THE HISTORY OF THE
1/4TH BATTALION, DUKE OF
WELLINGTON’S (WEST RIDING)
REGIMENT.
1914–1919.

1914.

1918.

THE CLOTH HALL, YPRES.

THE HISTORY
OF
THE 1/4TH BATTALION
DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S
(west riding)
REGIMENT,
1914–1919.

BY

CAPT. P. G. BALES, M.C.

(Formerly Adjutant of the Battalion.)

Published by

HALIFAX:
EDWARD MORTIMER, LTD., REGENT STREET.

LONDON:
EDWARD MORTIMER, LTD., 34, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. 4.

1920.

Stott Brothers Limited, Printers, Mount Street Works, Halifax.

TO

ALL RANKS

OF

THE 1/4TH BATTALION

WHO FELL IN ACTION.

PREFACE.

For more than two years I was responsible for keeping the War Diary of the 1/4th Battalion, and it was this duty which first suggested to me the idea of writing a History of the Battalion in the Great War. Soon after the armistice was signed I submitted the idea to the Commanding Officer, who expressed his strong approval and promised to assist in every possible way. The present book is the result.

The “History” is based mainly on the official documents in the Battalion’s possession. These have, on the whole, been well preserved, particularly since the beginning of 1916. They have been supplemented by the personal recollections of many officers and other ranks. Proofs of each chapter have been submitted to at least two senior officers, who were serving with the Battalion during the period covered therein, and many alterations have been made as results of their criticisms and suggestions.

My sincere thanks are due to Brig.-General R. E. Sugden, C.M.G., D.S.O., T.D.; Lieut.-Col. H. S. Atkinson, T.D.; Lieut.-Col. J. Walker, D.S.O.; Major W. C. Fenton, M.C.; and Capt. E. N. Marshall, M.C., for reading part, or the whole, of the proofs; for many valuable criticisms and suggestions; and for much information. I desire also to acknowledge my obligations to Major E. P. Chambers for much help with the earlier period; to Sergt. E. Jones, particularly for his assistance with the Itinerary; and to the many officers and other ranks, too numerous to name, who have willingly placed their knowledge at my disposal. Most important of all has been the help rendered by Lieut.-Col. A. L. Mowat, D.S.O., M.C. Nothing has been too much trouble for him. He has read through the whole of the proofs, and the book owes much to his kindly criticism. He has relieved me of the whole of the business side of the production. It is not too much to say that, without his constant help and encouragement, this book would never have been published.

The book has been written primarily for the men who served with the Battalion. If they experience as much pleasure in the reading, as I have in the writing of it, its publication is more than justified.

P. G. BALES.

Postscript.—Since this book went to press “The West Riding Territorials in the Great War,” by Major L. Magnus, has been published. Apart from three or four minor corrections, such as a date and the number of a Division, I have seen no reason to alter anything set down here.

P.G.B.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

LIST OF MAPS.

CHAPTER I.
MOBILISATION AND TRAINING.

At the outbreak of war with Germany, early in August, 1914, the West Riding Territorial Division consisted of the following battalions:—

1st. West Riding Infantry Brigade: 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th Battalions West Yorkshire Regiment.

2nd. West Riding Infantry Brigade: 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th Battalions Duke of Wellington’s (W.R.) Regiment.

3rd. West Riding Infantry Brigade: 4th and 5th Battalions King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry; 4th and 5th Battalions York and Lancaster Regiment.

Major-General T. S. Baldock, C.B., was in command of the Division, and Brigadier-General E. F. Brereton, D.S.O., of the 2nd West Riding Infantry Brigade. No change of battalions took place in any of the Infantry Brigades until the reorganisation of the British Expeditionary Force at the beginning of 1918, when each was reduced to three battalions; and even then no fresh battalion was added to the Division.

The 4th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s (W.R.) Regt, was under the command of Lieut.-Colonel H. S. Atkinson, T.D., of Cleckheaton, and Major E. P. Chambers, of Brighouse, was second in command. Capt. H. A. S. Stanton, of the Royal Scots Regt., was Adjutant. Though the regular army had recently been reorganised on a four-company basis, a similar change had not yet been made in the Territorial Force, so that the Battalion consisted of eight companies as follows:—

All the four companies from the out-lying districts were well up to strength, but the Halifax companies were weak.

On July 26th, the Battalion went to camp at Marske-by-the-Sea for its annual period of training. The time was one of intense anxiety and excitement. On July 28th, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia. Three days later general mobilisation was ordered by Russia, which produced an immediate ultimatum from Berlin. The next day mobilisation was ordered in both France and Germany; the latter, as is now well known, had been mobilising and concentrating secretly on its French and Belgian frontiers for some days. On August 2nd, the German armies entered Luxembourg, and violated French territory without any declaration of war. Two days later Britain sent its ultimatum to Germany and as, on the same day, German troops entered Belgian territory, war broke out between the two countries at midnight, August 4/5th. Such was the atmosphere in which the Battalion carried out its training at Marske.

The camp should have lasted a fortnight, but it broke up at the end of a week. The Special Service Section of 100 other ranks, under the command of Capt. R. E. Sugden, with Lieut. H. N. Waller as his second in command, was the first to leave. Orders for it to proceed at once to Grimsby arrived during the church parade on Sunday, August 2nd, and it left the same day. It was employed guarding the Admiralty Wireless Station at Waltham, and the water and electricity works. On August 3rd, the men of the Battalion returned to their homes, where they waited in hourly expectation of orders to mobilise. These came on the evening of the following day, and the same night the Battalion was concentrated at Halifax, the men sleeping in the Secondary Schools in Prescott Street. The Battalion was about 650 strong. Scarcely a man had failed to report.

About 1-30 p.m. on August 5th, the Battalion[1] marched down Horton Street to the Railway Station, and there took train for Hull, its allotted station. There was no public send-off. War had come so suddenly that people seemed hardly to realise what was happening. On arrival most of the men were billeted in a big concert hall in the town, the remainder occupying a Working Boys’ Club in one of the poorer quarters, and buildings near the docks. At Hull the men were variously employed. Guards were provided on the docks and at the Naval Signal Station. Working parties were sent out to dig trenches at Sutton, part of the new system of coast defences which was being prepared. Perhaps the most congenial duty was the rounding up of a number of Germans in the district; these were searched—some of them were found to be in possession of revolvers—and were then marched off to S.S. “Borodino,” one of the new Wilson liners, on board of which they were confined. The guard on the vessel was found by the Battalion and this was considered to be a good job.

During these first days of war the ration question was extremely difficult. The carefully planned pre-war scheme had broken down the very first day. The Battalion had no transport, and neither the Quarter Master nor the transport personnel had accompanied it to Hull. Taxis had to be requisitioned to take the place of transport vehicles; food had to be obtained as and where it could be found. Great credit was due to R.Q.M.S. F. J. Cooke and his staff for the way in which they pulled the Battalion through the difficulty. At this time the men were armed with the C.L.L.E. rifle and were fairly well equipped; difficulties of equipment only became serious when drafts began to arrive. About 100 National Reservists joined the Battalion at Hull.

On August 11th, the Battalion was relieved by a Special Reserve Battalion of Lancashire Fusiliers and moved by water to Immingham, where it was stationed at the docks. Here it had its first experience of war conditions. There were no proper billets. The officers all slept on the floor of a granary, a part of the same building doing duty as a Battalion Mess. The men were even worse off, having nothing better than a number of sheds with concrete floors. At Immingham the Special Service Section and the transport personnel rejoined. There, too, the whole of the 2nd West Riding Infantry Brigade, except one battalion, was concentrated. A further draft of National Reservists also joined.

Only two days were spent at Immingham, and then the Battalion marched to Great Coates, where it remained for nearly five weeks. This was the beginning of the long period of intensive training which preceded its departure overseas. The men were billeted in barns, granaries and stables, thus getting an early taste of what was to become their normal mode of life for long periods in France. Training consisted mostly of route marches, and battalion and company schemes. Great attention was paid to musketry. Newly-gazetted officers began to arrive, and further drafts of men brought the Battalion up to full strength before it left Great Coates, though a good many National Reservists were rejected at the medical examination. The weather was perfect. Days of glorious sunshine followed one another with monotonous regularity.

On September 15th, the Battalion went under canvas in Riby Park, where training continued for another month. At first there had been few volunteers for service overseas. Little information was available as to the conditions of service, and few men had yet realised the greatness of the crisis. But when the situation was properly understood they responded to the call well. The Battalion became definitely a foreign service unit. All officers and other ranks who had not volunteered for general service left it, and joined the 2/4th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt., which was being formed at Halifax. About the middle of October, the whole Battalion moved to the neighbourhood of Marsden, in the Colne Valley, to fire the General Musketry Course. Several ranges were used by different companies, but the shooting was much interfered with by the atrocious weather which was experienced there. Here most of the men were inoculated, and leave was plentiful.

On November 5th, Battalion H.Q. moved by train to Doncaster, at which place the whole of the 2nd West Riding Infantry Brigade was concentrated during the next few days. There it remained throughout the winter and only left when the time came for it to move to France.

It was not until the middle of January, 1915, that the Battalion was reorganised on a four-company basis, in accordance with the system adopted shortly before the war by the Regular Army. The original companies were then amalgamated as follows:—

Companies were billeted in schools in the town. On the whole these billets were made pretty comfortable, for the men were fast learning how to look after themselves.[4] Officers occupied rooms in various hotels and private houses, but had a Battalion Mess, first at an hotel, but later in a house which was rented in Regent Terrace.

All available time was occupied in training and organisation. With the exception of a few small guards, the Battalion had no garrison duties to find. During the earlier part of its stay at Doncaster most of the training took the form of field days. Training areas were allotted near the town, and these were frequently changed in order to give variety. Many fierce “battles” were fought both by day and night. Usually the Battalion worked out its own schemes, but occasionally there were Brigade and Divisional days, when the officers and men learned something of the co-operation of the different arms. The training was very strenuous and involved a great deal of route marching. The Battalion would parade about 7-0 a.m. and march out, often a distance of seven or eight miles, to the training area. A scheme would then be worked out, and after it was over the Battalion would be marched back. Considerable distances were thus often covered in a day, and the men got into splendid condition. After the Battalion had been reorganised into four companies, the system of training was considerably changed for a time, as a completely new drill had to be learned. So an ordinary day’s training became much as follows. After about half-an-hour’s physical training, the Battalion marched down to the Race Course where the morning was spent at the new drill; an hour’s bayonet fighting in the afternoon completed the work for the day. Much attention was also paid to musketry. This was carried out under the supervision of Major R. E. Sugden, who lived at Battalion H.Q. for that purpose, and thus was not able to see much of his Company. Ranges at Cantley and Scunthorpe were used. A little trench digging was done near Armthorpe but, as it was still hoped that the war would soon become one of movement again, this form of training was not taken very seriously. On one occasion the Battalion was inspected on the Race Course by the G.O.C., Northern Command; but otherwise, little attention was paid to ceremonial drill. Lectures on various military subjects were given by the officers and, in order to give variety to the men and lighten the work of the lecturers, senior officers went round the different companies giving the same lectures to each.

Alarms were not infrequent but, only once, was there any real reason for them. That occasion was the day when a few fast German cruisers slipped across the North Sea, and bombarded Scarborough for a short time. That morning the Battalion had marched out about eight miles to do a scheme. It had just arrived when urgent orders to return at once were received. Without any rest the men fell in and marched straight back to Doncaster without a halt. It was very hot for the time of year, and the march was no mean performance. For the rest of that day all troops were confined to billets; but they were not called upon to do anything further and everything was normal the next day.

The time spent at Doncaster was very pleasant. The townsfolk were very kind to all the men, many of whom made good friends. Long after they had gone overseas several men were still corresponding with Doncaster people, and most of the survivors have warm recollections of the hospitality extended to them. Christmas was celebrated right royally. Few were able to get home, but everything possible was done to make the season an enjoyable one. Dinners were served at the principal hotels[5] of the town and, thanks to the generosity of the Doncaster Tradesmen’s Association, about half the Battalion was entertained in the Corn Exchange on Christmas Day and Boxing Day.

But in spite of everything there was much discontent in the Battalion, though one can hardly grumble at the cause of it. The men longed to be at the “Front.” Most of them had expected to go overseas very soon and, as the weeks dragged into months, some began to wonder whether they ever would get there. This long delay was due mainly to shortage of equipment. Practically everything was going to the New Armies, which were in training, and there was little left over for the Territorial Force. Furthermore, there was the ever-present fear of invasion, and it was not deemed safe to send the Territorials overseas until new troops were sufficiently trained to defend the country in case of need. But few of the men understood these things. One man actually deserted in order to enlist in another regiment, because he thought the Battalion was not going out. Another wrote direct to the Secretary of State for War to ask the reason for the delay and, of course, was well “told off” for his pains. Rumours were plentiful, but, as nothing came of them, they only served to increase the feeling of disappointment.

At length, one day early in April, definite news was received. A tactical tour for the officers and senior N.C.O.’s of the Battalion had been arranged, under the personal supervision of the Brigadier. When the latter arrived he brought the news that the Battalion was to move in a few days. Immediately there was a light-hearted feeling about that party such as there had seldom been before.

The days which followed were full of excitement and activity. There was an enormous amount of work to be done, and very little time to do it. During the last few days there was little rest for officers and N.C.O.’s. Up to that time it had been extremely difficult to obtain articles of kit and equipment. Owing to the enormous demands of the army already in France, and the fact that the productive power of the British factories was scarcely a hundredth part of what it became towards the end of the war, there was very little material available for distribution to troops at home. But, now that the Battalion was under orders for the Front, all kinds of stores were thrust upon it. The miscellaneous collection of spring carts and vans, which had done duty as transport vehicles, were replaced by the proper limbered wagons; transport animals and harness arrived quicker than they could be dealt with. Men were constantly being paraded to receive some article of kit or equipment; one time it would be new winter underclothing, another time new boots. These articles are particularly worthy of notice. Why a Battalion should be fitted out with winter underclothing early in April is a question which probably only the War Office officials of the period could satisfactorily answer. While as to the boots, it was not long before many a man was yearning for his comfortable old pair. Right up to the end fresh stores were arriving and being issued. Indeed, about midnight of the Battalion’s last night in England—reveille was to be at 4-0 a.m.—A Company was hauled out of bed by two enthusiastic subalterns to exchange its old web pouches for new; the men of the company, it should be added, hardly showed themselves so enthusiastic as their officers about the change, particularly when they discovered in the morning that nearly all the pouches received were for the left side. But, in spite of all, things somehow got done.

Lieut.-Col. H. S. ATKINSON, T.D.

On April 12th, the transport men, with their animals and loaded vehicles, entrained for Southampton. They were to move by a different route from the rest of the Battalion. Major R. E. Sugden and Lieut. C. Hirst, the Battalion Transport Officer, were in charge of the party. Considering the men’s lack of experience, the embarkation went very smoothly. On board elaborate drill in case of torpedo attack was practised, but the voyage proved uneventful. They disembarked at Havre and proceeded by train to Hesdigneul, where they rejoined the Battalion on April 15th.

April 14th, the fateful day, arrived. Reveille was at 4-0 a.m., and, after breakfast, preparations were soon complete and the Battalion paraded ready to move off. The following is the complete list of officers, warrant officers, and quartermaster sergeants who were to accompany the Battalion overseas:—

Battalion H.Q.

