CHAPTER XLI.

MIDSUMMER ON THE WESTERN FRONT.

Three days after the Battle of Festubert[61] came to an end, another European nation flung itself into the welter of strife. Italy declared war on Austria. The story of why she did so, and how she fared during the year 1915, will be told in our next volume. We may safely postpone an account of the Italian campaign, for, like our great adventure in Gallipoli, it was a side-show. Nevertheless it employed no less than twelve Austrian army corps, and thus largely reduced the forces which the enemy could employ in France and Flanders and the Eastern theatre of war.

Italy set herself the very difficult task of conquering the Trentino,[62] and in order to do so had to force the barrier of the Alps. For six months she fought with great firmness and much sacrifice amidst lofty snowclad mountains, and battered unceasingly at the great Austrian fortresses established amongst them. By the end of the year her soldiers had occupied a rich and well-populated portion of what the Italians call "Unredeemed Italy," had secured their northern flank, and had firmly established themselves along the line of the river Isonzo.[63] They had also captured 30,000 of the enemy, 5 guns, 65 Maxim guns, thousands of rifles, and a great deal of other war material, and were in a favourable position for an advance in the spring. Should this advance be successful, Austria would lose her two great seaports, and, except along the coast of Dalmatia,[64] would be cut off from the sea.

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July was but nine days old when good news arrived from South Africa. The Union forces under General Botha[65] had conquered German South-West Africa,[66] and the colony had passed into British hands. The story can wait until our next volume, in which we shall survey the progress of our arms not only in "German South-West," as South Africans call it, but in the Cameroons and in German East Africa as well. From the first the Germans knew that their overseas possessions were doomed. Powerless on the ocean, they were utterly cut off from their colonies. Their overseas forces were fighting, as it were, in water-tight compartments, without hope of reinforcements or supplies from the Fatherland.

* * * * *

We will now return to the Western front, and learn something of what happened in North France between the close of the Battle of Festubert and the great British attack of September. At home people believed that a big push would be made in the West during the summer months; but to their astonishment the Allies did not attempt an offensive on a large scale. The Russians, as you know, were then passing through a fiery ordeal; and their newspapers constantly asked why the Allies did not attack the enemy, and draw off from Russia some of the fury of the German onset. The fact was that the Allies were not in a condition to assault the German lines with any great hope of success. Though they now outnumbered the Germans on the Western front, they were still deficient in machine guns, heavy artillery, and stores of shell. The battles of Festubert and of the Artois had taught them that to hurl infantry against trenches which had not been previously wrecked by artillery fire was simply to send men to their death. They had also learned that piercing the enemy's line on a narrow front served no useful purpose. Driving tiny wedges into the German position was not only costly, but a waste of time. A big rent must be made, in order that cavalry might be launched through the breach against the lines of communication. For such an operation they had not as yet sufficient artillery, so they decided--

"'Tis better that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness."[67]

The war on the Western front during the months of June, July, and August was little more than the old "nibbling." All along the line there were many small attacks followed by small counter-attacks, and in some places fierce little struggles for strongholds. Trenches were lost and won almost daily, but a week's advance could be measured by yards. In these affairs we gained little ground, but we lost many men. I cannot attempt to describe all the minor engagements of the summer months, but I must say something about the fighting around Givenchy in the middle of June.

In front of the 7th British Division there was an enemy stronghold known to our troops as "Stony Mountain," and from it to another fortified point, known as "Dorchester," ran two lines of German trenches. The 7th Division was ordered to make a frontal attack on "Stony Mountain," and the 1st Canadian (Ontario) Battalion at the same time was to carry the two lines of trenches.

At three o'clock on the afternoon of 15th June the Ontario regiment was brought up to the British trenches opposite to the position to be attacked, and the men began to beguile the hours of waiting by singing popular songs. The attack was timed to commence at six in the evening, and at a quarter to six two 18-pounder guns in the Canadian trenches opened fire on the German position. One of the guns swept away the German wire, and knocked out two enemy Maxims; but the other was wrecked by a shell. Bullets from the German trenches rained down upon the guns, tearing and twisting their shields as though they had been made of paper.

