1st (South Midland) Brigade RFA (T) 1915-1917

by

Captain F. S. Gedye MC

On the 22 November 1859, the Gloucestershire Volunteer Artillery was formed, making it's headquarters at the Artillery Ground, Whiteladies Rd. Clifton, Bristol. The unit started with five batteries with a sixth added later.

Starting in 1906, the Secretary of State for War Richard Haldane's Reforms were designed to better prepare the armed forces for future wars and involved a reorganization of the regular, volunteer and militia forces. The Territorial and Reserve Forces Act of 1907 saw the formation of the Territorial Force which consisted of fourteen infantry divisions, fourteen cavalry brigades, and a large number of support units including fully established divisions, provided with field artillery, companies of engineers and crucial supply services, including medical provision.

The Gloucestershire Volunteer Artillery became the 1st (South Midland) Brigade RFA (T) in 1908, with a further change of name in 1915 to the 240th Brigade RFA (T), under which it served throughout the First World War.

The 1st South Midland Brigade left Broomfield and entrained at Chelmsford on the night March 28th 1915, arriving at Southampton early on the 29th.

It was split up among seven transports there two of them being the S.S. "City of Lucknow" and "Huanchace". Disembarkation took place at Havre on Tuesday 30th and on the same day, the brigade entrained at the Gare Des Marchandises and proceeded by night to Hazebrouck. During the war the French and Belgium railways carriages all had a most dramatic looking notice, which ran "Taisez-vous! Mefiez-vous!! les oreilles d'ennemiesVous ecoutent!!!" which some how struck an urgent and warlike note for all those who travelled as passengers and not as the hind legs of a horse, as was suggested by the notices on all the trucks "Chevaux 8; Hommes 40"

From Hazebrouck the brigade trekked to Rouge Croix and went into action East of Neuve Eglise on Easter Sunday April 4th, the 2nd Battery having the honour of being the first in position [Col W.H. Wise]. Battery wagon lines were established west of the village and the Brigade ammo Column was at Pont Nieppe.

The second battle of Ypres [Ieper] commenced just after the Brigade went into action and although this did nor extend to the 49th div front, the sounds and signs of battle were quickly made familiar to the brigade and their first acquaintance with gas took place soon after they were in action. In those days there were no gas helmets and pads had to be made from materials on the spot. Nothing is so plentiful in Belgium and French haberdashery shops as black crepe and therefore several funerals-worth was procured and the earliest gas masks took the form of respirators of cotton wool covered with crepe, which was placed over nose and mouth and tied behind the head.

The guns were in action under poplar trees in lines of hedges bordering the fields and the Belgium sector was opposite Wytschaste and Messines just to the North of "Plug Street" [Ploegsteert Wood].

The village of Neuve Eglise was on a spur of Kemmel Hill the one piece of higher ground in that very flat country civilians were still living close to the firing line and it was recalled later in the war to an incredulous audience that the O.P. party would kick up no end of a row with Madame if she failed to produce a really good lunch in the parlour or in the garden during the tour of duty at the O.P.

The firing of the Brigade was restricted - the acute shortage of ammunition was such that a court of enquiry would almost have to be summoned had the days ammunition expenditure ever reach double figures. This was perhaps not an unmixed evil as the brigade was still equipped with 15 pounder guns which had outlived their day of effectiveness. Modern conditions necessitated an accuracy of fire of which the 15 pounder is incapable. Regular Brigades had 18 pdr's, and the New Armies being formed at home were already being equipped with brand new guns as they became available from the armament firms. The brigade while doing their utmost to obtain accurate firing from their old guns knew them to be inefficient and in close working with infantry, liable to cause unnecessary casualties.

Feeling very strongly on this question, Lt. E. L. Gedye wrote home and secured the interest of a local member of parliament [Sir William Howell–Davies] in the matter.

Sir William interviewed Mr. Lloyd George [then all powerful Minster for Munitions] who promised to give the matter consideration and investigation. Within very few weeks, all the 15 pdr's in action in France and Flanders were withdrawn and 18 pdr's issued. While this may not have been direct result of the move from the brigade, its coincidence makes it sufficiently interesting to record.

Artillery fire in those early days of 1915 was note on a heavy scale on either side, those were the days when enthusiastic souvenir hunters rushed out in the middle of a hostile shoot to dig for a fuze that had just buried it self happily regardless that another might be along in a second to perform a similar ceremony for the searcher. It had not been realised that the official ideal of the soil of Flanders was that it existed to be lifted and placed in sandbags.

Snipping and machine gunning was however a constant source of danger. The trench system as later understood was totally inadequate when the division took over.

Two strands of barbed wire, festooned with empty tins and jars to give warning of approach was the average protection for the front line, and in that wet low-lying country the "trenches" were in the main composed of a shallow trench with breastworks above the ground level. Two such lines with no adequate communication or support system were all that existed.

The quiet and peace of those early days were realised only in the later comparison at the time everything was new responsibility seemed heavy and life full of both danger and incident. Bailleul and Armentieres, though close to the line, were the shopping area of the brigade, and the cafes and estaminets in each town knew great prosperity.

In July, the brigade made its first big move and left Belgium, trekking first to Ferfay. From there it entrained at Lillers for Thievres. After two days there the brigade went into action at Hebuterne, on the Gommecourt-Puisieux-Serre front with it's wagon lines at Coigneux and the brigade and Div ammunition columns at Authie while the railhead was at Acheux.

The Brigade took over this area from the French we quite definitely enjoyed it. We had little French - they no English, but our conversation made up in ingenuity what it lacked in volume. Picture the walk to the O.P. with the French Lieutenant who had provided a superb and lengthy dejeuner. Reaching the end of the village we jumped down into Papin, a trench that is the main traffic avenue from Hebuterne along the top of the forward slop towards the German line. Following the lieutenant, we began to have misgivings as to the Ordinaire quality of the Vin at dejeuner as the unmistakable sound of a bicycle bell is heard. There is barely time for a glance backwards at the amazed faces of the telephonists, which is some how reassuring, before a Poilu appears round a traverse peddling madly on a French army bicycle. Of course! How French! How delightful! And of course how very sensible of us, not to have refused the second glass. We get to the O.P. to be known only to well every single night for the next eleven months as "Central" and have the leading features pointed our to us trench points such as the Hook and The point, La Louviere farm and behind these Puisieux, Serre and in the distance Bucquoy and on the extreme left the belt of trees that form Gommecourt Wood.

The S.O.S lines are pointed put to us in a Gallic effervescence of soixante-quinze - 50 or 60 rounds in almost the same number of seconds ("Gawd" we think in our frugal way a "blinking bombardment") So the novel experience goes on until, the relief complete, we settle in for a long period of goalkeeping.

The Hebuterne plain was in country not unlike Salisbury Plain, it had more villages and tree lined roads, but somewhat similar gently rolling plain open, yet not monotonously flat. The battery positions, which were moved occasionally during the year, were in a triangular piece of the plain bounded by the roads Hebuterne-Sailly-Colincamps and on the third side facing the enemy was the reserve trench Papin just over the horizon.

The routine of the brigade settled down to a steady monotony that was seldom seriously disturbed. The wagon line officers at Coigneux had the usual round of fatigues to arrange the stables hours, watering parties, drawing of rations and occasionally, ammunition [not often as the number of rounds fired was still very strictly kept down] and the main outing of the day was the dispatch of the G.S. wagon and water cart to the position the former carrying rations, post, any general stores required etc. In addition to these duties the wagon line officer and the B.Q.M.S. were always engaged in a ceaseless struggle to procure by hook or by crook, R.E. [Royal Engineers] material for improving the horse lines and the battery positions, and in particular corrugated iron sheeting to make a waterproof roof for our dugouts." By hook" included a flutter of indents, appeals to their better nature and reviling of the baser character, of the O.C. R.E. Dump and was a process that in the main produced only one result in "peacetime" days precisely nothing.

"By Crook" was the more effective, the more fashionable and when successful, left a warm glow around the heart. It included scouting parties, mysterious departures of carts by night for an unnamed destination, and all the various methods by which dirty work is achieved at cross roads and other places.

