CHAPTER VII

VIMY RIDGE, 1916

On a gloriously sunny afternoon in May, a man was dozing outside his hut in the pretty little woods at the village of Camblain L’Abbé, where the Civil Service Rifles were billeted in Brigade Reserve. The Brigade had just taken over the Berthonval sector of trenches on Vimy Ridge, and the Civil Service Rifles were to spend a week in what appeared to be the most delightful village they had visited in Northern France.

It was one of those days when it feels good to be alive. The birds sang sweetly in the trees, and the delightful natural fragrance of spring was everywhere.

The afore-mentioned man, like many of his friends, had partaken of a comfortable dinner, washed down with what was known as Royal Shandy--a mixture of stout and sweet champagne, and as he settled down to a comfortable afternoon nap he reflected that, after all, war was not too bad. Some of the more energetic of his friends had gone for a walk to the neighbouring village of Aubigny, others were busy writing letters, but he preferred to have a lazy afternoon of pleasant reflection. There would be many more opportunities for excursions to Aubigny, as the Battalion had a whole week before it in these delightful surroundings. Perhaps in the evening he would visit the local cinema, as he had not been to see “the Pictures” for some time. However, that could wait too if he did not feel energetic. How he wished the Division could stay in this sector for the rest of the war! There had not been much front line work lately--a Battalion only seemed to get one week in four in the front line, and when there it was not too bad--a few mines to make a little excitement, but then these were very regular, as they always went up at sunrise and sunset in this district, so you knew when to expect them. Yes, he thought, as he dozed off to sleep, “It’s a bon war here.” He had just fallen asleep when he was roughly shaken and told that the Battalion was to “fall in” at once.

“I think they might have left us alone on a Sunday,” he groused as he quickly got his equipment together. “Who is it this time, I wonder? The Bishop of London or Horatio Bottomley? And why have we to march to Villers au Bois to see him? If he wants to preach to us why can’t he come here? However, perhaps it’s one of these infernal training gags. Major General wants to see how long it takes to move his reserves about on a summer Sunday evening. Wonder if we shall get back before the estaminets close?”

Similar thoughts were expressed by other members of the Battalion, for the only order was “Battalion will parade at once and march to Villers au Bois. Dress, full marching order.”

Although the order came round in the middle of tea, the Battalion was on the road in an astonishingly short space of time, and after a hot and dusty march a halt was called in a field near the battered old church of Villers au Bois. Here many of the men took the opportunity to strip to the waist and rub themselves down with towels. Speculation was still rife as to what it all meant, but the general opinion was that it was a training stunt, which was regarded as the very worst taste on the part of those in authority. Rumours of “dirty work afoot,” however, began to spread through the ranks, and soon the order came to occupy what was known as the Maistre Line--a line of trenches that had been planned as a third line of defence in this sector.

Once outside the village a wonderful sight met the eye. About two or three miles away, hanging over the area of the front line trenches on Vimy Ridge, was a dense cloud of bursting shells, and to make the scene more weird, not a sound could be heard, either of guns or of the explosion of the shells, although it was a beautiful still evening. The bombardment, although confined to an area of little more than a square mile, was by far the most intense yet witnessed by the Civil Service Rifles.

The Battalion was no sooner in position in the Maistre Line--a trench about two feet deep, than orders were received to move forward by Companies.

“B” Company led off, followed by “C” Company, two Lewis guns, two sections of bombers, Battalion H.Q. and “D” Company, and the remaining Lewis guns brought up the rear. “A” Company remained behind to bring up rations and water.

The advance was along a very shallow and narrow communication trench, and the scene of slaughter was approached through a barrage of tear gas. Owing to the movement of other bodies of troops progress was very slow, with the result that the Battalion endured some hours of tear gas, but the line moved slowly but surely towards the Cabaret Rouge on the Bethune-Arras Road, the site of a ruined estaminet where the Brigade Headquarters was now situated, just on the western side of the Zouave Valley.

In the words of the Regimental Diary:--

“The enemy was indulging in the most intense bombardment we had witnessed. He must have employed guns of every possible calibre. The air was just one solid mass of bursting shells.”

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“We had little or no information as to what was happening, and as darkness had now gathered and we were in entirely strange trenches, there did not seem much chance of finding out.”

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The leading Company (“B”), under Captain H. B. Farquhar, reached Brigade Headquarters at Cabaret Rouge at 10.15 p.m., and was ordered to report to the Commanding Officer of the Battalion holding the left of the 140th Brigade Front. After being loaded up with bombs and an extra 100 rounds of ammunition per man, they staggered forth through the barrage of the Zouave Valley, where the bombardment raged with its most intense fury, and arrived almost exhausted at the Battalion Headquarters of the left sub-sector of what was known as the Berthonval Sector shortly after 1.0 a.m., on May 22nd. The awful barrage of the valley had been negotiated almost without loss.

