top                                                                  Go To Previous attack on The Butte de Warlencourt by 151 Brigade on 5th November 1916

The attack on Hook Sap 14th November 1916

(with the 50th Division)

 

Captain Francis Buckley wrote, in Q6a and Other Places:

Download here:      http://www.archive.org/details/q6aandotherplaces00buckuoft

The position in front was now as follows. The 1st Division had pushed the enemy back to a line running along the top of a ridge running from the Butte of Warlencourt practically due east. This ridge prevented our seeing the enemy's approaches and support positions in Le Barque. On the other hand from Loupart Wood the whole of our approaches and support trenches were in full view of the enemy, as far back as High Wood. Across those two miles no one could move in daylight without being seen by the enemy, and there was practically no position to put our field guns forward of High Wood. The enemy's front line consisted of two trenches  - Gird Line and Gird support -  with a forward trench on the top of the ridge, called on the left 'Butte Trench' and on the right 'Hook Sap.' Our front line Snag Trench and  Maxwell Trench lay this side of the ridge and about two hundred yards away from the German forward trench.

The Butte of Warlencourt, an old Gallic burial place, was a round chalk hill, rising about 100 feet above ground level; and had been mined with deep dugouts and made into a formidable strong point. From the Butte, machine guns defended the approaches to Hook Sap, and from Hook Sap and the Gird Line, machine guns defended the approaches to the Butte. The ground between and around the opposing trenches had been ploughed up with innumerable shells, some of huge calibre, and it was now a spongy morass, difficult to cross at a walk and impossible at a run. As events proved, unless both the Butte and the Gird Line could be taken at the same time, the one would render the other impossible to hold. This then was the problem that faced the 50th Division, a problem that would have been difficult  enough in the driest of weather, but rendered four times more so by the rain which fell in deluges on three days out of four during the whole of October and November.

 

Click Here to view 3D image of Hook Sap, GIRD Line and the Butte de Warlencourt (70kb)

Click Here to view The Butte de Warlencourt from the air. (54kb)

 

Go To Previous attack on The Butte de Warlencourt by 151 Brigade on 5th November 1916

 

I have dealt with these details rather fully, because this phase of the Somme battle has been passed over as a thing of no account. The eyes of the public have been directed to the successful operations at Beaumont Hamel and Beaucourt. They have not been directed to the misery and horror that we endured heroically but unavailingly on the slopes between Eaucourt L'Abbaye and Le Barque. Never have the soldiers of the 50th Division deserved more and won less praise than they did during the operations between October 25 and November 15. I have no pen to describe the conditions that were faced by the brave men, who after labouring unceasingly in the slimy horrors and rain for three weeks without rest or relief, stormed and took Hook Sap, only to be cut off and killed to the last man by successive counter- attacks.  It is a sorrowful page in the history of the 7th N.F., but for stark  grim courage and devotion to duty it cannot be surpassed by anything in the history of the battalion.

At dawn on November 14 the 149th Brigade attacked the Hook Sap and Gird Line, the 5th N.F. on the right, the 7th N.F. on the left opposite the sap At the same time the Australian Corps attacked farther to the right, but no attack was made on the Butte itself. An officer, who was in the trenches south-west of the Butte and saw the Northumberlands go forward, told me that he had never seen such a strange sight. The men staggered forward a few yards, tumbled into shell-holes or stopped to pull out less fortunate comrades, forward a few more yards, and the same again and again. All the while the machine guns from the German trenches poured a pitiless hail into the slowly advancing line; and the German guns opened out a heavy barrage on the trenches and on the ground outside. In spite of  mud, in spite of heavy casualties, the survivors of two companies of the 7th N.F. struggled across that spongy swamp and gained the German line. What happened after that can only be conjectured, for they never kept in touch with the 5th N.F., who reached and took the Gird Line.  But it is known that the 7th N.F. got a footing both in Hook Sap and in the Gird Line behind.

