreciation of the manner
in which they carried out their tasks during
the recent operations, and furthermore for the
gallantry shown by all tank commanders and
tank crews in action."

The company gained two Military Crosses, one
D.C.M., and three Military Medals in the first Battle
of Bullecourt.

7Z

CHAPTER V.

THE SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT.

{Mayi,, 1917.)

When the First Battle of Bullecourt had been
fought in the ofBce as well as in the field, when
all the returns and reports had been forwarded to
the next higher authority, and all the wise questions
from the highest authority had been answered yet
more wisely, we obtained lorries and made holiday
in Amiens.

It was my first visit, and I decided whenever
possible to return. It rained, but nobody minded.
We lunched well at the Restaurant des Huitres in
the Street of the Headless Bodies. It was a most
pleasant tavern — two dainty yellow-papered rooms
over a mean shop. The girls who waited on us
were decorative and amusing, the cooking was
magnificent, and the Chambertin was satisfying.
Coming from the desolate country we could not
want more. We tarried as long as decorum allowed,
and then went out reluctantly into the rain to shop.
We bought immense quantities of fresh vegetables —
cauliflowers, Brussels sprouts, new potatoes, and a
huge box of apples, also a large *'pat6 de canard," as

74 A COMPANY OF TANKS

recommended by Madame de Sevigne. A shampoo
enabled us to consume chocolate and cakes. We
put our last packages in the car and drove back
in the evening.

At Behagnies we made ourselves comfortable, now
that the strain was removed of preparing against
time for a battle. Our tents mysteriously increased
and multiplied. Odd tarpaulins were fashioned into
what were officially termed ** temporary structures."
My orderly-room was cramped. I gave a willing
officer the loan of a lorry, and in the morning I
found an elaborate canvas cottage "busting into
blooth" under the maternal solicitude of my orderly-
room sergeant. The piano, which for several days
was ten miles nearer the line than any other piano
in the district, was rarely silent in the evenings.
Only a 6-inch gun, two hundred yards from the
camp, interrupted our rest and broke some of our
glasses. It was fine healthful country of downs
and rough pasture. We commandeered horses
from our troop of Glasgow Yeomanry, and spent the
afternoons cantering gaily. Once I went out with
the colonel, who was riding the famous horse that
had been with him through Gallipoli, but to ride
with an international polo-player has its disadvan-
tages. Luckily, my old troop-horse was sure-footed
enough, and if left to his own devices even clambered
round the big crater in the middle of Mory.

A few days after the first battle, Ward's^ com-
pany detrained at Achiet-le- Grand and trekked
to Behagnies. They came from the Canadians at

1 Major R. O. C. Ward, D.S.O., killed at Trescaut in November
while leading his tanks forward.

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 75

Vimy Ridge, and were full of their praises. The
Canadians left nothing to chance. Trial "barrages"
were put down, carefully watched and ** thickened
up " where necessary. Every possible plan, device,
or scheme was tried — every possible preparation
was made. The success of the attack was inevitable,
and the Germans, whose aeroplanes had been busy
enough, found their way to the cages without trouble,
happy to have escaped.

Ward's company, filled with the unstinted ra-
tions of the Canadians, who had thought nothing
of giving them a few extra sheep, were gallant but
unsuccessful. The ground was impossible and the
tanks ** ditched." They were dug out, hauled out,
pulled out, one way or another under a cruel shelling,
but they never came into the battle. It was natu-
rally a keen disappointment to Ward, and he and his
company at Behagnies were spoiling for a fight.

The third company of the battalion under Haskett-
Smith had been fighting in front of Arras with great
dash and astonishingly few casualties. '* No. 10 "
was a lucky company, and deserved its luck, until
the end of the war. In sections and in pairs the
tanks had helped the infantry day after day. At
Telegraph Hill they had cleared the way, and again
near Heninel. The company was now resting at
Boiry, and we drove over to see Haskett-Smith and
congratulate him on his many little victories.

It will be remembered that there were two phases
to the battle of Arras. In the first phase we gained
success after success. The enemy wavered and fell
back. At Lens he retired without cause. Then his
resistance began to stiffen, and we were fought to a

76 A COMPANY OF TANKS

standstill. Men and guns were brought by the
enemy from other parts of the front, and the German
line became almost as strong as it had been before
the battle, while we were naturally handicapped by
the difficulty of bringing up ammunition and supplies
over two trench systems and a battlefield. In the
second phase we attacked to keep the Germans
busy, while the French hammered away without
much success away to the south. This second
phase was infinitely the deadlier. We made little
headway, and our casualties were high. We had
not yet begun our big attack of the year. We were
losing time and losing men.

The left flank of the German Armies engaged
rested on the Hindenburg Line. As the Germans
retired, their left flank withdrew down the Hinden-
burg Line, until, at the end of April, it rested on the
Hindenburg Line at Fontaine-lez-Croisilles. West
of Fontaine the Hindenburg Line was ours, and east
of it German.

^'

Cherisy

•SUeger

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT ^^

Ward's company and mine were concerned with
the " elbow " from Cherisy to Bullecourt. Ward's
company was detailed to renew the attack on Bulle-
court, and a section of mine under Haigh was al-
lotted to the Division which was planning to attack
Fontaine itself At first it was decided to clear the
Hindenburg Line in front of Fontaine by a pre-
liminary operation, but the picture of two lone tanks
working down the trenches in full view of German
gunners on higher ground did not appeal to the
colonel, and nothing came of it. The grand attack,
the Second Battle of Bullecourt, was scheduled for
May 3rd.

On 29th April Cooper and I went reconnoitring.
It was a blazing hot day, with just enough wind.
First we drove to St Leger — a pleasant half-ruined
village, surrounded by German horse lines under the
trees, where the Glasgow Yeomanry had been badly
shelled in the days before the first battle, when we
were attacking Croisilles and Ecoust. We visited
Haigh's section, who had come up overnight from
Behagnies, — they were snugly hidden under the
railway embankment, —then, putting on our war-
paint, we strolled up the hill to the right. It was
most open warfare for the guns. They were drawn
up on the reverse side of the hill, with no particular
protection. Most of them were firing. The gun
crews who were not on duty were sitting in the sun
smoking or kicking a football about.

Further back our big guns were carrying out a
sustained bombardment, and in the course of it
experimenting with " artillery crashes," at that time
a comparatively new form of " frightfulness." There

78 A COMPANY OF TANKS

is some particular point, an emplacement, or perhaps
an observation post, which you want to destroy
utterly and without question. Instead of shelling it
for a morning with one or two guns, you concentrate
on it every gun and howitzer that will bear, and
carefully arrange the timing, so that all the shells
arrive together. It is extravagant but effective — like
loosing off a ship's broadside. The noise of the
shells as they come all together through the air,
whining and grumbling loudly and more loudly, is
wonderfully exhilarating. We employed the " artil-
lery crash " in the Loos salient with the i6th
Division during the summer of 'i6, but we had not
too many shells then.

The Germans were firing little and blindly as we
struck across to the Hindenburg Line, having
planned to walk alongside it, as far as we might,
down towards Fontaine. The enemy, however,
suddenly conceived a violent dislike to their old
trenches and some batteries near. So we dropped
first into a shell-hole, and then, jumping into the
trench, found a most excellent concrete machine-
gun emplacement, where we sat all at our ease and
smoked, praising the careful ingenuity of the
German engineer.

We saw much from a distance, but little near,
and returned along the upper road by Mory Copse.

Cooper and I made another expedition on the
30th, driving to Heninel and walking up the farther
side of the Hindenburg Line. We pushed forward
to the ridge above Cherisy and Fontaine, but we
could see little of the enemy lines on account of the
convexity of the slope. Gunner officers were running

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 79

about like ants searching for positions and observa-
tion posts.

On the way back to the car we were resting and
looking at our maps when we saw a characteristic
example of the iron nerves of the average soldier. A
limbered waggon was coming along a rough track
when a small shell burst on the bank a few yards
behind the waggon. Neither the horses nor the
drivers turned a hair. Not the slightest interest was
taken in the shell. It might never have burst.

On the night of the first of May Haigh's section
moved forward from St Leger. The night had its
incidents. Mac's baggage rolled on to the exhaust-
pipe and caught fire, — it was quickly put out and no
harm done, except to the baggage. The tanks
stealthily crossed the Hindenburg Line by an old
road and crept to the cover of a bank. Close by
was a large clump of '* stink" bombs, Very lights,
and similar ammunition. Just as the first tanks
were passing a shell exploded the dump. It was a
magnificent display of deadly fireworks, and the
enemy, as usual, continued to shell the blaze. There
is no spot on earth quite so unpleasant as the edge
of an exploding dump. Boxes of bombs were
hurtling through the air and exploding as they fell.
Very lights were streaming away in all directions.
" Stink " bombs and gas bombs gave out poisonous
fumes. Every minute or two a shell dropping close
added to the uproar and destruction. With great
coolness and skill the crews, led and inspired by
Haigh, brought their tanks past the dump without a
casualty.

Mac's tank had been delayed by the burning of his

8o A COMPANY OF TANKS

kit. When he arrived on the scene the pande-
monium had died down, and the great noisy bonfire
was just smouldering. Mac's tank came carefully
past, when suddenly there was a loud crackling
report. A box of bombs had exploded under one of
the tracks and broken it. There was nothing to be
done except send post-haste for some new plates and
wait for the dawn.

When, on the afternoon of the 2nd, the colonel
and I went up to see Haigh, the mechanics were
just completing their work, and Mac's tank was
ready for the battle a few hours after the plates had
arrived.

Ward had moved his tanks forward to Mory
Copse, where we had hidden ourselves before the
trek through the blizzard to the valley above Noreuil.
He was to work with the division detailed to attack
the stronghold of Bullecourt. The front of the
grand attacks had widened. On the 3rd of May the
British armies would take the offensive from east of
Bullecourt to distant regions north of the Scarpa.
This time the Australians were without tanks.

I had given Haigh a free hand to arrange what he
would with the brigade to which he was attached,
and, not wishing to interfere with his little command,
I determined to remain at Behagnies until the battle
was well under way, and content myself with a
scrutiny of his plans.

It was agreed that his section should ** mother "
the infantry, who were attacking down the Hinden-
burg Line, by advancing alongside the trenches and
clearing up centres of too obstinate resistance. I
endeavoured to make it quite clear to the divisional

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 8i

commander that no very great help could be ex-
pected from a few tanks operating over ground
broken up by a network of deep and wide trenches.

At 3.45 A.M. the barrage woke me. I might
perhaps have described the tense silence before the
first gun spoke, and the mingled feelings of awe,
horror, and anxiety that troubled me ; but my action
in this battle was essentially unheroic. Knowing
that I should not receive any report for at least an
hour, I cursed the guns in the neighbourhood, turned
over and went to sleep.

The first messages began to arrive about 5.30 a.m.
All the tanks had started to time. There was an
interval, and then real news dribbled in. The
Australians had taken their first objective — the front
trench of the Hindenburg system. We had entered
the trenches west of Bullecourt. Soon aeroplane
reports were being wired through from the army.
A tank was seen here in action ; another tank was
there immobile. Two tanks had reached such-and-
such a point.

With what tremulous excitement the mothers and
fathers and wives of the crews would have 'seized
and smoothed out these flimsy scraps of pink paper !
" Tank in flames at L. 6. d. 5. 4." That might be
Jimmy's tank. No, it must be David's ! Pray God
the airman has made a mistake ! We, who had set
the stage, had only to watch the play. We could
not interfere. Report after report came in, and
gradually we began, from one source or another, to
build up a picture of the battle.

The division attacking Bullecourt could not get
on. Furious messages came back from Ward. His

82 A COMPANY OF TANKS

tanks were out in front, but the infantry ** could not
follow." His tanks were working up and down the
trenches on either side of Bullecourt. One tank had
found the Australians and was fighting with them.
Tanks went on, returned, and went forward again
with consummate gallantry, but the infantry could
not get forward. They would advance a little way,
and then, swept by machine-gun fire, they would dig
in or even go back.

One of his officers, commonly known as " Daddy,"
was sent back in Ward's car. " Daddy " was dirty,
unshorn, and covered with gore from two or three
wounds. He was offered breakfast or a whisky-and-
soda, and having chosen both, told us how he had
found himself in front of the infantry, how the
majority of his crew had been wounded by armour-
piercing bullets, how finally his tank had been dis-
abled and evacuated by the crew, while he covered
their withdrawal with a machine-gun.

These armour - piercing bullets caused many
casualties that day. We were still using the old
Mark I. Tank, which had fought on the Somme, and
the armour was not sufficiently proof.

Bullecourt remained untaken, though the Aus-
tralians clung desperately to the trenches they had
won. The British infantry returned to the railway
embankment. The attack had not been brilliant.
It required another division to reach the outskirts of
the village, but the division which failed on the 3rd
of May became a brilliant shock-division under other
circumstances, just as "Harper's Duds" became the
most famous division in France.

Ward's company was lucky. Several of his tanks

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 83

** went over " twice, one with a second crew after
all the men of the first crew had been killed or
wounded. The majority of his tanks rallied, and
only one, the tank which had fought with the
Australians, could not be accounted for when Ward,
wrathful but undismayed, returned to battalion
headquarters at Behagnies.

Meanwhile little news had come from Haigh.
Twice I motored over to the headquarters of the
division with which his tanks were operating, but on
each occasion I heard almost nothing. The attack
was still in progress. The situation was not clear.
The air reports gave us scant help, for the airmen,
unaccustomed to work with tanks, were optimistic
beyond our wildest dreams, and reported tanks
where no tank could possibly have been. I had
given such careful orders to my tank commanders
not to get ahead of the infantry, that with the best
wish in the world I really could not believe a report
which located a tank two miles within the German
lines.

At last I drove up to see Haigh. I remember the
run vividly, because four 9.2-in. howitzers in position
fifty yards off the road elected to fire a salvo over
my head as I passed, and at the same moment an
ambulance and a D.R. came round the corner in
front of us together. Organ, my driver — I had
hired his car at Oxford in more peaceful days —
was, as always, quite undisturbed, and by luck or
skill we sHpped through. I left the car by the
dressing station outside the ruins of Heninel, which
the enemy were shelling stolidly, and walked
forward.

84 A COMPANY OF TANKS

A few yards from Haigh's dug-out was a field-
battery which the enemy were doing their best to
destroy. Their " best " was a " dud " as I passed,
and I slipped down, cheerfully enough, into the
gloom. Haigh was away at brigade headquarters,
but I gathered the news of the day from Head,
whose tank had not been engaged.

The tanks had left the neighbourhood of the
destroyed dump well up to time. It had been a
pitch-black night at first, and the tank commanders,
despite continual and deadly machine-gun fire and
some shelling, had been compelled to lead their
tanks on foot. They had discovered the " going " to
be appalling, as, indeed, they had anticipated from
their reconnaissances.

When our barrage came down, Mac's tank was in
position one hundred and fifty yards from it. The
enemy replied at once, and so concentrated was
their fire that it seemed the tank could not survive.
Twice large shells burst just beside the tank,
shaking it and almost stunning the crew, but by
luck and good driving the tank escaped.

The tank moved along the trench in front of our
infantry, firing drum after drum at the enemy, who
exposed themselves fearlessly, and threw bombs at
the tank in a wild effort to destroy it. The gunners
in the tank were only too willing to risk the bombs
as long as they were presented with such excellent
targets.

Mac was driving himself, for his driver fell sick
soon after they had started. The strain and the
atmosphere were too much for his stomach. You
cannot both drive and vomit.

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 85

The tank continued to kill steadily, and our
infantry, who had been behind it at the start, were
bombing laboriously down the trenches. Suddenly
the tank came to a broad trench running at right
angles to the main Hindenburg Line. The tank
hesitated for a moment. That moment a brave
German seized to fire a trench-mortar point-blank.
He was killed a second later, but the bomb exploded
against the track and broke it. The tank was
completely disabled. It was obviously impossible
to repair the track in the middle of a trench full of
Germans.

The crew continued to kill from the tank, until
our infantry arrived, and then, taking with them
their guns and their ammunition, they dropped
down into the trench to aid the infantry. One
man of them was killed and another mortally
wounded. The infantry officer in command refused
their assistance and ordered them back, thinking,
perhaps, that they had fought enough. They
returned wearily to their headquarters without
further loss, but by the time I had arrived, Mac had
gone out again to see if the attack had progressed
sufficiently to allow him to repair his tank. He
came in later disappointed. The fight was still
raging round his tank. The German who fired the
trench-mortar had done better than he knew. The
disabled tank was the limit of our success for
the day.

The second tank was unlucky ; it set out in the
darkness, and, reaching its appointed place by
"zero," plunged forward after the barrage. The
tank reached the first German trench. None of our

«
86 A COMPANY OF TANKS

infantry was in sight. The ground was so broken
and the light so dim that the tank commander
thought he might have overshot his mark. Perhaps
the infantry were being held up behind him. He
turned back to look for them, and met them
advancing slowly. He swung again, but in the
deceptive light the driver made a mistake, and the
tank slipped sideways into a trench at an im-
possible angle. Most tanks can climb out of most
trenches, but even a tank has its limitations. If a
tank slips sideways into a certain size of trench at
a certain angle, it cannot pull itself out unless it
possesses certain devices which this Mark I. lacked.
The tank was firmly stuck and took no part in the
day's fighting.

The third tank ran into the thick of the battle,
escaping by a succession of miracles the accurate
fire of the German gunners. It crashed into the
enemy, who were picked troops, and slaughtered
them. The Germans showed no fear of it. They
stood up to it, threw bombs and fired long bursts at
it from their machine-guns. They had been issued
with armour-piercing bullets, and the crew found to
their dismay that the armour was not proof against
them. Both gunners in one sponson were hit.
The corporal of the tank dragged them out of the
way — no easy matter in a tank — and manned the
gun until he in his turn was wounded. Another
gunner was wounded, and then another. With
the reduced crew and the tank encumbered by the
wounded, the tank was practically out of action.
The tank commander broke off the fight and set
out back.

SECOND BATTLE OF BULLECOURT 87

While I was receiving these reports in the dug-
out, Haigh had returned from brigade headquarters.
The news was not good. The infantry could make
little or no impression on the enemy defences.
When attacking troops are reduced to bombing
down a trench, the attack is as good as over, and
our attack had by now degenerated into a number
of bombing duels in which the picked German
troops, who were holding this portion of their
beloved Hindenburg Line, equalled and often ex-
celled our men.

Wretched Head, whose tank was in reserve, was
waiting most miserably to know whether he would
be called upon to start out alone and retrieve the
battle. It would have been a desperate and fool-
hardy undertaking for one tank to attack in broad
daylight, and I instructed Haigh strongly to urge
this view. Luckily the brigade commander had
never admired tanks, and now that his attack had
failed, he distrusted them. Plead's tank was not
used that day.

The Germans were still trying to silence that
plucky battery above the dug-out. So, praising the
skill and labour of the enemy, I crawled along the
gallery, which runs the length of the Hindenburg
Line, and came out into the open beyond the
danger area.

I found my car intact, for my driver, in a proper
spirit of respect for Government property, had
moved to the shelter of a bank. The road was
full of "walking wounded." I had the privilege of
giving two officers a lift in my car. They belonged
to battalions which had attacked north of Fontaine.

88 A COMPANY OF TANKS

At first, they told me, the attack went well, but
apparently the enemy had retired to counter-attack
the more effectively. Our battalions, diminished
and disorganised by the time they had reached
their first objective, were overwhelmed and sent
reeling back with very heavy casualties to the
trenches they had left at "zero."

Apparently the grand attack of the third of
May was a costly failure. North of Ch6risy we
advanced a little, but later we were compelled to
withdraw. The Australians had entered the
Hindenburg Line, and there they remained with a
magnificent obstinacy which it is difficult to match
in all the records of the war. Whether our attack,
in spite of its failure, was successful in occupying
the attention of Germans, who might otherwise
have been assisting their comrades elsewhere in
holding up the French, is a question which a
humble company commander would not dare to
answer.

The tanks had done their part. It was not the
fault of Ward's gallant company that Bullecourt
remained inviolate. His tanks did all that it was
possible to do. At Fontaine, Haigh's section killed
more than their share of Germans. We were
satisfied that we had shown our usefulness. We
prayed now with all our hearts that in the big
battle of the summer we might be sent forward in
mass on good ground in improved tanks after
further training.

89

CHAPTER VI.

REST AND TRAINING.
{A/ay and June 19 17.)

We thought that we should remain in camp at
Behagnies for a couple of months or more, and
train. The prospect pleased us mightily. It was
true that we were no longer alone. When we had
selected the site for our camp, we had been able
to choose from the whole countryside, but now
the downs resembled some great fair. Horse lines
stretched to the horizon. The German light rail-
way had been repaired, and busy little trains were
forming a large ammunition dump a few hundred
yards away from the camp on the road between
Behagnies and Ervillers, the next village towards
Arras. Balloon sections, water - lorry companies,
well-boring companies, all sorts and conditions of
army troops, were moving up and occupying the
waste spaces. But the air was glorious ; the
country was open, clean, and unshelled ; there
were trenches to practise on and good ground for
manoeuvres; our camp was comfortable, and, after
our recent exertions, we did not look forward to
the troubles of a move. Haskett-Smith's company

90 A COMPANY OF TANKS

had joined us from Boiry, and our workships were
being set up with much care among the ruins. So
the battalion, after fighting on the fronts of three
armies, once again was complete, though, to our
sorrow, Colonel Hardress Lloyd had left us to form
a brigade, and a stranger from our particular rivals,
" C " Battahon, had taken his place.

There were rumours, too, that we should soon
be asked to assist in an attack on the Queant salient,
immediately to the west of the Bullecourt trenches
and east of the front on which we attacked in
November. It was reported that Tank head-
quarters had been most favourably impressed with
the country, which was in fact singularly
adapted to the use of tanks. The going was
hard and good. Natural obstacles could be
neglected. We determined at the first definite
hint to take time by the forelock and spend some
summer days in close reconnaissance.

Our hopes were blighted early. The authorities
soon decided that the Behagnies area was not
suitable for training. It was becoming too
crowded. The trenches were to be kept in
good repair for defensive purposes, and might be
used only by cavalry, who, to the unconcealed
amusement of us mechanical folk, would go gallop-
ing through lanes in the wire and over carefully-
prepared crossings. We were ordered to Wailly,
a day's trek distant. We began to pack up, and
I took Cooper over in my car to see our new
habitation.

Wailly is a shelled village on the edge of the old
trench system from which the Germans had retired

REST AND TRAINING 91

in March. From Arras it is the next village to
Agny, whence, according to the original plan of
battle made before the enemy withdrawal, my tanks
should have set out for Mercatel and Neuville
Vitasse. Naturally, there are plenty of trenches
just outside the village, and Tank headquarters
had decided to set up a driving-school. When we
arrived, some of my men were putting up Nissen
huts for the school, and close by there was a park
of practice-tanks. One company of a new battalion,
fresh out from England, was already installed in
tents. We nosed round the village.

It had rained. You could smell the earth and
the new grass. There were little green copses and
orchards behind broken walls. The fruit-trees were
in blossom, white with rare pink buds. Under the
trees and in out-of-the-way nooks and corners in
dilapidated houses and old barns tiny bunches of
oats were sprouting, liquid - green shoots, where
the horses had been. There was rhubarb in the
gardens, and the birds were singing.

The French at one time used to hold this-sector,
and their notices still remained in the village.
Some pictures had been done on plaster, which
"Messieurs les Militaires" were asked to protect;
but time and weather had erased them, until
nothing was left except the fine scrawl of the artist's
signature, the title " Mont St Michel," and some
patches of red and brown.

The church must have been ugly with its stucco
and imitation woodwork, but in its death it was
a pleasant place for meditation — the white plaster
with scraps of blue-and-gold, the plum -coloured

92 A COMPANY OF TANKS

brickwork laid bare, and the fresh tender grass
clustered on every cornice.

Our camping-ground was a green slope between
two derelict trenches, half-way up a hill — a clean
and healthy site away from the road, but near
enough for convenience. We looked down from it
on the village, which had a friendly air, because the
cottages, despite the shelling, were at least recognis-
able, and not mere rubbish-heaps like those in the
country which the enemy had laid waste. . . .

We moved on the loth. A company of tanks
moves luxuriously. If there is no room on the
lorries for any article of vertu, it goes on the
tank. The Equipment Officer or the Company
Commander need not be as inexorable as the
Quartermaster of an infantry battalion, for he is
not haunted with a vision of transport fully loaded
and much baggage still piled by the roadside. Each
officer, for instance, carried at this period a rough
wire bed on the roof of his tank, with a chair and
perhaps a table. The additional weight did not
affect the tank, while the additional comfort did
affect the officer. The only danger was from fire.
These superfluities, if carelessly lashed, would slip
on to the red - hot exhaust - pipe. Again, if we
moved a short way, the lorries could easily make
a second journey. If we moved a long way, we
moved by train, and usually, but not always, the
train possessed facilities. Later, we became more
Spartan and strenuous.^

^ This paragraph was written in the comfortable days before the
lorries disappeared into battalion or brigade "pools," In the spring
of 1 91 8, when movement was necessarily hurried, ray company had to
do without — higher formations had so much of value to move.

REST AND TRAINING 93

We arrived without incident at Wailly — the
tanks had trekked across country — and proceeded
to re-erect the tents and structures which we had
collected at Behagnies. The men were glad to
return to the edge of civilisation. They had not
seen a civilian for two months.

Training commenced at once, but before we had
moved my company had begun to melt away. There
were dumps at Montenescourt to be collected : the
material had not been required in the Arras battle.
There were new battalions arriving in France who
would need camps. The driving-school wanted a
few men. Brigade headquarters wanted a few men,
and, naturally, battalion headquarters could not be
content with its exiguous establishment. My hopes
of thorough training dwindled with my company.
Soon I was left with under a third of my men.
I was scarcely able to collect a few scratch crews
to drive the tanks which had been allotted to us
for practice. This scattering of my company was
intensely disappointing. My drivers were only half-
trained before the first battle of Arras, and most of
them were to continue half-trained until we returned
to Wailly in October ; for in the third battle of
Ypres we drove either along straightforward tracks
or over appalling roads. Moreover, when a driver
is driving in action or into action he dare not go
beyond what he knows. He cannot experiment,
find out what the tank can do, and discover the
best way to do it.

Our tanks were most useful in allowing my new
officers to learn by teaching. The old German
front trench was a fearsome place in which it was

94 A COMPANY OF TANKS

easy enough to become ditched, and it was good
for these officers to spend a day in the hot sun
extricating their charges.

The great event of the month was the Tank
Cross-country Race.

The course lay over a sunken road with steep
and crumbHng banks, across a mile or so of rough
grass intersected by some slight trenches, over our
old trench system, back again across the open and
the sunken road, and home along a tape carefully
laid out in curves and. odd angles. Marks were
allotted for style and condition as well as for speed.
The sunken road was to be crossed where there
was no recognised " crossing," if marks were not
to be lost, and the tank had to take the tape between
its tracks, twisting and turning without stopping
and without touching the tape.

It was a gorgeous day. An excited crowd
gathered in front of the tanks, which were drawn up
in line. Officers walked up and down with field-
glasses, slung racing style. The form of the runners
was canvassed, and bets were made freely. Ward's
tanks were the favourites. Ward had taken the
greatest care in selecting and training his crews.
He possessed a few really skilled drivers, and on the
evening before the race his tanks had done remark-
ably well in a private trial. Haskett-Smith had
refused to interrupt his training. His crews were to
drive over the course as part of their afternoon's
exercises. We had practised immediately before
the race, and my men were as keen as they could
be. As some of my best drivers were away I did
not hope to win the Company championship — even

REST AND TRAINING 95

with my best drivers present, Ward's men would
have been the toughest of customers — but I hoped
with one of my two best tanks to win the first prize.

The tanks started at minute intervals. The first
tank took the sunken road with consummate skill.
The second, looking for an unused crossing, tried to
climb over a dug-out which caved in. One tank
blindly fouled another, and they slipped to the
bottom of the road interlocked and unable to move.
The rest were well away. At the turning-post there
was a marvellous jumble of tanks. One fellow
could not get his gears in and blocked the road, but
the rest managed to nose their way through, sweep-
ing against each other.

As the tanks crossed the sunken road on the
return journey you felt the driver brace himself for
the final test. The tank would come forward with
the tape between its tracks. At the first curve it
would barely hesitate before swinging. Ward, bub-
bling over with excitement, watched the tank breath-
lessly. She was just going to scrape the tape. No,
by heaven, she's missed it ! Another tank might
stop — the gears had not been changed cleanly —
amidst the scorn of the spectators. Luckily, the
driver inside the tank could hear nothing that was
said.

I should have liked to relate how the tanks came
crawling along sponson to sponson, and how my
tank won, but I must in fairness confess that
Ward's company won an overwhelming victory.
My favourite did not even start. He had been
sent in the morning to instruct some infantry,
and when he came to the starting-post a little

96 A COMPANY OF TANKS

late in the day, his engine was so hot that he dared
not compete.

I strongly advise some enterprising gentleman to
buy a few tanks cheap, and stage a cross-country
race over give-and-take country. There is nothing
quite like it. . . .

A few days later we were paraded to receive con-
gratulatory cards, and an address from General
Elles. It was a steaming hot day, without a breath
of fresh air. The sun beat down unmercifully on
our shrapnel helmets. As usual, we had to wait for
half an hour or more, and in our hearts we cursed
all inspections, generals, and suchlike things. The
ceremony was fortunately not prolonged, and the
address held us attentive. The General had taken
a great risk in sending to the battle two half-trained
battalions in old-fashioned tanks. He had been
justified by results. We had shown our worth. By
steady training we were to prepare ourselves for the
next battle.

When the General spoke of " steady training," I
thought of my company's ranks depleted by the
call of innumerable ** fatigues," and sighed. It was,
of course, unavoidable — '* fatigues" were not created
for fun, — but I earnestly prayed that soon the Tank
Corps might obtain by hook or by crook some
Labour companies to put up their huts, and leave
me my fighting men to train for the great battle.

It was all the fault of these new battalions, who
wanted snug places prepared for them. . . .

Our life at Wailly was not all training, inspec-
tions, and fatigues. It was necessary, for instance,
to celebrate certain domestic events which occur

REST AND TRAINING 97

even in the most modern families. My car had
disappeared for the time being, but a box-body or
van was sufficient to carry us into the ** Hotel de
Commerce" at Arras, and, later in the evening, to
bring back a merry singing crew to the old cottage
which was the section's mess. There, with the
gramophone and Grantoffski at the piano, we
poured out libations to the Fates, and completed
the celebration of an event which cannot happen
twice in the life of one man.

Even towards the end of May we played an
occasional game of football, and in the stream which
ran through the village there was a bathing- place
near the bridge, overhung by willows. . . .

Although in the far distance we could just see a
German balloon and Arras still was shelled, we
were not unduly disturbed by the enemy. The days
of concentrated night-bombing had not yet arrived.
Only one venturesome 'plane, looking for Corps
Headquarters, then at Bretencourt, the next village,
bombed down the valley and sadly frightened the
pet kid of our workshops by dropping a small bomb
into the courtyard of their farm.

Johnson,^ our Workshops Officer, replied by carry-
ing out experiments with the child of his brain,
** the unditching beam," a device whereby a tank
was enabled in marshy ground or crumbly soil to
lay a log in its path and pull itself through the slush
or the soil. This device was of the utmost value.
It saved innumerable tanks, and the lives of their
crews. The invention was perfected by others, but
the credit of the original idea belongs to Major

^ Major P. Johnson, D.S.O.
G

98 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Johnson, who first applied the unditching beam in
its most elementary form to Ward's tanks before
Vimy.

While we were basking in the sunshine at Wailly,
and while one important officer was trying to cure
the sweaty itch by taking strong sulphur baths,
and feverishly sucking multitudinous oranges, the
Tank Corps was expanded and reorganised.

The First Tank Brigade, under Colonel C. D.
Baker-Carr, had consisted of " C " and " D " battal-
ions. These two battalions had taken part in the
recent battle. The Second Brigade, under Colonel
Courage, was formed provisionally of " A " and '* B "
battalions. The arrival of new battalions, who had
been raised and trained at home, made a Third
Brigade necessary. " C " battalion was taken from
the First Brigade and two new battalions from
home, "E" and " G," added to it. The Third
Brigade, under Colonel J. Hardress Lloyd, D.S.O.,
was made up of ''C," '* F," and "I" battalions.
" H " battalion was to join the Second Brigade in
due course. That was the second stage in the
growth of the Tank Corps — from twelve companies
to twenty-seven.

We were not allowed to stop long at Wailly.
Each battalion had to take its turn at training over
the derelict trenches, and we had had our turn,
although less than half of my drivers had been
able to practice. Before we went into action at
Ypres in the autumn, my drivers received no further
training. In justice to the four battalions which
were formed in France, I find it necessary to
emphasise the handicaps under which they fought.

REST AND TRAINING 99

We had no desire to move our camp, particularly
when we were told that we were to leave ** standing "
all those tents and " temporary structures " which
we had so cunningly acquired. You can never
persuade a soldier to believe that possession is not
ten points of the law. Our " temporary structures,"
we would argue, belonged to us, because we won
them by the subtlety of our brains and the sweat
of our brows. That canvas orderly-room, for in-
stance, would have been rotting in a deserted camp
on the Somme if we had not sent a lorry and three
stout men for it. Those five extra tents belonged
to us, because the Fifth Army forgot to recall them
when we moved into the Third Army area. Those
tarpaulins — well, everybody is justified in picking
up anything that the garrison gunners may leave
about, — it is only taking what they stole from some-
body else. Still, there was no getting round the
order, though it was remarkable how full the
quartermaster's store became, how some of our
tents and " temporary structures " seemed to change
colour and shape in the night, and how neighbouring
units, who had jeered at us because we had now to
leave our well-gotten gains behind, began to lose
a tarpauHn or two, an unoccupied tent, or portions
of an outlying hut.

I do not intend to imply for a moment that my
men ever took anything to which they had no right.
Such an accusation would be a vile slander. Noth-
ing of the sort ever came to my notice. I never
once received an official complaint ; or only once,
when some coal disappeared from some trucks
standing on the sidings at Blangy — and then none

100 A COMPANY OF TANKS

of my men were recognised ; but I will say that
neither of the two tank companies which I com-
manded in France was ever short of accommodation
for more than a few days. My men were always
perfectly capable of looking after themselves, and
my own comfort was not neglected. We never
allowed Government property to remain for long
without a thoroughly efficient guard.

I went from Wailly by car on May 27th, a few
days before my company, as I had been detailed
to attend a course at Erin. I was sorry to leave
the bright dilapidated village, the coarse grass, and
the breathless, dusty trenches, the hot lanes, heavy
with the scent of wild flowers on the banks, the
masses of lilac in Bretencourt, and the old people
slowly returning, — it is always the oldest people who
return first.

