Stand To! No 88, the journal of the Western Front Association, is now being distributed to current subscribed members of the WFA.
Stand To! is published three times a year in Dec/Jan, April/May and Aug/Sept.
The Editor is always prepared to consider original articles for publication.
Below you will find the contents list and an example article from the current edition.
Contents of Edition 88:
1. Communication lines
2. ‘The Devonshires Held This Trench - The Devonshires Hold It Still' - Part 1 by Jeremy Archer (featured article below)
3. Behind the Lines - The Story of the Iron 12 - Part 2 by Hedley Malloch (Part 1 was the featured article on the website for Stand To! No 87)
4. The Fricourt-Tambour Duclos Sector on the Somme: Its Organisation and Defence by David Stowe
5. War Art -Charles Johnson Payne ‘Snaffles' (1884-1967) by David and Judith Cohen
6. The Camera Returns (70) by Bob Grundy and Steve Wall
7. British and German Trench Slang 1914-1918: A Preliminary Formal and Semantic Comparison by Henry Daniels
8. The BEF in the Great War - Part 1 -1914 by Bob Butcher
9. Remembering the Great War at Bath Abbey by Ray Westlake
10. A Very Special English Teacher: Wilfred Owen and the Lost Boys of Tynecastle High School by Neil McLennan
11. 8th Battalion Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders on the Western Front 1915-1918 by John Johnston
12. The 38th (Welsh) Division in the Great War by Matthew Powell
13. Garrison Library
Front Cover:
The cover image shows Captain George Hewitt (top) and Lieutenant Harry Colver of the 1/5 Battalion York and Lancaster Regiment, 49th Division, peeping out from a dugout on the Yser Canal line near Boesinghe at the northern extremity of the Ypres Salient. Hewitt captioned the image himself, "My dugout, Yser Canal, last week in July 1915".
Neither man would survive the War. Colver was gassed in the first phosgene attack by the Germans on 19 December 1916. Hewitt was seriously wounded in the Salient, but returned to France and was killed in action at Cambrai with the 2/5 York and Lancs in 1917.
Article Extract:
‘The Devonshires Held This Trench - The Devonshires Hold It Still' - Part 1
by Jeremy Archer
Sign at the entrance to Devonshire Cemetery
It would be very easy to miss Devonshire Cemetery near Mametz on the Somme completely, were it not for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission sign. Turn off the main road, drive up a steepish track with an open field on your left and a dense copse on your right, and a flight of steps curving into the wood catches your eye. It is a lonely spot and yet is still much visited - as the tiny Royal British Legion crosses testify.
Why is it such a deeply moving place? The Portland stone memorial, which replaced an earlier wooden cross, is both a proud and a sad statement. It was unveiled by His Royal Highness The Duke of Kent, not only Colonel-in-Chief of The Devonshire and Dorset Regiment, but also the President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, on 1 July 1986, the seventieth anniversary of the opening day of the Battle of the Somme. That battle, fought primarily by Kitchener's New Army, was one of the most futile and costly actions ever fought by the British Army. On the first day alone, the British suffered 57,470 casualties: 21,392 killed, died of wounds or missing, 35,493 wounded and 585 prisoners-of-war. Although Devonshire Cemetery contains the bodies of only a small proportion of those dreadful losses, it is most unusual to find a cemetery in which over 98% of the interments are from a single Regiment albeit, in this case, two battalions: 8th and 9th (Service) Battalions, The Devonshire Regiment. However, war is - and always must be - far more than simple statistics: Devonshire Cemetery and those who lie there embody the tragedy of that terrible day, and the long struggle that followed.
Detail on the memorial at Devonshire Cemetery
Personal accounts
Both battalions were formed during the first two months of the war - and were then subjected to intensive training in England. On 26 July 1915, 8/Devons disembarked at Le Havre, joining 20 Brigade, 7th Division on 4 August; the first anniversary of the outbreak of war. 9/Devons joined the same Brigade four days later. The two battalions were blooded at the Battle of Loos, which began on 25 September 1915, suffering heavy casualties in the process. In December 1915, 20 Brigade moved to the Somme sector, the northern part of which had been taken over from the French that summer. In February 1916 the German Army launched an all-out attack on the French fortress city of Verdun, and it was largely to relieve the pressure there that General Sir Douglas Haig, Commander-in-Chief of the British Expeditionary Force, conceived the idea of an offensive on the Somme.
Fortunately, the personal accounts of three of those who served with these two battalions have survived, thus permitting a rather fuller picture of events to be pieced together than would normally be possible by simply reading through the battalions' war diaries.