The Germans barraged the captured trenches twice or three times during the day, and are thought to have attacked them in force, with fresh reserves each time. Owing to the heavy and continuous barrage across No Man's Land no news could be got back, and no supports could be sent forward.   Finally, at night, the remnants of the shattered brigade were collected, and another attempt were made to reach the trenches; but the Germans had evidently now got back to their old position and in the mud and darkness the fresh attack had little chance of success.  Nothing more has been seen or heard of the two companies that reached Hook Sap. It is believed that they perished to the last man,  over whelmed by successive German counter-attacks. Second-Lieut. E. G. Lawson fell at Hook Sap, also 2nd-Lieut. R.H.F.Woods, both Bombing Officers of the 7th N.F.; also Bombing Sergts. J.R. Richardson and J. Piercy.

The 5th N.F. did well indeed, for they succeeded in holding their ground in the Gird Line, and handed it over next day to the troops that relieved them. But that also had to be abandoned at last owing to its isolated position.

The only consolation that can be drawn from this heroic but tragic affair is that it may have created a diversion to our successful operation at Beaucourt. As an isolated operation it was doomed from the start owing to the state of the ground and the exhaustion of the men who took part in it. 

          

 

The following account of the action was written by  W. H. F.  an unknown officer of the 7th N.F. in Buckley's history of the 7th Northumberland Fusiliers.

On the 13th of November, the battalion under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel J. Scott Jackson, D.S.O., moved up from the position in support around Eaucourt L'Abbaye and the Flers Switch to Snag Trench in readiness for the attack on the following day.  The condition of the ground at this time was exceedingly bad, and added immensely to the difficulty of our task. The weather had broken badly and all the trenches were waterlogged. Mud was everywhere in parts up to the waist, and what was worse, the thicker, more tenacious kind that just covered the boots and clung in heavy masses. The exertion of forcing our way step by step in our already heavily burdened state during our various moves about this time, remains in my mind as some of the most strenuous and most exhaustive times of the whole war.

"D" Company under Second-Lieutenant Woods occupied Abbaye trench Left. We were in support to "A" and "B" Companies who were in Snag trench, some two hundred yards in front, and who were to attack the GIRD line at daybreak.We were to move forward at the same time and occupy Snag when they vacated it. "C" Company was also in Abbaye Trench. Their particular job was for half the company to follow up "A" and "B" with water and bombs to the final objective and the other half were to remain where they were in support. This half company, I well remember, were inclined to congratulate themselves on their simple duties, but they, poor chaps, had not reckoned on the intensity of the Boche barrage.

At last we were all in position and wishing for the dragging minutes to hasten. Woods was the most cheerful companion imaginable for an occasion of this sort. We had spent a very strenuous night with the N.CO.'s encouraging, urging and heaving the Company through the mud, but this had not in any way impaired his good spirits. Eventually a grey line appeared in the eastern sky and slowly the low outline of the Butte de Warlencourt took shape half-left of our position. Suddenly the sky seemed to split and our barrage came over. Pencils of golden rain, the German S.O.S. rose all along the opposing line. Machine-guns opened out from all directions and crash came the German barrage.

"D" Company stumbled forward over the shell-holes and those who reached Snag Trench were thankful to jump into what was left of it. Our casualties in that short crossing between the two trenches had been heavy and even those who were uninjured received a severe shaking from the concussion of the bursting shells.

When I found Woods he had been as cheerful as ever and pointed out a hole in his tunic where a bullet from a sniper in the Butte had grazed him. We could see no sign of "A" or "B," but hoped they were by this time  securely established in the Gird line in front of us. We were now looking across the top of a slight rise, snag trench running along one side of it and Gird along the other with the Butte some six hundred yards to the left, dominating the situation. Our contact planes now came over, flying low, and calling on their Klaxon horns for ground flares to indicate the position of the front line.  As it proved later "D" Company was then the front line but at the time we had great hopes of "A" and "B" being seated in front. "D" Company then manned Snag Trench as best they could with their attenuated numbers in a series of  posts, touching up with the 1st Australian Division on the right; the left so far as I could discover, being in the air. Things eventually quietened down but there was still no sign from the front. A rumour came down the line that the Australians on our right had got a communication trench dug back from the Gird but we could learn nothing further.

