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Title: The Tank Corps

Author: Clough Williams-Ellis
Amabel Williams-Ellis

Author of introduction, etc.: Hugh Jamieson Elles

Release date: August 8, 2020 [eBook #62881]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TANK
CORPS ***

Transcriber’s Note
This book uses footnote anchors at the beginning of
some quoted text to refer to footnotes crediting the
sources of those quotes. It also uses mid-paragraph
footnote anchors to refer to other kinds of footnotes.

THE TANK CORPS

MAJOR-GENERAL HUGH ELLES, C. B., D. S. O.
FROM A PORTRAIT BY SIR WILLIAM ORPEN, A. R. A.

THE TANK CORPS

BY

Major CLOUGH WILLIAMS-ELLIS, M.C.
AND

A. WILLIAMS-ELLIS
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
Major-General H. J. ELLES, C.B., D.S.O.
COMMANDER OF THE TANK CORPS

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1919,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

INTRODUCTION
My dear Williams-Ellis,
You ask me for a foreword to your history, and invite me, too, to agree to,
criticise, or even refute the conclusions of your Epilogue.
The first task I undertake with pleasure, though I feel it would be more
justly and more skilfully done either by one of the pioneers who sowed that we
might reap, or by the rare thinker who in our own time has contributed so
much to keep us on the lines of clear understanding and progress.
As to the second task I must decline a direct reply, and for many reasons I
can no more than touch generally upon the questions you have dealt with in so
interesting a way. I find them, however, not yet sufficiently remote in time,
either to be clear themselves, or to be distinctly placed in a picture itself still
obscure.

* * * * *
Of the early days of the Tanks, and of the early struggles, difficulties and
hopes of the pioneers, I have no first-hand knowledge—to comment at any
length upon them would be out of place. They do, however, represent a
remarkable effort of persistent and courageous faith, of determination to
succeed in the face of lukewarmness and even scepticism, of the overcoming
of many practical difficulties. Above all, they present a great clearness of
vision on the part of three men in particular—Swinton, Stern and d’Eyncourt.
It is remarkable that one of the first official papers on the tactical use of
Tanks, written by General Swinton early in 1915, should have been almost
literally translated into action on August 8, 1918.
To General Swinton, too, is due the implanting, into all ranks, of the
fundamental idea of the Tank as a weapon for saving the lives of infantry. This
idea was indeed the foundation of the moral of the Tank Corps, for it spread
from the fighting personnel to the depots and workshops, and even to the
factories.

More than anything else, it was this sentiment which kept men ploughing
through the mud of 1917, in the dark days when often the chance of reaching
an objective had fallen to ten per cent.; which kept workshops in full swing all
round the clock on ten and eleven hour shifts for weeks and, once, for months
on end; which, finally, secured from the factories an intensive and remarkable
output.
Sir Albert Stern brought to his labours a whole-hearted energy and
enthusiasm unsurpassed. But more practical than this alone, he ensured initial
production by a contempt for routine and material difficulties and a resilience
to rebuff as fortunate as they were courageous.
To Sir Eustace d’Eyncourt, the only member of the original Committee
still officially connected with us, a great debt is due. We have been fortunate to
have had at our disposal an engineer of his wide practical experience, who
devoted much of his scanty leisure to our guidance both in policy and in detail,
whose sagacious counsels have more than once checked the impetuosity of
some of his associates.

* * * * *
Before passing to the aspects of Tank history with which I have been
directly concerned, I wish to make reference to two organisations vital to the
Tank Corps in the field. For if that represented the point of the spear, they
combined to form a most solid and dependable shaft.
The first of these two was the Training Organisations set up in England to
produce the men; second, the manufactories which produced the machines.
The task of the Training Centre and the cadet schools was particularly
onerous. The organisation of any new instructional centre in the haste and
pressure of the time was no easy task—its work was often thankless and
subject to much ill-informed and light-hearted criticism.
The Training Centre of the Tank Corps had additional difficulties. There
was no guidance as to training—the entire system had to be thought out from
the beginning, and continually modified by the experience of the battlefield—
instructors had not only to be found but trained—esprit de corps and discipline
had to be built up; and all this against time.
It may perhaps be a compensation to the many officers and men who lived
laborious days, and were not rewarded by seeing the results of their work in

the field, to know that “France” has never been under any illusion as to the
great thoroughness of their work.

* * * * *
The work carried through in the munitions factories, and the ingenuity and
solid labour that backed the efforts of the soldier in the field, are perhaps not
yet fully appreciated by the fighting men. In France one might hear of sporadic
unrest, but till one met with it, one realised nothing of the genuine faithful
grind at production of objects of whose destination the worker often knew
nothing, of the blind patience under duress of shortage, and of crowded
accommodation; of hope deferred.
The Tank Corps was fortunate indeed in having established at an early
date close relations with its workers, and more fortunate still at a critical time
in being able to declare a substantial dividend on the capital of wealth, labour
and brains entrusted to it by its section of industrial Britain.
Once touch was obtained with the worker himself, the interest taken by J.
Bull in the factory, in T. Atkins in the field, was more than fully proved, not
only by the demand for copies of accounts of Tank actions, but by the steadily
increased output that was maintained.
The thing is only natural. Put a man or a woman to turn out bolts from a
machine for eight hours a day, and you will get a certain result. Tell her or him
that the bolts will go into a Tank that will fight probably in six weeks’ time;
that the Tank will save lives and slay Huns; that yesterday Tanks did so-and-so;
that last week No. 10567, made in Birmingham, and commanded by Sergeant
Jones of Cardiff, rounded up five machine-guns ... you will get quite a
different result; moreover, it is John Bull’s right and due to be told these
things.
We had not got quite a complete result in this direction, but we were
getting near it, and perhaps our co-operation of the back and the front was as
nearly a microcosm of an ideal national co-operation in war as has been
achieved. We aimed at Team Work.

* * * * *
You who have coped in a short compass with the whole story of Tanks can
well realise the difficulties of dealing concisely, even by comment, with the
kaleidoscopic events of two and a half crowded years—with the questions of

organisation, training, personnel, design, supply, fighting, reorganisation,
workshops, experiments, salvage, transportation, maintenance.
I shall attempt no more than to supplement your admirably drawn
narrative as to one or two points which appear to me to be of major importance
or interest.

* * * * *
The employment of Tanks in the field was one long conflict between
policy and expediency. Policy seemed always to demand that we should wait
until all was prepared, until sufficient masses of machines should be ready to
use in one great attack that would break the German defensive system.
Expediency necessitated the employment of all available forces at dates
predetermined, and in localities fixed for reasons other than their suitability as
Tank country. Battles are not won with Tanks alone, and in early 1917, for
example, the Tank was still a comparatively untested machine. Indeed, the later
issues of the Mark I. developed weaknesses in detail so alarming as to preclude
anything more than a short-lived effort in battle.
Not until the Mark IV. machine was well into delivery could a guarantee
as to its degree of mechanical reliability be given, and by that time the trend of
the year’s campaigning was unalterably fixed.
And so it was that it was our fate up to the first Cambrai battle to “chip in
when we could” in conditions entirely unfavourable.
The employment of Tanks in Flanders has often been criticised, without
intelligent appreciation of the fact that had they not fought in Flanders they
would have probably fought nowhere. Better, therefore, that they should fight
and pull less than half their weight, and still save lives, than that they should
stand idle while tremendous issues were at stake.

* * * * *
If employment in the field was a struggle between policy and expediency,
the principles of production and design represented a direct conflict of
opposing policies, resulting happily in compromise. The fighting man,
conscious of the weaknesses of the earlier weapons, and visualising
development which he believed to be obtainable, and knew to be necessary,
and the soldier-engineer overburdened with difficulties of maintenance and

cursed with the nightmare of Spares and Spares and more Spares—both cried
aloud from France for rapid progress in design.
In England the other side of the picture was presented with equal force.
The process of bulk production necessitates orders placed long in advance,
materials were difficult to obtain, plans of track work and workshop
organisation are not susceptible of change without delay, change, too, entailing
irritation of factory staffs and workmen. Production once agreed to and
embarked upon, a very complicated machinery is with difficulty set in motion.
To stop or change this machinery results often in a loss of output which is in
no way compensated by the improvements ultimately obtained.
The same problem must have occurred in many branches of war
production. The best, however, is only the enemy of the good, if the good is
good enough.
You have portrayed the difficulties arising from these conditions in
Chapter V. The picture you draw belongs to the earlier stages, when the two
sides worked rather upon regulation than upon formula. The later stages of the
war saw a very full appreciation of each other’s point of view and the growth
of a very sturdy spirit of co-operation, which carried us over more than one
difficulty to meet which special appliances or special construction were
necessary.