• Lieut.-Col. H. S. Atkinson, T.D. (C.O.).
• Major E. P. Chambers (Second in Command).
• Capt. H. A. S. Stanton (Adjutant).
• Hon. Lieut. T. Fielding (Q.M.).
• Lieut. E. Lee (Machine Gun Officer).
• Lieut. S. Balme (Signalling Officer).
• Lieut. C. Hirst (Transport Officer).
• Capt. A. T. Griffiths, R.A.M.C. (Medical Officer).
• R.S.M. J. McCormack.
• R.Q.M.S. F. J. Cooke.

A Company.

• Major R. E. Sugden;
• Capt. M. P. Andrews;
• Lieut. G. W. I. Learoyd;
• Lieut. E. N. Marshall;
• Sec.-Lieut. E. Taylor;
• Sec.-Lieut. G. P. McGuire.
• C.S.M. E. Bottomley.
• C.Q.M.S. C. Southern.

B Company.

• Capt. J. Walker;
• Capt. H. N. Waller;
• Lieut. J. T. Riley;
• Lieut. B. A. Bell;
• Sec.-Lieut. J. G. Mowat;
• Sec.-Lieut. H. H. Aykroyd.
• C.S.M. A. Parkin.
• C.Q.M.S. D. McKeand.

C Company.

• Capt. D. B. Winter;
• Capt. E. E. Sykes;
• Sec.-Lieut. W. C. Fenton;
• Sec.-Lieut. F. Walker.
• C.S.M. E. Lumb.
• C.Q.M.S. W. Lee.

D Company.

• Capt. A. L. Mowat;
• Capt. W. F. Denning;
• Lieut. W. B. Yates;
• Sec.-Lieut. T. D. Pratt;
• Sec.-Lieut. W. L. Anderton.
• C.S.M. C. C. MacKay.
• C.Q.M.S. G. Jackson.

The 2/4th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. had come into Doncaster a few days before and was encamped on the Race Course. Officers and men turned out now to give their friends and townsmen a rousing send-off. Their Band played the Battalion to the Railway Station, while their men lined the streets. The townspeople also turned out in considerable numbers to say farewell to their recently-made friends. A platoon of A Company constituted the loading party, under the command of Lieut. E. N. Marshall, who records that among the miscellaneous stores which he helped to load upon the train was one coil of barbed wire. Even in those early days he considered it unnecessary.

Two trains were provided for the journey. The first, under the command of Lieut.-Col. H. S. Atkinson, T.D., carried A and B Companies. It was due to depart at 12-0 noon. When all were entrained and everything seemed ready, the driver, being a civilian, thought it was time to start and began to move off. But, of course, that was all wrong. The train was stopped, the “Advance” was blown on the bugle, and then off they went. The other train, under the command of Major E. P. Chambers, and carrying C and D Companies, started more quietly and with less formality from a siding further down the line.

The journey was uneventful and slow. The trains circled round London, and the first arrived at Folkestone Quay about 8-45 p.m. The men immediately embarked on S.S. “Invicta,” which the Battalion had all to itself, and were soon at sea. The night was quiet and the crossing calm. Soon after 10-0 p.m. the vessel arrived at Boulogne, and the Battalion had its first sight of the “promised land.” At last it was really on active service, and was to take its place side by side with the men who had made history at Mons, the Marne, Ypres, and a score of other battles.

CHAPTER II.
FLEURBAIX.

The Battalion was in France. On arrival at Boulogne it disembarked at once and marched to St. Martin’s Camp, which was on a hill a mile or two outside the town. This camp had only recently been started and the arrangements were far from ideal. A few tents for the officers, and bivouacs for the men, were the only accommodation. No one had had a proper meal since he left Doncaster, but no food was provided at the camp until the following morning. One blanket per man—sewn up to form a sort of cloak, with a hole in the top for the owner to put his head through if he felt so inclined—was the only covering provided. Tired and hungry the Battalion turned in, but not to sleep. It was a cold and frosty night. After their comfortable billets at Doncaster the men were not in good training for such rigorous conditions, and the memory of that night still lives in the minds of some of the “old-timers” of the Battalion. By a very early hour nearly everyone was out on the road, stamping up and down in an attempt to get warm. Breakfast time was very welcome.

After breakfast, rations for the day were drawn and iron rations issued, and then the Battalion started on one of the hardest marches it ever had to make. A late change in the orders had caused a delay of more than two hours so that, when the men at length moved off, the march was much more strenuous than it would otherwise have been. It was a very hot day, with a blazing sun. Most of the men were tired before they started. They had had a long railway journey and a sea crossing the previous day, and few had been able to get any sleep during the night. Clad in their thick winter underclothing, and with packs much heavier than they had been used to in training, they were none too suitably equipped for a long tramp. But, worst of all, were the new boots with which everyone had been supplied before leaving Doncaster; these had not yet become fitted to the feet, and before long many men were suffering severely. Men who had never fallen out on a march before were compelled to do so then, and there were soon many stragglers on the road, gamely trying to struggle along. It was a very jaded battalion which at length arrived at the little wayside station of Hesdigneul.

The train, with transport vehicles, animals and personnel on board, was already waiting in the station. Some tea was obtained from a little wooden canteen near by and then the Battalion entrained, most of the stragglers having come up by that time. Here the men were first introduced to what would be called a cattle truck in England, but which in France bears the mystic legend “Hommes 40, Chevaux 8”—the type of compartment which was to be their customary means of conveyance on the somewhat rare occasions when they travelled by rail. Many were the speculations as to the Battalion’s destination, but no information could be obtained from the railway officials. Wild rumours circulated, the most popular being that a great battle was in progress and the Battalion was being hurried up as a reinforcement. But, as usual, rumour proved false. After a journey, uninteresting but for the fact that it was the first most of the men had ever made on the Continent, the train arrived at Merville about 6-0 p.m., and orders to detrain were issued.

There followed another march, worse in some respects than the first. Certainly it was not so hot, but the rest on the train had allowed muscles to stiffen and sore feet to develop. Only their tremendous keenness, and the novelty of active service, kept many of the men going. One N.C.O. at least arrived at his destination carrying his boots, having tramped the last part of the way in his stockinged feet. It was long after dark before the Battalion reached Estaires where it took over its first billets in France. These were on the edge of the town, on the Neuf Berquin Road. They had previously been occupied by Indian troops and were, almost without exception, filthy. Battalion H.Q. was in the Chateau, but those who had looked for a fine, castellated mansion were grievously disappointed. It was some time before the place could be found, and when it was discovered, it turned out to be a large, but quite uninteresting, building up a side street. According to rumour, it had been occupied by all sorts of undesirables, from Germans to typhoid patients; at any rate it was very dirty, and much work was necessary before it could be put into a habitable condition. For a day or two all officers messed at a large estaminet by the Hotel de Ville, but then the system of company messes was started and continued throughout the Battalion’s period of active service.

All now knew that they were near the Front. Ruined houses along the road had borne silent testimony to the presence of war. In Estaires the sound of the guns could be clearly heard, and there the first aeroplane fight which anyone had seen was witnessed. The Division was now in the IV. Corps of the First Army. A few days after landing it received its new title of the 49th Division; the 2nd West Riding Infantry Brigade became the 147th Infantry Brigade.

About a week was spent at Estaires and, during that time, practically all the officers and many other ranks visited the front line trenches for short periods of instruction. The first party, which comprised about half the officers and a large number of N.C.O’s, went up on April 19th for twenty-four hours. Old London omnibuses carried them to beyond Bac St. Maur, and then they walked up to the section of the line which they were soon to take over the defence of—No. 3 Section of the Fleurbaix Sector. Here they came under the tutelage of the 2nd Battalion West Yorkshire Regiment. On the return of this party, the remainder of the officers and more N.C.O’s had their turn. Then the Battalion began to send up whole platoons, each under its own platoon commander, for twenty-four hours. It was during one of these tours of instruction that the Battalion suffered its first casualties. At that time movement to and from the front line, in the Fleurbaix Sector, was almost entirely across the open, communication trenches being practically non-existent. When coming out after their tour of instruction on April 23rd, one man was killed and two were wounded by stray bullets.

Meanwhile the Battalion was resting. Little work was done at Estaires. Platoon commanders’ inspections and occasional short route marches were all the military training that was attempted. The men were given a chance to settle down in their new life. A surprise visit from Lieut.-General Sir H. Rawlinson, G.O.C. IV. Corps, was the one exciting event.

On April 22nd, the Battalion marched to billets at Doulieu. This move caused some discomfort to the platoons which were then undergoing instruction in the line, as they had considerable difficulty in finding the Battalion when they returned. Guides had been left behind for them, but these apparently got tired of waiting and departed. At Doulieu the Battalion was visited by General Sir Douglas Haig, at that time commanding the First Army, who surprised a luckless, though well-meaning, subaltern in the very act of issuing rum to his platoon at unauthorised hours.

Two days later the Battalion moved to the neighbourhood of La Croix Lescornez, where it was in Brigade Reserve to the front line. The following day, an order to provide 400 men for work under the Royal Engineers was an indication of much of the future life of the Battalion. The same day the whole of A Company went into the line, being distributed along the front held by the 3rd Battalion Worcestershire Regt., which had relieved the 2nd Battalion West Yorkshire Regt.

On April 26th, the Battalion relieved the 3rd Battalion Worcestershire Regt. in No. 3 Section of the Fleurbaix Sector.

One relief is much like another, and all who know the Western Front can picture the scene in the billet of No. — Platoon of — Company on the morning of April 26th, 1915.

A dirty yard, with the usual midden in the middle, is surrounded by buildings on all sides. Nearest to the road is the great barn, which has been the platoon’s home for the last few days. It is not an ideal billet. The floor is of trampled earth, with a little straw here and there; a timber framework, filled in with clay and straw, forms the walls; the roof is tiled. Many holes in the walls let in light and air and allow the wind to whistle round the barn; many tiles are missing from the roof and, at night, a sleepless man can lie gazing at the stars, or feel the rain falling on his face, according to the weather. Walls, four to five feet high, subdivide the barn into several compartments.

On the opposite side of the yard lies the house—all ground floor. Its kitchen is well known to the platoon, for the people have been good to the men. Many of them have sat round that strange closed stove, which will burn anything, and have drunk coffee, while they aired their French with their hosts. Stables, pig-sties, and other farm buildings form the other sides of the yard.

“Blankets, rolled in bundles of ten and labelled,” have been dumped ready to be collected by the transport. Equipment has been made up and packed, and is lying about the yard. Rifles lean against the walls. The barn has been left “scrupulously clean” and passed as satisfactory. For the moment there is nothing special to do. The men stand about the yard in groups, smoking and talking. Some are drinking coffee in the kitchen. Private X is carrying on a lively conversation with “Mademoiselle.”

“Fall in!” Men leisurely don their equipment, pick up their rifles, and obey. Private Y is the last as usual, and is rebuked by his section commander. N.C.O’s glance at their men and report “All Correct” to the platoon sergeant. “Platoon—’Shun!” The men come up to the position of readiness, described in the Drill Book. “Right—Dress!” They dress. “Platoon, by Sections—Number! Form—Fours! Form—Two-deep! Stand at—Ease! Stand—Easy!” The platoon is ready to move.

“Platoon—’Shun!” The officer has arrived. “Platoon present and correct, sir!” A rapid inspection, a word of criticism here and there, and the men again stand easy.

“Platoon—’Shun! Slope—Arms! Move to the right in Fours, Form—Fours! Right! Quick—March! Right—Wheel!” The platoon moves out of the yard. “March Easy!” Rifle slings are loosened and the rifles slung; pipes and cigarettes appear; the pace settles down to a steady hundred to the minute. With a cheery greeting to “Madame” and an affectionate farewell to “Mademoiselle,” they pass the estaminet. The roads are wet and muddy, and boots soon lose their parade polish. Now the platoon is leaving the village. A little ahead are the cross-roads, which mark the Battalion starting point. The subaltern consults his watch. Good! He is exactly on time.

“Platoon, March to Attention!” Pipes and cigarettes disappear; slings are tightened; rifles are brought to the slope. “Left—Left—Left, Right, Left!” The pace smartens up to the regulation hundred and twenty to the minute. “Eyes—Right!” They are passing the cross-roads where the C.O., with his Adjutant, is standing.

“Eyes—Front! March Easy!” Again rifles are slung and matches struck. The pace soon settles down to the old hundred to the minute. The road is muddier than ever now. Few vehicles, except the infantry transport, use it beyond the village; and so it is seldom repaired. The country grows more desolate; on all sides are ruined buildings, shattered trees, and the countless signs of war. But jest and song help to enliven the way, for the men are fresh after their few days’ rest.

At “ten minutes to the hour” the platoon falls out on the right of the road. Equipment is taken off. The grass is wet, but some sit down; in later days, in spite of all orders to the contrary, they will sit on their “tin hats.” It seems hardly a minute before they are called on to don their equipment and fall in again.

At length a communication trench is reached. The men are quieter now. Over to the right an occasional shell is bursting. The crack of a rifle is heard now and then. The trench is muddy, and, here and there, water is over the duckboards. Private Z slips, and expresses his opinion of the sandbag-full of charcoal, which he is carrying, in unmistakeable terms.

The trench seems endless, but, at last, the front line is reached. Other men, covered with mud and wearing equipment, are waiting there. The relief goes smoothly. Sentries are changed, duties are handed over, the latest intelligence about “Fritz” or “Jerry” is imparted. “Quiet tour. Not a casualty in our company. He doesn’t fire if you lie doggo.”

With every sign of satisfaction the relieved troops withdraw. Men who are not on sentry seek their shelters and grouse at the condition they have been left in. The platoon commander inspects his line, swears that the people he has relieved have done no work during the whole tour, and goes off to air his grievances at Company H.Q. The Company Commander wires “Hundred gallons of rum urgently needed,” “Love to Alice,” or some such message, which has been agreed upon to signify “Relief complete.”

The tour has begun.

For the first time, the Battalion was responsible for the defence of a sector of the line, with no one between it and the enemy. There it was to remain for about two months, inter-relieving every few days with the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt., and spending its rest periods in and near the village of Fleurbaix.

No. 3 Section was about a thousand yards in breadth. There was a continuous front line but, apart from a few strong points with all-round defence, there were no fortifications in rear of it. Those were the days when artillery was scanty and shells few; when Lewis guns were unheard of and the only machine guns available were the two Maxims owned by each battalion. Hence it was to the rifle that everyone looked for the defence of the line, and, in order to secure the maximum of fire effect, as many men as possible were permanently stationed in the front line. At that time there were practically no men extra-regimentally employed, and the personnel of the Transport and the Q.M. Stores was cut down to a minimum. No “trench strength” for this first tour has been preserved, but the Battalion must have been at least 900 other ranks strong. Thirteen out of the sixteen platoons were stationed in the front line, so that, making due allowance for the men attached to Battalion H.Q., there must have been nearly 700 men in that 1,000 yards of trench—in other words, well over a man to every yard of fire bay. It can easily be imagined how crowded the line was. At stand to men stood shoulder to shoulder on every fire step.

During the Battalion’s first tour in this Section, A Company was on the right, D Company in the centre, and B Company on the left. C Company lent one platoon to strengthen the garrison of the front line, the remainder occupying Dead Dog Farm and another strong point in the neighbourhood. In subsequent tours these positions were inter-changed in order to give each company its turn in battalion reserve. The main feature of the sector was the Convent Wall, which lay almost at right angles to the front line, near the junction of B and D Companies. There were no communication trenches up to the line. Reliefs were carried out straight up the Rue des Bassiéres and then along the side of the Convent Wall. From the front line the ground sloped gently up to the crest of the Aubers Ridge. No Man’s Land was covered with thick grass and rank weeds, and was intersected by many derelict trenches.