Just before six, Canadian sappers exploded a mine on their front, and several of their own bombers were killed or wounded by the force of the explosion. Immediately the leading company dashed forward through the smoke and flying dirt, and though met by a withering flank fire from "Stony Mountain," rushed the German front trench, and gained possession of "Dorchester." Those, however, who attacked on the "Stony Mountain" side were stopped by the fire of that fort, and all were killed or wounded. Bombing parties and sappers now went forward, but almost all of them were shot down. A sapper who reached the trench set out alone to bomb his way along it. He did not retire until he had flung his last bomb, and then he had no less than ten wounds in his body.

The second company closely followed on the heels of those who had won "Dorchester," and the two companies charged towards the German second-line trench, which was carried. Many of the Huns who put up a fight were bayoneted, and some prisoners were taken. Meanwhile the third company, after losing heavily in its advance, was busy putting the captured first-line trench into a state of defence. Two machine guns were hurried forward, but the entire crew of one of them was killed or wounded before the trench was reached. The crew of the other gun, now reduced to two men, Lieutenant Campbell and Private Vincent, a lumber-jack from Bracebridge, gained the position, and Lieutenant Campbell hoisted his gun on to the broad back of his companion, and poured a stream of bullets upon the enemy. Later in the day, when the Canadians were obliged to retire, Lieutenant Campbell fell wounded, but Private Vincent dragged the gun away into safety. Lieutenant Campbell crawled into the Canadian trench a dying man. "And no man died that night with more glory; yet many died, and there was much glory."

The supply of bombs ran short, and Private Smith of Southampton, Ontario, volunteered to go forward with a fresh supply. Festooned with bombs, he crawled forward on all fours, and twice handed over his load to his friends. So hot was the fire that he had to toss the bombs[68] into the trench. His clothes were shot to rags, but he escaped unwounded. But all Private Smith's efforts to supply the bombers were unavailing. Soon all the grenades were gone, and meanwhile the machine guns and rifles on "Stony Mountain" were rapidly thinning the Canadian ranks. "One unknown wounded man was seen standing on the parapet of the German front-line trench. He had thrown every bomb he carried, and, weeping with rage, continued to hurl bricks and stones at the advancing enemy till his end came."

The British division had been held up on the left, and the enemy was now gathering in strength. The unsupported Canadians were therefore forced to retire, and give up the ground which they had gained. During the retirement many men fell, and some fine deeds of bravery were done. Private Gledhill of Ben Miller, near Goderich, Ontario, though hurled out of the trench by a bomb explosion which broke his rifle but did not injure him, found another rifle, and continued to fire while his comrades retired and he was almost alone. As he crawled towards his own lines he fell over a wounded lieutenant, and offered to carry him back. "Thanks, no," said the lieutenant; "I can crawl." "Will you take me?" asked a man with a leg missing, who lay hard by. "Sure," replied the gallant fellow, and amidst a tempest of fire he dragged the wounded man into safety. Out of twenty-three officers who went into battle that day only three were alive and untouched at nightfall. The fort on "Stony Mountain" could not be captured, and all the valour and perseverance of the Canadians went for nothing.

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The account which you have just read gives you a very fair idea of the midsummer fighting on the Western front. Before I turn to the great offensive of September, let me describe briefly the struggle which took place at Hooge towards the end of July and the beginning of August. It had no real importance; it was only an incident in the constant tug of war that went on along the opposing lines. Hooge is a hamlet on the Ypres-Menin road, about two miles east of the city. On the 16th of June we had attacked the enemy's line, and had captured 1,000 yards of German front trenches, a part of the line, and 150 prisoners. During the fighting the Liverpool Scottish did specially fine work.

This map shows you the scene of the struggle which I am about to describe. Notice the chateau and the lake to the north: both were in the hands of the Germans, who had pushed their front to the west and south-west of the lake, and had thus made an ugly sag in our line. Just north of the Hooge-Menin road there is a big hollow marked "Crater" on the map. About 3 a.m. on the morning of Friday, 30th July, the Germans violently attacked our trenches to the east of the Crater. They were held by men of the New Army. The Germans had already sapped up close to our line, and now they launched a torrent of liquid fire against us. At the same time big guns on the high ground to the north-east and south-west bombarded our lines, trench mortars joined in, and bombers stormed our trenches with grenades. This terrible onset of fire, flame, and bombs could not be resisted, and the Germans carried the first line and the Crater. Our men fell back to the second line, which ran north-west from the corner of Zouave Wood. Then the enemy began to shell the second line, and Zouave Wood became a death-trap. You will read on a later page how Second Lieutenant Sidney Woodroffe won the Victoria Cross by holding his trenches in Zouave Wood to the last.