* * * * *
The Tank, as a weapon, has been threatened with several crises. Some
have been averted by intelligent forecast in specification. Some have been
dealt with by the improvisations of the engineers both in France and in
England. Some have disappeared before a general improvement in design.
You, I think, have touched on one crisis only—the mud crisis. The mud crisis
was defeated at long last, but the swamp crisis, never. Although none of the
other troubles was of long duration, any one of them, unless cured, would have
caused a permanent disappearance of the arm.
Failure of rollers was succeeded by failure of sprockets. Sprockets and
rollers were hardly cured when the Germans produced a very reliable armour-
piercing bullet. This after a very short innings was defeated by the arrival of
the Mark IV. Tank. The Mark IV. Tank was barely rescued from the mud of
Flanders by the invention of the unditching beam, when we discovered that the
Hindenburg trenches were about one foot too wide to cross without some form

of help to the Tank. This difficulty was overcome, but about this time the effect
of concentrated machine-gun fire upon Mark IV. Tanks must have become
known to the Germans, as also their vulnerability to the ordinary field gun. The
position with regard to both splash and casualties from guns firing over the
sights, was becoming serious when the arrival of Mark V. Tank, with its
increased handiness and speed, put an end to the splash difficulty for ever, and
defeated the field gun for a good long time.
So on to the last days of the war, when we were able to look forward to
1919 with a certain knowledge that we had much in hand against any measure
of opposition—short of a superior Tank—that the enemy could produce.
The idea undoubtedly exists still in the minds of certain people that the
particular form of Tank which they have seen or fought with represents the
latest word in design. It does not. The latest Tank produced in any bulk was the
type that marched through London on July 19. It has never fought, and it
represents the last word only of the elementary series of Tanks of which Mark
I. was the original.

* * * * *
If finality in design has by no means been approached in the war, the same
may be said as regards the employment of the then existing types. This
depended, after due consideration of their limitations and powers, on the
training of personnel, not only of the Tank Corps, but essentially of infantry
too. Lack of time, lack of opportunity, and wastage of trained personnel were
the great difficulties which confronted commanders of every arm and
formation in their efforts to reach even average standards of skill in only a few
of the commoner phases of warfare. With the Tank Corps the additional
difficulties of mechanical training were no more than balanced by freedom
from the trench routine of troops employed for defence. For the infantry Tank,
the training of Tank personnel alone is not sufficient. In the assault, Tanks are
no more than a part of infantry, an integral part of the troupes d’assaut. For
real success, i.e., cheap success, not only must the two arms train and re-train
together, but they should live together, feed together, and drink together.
Much was attempted and much was done to supplement the lack of
opportunity by demonstration, lectures, attachments. But by reason of the
incomplete military education of our hastily-trained troops it was necessary to
limit manœuvre and tactics on the battlefield to the simplest elements.

Anything in the nature of finesse had to be avoided. Skilful use of ground and
mutual fire support were things hoped for more often than achieved.
It was a question of bulk production against time, but the results obtained
only prove how much more could be achieved with the same material had
conditions of training been those of peace time with its long service and
rigorous and plentiful supervision.

* * * * *
The preceding paragraph may seem ungracious from one who has had the
privilege of commanding a great force of citizen soldiers. It is nevertheless
true that soldiering, like any other trade, takes time and experience to learn—
that though there may be many who, being engineers, or advocates, or business
men, or farmers, learn soldiering with great aptitude, the great bulk of any
body of men, call them regular soldiers or citizen soldiers, require a deal of
training under the best instructors, if they are to draw the full advantage from
the ever varying conditions of the battlefield.

* * * * *
I have alluded above to the Tank Corps as a citizen force. It was, indeed,
peculiarly so, for of the 20,000 odd souls that went to compose it, perhaps not
more than two or three per cent. were professional soldiers; and, while the
General Staff officers on H.Qs. were almost without exception regulars, the
whole of the Administrative and Engineering staffs with one solitary exception
were drawn from various civil vocations.
Moreover, units as they came into being were built up, not on any old-time
tradition of a parent regiment, but each one very much around the personality
of its own commanding officer. And it has indeed been interesting to watch the
development of particular idiosyncrasies of whole battalions and companies
from the characters of their leaders.
Your record has faithfully set forth what has been accomplished by these
troops. They are well able to sustain criticism in the light of their
achievements.

* * * * *
I have alluded before to the esprit de corps, founded as it was upon the
sentiment of saving of life—a sentiment to which appeal has never failed.

Other factors went to strengthen it. It was braced by a high standard of results
demanded, by the determination to make good in spite of partial first
successes. But the strongest element in it was the faith in our weapon—the
machine necessary to supplement the other machines of war, in order to break
the stalemate produced by the great German weapon, the machine-gun—our
mobile offensive answer to the immobile defensive man-killer.

* * * * *
It is indeed a curious reflection that the Germans before committing
themselves to their great final offensive, should not have followed to their
logical conclusion the preparations which they made for the preceding phases
of the war with such meticulous forethought. In 1914, they removed from the
path of their attacking infantry the prepared obstacles of permanent
fortification by means of specially-constructed machines—siege cannon of
unprecedented size. Later, they developed the machine-gun in bulk, and so
modified the preconceived course of warfare to their own advantage for
defence. It is astonishing that for their final offensive effort, they should not
have equipped their men with armament for overcoming the very defence in
depth supported by the very machine-guns from which they had reaped so
much advantage in the previous years.
And yet we see them in March, 1918, reverting after an initial attack,
powerfully covered by artillery fire, to the same attempt to break through with
men that had failed in 1914. Although machine-gun support was stronger, there
was little help from the other arms beyond scanty artillery support and
considerable frightfulness of day and night bombing and long-range
bombardment. The German infantry was well, often magnificently, led,
whether in Picardy or Flanders; and one could not watch the work of the strong
offensive patrols without intense admiration of their skill and courage.
The Germans failed against defence in depth. The elements that were
wanting were those of continuous mobility necessary to overcome such
defence, against which infantry without powerful support and plentiful supply
sooner or later become powerless. The Germans lacked the means to move and
to supply their guns rapidly. They lacked Tanks to produce surprise or to carry
forward the battle as an alternative to guns. They lacked lorries, they lacked
cross-country vehicles.
With us, when the tide turned, the converse was the case, and it was at
least a part reason of success against an enemy who fought bravely and often

bitterly almost to the end.

* * * * *
Whether you justly appraise the contribution of the Tank Corps towards
the final victory is for history to declare—at some interval yet—but I am hardy
enough to give you a parable in the terms of a great national pastime.
Rugby football of all games affords the closest analogy to war—to warfare
on the Western Front the parallel, without labouring the detail, is remarkable.
In the early nineties the accepted tactics of the game demanded a
distribution of the team into nine forwards and six backs. The orthodox
believed in forward play, and in emergency sometimes even a tenth forward
would be added at the expense of one back.
At this time there occurred in the annual matches between two countries
an uninterrupted series of defeats for one. As a measure of resource or despair,
I do not know which, a new distribution was made in its forces. Instead of
nine, eight forwards were played, one back was added—the fourth three-
quarter.
The tactics were for the forwards to hold the opposing attack and for the
backs to play offensively. The game is historic. For three-quarters of the match
the nine forwards pressed the eight heavily, and these were very hard put to it
to maintain their lines. In the last phase of the game one of the four three-
quarters got away unmarked, the game was won and lost.
That was twenty-five years ago. The rules of the game remain unchanged,
but the distribution of the players has been modified and the tactics of teams
have developed on the lines of that historic match and beyond.
Whether the parallel of the Tank Corps to the extra three-quarter is a
completely true one history will record in due season. What, however, we may
claim is that the fourth three-quarter after a nervous start, in which perhaps he
was sometimes out of his place, nevertheless on more than one occasion got
away unmarked; that he ran straight even when he was being heavily tackled
and drew the opposition for his side; that he went down well to the rushes of
the German forwards; and that, finally, he more than once handled the ball in
the great combined run which took his team from within its own twenty-five
over the opponents’ goal line.

