At zero (5.40 a.m.) we pushed off; my greatest anxiety was in stretching
the sections out to the right to get in touch with "B" company. Our barrage was
a hopeless failure; only shrapnel was used, and instead of bursting overhead as we
expected, it burst at least 400 yards in front of us and behind the line of German machine
gun posts. It was worse than useless, as it simply served to give the alarm. Until then,
everything was perfectly quiet, but immediately our guns started, the Boches sent up
coloured lights and their barrage came down. This barrage came down within two minutes of
zero, and although it did very small damage to "D" company's three attacking
platoons, it practically wiped out Doucet's
platoon, which was in support and digging in on the tape. The Boche machine guns started
almost on zero, a single gun started over on our left and traversed toward our right, and
was very soon joined by guns all along the line. Most of the fire we noticed came from the
rising ground on our left, and from the forest. And machine guns fired from the tops of
the pill-boxes. The ground we crossed was not so badly cut up as one might imagine; the
clay soil and swamp made the going, of course, far from good, but at the same time it
neutralised to a great extent the effect of the enemy's high explosive shells. As to the
distance we got forward, I cannot exactly say. "D" company had to pivot round on
the extreme left of the attack - it had to advance its right in conjunction with
"B" company. This meant of course that "D" company had to make a
half-right wheel, and at the same time to treble its frontage. But I judge that no 16
platoon, the nearest to no 6 of "B" company and the one I was with, went forward
about two hundred and fifty yards. We met with no unbroken wire ourselves, but I cannot
speak as to the rest of the battalion. My own perspective was very limited, and I can only
tell of what befell "D" company. Of fighting in the true sense of the word we
had none. Most of the Boches we saw were beating it back (from their advance positions I
suppose). It was simply a slaughter by machine gun fire, shell-fire and sniping from the
forest. When daylight came and I saw in what a hole we were, I never thought we could get
out alive. I can only liken our position to that of the bottom of a saucer, with Fritz
holding three sides of the lip. The only occasion I tried to use a runner was when I
considered that the company had arrived at its objective. I could then see no signs of the
people on our right, but noticing three or four men go to ground on the right, I sent my
servant Fotheringham to see who they might be. Poor lad, he only went about five yards
before he fell with a bullet in his brain. I then gave orders to dig in. It was then
almost light, and further exposure would only end one way, and that a useless one; and we
went to ground. At midday a runner was sent from Company Headquarters, to report the
remainder of the battalion back on the tape line, the attack a failure, and instructing me
to retire in conformity with the rest of the battalion. But this unfortunate, of
course, never reached me, and he was never seen again. Had he reached me, I would
not have dreamt of throwing away the lives of the nine or ten men I had left, by retiring
over such ground in daylight. No re-enforcement's reached me-if they were sent, they were
smashed up before they got as far.
Our own aeroplanes were more than discreet during the attack, and after a
hurried survey of our position, left the enemy in complete and undisputed possession of
the air. The German airmen flew very low, firing at our men with machine guns, one even
waving a hand, to which we made no response, being too "fed-up", wet and cramped
to care much what he did. Until you have spent a day, wet to the skin, your knees near
your chin, with three others in the very inadequate shelter of a shell-hole, without being
able to so much as shift your foot, you cannot imagine what the agonies of cramp can be.
I repeatedly saw the German snipers from the forest pick off our wounded,
as they endeavoured to crawl back to our lines. During the whole day it was sheer suicide
to show the least sign of life; and the bullets were clipping the sides of our shell-hole
most of the time. Two of my men in a shell-hole nearby, too shallow for comfort,
endeavoured to deepen it by lying on their backs in turn and pushing the earth out with
their feet. Although I warned them to keep down, they either did not hear, or heeded
not; and one of them was shot three times by a sniper-the third shot killed him.
In the afternoon, after the enemy planes had been over trying their
machine-gun practise on us wet mortals, lying "doggo" in the mud, the Boche
artillery started shelling the ground. After several "long" shots the range was
shortened, and a shell dropped fair in the side of the crater (just behind my own)
sheltering the Lewis-gun and its surviving team of two. It passed between the two men and
buried itself deep in the mud and burst. But instead of finishing us all, only one man was
hurt by a splinter, which passed through his helmet and just penetrated his scalp.