The country was so low-lying, and water lay so near the surface, that digging was practically impossible. Hence the defences consisted almost entirely of breast-works, built of sandbags. The line was of the usual stereotyped kind—six yard fire bays alternating with four yard traverses. Shelters were built into the parados. They were very flimsy structures, affording protection against nothing but bullets and the weather. It is doubtful whether there was a shelter on the whole sector which would have stopped a “whizz-bang.” Such was the line in which the Battalion served its apprenticeship.

From the G.O.C. to the latest-joined private, every man in the 49th Division was new to trench warfare, and so had everything to learn. Training in England had mostly taken the form of open warfare, and practically no one in the Infantry had had any instruction in field engineering, or in looking after his own comfort. So necessity became the main teacher, and perhaps a better one could not have been found. At first rations were carried up by the reserve company, but later it was found possible to bring pack animals right up to the Convent Wall; a light cart,—one of the many unauthorised vehicles owned by the transport at one time or another on active service—was fitted with axle and wheels, salved from a derelict motor car which was found lying in a ditch, and was used for carrying ammunition and R.E. material. All rations were sent up uncooked, and for a day or two they were issued in that form to each man. But the waste and futility of individuals cooking for themselves was so apparent that the system was quickly given up and section messes were instituted, one man in each being detailed as cook. The main source of water was the Convent pump, but the reserve company sometimes sent men down to the nearest inhabited houses to replenish, and it is rumoured that beer occasionally came back instead of water.

About the time the Battalion reached France the enemy first made use of poison gas in his second great attack on the Ypres Salient. This caused great anxiety among the allied armies and measures were at once taken to protect the men against it. The Battalion received its first issue of respirators a few days after it arrived in the neighbourhood of Fleurbaix. They were clumsy affairs—a piece of cotton waste, saturated with a solution of hypo, and wrapped in black gauze. When in use the cotton waste covered the mouth and nose and was gripped in the teeth, the respirator being held in position by tying the gauze at the back of the head. Old ammunition boxes, filled with hypo solution, were installed in the front line, and the respirators were often worn at stand to for practice. One awful wet night the Divisional Commander visited the trenches to see the working of the respirators. Most men were carrying them in their great coat pockets instead of their haversacks, and when he ordered them to be put on there was great confusion. The rain poured down; in the darkness men dropped their respirators in the mud and the crepe became thoroughly soaked. Altogether the practice was not a success. These first respirators were very uncomfortable to wear, difficult to keep in position, and practically useless against anything more dangerous than a weak concentration of chlorine. Before long the P. helmet superseded them but, though rather more effective, it was quite as uncomfortable. Having no outlet valve, it was difficult to breath through, and made the wearer terribly hot. Its single mica window was very fragile and the least crack in it rendered the whole helmet useless. As helmets had to be inspected at least three times a day at that time, the wastage was very great.

Major E. P. CHAMBERS.

Lieut.-Col. H. A. S. STANTON, D.S.O.

Capt. H. N. WALLER.

From the very beginning great stress was laid on two things—the continual wearing of equipment and sentry duties. These were legacies from the experienced troops with whom the Battalion had undergone its brief course of instruction. Periods in the line were very strenuous. Theoretically, 25 per cent. of the men were on duty by day and 50 per cent. by night. But, owing to the accumulation of odd duties and the provision of working parties, no man got much rest. At Fleurbaix the Battalion laid the foundation of its reputation as a working battalion which it held throughout the war. Breast-works, if they are to be kept in good condition, require even more constant attention than trenches. Few of the men possessed any of the necessary technical knowledge, and visits from the Royal Engineers were rare; but all men were willing and, though some of the earlier efforts were very crude, the work quickly improved. Professional bricklayers were in great demand for sand-bagging, and C.S.M. E. Bottomley in particular was looked upon as a great theoretical authority on this subject in his own company. Not only was the upkeep of the trenches taken seriously in hand, but entirely new work was planned and executed. The route to the front line, by the side of the Convent Wall, was made safer, first by the erection of canvas screens to hide movement, and later by the construction of sandbag walls at the more dangerous points. But the most enduring monument of the Battalion in the Fleurbaix Sector was Dead Dog Alley—a regular communication trench which was taped out, and nearly completed, before the Battalion left the district.

The Fleurbaix Sector was a very quiet part of the line. In its inexperience, the Battalion never properly appreciated this fact until it learned real “liveliness” at Ypres. The early War Diaries are full of references to heavy shelling; in reality, the enemy artillery did little. Once a shell dropped right into the Battalion H.Q. Officers’ Mess, but, luckily, two “shorts” had given the occupants timely warning, and they had withdrawn to a safer spot. A few salvoes were fired on different parts of the sector daily, the neighbourhood of the pump receiving most attention; but there is only one recorded instance of the front line being hit. This was fortunate for, so crowded was the line, that well-directed shell fire would have wrought fearful havoc.

Unlike their artillery, the German machine gunners and riflemen were extremely active. The Rue des Bassiéres and the Convent Wall were always dangerous spots, while at night the enemy traversed the front line parapet with great accuracy. His snipers were very wide-awake and excellent shots; they had all the advantages of superior observation and high command, and some of them were certainly equipped with telescopic sights. It was almost as much as a man’s life was worth for him to show his head above the parapet for a few seconds in the daytime. Nearly all the casualties in the Fleurbaix Sector were from bullet wounds.

As has already been said, the British positions were held at this time almost entirely by rifle fire. Few heavy guns were in use then and, though there were a fair number of field guns, no really effective barrage could be put down owing to the scarcity of ammunition. A very few rounds daily were all that the artillery could fire. Some of their ammunition was of poor quality. “Prematures” were not uncommon and caused much worry to Battalion H.Q. One day a 4.7 shell lodged in the breast-work just outside the Orderly Room, but did not explode.

The two old Maxims which the Battalion had brought out with it were disposed to the best advantage, but, both in attack and defence, the main reliance had to be placed on the rifle. And the amount of rifle fire on that front was colossal. This was particularly the case at night. Often, somewhere far away and for no apparent reason, a perfect storm of firing would open; company after company would take it up, and so it would travel quickly along the line until, literally along thousands of yards of front, every man would be working his bolt as rapidly as possible. Sometimes this would go on for many minutes, and then it would gradually die down. The good old custom of “Five rounds rapid” at stand to was always encouraged in the Battalion. Occasionally rapid fire, to harass enemy transport or carrying parties, would be opened on some back area. In the daytime the use of the rifle was restricted to sniping, but in this the enemy had most of the advantage owing to his higher command and his greater experience in constructing positions. Yet every man in the Battalion was immensely keen to “bag a Bosch.” Often one man would hurl the most insulting remarks across No Man’s Land, or even show himself above the parapet, in the hope that some very simple-minded German would appear, and thus present a target to another Britisher who was anxiously waiting his chance in a neighbouring bay. But no successes have been recorded. The enemy was much too cute and usually retaliated only in kind. Hand-grenades too were just coming to the fore. When they were relieved the 3rd Worcesters had left two men in the line to instruct the Battalion in the manufacture of “jam-tin” and “hair-brush” bombs. About this time the Brigade Grenadier Company was formed, one platoon from each battalion being sent for instruction in bombing. Sec.-Lieut. W. L. Anderton became the Battalion’s first Bombing Officer. But bombing was not taken very seriously until some months later.

The Battalion was handicapped a good deal by the C.L.L.E. rifle, with which it was armed. This weapon was much inferior to the short rifle of the Regulars. It usually jammed before ten rounds “rapid” had been fired, and was thus a source of much anxiety. Also, it could not be used for firing rifle grenades as these were constructed to clip on to the short rifle. As time went on short rifles were gradually obtained, but the C.L.L.E. did not wholly disappear until 1916.

Patrolling had not yet become the highly organised feature of trench warfare which it was to be later in the war. In spite of the excellent facilities offered by No Man’s Land, very little was attempted by the Battalion in those early days. B Company tried a few patrols with no very definite result, Sec.-Lieut. J. G. Mowat being the first officer of the Battalion to go out. Late in May, Lieut. B. A. Bell was seriously wounded by an enemy machine gun when out on patrol, and was brought in by Private W. Brown, who afterwards received the Distinguished Conduct Medal for his gallantry on that occasion. There was a good deal of unauthorised coming and going in No Man’s Land, where the chance of securing souvenirs was an attraction to many.

Usually, six days were spent in the line and six in Brigade Reserve. During the rest periods one company was stationed at Croix Blanche Farm and, for tactical purposes, came under the orders of the battalion in the line. The rest of the Battalion, with the exception of a few small garrisons in scattered redoubts, was billeted in farm-buildings near Fleurbaix. At first practically no training was attempted, though later a little was begun. Time was mainly taken up with interior economy and inspections. At night large working parties were found, mainly for digging assembly trenches in connection with the operations which were planning for May 9th; later on in the period work was concentrated on Dead Dog Alley. The men wrote shoals of letters, rather to the disgust of the officers whose duty it was to censor them. Many of these epistles were conspicuous more for vivid imagination than for strict adherence to truth. A little cricket was played, bathing in the ponds of the neighbourhood was indulged in, and several company concerts were held. A few officers and N.C.O’s were able to visit Armentières, then a very pleasant town, in spite of its nearness to the front line. The enemy caused very little trouble; five shells daily into Fleurbaix was his standard “hate.”

Few events of importance marked this period of the Battalion’s apprenticeship. Its first tour in the line only lasted three days, and it was relieved on April 29th by the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. C Company was stationed at Croix Blanche and, shortly before midnight on April 30th, it was suddenly alarmed and ordered up to support the battalion in the line. The company fell in with the greatest alacrity, some without caps or jackets, but all with rifles and equipment. Down the road they went at the double, No. 9 Platoon leading. Occasional enemy shells were falling in the fields and a British battery of 4.7’s was firing vigorously. Some way down the Rue des Bassières machine gun bullets began to sweep the road, and the men were ordered to get into the ditch. At this point Sec.-Lieut. W. C. Fenton was hit in the knee and had to be carried to the Aid Post; he was thus the first officer in the Battalion to be wounded. The company remained in the ditch for some time and then received orders to return to billets. It had been nothing but a false alarm.

Meanwhile, the big attack on the Aubers Ridge was preparing. This operation was based on the experience gained in the recent fighting about Neuve Chapelle, and it was commonly believed in the Battalion that the 49th Division had been sent out from England in April specially to take part. Another rumour current about this time was that the G.O.C’s of the 49th and 50th Divisions had tossed up to decide which of them should go to Ypres, and which to Fleurbaix. It is not recorded who won. Originally the attack had been fixed for April 22nd. But when the enemy made his gas attack on the Ypres Salient, some of the troops, who had been detailed for the battle, had to be sent north to relieve the Canadians. So the battle was put off until May 9th. No attack was planned on the sector held by the 147th Infantry Brigade, but as the 8th Division was going over on its immediate right it was very probable that the 49th Division would become involved. Actually, the part taken by the Battalion was a very minor one; but the event is of importance as being the first occasion on which the men were engaged in operations on a large scale.

In the normal course of events the Battalion should have relieved the 6th Battalion in the front line on May 8th. But these orders were cancelled and, instead, the men found themselves in reserve for the attack. Their role was as follows:—

1. With the exception of A Company, which was placed under the orders of the O.C. No. 3 Section, the Battalion was to assemble in slits in the ground, near Croix Blanche, on the evening of May 8th.

2. If the attack of the Kensingtons on the extreme left proved successful, the Battalion was to dig a trench across No Man’s Land to connect up the old British front line with the old German front line.

3. Later, if Fromelles were captured, a company was to be sent forward to hold a line to the north-east of that village.

On the evening of May 8th the Battalion marched up to its assembly positions. Every man was in full marching order and carried an extra bandolier of ammunition and the usual miscellaneous assortment of sandbags, extra rations, etc. On arrival, all set to work to improve their accommodation. Battalion H.Q. occupied Croix Blanche Farm, from which building a good view of part of the battle area was obtained the following day. At 5-30 a.m. on May 9th, the British Artillery opened fire, and, to the inexperienced soldiers of the Battalion, the bombardment appeared to be terrific. “The bombardment was a fine sight and (it was) difficult to realise that anyone could be alive after it in that particular zone,” says the Battalion’s War Diary. Actually, it was very thin, but none of the men had any conception at that time of what massed artillery can do. The German reply was slight, and was entirely confined to counter-battery work on that part of the front. In their ignorance, some put this down to the enemy’s scarcity of ammunition. This mistaken idea that the enemy was short of shells was not uncommon then. For a long time nothing was learned of the progress of the attack. At length wounded began to arrive, and rumours to spread. Some of these latter were only too true. The attack had failed. It is unnecessary to tell the details of that day as the Battalion never became engaged. It is sufficient to say that British infantry, who lacked nothing in gallantry but had little artillery support, were ineffective in the face of countless German machine guns.

The Battalion remained at its battle stations all day, without receiving any orders. Very few shells fell near its positions and its only casualty was caused by a premature from one of the British guns. There was little for the men to do. Some of them spent their time making tea, which they served out to the wounded who were dribbling down the road in large numbers. Few prisoners were seen. The British artillery continued firing most of the time, but the attack was really at an end, on that part of the front, quite early in the day.

In the evening orders came to carry out the relief which had been postponed the previous night. This proved by far the most uncomfortable part of the day’s proceedings. Though everything was quiet both at Croix Blanche and in the front line trenches, the route between was being fairly heavily shelled, and was swept by machine gun fire. It was the Battalion’s first experience of heavy fire in the open and it was not enjoyed, particularly when a hitch in the operation caused a somewhat prolonged halt, and three companies were strung out along the road without any cover. But luckily, and much to the surprise of everyone, the relief was carried out without a single casualty to the Battalion. This was the first and only time that a relief was carried out by night in the Fleurbaix Sector.

Though the battle continued, on and off, for many days further to the south, the Battalion was not again seriously affected by it. Occasionally it received rather more than the usual attention from the enemy’s artillery, particularly on May 10th, when a large hole was blown in C Company’s parapet. It was then that Capt. E. E. Sykes had his first chance of showing that absolute fearlessness and supreme contempt for danger which later became a by-word in the Battalion. In full view of the extremely accurate enemy snipers, who shot two of the men who were helping him, he built up a rough barricade which served until darkness allowed the breech to be properly repaired.

Towards the end of May the Battalion played a small part in a minor operation on the 148th Infantry Brigade Sector. There a new front line trench was in course of construction in No Man’s Land by the 4th Battalion King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry. They worked on it by night, and withdrew by day. One night, on arriving to occupy it, they found the Germans in possession. To assist in ejecting them, Lieut. E. Lee, with part of the Battalion Machine Gun Section, was sent up. They did not go into action, for the men of the 148th Infantry Brigade were able to regain the trench without assistance, but a few casualties were suffered by the party from enemy fire.

On May 24th, the Battalion suffered a serious loss. Lieut.-Col. H. S. Atkinson, T.D., who had trained the Battalion in England and brought it out to France, was invalided home. It was a great misfortune and none felt it more than he. His health had been bad for three years, following on a serious operation, but he had stuck very gamely to his work in England, and hoped to be able to see the war through with the Battalion. Had he undergone a proper army medical examination, he would never have been allowed to leave England; but by keeping out of the way of the doctors he had succeeded in getting to France. Major E. P. Chambers assumed command of the Battalion, with the rank of Lieut.-Colonel.

