Blood and Thunder (53 page)

The Third Battle for Ypres finally ceased in mid November. The battle would become symbolic of the horrors of industrialised warfare and the carnage of the Great War. No fewer than sixty-five Old Etonians had died on the Western Front since July and a third of them had still been pupils at Eton in the summer war was declared. Only two of those that fell would be commemorated on the Menin Gate. The loss of life had now become so staggering that William Butcher, a Colleger who left Eton in 1910 and died with the London Regiment on 16 August 1917, would be one of the very last of the tens of thousands of names marked down for it. The men who fell in Flanders after this date and were lost on the battlefields overflow on to the memorial at Tyne Cot. No less than 34,952 of them are commemorated on the panels that border the cemetery, overlooked by a cross of sacrifice mounted on top of a pillbox. Nine of them are OEs who fell during the fighting on the Salient in the summer and autumn of 1917.

For all the suffering on the Western Front, the trials of those that had survived were far from over as far as 1917 was concerned. Part of the reason that Haig had persisted for so long on the Salient in the face of deteriorating weather was to mask a highly secretive attack being planned. Some 60 miles to the south, an Old Etonian General had an eye on breaking through the Hindenburg Line.

The Hon. Sir Julian Byng had arrived at Eton in 1874 and gone through Mr Mozley's house with his two brothers. To avoid confusion in a world where everybody referred to each other by their surnames they were known as ‘Byngo', ‘Bango' and, in Julian's case, ‘Bungo'. (To make things even more confusing he would one day take up the banjo.) He described himself once as the worst scug in the school and his reverence for his studies was indeed evident when he traded a Latin book for two ferrets and a pineapple. He came from a large family and as a seventh son had had to pay his way through the army by trading polo ponies. It had been worth it, for in April 1917 he proved his capabilities by commanding the Canadian Corps through their triumphant seizure of Vimy Ridge on the opening day of the Battle of Arras.

Byng's reward was promotion to command of his own army that summer. His Third Army was resident in a sleepy part of the line to the north of the Somme. In fact it was so calm that the Germans had been sending their exhausted men there to recover and had dubbed it ‘the Sanatorium of the West'. What if, the orchestrators of this new plan thought, they could surprise the enemy and smash through the Hindenburg Line between the Canal de l'Escaut and the Canal du Nord?

Manpower was an issue and so the plan put in front of Haig in mid September called for a revolutionary new type of attack. Unlike the low-lying, saturated terrain about Ypres, the ground was perfect for the use of tanks and so hundreds of them would be employed. Instead of a lengthy and loud bombardment that would alert the enemy, tanks would be used to smash through the wire, absorb enemy fire and forge a path for the infantry following behind. The Germans could be overrun before they realised what was happening to them. When it transpired that victory was not imminent in Belgium, Haig approved Byng's attack and preparation began in earnest at the end of October. Brigade commanders were informed early on, but at battalion level silence prevailed.

John ‘Marcus' de Paravicini was said to be the youngest major in the British Army. He was one of those who was to be kept in the dark until the assault towards Cambrai was imminent. Born in 1895, just a stone's throw from Eton at Datchet, he was descended from Robert Walpole, the first British prime minister. The middle son of a renowned sportsman, who was an FA Cup winner with three England caps and an outstanding cricketer, Marcus had gone straight into a banking career with Barclay's on leaving Eton in 1913. He volunteered as soon as the war began but having rushed himself on to a waiting list of young men wanting to be officers in the King's Royal Rifle Corps, he dashed off a letter to the War Office a fortnight later. He had learned just how many men were waiting for commissions and asked them to re-route his application to one of Kitchener's battalions. As a result he was sent to the 11th King's Royal Rifles and by the age of 21 had risen to second-in-command of the battalion. Marcus had served on the Somme and pursued the Germans to the Hindenburg Line, as well as taking part in operations at Langemarck for Gough and in Plumer's subsequent operations.