A third method by master strategists was guile, and the Battery Sergeant Major of B battery could tell a wondrous tale of how, as winter approached and R.E. material was resolutely refused, the officers mess contributed two bottles of whiskey these were then taken many miles to the ordnance depot and bartered for an incredible number of Coats, warm, British, Mounted Troops for the use of, then recently introduced and quite definitely the Mode for Men.

A beneficent Higher Authority had authorized their issue to certain units, but had not in his mercy included the personnel in charge of the R.E.'s dumps. Since one bottle of whiskey equalled x number of "British warms", it needs no strong imagination to realise that 2 x British warms were equivalent to a muttered permission "bring your wagon after dark, and for Gawd's sake be quick about it" or put baldly, sufficient timber and corrugated iron to complete perfect winter lines for a four gun battery.

The Hebuterne battery positions were a shock for the book-trained gunner brought up to regard concealment as one of the vital principals. As one rode up from Sailly to Hebuterne there were half a dozen blots on the fair surface of the plain. These were the battery positions, each consisting off four large emplacements with smaller excrescences beside them [the dugouts]. Some of these were 12 feet in height with straight sides to cast maximum shadow, with wide deep, unmistakable tracks leading up to them, passing the line of pits and circling back to the road, leaving now possible shadow of a doubt to the enemy planes as to their meaning. Yet in those peaceful live and let live days, the positions were practically never shelled, a state of things that ended forever on July 1st 1916.

At the battery position, the first parade of the day was usually about 9am, when the officer living on the position held the usual inspection of turn out, arranged the work on the position for the day and then inspected the guns, ammunition, and dugouts. Prior to this, the guns had been taken off night S.O.S. lines, and re-laid on aiming posts, pits cleaned and everything cleaned and polished. [S.O.S. lines, since the mid-1960s are called Final Protective Fire (FPF) or Final Defensive Fire (FDF). When not engaged on other targets, the gund would be layed on these points.]

The Sergeant and the three members of the guard of the previous night became orderly Sergeant and aeroplane sentries. The sentry on duty of the latter was detailed off to look out for hostile aircraft and as soon as one was identified, three blows of his whistle meant that all movement ceased on the position, until a single whistle indicated "All Clear".

Telephonists

The day's work depended largely on the condition of the position. If in good order, the days were easy, but if rain caused dugouts or pits or cave in, there might be strenuous days. The telephonists dug out should be visited for a few moments for telephonists lived in a world of their own.

Their nights and days were indistinguishable "at home". Their hours of Deshabille [state of undress] from dawn till dawn, unless they were on duty at the O.P. The telephonists dug out always preserved the thick soupy fug, of which the main ingredients were tobacco smoke, candle grease, tealeaves, Tommy cookers [contained solidified spirit and wax for heating a mess tin] coal or coke brazier and a compound of grey worsted and humanity. All this in a small space with the invariable humming of "iddy-umpty" from the D3 phone, receiver strapped to the operators head and a low murmur of scandalous gossip and mere chat that practically never ceased between battery and O.P. or battery and brigade exchange from 1915 to the Armistice.

In this romantic atmosphere lived some of the stoutest hearts and best fellows in the batteries. From personnel experience, I think I never found a dud telephonist.

Bad operators? Yes! But a darn good crowd and one often wondered, what fairy influence, the infernal D mark 3 exercised over its acolytes. One's senior officer might be a perfect------, the R.S.M possibly a -------, Sergeants, corporals, bombardiers, gunners, drivers all at times produce the type of F that is so maddening B---------! But the telephonists were good. It didn't matter how many times the Hun cut the wire between you and the battery or brigade, how foul the night, or how sticky the going down the track or along the trench, your linesman were out before you had a report that the line was destroyed, however small the dugout, or later the pillbox, however wet the open trench or muddy the floor on which you sat huddled through interminable nights, your telephonist was good company. His yarns were scurrilous, his language utterly shocking, his views on life scandalous, yet how he helped the hours to pass!

About 6pm the guard was mounted and an inspection made to check the lying of all the guns on their night S.O.S. lines, which were usually about midway across No Mans land or just in front of the enemy wire. In those days there was no electrical equipment and a lamp was put on a single post in front from which each gun had it's angle to the S.O.S. lines chalked up in the pit. The last duty of the O.P. officer before dusk was to fire on the battery datum point for the night corrector and a typical message would come down as "night corrector 145; drop50" this correction being applied to the setting of the eight fuses held in readiness for an S.O.S. and to the map range to the S.O.S. line.

On occasion [depending on the weather and the belligerency of the officer on duty] the guard would receive the order during the night "Test S.O.S." and each subsection timed in getting in to action.

On the order, one of the guard doubled out to the night aiming post with a lamp of the policeman's or bicycle type that had a tin shutter that gave one of thin beam of light for the layers to get an accurate lay. A slack wire was laid from the pit nearest the guard dugout to the post so that he could double out in the dark without losing his way.

There were lamps for the gunpits, which always blew out immediately on the gun firing, and the No1 had an issue electric torch which usually did duty first for the layer, then for the corrector bar and fuse setter a finally for a flash round to see no one was in the line of recoil.

Night time was also rat time on the Hebuterne plain and owing to a ruined Sucrerie and natural perfection of French battlefields as breeding grounds, they were numerous and almost man-eating.

The battery commanders with generally one subaltern had a billet in Hebuterne; brigade H. Q. was also in the village. The "billet" consisted of what was left of a house minus, of course, windows, some bits of wall and lots of bits of plaster, but was generally chosen for its possession of a funk hole in the shape of a cellar or dugout for the less healthy hours. Each battery had its O.P. to man, and one officer from the brigade was on duty all night at "Central".

The great floods arrived while the 1915 summer was still in evidence, to lesson the misery of them. The trenches were so deep in water that the infantry discarded boots and socks and even trousers were often omitted from the toilet of those who moved in the mode of the moment. Bdr Grant of the 1st battery probably held the fancy dress record for appearing amidst delight applause garbed only in a cap, round which was draped a handkerchief for sun protection, a shirt and as a delicate tribute to the proprieties, an all important safety pin.

It was in this autumn of 1915 that Bombr Phillips was the first to make the supreme sacrifice. He was hit by shrapnel while working in a chalk pit just in front of Hebuterne and died of his wounds.

Although the Brigade casualties were amazingly small prior to the battle of the Somme, the general atmosphere was not always as healthy as this would suggest.

There was always a good deal of machine gunning of the cross roads at Hebuterne and Stuttering Sam, who operated in enfilade from the Gommecourt salient used to throw many a tired bullet during the hours of darkness and maintain a healthy spit of haste in those duty took them along the road that, somewhat ominously, led to the cemetery as well as to the trenches. And on the warmest of warmest of spring days, a sudden salvo of "Little Willies" falling unreasonably near you could remind you that, despite the spring feeling you had imagined a moment earlier, the ground was still very cold to the feet.

The most noteworthy event of the 1915/1916 winters was the successful raid by the 6th Gloucester's in November on Gommecourt trenches. The first big event of the spring was a raid by the Germans on the same battalion on march19th. Our S.O.S. barrage came down within a minute of the firing of the S.O.S. rockets by battalion, which was immediately reported by the night O.P. to all batteries.

Col Nicklem the battalion C.O. said it was most excellent and accurate, shutting the first wave of raiders in our line and preventing a second wave from crossing among whom it caused heavy casualties.

In March, the Brigade H.Q. and batteries moved from Hebuterne to Colincamps on the other corner of the triangle. This village was further from the German line and lay back a mile or more from the crest. It was very little damaged the windows had glass in the window frames and other refinements. The battery positions were in the avenue about 500 yards Bosche wards from the village and except that the rats held nightly protest meetings on ones blankets, were quite pleasant.

Shortly after settling in at Colincamps, we lost the C.O. Colonel A.M. Balfour DSO. Who left us on appointment to a Home Command, and Col Lord Wynford DSO succeeded him.

To Colonel Balfour lies the credit for taking, in August 1914 a civilian brigade and duly delivering on the Quay at Havre on March 29th 1915 and efficient and soldierly unit.

