CHAPTER XVII

LAST DAYS IN THE YPRES SALIENT

As a sequel to overnight rumours, all officers were taken the next day to study a ground plan of the country from Passchendaele to Westhoek Ridge--an excellent model of what had now become the most famous battlefield on the western front. The parts which specially interested the Civil Service Rifles were the wood known as Nonne Boschen and Glencorse Wood. In the afternoon the N.C.O.’s were taken to see the model, and it was explained to them that they were soon to attack the positions in the two woods mentioned. These had been captured more than once during the past week or two, but in each case the captors had been pushed back by a German counter-attack.

The next step followed at a very early hour the morning after, when a party of officers boarded a bus outside camp, and long before daylight were deposited outside the Asylum at Ypres. Crossing the now world-famous city, they passed out at the Menin Gate and down the dreaded Menin Road to Hooge, whence they made a general reconnaissance of the country from Bellewarde Ridge over Westhoek Ridge. The situation in the front line seemed a trifle obscure, and those holding it did not altogether cheer their visitors up when discussing the proposed attack. It certainly surprised the said visitors to learn that one group of old gun pits, where they were supposed to assemble for their attack, was being held by the Bosches. This news, however, did not have any serious effect on the scheme, and the following day a party of N.C.O.’s accompanied the Adjutant on a similar reconnaissance. Rain poured in torrents from start to finish, and it is feared that the party, absolutely wet through to the skin, did not display very great enthusiasm for their work that day.

There followed a lecture by the Commanding Officer in the Vancouver Theatre on the coming attack. The Army School lecturer of these days still laboured under the delusion that the assaulting infantry in an attack arrived at the objective in waves, in spite of ditches, water jumps, barbed wire or other obstacles. To hear him talk of the attack it all seemed so easy, that one could only wonder why it had not been done before--preferably by the staff of an Army School.

Colonel Parish, who had been an instructor at the Senior Officers’ School at Aldershot earlier in the year, contrived to instil his optimism into the troops, who entered on the flagged course rehearsals the next day with considerable enthusiasm. Even the two men of “C” Company who were detailed to wade through a marsh, said to exist in No Man’s Land, were heard to joke about their “chances.”

Consequently the troops, although not generally bellicose, were almost eager for the fray, as there was a distinct feeling among them that something big should be done to justify the recent holiday. Thus it came about that members of the Battalion were heard to say that they were looking forward to the battle. This attitude was certainly a novelty, for although there was never a lack of volunteers for any enterprise, however dangerous, nor was there ever any disposition to “swing it” before a battle, it had for a long time been the practice to look askance at any man who claimed to be keen on a fight. The recognised attitude in public circles, both on the part of officers and other ranks, was that of a pacifist. “Live and let live” was claimed as their motto by some of the most zealous soldiers, simply because they hated the idea of being dubbed “fire-eaters,” and often a most gallant fighter would be one who asserted loudly that he was always very “windy,” to use popular parlance, or that there was nothing he dreaded more than going over the top. However, on the occasion referred to, officers and men were more honest, and most, if not all, readily asserted their keenness for the difficult and somewhat complicated form of attack which they were soon to undertake in the neighbourhood of Westhoek Ridge.

The rehearsals over the marked-out course went on from day to day, sometimes in the presence of the Divisional Commander, Major-General Gorringe, and nearly always in the presence of the Brigade Commander, Brigadier-General Kennedy, with various members of the gilded staff in the offing. Still, the Civil Service Rifles, equipped with two Lieutenant-Colonels, and fired with enthusiasm, disarmed criticism, and the Generals regarded Glencorse Wood and the curiously-named Nonne Boschen (Nuns’ Wood) as practically captured. They had, however, reckoned without the weather.

The big offensive which took place in the Ypres Salient from July to September, 1917, is remembered more by the atrocious weather which accompanied it throughout--and finally ruined it--than by any other feature. Hopes had run high, as details of the ambitious scheme leaked out, that this great push was going to hasten very considerably the end of the war. The Bosche evidently feared that such might be the result, to judge from the stubborn resistance he put up, and the number of big guns he brought to bear on the district, and it was the eternal shelling during these three months, combined with what was probably a record in bad weather even for France, which caused men ever after to speak with bated breath of “Passchendaele.”

To have been through Passchendaele was regarded as having endured the most severe trial of the war, but “Passchendaele” when referred to in this connection, included not only the little village of that name and the ridge adjoining it, but the whole of the devastated area in the Ypres Salient where the fighting was so keen during the last wretched months of the so-called summer of 1917. Passchendaele, therefore, can be stretched to include Glencorse and Polygon Woods and the Westhoek Ridge, for here the full fury of this terrible battle against the combined forces of the Bosche and the weather was felt, and as far as the Civil Service Rifles were concerned, they were knocked out by the weather before they reached the “starting gate.”

Throughout the last few days of August the rain fell almost continuously. The marsh referred to, through which two men had to wade, had now become a pond, and the rest of the country on Westhoek Ridge had become a sea of mud. The attack, after being postponed from day to day, was finally abandoned on the 31st of August, when the advance party, under the Adjutant, was actually on parade ready to start for the trenches. A limber containing medical stores, signalling equipment, etc., had already been despatched for the Menin Road, where it was to await the advance party. The advance party was dismissed, the limber brought back, and later in the evening it became known that the attack was definitely abandoned so far as the 47th Division was concerned.

The news created something akin to consternation in the Battalion, where the men felt the keenest disappointment at the loss of such an opportunity to prove their worth, but none felt it more keenly than Colonel Parish. It transpired that he had not recovered from his head wound received on the Somme in 1916,[14] and he was therefore to return to England, but he had succeeded in persuading the authorities to allow him to see this battle through before going away. It thus came as a very bitter blow to him, who had devoted so much energy and zeal to improving the fighting spirit, that he should have to leave without ever having commanded his Battalion in the front line.

