Valour and Sacrifice

“On a 16-mile front between Gommecourt and Maricourt, 73 infantry battalions, some 55 000 British and French soldiers left their trenches and swept towards the German front line….It was not the first, last or biggest push, yet the events of 1 July 1916 were to make it the most notorious.”[1]

Last year, right before taking a rather long break to work on the manuscript of my first novel  “Killing is a Sin” (publication pending), I wrote a two-part series on the intended nature of the battle of the Somme.  As I am quite satisfied that I illustrated my intended points, I did not wish to revisit the subject (they can be viewed here: Part One and Part Two), but with the centennial of the events of 1^st July 1916, I feel compelled to submit something reflecting the grave nature associated with that day’s actions.

What comes up in the public conscious upon the anniversary of the opening day of the Somme, more than anything is the large, unprecedented and unsurpassed number of casualties.  “The British army suffered 57, 470 casualties that day, 19,240 of them were killed or died of wounds.”[2]  It is a staggeringly tragic number, so much so because such a figure can be difficult to conceive in the abstract.  My favourite analogy is to invite the observer to imagine the seating capacity of a modest sports stadium.  With the Euro Cup in full swing, this is a readily available visual cue. 

Adding to the sense of tragedy is the generally held notion that these casualties occurred in a senseless, futile and unsuccessful attack which was only the beginning of a months’ long campaign that overall failed to gain anything significant.  It is my position that to classify this as a terrible loss to no gain not only skips over practical history, thinking of the day as entirely futile erodes the value of sacrifice these tens of thousands made.

The issue with our perception at this remove of so many deaths all at once is that it challenges our desire to apply meaning to human life, which is part of the psychology of our own awareness of mortality found in the theory of “Terror Management.”  “Terror Management Theory…starts with the idea that humans, unlike other animals, face something that is potentially terrifying: the awareness of our own mortality coupled with the desire to live….humans developed cultural symbols of meaning and value that offer a sense of significance and importance, and ultimately, immortality, when people live up to and sustain the standards of these beliefs (hence the human need for self-esteem), as a means of coping with their own death.”[3]  This is why battlefields are commemorated with statues and memorials to the fallen and is a large motivating force behind the mandate of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.  (For more on this theory and the CWGC please see my post on the subject, found here.)

With that in mind, it can be understood how, a century later, we still find it difficult to reconcile the record casualties of 1^st July 1916.  For, if we cannot fathom a purpose to the deaths of twenty thousand, we might struggle to assign purpose to our own lives and inevitable deaths.  I propose, then, to examine the deaths of six individuals, narrowing by a great margin the scope of the day’s fatalities in the hope that the record of sacrifice of these six men may better enable us to assign that sought after significance to our own mortality.  These six, Temporary Major Stewart Loudoun-Shand, Captain John Green, Temporary Captain Eric Bell, Temporary Lieutenant Geoffrey Cather, Sergeant James Turnbull and Private William McFadzean were all awarded the Victoria Cross, posthumously, for their actions on the 1^st of July 1916.

Temporary Major Loudon-Shand was mortally wounded whilst encouraging his men forward when taken under “very fierce machine gun fire.”  His citation reads in part “Maj. Loudoun-Shand immediately leapt on the parapet, helped the men over and encouraged them in every way.”[4]

Captain Green, of the Royal Army Medical Corps “went to the assistance of an officer who had been wounded”, despite being wounded himself.  He was able to free his comrade from German wire entanglements and move the man into cover to dress his wounds, whilst being under heavy fire the whole time.  In attempting to move the wounded officer into safe cover he ‘had nearly succeeded in doing so when he was killed.”[5]

Temporary Captain Bell, commanding a trench mortar battery “gave his life in his supreme devotion to duty” which included single handedly reducing an enemy machine gun and “on no less than three occasions…went forward alone and threw Trench Mortar bombs among the enemy.”  He was killed while attempting to organise groups of soldiers who had lost their officers; all of his actions were beyond the scope of his usual duties.[6]