The Company Commander was told on arrival at Battalion Headquarters that the line of resistance and support line had been lost, and that his Company would deliver a counter attack at 2.0 a.m. It was then 1.30 a.m., and there was therefore no time to make any reconnaissance, nor was it possible to get any information at all as to the precise situation. Captain Farquhar was told that on his right the 6th and 7th Battalions would co-operate, on his left a company of the London Irish, and with him would be a party of bombers and details of the Post Office Rifles, but where any of these troops were to be found was not vouchsafed to him. He was told that one of his flanks would rest on Ersatz Trench, but as he had never heard of Ersatz Trench, nor was anyone there to show him where it was, he might just as well have been told to rest his flanks on the Unter den Linden. He was unable to find out whether there were any British troops between him and the Bosche, or how much of the line he was supposed to capture.

However, with these scant particulars, and with the information that the objective was about 600 yards up the side of the Ridge, Captain Farquhar was ordered to start his counter attack at 2.0 a.m.

He called his Platoon Sergeants and his only other officer (Lieutenant B. Scott) together, and acquainted them with the scheme, and arranged his men in two waves, 6 and 8 Platoons under Lieutenant Scott in the first wave, and 5 and 7 Platoons in the second wave.

Reports differ considerably as to what exactly happened afterwards, for it must be remembered that the operations were carried out in total darkness, save for the fitful glare of the German rockets and Verey lights, and as it is difficult to get a reliable description of any battle, even in daylight, it is even more difficult to describe this scramble in the dark, in country which was strange to the attacking forces, few, if any, of whom knew where to look for friends or foes. But there is no doubt that the attack was launched at 2.0 a.m., and that “B” Company advanced in two waves up the slopes of Vimy Ridge, with no artillery, machine guns or Lewis guns supporting them, and that very soon they came under such a murderous and intense fire from enemy artillery, trench mortars, machine guns and rifles, that very few survived unwounded. As far as can be gathered from survivors, it appears that after taking the British front line at 9.0 p.m., the enemy at once put out a barbed wire obstacle, and the survivors of “B” Company claim that a number of their men actually reached the wire, where, of course, they were helpless.

The vast majority of “B” Company having been killed or wounded, the foremest of the unwounded survivors, finding they were now in a hopeless position, appear to have decided to take cover in shell holes and await developments. Here they remained throughout the whole of the following day in scorching sunshine, looking for the best way of escape, and at nightfall they were able to make their way back.

So much, and no more, is known of the fate of “B” Company, but “C” and “D” Companies, who had followed them through the valley, were more fortunate, for the former, under Captain G. A. Gaze, arriving at the Battalion Headquarters at 1.50 a.m., were ordered to support the 18th Battalion (London Irish) at once. As he was unable to get in touch with the London Irish, Captain Gaze, assisted by a Company of the Post Office Rifles, formed a defensive flank in Granby Street, where “C” Company, dog tired as they were, set to work at once to make a decent position, and at the same time scoured the country around in search of the wounded, many of whom were rescued. It was in this work of rescue that C.S.M. R. H. Harris (Bulldog Harris) excelled himself. He went far afield in his search for his bosom friend, “Kaffir” Howett, who, as C.S.M. of “B” Company had gone down in the van of the attacking party. Harris was unable to find his friend who was so dear to him, but he succeeded in bringing in several others of the wounded, and carried on his work of rescue untiringly until daylight. It should be remembered that the whole of this rescue work was done under incessant machine gun and artillery fire.

Another who accomplished great deeds on this occasion was Sergeant T. P. Chick, of “C” Company. It was daybreak when his attention was caught by a wounded man of the Post Office Rifles, who was lying out in front of the trench. He at once announced his intention of going out to assist him, if possible, and although it was now fully light, he persisted in going out once more, and safely reached the wounded man.

Sergeant Chick was crawling back, and was not more than ten yards from the parapet, when he was shot just over the heart, and died about ten minutes afterwards.

He died for another, and his end was typical of his life of noble self-sacrifice in the interests of others.

It became a habit at one time among some troops in the Division to estimate the amount of work done by a unit by the number of casualties suffered, but although a heavy casualty list certainly indicates a “bloody” time, it does not follow that a unit which suffers few or no losses has done nothing.

Of the three Companies involved in the fighting at Vimy (for “A” Company took no part in the operations beyond carrying rations), “C” and “D” Companies appear to have got off comparatively lightly so far as casualties are concerned, though it was due to the efforts of these two Companies that a new front line was established so soon.

Under Captain A. Roberts, “D” Company was the last to cross the Zouave Valley, and on arriving at Battalion Headquarters the Company was ordered to support “B” Company. Captain Roberts had least time of all in which to find out anything about the situation, but he led his men up the slope and they eventually occupied the old Reserve Line of the Battalion originally holding the sub-sector. This line they now converted into the British front line, and “D” Company, with a few remnants of the Post Office Rifles, held it from Granby Street to Ersatz Trench--the intended flanks of “B” Company’s counter attack.

