Amabel Williams-Ellis

THE BATTLES OF ARRAS AND BULLECOURT

I

The Reconnaissance Officers were the first of the Junior personnel to learn that operations were contemplated for early April, and that the new battle was to be fought before the town of Arras on the banks of the river Scarpe. By the beginning of March, the first small parties of Battalion and Company Reconnaissance Officers had begun to leave Bermicourt.

It was rumoured that this offensive was going to be the blooding of the 1st Brigade; it was to be on a much larger scale than any the Tanks had taken part in on the Somme. It was said that sixty machines would be thrown in in one action. The Tanks were going to have an opportunity of making a name for themselves, and of justifying all the embarrassingly pleasant things that the newspapers had said of them in the previous September. For this lavish praise had spread a gloom over the Tank Corps; they had been unmercifully twitted by unfeeling gunners and infantrymen who knew the real facts.

The newspapers had succeeded in making their intercourse with any but battalions fresh from England one unbearable round of facile jest. Never had any unit, save, perhaps, the London Scottish, been so unmercifully hailed as “Mother’s blue-eyed boy.”

By March they lusted for blood, and the first whispers of battle were listened to with a satisfied expectancy.

The new 1st Brigade of the Heavy Branch Machine Gun Corps was a very much more assured body than the little band of pioneers who had waited so anxiously for the dawn on September 15, 1916.

Owing to delays in manufacture, they were still only equipped with 60 Mark I. Tanks instead of about 120 Mark I.’s and Mark IV.’s, as had been hoped. Still, the March 1917 Mark I. was very different from the September 1916 Mark I. The most striking improvement was the shedding of the cumbersome and ineffectual “Tail” or hydraulic stabiliser.

Most of the machines had also undergone a most careful overhauling at the hands of the indefatigable vulcan, at the Battalion workshops, and those innumerable tiny adjustments, repairs and improvements which constitute “tuning up” had been made.

The machine-gun armament, too, had been modified, the Hotchkiss being replaced by the Lewis gun. A new contrivance for use on soft ground had also been fitted, consisting of stout little cigar-shaped splinter-bars, a yard or so in length, attached to the track by means of chains.

But more particularly crews had had proper time to train and they knew that they knew their work. Their officers, too, were sure that they would this time be properly supplied with maps and detailed orders. Therefore, officers and crews got on with their own battle preparations, or, later, rehearsed the coming action with the infantry, with a good heart.

II

In the front line active preparations had begun. The Reconnaissance Officers, several of whom took up their quarters in the half-deserted town of Arras, had each had his area allotted to him, and they were busy helping “Q” side to find suitable positions for the supply dumps, for at this time there was no system of supply Tanks. Every tin of petrol, every round of ammunition, had, therefore, to be carried by hand from the railhead, and the task was one which took weeks to complete.

It was calculated that had supply Tanks been available each machine would have saved a carrying party of 300 men. The real work of the Reconnaissance Officers, however, was to observe the enemy’s lines and the country which lay beyond them.

Much of this country, even within our own lines, was practically unknown to us, as the greater part of the sector selected for attack had only just been “uncovered” by the sudden and unforeseen German retirement. On this portion of the line the retirement had occurred about a month before the battle was due. As in other parts of the line, and as the enemy had intended, the retirement had proved extremely embarrassing. We had carefully selected a site for our battle, and the chosen ground had been thoroughly studied.

The sudden change to a piece of imperfectly known country involved an enormous amount of extra photographing, map-making, sketching and reconnaissance generally. This was merely troublesome; more uncomfortable was the element of uncertainty which the retirement introduced.

Would the enemy stand? And, if so, where? Was there some trap being prepared for us? It was uncanny, for it was contrary to the tradition of more than two years of trench warfare.

The final scheme of the attack was, however, planned on the assumption that the enemy would give battle. For he now held a line of great natural strength which he had improved with extraordinary skill and energy. The scheme, as it affected the Tanks, was shortly this.