We listened anxiously for the sound of a counter-attack in the Gird line or some sign to indicate the presence of "A" and "B" but none came. Occasional shots began to come from that direction and then we knew that all was not well.

The day wore through without further incident until 6.30 p.m. when once more our guns opened up in a deafening barrage. Once more those pencil lines of golden rain rose from the line opposite and we had to sit down to a deadening,  deafening hail of shells. This in time died away, and the explanation arrived in the form of a note from Headquarters instructing Lieutenant Woods to collect all available men and attack the Gird line at 6.30p.m. The mud was the cause of the delay. The runner arrived in the last stages of exhaustion. Woods was then in a quandary as what was best to be done.  We debated the situation and agreed the futility of now attempting the attack with the handful of weary men that composed the company, knowing that the Gird line was held in force by the enemy. A further diversion was here caused by the arrival of the 4th battalion under the personal command of Lieutenant-Colonel B.D. Gibson, accompanied by Captain C. Stephenson, his Adjutant. He informed Woods that the 4th was to have occupied the trench as we jumped off at 6.30 but owing to the appalling conditions of the trenches he had been unable to get his battalion up in time.

He then decided that the Gird line must be attacked.    I was detailed to take what bombers I had (six) and bomb into the Gird line.  When I was in,  I   had to form a block and then bomb up to the right and endeavour to get in touch with the Australians who had got a footing there. The rest of the 7th and a portion of the 4th were then to come over in two waves and occupy the cleared trench.  (note: see the following article by private Norman Gladden who took part) About this period a carrying party with water and bombs intended for the original attack arrived. They too had found the mud to be almost too much for them. By this one may well imagine considerable confusion existed in the darkness and the mud of the ill-defined trench.  I got my six bombers equipped, watered and supplied with bread, our iron rations having been already consumed.

We were given the word to go,  and scrambled  over the parapet. For some reason or other the first wave must have taken the invitation to be open to them, as, when I was clear of the trench I found myself not with a select little band of bombers, but supported right and left by the entire first wave. the noise of this movement must have carried over the Boche as no sooner were we well in the open than Very lights rose in quick succession followed by machine-guns, rifles, bombs and the familiar golden rain of their S.O.S. It was then that I caught my last glimpse of Woods. He had got out on the left and was making for the Gird line full of purpose, closely followed by his staunch servant Private T. Rose. The night became as light as day with the numerous German Very lights. A murderous fire met us and men fell right and left.  I got as far as the range of the egg-bombs from the objective, and found I had only one solitary private with me. It was there I decided to pause and see if there were any signs of further support coming up. We got into a shell-hole and waited. There were one or two shadowy forms in the gloom crawling from shell-hole to shell-hole, but whether they were wounded men I could not tell. As the time passed and no support came I could see that this was the end of our hopes. The Gird line must remain in German hands for the present.

The shell fire gradually died away and as it was obvious that nothing more could be done I returned with my lone supporter to Snag. The next day, the 15th November, the 4th Battalion withdrew and left the 7th again in occupation  of the line. Lieutenant Woods was killed during the attack, and I found myself in command of the remnants of the battalion. we now had a trench strength of one officer and seventy-six men including the carrying party which came up during the night. The day passed quietly, and in the afternoon we were ordered to withdraw to the Abbaye supports. Here we found a ghastly sight. the trench was almost obliterated by shell-fire. The half of "C" Company which had remained behind had apparently scattered in depth in an attempt to avoid the well marked position of the trench but to little purpose. We had almost reached the limits of human endurance and in one case,  which I sent to the dressing station, the mental strain had proved too much.  During the evening the battalion was relieved, bringing to an end this fatal tour. Never in my comparatively long service with the battalion did we meet with such hardship and horrors as on this occasion, or, I believe, were so few left to tell the tale.