Temporary Lieutenant Cather “in full view of the enemy and under direct machine gun fire and intermittent artillery fire” went out into No-Man’s Land on several occasions, bringing back four wounded men and delivering water to several others to be rescued later.  It was during one of these sorties, at about half past ten the morning of 2^nd July that he was killed.  Lt. Cather’s actions, notes his citation, “set a splendid example of courage and self-sacrifice.”[7]

Sergeant Turnbull “having with his party captured a post apparently of great importance,” held it despite heavy and consistent counterattacks and the loss of his party and those sent to reinforce him.  “Almost single-handed, he maintained his position, and displayed the highest degree of valour.”  He was later killed in action during a subsequent counterattack.[8]

Private McFadzean lost his life when a box of grenades fell into a crowded trench, which loosened the safety pins on two of the bombs.  McFadzean, “with heroic courage threw himself on the top of the bombs….blowing him to pieces but only one other man was injured….without a moment’s hesitation he gave his life for his comrades.”[9]

Historians have, and will continue to debate the purpose or even the sensibility of the Somme, and the way in which it was fought.  What can’t be denied is that 19,240 lost their lives on the first day of battle a century ago.  Many, a great many perhaps, were killed without having the opportunity to be of any practical influence in battle.  These six, though, by their example of valour and sacrifice might give some comfort that those who died, died well.

I am also very pleased to announce the pending North American release of “And The World Went Dark: An Illustrated Interpretation of the Great War” by Stephen Patricia, Casemate Books.  Already available for sale in the UK, it is currently on pre-order through Amazon and Chapters.  It was an esteemed honour to be invited to contribute some small samples of my writing to Mr. Patricia’s fine piece of illustrated history.  

The book, geared towards a wide audience, and particularly those not readily familiar with the First World War is artfully illustrated. Mr. Patricia’s talent lends a detailed visual aspect to a thorough understanding of this monumental event in human history.

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[1] Philpott, William, “Bloody Victory: The Sacrifice on the Somme” Abacus, 2009 pg. 175

[2] http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/worldwars/wwone/nonflash_map.shtml

[3] https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-big-questions/201206/how-we-cope-death

[4] Supplement to the London Gazette Number 29740 pg. 8869, 08 September 1916

[5] Supplement to the London Gazette Number 29695 pg. 7743, 04 August 1916

[6] Supplement to the London Gazette Number 29765 pp 9417-8, 26 September 1916

[7] Supplement to the London Gazette Number 29740 pg. 8869, 08 September 1916

[8] Supplement to the London Gazette Number 29836 pg. 11526, 25 November 1916

[9] Supplement to the London Gazette Number 29740 pg. 8871, 9 September 1916

To the Green Fields Beyond

The Purpose of the Battle of the Somme Part II: Execution

At 0720 hrs, 1^st July, 1916, an underground gallery sited beneath the German line and packed with 20 tons of ammonal[1] was detonated.  Ten minutes before zero-hour, Hawthorn Mine, as it was known, devastated the land on which it was buried; creating a shockwave felt for miles, the debris flung upward returning as heavy clods of earthen rain.  For all the noise and bother, detonating the mine did more to alert the Germans of the coming attack than being an aid to it.  Overall, artillery preparation had been poor.  Only at the southern end of the planned line of advance, where the British and French met had there been any significant reduction of German defenses.  French artillery in the area operated differently from the British and had a greater availability to (and understanding the employment of) high explosive shells.

Regardless of what lay ahead- shattered trenches or intact works- the men were going.  They were as ready as they could be, well, as they were ever going to be.  For a great many, this preparation was grossly deficient as well.  What followed has become legendary, a slaughter of 60,000 men for no result.  Military historian Major Gordon Corrigan puts it succinctly: “The Somme is often cited as an example of naïve bravery pitted against hopeless odds, coupled with stubborn pursuit of goals that were, quickly obvious as being incapable of achievement.”[2] However, Corrigan was expressing the common sentiment so that he could illustrate how fact refutes perception.

There can be no denying the terrible loss experienced by the British on 1^st July.  One third of the day’s casualties were fatal, and many of the wounded would never return to active duty.  The Germans were still in possession of their defensive line, for the most part, so any Allied gains can be easily overlooked.  In actuality, what gains had been made, though diminished in afterthought by objective failures gaining precedence, were proof that adequate training, preparation and resources could be sufficient against a fortified trench system. 