Yours sincerely,

United Service Club,
July 28, 1919.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
Introduction v
I A Brief Account of the Tank, Its Crew
and Its Tactical Functions, As
They Were at the Date of the
Armistice 25
II The Earliest Tanks, General Swinton,
Admiral Bacon,—the Holt Tractor
and the Evolution of the “Land
Cruiser” 31
III The Tank Corps in Embryo 46
IV The First Tank Battles—The Attack
on Morval, Flers, the
Quadrilateral, Thiepval, and
Beaumont-Hamel 57
V Winter Training, Expansion and
Readjustments 77
VI The Battles of Arras and Bullecourt 89
VII The Battle of Messines and the “Hush”
Operation 110
VIII The Flanders Campaign—Preparations
for the Third Battle of Ypres 124
IX The Third Battle of Ypres 138
X The First Battle of Cambrai 160
XI Three New Types of Tank—The Depot
—Central Workshops 190

XII The French Tank Corps—American
Tanks and British Tanks in Egypt 209
XIII Suspense—The “Savage Rabbits”
Episode—The Enemy’s Intentions 235
XIV The March Retreat 243
XV The Equilibrium—Minor Actions—
Hamel—The Ballon D’Essai 265
XVI With the French—The Battle of
Moreuil 280
XVII The Battle of Amiens, or Battle of
August 8 288
XVIII The German Attitude—“Man-Traps
and Gins”—The Battle of Bapaume 323
XIX Breaking the Drocourt-Quéant Line—
The Battle of Epehy 341
XX The Second Battle of Cambrai, or the
Battle of Cambrai-St. Quentin 361
XXI The Second Battle of Le Cateau—The
Running Fight 380
XXII The Rout—Mormal Forest—The
Battle of the Sambre—The
Armistice 392
Epilogue 402
Index 417

ILLUSTRATIONS
Major-General Hugh Elles, C.B.,
D.S.O.
From a portrait by Sir William
Orpen, A.R.A. Frontispiece
FACING
PAGE
General Arrangements of Mark V.
Tank—Front View 28
General Arrangement of Mark V.
Tank—Sectional Elevation 28
General Arrangement of Mark V.
Tank—Sectional Plan 29
Diagram Showing Adaptation to the
“Large-Wheeled Tractor” Idea 29
The Original Thiepval Mark I. Tank
with Anti-Bomb Roof and “Tail” 64
Field Camouflage 64
A Derelict. Valley of the Scarpe 96
A Burning Tank 96
“Direct Hits” 97
Bellied on a Tree-Stump and
Subsequently Hit 97
A Flanders Pill-Box 132
The Unditching Beam in Action 132

The Steenbeek Valley Before the
Battle 133
The Steenbeek Valley After
Bombardment 133
A Deadly Swamp (the Wrecks of Six
Tanks May Be Counted) 144
“Clapham Junction” Near
Sanctuary Wood 145
“The Salient” 145
Preparing for Cambrai. A Train of
Tanks with Fascines in Position 176
The Bapaume-Cambrai Road 177
A Tank Crushing down the Enemy’s
Wire 177
Sledge Towing Tank Taking up
Supplies 200
Bermicourt Chateau near St. Pol.
Tank Corps Main Headquarters 200
Gun-Carrying Tank Taking up a
Howitzer 201
A Whippet Going In 201
Smoke Screen and Semaphore 304
A Tankadrome 304
Moving Up. Battle of Amiens 305
The Armoured Cars Going Up 305
German Anti-Tank Gunners. (From
a photograph found on a
prisoner) 336

An Anti-Tank Gun in a Steel
Cupola (Ypres) 336
A Captured German Tank 337
A German Anti-Tank Rifle 337
Infantry Advancing Behind Tanks. A
Practice Attack at Bermicourt 368
The St. Quentin Canal Tunnel,
Bellicourt 369
Carrier Pigeon Being Released 369
His Majesty the Colonel-in-Chief
and General Elles 384
Manufacture 385
The Western Edge of Mormal
Forest 396
A “Wireless” Tank 397
Map of Tank Operations, August–
November, 1918 416

THE TANK CORPS

CHAPTER I
A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE TANK, ITS CREW
AND ITS TACTICAL FUNCTIONS, AS THEY WERE
AT THE DATE OF THE ARMISTICE

I

The secrets of the Tank Corps have been so well kept that there are few
civilians who even now know anything of Tanks or their crews beyond what
might be learned from photographs, or a distant view of “Egbert” or some
other War Bond or Olympian Tank.
The Censorship has seen to it that the civilian has had no opportunity of
making himself familiar with the tactical opportunities and problems that
the use of Tanks has introduced or with the conditions under which Tank
crews fight.
It is for the civilian reader that the present chapter is intended. He is to
be given some idea of the oak tree before he is invited to dissect the acorn.
If he has no idea of the appearance and habits of the Tanks that fought
at the Canal du Nord or that pushed back the enemy at Mormal, he cannot
be expected to thrill as he should over the vicissitudes of the first converted
Holt Tractor. For to one who had never seen the engine of a through express
the history of “Puffing Billy” would almost certainly prove insufferably
tedious.
The authors, therefore, propose to deal, very briefly, with the modern
Tank before plunging the reader into the dark ages of 1914, where, to
pursue our analogy, Watt’s kettle-lid and the “Rocket” dwell obscurely.

II

Every detail of Tank Corps’ training, equipment, and tactics has been
modified in view of some limitation or opportunity arising from the
structure of the Tank itself. Therefore, though this book is principally
concerned with the development of the Tank Corps rather than with the
intricate evolution of the Tanks themselves, the reader will find it necessary
to have a general idea of the construction and workings of the different
types of machine.
It would indeed be as idle to describe the anatomy of a snail or a lobster
without mention of its shell, as to endeavour to separate the story of the
Tank Corps from that of its Tanks.
When the War ended in November, 1918, there were, besides obsolete
types which were still used for such work as carrying and the towing of
supply sledges, three main types of Tank. First, the Mark V., which was 26
ft. long, 8 ft. 4 in. wide, weighed 27 tons, and had a horse-power of 150.
The Male Tanks carried two 6-pounder guns, and one Hotchkiss gun. The
Female carried five Hotchkiss machine-guns and no 6-pounder guns.
The Mark V. Star.—This Tank resembled the Mark V., except that it had
a length of 32 ft. 6 in., and was designed for the transport of infantry and for
the traversing of trenches too wide for the Mark V. Each had a normal speed
of about five miles an hour, and was protected by armour up to five-eights
of an inch thick.
They were both so designed as to turn easily at their maximum speed,
and carried attachments for use on soft ground, which increased the grip of
the tracks.
Each was fought by a crew consisting of a subaltern and seven men,
three drivers (two of whom normally fought the Hotchkiss guns), and three
gunners.
The third type was the Whippet. The tracks were nearly as long as
those of a heavy Tank, but the body had been reduced to a small cab
perched at the back, rather as an urchin rides a donkey. It was armed with
two machine-guns, managed by a crew of three men, and developed a speed
of seven miles an hour. Whippets were designed for use as raiders and in
conjunction with cavalry. In practice, however, the cavalry was seldom able
to act with them. Partly in consequence of this, partly owing to the state of

open warfare being of such short duration, the Whippets, though having
brilliant feats to their credit (see the exploits of “Musical Box,” Chapter
XIII), remained creatures of promise rather than of achievement.

III

As a rule Male Mark V. Tanks were used against Pill-Boxes and other
“strong points,” while the special work of Female Tanks was to deal with
hostile infantry (for example, by sitting astride and thus enfilading their
trenches), and then to finish the process of flattening the enemy’s wire
which the Male Tanks had begun.
All three types of Tank were capable of going across country. That is to
say they could, for example, follow a pack of hounds anywhere, except
perhaps in the Fens.
Ditches, heavy plough, banks, walls, hedges, or fences could all be
negotiated.
Tanks could also go over many obstacles—notably over wire—where
the Field, even were they willing “to take a windmill in the harbour of the
chase,” must go round.
But as a moment’s reflection will show, there must remain in every
country certain features which will prove absolute barriers to the progress
of Tanks.
Chief among these are canals and deep rivers (unless spanned by strong
bridges), very steep railway cuttings, railway embankments, marsh, or
woods in which the trees are too strong to be pushed over, and too dense-set
to be steered through.
Besides these natural, or at least civilian, obstacles, there will be
inevitable military obstacles in any country that has been fought over.
For example, old half-blown-in trench systems make ground
“awkward,” and Tanks operate at extreme disadvantage in country like that
round Ypres, which was by 1917 a continuous network of water-logged
shell and mine craters, with no original ground left at all.