Had he not been wounded, Marcus' brother Percy would have been present with the battalion, but it was Marcus alone who arrived in the Cambrai sector in mid October with the battalion and settled near Fins. Their division, the 20th, occupied a complicated part of the lines that undulated up and down various valleys and spurs. The attack was to begin on 20 November, although Marcus would not be told until a week before. The King's Royal Rifles were not stupid, though. They were withdrawn to the rear to undergo training in conjunction with tanks and new ammunition dumps were springing up all around them. Not only was something clearly afoot, it appeared to be something big.

Byng's caution bore fruit. Under a thick veil of mist nearly 500 tanks were pulled together, the noise of their movement masked by the sound of British airmen buzzing overhead in the days leading up to the battle. As much as 137 miles of armoured cable was being run out in front of Marcus' division for communication, and for four nights guns were wheeled up, camouflaged and then quietly left in position. On the night of 19 November, intermittent bursts of machine-gun fire masked the rumbling of the tanks as they formed up ready for battle.

The following morning they rumbled from the mist into the battle, the infantry proceeding in long queues behind them. Marcus' division attacked north-east across the Hindenburg Line towards Cambrai, their objectives La Vacquerie and beyond that the high ground known as Welsh Ridge. Marcus and his men were to stay in reserve until this had been accomplished and then seize the crossings of the St Quentin Canal in between Marcoing and Masnières further on with the aid of sixteen tanks.

Up and down the line Byng's men advanced as many as 4 miles in a few hours. The Germans had been on alert but the surprise was a success. When Marcus' brigade went into Masnières the population had no idea what was going on. The men were surprised to see such normality. Women had been wheeling perambulators in the streets before German artillery fire came crashing towards them and the brigade interpreter ran back and forth attempting to get civilians evacuated.

But for all of the Third Army's success, key objectives still sat in German hands. That night the 11th King's Royal Rifles were ordered up to push on and take Crèvecoeur, further along the canal, with twelve tanks. Their lonely attack commenced in the middle of the following afternoon. Marcus and his men were enfiladed from Rumilly to the north-west and from the high ground north of the canal, so that in spite of several efforts to force a passage during the day, little progress was made. Byng had tried to push on but continued attempts failed. Late on 21 November a halt was ordered and consolidation began. Marcus had to settle for digging in to the south of Crèvecoeur.

Haig was insistent that the attack be followed up but of course the element of surprise was gone. The Germans had now had time to regroup and organise. To the north of Marcus and his battalion, Byng's men had failed to take the hugely significant ridge in front of Cambrai itself, on which Bourlon Wood sat. Haig had warned Byng about seizing it swiftly but he had not taken heed and now it was to become fiercely contested.

Shortly after he had penned his thoughtful letter to Henry Dundas, General John had left the 2nd Guards Brigade. Promoted, Ponsonby had taken over 40th Division who were now suddenly called upon to throw themselves into the fray for General Byng by relieving the battered 62nd Division who had been having a torrid time in the environs of Bourlon Wood.

General John's men struggled towards the imposing heights that included the wood, fighting their way through traffic. Arriving after dark on 22 November they had no chance to properly reconnoitre their objective and Ponsonby was forced to hurriedly cobble together a plan of attack to take Bourlon itself and the wood. The petrol for their accompanying tanks only just arrived in time and smoke shells that were to have masked their assault were lost somewhere on the deteriorating roads to the rear when the men burst forwards.

In truth 40th Division had little to no idea what they had launched themselves at, especially as far as the wood was concerned. Artillery shells sent oaks and firs splintering in all directions. The noise was deafening and men struggled to clamber over aspens and hazel. Thankfully enemy resistance was much less determined than expected. They got to the northern edge of the trees but had to dig in because the advance on either side had not kept pace. As for the village, some battalions had been all but destroyed. General John's men were scattered throughout the area, some of them isolated inside Bourlon itself. The position that night was shaky.