Devonshire Cemetery, with the cross of sacrifice on the left
A company from 8/Devons while training in England: Private Theodore Veale is seated fourth from right in the front row
Ernest Courtenay Crosse was born on 18 March, 1887 and educated at Clifton College and Balliol College, Oxford, before studying for the priesthood at Ely Theological College. He was ordained in 1912 and, from a position as Assistant Chaplain at Marlborough College, where he taught the Army class, he volunteered to serve as a Chaplain to the Forces 4th Class, arriving in France in mid-1915. [1] On the same rate of pay as a second-lieutenant, chaplains were typically engaged for an initial period of one year. When war broke out there were just 117 chaplains serving with the British Army. By the end of the Great War, 3,475 chaplains of all denominations had seen service with British forces in the field: 172 lost their lives, while four were awarded the Victoria Cross.
The Reverend Ernest Courtenay Crosse
Lieutenant Frank Wollocombe
Captain Francis (Frank) Wollocombe, third son of the Reverend John Wollocombe, Vicar of Lamerton, Devon, and his wife Laura (née Blackburn), was born on 20 March, 1892 and educated at Harrow and University College, Oxford. Having joined Oxford University Officer Training Corps on the outbreak of war, he first completed his degree, before being commissioned on 7 December, 1914. Joining 9/Devons at Tournay Barracks, Aldershot on 26 January, 1915, he sailed to France in SS Invicta on 2 October, 1915. He was shot in the shoulder by a German sniper on 25 April, 1916 while leading a wiring party in front of Wellington Redoubt, near Mametz. The wound turned out to be more serious than first thought and he was still recuperating in England on 1 July, 1916.
Albert Victor Conn was born in 1897, the son of Frank Conn, a labourer in the Millwall Docks, who lived on the Isle of Dogs. Frank Conn was originally from Pershore in Worcestershire while his wife, Sue, was formerly the barmaid at The Pride of the Isle. [2] Albert Conn later described how he came to serve with The Devonshire Regiment:
‘I can remember that August of 1914 though, pretty warm as it was, all those straw hats and the band in the park. I can remember the outbreak of war too, all the Union Jacks waving and the blokes lining up at the recruiting offices. Joined up myself I did. I went up to the Depot [of the] Poplar and Stepney Rifles, the old 17th Co. of London mob. I was a bit young for the job though, of course, a lot of the blokes were, but some of them looked older than they were, the trouble with me was I looked younger than my age. I don't know what made me do such a thing. I wasn't brave, nothing like that. It's just that I wanted a bit of excitement. Of course I would have had to go in time, I'd simply jumped the gun as the saying is. Well it wasn't much good because they decided to keep me at the Depot till I got a bit older. This didn't suit me either so I decided to hop it and join another mob, this time a bit further away from home where they would have a job to find me. I went to Woolwich and at the Depot in Francis Street I enlisted in the Devons.'
‘Duck your nut'
Ernest Crosse's first experiences of Army life were especially dispiriting. In his earliest surviving wartime diary - later annotated ‘not to be read until after my death' - he wrote on 10 August, 1915:
‘I asked the C.O. for a chapel. The suggestion seemed to him simply ludicrous. This is a parable. The Army proposes to reorganise religion, but it offers no facilities for it whatsoever. It would be just as reasonable to appoint doctors without hospitals and chaplains without chapels. [3] There is simply no limit to the amount of money that is spent on hospitals. Endless tents that have been unoccupied for three months, operating rooms where no operations are performed, nurses without patients, eight times as many orderlies as patients, but for Christ and his church ‘rien du tout'. This does not represent the wishes of the men. Taken as a whole they probably have more use for the parson than for the doctor. But the organisation of the Army is made to suit the wishes of the officers not the men and the officers as a whole have very little time for religion.'
However, this situation fortunately didn't persist for too long and Ernest Crosse found new purpose in life in early October 1915, as confirmed by an interesting footnote in the Regimental History: ‘It was at this time that the 8th had the good fortune to have the Reverend E. C. Crosse attached to it as Chaplain, he stayed with the battalion or with the Seventh Division throughout the war and did extraordinary good work. His influence over the men was most valuable; he was always up in the front line with the stretcher-bearers, helping the wounded, and the large congregations which attended his voluntary services were a proof of the way in which he was regarded.' His capacity for ‘extraordinary good work' was soon to be put to the test.
In his diary entry for 22 October, 1915, during the disastrous Battle of Loos, Frank Wollocombe provides a vivid description of the hazards of trench warfare: ‘A man in No. 2 Platoon was killed by a sniper this morning. (He had a shot at the sniper and then foolishly bobbed up again to see the effect.)' Winston Churchill later wrote of the 1915 British offensives: ‘Victory was to be bought so dear as to be almost indistinguishable from defeat.' Few - if any - lessons had been learnt when the Battle of the Somme began almost nine months later.