The general object of the action was to achieve a rapid success. That is, to inflict a wound in the first twenty-four hours, severe enough to force the enemy to bring up his reserves, thus depleting his line near Soissons and Reims, where the French offensive was to be launched immediately afterwards.

A proportion of Tanks was allotted to each of the Armies taking part.

III

Till the night before the battle the work of preparation had gone smoothly.

Maps had been issued, stores stood ready, pack animals and limbers were at hand to form advanced dumps.

The Reconnaissance Officers had taken little parties of Tank Commanders to the best observation posts in their sectors, and had there shown them the ground they must cross and expounded their maps to them. All the Tanks had been brought safely to their railheads and successfully detrained, and now they lay waiting in their tankodromes. “C” (afterwards No. 3) Battalion lay in Arras itself. The town had been most carefully prepared for troops to assemble and wait in.

Great chalk quarries underlay it, and these had been linked up and lit with electricity, and here two divisions could lie thirty feet underground secure from the heaviest shelling.

The Tanks had chosen the Citadel as their assembly place. There in the great grassy ditch of the old Vauban Fort they lay, nosing for cover into the re-entrant angles of the tall cliff of mellow brickwork that towered above them.

As soon as it was dark, on the night of April 8–9, the Tanks set off on their journey up the line.

There had been a question as to the route which these Tanks were to follow.

The alternatives were a long detour round the head of a shallow valley or a short cut over ground of questionable soundness.

The short cut had finally been decided upon, and, on the Reconnaissance Officer’s report, the Battalion had applied for enough brushwood and sleepers to build a rough causeway.

Owing to transport misunderstandings and difficulties, only a very small proportion of this material arrived in time. It was, however, decided still to chance the short cut. Brushwood had been laid in some of the worst places and the ground had a firm top. It was thought probable that this would, after all, bear the weight of the Tanks.

Alas, the hope was vain! The smooth turf proved to be no more than a crust, covering a veritable bog, and it broke through when the column was about halfway across. In the darkness six Tanks floundered one after another into the morass.

The scene which followed is described by an officer who was present:

In the event, however, it did not turn out as blackly as those at the Achicourt slough had feared.

Had the approach march of the Tanks been run to time, the column would almost certainly have come in for the blowing up of the ammunition dump at Achicourt, which was hit and exploded by a German shell soon after nightfall.

Also, the half-dozen Tanks that were extricated from the bog too late to join in that morning’s attack, provided a small local reserve that later proved of the utmost value and had an appreciable effect on the course and ultimate issue of the battle.

The ruins of Achicourt continued to smoulder through the night.

IV

At about 3.30 a.m. heavy rain had begun to fall, and all day the armies fought amid intermittent storms of sleet and drenching rain.

Partly owing to the weather conditions and partly because the sixty Tanks were strung out along so wide a front, Tank Commanders had been told to act more or less independently against the strong points which had been allotted to them. Once zero had struck, therefore, the history of the battle becomes, from the Tank point of view, chiefly that of the exploits of individual machines.

The only exception is the history of the eight Tanks operating with the Canadians at Vimy. Alas! their story is easily summarised.

It had been originally decided that if the weather was wet no Tanks were to operate on this sector at all, as the condition of the ground was already exceptionally bad. The eight were to be sent down to reinforce the 5th Army where the going was good.

As luck would have it, April 7 and 8 were fine, and it was determined that the Tanks should not be sent down, but should go in on the ridge. When a drenching rain set in two hours before zero it was too late to alter the plan of attack. The result was as had been expected.

Every Tank without exception ditched or got stuck in No Man’s Land or in the enemy front line.

Therefore, the Tanks claim no share in the Canadians’ brilliant and historic taking of the ridge.

So great was the Canadians’ Élan, and so successful was our barrage, that by the time the Tanks were extricated there was happily no rÔle for them to play. They were, therefore, withdrawn as quickly as possible, and were, after all, sent down to reinforce the 5th Army.

With the 3rd Army, several Tanks performed interesting exploits.