North to south, from Beaumont-Hamel to La Boiselle very little, if anything was

gained on July 1^st.  Between La Boiselle and Fricourt a tiny crescent of ground had been won.  From, but not including Fricourt to the boundary with the French just north of the River Somme better progress had been made, in some places (particularly around Montauban) up to two and a half kilometers.  Only in this area, a third of the entire length of the frontage of attack were the first day’s objectives met. None of the villages within the first day’s objectives had been taken.  This was especially worrying at Fricourt which jutted out in between the small limit of advance on the left and the lightly deeper and wider gains on the right, creating a miniature salient containing the built-up area of Fricourt at its peak and a dense wood immediately west of the village.

For the 29^th Division, attacking at the northern end of the line, around Beaumont Hamel, “The casualties were severe.  They numbered 5,000.  The loss of officers…was disproportionately heavy.”[3] Some battalions in the 29^th lost upwards of eighty percent of their effective strength; the loss of leadership a critical blow to maintaining fighting capability.

Sir John Keegan, the much admired historian, assigns much of the blame to the failures of the first day to deficiencies in artillery preparation.  By and large, he is not incorrect.  What gains were made had been mostly in the area where the French artillery had been active in support of the line where they and the British abutted.  Keegan gives something away in his inaccurate description of shrapnel shells.  He opines that the ground into which these shells were fired absorbed the impact and thus negated effectiveness reveals a military ignorance.  Shrapnel is

designed to air-burst, scattering its steel shot in a wide pattern.  If shrapnel was meant to impact detonate, it would have severely diminished its intended use- as an anti-personnel weapon.  The reason why shrapnel failed to cut German wire, as was the intent, is that the wire, being tensile, could absorb blasts of shrapnel and retain its strength. 

I raise this point not to castigate Sir John, put to illustrate that he doesn’t completely comprehend the subject matter he is describing and as such any conclusions he may draw will have at least a shadow of ignorance attached to it.  Reading Keegan for historical poignancy requires, at times, to cut through the treacle of his sentimentality and bias towards the British and a blind eye to his technical ignorance.  He is correct that the New Army formations had not been adequately trained- but doesn’t seem to understand what regular standards, particularly battlecraft were in 1916.  The Regular Army of the pre-war years was proficient in the type of “fire and movement” Keegan notes as being newly developed and of French origin. In personal conversation, I have more than once heard these so-called “new-tactics” (which are illustrated in the 1909 Field Service Manual) as having provenance with other nationalities, particularly Canadians and Australians, so Keegan is not alone in this oversight.  These things do call into question conclusions made upon misunderstood fact. 

It certainly can’t be said that thirty percent of objectives taken would be considered adequate against losses and failures.  Some minds will then point to the apparent futility of continuing operations at the Somme. The core of this argument is whether the battle was meant to be the war winning breakthrough, an attritional battle or first one and then the other when that failed to materialise.  “This setback”, of the first day, according to Sir Basil Liddell Hart, “negatived the original idea of a ‘breakthrough’ to Bapaume and Cambrai, and Haig for a time fell back on the attrition method- of limited advances aimed to wear down the German strength.”[4]

Haig’s overall plan for his army’s part in the 1916 offensives had to consider the factors of what was occurring elsewhere, particularly where the Germans were operating offensively.  His stated objectives, reproduced in the collection of his despatches, for the combined Anglo-French offensives of 1916 were:

I.              To relieve the pressure on Verdun

II.            To assist our Allies in the other theatres of war by stopping any further transfer of German troops from the Western Front

III.          To wear down the strength of the forces opposed to us[5]

That breakthrough isn’t mentioned leaves opinion open to believe Haig wanted an attritional battle.  For many, believing that the Somme was supposed to create the sought after breakthrough, the subsequent months of repeated attack must seem either foolish or stubborn.  However, as the battle’s main objective was to wear down Germany’s ability to resist-urgently in light of a similar strategy affected by the Germans against the French at Verdun.  The extension of thought is along the lines of Niall Ferguson’s notion of “when the breakthrough failed to materialise, all resorted to the arguments of attrition.”[6]