In his memoirs, written some years after the war, 18520 Private Albert Conn described 8/Devons' march into the line on the Somme front:
‘The old drum and fifes beat out the tune of The Farmer's Boy as A Coy., heavily laden with packs and ammunition, made their way through the village [Meaulte] on to the straight road leading to Bécordal and Fricourt. We had spent the Xmas of 1915 at Allée-sur-Somme [Ailly-sur-Somme] and we were now on our way to take over the front line from the Cheshire Regt. [4] It was my first experience of trench warfare. I had joined the 8th Batt, Devon Regt, 20th Brigade, 7th Division after the battle of Loos. It was all new to me, I was excited and full of curiosity. It was a severe winter and snow covered the whole countryside like a white blanket, the bare branches of the trees stood out stark against the grey sky. We passed the old crossroads skirting shell-torn Bécordal on our left. The hanging Virgin from the tower in the church at Albert gleamed fitfully in the weak winter sun far away to our left. We came to a small cemetery at the end of the communication trenches, the small wooden crosses with their artificial wreaths capped with snow. In the distance the sharp rat-tat of a lone machine gun and the dull thud of an exploding shell. It was fairly quiet as we followed in single file up the long winding trench to the front line, here we were allocated fire bays relieving the men of the Cheshires. Strange to think I was here at last, all that separated us from the enemy was a line of rusty barbed wire and about fifty yards of snow-covered no-man's-land. Shedding my pack, I took a good look through a box periscope at the barbed wire and the humps of earth and snow marking the German parapet. We settled down to the routine of trench life, manning the fire step at dawn and dusk, filling sandbags and repairing trenches. We were detailed off for wiring parties at night and patrols into no-man's-land. On our left was a weather-beaten crucifix facing the German parapet, a shallow sap ran out through the barbed wire which we used to get out between the trenches. We called it Crucifix Corner. It was a rare place for snipers, explosive bullets cracked into the sandbags whenever anybody passed. There was a large board with the words ‘Duck Your Nut' roughly painted on it. At times during the day and night the German artillery would shell us with everything they had, all we could do was to hang on while the tremendous explosions showered us with earth and the cries for stretcher bearers rang out right and left. Our artillery would do little in return, they were rationed to a certain number of rounds a day and I regret to say that many of these fell short.'
The Reverend Ernest Crosse (left) with two Devonshire Regiment soldiers in the trenches
‘There's a little bird sings'
The 8/Devons front line ran through Mansell Copse [sic], named after Second-Lieutenant Spencer Lort Mansel Mansel-Carey, 9/Devons. He had been mortally wounded there, as described by Frank Wollocombe in his diary on 25 February, 1916: ‘Mansel-Cary was killed by a rifle grenade today, I am sorry to say. He came out with me, was on the 7th Divisional course with me and we were at Wareham together.' On 23 April 1916 9/Devons' War Diary recorded: ‘All quiet until 9.40 p.m. when a few of the enemy raided a small portion of trench near Mansel Copse. One other rank wounded and one missing'.
The place held no happy memories for Albert Conn:
‘There's a little bird sings on a stunted tree in Mansell Copse at dawn. We used to listen to it. One morning that corporal of ours came round the corner and shot the poor bloody bird off the tree. A couple of the lads told him to fuck off out of it. Strange place this Mansell Copse. We lost a whole ration party one dark night. I reckon a German raiding party must have been waiting for them. It's a bit lonely round that quarter. Always gives me the creeps when I have to go through there. It's good to go back to Meaulte sometimes. Marching back the sun shines on the Virgin and Child and the larks are singing.'
Amidst the desolation of the Somme battlefield, Ernest Crosse also observed beauty and, in particular, admired the resilience of nature:
‘The magpie of Mansell Copse which built its nest between the lines and hatched out its young in spite of the most terrific bombardments which seemed to have hit almost every other tree except that particular one, afforded me an illustration just before battle of an animal who carried on its job despite the danger of it; but I'm not sure in my heart that the good bird felt any fear at all.'
For his part, Albert Conn not only remembered the bombardments - but also made an important observation concerning the coming offensive:
‘We had been holding this sector opposite Mametz all the winter of 1915/16 and it was a severe winter. The men responsible for these orders were very stupid really, they could have saved many lives if we had some sort of shelter during those terrible bombardments. But they were safe enough in their comfortable chateaus and their servants to wait on them. They never came to see how we were getting on. Well of course it was all too dangerous really. I know the Germans had a wonderful system of deep shelters in Mametz, I saw them myself when I passed through on the Somme offensive, they were linked up underground. That's why we lost so many men, they came up when the barrage lifted, complete machine-gun crews and manned the shell holes and wiped out the first waves of our attack.' However, that is anticipating events.