W. H. F.

 

 

The following account of the action was written by  private Norman Gladden of the 7th NF (D Company) in his book 'The Somme 1916'

At stand-to a corporal scrambled along the trench bringing consternation in train. 'Come along, me lads' he shouted, as though we were all well aware of what was afoot. A few moved, but the majority just ignored the invitation. He stared at me and added 'you too.' Stilling my immediate impulse to mention my feet, I joined the line of protesting men. We collected boxes of bombs and thus laden we set off for the new front line. The communications trench, no doubt formerly part of the German defence system, meandered across the terrain that until this morning had been no-man's-land. It was much battered and deep with mud, but still a good trench, affording welcome cover for our errand. But the sticky bottom soon began to play havoc with my feet, which for a while had been quiescent.  I found it difficult to lift them clear, but weakness from lack of rest would have largely accounted for this. In the gathering gloom the route seemed interminable. To and fro we zig zagged between wet clammy walls, though the distance as the crow flies would not have been great. The new line was shallow, rarely rising above chest level, but it was a dark night and the enemy was unusually quiet. We delivered our bombs and were instructed to return at 11.00 p.m., which seemed strange and unfair as there were others who could have taken their turn.

When we set off the second time we were unburdened. the significance of this did not strike me at the time. In truth I was too fatigued to think of anything beyond the immediate effort required to move my weary and painful limbs. This time we proceeded above ground, which was more expeditious and less tiring. The night enfolded battlefield exuded the usual eeriness. There were bobbing lights and an occasional gun flash; now and again a machine-gun stuttered somewhere ahead, but there was little movement and nothing unusual - until we reached the front trench.

The low trench was crammed with men - troops from our D Company and from the 4th Battalion. the parapet was lined with soldiers, their fixed bayonets glinting in the dimly lit night. An attack was being staged. I was struck dumb with amazement. The men were already clambering out of the trench. Hardly had the first man mounted the parapet, when the enemy, as though sensing something unusual, sent up a myriad of lights which, bursting overhead, converted night into day. The steel helmeted figures of  the front wave stood out in sharp relief against the unearthly blue illumination. While we hesitated, bewildered by the suddenness of this manoeuvre, an officer pushed his way along the trench threatening with drawn revolver, anyone who held back from going over. He pointed it at me. I was flabbergasted. There must be some mistake: we had been told nothing.  My astonished terror gave place to anger at the injustice of the whole business. At that moment I would sooner have killed the officer than any German.

To say that I was at the very centre of pandemonium, would be to interpret the reality in the mildest way. Only a few moments had elapsed since the first man had mounted the parapet and the night was now throbbing with sound and movement. The heavens were literally opening around us. Tiredness dropped away and my mind became crystal clear. Contemplating the futility of thus attempting a surprise attack on the enemy I left the trench with the supporting wave. I was still fumbling with my unfixed bayonet as I stumbled into a shell-hole a few paces from the the trench. Here I did my best to collect my wits and free the blade from the straps in which my frantic haste had caused it to become entangled. Men were now moving on either side and with bayonet now fixed, I joined the moving line. We did not get far. Enemy machine-guns were scouring the ground. I slid into a large depression were a number of others were already collected. Hugging the filthy, friendly earth I looked around me, while the stream of bullets passed harmlessly overhead.

I realised that my closest neighbour was dead, but I did not recognise him, for he lay face down in a pool of  slimy water. the rifle at his side, looked new and almost clean. I yielded to a covetous impulse and exchanged it for mine, which was in a shocking state. the incident shows how, despite intolerable stress, my mind was capable of functioning at an ordinary level of perceptiveness.

The scene was an amazing one. Above the enemy line red, green and yellow lights - signals to the German artillery -  rose and fell against the lurid backdrop of gun flashes. It reminded me of those magnificent Brock's benefit nights at the Crystal Palace which I had enjoyed in my youth. But no peacetime pyrotechnic display could have equalled the real thing.  The machine-guns traversed back and forth, shearing the ground around us like mighty scythes. Rifles cracked incessantly and bullets spanged into the mud near our heads. In front we could hear the bursting of hand grenades hurled by the enemy, as much in fright as at specific targets, since there is little evidence that our front wave had got so far. Heavier shells crashed around us, but mainly behind since they were directed against the trench we had left. We were between two fires.