By the beginning of June, the Battalion had pretty well settled down in its new life. Perhaps the men did not look quite so smart as in Doncaster days, but they had become far more efficient soldiers. Trench routine was no longer a hidden mystery, and enemy bullets had ceased to be novelties. The Battalion had had to pay for its education. Much discomfort was suffered before the men learned to fend for themselves; much work had proved useless owing to the inexperience of the workers. The toll of life had not been heavy, but the graves near Croix Blanche still bear their testimony to the early work of the Battalion in France.

Early in June the Battalion suffered its third officer casualty. Capt. A. L. Mowat, of D Company, was shot in the head while assisting in the construction of a sandbag shelter.

The night before the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo great preparations were made to annoy the enemy. When the sun rose the following morning, it shone on a parapet gay with the flags of Britain, France, Belgium, Russia and Italy. But the result was most disappointing; the Germans did not show the least signs of annoyance. Perhaps they remembered their own part in that battle exactly a century before. So a stuffed dummy was placed on the parapet, and that certainly did tempt their marksmen, who riddled it with bullets. But they ceased fire when the dummy was decorated with an iron cross.

On the night of June 25/26th, the Battalion said good-bye to Fleurbaix and moved to Doulieu. Thence it marched, by easy stages, halting a day or two here and there, to a wood near St. Jans ter Biezen, which was reached about 1-0 a.m. on July 1st.

The Battalion’s period of apprenticeship was over, and it was about to learn what real war was in the very worst part of the British line—the Ypres Salient.

CHAPTER III.
YPRES, 1915.

(a) July to October.

The Battalion was now in the VI. Corps of the Second Army. Several days were spent in the wood near St. Jans ter Biezen and the men never had any cover there, but, fortunately, it was early July and the nights were not cold. No one was allowed outside the wood in daylight except on duty. Some training was carried out, particularly bombing, instruction in which was pushed on as fast as possible; occasionally short route marches were made in the failing light and cool of the evening. But more time was occupied in the inspection of gas helmets than in anything else. Three inspections of these were held daily, by the platoon commander, company commander, and battalion commander respectively; it can easily be imagined how long a time it took the Commanding Officer personally to inspect the helmets of a strong battalion. On July 2nd, the Battalion was inspected by General Sir H. Plumer, who had formerly been G.O.C. Northern Command, and was now commanding the Second Army. The 49th was the first Territorial Division to be detailed for a long spell in the Ypres Salient, and this probably increased General Plumer’s interest in it, in addition to the fact that much of its training in England had been carried out under his supervision. Whether there is any truth in the rumour or not, it was always an article of faith in the Battalion that Plumer had a “soft spot in his heart” for the 49th Division. The next day it was again reviewed, this time by Lieut.-General Sir J. Keir, G.O.C. VI. Corps.

The Ypres Salient bore a very evil reputation—not without cause. Reconnaissance of the forward area began soon after the Battalion’s arrival at St. Jans ter Biezen, and it was at once obvious that Ypres was a very different proposition from Fleurbaix. The earliest experience of A Company is worth quoting as an indication of what was to be expected. One day Capt. M. P. Andrews, at that time commanding A Company, spent a day in the line with the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers. There he made the acquaintance of three officers of the company which he was soon to relieve. Thirty-six hours later one of his subalterns visited the same company, only to find that, during the short intervening period, all the three had become casualties—one was dead, a second had been lost on patrol, while the third had been evacuated wounded. This was indeed a rude awakening after the quiet life at Fleurbaix.

At scarcely any period of the war could the neighbourhood of Ypres be called quiet. In the autumn of 1915 the British held only a small bridge-head to the east of the Ypres-Commines Canal. Frequent attempts were made to extend this, and the enemy was just as anxious to drive the British out of the salient altogether. When the Battalion arrived in the area things had barely settled down after the Second Battle of Ypres, in which the enemy had won for himself all the commanding ridges, except Mont Kemmel. Since then minor operations had kept the front lively. One of these took place near Boesinghe only two days before the 49th Division took over the line, and the 148th Infantry Brigade in particular came in for a good share of the “liveliness” which followed it.

On July 7th, the Battalion moved to Canada Wood, near Elverdinghe, where one night was spent. The next evening it relieved the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers in the Lancashire Farm Sector. In spite of the narrowness of many of the trenches, the relief passed off very quickly. As the Battalion filed in the Dublins filed out, only too glad to hand over their charge to someone else.

The 49th Division now held the extreme left sector of the British line. Its left rested on the Ypres-Commines Canal near Boesinghe, abutting on the French, whose line however was west of the canal. The 6th Division was on the right. The dominating feature of the sector was the Pilkem Ridge; this was entirely in the hands of the enemy, who thus possessed every advantage of high command and superior observation. This sector the 49th Division was destined to hold until the end of December—six months of continuous trench duty in the very worst part of the British line. Reliefs were so arranged that two brigades held the line while the third was back in rest. Thus the Battalion found itself in several different sub-sectors during its stay in the Ypres Salient. On every sector the defence scheme was simplicity itself—the front line was to be held at all costs; not an inch of ground was to be lost.

During the first tour in the Lancashire Farm Sector A and D Companies held the front line, B Company was in support, and C Company in reserve. One of the main features of the sub-sector, and indeed of the whole divisional front, was the confusing network of old and disused trenches. Many of these had been hastily dug in the heat of battle and afterwards abandoned when they were found to be badly sited. Some, however, were gradually being incorporated in the regular system. The original notes on the sector, which were handed over by the Commanding Officer of the Dublins, have been preserved; their outstanding feature is the continual reference to “work to be done.” He was right. Never did the Battalion find itself harder worked than during the next few months.

The tour was a very anxious one. Away on the left the 148th Infantry Brigade was having a very rough time of it, the enemy making frequent counter-attacks to recover the ground which he had lost a few days before. Not knowing when the enemy’s attention might be turned further south, the Battalion had to be very much on the alert. No one slept at night, and two officers per company were always on duty during the day. The men in the front line trenches were fully occupied with sentry duties and working parties, and it was deemed inadvisable for any of them to go away from their positions. Thus, all carrying fell on the reserve company, which had a very hard time of it. Trolley lines were not yet in use, and all rations and R.E. material had to be carried right up to the line from the Canal Bank—a distance of well over a mile. But all ranks worked magnificently.

“This is a very noisy place after Fleurbaix” is the War Diary’s comment on the day the line was taken over. It was! Though nothing extraordinary for the Ypres Salient, the enemy artillery activity was a great increase on anything the Battalion had experienced before. Lacrimatory shells were much in evidence and these were, at that time, rather an unknown quantity. The front line, at one spot, was only about seventy yards from the enemy, but this did not procure for it any immunity from shelling. There, too, the Battalion received its first introduction to trench mortars, and it had nothing effective to retaliate with. Machine gun and rifle fire were also severe. As at Fleurbaix, there were many very accurate snipers among the enemy, and these were always on the look-out for targets. So, from one cause or another, the Battalion suffered a number of casualties before its five days’ tour was over. The most important of these were Lieut. E. Lee and C.S.M. A. Parkin of B Company. The former was shot through the head while instructing some of his men of the Machine Gun Section how to repair a weak spot in the parapet. He was the first officer of the Battalion to be killed, and his loss was very deeply felt by all who knew what a fine, keen and enthusiastic fellow he was. C.S.M. Parkin had an arm blown off by an enemy shell.

On July 13th, the Battalion was relieved by the 5th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, and went into Brigade Reserve on the Canal Bank. During the relief part of the area was heavily bombarded with lacrimatory shells. This considerably interfered with the operation, for the teaching at the time was that men should always remain as still as possible when any form of gas was about. Such action was certainly advisable when no better protection than the P. helmet was available, for it was so stuffy that any movement became a torture to the wearer. However, it proved an effective protection against the lacrimatory shells of the period. About this time Major-General T. S. Baldock, C.B., was wounded by shrapnel at Divisional H.Q. Major-General E. M. Perceval, C.B., succeeded to the command of the 49th Division.

Capt. M. P. ANDREWS.

(Killed).

Capt. E. E. SYKES, M.C.

(Killed).

Capt. W. F. DENNING.

Capt. T. D. PRATT.

During its stay in the Ypres Salient, the Battalion occupied more than one position on the banks of the Ypres-Commines Canal. All were much alike. Officers and men were accommodated in shelters built into the sunken banks. Things were not always any too quiet. The enemy knew perfectly well that considerable numbers of troops lived there, and naturally selected the canal as one of his barrage lines. As a result, strict orders against loitering near certain points were issued, much to the disappointment of some enthusiastic fishermen in the Battalion. The outstanding feature of this, and all other periods of Brigade Reserve—indeed, of every day of the latter months of 1915—was WORK. During the day men ate and slept. At night there was no rest for officer or man. Many were employed on the construction of communication trenches, sometimes only just in rear of the front line. Great efforts were made to get the trench railways into going order and, when this work was completed, the resting battalions had to do a great deal of truck-pushing along them. One of the main difficulties to be contended with was water. Even in July there was a good deal of rain; it had rained while the Battalion was relieving the Dublins—surely an indication of what the future held. Water lay so near the surface that much digging was useless, and all work had to be built up and revetted. Looked at in the light of later experience, it seems a pity that no drainage scheme was instituted at the very beginning. It was obvious that, as soon as the autumn rains began, the trenches must become water-logged. Yet nothing was done. Perhaps the higher authorities still hoped that an advance would be made ere the wet weather came. Working parties were not free from danger. There was little artillery fire at night, but machine guns were very active, and rifle batteries frequently played on obvious places like the trench tramways. Slowly, but steadily, the Battalion’s total of casualties mounted up. Yet, in spite of all, the men worked magnificently. They possessed almost boundless enthusiasm, and were now reaping the benefit of their training near Fleurbaix. Without exception, officers who served with them during this early period show the greatest enthusiasm when they speak of the splendid spirit of the Battalion. The private soldier, of course, had the hardest time of all; but his officers were little better off. In order to obtain continuity of work a Brigade Field Officer of the week was appointed from one of the battalions in reserve, his duty being to supervise all work. The job was no sinecure. He was as hard-worked as any honest, though grousing, private. And some people called these spells in Brigade Reserve “rest” periods!

After five days on the Canal Bank, the Battalion did a second tour in the Lancashire Farm Sector. Fears that the enemy was about to make an attack on the French postponed the relief for a few hours, but eventually it passed off smoothly. The only event of any interest during this tour was a gas alarm practice. Shell cases and klaxon horns had been plentifully distributed about the line, and one day a highly successful, full-dress rehearsal was held by all companies. It evidently puzzled the enemy, for he put down a protective barrage along the canal. It also puzzled Battalion H.Q., which no one had thought of warning, and numerous terse, though hardly polite, “chits” circulated in consequence. It is worth while to note here that the highly-organised system of reports, which in later days was a perpetual worry to luckless company commanders and adjutants, had not yet developed. If a company commander wanted to send out a patrol he simply sent one; he never dreamed of informing Battalion H.Q., much less of asking its permission or submitting a report after the event.

On July 24th, the Battalion moved back to the woods near Oosthoek for its first spell in Divisional Reserve. This can hardly be called a “rest” period, except that baths and clean clothing were available. A little training was attempted, but it was seriously interfered with by the large working parties which had to be found. Some of these were employed in the forward area, moving up and returning daily by motor bus. Others were set to work to convert Trois Tours into a defended locality. The men worked well, but perhaps without quite their earlier enthusiasm. The novelty of active service had worn off. They never properly understood the necessity for all their work. Labour companies and coloured units were then unknown; everything fell upon the hard-worked infantrymen. The following official communication, circulated by 49th Division “G” to Brigades about this time, shows a certain appreciation of the situation on the part of the higher authorities:—

“If all the troops with all the tools

Should dig for half a year,

Do you suppose,” our Captain asked,

“That then we should be clear?”

“I doubt it,” said the Adjutant,

Knowing the Brigadier.

It is not often that the General Staff stoops to such frivolity in the transaction of business. But let no mistake be made. The hard conditions under which the men lived were not the fault of dear old General Brereton.

The Battalion returned to the Lancashire Farm Sector on July 30th. Apart from considerable activity on the part of enemy trench mortars, and a good deal of sniping, the tour which followed was an uneventful one. A little patrolling was done, but nothing more important than a dead Frenchman and a few rats was discovered. Further over to the right, however, there was considerable activity. It was during this tour that the Hooge mine went up, and the 14th Division was attacked with flammenwerfer.

To regain the ground thus lost to the enemy, the 6th Division was brought up. They attacked early on the morning of August 9th and carried all their objectives, but suffered heavy casualties in doing so. The 49th Division co-operated in this attack, though only in a passive way. Gaps were cleared in the wire, dummy bridges were laid over the canal, and artillery fired at intervals on the enemy front line, in an endeavour to distract the attention of the Germans from the real objective. The Battalion took no part in these activities, being in reserve on the Canal Bank at the time; but it suffered some casualties from the enemy barrage. Later in the day, Battalion H.Q. and B and C Companies were ordered up at short notice to relieve a corresponding portion of the 7th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. who were suffering from a sudden outbreak of ptomaine poisoning, which was so severe that about a hundred of them were sent to hospital. Two days later the other two companies of the 7th Battalion were also relieved.

The sector now occupied by the Battalion was called the Glimpse Cottage Sector, and was held with three companies in the front line and one in support. Two months later it was to be the scene of the Battalion’s first serious encounter with the enemy, and so a detailed description of it is held over until then. But the tour in August was also a very active one, and during it the Battalion suffered two serious losses. The first was R.S.M. J. McCormack, who was killed on August 12th. The second was even more serious, and is especially worthy of attention as a conspicuous example of gallantry and self-sacrifice.

Late in the afternoon of August 14th, a dugout in A Company’s line was blown in and a number of men were buried amid the wreckage. Capt. M. P. Andrews immediately hurried to the spot and, under heavy artillery and rifle fire, succeeded in extricating the men. Three were found to be dead and three wounded, one so seriously that, unless he could receive proper attention at once, there was little hope of his recovery. The trenches were too narrow for the wounded man to be carried along them on a stretcher. There was nothing for it but to carry him across the open. Capt. Andrews did not hesitate. Getting out on the top himself, he assisted to raise the wounded man, and then set out across the open with the stretcher party. He paid for his devotion with his life. The ground was swept by bullets and, before the party could reach the shelter of a communication trench, he was hit in the head and died almost at once. So perished one of the most gallant gentlemen and conscientious officers who ever served with the Battalion. Word of what had happened was despatched at once to Battalion H.Q., while the stretcher-bearers, true to their duty, remained in the open, trying in vain to stop the flow of blood. Lieut. B. Hughes, R.A.M.C., then Medical Officer to the Battalion, at once hurried up the line. But he was too late. Capt. Andrews was already dead. The event cast a gloom, not only over A Company, but over the whole Battalion.

About this time the Battalion transport was having a very rough passage, and they too soon recognised the difference between Ypres and Fleurbaix. Almost nightly, heavy shelling of the roads used by the ration convoys caused much inconvenience and some loss. On August 14th, in particular, two horses were hit and, for a time, the column was much disorganised. Cpl. E. Ashworth was in charge and, by his own gallantry and coolness under fire, he restored order and confidence, and was able to deliver his charge. For this he was afterwards awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.

When next the Battalion went into Brigade Reserve it occupied a number of farms north-east of Brielen. Though not so safe as the shelters on the Canal Bank, these farms were more comfortable, and they did not suffer so much from enemy artillery fire. Work continued as before, a new feature being the erection of “elephant” frames in the Battalion’s new billets.