In this work, he has always paid full tribute to the splendid work of his adjutant, then Capt. E. Boyce, but as C.O. his was the guiding hand at the helm and very thoroughly his work was done. Having with the maximum of success put the fear of god and the C.O. into every man at home, when the address became B.E.F., he allowed the other side of him to appear more freely that was he secret of his popularity and it was to the deep regret of all ranks that he left the brigade.

Lord Wynford remained with the brigade until the middle of 1917. In May 1916 a brigade formed from the third line of the 1st South Midland and was sent out of the division.

In the winter of 1914/1915, a second line-which became a duplicate of the 1st SM Bde had been recruited. This later formed a unit of the 61st Division and proceeded overseas in 1916.

In April 1915, Major Walter Swanye, a former battery commander was given the task of forming a third brigade at the H.Q. Bristol. This acted as a draft-supplying unit to the 1/1st and2/1st S.M. Bde's for some time and then was sent out to the 48th Div in may/16. This brigade heralded the reshuffling on a big scale of units. Originally the artillery units of the Division had been

In the reshuffling, the 3rd (Warwick) Bde became an Army Bde and left the division. The brigades to their sorrow lost their Territorial description (South Midland) and were given numbers becoming 240 Bde (Glos) 241, 242 and a new Bde was formed 243.

The howitzer Bde was split up. One bty, coming to each of the other Bde's. The Bde Amm col was abolished and divided between the batteries and the Div Amm col.

The new brigade was formed on arrival of the third line and each 240 battery gave up a complete subsection to form A/243, the personal of the third line filling up gaps in 240 batteries.

At the end of may, the batteries went down to the wagon lines to train and prepare for the Somme offensive, each battery leaving a strong working party to build Battle Positions.

These were the last of the ponderous "model-village" type be built and merit a brief description. Cover for the guns was, in those days, considered of first importance. Colossal trunks of trees 18/30 inches in diameter arrived in huge quantities and after building a stout frame work, two layers of these were placed on it and bricks and stone from the ruins of Hebuterne were carted by night, mixed with cement and put as a bursting layer on top. Sandbags ramps took off the shadows casting height of these diseased looking structures that deserve to be blamed as the legitimate fore bearers of the bungaloid growths that later spread over England.

Ammunition Return

The batteries returned about June 18 and by then, for the first time in our experience, ammunition was coming up in 100's instead of 10's and by June 23rd, there were 1000 rounds per gun on the position.

From 1915 till that time Sunday had been the day for the Ammunition Return. It was a quaint and inexplicably mysterious affair. Every day a situation report was sent to the Adjutant from the O.P. detailing any movement seen in the enemy country. Any signs of fresh work on trenches, strong points etc, and a detail of the number of rounds fired. At the battery position, the officer in charge also kept a log which detailed the number of rounds fired in each action and the No's 1 of each gun kept a record in his pit.

On Sunday morning, the acting captain at the gun line took stock of the ammunition to send in his return.

This commenced early, but the final return, after colossal faking was never ready until many hours later.

No one could ever fathom why no battery could ever balance it's return with honesty, but it was a well known fact it never did and the net result was that on Sunday and Monday under the captains instructions, reports from the O.P. bore little relation to the rounds actually fired, but were written up solely to get him out of his mess. In return wherein he had shown 4 Ac (Shrapnel) less then he possessed and 10 Ac X (H.E.) in stock that had apparently spontaneously and obtrusively combusted.

The very junior subaltern was usually given the privilege of engaging a purely mythical working party on Monday with 10 rds of imaginary Ac X and reporting the (theoretical) dispersal of same and get, ticking off for extravagance, while the more exalted ranks had a joy shoot with 4 Ac that never appeared in any return.

An amusing game that finally ended in June of 1916.

On June 24th the bombardment commenced and this brigade was occupied in wire cutting. 400 rounds per battery per day was the allotment and by night we had two detachments under the orderly officer firing irregular bursts in the gaps to keep them open. After two days our tasks were done and we were lent to another division (31st) to help them.

Wire Cutting

We had reduced wire cutting down to an absolute science of accuracy and results were really amazingly good. Lt. E. L. Gedye wrote from the H.Q. O.P. on the 25th

I had a very good view of the 1st bty cutting wire this afternoon. It was in front of the German third line, and no one could have wished to see better shooting, Hardly a round was wasted. At the end of the shoot, a complete gap some 20 or 25 yards wide had been cut through the wire and a loop-hole or machine gun emplacement had been smashed up.

Major Chester Todd knowing how monotonous the wire-cutting job was, used to send down a short of unofficial "Reuter, Press association and central news" bulletin once the section was on its line and the wheels well sandbagged down and the orders after a time would be something like this (the guns would probably be at "section fire 45 secs" for an hour at a time.)

"No1. Very good - only three more stakes left. Well done No2 you got one of 'em. No1 not so much as 21/2 minutes more right - just a touch. No2's last shot was damned hopeless - what the hell is Sergt ----- playing at. Well done No 1 you've bent it." and so on.

Battle of the Somme

For the show we were in the Corps commanded by the notorious general, Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston whose alleged doings and sayings sent a weekly ripple of mirth from Nieuport to Peronne. With us were the 4th, 29th and the 31st Divisions.

After a postponement of 48 hours, the battle of the Somme opened at 6.30am on Saturday July 1st with an hour's final bombardment culminating at 7.30 At Zero hour when our first lift to the support line took place it slackened a little but until 9.30 we were never below 2 rounds per gun per minute.

By nine, the guns were frightfully hot and one of the buffer mats caught fire and others commenced to smoulder. Shortly after we had permission to cool off one gun at a time - by closing the breech, elevating and filling with cold water. The first few fillings boiled at once and the process was continued until the water came out cool. The detachments found it an excellent opportunity for a hot wash and brush up.

At midday we had some wagons up from the W.L. to replenish ammunition and learned they were packed and harnessed up ready to take us foreword, but as the news trickled through later, it was realised there was to be no advance.

On our sector, the attack was a complete and tragic failure. On our left the 56th (London) penetrated Gommecourt Wood trenches and opposite Serre an advance to the third line was made, but before the end of the afternoon the Germans were holding their own front line every where.

No Mans land was full of our dead and wounded and those who got through the first line were cut off. Some days after one of our people saw a stack of shrapnel helmets that had been brought back by the London Scottish survivors and described it as "like a pile of Nottingham Lace absolutely riddled with shrapnel and M.G. bullets."

It took some days to find all the wounded and on the seventh day a still-living man was bought in.

For some nights we fired on the gaps in the wire but then plans were changed and we retired to positions about a mile to the rear and all thought of resuming the offensive was abandoned.

On July 17th we had orders to relieve the 12th Div on the Somme and on the 19th, BC's with one subaltern went down by a ex London omnibus through Albert to the Ancre close to Aveluy.

The batteries we were to relieve had heard nothing of the relief but assured us they were delighted. 'A' Bty was in a bank in front of the Ancre and the zone was between La Boiselle and Ovillers. After the usual questions of zones and fighting maps etc, the B.C. took us to his forward O.P. at La Boiselle, which was in captured trenches. We passed the colossal mine crater exploded on July 1st and it was the first time we had walked over captured ground still littered with all the ghastly debris of war. There had been no time to do anything but clear some traffic way through the trenches and a few feet from the trench there were many British and German dead that had fallen there 18 days before.

We were relieved on the 20th at Hebuterne by the 38th (Welsh) Div and after one night at Coigneux, trekked to new wagon lines at Bouzincourt.

The group system was employed on the Somme-one colonel in charge of two brigades for tactical purposes and the batteries made up to 6 guns. Col Cossart [Warwicks] was our first Group Commander.

Duties were heavy, numerous night attacks and counter attacks and by day, firing on machine gun emplacements and movement, with frequent S.O.S. calls. Officers were kept fully occupied, the wagon line officer with ammunition supply while from the guns we supplied a 24 hour liaison officer with forward battalion H.Q. and gun position duty.

We were relieved after 7 days by the brigade we had taken over from. During that time the Bde had been firing more or less continuously and on the 27th we had moved from established pits to Mash Valley, the old No Mans Land.