Fortunately I was in a shell-hole that occupied a dip in the ground.  It joined a short isolated trench were several other men were collected. An NCO was with us, but he was as bewildered as the the rest and had nothing tom suggest. There was no discernible movement ahead; the first wave had disappeared. Whether any of them survived I cannot say. It seemed highly improbable.  There was the impression of a void both in front and behind, no contact with our line.  We had to await instructions. Our military training had instilled in us the impossibility of withdrawing without orders. It was an unhappy quandry. There was a good deal of discussion,  of criticism, and, as always a variety of suggestions, but no one took control. We had all been rushed too precipitately into the inexplicable situation to be able to cope with it. And so we waited: cold, fearful and wondering.

The flashes faded and the guns stopped firing. The Germans were satisfied that the attack had failed, but they continued to use their machine-guns to good effect.  The sky was now filled with stars and the night was bright. Almost any movement could be detected; any attempt to crawl out of our depression was met with a stream of bullets. Thus we lay hour after hour as the night dragged on. I felt myself growing colder and more helpless, as stiff as my dead companion with his head in the mud. What did he look like? Who was he? It did not occur to me to look more closely. I hated the idea of contact. the common practice of rifling the dead of their personal belongings had no attraction for me.

After interminable hours the first grey streaks of approaching dawn appeared in the east, and a new terror laid hold of us. If we did not get back before daylight we should be pinned down indefinitely: all day, unable to move, wet through, without food, in front of the enemy's position, a target for any missiles they might choose to hurl at our lines. Anything would be better than that. The danger of our situation galvanised us into action. Across the skyline to our right we saw figures crawling back. We decided to follow their example. 'One at a time,' someone shouted, and the first man made a bolt for our trench. As if a button had been pressed enemy machine-guns opened out, while his lights, so recently quiescent, outshone the pallid dawn. Bullets pelted down, and all discretion was cast to the winds. How incredibly fast I moved under the threat of immediate death! I felt the trench literally rushing towards me under the torrent of fire and almost immediately fell on to one of the occupants who swore feelingly at my clumsiness. I gripped the muddy floor with a thankfulness beyond measure I was back in our front line, safe and unharmed; nothing else mattered.

It had been hoped to occupy the enemy trench without difficulty, the aim being to straighten out a kink in the line. But it seemed that the coveted trench had been crowded with enemy troops, who may well have had a similar venture in view. In any case their reaction had been instantaneous and our first wave had been blasted in their tracks. An officer was mentioned who had failed to come back. If it were the man with the revolver I felt no compassion for him.  It was thought there were many wounded lying between the lines. Their fate was too horrible to contemplate, for neither side was likely to tolerate any movement for fear of a trap.

Private Norman Gladden

 

Total casualties, killed, wounded and missing:-

              Officers               Men         

4th N.F.                                 0                    10

5th N.F.                                 2                  121

6th N.F.                                 1                       2

7th N.F.                                 3                    95

                  Total                     6                   228

 

Officer losses: (Killed) 14/15th November 1916
5th N.F.
    Lieutenant Norman Wilfred Lawson
    2nd/Lieutenant Thomas Nelson Melrose
6th N.F.
    2nd/Lieutenant Andrew Smith
7th N.F.
    2nd/Lieutenant Edward Grey Lawson
    2nd/Lieutenant Dominic Roe Dathy O'Daly*
    2nd/Lieutenant Lionel Hugh Fletcher Woods*
    2nd/Lieutenant Alan James Derrick
    2nd/Lieutenant Frederick James Larkin*

7th N.F.

2nd/Lieutenant Dominic Roe Dathy O'Daly (K.I.A.)    

Another name to the list of Officers who met their death on the 14th November last.