Again, by the close of hostilities the number of anti-Tank devices
employed by the Germans was very considerable. They paid the new arm
the compliment of an intricate system of defence and counter-offence which
included concealed Tank traps made on the model of elephant-pits,
formidable double-traversed trenches, a branch of special anti-Tank
artillery, heavily reinforced concrete stockades, and an elaborate system of
land mines.
With so many obstacles to avoid or to negotiate, with their fate often
hanging upon a prompt and accurate use of their guns, the crew inside the
Tank were doomed by the conditions under which they fought to an almost
incredibly limited view of the surrounding world.

GENERAL ARRANGEMENT OF MARK V. TANK—FRONT VIEW

GENERAL ARRANGEMENT OF MARK V. TANK—SECTIONAL ELEVATION

When the flaps were closed (see diagram showing interior of a Mark V.
Tank), as they had to be directly the Tank came under close fire, the crew
were in almost complete darkness, and had to rely upon their periscope or,
alternatively, upon minute eye-holes (about the size of the capital O’s used
in this text) bored through the armour-plating. If the fire was at all heavy
the periscope was usually quickly put out of action, and the officer and
gunners had only the extremely limited view afforded by these holes.

GENERAL ARRANGEMENT OF MARK V. TANK—SECTIONAL PLAN

DIAGRAM SHOWING HOW THE CATERPILLAR METHOD OF TRACTION
CARRIED OUT THE PRINCIPLE OF THE “LARGE-WHEELED TRACTOR.”
SEE NOTE AT END OF CHAPTER II.

They were thus almost entirely dependent upon their maps, the special
Tank compass, and upon the information which a preliminary
reconnaissance of the ground had given them.
This circumstance not only profoundly modified the training of the
officers and crews, but also necessitated the organisation of what was
almost a new service. This service was the “Reconnaissance” branch of the
Intelligence. When the Tank Corps was ordered to take part in an attack, the
Reconnaissance Staff was responsible for the preliminary survey of the
proposed battle site for a report as to where and how Tanks could best
operate, and finally for a series of detailed maps and sketches. In these
maps and sketches the route of every individual Tank was set forth from
landmark to landmark, together with the assigned objectives of each
machine and the obstacles which it was likely to encounter. These maps and
sketches were compiled from aerial surveys, captured German maps and
documents, information gained from local inhabitants, accounts given by
prisoners, the original Ordnance survey, and from personal reconnaissance.
By 1918 this system had been so developed that the infantry came to rely
almost entirely upon their accompanying Tanks for direction.

This added greatly to the importance and responsibility of the work
both of Tank Reconnaissance officers and of commanders.

IV

Topographical information can only be adequately conveyed to a more
or less trained receiver, and it was therefore found necessary to add an
elementary course on Reconnaissance to the already long list of subjects in
which the members of every Tank crew must train. The crew were an
assemblage of experts.
An average of about a month was spent by every soldier at the training
depots and battle-practice grounds. Here each man did about ten days’
course as a driver or gunner, learned revolver-shooting, signalling, and the
management of carrier pigeons, and went through a gas course. In view of
the probability of casualties, each man was also given a working knowledge
of every other man’s job. But most vital of all—the conditions under which
Tank crews fought being out of the common trying and arduous—the
scheme of training aimed at creating a high sense of discipline; that esprit
de corps and that tradition of valour which teaches men to endure the
unendurable.
This supreme end it achieved, as a perusal of the Tank Corps Honours
List will show.
Such, then, were the Tanks and their crews in the autumn of 1918.
In the pages which follow, the reader will see from how crude an
embryo the Tank sprang, and through what hair-breadth escapes alike from
official overlaying and annihilation by the enemy, it passed in the four years
of which we are about to relate the history.

CHAPTER II
THE EARLIEST TANKS—GENERAL SWINTON—
ADMIRAL BACON—THE HOLT TRACTOR AND
THE EVOLUTION OF THE “LAND CRUISER”

I

The War had only been in progress for a few weeks when the first idea
of the first Tank was born almost simultaneously in the minds of General
E. D. Swinton, Major Tulloch, Captain Hetherington and Mr. Diplock, and
—if we are to believe rumour and their own account of the affair—of
several hundreds of other gentlemen.
“Born” is perhaps not quite the appropriate word. At any rate it is to be
understood, if not in a Pickwickian, at least in a Pythagorean sense.
For by 1914 the Tank had successively passed through several tentative
and inconclusive incarnations.
1
In 1482 Leonardo da Vinci invented a kind of Tank; a wooden “War
2
Cart” was used by the Scottish in the fifteenth century.
There were designs for a Tank for the Crimea, but the project of this
weapon was abandoned as being barbarous. Lastly, a really practical design
for a kind of “Caterpillar” to be driven by steam was made in 1888. A trial
machine was even constructed. But Fate decreed that all trace of design and
model should be instantly lost, only apparently to be rediscovered after the
modern Tank had been thought out afresh.
Why, if the Tank was constantly being invented, did it as constantly
disappear? The reason appears to have been that, like the early aeroplanes,
all these abortive machines had failed in one particular.

The engine was not powerful enough. The steam Tank had not in the
least answered the riddle. The horse-power could, it is true, be almost
indefinitely increased, but, like a kind of Old Man of the Sea, the engine
weight would have increased proportionately and the “free” power have
been no more.
Indeed till the invention of the petrol engine the Tank was doomed to
be unpractical. Its three essentials—armour-plating, guns, and ability to
surmount obstacles and traverse open country—demanded a large amount
of this “free” power.
Only, therefore, when an engine was produced whose proportion of
power to weight was about 100 H.P. to every ten hundredweight, did the
Tank become a possible and effective engine of war.
Thus, till the time was ripe the Tank had been doomed to enjoy very
brief excursions into the actual, and to sojourn, long forgotten, beyond the
waters of Lethe.
Does memory survive transmigration? Were General Swinton and his
co-inventors aware of the Crimea Tank and the 1888 Tractor? In any case
the matter is not one of great importance, for—to put it briefly—ultimately
their Tank went, and the others did not.
By October, 1914, Colonel Swinton and Captain Tulloch had
independently worked out the details of an engine of war. Like the other
early inventors, they imagined a machine that was to “arise” out of a cross
between an armoured car and an agricultural tractor. It was to be slower,
more formidable and far heavier than any armoured car that had yet been
seen, a kind of “Land Cruiser” capable of plodding on its caterpillar feet
across country right up to the enemy’s gun positions. Like the other early
“mobile machine-gun destroyers,” it was to be strongly armed with guns
and machine-guns, and so heavily steel-plated as to be impervious to
shrapnel, H.-E. fragments and rifle bullets. It was to cross trenches with
ease, and was to be capable either of cutting or of flattening the enemy’s
wire in the mere act of its progress.
By November Colonel Swinton and Captain Tulloch were in close
touch with one another, and the child of their fancy descended from the

clear regions of pure thought to battle its slow way forward amid the fogs
and thornbrakes of actual experiment and official memoranda.
Well-informed readers will perhaps wonder why the present authors
have singled out Captain Tulloch and Colonel Swinton from amid “the
press of knights.” Do they intend to lay the laurel on their brows? To
declare that they alone invented the Tank?
The chroniclers pretend to no such judicial powers. Be theirs rather the
genial rôle of the Dodo in Alice in Wonderland, who at the end of the
Caucus-race allotted one of Alice’s comfits to each of the competitors.
As far, however, as they can disentangle the complexities of the
evidence, it does appear to have been through these two enthusiasts that the
Tank idea first took tangible shape. The notion was in the air, perhaps it
took unsubstantial form in other minds before October, 1914,—it seems
probable that it did in Mr. Diplock’s and Mr. McFee’s, for example.
Perhaps, too, in other minds it was later to take clearer and more practical
shape.
But it does seem to have been Colonel Swinton and Captain Tulloch
who, first of the band of pioneers, had the courage and the practical energy
to forward a somewhat startling notion in official quarters.
For Mr. Diplock’s first “Pedrail” machine, whose plans he laid before
Lord Kitchener and Mr. Winston Churchill in November, 1914, was a Gun
Tractor, not a fighting machine. It was not till February 1915 that Mr.
Diplock (in conjunction with a Committee appointed by Mr. Churchill)
officially so much as contemplated the building of a “Land Cruiser.”
Fortunately one of the first of the Swinton memoranda was submitted
through Colonel Sir Maurice Hankey, Secretary to the Committee of
Imperial Defence, who was an early and active friend to the idea of the new
arm.
Difficulties, however, abounded. Many were actual, some were
imaginary.
For example, it was urged that to design and build such machines
would take over a year. Surely the war would be over!