Under the circumstances, his men were acquitting themselves well, but the general was ordered to push on and wrench the village out of German hands. In addition, he ordered the wood consolidated, as there were numerous enemy troops hiding amongst the ruins of the trees. Communications were beginning to break down in the chaos. General John had actually managed to get the assault on Bourlon delayed until more tank support could arrive, but his new orders could not get through because German shells had smashed crucial wires and one of his brigadiers commenced the attack on 24 November as planned. Ponsonby was not even aware that his men had got into Bourlon and been forced back to the southern outskirts of the village until 8 p.m. that night, at which point he hurriedly made reserves available to the units concerned.

Inside the wood a bitter, relentless struggle had been going on all day. General John's exhausted men beat off numerous counter-attacks as they gallantly tried to hold on to the ground they had taken. Trees continued to crash down around their ears and amongst the wrecked greenery gas lingered ominously. They were rapidly losing their lines of communication back to Ponsonby and in the early evening they had sent out a distress call. One determined counter-attack from the enemy and they would most likely be flung from Bourlon Wood altogether.

Five more Etonians had already fallen in General Byng's localised offensive at Cambrai, but now Ponsonby's former men and the rest of the Guards Division had been ordered south, indicating that the number of OE casualties was about to increase drastically.

The Guards had been resting for three weeks after their exertions at Poelcappelle when orders suddenly arrived on 9 November for them to move south. It was an arduous journey and Henry Dundas, heading towards his first experience of battle as a company commander, was amongst those starting to feel the physical strain.

They had no idea where they were going or what for. Whilst Marcus de Paravicini fought for Crèvecoeur the Guards were being ferried painfully slowly towards the front in buses. Henry sat throughout 22 November to the south-west of Cambrai, struggling to recuperate from the journey in appalling weather with little shelter, cheered only by an unexpected reunion with one of his Eton friends waiting with the cavalry to exploit a break in the German line.

Whilst General John threw his men at Bourlon and the wood on 23 November, in command of the Guards, General Feilding was told that it was extremely unlikely that his men would have to relieve any division presently in the line. His staff ran back and forth, baffled by contradictory orders. Then came the inevitable: an order to relieve 51st Division in the line fighting immediately next to General John's men. Once his staff officers had spent much of the day running about looking for them, the Guards struggled up to the front in the dark, without a clue as to their surroundings. The 51st Division had pushed forward towards a village by the name of Fontaine-Notre-Dame, which sat to the south-east of Bourlon Wood, but much like Bourlon it had become bitterly contested and had changed hands several times. When the Guards arrived the troops there had no clue that they were to be relieved and were completely unready.

On 25 November, Feilding was informed that his men would attack at the earliest opportunity. He was livid. This would require attacking from a salient into another salient towards a village as yet untouched by artillery fire; it was tantamount to suicide. He demanded a conference with the corps commander and outlined his objections. He was told they would have to wait for General Byng to arrive and give his verdict.

Byng told him, in effect, to get on with it. On 27 November the Guards Division would attack Fontaine-Notre-Dame and try to prise it from German hands. Feilding went racing back to his headquarters with less than twenty-four hours to mastermind his attack. The only complete brigade he had that was fresh and unused was the 2nd, including Henry Dundas and the 1st Scots Guards, and he hurriedly sent out his orders.

The men had been lying out in the open as the snow fell the previous night and were wet through as they struggled forward. They were finally in place at 1 a.m., just a few hours before the attack was to commence. The front held by the Guards Division was some 5,000 yards, more than twice as long as that which they had successfully attacked at Pilckem Ridge, and they had less men available. It was not a testament to the leadership of the British Army. Desperate to obtain the high ground they did not realise that, having failed to seize these objectives when bolstered by the element of surprise, they were now attempting to achieve the same result with a small attack by hurried troops when the Germans, freshly reinforced, were fully aware that they would be coming.

Battalions of Grenadiers and Coldstream Guards were to assault Fontaine itself, but Henry and his Scotsmen were to take up a place on a sunken road leading south away from the village in order to provide protection for them. The Grenadiers ran straight into heavy machine-gun fire and saw their officers cut down in droves. Likewise the Coldstream were being decimated but by 7.15 a.m. the village was largely in British hands.