The next two tours in the front line were spent on the extreme left sector—a part of the line which the Battalion was to know only too well in later days, and to which the minds of most “old timers” turn when Ypres in 1915 is mentioned. It bore an ominous reputation. The trenches lay at the north of the Ypres bridge-head, where it flattened out to join the canal. On the extreme left a tiny sap ran out to a point only fifteen yards from the nearest enemy post. Nowhere was No Man’s Land more than sixty yards across. There was very little shelling of the front line by either side; the trenches were much too near together for this to be carried on without serious danger of injuring one’s own men; but the enemy used many trench mortars, some of which were of the real “minnie” type. There was also an enormous amount of bombing on both sides, for grenades could easily be lobbed from one front line to the other in several places. The trenches were very confusing—a result of the July attack which had taken place just before the 49th Division moved into the line near Ypres—and so narrow that in places a stout man could easily stick fast. Everywhere they were dominated by the enemy’s positions.

The French were on the Battalion’s left, but their line was on the west side of the canal and thus they were comparatively secure from sudden attack. They proved themselves very helpful and sympathetic neighbours. When they saw that the Battalion was having a bad time from enemy trench mortars they were always only too ready to help. They did not wait to be asked; they simply cleared all their men, save a skeleton garrison, into deep dugouts or the British support line, and then opened fire on the enemy with every type of infernal engine they had available. It always amused them to see the enemy turn his wrath from the British and start pounding their deserted lines. They were, at this time, much better supplied with trench mortars than the British, not to speak of their 75’s.

After two tours in this sector the Battalion went back for its second spell in Divisional Reserve. Casualties had been a good deal heavier than the Battalion had experienced previously, but the men had stuck to their work splendidly, and many instances of gallantry and devotion to duty brighten the otherwise sordid picture. The little sap on the extreme left was the main centre of activity and there trench-mortaring and bombing were almost continuous. It was constantly being damaged, and as frequently repaired; on one occasion a heavy trench mortar dropped right into it, causing six casualties. How near it was to the Germans is shown by the fact that, on August 26th, they were able to throw the following message from their lines into it:—

“Dear Tommy,—Brest Litovsk fallen to-day. Rippelin, Lieut.”

An hour or two after the arrival of this message loud cheering was heard in the enemy lines, presumably rejoicing at the news. During this tour Sec.-Lieut. W. L. Anderton was shot through the head and died almost immediately.

On August 26th, the Battalion moved back to the woods near Coppernollehoek for twelve days’ rest. A little more training was done this time, but large working parties were still the order of the day. Endeavours were made to smarten up the men; among other things the cleaning of buttons was instituted for the first time since the Battalion had left England. A somewhat novel duty was the rounding up of spies in the neighbourhood of Proven; this was entrusted to Capt. E. E. Sykes, with a party of forty-five other ranks. He was away for thirty-six hours, but no record has been preserved of what success, if any, he had. While near Coppernollehoek the Battalion was again inspected by General Plumer, who was accompanied by the Earl of Scarborough and Brigadier-General Mends. Probably the G.O.C., Second Army, noticed a change in the men whom he had reviewed about two months before; they were no longer light-hearted and cheery novices, but fully-blooded and hard-bitten veterans. A short time in the Ypres Salient had worked wonders. A sad loss to the Battalion about this time was Sergt. D. H. Fenton, who was accidentally killed by a bomb on the very day his commission was announced.

When the Battalion again returned to the line it took over the Turco Farm Sector, on the extreme right, abutting on the 6th Division. This was the best and quietest sector on the divisional front. In places No Man’s Land was several hundreds of yards across. Of course there was plenty of work to be done, but the trenches were, on the whole, good. After a quiet tour the Battalion came out to a new position on the Canal Bank. Here there was little shelling and the opportunity was seized to hold some swimming sports; D Company won the inter-company team race. During this period in Brigade Reserve, Lieut.-Colonel E. J. Pickering, formerly Brigade Major of the 148th Infantry Brigade, arrived to take command of the Battalion.

On September 21st, the Battalion returned to the Turco Farm Sector. The tour which followed is chiefly noteworthy for the events of September 25th—the day on which the battle of Loos began. No very serious operation was planned for the Ypres front, but a demonstration was arranged in the hope of distracting the enemy’s attention and drawing his reserves northwards. The 6th Division was to attack on the right and capture Bellewaarde Farm and Lake. At the same time the British artillery was to cut gaps in the German wire opposite the 4th Battalion, while a smoke screen was to be put up on both its flanks. It was hoped that this demonstration would cause the enemy to evacuate his front line, in which case the Battalion was to advance and seize the unoccupied trenches. At 4-30 a.m. the bombardment and smoke screen began. The enemy retaliation was quick and heavy. Shells rained down on the front line and the communication trenches; machine gun and rifle fire swept the ground. It was soon obvious that the Germans had no intention of evacuating any part of their trenches, and so no advance was attempted on the front of the 49th Division. By 7-30 a.m. the artillery fire on both sides had practically ceased. So far as the Battalion was concerned, the only results of the day were a number of casualties and much damage to the lines from the enemy bombardment.

The last days of September were spent at Elverdinghe, where Battalion H.Q. occupied the Chateau and officers and men were accommodated in tents in the grounds. Early in October a move was made to a camp by the Poperinghe-Woesten Road, where another period, very similar to the previous ones, was spent in Divisional Reserve. The Battalion had now been about three months in the Ypres Salient. During that time, in addition to the normal wastage through sickness, 120 casualties had been incurred in action. But far worse was in store. Before, however, entering on an account of the events of October 16th, and of the terrible wet months which culminated in the gas attack of December 19th, there are one or two points which deserve fuller treatment than they have yet received.

The high proficiency of the enemy in sniping has already been mentioned on more than one occasion. Gradually the Battalion came to realise that the most effective way of dealing with this form of annoyance was to adopt similar tactics. Luckily, the very man was to hand—Sergt. A. McNulty. A combination of all the qualities needed by a first-class sniper is rarely to be found in one individual; but this N.C.O. possessed them all to an exceptional degree. A magnificent rifle shot and a first-class observer, he had the patience of a Job, and was also an exceptionally good instructor. Before long there was little that he did not know about marksmanship, telescopic sights, the building of snipers’ posts, and observation. He constructed his own posts and waited in them patiently, hour after hour, for suitable targets. How many Germans he had to his credit, no one ever knew; it is more than doubtful whether he knew himself. But certain it is that the enemy had good reason to curse that Winchester of his, and he did much to counteract the hostile sniping which was menacing the Battalion so much. For a time he was taken away to be an instructor at the newly-formed Divisional Technical School, where his energies were not restricted to sniping. Among other things, he was one of the very few men who mastered the intricacies of that awful invention—the West Spring Gun. The Battalion had much to thank Sergt. McNulty for and, later in the war, when he went to America as an instructor—how the Americans ever understood his accent was beyond the Battalion—he was greatly missed.

Another feature of the period was the appearance of trench mortars. Almost from the very beginning of trench warfare the Germans had made use of these weapons and, so effective did they prove, that the British soon tried to imitate them. Their first attempts were very crude. The earliest trench mortars to appear in the line had, apparently, been dragged from the obscurity of some museum, and, needless to say, were not to be compared with the “minnie.” The two-inch trench mortar followed, firing its weird, round cannon-ball—affectionately known as a “plum-pudding”—on the end of a rod. Stokes guns were unknown at that early period.

(b) October 16th.

On October 14th, the Battalion relieved the 1/5th Battalion West Yorkshire Regiment in the Glimpse Cottage Sector, C Company going in on the right, A Company in the centre, and D Company on the left; B Company was in support. The main feature of the sector was a sharp salient in the enemy line, opposite the centre company front. From this salient an old communication trench—a relic of the days when both front lines had been part of the same system—crossed No Man’s Land to the British line. Both sides had established bombing blocks in this trench, and the locality was the main centre of activity on the front. Owing to folds in the ground, it was impossible to cover the sap-head by rifle fire; but machine guns fired into the dead ground and some two-inch trench mortars, in emplacements near by, helped to protect it. The sap-head itself was held by a squad of battalion bombers. It often received attention from enemy trench mortars.

The story goes that, a few days before the Battalion took over the sector, the enemy had started shelling the sap-head and the adjacent front line, and most of the garrison had withdrawn into the supervision trench, which ran about thirty yards in rear. Only a weak party had been left in the sap. The bombardment had been followed by a small daylight raid to secure a notice-board which had been hung out to announce some allied success. Whether there was any truth in the story cannot now be said.

The first two days of the tour were comparatively quiet. About 1-30 p.m. on October 16th, the enemy opened an intense artillery and trench mortar bombardment on the greater part of the Battalion area. It was soon apparent that something unusual was happening. Trench mortars were raining down near the sap-head, 5.9’s were whistling overhead and bursting in the supervision trench, shrapnel and high explosive were falling on practically the whole area, as far back as Battalion H.Q. Stand to was ordered at once. Two platoons of B Company were moved up into close support, and were employed carrying up bombs and ammunition. The garrison of the sap, on which point it was obvious that much of the enemy’s attention was directed, was reinforced. The men crouched down under their parapets—strict orders had been issued that there was to be no firing until the word was given—and waited for the enemy’s next move.

The situation was not a pleasant one. It is true that the majority of the shells were bursting behind the front line, but there were sufficient “shorts” to make things very uncomfortable. The wire was torn to shreds, parapets were breached, and many casualties were suffered, particularly by the two flank companies. It was the first time that the Battalion had had to stand a really heavy bombardment in the front line, and they came through it splendidly. For three hours they waited, while the shells crashed around them, longing for the moment when the enemy would appear and they would have the chance to “get a bit of their own back.” About 4-30 p.m. their opportunity came. A party of Germans, clad in fatigue dress, emerged from the trenches opposite and began calmly to cut a passage through their own wire, near the sap-head. This was too much for A Company. Perhaps it would have been better had fire been withheld a little longer, until an actual attack came. But no one thought of that at the time. Tired of his long inactivity under heavy shelling, every man was at once on the fire step working his bolt for all he was worth. Shells were still bursting all around, but none paid attention to them. There was the enemy in the open; nothing else mattered. And the wire-cutting part of the operation came to an abrupt conclusion.

By this time, the sap-head had been blown in by a well-directed shell. But the garrison, with whom the indefatigable company commander, Major R. E. Sugden, spent most of his time that day, simply extricated themselves from the debris and set to work to construct a fresh bombing block. Shortly after, the enemy made his next move. A party of Germans, about twenty in number, wearing bombing aprons filled with stick grenades, crawled up in the folds of the ground and began to bomb the sap-head. A brisk encounter ensued. Most of the German grenades fell short and the British proved that they could easily out-throw the enemy. With the assistance of a Maxim gun the attack was driven off with comparative ease, as were two further attacks of a similar character. About the time that the third was made, another party of the enemy was seen moving along a hedge row in the direction of the British line. Fortunately this move was detected early by the crew of a machine gun, which soon drove them to cover. All this time the bombardment continued.

About 6-0 p.m. the enemy apparently saw that success was impossible, and gradually the shelling died down. The Battalion was then able to review the situation and to count its casualties. These latter were heavy enough. Sec.-Lieut. E. Taylor, C.S.M. V. S. Tolley and twelve other ranks were killed, or died shortly after of wounds; Lieut. E. N. Marshall, Sec.-Lieut. F. A. Innes and twenty-two other ranks were wounded. Much damage had been done to the sap-head and to other parts of the line. The night which followed passed quietly, but there was much work to be done. To assist in this the 5th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. sent up a large working party, and also provided a number of stretcher-bearers to remove the wounded and the dead.

Compared with many later events in the history of the Battalion, this episode is of very minor importance. But, at the time, its importance loomed large in the eyes of all. It was the Battalion’s first real fight. After several months of passive warfare, the men had at length come face to face with the enemy in active operations. Nothing is harder than to maintain one’s morale when inactive under a heavy bombardment. But this the men had succeeded in doing. Three hours of intense shelling had only served to make them the more eager when their chance came. All ranks came through the ordeal with the greatest credit, and the hearty congratulations which were received from Brigade and Division were thoroughly deserved. For their gallant services on this occasion Sec.-Lieut. F. A. Innes—it was his first trench tour as he had only recently joined the Battalion—received the Military Cross, and Lance-Cpl. T. H. Clarke and Cpl. C. Landale were both awarded Distinguished Conduct Medals. Lance-Cpl. Clarke had been the N.C.O. in charge of the bombers in the sap-head, and had behaved with the greatest gallantry throughout the day. Cpl. C. Landale had worked untiringly on the telephone wires during the bombardment, and it was mainly due to him that communication between the front line and Battalion H.Q. was scarcely ever interrupted.

The object of the enemy in making this attack was never understood. Perhaps he expected the intensity of his bombardment would induce the Battalion to vacate its front line, and he would be able to occupy it with comparative ease. If the story of his daylight raid, a few days before, had any truth in it, he knew that the front line had been practically evacuated on that occasion, and may have expected similar tactics again. Certainly his heaviest shelling fell on the supervision trench. But, whatever his object, he found the Battalion alert and only too ready to meet him.

The next few days were very fully occupied in repairing the damage done by the enemy’s shells. So well was this work carried out that, at the end of the tour, the Battalion was able to hand over the line in as good a condition as it had been before October 16th. On the night of October 19/20th Lieut.-Col. E. J. Pickering was wounded. He had gone up with Major Sugden to inspect the wire, which had been put out by D Company. The enemy was only about 150 yards away at that point and evidently saw the party. They opened fire and the Commanding Officer was severely wounded in the right arm. He had only been with the Battalion about a month, but during that time he had done a lot to smarten it and he left a lasting impression on all ranks who served under him.

Lieut.-Col. C. J. PICKERING, C.M.G., D.S.O.

Lieut.-Col. G. K. SULLIVAN, O.B.E., M.C.

On October 21st, after a heavy trench-mortaring which destroyed several dugouts, the Battalion was relieved by the 1/4th Battalion King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, and went back to the Canal Bank.

(c) The Wet Months.

Towards the end of October His Majesty the King visited Abeele, and there reviewed representatives of all the Divisions of the VI. Corps. To this review the Battalion sent a contingent[6] of twenty-five other ranks, under the command of Lieut. E. N. Marshall. Needless to say they were a carefully picked body of men, and it is worthy of note that the detachment from the 49th Division was specially commended by His Majesty for its smart turn-out that day.

At the end of the month the weather completely broke up and heavy rain became normal. The Battalion was in comparative comfort on the Canal Bank, but ominous reports soon began to come in from the units holding the line. Bad as these reports were, they were mild compared with the actual conditions under which the men were to exist for the next two months. On October 30th the Battalion relieved the 7th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector; and then began for it such a period of hardship and misery as it has never since been called upon to endure for so long a time.

In one way the telling of this part of the Battalion’s history is comparatively easy. During the earlier part of its stay in the Ypres Salient it had seldom done more than two tours in the same sector. But from the end of October, until it was finally relieved in December, the Battalion held no sector of the line except the extreme left; and, in every way, that sector was the worst on the divisional front. Its proximity to the opposing trenches, and the commanding position occupied by the Germans, have already been described. The trenches lay very little above the water level of the Ypres-Commines Canal and, as soon as the rains began, they naturally received much of the drainage from the Pilkem Ridge. They were badly sited and badly constructed. Consisting mainly of sandbag breast-works, they were the worst possible type to inhabit in wet weather. They had been considered the worst on the front during the fine weather; words cannot adequately describe what they became early in November.