‘nourishment not punishment'
On 25 May 1916 Ernest Crosse wrote to Frank Wollocombe, who was recovering only slowly from his wounds:
‘It was rotten luck, as I know that, like all the best people, there is nothing you wanted less than a ‘blighty' one. [5] Everyone misses you horribly and wishes you back. I have been living with A and B Companies for the last month now and am as happy as a king. Old Ditmas has unfortunately gone sick and Thompson was hit by a machine gun just a week ago - not very badly. Colonel Storey has just become a Brigadier and James now commands in his place. There is a continuous stream of new officers coming in. Best of luck - love from Martin, Morshead, Babs, etc.' [6]
In a telling commentary on officer ‘wastage', the Battalion's War Diary noted on 17 May, 1916: ‘Captain B. C. James to be T/Major and appointed to command 8th Devon Regiment.'
In the meantime Private Conn described the preparations made - and comforts sought - by soldiers about to go into battle:
‘Well they are pulling our Divisional Battle Honours out of the records. We have lectures on the Glorious Seventh, so I reckon we are about to be sacrificed to the God of War. We are now resting in a small village called Allée-sur-Somme near Amiens. I did manage to get into Amiens one evening, although it is out of bounds. I met a Canadian along one of the dirty, narrow streets, he wanted to know where the Red Lamp was. I don't know where it is, he seemed very surprised that I didn't. There was a crowd of snotty-nosed kids following me calling, "You jig-a-jig my sister." I didn't stay there long. I have no money anyway. Whenever we do get paid our five francs it is always spent on eggs and chips. I want nourishment not punishment.'
In a letter Albert Conn remembered that the troops had received a high-level visitor: ‘We had been out in a little village near Amiens, practising for 1 July. We were inspected by a little, grey old man on a great black horse, with a glittering escort of Lancers, pennants flying in the wind.' [7] Such was the impression made upon the soldiery by General Sir Douglas Haig.
In Albert Conn's case, the rigorous training routine led to a potentially vital discovery:
‘We have been doing all sorts of capers. Throwing Mills Bombs and having our bayonets sharpened. I am now a member of our Lewis gun team, number three to be exact. My part of the programme is to cart these bloody great buckets of ammo about and I have a couple slung around my neck. In addition I have a spade, rifle, and all my battle gear. I feel like a mule. I shall certainly dump some of this rubbish when I get into action. In my opinion the only valuable item is my entrenching tool. This I wear back to front covering my balls and stomach. It could deflect a bullet or a piece of shrapnel.'
Although few marks and scars remain, it is evident, looking at the ground today, why the brigade's task was so demanding. The countryside is gently rolling and strikingly similar to Salisbury Plain. The first two or three hundred yards of the advance were downhill, before the ground rose steadily towards the objectives, the villages of Mametz and Fricourt on the other side of the valley.
Before the fateful day, Captain Duncan Martin, 9/Devons, had identified the enfilade position enjoyed by one of the German machine-gun posts. The main axis of the British attack was along the road; however, the valley was criss-crossed by small re-entrants. At the top of one of these re-entrants - known as Shrine Alley to the British - the Germans had placed at least one machine gun. Its approximate location is marked today by the new cross in Mametz Cemetery. This machine gun dominated 20 Brigade's advance through its capacity for pouring fire directly into the right flank of the assaulting troops. ‘It was known that this would be a danger spot, for Captain D. L. Martin, who commanded A Company and was an artist by profession, had made a most wonderful accurate plasticine model to assist in showing his men what lay before them.' [8]
View from the edge of Mansel Copse towards the village of Mametz, with Shrine Alley in the centre and the Halte on the left
On 21 June the Brigade Major of 20 Brigade informed all units in 7th Division:
‘A contoured model in plasticine has been made by Captain Martin, 9th Devonshire Regt. showing the whole area to be attacked by the 20th Infantry Brigade also Fricourt Wood, Fricourt Farm, Railway Alley, Fritz Alley, Bright Alley. The model may be seen at any time on application to 20th Infantry Brigade HQ Grovetown after 9 a.m. on 22nd June. Officers commanding Battalions will arrange for all officers to inspect this model. The officers of a Company should all arrange to see it together.' [9]
On 26 June, 1916, just five days before the Battle of the Somme began, Duncan Martin wrote to Frank Wollocombe, formerly one of his subalterns:
‘We were all so glad to hear that you are getting on well, but your wound must have been a worse one than you led us to think. I need hardly say that your place in the Company and in the Battalion has not yet been filled, nor is likely to be by any of the officers now being sent out from England. I would give anything to have you back again Bush, and so would the men. They are always asking about you and wanting to know when you will return. Of the present Platoon Commanders, none have ever been in the trenches before, with the exception of Webber, who had one tour. That should give you some idea of the changes in the Company. I have no time for more, so will wish you the best of luck and a speedy return to A Company.' [10]