I drove through delicious lanes to St Pol, and then
by the lower road to Erin, a leafy village in the
Tank Corps area, which extended along the valley
of the Ternoise from St Pol to Hesdin. Erin was
the "workshops" capital of this little state. There
were the central workshops and the central stores
with their vast hangars, their sidings, their light
railways, their multitude of tanks, old and new, and
their thousands of grinning Chinamen. There was
the driving - school with its lecture huts, full of
stripped engines carefully set out on scrubbed tables.
There were the experimental workshops, from which,
later in the war, tanks with ** mystery " engines
would dash out and career madly about at incred-
ible speeds until they broke down. In a quiet
corner of the village were the trim cheerful huts

REST AND TRAINING loi

of the Rest Camp, where men, too weary of the
battle, sat in the sun, planted cabbages, or looked
for something that had not been whitewashed.
Add the Cinema, the Supper Club, hutting for a
battalion, a good chateau and a Reinforcement
Camp, which, finding itself strangely far forward,
retired to the company of its brethren on the coast.

After I had reported at Erin, I drove through
Bermicourt, where Tank Corps Headquarters dwelt,
to Humieres, the immediate destination of my com-
pany. I was met by Cooper, my second-in-command,
who was in charge of the company's advanced party.
He reported well of the village, and in the quietude
of dusk it seemed a most pleasant place. The mess-
cook, however, had not arrived, and as we had no
substitute, we drove into Hesdin, at that time an
outpost of G.H.Q., and dined moderately well at
the H6tel de France.

My first impressions of Humieres were confirmed.
The village lay off the great highroad that runs
from Arras and St Pol through Hesdin and Montreuil
to the coast at Boulogne. All the cottages' have
little shady gardens and hot orchards and rich
meadows. Everywhere are big trees and more birds
singing than I had ever heard before in one village.
At first we determined to move our huts into a
quiet orchard, carpeted with thick luscious grass,
and two lazy cows for friendly company. On three
sides the orchard was enclosed with stout hedges
of hawthorn. On the fourth it sloped down to
some ploughland, and from our tents we should
have looked over the bare countryside, misty in
the heat. Finally, to avoid the work of moving,

102 A COMPANY OF TANKS

I chose to remain in a large double Armstrong
hut, which stood under a row of great elms at the
edge of a big grass field which we used as a parade-
ground. Most of the officers and all the men were
billeted in cottages and barns. In the farther end
of the village was Haskett-Smith's company, Bat-
talion Headquarters were at the chateau, where the
Countess and her three daughters still remained, and
Ward's company were at Eclimeux, a smaller vil-
lage on the Blangy road. The tanks were packed
in a tiny tankodrome just outside Eclimeux, too
hot a walk from Humieres in the sun.

I saw little of the village at first, for every
morning I motor-cycled down to Erin for my course.
Nothing could have been more thorough. First
we paraded, and then we disappeared into various
huts, where we were lectured on the engine. In
the afternoon we would go down to the hangar,
and after a general description we would plunge
into grease and oil, doing all those things which
are required. Later we drove under the direction
of an expert instructor. It was a senior officers'
course, and we were all of us not entirely ignorant,
but soon we realised how little we had known.
We drove over trenches and banks, and at night
we learned the art of bringing a tank to its point
of balance and keeping her poised there for a
moment, so that she might slide easily down into
the trench. We were initiated into the secrets of
sweet gear-changing and all the arts and devices
that a proper driver should know. It was most
certainly a good course.

While I sweated inside a tank and inhaled

REST AND TRAINING 103

noisome fumes and spoilt a pair of good gloves,
my company had arrived at Humieres. It was
hardly a company. Although the company was
" resting," my men were working hard. Some were
still at Montenescourt clearing surplus dumps.
Some were at Sautrecourt putting up huts and
taking them down again, when it was discovered
that some cheaper land was available near by.^
Some marched down each morning to Central
Workshops and assisted the Chinamen in their
labours. Some went down to the coast on gunnery
and physical training courses. For most of the
time I had only forty to fifty in camp. But the
huts at Sautrecourt were finally erected on a proper
site, and my men at Montenescourt rejoined in time
to make good a few of the casualties we sustained
in our next action.

On the 4th June I accompanied Johnson, the
battalion engineer, and Cozens, the adjutant, on
an expedition to the north. We drove through
Lillers and Bailleul to Ouderdom. I had not seen
Bailleul since March 1915, when the 5th Divisional
Cyclist Company, in which I had just received a
commission, moved north to Ouderdom. Bailleul
had not changed. It was still a clean and pleasant
town, where you could buy fish. Tina, an almost
legendary damsel, whose wit and beauty were known
in five armies, had arisen and was about to dis-
appear. The ** Allies Tea Room" had opened.
The lunatic asylum still held good baths that were
open to officers twice a week. The " Faucon "
was as dingy as ever.

1 The Tank Corps was always the very soul of economy.

104 A COMPANY OF TANKS

In June the back area of the salient was Hke a
disturbed ant-heap. We were making every pos-
sible preparation for an attack, and apparently we
did not mind in the very least whether or not the
enemy knew all about it. The countryside was
** stiff" with light railways, enormous dumps, fresh
sidings, innumerable gun-pits, new roads, enlarged
camps. No advertisement of the impending attack
was neglected. The enemy, of course, realised
what was happening, and acted accordingly. He
had brought up a large number of long-range guns,
and his aeroplanes flew over on every fine day.
He had, too, the advantage of direct observation
over all the forward area. The results were un-
pleasant enough, even in June. Dumps would "go
up" with a pleasing regularity. Camps and rail-
heads were always being shelled. Bombing con-
tinued by day and by night. In front we destroyed
the German trenches, breastworks and fortifications,
and shelled their batteries. They retaliated in kind,
and the unprejudiced observer would have found
it difficult to award the prize. The enemy were
scoring heavily with their gas shells.

We drove first to Ouderdom, a vast and enticing
railhead, which the enemy shelled methodically
each night, much to the annoyance of " B " Tank
Battalion, who lived, for reasons of state, at the
edge of the railhead. Their tanks were housed
with disarming frankness in a series of canvas stalls
surrounded by a high canvas screen. The whole
erection was perhaps three-quarters of a mile in
circumference. The tanks were so obviously con-
cealed that the enemy never suspected their ex-

REST AND TRAINING 105

istence. The shells that dropped each night into
the camp were the ordinary courtesies of warfare,
although they did at last produce a move.

We had an excellent lunch with the Engineers
of the battaUon, Johnson expatiated on his new
** unditching beam," we inspected certain novelties
that had been fitted to the tanks, and then from a
windmill on a hillock we watched the smoke of a
" practice barrage." We drove on by Dranoutre,
where in '14 I was despatch-rider to a brigade of
the 5th Division, over the hill to the headquarters of
"A" battalion in some pleasant woods, untroubled
by the enemy. After drinks, salutations, and some
'* shop," we returned in the cool of the evening,
stopping in the square at Hazebrouck for dinner
and a good bottle of burgundy. It had been a fine
day, with just enough sun. All the woods were
fresh and green, and there was a purple sunset.

The Battle of Messines was fought four days
later. The attack was a complete and overwhelm-
ing success. The whole of the Ridge, which for
so many weary months had dominated our lines,
was captured at a low cost. " A " and " B "
battalions of tanks were useful but not indispen-
sable. The ground was difficult and in places
impossible. Many tanks became ditched. Certain
tanks retrieved a local situation finely by the stout
repulse of a strong counter-attack. We received
the impression that, if the weather had been wet,
tanks could not have been used. Although we did
not realise it at the time, the battle of Messines
was the first and only successful act in a tragedy
of which the last act was never played.

io6 A COMPANY OF TANKS

An expedition to the Salient only sharpened our
appreciation of the quiet and charm of Humieres.
What more could man want in the year of grace
1917 than to lie under the trees, sipping a cool
drink, and watch Wright, the left-handed mainstay
of our side, open his shoulders to a half-volley, or,
when the sun had gone in, to stroll out and scrape
together a lucky "6" instead of the usual "4"?
We had no '* seasons " at Humieres. Each evening
during the week we would play cricket, and on
Sunday we would play a company of '* F " battalion
at football, and beat them by some outrageous
score — i2-love, I think it was — or, while we were
indulging in the equivalent of a little net practice,
the football enthusiasts would be crowded round
the goal at the other end of the field. Whichever
game we played, the company won most of its
matches.

No self-respecting battalion would ever allow its
period of rest to go by without battalion sports, and
" D " battalion respected itself mightily. Our pet
athletes started to train as soon as we reached
Humieres. After the Messines battle there was
some doubt whether it might not be necessary to
postpone the sports until after the next " show."
Rumours of an immediate move came thick and
fast, but the Fates were not so unkind, and our
sports were held on the eve of things.

My company had prepared the way with a minor
affair. The field was small and uneven, and in the
longer races there were so many laps that, as our
company wag exclaimed, it was a wonder the
runners did not get giddy before they finished. If

REST AND TRAINING 107

the times were doubtful, the enjoyment was un-
stinted, and after mess all the seats and the
company piano were brought out into the open,
and we sang songs until it was quite dark.

The battalion sports, a few days later, were a social
event. An immense field positively sprouted with
dark-blue flags, the colour of the battalion. There
were pipes and drums from the 51st Division. The
staff were conspicuously resplendent, while the
Countess and her daughters were the centre of
attraction. It was a splendid afternoon, although
Battalion Headquarters won the cup. They would
not have tried to win it, some one said, if they had
not been able to drink out of it.

In the evening there was the usual entertainment
of the ** Follies" type under the direction of the
" Old Bird." It was organised more or less on
the spur of the moment. Supported by an issue of
free beer it was an uproarious success, although it
was sometimes not too easy to translate the jokes
into French for the benefit of the Countess and her
daughters.

It was a great night, and all the pipers were so
satisfied with their refreshment that they could not
ask for more ; and if pipers of the 51st are incapable
of asking for another drink, then they are incapable
indeed, and a loading party must turn out to place
them gently in the lorries. . . .

In the heavy heat of those long days it was easy
to forget the war and the shadow of the battle,
coming up wrathfully, like a thunderstorm. Little
expeditions were as pleasurable as children's treats.
The drowning of a bus driver at Merlimont Plage,

io8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

where our gunnery school was among the dunes,
gave me a swift run to the sea, and we called in at
Boulogne *' on the way back " for stores. Then
there was always that old coaching hostelry at
Hesdin, the Hotel de France, which provided none
too bad a dinner for those who were sick of the
eternal roast-beef of the mess.

Finally, lest we should find life too monotonous,
the new tank battalions were arriving from Boving-
ton Camp in Dorset, which had always been held
up to us in France as a very pattern of discipline,
a haven of content, a perfect well of energy, a
paradise where the senior officers and the tank
engineers never thought of using any part or fitting
of a tank, such as a clock, accumulators, or even a
dynamo, for their own private purposes and the
decoration of their huts. As for the depot at
Wareham, we pictured it as a place where
thoroughly nice young officers spent laborious days
and nights in fitting themselves for the noble tasks
before them. Certainly these new battalions were
beautiful to look upon. Their uniforms were new,
they saluted smartly, and by a stupid and tactless
blunder they were wearing on their sleeves the
famous badge, representing a tank, which we had
waited for so long.

I shall never cease to wonder at the patience
of the British soldier. Here were four battalions
of veteran volunteers, who, after they had spent
hot and weary weeks removing vast dumps and
erecting multitudinous huts, were given the privi-
lege of watching these immaculate recruits, of
whom many were conscripts, swaggering with their

REST AND TRAINING log

tank badges. I do not pretend that the course of
the war was changed by this incident, and I do
not wish for one moment to insinuate that these
new battalions did not very soon prove themselves
worthy of any badge. It was, however, a pity that
when there were not enough badges to go round,
the men who had fought and volunteered were left
badgeless. The badge at once became a thing
without value, just as later the savour of the 1914
Star disappeared when fighting men first saw the
ribbon on the chests of clerks at Boulogne. In
any war there must always be some jealousy
between men who fight and men who do safe
though indispensable work behind the lines, between
men who have borne the heat and burden of the
day and those newly out from home. Unfor-
tunately these little jealousies were often accent-
uated by such blunders, and the fighting man
felt that he was neglected. A baker and a bomber
received the same medal, and the appalling state
of the leave-trains was always attributed to the
fact that the staff, who went on leave- with
such tactless regularity, travelled to the coast by
motor-car.

It was good to see Hamond, who had come
back to France again in command of a company of
"F" battalion, to plumb once more the depths of
his vocabulary, and to hear his frank criticism of
those set in authority. But the comments of these
new-comers, or rather in Hamond's case, these
returned wanderers, led us to doubt whether after
all Bovington Camp was a better place than
Humi^res.

no A COMPANY OF TANKS

So June passed in rich sunshine — all those glori-
ous fighting days were wasted. The order came
for us to draw new tanks, and we began to hurry
our preparations for the most ghastly of all battles,
the third battle of Ypres, in which the wounded
fell into pits of slimy water and drowned slowly,
screaming to their comrades for help, and the tanks,
sticking in the mud and sinking sometimes till they
were swallowed up, were compelled at last to fight
precariously from destroyed roads.

Ill

CHAPTER VII.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES — PREPARATIONS.

{July 1917.)

We had begun the year in confident anticipation of
a " great battle," which was to give the enemy such
a handsome blow that he would go reeling back
towards his frontiers, and in the winter either ask
for peace or lick his sores, until in the spring-time,
with a concentration of every man and gun, we
would crush him once and for all. Before Arras
optimists had hoped that we might make an end of
things that season, but the rumours abroad of delay
in preparations, of the too slow provision of material
and men, and of the breaking- up of the Russian
Armies, sobered our prophecies. Even with the
great battle to which we pinned our faith, we
should want another year. After Arras we were
a little crestfallen : the second act of that battle
had been so obviously a failure, and the grand
attack of the French — a victory until it was
fought — made curiously little progress. The taking
of the Messines Ridge was encouraging, and for a
time we cast covetous eyes on Lille ; but, thinking

112 A COMPANY OF TANKS

it over, we began to rate Messines at its true
value — a very notable but local success.

As early as March the good people of Amiens
were whispering ** Ypres," and the prognostications
of the Amienois were always astonishingly correct.
It was obvious to the merest amateur that the
Salient was boiling with activity, and, as one fact
after another was revealed, we could soon make a
pretty shrewd guess at the probable course of
events. The great battle was to take place in the
neighbourhood of Ypres, and our hearts sank to our
boots.

The Salient represented all that was most horrible
in war. The veteran, experienced in the terrors
of the Brickstacks or the Somme, would feel that he
had something still to learn and suffer if he had
not done his time in the Salient. The first and
second battles, it was true, had been triumphs of
defence, but triumphs so full of tragedy that a man
cannot tell of them without bringing sorrow. It is
not easy to forget the fruitless massacre of Hill 60,
that ghastly morning when the 14th Division, never
too lucky, were driven out of their trenches by liquid
fire; that night when the choking Zouaves came
back to the canal, and the moonlight shining
through the green fumes of the gas shells in
Boesinghe, and the troubled old French general
in the chateau whose brigade -major was so
pathetically insistent on the counter-attacks that
would surely be put in hand at once, and the shell
which blotted out my patrol. . . .

The thought of tanks in the Salient made those
of us shiver a little who knew the country. The

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 113

Salient had swallowed up so many reputations and
made so few. With water everywhere just below
the surface, and a heavy preliminary bombardment,
the ground would be almost impassable for tanks,
and if it rained . . . Surely, we felt, there could
never have been a more hopeless enterprise ! It was
an ugly business. Yet I must confess that in the
eager hustle and stir of our preparations we became
almost confident ; those who had never seen the
Salient made light of our fears ; perhaps, after all,
Johnson's " unditching beam " would see us
through ; they would never send the tanks to
the Salient if they had not made sure. We allowed
ourselves to be encouraged, and, hoping against
hope, entered upon the battle.

Experiments certainly were made. One of my
tanks, with a few others, were sent away to
demonstrate how easy it was for tanks to cross
dykes and ditches and wet ground. . . .

Several crews were taken from the battalion to
form a special company, which was hedged round
with mystery and secrecy. There was soon, however,
a strong rumour in the camp that this company was
destined to land at Ostend with an army under
Rawlinson from England. As I had no desire to
know more about the matter than was good for me,
I did not take an early opportunity of going to
Amiens to learn the truth. However, the secret
was not too badly kept — I believe the doctor's
daughter at Blangy knew nothing of it. I heard
later — but I am sure my information must have
been inaccurate — that the whole project was quite

H.

114 A COMPANY OF TANKS

frankly discussed in the more discreet drawing-
rooms of London. . .

Before the battle actually began we were told
little but surmised much, and our surmises proved
moderately correct. We were bidding for the
coast. . . .

There was something of a tragic experiment in
the Battle of the Somme. We had hoped vaguely
then that the German line might be broken or at
least dangerously bent, but we had seen no glittering
prize to grasp. And after the first few days when
our tremendous and expensive assaults had created
but a microscopic indentation, we realised in a
spirit of grim fatalism that the battle must become,
as indeed it did, a series of terrible mechanical
attacks in an atmosphere of monstrous shelling.

We looked forward to the great battle of 1917 in
a different spirit. Perhaps we knew more about it.
Perhaps the early successes at Arras had en-
couraged us. Perhaps the mere companionship of
our tanks infected us with optimism. We did feel
that there was a cheerful breadth of conception
about it — and we knew that we had guns in-
numerable and limitless ammunition. . . .

In July 1917 the line from the coast to the Lys
was divided into four sectors, each widely different
from the others. First, there was the narrow front
on the coast, where men fought among the sand-
dunes. This sector we had just taken over and
stiffened with guns. It was rumoured — I believe
with truth — that here we would attack. If no
attack was intended, it is difficult to account for the
concentration of guns, infantry, and aeroplanes.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 115

From the right flank of the coast sector practically
to the left re-entrant of the Ypres Salient stretched
the inundated area, where Belgians and Germans
had looked through their field-glasses at each other
since the early days of the war. Here it was almost
impossible to attack.

Then came the infamous Salient, where for so
many bitter months we had clung desperately to the
skirts of the foothills. Our trenches were over-
looked and water-logged ; our approaches were
observed and shelled mercilessly, and all the areas
back to Poperinghe were shelled, while lately
bombing by night had become more frequent and
unpleasant. Now we were expecting to sweep over
the hills, where the Germans lay, and out into the
dead flat plains beyond. There were enormous
difficulties ahead in this sector, — the Passchendaele
Ridge, which stretched into the enemy lines, and
the Houthulst Forest, set down in a marsh, — and
the average soldier was inclined to reason it out that
if the enemy had found it impossible to push us
down into the plain we should find it as impossible
to push him back over his hills and through his
forest — yet as a matter of sober fact we were
absurdly confident.

Finally, on the right there was the Messines
Ridge, which we had just captured. From this
ridge the enemy had been able to look into our lines.
Without it we could not hope to attack from the
Salient, for the attackers would have had the enemy
sitting on a hill to their left rear. Now we had won
it, and on a narrow front would give the Germans a
taste of the Salient.

ii6

A COMPANY OF TANKS

This, then, was the motive of the battle — to push
through along the coast and at the Ypres Salient,
forcing the German back from his edge of the floods
by threatening his flanks. At the height of the
operations a strong force equipped with tanks would
land at Ostend, and once more the German Army
would possess a vulnerable right flank.

This diagram will show roughly the outline of the
operations, as we understood they would be : —

Landing of
Raw/inson's Army

Belgian '•'>;. Inundated
Front • •.. Area

Poperinghe '^Y^^^-

o Ypres ° s

1^. ♦

Messines x
Ridge

Armentleres
Salient

We had struck the first blow in the battle of
Messines; the enemy struck the second. They

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 117

made a sudden skilful attack on the coast sector,
and, showing themselves, as always, masters of the
local operation with a limited objective, did serious
damage. A brigade was practically annihilated, a
division was roughly handled, and all our prepara-
tions were put so badly out of gear that soon a
number of big guns came trundling south to the
Salient. . . .

In that little pocket-handkerchief of a tankodrome
at Eclimeux we were making our preparations in
our own small way for the grand battle. We had
drawn a job lot of tanks, the majority of which had
been much in use at the driving-school at Wailly.
Some of them we had even taken over ** in situ " at
Wailly, where we made good in haste the damage
done by successive classes. At this period of its
existence the Tank Corps was always in a hurry.
Everything was left to the last minute, and then
there was a sudden scare. It did not please the
men that they had to patch up tanks at the last
minute before going north. Some tanks were in so
poor a state that the Brigade Commander very
properly refused to take them.

Leaving my men to work all day — by this time I
had managed to scrape most of my company to-
gether again — I drove north on the 2nd July to
see Jumbo, who had been sent on ahead to our
destination, Oosthoek Wood, north of Vlamertinghe,
which is the village half-way between Poperinghe
and Ypres.

I found after a hot and dusty ride that the site of
our proposed camp was on the northern edge of the
wood, close by a siding and a very obvious ramp.

ii8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

It was a part of the world which the German
gunner found interesting. Jumbo was quite clear
on the point, though Jumbo himself, revelling in the
cool and shade of the woods after hot days forward
on reconnaissance, did not turn a hair. The ramp
and the northern edge of Oosthoek Wood were
shelled nightly. There were two painfully fresh
shell-holes in the middle of the area allotted to us,
and " G " Battalion across the road were not
sleeping at all. One night they actually left their
camp, and I am afraid when they returned they
found one or two little things were missing.
Anyway, at breakfast the next morning, Horobin,
Jumbo's batman, had a broad smile. We found too,
on examination, that the undergrowth had been
thoroughly fouled by the constant succession of
troops who had stayed for a night or so, and then
had gone back to rest or forward to the line.

In short, I had no love for the place.

We took the opportunity of studying the ap-
proaches to the ramp, which mercifully was broad
and strong and approached by a nearly straight
stretch of rail. The route to the wood, in which
we were instructed to hide our tanks, was only a
couple of hundred yards long with no difficulties.

Before I left I was told that a shell had dropped
into *'C" Battalion lines and nearly wiped out
Battalion Headquarters. I had never liked the
Salient, and as I drove in the evening back to
Humieres, it seemed to me clear enough that I
should like it even less. That night I dreamed of
shells landing in the middle of foul undergrowth.
A few days later I heard with more than a little

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES iig

relief that the brigade had decided to move the
men's lines to the neighbourhood of La Lovie
Chateau, north of Poperinghe. The tanks would
remain under a small guard at Oosthoek, and the
men would march or be carried down every day
to work on them. The scheme had its disadvan-
tages— it is always a nuisance to be too far from
your tanks — but the decision was incontrovertibly
right. Nothing can be more fretting to the nerves
of man than this nagging gun-fire at night, and
somebody is always hit sooner or later, and the
somebody cannot usually be replaced.

We discovered, when the battle had begun, that
a prisoner, whom the Germans had taken while
we were making our preparations, had informed
the Germans, probably under pressure, that there
were tanks at Oosthoek Wood. Knowing what
they did, it is a little astonishing that the German
gunners did not increase their nightly ration of
shells, which merely disturbed the guard, who
slept under the tanks when not on duty, and did
not damage a tank.

A week before we moved my officers were seized
with a fantastical idea, and, disdaining to comb
their hair, like Spartans before the battle, cropped
it almost to the skin. I have known similar out-
bursts of decapillation. Ward's officers once
shaved off their moustaches before Bullecourt,
and, when one subaltern indignantly refused to
submit, his fellows painted a large moustache on
the lower part of his back. Unfortunately he was
wounded next day in the same spot. I have often
wondered what the nurse must have thought. . . .

120 A COMPANY OF TANKS

One fine morning — it was the loth of July — my
tanks pulled out of the little tankodrome, and did
their best to block the street of Eclimeux. It was
an annoying day: so many things went wrong,
and we did not know how much time we might
be given at the other end to put them right. The
track led down the road, across some corn-fields,
and, leaving our old friends at Blangy on the left,
beside the main road to Erin. Eventually all the
tanks arrived, and were parked up in the vast
enclosure, surrounded by a wall of canvas.

I remember that the entraining was poor. We
took nearly forty minutes. Entraining and detrain-
ing provide searching tests of a tank's mechanical
efficiency and the skill of a crew. If there is any
flaw in the tuning, any clumsiness in the driver,
driving on to a train will discover it. A tank
dislikes a train. It slides on with grunts of
obstinate dissatisfaction. If it ever wants to jib,
it will jib then. Luckily we had no severe casu-
alties, for to tow a " dud " tank on or off a train
may be heartbreaking work. At last all the tanks
were neatly covered with tarpaulins, the baggage
was placed in the trucks, and the men were settling
down and making themselves comfortable. Many
months, full of hard fighting, were to pass before
"D" Battalion, or what was left of it, returned to
Erin. . . .

Cooper and I, in a car loaded, as usual, with kit,
drove north through Heuchin and over the hills,
and along the main road to Aire and lunch in a
cool tea-room. Then on we went to Hazebrouck
and Bailleul, and at last to Poperinghe, thick with

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 121

troops. The sign of the Fifth Army, the Red Fox,
was everywhere ; and the Fifth Army was in those
days known as the Army of Pursuit. Outside the
town we passed the King of the Belgians, appar-
ently riding alone — a fine unassuming figure of a
man ; and so we came to the copses near the
Chateau of La Lovie.

In a laudable attempt at hiding our camp, though
the whole Salient was an open secret, we had
pitched our tents among thick undergrowth and
some saplings. Orders had been given that the
undergrowth was not to be cleared, and life in
consequence had its little difficulties. At first to
walk about the camp at night was simply foolish,
for, if you had the courage to leave your tent, you
either plunged into a bush, collided with a tree, or
tripped over tent - ropes decently hidden in the
vegetation. But man cannot live in a forest
without itching to make some clearance — it is the
instinct of the pioneer, — and before we had been
long in the copse I am afraid that one or two of
the more tempting bushes had disappeared,' paths
had been trodden, and the inevitable " temporary
structures " raised on what to all outward appear-
ance had recently been young trees.

On the afternoon that we arrived we came to the
decision that we disliked heat and aeroplanes.
There was no shade, unless you lay at full length
under a bush, and innumerable aeroplanes —
"Spads" — were ascending and descending from
an enormous aerodrome close by. The flying men
were in the cheeriest mood, and endeavoured
always to keep us amused by low and noisy flying.

122 A COMPANY OF TANKS

I do not think that there is any aeroplane more
consistently noisy than a " Spad."

At dusk we drove down to the ramp at Oosthoek
Wood. The train backed in after dark. We brought
off our tanks in great style, under the eye of the
Brigade Commander, who was always present at
these ceremonies. The enemy was not unkind. He
threw over a few shells, but one only disturbed our
operations by bursting on the farther side of the
ramp and so frightening our company dog that we
never saw her again.

There was no moon, and we found it difficult to
drive our tanks into the wood without knocking
down trees that made valuable cover. It was none
too easy without lights, which we did not wish to
use, to fasten the camouflage nets above the tanks
on to the branches. The track of the tanks from
the ramp to the wood was strewn with branches
and straw.

By the time we had finished the night had fled,
and it was in the fresh greyness of dawn that we
marched the weary miles to the camp at La Lovie.
The men were dog-tired, my guide was not certain
of the road, though he never missed it, and I had
never realised the distance. After an interminable
tramp we staggered into camp. The men were
given some hot breakfast, and then, as the sun
rose, you would have heard nothing but snores.
For our sins we had arrived in a " back area " of
the Salient.

That was on the nth of July: the next twenty
days were crammed full of preparations.

Every morning the men marched down to the

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 123

wood, wondering a little if the shelling during the
night had done any damage — and Oosthoek Wood
was shelled every night. Gradually the tanks were
" tuned " to the last note of perfection, the new
Lewis guns were fired, and finally the tanks were
taken out on a cloudy day to a field close by and
the compasses adjusted by "swinging." Names
and numbers were painted. Experiments were
made with the new and not very satisfactory form
of " unditching gear." Supplies of water, petrol,
and ammunition were taken on board. Everything
that the crews could do was done.

We were told soon after we had arrived in the
Salient that during the first stages of the great
battle " D " Battalion would remain in reserve.
There was, in consequence, no need for us to make
any elaborate reconnaissances of our own trench
system, because by the time that we were likely
to come into action it was probable that we should
be beyond trenches and operating in the open
country.

If a tank company is ordered to attack vvith the
infantry on the first day of a battle, no reconnais-
sance can be too detailed and patient, for on the
night before the attack a tank can do untold mis-
chief. There are wires, light railways, emplace-
ments, communication trenches, dug-outs to be
avoided, and a specific spot to be reached at a
given time. Tanks unfortunately are not allowed
to roam wildly over the battlefield either before
or during a battle. The route that a tank will
take from the moment it starts to move up on the
night before the battle to the moment it rallies

124 A COMPANY OF TANKS

after the battle is only a few yards wide. It is
chosen after the most painstaking examination of
aeroplane photographs and the daily reconnaissance
of the enemy country. To our own front line the
route is taped, and forward it should be taped —
in the mind's eye of the tank commander.

Nor was it necessary for us to *Miaise" with the
infantry. Immediately a tank company commander
learns that he is " going over " with a certain bat-
talion of infantry, he begins at once to establish
the closest possible ** liaison." The infantry officers
are entertained and shown over the tanks. A de-
monstration is arranged, and if time permits a dress
rehearsal of the attack is carried out in order that
there may be a thorough understanding between
the tanks and the infantry. At the beginning of
the Ypres battle combined tactics scarcely existed.
The infantry attacked, the tanks helped, and the
only question to be decided was whether the tanks
went in front of the infantry or the infantry in front
of the tanks. But even in July 1917 it was just as
well to know personally the officers and men of the
battalion concerned, although as late as September
igi8 one Divisional Commander refused to tell his
men that they would be attacking with tanks, in case
they should be disappointed if the tanks broke down
before the battle.

We had only to reconnoitre the routes to the
canal, and make a general study of the sector in
which we might be engaged.

Nothing, I suppose, sounds more elementary than
to take a marked map and follow a tank route from
a large wood to a canal which cannot be avoided.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 125

In practice there are not a few little difficulties.
First, it is necessary to extricate the tanks from
the wood without knocking down the trees, which
may later be required to shelter others from aero-
planes. This requires care and skill. Then the
tanks proceed along a cart-track until the route
crosses a main road by a camp, where it is necessary
to swing sharply to avoid important wires and some
huts. Beyond the main road we trek across a field
or two until the track divides, and it is easy enough
in the dark to bear to the right instead of to the left.
Then there is a ditch to cross, with marshy banks
— a good crossing in dry weather, but doubtful after
rain — and we mark an alternative. We come to a
light railway, and this under no circumstances must
be damaged. We arrange for it to be ** ramped "
carefully with sleepers, but it is just as well to carry
a few spare sleepers in the tanks, because some
heavy gunners live near by. The track, which by
this time is two feet deep in mud, again divides,
and bearing to the right we find that an ammunition
column has camped across it. So we suggest that
tanks through horse lines at night may produce dire
results, and a narrow passage is cleared. Another
main-road crossing and a bridge — we are doubtful
about that bridge, and walk down the stream until
we come to something more suitable to our weight.
Along the route we look for woods, copses, or ruins,
so that, if a tank breaks down, we may know the
best cover for the night : you cannot afford to leave
a tank lying about in the open, however skilfully
you may camouflage it.

I shall never forget those hot arduous days when

126 A COMPANY OF TANKS

we tramped in the moist heat over all the possible
routes, plunging, after it had rained, through sticky
mud often up to our knees, setting up little sign-
posts wherever it was possible to make a mistake,
and wondering whether the car would meet us at
the other end. . . .

The canal was a problem in itself. To live in a
Salient under the eyes of the enemy is miserable
enough, but when it is necessary to cross a canal to
reach your own trenches life becomes intolerable.

The canal ran north and south from Ypres. It
was an everyday canal, with dug-outs in its banks
and only three or four feet of mud and water at the
bottom. It was crossed by a number of bridges,
and on each the enemy gunners had been ** register-
ing" for two years, so that by July 1917 their fire
had become moderately accurate. They knew it
was necessary for us to cross the canal by a bridge,
unless we went through Ypres, with the result that
no man lingered on a bridge a moment longer than
he must. Even our infantry, who would march
steadily through a barrage, crossed the canal at the
double, and yet were often caught.

With the tanks we determined to take no risks.
Bridges might be — and often were — destroyed by a
single shell, and it was decided to build two solid
embankments. Immediately the sappers started the
enemy discovered what was happening, and shelled
the work without mercy by day and by night
and dropped bombs, but resolutely the work went
forward. Gang after gang of men were swept out
of existence, but the sappers just set their teeth and

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 127

hung on, until a few days before the battle the two
embankments were well and properly built, and the
little graveyard by divisional headquarters was
nearly filled.

In those days the German gunners gave us no
peace. It was a magnificent duel between the two
artilleries. The enemy knew, of course, that we
were about to attack, and they determined that, if
shells could spoil our preparations, our preparations
should be spoiled. I believe we lost ten thousand
men in the three weeks before the battle. We were
consoled only by the thought that the enemy was
getting as much as he gave. It was pleasant, for
instance, to find a long gun, whose sole object in
life was to drop shells on the station at Roulers from
dusk to dawn, particularly after a chance shell in
Poperinghe had spoiled a little dinner at " Skindles,"
or a salvo into St Jean had distinctly delayed an
important reconnaissance on a sweltering day. And
the shelling of the canal was beyond a joke.

As I was a little anxious about the embankments,
I decided to reconnoitre, for my own peace of
mind, a passable route through the outskirts of
Ypres round the " dead end " of the canal. It was
a typical day. Cooper and I motored to within a
mile, and then, leaving our car under the shelter
of some trees, walked boldly ahead along the road
to the " dead end." There was no shelling near —
it was a pleasant quiet morning. We noticed, how-
ever, that the enemy had been active very recently.
The road was covered with fresh branches and
dirt. The shell-holes were suspiciously new. We

128 A COMPANY OF TANKS

crossed two bridges, and, having satisfied ourselves
that they would easily bear tanks, we walked down
to the quayside and stopped for a moment to light
our pipes, with mutual congratulations that we
had chosen such a calm morning.

We did not then know the neighbourhood. We
barely heard a shell before it dropped neatly on the
farther bank. We decided to push on down the
canal, but a little barrage drove the inhabitants of
the canal into their dug-outs. Finally, the salvos of
H.E. shrapnel made the quayside a place to be
avoided, and we retired hastily into a strong shelter
where some jolly gunners offered us tea. They
belonged to a 6-inch howitzer battery a little
distance away, and already they had lost two-thirds
of their men, and two of their howitzers had received
direct hits.

We waited for twenty minutes. There is nothing
more difficult, and at the same time more easy, than
to take cover until a " strafe " stops. Probably, if
you walk straight on, as you intended, you will not
only be just as safe as you are under cover, but you
will add to your self-respect and rise in the estima-
tion of your fellow-prisoners. On the other hand,
there is no hurry, and the enemy cannot go on for
ever. Why not wait until he stops ? Still, as a
major you should set a good exam.ple, and not take
any notice of a few shells. Yes, but they are large
shells, and you are perfectly certain that the last one
fell exactly on the road. Now, if we had been
there

Twice we started and twice we were driven in.
Then at last we made up our minds that the shelling

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 129

was dying down, and we began to walk back over
the bridges, which had been hit at least twice since
we had crossed them. I heard something come very,
very quickly, and I do not mind confessing that I
ducked. It exploded in the back of the house which
we were passing. We walked a little more rapidly,
and strained our ears for the next. We just heard
it, and this time we flung ourselves down, and the
dirt and bits of things came pattering down on to
us. I looked at Cooper. There was agreement in
his eye. We ran for our lives. . . . That was our
final reconnaissance on the 28th July.

