Part 4

Later in the day we moved up to the east of Cantaing and had just got nicely settled down hoping to get a decent night’s rest when we got orders to cross the Canal de l’Escaut and form up on a road running south from Cambrai near a farm called La Marliere. So off we went cursing the old Boche and the War in general through some gun positions round to a place where a pontoon bridge had been thrown across the Canal. It was a very noisy journey as far as the Canal, and then the fun began. As usual it started to rain--real rain--and it was as black as ink as we plodded along. After a good deal of trekking about we found our road well to the right of the place where we should have hit it--so far so good. We had to put up with a ditch where there were far more machine-gun bullets flying about than was exactly pleasant and had just settled down to sleep when I was sent for by Brigade, and learned there was a ‘show’ hatching. We were to attack at 5.30 in the morning, and were given three objectives. Our attack was roughly due east, and the final objective was a place called Niergnies. The difficulty in the show was the barrage arrangements. No guns up to then had been brought across the Canal, and Niergnies was 5,000 yards away from the nearest gun, also they were in low country, and angles for shooting all wrong. Anyway we were to go on and push the Boche back, and the second Corps on our right was to co-operate with us.

About 1.30 a.m. (Sept. 30th) all was settled so far as we could arrange it, and the horrible time of waiting started, we trying to sleep. Zero arrived, our men started off and I sent Hewitt and a few runners on to select a new H.Q. just to the rear of our first objective. Presently one of them came back with the information that the party had arrived all right, having gone through very heavy machine gun fire. He also stated that there was no sign of the Battalion, that it was a very bad place and that one of Hewitt’s men had been hit. We did not like this news, so we went to find out what had happened. It soon became only too evident that the attack was held up, and we had not even been able to reach our first objective. I made my way up to the Battalion who were digging-in under very heavy machine gun fire, about 300 yards east of the road and found they could not get any further forward; they were in some sort of line in the open and in a trench, but in a poor position, under machine-gun fire all the time and it was a case of sitting tight again. Meanwhile, our right flank was thrown back a bit, and the Second Corps Troops who ought to have gone over with us came up but were quite unable to push forward.

An anxious morning passed somehow, and then we got orders to resume the attack--in other words, to try again. We tried but only to fail. This meant a lot of reorganising for the Company Commanders, and a tremendous extra strain on the men, but they stuck it and we had to stay where we were.

A long night came to an end and presently to my relief Hewitt turned up. Afterwards we got his story out of him. The poor fellow who had been hit had died, and they had to bury him as best they could. If they showed their heads above the top they were at once shot at. Hewitt had sent no further messages back as it was too risky, and he decided to wait until dark and then get back as best he could. He did so, and luck was with him--they found their way eventually to our present place. They had had a dreadful time, and a really terrible experience, but like all good soldiers, they hated to talk about it, so we left it at that.

OCTOBER, 1918.

In the evening (Oct. 1st) the Division was relieved and we went back again to the west of Cantaing into trenches with improvised shelters. The next day or two we spent in reorganising, quite a difficult job as we were very weak, and cleaning up.

We now felt fairly certain that we were going out for a rest, as we had had a pretty stiff time since the 26th and had lost a lot of very fine fellows, mostly wounded, thank goodness. We needed a rest, and felt somehow that we had earned it, but on October 6th a message came before breakfast that we were to have another go for Niergnies, this time jumping off from Rumilly. It was to be an “in-and-out show,” just a day’s hard fighting and then out again, and if we were successful it would ensure the fall of Cambrai.

Our reconnaissances and plans having been made we moved (7th) to Noyelles, and so to a field where we tried to sleep a bit, to the accompaniment of a neighbouring 6-inch naval gun, and crossed the canal after dark and slowly made our way to our assembling place.