View over the Halte from Shrine Alley, looking towards Mansel Copse
Daunting list
For 20 Brigade's assault on Mametz, 2/Borders were on the left, 9/Devons in the centre and 2/Gordons on the right. According to the Provisional Operation Orders of Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Innes Storey, commanding 9/Devons, ‘the Battalion will take a principal part in an attack on the German trenches'. By way of reassurance, ‘a very heavy bombardment of the hostile trenches by gas and mortars of all calibre will take place for X [sic] days previous to the assault'. The Orders continued: ‘The battalion will advance in four successive lines of four platoons each. The first objective will be Danube Support Trench. The second objective Shrine Alley from the Halt to its junction with Kiel Lane .... The assaulting lines will advance direct on to their objectives and consolidate each line as captured. Should some parts of the assaulting lines be held up, the remainder will render them the best assistance by advancing to their objective. The flanks so exposed must however be specially guarded until those parts which have been held up have come into line.' [11]
There was a daunting list of equipment that ‘every man with the exception of certain Specialists' had to carry:
I Rifle and equipment less pack.
II 2 bandoliers of SAA in addition to ammunition carried in his equipment.
III Haversack on back containing two tins of meat and eight hard biscuits, and canteen packed with emergency grocery ration.
IV Mackintosh chest with jersey rolled inside fixed on to a waistbelt in small of the back by supporting straps from the pack.
V Three sandbags carried under the flap of the haversack.
VI Two Mills Grenade bombs carried in lower jacket pockets.
VII Two smoke helmets.
In addition, there was also ‘Special Equipment', which included wire cutters; shovels and picks; smoke candles and flares; and hedging gloves and bill hooks. The Operation Orders concluded - optimistically - with detailed instructions concerning ‘Mopping up sections' and prisoners-of-war: ‘Prisoners captured will be sent back to these officers with as small an escort as possible. These officers will keep as many men of the escort as they require and will send back the remainder with a receipt for the prisoners handed over. Care should be taken that documents in possession of prisoners are not thrown away on the way back.' There was also an interesting example of early air-ground co-operation: ‘Three Morane Parasol aeroplanes (monoplanes) will be detailed for contact work and will be marked with a broad black band under the left hand plane. One contact plane at a time will be in the air.'
Albert Conn was thoroughly sceptical about all these preparations, however thorough they might appear on paper:
‘Well we started marching back to the line to take part in big attack which was due to take place on 1st July. "Don't tell the Germans." Just as if they didn't know what was happening. All these new railheads and bleeding great dumps of ammo all over the place. They must have thought old Jerry was daft. We reached a place called Happy Valley - Christ knows why they called it that. It was near our old line so I reckoned we were going over in that sector.' Quite unexpectedly, Conn then had a lucky break: ‘I had a bit of a jam here, they wanted a bloke in the orderly room for a couple of days and I got the job. I reckoned it out, I'd just about miss that lot going over the top on the 1st and sure enough I did, if I hadn't I might not have been here to tell you this tale.'
Unteroffizier Paul Scheytt, 109 Reserve Infantry Regiment, later made it quite clear that the Germans did indeed ‘know':
‘During the night of 30 June/1 July, a small English patrol was sent out to inspect our wire and they were captured. Times were rough; the revolver was the best interpreter. It went from mouth to mouth that these prisoners had revealed the time of the attack to the minute.' [12]
On the evening of Friday, 30 June, 1916, Ernest Crosse wrote in his diary:
‘The day before the stunt. I rode into Morlancourt to give my best wishes to the Borders, then to the Brigadier whom I caught just as he was going up to Battle H.Q., then to Fritz, then to the 8th. Returned to the Bois des Tailles, and then went with Col. Storey to wish the Jocks luck. They were playing the bagpipes and swanking about. Col. Gordon presented Kelly with the Regimental Flag which he bade him carry into battle. Kelly was too tight to remember. We then watched and cheered the Jocks as they marched off. The 9th then formed up, the C.O. wished us luck, and off we went. A long and weary halt at Vauxhall. I conducted stretcher bearers to the junction of Lord and 70 St. Some confusion in the trenches as our assembly positions had all been moved back one row owing to the damaged state of the front line. I then reported to Doc. at Wellington Redoubt. One hour's sleep.'