Then when the counsels of those kill-joys prevailed who believed that
the war would “hold,” and it was decided to experiment with the “mobile
machine-gun destroyers,” various technical difficulties arose.
It was difficult to procure some of the essentials without elaborate
manufacture and the making of special tools, and makeshift parts were,
therefore, substituted. Fitted with these makeshifts, the Land Cruisers were
a disappointment.
The first tests were carried out in February 1915, when Captain
Tulloch’s adaptation of the Holt Tractor was given a trial. It did not prove a
complete failure, and much was learned from the experiment. For example,
the machine was unexpectedly effective in rolling in the wire which it had
been originally intended that its automatic “lobster-claw” wire-cutters
should alone deal with.
In June Admiral Bacon’s Forster-Daimler Tractor of 155 H.P., fitted
with a self-bridging apparatus, was experimented with.
This, too, proved disappointing, in so far as the device was to fulfil the
proposed functions of a Land Cruiser. It refused to cross trenches, though it
proved a practical Tractor, and it was later used in “trams” of eight
machines for the transport of 15-in. guns.
The position, therefore, in June 1915, as far as the War Office was
concerned, was as follows: Proposals had been put forward by Colonel
Swinton, Admiral Bacon, and Captain Tulloch, and submitted to the War
Office; certain trials had been made, the result of which was, in the view of
the authorities, to emphasise the engineering and other difficulties. It was
only in June that the War Office ascertained that investigations on similar
lines were being carried out by the Admiralty.
For the Admiralty, with a large land force at its disposal, had been for
some time casting about for means whereby the men of that force might go
into battle more in Navy fashion, that is (to misquote the “heroic Spanish
gunners”) with something better than serge, “joined to their own invincible
courage,” between them and the enemy’s bullets.
Mr. Churchill had, as early as January 1915, written a letter to the
Prime Minister expressing his entire agreement with Colonel Hankey’s
remarks “on the subject of special mechanical devices for taking trenches.”

The idea of employing a large armoured shield on wheels, or of using
ordinary steam tractors on which a small bullet-proof shelter had been
fitted, had been considered. Mr. Churchill interested himself personally in
the scheme, and he and his expert, Major Hetherington of the R.N.A.S.—
the third independent inventor—worked hard to evolve and then “push” a
practical machine.
In the early spring of 1915 a Committee, called the Land Ship
3
Committee, was appointed, and many designs of wheel and caterpillar
tractors were submitted to it. One of these designs was especially
interesting not only for its astonishing appearance, but for the influence
which it exerted upon the “profile” of the future Tank. The curious will find
a brief account of it in the Note at the end of the chapter. It was Mr.
Churchill’s Committee who called in Major Wilson, Mr. Tritton, and Mr.
Tennyson d’Eyncourt as consultants, “when a design was evolved which
embodied the form finally adopted for Tanks.”
Thus, while the honour of the first designs and experiments belongs to
the War Office, it was to the enterprise of this Admiralty Committee that
most of the credit of the evolution of the Mark I. Tank was due.
It was, as we have said, apparently not until the Admiralty Committee
had been at work for some time that the Director of Fortifications and
Works, on behalf of the War Office, ascertained that the Admiralty had
designs for a “Land Cruiser” in hand.
The two Departments met at Wormwood Scrubs to witness the
Admiralty’s trials of a Killen-Straight tractor. It was a remarkable occasion,
for a number of men who were destined profoundly to influence the history
of the Tanks now saw a foreshadowing of such an engine for the first time.
Among them were Lord Kitchener, Mr. Lloyd George, Mr. Balfour, and
Mr. McKenna. Mr. Winston Churchill was also there, but to him an
armoured tractor was no novelty.
After this gathering the Tank enthusiasts of the two Departments fell
upon each other’s necks, swore eternal friendship, and in the middle of June
formed a Joint Committee, of which Lieutenant Stern was Secretary.
Tanks—when any existed which would work—were to be a military
service in the Department of the Master-General of Ordnance.

The Admiralty was to continue its work of designing, was to provide
cash for experiments, and Mr. Churchill, its late First Lord, was to continue
his invaluable work as a propellant. All seemed prosperous, for the
representatives of the two Services appear to have worked pretty
harmoniously, and the better informed and more progressive heads of
Departments on both sides showed an interested benevolence.
But unfortunately—especially at the War Office—there appear to have
been a certain number of obstructionists.
One senior Officer, fearing, one supposes, to be diverted from his ideal
of the official attitude by the sight of these ungodly engines, refused so
much as to attend the trials. The Adjutant-General (then no doubt, poor
man, sufficiently harassed) rigidly refused a single man for the new arm.
Fortunately, the Joint Committee was resourceful, and, after a preliminary
4
appeal to Mrs. Pankhurst for militant suffragists, they induced the
Admiralty to turn over to them the 20th Squadron of the Armoured Car
Reserve, and to increase the strength of this unit from 50 to 600 men.
By July Colonel Swinton—another of the Tank’s best sources of power
—had returned to France. G.H.Q. was later to be more propitious, but now
the taste of those inconclusive experiments was still in its mouth, and their
chief technical adviser had begun to have horrid doubts about the whole
affair. “Caterpillars,” he remarked, that he had lately seen “could only go at
the rate of 1½ miles an hour on roads, were very slow in turning, and nearly
every bridge in the country would require strengthening to carry them.” “It
was necessary to descend from the realms of imagination to solid fact.”
Colonel Swinton explained and exhorted and expostulated.

II

Meanwhile the Joint War Office and Admiralty Committee system was
too simple to last.
From August 1915 to August 1917, when the “New” Tank Committee
was formed, the control and administration of Tank manufacture and design
were extraordinarily tentative and shifting. Necessarily so. The home

organisation had to expand very rapidly, and constantly to adapt itself to
changed conditions of Tank tactics abroad and Tank manufacture at home.
Even the multiplicity of the authorities concerned seems to have been
to a great extent inevitable. The Tank had, of course, initially complicated
its early history by starting life in Infantry puttees and a south-wester.
At the point we have reached, its story plunges into a whirling
quicksand of departments, branches, committees, and conferences, which
were reorganised and rearranged—changed hats and functions with
bewildering frequency. This tangle of activity Colonel Swinton throughout
made it his hobby to understand and his business to co-ordinate.
The present historians, on the contrary, feel tempted to adopt the simple
method of their Hebrew predecessor, who, having picked out one plum, so
often blandly continues: “And the rest of the acts of the Trench Warfare
Department and all that they did, are they not written in the book of the
archives of the War Office?”
However, it is possible that the Hebrew historian honestly believed that
the lost books of the Chronicles were really available to the inquiring
reader. The present authors have no such illusion about War Office papers,
and therefore propose to give at least an outline of the vicissitudes and
fluctuations of early Tank control.
The chief persons of the Drama remain throughout:
The War Office: (1) In its capacity as Ordnance, and (2) in its capacity
as General Staff. Later (3) as the Tank Department, War Office.
G.H.Q.: (1) In its main capacity, and as (2) The Experiments
Committee.
Later, the H.B.M.G.C.
Finally, the Tank Corps.
The Admiralty: (1) In its capacity as the Land Ship Committee, and (2)
as Squadron 20 of the R.N.A.S.
The Ministry of Munitions: (1) In its capacity as the Trench Warfare
Department; (2) in its capacity as the Inventions Department. (3) Later, as

the Mechanical Warfare Supply Department (really another Tank
Committee). (4) Later still, as the Tank Supply Department.
The successive Main Tank Committees: (1) The Joint Naval and
Military Committee (which did not survive Act I.). (2) The Tank Supply
Committee, afterwards called the Advisory Committee of the Tank Supply
Department, and divided into a main committee and a sub-committee. (It
was this sub-committee which afterwards formed the backbone of the very
active and occasionally criticised M.W.S.D., before referred to). Later, (3)
after a gap, the First Tank Committee; (4) the Second reconstructed Tank
Committee.
Grand Chorus of Directors General, Interdepartmental Conferences,
Manufacturers, and Workshop Personnel.

III

We find that the period from August 1915 to February 1916 constitutes
a kind of Act I. in the history of Tank administration and manufacture, for
the 1914 and early 1915 period is too dim and legendary to serve as
anything but prologue.
During the whole of the Act I. period it was the Admiralty and the Joint
Land Ship Committee which played the “leads.”
It was the Admiralty which defrayed the whole cost of the extensive
experimental work and provided the necessary personnel, and it was by
members of the Joint Committee in consultation that the Mark I. Tank,
“Mother,” was ultimately designed.
On September 11, two months after Colonel Swinton’s visit, the
Experiments Committee, G.H.Q., laid down in an excellent and far-sighted
memorandum what were the qualities which they desired should be aimed
at in designs for the caterpillar cruiser and what were the tactical purposes
which it must serve.
By September 28 the Joint Committee had so far perfected the design
of “Mother” as to have had a wooden dummy (officially described as a
“mock-up”) made, and on that day her counterfeit was inspected at
Wembley by an Interdepartmental Conference, and approved.