Soon the show started and we found that a sunken road, where our H.Q. dug-out was, came in for considerable attention from the Boche. Quite a lot of people were wounded just outside, my signalling officer (Bayne) amongst them.[15] Then the two Intelligence Officers--my own (Besch) and the Bedfords--went to find us a new H.Q. The latter was hit before he got across the road, Besch escaped and got on all right. Soon all the rest of us followed. The shelling did not seem to be so bad when we got out--it never does--dug-outs are beastly, and things sound much worse in them than they are. It was nice to be out and following up the Battalion, of which we could see nothing at first, but we soon got up to them, found they had managed to keep together, and were in good order and busy digging in. Things seemed to be going very well. “A” Co. were very pleased with themselves, as they got 105 prisoners and 12 machine guns in one trench on the way. Soon there was unusual activity up at the front, and one of our tanks came back chased by a 5.9 all the way. It was a wonderful sight, and rather funny, but poor sport for the men in the tank. It was extraordinary how near the shells fell round it and yet never once hit it, and I heard afterwards that it got home.

We were conscious of a lot of extra firing, and a number of little shells which seemed to come very low. All at once I saw the line to our south begin to move back--this gave one a very uncomfortable feeling, to say the least of it. We heard that the Germans were counter-attacking with tanks--so I went forward, and found that the Commanding Officer of the Battalion in front of us had gone to retrieve the position, and could quite easily see the German Tanks--which really were our own captured in November, 1917 (or even later during the retreat in 1918) and were equipped with German and Belgian Guns. The nearest one to us was burning away, as it had been hit and set on fire. Another one we were firing at from a Boche anti-tank gun. In passing, it is interesting to note that out of five (possibly seven) tanks that attacked us, two were knocked out by German weapons we captured that day: one by a Boche anti-tank gun and the other by one of their anti-tank rifles. The other tanks, seeing the fate of two of their companions and that the Boche infantry did not support them, decided it was wiser to go back where they came from. It was really quite an exciting hour until the situation became normal again.

Nothing more happened for a bit. The situation seemed vague on the left flank and in the village of Niergnies, so I sent up an officer (McKinley) to make a reconnaissance for the Brigade, which he did, and telephoned the result back, and later went up again just to make certain that everything was still. The information he got was of the greatest assistance to the Brigade, and the reconnaissance was very well done indeed.[16]

Shortly before dusk we were warned that a counter-attack was expected on our left flank, and I was told that should it assume a serious nature, the Artists would be required to carry out the counter-counter-attack and restore the position. However, it was no good looking for trouble before it came, so we just kept a special look-out on this flank, and moved a few more Lewis Guns there in case anything occurred. Nothing happened, and later in the evening I heard we were to be relieved by a Battalion who we could see coming up. It seemed an interminable time before we got the word to go home. We were all ready for it, watching the valley behind us, which was receiving continuous attention from the Boche who was using gas and H.E., mixed with instantaneous fuses, very freely, and when we finally got the order to go the gassing was really quite bad. Between where we were and Rumilly, it was a sort of nightmare going back. We had to use our gas-masks and fortunately all got through safely to our billets outside Cantaing. The attack had been a great success and a surprise for the Boche--Cambrai fell the next day, as a direct result of our work. To show how we had suffered, and to what small units we had descended, it is interesting to note that the Battalion which relieved us, relieved the whole of the Division. It was a strong Battalion of over 800, but all the same it is not often that a Battalion can relieve a Division.

This time we were fairly certain to be taken out of the line, for the obvious reason that we were no longer a real fighting force. We had been at it since the 26th September, and had suffered very heavily. The Division soon got orders to go North out of the 3rd Army into the 1st, in places round St. Pol where we were to refit, get our drafts, train hard, and get back as soon as possible, as it was now Division against Division, and no one could be spared out of the line for long.

We were soon on our way by stages via Vaulx-Vraucourt to Brias where we settled down to the work of reorganising. We were a small Battalion now, but a very cheerful one. We started giving each other dinners, and on the night the Brigadier dined with us Croft reported to the Battalion.

One dinner which I shall not forget was the fourth anniversary (Oct. 28th) of the Artists coming out to France, when all those who were left, amounting I think to 26, met at a little estaminet in Avesnes-le-Comte. I took it as a great compliment to be the only guest asked.