After mess on the 30th, I strolled out with Cooper
to the corner of the main road. It was dusk, and
the coolness was sweet. We waited, and then
battalion after battalion came swinging round the
corner, where guides stood with lanterns. Some of
the men were whistling, a few were singing, and
some, thinking of the battle or their homes, had set
faces. Soon it became too dark to distinguish one
man from another, and I thought it as well. What
did it matter if one man was singing and another
brooding over the battle to come ? They were
shadowy figures, dark masses, just so many thousand
infantrymen marching to the battle, just so many
units to kill or be killed. One grave is the same as
any other, and one infantryman should be the same
as any other ; for it is difficult to endure war, and
at the same time to think of the fear, the love, the
songs, the hope, the courage, the devices of the indi-
vidual men who fight. There is nothing noble,
glorious, or romantic in war, unless you forget the
souls of the men. . . .

I

130 A COMPANY OF TANKS

The squealing mules with their clattering limbers
plunged round the corner, and we returned to our
tents. It was hard to sleep. In a few hours there
was a momentary silence. Then right along the
line an uneasy drone broke the stillness — the weary
tank crews had started their engines, and the
barrage fell with a crash on the German trenches.

131

CHAPTER VIII.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES — ST JULIEN.
{August 1917.)

The opening moves of the battle were not too
fortunate. The first objectives were gained on the
left and in the centre, but the cost was high. The
Welsh Division in particular suffered heavily : the
enemy had learned through treachery the Welsh
plan of attack. On the right we made little im-
pression on the western end of the Passchendaele
Ridge. Once the first great onrush was over, we
reverted to the old siege tactics — to blow a trench
system to pieces and then to occupy it under cover
of a thick barrage. The rain came down, and the
whole battlefield, torn up already by our guns,
became impassable. We advanced more slowly.
The enemy brought up every spare gun, and the
artilleries hammered away mechanically day and
night, while the wretched infantry on either side
lay crouched in flooded shell-holes. The prelim-
inary bombardments became longer, and the ob-
jectives of the infantry more limited. Soon the
attacks ominously began to fail — at Hooge and
Polygon Wood attack after attack had broken on

132 A COMPANY OF TANKS

the enemy defences. " Pill-boxes," little forts o
concrete, proved at first almost impregnable. The
enemy could congratulate themselves that they had
brought to a standstill the great British attack of
the year.

That was the first stage. Then there were
changes in command and in tactics. The Second
Army extended its front to the north, and Plumer
began slowly to solve the problem with the aid of
a little fine weather. Tactics were adapted to the
nature of the ground and the character of the
enemy defences. Tanks were at last permitted to
use the roads. The Australians were **put in"
on the Passchendaele Ridge. Once again the vast
creaking machine began to move slowly forward,
but very slowly. We reached the outskirts of the
Houthulst Forest; we crawled along the top of the
ridge and to the north of it. At last we were
within reach of Passchendaele itself, and we had
hopes of Roulers. . . .

It was too late. The weather definitely had
broken : the Italians were pouring back to the Piave :
the Russians had left us to ourselves. November
had come, and to distract the enemy's attention
we made a strong little effort down at Cambrai.
When the copse of Passchendaele finally was
taken, we were occupied with other things.

We had forced the enemy back at Ypres six or
seven miles in three and a half months. Our
casualties, I believe, had amounted to a quarter
of a million. The Salient had indeed preserved
its reputation, and that grim spirit who broods
over the hills beyond Ypres must have smiled

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 133

maliciously when in a few months we were again
compelled to withdraw our lines.

In the third battle of Ypres the reputation of
the Tank Corps was almost destroyed. When we
went south to Cambrai we must have left behind
us two or three hundred derelict tanks sinking by
degrees into the mud. The fighting virtues of the
crews could not be questioned, for the gallantry
of the corps was amazing. Time after time the
men started out to fight in the full knowledge that
unless some miracle intervened they must stick in
the mud — and either spend hours under a deadly
fire endeavouring to extricate their tanks or fight
on, the target of every gun in the neighbourhood,
until they were knocked to pieces. There was the
famous tank " Fray Bentos," which went out in
front of our infantry and " ditched." The crew
fought for seventy-two hours, bombed, shelled, and
stormed by day and by night, until, when all of
them were wounded, they gave up hope that the
infantry ever would reach them and crawled ^back
to our own lines.

At last it was decided that the tanks might use
the roads. This must not be misunderstood. A
civilian could search for a road in the forward
area and not recognise it when he came to it.
The roads had been shelled to destruction, like
everything else in that ghastly, shattered country,
but they possessed at least some sort of founda-
tion which prevented the tanks from sinking into
the mud. Operating on the roads, we had one
or two little successes — a mixed company of ** G "
Battalion surprised and captured a few pill -boxes

134 A COMPANY OF TANKS

at a ridiculously low cost, and later the loth
Company, " D " Battalion, carried out a splendid
feat in moving from St Julien, assisting the in-
fantry to capture half the village of Poelcapelle
and some strong points near, and then returning
to St Julien with all tanks intact and two men
wounded.

It would require a partial historian to assert that
the tanks seriously affected the course of the battle.
Every action was a deadly gamble, and soon the
infantry realised as transparently as the stout-
hearted crews that, in the Salient, a company of
tanks, however skilfully driven and gallantly fought,
could not be relied upon at need. And the divisions,
which came up in the later stages of the battle, had
only to use their eyes. It is not very encouraging
to pass a succession of derelict tanks. Luckily
for the future of the Corps, the infantryman was
generous enough to attribute at least part of our
failures to the appalling ground. The average
infantry officer ^ could not understand why on earth
tanks had ever been brought to the Salient. We
made the most of our successes and said nothing
of our failures. Then came the battle of Cambrai,
and those poor old battered derelicts, rusting in the
mud, were forgotten. . . . After all, not only the
tanks failed in the Third Battle of Ypres. . . .

I have given this little picture of the battle in
order that the reader, spoon-fed on journalese, may
not come to my story under the delusion that this

1 The regimental officer always appreciated our difficulties, praised
our achievements, and sympathised with us in our misfortunes.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 135

tragic battle was a glorious victory. The details
of operations he may find elsewhere : a proper
history of the tank corps may soon be written : the
careful critic may find my dates inaccurate. I want
to give the atmosphere in which we fought, and
this battle was a gloomy, bitter business. . . .

On the 31st July, the first day of the battle, it
began to rain, and it rained until August 6th, and
then it rained again. We, who were in Corps
reserve, had nothing to do except to wait restlessly
in our camp — we might receive orders to move up
at any moment, if the enemy line gave any indica-
tion of breaking ; but, although on our Corps front
we had successfully reached our first objectives,
and the Pilkem Ridge, from which we had been
driven by gas in April '15, was once more in our
hands, the German defence remained intact. It
was clear that the enemy, who, like us, had made
every possible preparation, must once again be
thrown back by sheer force. And the continual
downpour made the task day by day more difficult.
The more it rained, the more necessary a pro-
longed preliminary bombardment became, and a
lengthy bombardment made the ground increas-
ingly unsuitable for the use of infantry and tanks.
It was an altogether vicious circle. •

The necessity, however, for a series of siege
attacks with limited objectives relieved the tension
for us, and the rain, which gravely hindered all
preparations, postponed indefinitely the day on
which my company, the reserve company of the
reserve battalion, would come into action. We

136 A COMPANY OF TANKS

again made a thorough overhaul of our tanks, and
fearing that the officers and men might become
stale, I granted generous leave out of camp.

The war for us consisted in watching the arrival
of prisoners at the Army Cage, which was just
round the corner; in putting out our lights when
the enemy 'planes came over ; in reconnoitring once
again our routes forward ; in making little expedi-
tions to neighbouring towns when the strain of
waiting became too insistent. . . .

There was no hate in our hearts for the gangs of
prisoners who, on the morning and afternoon of
every attack, poured miserably along the Poperinghe
road. They looked such wretched, sullen outcasts.
Even the pride of the officers — a quaint ridiculous
dignity — was a little pitiful. When the gangs halted
by the roadside, just by the camp, it was impossible
at first to prevent our men from giving them tea
and cigarettes, though later this practice was sternly
forbidden. In some ways we treated these prisoners
well. When we drew biscuits instead of bread, we
would always say that a fresh batch of prisoners
must have arrived. But the Cage itself rapidly
became a swamp, and we sympathised, in spite of
ourselves, with the poor devils lying out in the mud.
I used to wonder in the following year whether
those of our men who were taken prisoner looked
so unutterably woebegone as these Germans, or
whether, perhaps, they bore themselves more
bravely. . . .

The bombing at night, even back at La Lovie,
was an infernal nuisance. During August it rapidly
developed, and it reached its height towards the

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 137

middle of September. We possessed, apparently,
no means of defence against it. The " Archies "
seemed useless. Machine-gun fire was effective
only when the 'planes flew daringly low. The
enemy came over when he liked, and we could
not understand why he did not show himself more
frequently.

We in our camp were only annoyed — never
damaged, and we began to treat it all rather as
a joke. Then the two Casualty Clearing Stations
on the railway were bombed. Several nurses, mov-
ing quietly among the screaming wounded, were
killed. We hoped that it was a terrible mistake,
but the hospitals were deliberately bombed a second
time, and the ghastly scenes were repeated. I do
not know whether in very shame we invented some
shadow of excuse, but it was rumoured at this time
that, in our nightly shelling of Roulers Station, a
shell had dropped into the German Hospital near
by, and that the enemy were now retaliating. I do
not vouch for this explanation, and it is quite, pro-
bably an invention.

The heavy rain had made the reconnaissance of
approach routes to Ypres and the Canal the hardest
labour. The tracks had been churned up by passing
tanks until they were knee-deep in mud — not the
slimy, oozy kind, but the damp spongy mud which
sticks. In spite of the rain it was a month of close
muggy days, and these tramps through the steaming
odorous mud were a very sore infliction. But the
routes were so various, wandering, and difficult
that the most thorough reconnaissance was neces-
sary. At any rate we acquired a knowledge of

138 A COMPANY OF TANKS

the countryside, and the more we saw of it the
less we loved it.

Once the country must have been rough heath,
with big woods, isolated clumps of firs, and every-
where stagnant pools and dirty streams. Then the
painstaking natives took hold of it and determined
to make a living out of it. They cultivated and
cultivated with meticulous care. In the back areas
hops, corn, turnips, beans, market gardens, all in
their enclosures, came right up to the roads and the
woods, but forward all the country was returning
to heath. Little cottages or farms lined the roads
or stood at the corners of the fields, while, farther
back again, the main roads were fringed with queer
temporary bungalows or shelters, where the evacues
eked out a livelihood by selling food, cigarettes,
vegetables, or bad beer to the troops, or by making
coarse lace.

Now fill every wood with camps and every open
space with dumps or parks, cover the country with
such a close network of railways that there is a
level-crossing every three hundred yards along any
road, and block all the roads with transport.
Further forward there are guns everywhere — behind
cottages, in houses, along hedges, camouflaged in
the open. . . .

The country seemed out of proportion. The fields
were so small, the hedges so numerous, the roads
so narrow. ... It was a battlefield over allotments,
cultivated on a marshy heath.

Cooper and I would go beyond the Canal and
gaze at the villages which we might attack. It has

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 139

always fascinated me to see the inviolate country —
the pleasant green fields and nice red houses behind
the enemy line that must, when we advance, become
a brown shell-pocked desert and shapeless heaps of
rubble. In the old trench battles we achieved
victory only by destruction. The houses and fields
stood terrified at our advance, praying that it would
be stopped, so that they could be spared. We looked
through our glasses at Passchendaele and West-
roosebeke, standing on the ridge. It was a clear
day and the villages might have been in Surrey.
By the end of November they were nothing but
a few bricks and stones lying about in the mud.

These little expeditions forward to convenient
Observation Posts had their excitements. The
Canal was curiously the frontier of the war. On
this side of the Canal it was peaceful enough save
for a deafening railway-gun, a super-heavy howitzer,
or a chance shell from the enemy. On that side
it seemed that all the guns in the world were packed
together, and the enemy, when he became annoyed,
shelled the whole area indiscriminately. We had
one particularly bad day. . . .

By the last week in August it had been found
impossible for tanks successfully to operate over
the open country of the Salient, and they were tied
strictly to the remains of roads. . . .

On the front which concerned my battalion we
had driven the enemy back over the Pilkem Ridge
into the valley of the Hannebeek, and at the foot
of the further slopes he was holding out successfully
in a number of "pill-boxes" and concreted ruins.

140 A COMPANY OF TANKS

St Julien itself was ours, a little village along the
main road to Poelcapelle at the crossing of the
stream. Beyond, the ground was so ravaged with
shell-fire that it had become a desert stretch of
shell-holes, little stagnant pools, with here and
there an odd hedge or a shattered tree. The enemy
defences, which consisted of strong points skilfully
linked up by fortified shell-holes, overlooked the
opposite slope, and our guns were compelled to
remain behind the shelter of the Pilkem crest.

A few of the strong points on the west of the
main road, notably the " Cockroft," had already
been cleared by a mixed company of ** G " Battalion
in a successful little action. The tanks, using the
roads for the first time, had approached the forts
from the rear, and the garrisons in their panic had
surrendered almost without a fight.

Ward's company had made a similar attack along
the road running east from the village. On the
day before the action the enemy had spotted his
tanks, which were " lying up " on the western slope
of the Pilkem Ridge, and had attempted to destroy
them with a hurricane bombardment of 5.9's ; but
a tank has as many lives as a cat, and only three
or four were knocked out, though the flanks of the
remainder were scarred and dented with splinters.

The action itself was typical of many a tank
action in the Salient. The tanks slipped off the
road and became irretrievably ditched, sinking into
the marsh. They were knocked out by direct hits
as they nosed their way too slowly forward. One
gallant tank drew up alongside a *' pill-box," stuck,

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 141

and fought it out. We never quite knew what
happened, but at last the tank caught fire. The
crew never returned.

The road out of St Julien was littered with
derelicts, for tanks of another battalion, endeavour-
ing by that road to reach another part of the
battlefield, had met their fate.

It was therefore with mixed feelings that I
received the order to get ready a section with a
view to co-operating with the infantry in an attack
on the same front.

I had already moved my company without
incident to the Canal, where they remained peace-
fully, camouflaged under the trees.

I selected for the enterprise Wyatt's section,
which, it will be remembered, had fought on the
extreme right at the first battle of Bullecourt.
His four tanks were at this time commanded by
Puttock, Edwards, Sartin, and Lloyd. It was a
good section.

First, we consulted with the G. S.O.I, of the
Division, which lived in excellent dug-outs on the
banks of the canal. The infantry attack was
planned in the usual way — the German positions
were to be stormed under cover of the thickest
possible barrage.

We were to attack practically the same positions
which Ward's company had so gallantly attempted
to take. The direct road, perhaps luckily, was
blocked by derelicts. A rough diagram will make
the position clear : —

142

A COMPANY OF TANKS

i mile.

ApprOJi.

SUULItN

It will be obvious that, since my tanks could not
leave the road, and the direct road was blocked,
it had become necessary to use the main road
across the enemy front and attack the strong points
down the road from the north. Further, the tanks
could not move out of St Julien before "zero" in
case the noise of their engines should betray the
coming attack. We were reduced, in consequence,
to a solemn crawl along the main road in sight of
the enemy after the battle had commenced.

We decided boldly to spend the night before the
battle at St Julien. We had realised by then that
the nearer we were to the enemy the less likely we
were to be shelled. And the idea of a move down
the road into St Julien actually on the night before
the battle was not pleasant. No margin of time
would be left for accidents, mechanical or otherwise.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 143

Cooper, Wyatt, and I carried out a preliminary
reconnaissance into the outskirts of St Julien on a
peaceful day before coming to our decision. The
sun was shining brightly after the rain, and the
German gunners were economising their ammuni-
tion after an uproar on the night before, the results
of which we saw too plainly in the dead men lying
in the mud along the roadside. Wyatt made a
more detailed reconnaissance by night and planned
exactly where he would put each tank.

On the night of the 25th/26th August Wyatt's
section moved across the Canal and up along a
track to an inconspicuous halting-place on the
western side of the crest. It was raining, and, as
always, the tracks were blocked with transport.
An eager gunner endeavoured to pass one of the
tanks, but his gun caught the sponson and slipped
off into the mud. It was a weary, thankless trek.

On the following night the tanks crawled
cautiously down the road into St Julien with
engines barely turning over for fear the enemy
should hear them. The tanks were camouflaged
with the utmost care.

The enemy aeroplanes had little chance to see
them, for on the 27th it rained. A few shells came
over, but the tanks were still safe and whole on the
night before the battle, when a storm of wind and
rain flooded the roads and turned the low ground
beyond the village, which was treacherous at the
best of times, into a slimy quagmire.

Before dawn on the 28th the padre walked from
ruin to ruin, where the crews had taken cover
from shells and the weather, and administered

144 A COMPANY OF TANKS

the Sacrament to all who desired to partake of
it. The crews stood to their tanks. Then, just
before sunrise, came the whine of the first shells,
and our barrage fell on the shell-holes in which the
enemy, crouched and sodden, lay waiting for our
attack. The German gunners were alert, and in
less than two minutes the counter - barrage fell
beyond the village to prevent reinforcements from
coming forward. Big shells crashed into St Julien.
The tanks swung out of their lairs in the dust
and smoke, and, moving clear of the village, ad-
vanced steadily in the dim light along the desolate
road, while the padre and Wyatt slipped back
through the counter - barrage to brigade head-
quarters.

It was lonely on the Poelcapelle Road, with
nothing for company but shells bursting near the
tanks. After the heavy rain the tanks slipped
about on the broken setts, and every shell-hole in
the road was a danger — one lurch, and the tank
would slide off into the marsh.

Very slowly the tanks picked their way. Three
tanks reached the cross-roads. The fourth, Lloyd's,
scraped a tree-trunk, and the mischief was done.
The tank sidled gently off the road and stuck, a
target for the machine-gunners. Two of the crew
crept out, and the unditching beam was fixed on to
the tracks. The tank heaved, moved a few inches,
and sank more deeply. Another effort was made,
but the tank was irretrievably ditched, half a mile
from the German lines.

Three tanks turned to the right at the first cross-
roads, and, passing through our infantry, enfiladed

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 145

the shell-holes occupied by the enemy. The effect
of the tanks' fire could not be more than local,
since on either side of the road were banks about
four to five feet in height. The enemy were soon
compelled to run back »from the shell-holes near
the road, and many dropped into the mud ; but
machine-gun fire from the shell-holes, which the
guns of the tanks could not reach effectively, pre-
vented a further advance.

One tank moved south down the track towards
the strong points, but found it blocked by a derelict
tank which the enemy had blown neatly into two
halves. My tank remained there for an hour,
shooting at every German who appeared. Then
the tank commander tried to reverse in order to
take another road, but the tank, in reversing, slid
on to a log and slipped into a shell-hole, unable to
move. One man was mortally wounded by a
splinter.

The barrage had passed on and the infantry
were left floundering in the mud. The enemy
seized the moment to make a counter-attack, two
bunches of Germans working their way forward
from shell-hole to shell-hole on either side of the
tank. Our infantry, already weakened, began to
withdraw to their old positions.

The tank commander learned by a runner, who
on his adventurous little journey shot two Germans
with his revolver, that the second tank was also
ditched a few hundred yards away on another
road. This tank, too, had cleared the shell-holes
round it, and, bolting the garrison of a small strong

K

146 A COMPANY OF TANKS

point near it with its 6-pdr. gun, caught them as
they fled with machine-gun fire.

There was nothing more to be done. The tanks
were in full view of the German observers, and
the enemy gunners were now trying for direct hits.
The tanks must be hit, sooner or later. The infantry
were withdrawing. The two wretched subalterns
in that ghastly waste of shell-holes determined to
get their men away before their tanks were hit
or completely surrounded. They destroyed what
was of value in their tanks, and carrying their
Lewis guns and some ammunition, they dragged
themselves wearily back to the main road.

The remaining tank, unable to move forward
as all the roads were now blocked, cruised round
the triangle of roads to the north of the strong
points. Then a large shell burst just in front of
the tank and temporarily blinded the driver. The
tank slipped off the road into the mud, jamming
the track against the trunk of a tree. All the
efforts of the crew to get her out were in vain. . . .

Meanwhile, we had been sitting drearily near
Divisional Headquarters on the canal bank, in the
hope that by a miracle our tanks might succeed and
return. The morning wore on, and there was little
news. The Germans shelled us viciously. It was
not until my tank commanders returned to report
that we knew the attack had failed.

When the line had advanced a little. Cooper
and I went forward to reconnoitre the road to
Poelcapelle and to see our derelicts. Two of the
tanks had been hit. A third was sinking into the
mud. In the last was a heap of evil -smelling

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 147

corpses. Either men who had been gassed had
crawled into the tank to die, or more Hkely, men
who had taken shelter had been gassed where they
sat. The shell-holes near by contained half-decom-
posed bodies that had slipped into the stagnant
water. The air was full of putrescence and the
strong odour of foul mud. There was no one in
sight except the dead. A shell came screaming
over and plumped dully into the mud without
exploding. Here and there was a little rusty
wire, cHmbing in and out of the shell-holes like
noisome weeds. A few yards away a block of
mud- coloured concrete grew naturally out of the
mud. An old entrenching tool, a decayed German
pack, a battered tin of bully, and a broken rifle
lay at our feet. We crept away hastily. The dead
never stirred.

148

CHAPTER IX.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES — THE POELCAPELLE

ROAD.

(Septembe}' and October 1917.)

For three weeks there was no big offensive, though
the artilleries continued their pitiless duel without a
break, and the miserable infantry, tormented by
bombs and shells as they crouched in their water-
logged holes, or staggering dully over the mud in a
series of little local attacks, which too often failed,
could scarcely have realised that there was a dis-
tinct lull in the battle. We were pulling ourselves
together for another enormous effort. The guns
were pushed forward, and more guns arrived. Tired
Divisions were taken out and new Divisions took
their place with reduced fronts. There were new
groupings, new tactics. ... A possible month of
fighting weather remained. We might still make
something of this tragic struggle.

My company had returned from the Canal, as it
was not likely that we should be wanted again in the
near future, and were living in shameless comfort at
La Lovie. The rain had stopped — we always had

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 149

bright sunshine in the Salient, when we were not
ready to attack. If it had not been for the growl of
the guns, an occasional shell in Poperinghe while we
were bargaining for greengages, or the perseverance
of the enemy airmen, who dropped bombs some-
where in the neighbourhood each line night, we
might have forgotten the war completely. There
were walks through the pine-woods, canters over the
heath, thrilling football matches against our rivals,
little expeditions to Bailleul for fish, or Cassel for a
pleasant dinner in the cool of the evening. And I
fell in with Susie.

She was a dear, graceful little woman, with timid,
liquid brown eyes, black hair, a pleasant mouth, and
the most marvellous teeth. Our friendship began
one night when, returning from mess, I found her
sitting on my bed.

It is better to be frank. She was half a German
— at least we all thought so, because, if she had no
dachshund blood in her, she had no other strain in
her that we could recognise.

Then there was the Brigade barber across the
way, who came from Bond Street. He had been
given his own little shop, and he possessed such a
store of the barber's polite conversation that to
listen was to become home-sick. Sometimes, as we
were in Flanders, he would flavour his stories a little
fully, ending always with a half-apology —

**A topic, sir, I can assure you, that I should
scarcely have approached, if it had not been for my
eighteen months in the ranks."

His little deprecating cough was pure joy. . . .

On the igth the weather broke again, and it

150 A COMPANY OF TANKS

rained heavily. On the 20th we delivered an attack
in the grand style, with every man and gun available.
For a few days we were full of hope. The enemy
could not resist our sheer strength, and their line
bent and almost broke. We threw in Division after
Division, attacking day after day. We thrust him
back to the fringes of the Houthulst Forest. We
crawled along the Passchendaele Ridge, and on the
26th we captured Zonnebeke. Then slowly and
magnificently the Germans steadied themselves, and
once more the attacks died down with the enemy
line still in being. But the Great General Staff
must have had a terrible fright.

Ward's company had been engaged between the
Poelcapelle Road and Langemarck. Much to my
disgust I had been compelled to hand over to him
two of my best tanks. His company did excellent
work, though, as had become customary in the
Salient, only a few of his tanks returned. One tank
particularly distinguished itself by climbing a barri-
cade of logs, which had been built to block the road
a few hundred yards south of Poelcapelle, and
slaughtering its defenders.

At the end of September we had driven back the
enemy, on the front with which I was principally
concerned, to a position immediately in front of
Poelcapelle — that is, just over a mile N.E. of the
cross-roads near which Wyatt's section had fought
at the end of August. Our progress in a month,
though we thought it to be satisfactory at the time,
had not been astonishingly rapid. It was deter-
mined to clear Poelcapelle as soon as possible,
since, while the Germans held it, we were greatly

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 151

handicapped in attacking either the S.E. edge of the
Houthulst Forest or the Passchendaele Ridge itself
from the north-west. Further, the only two main
roads in the neighbourhood passed through the
village.

Marris, who had succeeded Haskett-Smith in the
command of No. 10 Company, was instructed to
assist the infantry in the attack. His company had
just returned from Wailly, where they had greatly
improved their driving by hard practice over the
derelict trenches. They had suffered few casualties
at Arras, and, as they had not previously been
engaged in the Salient, they were fresh and keen.

The attack was scheduled for October 4th.
Marris brought down his tanks into St Julien and
camouflaged them in the ruins. St Julien, though
still easily within close field-gun range, was now
respectably " behind the line." It was only shelled
once or twice a night, and during the day on
state occasions. It could not hope entirely to
escape — the bridge across the Hannebeek was too
important — but it became the place at which you
left the car if you wanted to reconnoitre forward.

The attack was incredibly successful. Of Harris's
twelve tanks, eleven left St Julien and crawled
perilously all night along the destroyed road. At
dawn they entered the village with the infantry
and cleared it after difficult fighting. One section
even found their way along the remains of a track
so obliterated by shell-fire that it scarcely could
be traced on the aeroplane photographs, and
** bolted " the enemy from a number of strong
points. Then, having placed the infantry in pos-

152 A COMPANY OF TANKS

session of their objectives, the tanks lurched back
in the daylight. It was a magnificent exhibition
of good driving, w^hich has never been surpassed,
and was without doubt the most successful opera-
tion in the Salient carried out by tanks.

Unfortunately the tanks could not remain in the
village. By midday every German gun which could
bear had been turned upon it, and by dusk the
enemy had forced their way back into the ruins
at the farther end of the long street.

It soon became clear that we should be required
to finish the job. The weather, of course, changed.
A few days of drying sun and wind were followed
by gales and heavy rain. The temperature dropped.
At night it was bitterly cold.

On the 6th, Cooper and I made a little expedition
up the Poelcapelle Road. It was in a desperate
condition, and we felt a most profound respect
for the drivers of No. lo Company. The enemy
gunners had shelled it with accuracy. There were
great holes that compelled us to take to the mud
at the side. In places the surface had been blown
away, so that the road could not be distinguished
from the treacherous riddled waste through which
it ran. To leave the road was obviously certain
disaster for a tank. Other companies had used
it, and at intervals derelict tanks which had slipped
off the road or received direct hits were sinking
rapidly in the mud. I could not help remembering
that the enemy must be well aware of the route
which so many tanks had followed into battle.

We were examining a particularly large shell-
hole, between two derelict tanks, when the enemy.

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 153

whose shells had been falling at a reasonable dis-
tance, began to shell the road. . . .

Two sections of my tanks — Talbot's and Skinner's
— had moved forward once more from the Canal,
and were safely camouflaged in St Julien by dawn
on the 8th. All the tank commanders and their
first drivers had reconnoitred the road from St
Julien to the outskirts of Poelcapelle. The attack
was to be made at 5.20 a.m. on the gth. The tanks
were ordered to enter Poelcapelle with the infantry
and drive the enemy out of the houses which they
still held.

I was kept at La Lovie until dusk for my final
instructions. I started in my car, intending to
drive to Wieltje, two miles from St JuHen, but
Organ was away, and I found to my disgust that
my temporary driver could not see in the dark.
Naturally, no lights were allowed on the roads,
and the night was black with a fluster of rain. After
two minor collisions on the farther side of Vlamer-
tinghe I gave up the car as useless, and tramped
the two and a half miles into Ypres. The rain
held off for an hour, and a slip of moon came out
to help me.

I walked through the pale ruins, and, though
the enemy had ceased to shell Ypres regularly, fear
clung to the place. For once there was little traffic,
and in the side streets I was desperately alone.
The sight of a military policeman comforted me,
and, leaving the poor broken houses behind, I struck
out along, the St Jean road, which the enemy were
shelling, to remind me, perhaps, that there could
still be safety in Ypres.

154 A COMPANY OF TANKS

It began to rain steadily and the moon dis-
appeared. I jumped into an empty ambulance to
escape from the rain and the shells, but beyond
St Jean there was a bad block in the traffic; so,
leaving the ambulance, I wormed my way through
the transport, and, passing the big guns on the
near side of the crest which the enemy had held
for so many years, I splashed down the track into
St Julien. I only stumbled into one shell-hole,
but I fell over a dead mule in trying to avoid its
brother. It was a pitch-black night.

We had decided to use for our headquarters a
perfectly safe "pill -box," or concreted house in
St Julien, but when we arrived we discovered that
it was already occupied by a dressing station. We
could not stand upon ceremony — we shared it
between us.

Soon after I had reached St Julien, weary, muddy,
and wet, the enemy began to shell the village
persistently. One shell burst just outside our door.
It killed two men and blew two into our chamber,
where, before they had realised they were hit, they
were bandaged and neatly labelled.

My crews, who had been resting in our camp
by the Canal, arrived in the middle of the shelling,
and, paying no attention to it whatever, began to
uncover their tanks and drive them out from the
ruins where they had been hidden. Luckily nobody
was hurt, but the shelling continued until midnight.

By 10 P.M. the tanks had started on the night's
trek, with the exception of one which had been
driven so adroitly into a ruin that for several hours
we could not extract it. By midnight the rain had

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 155

stopped and the moon showed herself — but with
discretion.

Very slowly the seven tanks picked their way to
Poelcapelle. The strain was appalling. A mistake
by the leading tanks, and the road might be blocked.
A slip — and the tank would lurch off into the mud.
The road after the rain would have been difficult
enough in safety by daylight. Now it was a dark
night, and, just to remind the tanks of the coming
battle, the enemy threw over a shell or two.

One tank tried to cross a tree-trunk at the wrong
angle. The trunk slipped between the tracks and
the tank turned suddenly. The mischief was done.
For half an hour S. did his best, but on the narrow
slippery road he could not swing his tank sufficiently
to climb the trunk correctly. In utter despair he
at last drove his tank into the mud, so that the
three tanks behind him might pass.^

About 4 A.M. the enemy shelling increased in
violence and became a very fair bombardment.
The German gunners were taking no risks-. If
dawn were to bring with it an attack, they would
see to it that the attack never developed. By 4.30
A.M. the enemy had put down a barrage on every
possible approach to the forward area. And the
Poelcapelle Road, along which tanks had so often
endeavoured to advance, was very heavily shelled.
It was anxious work, out in the darkness among
the shells, on the destroyed road. . . .

In the concrete ruins we snatched a little feverish

^ S. entirely retrieved his reputation as a skilful and gallant tank
commander by attacking a field-gun single-handed at Flesquieres
on November 20th.

156 A COMPANY OF TANKS

sleep in a sickly atmosphere of iodine and hot tea.
A few wounded men, covered with thick mud,
came in, but none were kept, in order that the
station might be free for the rush on the morning
of the battle.

By four the gunnery had become too insistent.
I did not expect Talbot to send back a runner
until just before **zero," but the activity of the
guns worried me. The Poelcapelle Road was no
place for a tank on such a night. Still, no news
was good news, for a message would have come to
me if the tanks had been caught.

We went outside and stood in the rain, looking
towards the line. It was still very dark, but, though
the moon had left us in horror, there was a promise
of dawn in the air.

The bombardment died down a little, as if the
guns were taking breath, though far away to the
right a barrage was throbbing. The guns barked
singly. We felt a weary tension ; we knew that in
a few moments something enormously important
would happen, but it had happened so many times
before. There was a deep shuddering boom in the
distance, and a shell groaned and whined overhead.
That may have been a signal. There were two or
three quick flashes and reports from howitzers quite
near, which had not yet fired. Then suddenly on
every side of us and above us a tremendous uproar
arose ; the ground shook beneath us ; for a moment
we felt battered and dizzy; the horizon was lit up
with a sheet of flashes ; gold and red rockets raced
madly into the sky, and in the curious light of the
distant bursting shells the ruins in front of us

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 157

appeared and disappeared with a touch of melo-
drama. ...

We went in for a little breakfast before the
wounded arrived. . . .

Out on the Poelcapelle Road, in the darkness and
the rain, seven tanks were crawling very slowly. In
front of each tank the officer was plunging through
the shell-holes and the mud, trying hard not to
think of the shells. The first driver, cursing the
darkness, peered ahead or put his ear to the slit,
so that he could hear the instructions of his com-
mander above the roar of the engine. The corporal
**on the brakes" sat stiffly beside the driver. One
man crouched in each sponson, grasping the lever
of his secondary gear, and listening for the signals
of the driver, tapped on the engine-cover. The
gunners sprawled listlessly, with too much time for
thought, but hearing none of the shells.

S. was savagely attempting to unditch the tank
which he had purposely driven into the mud.

The shells came more rapidly — in salvos, right
on the road, on either side of the tanks. The
German gunners had decided that no tank should
reach Poelcapelle that night. The tanks slithered
on doggedly — they are none too easy to hit. . . .

Suddenly a shell crashed into the third tank,
just as it was passing a derelict. The two tanks in
front went on. Behind, four tanks were stopped.
The next tank was hit on the track.

It was a massacre. The tanks could not turn,
even if they had wished. There was nothing for
it but to go on and attempt to pass in a rain of
shells the tanks which could not move, but each

158 A COMPANY OF TANKS

tank in turn slipped off into the mud. Their
crews, braving the shells, attached the unditching
beams — fumbling in the dark with slippery span-
ners, while red-hot bits flew past, and they were
deafened by the crashes — but nothing could be
done. The oiBcers withdrew their men from the
fatal road and took cover in shell-holes. It was
a stormy cheerless dawn.

The first two tanks, escaping the barrage, lurched
on towards Poelcapelle. The first, delayed by an
immense crater which the enemy had blown in the
road, was hit and caught fire. The crew tumbled
out, all of them wounded, and Skinner, brought
them back across country. The second, seeing that
the road in front was hopelessly blocked — for the
leading tank was in the centre of the fairway —
turned with great skill and attempted vainly to
come back. By marvellous driving she passed the
first derelict, but in trying to pass the second she
slipped hopelessly into the mud. . . .