A counter-attack was made in the afternoon, but it failed. Our men were mown down as soon as they advanced into the open. The Rifle Brigade had been entrusted with the task; it pushed forward to certain death with wonderful steadiness, but was almost wiped out. During this unsuccessful attack we lost 2,000 men. No further attempt was made for ten days, during which time our gunners shelled the enemy's lines, and stopped the fire of their artillery. So successful was the bombardment that it put new heart into our men, and they were quite ready for the next act of the drama, which was timed for Monday, 9th August. Just before dawn on that day the 16th and 18th Brigades advanced from the west and from the south against the Crater. They had to push uphill in black darkness for 500 yards. The 2nd York and Lancaster issued from Zouave Wood with the 2nd Durham Light Infantry on their right. The two battalions made a race of it, and the Durhams won. Over the horrible No Man's Land, strewn with barbed-wire entanglements and the bodies of the unburied dead, the infantry swept on, and in a few minutes were busy with the bayonet and bomb amongst the sorely shaken Germans. Many of them were sheltering in their dug-outs, which were very large and deep. The two hundred who held the Crater were killed to a man.

A correspondent tells us that, on scrambling over the enemy's parapet, a sergeant lost his balance and fell on his back to the bottom of the trench, close to a mortar in charge of a sentry. Immediately the sentry rushed at him with a bomb poised in his hand. With a great effort the sergeant slewed round and dealt his opponent a kick in the ribs which sent him spinning against the parapet, where he was dealt with by a private who had followed hard on the heels of his sergeant.

When the trenches were cleared the infantry swept on to the chateau, and captured the ruins of the stables, where they dug in. The attack had been very successful, and our losses were very few, because of the searching bombardment which had preceded the attack. Correspondents describe the high spirits of our men on that day. It is said that many of the less seriously wounded failed to report themselves, because they did not wish to miss the rest of the fighting.

At half-past nine that night German shells began to fall fast and thick on our new positions, and our men dropped fast. We lost some of our trenches north of Sanctuary Wood, and had to retire to a little way in front of the Crater. The enemy had made a curtain of fire behind our lines, and reliefs could only be brought up at great loss. The battalion which had dug in near the stables was ordered to withdraw; but four officers and 200 men did not receive the order, and hung on until relieved late the next morning. A small party of Durham Light Infantry, under Corporal Smith, held out even longer, and only retired when fresh troops took over their position.

Gradually the fighting died away. We had recovered our former position, and what is more, we had proved that, given proper artillery "preparation," the strongest German lines could be pierced. The New Army won its spurs at Hooge, but at a very heavy cost.

The following officers and men were awarded the Victoria Cross for deeds of remarkable courage during the period between the Battle of Festubert and the end of the first week in August:--

Private William Mariner, 2nd Battalion, King's Royal Rifle Corps.

During a violent thunderstorm on the night of May 22, 1915, Private Mariner left his trench at a place just south of Cuinchy, for the purpose of destroying an enemy machine gun that was annoying our men. He took with him a supply of bombs, and just before starting out on his perilous mission, asked his sergeant to open fire on the enemy's trenches as soon as he had thrown his bombs. This meant that he was prepared to sacrifice himself, for he was bound to be in the line of fire from his own trench, and could only escape death or wounding by a miracle. He crept out into "No Man's Land," wormed his way through the German wire entanglements, and reached the emplacement of the gun. Climbing on to the top of the parapet, he hurled a bomb on to the roof of the emplacement. When the roar of the explosion subsided, he heard the noise of men running away. About a quarter of an hour later he heard the enemy returning. At once he climbed up on the other side of the emplacement, and with his left hand threw another bomb. Then he lay flat, while the Germans fired round after round on the wire entanglement behind him. For more than an hour he lay unseen and unheard. If the sergeant had opened fire as Mariner had wished, nothing could have saved him. Fortunately his own people did not pull a trigger, and he was able to crawl back to his trench unharmed. He had been out all alone for an hour and a half.