Prominent among the “D” Company men who helped in the rescue of the “B” Company wounded was Corporal R. J. B. Beazley, described by his C.S.M. as one of the best little fellows in the Regiment. He made at least half a dozen journeys “out in front” always returning with a wounded man.

A feature of the operations so far had been the entire silence of the British Artillery--it was afterwards said that the enemy attack took place in the middle of an artillery relief. But no sooner had “D” Company dug a decent front line trench than the British Artillery began to knock it about, and Captain Roberts had to complain of shorts several times during the day.

The situation became quiet soon after daybreak and “C” and “D” Companies were able to carry on with their work in peace for a few hours, but during the day the enemy from time to time put down an intense barrage, lasting generally for about half an hour, when the whole valley was filled with smoke, debris and sheets of flame. Happily, there were few further casualties on this account, and although the dose was repeated late at night when the Battalion was relieved by the 24th London Regiment, there was little further loss and the Zouave Valley was left as it had been found--in a mass of smoke and bursting shells.

The battle of Vimy Ridge, although not much more than a minor operation--it is believed to have been the sequel to the blowing of the six British mines in the vicinity on the night of the 15th of May--has been described at some length because it was the most important event so far in the life of the Civil Service Rifles in France. Hitherto the Battalion had succeeded in preserving more or less its original identity, but here, in the short space of twenty-four hours, practically all that was left of the original “B” Company had been swept away. It is perhaps because of the sudden nature of the operation that the losses came as such a shock to the surviving members of the Battalion.

Captain H. B. Farquhar had long been the idol of “B” Company, and a great favourite in other Companies in the Battalion. He had done what he could to save his men from the awful disaster, but as a soldier he had to obey orders, and, having called his platoon sergeants together and told them all he knew he bravely bade them good-bye, and, like the rest of his Company, went to his doom without flinching.

Captain Farquhar has often been described as the finest Company Commander the Battalion ever possessed.

He was keen, energetic and unselfish, a real pattern to his officers, N.C.O.’s and men. A survivor of the “B” Company of Captain Farquhar’s day has written an admirable character sketch of “the skipper” and his henchman, Lieutenant Bobby Scott, who perished with the first wave at Vimy.

“CAPTAIN FARQUHAR.--The skipper was a strong man. For all his wit, sometimes sardonic, but always merry, he could be a man of beaten steel on occasion.

“‘Old’ ‘B’ Company knew him well at Watford, but ‘old’ ‘C’ Company really made his acquaintance in France.

“In the line he ignored danger in a matter-of-fact way that inspired us as much as the theatrical bravado of a shallower man would have unsettled us. In those never-ending front line spells just before the ‘first Lillers’ he heartened us through many a weary night as no other man I know could have done. To me, as a hardened and persistent night sentry, he seemed to be an almost permanent feature of the landscape of ‘No man’s land,’ strolling serenely up and down as if taking a leisurely constitutional. He was always on the spot when anything happened, and I think we got his habit of never shirking any objectionable job which could possibly be considered ‘up to us’ to do.

“LIEUTENANT SCOTT.--‘An officer and a gentleman’ is probably the most overworked if not the most misapplied phrase in the military dictionary. It is too often thoughtlessly bestowed on any nice-mannered, band-box officer. But it fitted Mr. Scott. He was a real soldier and he was an instinctive gentleman.”

Captain Farquhar had been ably supported by his C.S.M., F. Howett, known for many years throughout the Battalion as Kaffir Howett.

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The Kaffir had made a name for himself long before the war broke out, for he was for a long time associated with “Bulldog” Harris as the life and soul of the Regimental School of Arms. These two inseparables were also prominent members of the Civil Service Rugby Football Club.

As a soldier, Kaffir Howett had many of the sterling qualities of his Company Commander. He was a stern disciplinarian and was fearless in the line, but while, he too, had a subtle sense of humour, he was more of the “strong silent man” than of the “merry and bright.”

The only consoling reflection about the loss of these more than gallant fellows is that they could not have died in better company, but what magnificent deeds would have been done later in the year by such fellows as Farquhar, Scott, Howett and Chick, and to them must be added Sergeant A. J. Andrews (Long Andrews or Driver Andrews to his intimates) another old pillar of “B” Company, who before the war had made a name on the football field, and Corporal S. Crocombe, a staunch N.C.O. of “B” Company, who, although rescued on the night of the battle, succumbed to his wounds five days later.

Besides the killed, a number of the stalwarts of the Battalion were wounded. In “B” Company alone, these included Sergeants A. W. Hodgson, who had already been wounded once, and F. Tyler (known as Wat Tyler), and Corporals H. W. Rowland and F. Plaster, four N. C. O.’s who had been prominent members of the Company for many years, whilst “D” Company had to deplore the loss of Sergeant G. Wright, who in addition to his fine military record, performed great deeds on the cricket field.

The Lewis Gunners also had their losses, the outstanding one being Lance-Corporal “Cocky” Oliver (wounded) whose ready wit on all occasions was such a valuable asset to the Lewis Gun Section.