Some weeks elapsed while the Joint Committee worked out the further
details of their machine, and about December 3 Mr. Churchill wrote a
Memorandum entitled “Variants of the Offensive,” in which he
paradoxically accentuated the value of defensive armour as a preservative
of mobility. There was to be a new form of attack. It was to be launched at
night under the guidance of searchlights. Caterpillar Tractors were to breach
the enemy’s line, and then turn right and left. The Infantry were to follow
them closely under cover of bullet-proof shields.
On Christmas Day Sir Douglas Haig (who had lately taken over from
Sir John French, and who as yet “knew not Joseph”) read the paper with
interest, and pinned a pencil slip upon it, “Is anything known about the
Caterpillar referred to in para. 4, page 3?”
No time was lost in finding out, and a few days later G.H.Q. sent an
officer to England to inquire into the matter. This officer was Lieutenant-
Colonel Hugh Elles, who was afterwards to be the first Tank General.
By the end of January 1916 the experimental machine—no pasteboard
simulation, but “Mother” herself—was complete, and on February 2 the
official trial was held at Hatfield, before the Army Council and a
representative of G.H.Q.
“Mother” made good, and G.H.Q. asked to be supplied with a certain
number of the Land Cruisers. A small Executive Tank Supply Committee
with much fuller powers than the old Joint Committee, was formed under
the Presidency of Lieutenant (now Colonel Sir Albert) Stern, and orders
were at once given to begin manufacture.
So ended Act I.

IV

The first scene of Act II. (March to mid-August) was occupied with one
of the most dramatic achievements of the War.
This was the manufacture at Lincoln of the first 150 “Land Ships”
ordered by the Government, in the space of six months, and in absolute
secrecy.

The public discussed the phantom Russians who travelled through
England by night. It discussed the Germans who nightly signalled to each
other throughout the inland counties. But it did not discuss the large water-
tanks or cisterns that were being made for Petrograd, Egypt, or
Mesopotamia, or some such place.
That this vital secrecy was kept for months by hundreds of people was
chiefly due to the happy effect of copious and imaginative lying.
There was no mystery about these grotesque armour-plated creatures!
They were not really for Mesopotamia at all. Every one knew that.
The Russian Government had ordered them. They were ridiculous
things? Of course they were. It was a Russian design. Was there not even an
inscription in Russian characters on them? At least they might frighten the
Germans if they served no other useful purpose.
Tradition relates that when the first drawings were brought to the
manager’s office of the factory which had been selected for the manufacture
of the “water-carriers,” the manager and his staff expressed themselves as
being seriously concerned for the sanity of the designers, and of those who
submitted such drawings to practical men like themselves.
They were, however, let into the secret of the real part which Tanks
were to play, and though still profoundly incredulous, decided, like good
citizens, to carry out whatever work was asked of them. The vital necessity
of secrecy having been impressed upon them, they were asked—tradition
continues—what arrangements they would like made about sentries and the
isolation of their workpeople. After a little consideration they answered that
they would only guarantee that the secret should be kept on condition that
they were given a completely free hand and not interfered with.
They proposed to have no sentries, no “isolated area” to proclaim
trumpet-tongued, “Here is a secret!”
They desired merely to propound a satisfactory system of lies, to give
an “alternative explanation”—to put it more delicately—and to carry out
their work with a disarming publicity.
After some hesitation the authorities consented to this strange system.
We shall see how, on September 15, “wisdom was justified of her children.”

The factory where these curious interviews are reported to have taken
place was that of Messrs. Forsters, Agricultural Implement Manufacturers
of Lincoln. We almost literally beat our ploughshares into swords.
In London, changes in Tank administration were going on as usual. The
trend as far as supply and manufacture were concerned was towards
centralisation.
A Tank Supply Department was created at the Ministry of Munitions,
and the Tank Supply Committee changed its name to “Advisory Committee
of the Tank Supply Department.” In August this Committee—gradually, as
it were—turned into the Mechanical Warfare Supply Department before
alluded to. Lieutenant (by now Colonel Stern was at its head.)
In the M.W.S.D. were now concentrated three separate functions:
They were Tank designers; they were responsible for supply; they were
responsible for the final inspection of machines. The future was to show
that such concentration had some drawbacks as well as many obvious
advantages.
Note.—The genesis of the “large-wheeled tractor” was as follows:
Trenches with a parados and parapet about 4 ft. high were being constructed
by the enemy in Flanders.
The engineers consulted by the Land Ship Committee gave it as their
considered opinion that if these obstacles were to be crossed, a wheel of not
less than 15 ft. diameter would be necessary.
Machines with these gigantic wheels were actually ordered, but the
wooden model that was knocked together as a preliminary at once
convinced even its best friends that the design was fantastic, and that any
machine of the kind would be little better than useless on account of its
conspicuousness and vulnerability.
However, the “big wheel” idea did not utterly die, for in the upturned
snout of the Mark I. Tank we have, as it were, its “toe” preserved, the track
turning sharply back at about axle level, instead of mounting uselessly
skyward, as would have been the case had not the old wheel idea been
supplanted by that of the sliding track.

CHAPTER III
THE TANK CORPS IN EMBRYO

Part I

I

Not till Act III. do we get the opening of the main plot of our drama.
For it was only at the end of March, 1916 that recruiting for the new arm
began, and therefore that “The Fighting Side” first appeared.

5
“At the end of March certain officer cadets with engineering
experience and drawn from the 18th, 19th, and 21st Royal Fusiliers,
were asked to volunteer their services for what they were given to
understand was an experimental armoured car unit. (The Armoured
Car Section of the Motor Machine Gun Corps.)
“Those who decided to throw in their lot with the new Service
were interviewed by Colonel Swinton and Colonel Bradley, who, in
the course of their examination, threw out no hints as to further
details relative to the new unit. Results of these interviews were
communicated on the Thursday before Easter Friday, when
successful volunteers were informed that they were to be granted
temporary commissions in the M.M.G.C., and were despatched the
same morning to report to the M.M.G.C. Headquarters at Bisley.
Upon arrival further information was received from the Adjutant
that short leave would be granted for the purpose of obtaining kit,
and that all officers would report their return with kit, on the
following Tuesday evening.

“During the week that followed Easter the two first selected
Companies, i.e., ‘K’ and ‘L,’ were formed, officers being posted to
one or other of the Companies.”

Specially selected officers and men of the original M.M.G.C. formed
the nucleus of these Companies, and the Companies were formed into a
Battalion as further reinforcements arrived. On the Monday after Easter
Bank Holiday training began, instructions being given in the use of the
Vickers and Hotchkiss .303 Machine Guns and later in the Hotchkiss 6-
pounder Naval gun.
An officer who arrived in about the second batch tells how he and
another man from the same regiment were sent down to Bisley after the
usual brief but formidable interview with Colonel Swinton. They arrived at
Brookwood Station only to be told that the ever mysterious Motor Machine
Gun Corps had left two days before for Siberia.
Tableau!
“Siberia” proved, however, to be a camp not so far from Bisley as to be
beyond the radius of the station cab in which they both presently set off.
No Tanks were, of course, yet available for training, and therefore
instruction was concentrated upon the use of the three guns, “each officer,
N.C.O. and man being required to pass out at the examination.”

6
“With the above exception, physical drill and an occasional
route march, no further training of military character was imposed;
thus in the early summer of 1916 practically all the personnel of the
new branch of the service were efficient in the manipulation of the
three guns in question. During the whole of the foregoing period no
further information other than widely different rumours could be
obtained by the junior personnel of the Unit as to the purposes for
which they, or the experimental armoured car, would be used.”

About June it became increasingly evident that if the Land Cruisers
were to be fought that year, production must be accelerated.

“A very limited number of officers, N.C.O.’s and men, totalling
about one dozen, were despatched to Lincoln and other centres,
where they were employed in connection with what they later
understood to be Tank production.”