Second Lieutenant Weber’s Tank, “Lusitania,” for example, spent an exciting and profitable two days. This machine was some three hours late in starting owing to trouble with the secondary gear. Just as it was getting off, word was brought that the infantry was held up. The arrival of the Tank effected an entire change in the situation, and a machine-gun placed in a wood north of the railway having been silenced by the Tank’s 6-pounder fire, it proceeded towards the Blue Line. The infantry advanced at the same time, and both reached the next enemy trench together.

The movement was carried out in such close alignment that the Tank was prevented from making use of its guns and enfilading the trench, but the Germans, unable to face the combined attack, held up their hands and surrendered. The Tank then cruised along the railway towards Fleury Redoubt, firing as it went with its 6-pounder and Lewis guns. The Germans made haste to evacuate the Redoubt, and could be seen to take refuge in a dug-out close to a railway arch.

The Tank drew on towards the arch, firing in its progress at any object suggesting a machine-gun emplacement. Near the arch it found itself under our own barrage and also shelled by an anti-Tank gun. It accordingly wheeled about, reclimbed the slope it had just descended, and signalled to the infantry to come on. Then, returning to the arch, it mounted guard while the infantry unearthed the Germans who had taken refuge in the dug-out. This point disposed of and a steep bank hindering further advance, it was found necessary to take a southerly course to find a more possible place for climbing, the engine having become badly overheated. Indeed, so hot was it that the machine now jibbed at the easiest exit from the valley that could be found, and there was nothing for it but to wait until the engine should cool down.

On the instant that the Tank Commander announced his decision to lie-up, down dropped each man of the crew where he sat or stood, overcome by heat and the cumulative exhaustion of days and nights of almost ceaseless preparation.

Shells whined and droned overhead, and would now and again pitch in the valley on this or that side of the Tank, throwing up a brown cascade of earth with a reverberating crash.

Along the western bank of the valley were the excavated and concreted pits that had sheltered the enemy’s guns for two and a half years. From some the pieces had been withdrawn, in others our fire had caught the gunners and their teams in the very act, and the valley bottom was strewn with tragic heaps—guns, limbers, men and horses, huddled together in shapeless tangles of brown and grey, or tossed apart to lie singed and torn amongst the short grass and the shell-holes.

Down near the railway arch through which the valley track led to the river Scarpe, one diminutive Highlander had paraded a drove of some 200 prisoners who had somehow come under his sole charge.

They were neatly lined up in fours, each man with his hands above his head, and as they drooped from weariness or fidgeted from fear of the shells that continued to fall haphazardly about them, their small and solitary escort would flourish, and more than flourish his bayonet. Up would go the 400 hands once more and the parade be restored to order.

Not for nothing had one young Scotsman been taught the value of discipline.

By the time the engine had cooled down, the crew been roused, and the far bank surmounted, the infantry were well on their way to their objective. Dropping into third gear the Tank gradually gained on them, and its commander, observing that they had entered the German trench, swung half right and took a course through the barbed wire parallel to it. On the flank of the 15th Division, the trench was seen to be still in German hands. The Tank opened fire accordingly with 6-pounders and machine-guns, doing what damage it could. It caused a redoubt to be evacuated, it searched out and caused two snipers to surrender, and later in the evening, in answer to an urgent request from a Colonel of infantry, it approached within fifty yards of a trench and silenced two out of four machine-guns. Then, the already defective magneto giving out altogether and the Tank being brought to a standstill, it opened a heavy fire along the trench with Lewis and 6-pounder guns. Having thus killed many Germans, and the engine refusing to restart, the commander at 9.30 p.m. decided to abandon the Tank, after a full twelve hours in action.

It had then been dark for some time, and the Germans had kept up a lively fire on the stranded Tank with rifles and machine-guns, taking aim at the chinks and loopholes through which the lights shone out in tell-tale beams.