It is a fair shock to see Haig’s first reference to 1^st July contain the observation “the success” of the opening day “came as a surprise to the enemy and caused confusion and disorganisation in his ranks.”[7] seems a trifle generous of an assessment, or even willingly obtuse.   Haig’s despatches, if taken at face value seem at least a little separate from reality to the point of near delusion at times.  It would be, however, prejudicial to make assessments of his character based upon these writings.  The field Marshal submitted these despatches as progress reports to his employer, the government.  Not being made redundant involved putting all events in the best light possible.  That the despatches were concurrently published in newspapers also influenced Haig to write with a positive spin, to keep public opinion of the war likewise positive.  It would be a pity to think that Haig’s reputation for being out of touch, emotionally cool and heartlessly calculating may have basis in his own words which were not meant to be anything approaching expository.  Brigadier Sir Richard Holmes makes his assessment clear that Haig’s envisioned purpose for the Somme battle is at best unclear.  “The evidence suggests that he hoped to break through the German lines.”[8] The disagreement on the nature of the attack between Rawlinson of 4^th Army and his C-in-C Haig wasn’t as polar as attrition v. breakthrough but along the lines of what was achievable in regards the limit of the first day’s planned advance.

Haig wanted the result of any offensive he undertook to be an exploitable

breakthrough of the German lines, as this would be war winning.  This was no less true at the Somme, at least in the opening phases.  What is overlooked is that this breakthrough wasn’t the goal of the first day’s fighting.  Projected plans for the exploitation- to which infantry and cavalry would be tasked- used the German second line, which was an objective subsequent to the first day’s advance as the start point.

In any event, wearing the enemy down would be by its nature, crucial to attempting to push through the deadlock and bring the war back to mobile operations.  Given that most of the first day’s objectives were not met and thus creating an uneven line in danger of being over-extended, reliance of piecemeal attacks up and down the frontage to shore up the lines would be necessary before a general advance could be resumed.  In this period, all efforts would be made to wear the enemy down, either physically or morally, so, yes, attrition, but only with a conclusive mind towards transitioning from a wearing out process to the breakthrough which might win the war.

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[1] Firstworldwar.com

[2]  Corrigan, Gordon “Mud, Blood and Poppycock” Cassel Military Paperbacks, 2004 pg. 249

[3] Gillian, Stair “The Story of the 29^th Division: A Record of Gallant Deeds” Thomas Nelson and Sons, Ltd. 1925 pg. 82

[4] Liddell Hart, Basil “History of the First World War” Pan Books, 1972, pg 209

[5] Boraston, JH (ed.) “Sir Douglas Haig’s Despatches (December 1915-April 1919) JM Dent & Sons 1919 pg. 20

[6] Ferguson, Niall “The Pity of War: Explaining World War I” Basic Books, 1999 pg. 293

[7] Boraston, JH (ed.) ibid. pg. 23

[8] Holmes, Richard “Britain at War” Hylas Publishing, 2004 pg. 268

SPECIAL POST: “To You From Failing Hands”

“I don’t believe this all happened by chance or by luck.  I believe these medals were meant to find their way home, back to Private Lickers’ people.”

                                       

 - Mr. G Lickers; great-grandnephew of Pte D A Lickers

It is an extreme pleasure to bring to you a very special installment of If Ye Break Faith.  Over the course of several months, I’ve had the privilege to work on a tremendous project, and today’s post will tell the story of how this all developed to its happy conclusion in a ceremony held in Brantford Ontario on the 27^th of July.

It began, simply enough in February, with a post on a Facebook group for Canadian Forces service members.  Two medals from WWI had been passed to Ralph, a Canadian Army sergeant.  His parents had come upon them many years prior when cleaning out a rental property they managed.  With Ralph’s connection to the military, his parents thought he might have an interest in them.  The question Ralph posed was to ask opinion as to what would be best done with them.  Overwhelmingly, almost to the point of unanimity, the response was that living relatives be sought and the medals returned to the families of the recipients.

One problem was that Ralph didn’t quite know where to begin.  I offered some suggestions, and helped clarify a point of historic fact.  Somehow, that was sufficient to place me in the role of coordinating these efforts.  Thankfully, it turned out that my inquiries to determine lineage landed with some very dedicated and competent individuals- professionals and enthusiasts alike- which made the search much easier than had I struck out on my own. 