When the Battalion took over the sector on October 30th the trenches were already in an appalling condition. The front line was in places more than two feet deep in semi-liquid mud, and parts of it were entirely isolated from neighbouring posts, except by cross-country routes; stretches of the communication trenches were waist deep in water. And this was the result of only about two days of steady rain! For the next two months the conditions gradually became worse and worse; occasional short frosts gave a little temporary relief, but the thaws which followed them only made the trenches more awful than before. Thoroughly undermined by water, the revetments bulged and caved in, literally before the eyes of the men. In a few days, hundreds of yards of trenches had become nothing but cavities filled with mud and water. The shelters of the sector had never been protection against anything but bullets and the weather. They ceased to be even that now. Water from the trenches overflowed into them and flooded the floors, their supports were undermined, and one by one they collapsed, often causing casualties to the men who occupied them, until scarcely a habitable one remained near the front line. The enemy made full use of his higher position. Pumping the water out of his own line, he allowed it to flow across No Man’s Land into the British line. Often the water was so deep in the trenches that thigh-boots became useless. Had there been a well-planned system of drainage, something might have been done. But it was only the coming of the rain that opened the eyes of the authorities to the condition of the sector, and the drainage scheme which was then started was never far enough advanced to be of much use while the 49th Division was there. What was to be done with the water? Most of it had to stop where it was. Occasionally it was possible to divert a little of it elsewhere—in some cases, it is feared, into other people’s lines. Only in one small trench on the extreme left could it be turned back into the enemy lines, and, in order to effect that desirable operation, the whole had to flow right along the British front line first.

The utter collapse, and consequent evacuation, of long stretches of the line considerably altered the method of holding it. Many of the posts were completely cut off from one another, except by movement across the open. Such movement was extremely hazardous by day, for the enemy snipers and machine gunners were only too ready to take advantage of the many opportunities which the new state of affairs gave them. With parapets sliding in and trenches filling, it was soon impossible for a man to move about in daylight without exposing himself. By night there was an additional danger. It required a man, with a very good sense of direction, to move over that area of water-logged and derelict trenches without losing his way. The case of Pte. T. Atkinson—the first prisoner the enemy secured from the Battalion—was a good illustration of this. In company with another man, he had successfully delivered rations to an isolated front line post, but, on the way back, the two disagreed about the direction of their own lines and separated, each going his own way. The other man rejoined his platoon in safety; Pte. Atkinson, apparently, walked straight across No Man’s Land into the arms of the enemy.

The greatest hardships were suffered by men who were wounded in the front line. If a man had the misfortune to be hit early in the day he could seldom be got away until after dark; often in great pain, and always under the most miserable conditions, he would have to wait for many hours before he could receive proper attention. Even when dusk came his lot was a most unenviable one. The journey to the Canal Bank often took two or three hours, and there was a good chance that he might be hit again before he arrived at the Aid Post, for machine gun fire swept the ground intermittently all night.

One important result of the new conditions was a great increase in patrolling. Now that large portions of the line were entirely deserted and posts were isolated from one another, this was very necessary, for at night the enemy could enter the trenches unseen almost as easily as the British could leave them. Most of this patrolling was purely defensive, but occasionally useful reconnaissances were made, one of which will be described in detail later. There was little opportunity for the men to show an offensive spirit. A little bombing was indulged in, but soon the general policy became one of “live and let live.” Had the enemy attempted an infantry advance the defence must have placed its main reliance on the bayonet; in that waste of mud rifles could not be kept properly clean, and few would have fired more than two or three rounds rapid.

Each company held a section of the front line, with two platoons in front and two in support. Usually these platoons inter-relieved every forty-eight hours, but towards the end of the time reliefs were sometimes carried out every twenty-four hours. The Battalion spent four days in the line and four in brigade reserve; these latter periods were sometimes passed on the Canal Bank and sometimes in the farm houses further back. While in brigade reserve every available man was kept hard at work in the forward area either on the new drainage scheme, or trying to clear some of the mud and water from the communication trenches. Only twice during the wet weather did the 147th Infantry Brigade have a spell in divisional reserve, and even then there was not much comfort. The prevailing bad weather had its effect on the back area camps and they were soon deep in mud. Much work was done to improve them. Early in November a number of wattle and mud huts were put up in place of some of the tents; some wooden huts were also in course of erection. When the Battalion came back to the same camp at the end of the month they found things more comfortable, for the work had been continued and accommodation improved. But, at the best, it was a poor form of rest for men who had just spent sixteen days in the forward area, and were looking forward to another spell of the same kind.

Everything possible was done for the men’s comfort, but, at first, the available supplies of suitable stores were quite inadequate. Until the wet weather began, no one seems to have dreamed of the conditions which would prevail during the winter. At the beginning of November thigh-boots were almost non-existent, though, later, sufficient were available to equip every man. However, the communication trenches were so bad that frequently men lost their boots on the way up to the line. It was no uncommon thing for a man to stick so fast in the mud that he had to be dragged out by his companions, often leaving his boots behind. He would then have to complete his journey in his socks; sometimes he might find a spare pair of boots when he arrived in the front line. Dry socks were always available for men in support, but they could seldom be supplied to men in the front line. Foot grease was provided and periodical foot-rubbing ordered; but how could the men obey the order? Seldom could a man in the line find a dry spot to sit down on while he removed his boots. The result was soon apparent in the enormous number of trench feet which developed; during November, 1915, no less than 146 other ranks were sent to hospital for this cause alone. Sheep-skin coats were provided and proved a great boon. There was plenty of rum—more than during any subsequent winter. Every effort was made to provide hot food and drink, but the difficulties of getting it to the companies before it was cold were almost insuperable. Any attempt to light a fire was bound to draw the attention of the hostile artillery or trench mortars, and so only “Tommy’s Cookers” could be used.

Such were the conditions under which the Battalion held the line in the November and December of 1915. For utter misery they have only been equalled once—on the Passchendaele Ridge in December, 1917—and then for a much shorter period. A man had a ghastly prospect in front of him when his turn came to form part of a front line garrison for forty-eight hours. For all that time he would be thoroughly soaked and terribly cold; his boots would be full of water, he would stand in water and mud; physical pain, mental weariness and bodily fatigue would be his constant burden. The chances were that he would not complete his tour of duty—that before his time was up he would succumb to the enemy snipers, or be on his way to hospital, a physical wreck. One example is sufficient to show what appalling casualties were suffered during this period. About the beginning of December, an officer of the Battalion took up twenty-four other ranks for a forty-eight hour tour of duty in the front line. At the end of that time he brought out with him one signaller and three other ranks. Every other man had become a casualty.

But what of the spirit of the men of the Battalion during this time? How did they bear their hardships? Many writers have paid tribute to the gallantry of British troops in battle, but few have written of the heroism of those who held the line under such conditions as the 4th Battalion did in the autumn of 1915. The soldier in battle has excitement, and a good deal of exhilaration, to help him through; but the Yorkshiremen who faced the enemy near Boesinghe in 1915 had neither of these. Theirs was heroism of a far higher order—the heroism which, with no excitement to buoy them up, can make men coolly and quietly face horror and death in their worst forms. Such men as Kipling must have been thinking of when he wrote,

“If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the will which says to them ‘Hold on’.”

They were MEN, were those of the 4th Battalion, who held the line in 1915. Men of the quiet, tight-lipped and dogged type, who talked little, though occasional flashes of humour brighten even this ghastly picture, but simply obeyed orders without question and held on. Perhaps their feelings can best be expressed by quoting the remark of one of them, when on short leave from that hell. “Well, sir, we either have to laugh or cry, and we prefer to laugh.”

Few specific events of this period need be recorded. On November 9th Lieut.-Col. G. K. Sullivan, formerly Adjutant of the 1/5th Batt. King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, assumed command of the Battalion. His stay was a very brief one. Eleven days after his arrival he was wounded by a shell splinter on the Canal Bank. As Major E. P. Chambers had been sent to hospital with a sprained ankle the previous day, Major R. E. Sugden assumed command of the Battalion until the arrival of Lieut.-Col. E. G. St. Aubyn. The latter had been second in command of a battalion of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps in the 14th Division. Though always in weak health, he retained command of the Battalion for nearly a year. He was a very quiet, but exceptionally competent, Commanding Officer, who earned the respect of all, and the most sincere affection of those who knew him best.

On the night of December 11/12th, Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, with Sergt. Kitchen, carried out an extremely daring and highly successful patrol. The glow of a light had been noticed at a particular point in the enemy line, and they made straight towards it. No Man’s Land was not more than sixty yards across but it was no mean obstacle, owing to its water-logged condition. The enemy wire was very thick and difficult to negotiate but, after much trouble, the two found themselves at the foot of the enemy parapet. Leaving his companion at the bottom, Everitt carefully crawled up the parapet and looked into the enemy trench. He found it to be deeper, better revetted and much drier than the British trenches were. Slowly he moved along the parapet, examining the trench at different points. At length he reached the place where the glow had been observed and suddenly found himself looking into the corner of a bay, almost exactly at the point where an enemy sentry was standing. As he looked the German raised his rifle, and Everitt slid gently down the parapet. He had not been observed, but the chance shot of the sentry passed only just over his head. He had now seen all he could. The light was explained; it came from a brazier which evidently warmed a shelter hollowed out of the traverse near which the sentry was posted. Two or three Germans were warming themselves round it. There was nothing more the patrol could do. With a thick wire obstacle behind and only one man to support him, it would have been suicidal for Everitt to attempt anything against the enemy post. Besides, his orders were to make a reconnaissance, and the information he had gained would be useless if he did not return to report it. So, regretfully, he turned his back on the enemy, and succeeded in reaching his own line without being discovered. This patrol caused a good deal of stir in the Brigade, for no previous patrol had got so far. It had obtained very valuable information about the condition of the enemy trenches, and had proved that the Germans were very much on the alert. All agreed that the Military Cross, which Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt afterwards received for his work that night, was thoroughly well earned.

On December 12th Major R. E. Sugden was severely wounded in the arm by a bullet. The bridges over the Canal were always dangerous spots. Not only were they well marked by the enemy artillery, but machine guns, posted further to the north, could fire straight down the Canal in enfilade. It was while he was crossing one of these bridges that Major Sugden was hit. He had served continuously with the Battalion since it had been mobilised and his loss was greatly felt.

(d) December 19th.

The enemy first made use of poison gas in the spring of 1915, about the time the Battalion landed in France. On that occasion he employed pure chlorine, but in so weak a concentration that the results were not nearly so disastrous as they might have been. After this first trial—it was probably more an experiment than anything else—he made no use of gas on a large scale for several months. This was fortunate, for it gave allied scientists time to study the whole problem and to devise means of protection, not only against chlorine, but against other harmful gases also. It is true that anti-gas measures were far from perfect at the end of 1915. But the allied armies were better prepared for that form of attack than they would have been had they had no preliminary warning. In particular, the possibility of the enemy using phosgene had been guarded against by the introduction of the P.H. helmet. This was a considerable advance; its two stout glass eye-pieces were a great improvement on the single mica window of the P. helmet, and the outlet valve made it much less stuffy and more comfortable to wear.

There is no doubt that, about the beginning of December, some rumour that the enemy was soon to try a second gas attack on the Ypres Salient had filtered through to the British. One of the reasons for the patrol of Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt, already described, was to discover whether any gas cylinders were in position in the enemy lines. New P.H. helmets had been issued to all the men in the Battalion, but, as the available supply only admitted of one per man, a P. helmet was still carried as a reserve. Much gas helmet drill had been done, and all ranks were warned to be specially on the alert.

On December 17th, the Battalion relieved the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. in the extreme left sector. All knew that this was to be their last tour in the line for the time being and that, on relief, they were to go back for a long period of rest. At night patrols were very active on the Battalion front, on the look-out for indications of the presence of gas cylinders. They reported much hammering in the enemy lines and, on the night of December 18/19th, a great deal of coughing. A raid was contemplated, but that never came off. Much work was in progress, for attempts were being made to put the trenches into better condition for the relieving unit. Working parties from the 6th Division, which was then in Corps Reserve, came up nightly to assist; and the Battalion was also engaged in putting out a great deal of wire on its front.

A special artillery “shoot” had been arranged for the early morning of December 18th. This, it was hoped, would not only damage the enemy trenches, but would also destroy any gas cylinders which were in position for an offensive. As the opposing trenches were so near together, the enemy front line could not be bombarded without grave risk to the British themselves. Hence, it was arranged that the Battalion should evacuate its front line at 5-0 a.m. and not reoccupy it until the next night. This was done, but the bombardment did not come off as the morning was too misty for satisfactory observation. So similar arrangements were made for the next day.

The night of December 18/19th was comparatively quiet. It was bright and clear, with a gentle breeze blowing from the north-east—in every way ideal weather for an enemy gas discharge. About 5-0 a.m. on the morning of December 19th all front line platoons, except those of A Company, began to withdraw according to plan. Many had actually reached their positions for the day when, at 5-30 a.m., flares suddenly shot up all along the enemy lines. Whether they were red or green is a matter for dispute among those who saw them; but the point is not important. They were evidently a signal for the attack to begin. Immediately, what is described by survivors as a “sizzing” noise was heard, a greenish-white cloud appeared over the enemy parapet and began to drift towards the British lines, and a terrific bombardment with artillery and trench mortars was opened on the Canal, the British communication trenches and reserve positions. Within a few minutes every bridge, except one, was shattered, great damage had been done to the trenches, and every telephone line was broken. And over all drifted that deadly cloud.

Many men were caught in their shelters and gassed before they could be alarmed. Others were caught on their way back from the line and suffered terribly. A Company just managed to get the one word “gas” over the ’phone before the line to Battalion H.Q. broke. But soon gongs and horns were crashing out their warning, while men frenziedly adjusted their helmets, seized their arms, and rushed to their battle positions. There was hurry and confusion almost everywhere, but panic nowhere. Indeed, that day there was not a single case of straggling in the 49th Division.

Fortunately, the British artillerymen were thoroughly on the alert. They were standing to their guns ready for the pre-arranged shoot and, probably for the first time in their experience, they had more shells than they could fire. They saw the S.O.S., they heard the alarms, and soon they themselves were surrounded by the gas. With helmets on they worked their guns as they had never had the chance of working them before. The storm of projectiles which descended on the German lines must have taught the enemy that his age of artillery predominance was near its end. Warning had been sent to the 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, which was in Brigade Reserve, and before long it appeared, moving up across the open. The enemy saw it too and put down a barrage in its way. But the men came forward splendidly and were soon manning their battle stations on the west bank of the canal.

Meanwhile, the Battalion was bearing the full force both of the gas and of the enemy bombardment. The men who had been warned in time were unharmed by the gas, for the P.H. helmet proved a very effective protection. But many men had been gassed before they could do anything, and among them the sights were ghastly. They lay in agony on the ground, sickly greenish-white in colour; they foamed at the mouth and gasped for breath; some even tore open their own throats in the paroxysms of their pain. None who saw these sights can ever forget them, and none will ever forgive the enemy who first made use of such fiendish means of destruction. Among them moved Capt. S. S. Greaves, the Battalion Medical Officer; none worked more devotedly that day than he, and many a man owed his life to him.

Several distinct discharges of gas were made. They seemed to come about once every twenty minutes. Probably the enemy hoped that some men, thinking all was over, would have removed their helmets. About 7-0 a.m. the attack ended, but the air was not clear enough for helmets to be removed with safety until half-an-hour later. Indeed, in some parts of the trenches, the gas lay about the whole day and all through the next night. Intermittent enemy shelling continued all day and the British fire did not slacken for hours. After their terrible ordeal of the early morning all the men were very “jumpy,” and false alarms were frequent. But no more attacks came on the front of the 49th Division, though a fresh discharge was made against the French further north, about 9-0 a.m.