The weary night had passed with its fears, and
standing in front of the ruin we looked down the
road. It was bitterly cold, and tragedy hung over
the stricken grey country like a mist. First a
bunch of wounded came, and then in the distance
we saw a tank officer with his orderly. His head
was bandaged and he walked in little jerks, as if he
were a puppet on a string. When he came near he
ran a few steps and waved his arms. It was X.,
who had never been in action before.

We took him inside, made him sit down, and gave
him a drink of tea. He was badly shaken, almost
hysterical, but pulling himself together and

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES 159

speaking with a laboured clearness, he told us
what had happened. His eyes were full of horror
at the scene on the road. He kept apologising —
his inexperience might lead him to exaggerate —
perhaps he ought not to have come back, but they
sent him back because he was wounded ; of course,
if he had been used to such things he would not
have minded so much — he was sorry he could not
make a better report. We heard him out and tried
to cheer him by saying that, of course, these things
must happen in war. Then, after he had rested a
little, we sent him on, for the dressing station was
filling fa^t, and he stumbled away painfully. I
have not seen him since.

The crews had remained staunchly with their
tanks, waiting for orders. I sent a runner to recall
them, and in an hour or so they dribbled in, though
one man was killed by a chance shell on the way.
Talbot, the old dragoon, who had fought right
through the war, never came back. He was mortally
wounded by a shell which hit his tank. I never
had a better section-commander.

We waited until late in the morning for news of
Skinner, who had returned across country. The
dressing station was crowded, and a batch of
prisoners, cowed and grateful for their lives, were
carrying loaded stretchers along trench-board tracks
to a light railway a mile distant. Limbers passed
through and trotted toward the line. Fresh infantry,
clean and obviously straight from rest, halted in
the village. The officers asked quietly for news.
At last Cooper and I turned away and tramped the
weary muddy miles to the Canal. The car was

i6o A COMPANY OF TANKS

waiting for us, and soon we were back at La Lovie.
I reported to the Colonel and to the Brigade
Commander. Then I went to my hut, and, sitting
on my bed, tried not to think of my tanks. Hyde,
the mess-waiter, knocked at the door —

" Lunch is ready, sir, and Mr King has got some
whisky from the canteen, sir ! "

I shouted for hot water. . . .

The great opportunity had gone by. We had
failed, and to me the sense of failure was incon-
ceivably bitter. We began to feel that we were
dogged by ill-fortune : the contrast between the
magnificent achievement of Marris's company and
the sudden overwhelming disaster that had swept
down on my section was too glaring. And we
mourned Talbot. . . .

During the next few days we made several
attempts to salve our tanks or clear the road by
pulling them off into the mud, but the shells and
circumstances proved too much for individual
enterprise. In the following week, after the enemy
at last had been driven beyond Poelcapelle, I sent
Wyatt's section forward to St Julien, and, working
under the orders of the Brigade Engineer, they
managed to clear the road for the passage of
transport, or, with luck and good driving, of tanks.

Later, there was a grandiose scheme for attacking
Passchendaele itself and Westroosebeke from the
north-west through Poelcapelle. The whole Brigade,
it was planned, would advance along the Poelcapelle
and Langemarck Roads and deploy in the com-
paratively unshelled and theoretically passable
country beyond. To us, perhaps prejudiced by

THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES i6i

disaster, the scheme appeared fantastic enough :
the two roads could so easily be blocked by an
accident or the enemy gunners ; but we never were
able to know whether our fears were justified, for
the remains of the Tank Corps were hurriedly
collected and despatched to Wailly. . . .

The great battle of the year dragged on a little
longer. In a few weeks the newspapers, intent on
other things, informed their readers that Pas-
schendaele had fallen. The event roused little
comment or interest. Now, if we had reached
Ostend in September . . . but it remains to be seen
whether or not tanks can scale a sea-wall.

l62

CHAPTER X.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI — FLESQUIERES.
(November /^ih to 20/A, 1917.)

From La Lovie in the Salient I went on leave, I
was recalled by wire on the 4th November to
discover that, during my absence, the battalion had
moved south to our old training-ground at Wailly.
The apathy and bitter disappointment, caused by
our misfortunes on the Poelcapelle Road, had dis-
appeared completely, and the company, scenting a
big mysterious battle, was as eager and energetic as
if it had just disembarked in France.

For once the secret was well kept. The air was
full of rumours, but my officers knew nothing. It
was not until I saw the Colonel that I learnt of the
proposed raid on Cambrai, and discovered to my
great joy that we were to attack in company with
the Fifty-first Division.

This Division of Highland Territorials had won
for itself in the course of a year the most astounding
reputation. Before Beaumont Hamel in November
'16 it had been known as " Harper's Duds." Since
that action it had carried out attack after attack

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 163

with miraculous success, until at this time it was
renowned throughout the British Armies in France
as a grim and terrible Division, which never failed.
The Germans feared it as they feared no other.

We trained with this splendid Division for ten
days, working out the plans of our attack so closely
that each platoon of Highlanders knew personally
the crew of the tank which would lead it across No
Man's Land. Tank officers and infantry officers
attended each other's lectures and dined with each
other. Our camp rang at night with strange High-
land cries. As far as was humanly possible within
the limits of time, we discussed and solved each
other's difficulties, until it appeared that at least on
one occasion a tank and infantry attack would in
reality be " a combined operation."

The maps and plans which we used in these
pleasant rehearsals were without names, but al-
though this mystery added a fillip of romance to our
strenuous preparations, we were met by a curious
difficulty — we did not dare to describe too vividly
the scene of the coming battle for fear the area
should be recognised. There was a necessary vague-
ness in our exhortations. . . .

One fine day Cooper, Jumbo, and I motored over
to this nameless country. We passed through the
ruins of Bapaume and came to the pleasant village
of Metz-en-Couture on the edge of the great Havrin-
court Wood. Leaving our car, we walked over the
clean grassy hills to the brand-new trench system,
then Hghtly held by the Ulster Division.

It was a country of bare downs, occasional woods,
sunken roads, plentiful villages, surprising chalk

i64 A COMPANY OF TANKS

ravines, and odd disconnected mounds, and the key
to it was Bourlon Wood.

You will remember that on the east of the Bulle-
court front was the Qu^ant Salient. Beyond it
the German defences then ran suddenly to the south
in order to obtain the protection of the enormous,
unfinished Canal du Nord. By Havrincourt village,
which was set conspicuously on the side of a hill,
the Canal met Havrincourt Wood, and the enemy
line turned again to the east, skirting the fringes
of the wood and continuing cleverly at the foot
of a range of low chalk hills. A rough diagram
may make this clear, and will enable you to connect
this battle with the lesser battles of Bullecourt.

%,^^Bullecourt | |

^^^''% Queant Cambrai

'Jinfends whole area)

^oaS"^ * J; .^^^^^^ oCantaing 1^

vood

'^^^ GoiizeaucourV%

miles U/;^

The front which concerned my brigade extended
from Havrincourt to east of Flesquieres. Havrin-
court itself was defended on the west by the Canal,
and on the south by a ravine and the outlying
portions of the great wood. In front of the German

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 165

trenches the trees had been cut down, so that the
approach was difficult and open. East of Havrin-
court the German trenches were completely hidden
from view by the lie of the ground. This method of
siting trenches was much favoured by the Germans
at the time. Clearly it prevented direct observation
of fire. Further, it compelled tanks to start on their

Our Front Trenches

German Front
[Trenches,

^-^^^^«^%/,f.

journey across No Man's Land, unable to see the
trenches which they were about to attack.

The trenches on the slope immediately behind
the enemy first line were in full view, and the roads,
buildings, patches of chalk, distinctively -shaped
copses, would provide useful landmarks, if they
were not hidden by the smoke of battle.

Apart from its natural defences the Hindenburg
System was enormously strong. In front of it
there were acres of low wire. The trenches were
wide enough to be serious obstacles to tanks.
Machine-gun posts, huge dug-outs, long galleries,
deep communication trenches, gun-pits — the whole
formed one gigantic fortification more than five
miles in depth.

Yet we came back from our reconnaissance in the
firm belief that tanks could break through this
fortification without any difficulty at all. The
ground was hard chalk, and no amount of rain
could make it unfit for our use. Natural and

i66 A COMPANY OF TANKS

artificial obstacles could be surmounted easily
enough or avoided. Given sufficient tanks and the
advantage of surprise, there was no earthly reason
why we should not go straight through to Cambrai.
What could stop us ? The wire ? It did not affect
us in the slightest. The trenches ? They were a
little wide, but we knew how to cross them. Guns ?
There were not many, and few would survive the
duel with our own artillery. Machine - guns or
armour-piercing bullets? The Mk. iv. tank was
practically invulnerable. If the infantry were able
to follow the tanks, the tanks would see them
through the trench systems. In open country it
would be for common-sense and the cavalry, until
the enemy filled the gap with his reserves.

We were only troubled by the thought of Bourlon
Wood, which, from its hill, dominated the whole
countryside between Havrincourt and Cambrai.
But Bourlon Wood was only a matter of 7000
yards behind the German lines. If we were to
break through at all, we should take the wood in
our stride on the first day.

Jumbo expressed our feelings admirably —

** Unless the Boche catches on before the show,
it's a gift ! "

We returned to Wailly bubbling over with
enthusiasm. The last rehearsals were completed,
and our future comrades, the 6th Black Watch and
the 8th Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, ap-
peared implicitly to trust us. We tuned our
engines and practised with the wily " fascine."

Fascine is the military term for " faggot." Each
of our fascines was a huge bundle of brushwood,

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 167

weighing over one ton. By an ingenious mech-
anism it could be hoisted on to the roof of the
tank. When a dangerously wide trench was
reached, the driver pulled a rope, the fascine
gently rolled off the tank into the trench, and the
tank crossed at its ease. It was a simple device
that produced an astonishing amount of bad lan-
guage. Entraining was hideously complicated.
Dropping the fascine on to the truck in front of
the tank requires care and precision, while obviously
if a fascine refuses to be picked up again, tanks are
prevented from coming off the train. . . .

At dawn on the 13th we arose and trekked a
matter of five miles to Beaumetz Station, where,
after an excellent and hilarious lunch at the local
estaminety we entrained successfully for an unknown
destination, although it took a little time to arrange
the fascines on the trucks so that they would not
fall off in the tunnels.

I watched the trains pull out from the ramps.
The lorries had already started for our next halting-
place. We were clear of Wailly. I motored down
to the neighbourhood of Albert, and at dusk my
car was feeling its way through a bank of fog
along the road from Bray to the great railhead
at Le Plateau, at the edge of the old Somme
battlefield.

It was a vast confusing place, and even a major
in the Tank Corps felt insignificant among the
multitudinous rails, the slow dark trains, the sudden
lights. Tanks, which had just detrained, came
rumbling round the corners of odd huts. Lorries
bumped through the mist with food and kit. Quiet

i68 A COMPANY OF TANKS

railwaymen, mostly American, went steadily about
their business.

I found a hut with a fire in it and an American,
who gave me hot coffee and some wonderful
sandwiches, made of sausage and lettuce, and there
I sat, until, just after midnight, word came that our
train was expected. We walked to the ramp, and
at last after an interminable wait our train glided in
out of the darkness. There was a slight mis-
calculation, and the train hit the ramp with a bump,
carrying away the lower timbers, so that it could
not bear the weight of tanks.

Wearily we tramped a mile or so to another ramp.
This time the train behaved with more discretion.
The tanks were driven off into a wood, where they
were carefully camouflaged ; the cooks set to work
and produced steaming tea; officers and men made
themselves comfortable. Then we set off in our
car again. The mist still hung heavily over the
Somme battlefield and we continually lost our way.
It was dawn before a desperately tired company
headquarters fell asleep in some large and chilly
huts near Meaulte.

That day (the 14th) and the next the men worked
at their tanks, adjusting the fascines and loading up
with ammunition, water, and rations. On the 14th
we made another careful survey of our trenches and,
through our glasses, of the country behind the
German line. On the night of the 15th I walked
along the tank route from our next detraining
station at Ytres to our final lying- up position in
Havrincourt Wood, a matter of seven miles, until I

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 169

personally knew every inch of the way beyond any
shadow of doubt.

At dusk on the i6th I was waiting on the ramp at
Ytres for my tanks to arrive, when I heard that
there had been an accident to a tank train at a
level-crossing a mile down the line. I hurried
there. The train had collided with a lorry and
pushed it a few hundred yards, when the last truck
had been derailed and the tank on it had crushed
the lorry against the slight embankment. Under
the tank were two men. I was convinced that I
had lost two of my men, until I discovered that the
tanks belonged to Harris and the two unfortunate
men had been on the lorry. The line was soon
cleared. The derailed truck was uncoupled, and
the tank, none the worse for its adventure, climbed
up the embankment and joined its fellows at the
ramp.

My tanks detrained at midnight without incident,
and we were clear of the railhead in an hour. It
was a strange fatiguing tramp in the utter blackness
of the night to Havrincourt Wood — past a brick-
yard, which later we were to know too well, through
the reverberating streets of Neuville Bourjonval,
where three tanks temporarily lost touch with the
column, and over the chill lonely downs to the
outskirts of Metz, where no lights were allowed.
We felt our way along a track past gun-pits and
lorries and waggons until we came to the outskirts
of the great wood. There we fell in with Marris's
tanks, which had come by another route. At last
we arrived at our allotted quarter of the wood,

170 A COMPANY OF TANKS

three thousand yards from the nearest German.
The tanks pushed boldly among the trees, and for
the next two hours there was an ordered pande-
monium. Each tank had to move an inch at a
time for fear it should bring down a valuable tree
or run over its commander, who probably had
fallen backwards into the undergrowth. One tank
would meet another in the darkness, and in swinging
to avoid the other, would probably coUide with a
third. But by dawn — I do not know how it was
done — every tank was safely in the wood ; the
men had fallen asleep anywhere, and the cooks
with sly weary jests were trying to make a fire
which would not smoke. Three thousand yards
is a trifle near . . .

For the next five days we had only one thought
—would the Boche ** catch on"? The Ulster
Division was still in the line, and, even if the enemy
raided and took prisoners, the Ulstermen knew
almost nothing. By day the occasional German
aeroplane could see little, for there was little to
see. Tanks, infantry, and guns were hidden in the
woods. New gun-pits were camouflaged. There
was no movement on the roads or in the villages.
Our guns fired a few customary rounds every
day and night, and the enemy replied. There
was nothing unusual.

But at night the roads were blocked with trans-
port. Guns and more guns arrived, from field-guns
to enormous howitzers, that had rumbled down all
the way from the Salient. Streams of lorries were
bringing up ammunition, petrol, rations ; and whole
brigades of infantry, marching across the open

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 171

country, had disappeared by dawn into the woods.
Would the Boche " catch on " ? . . .

There was but little reconnaissance for my men
to carry out, since the route to No Man's Land
from the wood was short and simple. And to see
the country behind the enemy trenches it was
necessary only to walk a mile to the reserve trench
beyond the crest of the hill, where an excellent
view could be obtained from an observation post.

By this time we knew the plan of the battle. At
"zero" on the given day we would attack on a
front of approximately ten thousand yards, with
the object of breaking through the Hindenburg
System into the open country. It was essential to
seize on the first day the bridges over the Canal de
I'Escaut and Bourlon Wood. We gathered that, if
we were successful, we should endeavour to capture
Cambrai and to widen the gap by rolling up the
German line to the west.

On the front of our battalion, immediately to the
east of Havrincourt itself and opposite Flesquieres,
Harris's company and mine were detailed to assist
the infantry in capturing the first system of trenches.
Ward's company was reserved for the second system
and for Flesquieres itself. The surviving tanks of
all three companies would collect in Flesquieres for
a possible farther advance to the neighbourhood of
Cantaing.

On the left was " G " Battalion, with Havrincourt
village as its first main objective, and on our right
was ** E " Battalion, beyond which were the 2nd and
3rd Brigades of the Tank Corps. There was one
tank to every thirty yards of front I

172 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Until the 17th the enemy apparently suspected
nothing at all; but on the night of the I7th-i8th
he raided and captured some prisoners, who fortun-
ately knew little. He gathered from them that we
were ourselves preparing a substantial raid, and
he brought into the line additional companies of
machine-gunners and a few extra field-guns.

The igth came with its almost unbearable sus-
pense. We did not know what the Germans had
discovered from their prisoners. We could not
believe that the attack could be really a surprise.
Perhaps the enemy, unknown to us, had concen-
trated sufficient guns to blow us to pieces. We
looked up for the German aeroplanes, which surely
would fly low over the wood and discover its
contents. Incredibly, nothing happened. The
morning passed and the afternoon — a day was never
so long — and at last it was dusk.

At 8.45 P.M. my tanks began to move cautiously
out of the wood and formed into column. At g.30
P.M., with engines barely turning over, they glided
imperceptibly and almost without noise towards
the trenches. Standing in front of my own tanks,
I could not hear them at two hundred yards.

By midnight we had reached our rendezvous
behind the reserve trenches and below the crest of
the slope. There we waited for an hour. The
Colonel arrived, and took me with him to pay a
final visit to the headquarters of the battalions with
which we were operating. The trenches were
packed with Highlanders, and it was with difficulty
that we made our way through them.

Cooper led the tanks for the last half of the

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 173

journey. They stopped at the support trenches,
for they were early, and the men were given hot
breakfast. The enemy began some shelhng on the
left, but no damage was done.

At 6.10 A.M. the tanks were in their allotted
positions, clearly marked out by tapes which Jumbo
had laid earlier in the night. . . .

I was standing on the parados of a trench. The
movement at my feet had ceased. The Highlanders
were ready with fixed bayonets. Not a gun was
firing, but there was a curious murmur in the air.
To right of me and to left of me in the dim light
were tanks — tanks lined up in front of the wire,
tanks swinging into position, and one or two belated
tanks climbing over the trenches.

I hurried back to the Colonel of the 6th Black
Watch, and I was with him in his dug-out at
6.20 A.M. when the guns began. I climbed on to
the parapet and looked.

In front of the wire tanks in a ragged line were
surging forward inexorably over the short down
grass. Above and around them hung the blue-grey
smoke of their exhausts. Each tank was followed
by a bunch of Highlanders, some running forward
from cover to cover, but most of them tramping
steadily behind their tanks. They disappeared into
the valley. To the right the tanks were moving over
the crest of the shoulder of the hill. To the left
there were no tanks in sight. They were already
in among the enemy.

Beyond the enemy trenches the slopes, from
which the German gunners might have observed
the advancing tanks, were already enveloped in

174 A COMPANY OF TANKS

thick white smoke. The smoke-shells burst with a
sheet of vivid red flame, pouring out blinding,
suffocating clouds. It was as if flaring bonfires
were burning behind a bank of white fog. Over all,
innumerable aeroplanes were flying steadily to
and fro.

The enemy made little reply. A solitary field-
gun was endeavouring pathetically to put down a
barrage. A shell would burst every few minutes on
the same bay of the same trench. There were no
other enemy shells that we could see. A machine-
gun or two were still trained on our trenches, and
an occasional vicious burst would bring the venture-
some spectator scrambling down into the trench.

Odd bunches of men were making their way
across what had been No Man's Land. A few,
ridiculously few, wounded were coming back.
Germans in twos and threes, elderly men for the
most part, were wandering confusedly towards us
without escort, putting up their hands in tragic
and amazed resignation, whenever they saw a
Highlander.

The news was magnificent. Our confidence had
been justified. Everywhere we had overrun the
first system and were pressing on.

A column of tanks, equipped with a strange
apparatus, passed across our front to clear a lane
through the wire for the cavalry.

On our left another column of tanks had already
disappeared into the valley on their way to
Flesquieres. It was Ward's company, but Ward
was not with them. A chance bullet had killed
him instantly at the head of his tanks. When we

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 175

heard of his death later, the joy of victory died
away. . . .

At 8 A.M. Cooper, Jumbo, a couple of runners,
and myself started after our tanks. We questioned
a group of Germans, who confessed that, while they
had expected a raid in a day or two, they had
known nothing of the tanks. We jumped down
into the famous Hindenburg Line. At first we
were unhappy : a machine-gun from the right was
enfilading the trench and the enemy gunners were
still active. We pushed along to the left, and
after a slight delay came to a deep sunken road,
which cut through the trench system at right angles.

We walked up the road, which in a few yards
widened out. On either side were dug-outs, stores,
and cook-houses. Cauldrons of coffee and soup
were still on the fire. This regimental headquarters
the enemy had defended desperately. The trench-
boards were slippery with blood, and fifteen to
twenty corpses, all Germans and all bayoneted,
lay strewn about the road like drunken men. '

A Highland sergeant who, with a handful of men,
was now in charge of the place, came out to greet
us, puffing at a long cigar. All his men were
smoking cigars, and it was indeed difficult that
morning to find a Highlander without a cigar. He
invited us into a large chamber cut out of the rock,
from which a wide staircase descended into an
enormous dug-out. The chamber was panelled
deliciously with coloured woods and decorated with
choice prints. Our host produced a bottle of good
claret, and we drank to the health of the Fifty-first
Division.

176 A COMPANY OF TANKS

A few German prisoners, with a large, stiff
sergeant-major at the head of them, were halted
outside while their escort snatched a hurried
breakfast. The sergeant-major was trying earnestly
to make himself understood. He seemed to have
something important to say. His escort became
impatient and irritated, but, before proceeding to
more summary punishment, the corporal in charge
brought him to me.

The sergeant-major explained to me rapidly that
the place would undoubtedly be shelled. He knew
that his artillery had already registered upon it.
He realised that as a prisoner he must do as he was
bid, but he besought me to instruct his escort to
breakfast a little farther on. His words were con-
firmed immediately by a large shell which exploded
in the bank above our heads.

I handed over the problem to a Highland officer
who had come in for shelter, and we, who had
already dallied longer than we had intended, left the
corpses, the wine, and the panelled chamber. . . .

In fifty yards or so the cutting came to an end,
and we found ourselves in the open with a tank
a hundred yards away. We walked to it and dis-
covered my section-commander, Wyatt, with Morris,
who had been hit in the shoulder. They told me
that we were held up outside Flesquieres, which
was being cleverly defended by field-guns. Several
tanks had already been knocked out and others had
nearly finished their petrol. And there was an un-
pleasant rumour that Marris was killed.

We took to a narrow half-completed communi-
cation trench and pushed on up the hill towards

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 177

the village, meeting the survivors of two crews of
another battalion, whose tanks had been knocked
out in endeavouring to enter Flesquieres from the
east along the crest of the ridge. The trench was
being shelled. From the sound of the guns it
appeared that they were only a few hundred
yards away. We walked steadily up the trench
until we came to the railway embankment, five or
six hundred yards from the outskirts of the village,
and we could go no farther, for on the other side
of the embankment were the enemy and some of
my tanks.

Leaving Cooper to keep in touch with the situa-
tion, I hurried back two miles to the nearest
battalion headquarters with my runner. The in-
fantry Colonel would not believe my report. He
was assured that everything was going well, and,
according to programme, we must be well beyond
Flesquieres. So I sent a couple of messages to my
own Colonel, whose headquarters were at those of
the infantry brigade with which we were operating.
I pointed out to the infantry Colonel that, if we
had taken Flesquieres, it was difficult to account for
the machine-gun fire which apparently was coming
from the neighbourhood of the village, and half-con-
vinced, he sent his Scout Officer with me to find
out what was happening generally, and to endeavour
in particular to approach Flesquieres from the west.

We set out at once, taking our direction by a
little copse which lies on the hillside a mile or so to
the west of Flesquieres itself.

We were tramping across the open down, happily
exposed, when the Battalion Scout Officer was coo-

M

178 A COMPANY OF TANKS

vinced by a long burst of machine-gun fire that at
least the western end of the village was still held
by the enemy. A spent bullet struck the heel of
my boot. We hurried on with more haste than
dignity, and looking towards the village, I thought
I could catch the flash of the gun in the window
of a large white house. A particularly unpleasant
burst and the Scout Officer was crawling on his
hands and knees towards a convenient trench. At
that moment I knew no one wiser than the Scout
Officer, and I followed his example. For the next
five minutes the man in the window of the large
white house must have enjoyed himself thoroughly.
The air sang with bullets. With tremendous care
we continued to crawl, until after a Hfetime of
suspense we came to within fifty yards of the trench.
I jumped up and dashed forward, the Scout Officer
and our two runners following me, and in a moment
we were lighting our pipes and feeling acutely that
somebody had made a fool of us both. We parted
stiffly. The Scout Officer trotted down the hill to
solve the doubts of his battalion commander. I
pushed on again towards Flesquieres, keeping to
the trench until the curve of the hill interfered with
the view of the machine-gunner in the large white
house.

Since there was little hope that I should be
allowed to approach too closely to the village,
I walked to the battalion rallying-place under shelter
of the railway embankment, a mile or so to the
west of the section where I had been held up a few
hours previously. I found a few tanks there and the
survivors of some crews.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 179

I gathered that all attacks on the village had been
unsuccessful. A few field-guns, cleverly sited in
ruins and behind hedges, had knocked out at least
a dozen tanks. The infantry, bereft of tanks, had
been unable to advance. It had been a stubborn
and skilful defence.

Of my eleven tanks four had been knocked out.
S., brooding over his misfortune on the Poelcapelle
Road, had engaged in a duel with a field-gun ; his
tank had been hit fair and square by the surviving
gunners, and it was thought that he and his crew
were either casualties or prisoners. The majority
of the remaining three crews had succeeded in
getting away. F. and one of his sergeants had
shown the utmost gallantry in collecting the
wounded under fire and rallying the men.

The other companies of my own battalion, and
that company of another battalion which had
attacked Flesquieres from the east, had met a similar
fate. The village was surrounded with derelict
tanks, like a boar at bay with dead hounds. Marris
himself, who had gone forward in one of his tanks,
was missing, and it was said that he was killed.

Of my remaining seven tanks three had been
ditched. Two of these unfortunates in their eager-
ness to kill had coUided and slipped together inex-
tricably into a trench. The remainder had rallied,
and were ready, if necessary, to go forward again,
but they were alarmingly short of petrol, and the
tank with the supply-sledge had broken down. It
was impossible, too, at this stage, to secure the
necessary co-operation with the infantry, and an
attack made by tanks alone would obviously fail.

i8o A COMPANY OF TANKS

We were about to start down the hill when I
received a message to rally in the Grand Ravine,
the title of the insignificant valley behind the front
system of the German trenches. I had already sent
some of my men to the regimental headquarters in
the Sunken Road for food and shelter. I now ordered
the remainder of my men to rally there after they
had left their tanks under a skeleton guard in the
Ravine itself.

An hour later we set out from the Sunken Road
on our weary tramp back to the camp in Havrin-
court Wood. It was late in the afternoon. We
were inexpressibly tired, and of course it began to
rain steadily. We plodded along, passing guns,
limbers, infantry coming up to make good the
victory. The five miles were like fifty, and a year
at least went by before we staggered into camp,
slipping feebly in the mud. . . .

The adjutant was much distressed, for he had
had no news of the Colonel, who apparently had
left the infantry brigade headquarters early in the
day. A pile of messages were waiting for him,
including, to my chagrin, those which I had sent
him in such haste when I had discovered that the
Highlanders were held up at the railway embank-
ment. It was after nine, and I was wondering
whether or not to inform the brigade, when the
Colonel came in with Cooper.

The Colonel, who had gone forward early in the
battle, had found Cooper in the communication
trench by the embankment, where I had left him
with Jumbo to keep in touch with the situation.
In the afternoon they had collected a few tanks

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI i8i

and sent them into Flesquieres. The tanks had
paraded through the outskirts of the village, and
not a shot was fired at them ; but later, when the
infantry attacked again, the enemy came up from
their hiding-places and let fly with machine-guns.
At dusk Flesquieres was still inviolate.

We cared little about anything, except sleep. The
Colonel told us that we should not be required on
the next day. So after a meal and a pipe we turned
in for the night.

l82

CHAPTER XI.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI — BOURLON WOOD.
{November ixst to zyd, iQi?-)

In the morning we were able to look soberly at the
situation. We had entered Flesquieres at dawn :
the gallant, stubborn major who had defended the
village so skilfully with his guns was killed in the
final assault. On the left we had swept forward
to the outskirts of Bourlon Wood, and tanks of
" G " Battalion, including one detached tank of
** D " Battalion, had actually reached Bourlon
village, but we had not been able to enter the
wood, for the few infantry who had reached it
were utterly exhausted and the cavalry never
appeared to carry on the attack. " G " Battalion
had covered themselves with glory.

On the right we were everywhere through the
Hindenburg System, although in places there had
been bitter fighting. At Marcoing, Hamond had
made a gallant but unsuccessful attempt to force
a crossing by driving a tank into the Canal when
the enemy had blown up the bridge,^ intending to
drive a second tank over the first, but the Canal
was too deep. Of the cavalry which arrived later

^ It was incorrectly reported later that the tank had fallen through
the bridge. I have obtained the facts from Major P. Hamond,
D.S.O., M.C., who was in command of the tanks at the bridge.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 183

in the day a few of the Fort Garry Horse alone
had been able to cross by the foot-bridges. We
had not reached Cambrai — we had not even occu-
pied Bourlon Wood — but it was reported that there
were few troops in front of us and that these were
retiring northwards. It was decided, in conse-
quence, to exploit the initial success.

We did not know it at the time, but it was too
late. If only the cavalry had pushed forward into
Bourlon Wood on the first day, when, according
to all reports, it was held only by a bunch of
machine-gunners! But it is not for a company
commander to criticise, and I do not presume to
do so. I am expressing merely a pious aspiration.

We ourselves had lost Ward, Harris, and a third
of our men and tanks. It was almost impossible
to believe that we should never see again **Roc"
Ward, the great athlete, the very embodiment of
energy, the skilled leader of men, the best of good
fellows — and never hear again his enormous voice
rolling out full-blooded instructions. As for Harris,
we hoped that he might have been captured, but
we feared that he was dead.^ In my company we
had lost S., a stout tank commander,^ and several
of my best drivers.

We were able, however, to form two strong com-
panies, of which I commanded one and Cooper
the other, and we set to work in the afternoon of
the 2ist to put our tanks again in order.

On the morning of the 22nd we received orders
to collect every available tank and move to Grain-
court - lez - Havrincourt, a large village two miles

^ He was seriously wounded and captured.
^ Captured.

iS4 A COMPANY OF TANKS

north of Flesquieres, with a view to attacking
Bourlon Wood early on the 23rd.

We first concentrated our tanks in the Grand
Ravine, and endeavoured to load up with sufficient
stores for the coming battle ; but supplies were hard
to get, and finally we were told that a large dump
would be established at the chapel on the Flesquieres
road, half a mile out of Havrincourt. Foolishly
credulous, I moved my tanks to the appointed place
and waited for the dump to appear.

We had, however, entered the state of open war-
fare, and we soon began to realise its disadvantages.
My messengers scoured the countryside without
success, and at last, when it grew dusk, I despaired
and sent on my tanks to Graincourt, intending to
arrange that my share of the dump, wherever it
might be, should follow them.

I was unable to accompany my tanks, for I had
been bidden to attend a Brigade Conference at this
most desolate shrine. I had an hour to spare, and
I spent it pleasantly enough in a neighbouring com-
fortable dug-out, where a machine-gunner enter-
tained me to a magnificent meal of coffee, hot
salmon cakes, and plentiful bread and butter.

When I returned to the shrine, I found the
battalion and company commanders of the brigade
waiting for the brigade staff. It was chilly with a
fluster of rain, my throat was sore, and I longed
to return to the warm dug-out, but I did not dare.
We waited for an hour and a half until our tempers
were frayed and we had finished our stock of good
stories. At last an officer from the brigade
happened to pass by, and, taking pity on us, he

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 185

informed us casually that the conference was now
in full session at Havrincourt Chateau. He was
sorry we had not been told of the change of place.
We were all so tired and cold and hungry that
for a moment nobody spoke. Finally, the Colonel
expressed our feelings, and we tramped into
Havrincourt.

It was rather a one-sided conference. Generals
and people of real importance dashed in and out
of rooms. I learned by cross-examination that the
dump was somewhere on the road between Havrin-
court and Graincourt — he was sorry we had not
been told, but of course it was for company com-
manders to find those things out for themselves —
and the Colonel discovered that we should attack
in the morning with the Fortieth Division.

After this interesting discussion we went out into
the night and trudged painfully through Flesquieres,
where the battered houses looked a little self-
conscious in the dim moonlight, to Graincourt
itself. The battalion advance party had discovered
excellent cellars, safe though damp. I left the
Colonel and went in search of my tanks, hoping
against hope that by some miracle they had run
across the dump which was believed by the brigade
staff to be somewhere east of Havrincourt.

I found my tanks where they should be, but, to
my utter dismay, the only officers with them had
not come with the column, and did not know
whether the tanks had been ** filled" or not. X.,
an officer from another company, who was acting
temporarily as my second-in-command, was in a
dug-out near by, they told me, but nobody knew

i86 A COMPANY OF TANKS

where the dug-out was. I began an endless and
intolerable search. Every bank, road, field, or
trench in the neighbourhood of Graincourt had its
dug-outs. There were hundreds of dug-outs within
quarter of a mile of my tanks. I might have been
a dog looking for its master in London ; and it was
of the most urgent necessity that I should know for
certain what my tanks had on board. I could not
even find out for myself — the tanks, quite properly,
were locked. I rushed from dug-out to dug-out,
rousing an infinite multitude of sleepy officers and
men. I quartered the ground scientifically. I
followed every possible clue. How could I possibly
go back to the Colonel and tell him that I did
not know whether my tanks could fight on the
morrow or not ? The situation would have been
ridiculous, if it had not been so serious. I nearly
wept with rage.

I had searched for three hours or more and the
dawn was near, when, returning in utter despair to
battalion headquarters, I was greeted by a familiar
voice. It was X. ! Thinking that I would surely
arrive by the Havrincourt Road, he had taken
possession of a dug-out on the side of that road,
half a mile or more out of the village. My tanks
had been lucky. On their way from the shrine they
had by chance run right into the middle of the
errant dump. Little damage had been done, and
though the dump was not as large as it might
have been, they had been able to take on board
stores sufficient for one day's fighting.

It was no time for speeches. I reported our

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI

187

success to the Colonel, who informed me that
*' zero " would be at 10.30 a.m. My composite
company was detailed to co-operate with the
infantry, who were attacking up the hill imme-
diately to the west of the wood itself. Cooper's
company was to be on my left. " E " Battalion was
to advance along the ridge from the west with the
Ulster Division, and '* G " Battalion was to clear
the wood. On the right, that is to the east of the
wood, companies of the 2nd Tank Brigade were to
assist the infantry to capture Fontaine- Notre-Dame,
and to complete an encircling movement round the
north-eastern outskirts of the wood. We should
all meet, it was hoped, in Bourlon village. A
rough diagram may make the plan clear.