The first medal in question was a Victory Medal originally issued to David Andrew Lickers, a member of the Six Nations reserve in Brantford.  While the search to find a living relative got underway, I had opportunity to study his service records.

History may better remember the giants- of politics, arts, science and war- but the story of humanity is within the deeds and achievements of any individual, regardless the breadth of their impact or influence.  David’s story is much like that.  Looking into his military records, it is very plain that he did not see much of the war, but he had seen enough.

Three brothers, Joseph, David and William all joined the same battalion, the 98^th. Joseph went first, in November of 1915, followed by William in December and David that January.  The 98^th, after arriving in England in July 1916 was broken up for reinforcements.  A draft of these men, including David and William arrived in France to be assigned to the 58^th Battalion in September.

Their first major action would be just days away, in an attack on a German defensive line at the Somme code named “REGINA TRENCH.”  It was a costly engagement.  The 58^th’s War Diary notes: “In crossing ‘no-mans-land…Coy. ‘D’ and…Coy. ‘C’ suffered considerably from machine gun fire and had many casualties.”[1] On reaching the trench, it was found that artillery had failed to cut the wire; and many of the battalion’s casualties were caused by direct fire as they attempted to find gaps in the obstacle. Some parts of the enemy trench were gained and were held for about half an hour before being forced back by a devastating counter attack.  Lt Col H A Genet, CO of the 58^th noted in his report, “No praise can be too high for the splendid manner in which the men fought and continued to fight until the situation was hopeless.”[2]

For the 8^th of October, 1916, the 58^th Battalion’s casualties are listed as 30 killed, 144 wounded and 111 missing.  William was among the dead.  While nothing recorded gives us a certainty of events, it is entirely likely that David was close by and perhaps even within sight of William when he was killed.  There is no denying the coincidental timing of William’s death and that for eight days after the battle, David was missing.  He returned to his unit on the 16^th of October, there being no indication of where he was or what he had been doing for those missing days.  Sometimes, it is what the records don’t say which can tell us much.  Whatever reasons David may have given for his absence, they were sufficient for him to not have been charged with being Absent With Out Leave.  He didn’t stay out of trouble, though.

David was sentenced, on the 31^st of October to 14 days’ Field Punishment #1, a harsh form of extra duty in which the soldier could be held in restraints or tied to a fixed object for hours at a time.  His crime was drunkenness.  In that, David was not at all different than many soldiers, young men away from home introduced to vice, except that he got caught.  At this remove of one hundred years, it is suppositional to put a motive to David’s crime, but I don’t think it is too far a stretch to say that William’s death may have had something to do with it.

Before he could serve his sentence in full, David went back into the line with his battalion.  While under fire on the 3^rd of November, David was “Burried(sic) by a shell and hit on (the) head by (a) sandbag.” He remained unconscious for three weeks, with paralysis on the left side of his body.  He was sent to convalesce in England, his continuing symptoms being “’epileptiford seizures’, as many as four or five a day….very nervous at times, is easily excited.  Sleeps poorly, wakes up with sudden starts and troublesome dreams.”[3] After some months of hospitalisation, David was invalided back to Canada for “further medical treatment.”  In early 1918 his condition was re-assessed and David was found to be “physically unfit” for further military service.

On the 18^th of February, 1918, at Exhibition Camp in Toronto, David was discharged from the army.  His character and conduct marked as “good” despite his transgressions.  It is at this point that David fades into history like so many others who came home from war and went on into private life.  I fell it is fitting that we’re paying tribute to an ordinary man.  Posterity may better remember the giants; but history is truly made by ordinary people.

(For more detail on Canada’s First Nations in WWI, please see my post “Warrior Spirit”)

Instrumental in the search for David’s family connection was the Woodland Cultural Centre.  The Centre’s staff made inquiries of their own and with their resources.  After a number of weeks, a great-grandnephew was located, contacted and appraised of the developing story; and agreed to participate.  From there, planning began for a ceremony to re-invest the medal with the Woodland Centre graciously offering themselves as the venue.  The ceremony itself, which took place on the afternoon of Monday 27^th July was a genuine and heart-felt reunion of the past to the present. 