For hour after hour, those within had striven laboriously yet vainly to set their engines going, and so to bring their Tank safely back out of its gallant maiden action. But nothing availed, and, the enemy fire becoming more intense and accurate, the lights were switched off and the preparations for evacuation made in total darkness.

It was first necessary to find out where our own line lay and to warn our infantry that the crew would be coming in.

Sergeant Latham at once volunteered for this reconnaissance, and crawled out of the Tank into the lesser blackness of the night. Rifles spat and stray bullets cracked and whined impartially around, and British and German rifles and bullets sound very much alike. However, partly by judgment and partly by luck, Sergeant Latham stumbled into our own lines and warned the garrison of the trench to fire high as the crew from the derelict Tank would soon be coming in.

It was as well that the sergeant succeeded in delivering his message, as a relief had taken place under cover of the night, and the new garrison had been told nothing of the Tank out in front, and would certainly have greeted the returning crew as enemy raiders.

Next day, having procured a new magneto, the Tank Commander and some of his crew set out for their machine with better hope of salving her.

They were approaching the battle front when an agitated battery commander hailed them and sought information as to the Tank out to his front. Hearing that it was a derelict that they were on their way to try to bring in, he exclaimed, “Thank God for that! I’ve been blasting that part this morning. I didn’t know about the Tank, and I’ve just got a direct hit on it that’s crumpled it up. I feared it might have been manned.”

So ended the short but valiant career of the avenging “Lusitania.” For his very gallant command, Second Lieutenant Weber received an immediate award of the Military Cross, and Sergeant Latham the Military Medal. The specific action for which the latter was decorated is officially described as follows:

Another Tank, commanded by Second Lieutenant S.S. Ching, in this sector was late in starting, and had barely caught up its infantry when it became ditched. It held out, however, for no less than three days while the fighting eddied about it.

It made most active use of its 6-pounders, thereby effectively protecting the right flank of its infantry.

Another Tank fell bodily into an old gun emplacement near Neuville-Vitasse which had been carefully turfed over.

V
Bullecourt

By the night of the 9th the force of the first wave was spent, and though, as we have seen, many units were continuously in action for the next three days, for the bulk both of Tanks and infantry April 10 was spent in consolidating positions or digging out and repairing Tanks.

On April 11 the attack on Bullecourt and two other lesser actions were fought. One of the two minor attacks was that on Monchy, in which six Tanks took part.

It was highly successful owing chiefly to the extremely gallant way in which the machines were fought. The Tanks took the village practically unassisted and held it for two hours till the infantry came up.

Unfortunately, there were no further supplies of Tanks to exploit the success or more might have been achieved. The second attack was made from Neuville-Vitasse down the Siegfried Line. Four Tanks took part and did great execution, all the machines returning safely.

The stars in their courses seem to have fought against the success of the attack against Bullecourt in which eleven Tanks co-operated with the Australians.

It will be remembered that the 5th Army attack was not to be launched till some time after that in the other sectors. Also that the state of the roads was such that it was impossible to bring up enough artillery for a preliminary bombardment. Therefore the Battle of Bullecourt was to have been a first wave attack in which a small number of Tanks were to play the lead.

The eleven Tanks were to have advanced in line upon the Siegfried defences east of Bullecourt. Some were then to have wheeled west to attack Bullecourt itself, while others were to move east down the German trench system, a third party pushing straight ahead to Riencourt and Hedecourt.

The attack was to have been made at dawn on April 10, and at nightfall on the 9th the Tanks began their move up to their battle positions behind the railway embankment. All day the weather had been cold and stormy, and the Tanks had not gone half a mile before a violent snow blizzard came on, blotting out every landmark. Most of the troops who had moves to make that night were confounded in the swirling darkness, and though the eleven Tanks did not stray far, their pace had to be reduced to a crawl and at dawn they were still far from their battle stations. The Australian infantry, who had already assembled at the railway embankment, had to be withdrawn under heavy shelling, the whole attack postponed, and the manner of it much modified. All next night the snow fell. When the attack did take place on the 11th, it proved, both for Tanks and infantry, a costly little failure. The day dawned clear and against the whiteness of the snow every advancing Tank and its broad double track, stood out sharply. Further, the Australian infantry wading through the snow, found the path made by the Tanks irresistible and followed in long lines strung out along their tracks. Thus Tanks and infantry provided the Germans with the most perfect artillery targets imaginable.