Bourlon
Village

coopers ^^^,7^"^
Company J^39^=^^^y -

y/Anneux

Fontalne-Notre-Dame

BankSi

^^\^,^Graincourt
High Ground

I mile
approx.

i88 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Neither my tank commanders nor I had even
seen Bourlon Wood, and we knew our front line
only by the map. Further, we had not met the
infantry with whom we were to co-operate. These,
however, were trifling difficulties. Experts who had
seen the wood told me it was plain enough to the
eye. I hoped for the best, wrote a few orders, and
snatched an hour's sleep. . . .

Our tanks were parked in the western outskirts
of Graincourt. An hour after dawn they drew clear
of the village, and it may be presumed that the
enemy observed them, but he displayed no interest.
At dawn he had shelled a little. When dawn had
passed and we had made no attack, the shelling
ceased. It did not occur to him that we might
attack in the middle of the morning, and he settled
down to a quiet day.

At g A.M. my tanks were just about to move off,
when I received a disturbing message from the
Colonel. " G " would not be able to arrive in time
— their supplies had gone astray — one of my two
sections was to tackle the wood itself. The situa-
tion was a trifle humorous, but I solemnly gave
the necessary orders, instructing four of my tanks
to assist the 40th Division in the capture of
Bourlon Wood.

My tanks started for the battle, and after a little
breakfast I walked to the high ground south-west of
the village, and watched through my glasses the
opening moves of the attack.

Across the foreground of the picture ran the great
highroad from Bapaume to Cambrai. It was wide,
perfectly straight, and fringed with orderly trees.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 189

Beyond it and to my left was a low hill, which the
enemy still held. Our line ran diagonally up the
slope of it, and away to the west we were on the
ridge. Immediately in front of me on the hillside
was the great dark mass of Bourlon Wood, square
and impenetrable, covering the highest point of the
hill and stretching over the skyline to the farther
slope, which we could not see. The wood domi-
nated the whole countryside, and beyond it there
was nothing but low open country, extending to the
marshes of the Scarpe. We could not live north of
Havrincourt while the enemy held the wood, and if
we captured the wood there was nothing to prevent
us from sweeping northwards to the Scarpe or west-
wards into Cambrai. At the moment our line ran
along the southern outskirts of the wood and to the
south of Fontaine, which the enemy held in force.

At 10.30 A.M. the barrage fell and we could see it
climb, like a living thing, through the wood and up
the hillside, a rough line of smoke and flame.^ On
the hillside to the left of the wood we could mark
the course of the battle, — the tanks with tiny flashes
darting from their flanks — clumps of infantry follow-
ing in little rushes — an officer running in front of his
men, until suddenly he crumpled up and fell, as
though some unseen hammer had struck him on the
head — the men wavering in the face of machine-gun
fire and then spreading out to surround the gun —
the wounded staggering painfully down the hill, and
the stretcher-bearers moving backwards and forwards
in the wake of the attack — the aeroplanes skimming
low along the hillside, and side-slipping to rake the
enemy trenches with their guns,

igo A COMPANY OF TANKS

We watched one tank hesitate before it crossed
the skyline and our hearts went out to the driver
in sympathy. He made his decision, and the tank,
brown against the sky, was instantly encircled by
little puffs of white smoke, shells from the guns
on the reverse slope. The man was brave, for he
followed the course of a trench along the crest of
the hill. My companion uttered a low exclamation
of horror. Flames were coming from the rear of
the tank, but its guns continued to fire and the
tank continued to move. Suddenly the driver must
have realised what was happening. The tank swung
towards home. It was too late. Flames burst from
the roof and the tank stopped, but the sponson doors
never opened and the crew never came out. . . .
When I left my post half an hour later the tank
was still burning. . . .

At noon I determined to push forward into the
wood and discover what had happened to my tanks.
We skirted the village, walked along a sunken road
lined by dug-outs, and started to cross the low
ground between us and the road. I at once began
to wonder whether it was not perhaps a little early
yet to go forward. The path to the highroad was
the object of direct or indirect machine-gun lire,
and an officer, who was sitting in a trench, told me
cheerfully that Cooper and Smith, his second-in-
command, had already been hit by chance bullets.
We pushed on, however, to the inn on the highroad,
and as the road was being shelled, we took to the
ditch until a shell, bursting in the ditch itself, per-
suaded us to use the road. We did not get very far,
and soon we returned to the top of the bank at

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI igi

the side of the sunken road. By this time " G "
Battalion were beginning to arrive and their tanks
were moving across to Anneux Chapel.

After lunch I went forward again and reached a
clearing on the south side of the wood, where the
tanks had been ordered to rally. The enemy must
have realised our intention, for the clearing was
being shelled most systematically. The only tank
in the clearing belonged to another battalion. The
crew, realising their danger and a little lost, evacu-
ated their tank and joined me in a small quarry
where I had temporarily taken cover.

I left the quarry during a lull and walked up a
sunken road into the wood, but I soon realised, first,
that I should never find my tanks by tramping after
them, and second, that I should be infinitely happier
in my quarry. So I returned and spent the next
hour in watching the rallying-place and in moving
at intervals from one side of the quarry to the other.
The news was moderately good. The 40th Divi-
sion, assisted by my few tanks, had driven the
astonished Germans to the further fringes of the
wood, and were now mopping up a few pockets
of the enemy who were still holding out in the
vain hope that they would be rescued by counter-
attacks. But on the right — so I was told by two
immaculate young cavalry subalterns who were
reconnoitring forward — Fontaine was defying our
sternest efforts.

About three I saw a couple of tanks cross the
road at the inn, three-quarters of a mile away. So,
as one shell had already burst on the lip of the
quarry, I hastened to the cross-roads at Anneux

192 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Chapel on my way back to Graincourt. At the
cross-roads I met an infantry battalion coming up
to complete the clearance of the north-west corner
of the wood. The Colonel asked me whether my
tanks would assist him. I told him that they were
already in action. It was indeed a pity that ** G "
Battalion, which did not arrive until after the main
portion of the wood was in our hands, had not been
held in reserve for such an emergency.^

I reached battalion headquarters about 4 p.m.
Both Bourlon village and Fontaine -Notre -Dame
were holding out. It was reported, too, that
"E" Battalion had suffered very heavily.

I walked along to my dug-out, where I discovered
that the majority of my tanks had already returned
in safety. They had realised the danger of rallying
at the clearing and had come back direct to their
starting-point, followed all the way by the German
gunners.

Two of the tanks, commanded by Lloyd and
Hemming, had successfully crossed the ridge and
entered Bourlon village, but the infantry were
prevented by the intense machine-gun fire from
occupying the place. Two more of my tanks had
experienced such concentrated machine-gun fire
themselves that every man in them was wounded by
flying splinters, including Wyatt, who had com-
manded his section from a tank.

All the tanks had done their work well, having
assisted the infantry to the limit of their advance.
All of them reported that they had been given
excellent targets, while our own casualties were

1 But it was *' G" Batta,lion that captured the wood a year later,

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 193

astonishingly light. For us it was a most satis-
factory day, spoilt only by the fact that Wyatt and
Cooper had been wounded.

My last tank had just come in when the enemy,
furious at the loss of the wood, began to shell
Graincourt with " heavy stuff." The Colonel,
realising what must happen, had already departed
for the calm of Havrincourt Wood, while we were
out of the danger area. To the accompaniment
of distant crashes we sat down to our evening
meal. ...

194

CHAPTER XII.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI — GOUZEAUCOURT.
{November 24/A to December isf, 19 17.)

It was pleasant enough to wake up in the musty
candle-lit dug-out, sniff at the frying bacon', and
murmur —

*' Yesterday we helped the 40th Division to take
Bourlon Wood. Two of my tanks crossed the ridge
and entered Bourlon village. All my tanks have
returned. A thoroughly sound and altogether satis-
factory day's work. . . ."

The morning was fine and fresh, with a nip in
the air. We breakfasted cheerily, and then, after
a last look at the great wood, unchanged and im-
perturbable, I started to tramp the six miles back
to Havrincourt Wood, leaving the others to follow
with those tanks that had not come in until dusk
on the preceding day. It was an exhilarating walk
through the ruins of Havrincourt, past the enormous
crater in the road, over the old trenches, and
through Trescault, since transport and troops
were pouring forward.

But in the afternoon we were told that the
battle of the 23rd had been a most incomplete and
melancholy success. ** E " Battalion, which had

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 195

attacked along the ridge from the direction of
Mceuvres, had lost the majority of their tanks.
Five of their tanks were still missing, and their
casualties had been ghastly. On our right the
fighting had been heavy indeed. Fontaine had
remained in German hands, and the 2nd Tank
Brigade had been quite unable, in consequence, to
complete their enveloping movement. Finally, at
dawn the enemy had counter-attacked and retaken
the northern half of the wood itself.

It is not for me to relate the history of the pitiful
struggle during the next few days, when the great
wood was drenched with gas and half-destroyed
by shells. I did not see Bourlon again until exactly
a year later, when I passed to the north of it on
my way from Arras to Cambrai for a court-martial.
If only the cavalry could have taken it on the 20th,
according to plan, when it was defended merely
by a handful of machine-guns !

We began to make ourselves thoroughly com-
fortable in Havrincourt Wood, and "temporary
structures" arose with astounding rapidity. My
own Armstrong Hut, which had followed me for
four months like a faithful dog, arrived at last,
together with certain kit which had been left at
Meaulte, so that we might not be over-burdened in
our pursuit of the enemy through the streets of
Cambrai. We felt a trifle guilty in our luxury as
we watched the grim infantry going forward to
the dark terrors of Bourlon, and my men in their
kindness would give them part of their rations,
for, during these days, the rations of the infantry
were painfully short. But war is war, and, putting
Bourlon out of our minds, we made an expedition

ig6 A COMPANY OF TANKS

to Bapaume, had tea at the officers' club, a hair-
cut and a shampoo, bought potatoes and eggs and
dined sumptuously.

Only an inspection on the 29th depressed us,
for nothing can be more depressing than an inspec-
tion. As usual, we had such a lengthy wait before
the arrival of the General that, with all due respect,
we thought of little except the end of his speech.
And, if we had been Romans, we should have cried
out in horror, for, during the parade, an enemy
aeroplane brought down in flames one of our obser-
vation balloons. It was a most inauspicious omen,
and that evening I went to bed with an unquiet
mind. . . .

We had received orders to entrain within the
week at Fins, a railhead about three miles south of
Metz-en-Couture, and we had been preparing our
tanks for the journey. None of them were now in a
proper condition to fight, and most of them needed
a thorough overhaul before we could attempt even
the short trek to Fins with any feeling of security.
Our work had been delayed further by a temporary
stoppage in the supply of spare parts. This, how-
ever, gave us little cause for anxiety, since there
was a whole week in front of us.

Early in the morning of the 30th, Battalion
Headquarters, with all our motor-cars and lorries,
left Havrincourt Wood for Meaulte, our destination
and rumoured winter quarters.

If my narrative is to be truthful, I must confess
that I was asleep in bed when the Colonel departed,
and that we did not breakfast until g.30 a.m. We
had barely sat down when we noticed that strange
things were happening, and we walked out of the

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 197

wood into the open to investigate. We could hear
distinctly bursts of machine-gun fire, although
the line should have been six miles away at least.
German field-gun shells — we could not be mis-
taken— were falling on the crest of a hill not three-
quarters of a mile from the camp. On our left, that
is to the north, there was heavy gun fire. On our
right, in the direction of Gouzeaucourt, shells were
falling, and there were continuous bursts of machine-
gun fire.

We had not fully realised what was happening,
when a number of wounded infantrymen came
straggling past. I questioned them. They told me
that the enemy was attacking everywhere, that he
had broken through near Gouzeaucourt, capturing
many guns, and was, to the best of their belief,
still advancing.

This was cheerful news and made me think hard.
Look at this rough diagram —

ig8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Our line on the 29th formed a bulge or salient.
I knew the enemy had attacked at A and had broken
through. I suspected from the heavy gun fire that
he was attacking at B. If these two attacks were
successful, our troops inside the bulge would be
surrounded and the two attacking forces would
meet in the neighbourhood of the + on the
diagram.^ But the + also represented my own
position on the morning of the 30th, with a batch
of tanks in every stage of disrepair and the Colonel
by now at Meaulte.

I hurried to the camp of ** E " Battahon, a
hundred yards away, but that battalion was tem-
porarily under the command of a captain, as the
Colonel and the three company commanders had
preceded their tanks in the move to Meaulte. "G"
Battalion, the third battalion of the brigade, was
encamped on the farther side of the wood, four
miles distant, and I had no time to go and see who
was in command of it. Besides, the Colonel's car
had disappeared with the Colonel, and I had no
transport except three battered motor-cycles.

So I assumed command of the two battalions
and gave instructions for all tanks that were in any
way mobile to be filled and loaded. This took a
little time, as the petrol dump was some distance
away, and we had no lorries. Then, as it seemed
to me that if we were about to fight — and I certainly
did not intend to withdraw — we should probably
be surrounded, I collected those officers and men
who were not actually needed to fight the tanks,

^ It was known later that the two attacking forces were instructed
to meet at Metz, a mile or so from my camp.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI igg

and ordered Field, whom I placed in charge, to
march them back to Royaulcourt, where I hoped
that they would be out of the way.

After I had made these preliminary arrangements
I started with Spencer, my servant, in search of the
nearest Divisional Headquarters. I had then no
idea which or where it was. By this time all
the roads into Metz were blocked with transport
of every description. The enemy gunners were
endeavouring to register on the Trescault road, but
they were shooting consistently short or over, and
a couple of " shorts " gave Spencer and myself the
fright of our lives.

In Metz we discovered the headquarters of the
Guards Division. I reported to the Divisional
Commander that I was the proud possessor of an
odd collection of second-hand tanks. He was not
much impressed, but wired the news to his corps
and told me to wait for orders.

The cross-roads in Metz about ii a.m. on the
30th November 1917 would have gratified any
German. In spite of the desultory shelling there
was, of course, no panic, but the thick confused
stream of traffic pouring westwards was unpleasant.
It reminded me too vividly of Estrees on the after-
noon of Le Cateau, three years before. Mingled
with the transport were odd groups of men, the
survivors of batteries, stragglers who had lost their
units, walking wounded — bitter, because they felt
that this sudden counter-attack should have been
prevented, and sullen, because although they realised
that Metz was no place for men who could fight,
they did not know what to do or where to go.

200 A COMPANY OF TANKS

There is nothing so tragical as the bewilderment
of a broken army. For every man who retires
because he is afraid, there are a thousand who
retire because they are not organised to advance.

The A.P.M. proved himself a man indeed. One
minute he would be out in the traffic lashing the
drivers with a stinging tongue, until, literally
frightened, they would perform marvels of driving,
and so disentangle a block of traffic. Another
minute he would drive a bunch of stragglers into
the courtyard, consigning them with deep oaths to
the lowest hell. Or he would interrupt passionately
with a wealth of curses a gunner subaltern with
three men, who, with tears in his voice, was trying
to explain that they alone of his battery had sur-
vived, and that they had at least saved the breech-
blocks and the sights. The A.P.M. was a huge man
with mad blue eyes, but, thanks to his intolerant
fury, the stream of traffic continued to flow, and no
possible fighting man passed beyond Metz. My
own servant, who had lost me in the crowd, was
arrested as a straggler.

At about 12 noon a message came through from
the Corps —

** One battalion of tanks will attack Gouzeaucourt
from direction of Fins, and one battalion of tanks
from direction of Heudecourt." ^

The General considered that this message was an
order for me to attack with my two battalions, but as
both Fins and Heudecourt were further from me
than Gouzeaucourt, which the enemy had taken,
I read the message as a piece of information.

^ I quote from memory, but I am certain of the words "will attack."

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 201

Probably two battalions of the 2nd Brigade were
about to advance. The General, however, desired
me to attack.^

I walked back to the wood, and found that in
my absence the tanks had been drawn up in line
at intervals of one hundred yards to defend the
Trescault-Metz road. This unnecessary deployment
caused delay, but by i p.m. " E " Battalion had
moved off to attack Gouzeaucourt from the west,
and the tanks of my own battalion to attack the
village by the shortest possible route. I did not
know how many of the tanks would reach Gouzeau-
court. They were all quite decrepit.

When I had seen my tanks under way I returned
to Metz, reported, and waited for further orders.
The situation was distinctly obscure. We knew
that the enemy had not been able to debouch from
Gouzeaucourt, and soon we learnt that the Irish
Guards had retaken the village at the point of the
bayonet, but the corps told us that enemy cavalry
were said to be in Heudecourt, a village south of
Fins, and well behind our line. The news from the
north was reassuring. Apparently the enemy attack
on that flank had been broken.

The tanks of my own battalion had arrived at
Gouzeaucourt too late to assist the Irish Guards,
but the sight of the tanks on the ridge to the west
of the village may have assisted in the discourage-
ment of the enemy, since he made no further effort
to advance, although, if he had known it, there
was little enough in front of him. Finally, acting

^ It was in fact intended to inform the General that two battalions
of the 2nd Tank Brigade would attack from the directions indicated.

202 A COMPANY OF TANKS

under the orders of the infantry commanders on the
spot, my tanks withdrew to the neighbourhood of
Gouzeaucourt Wood, half-way between Gouzeaucourt
and Metz. Of " E " Battalion I had heard nothing
as yet.

I went back to camp, where I found that steps
were being taken to send rations out to the crews.
Just before dusk I received a message from the
Colonel, instructing me not to become involved and
to report to Colonel Hankey commanding ** G "
Battalion. So Jumbo and I, by now more than
weary, tramped round the wood, and after an hour's
hard walking came to the *' G " Battalion bivouac.
I explained the situation to the Colonel, who was
most kind and understanding, and informed him
that I had placed myself under the orders of the
Guards Division, and proposed to continue to offer
that Division any help that was possible. Colonel
Hankey agreed.

While I was with Colonel Hankey, our Brigade-
Major arrived and told us that a lot of nice sound
tanks were coming up for our use. He was astonished
that I had more than twenty mobile tanks under my
command. It seemed that in an official return to
the brigade we had shown only one tank as ** fit for
action." However, he appreciated the course we
had taken, and confirmed Colonel Hankey's instruc-
tion that I should continue to operate with the
Guards Division.

I trudged back to camp through the mud, and, after
a little food, finding that no orders had come for me,
I walked into Metz, which was by now free of traffic.

The General was arranging a counter-attack at

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 203

dawn on Gonnelieu and the ridge to the south of it.
Gonnelieu was a small village on high ground
commanding Gouzeaucourt, and its recapture would
be the first step towards regaining the valuable
ground that we had lost. To the south of Gouzeau-
court a dismounted cavalry Division had managed
to form some sort of line, and this Division would
co-operate with the Guards Division in the counter-
attack proposed.

The General and his G. S.O.I, were determining
the form which the counter-attack should take.
We were in a dim and bare schoolroom. The
candles on the General's table threw the rest of the
room into deep shadow. Outside there was low
eager talking in the courtyard, the tramp of a sentry,
the rhythmical rattle of a limbered waggon with
horses trotting, a man singing quietly, the sudden
impertinent roar of a motor-cycle, the shouting of
a driver, and then the silly whine and the clear
reverberating crash of a shell bursting by night
among houses. The General was speaking evenly,
without emphasis. . . .

I was called into consultation. Apparently a
battalion of tanks from the 2nd Brigade now lay
at Gouzeaucourt Wood, ready to assist the Guards.
We discussed the counter-attack, and a decision
was made. It was becoming dangerously late. The
staff-officer hurriedly began to write orders. I left
the schoolroom and started to walk up the hill
through the frozen night to Gouzeaucourt Wood.

Outside the wood in a rough plantation I dis-
covered the headquarters of a brigade of Guards,
and with them the colonel of the tank battalion,

204 A COMPANY OF TANKS

with whom I arranged that my tanks should attack
Gonnelieu itself, while his tanks should advance
with the infantry against the ridge to the south of
that village.

A message came through to me from the captain
temporarily in command of ** E " Battalion that he
had lost touch with his tanks, and did not know
where they were now. I was in consequence forced
to rely upon " D " Battalion alone.

I found my section commanders, and instructed
them to move their tanks round Gouzeaucourt Wood,
and concentrate to the east of it, so that they could
go forward to their final positions prior to the attack
without difficulty. I foolishly did not make certain
myself that they had sufficient petrol for the fight.

Then I walked over the short grass round the
northern outskirts of the wood in search of another
brigade headquarters, and ran them to ground in
a large tent pitched in the open on the downs.
Luckily for me it was a clear night, with a moon
and no clouds. The brigade commander had not
yet received his orders, and he told me to find the
colonel of a certain battalion of Grenadier Guards,
warn him that we should make a counter-attack on
Gonnelieu at dawn, and arrange, as far as was
possible, pending orders from the division, the lines
on which my tanks would assist.

I tramped on over the cold bare downs — it was
now about midnight — until, to my relief, I struck
the sunken road coming from Trescault. I followed
it, and, just short of the first houses in Gouzeaucourt,
I found the headquarters for which I was looking in
a dug-out at the side of the road.

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 205

The Colonel had just returned from an inspec-
tion of his outposts. The division on the left was
working forward from the north towards Gonnelieu,
and the Colonel had been listening to and watching
the enemy machine-guns. The village was thick
with them. It was doubtful if the division would be
able to advance farther.

I gave him my message, and after a few minutes'
discussion he sat down to write his orders. The
Colonel of the Welsh Guards arrived, and together
they analysed the situation. ... I hesitate to write
of the Guards, and I dare not describe the scene.

I was about to go back to my tanks when two of
my officers suddenly appeared, bringing the worst
possible news. The tanks had run short of petrol !
Their commanders in the hurry and excitement of
the day naturally had not realised how much
they had used. And it had not been intended
that after they had entered Gouzeaucourt they
should withdraw all the way to Gouzeaucourt
Wood. There was no transport. The lorries
were with the Colonel. In any case it was too
late. And the attack would take place in five
hours — the Guards were relying on our tanks —
Gonnelieu was crammed full of machine-guns.
The Colonel had just said so.

I felt sick and frightened. My mind flew back to
a morning when I was late for school and stood
outside the door, desperate and trembling, miserably
wondering whether it would be worse to go in and
face the smiles of the class and the cutting words of
the master, or to stop away for the whole day on the
plea that I was really ill. The Guards were relying

2o6 A COMPANY OF TANKS

on our tanks, and Gonnelieu was crammed full of
machine-guns!

A moment before I had listened in apprehension to
the shells bursting along the sunken road. Now,
throwing my officers a few brief instructions, I
dashed up the road, and regardless of shells or any-
thing else, I ran at top speed back to the Brigade
Headquarters in the large tent, two miles away. It
was an eternity before I came choking to the tent
and rushed to the telephone. I called up the colonel
of the other tank battalion and besought him
to send at least a section against Gonnelieu, for I
did not know how many of my tanks would have
sufficient petrol to enter the battle. He replied that
his tanks had already started for their final positions,
but he promised that he would do what he could.

I explained the situation shortly to the brigadier
and then hurried off to my tanks. I found the crews
endeavouring, with little success, to siphon the petrol
from one tank to another. At last, when it had
become too late to do more, I sent off those tanks
which had any petrol at all in them, hoping that
by some miracle they would be able to join in the
attack. I had done all 1 could. I slunk back to
Brigade Headquarters and waited in anguish for the
dawn. The downs were lonely and cruel that night.

There was nothing of a barrage, for our heavy
guns were in the hands of the enemy or dismantled
in Gouzeaucourt or without ammunition. A slight
bombardment and the Guards stormed up the hill.
No news came to us at Brigade Headquarters, but
we could hear with terrible distinctness the never-
ending chatter of the enemy machine-guns. We

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 207

tried to deceive ourselves and to imagine that these
machine-guns were our own, but we knew our
deceit, and we knew, too, that if we had carried the
hill and were fighting on the farther slopes of it, we
should hear little of the machine-guns.

About 7.30 A.M. — it was the morning of December
ist — the brigadier and I tramped over the hillside
to the sunken road at Gouzeaucourt, passing several
machine - gun pits cunningly camouflaged. We
crossed the ridge, and as we began to descend I
saw for the first time Gouzeaucourt, a cheerful little
town in the valley, and Gonnelieu, a jumbled village
set on the hillside beyond with the white stones
conspicuous in its cemetery, and a church. In a
large field below us and on the edge of Gouzeau-
court were hutments, shelled and deserted. They
had been left in a hurry, and before one hut was
a table laid for breakfast with a real tablecloth.
Over Gouzeaucourt and in front of Gonnelieu
shrapnel was bursting lazily.

The sunken road was full of wounded. We came
to the headquarters which I had visited. They
were occupied now by another battalion of Grenadier
Guards. For the battalion which I had met in
the middle of the night were fighting desperately
in the cemetery at Gonnelieu.

The news was disquieting. The Grenadier
Guards had not been able to force an entry into
the village, while the Welsh Guards on their right
had made little progress. Both battalions had
lost practically all their officers. They had been
withdrawn and replaced by fresh battalions. The
dismounted cavalry had managed to establish them-

2o8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

selves on the ridge with the help of tanks, but they
could make no farther advance until Gonnelieu was
cleared. Tanks could be seen on the slopes of the
hill. Two, silhouetted against the skyline, were
burning fiercely. Of my own tanks nothing could
be heard. The Colonel was doing vaHant things
in Gonnelieu.

Then came a grave rumour : " The Colonel is
badly wounded ! " but a moment later he walked
into the dug-out, his arm in a rough sling and his
face drawn with pain. They persuaded him against
his will to go to the main dressing station. . . .
The wounded were streaming past, walking wounded
and stretcher after stretcher.

I left the dug-out and went in search of my
tanks, but there was no sign of them. They were
not to be traced, although I walked down to the
Villers-Plouich road, and later, coming back up
the hill, climbed a little mound and scanned the
opposite slope with my glasses. Certain tanks to
the right of Gonnelieu obviously belonged to that
other battalion. Perhaps a report had reached our
camp at Havrincourt Wood, which was, in fact,
nearer to Gouzeaucourt than was Metz-en-Couture.

So at last I turtied, and more weary than I can
describe — since, like many others, I had been more
or less on my feet for twenty-four hours — I trudged
up the sunken road and, taking a last look at
Gonnelieu and at Gouzeaucourt, struck out across
the downs to Havrincourt Wood, a matter of three
miles.

At the camp there was still no news. It was now
about II A.M. I breakfasted and turned in, telling

THE BATTLE OF CAMBRAI 209

Jumbo to call me if any message came from the
tanks.

I awoke at three. The crews had reported. The
tanks had not been able to climb out of a sunken
road for want of petrol, and had never entered the
battle. Of " E " Battalion there was still no news.
Tanks from that other battalion had assisted the
Guards — that was a little satisfying, — but the
Guards had failed to storm Gonnelieu.

I walked out of the wood into the open. A few
centuries ago I had stood on the same spot and
wondered why there were bursts of machine-gun
fire in the direction of Gouzeaucourt.

210

CHAPTER XIII.

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW.
{December \5t, 1917, to January-^ist, 1918.)

We were not yet out of the wood. I was smoking
a pipe in contemplative solitude behind my hut
after an excellent little dinner, when, without
warning, there was a shattering explosion. A shell
had burst a few yards away in the bushes, and a
moment later a couple fell in the farther end of
the camp. Evidently the Germans wished us to
remember the ist December 1917. I shouted to
the men to take cover in the tanks, since inside or
under a tank is a place of comparative safety. For
twenty minutes the shelling continued, and then
it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. We in-
vestigated the damage. One man had been killed
and three wounded.

I ordered the men to sleep under cover that night,
so that, although our corner of the wood was shelled
four times before dawn, there were no further
casualties. I passed the night in a shallow dug-out,
and I was glad in the morning that I had not
returned to my hut, for, when I went to it before

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 211

breakfast, I found that a scrap of shell had drilled
a neat hole through my bed.

Early on the 2nd I received orders from every-
body, and if I had obeyed them all **D " Battalion
would have remained where it was, entrained at the
Fins railhead, and moved to Dessart Wood on the
route from Metz to Fins. So I went in a "box-
body," which I had commandeered, to seek counsel
of Colonel Hankey. I tracked him from the wood to
Fins, and found him there at a ruined "cinema" in
company with our Brigade-Major, from whom I
learnt that our display of tanks on the hills to the
west of Gouzeaucourt had been more valuable than
I had realised.

I suggested to the Brigade-Major that I should
withdraw the battalion to Ytres, the railhead at
which we had detrained when we had first arrived in
this troublesome neighbourhood.^ We knew the
route to Ytres ; there were two ramps at the -rail-
head; we should be out of everybody's way; accom-
modation there should be ample for the battalion.
He agreed to my suggestion, and gave me definite
orders to move as soon as possible.

With a light heart — for it was a splendid sunny
day — I hurried back to discover the battalion
plunged into the deepest melancholy. The rations
had not arrived ! That on one day there should be
a shortage of rations might seem to the civilian
reader a commonplace of war, and he may marvel
when I state with an eye to the whole truth that
this was in very fact the first occasion, while I was
with my company of tanks, on which rations had
* See p. 169,

212 A COMPANY OF TANKS

definitely not appeared. And the reason for it, as
we learnt afterwards, was ample. The enemy had
begun to shell the railhead at Bapaume with a long-
range gun, and our particular lorries with rations on
board had been blown into matchboard and scraps
of metal.

We repaired the deficiency by a raid on a dump,
which I had noticed, and were packing up when the
enemy again began to shell our pet corner of the
wood — this time with a high-velocity gun. Thus
encouraged, the battalion was ready to move in
record time. In the middle of it all our rations
arrived: the Equipment Officer, undeterred by
long-range guns, had secured fresh rations and
fresh lorries.

I went ahead of the tanks in my *' box-body," and
that night the men slept peacefully in the brickyard
at Ytres, the officers in a large " Adrian " hut at the
R.E. dump, and I, who had made friends while
searching for billets with an admirable and elderly
subaltern in charge of a Labour Detachment, after
playing bridge successfully in a hut with a real
fireplace, went to bed in a real bed.

On the 3rd we regained touch once more with the
outside world. Four days' mail arrived, sundry
foodstuffs, and a new pair of light corduroy breeches ;
while the Colonel motored up from Meaulte to see
us, and gave us most gratifying messages from the
Brigade Commander. On the 4th, since I was still
without transport, I tramped five miles across the
downs in deliciously bright and frosty weather to Fins,
and arranged for the entrainment of certain tanks.

That evening after mess I was sitting with the

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 213

elderly subaltern over a huge fire. We were dis-
cussing in extreme comfort painting, the education
of artistic daughters, and the merits and demerits
of the Slade School. Suddenly we heard a musical
and distant wail, something flew past the window,
and there was a wee " plonk."

** A dud ! " said I wearily.

** They've never shelled the place before," he
asserted with confidence.

" It was rather near," I murmured.

We were silent, and then once again we heard the
musical wail, which this time was followed by an
overwhelming explosion. The hut trembled, and
clods of frozen earth rattled sharply on the roof.

He rushed off to his coolies, and I came back to
the fire after I had given instructions to my officers ;
but another "dud" fell within a few yards of the
hut, so I determind to explore the farther end of the
dump, but, of course, when I was walking sedately
away, I slipped on the ice and took most of the skin
off my thigh.

At last the shelling stopped. We again returned
to the fire and drank hot cocoa. I undressed and
went to bed, daring the German to do his worst. I
was dozing, when a shell burst just outside the hut.
The side of the hut appeared to bulge inwards,
everything fell off the shelves, and a large piece of
frozen earth flew through the window. It was too
much, and no man is a hero in silk pyjamas. I
wrapped myself in a British warm and ran out into
the night — the shell had fallen ten yards from the
hut. Another came. I stumbled into a trench, but
it was so cold and humiliating there that I returned

214 A COMPANY OF TANKS .

to my hut, dressed rapidly, and went to spend the
night with a friend who lived at the opposite end
of the dump. We had just begun to make some
tea, when the German gunner lengthened his range.
We might have remained where we were, but we
were too tired and annoyed. We decided to take
a drink off the Town Major.

In the morning we moved to the brickyard half a
mile away. I was making for my new quarters after
a little dinner with the Town Major, and looking
forward to a quiet night, when a shell burst in front
of me. I ran to the brickyard, but my quarters then
were under eighteen feet of solid brick, so, although
we were shelled again during the night, we slept
most peacefully.

On the 6th I managed to entrain the remainder of
my tanks at Fins by anticipating another battalion
who were a little late. Then I started off on a
motor-cycle to warn Battalion Headquarters that
the tanks would arrive a day before their scheduled
time, but I had magneto trouble at Haplincourt.
I completed the journey in accordance with the
custom of the country, by securing a lorry lift to
Bapaume, a lift in a car from Bapaume to Albert,
and then walking to the camp at Meaulte.

Even when the tanks had been detrained at Le
Plateau, the most desolate railhead on earth, and
driven to the chilliest of tankodromes by the ruins
of Becordel-Becourt, half an hour's walk from the
camp, we were not rid of the war. The line to
which we had fallen back was none too stable, and
to strengthen it tanks were posted at intervals
behind the guns. It was intended that these tanks

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 215

should break the enemy attack, demoralise their
infantry, and act as rallying-points for our own men.
This curious method of defence was never tested,
perhaps luckily, but we were compelled to take our
turn in providing garrisons or crews. Other tanks,
manned by my men, were used at night to drag
back heavy guns, which had been abandoned in
the first flurry of the counter-attack on November
30th, and were now just behind our advanced posts.

During these days I was again in command of
the battalion, for the Colonel was on leave, and
twice it was necessary for me to drive over the
Somme battlefield by Peronne to Fins. It was
freezing hard, and the wind cut to the bone.

At last we were free even of these duties, and
were able to spend our time in repairing a job
lot of fifty old tanks, in starting their engines fre-
quently to avoid the effects of frost, and in making
ourselves thoroughly comfortable. And we began
to look for pigs.

The camp on the hillside above the village of
Meaulte at first consisted of large huts, but like
good soldiers we added to it as usual a variety of
" temporary structures." I could not be parted
from my Armstrong Hut ; and Forbes, my orderly-
room sergeant, would have wept bitter tears if that
hut which a party from Behagnies had found
*' somewhere in France " — it was a dark and shapless
erection — had not provided shelter for himself and
his papers.

The camp had its advantages. The canteen at
Meaulte was then the finest in France. Albert,
within walking distance, had revived, and its

2i6 A COMPANY OF TANKS

inhabitants were fast returning to set up shop
and make much money out of the British troops.
Amiens and all its luxuries was only an hour away
for those who possessed cars. We had something
of a football ground.

Then in the Colonel's absence I was able to use
the Colonel's horses, and with the Doctor or the
Adjutant, we would canter over the downs and
pay visits to those other battalions who were in
huts on the edge of the Happy Valley above Bray.

As Christmas drew near our search for pigs
became feverish, but at last we found them, and the
beer too arrived ; so that we were able to give to
each man, in addition to his rations of beef and
plum-pudding, one pound of roast pork and one
gallon of beer.