Some account must now be given of A Company, which was holding the extreme left of the Battalion sector. Two platoons were in the front line—in F34 and F35 respectively, as the trenches were commonly called—one platoon near Company H.Q., and a fourth in dugouts on the west side of the canal. Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt was in command in F34 and Sergt. A. Stirzaker in F35, each isolated from the other and from Company H.Q. except by highly dangerous routes across the open. Like the other front line troops they were to have withdrawn in the early morning, but, as they had not so far to go, they had not moved off so soon. Hence, they were still in their positions when the gas discharge started, and helmets were adjusted so promptly that not a man was gassed. It was obvious at once that their duty was to remain in and defend the front line, and this each of the commanders decided to do. Everitt succeeded in getting a message over the ’phone to Company H.Q. just before the line was broken; he then stood to with his men and opened rapid fire until their rifles were red hot. Sergt. Stirzaker kept his men carefully in hand and allowed no firing; his numbers were very small and he feared that, by opening fire, he would only be giving away this fact to the enemy. Everitt’s message and the gas arrived at Company H.Q. almost simultaneously, and many of the support platoon were gassed before any warning could be given. Lieut. E. N. Marshall immediately collected every available man and set off with them to reinforce the garrison of the front line. Half he sent across to F34, but most of these became casualties before they reached the comparative safety of that position; the remainder he led himself up to F35. Then followed a weary period of waiting. Harassed by enemy fire and surrounded by gas, in almost complete ignorance of the situation but expecting an enemy attack at any moment, they hung on.

It was long before they had any news from outside. At length Lieut. Marshall decided to send a messenger to Battalion H.Q. The way lay across ground which was swept by machine gun fire; only one bridge was left over the canal and that was being heavily shelled. It required no mean courage to volunteer for such a mission. Just then Pte. W. Bancroft crawled into F35 with a report from Sec.-Lieut. W. N. Everitt. This man knew well the dangers of the journey for he had been with Sec.-Lieut. W. E. Hinton, when the latter had been wounded on that very ground only a few days before. Yet, as soon as he heard what was wanted, he offered to take the message. He reached Battalion H.Q. unhurt, delivered his message, and supplemented it with a very clear report of his own. He then returned to Lieut. Marshall with a cheery message from the Commanding Officer, and afterwards crawled back to his post in F34. Few Distinguished Conduct Medals have been better earned than the one he received for his gallantry on this occasion.

The day came to an end at length and, with the darkness, came relief. The 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt. had volunteered to take over A Company’s front, so that the latter might spend a night in comparative peace near Battalion H.Q. The relieving troops were not equipped for a tour in such a line; they had come up that morning in fighting order, and they had no thigh-boots. Nevertheless, they carried out the relief. The following night the rest of the Battalion was relieved, and the whole moved back to near Elverdinghe.

On December 19th the enemy made practically no attempt to follow up his gas discharge and bombardment by an infantry attack. Small patrols were reported at one or two points further to the south, but no German infantry was seen on the Battalion front. Probably, the heavy barrage put down by the British artillery, and the resolute front shown by the few men of A Company deterred the enemy from making an attack. The gas he used that day was a mixture of chlorine and phosgene—far more deadly than the plain chlorine of his earlier attack.

The casualties suffered by the Battalion on December 19th were very heavy, particularly when it is remembered how low its fighting strength was at the time. The majority were due to gas, but the bombardment also claimed many victims. Sec.-Lieuts. J. A. Hartley and F. W. O. Fleming, R.S.M. C. C. MacKay and thirty-seven other ranks were killed, or died within the next few days. Lieut. E. N. Marshall, C.S.M. E. Walsh and about forty other ranks were wounded, or suffering severely from gas poisoning. It was a fitting climax to the ghastly months which had preceded it.

The cool courage and the steadiness of the 49th Division on December 19th were fully appreciated by all who knew what the men had had to endure. Congratulations from the higher authorities soon began to flow in. “The coolness of the troops saved the Army from a disaster,” wrote the G.O.C. VI. Corps. A few days later he expressed himself again, in no uncertain terms, in a private letter to the Divisional Commander:—

“My dear Perceval,

Although I have already expressed to you and to your Brigade Commanders the admiration I feel for the gallant stand made by those under their command against the recent German gas attack, I should like to place on record how very highly I value the services rendered by all ranks. I do not think that the importance of their success can be over-estimated. It has re-established a complete confidence in our power of defence which had been severely shaken by the German gas success gained in the Spring, a confidence which however had never deserted the 6th Corps.

Yours very sincerely,

J. L. Keir.”

The Battalion may justly claim a considerable share of this praise.

And so the Battalion’s first stay in the Ypres Salient came to an end. It had arrived at the beginning of July, inexperienced and practically unknown. It left towards the end of December with a magnificent reputation. But it had paid the price. There, in the vicinity of Ypres, the original Battalion, which had mobilised, trained, and gone out to fight, was disbanded. Its men were scattered in a dozen cemeteries and scores of hospitals.

YPRES. 1915.

CHAPTER IV.
JANUARY TO JUNE, 1916.

The earlier half of 1916 is the least eventful period of the Battalion’s history. The months in the Ypres Salient had reduced its strength to a very low figure, and reinforcements arrived very slowly, until just before the Battle of the Somme. From January to June there is not one dramatic incident to record. With the exception of one tour in the trenches near Authuille, the Battalion never went into the line. Instead, it was employed mainly on various forms of pioneer work which, though very useful in themselves, are of little interest now.

When the Battalion was finally withdrawn from the Ypres front on December 20th, 1915, it moved back to Elverdinghe Chateau for a few days. There Christmas was spent. Everything possible was done to make the occasion a successful one. Plenty of money was forthcoming and supplies were obtained from Poperinghe—then a much better place for shopping than in later years. Tables, with calico for table-cloths, were set up in the canteen hut, and dinner was served in three sittings. Everything went off splendidly. Plates and glass had been borrowed in Poperinghe, and these were much appreciated by the men, few of whom had had a meal for many months, except from a mess tin.

While at Elverdinghe the Battalion was in Brigade Reserve. On December 27th it was relieved and moved by short marches through Poperinghe, where a night was spent in houses in and around the Square, to Houtkerque, arriving there on New Year’s Day. The men were billeted in farms about a mile out of the town and were fairly comfortably housed. Practically no training was attempted. It was realised that the men needed rest more than anything else, and so they were given little to do during their fortnight’s stay at Houtkerque.

On January 15th the Battalion marched to Wormhoudt. A band, equipped mainly with Italian horns, had recently been formed; this helped to enliven the march, particularly when the Brigadier’s horse took fright at the unusual sight and noise, and bolted. Near the entrance to the town General Sir H. Plumer was waiting to see the Battalion march past.

Most of the men were lodged in farms just outside Wormhoudt. They had a royal time. They thronged the estaminets. They enjoyed the Divisional Band, which played in the Square. Officers’ messes vied with one another in the elaborate dinners they gave. All did their best to make up for the hard time they had had at Ypres. As at Houtkerque, very little training was done. Officers’ classes in Lewis gun and bombing, under Sec.-Lieuts. W. N. Everitt, M.C. and H. H. Aykroyd respectively, were a feature. The latter, it is rumoured, often developed into throwing contests between the instructor and his pupils. On January 23rd some Battalion sports were held, the most interesting item on the programme being a mule race for officers. This race was of the usual type, neither saddle nor stirrups being allowed. Within a few yards of the starting point most of the mules were riderless, Sec.-Lieut. A. E. Mander in particular taking a beautiful dive over his mule’s head and landing on his own. The race was won by Sec.-Lieut. J. G. Mowat, with Sec.-Lieut. E. C. Mee second; practically no one else finished.

About this time the 147th Infantry Brigade Machine Gun Company was formed. Until then machine guns had been battalion weapons. In future they were to be the arm of a separate unit. To form the Company certain officers and other ranks were taken from each battalion of the Brigade. Lieut. G. W. I. Learoyd, Sec.-Lieut. E. Chisnall, six N.C.O’s and twenty privates were sent by the Battalion. To replace the machine guns which were thus taken away, each battalion received four Lewis guns. It was the first time any of these weapons had been issued but, in course of time, the number was gradually increased until, by the summer of 1918, the Battalion was in possession of no less than 36.

Just before the Battalion left Wormhoudt the G.O.C. Second Army presented medal ribbons to a number of officers and other ranks of the 49th Division, and he took the opportunity to say good-bye to the men who were about to leave his army. His farewell speech shows clearly how much the work of the 49th Division was appreciated in the Second Army, and is worth quoting in full:—

“General Perceval, Officers, Non-commissioned Officers and Men who are representatives of the 49th Division.

This is a very pleasant ceremony to me, and I hope to you, with which to finish for the time being my connection, and that of the Second Army, with this Division.

I have had the pleasure on two occasions lately—one some weeks ago when you came out of the Line, and one the other day when I gave ribbons representing decorations to Officers, N.C.O’s and Men of the Division after the recent Gas Attack—and on those two occasions I expressed briefly, but I hope quite distinctly, my appreciation of the way in which the 49th Division has carried out the duties entrusted to them during the last few months; but now that it is settled for the time being the 49th Division is to leave the Second Army, and go to another area, while I have nothing to add as regards appreciation of the work you have done, I should like to say to you how sorry I am that you are leaving the Second Army. At the same time I fully realise that when a Division or any other Unit has undergone a long, arduous and strenuous time in a particular part of the Line, as the 49th has done, it is very desirable that they should have a change of scene, if the military situation admits of it, and that is the sole reason why you are quitting the Second Army. I cannot expect you to share my regret; no one so far as I know has felt any deep regret at quitting the Ypres Salient; but, while you will not regret your change of scene, when you look back on the time you have spent here, notwithstanding the arduous time that you have gone through, notwithstanding the losses of your comrades—which we all deplore—you will, I hope, have some pleasant recollections to take away with you of the time you have spent up here, and at any rate you will, I know, have some pleasant memories to carry away with you of your comrades of the Second Army. We, I can assure you, will follow your doings with the deepest interest; we are quite confident that no matter where you go you will not only sustain but add to the reputation that you have already won, and we shall always feel a kind of reflected glory when we hear of the gallant deeds which I am quite sure that you are going to accomplish both individually and as a Unit.

On behalf of the Second Army, I say good-bye to you, and I wish you all—Officers, N.C.O’s and Men—the very best of luck. Good-bye.”

On February 2nd the Battalion left Wormhoudt and the Second Army, and moved to the Somme Area. Transport and personnel entrained at Esquelbecq in the morning and, after the usual tedious journey, arrived late at night at Longueav, near Amiens. There one company was left behind, to assist in unloading the transport, while the rest of the Battalion set off on a long and weary march to Ailly, where motor buses were waiting to convey it to billets at Camps en Amienois. The men were very tired when they arrived about 3-0 a.m. After a few days they moved by stages to Warloy Baillon.

About a fortnight was spent at Warloy. The rolling downs and open country of the Somme district were a very welcome change from the flat clay of Flanders. The men were billeted in barns which were moderately comfortable, but the weather was very bad, snow falling frequently. A little time was devoted to training, but more to organisation and interior economy. Occasionally working parties had to be found. These were employed digging shallow trenches for buried cables, to the west of Martinsart Wood, and had a march of one and a half hours each way to their work.

The Commanding Officer started an officers’ riding school. All officers attended, and every available hack was turned out. Several officers were thrown, much to the amusement of the transport sergeant, who laughed uproariously. One inexperienced horseman was heard gravely to explain that his “horse had pushed him in the face with its paw.”

On February 28th the Battalion relieved the 1/4th Battalion King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, in the right sector of the Authuille trenches. This sector is of some interest as being the most southerly one ever held by the Battalion. At that time the British line, which lay practically north and south from Thiepval Wood to near Authuille, made a right-angled turn due east of the latter place, in order to enclose Authuille Wood. The re-entrant thus formed was occupied, on the enemy side, by the famous Leipsig Redoubt, the southern defence of Thiepval village. The sector held by the Battalion was about six hundred yards in length; it lay along the north side of Authuille Wood, facing the Leipsig Redoubt, with its left on Campbell Avenue. This part of the line had been taken over from the French not very long before.

The sector was in an appalling condition. The communication trenches were full of water, which often reached to the top of one’s thigh boots; they were not gridded and the hard lumps of chalk, which littered the bottom, were very painful to men wearing gum-boots. Everywhere, the line was very wet; some parts of D Company’s front were quite impassable, and were left unoccupied. Pumps had to be kept going night and day. The trenches were not revetted and were falling in badly, so that all work had to be concentrated on the front line. The awful weather that prevailed during the tour did not improve the conditions. Snow fell frequently.

The enemy was fairly active. He was credited with a desire to straighten out his line by cutting off the north-east corner of Authuille Wood. Perhaps the similar designs of the British, on the Leipsig Redoubt, suggested the idea. The front line was not much annoyed by shelling, though on one occasion it was pretty heavily “whizz-banged”; the hostile artillery fired mostly on the north-east corner of the wood and the vicinity of Battalion H.Q. Medium trench mortars were much in evidence, particularly during the afternoons; but luckily, nearly all of them fell a few yards behind the front line. There was no sniping—the conditions were too miserable—and the machine guns were not very active. The Battalion did not adopt a very offensive attitude. A fair amount of patrolling was done, and the enemy was found to be rather active in No Man’s Land too; but no actual encounters are recorded. This was the first time that Lewis guns had been taken into the line, but they were not much used.

With its Ypres experience behind it, the Battalion naturally did all that was possible for the comfort of the troops. There were, unfortunately, several cases of trench feet, for the means of prevention had not yet been reduced to the science which they became later in the war. The method of cooking in the line was a great advance on anything that had been in existence before. Each company had its own trench kitchen; to it rations were sent up in bulk, and hot meals were served regularly, being carried up to the front line by orderly men.

The tour came to an end on March 4th. It had been most uncomfortable, but very few casualties had been suffered; the only one of importance was Sec.-Lieut. F. H. Kelsall wounded. The condition of the communication trenches was so bad that some companies went out over the open. D Company lost its way in Authuille Wood and got nearly to Albert before anyone discovered it was on the wrong road. One night was spent in Bouzincourt and a second in Authuille village, in Brigade Reserve. At the latter place the billets were awful, and the men had to rig up their ground sheets to prevent the water pouring in through the roofs. On March 6th the whole Battalion moved back to Mailly-Maillet.

With the move to Mailly-Maillet began a period of nearly four months, during which the Battalion never went into the line. Instead, it was employed on various forms of work, and had comparatively few opportunities for training. It is the longest period it ever spent out of action, while hostilities lasted. The billets at Mailly-Maillet were not at all bad. The village had been very little shelled, though, while the Battalion was there, enemy planes dropped some bombs on the outskirts. Practically all the men were in houses; the rooms were often quite bare but there were always fires. Training was impossible. Only very small drafts were arriving and so the strength of the Battalion was still very low. Practically every available man was required for the large working parties which had to be provided.

Brig.-Genl. E. G. St. AUBYN, D.S.O.