Meanwhile, a very carefully chosen and elaborately prepared training
area had been organised on Lord Iveagh’s estate near Thetford, and as soon
as information came that the first machines would soon be available for
training, the Battalion was again moved.
This time the still mystified companies found themselves in a camp
more ringed about than was the palace of the Sleeping Beauty, and more
zealously guarded than the Paradise of a Shah. Three rows of plantations
and shelter belts guarded them from the eyes of the profane, and the
intruder or the breaker of camp must pass six lines of sentries assisted by
cavalry patrols.
A highroad which ran through the training ground was closed, and all
inhabited farms within the area were evacuated. No civilians were allowed
under any pretext to pass the guard, nor were troops allowed to leave the
area except on production of special passes which were very difficult to get.
Once an aeroplane from a neighbouring aerodrome flew over, moved
by a friendly spirit of inquiry. It was immediately greeted with a hail of
machine-gun bullets and was obliged to depart in some haste.
For now the Tanks had to appear in their true character as fighting
machines, and needed a better screen than Russian Fairy Tales. The
machines had been long expected. Almost daily some one in the camp had
“heard” an unfamiliar engine throb, and when this happened the entire
camp would rush out to see if “they” had come.
The wildest rumours were afoot.
The car could climb trees! It could swim! It could jump like a flea!
Any one who has lived in an ordinary camp where there were no
secrets and remembers what rumours flourished on the most ethereal food,
can imagine their growth in a camp where there was a real mystery.

But at last, towards the beginning of June, a limited number of Mark I.
7
machines were detrained at a special railhead within the area. The training
of the Battalion now began in earnest. Machines and men were destined to
be launched in little over six weeks’ time into the then newly begun Somme
offensive.
Two types of Tank were detrained, “Big Willie” and “Little Willie.”
The Mark I. (Big Willie) was very different from the Mark V. machine
described in Chapter I.
It took four men to drive it. It had an unwieldly two-wheeled tail, or to
give this appendage its official name, a “Hydraulic Stabiliser.” By this
device it could let itself down gently over a drop of over 5 ft., and partly
with the aid of it, the machine was steered.
In practice, compared with the handy Mark V., the whole steering
arrangement of the Mark I. was extraordinarily clumsy and laborious. She
would not turn sharply at all on rough ground, and had to be coaxed to any
change of direction. Her engine and tracks also needed constant adjustment,
the rollers being an everlasting source of trouble. Drivers and mechanics
who have handled both machines, seem to regard the running of a Mark V.
as child’s-play after struggling with the caprices of “Mother.”
“Little Willie” was used only as a training Tank, as in practice he was
found to have a defective balance. His centre of gravity was misplaced, and
he was, besides, too short for the work of crossing trenches.

II

But there were other than technical problems awaiting solution.
It would be difficult to over-estimate the difficulties which confronted
those officers who were responsible for the preliminary training of the
Heavy Section of the Machine Gun Corps; no one had ever actually fought
inside a Tank, and it was, therefore, upon the spirit of prophecy alone that
they must rely in their preparations. There was no manual to help them.
They had, however, one very excellent official document, the secret Notes
on the Employment of Tanks, which was issued in February 1916 (signed

8
“E. D. S.” ), which gave an extraordinarily good forecast of what the rôle of
Tanks would probably be when in action.
But the paper was very short and very objective, and was more
concerned with an analysis of the place of the Tanks in the orchestra of
battle than with the difficulties presented by their individual score.
This was where the training of the first Tank crew fell short—almost
inevitably. Their teachers had a rather hazy mental picture of the actuality
of battle. They did not squarely face the essential question upon whose
answer all specific training and all specific preparation depend, the
question, that is, “What is it going to be like?”
Thus, though they did teach most of the essentials, they left out half a
dozen subjects of which an accurate knowledge was, as we shall see, ever
afterwards held to be absolutely necessary.
One of their difficulties was the shortness of the time. What must the
crews know? Would physical fitness or map reading prove more important
when the day came? Signalling or esprit de corps? Visual training or
revolver drill? There was no time for everything. There were, however,
obviously three or four essentials. Most of the officers and men were
already first-rate engineers or mechanics, but they must be trained exactly
in the strange machine they were to use. They must understand the
peculiarities of Tanks, and, if possible, of their individual Tank, the monster
which they had to render animate.
They must be thoroughly at home with their Vickers guns, be accurate
shots with them, be able to remedy all stoppages, and to strip their weapons
with speed and accuracy. Above all, crews must train together, be
accustomed to work under their officer, each with his special work as
brakeman, gearsman, driver or gunner, but each still part of an organic
whole. They must also attain to a certain physical level, must undergo some
visual training, and must know how to fire a revolver.
All this and more was achieved, for the men were picked individuals of
more than ordinary intelligence, and soon became extraordinarily keen on
their work.

9
“If anything went wrong with the Tank, they used to look upon
it not as a bore but as a pleasure to put it right.... We felt a terrific
pride in our Company and Section, and also as a Tank crew against
other crews. There was always healthy competition, and this
competition carried us right out to France.... Besides that, Tank
Commanders had the very great advantage of training their crews
themselves.... We knew our men thoroughly.”

But, as another Tank Commander wrote afterwards:

“The first Company to go out had to work at tremendous speed.
The Tanks did not arrive till the last minute, and I and my crew did
not have a Tank of our own the whole time we were in England ... as
our Tank went wrong the day it arrived.... Again we had no
reconnaissance or map reading ... no practices or lectures on the
compass.... We had no signalling ... and no practice in considering
orders. This was a thing I very much missed when I got out to
France. When you work with a Division you get very long orders,
and you have to analyse these orders to discover what concerns you
and what does not.... We had no knowledge of where to look for
information that would be necessary for us as Tank Commanders,
nor did we know what information we should be likely to require.”

No one, in short, had sat down to imagine a Tank in action from within.
We had official painters in France, but alas! we had no official writers
of prophetic fiction.
The history of the attack on Morval shows that this probably inevitable
lack of, say, an official clairvoyant, this dependence upon methods of trial
and error, though it ultimately did little to hurt the development of Tanks,
did very much to prevent the Tank personnel from feeling satisfied by their
début.

Part II

I

It must have been with some sense of having taken a momentous step
that the authorities sanctioned the manufacture of 150 Tanks after
witnessing the trials at Hatfield.
We were short of men and short of steel, and to divert steel from shells
and men from the infantry was a grave decision. Our rulers were for a
moment, perhaps, granted the gift of prevision. They saw that the new
weapon might prove the sword that was ultimately to tip the level balance,
and to break the intolerable equilibrium which had settled on the line from
the Alps to the sea.
This prophetic mood did fitfully visit the authorities.
For a few months they would, as it were, have faith, and personnel
would be granted and machines would be ordered.
Then perhaps for half a precious year they would relapse and backslide
and revert, till Colonel Swinton, the Fighting Side, and all the other
missionaries and preachers of the Tank Corps almost despaired.
But in February 1916 there was much to uphold them. The situation
demanded some desperate remedy.
The balance hung deadly level. We could hold the Germans now, but
for how long? The race for the coast had been a draw, and the First Battle of
Ypres had ended open warfare on the Western Front.

10
“Quick-firing field guns and the machine-guns used
defensively, proved too strong for the endurance of the attackers,
who were forced to seek safety by means of their spades rather than
through their rifles. Whole fronts were entrenched, and, except for a
few small breaks, a man could have walked by trench, had he
wished to, from Nieuport almost into Switzerland.”

The Germans were dug in.

11
“And with the trench came wire entanglements—the horror of
the attack—and the trinity of trench, machine-gun, and wire made
the defence so strong that each offensive operation was brought to a
standstill.
“The problem which then confronted us was a two-fold one:
“Firstly, how could the soldier in the attack be protected against
shrapnel, shell-splinters and bullets? Helmets were reintroduced,
armour was tried, shields were invented, but all to no great purpose.
“Secondly, even if bullet-proof armour could be invented,
which it certainly could, how were men laden down with it going to
get through the wire entanglements which protected every
position?”

It was, in fact, impossible for infantry alone to attack such positions
without the most extensive artillery preparation. The enemy and his
trenches and his wire must be blown out of the ground. This was the
accepted answer to the problem of the deadlock. But as yet we had not got
the shells. We were straining every nerve to reach the solution by
bombardment, but in February 1916 we had not got the necessary
ammunition. Was there no other answer to the problem? Nothing that could
be done meanwhile?
This was the mood in which the missionaries of the “mobile machine-
gun destroyer” found the High Command. Had we had shells in February
1916 we should not have had the Tank. We must have waited another year
for it, till, in fact, we had found out the defects of the hoped-for solution by
bombardment.
The German, who was full fed with ammunition, felt at this early date
no urging to go out and seek any such fantastic remedy. His High Command
would have laughed at the idea of Tanks as Dives may have laughed at
hungry Lazarus’ antics over broken victuals.