Of Christmas Day I have probably a clearer re-
collection than many. We began badly, for half
the battalion paraded in one part of the camp
and half in another, and the padre was in doubt.
Finally we combined and shivered through the
service. A little latter came the men's dinner.
The Colonel and his company commanders started
to go round, but there had been some slight antici-
pation. .. . We went away cautiously. In the even-
ing there was high revelry, speechifying, shouting,
bursts of crude song. Some wild spirits endeavoured
to abstract the captured field-guns which "G"
Battalion displayed temptingly outside its huts, but
'■ G " Battalion was not convivial on this matter
and talked sternly of fights. This was sobering,
for the last thing we wanted was to fight with our
most excellent friends — so, feeling that our joke had

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 217

been a trifle misunderstood, we drank with them
instead. But somebody a night or two later ran
the guns down into the village from under the noses
of " G " Battalion. It was a pity, because the
porridge was cold.

There are other stories about that Christmas which
will be told time and again in the mess. You will
never hear from me what the old soldier said to
the Brigade Commander in the streets of Meaulte.

We had thought that we should not move again
during the winter, and we were just beginning to
settle down when a rearrangement of units in the
Tank Corps and the arrival of certain new battalions
in France unsettled the situation.

You will remember that after the battle of Arras,
** D " Battalion, which had now become the 4th
Battalion, "E" (5th), and ** G " (7th) Battalions,
formed the ist Brigade. To the three brigades in
the Tank Corps a fourth and fifth were now added.
The 4th Brigade was commanded by Brigadier-
General E. B. Hankey, D.S.O., and included at first
only the 4th and 5th Battalions. This Brigade
was ordered to billet in the old Blangy area, and
one of the brand-new battalions was instructed to
take over our huts.

I must state with regret that the advance party
of this new battalion was a shade tactless. After
all, we were " D " Battalion, formed out of the
old ** D " Company, the senior Tank company in
France. Further, every officer and man of us had
volunteered for the job. We were inclined to look
for a little respect, perhaps even a little awe, from
these newcomers. ' Now during the fourteen months

2i8 A COMPANY OF TANKS

of the battalion's existence the carpenters had been
busy. Forbes, my orderly-room sergeant, had a
collapsible desk. There were racks, card-tables,
special chairs, fittings of one kind or another which,
since we were then allowed generous transport, and
the tanks can carry much, we took with us from
place to place. These cherished possessions were
claimed by the advance party as billet fixtures to
be left with the huts, which had been more bare
than a dry bone when we had first come to them.
Finally, the advance party had the temerity to claim
the Colonel's own wine-cupboard.

That was enough. We could not suffer this at-
tempted rape of our Colonel's cherished possession
without some forcible protest. Of what actually
occurred I know little, for I was laid low in my
hut with a bout of trench fever. My memory can-
not be trusted, and the strange things which I heard
may be attributed to delirium. I imagined that
extra lorries were obtained, and everything possible
loaded upon them. I dreamt that during these last
days there was no lack of firewood. Half uncon-
scious, I thought of men plying axes.

They put me into an ambulance and sent me to
the Casualty Clearing Station at Dernancourt,
where my nurse was even more charming than
nurses usually are. It was a pleasant ward, and for
company there was an ancient A. P.M. with a fund
of excellent stories, and a succession of unlucky but
cheerful flying men. When we became convalescent
the A.P.M. and I would stroll through the snow
to the hospital trains that came into the siding,
but we decided that we preferred our own nurses.

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 219

We Gould not hope to remain for long in that
delicious paradise, and, although we tried hard, the
south of France was beyond our reach. The car
came for me on a dull liverish morning, and I had
to say good-bye. There are lesser tragedies, which
leave a wound.

I found my company luxuriating at Auchy-lez-
Hesdin, the most desirable village in the Blangy
area. It was full of good billets and estaminets,
and there was an officers' tea-room where the law
of the A. P.M. did not run. Many of us decided
that it was indeed time for us to brush up our
French. We had neglected it too long.

Soon the company became amazingly smart.
This happy state may have been the natural result
of careful inspections and concentration upon drill,
but I am myself inclined to think that credit should
be given to the far-seeing Frenchman who estab-
lished a cotton-mill in Auchy and employed a
number of girls with large admiring eyes.

You will remember that during the last season
at Blangy-sur-Ternoise the company had made a
name for itself in the football world, and we did
not intend to allow this reputation to slip away.
No Selection Committee discussed with more care,
insight, and real knowledge of the game the merits
of each candidate for the company eleven than that
over which I had the honour to preside, and as a
very natural result we won during the month of
January a series of overwhelming victories. But
I have not yet decided to my satisfaction whether
Spencer was more useful in the centre or on the
wing.

220 A COMPANY OF TANKS

And B., a major from the Glasgow Yeomanry,
who was attached to the company for instruction,
took charge when football was impossible, and led
the company with intolerable energy over many
weary miles of country.

In the evening he was the life and soul of the
mess. We still had that piano which had been
taken forward in the first lorry that ever attempted
the Puisieux-le-Mont road from Albert to Achiet-
le-Grand after the enemy had retired in March.
Our guest-nights were unequalled. Who could ever
forget our ** Beauty Chorus," with B. as " prima
ballerina," or Happy Fanny singing a song in his
more cheerful mood?

There was only one little cloud. The Russian
Armies, infected with strange enthusiasms, had
left the battlefield. The Italians had their backs
to the wall. We heard rumours that the French
Armies were sullen and despairing. It was certain
that the enemy would make one last enormous effort
before the tardy Americans arrived. We were, of
course, confident — no man in France even for a
moment considered the possibility of ultimate defeat
— and we thought that it would not be difficult to
break the enemy attack, however determined it
might prove to be.

We practised the defence of Auchy, though we
thought such precautions to be far-fetched ; but it
was a more serious matter when we were told that,
instead of wintering at Auchy, it would be necessary
for the battalion to move up to the neighbourhood
of Peronne, where our nights might be interrupted
by bombs and shells.

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 221

But it was under the command of B. that the
company left Auchy for the Fifth Army area. One
gloomy day I was ordered home with other com-
pany commanders to help form new battalions at
the celebrated Bovington Camp. The orders came
suddenly, although they had not been unexpected.
On the 31st January I handed over the command
of the company to B., and the parting was the
less bitter because I knew that the company would
be safe and happy under him.

I drove away from Auchy on a sunny morning
with frost in the air and snow on the ground. I
caught the afternoon boat. I could not forget that
great farewell dinner, but the sea was kind.

My thoughts ran back a year to Blangy and the
dim smoky dining-hall of the Hospice, where first
I had met my company. Then we had been con-
fident that in the great battle of the year we should
utterly defeat the enemy, principally by reason of
our tanks, — our imaginations reeled with dreams
of what tanks could do. And what a joke those
dummy tanks had been ! . . . I recalled our pride
when we had been selected to take part in the
Arras battle, our annoyance when the enemy re-
treated and brought our careful plans to nothing,
our disappointment that we must fight with old
Mark I. tanks. . . . Then Achiet-le- Grand, the
detrainment in the blizzard, the anxious nights at
Mory Copse, the sudden conference at Army Head-
quarters, the struggle against time, the biting anxiety
when no news of my tanks came to me in the Arm-
strong Hut at the headquarters of the Australian
Division, the explanation of the coming battle of

222 A COMPANY OF TANKS

my officers in the sheer darkness of the little ruin
at Noreuil, the confidence in victory and the despair
at failure— could tanks be used again ? — tempered
by the stubborn thought that we had done our best,
and from the hillside the picture of my surviving
tank, unfairly crippled by a chance shell.

At Behagnies we had been happy enough. Then
after Haigh's show there had been Wailly, with the
liquid grass sprouting in the cornices of the church,
the dehcious summer at Humi^res, and the dismal
foreboding when we heard that we were destined for
the Salient. I remembered the everlasting blare of
the aeroplanes at La Lovie, the steaming and odor-
ous mud of the tank routes, our noisy adventures at
the " Dead End," the long days of weary waiting,
the hopeless attempt at St Julien, and the black
tragedy of the Poelcapelle Road. Why had tanks
ever been sent to destruction at Ypres? There
must be whole cemeteries of tanks in that damnable
mud. And we had lost Talbot there.

It was more comforting to dwell on that astonish-
ing sight at dawn on November 20 — lines of tanks
stretching away into the distance as far as we could
see, — it was a full day, — the sunken road with its
kitchens, the dead and sprawling Germans, the glass
of wine in the delicately pannelled chamber, the
climb up the narrow chalk trench to the railway em-
bankment, and the discovery that we could not enter
Flesquieres, the dash back to the unbelieving Colonel,
the unpleasant quarter of an hour under machine-
gun fire, the shock of Ward's death. . . .

And then Bourlon Wood, sitting square and
imperturbable on the hillside, with the tank burning

HAVRINCOURT TO HARROW 223

piteously on the ridge to the left of it — what a fever-
ish search there had been for X.'s dug-out on the
night before ! How I had thanked the Fates for
that convenient quarry until a shell burst on the lip
of it!

Finally, Gouzeaucourt, Ytres. Had tanks achieved
the successes which we had prophesied ? It was a
difficult question to answer. Anyway, whatever our
successes, whatever our failures, no man had ever
commanded a finer company than mine.

The boat slid past the quayside. We crowded at
the gangway, and there was the usual rush for the
train. I secured a seat as usual by climbing in on
the wrong side. We reached London in thick fog.
They told me I might just as well take a week's
holiday at home before reporting at Regent Street
and asking for leave on arrival. It was three hours
by District to South Harrow, and at Ealing Com-
mon a young officer had walked off the platform
and fallen under a train. That made me late.

224

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CARRIER TANKS.
{January 3IJ/ to August 1st, 1918.)

At my leisure I visited the Headquarters of the
Tank Corps in Regent Street, and after a some-
what undignified appeal to the good nature of a
corporal — the staff-captain was busy, or out at
lunch, or dictating — I obtained a fortnight's leave.
The fortnight passed expensively, but it was pleasant,
if dull, to take the train at the end of it from
Waterloo and not from Victoria. In due course
I arrived at Wool Station, and with two cheery
subalterns, who had experienced enthralhng adven-
tures in Bournemouth, I drove in a taxi along
narrow winding lanes to the camp on the crest of
a hill.

I reported, but the charming officers who received
me had not been warned of my arrival and were
perplexed. Majors, it appeared, were a drug on the
market — unattached majors swarmed in Bovington.
Would I go to the Depot at Wareham ? I refused
politely. I knew something of the Depot. Two
skeleton battalions were just being formed? They
might not go out to France this year ? I refused

THE CARRIER TANKS 225

again : I did not intend to stop at Bovington any
longer than was necessary.

At last it was suggested that I should be posted
to the ** Carrier Tanks." I had not heard of them,
and asked for information. I was told vaguely
*' that they would carry infantry about," and it was
expected that they would embark within the next
three months.

So I found my way through the nice, clean, well-
ordered camp to the lines of the Carrier tanks.
That night I slept uncomfortably on a borrowed
blanket in a bare and chilly hut. It had never
struck me that I should require my camp -kit at
home.

In the morning I was given the command of
the 4th Infantry Carrier Company.

The six Carrier Companies were under the com-
mand of Lieut.-Colonel L. A. de B. Doucet, R.E.
They were to consist of tanks specially constructed
to carry infantry. In the past the infantry had
followed the tanks. Now it was intended that they
should go forward in the tanks. If, for example,
it was necessary to storm a village, the Carrier tanks
would fill up with infantry and deposit them in
the middle of the village, to the confusion of the
enemy. The prospect was certainly exhilarating.

But soon these hopes began slowly to disappear.
Perhaps the plan was a little startling. The Carrier
Companies would not carry infantry "at first."
They must begin their lives by carrying supphes.
We were called "Tank Supply Companies," and
we began to suspect that we should become finally
a branch of that splendid Corps, the Royal Army

226 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Service Corps. We struggled vigorously against
the depression which the prospect produced — we
felt we were not worthy. We refused to believe
that we should never carry infantry through a
barrage to certain victory. The Staff, however,
were brutally frank. An order was published, in-
forming us that although we were not " fighting
troops," we should remember that discipline was
useful. This order was none too helpful, especially
since it was firmly believed both by officers and
men that an officer, alleged to have spent three
years of the war in England, was responsible for
it. Of course there was no truth in this rumour
or the allegation !

From the 12th February to the 12th June I
was at Bovington Camp, and never have I liked
soldiering less. Bovington Camp must have been
designed to encourage men to serve in France. In
France there was life, interest, even glamour. At
Bovington the bones of soldiering stuck out dis-
gustingly. We saw too clearly the formalities, the
severities. But I had not been at the Base. If
I had, I should have been more prepared for
Bovington.

The raw material of my company was splendid
— eighteen out of the twenty officers, and the
majority of the men, had served overseas — and, since
the company was over strength, I was able to weed
out the weaker brethren in the course of training.
I found it increasingly difficult to realise that my
officers and men were not "fighting troops."

For the first three weeks we concentrated on
drill. Then batches of officers and men were sent

THE CARRIER TANKS 227

io be trained by the instructors of the camp. At
the beginning of May we drew Mark IV. tanks,
and used them by a system of reliefs from dawn
to dusk. Towards the end of the month, when we
waited breathlessly for every scrap of news from
France, we began to train as a Lewis Gun Company,
in case it should be necessary for us to be sent
overseas at once ; but the crisis passed, and we
returned to our tanks.

It had been almost unbearable to sit lazily in the
hot garden of a Dorchester villa and read of the
desperate happenings in France. Why should the
newspapers doubt, when we had never doubted, . . .
but it was impossible that our line should ever be
broken ? Those civilians, these young fellows who
had never been to France, did not understand what
it meant. And my old Company? What had
happened to them ? They, at least, had had their
lesson, and would not be caught unprepared. - So
day after day passed, and on the worst days I had
no heart to train my new company. At last the
clouds began slowly to clear, but I was not satisfied
until I had heard that my company was still in
being and fighting as a Lewis Gun Company on the
Lys Front. Well, it meant beginning all over
again, and perhaps the sheer number of the slow
Americans would make up for the lack of that skill
which hard experience alone can give. . . .

Gradually the company began to find itself, and
to feel that the 4th Carrier Company was without
doubt the finest company at Bovington. Once
again my company's football team was invincible.
Our equipment and our transport arrived. Soon

228 A COMPANY OF TANKS

we were ready, and eagerly awaited our marching
orders.

I have not wearied you with details of training
or of life at Bovington, because I have no desire
to recall them, but it would not be fair to write
only of soldiering. I should be churlish, indeed,
if I did not set down how an amateur soldier, stale
and tired of war, was refreshed and encouraged.
The cold flame of gorse in the clear dusk, the hot
lawn of the shabby rectory, the healthy noise and
bustle of Dorchester streets, the simple magic of
Maidun, the steady tramp from stuffy Abbotsbury
over Black Down with its cleansing winds and
through the quietude of Winterborne, the smooth
rich downs by Charminster, the little footpath walk
at evening by the transparent stream under the dark
trees to the orderly cottages of Stinsford, the in-
finite stretch of half-seen country from the summit
of Creech Barrow — these memories bred a stouter
soldier than any barrack-square.

At 9 A.M. on June 12th we paraded for the last
time at Bovington. The usual farewell speech was
made. We marched off in bright sunshine. The
band, whose strange noises in the huts behind my
orderly-room had so vilely disturbed me, played us
down to the station. At Southampton there was
the usual delay. In the afternoon we embarked
on the Archimedes for Havre, and sailed at dusk.

Four years before — in August 1914 — I had crossed
from Dublin to Havre in the Archimedes. Then I
was a corporal, slept on a coil of rope, and drew
my rations from among the horses. Now I was
** O.C. Ship," with an Adjutant who saw that my

THE CARRIER TANKS 229

orders were obeyed, slept in the Captain's cabin,
and dined magnificently. During those four years
the Archimedes had been employed without a break
in carrying troops, and the Captain had received a
decoration. It was a proud ** O.C. Ship " who stood
on the bridge as the Archimedes made her stately
way into the harbour.

We disembarked at the same old quay, though,
instead of the Frenchmen, who in 1914 crowded to
help us, singing patriotic songs, there was in igi8
a baggage party of Americans with marked acqui-
sitive tendencies. Whether No. 2 Rest Camp was
an improvement on the wool warehouses with their
fleas is a matter of opinion. ^

When we were not drawing rations, testing our
gas helmets and attending lectures, undergoing
medical inspections or feverishly endeavouring to
comply with the myriad regulations and formalities
of the camp, we would sit in the cosmopolitan mess.
Americans in hundreds were passing through, some
quietly confident that their army had absorbed the
best from all other armies, some humbly hopeful
and thirsty for knowledge, and some, as the evening
grew slate, a little irritating to us who had been in
France since *i/\. Then there were men on leave
from Italy with strange tales of mountain sickness,
of No-Man's- Land a few miles wide, and adventurous
leaves spent in Rome. Or we would discover in a
corner a bunch of sickly, cheerful fellows, who
would eagerly persuade you that Salonica was no
child's play, tell you how the army was riddled with
malaria, and how leave came to them only once in

^ See 'Adventures of a Despatch Rider,' p. 15 ^/ se^.

230 A COMPANY OF TANKS

a lifetime. It was not too cheerful a mess. On the
whole I preferred the wool warehouse.

We entrained, as the 5th Divisional Signal Com-
pany had entrained, at Point Six, Hangar de Laine ;
but this time, instead of travelling through to
Landrecies, with cheers at every level-crossing,
we spent the day at Rouen, to the benefit of that
sumptuous tavern. Hotel de la Poste. At dawn
on the 15th we found ourselves at Etaples, where
we managed to give the men breakfast, and shave
and wash, and at 9 a.m. we arrived at Blangy,
where the 4th Battalion was once again billeted,
and marched wearily to Blingel Camp half-way
between Blangy and Auchy-lez-Hesdin.

Blingel Camp had a history. It had been designed
many months before as a brigade camp, and beautiful
blue prints were in existence, showing positive
streets of huts, and a plethora of canteens, recreation
rooms, bath-houses, messes, and incinerators. The
camp had been commenced. In a few weeks
somebody had not been quite certain whether after
all the Tank Corps would expand, and the work in
the camp stopped. The staff in due course relented,
and back came the sappers and the Chinamen — to
be taken away in a month or so for more important
duties. When we arrived only a small part of the
camp had been built. So we helped the three
sappers and the five Chinamen, — it was never
completed. That was characteristic of the long-
suffering Tank Corps, which, in fact, became finally
and properly organised ten days after the Armistice.

The command of a brand-new unit, freshly landed
in France, possessed its trials, annoyances, and

THE CARRIER TANKS 231

humours. There were so many little tricks of the
trade that the Company as a whole had to learn.
Veteran officers who had been three months in
France came over from other units to smile and
advise, and so closely were we all connected that it
was hard to explain that some of us had been a little
longer than three months in France on a previous
occasion. We were regarded, too, with slight
disdain, as something newfangled and non-
combatant, for by June igi8 the enthusiasts and the
experts of the early days were outnumbered in the
Tank Corps by the mass of officers recruited from
home and transferred, for example, from the
cavalry, who regarded machinery as a necessary
evil, and anything new as an infernal nuisance.
We realised this attitude — the tank battalions had
met it from the infantry eighteen months before —
and we encouraged ourselves by saying to each
other, " We'll show them ! " But General EUes- can
never have realised how he broke our hearts, when
he inspected us on our arrival, by telling the three
proud company commanders that the men were too
good for the Carrier Companies, that probably we
should have to send them as drafts to the fighting
battalions and receive in their place inefficients,
invalids, and crocks. We just pretended that we
didn't mind. . . .

We remained at Blingel until July 20th, suffering
from that fatal inspection, an epidemic of Spanish
influenza, and lack of whisky. We drew twelve
tanks (Mk. IV.) from old friends at Erin, and
trained mightily, carrying out a number of com-
petitions and experiments. Forgetting for the

232 A COMPANY OF TANKS

moment that we were not " fighting troops," we dis-
covered and used a revolver-range, and, like proper
Tank companies, practised battle-firing at Fleury.
We might be Carrier Tanks, whose only duty is
to "supply," but you never know.

While I had been snugly at home, my old com-
pany had fallen upon hard times. They had moved
up in February to the neighbourhood of Peronne,
and their tanks had been placed in position immedi-
ately in the rear of the trenches. Then came the
great German offensive, and they were swept back
to Amiens, losing on the way the majority of their
tanks, because the bridges over the Somme were de-
stroyed before the tanks could cross, and all their
kit and the famous piano, because all the lorries
available were required to transport Battalion Head-
quarters. In front of Amiens they were used as a
reserve Lewis Gun Company. Then they were " lor-
ried " to the Lys front, and for weeks held grimly a
section of the line. Now they were back once again
in Blangy, refitting and drawing the new Mk. V.
tanks. It was sixteen months since they had left
Blangy to detrain in a blizzard at Achiet-le-Grand
and fight in the snow at Bullecourt.

There had been a rumour afloat soon after we had
arrived in France that in August or September we
should turn and rend the enemy. We were inclined
to scoff at the thought — the situation was then none
too favourable — but staif-officers, though mysterious,
were decidedly insistent. We did not expect, in
consequence, to be employed until this boasted
offensive materialised, but on July 19th we received
orders to relieve the ist Tank Supply Company,
who were helping the 2nd Tank Brigade to guard

THE CARRIER TANKS 233

the Arras front. So once again I was driving along
that stout ally, the highroad from St Pol to Arras.

The 2nd Tank Brigade at this period consisted of
the loth, 12th, and 14th Battalions. To each of the
battalions was allotted an area of manoeuvre, in
which it would co-operate with other arms in organ-
ised counter-attacks, for the First Army was on the
defensive, and Prince Rupprecht was expected to
attack. The old method of stationing tanks behind
or in the battle zone had been discarded.

The Carrier Company in this scheme of defence
was reduced to carrying tank supplies. Each of my
sections would attend to the wants of one battalion.
In the event of an enemy attack the battalion would
dash into the fray, and at the end of the day's work
would meet a section of Carrier tanks at a rendez-
vous and refill without reference to lorries, trains, or
other more fallible means of transport.

We moved forward in a multitude of lorries,
leaving behind us the tanks which we had begun to
** tune " with such ardour. We had been ordered to
take over a scratch lot of Mk. IV. tanks from the
Company which we were relieving, and that
Company, a maid-of-all-work in the Brigade, had
not found time to repair them or to keep them in
good order.

My own headquarters were near Caucourt, in a
delicious valley sheltered by woods, where happy
singing Chinamen were working lazily. Our Nissen
huts were gaily painted. Peas and potatoes had
been planted, and we had geraniums. In summer
the camp was perfection. There was even a demure
maiden, who brought us each morning eggs, butter,
and milk.

234 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Of my four sections, Ryan's was in Noulette
Wood, behind Vimy; Harland's and Westbrook's
near the vile and dirty village of Montenescourt,
where Brigade Headquarters had been during the
Arras battle ; and Ritchie's in the famous Winnipeg
Camp. We were all contented, and during the day-
light safe, but at night we soon learnt that in the
past few months the enemy had discovered how to
bomb. We were kept awake.

Our one trouble was the Mk. IV. tanks, which for
our sins we had inherited. Some of them looked
clean : some of them looked dirty. All of them re-
quired thorough overhauling and repair, and we
worked upon them day and night in case Prince
Rupprecht should take it into his head to attack, or
we should anticipate his attack by a local offensive.

A visit to the headquarters of the Canadian Corps
on our right hurried our preparations. The
Canadians, jealous of the reputation which the
Australians had won, were longing for a fight.
There was talk in the higher and more careful circles
of an operation to recapture Monchy-le-Preux.

We soon decided to concentrate the company in
the centre of the area, and the staff-captain of the
brigade and myself went exploring to find a suitable
site for the camp. The Bois de la Haie pleased us.
It was bombed, but so were all woods, and this par-
ticular wood was not too conspicuous. We called
two sappers into consultation and planned a camp
complete with all the most modern improvements*
down to the very latest thing in grease-traps. We
began to say farewell to our gentle damsel. But
the camp was never built.

THE CARRIER TANKS 235

For on the 28th, when I had returned from my
daily round rather late — there was much move-
ment of troops on the roads — and was calling for
tea, buttered toast, and the cake that had come
in the parcel, a code message was handed to me.
We did not know the code — Carrier companies
were often forgotten — but we interpreted the
message that we were now in G.H.Q. Reserve,
and should be ready to entrain at twenty -four
hours' notice. The order might mean anything
or nothing. I suspected a move to the neigh-
bourhood of Amiens, where two successful little
tank actions had already taken place, and sent
McBean, my reconnaissance officer, to make a
corner in Amiens maps. We returned to our
repairs with desperate vigour and waited in excite-
ment for further orders.

After mess on the 30th I was summoned urgently
to Brigade Headquarters and instructed verbally
by the General over a glass of excellent port to
entrain at Acq early on the ist. The utmost se-
crecy was to be observed. The entrainment was
to be considered as a practice entrainment. With
my doubtful tanks no time was to be lost. Mac
plunged into the night with orders for Ryan, who
was ten miles from railhead, while my despatch-
riders bustled off to Ritchie, Harland, and West-
brook. I was more than doubtful whether the
tanks under repair would be ready.

Mac reached Ryan in the early hours of the
morning, and the section was on the move by 6.45
A.M. Much happened to the tanks on the way, but
with the exception of one they made Acq in the

236 A COMPANY OF TANKS

course of the afternoon, and the laggard arrived
during the night.

Ritchie, who was always thorough, covered his
tank with branches, and his moving copse caused
much excitement. Westbrook and Harland, who
each had a tank in hospital, so inspired their en-
thusiastic crews that by dawn on the ist every
tank was more or less able to entrain. We were
not helped by the fact that we were ordered to
entrain " full," that is, with our tanks crammed
with petrol, oil, and ammunition. Since before
entraining it is necessary to push in the sponsons
until they are flush with the sides of the tank,
the order involved unloading the sponsons at rail-
head, pushing them in and then loading the tanks
again. We wondered bitterly if there were no
supplies at our destination.

We discovered that we were bound for Poulain-
ville, a railhead near Amiens. I looked proudly at
our box of maps — the battalions were still asking
for them days later. Early on the ist our convoy
of lorries took the road. At 3 p.m. the first train
left Acq, and at 5 p.m. the second. Ail the tanks
had managed to scramble on board, although none
of my drivers had ever before driven a tank on to
a train ; that useful accomplishment was not taught
us at Bovington. I watched the second train pull
out — the men were cheering — and left in my car
for the scene of battle. It was quite like old times.
What part the Carrier tanks would play in the
great offensive I had not the remotest idea : I knew
only that I was sorry to leave the milk, the fresh
eggs, and the butter.

237

CHAPTER XV.

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS.
{August 1st to August orjth, 1918,)

The Officers' Club on the hill above Doullens
has a reputation, and we could not pass it with-
out discourtesy. It was a good dinner in its way,
and we continued our journey in a cheerful, though
not hilarious, mood, through novel country, seamed
with brand-new trenches and with all camps and
houses heavily sandbagged against bombs.

At last we came at dusk to the railhead at
Poulainville, discreetly hidden under the trees at
the side of the main road. Tanks were drawn up
under any scrap of cover — like frogs sheltering
under mushrooms. The staff work was superb.
There were so many guides that it was quite two
hours before we found our own. Then we waited
for the train. It was quite dark, and it began to
rain heavily.

The first train drew in at lo p.m. The tanks
displayed a more than mulish obstinacy. Every
possible defect developed, and we found it difficult
to reach the engines and effect the proper repairs
on account of the supplies which we had on board.

238 A COMPANY OF TANKS

My drivers, too, were inexperienced. For two and
a half hours ^ we struggled, coaxed, and swore in
the utter darkness (no lights were allowed) and
the driving rain, before the tanks were clear of the
ramp.

We hoped feverishly that we should have better
fortune with the second train, which arrived at
3 A.M. . . . Dawn was breaking, when a wearied
R.T.O. told me with icy politeness that if my tank
— the last — was not off the train in ten minutes,
the train would pull out with the tank on board.
The tank heard the remark. She had resisted our
advances for many, many hours, but now she
*' started up " as though in perfect tune, and glided
away down the ramp in the best of spirits.

We threw ourselves into the car, limp and soaked.
During the night the enemy had been shelling
Amiens, four miles from our railhead, with slow
deliberation — vast explosions re-echoing among the
wretched houses. We drove through the suburbs
of the city, silent as a Sunday morning in London.
Every third house along our road had been hit by
shell or bomb. Then we turned towards Albert,
and four miles out came to Querrieu Wood, where
we discovered Company Headquarters, unshaven
and bedraggled, sleeping in the mud among the
baggage. Only our cook, humming a cheerful
little tune, was trying nobly to fry some bacon
over a fire of damp sticks.

We had become a unit of the 5th Tank Brigade,
which consisted of the 2nd, 8th, 15th, and 17th

^ An average time for detraining twelve Mk. IV. tanks is thirty
minutes.

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 239

(Armoured Car) Battalions.^ The Brigade was con-
centrated behind the Australian Corps, and pre-
parations were already far advanced for a sudden
heavy attack. How far the attack would extend
north and south of the Somme we did not know,
but we had heard that the Canadians were gather-
ing on the right of the Australians, and on our way
we had passed their artillery on the road. All the
woods were choked with tanks, troops, and guns.
The roads at night were blocked with thick traffic.
By day the roads were empty, the railheads free —
our "back area" as quiet as the front of the Xlth
Corps in the summer of '16.

We were soon caught up in the complicated
machinery of preparation. I attended Brigade con-
ferences without number. Ritchie's section, to my
sorrow, was transferred, temporarily, to the 3rd
Carrier Company (Roffey's), by way of simplifica-
tion, and I received in exchange a section of the
5th Carrier Company, equipped with sledges drawn
by decrepit tanks, which straggled into the wood
on the evening of the 6th. The sledges were so
badly designed that the cables by which they were
towed were always fraying and breaking. I refused
to be responsible for them, and began to collect in
their place a job lot of baggage and supply tanks.

My sections had no time to make themselves com-
fortable in Querrieu Wood. On the 3rd, Ritchie,
with his six tanks, left me for Roffey and the
Canadians. On the night of the 4th, Ryan crossed
the Somme and camouflaged among the ruins of

^ The 2nd and 8th Battalions were armed with the Mk. V. tank, a
swifter and handier tank than the Mk. IV., and the 15th Battalion with
the lengthy Mk. V. Star. '

240 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Aubigny, moving to an orchard in Hamelet, not
two miles behind the line on the 6th; Harland
reached Fouilloy, the next village, on the same
night; while Westbrook, on the previous night,
had joined the 8th Battalion in a small wood near
Daours. The majority of our tanks were still giving
trouble, for they were ancient overloaded Mk. IV.'s.

The attack was to be launched at dawn on the
8th. After mess on the 7th I started from the wood
with two old tanks, which had just arrived, in a wild
endeavour to rush them forward in time. It was
dreary and profitless work. Mac managed to reach
the fringe of the battle before the tank, which he
was leading, finally broke down, while at three in
the morning I lost patience with mine and, leaving
it to its commander, returned to camp.

The night was fine, though misty. We waited
nervously for some indication that the enemy knew
of the numberless tanks moving forward softly, the
thousands of guns which had never yet spoken, the
Canadian Divisions running^ to the attack. But
the night passed quietly. There was only one brief
flurry of gun-fire, when the irrepressible Australians
raided to discover if the enemy suspected.

At *'zero" I was standing outside my tent.
There was thick mist in the valley. Through
some freak of the atmosphere I could only just hear
the uneven rumble of the guns. It was so cold that
I went in to breakfast.

Half an hour after ** zero " my tank engineer and
I set out in my car to catch up with the battle,

^ Certain Canadian battalions only reached the ' ' start-line " in time
by doubling. ^

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 241

giving a lift on the way to a pleasant young sub-
altern in the R.H.A. returning from leave, who
was desperately eager to find his battery. We left
the car stupidly at Fouilloy, — we might have taken
it farther forward, — and tramping up the Villers-
Brettoneux road, cut across country, among in-
visible guns, through the mist, which did not clear
until we reached what had been the German
trenches.

Apparently we had repeated Cambrai. Com-
panies of prisoners, stout - looking fellows, were
marching back in fours. Here and there lay
German dead on the rough coarse grass, or in the
shallow unconnected trenches. A few hundred yards
to our right was the Roman road that runs west
from Villers-Brettoneux. Light- armoured cars of
the 17th Battalion, with the help of tanks, were
picking their way through the shell-holes.

Just short of a large ruined village, Warfus^e-
Abancourt, straggling along the road, and two miles
from our old front line, we found a little group of
supply tanks with a couple of waggons. One wag-
gon suddenly had exploded on the trek forward.
Nobody had heard the noise of an approaching shell,
and we suspected a trip-mine, with which the battle-
field was sown. We were discussing its fate when a
large German aeroplane swooped down and drove
us to take cover. A British aeroplane appeared, but
the German forced it to land hurriedly. And the
enemy began to send over a few small shells.

We moved forward unobtrusively. Read, myself,
and Puddy, my orderly, to an inconspicuous knoll.
There we lay in comfort, watching the farther

Q

242 A COMPANY OF TANKS

advance of the Australians. The country was quite
open and bare, though broken with unexpected
valleys. A slight breeze had swept away the mist,
and the morning was bright and sunny. A few hun-
dred yards in front of us the Australians were walk-
ing forward nonchalantly, led by a score of tanks.
Occasionally a shell would fall among them and they
would scatter momentarily, but it was rarely that a
man was left upon the ground. From the valley
beyond, which we could not see, came the rattle of
Lewis guns, and once or twice bursts from the
enemy machine-guns. To the left and behind us
our field-guns, drawn up in the open, were firing for
dear life, and away to the right along a slight dip
a battery of field-guns was trotting forward. Over-
head the sky was loud with the noise of our aero-
planes, some flying low above the battle and others
glistening in the sun high among the clouds.

The Australians disappeared with the tanks over
the skyline, and the supporting infantry in Httle
scattered bodies passed us, marching forward cheerily
over the rough grass. We were already three miles
within the enemy defences.

We pressed on northwards to the Cerisy Valley,
which we knew had been full of German field-guns.
This deep gully, with steep grassy sides, fringed
with stunted trees, runs from the tiny village of
Cerisy-Gailly, on the south bank of the Somme, to
Warfusee. Our gunners had done their work with
terrible thoroughness. The bottom of the valley
was so broken with shell-holes that it was barely
possible to drive a limber between them. Four or
five of the enemy guns remained desolate among a

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 243

wild confusion of shattered waggons and dead horses.
A trembling pony, still harnessed to his dead fellow,
was the only survivor.

A hundred yards down the valley tanks were
climbing the steep bank, and the flag of a tank
battalion fluttered bravely on the crest.

We crossed the valley, toiled up the farther slope,
and munched some sandwiches on the hill, where
sappers were calmly marking out new trenches. At
a little distance a shabby Australian field-battery
was in action.