These working parties were in connection with mining operations to the north-west of Beaumont Hamel, and were very strenuous. The Battalion shared the duty with the 5th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt., each having twenty-four hours on and twenty-four hours off. During the twenty-four hours of duty, three shifts, each consisting of two officers and one hundred other ranks, had to be found. Each shift was supposed to do eight hours’ continuous work, but it was not allowed to stop until the next shift was ready to take its place; so late arrivals became very unpopular. To take a typical shift, say one which was due at the mines at 8-0 a.m. The party paraded at 6-15 a.m. and marched to Auchonvillers. From that point it had to carry timber, sandbags and other R.E. material, required in the mines, up a long communication trench. Arriving at the mine at 8-0 a.m., the men had to work continuously until 4-0 p.m. The work was very hard. The men were formed into a chain from the mine face, along a tunnel, and then up the steps of the shaft. Their work consisted of throwing or passing the sandbags of “spoil” from the mine face up to the open, where a further party disposed of them. It can be imagined how monotonous the work was, and how tired the men were at the end of a shift. Then they had another one and a half hours of marching back to billets.

This work was not entirely free from danger. The enemy was known to be counter-mining and, at any time, he might explode his mine. Every now and then all work would be stopped, and there would be absolute silence while experts listened for sounds of the enemy working. Fortunately, there was no untoward incident while the Battalion was engaged on the work. But once some casualties were suffered, though from a very different cause. The trenches, in which the mining was being carried on, were held by a battalion of the Royal Irish Rifles. One night, the enemy put down a heavy artillery and trench mortar barrage, and raided the line. The working party had to cease work and stand to. It did not come into action, but one man was killed and three wounded by the barrage.

All were glad to leave Mailly-Maillet and the mines. On March 29th the Battalion marched to Harponville, and the next day to Naours. This second day’s march was a very long one, but the day was splendid, and a hard frost had put the road in good condition. When the Battalion was met by the Divisional Band near Naours, everyone freshened up, and the last stage of the march was a great success. All who were there look back on their stay at Naours with pleasure. The billets were good, the surrounding country delightful, and beautiful spring weather continued almost throughout. The “Tykes”—the recently-formed Divisional Concert Party—were there the whole time. On April 14th, the first anniversary of the Battalion’s landing in France, they gave a special performance to the “old originals.” Of these, there were about 340 still serving at that time. There was plenty of sport, particularly football. Above all, there were no working parties. A good deal of training was done, special attention being paid to instruction in the Lewis gun, and to company and other close order drill. There was practice in the assembly, the attack, and consolidation, over taped-out trenches; for already preparations for the Somme Battle were in progress. But all training was carried out during the morning; the afternoons were entirely devoted to sport. Altogether, the Battalion had a “real good time” at Naours, in spite of the Medical Officer, who insisted on inoculating everyone.

On April 23rd the Battalion moved by motor bus to Hedauville, and then followed two months of working parties in the area held by the 36th Division. All this work was in preparation for the attack which was soon to be launched, in conjunction with the French. The Battalion’s first job was the digging of assembly trenches in Aveluy Wood. Daily the men were taken up by motor bus as far as Bouzincourt, and marched from thence to their work. It was all task work and the tasks were very heavy. The ground was full of roots, which greatly hindered digging, and, a foot or two below the surface, much flint was encountered. But very good work was done in spite of these difficulties. There Capt. C. Jones, C.F., first became prominent. He had not been long with the Brigade, but he soon became very popular with the men, taking a shovel himself and digging with the best of them, in all weathers.

The life in the woods was really quite enjoyable, in spite of occasional spells of rain. Hedauville Wood was full of nightingales, and many men sat out at night to listen to their song. Beetles also abounded and were not so much appreciated; often it was necessary to get up at night to catch enormous flying specimens of these insects.

Strange to say, the enemy artillery made little attempt to harass troops in the area. The Germans must have had a good idea of the attack which was impending. They had good ground observation and plenty of aeroplanes. Martinsart village was crowded with troops and, in the evenings, there were sometimes thousands in its streets. Yet it was never shelled.

It is unnecessary to go into full details about this period. Most of the work was much of the same type. Digging was done both in Aveluy and Martinsart Woods; the Battalion was billeted first in one and then in the other, in order to be near its work. Once it had to carry up gas cylinders for an operation of the 32nd Division. Perhaps this job was the indirect cause of a gas alarm which occurred two nights later. At any rate, someone thought he heard a Strombos horn, and there was great confusion for a time as few could find their gas helmets.

About the middle of June the Battalion started work in Thiepval Wood, digging assembly trenches off Elgin Avenue. There it was sometimes annoyed by shelling, and a few casualties were suffered. On June 24th the work came to an end and the Battalion moved back, taking with it the thanks and congratulations of the G.O.C., 36th Division, under whom it had been working.

The time had almost come when the Battalion was again to take its place in the line. For six months it had done little but pioneer work, with occasional periods of training, and one trench tour. During all that time its fighting, or perhaps it would be better to say “working,” strength had been very low, for the wastage in the Ypres Salient had never been made good. Now that it was destined for battle, reinforcements were imperative. On June 24th a draft of 52 other ranks arrived; five days later a further draft, 258 other ranks strong, joined. Many of these were experienced soldiers, who had served earlier in the war with other regiments; among them was a fair sprinkling of old Regulars, who had landed at St. Nazaire with the 6th Division, during the Battle of the Marne. They were fine material, but it was a pity they had not been sent earlier. Not only would they have been of the greatest use in the pioneer work of the last two months, but officers and N.C.O’s would not have had to lead into battle so large a proportion of men of whose very names they were ignorant. To incorporate such numbers of reinforcements, in the short time available, meant much hard work. Thus, the two days which preceded that fateful—and fatal—July 1st were very strenuous ones for the Battalion.

CHAPTER V.
THE BATTLE Of THE SOMME.

(a) July and August, 1916.

The first half of the year 1916 was a period of comparative quiet for the British Expeditionary Force. During those six months it attempted no serious offensive, and the Germans were far too fully occupied in the neighbourhood of Verdun to be able to expend much energy elsewhere. The terrific attack on their eastern stronghold, caused the French much anxiety, and it undoubtedly influenced their strategy. Nevertheless, it did not prevent them making their preparations for the great offensive, which had been planned for the summer, in conjunction with the British. This attack was to take place on a wide front, where the allied lines joined in the Somme district; and the battle which resulted takes its name from that river.

The only part of the Somme battlefield which is of interest in a history of the Fourth Battalion is the neighbourhood of the village of Thiepval and the wood of the same name. From Albert the River Ancre flows in a northerly direction to about St. Pierre Divion, where it turns nearly east towards Miraumont. Its banks rise steeply on both sides; its width is considerable; and the extensive marshes and shallow lagoons, which fringe so much of its course, render it a formidable obstacle. It is surprising that the enemy ever allowed the French to establish themselves on the eastern bank in 1914. By the summer of 1916, many military bridges had been built across the river and its marshes; but the allied bridge-head, though wide, was shallow, particularly at the northern end. Everywhere it was dominated by the Germans, who occupied all the commanding positions on the line of hills. To the north they held the village of Beaumont Hamel, from which they could overlook the whole course of the river, as far south as Albert. Their line crossed the Ancre near St. Pierre Divion and then ran approximately south, including the village of Thiepval, to La Boiselle. Few stronger defensive systems, than that around Thiepval, have ever been constructed on the western front. To the north the village was defended by the mighty Schwaben Redoubt, to the south by the equally formidable Leipsig Redoubt and that network of fortifications, well-styled the “Wonderwork.” Everywhere the line was well supplied with deep dugouts, which were comparatively easy to construct in the chalky soil of the district. The Germans thus had many advantages over the British. Their commanding positions gave them better opportunities for observation, and their machine guns could sweep every inch of ground in No Man’s Land. The shallowness of the bridge-head cramped the British, and hampered their assembly for the attack, while it gave unrivalled opportunities to the enemy artillery.

Nevertheless, it was with the highest hopes that the allied armies looked forward to “Z” day. Months of preparation had been necessary for this offensive, and some account has already been given of the “spade work” done by the Battalion in that connection. Towards the end of June, much time was spent in reconnaissance. Before the battle began all the officers, and most of the N.C.O’s in the Battalion, knew every dump, aid post, ammunition store and source of water supply between the Ancre and Authuille Wood.

The concentration of artillery on the British front was colossal, and the reserves of ammunition seemed almost inexhaustible. A week before the end of the month the guns opened fire, and, from that time, the Germans can have had no doubt of what was coming, and which of their positions were threatened. Day and night, for seven days, the rain of shells poured down on the enemy line without ceasing. A good view of much of the shelled area could be obtained from Senlis Mill, and many officers of the Battalion visited the observation post there, to watch the bombardment. All came away with the same opinion—that nothing could live in the German lines. Their hopes of an early and decisive victory were very high. They had yet to learn the strength of the enemy’s deep dugouts.

The opening of the infantry attack was fixed for the morning of July 1st. The 49th Division formed part of the X. Corps, whose left rested on the River Ancre and right near Authuille Wood. The Corps objectives, including as they did the villages of Grandcourt and Thiepval, and all their outworks, were second to none in difficulty on the British front. The attack there was entrusted to the 32nd Division on the right, and the 36th (Ulster) Division on the left. The 49th Division was held in Corps reserve; it was to assemble in previously-selected positions and there await orders. The Battalion’s assembly position was in Aveluy Wood, where it was to occupy some of the very trenches it had dug about two months before. Just before the battle, Lieut.-Col. E. G. St. Aubyn was summoned to Corps H.Q. There he remained until nearly the end of July, being held in reserve to take command of a brigade should any Brigadier become a casualty during the battle. The command of the Battalion thus devolved on Major J. Walker. “The Commanding Officer wishes all ranks to remember that in the work in front of us we are putting to the test our reputation as a Battalion and has absolute confidence that Officers, N.C.O’s and men will worthily uphold the honour of the Regiment to which we belong,” was his message to the troops on the eve of battle.

About midnight on June 30/July 1st, the Battalion marched out of Senlis. Though its role was still indefinite, everything had been prepared so that it could move into battle at a moment’s notice. The transport moved to lines near Hedauville. The Battalion itself marched to B Assembly Trenches in Aveluy Wood, arriving long before dawn. There was none too much room in the trenches, but all the men were got in somewhere. The enemy was quiet. There can be no doubt that he knew full well what was impending, but he reserved his fire for the better targets which would soon present themselves. Few of the men even tried to sleep; excitement was far too high for that.

At zero hour—7-30 a.m.—the British artillery fire lifted from the enemy front line, and the British and French infantry “went over the top.” Much has been written of that great assault, but nothing need be noticed here, except what took place on the X. Corps front. There the 36th and the 32nd Divisions went forward with a magnificent dash. They swarmed over the first enemy lines; they over-ran Thiepval and St. Pierre Divion, the Schwaben and the Leipsig Redoubts. Some of the Ulstermen even reached Grandcourt Railway Station. But their casualties were appalling. “Mopping-up” was then unheard of; counter-battery work was in its infancy; creeping barrages were unknown. Down came the enemy artillery barrage, and it was such as few had seen before. German machine gunners and riflemen, emerging from the security of their deep dugouts, took the attack in enfilade and in reverse. Men fell in thousands. The survivors were too few to maintain the positions they had reached. By an early hour the attack on the N. Corps front had failed.

Of course, all this was only learned by the Battalion later. From Aveluy Wood nothing could be seen of what was happening on the Corps front. The men knew that the attack had opened; for a time they knew nothing of its progress. They had nothing to do. They were not troubled by enemy shelling, for the hostile artillery had far better targets elsewhere. After some time, wounded began to pass, and also a number of prisoners. The former were eagerly questioned, and some news of the earliest stages of the attack was obtained; but it was not until much later that authentic information was received.

Towards 11-0 a.m., orders to move across the River Ancre arrived. The Battalion Intelligence Officer was immediately sent forward to reconnoitre the bridges and report on the safest; none envied him his job, but, as things turned out, it was simple enough. The enemy was paying no attention to the bridges. About 11-30 a.m. the Battalion moved off by platoons, at fifty yards’ interval, A Company leading. Marching via Brooker’s Pass, it reached the Southern Dugouts near Crucifix Corner, Aveluy, without incident. There it remained until the evening of the next day. The 6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt, was also there and accommodation was very crowded; but otherwise the men were not uncomfortable. Aveluy was not shelled. Crowds of stragglers from different battalions of the attacking divisions were coming in to reorganise, and rumours of the failure of the attack were increasing. Apart from carrying wounded to the neighbouring dressing station, and helping men who came back from the line absolutely worn out, the Battalion had nothing to do.

About 7-0 p.m. on July 2nd the Battalion left Aveluy and moved up to relieve the 5th Battalion West Yorkshire Regt. in Johnstone’s Post. This position was in the narrow and deep valley which lies along the south-eastern edge of Thiepval Wood. Two large cemeteries now occupy a great part of the valley, and the inscriptions on the weather-beaten crosses bear eloquent testimony to the presence of the 49th Division in that area. None who were there in July, 1916, will ever forget it. It was a point at which many trenches met, but, apart from these and a few shelters in the bluff along the edge of Thiepval Wood, there was no cover. When the Battalion arrived that evening, the enemy was putting down a terrific counter-preparation on Johnstone’s Post, where he evidently suspected an assembly for the attack. A continual stream of 15 cm. high explosive shells poured into the hollow from the south-east. The cover of existing trenches was nothing like enough to accommodate the Battalion, and all that could be done was to get the men as close as possible to the steep south-eastern side of the valley, which afforded a little protection.

Very early the next morning, orders were received for the Battalion to support a fresh attack which the 32nd Division was about to make on Thiepval. These orders did not arrive until about half-an-hour before the attack was to begin. What was to be done? Very little was known of the ground; there was no time for reconnaissance; there was not even time to issue proper orders to companies. Fortunately, the instructions were cancelled before zero hour. The 32nd Division, however, made its attack. It had little success. One corner of the Leipsig Salient was taken, and was very useful two months later as a starting point in the operations which outflanked Thiepval on the south. It was also much used as a “show ground” in the next few weeks, as there were many fine enemy dugouts in the German line. Apart from this, the attack was a failure.

The whole Battalion remained at Johnstone’s Post until the evening of July 4th, when two companies moved to the Northern Dugouts, Authuille Bluff. Throughout its stay it was never free from shelling, and frequently the enemy put down counter-preparations of exceptional intensity. Casualties were terrible. The Aid Post became frightfully congested, not only with the Battalion’s own men, but with crowds from other units; and it is no exaggeration to say that the dead lay around it in heaps. None could have done more—few could have done half as much—than Capt. S. S. Greaves, R.A.M.C., did. Day and night he worked without ceasing. He might have been in a hospital, far from the scene of action, for all the excitement he showed. Many a man owed his life to the skill and care lavished on him by the 4th Battalion Medical Officer at Johnstone’s Post. But the casualties of those first days on the Somme were so appalling that the medical staffs were quite inadequate to deal with them. Hour after hour the Battalion worked to clear the wounded, but fresh cases streamed in far more quickly than earlier ones could be evacuated. And all the time, into the midst of that deadly valley, the 5.9’s screamed, taking their remorseless toll of human life and limb. Without a chance of a fight, scores of the Battalion went down. Chief among them was Capt. E. E. Sykes, M.C., an officer of magnificent physique and dauntless courage; one who had gone to France with the original Battalion, and whose men would have followed him “into the mouth of hell.” Fearfully wounded in the abdomen, he died shortly after at the Aid Post, and his body rests in Authuille Military Cemetery, not far from the scene of his death.

But enough has been said of these horrors. Men who were there will ever remember them. Others who know what battle is can picture them, far better than words can describe. To those who have been fortunate enough never to see such things, no language can describe them.

Capt. W. N. EVERITT, M.C.

(Killed).

Capt. C. HIRST.