These good times soon come to an end. After various alarms and excursions, we finally marched off and embussed, our destination being a place called Le Forest, just outside Douai. It was rather a wonderful ride, and a lovely day. We went via Lens, which was a pitiable sight. I do not think I have ever seen any place of its size so completely and deliberately destroyed. There were a lot of refugees coming back, both east and west, carrying their worldly belongings with them. There was no possibility of anyone finding anything habitable when they got to Lens. One family struck me as a particularly bad case, even amongst so many. They had come goodness knows how far, and consisted of an old man, his wife, their daughter, and son-in-law, and their child in a tumbled down old perambulator, piled up with all kinds of other things. They had just arrived, and were standing on a heap of bricks, which they realized was the site of their old home. I shall never forget the look of utter desolation on their faces--they were beyond crying. There must have been many, many cases like this, and they would all either have to settle there, or face the journey back from where they had come, a case of 7 or 8 miles at the least, on roads that only bore the name out of courtesy. I saw some of our men crying when they saw these people. There is something about a Frenchman’s love of his home that appeals to us. With dog-like faith they tramp for miles to start all over again in a place rendered more than desolate, which seems to me the highest form of patriotism imaginable.

At Henin-Lietard we had to get out, as the bridges across the Canal were blown up, and trekked to Le Forest. The Artists got an old Boche hospital and after the usual spring clean was not too bad a home. Headquarter Mess was in a nice little house in the main Street--at least the bottom part of it was nice, the staircase having been burnt out, and the upstairs rooms were rather a muddle. Here we gave a concert and some conjuring exhibitions to the inhabitants, who hardly seemed to realise that they were actually free and allowed to do more or less as they liked. Some rumours of moves began to come along, and we realised that it would not be very long before we were off again--this time to some purpose.

NOVEMBER, 1918: THE LAST PHASE OF THE WAR.

On November 5th our rest at Le Forest came to an end and we journeyed back via Auby and Douai to Thiant. The next morning we marched on to Saultain, movement being slow owing to the congestion on the roads and their state, and we got completely blocked up in a village (Aulnoy) which showed signs of recent fighting, a good many dead lying about outside.

On the 7th we were off again to Sebourquiaux. By this time the Brigade that we were following were in action, and we were moving up in readiness to go through it when ordered, and that evening reached Angré.

Early the next day (8th) we reached Audregnies, where we went through the other Brigade, and had three objectives assigned, but it was obviously impossible that we should accomplish them in the time that was left to us in the day. Near Wiheries there was a fair amount of indiscriminate shelling on forward slopes and we lost some men. However, we moved on in artillery formation, keeping pretty well closed up and halted in the outskirts of Blaugies where we managed to get on the line of our first objective without further trouble and had to pass the night there as we could not overcome the Boche machine-gun fire.

November 9th was a day which I do not think any Artists who were then with us are ever likely to forget. We advanced in all 15,000 yards, as the crow flies, which of course meant considerably more trekking, and a good bit had to be done through woods and across country. We started off something like a triumphal procession, as we were the first English troops to enter Blaugies, and we were met by the inhabitants, who rushed out and kissed us, old and young alike, and offered us coffee, liqueurs, and anything they could lay their hands on. It was really pathetically sad, and yet very funny, and it was with difficulty one refrained from crying, by the necessity of laughing.

Passing through Blaugies, we ran into our own barrage, which eventually I got stopped, as it was falling amongst the cavalry and was holding up our advance. From that moment we were not bothered with any more barrages, the artillery being attached to us, which is really far the most sensible way in going through open country, as we were. It gives one the means of visible retaliation, which is always lacking when dependent entirely on artillery behind you, whose doings, except barrage work you know nothing about. We next had to go through the Wood of Sars-la-Bruyere and on to the village of the same name, where again we were welcomed by the inhabitants in like manner. I was presented with a large bouquet of flowers, tied up with Belgian ribbon and had to walk through the village carrying the beastly thing. The centre of this village had been our last objective, and we had no sooner got through than we had orders to move on again to a railway embankment on the other side of the wood to the east of Sars-la-Bruyere. Further orders came extending this objective right up to the Mons-Maubeuge Road in front of Quevy-le-Petit, so we packed up once more and started off. Then taking two runners with me, I started off straight through the wood, arrived in the village before the Battalion and took up my H.Q. in the Burgomaster’s house, which had only been left a few hours earlier by a General of the German Army, who had stopped to watch our advance and then gone off in a motor car. At last the Battalion was in possession of their objective and settled down for a few hours rest.