If they keep on like that we thought, there will be some strange faces in the next
world before very long! But fortunately our friends the enemy (only a few yards away
apparently) sent up a green flare, which evidently meant "lengthen range." So we
were troubled no further in this way; even the enemy thought the last shell too close for
comfort.
At dusk I reckoned up the position. There must be a gap on the left
between my own platoon, and the rest of "D" Company; but I had no idea of what
had happened on my right. As I have mentioned, "D" Company were in a shallow
basin and out of view of the rest of the battalion. Immediately in front of us was some
rough ground, with scrubby trees, enclosed by an iron fence on iron standards, and really
a neck of the forest. My final position was about fifteen yards short of this ground.
Another day in this depression dominated by the forest meant suicide. So at nightfall I
told corporal Henderson, my last N.C.O., to gather all the walking wounded he could find
and get back to Company Headquarters to inform Fisher where I was, that I was out of touch
on both flanks, and I would push on with what men I had to get onto the higher ground, and
send up Doucet's platoon to fill the
gap on my left. As soon as he had left, I slipped off my trench-coat and all encumbrances,
except my Webley, and crawled off to investigate conditions on my right. Near the road I
found my right section of three men, covered with their ground-sheets, and seemingly
indifferent as to what might happen. After a few whispered instructions I crawled up the
road, and found a "B" Company man with a badly fractured knee, lying full length
in the mud. He was fully conscious and I crawled alongside and had a few whispered words
with him. He said he thought the attack had failed and that "B" Company had
retired. I told him who I was, and promised to fetch him when darkness descended (it
was then just dusk). He was a brave lad; I was afraid he might cry out when I left him,
but he never made a sound. I am glad to say that we got him back all right, and he reached
England safely minus a leg. I then crawled on and found strong wire within a few yards of
this man; the fence I have mentioned was included in this, and strongly reinforced. There
were evidently Boches just on the other side. I returned and reinforced the post near the
road with the Lewis-gun; and then I had only sufficient men to make up two decent posts,
the five men of my other two sections I posted together on my left. I then pushed on, and
eventually got in touch with the rest of the company, and was appraised of the situation.
After this I returned and withdrew my men; just in time too, as the moon
was then rising- a fine full clear moon, which later on made our search for wounded
anything but a picnic owing to Fritz's ever vigilant machine-guns. In this latter work we
were assisted by a battalion of the Durhams.
I was very much shocked by the sight of the supporting platoon (Doucet's). They were lying around the tape
line, in many cases with the white flesh of their faces ribbed by machine-gun bullets as
they lay on the ground. I found Doucet
in their midst, shot in at least two places. I heard later that he had been shot through
the knee and afterwards finished while trying to get back. I removed his personal
effects, and had him carried off and buried near the road. Poor Doucet, he was a fine fellow and a
cheerful comrade. We buried several men before we were relieved, but finally I gave
up the task and concentrated on getting the men under some sort of cover before daylight
arrived; a half-hearted job as everyone was cold, wet and hungry, and broken in spirit.
After all our preparations and hopes for our innings on the great
battlefield of Flanders, to end in this way-failure, and with nothing to show for it but a
big casualty list. Fortunately we were relieved that night, and I thought God help the
relief if they don't get under cover before dawn. Our own main anxiety was to get as far
and as fast away from the place as we could. I could freely criticise a good many things
in connection with the tragedy of the 26th October; but no good could come of doing so.
Captain J. M. Affleck was awarded the Military
Cross for this action.
Lieut. Odell, the Brigade Signalling Officer, and his men did wonders in
keeping the battalions in touch with B.H.Q. during the battle, and for his great personal
gallantry on this occasion he received a Bar to his MC.
Q6A Page 157
2nd/Lieutenant Henry Stobbs (1/4th Bn N F)
2nd-Lieutenant
Gerald Danby Doucet (1/7th N.F.)
2nd-Lieutenant
Robert Thompson (1/7th N.F.)