Of the eleven Tanks, nine were knocked out by direct hits before their work was half accomplished. Worst of all, two Tanks which, with about 200 Australians, pressed on nearly five miles to Riencourt and Hedecourt, found their right unprotected owing to our failure to advance the other part of our line. The Germans organised a sweeping counter-attack, and the two villages, the infantry and the Tanks, were surrounded and taken. 23 “The First Battle of Bullecourt was a minor disaster—the three brigades of infantry lost very heavily indeed—and the company of Tanks had been apparently nothing but a broken reed.

“For many months after, the Australians distrusted Tanks—‘the Tanks had failed them’—‘the Tanks had let them down.’” We shall see that it was not till after the Battle of Hamel that their confidence was restored.

Not a single Tank survived to rally after the battle. But our worst loss was that of the two Tanks which were “taken alive,” for examination of the captured machines revealed to the enemy how effective a weapon was their armour-piercing bullet against the Mark I.

After this action a German Order was issued that every man should be provided with five rounds of the “K” (armour-piercing) ammunition, and every machine-gun with several hundred. As long as the Mark I. was used, these bullets were to cause heavy casualties among Tanks and their crews.

For the next ten days Tanks were busy refitting. By the 20th thirty of the original sixty Tanks were fit again for action, and on April 23 eleven Tanks were employed in two and threes to help on the infantry advance on the line of Monchy-Roeux-Gavrelle.

Again the feature of the day was the fine individual work.

The story of a Tank which worked opposite Roeux is told in the Honours and Awards List in the note on Sergeant J. Noel’s D.C.M.:

This was the first time a Tank was commanded in action by an N.C.O.

Another pause followed the actions of the 23rd. Of the sixty Tanks which had gone in on the 9th, not many machines remained that could soon be repaired.

However, twelve Tanks were somehow made “battle-worthy,” and on May 3 were sent in for the last time before the Brigade was withdrawn to rest and to be re-equipped at Wailly, their new training ground.

A party of four operated between Croisilles and St. LÉger and became heavily engaged in a fight at close quarters against bombs and trench mortars.

The second group of eight Tanks made another assault upon Bullecourt.

Though individuals did extremely well, the attack was once more unsuccessful, as, though Tanks reached their objective, they were obliged to retire again.

No less than ten Military Medals and a D.C.M. were awarded to men and N.C.O.’s of the Tanks who took part in this little action.

The Germans had learnt their lesson, and Tanks and crews suffered heavily from armour-piercing bullets. Several of the decorations were given to drivers who had brought their Tanks safely out of action when themselves severely wounded.

With this second attack on Bullecourt ended, as far as the Tanks were concerned, the Battle of Arras. There were not many 1st Brigade Tanks to withdraw to Wailly nor many unwounded men to man them. It was, however, with feelings very different from those of the “veterans” of the Somme that officers and men left the battle.

The careful training at Bermicourt with its well-planned courses, its boxing, and its games was justified. Men and officers could not have displayed a finer fighting spirit. The value of their work was recognised by all the units with whom they fought.

Major-General Williams, commanding the 37th division, wrote of “C” Battalion’s work in the attack on Monchy:

Lieut.-General Aylmer Haldane, commanding the 6th Corps, wrote to Colonel Baker-Carr, commanding the 1st Brigade, on April 13:

Not only had the personnel done extraordinarily well, their conduct being “a triumph of moral over technical difficulties,” but on the whole the general work of the Tanks had been a success.

These were briefly the technical lessons of the battle:

In fine, the chief obstacle to a still fuller measure of success had been that there were 60, and not 260, Tanks available.