Everyone was feeling the result of a shortage of sleep.

The weather had been gloriously fine but that had had its drawbacks as we trekked back to Ampliers near Doullens and, after one night at St Ouen, the contrast of quiet days and nights and fresh country air was marvellous.

The first tour on the Somme conjured up visions of masses of white chalky parapets, earth pounded to an unrecognisable pulp. The beastliness of the smell of death, the sight of corpses of the men killed in the early days of July still lying out in the open, of partially buried limbs in parapet and paradoes (high bank to rear of trench), and over all the shattering and ceaseless noise of the guns of both armies.

At St Ouen, the Bde had ten glorious days of complete rest in a Long Park with horse lines under the trees. Remounts arrived and were dished out amid the usual bitter recrimination of section and sub section commanders, tails were pulled, harness burnished and everyone had a chance of a day in Amiens, which we all found was metropolitan in its chic and its opportunities of high living.

On august 11th we trekked back to Ampliers and on the 12th again relieved the 12 th Div on the Ancre.

For the next two months the Bde was in continuous heavy fighting around Thiepval, Leipsic, Stuff and Hohenzollern Redoubts and Regina trench. In the main the weather held but it was hard work, with the short spells off duty.

Casualties increased and by the end of August, we had lost Col West (243 Bde and our group commander), Major Geoffrey Browne, Captain A. E. Stone, Lt. E. L. Gedye, Wylie, (Adjt), Sergt Price and many others.

At the end of August, the Bde moved out of the Mash Valley (Ovillers) area a mile or so north to Mesnil to support an attack near Thiepval. Mesnil at that time looked as though a clap of hands would cause it to collapse with a quiet sigh, every roof was tottering, some seeming to be supported by a single upright post and a much holed wall it was much shelled with gas at night.

The attack on the 15th was the famous first appearance of the tanks. We were supporting an attack on the Wonderworth a network of strong points. After this we moved back to the other side of Ovillers to a group of shell craters just off the Albert-Bapaume road. On Sept 26th we supported the attack that resulted in the final capture of Thiepval which for 2 1/2 months had been able to enfilade our advance to the south of it.

On Sept 30th news that we are to be relieved came in and on the 1st Oct, we took over guns from the relieving brigade. One of the developments of the Somme battle for a field battery was that whenever one was relieved, guns were exchanged. Our artificers had worked like Trojans at St Ouen on the guns they had taken down there and they were in perfect order. To our bitter disappointment, we handed them over at the wagon lines on our return to action and took over on the position, the worn and tired guns that had been firing incessantly since the battle commenced. The supply of buffer springs proved insufficient for the demand and the A.O.C. had been unable to deal with the flood of indents. As the springs weakened, all hands had to push the gun back into firing position and when the springs were hopelessly weak, the buffer was taken down and springs revived by hurling them down on the roadway or a stone until they expanded again. It was, at best a very temporary cure, but it enabled the gun to remaining action a few days longer.

October 2nd was a memorable trek – from Albert to Warlencourt (behind Fonquevillers) for eight hours the rain fell in torrents and our lines were in fields that were a pure quagmire.

We had five days there while taking up 800 rounds per gun to our new positions near Hebuterne. There was a big attack in preparation and our Bde was to go into action between Fonquevillers and Souastre firing on a small zone south of Gommecourt.

A few days after, this was all washed out, other Bde's faded away from around us and we were given a big "goalkeeping" zone. We had to move into new positions, of course at night and, of course, in lashing rain. This was on the night of Oct 17th /18th.

On the 18th, the Bde was officially changed from 4 guns to 6 gun bty's by the splitting up of 243 Bde.

A list of officers of 240 Brigade RFA (T) at this date exists and is added here as it maybe of interest:

'A' Battery

'B' Battery

'C' Battery

'D' Battery

Major Chester W. Todd was awarded the D.S.O. for his work on the Somme, the first D.S.O. to be awarded to a battery officer in the brigade, and a very well deserved honour.

The OP's on the front were mostly in the shattered houses of Fonquevillers and one of the best, allotted to 'A' battery was the Notary's house. Observation was by means of a slit in the wall under the eaves of the house. The whole of the inside of the house had been destroyed and most of the two ends, but the R.E.'s had built an inner tower with "dogs" (metal rungs) forming a ladder up the wall into what might have been a penitentiary for a very penitent monk judging from its meagre size, and here a wooden bench was fixed for the O.O. [Observation officer] and telephonist. The outlook was interesting, gently undulating plain with the usual poplar-lined roads connecting Essarts and Bucquoy with Puisieux and Gommecourt, with a few farms etc, Rettemoy, La Bruyelle etc.

About this time, the brigade purchased two somewhat emancipated sheep with the idea of fatting them up for Christmas and they were placed in the sinister care of an ex-butcher in 'A' battery. Either the life they led [it was a chequered one] or the shadow of coming events cast by their shepherd, prevented them from growing fat with contented minds and when the inevitable move came, they were sold, lean and fretted with care, to a neighbouring unit.

One battery, [A] which never liked to be behind the times decided to celebrate Nov 5th with a little firing on listed targets - roads and farms, well behind the lines in there zone. A few rounds were "saved" in each day's situation report for a week. To the mingled horror and glee of the officers, at a special stocktaking on "the day" it was discovered that the saving had been overdone and there were some 250 rounds surplus to be blasted off.

This scandalous episode was carried out under very strict fire discipline six days later on yet another wet night, a thin bedraggled procession of guns and limbers wended it's way over the Souastre plain to another position. Three days and nights of shelling had explained to the battery that while the offensive spirit is one to cultivate in war, it is better practiced in company than alone. On the 5th Nov at 9.20 the Germans had been rudely disturbed at 9.25 seriously annoyed and at 9.30 had taken some exceedingly accurate flash bearings on to Guy Fawke's successors. The battery had forgotten that some trees near Essarts, suspected of being German O.P's were just visible from its gunpits.

For night firing in the early "peacetime" warfare, roving guns or sections were employed- a temporary position 500/1000 yards from the main position. This was done to avoid giving away a permanent position by flash at night. Flash spotting was a great occupation for the night O.P. party, and taking bearings on to an active battery would help to fill in the sometimes-interminable night hours of watching.

The Bde took part in the Nov attack on Beaumont Hamel when Gen Freiburge was awarded the V.C. but was supporting only a demonstration barrage to hold the troops north of the left flank of the attack.

At the end of November, the Bde left the Fonquevillers area and trekked down through Pas and Frohen-Le-grand to Behancourt, a village a few kilometres from Albert. During the month of December it was in action under the worst imaginable conditions (until Passchendaele in 1917, distorted the imagination and set a new meaning to the words "a sea of mud")

The batteries were in action at High Wood and Martinpuich. The ground had been battered and pulped with the shelling and had become a glutinous world of mud in which boots were sucked off the feet and to walk across to the guns from the shacks a few yards away became an exhausting effort.

The plight of the horses too was tragic. Ammunition wagons became useless for supply to the batteries as they became bogged down as they left the road and battery horses had to "pack" all ammunition.

These packs were of stout canvas and carried four rounds on either side of the horse; with the continuous firing, the supply became endless and the sight of the Somme horses was pitiable. Mud –splashed from poll to rump, the tail, belly, neck and legs were absolutely covered with "Tags" of mud, which completely hid the matted hair, and as it dried, rattled as the horses moved. Nothing effective could be done to clean the poor devils on their return from ammunition running they stood in lines when resting in a foot or more of liquid mud-the mud on their coats was bound into hair and could not be scraped off, and the cold made washing to dangerous and was forbidden by an army Order. To walk down the lines at stables was heartbreaking. Here was unbelievable dumb misery that paralysed by its sheer hopelessness.

One looked from one old friend to another, remembered the sleek beauty that was theirs last summer, and could do nothing.

Meanwhile the misery of the batteries in action was acute. There was a continuous series of attacks and counter attacks round Le Sars and the butte de Warlencourt. A small hillock, no more, but the only raised bit of ground between Bapaume and us, and that caused thousands of English, Austrian and German lives). Conditions were appalling throughout the month and casualties heavy from wounds sickness and trench foot.