Mr. Glenn Lickers, David’s great-grandnephew shared his sentiments, saying “While the focus is on the medals of Private David Lickers coming home, we really are honouring and paying tribute to the memory of Private David Lickers in the presence of his family, his community and his brother and sister veterans.”  Mr. Lickers concluded by ceding his ancestor’s medal to the Woodland Cultural Centre Museum.  “Now that the medals are home they will serve as a legacy of Private David Lickers and his service in WWI.  It is a legacy that needs to be shared with his community, his people and all Canadians.”

I feel that this may just be a drop in the bucket.  Already, efforts are underway to trace the family of the recipient of the other medal in Ralph’s possession; that of Pte H G Mutford of Newfoundland.  Thanks to very good media coverage of Monday’s event, hopefully others will be inspired to put a similar context to discovered military artefacts.

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[1] War Diary Entry, 58^th Bn CEF, 08 October 1916; Lt Col HA Genet, DSO

[2] War Diary Entry, cont’d

[3] Army Form MFB 227 “Medical History of an Invalid” 26 November 1917, Capt. GF Sykes, CAMC

Into the Valley of Death

The Purpose of the Battle of the Somme: Part I- Preparation

The study of history can be a tricky thing indeed.  In the pursuit of establishing meaning of past events, very often the subjectivity of human observation (either at point of origin or in reflection after the fact) can either spin or skew time gone by-sometimes inadvertently- to a significance more important to the observer than that which is being observed.  This is particularly true if the event itself has superlative qualities.

A stark example would be the Battle of the Somme in 1916.  Of superlatives, it

has a rather good share; the opening day remains the bloodiest in British military history, it was the largest body of men committed to a battle by the British up to that point and (one of) the longest battles fought.  By that, the course of the battle saw day after day of ever increasing tonnage of artillery shells fired, longer and larger undermining operations, mileage of railway track laid, among much else.  Much could-and has- been written reflecting the Somme’s stature of one of history’s great battles.

That the prevailing view is that since it accomplished little as the war would continue for two years after the battle’s conclusion, there is added a futility to its memory.  One can rightly ask why such a sacrifice of lives and resources was required if no significant gains had been made.  At this far remove, the temptation to apply moral thought is all but unavoidable.  Even historians disagree on this question.

One of the major points of contention is what the British hoped to achieve by fighting at the Somme.  This issue feeds into any analysis of the battle, and putting stock in one theory over another thus influences conclusive thought.  Central to this is whether the battle was meant to be the “Big Push” that would crack the Western Front wide open, bringing the conflict back to maneuver warfare; or that the Somme was intended as an attritional battle, to wear down German manpower, resources and hopefully, the will to carry on fighting.  It is true that neither of those goals were realised.

An irony is that critics of the battle, whether in one camp or another tend to see the Somme as a futile and blind waste of lives for no resolution.  Determining the true intent of British commanders at the Somme may be in some way helpful to better understanding it.

The battle was conceived as part of a multi-lateral Allied offensive to be mounted in the late spring of 1916.  A conference in December 1915 between British, French, Italian and Russian generals agreed in principle to a simultaneous effort on their respective fronts.  No supreme command was established so the armies of the different nations would largely be operating independently towards a common goal.  This left the door open for army commanders to cooperate with each other at their own discretion with mixed results.  Surprisingly, the conference took little consideration that their opponents were devising their own hopefully decisive offensive strategies.  The Allied pinion was that the Germans were content to remain on the defensive- to hold the ground in Belgium and France where they were.  This was a great miscalculation and a large oversight in contingent planning.

In the Eastern and Southern Fronts, “the Russian army would carry out a double-pronged attack”[1] against Germany in the north and Austro-Hungary in the south.  “Italy would strike…with a view to penetrating deep inside Austria.”[2] The British and French intended to make a combined attack in an area where their forces met along the Western Front, an area which straddled the River Somme.  The majority of British forces had so far been operational along the Yser area.  There was a familiarity to it from long exposure which would be lost in moving south to the Somme.  The British Commander-in-Chief, General Sir Douglas Haig actually favoured designing an offensive at Yser, but was persuaded by the French and his political masters that a combined effort in the same area would be more prudent.  The Somme, as a battlefield “offered an immensely long front of attack on which twenty divisions could assault side by side.”[3] Within this move was the usual difficulty of occupying positions which had once been held by the French.  Transitioning isolated points of resistance, as was the French habit of defensive war, to a proper trench line would necessitate a good deal of labour in the months running up to the battle.