At 10.30 pm on 30 June, 1916 the troops moved from the Bois des Tailles, ‘preparatory to an attack on the enemy lines. Strength of Bn moving to assembly trenches 22 Officers, 753 O.Ranks. Left in Reserve 12 Officers, 308 O. Ranks, including Transport.' By 2.35 pm on 1 July, 9/Devons was ‘in forming up position in Reserve trench, Dale St, Duke St and Lord St'. Zero hour was 7.30 am but, according to Lieutenant Hearse, Adjutant, 9/Devons, ‘our men were unable to occupy the first two trenches owing to heavy shell fire and according had to leave their assembly trenches 3 minutes before Zero'. Ernest Crosse wrote that ‘at 6.30 am the artillery became intense and at 7.35 it was a hurricane'.
In the German trenches, Grenadier Emil Kury, who was originally from Waldkirch and was now serving with 109 Reserve Infantry Regiment, was waiting with his men to receive the assault:
‘I told my comrades, "We must be prepared; the English will attack soon." We got our machine guns ready on the top step of the dugout and we put all our equipment on; then we waited. We all expected to die. We thought of God. We prayed. Then someone shouted, "They're coming! They're coming!" We rushed up and got our machine gun in position. We could see the English soldiers pouring out at us, thousands and thousands of them.' [13]
Steadiness of the Devon men
What followed was eerily reminiscent of tactics employed at Talana, Elandslaagte and Colenso half a generation earlier. Everything that had been learned at such cost from the Boers about the importance of individual fieldcraft appears either to have been completely forgotten - or simply ignored. Lieutenant Hearse continued:
‘At 7.27 am we left our trenches in four lines and advanced on the enemy position and were met with an artillery barrage which was most intense. Our Devon men walked through it in perfect line, only losing their dressings when closing in to cross trench bridges. As soon as the bridges were crossed they immediately opened out again and assumed their dressing.'
Unteroffizier Paul Scheytt confirms the steadiness of the ‘Devon men':
‘We had lain for seven days under the trommelfeuer, in a mood of blind fury because we felt so defenceless; so that, when the moment of the attack came, we felt good. At last we could get our own back. None of us thought we would be killed or wounded. We heard the mines [at Fricourt] go up; then it was deathly quiet for a few moments. The English came walking, as though they were going to the theatre or as though they were on a parade ground. We felt they were mad. Our orders were given in complete calm and every man took careful aim to avoid wasting ammunition.' [14]
To begin with, though, everything went to plan and, according to 9/Devons' War Diary, ‘German Prisoners were brought back from Shrine Alley at 7.50 a.m.' Crosse wrote: ‘Wounded soon began to come back but our S.B.'s (stretcher-bearers) seemed to move very slowly. Nearly all the first lot of wounded were Borders. Then the welcome sight of Boche prisoners passing by looking mad with terror.' Two hours after the attack started, however, ‘a message was received that the right is being held up and bombed back by parties of the enemy from Mametz'. ‘Reinforcements had to be asked for', and three companies of 8/Devons, which had moved into the Reserve Trench at Zero Hour, were now ordered forward. At ‘the junction of 69 and Reserve', Ernest Crosse ‘met Tregillis [sic] on the top just going to support the 9th'. [15] According to 8 Devons' War Diary: ‘O.C. ‘B' Company moved his troops via Mansel Copse into the hollow on the Bray-Fricourt Road. This Company did not move again as a whole until 4 p.m. when all its Officers had been wounded and C.S.M. Holwill assumed command.' [16]
At this juncture ‘the Commanding Officer [of 9/Devons] decided to proceed to Mansel Copse and investigate the situation. He found that No. 4 Coy had been held up by heavy machine-gun fire and that all the officers and senior N.C.O.s of this Coy had become casualties. [17] One Lance Corporal was found and sent forward with some men from Mansel Copse to collect the remainder of the Coy who were lying in the low ground in front of the Copse. He was given orders to take them forward and to join up with ‘A' Coy, 8/Devons. This N.C.O. (L/Cpl Beal) pushed on with his men and joined up.'