In a few minutes we saw something of the display
and gallantry of war. A battery of Horse Artillery
picked its way across the valley. The men were
clean, inconceivably clean, and smart. Their horses'
coats gleamed. The harness shone and glittered.
The guns were newly painted. Never could a bat-
tery more splendidly arrayed have entered the
plebeian turmoil of a battle. A series of swift com-
mands and the little guns, with their ridiculous
bark, were firing impudently. The Australians were
overshadowed — their horses were unkempt and the
guns dirty — but they had got there first.^

We were reminded by a salvo, which burst nicely
just beyond the Australian guns, that, although in
this particular battle we had little to do, the enemy
could not be expected to realise our position. So
we finished our lunch, and walking along the crest
for half a mile, dropped down into the valley again,
and came upon Ryan's section engaged in refilling

1 It was, of course, only the luck of the game. This particular
battery of Horse Artillery was brigaded with the Australian Artillery
and went where it was told. It finished the day in close support of
the infantry at Morcourt.

244 A COMPANY OF TANKS

the 13th Battalion. Westbrook's tanks were coming
in one by one — they had all had their mechanical
troubles.

So far as we could learn from our friends in
the valley, the huge surprise attack had been a
cheap and complete success — south of the Somme.
The thick mist at dawn had protected the tanks,
while it had not been dense enough seriously to
hamper the drivers. The advance had been rapid,
and only in one or two villages had the enemy
shown any resolute defence.

But north of the Somme it was clear that some-
thing was wrong, for the enemy were shelling
mercilessly the southern bank of the river. Even
the Cerisy Valley was harrassed, and we were
privileged to watch a brigade of artillery gallop,
team by team, over the crest, through the smoke
of the shells, down into the comparative safety of
the valley. The German gunners must have re-
joiced at the target, but they made poor use of
their opportunities, for only one horse was hit ;
the team swerved as the shell burst, and, galloping
madly down into the valley, only just missed a
tank. Ten minutes later an enemy aeroplane circled
overhead. We held our breath — the valley was
packed with artillery and tanks — and listened for
the whirr of the bombs or the crackle of the machine-
guns ; but " Jerry " was for the moment harmless,
although in quarter of an hour an H.V. gun made
frantic efforts to land her shells in the valley. She
could not manage it — her shells burst on the crest
or high up on the farther bank.

Westbrook and Ryan were now under the orders

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 245

of the battalions which they were refilling, and
Harland had completed his job. So Read, Puddy,
and I tramped back along the river wearily to
Fouilloy, taking tea on the way from a hospitable
Australian, whose name I should always have
blessed if I had not forgotten it.

Later I heard that Harland had done his work
well, following the Mark V. Star tanks of the 15th
Battalion to the Blue Line, the farthest limit of
the attack, and forming there a dump of supplies.
He led his tanks on a horse, which he had taken
very properly from a prisoner. The 15th Battalion
carried in their tanks machine-gunners, who were
detailed to defend the Blue Line against counter-
attack. Luckily, no counter-attack was launched,
for the machine-gunners, unused to tanks, fell out
of the tanks choking and vomiting and retired by
degrees to the nearest dressing station, some, of
them on stretchers. The tank crews remained in
possession until the infantry came up.

And the light-armoured cars, manned by tank
crews, whom we had seen picking their way through
the shell-holes — their deeds of daring that day
have become historical. It will not easily be for-
gotten how they dashed through the German lines
and planted the Tank Corps flag on the head-
quarters of the German corps in Foucaucourt ; how
they fusiladed the German Staff at breakfast through
the windows of their billet ; how they captured a
train full of reinforcements ; how they destroyed
a convoy of lorries. We were convinced that light-
armoured cars and fast tanks had driven the cavalry
into a museum.

246 A COMPANY OF TANKS

I doubt whether in the early days of the Amiens
battle my three sections of Carrier tanks were
usefully employed. The supplies with which they
were overloaded could have been taken forward
more rapidly and more economically by lorries or
by waggons both on the first day and during the
following week, when they dragged across country
supplies of petrol, oil, and ammunition to dumps
which were served by excellent roads. The true
function of the Carrier tank, it appeared to us,
was either to follow the infantry closely into the
battle area with supplies, or to transport heavy
and bulky material. The experiences of Ritchie's
section were valuable.

Ritchie and his six tanks had left Querrieu Wood
on the night of the 3rd, making for the tank bridge
across the Somme by Lamotte-Brebiere. In a
cutting short of the village the convoy of forty
odd tanks — Ritchie was with Roffey's company
— met a column of Australian transport. Neither
the tanks nor the waggons could turn, and for three
hours there was a masterful display of language.
At last, after prodigies of driving on both sides,
the waggons and the tanks were disentangled, but
the night was unpleasantly short, and the tanks
were compelled to seek shelter from the day in
the village of Glisy.

For once a number of Australians were to know
what fear was. Dawn was breaking, and an enemy
aeroplane, hoping to catch the belated scurrying
for cover, was low overhead. One tank decided
to shelter beside a house, but, swinging a little
hastily, it carried away the corner of the house.

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 247

and the bricks and masonry fell with a crash. The
Australians, who had heard the noise of the aero-
plane, thought at once that a bomb had fallen.
They rushed out of the house in their shirts and
dashed for cover. Then, as the tank snuggled
more closely to the house, they realised what had
happened. Luckily the doors of a tank cannot
be opened from outside.

On the day of the battle four tanks, loaded with
shells, bombs, wire, shovels, and water, started from
the ruins of Cachy, immediately behind our trenches,
and endeavoured to keep pace with the infantry,
but that day the Canadians advanced eight miles.
The tanks, accompanied by the D.A.A.G. of the ist
Canadian Division, toiled along after them. It was
a hot and weary trek. The D.A.A.G. was saddle-
sore, and Jacobs, whose tank he was accompanying,
was a little chafed. A halt was made, and a tin of
tank grease broached. The remedy was odorous,
but effective.

On the heels of the infantry the tanks arrived on
the following day at Caix, ten miles from their start-
ing-point, and disgorged. Two of them made a'
round of the more advanced machine-gun posts, and,
despite heated protests from the enemy, supplied
much-needed ammunition, returning in triumph.

Some of the men found it difficult to remember
that, strictly speaking, Carrier companies were not
'* fighting troops." Wallace, for instance, a runner,
finding the time heavy on his hands, disappeared for
a few hours, when he was not required, and joined
the Canadians in a successful little bombing raid.

The section returned by night. The enemy aero-

248 A COMPANY OF TANKS

planes, attracted presumably by the glow of their
exhaust-pipes, bombed them unmercifully, but with-
out success.

After a series of marches and counter-marches,
inspired by false alarms, Ritchie's section returned to
Querrieu Wood on the i8th. I had intended to give
him a week to rest his men and overhaul his tanks,
which had already covered a hundred miles without
respite, but I received orders to assist the 47th
Division in an attack north of the Somme, and my
remaining sections had already been ear-marked for
the ist Australian and 32nd Divisions.

So on the 21st Ritchie's weary old tanks trekked
six miles over difficult country to Bonnay, a pleasant
little village on the Ancre, a mile above the con-
fluence of the Ancre and the Somme. It was a
hurried business : I fetched the necessary maps in
my car from brigade headquarters. Two of the
tanks loaded up immediately with machine-gun
ammunition, and, trekking another four miles,
about midnight came to a brickyard just behind
our trenches. North of the Somme the enemy was
fighting stubbornly, and his guns pounded away day
and night. The neighbourhood of the brickyard
was shelled and gassed until the crew longed for
the battle.

At dawn the two tanks under Jacobs crawled for-
ward into the gas and smoke, and, passing through
the enemy barrage, dumped their loads of machine-
gun ammunition among the advanced posts and re-
turned with the crews slightly gassed but otherwise
unharmed.

Two of the remaining tanks went forward with

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 249

infantry supplies late in the morning when the
struggle was swaying to and fro over the Happy
Valley, a couple of miles south of our old camp at
Meaulte. There was never a more deadly struggle,
and the issue was always in doubt.

The first tank was led by Sergeant Bell. He
came to the place where he should have unloaded his
stores. The Germans were pressing fiercely, and
the tank was in the forefront of the battle. Under
bitter shell - fire and machine - gun fire Bell en-
deavoured to unload at least his precious ammuni-
tion, but two of his crew were killed and one man
was seriously wounded immediately after they had
left the shelter of the tank. Bell collected another
party of infantrymen, but by this time the Germans
were close to the tank, and our infantry, who had
lost heavily, were withdrawing. Bell could do noth
ing, for a Carrier tank possesses only one Hotchkiss
gun to fire ahead, and, as his tank had turned to
provide cover for the unloading party, that gun
would not bear. He was unable to move the tank,
because by this time every man of his crew had
been killed or wounded. He waited helplessly
until the Germans had almost surrounded the tank,
and then, firing one last burst from a Lewis gun
which he had secured, he ran across to a trench in
which our infantry had rallied. The tank stayed in
No-Man's-Land. Twice during the day Bell, with
two of my men, tried to crawl out to it and drive it
in, but the German machine-guns were too vicious.^

The second tank was led by Holt. He had just

1 Sergeant Bell was awarded the D.C.M. He was killed in action
on September 28.

250 A COMPANY OF TANKS

climbed inside for a moment, when a shell pierced
the sponson and burst, killing instantly Holt and
one of his men and wounding the remainder.^ We
could recover nothing at the time, although Wallace
made a brave attempt ; the Germans had regained
too much ground, and to approach the tank was cer-
tain death.

It was a disastrous day. The attack had failed
and the failure had been costly. The Happy Valley
was strewn with derelict tanks, and the cemetery on
the Meaulte road is very full.

On the 23rd Jacobs, with his two tanks, carried
ammunition forward to isolated machine-gun posts,
although his men were still shaken and suffering
from gas and returned without casualties. I then
ordered Ritchie, who had himself been in the thick
of the fight, to withdraw his battered section by easy
stages to Querrieu Wood.

Since the 8th we had indulged in a series of
expensive nibbles south of the Somme. Although
on the day of the great surprise we had penetrated
south of the Somme to a depth of ten thousand
yards, disorganised the enemy's communications by
concentrated bombing and the raids of armoured
motor - cars, and captured innumerable prisoners
and an enormous quantity of material, the Germans
with astounding skill filled the gap with fresh
troops, who defended their positions with the ut-
most resolution.

In these minor operations the tanks suffered

^ Lieut. F. M. Holt was one of my most promising and gallant sub-
alterns, who, if he had lived, would certainly have received early promo-
tion. He was a charming companion in the mess. We could ill afford
to lose him.

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 251

heavily. We could not understand why they had
not been withdrawn. Obviously the enemy were
aware that there were tanks on their front, and they
made every possible preparation to receive them.
And the Mk. V. was not so handy and so fast a tank
that it could afford to despise field-guns whose one
object was to hit tanks. If the tanks had been
withdrawn after the big surprise attack, the striking
power of the British Armies in the next " full-dress "
offensive would have been increased by one strong,
fresh tank brigade. . . .

From the 14th, Ryan's, Harland's, and Westbrook's
sections had not been used. The men were given a
few days' rest — I brought them back to Fouilloy or
to Querrieu Wood — and I arranged for the majority
of the officers to go in turn by car or lorry to
Doullens for a breath of civilisation. Then we set
to work on the tanks, and by the end of the week
the tanks of the two sections were once again fit for
action. We waited for orders.

It was decided to attack on the 23rd at Herleville
and Proyart, two stubborn villages a few miles south
of the Somme. My company had been placed directly
under the orders of the Australian Corps ; and, after
I had completed the preliminary arrangements at
an interview with the Brigadier-General, General
Staff, of the Corps at Glisy, I instructed Harland
and Westbrook to work out the details with the
staffs of the divisions involved, the ist Australian
and the 32nd. i

On the 2ist Harland's tanks in the Cerisy
Valley, near Warfusee, were loaded with a splendid
assortment of barbed wire, water, detonated bombs.

252 A COMPANY OF TANKS

grenades, rations, picks, shovels, and other neces-
saries. During the night of the 22nd they moved
forward, and by 2 a.m. they were in position
behind the line, severely shelled and bombed.

At dawn they followed the attack closely, and,
when after stiff fighting the Australians had reached
their final objective, the infantry were supplied
instantly with food and water, with barbed wire
to defend them against counter-attacks, and with
all the ammunition they could need.

The tanks made two journeys, the second in
the broad light of day, within full view of the
enemy gunners, who naturally did their utmost
to prevent this impudent unloading of stores under
their very noses. One tank was hit on the track,
but succeeded in crawling away. All the tanks
were shelled briskly enough, but good fortune
attended them, though by the rules of the game
they should never have escaped. One of my men
was killed and five were wounded. The Australians,
who assisted in the unloading, were less lucky.

At Herleville, Westbrook with three tanks had
been equally successful. Two tanks had followed
the infantry through the ruins of Herleville, and
seen to their wants at the moment of victory.
After the third tank (Rankin's) had unloaded, a nest
of machine-guns was discovered behind our support
lines. The " fighting " tanks had already with-
drawn. The Carrier tank with "soft" sponsons,^
and its solitary Hotchkiss gun, decided to attack,
and the Colonel of a battalion of Highlanders

^ At that period the sponsons of Carrier tanks were made of boiler-
plate, which was not proof against bullets.

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 253

climbed on board to act as guide, but before the
tank could reach the nest an interfering officer
with a battery of Stokes guns had forced the
surviving Germans to surrender.

Company headquarters had not been entirely
inactive. Mac, of all reconnaissance officers the
most conscientious, who on one famous occasion
had described so clearly to a section the routes
they should not take, that the section nearly forgot
which route they should take, had spent the night
of the 20th with Dron his orderly in finding a
way for Ritchie's tanks through the difficult country
to Bonnay. In the course of their wanderings
they came upon a mysterious camp, deserted and
full of stores. There were even several cases of
whisky in a tent. I can conceive no greater tribute
to the discipline of the Tank Corps than the fact
that this reconnaissance officer, after makiug a
note of this important discovery, did not dally in
the tent for a moment, but went out into the night.
On the 22nd he reconnoitred a route for Westbrook's
section from Bayonvillers, where the tanks were
camouflaged, to the forward posts. There was no
time to lay tape : white stakes were placed at
intervals across difficult stretches. It was not too
easy to discover a convenient " lying-up place,"
because the *' fighting " tanks had already secured
the desirable *' banks," and we had been instructed
not to go too near them for fear of confusion on
the morning of the battle.

My tank engineer and his men had been indefatig-
able. Our tanks were obsolete, and usually they
were overloaded. The crews were inexperienced.

254 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Tank after tank would break down, and a stream of
demands for spare parts flowed into headquarters.
On more than one occasion it became necessary
to lift out the whole engine complete and give the
tank a new or more often an overhauled engine
from the field stores. At Querrieu Wood we were
short of men — the establishment of a Carrier
Company is not generous — so that when heavy
spares arrived, every one, from the mess -cook to
the adjutant, would lend a hand. Before the
battle the tank engineer would rush on his motor-
cycle from one invalid tank to another. At Proyart,
for example, a few minutes before **zero," he was
repairing under continuous shell-fire a spare tank
which had broken down tactlessly at a cross-roads
immediately behind the line.

With his sections operating independently on
a wide front the Company Commander could only
tour the battlefield, for once the plans were laid
he could exercise little influence upon the result.
So you may imagine him visiting Ritchie and his
tanks north of the Somme, paying a brief unhappy
visit to Proyart, and then with Westbrook pushing
forward to a gully beyond Rainecourt to look for
Rankin and his tank. The enemy were unkind
that day.

In these later actions the Carrier tanks had
proved their worth incontestably. South of the
Somme forty-six tons of stores and ammunition
had been carried by nine ancient, unsuitable tanks,
manned by eight ofiicers and fifty men> to nine
different points, each within 400 yards of the

^ The numbers include orderlies, cooks, batmen, &c.

THE BATTLE OF AMIENS 255

enemy, and each inaccessible by day to wheeled
transport. If the old bad system of carrying parties
had been employed, 2500^ men would have been
needed instead of 58. Further, these loads were
carried forward eight to nine miles in all, and at
least sixteen lorries were therefore set free. Lastly,
the Carrier tanks followed so closely the advancing
infantry that in the majority of cases the stores
and ammunition were handed over as soon as they
could be received.

The success and importance of the Carrier tanks
were pleasantly recognised. One General wrote
a special letter of thanks and congratulations about
us to the 5th Tank Brigade, stating that the Carrier
tanks were "a great feature of the day's operations."
An Australian General recommended one of my
section commanders for a decoration, and at the
first opportunity sent by his car a present to 4:he
section of two jars of rum and a few cases of
chocolate.

It had become increasingly difficult for us to
convince ourselves that we were not "fighting
troops." We had followed the infantry "over the
top"; we had dumped supplies in full view of the
enemy ; one of my tanks had received a direct hit,
and had been set on fire; another tank had been
abandoned practically in No -Man's -Land because
every man in the crew except the tank commander
had become a casualty; a third tank, with a
Highland colonel on board, had started to mop up
a machine-gun nest. We began to wonder whether,
after all, we were a fit receptacle for " crocks." And

^ For the actual carrying ^cooks, &c., excluded.

256 A COMPANY OF TANKS

«

we did not forget that Carrier Tanks were manned
only by skeleton crews, and that, in consequence,
every member of the crew was driven to work day
and night.

We set ourselves at once to make ready our
fourteen surviving tanks, in case we should be
required again, and I issued orders for the recon-
naissance of the forward area south of the Somme ;
but on the 21st August the battle of Bapaume
had commenced, and on our front the enemy
began to withdraw to the Canal de la Somme,
with the Australians in pursuit. Our brigade were
placed in G.H.Q. Reserve, and I was ordered to
concentrate my company at Villers-Brettoneux.
On the 26th we received instructions to entrain.

257

CHAPTER XVI.

THE HINDENBURG LINE.

{August 27th to October ^th, 1918.)

We had become masters of our tanks. Faults
had been traced and eliminated ; defective parts
had been replaced — three tanks had received com-
plete new engines — and invaluable experience had
been acquired not only in the upkeep and repair
of tanks, but in the art of extorting *' spares " fro'm
Field Stores, in preserving the necessary ** stock "
in the Technical Quartermaster-Sergeant's stores,
and in arranging for the correct " part," even if it
were an engine complete, to be rushed forward by
lorry to the invalid tank. I knew now that, if I
ordered a tank or a section of tanks to trek any
reasonable distance within a reasonable time, there
was no need for me to wonder how many of my
tanks would reach their destination. This may
seem a small thing, but you must remember that
five months before not half a dozen of my men
had had the slightest idea of a petrol -engine's
insides.

So it mattered little that, when I received in-
structions to entrain at Villers - Brettoneux, my

R

258 A COMPANY OF TANKS

tanks were scattered over the countryside — Ryan's
at Hamelet, Harland's and Westbrook's in the
C^risy Valley, and Ritchie's survivors at Querrieu
Wood. On the 26th, the tanks trekked without
incident to an orchard half a mile from the ramp,
camouflaged and, pushing in their sponsons, made
ready to entrain, while Mac, with an advance
party, dashed away to Boisleux-au-Mont, our
destination.

On the 30th, after I had seen Harland and West-
brook entrained in great style from a travelling
ramp, I drove north to Boisleux, which lies just
half-way between our old friends, Wailly and
Behagnies. There I discovered Mac weary and
wrathful after a tussle with a battalion commander
over some choice dug-outs which we coveted. We
consoled ourselves with a clean stretch of turf at
the back of some old trenches, against the parados
of which we afterwards constructed shacks and
stores, and fortunately well away from the village.

At I A.M. on the 31st Westbrook's train pulled
in to the ranip at Boisleux. Read, Mac, and I
had been waiting for it since g p.m. After we
had spent an hour or so in listening to German
aeroplanes, admiring the ineffective patterns which
the searchlights made, and wondering whether
the ramp might not be bombed, we procured some
chairs and dozed.

We were suddenly awakened by a hideous crash,
the grinding of enormous timbers and frightened
shouts. We listened for the noise of the engine
and the hiss of the next bomb — until in the black-
ness of the night we realised that it was only a

THE HINDENBURG LINE 259

tank train which a foolish engine-driver had driven
into the ramp. ...

At Boisleux we rested pleasantly after we had
thoroughly overhauled our tanks, fitted grids inside
the sponsons to prevent the loads from falling into
the engines or the crew, and drilled a little. There
were, of course, minor diversions. On two or three
nights the village was bombed, but we, who were
in the open, escaped. We did not escape so easily
from a storm which blew down the majority of our
numerous tents. There was much shouting for
batmen that night.

I took the opportunity of indulging in a little
Paris leave. On the second night Paris was bombed.
I was awakened by a discreet tap at the door of
my room. Sleepily I heard the calm voice of the
unruffled Swede who owned my favourite hotelJn
Montparnasse —

** It is an air-raid, and my clients gather below ;
but M. le Commandant, who is accustomed to
war's alarms, will doubtless prefer to continue his
sleep."

It was too absurd to be bombed when stretched
comfortably in the softest of beds with a private
bathroom next door. ... I thought that I must
be dreaming. Anyway, nothing on earth or above
it could have induced me to leave that bed.

My car met me at Amiens on September 25th.
The driver told me that my Company had moved
forward to Manancourt, a village a few miles south
of Ytres, and was expecting shortly to take part in
an attack. So with the famous air from that sophis-
ticated operetta, " La Petite Femme de Loth,"

26o A COMPANY OF TANKS

running in my head, I drove through Villers-Bre-
tonneux and Warfusee to Proyart, where I dropped
an austere American Staff Officer, who had come
with me in the train from Paris, and thence over the
Somme through the outskirts of Peronne, to a tidy
little camp on clean grass by a small coppice half-
way between Manancourt and Nurlu. I found the
Company making ready for action.

At Boisleux we had come under the orders of
the 4th Tank Brigade, which had suffered such
heavy losses during the battle of Amiens, both in
a series of actions with the Canadians and later
in the Happy Valley, that it had been placed in
reserve. The stern defence of Bullecourt by the
enemy, who held it as desperately in 1918 as they
had in 19 17, nearly drew the Brigade from its
rest ; but at last even Bullecourt fell, and the
British Armies swept on to the suburbs of Cambrai
and the Hindenburg Line.

It was with the Hindenburg Line that the 4th
Tank Brigade was concerned.

On the front of the 4th Army, with which our
Brigade was now operating, the Hindenburg Line, a
series of defences 7,000 to 10,000 yards in depth,
was itself defended by the St Quentin Canal. For
three and a half miles, between Vendhuille and
Bellicourt, the canal passes through a tunnel,
and this stretch it was determined to attack. But
before the main operation could take place, it was
urgently necessary to capture certain outlying points
of vantage known as The Knoll and Quennemont
and Guillemont Farms. Already we had attempted
unsuccessfully on three occasions to carry them by

THE HINDENBURG LINE 261

storm. A final attempt was to be made by the
io8th American Infantry Regiment on September
27th, and one section of Carrier tanks was ordered
to assist. Ryan, who had been in command of
the company during my absence, had detailed his
own section for the job.

On the afternoon of the 25th, Ryan and I reported
at the Headquarters of the American Division
concerned, the 27th. The American Staff was a
little flustered and confused, . . . but we found to
our gratification that Australian Staff Officers were
"nursing" the Americans — there were a number
of Australians with each American unit — and we
soon obtained the orders and the information which
we required. The Australians knew us and we
knew the Australians : nothing could have been
more satisfactory. The Americans, on the other
hand, had never heard of Carrier tanks, although
they appreciated in theory their use at once.

Ryan's tanks moved by easy stages to a copse
three-quarters of a mile from Villers-Faucon, where
they were loaded on the 26th with ammunition,
wire, water, and sandbags. They were joined by
unloading parties of American infantry, eight men
to each tank, bright young fellows who had not
previously been in action. I doubted whether they
would be of use : to follow a slow Carrier tank into
action and to unload it in sight of the enemy under
heavy fire needs the coolness and skill of veterans.

It was a little characteristic that, while the
quartermaster who brought the supplies to Ryan's
tanks was more than eager to help and almost
embarrassed me with his explanations and sug-

262 A COMPANY OF TANKS

gestions, the unloading parties gave us a sad fright
by arriving at the last moment. They had received
no written orders, and, after wandering aimlessly
round the country " for some other tanks," came
in at dusk dead-tired.

On the night before the battle the tanks moved
up to points in the rear of our posts, and thirty
minutes after "zero" they followed the fighting
tanks and the infantry. The shelling was severe.

The first tank under Sergeant Broughton reached
its objective, but, as the unloading party had lost
touch with it on the trek forward, the crew were
compelled themselves to unload the tank. Appa-
rently the attack had been checked, for Sergeant
Broughton found that he was so close to the enemy
that he could see them firing. He completed the
dump, swinging the tank to give the men as much
cover as possible from machine-gun bullets, though
without help it was painfully slow work, and half
his men were wounded. On the way back the tank
struck a land-mine, and it was set on fire. The
survivors crawled back into camp late in the
afternoon.

The second tank, under Thomas,^ became
** ditched " in a huge crater a few hundred yards
from its objective. It was so heavy loaded that
the unditching beam could not be used, and such
intense machine-gun fire was directed at the tank
that Thomas quite properly did not ask his men
to attempt to unload the roof. It would, in any
case, have been a laborious job, since the unloading
party had missed the way. Three attempts were

^ Lieutenant (later Captain) S. A. Thomas, M.C.

THE HINDENBURG LINE 263

made to extricate the tank from the crater into
which it had slipped, but each attempt failed. The
German gunners were more successful, for by dusk
they had blown the tank into a fantastic tangle of
twisted wreckage.

The third tank struck a land-mine on the way
forward. Two of the crew were killed instantly,
and a third man was severely wounded. Ryan,
who was walking beside the tank, was badly injured
— his ankle was shattered by the force of the ex-
plosion.

Read and I had tramped up to Ronssoy, a large
industrial village in which were the headquarters
of the io8th Regiment. It was a damp steamy
day. The Americans were puzzled and disconsolate.
Their infantry, led gallantly by tanks of the 4th
Battalion, had undoubtedly advanced, but the
reports were so conflicting that no one could say
definitely how the line ran. It appeared that the
Americans had not ** mopped up " with any success,
since there were parties of the enemy between the
Americans who had attacked and the posts which
they had left at **zero." In places the Germans
seemed to be farther forward than they had been
before the attack commenced. Of the fighting
tanks the majority had received direct hits,^ and
the crews, mostly wounded, were staggering back
by twos and threes into Ronssoy. It was no wonder
that Sergeant Broughton had found himself under
the very noses of the enemy. With the main attack
still to come, the situation could not have been
more unsatisfactory.

1 It was in these local attacks that tanks suffered most severely.

264 A COMPANY OF TANKS

Even the headquarters of the io8th Regiment
were to suffer. We had noticed a little nervously
that although a German observation balloon was
looking into Ronssoy, a crow^d of orderlies and
officers were collected in the road outside the head-
quarters. The lesson was sharp. Twenty minutes
after we had left the village in an ammunition lorry
a salvo of S-g's, entirely without warning, burst
among the crowd.

Of the land-mines which had proved fatal to
two of my tanks and to several tanks of the 4th
Battalion we had received information, but the
information was found to be inaccurate. Warning
had reached us of a British anti-tank minefield laid
in March, and we had marked the mines on our
maps. The minefield, however, was in fact five
hundred yards from its supposed position, and its
full extent was not discovered until on the 2gth
ten American tanks endeavoured to pass across it
and were destroyed.

On the 28th it was clear enough that, although
parties of American infantry were out in front of
their original line, The Knoll, together with Quenne-
mont and Guillemont Farms, remained in German
hands. The attack of the loSth Regiment was
more than unsuccessful. If it had never been
launched the attack on the 29th might have taken
place at least under cover of a barrage; but now
that scattered bodies of Americans, surrounded by
the enemy, were ahead, no barrage could be
employed.

While the survivors of Ryan's section, under the
command of Thomas, were salving what remained

THE HINDENBURG LINE 265

of their tank equipment, the three remaining
sections moved forward from Manancourt with
the battalions to which they had been allotted.
Fortunately, my officers reconnoitred their own
routes, for two of the convoys with which they
were trekking temporarily lost their way.^ My tanks
were detailed once again to carry supplies for the
fighting tanks, a dull and thankless task.

Two hours after "zero," on the 2gth, my car
felt its way through thick mist into Hargicourt,
a dilapidated village a mile or so from the " infantry
start line." The Brigade had ordered that the
Refilling Point for tanks should be an open stretch
of rough pasture on the farther side of the village.
The map reference of the point was L5b4.i. It
was intended that on the afternoon of the battle
lorries should bring supplies to the Refilling Point,
that the loads should there be transferred to my
tanks, and that my tanks with a day's supplies on
board should follow the fighting tanks across the
broken desolate country of the Hindenburg system
of trenches. I had decided in consequence to
make L5b4.i my headquarters.

The enemy did not approve of this decision. As
soon as the mist began to clear Hargicourt itself
was shelled methodically, while the proposed Re-
filling Point, which was surrounded by a number
of half-concealed batteries, was the object of a bitter
hate. A wireless tank, destined for the same
unhappy spot, had retired into the garden of a
cottage, and I accompanied the wireless tank. It

1 In any case it was bad policy for Mk. IV. 's and Mk. V.'s to move
in the same convoy.

266 A COMPANY OF TANKS

belonged to my old battalion. We heard all the
news, and the driver knew how to make tea.

Soon it became clear that for once the battle
was not proceeding in accordance with plan.
Obviously the enemy was still clinging to the
Quennemont Ridge, and the left flank of the
attacking infantry was uncovered. The direction
from which the bulk of the shelling came could
not be mistaken. Hargicourt itself was being
shelled with light stuff, while, if we had reached
our objectives to time, the village would by now
have been out of range.

The news was melancholy. The wounded,
streaming back through the village, told us that
the enemy machine-guns were murderous ; reports
from tank officers showed that an appalling number
of tanks had received "direct hits"; of the Ameri-
cans nothing had been heard. From our right,
however, came the astounding rumour that the 46th
Division had achieved the impossible by forcing
the passage of the canal and capturing Bellenglise.

A gunner officer was being carried down the
street of the village on a stretcher. He was so
badly wounded that his nerve was gone, and he
asked me piteously as he passed me whether he
was now quite safe. I had left him and was fifty
yards or so away when a field-gun shell burst
close to the stretcher. For a moment the smoke
enveloped the little group. Then it blew away —
the stretcher-bearers were standing quite still. I
hurried to them. Not one of them had been
touched. Mercifully the officer had lost conscious-
ness. The stretcher-bearers just grinned, gave their
straps a hitch, and strode off down the street again.

THE HINDENBURG LINE 267

Soon Ritchie, Harland, and Parslow reported to
me that they had dumped their loads and, seeing
that the proposed refilling point was being heavily
shelled, had come to me for orders.

I instructed my sections-commanders to concen-
trate at certain points in the rear of the village,
and pushed forward along the Quennemont road
myself. In a few minutes I met Major Hotblack,
the intelligence officer at Tank Corps Head-
quarters. He had been wounded in the head.
Later I learned that he with two tanks had just
captured Quennemont Ridge, which for so long
had defied us. And the tank crews had held the
ridge until they were relieved.

I obtained as much information as I could from
the many walking wounded — our attack on the
left had been checked — and returning to my head-
quarters, which were rapidly becoming distasteful
to me, despatched a report by wireless.

There was an element of humour in this delay
to our advance. It was so unexpected that many
headquarters found themselves farther forward than
they had intended. Puzzled mess-sergeants, pushing
on blindly to villages which were still in the enemy's
hands, were hurt and indignant when they were
warned to return. The neighbourhood of Hargi-
court was crowded with pathetic little camps, dis-
consolate staff-captains and suspended headquarters.
Personally I had no wish to remain even in Hargi-
court. The enemy had begun to use gas shells, and
one heavy howitzer at least made Hargicourt its
target for a time. The Refilling Point could not
come into operation ; the surviving tanks would
find plentiful supplies at the dumps which my

268 A COMPANY OF TANKS

section had already made. On the other hand,
two miles back, there were some excellent quarries
at Templeux-le-Guerard, where we could rest in
safety and comfort until we were wanted. You will
remember that, as we were not ** fighting troops,"
but merely a humble collection of " supply tanks,"
we could retire from the fray without hurt to our
self-respect.

I was fortunate enough to meet the General's car
between Templeux and Roisel. He approved of my
suggestion. I returned rapidly to Hargicourt, and
withdrew my miserable headquarters to a grassy
depression near the quarries, where Harland's
section had rallied. Mac went in search of suitable
dug-outs, while I listened to Harland's report.

Harland, like a good section commander, had
given his men an excellent breakfast before the
day's work — fried bacon, hot toast, and tea, followed
by rum.i Each tank had been loaded at Manan-
court Copse with 240 gallons of petrol, 40 gallons
of oil, 80 gallons of water, 40 lb. of grease, 20,000
rounds of Hotchkiss ammunition, and 400 rounds
of 6-pdr. ammunition. Thus heavily laden, they
crawled on for three hours, until they reached the
appointed spot for unloading, immediately behind
our original line. They were noticed by an enemy
aeroplane flying low, and shelled heavily in con-
sequence. Small dumps were formed in shell-holes
— the operation was completed with astonishing

1 We could always obtain rum: every tank carried a supply to revive
its exhausted crew. At Cambrai each of my tanks carried a bottle
of whisky in place of rum, but this innovation tended to bunch the
infantry — Argylls — dangerously near to the tanks, and in subsequent
actions we reverted to rum.

THE HINDENBURG LINE 269

celerity — and the tanks, running light, raced away.
One man had been gassed and one wounded.

Within the next two hours the German gunners
destroyed half the supplies which had been dumped,
but they were not required, since the majority of
the American tanks, for whose benefit the dumps
had been formed, lay derelict on the minefield,
which had blown up two of my tanks on the 27th.

Ritchie's section had experienced no adventures.
They had dumped their supplies punctually, and
rallied without hindrance from the enemy.

We retired at dusk to our dug-outs in the quarries
above the village of Templeux-le-Guerard.^ These
quarries penetrated confusedly into a steep and
isolated hill, upon which a stout castle might
have been built. The workings were approached
by slippery paths. The hill was a very maze of
tunnels, ravines, pits, shelters, which provided im-
penetrable cover for numerous guns and a brigade
or more of infantry. The enemy appreciated its
qualities, and refused to waste shells upon it. Their
gunners confined themselves to the lower slopes
and to the level-crossing in Templeux itself.

The quarries were tenanted with wrathful Aus-
tralians. It had been planned that the Americans
should storm the first trench -system of the Hin-
denburg Line, and that the Australians, passing
through the Americans, should continue the attack
by storming the second trench-system. But when
the Australians went forward an hour or so after
'*zero," they discovered to their cost that in many

^ I hope I shall be forgiven if I mention the fact that this village;
was commonly known as " Teddie Gerard."

270 A COMPANY OF TANKS

places the enemy infantry were sitting happily in
the trenches which the Americans had captured.
Large numbers of Americans had disappeared. Not
even our aeroplanes could tell us what points they
had reached, or how many had survived. The
result was that the Australians, with an unknown
quantity of Americans " out in front," did not dare
to use their artillery. They resigned themselves
to the inevitable, and attacked the Hindenburg
Line grimly with bomb and bayonet. They ham-
mered in little wedges of men, and foot by foot,
with savage cunning and merciless determination,
fought their way through the gigantic system of
intricate defences, often coming suddenly upon
detached bodies of Americans, helplessly surrounded,
but still holding out.