Such a large undertaking as the general offensives of 1916 were to be required a

great deal of preparation.  “The whole first half of 1916 was devoted to building up great masses of armaments, to bringing forward the green new armies that Kitchener had recruited in 1914, lo literally laying the groundwork.”[4]  Haig describes in his despatches the effort placed in building and improving roads and rail lines, dwelling particularly on the ingenuity by which a complex water system was installed to keep the front in good supply.  Some 120 miles of pipe were laid for this alone.  If nothing else, these preparations are a remarkable human achievement.  Never before had had such a percentage of the general population worked towards a common goal.  The organisation and management, both of individual projects and the entire enterprise as a whole is staggering to contemplate.  No less so were the German preparations of their defensive lines.  Knowing that the French and British outnumbered them, they constructed trenches, bunkers and strongpoints with ample use of concrete and steel- “the infrastructure they had put in place was a marvel of engineering.”[5] The Germans had, in “nearly two years’ preparation…spared no pains to render these defenses impregnable.”[6]

In the immense amount of work required to prepare for a general offensive, Haig notes “Much of this preparatory work had to be done under very trying conditions….in addition to fighting and…maintaining existing defences.”[7] To say nothing, perhaps, as to how all this would interfere with training an army which was little better than amateur.  For Haig, “a very large proportion of the officers and men under my command were still far from being fully trained, and the longer the attack could be deferred the more efficient they would become.”[8]  Nearly two thirds of the 143 battalions were of the “New Army,” war raised volunteers with no prior military experience and at this point without any exposure to battle.  “At least three divisions (the 30^th, 32^nd and 34^th) which were to attack…came to the Western Front in a state of training which must be described as quite deficient.”[9] All told, there were 18 divisions on the Somme, 12 of which made up Fourth Army, commanded by General Sir Henry Rawlinson.  One of those divisions was a recent arrival on the Western Front, but as they had come by way of the Gallipoli campaign, had a great deal of practical exposure.

 This was the 29^th Division, containing a good combination of Regular Army and Territorial battalions.  Even with the 29^th being a rather experienced division that experience in the Dardanelles had caused a serious deficiency in trained junior officers.  “The loss at the Dardanelles of 1,100 officers resulted in the cadres being filled by officers of no previous war experience.”[10] It is reasonable to extrapolate that the same must have been true among all other veteran divisions.  Planning, in light of the inexperience of those taking the field was “of stark simplicity for the infantry.”[11]  In consideration of the situation at large, particularly the ability of the French and Italians to hold out against a focused Central Powers offensive, Haig makes it plain that the British attack “be launched whenever the general situation required it with as great a force as I might then be able to make available.”[12] As this proposed start was contingent on things happening elsewhere and beyond British influence, Haig’s promise could well mean he be called into action sooner or with less resources than would be ideal.

It is this deficiency of experience which is often given as reasoning to the lack of success of the battle, particularly reflecting the first day.  Commonly, it is viewed as the naïve being pushed into a situation for which they were not prepared by uncaring and inconsiderate commanders.  It should be kept in mind that not only were many of the soldiers of the British Army in 1916 new and untried, or like the 29^th, experienced but at a cost, but so were the heads of this army.  Haig had succeeded Sir John French as Commander-in-Chief in December of 1915.  Haig was elevated to a level of command over more troops than any British officer before him.  At the same time, General Sir William Robertson had ascended to the role of Chief of the Imperial general Staff.  Though of great experience gained from a long career which he began as an ordinary private, Robertson also was assuming a role with the same largess as Haig.  If review of the past chooses to regard the inexperience of those on the front lines as mitigation of the results, the same process must be applied to their leadership.