Christmas Day 1916 was spent in these conditions and during the day there was a series of artillery concentrations.

On Dec 30/31st, the batteries were brought down in the lorries to Behancourt, where the wagon lines had trekked on the 30th. Here the postponed Christmas dinner was held and every one started the slow scraping process from which in due course emerged such things as khaki cloth, horses coats, paint on wagons and even steel links on harness.

The Bde spent nearly a month in Behancourt refitting and resting and towards the end of Jan, trekked down to Corbie where a very happy week was spent in Fouilloy a sort of suburb, Corbie was a TOWN, it had real shops that opened and sold marvellous things like oysters and pork and vegetables of scarcely remembered varieties and cakes and buns and sweets and walnuts. A TOWN? – A CITY!

On Feb 2nd and 3rd, the Bde trekked to new wagon lines at Cappy, and on the 3rd and 4th relieved the French at Flaucourt and Maisonette opposite Peronne.

This was on the extreme right flank of the Somme advance. On July 1st, the Germans had not expected the French to attack and we were told by the battery we relieved that on July 1st French battalions found little resistance and actually advanced for 2or 3 Kilometres with slung rifles while we were fighting desperately for every yard At Ovillers. La Boiselle, Mametz and Fricourt.

The weather was intensely, bitingly cold and the ground frozen very hard-the French batteries were living in deep mined German dugouts 25 feet below ground. It was amusing to takeover from them once again and we found much to interest us in the contrast of the two armies.

French transport always appeared to us as an amazing hotchpotch of old carts, worn-out leather and rope, with hoses of all shapes and sizes paired together and on unhealthy cross roads and village streets while our staid and uniform wagons advanced at a steady trot, we were cheered to meet amazing groups of wagons, teams dashing along at a hand gallop and every man wielding a whip and shouting and yelling encouragement to his horses.

We took over a large number of dead horses lying at the side of the roads by the positions, some of which were so passée that it was debatable as to the precise point where cheval mort ended and La belle France commenced. But as all were equally refrigerated, we cared not.

The Somme ran quite close behind the Bosche trenches on our sector. The French had had appalling casualties in capturing La Maisonette; this was on the ridge that commanded a view of the Somme and Peronne.

Our O.P's were most interesting when the cold in the open trenches did not numb hand, brain and eye too completely. They were on the forward slope in reserve trenches and looked down into Peronne and the wide curve of the Somme that runs along the edge of the town, and up to Mont St Quentin.

Firing into Peronne was forbidden as it was hoped to preserve the Cathedral, but on foggy days rumour hath it that the bellicose supplications of the RAMC officers in charge of the Flaucourt dressing station did cause an occasional salvo to be dropped into the Grande Place.

Firing for night corrector was attractive a datum point on the far bank of the river, which was frozen solidly, was used and it was made a point of honour to have a couple fired short with a corrector of inordinate length to ensure a percussion round in the river, resulting in cracked ice and a column of water.

In the middle of February the thaw set in and the results were appalling.

The communication trench (Aubert) leading to the O.P. by which we had to travel down the forward slope simply fell in and no revetting would hold it. The five minute walk became twenty awful minutes of panting struggle in a thick brown soup that came a foot above the knee, and one could only drag and struggle against an earth that oozed and sucked at thigh waders and provided no grip for the feet. One arrived at the O.P. in a bath of perspiration that dried slowly and coldly.

At the batteries life was difficult. Our planes were inferior in strength and not only was there a line of German sausage balloons continuously up on fine days but frequently 12 or 15 enemy planes would be over our lines without interference. While there, we saw some of the most thrilling air contests of the war. Frequently these commenced with the arrival of a flight of enemy planes; our sausage balloons would start to come down, but before the winding gear had bought them to safety, two of the Bosche planes would swoop, a stream of tracer bullets would be seen and a few minutes late, our balloonists would leave in parachutes as the balloon burst into flames and smoke. The arrival of a flight of our planes would start a terrific contest that was absolutely thrilling to watch although it seldom ended with out at least one plane falling in flames.

During the thaw, one infantry raid was undertaken by the 48th. It was an absolute fiasco as the raiders got stuck less then half way across and had to plough their way back. When the battalions were relieved, it took 48 hours to get all of them back and many had to be literally dug out of oozing mud and brought back over the lid on stretchers.

Meteor

It was about this time that meteor revolutionised night firing by means of six telegrams per day Practically all our night firing is done entirely by map and atmospheric corrections are made from a telegram that comes round from "Meteor" six times a day (Meteorological – Army Officer). This gives six groups of figures for six times of flight from 50 seconds to 7 seconds. The ones we use are chiefly in the 10 and 20 second groups. These double groups consist of one group of four figures and one of five, thus 2055 11250. This means that at 20 seconds time of flight the temperature of the air is 55deg, the rate/speed of the wind is 11foot seconds and the bearing of the wind is 250 deg.

The system of making or corrections from this information is wonderfully accurate compared to the old days before the telegrams were sent to us.

Last year on the Somme it would have made a wonderful difference to us when most of our firing was by map and it was almost impossible to recognise points on the ground to range on. And nowadays if the wind changes in the night, there is no need to worry as to whether you have added too much or too little. Your last Meteor message comes over the wire about 11pm in time for night firing and at 2am the first for the day arrives. But the Olympians both in batteries and Bde's dismissed these as fads as unworthy of serious consideration their point of view is well expressed by the classic remark of a Horse Artilleryman – "Temperature of charge? How the hell do you get that? Take out the Primer and send for the Farrier, I suppose."

German Guns

The next few weeks were comparatively uneventful and give an opportunity to pay tribute to one or two of our competitors of these the four most regular features and "stars" were the Minnie, the little Willie, the 4.2 and the 5.9.

The minenwerfer was of course confined (Thank God) to the front line system. It could be seen (when the eyes were not blinded with terror) loping slowly over – one of the telephonists telling his mates about an encounter with one "you can see the B----- coming after you – you've time to run round a couple of traverses and then you find he's had time to turn and come after you." To give any adequate idea of the explosion is impossible, imagine a roar too loud to be true, a deafening, shattering, earth- tearing and head splitting detonation that left every nerve rocking to and fro. Then picture a section of trench neatly revetted and sandbagged with one or two men sitting and smoking on the fire step that one had passed a second before, turned into a hellish shambles with everything torn, split and shattered. Multiply this many times over to compensate for the inadequacy of words and there you have the Minnie.

The "Little Willie" a 75mm field gun was a foot-chiller sudden snappy and apt to come just when it was most unreasonable that it should, and seldom alone. Twins or Quadruplets would crash on you as you were walking back to the battery thinking of a cheery evening with, for once no night duty and feeling war was, perhaps, not too bloody, in one second Little Willie altered all that- it was! You glanced round to see is your telephonists were unhurt and the pace quickened, and the sun went in.

The 4.2 was, in the main, strangely lacking in character. Close acquaintance was nasty - very - but it somehow kept to the open spaces more then the others. It was popular with the Germans as a "Woolly bear" a high burst with thick yellowish or pinkish smoke and a lateral burst of time H.E. instead of the nasty whipping forward cone of shrapnel. It was of course a swine; every thing they hurled at us was that, but a lesser swine.

The 5.9 were different, very, very different. To every field gunner, the 5.9 must have been a dominating life influence. It was a Howitzer the quality of the shells [from a German standpoint] was superb. Duds were practically unknown, but such was the "Five nines" character that even a dud was effective. There was no feeling of rejoicing when one didn't burst it was sinister; it rocked the ground and shook your dugout and you felt the next would be doubly appalling. They typified the methodical German Character – no sudden salvo and then stop.

Suddenly into the calm of a peaceful day you would hear a long way away, a distant "plop" of a gun firing, in a matter of ten or fifteen seconds at the outside and a swish in the air that grew to a sudden terrifying, rushing roar came straight out of the sky above, down, down, down- defiantly on your head this time, and a column of earth would shoot into the air 50 yards ahead. A pause; of perhaps a minute, or one lifetime, for corrections and again the distant "plop". This time the rush became louder, more sickeningly on top of you and this time a bush would fly up into the air 50 yards behind you. A few more ranging rounds at irregular intervals and then a steady regular battering at ½ or 1 minute intervals would stream over for perhaps an hour or more until you felt that you could never again think for more than 30 seconds without having every idea blown out of your mind.