The next morning (10th) I got orders to ‘side-slip’ to the north, take up a position on the Mons-Maubeuge Road to the west of the village of Harvengt and support the Fusiliers and Bedfords. This was the first time that the Artists had been in support to either of the other Battalions since coming north from the Cambrai Sector, but it only lasted half a day. I met my Company Commanders at a Chateau on the Mons-Maubeuge Road, just below a bridge, which the Germans had blown up. We had a short conference in a delightful room placed at our disposal by the owner of the Chateau, then marched on up the road and we were in our place almost as soon as the cavalry had gone out.

I noticed going up the road that there was a Boche Observation Balloon up--the last one we saw during the War--and the only one which had been visible since our start on the 5th. Unfortunately, it saw the other Brigade, which was coming up to go through us, and this drew a considerable amount of fire round our H.Q. in the village of Asquillies.

Just after they had gone, I got the news by runner, that poor old Croft had been killed. It is no use trying to tell you what that meant to the Battalion, or to me personally. He had not been back with us very long after a prolonged absence, and I know he felt like coming home when he rejoined us at Brias. He was always like a ray of sunshine if there was anything doing. With him were two other good fellows, 2/Lt. King and Sergt. Garbutt; also a Lancer with whom they were talking at the time; a stray shell fell in the sunken road and killed all four of them.

We were anxiously expecting rations and orders to return to Asquillies for the rest we were all wanting, but were sent forward to Harvengt where there seemed to be a good deal of confusion, so I halted the Battalion and had a look round. I found from the 56th Division who were there that they had been held up just outside the village by heavy machine gun fire and that it would be quite impossible to go forward that night. Eventually it was arranged that the Artists should relieve the 1st London and we moved forward again as far as we could get.

November 11th. At daybreak I started off up the line, having received information that the Battalion had commenced to move and that the Boche had ‘hooked it.’ Reaching Harmignies, I found that our men had been in within less than half an hour after the departure of the Germans, and our patrols reported that at two of the villages in front there were no signs of the enemy. We had orders to take up our position and remain at Harmignies, and that the 188th Brigade would go through us early in the morning. I went round, saw everybody and waited until the other Brigade had started to move forward and then set off to return. On my way back I met a whole lot of the Lancers, all formed up ready to go through. It was a fine sight seeing them all on their horses anxious to be off. On getting back I was met by a Doctor who said that he owed me some money (he had made a bet with me; that there would be no armistice or peace this year). For a moment I could not quite make out what he meant, until I noticed that everybody seemed pleased and then I learned the news of the Armistice which had come through a few minutes previously. I saw the Brigadier, got confirmation of the Armistice news, sent it up to the Companies, scrounged round making arrangements for baths for the men, got them all back again, and they had their baths and went to bed.

In the afternoon the Band arrived, after a somewhat chequered journey from England, very sorry for themselves. Also British prisoners, who had been left behind by the enemy, began to trickle through; they were in a most pitiable state. And so came the Armistice to the Artists--in the line to the very last. It will always be a satisfaction to us when we come to look back upon things that we were there when the end came and that the efforts of our Division contributed in no small degree to the final collapse of the Boche.

AFTER THE ARMISTICE.

Of course we could hardly realise things at first and there was still an awful lot to do. The silence seemed almost uncanny at times.

I do not know if I can describe the funeral of Ben Croft, King and Garbutt, but of course it was the first thing we did. As they were killed just outside the village, we decided to bury them at the side of the road where they fell, with such Military Honours as we could, their own Company finding the firing party, and the buglers sounded the Last Post. It was a sad little party that gathered round the graves of the last Artists to fall in action. A large number of Officers and men came and the Brigadier found time to be present. I think these three were the last casualties of the War in our Brigade. It seemed so very hard, that it was only a matter of 24 hours, and all would have been well. The inhabitants of the village had given us some oak to make a cross from and someone else thought of flowers-and after doing all we could we returned to our billets.

We soon heard stories of going on to the Rhine and were selected for this, but owing to the heavy fighting, and our additional wastage through sickness, our strength was so far short that finally it was decided we should not go. So we had to accept the hard fact and see another Division put in our place. At the time we were generally disappointed, but on looking back now I think it was just as well, and possibly most Artists will agree.