Lieutenant-Colonel Boucher Charlewood James, commanding 8'Devons, takes up the story: ‘10.20 a.m. Colonel Storey ordered the advance of ‘A' Company to support the right of 9th Devons. This Company was in position in Reserve Trench. No information of this move was given to Battalion head quarters. They moved in the direction of the Halte. The four officers of this Company were either killed or wounded and I got no information as to the whereabouts of this Company until late in the evening when 2 Lieut Duff reported to me [that] he had picked this Company up. 3.30 p.m. ‘C' Company, my last Company in Reserve Trench, were given orders to proceed to Hidden Wood via Mansell Copse. This Company sent two Platoons over the top of Reserve Trench but Lieut Savill seeing numerous casualties took remainder of the Company via 70 Street and proceeded to his objective with practically no casualties at all.'
Dead beat
At the same time the Chaplain moved forward: ‘About 3.30 p.m. Doc, Gertie and myself walked down the road to Mansell Copse. The road was strewn with dead. Almost the first I looked at being Martin. In every shell hole all across the valley and up to the German saps were badly wounded who feebly raised a hand or cried out lest they should not be seen. [18] I bandaged up a few as best I could and then went with Gertie to collect all the S.B.'s. Down Suffolk Avenue I found about eight loafing about with stretchers all over the place. With them and all available stretchers we returned. We now had ten stretchers and about thirty bearers. I gave orders to take the wounded only as far as 67 Support so as to get as many as possible into our lines before dark in case the Boche counter-attacked.
‘The R.A.M.C. took the wounded back on OUR stretchers, leaving us none. I told the S.B.'s to use trench ladders instead and in this way we got in practically everyone up to the German front line before dark. Met Gertie in the road and cursed about the stretchers. A shell pitched twenty yards from us. Went with Doc to examine Boche dug outs for use as an aid post. We could have taken any we liked but had no time for it. We decided to move up in the morning. Being dead beat I returned to Wellington Redoubt and lay down till dawn.'
Ernest Crosse with Peter, a German messenger dog captured at Mametz on 1 July 1916
The War Diary of 9/Devons continued: ‘In the meantime as all officers of the Battn except 2nd Lieut G. E. Porter had become casualties the reserve officers, 9 in number, were brought up from Echelon ‘B', also 72 N.C.O.s and men who had also been left in Reserve. These were taken over by the C.O., together with a few details of ‘C' Coy, 8/Devons at 6 pm and proceeded to the final objective where the remainder of the Battn were consolidating the position. No enemy counter-attack developed during the night.'
Lieutenant Hearse later summarised the day in his despatch to the Adjutant, 3/Devons: ‘Our men behaved splendidly throughout in spite of the fact that all Company Officers except one, and all senior N.C.O.s had been killed or wounded. This speaks well for the individual training of the men as the remains of the Companies and Platoons were led to their final objectives by Lance Corporals and in some case Privates. A great deal of credit is due to those Officers and N.C.O.s at home who have trained the reinforcements which have arrived from time to time.' [19]
Colonel James was rather more critical: ‘The nature of the engagement was affected by mopping up parties not clearing the trenches, leaving Machine Guns and Snipers who caused practically all their casualties. The Bank by the Halte was entirely disregarded and all dug-outs in Danzig Trench were found occupied; the enemy using the bank above could concentrate an enfilade fire on troops advancing to Hidden Wood or Mametz. Also the traverses being firestepped, they could shoot down the valley to our lines. A machine gun was found at the Halte which had fired a great quantity of rounds. The enemy had taken advantage of this high bank to make it an impregnable position.' [20]
Albert Conn may have seen the same German machine gun:
‘That night I went up with the transport and leaving them on the road made my way up to what was left of the Battalion. We carried rations and ammunition. I joined my gun team who were dug in outside the bricks and mortar which was all that remained of the village. They had lost two of the team - one killed and one wounded. The original front line was hard to follow: great craters blotted it out and the dead had fallen in strange, grotesque poses, some on their hands and knees as if they were praying. I came on a machine gun in a side trench with three dead Prussians, belts of ammunition and stick bombs by their side, and looking back along their field of fire noted the dead Devons and Gordons. They had exacted a terrible price for their lives.'
By the end of that dreadful day, 20 Brigade ‘occupied the original objective assigned to it', one of relatively few British brigades to have done so. However, the cost was appalling: 9/Devons had lost 8 officers and 133 other ranks killed; 8 officers and 259 other ranks wounded; and 55 other ranks missing. A total of 463 casualties out of the 775 officers and men who went into the assault: a casualty rate of almost 60 per cent. Just one Company officer remained unwounded. Despite being held in reserve initially, 8/Devons lost 3 officers and 37 other ranks killed; 7 officers and 153 other ranks wounded; and 7 other ranks missing. Much of this devastation had been wrought, exactly as Duncan Martin had predicted, by the ‘great quantity of rounds' fired by the well-sited machine gun in Shrine Alley.