With every burst, if you were in the ordinary English type of dug out, the candle would go out; your lungs would be deflated like a forcibly closed bellows and a dry airless feeling fill the dugout.

Nothing-shattered life in the battery like the 5.9 it was regular, relentless, and the picture of it ever present. There were other swine like the Hi-Vic [High velocity], which chased you along a track. First you would find a spray of earth hurled over you, then you heard the explosion, then the rush of air of its approach and finally the sound of the gun firing. It was extraordinary and really happened like that.

Owing to its flat trajectory, it did little damage except by a direct hit. It was a gun that seemed to fire backwards through the looking glass, a Cheshire cat gun - First, you saw the grin, then the head, and finally the cat itself; it never left time, for more then a muttered "Oh-My-God" a quick grasping swine.

Then the "seventy-two" inch or biggest thing they had that was fired from a railway mounting and probably recoiled from Belgium to Berlin and came back ten minutes later to fire one more, that rushed over head [practically every time thank god] to bury itself in the heavies or a town behind, like fourteen express trains abreast going though a tunnel it lifted the roof of your shack. O.P. or dugout at least six inches as it passed and let it sink back again with a sigh of relief. Then you heard a large percentage of France dash into the sky and turn somersaults.

So much for our competitors, we all cherished one ambition that was never fulfilled and the was to about turn a battery of 5.9's and push it's loathsome metal into the tender and retreating back portions of it's owners.

The German Retirement, 1917

We commenced wire cutting for a projected raid early in march, but about the 12th the rumours of a German retirement started to reach us via the Vet, the Padre and the R.A.M.C. All rumours used to come through these inspired sources, and their forte was to announce a relief and a long rest near Amiens, which NEVER materialised.

On this occasion however, they were in the role of the legendary Mathilda once again, but his time there was a fire to justify their smoke.

On March 14th fires could be seen in Peronne and in other villages in the rear. On the 15th a raiding party entered La Maisonette trenches, found them deserted and remained there. A big show was hastily arranged for the night of the 16/17th first units to go forward at 1.30 am and take the front line system and to be followed with a big attack at 3.30 am.

The first attack met with no opposition and the second was never needed. A German rear party of 12 was captured but the rest of the Germans had vanished. Firing ceased at 6.30am on the 17th, because our infantry were going forward without opposition.

The O.P. by 11.00 am was an amazing site. Not a sound of firing to be heard and the old front line system was swarming with relief parties; ration parties' sightseers and reconnoitring parties.

The days that followed were perhaps the most interesting and amazing for us of the whole war.

We could not advance as there were six lines of trenches and the Somme itself was to be bridged, but reconnoitring was carried out on the 19/20th. Peronne had been laid to waste every village behind was systematically destroyed, roofs battered, furniture piled up and burnt; every tree-lined road had all the trees felled across it making it impassable for traffic; cross roads mined and blown up.

Trap bombs caused very heavy casualties until the troops realised that nothing could be touched safely a footbridge would blow up when crossed, a door way had a loose wire which when touched would detonate a bomb and so on. One battalion (6th Glos) H.Q. used the cellar of a house in Tincourt and many days after the Germans had retired, a time fuse caused the complete wreaking of the cellar killing all the H.Q. staff.

On the 22nd the batteries, which had been silent and completely out of range, retired to the wagon lines at Cappy and after two days had orders to move forward.

On March 25th after a 2.30am reveille, we moved off in cold frosty weather at 4am.

Dawn broke just before we passed our former positions and a magnificent picture appeared before us as we reached the ridge over looking the River Somme.

The sun rose in a crimson sky behind Doingt Wood the whole country was covered in hoarfrost and ahead lay our pontoon bridge and the ruins of Peronne.

Behind Peronne lay the Terre Inconnue, our first big advance over ground held by the enemy did it mean the beginning of the end and was there a hope of victory in sight?

The rattling of guns and limbers over rough ground, the jingling of harness and the picture of the column stretching in front and behind the steam rising like a mist from the sleek backs of well groomed horses, it must have thrilled the most prosaic souls in the brigade and made them feel that while the job was here to be done, this was THE regiment to serve in.

We trekked through the ruined Peronne, which now had quite a back area look about it, lines of transport mules in the Grande Place and L of C troops billeting in cellars and the usual H.Q. notice boards outside the more cavernous and palatial vaults.

Our first halt was Aizecourt, a concertinaed village reminiscent of Mesnil or what Mesnil would have been after a Batman hero had coughed in the main street. The roof of every house had just slipped sideways in a maidenly swoon as the Bosche removed the main wall. Cellars, which one crawled in to on all fours, and bivouacs, were our homes that night.

The following day, after reconnoitring and getting in touch with the infantry, orders came in about 6.30 to get into action at once.

The next morning saw the nearest approach to open warfare that the war provided for the Brigade. A& B batteries were in action on the edge of Venteux Copse in low scrub at the foot of the hill and the infantry battalion advanced in open order over the hill leading to Longavesnes, covered by a sweeping barrage from the 12 guns.

It was an exceedingly good little barrage, the Bosche were dislodged and driven over the crest and the battalion commander in a very complimentary message expressed the wish that he could always have our batteries covering him.

Cavalry were in action at this time at Villers Faucon and during the next day or so there was a slow move forward as the German rearguard was forced back.

On April 1st, an attack was made on Lempire and Ronssoy, two small villages situated on the last ridge in front of the Hindenburg line. Throughout April the brigade was in action continuously in a number of positions to support small attacks to capture a ridge or farm that would improve our roughly made line of outposts. Whenever it was a position that gave direct observation on the Hindenburg line, there was a strong resistance and attacks and counter attacks, which made for very disturbed nights. Guillemont farm changed hands half a dozen times or more and very heavy barrages for this type of fighting were put down.

There was much rain and snow throughout the month and we were mainly living under bivouac sheets, life was not to easy. Hard work and long walking on reconnaissance with incessant night firing were such that when on one night in four or five it was impossible to put one officer off duty, it was easy to sleep from 7pm to 7am in a shelter dug into the side of a 3 foot bank with three guns along side the shack, the other three to a flank at the rear-all six barking and "spitting 'em up" all night.

During the month two new BC's [Bty commanders] arrived Major R McLeod [MacLeod] to 'A' bty in place of Major Todd who had been in hospital for some months and Major J Price to 'B' bty.

May brought warmer weather and since the taking over of French dugouts in February had introduced the unpleasant louse to the few who had escaped his loathsome society, the sunny days with increased opportunities of washing clothes and moving about in a state of nature while they dried was very welcome.

With one brief spell of seven days in the wagon lines, the batteries remained in the Ronssoy area until May 16th. The move then was northwards and we trekked parallel to the front through Le Transloy to the Boulencourt-Bapaume road.

From here the Bde went into action relieving the Australians close to Havrincourt village in front of Flesquieres.

From derelict buildings in Hermies a splendid view of distant portions of the Hindenburg line [even to smoke chimneys of Cambrai on clear days] could be seen, but the front line trenches round the Spoil Bank and Canal du Nord were only visible with a periscope from the forward infantry trenches owing to the clever siting of the German line.

he Brigade remained in this area until June 23rd, when the Australians again relieved us. It was, on the whole, a peaceful tour, the weather was glorious and the wagon lines at the Velu Chateau put up a very fine horse-show, which drew great praise from the C.R.A.

The practical joke department then saw fit to take us from this area, which was in a delightful unspoilt piece of open country, that had seen little hard fighting and send us back to rest. There must have been many areas in the rear that would have been utterly delightful in summer for a rest and preparation for the Ypres mud and blood bath, but the department selected Montauban. Exactly twelve months before Montauban had been one of the shambles of the Somme. Every foot of ground had been contested bitterly and the shells of both sides had torn and shattered the whole area. Roads had been partially re-made but the battlefield on all sides was untouched.