In a letter to the late Officer's father, Lieut.-Col. Scott Jackson, of the Northumberland Fusiliers, speaks in high terms of the deceased Officer. He met his death whilst gallantly leading his men. They encountered a portion of the enemy and a bomb is feared to have caused Mr O'Daly's death. Col. Jackson stated: "He was the finest type of a young Englishman and a splendid Officer. He had been in command of the Lewis Guns for some time and had done so well that I felt justified in giving him a Company".

Mr O'Daly was educated at Handsworth Grammar School and afterwards at Exeter College, Oxford. He was granted his degree of B.A. in his absence in October, 1916. He was a member of the Handsworth and Oxford University O.T.C., and obtained his commission in the Northumberland Fusiliers on the 14th August 1915.  He joined the 1st line on the 14th August, 1916, and was with them until the date of his death. The deceased Officer had been married just over three months.

In a tragic twist to this poor family, his wife Elenoar Mary O'Daly/Nicholson of three months soon fell to a tragic accident. She was killed whilst walking the dog on Boxing Day. The dog was chasing sticks and ran onto an ice covered pond, which soon broke. In an effort to save her dog she fell through the ice and drowned.

Here is the full Newspaper cutting, kindly sent by Bob Wyllie a distant relative.

Newspaper cutting of Mrs O'daly's death

 

Name:	O'DALY, DOMINIC ROE DATHY
Initials:	D R D
Nationality:	United Kingdom
Rank:	Second Lieutenant
Regiment/Service:	Northumberland Fusiliers
Unit Text:	1st/7th Bn.
Age:	21
Date of Death:	14/11/1916
Additional information:	Son of Dominick and Harriet Elizabeth O'Daly, of 155, Exeter Rd., Exmouth, Devon; husband of the late Eleanor Mary O'Daly/Nicholson, of Sea View House, Newbiggin-by-the-Sea. Educated at Exeter College, Oxford.
Casualty Type:	Commonwealth War Dead
Grave/Memorial Reference:	Pier and Face 10 B 11 B and 12 B.
Memorial:	THIEPVAL MEMORIAL

My grateful thanks go to Graham Stewart for this photograph and obituary from St George's Gazette.

    2nd-Lieutenant  Lionel Hugh Fletcher Woods  (K.I.A.)

2nd-Lieutenant Lional Hugh Fletcher Woods (K.I.A.)    

Son of the late Mr. Charles Fletcher Woods, of Newmarket, was one of the Officers killed in the Somme fighting.

Prior to the war Mr. Woods was connected with the Inland Revenue in the department of Customs and Excise. He joined the London University O.T.C. in November, 1914, and was gazetted 2nd-Lieutenant in the Northumberland fusiliers in August, 1915. After a time he went for a Gymnastics Course to Aldershot and subsequently became P.T. and B.F. Officer to his Battalion. He joined the 1st Line in April, 1916. Mr. Woods was unmarried, and both both his parents pre-deceased him: although of a quiet and unassuming nature he made many friends, and his death was deeply regretted.

My grateful thanks go to Graham Stewart for this photograph and obituary from St George's Gazette.

 

  
    2nd-Lieutenant Frederick James Larkin  (K.I.A.)

 

2nd-Lieutenant Frederick James Larkin (K.I.A.)    

We reproduce a photo of the late 2nd-Lieut. Frederick James Larkin, who made the supreme sacrifice in the severe fighting on the Somme. He was the third son of the late Maj. W. H. Larkin, 47th North Lancs. Regiment. When war broke out Mr. Larkin was in Vancouver, and he at once offered himself for service, but was rejected on account of varicose veins in the leg. The keenness which he afterwards displayed as a soldier, was evidenced by his undergoing an operation to have the veins removed, and as soon as he was well enough to leave hospital, he started for home, joining the O.T.C. at Cambridge in February, 1916; passing out in July he joined the Northumberland Fusiliers.

During his short stay with the Reserve Battalion he made many friends, and many were the regrets heard when his name appeared in the casualty list.

My grateful thanks go to Graham Stewart for this photograph and obituary from St George's Gazette.

 

  Click here for  7th NFshort history of the Regiment,  see personalities and links to detailed accounts of important actions.

Guy Smith     e mail:    guy@trenchmap.com

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