Lance-Corporal Leonard James Keyworth, 24th Battalion, London Regiment (T.F.).

At Givenchy, on the night of May 25-26, 1915, the 24th Battalion made a successful assault on the German trenches, and strove to follow up their success by a bomb attack, during which fifty-five men out of the seventy-five who took part in it were either killed or wounded. During this very fierce encounter Lance-Corporal Keyworth, a Lincoln man, stood fully exposed for two hours on the top of an enemy's parapet, and threw about one hundred and fifty bombs amongst the Germans, who were only a few yards away. In a letter to his sister Lance-Corporal Keyworth thus describes the incident: "I was with the bombing party, and was the only one to come through without a scratch. I went along a ridge on my stomach, and threw bombs into the German trench, my distance being about fifteen yards. Men were shot down by my side. Still I continued, and came out safe. I was at once recommended for a decoration. It is supposed to be for bravery, but I cannot understand where it came in. I only did my duty; but how I came out God only knows." Unhappily this gallant lad, who was only twenty-two when he won the Victoria Cross, died of wounds six months later.

Lance-Corporal William Angus, 8th (Lanark) Battalion, Highland Light Infantry (T.F.).

On the night of 11th June Lieutenant Martin of the Highland Light Infantry went out with a bombing party to wreck a German sap. Suddenly a mine was exploded by the enemy, and the lieutenant fell stunned and bleeding at the foot of the enemy's parapet, only a few feet away from the foe. He was half buried, but after a night of horror managed to extricate himself from the heap of earth that covered him. As he struggled to get free, his own men saw him through their periscopes and made signs to him. He called aloud to them for water, and the Germans hearing him, flung a bomb at him. Happily it was unlighted. Our men now determined that their fallen officer should not be murdered. The best shots lined the parapet, and neither side dared lift a head. At last a German sniper shot the wounded officer in the side, and he feigned death so well that his men began to prepare a cross for his grave. About three o'clock, however, he was seen to move, and a Canadian officer proposed that, under a hot covering fire, a man should rush out with a lasso and haul him in.

Lieutenant Martin belonged to Carluke, a village in the Clyde valley; and there was another Carluke man watching him--Corporal Angus, who had just returned to the front fresh from an hospital bed in Rouen, where his leg, badly smashed at Festubert, had healed. He now went up to his officer and said, "Let me go, sir." He was assured that he would be going to certain death; but he replied, "Well, sir, _sooner or later, what does it matter_?" So saying, he crawled out, and wormed his way along the torn and heaped ground, amidst fragments of burst shells, broken wire, and the stark, still bodies of the slain, and in half an hour reached the officer, and put a flask of brandy to his lips. The two men lay side by side for a space, gathering strength for the return journey.

Suddenly the Germans lobbed a bomb over the parapet, and a cloud of smoke and dust arose, under cover of which Angus, half carrying, half dragging the wounded man, was seen staggering forward. When the smoke drifted away the German rifles cracked viciously, and more than a dozen bombs were hurled at him. Angus was literally riddled with wounds. "I could see the bombs coming," he said later. "I actually watched the one that cost me my left eye. I thought both were blown out in that awful, burning flash, so fearful was the pain in my face." The sight of the two wounded men being mercilessly pelted by the enemy aroused the fiercest indignation in the British trench, and only with the greatest difficulty were the men restrained from dashing out against the cowardly foe. A hurricane fire broke out on both sides, and in the midst of it the two men rolled into the Scottish trench.

When the heroic collier lad was sufficiently recovered to present himself at Buckingham Palace, and the King pinned the coveted cross on his breast, his Majesty murmured, "Forty wounds!" "Yes, your Majesty," responded Angus; "but _only fifteen of them serious_!" The gallant fellow's father was called into the presence of the King, who said, "Your son has won his decoration nobly. It is almost a miracle he is spared to you, and I sincerely hope he may fully recover and live long to enjoy it. May you, too, be long spared to feel pride in him and his achievement."