No trace of buildings or trees remained of course, just a sea of weed-grown shell holes. Into this foulness the brigade was thrown for rest "A" battery having the particular honour of being billeted in the Prisoners camp still surrounded with barbed wire.

The smell hanging over the camp was indescribable and unforgettable – we buried 35 horses that had been lying dead for 6/9 months during the first two days within a couple of hundred yards of the camp. On several days when the wind was in an unfavourable quarter, it was almost impossible to draw a healthy breath without being nauseated. So much for rest in that year of grace 1917.

Manoeuvre and training was impossible owing to the fact that a vehicle couldn't move a yard off the road because of shell holes, trenches, wire un-exploded shells, and general battlefield debris, and this gave an opportunity to send every man in the brigade into Amiens, our temporary Metropolis for a day.

On July 5th, the Bde left the Somme area for the last time and trekked solely up to Ypres. This closed a 12 month chapter in which it was learnt in a pretty hard school what an offensive meant in the lives of comrades, the fraying of nerves by the strain and the shattering and ceaseless din of attack and counterattack, the unforgettable stench of a battlefield and the miseries of winter, In captured, but desolate, God Forsaken territory.

The brigade left behind in the cemeteries of the Somme many of it's most efficient and best soldiers men who had, in the years of peace, by enthusiasm and hard work, carried on the tradition and created the spirit that had enabled the brigade to earn the gratitude and appreciation of every battalion it had covered during the Somme battles.

Such thoughts and memories filled the mind over many kilometers of the monotonous route march northwards.

The trek was taken easily, about 20 kilometres a day and we bivouacked on successive nights at Engelbelmer, Sarton, Rebreuve, Ramecourt, Amette, Aire, staples and Godswearald [turned by the men into GOD-SWEARS-WELL] from here a final move was made to our first Ypres wagon lines at Preselhoek.

The Third Battle of Ypres - Passchendaele

When we arrived, the whole Ypres area was packed with troops and material for the Passchendaele offensive. It was said that there were was a heavy gun for every tree in the area, tanks were massed in the woods and huge ammunition dumps of acres of new white-wood boxes were placed in all the most un-miss able points for enemy airmen, cross roads as far as possible, and when the supply of these ran out, in huge open spaces with broad tracks leading up to them.

The Brigade went into action west of the Canal Bank in an area bounded by Reigersburg Chateau-Brielen- Hell Fire Corner. Guns were in the open along lines of hedges with sandbags ramps to protect the detachments from lateral splinters and the personnel slept in roughly dug and sandbagged bivvies.

In country as flat as the Somerset flats, it was impossible to dig deep dugouts as a 6ft dugout would have a foot or more of water in 24 hours. The Germans protected their men with "pill boxes", square or round shaped shelters made with 6/8foot of reinforced concrete that defied the heaviest shelling. The British trusted in providence, which denying the apparent relationship to foolhardiness, consistently let them down, and they lived in bivouacs that wouldn't stop a pipsqueak.

Each night, from dusk onwards, for about 10 days before July 31st, the din was appalling, heavy How's, long range guns on railway mountings and field guns were all crowded into the forward area and harassing fire on roads, shrapnel on gaps already cut in the wire and bombardment from the pure determination to be offensive and unpleasant, were continuous all through the hours of darkness.

No modern advertising campaign has ever given more expensive nor more effective publicity to it's message to the world than the British gave of their intended advance to the German Army in July 1917.

The night of July 30/31st was an unforgettable one.

From a battery position on one of the main timber-laid tracks (named presumably by the 48th Div R.E. "Queens Road") one had an opportunity of getting a picture that will not easily fade from memory. These days had been lettered and this was "Y" Day – "Z" day was the planned offensive date, but if anything had occurred to delay it, "Z1" and "Z2" would have followed.

About 8pm the quot;Secret and Urgentquot; message came through that Zero hour was fixed for 3.30 on quot;Zquot; day.

Nerves, which could not remain unaffected by the racket and strain of the preceding days of bombardment, were strung up to tenseness there was no room for doubt in any ones mind of what lay ahead. Steadily throughout the evening and all night, Queens Road was filled with troops, infantry moving up by platoons at 100/250yard intervals, Ammunition wagons ration and water carts, orderlies, staff parties and the hundred and one types of traffic dealing with a big attack.

Just after dark, a batman came in to announce "The tanks are going up, Sir" and from the battery one saw huge dark forms coming rapidly up the track in absolutely silent surges [or so it seemed in the incredible din of the heavy how's coughing up tons of H.E. from all around] and occasionally standing out clearly in every sinister detail against a gun flash. Sleep that night was ruled out of consideration, Shaving was timed for 2 am, and breakfast 2.30. (everyone had to shave every day, by order).

The Hun was retaliating rather fiercely, the candles constantly blew out with the near thud of a shell; the shelter would be invaded by a dozen infantry dashing in to avoid a shell that fell shrieking some fifty yards away the men laden with rifles, bayonet, rations, bombs, entrenching tools, gas masks and other equipment; the poor beggars were already half exhausted, rattling like travelling tinsmiths carts, and cursing and blasting in language that would have won admiration from a sixteenth century ancestor. Yet with it all, if you put in the right comment, a roar of appreciative laughter came from them all, a rejoinder, generally unrepeatable but invariably apt, and out they would went again to their waiting inferno ahead, to be succeeded a few minutes later by another party.

So a couple of hours passed, our rest on wire netting bunks broken by the news of a direct hit on the ammunition of No 5 gun, with the destruction of their barrage table by the resultant fire. This necessitated the working out of a fresh table to give to them the 18 lifts and switches for the opening barrage followed by a visit to the pit where the detachment had already got the mercifully undamaged gun into action once more.

3.50 am, came in pitch blackness and the bombardment opened with an appalling crashing roar, the whole countryside seeming to be torn open to emit the red flashes of uncountable guns. The lifts, as the barrage crept just ahead of the advancing infantry had to be very closely controlled and a human voice was useless. Section commanders, with the aid of flashlights, rushed from gun pit to gun pit blowing a whistle through a megaphone to the No1 and, waiting only for his acknowledgment before dashing to the other pit. Between the lifts, while at three or four rounds a minutes, came the opportunity to check the ranges and see that the table was correctly followed.

About 8.20 am the Worcester Brigade advanced past the rear of the battery to their new positions just in rear of our front line trench of the night before. By this time walking wounded were arriving in a steady straggling line at the advanced dressing Station alongside the battery. Ford ambulances were filling steadily and moving to the rear.

The more human side of the murderous business quickly appeared as soon as the casualties commenced to go back from the war; an ambulance fills up with English and German wounded, heads or arms bandaged of the "walking wounded" grade, eight or more packed into a ford 30cwt, cigarettes are passed round by on of the Tommie's to foe and friend alike, the engine starts up, Tommie's a genius finding an International language to cope with any situation and away goes a little family party of those fortunate to leave the blood bath for a few weeks, or months or perhaps for life.

'C' & 'D' batteries moved forward about 10, 'A' and 'B' following about 12 noon. Walking forward to make final preparations before the teams come up to the chosen site about 100yards behind Admirals road (which was our front line at 3.50am) is an extraordinary experience.

After crossing the canal bank, one might be on a popular holiday heath at the close of an August bank holiday Thousands seem to be moving forward, hundreds trudging back reinforcements, ration and ammunition parties, digging parties, reconnoitring officers etc, moving forward, straggling groups of walking wounded, stretcher-bearers, telephonists, orderlies, pioneers, etc moving back. Debris of all descriptions in every direction, vehicles knocked out, ammunition belts and boxes, cartridge cases, bits of webbing equipment etc here and there a group scatters suddenly, as with a rush, along distance shell crashes and bursts, throwing up a fountain of earth.

When the teams arrive, they need careful guiding round shell craters with 6 or 8 feet of water in them the off-leader of the leading gun is narrowly saved from drowning in a hole into which it has slipped.

Once in and the teams away, all hands turn to repairing and building up sandbag ramps round the guns that, prepared at night by fatigue parties for some days before the attack, had been blown to wreckage during the barrage, preparations have to be made too, for the 1000 rounds per gun that have to be established and maintained notwithstanding the firing of hundreds of rounds in every 24hours. No more balancing of 5 Ack as 10 Ack x now it is a question of "Tell the Captain he must get another 850 up before midnight somehow; we've got a big show at 1.30am and we want a thousand up at least to-morrow to make up".