Private Albert Conn provided a pithy summary of the day from the point of view of a private soldier:
‘They went out alright but it was another balls-up like Loos. Our blokes and the Gordons took Fricourt alright, but they lost about 700 men doing so.' He also had some interesting observations on both the opposition and also those who remained behind the lines: ‘They run up against the Prussian Guards. I saw some of these big ugly bastards going into the wire compounds near Meaulte. They would sooner spit at you than take a cigarette. Not like the Saxons, they were glad to be taken prisoner, decent blokes, I had a chat with several of them. My posh job didn't last long. It was a posh job right enough. No plum and apple for these blokes.Only the best strawberry and a loaf all to yourself. Funny how the blokes who do the fighting get the shitty end of the stick.'
Sources
The God of Battles - A Soldier's Faith: Being an Attempt to Reveal the Power of God in War by the Rev. E C Crosse, CF, DSO, published by Longmans, Green & Co., 1917
A Sermon Preached in Marlborough College Chapel on May 25th 1919 by the Rev. E C Crosse, DSO, MC (late Senior Chaplain, C of E 7/Devons)
The Defeat of Austria As Seen By The Seventh Division by the Rev. E C Crosse, DSO, MC, published by H F W Deane, 1919
The VC and DSO edited by Sir O'Moore Creagh and E. M. Humphris, published by Standard Art Book Co., London in 1924.
Memoirs of an Infantry Officer by Siegfried Sassoon, published by Faber & Faber, 1930
The First Day on the Somme by Martin Middlebrook, published by Allen Lane, The Penguin Press, 1971
Siegfried Sassoon: Diaries 1915-18 edited by Rupert Hart-Davis, published by Faber & Faber, 1983
William Noel Hodgson: the Gentle Poet by Jack Medomsley, published by Mel Publications, Durham, 1989
The Somme Battlefields: A Comprehensive Guide from Crécy to the Two World Wars by Martin Middlebrook, published by Viking, 1991
Frank Wollocombe's War Diary: In the trenches with the 9th Devons edited by Richard Henry Wollocombe, privately printed in 1994
West Country Regiments on the Somme by Tim Saunders, published by Pen & Sword Military, 2004
The German Army on the Somme 1914-16 by Jack Sheldon, published by Pen & Sword Military , 2005
Padre E C Crosse and The Devonshire Epitaph by David R. MacDonald, published by Cloverdale Books, 2007
References
[1] The papers of the Reverend Ernest Courtenay Crosse DSO MC - Imperial War Museum ref. 80/22/1.
[2] The papers of Albert Victor Conn - Imperial War Museum ref. 81/41/1.
[3] Gently reminiscent of the old Army jokes about PEWCs, Parking Exercises without Cars; or JEWTs, Jungle Exercises without Trees.
[4] The War Diary records that, on 21 December, 1915, 8/Devons had a pre-Christmas visit from the Mayor of Exeter.
[5] Blighty comes from the Hindustani word, belati, meaning foreign.
[6] Frank Wollocombe's War Diary: In the trenches with the 9th Devons.
[7] The First Day on the Somme by Martin Middlebrook, published by Allen Lane, The Penguin Press in 1971.
[8] The Devonshire Regiment 1914-18 by C T Atkinson, published by Eland Brothers, Exeter and Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co. Ltd., London in 1926. The plasticine model, which Duncan Martin had brought to France in a suitcase, was subsequently given to the Royal United Service Institution (RUSI). The RUSI collections later went to the National Army Museum but the records do not reveal the fate of Martin's model, which can be presumed to have been discarded.
[9] Op. cit.
[10] Frank Wollocombe's War Diary - op. cit.
[11] WO 95/1656 - 9/Devons' War Diary, June-July 1916.
[12] The First Day on the Somme by Martin Middlebrook - op. cit.
[13] The First Day on the Somme by Martin Middlebrook - op. cit.
[14] Op. cit.
[15] Captain Geoffrey Philip Tregelles was killed in action on 1 July, 1916.
[16] WO 95/1655 - 8/Devons' War Diary, June-July 1916.
[17] The companies of 8/Devons were given letters, while those of 9/Devons were numbered.
[18] Not being spotted by the stretcher-bearers was a very real risk: see Frank Wollocombe below.
[19] WO 95/1656 - 9/Devons' War Diary - op. cit.
[20] For their services during the Great War, Lieutenant Colonel H. I. Storey, 9/Devons, was awarded the DSO on 15 February 1917, together with a subsequent bar, while Lieutenant Colonel B C James, 8/Devons, was awarded the DSO on 1 January 1917.