On a Saturday afternoon, a few days later, the village of Carluke, crowded with dwellers from all parts of the Clyde valley, made holiday, and prepared to welcome the hero who had dared death a hundred times to save the life of a friend. Flags waved, bands played, troops presented arms, and amidst loud cheering Angus limped through the streets with the man whom he had saved supporting him on the one side, and Lord Newlands on the other. Thus did he receive the deep gratitude and the handsome gifts of his neighbours and friends, and return home to his moorland cottage to nurse his "honourable" wounds. He was the first Scottish Territorial to win the Victoria Cross.

Lieutenant Frederick William Campbell, 1st Canadian Battalion.

I have already mentioned the heroism of Lieutenant Campbell and Private Vincent during the Canadian attack on the German trenches near Stony Mountain. When war broke out, Lieutenant Campbell was farming at Mount Forest, Ontario; but he was so eager to "do his bit" that he sold one of his farms, his horses, and his stock, and forthwith joined the army. He very soon made his mark as a gallant soldier, and became very popular with his men. At the Battle of Ypres he went fearlessly to and fro, smiling and urging on his comrades, with death nudging his elbow. "How is it, Mr. Campbell, this morning?" asked one of his men; and his cheery reply was, "Oh, fine--we are going to have a scrap to-day." You will remember that at Givenchy, on 15th June, he took two machine guns over the parapet, and arrived at the German first line with one gun, which he hoisted on the back of Private Vincent, and continued to fire in spite of the hail of bullets and bombs which fell around him. When the supply of bombs ran out, Lieutenant Campbell advanced still further with his gun, and in an exposed position fired about one thousand rounds and held back the enemy's counter-attack. Later on he was wounded, and died in hospital at Boulogne. The Victoria Cross, which was awarded after his death, became the proud and cherished possession of his bereaved wife and three young children.

Second Lieutenant Sydney Clayton Woodroffe, 8th Battalion, Rifle Brigade.

You will remember that during the fighting at Hooge, when our men were fiercely attacked by big guns, liquid fire, and bombs, Second Lieutenant Woodroffe held a trench in the Zouave Wood. He was one of three brothers, all of them Marlborough boys, and head prefects of the famous school in their day. Sydney was still in his teens when he was called upon to resist torrents of shell, sprays of blazing petrol, and showers of bursting bombs. Despite the awful storm of fire and flame, he gave the enemy bomb for bomb; and when his supply was exhausted, withdrew his men, rallied them anew, and at their head pushed forward once more. The gallant lad was killed in the act of cutting his way through the barbed-wire jungle of the enemy. One of his brothers had already made the supreme sacrifice at Neuve Chapelle.

Second Lieutenant Arthur Boyd Rochfort, Special Reserve, 1st Battalion, Scots Guards.

On August 3, 1915, Lieutenant Rochfort was standing with a small working party in a communication trench just south of Cuinchy, when an enemy mortar threw a bomb which landed on the inside of his parapet. He might easily have stepped back round a traverse and avoided the danger; but, shouting to his men to look out, he sprang upon the bomb, picked it up, and hurled it over the parapet, where it at once exploded. There is no doubt that his splendid presence of mind saved the lives of many of his men.

[Footnote 61: See chap. xxxi.]

[Footnote 62: South Tirol, on the north-east frontier land of Italy; part of Austria, but inhabited chiefly by Italian-speaking people, and therefore claimed by Italy, which also claims the coast-lands round the head of the Adriatic Sea.]

[Footnote 63: River rising at the junction of the Julian and Carnic Alps and flowing southwards in a winding course to the Gulf of Trieste. Its length is about seventy-five miles, of which but little is navigable.]

[Footnote 64: Austrian territory along the eastern side of the Adriatic Sea.]

[Footnote 65: Louis Botha, born 1863, commanded Boer forces during the South African War; became first prime minister of the Union of South Africa (1910); and in 1914 was appointed commander-in-chief of the Union defence forces.]

[Footnote 66: For an account of German South-West Africa, see Vol. III., p. 177.]

[Footnote 67: Shakespeare's _Julius Cæsar_, Act IV., Sc. iii.]

[Footnote 68: As the safety pins were not withdrawn, they did not explode.]