So the first twelve working hours passed, and by 3pm a steady fine rain had set in. An S.O.S. from 'C' gun at 5pm announced that the gun was sinking axle deep in the mud. The earth, already crumped and torn became a sponge and for two hours all hands were on the drag ropes salving first one gun, then another that slowly started to sink, while wooden planks, duckboards etc were constantly being called into action during this time, and groups of 20/40 mules arriving with ammunition to be unloaded and quickly sent back for more.

At 8pm, news came from the cook that Machonochie and beans would be ready in ten minutes, at 8.5 two Bosche shells arrived, one labelled FATE it took the Machonochie and spread it far and wide over Flanders fields and it was 8.30 before, amid the now settled soaking downpour, we had our first sit-down meal since 2.30am and thanks to the stay shell, it has the rather disappointing cold comfort of being cold bully beef and ration "dog" biscuits. It went down well, but this 'ere war was undoubtedly Hell.

For the next four days the rain never ceased, the misery of it was complete. Our hastily put-up bivvies could not be dug more than a foot and these were filled with 6 inches of oozing mud. Our only protection from rain and shells, a canvas sheet or an occasional piece of corrugated iron. One lived in mud, walked through mud, mud in clothes; breathed mud smelt mud, eat mud with all meals and was mud body and soul. Throughout this time, there were continuous calls of "S.O.S. rocket gone up, sir"

"Ammunition up, chaps" "Battery action". And always rain and mud - mud and rain.

It was the fatal last straw for an offensive that, under fair conditions, must have been appalling expensive in human lives. Halted on it's first day by mud, it never gained the momentum of a successful attack, but dragged on it's slow, murderous, tragic course for two and a half months until, at the end of October, mud clogged and exhausted Canadians finally halted on a ridge that in the days of peace seems little more than a gentle slope, while a dispirited and equally mud-sodden German army dropped back into a line of waterlogged shell holes 200yards away, and the news sent forth in triumphant headlines that the Canadians had captured Passchendaele ridge and village.

Of that 2 ½ months, the story of the brigade could be written at length but it would be largely a constant repetition of a tale of mud and barrages, attacks and heavy casualties under the worst imaginable conditions. One battery made 16 promotions through casualties one Wednesday the following Saturday during a visit to the wagon lines, the B.C. found he had to make 21 more to fill the gaps and this was the rule not the exception.

Gun lines and wagon lines suffered equally the misery in the line was shared by the flooded conditions of the wagon line at Vlamertinge the shelling by the gun personnel and the never ceasing ammunition parties from the wagon lines night firing and bombardment at the guns by aeroplane bombing raids that took place most nights and killed hundreds of horses in the Bde lines during the 2½ months.

On August 9th, 'A' battery lost a fine soldier and splendid Commander in Major Chester Weston Todd D.S.O. and Lt J. B. Fullerton both were killed by the same shell.

Casualties were very severe in all batteries.

Apart from the general heavy shelling of trenches, the Germans would put down what we called an area strafe, the ground was too congested for individual shelling of every target apparently, and for an hour or more, the German guns of every conceivable caliber would bombard an area of some 500/800 yards wide by a mile or more in depth and simply pound and pulverize the whole area. If your battery was not firing in an important shoot, the personnel was cleared to a flank where a forlorn group would watch it's home being battered, and later returned to patch up the wreckage.

Occasionally Hill Top Farm was our refuge, the only mined dugout in the area, and enormous affair of mined passages and with accommodation that housed our Bde H.Q., one or two Infantry H.Q. and quite a number of troops.

One outstanding strafe put up "D" battery's ammunition dump at one gun, and after an appalling roar with a sky literally blackened with earth, shells and cartridge cases, a large object came loping over slowly through the air to a spot about 300yards from the pit, said to be the gun platform. It landed with the thud of a small earthquake and turned out to be the gun itself, the wheels and carriage having been blown elsewhere.

The crater where the ammunition had been was at least 25ft deep.

On Sept 26/27th we were relieved and trekked to Ochtezeele, some miles to the rear. A Corps general watched us march past and said nice things about the gunner's part of the Ypres battle and wished us a "long and well earned rest ". Six days later, we were trekking back up to the loathed Velamertinghe and to action once more.

This time we were in the Potije - St Jean - Frexenburg area, again in unspeakable mud and with wagon lines moved to Goldfish Chateau on the outskirts of Ypres.

The batteries were some two miles away, but such was the appalling congestion of traffic on the road through Ypres that it often took two hours of standing in a queue of traffic to reach the Cloth Hall ruins in the square at Ypres, some 500yards from the lines.

We were in action here in a series of abortive attacks rendered hopeless by the state of the ground which was now a mud ocean in which shell holes and the rest of the country were merged and practically indistinguishable, a liquid sea of glutinous slime covering acres of the country.

When on Oct 13th we were relieved and ordered to move down to take over from the Canadians at Vimy, the news was almost too glorious to be credited.

The detailed story of the experiences of the Brigade since July would be too depressing even for this record but the following quotation from the official dispatch from Sir Douglas Haig's: Ypres and Passchendaele dispatch on the work of the artillery will sum up the conditions.

In speaking of the weather, the dispatch also states:

the low-lying clayey soil, torn by shells and sodden with rain, turned to a succession of vast muddy pools. The valleys of the choked and overflowing streams were speedily transformed into long stretches of bog impassable except by a few well – defined tracks which became marks for the enemy's artillery. To leave these tracks was to risk death by drowning, and in the course of the subsequent fighting on several occasions, both men and pack animals were lost in this way.

As we turn our backs on Ypres, the world seemed changed. The never-ceasing rain became crisp sunny October and the brigade trekked south under quite good conditions, spending at night each at Eecke, Morbecque, and Gonahem, and thence to temporary lines at Ablain-St-Nazaire.

The Canadians had been at Vimy ever since the April attack and had made a magnificent job of the area, broad metalled roads over the ridge the most amazing under ground mined system of catacombs which had enabled them to keep their whole attacking force in a deeply mined city under the ridge until half an hour before the attack. An excellent light railway system ran round the area and bought ammunition and rations to the positions.

Taking over from the Canadians deserves pages to it self but it largely personnel reminiscence, suffice to say it was a very unique experience and their hospitality at times almost, if not quite overwhelming. A peaceful month followed, it was an admirably ordered, quiet sector, and we appreciated the relief of it.

As a reaction from the squalor and horror of Ypres, something approaching a Sergeant-Majors dream of a Corps General's spit and polish ideal took place.

The positions were in Petit Vimy, some half a mile down from the ridge, they were camouflaged to perfection and with a trench, also camouflaged and well nigh invisible, in the rear connecting pits and dugouts.

We worked hard on paining these lily-like places. R.E. material was plentiful elephant hutting (curved sheets of corrugated iron) were used to cover the pits and turfed, the pits were fitted with wooden board platforms and arc's made from old gun wheels to keep the guns steady, sleepers from the old railway line were used as trail boards and oiled and polished until they looked like oak.

Ammunition boxes painted green and fitted with brass knobs and brass clips for the rifles and stores. All the painted parts of the gun were oiled over daily and the brass and steel work polished till they dazzled. At morning Inspection parade, officers got into the habit of donning that pair of chocolate or pink fawn breeches (Harry Halls) that was intended to ensure social success on the next leave; the whole thing was a complete and utter reaction after Ypres.

It was a peacetime month, there was no real fighting or raiding to be done, the weather was generally fair, and Bethune was within reach. Life was defiantly good to live once more and it made a marvellous difference to every one.

So life went on, until a new sensation arrived in the middle of November.

Sources and Resources

Derek Driscoll's original pages

1st South Midland Bde RFA (T) 1915-1917 by Capt F. S. Gedye MC

Other Sources

SOS Artillery Fire (The Great War (1914-1918) Forum)

Ubique
Quo Fas et Gloria Ducunt
Fidus et Audax