[14] This wound contributed to his untimely death on 9th Oct., 1921. He is buried at Hawarden.

His grief was shared by all ranks in the Battalion, for although he had only been in command for six weeks, he had worked a wonderful change, and had inspired every one by his enthusiasm for the Civil Service Rifles.

There was not an officer, N.C.O. or man who had served under him who did not feel how very much the Regiment owed to Colonel Parish. It had been a real pleasure to serve under him in any capacity, and there was a genuine and universal regret felt at his departure. The benefit of his six weeks’ command was felt in the Battalion throughout the rest of the war.

Colonel Parish said good-bye on parade on the 23rd of September, when he told the men how sorry he was to go, but assured them all that it was only for a little while, for he would be back as soon as the powers that be would allow him. He felt sure that when that time came, Colonel Segrave, to whom he was handing over his command, would be able to tell him that this was still the finest Battalion in the Division.

This, then, was the explanation of the “quiet, unobtrusive Colonel in the Scotch cap” who had been living with the Civil Service Rifles for the past fortnight. He had a difficult task before him, coming as he did, after one who had become such a hot favourite with all under his command. Colonel Segrave did not start off with the “new broom” tactics, for there was very little that he wished to alter, and it was his desire to continue on the lines of his predecessor. He told the Battalion, when he took his first parade on the 4th of September, how proud he was to be given command of the Civil Service Rifles, but it is safe to say that not even he guessed how great was to be his love for this Regiment before the end of his régime.

Very soon afterwards the Battalion relieved the 2nd South Lancashire Battalion in support trenches round about Hooge and Château Wood on the Menin Road, and here were spent the last seven days of the eleven months’ sojourn in the Ypres Salient. The experience of these seven days was a fitting conclusion to all that had been endured in the past year, for they were days during which the Salient lived up to its worst reputation.

The relief of the 2nd South Lancashires was carried out in daylight on the 9th of September, and the Bosches welcomed the change by indulging in a general bombardment of the area, which caused a few casualties in “A” Company before they reached their new positions.

The Battalion was disposed round about the site of the village of Hooge. There were no trenches, although there were several marked on the map, and the sole accommodation was found in old concrete shelters which until recently had housed the Germans. “A” Company, however, occupied part of the Menin tunnel, which had once been a triumph of German field engineering. This ran underneath the Menin Road, and inside had been a trench tramway, along which the enemy stores and rations had been brought up. The main signal lines also ran along, and it was noticed that these had been neatly pinned into the walls of the tunnel--in contrast to the English method of laying lines criss-cross along open trenches in such a manner as to catch the occupants across the throat. This method of fixing lines, so common throughout the British area, caused more bad language on a dark night than any other provocation in France.

The Menin tunnel may have been a safe refuge in the early days of its existence, but now it was in a deplorable condition. Daylight was admitted at very frequent intervals by the huge gaping holes caused by the heavy artillery of both sides, but in spite of these the atmosphere inside was almost overpowering, and the protection from shell fire was purely imaginary.

Gas shells were scattered freely over the area both day and night, and the casualties increased each day. During the bombardment of the night of the 11th of September, Lance-Corporal Foote, of the Headquarters Pioneers, distinguished himself by carrying a wounded man from the ruins in Château Wood occupied by Battalion Headquarters right down the Menin Road to the dressing station at the famous Birr cross roads.

The discomforts increased each day, and the bombardments of the main track to the front line--the Kanwan track, which had formerly taken place at regular times each day, now became more frequent and irregular. The whole Battalion made the perilous journey along this track nearly every day, for huge carrying parties had to be provided to carry R. E. material and ammunition up to Clapham Junction--the Headquarters of the front line Battalion. There were many signs of the recent advance to be seen on the way to Clapham Junction, the most noticeable being a mass of ruined tanks which looked as though they had all been put out of action in trying to mount the embankment along a part of the Menin Road.

On the 15th of September began a series of practice barrages, and the long-suffering infantry now had to endure the retaliation in addition to other bombardments. Following one of the practice barrages the 7th Battalion, holding the front line, sent forward a party and captured a strong point. “C” Company, under Captain L. L. Burtt, went up at night to work for them, and their journey along Kanwan Track ranks as one of the worst experiences of the Company during the war. Misfortune befell the party from the start, and the intense shelling combined with the pitch-black darkness of the night caused the journey to Clapham Junction to degenerate into a scramble. This was practically the closing incident in the eleven months spent in the Ypres Salient, for on the following afternoon the 2nd Australian Infantry Battalion arrived, and the Civil Service Rifles made their way down the Menin Road, strewn with all the débris of war, with here and there a dead horse, and so to Château Segard, where one night was spent before marching to the village of Steenvoorde and saying good-bye for ever to the hated Ypres Salient.

The departure from the Salient was not without its thrills for the Lewis Gunners, who had been left with their guns on the Menin Road near Hooge awaiting the limbers. These had to pass a corner on the Ypres side of Birr Cross Roads known as Hell Fire Corner, and it so happened on this evening that the spot was justifying its name, for it had been shelled so heavily that the dump of R.E. material and ammunition by the roadside was all ablaze--thus completely shutting off the Transport. This state of affairs lasted for some hours, but Sergeant Sladden solved the difficulty by taking his limbers round by a devious route through Zillebeke, and eventually got the limbers away without loss.

The Transport Section had had many exciting trips along the Menin Road, and they were proud of the fact that they were able to leave the Ypres Salient without having lost a horse in that area.