The lack of combat readiness on the part of the infantry would be, it was hoped,

made up for by an overwhelming artillery fire plan.  “At the Somme, the British had about forty thousand men working for about a week to fire thirty thousand tons of shells into the German lines, into an area thirty thousand yards wide and about one thousand yards deep….Every thousand square yards…got an average of thirty shells fired into it, for a total of around two million shells.”[13] This was not without its difficulties either.  Limitations of effective range meant that the concentration of fire would be placed on the German front line, leaving the secondary support lines nearly untouched.  “The British infantry were, therefore, being asked to commit themselves to an offensive of which the outcome, even if completely successful, would leave the Germans still largely in possession of a second and completely independent system of fortification untouched by the attack.”[14] What this does indicate is that while breakthrough may have been the intent of the battle, it certainly wasn’t the hoped for outcome of the first phase of the battle.  The prospect of German defense in depth remaining a factor was allayed in the belief that the artillery could destroy the first line prior to the infantry assault.  The infantry would move forward to occupy these decimated positions; with little expected resistance, and hold them while preparations were made to duplicate these results on the second line.  In the event, “the extent of artillery damage turned out to be astonishingly limited.”[15] An estimated third of all the shells fired in the preparatory bombardment were faulty, and there were far more shrapnel shells available than high explosive.  Shrapnel shells are particularly anti-personnel in nature and are not suited to the task of eliminating wire obstacles or reducing entrenchments.  There just wasn’t enough high explosive shells such a task would require.  Of those high explosive shells that were used, many were not powerful enough to penetrate the deep defenses and bunkers where the Germans were sheltering.

Often cited are the various assurances on the ease of the coming attack due to the ferocity of the bombardment.  “Brigadier General Gordon of the 8^th Infantry Brigade…told his men that they could ‘slope arms, light up your pipes and cigarettes and march all the way to Pozières before meeting any live Germans.”[16]  The modern observer might tend to view this as evidence of bungling and ignorance amongst the highest levels of command.  It might not be as clear as that.  Quite simply it was understood that “no bombardment, however heavy, could eliminate every last defender concealed over a large area.”[17]  As many of the men who were to make the attack were new to war, the notion that the assault would be a walk-over may have been used as a placatory measure to lessen “stage fright.”  As the idea is obviously over-optimistic and should it have occurred, unprecedented, it is unlikely that any veteran units if told these things would have put any stock in it.

What was being faced, then, is the prospect of a battle to be fought by undertrained soldiers led by untried commanders after a lengthy but ineffectual artillery preparation. Asking what could be expected of men in such conditions might practically provide an answer to whether the Battle of the Somme was intended to be a war-winning breakthrough or a lengthy attritional battle.

The answer is that it was never entirely one or the other.

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[1] Gilbert, Martin, “The Battle of the Somme”, McClelland & Stewart 2006 pg. 11

[2] Gilbert, Martin, ibid.

[3] Keegan, John, “The Face of Battle”, The Viking Press, 1976 pg. 206

[4] Meyer, GJ, “A World Undone: The Story of the Great War 1914-1919”, Delta Books, 2006 pg. 435

[5] Meyer, GJ, ibid. pg. 439

[6] Boraston, JH (ed.) “Sir Douglas Haig’s Despatches (December 1915-April 1919)”, JM Dent & Sons, 1919 pg. 22

[7] Boraston, JH (ed.), ibid. pg. 21

[8] Boraston, JH (ed.), ibid. pg. 19

[9] Keegan, John, ibid. pg. 222

[10] Gillian, Stair, “The Story of the 29^th Division: A Record of Gallant Deeds”, Thomas Nelson and Sons, Ltd., 1925 pg. 78

[11] Keegan, John, ibid. pg. 225

[12] Boraston, JH (ed.), ibid. pg. 20

[13] Stroud, Carsten, “Iron Bravo: Hearts, Minds and Sergeants in the US Army”, Bantam Books, 1995 pg. 144

[14] Keegan, John, ibid. pg. 215

[15] Meyer, GJ, ibid. pg. 444

[16] Holmes, Richard, “Britain at War”, Hylas Publishing, 2004 pg. 276

[17] Philpott, William, “Bloody Victory: The Sacrifice on the Somme”, Abacus, 2009 pg. 149