It was indeed true that on our right the 46th
Division, "equipped with lifebelts, and carrying
mats and rafts," by a gallant feat of arms had
crossed the St Quentin Canal and established
themselves on the eastern bank, — the right flank
of the Australians was thus secured ; but to my
mind even the feat of the 46th Division did not
surpass the astonishing exploits of the Australians,
who took disaster by the throat and choked victory
out of it. For various reasons this phase of the
battle has been somewhat obscured. . . . By
October 5th the Australians had broken through
the Hindenburg Line, and with the help of tanks
stormed Montbrehain. They had fought continu-
ously since September 29th.

In these intermediate actions we took no part.
After two nights in the quarries I moved my

THE HINDENBURG LINE 271

company to Haute Wood, a stunted copse shelter-
ing a quiet grassy slope, a couple of miles out
of Templeux, on the Roisel road. There we
remained placidly until October 7th in the
multitudinous tents which we had by this time
collected, overhauling our tanks, playing a Httle
football, . and visiting as frequently as our duties
permitted the strictly rationed canteen at Peronne.
We were disturbed only by an occasional shell
from a long-range gun.

Once Montbrehain was stormed the enemy could
cling only to the farther fringes of the Hindenburg
Line, and on October 8th we drove them out of
organised trenches altogether into the clean open
country. My tanks were again employed to follow
the fighting tanks with supplies, but on this occa-
sion my sections were not allocated to battalioos,
but remained under my own command, so that
we were able to choose our own times and places,
and by " pooling " supplies to effect very necessary
economies.

On the 5th I had reconnoitred with Mac and
my section commander a route forward from Haute
Wood to the vicinity of Bellicourt. It was a dismal
tramp over ground shelled to utter destruction —
a maze of crumbling trenches and forgotten posts,
strewn with derelict equipment, deserted dumps
of ammunition, dead stinking horses, and too often
the corpses of unburied Germans. Here and there
ran light railways, which we did not desire to
damage in case they should be needed ; and near
Bellicourt was a wilderness of sidings and stores
and huts and roadways.

272 A COMPANY OF TANKS

From the high ground above Bellicourt we looked
across the log- road to Quennemont Ridge — out-
wardly a peaceful dark-green down, but in fact a
loathsome graveyard on which the corpses lay
scattered in handfuls, and blackened metal tombs
that had been tanks. The distant gunners were
still tormenting this hill, which was already dead,
and shells, lazily exploding, stirred again the loose
mud, rotting bodies, and rusted rifles.

The log-road over the trenches, narrow and
insecure, was crammed with thick traffic moving
at less than walking pace, for it was the only road
from Hargicourt to Bellicourt. It might have
been a bridge over a river impassable to all trans-
port except tanks.

To the south were low dark ridges stretching
to St Quentin. They were fringed with bursting
shells. And in front of us was Bellicourt, tattered,
but with red -brick cheerful in a gleam of sun —
not utterly submerged by war, and with but a faint
spirit of the place hovering above the levelled
ruins, as vi^ere those ravished places which had
known war for year after year. Bellicourt, shat-
tered but undismayed, still lived to point gallantly
to the tracks of the retiring enemy and the goal
for which we had always fought — open country.

On the 6th my tanks moved into the trenches,
spending the night near Hargicourt, and on the
night of the 7th trekked down a valley, less de-
stroyed than others, to Bellicourt, and over the
tunnel canal and the main St Quentin road. The
sections pitched their tents by some trenches. I
had advanced my headquarters meanwhile to a clean

THE HINDENBURG LINE 273

stretch of turf by the St Quentin road, just outside
Bellicourt, leaving at Haute Wood my stores and
heavy baggage, which I had been able only within
the last few days to bring forward from the copse
at Manancourt. Lorries were none too plentiful,
and I had collected a great quantity of stores in
case I should find myself out of touch with the
sources of supply.

The night was noisy, but no damage was done,
and the morning was splendidly fine. My sections
had moved soon after dawn. I followed later in
my car.

We drove along the canal to Bellenglise, then,
bearing to the left, took to the old Roman Road,
along which the 5th and 3rd Divisions, defeated,
broken, and more weary than I could describe,
poured confusedly through the rain on the night
of August 26th, 1914. We passed by the strange
cottage, still unharmed, where we despatch-riders
had given stew and hot coffee to the bedraggled
Staff and had slept amongst the straw, and came
to Harland's tanks a mile or so short of Estrees,
waiting dully to supply the tanks of the 301st
American Battalion. So we arrived at the dismal
dilapidated village itself, momentarily empty except
for innumerable notices in German and a derelict
whippet tank standing in the little square in which
our Signal Company had rallied four years since.
We slipped into a byroad, left the car, and walked
across country to a half- grown copse under the
shadow of Beaurevoir. There we found Ritchie's
four tanks with that excellent Mac of the ist
Battahon, who had helped us to detrain at Achiet-

s

274 A COMPANY OF TANKS

le-Grand. While we were consuming tea and
sandwiches with them, it was reported that certain
tanks had run short of petrol near Serain, the first
of the redeemed villages. I sent two of Ritchie's
tanks forward to help. . . . Ritchie's tanks duly
arrived at Serain, where they were overwhelmed by
the embraces of the pale hysterical villagers. Both
Ritchie's and Harland's tanks trekked back that
afternoon to Bellicourt. Two of Harland's tanks
passed through a valley crammed with a brigade
of cavalry, who at the eleventh hour of the war
were hoping for an old-fashioned, sabre -waving
pursuit. It was a little ludicrous to think that my
old supply-tanks could have put to flight the brigade
in the valley. As it was, they merely gave the
horses a severe fright. We completed our round,
gathering the news and calling at various necessary
headquarters. Finally we returned in gentlemanly
fashion for lunch. . . .

That night we began to realise the unbelievable
— there was not a trench between us and Germany.
And yet this thing, for which we had been yearning
four long years, had come about in the ordinary
course of the day's work. That gay, splendid
break-through of our imaginations was in fact but
the successful completion of a day's fighting dis-
appointingly like any other day's fighting. We
could just repeat the words again and again,
doubting their truth, yet rejoicing soberly in their
significance —

** We are through to the open country ! "

275

CHAPTER XVII.

THE SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU.

{October gth to October 30 //z, 19 18.)

On October gth the enemy broke off the engage-
ment, retiring six miles to the neighbourhood of
Le Cateau, in order that they might re-form and
again present some sort of front to our advance.
Clouds of fast tanks should have pursued them
closely and prevented them ever from rallying. In
the absence of tanks the cavalry pressed forward
on either side of the Roman Road, gallantly charged
machine-guns, and returned more than a little
shaken with news which the aeroplanes had already
reported. We wondered what would have happened
if the enemy rearguards had possessed a few
"whippets" in addition to stoutly-fought machine-
guns. It is a desperate business — to charge
machine-guns, and it is pure suicide for cavalry
to await the attack of tanks.

My old Carrier tanks were not to be left behind.
On the nth I moved my headquarters to a deserted
inn on the Roman Road in the neighbourhood of
Beaurevoir. The sections were encamped close
by. This inn, which, together with a few houses

276 A COMPANY OF TANKS

and a beetroot factory, was known as Geneve, had
its advantages. The rooms were large and com-
paratively undamaged; within a few yards was a
German R.E. dump: it was conveniently on the
main road and the direct tank route forward. It
had, however, been the centre of a stiff little fight.
Within a radius of a hundred yards were thirty to
forty corpses, mostly Americans. We commenced
reverently to bury them, but one morning a some-
what severe American padre came in and bade us
exhume his compatriots, and carry them to a little
cemetery half a mile away, of which we had known
nothing. We were only too glad to help him, and
I lent him some men and a limbered waggon.

The mile along the old enemy defences to the
village of Beaurevoir was a dolorous walk. The
defences were only holes, scratched on the reverse
side of banks by entrenching tools, and shallow
machine-gun posts. The dead had not all been
buried, and sometimes the searcher would discover
a man who must have been long in dying — open
warfare is not pleasant for those who fall wounded
in hidden places.

Beaurevoir itself, set on a hill, was not yet empty
of the dead. The ruined cottages had been evacu-
ated hurriedly, but in each cottage the handloom
had been smashed, and not by shells. The statue
of Jeanne d'Arc had been taken from its pedestal,
and had not been found.

The only live civilian near Beaurevoir was a cow,
which kept Thomas's section supplied with milk
until the Chinese came to clear the battlefield.

We were given but a few days to explore the

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 277

country at our leisure. The enemy apparently had
determined to make their first stand on the line
of the Selle river, a very definite obstacle. Le
Cateau itself v^as doubtful territory.

A series of conferences was held at brigade head-
quarters, which had suddenly jumped forward to
Serain. It was determined to attack on the 17th.
Now that we had reached good roads and open
country my tanks were not required to carry
supplies for the fighting tanks, but, as a measure
of precaution, I was instructed to send a section
forward to Maurois, a ten -mile trek from Geneve.
Parslow's tanks completed the trek without incident
on the 15th.

I motored up to see him, and every yard of the
road was for me a solemn triumph. We were
avenging the confused retreat of the British Army
on the afternoon and night of the first battle of
Le Cateau ; we were driving through really clean
unshelled country, which might never have been
touched by the finger of war if it had not been
for the craters blown at the cross-roads and the
occasional corpse by the roadside ; and never in
my life have I seen happier people, men and women
more flustered and confused with happiness, than
the thin underfed villagers who stood gazing in
the crowded main street of Maretz.

Short of Maurois village the Germans had blown
into the cutting the road-bridge over the railway
from Cambrai to St Quentin. The traffic was
being diverted, when we arrived on the scene, over
heavy fields to a level crossing, and the engineers
were working against time to construct a new

278 A COMPANY OF TANKS

bridge capable of bearing the heaviest transport.
It had been raining, and the men were finding it
difficult indeed to haul the great girders into
position. A couple of hundred yards away were
Parslow's tanks. The remedy was obvious. A
tank was brought round on to the rails and spent
a profitable hour in doing a job which would have
taken fifty men a full day. The bridge was com-
pleted rapidly, and the traffic once more flowed
steadily over the bridge instead of floundering
over the fields.

On the 17th and i8th Parslow's tanks were not
required. On the igth they trekked back to Geneve.
The 4th Tank Brigade was being relieved by the
2nd Tank Brigade. We expected orders to move to
Hargicourt for entrainment, and we made an expedi-
tion over the log-road to discover the whereabouts
of the ramp. But a railway accident outside
Cambrai delayed the arrival of the 2nd Carrier
Company, — to our disgust we were ordered to
remain temporarily with the 2nd Tank Brigade.

We became involved at once in our last battle
of the war. From the 17th to the 20th we had
straightened our line in a series of fierce and
costly little attacks. The enemy had been driven
definitely from Le Cateau and now lay just beyond
the outskirts of the town. To the west of the town
we had crossed the Selle. The Army Commander
decided to throw the enemy back to the Mormal
Forest by a grand attack on a fifteen-mile front.
I received orders from the 2nd Tank Brigade to
assist the Xlllth Corps by carrying supplies.

I instructed Parslow's section, which had just

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 279

Completed a ten-mile trek, to return with Thomas's
section to the camp by Maurois Station, and when
they were on their way I reported at Corps Head-
quarters. I arranged with the Corps Staff that
Thomas's section should operate with the 33rd,
34th, and 35th Infantry Brigades of the nth
Division, while Parslow should help the 25th
Division. The Corps further requested urgently
that any spare tanks which I might have should
be detailed to carry ammunition for the 104th Army
Brigade R.F.A., the guns of which could not be
reached by horse transport without difficulty on
account of the nature of the ground. I brought
up Harland from Geneve, gave him two tanks,
and ordered him to carry on.

On the afternoon of the 20th I established my
advanced headquarters in an orchard, quarter of a
mile from the bridge which we had helped to
construct. After mess we all attended a first-rate
" show " given by the Divisional Troupe of the 25th
Division, and returned to our camp greatly en-
couraged, but a trifle unhappy that we had not
billeted ourselves in one of the many excellent
houses in Maurois.

That night one officer at least was disturbed in his
slumbers. The enemy shelled Maurois persistently,
sending over a few shells to the neighbourhood of
the bridge. Finally a large aeroplane bombed along
the main road, dropping one group just short of the
camp, and another group, intended presumably for
the bridge, between the bridge and the camp. The
aeroplane was flying so recklessly low — it was a clear
night with a moon — that for once our machine-

28o A COMPANY OF TANKS

gunners brought her down in a field about a mile
beyond the bridge.

Much damage had been done in Maurois. We
were thankful that we were in tents outside the
village and had not been tempted by the houses.
One shell had exploded just behind the hall in which
the concert had been held. For such shelling and
bombing the casualties were heavy.

On the 2 1st I was quite busy. After a visit to my
rear headquarters at Geneve to arrange for the
supply of spare parts by lorry, I reported again to
the Corps for final orders. Then with Parslow I
visited the 25th Division and went with the Divi-
sional Commander to see the Commander of the
Brigade to which Parslow's tanks would be attached.
We settled every detail to our satisfaction.

In the afternoon I ran over with Thomas to
Reumont, where we hoped to find the nth Division,
but a relief had not yet been completed and its staff
had not arrived. We spent our spare time in
walking out to the cottage, which had been the head-
quarters of the 5th Division on August 26, 1914, but
time had swept away every trace of that first battle.
The pits which had been dug on either side of the
road to shelter the signallers had been filled in.
The tiles of the cottage, loosened by the scaling-
ladders of our intelligence officer, had been replaced.
The little trenches had disappeared. But there was
the hedge from the cover of which our one heavy
battery, the io8th, had fired — it ran short of fuses in
the old-fashioned way, and Grimers was sent hastily
down the road on his motor-cycle for more. In
that barn to the left we had slept hoggishly among

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 281

the straw on the night before the battle, the first
night's sleep since we had detrained at Landrecies
and the last until we reached the Aisne. To my
amazement the church behind the barn was still
standing, intact except for a couple of shell-holes.
I could have sworn that four years ago, as I was
riding out of the village, I saw flames bursting from
the roof. The Germans certainly entered the village
not long after I had left it. Perhaps they may have
extinguished the flames and repaired the damage.

I had no time to question the good people of
Reumont or to discover whether those exiguous,
badly- sited trenches on the Le Cateau road were
still to be distinguished. The nth Division had
at last taken over, and the G.S.O.(i) of the relieved
Division was describing his experiences among the
outposts to his successor. I reported, and was
referred to the " Q " branch of the Division, located
doubtfully in Maurois.

We searched Maurois without success. We were
somewhat delayed by a stream of ambulances
bearing through the rain and the darkness the
gassed civilians of Le Cateau. These civilians —
men, women, and children — had refused to leave
their homes. Even the French mission could not
move them. They protested airily that in a day or
two Le Cateau would be safe. Now through Le
Cateau passed the stores and ammunition of a corps :
the cellars contained infantry ; the houses sheltered
guns. The enemy accordingly shelled it heartily
with gas and H.E., and the gas was fatal to the
civilians. We sent forward as many gas-helmets as
we could, but even if they had been sufficient it

282 A COMPANY OF TANKS

would have been beyond man's wit to distribute
them among the inhabitants, who had gone to
ground in cellars. I found it difficult to blame the
enemy. Who, then, was to blame for these tortured
children with their ghastly green faces, and the still
bodies covered with carefully-mended sheets ?

At last we met an intelligent staff captain, who
directed us to Maretz. There we discovered an
appreciative colonel with whom we commenced to
make necessary arrangements. The final details the
section commanders worked out for themselves with
the staffs concerned. We arrived back at our camp
a little weary and bedraggled, hoping for a quiet
night. Our hopes were fulfilled.

The morning of the 22nd was spent in reconnais-
sance. At dusk Thomas's and Parslow's sections,
accompanied by unloading parties of infantry,
moved forward from Maurois : Harland had already
commenced to supply his guns with shells.

As soon as it was light on the 23rd, Mac and I
drove to the railway embankment, from which
Parslow's tanks had started on their trek into the
battle. We walked over a few fields until, at a road
which at **zero" had been our front line, we over-
took a Carrier tank which had been much delayed
by mechanical trouble. We followed the route of
the attacking infantry through orchards and rich
enclosed fields — here and there were dead, the prey
of machine-guns — until we came to a mill stream,
overhung by thick undergrowth, which had so
troubled our intelligence officers that elaborate pre-
parations for building field-bridges had been made.
We crossed it by the shallowest of fords. To our

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 283

astonishment shells began to fall behind us ; later
we knew that on our right the enemy were not
dislodged from the edge of the Pommereuil Wood
until the following day. We pushed on over more
delicious fields, friendly gardens, and fine pasture,
leaving the village of Pommereuil on our right, un-
til, having followed the unmistakable tracks of our
tanks,^ we ran Parslow's section to ground in an
enclosure. His tanks had not yet been unloaded.
The situation in front was obscure, and it was
doubtful whether they could usefully carry their
supplies farther forward.

Parslow told me that the experiment of attacking
at 1.30 A.M. instead of at dawn had not been quite
successful. The fighting tanks had been handi-
capped by the darkness, thick mist, and gas. The
infantry, running blindly upon machine-gun posts
which the tanks could not see, had suffered heavily.
It was not until dawn that any appreciable progress
was made. Parslow, immediately behind the battle,
was compelled continually to stop, but fortunately
his tanks escaped shells and his crews gas.

His miserable section passed the night in the
enclosure where we had found them. On the 24th
another attack was launched to clear the right flank,
but it met with little success. The dense under-
growth in the woods and hollows in the ground
screened the enemy machine-gunners. At last on
the 25th the wood finally was cleared and the
Carrier tanks were able to move forward and dump

^ These were easily distinguished, as my tanks were the only Mk.
IV. 's in the neighbourhood. Mk. V.'s and "whippets" leave a
different track.

284 A COMPANY OF TANKS

their loads, returning to Maurois on the 26th. It
will be clear that the best use was not made of this
section. Lorries and limbered waggons can carry
up supplies after the battle. To use tanks for such
a purpose is pure extravagance.

We left Parslow to his chilly nights and began
our five-mile tramp back to Le Cateau along the
Landrecies road, keeping a good look-out to the
north for Thomas's tanks, but seeing only transport
moving on the skyline along the Bavai road, which
had known the 5th Division in advance and in
retreat. We wondered what the 5th Division would
have thought of the thirty or forty aeroplanes
fighting mazily overhead in the cloudless sky, or
what effect these aeroplanes would have had upon
the battle. In those days you were not believed if
you told your fellows that there had been three
aeroplanes in the sky at once.

So in company with an anecdotal padre we came
at dusk to the town of Le Cateau, which had been
so furiously shelled that, as we discovered later,
the German artillery officer responsible received a
decoration. Torn, shattered Le Cateau remained an
ancient and dignified town, an aristocrat who had
suffered cheerfully the blows and buffets of a
desperate fight. Old women in their best black-silk
dresses stood chatting at the entrances to their
cellars. A few children were playing soberly in the
quiet streets. Groups of happy soldiers billeted in
the place were strolling up and down with their
usual air of consummate self-possession. Here and
there angry old Frenchmen were searching for
valuables among the rubbish and rubble that had

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 285

been their homes. Along the traffic routes the noisy
transport in endless columns shouted and clattered.
But the old houses remained undisturbed, proud and
a little aloof; you could hear one say to another —

" Of course, my dear, last night was dreadful, but
I remember my mother told me that in the year
1554 the French before they set fire to the place. . . .
Of course these plebeian factories and gaudy young
villas ! How can they know that Cateau Cambr^sis
was stormed at least ten times during the fifteenth
century ? After all, we have only been French for a
trifle over two hundred years. The old bishop was
so charming and such a gentleman. . . ."

We left the old houses to their talk, and passing
through the seediest suburbs, great yards, solitary
warehouses, sidings and stations, we came to our car,
and drove back to Maurois at walking-pace — the
roads were terribly congested. Thomas reported in
the evening.

Thomas and his section had moved forward to the
neighbourhood of Montay, a little village immedi-
ately to the west of Le Cateau, at dusk on the night
of the 22nd-23rd, arriving about 8 p.m. The crews
had no sleep, for the enemy shelled and gassed
Montay unmercifully, the bombardment becoming a
barrage in the early hours of the morning. Thomas
and Connor pressed forward to make a final recon-
naissance of the route. It was necessary for the
tanks to cross the Selle by a specially-constructed
bridge. The ground on either side of the route was
marshy.

One tank under Sergeant Fenwick had been
equipped with a special apparatus for laying cable.

286 A COMPANY OF TANKS

The tank, accompanied by a signal officer, passed
over the bridge at dawn, and following closely
behind the infantry laid cable throughout the day to
the enormous content of Divisional Headquarters.
No sooner was an objective reached than Fenwick
arrived with his cable. On one occasion he was a
little premature, overrunning the advance, and as his
tank drew shell-fire, he was ordered back angrily by
a disturbed colonel.

The remaining tanks, heavily loaded with stores,
rations, and ammunition, crossed Montay Bridge in
column. The first tank caught the door of its
sponson in the rails of the bridge, and Thomas,
coming back wrathfully to investigate the cause of
delay, found the tank commander and one of his
men up to their waists in the cold and muddy water
fiishing for the door, which had been lifted off its
hinges. They found it, hauled it up and replaced it ;
but even Thomas was astounded by the extent of
the tank commander's vocabulary, and, his rebuke
dying on his lips, he hurried away to the calmer
atmosphere of the battle.

The Division with which Thomas was operat-
ing advanced in three bounds — on a brigade front,
the second brigade " leap-frogging " the first, and
the third the first and second. Thomas's sec-
tion was divided into three sub-sections, each of
which attended to the wants of one brigade. Thus,
when the first brigade, after stiff fighting, had
reached its objective, the first sub-section of Carrier
tanks which had followed the attack arrived with
rations, water, bombs, ammunition, wire, spades,
picks, &c., reported to the staff captain of the

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 287

brigade, and unloaded at sequestered points. The
second and third sub-sections followed the example
of the first. In each case the scheme worked with
mechanical perfection. The infantry were never dis-
appointed. Without employing much-needed fight-
ing men as carrying parties — without frenzied efforts
to push forward tired horse transport over shelled
roads, often impassable, a staff captain could be
assured that his brigade would receive the necessities
of existence as soon as they could be used. And,
however far forward the infantry might be, however
dangerous the approach to them, the problem was
the same for the Carrier tanks.

The tanks serving the first two brigades returned
to Maurois when their day's work had been com-
pleted, arriving in camp at dusk. The third sub-
section came back on the following day. Fenwick
and his cable-laying tank was so useful that it was
as much as I could do to extract it from the Division
on the third, with its crew cheery but thoroughly
exhausted.

We received letter of congratulation both from
Thomas's Division and from the corps ; we had, to
my mind, given conclusive proof of the utility of
Carrier tanks, properly employed, even in semi-open
warfare. Before the battle we had helped to build
a bridge. During the battle we had kept the
Divisional Commander in communication by lay-
ing cable forward as the advance progressed ; we had
carried stores for three brigades, supplying them on
the spot with the necessaries of warfare; we had
transported an enormous quantity of shells from the
roadside over country impassable to horse transport.

288 A COMPANY OF TANKS

And this we had accomplished with obsolete tanks,
entirely unsuitable for carrying bulky loads. On no
single occasion did we fail ** to deliver the goods."
Again we were independent of roads when good
roads were so scarce that a corps was fortunate if it
possessed one road to itself. We could avoid shelled
areas, and we could afford to neglect shell-fire or
machine-gun fire. At a pinch we could fight. To
my mind our experiences in the later stages of the
battle of Amiens and in the second battle of Le
Cateau show clearly the remarkable future which
must lie in front of Carrier tanks.

Coxhead's Company continued the good work,
until the 4th Army had passed beyond the Mormal
Forest. Near Landrecies a section of his tanks
captured an important bridge-head in curious
circumstances.

The tanks were laden with bridge-building material,
heavy girders, timbers, hawsers, and so on. Accord-
ing to programme the bridge-head should have fallen
to the infantry, the tanks arriving with material for
the reconstruction of the bridge, which it was antici-
pated that the enemy would have destroyed. There
was unfortunately a little hitch. When the tanks
came on the scene, the enemy were still defending
the bridge-head with the utmost vigour. The section
commander did not hesitate. His tanks continued
to move forward as though they had been fighting
tanks. The infantry, who had trained with tanks,
advanced in the proper formation. The enemy
broke and fled. It was a bloodless victory gained,
curiously enough, by officers and men who were
not rated as " fighting troops."

SECOND BATTLE OF LE CATEAU 289

We had been relieved formally on the 25th.
Thomas's and Harland's tanks trekked back to
Geneve on the 26th, Parslow arriving on the night of
the 27th. There vi^as no rest for the crews. We
had received orders to entrain on the 30th at
Roisel, and Roisel was thirteen to fourteen miles by
tank route from Geneve, which in its turn was more
than twenty-five miles from the farthest point which
my tanks had reached on the 23rd. But the men
were cheerful, and the tanks were carrying only
light tables, wire beds, cupboards, deck-chairs, felt
and planks from the German R.E. store, jam and
goulasch from a German ration dump near Le
Gateau, fresh vegetables from Maurois, tents from
three Armies, — they meant nothing to tanks accus-
tomed to carrying ten tons without flinching, and
we knew that whatever our destination we should
find there nakedness. The weather was fine, the
route was familiar, the going was good ; in spite of
multifarious mechanical troubles we made Roisel on
the 29th and entrained on the 30th for the railhead
at Beaumetz, a few miles from our old quarters at
Wailly.

290

CHAPTER XVIII.^

THE END OF THE WAR.
October z^st, 1918, to January izth, 1919.

We returned from the bustle of active warfare,
the sharp interest of solving immediate problems,
the pleasantness and at times the comfort of clean
country, to a squalid village on the edge of old,
rotting trench systems. It was as if the offensive
had failed miserably, and we had been thrust back
to '16. At first we were exhilarated by the prospect
of billets and faint incredible rumours that the
end of the war was near. . . .

On the 31st I established my headquarters in a
farm at Bailleulmont, the squalid village. The
tanks crawled in on the morning of the ist. The
men were distributed among ramshackle barns
and leaky huts. We set ourselves at once to
make the place tolerable, and were, perhaps, a
little successful. Other tank units were not so
fortunate. No villages could be found for them
in northern France, and they were compelled to
spend weeks in erecting laboriously new huts.^

On November loth there was some excitement

^ One battalion, or at least one company of it, spent the first
Christmas after the Armistice in building a camp for itself, although
there were several pleasant villages in the neighbourhood.

THE END OF THE WAR 291

at Brigade Headquarters — it was possible that an
Armistice might be arranged, but "we had heard
that tale before." On the nth a telegram was
brought to me before breakfast, while I was in
bed, that hostilities would cease at " 11 hours."

The news was so overwhelming that I could
not absorb it, and I am inclined to think now that,
because there had been no anticipation, we lost
at first the fine savour of it. I could not under-
stand— until two of my officers started to ring the
bell of the village church. The day became a
smiling dream. I found myself walking up and
down the village street, stopping everybody I met
and saying —

" Do you realise that in one hour the war will be
over?"

At II A.M. I stood opposite the church and ex-
claimed in a loud voice to nobody in particular —

" Gentlemen, the war is now over — absolutely ! "

The company, naturally enough, had begun
already to celebrate the occasion with appropriate
rites, and its steadiness on parade, when before
lunch the General came round to make a little
speech, was truly remarkable. Only one officer
in the rear was humming a little ditty to himself,
and only one man interrupted the speech by a
faint "hear! hear!" Salutes at the conclusion of
the parade were superb. . . .

We had a cold lunch, but one faithful mess waiter
served us nobly with a set face. The two cooks
with arms around each other's waists were strolling
up and down outside the window. I think they
must have been singing.

In the afternoon we went for a long walk — the

292 A COMPANY OF TANKS

news had come too early in the day. We returned
a little refreshed. At night there was a bonfire;
but I cannot do better than quote from the vivid
narrative of one of my most trusted officers : —

" November nth was a great day — and a greater
night. The dreariness and loneliness of the place
vanished suddenly on the receipt of the news of the
enemy's capitulation. Would we not soon all be
back in Blighty? The thought came like cham-
pagne to our thirsting souls. Imagination responded
promptly. The bareness of officers billets vanished
before visions of cosy sofas and arm-chairs, carpeted
floors and clean-sheeted beds. Better still, faces
of those we longed to see, especially of those we
longed to kiss, came to us. Their owners moved
amidst the pictured cosiness, sat in those arm-chairs,
shared their sofas. . . . What a picture after
the gritty holes and cramping caves of earth-
covered ammunition boxes in the C^risy Valley,
or the stuffy, fly-ridden dilapidation of billets in
Fouilloy! And it was the same with the men.
No doubt their visions were as fair. The delight
of these things shone in every one's faces. Un-
wonted cheerfulness was general. Every one smiled.

" And at night every one cheered. A way must
be found to give free and full expression to
bounding spirits. A huge bonfire was decided
upon. ... At twenty hours the massed logs that
had been heaped on the top of the fallen masonry
were saturated with petrol, a match was thrown,
and a sheet of flame shot up. A war of cheering
followed. Songs burst forth. Every one sung who
could or thought he could. The rest shouted. It

THE END OF THE WAR 293

didn't matter — noise was the thing. Half an hour
later the officers joined the shouting throng. The
din grew louder. Some one shouted Speech ! . . .
Next the Adjutant, and in turn every other officer
was called. Reversing the order, the officers then
called upon the sergeant-major and senior N.C.O.'s.
Finally, the * other ranks ' vociferously sang of
the officers, * For they are jolly good fellows,' and
the officers in similar fashion paid compliments
to the men. By this time the flames had died
down. FHckering light and shadow replaced the
ruddy glow, and slowly the crowd broke up. But
for hours yet a small group of enthusiastic maffickers
sat around the dying embers. . . ."

I should like to leave you with that picture —
I feel that after " dying embers " the word " Finis "
might suitably be written — but, if this halting
chronicle is to present an honest picture, it must
stumble on for a few more paragraphs just as my
Company dragged out a wearisome existence for
a few more months.

There were compensations. Christmas brought
its festivities ; we played football desperately, and
all but won the Brigade Cup ; we were second
in the Brigade Cross Country Run ; a Concert
Party visited us ; a lecturer was heckled by our
pet Socialist. It was, however, an almost im-
possible task to find the men something to do.
We heard vaguely of an Army Education Scheme,
or, more correctly, we read much about it in the
newspapers, and we endeavoured to organise classes
to shorten the long evenings, but we had no lamps
or candles, no paper, no pencils, and no books.

294 A COMPANY QF TANKS

We could think only of demobilisation, and soon
my orderly - room staff was allowed to think of
little else. We were overwhelmed with complicated
regulations. We struggled through them, and
discovered that Pte. X., who, entering the Army
notoriously under pressure, had arrived in France
quite recently, was due to go at once, while Sergt.
T., an old and trusted N.C.O., was to remain in
France indefinitely. The system of demobilising
men by classes could not possibly have been meant
to apply to a company billeted in a filthy village
on the edge of an old trench system. Such a
system disregarded entirely the natural feelings of
the men — " First out, first back," — and it was
very necessary to consider such feelings after the
Armistice. The men were no longer soldiers;
they were civilians impatient of control and eager
to get home. Only an army, which was undoubtedly
the best disciplined army in France, could have
suffered such a system of demobilisation with so
little disturbance. It was astonishing to us that
the emeutes, the existence of which is now common
knowledge, were not more numerous. The system,
admittedly perfect in theory from the standpoint of
industrial reconstruction, could not be administered
strictly without disregarding entirely the ordinary
soldier's sense of justice.

Well, after four years of war we amateur soldiers
were not dismayed by regulations. We made no
fuss. We would receive an instruction to despatch
a certain number of men to be demobilised at
certain specified centres, and the men were de-
spatched to time and in good order. By some

THE END OF THE WAR 295

mischance Sergt. T. went into the first batch and
the demobilisation of Pte. X. was unaccountably
delayed. It was unfortunate, but I was not sorry.
The Company remained happy and contented.
Further, we found to our amazement and delight
that the vast majority of officers and men belonged
to certain favoured classes, with the result that the
demobilisation of the Company proceeded with
remarkable rapidity. . . .

The days were long and indescribably monoto-
nous, until on January nth I received the bunch
of papers for which every officer and man in France
was yearning, and on the 12th I slipped away from
my already depleted Company.

I was desperately sorry to leave my men and
my tanks. It must break the heart of a man to
retire from a famous regiment in which he has
spent his life, but the regiment continues to live.
A Carrier Company was a humble, temporary unit
in a vast organisation, a momentary improvisation.
Like 'every other Company, it had found itself and
created its own personality. It had fought for its
existence against the ignorance and laughter of
the more conservative elements in the Tank Corps.
I knew that soon the remnants of the Company
would return home and the Company finally be
dissolved. Yet there it was — something which I
had "formed" though not created. From an odd
crowd of men with a few obsolete tanks and some
cases of equipment it had become a " Company "
of whose honour we were jealous, whose achieve-
ments we extolled, whom all of us could leave only
with lasting regret. . . .

296 A COMPANY OF TANKS

I was motored into Arras, and travelled down to
the coast in a cattle-truck with thirty-one soldiers
and civilians of all ranks and classes and four
nationalities. The train was bound for Calais, but
the driver in answer to my appeal said that he
might be able to pass through Boulogne. I do
not know whether he had any choice in the matter
— strange things happened on the railways in
France — but at lo a.m. on the morning of the 13th
the train did stop outside Boulogne, and the stoker
ran hastily down the line and helped me to throw
my luggage off the truck.

A train - load of prisoners from Germany had
just arrived — childishly feeble, still shamefaced,
and so emaciated that when I saw a man stripped
to the waist washing, I could have cried for the
pity of it. Outside the station three of these men,
excited by their release, were jeering at two shabby
cowed German boys pushing a barrow. . . .

I crossed that afternoon a httle sadly, and as usual
obtained a seat in the Pullman by climbing in on
the wrong side, — I shall never be able to afford a
Pullman again. At 10.25 a.m. on the i6th I was de-
mobilised at the Crystal Palace. I felt that I should
have been demobilised twice as I enlisted twice. . . .

Now I travel daily to St James's Park station by
the 9.31, and when a "file" returns to me after many
days, I sometimes wonder how I ever managed,
without writing a single " minute," to command a
Company of Tanks.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.

14 DAY USE

RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED

LOAN DEPT.

RENEWALS ONLY— TEL. NO. 642-^405

This book is due on the last date stamped below, or

on the date to which renewed.

Renewed books are subject to immediate recall.

SANTA BARBARA

INTERLIBRARY LO/,N

ONE MONTH AFTER RECEIII

JAN 23 1970

AP^^Pto

AUTO. Disc.

MAy 2 / I99g

CIRCULATION

LD21A-60m-6,'69
(J9096sl0)476-A-32

General Library

University of California

Berkeley

y.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES

COMOOlBbSl

458075

UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNlA LIBRARY