II

So, while our shells were making, we built Tanks. And Fate, whose
taste in humour is not ours, and who knew what we did not, namely, that the
Tank and prolonged artillery preparation are alternative weapons, decreed
that both shells and Tanks should be ready for the Somme offensive.
It was thus upon a “substructure” of the new artillery preparation that
we gaily imposed the Tank. We were to take fourteen months in working
out the proposition that they could never be effectively used together.
The Tanks had been designed for the sort of conditions which had
prevailed at Loos. Their training grounds had been carefully modelled on
the “Loos” pattern. By the time Tanks could be put into the field, a year
later, our artillery superiority had completely changed the nature of the
fighting.
At Beaumont-Hamel in November 1916, for example, we fired off as
much ammunition as was expended in three weeks at the Battle of Loos.
On the Somme—owing to our having advanced—four miles of
churned-up, shell-pitted ground had to be crossed before the front line could
be reached. It had also—to state the case after the manner of the author of
Erewhon—become the fashion, just before the day of battle, for the
attacking side to blast the ground which they were about to cross to the
condition of plum pudding on stir-up Sunday. This blasting process,
moreover, necessarily gave the enemy several days’ warning of any
proposed attack.
It had also incidentally had another effect upon the industrious German.
When we were bombarded our chief idea was retaliation; when the German
was shelled he dug.
So it had come about that on the Somme, everywhere behind the
German lines, were great electrically-lit and comfortably warmed dug-outs,
where a company or so could lie secure thirty or forty feet below ground
and there wait for the bombardment to “blow over.” Then they would
emerge ready to welcome our infantry. Thus the system of the, say, six
days’ artillery preparation, though it did very much to raise our moral and
depress that of the enemy in time resulted in an almost complete system of
enemy counter-measures, and in a state of the battle-ground which caused

attackers and attacked to be almost immobile. The system, necessary as had
been our adoption of it, had not solved the problem of the deadlock.
The Tank, as we have said, had been intended for use on reasonably
sound ground. It was also to be a surprise weapon. Not once for the next
fourteen months did we omit to give the enemy at least five days’ notice of
our proposed attacks, nor did we decline to co-operate with his artillery in
reducing the intended battle-ground to a morass. It was, therefore, not till
the First Battle of Cambrai, when we did adopt other tactics, that Tanks
came by their own.

CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST TANK BATTLES—THE ATTACK ON
MORVAL, FLERS, THE QUADRILATERAL,
THIEPVAL AND BEAUMONT-HAMEL

I

It was not till the Somme offensive, which was launched on July 1,
1916, had been in progress for two months and a half, that it was found
possible for the new arm to take its place in the fighting. We have seen how,
secretly, urgently, behind a rich curtain of ingenious and circumstantial lies,
the manufacture of the Tanks had been going on. How, secretly, urgently,
the crews had been training for their unknown job.
Of the fifty Tanks which were destined to take part in the battle of
September 15, about thirteen left England on August 15, and the rest
followed at intervals and in driblets as the limited transport allowed. The
last batch arrived on August 30 and, like its fellows, proceeded to the
training centre at Yvrench. Here trenches had been dug and wire
entanglements erected, and machine-gun and 6-pounder practice could be
carried out after a fashion. But there was no staff of instructors, the ranges
were too short, and the conditions for battle practice quite unlike those
which prevailed on the Somme. But it had to suffice. The Tanks were
wanted at once, and by September 10 “C” and “D” Companies had arrived
in the forward area, their H.Q. being established at the Loop. It was thus
within a week of their arrival forward that Tanks were called upon to take
part in the attack.
The battle had now been in progress for nearly ten weeks. We had
advanced and occupied a depth of four miles of devastated country.

Most of the men and many of the officers had not been to France
before. They found themselves in a strange world. Endless lines of transport
crawled over incredibly bad roads bordered by gaunt stumps of trees and by
a sordid and tragic litter of dead men and horses, rags, tin cans, rotting
equipment, and derelict transport.
The enemy was counter-attacking over the whole of the thirty-mile
front, and the sound of our guns was everywhere. At night the stream of
lorries never ceased, and at some point or other in our line, far away, a star
shell could always be seen sailing up from behind a rise of ground, giving
some fringe of shattered wood, or ruined sugar factory, a fleeting silhouette
against its cold white light.
All ranks were desperately busy, from the mechanics who had new
spare engine parts to adjust, to those in command who had their own minds
and those of several Major-Generals to make up. Colonel Brough had
commanded when the Tanks disembarked, but had now handed over to
Colonel Bradley, and he and the Army Corps, and Divisional Commanders
with whom he conferred on the 13th seem, perhaps inevitably, to have been
as uncertain how to wield the new weapon as were the Tank Commanders
of such details as how to fit their new camouflage covers or anti-bombing
nets.
In an advance when ought a Tank to start? If it started too soon it would
draw the enemy barrage; if it started too late the infantry would reach the
first objective before it, and it would be of no use.
This and other similar dilemmas darkened their counsels, and it was
finally decided that the Tanks’ start should be so timed that they reached the
first objective five minutes before the infantry, and, further that Tanks
should be used in twos and threes against strong points. No special or
detailed reconnaissance work had been done, and a somewhat indigestible
mass of aerial photographs was presented by the Divisional Staff to the
bewildered Tank Commanders, many of whom had never seen such things
12
before.
Much more useful were a series of maps with routes marked out and
annotated with the necessary compass bearings, and a detailed time-table
with full barrage and other particulars. At least they would have been more

useful had not all orders been changed in such a way at the last moment as
to invalidate almost every route and hour which they showed.
Meanwhile the Tank crews and commanders had been enjoying three or
four days of almost comically complete nightmare. In the first place, they
had all manner of mechanical preoccupations—newly arrived spare engine
parts to test, new guns to adjust, box respirators to struggle with, and an
astounding amount of “battle luggage” to stow away. But worst of all, they
found themselves regarded as the star variety-turn of the Western Front.
Already, before leaving Thetford, they had given a demonstration
before the King and several members of the Cabinet. At Yvrench they had
performed before General Joffre, Sir Douglas Haig, and the greater part of
13
the G.H.Q. Staffs, but on reaching the Loop they found to their horror that
it was to be “Roses, roses, all the way.” A Tank Commander wrote bitterly:

“It rather reminded me of Hampstead Heath. When we got there
we found that the Infantry Brigades had been notified that the Tanks
were to perform daily from 9 to 10 and from 2 to 3, and every
officer within a large radius and an enormous number of the Staff
came to inspect us. We were an object of interest to every one. This
did not help on one’s work.”

On the 13th they were to move the Loop to the point of assembly, and
the problems of “housekeeping” became acute.

14
“The officer and each man carried two gas helmets and one
pair of goggles, and in addition to their ordinary service caps, a
leather ‘anti-bruise’ helmet; we also had a large field dressing as
well as an ordinary first-aid dressing. The usual equipment consisted
of revolver, haversack, water-bottles and iron rations. There are
eight people in a Tank, and as soon as they get in they naturally take
off all these things, which lie about on the floor, unless you devise
some method of packing all your equipment.... We carried, in
addition to iron rations, sixteen loaves and about thirty tins of food,
cheese, tea, sugar and milk. These took up a lot of room. We also
had one spare drum of engine oil and one of gear oil, two small

drums of grease, three water-cans and two boxes of revolver
ammunition ... four spare Vickers barrels, one spare Vickers gun, a
spare barrel for the Hotchkiss and two wire-cutters. We also had
three flags for signalling purposes, which unfortunately proved to
have been lost when they were really wanted.”

But Captain Henriques’ list was, even so, not complete. Many Tanks
also carried two carrier pigeons, 33,000 rounds of S.A. ammunition for their
machine-guns, a lamp-signalling set, and a telephonic contrivance
consisting of an instrument and one hundred yards of cable wound upon a
drum. The second instrument was to be left at the “jumping-off place,” and
the Tank was to unwind the cable as it advanced, relating its experiences the
while to the telephone operator or other interested person in the rear. What
was to happen when the Tank began to traverse the hundred and first yard
we do not know. In practice the device was not used.
But that was not all. The orders, time-tables and maps upon which the
Tank Commanders depended, proved to have been issued in insufficient
quantities.

“For every three Tanks only one set of orders had been issued,
and only one map supplied: consequently we had to grasp these
orders before we passed them on to the other two officers.”

However, at 5 p.m. on the day before the battle, these written orders
were cancelled and new verbal instructions substituted. Roughly, the Tanks
were to operate as follows:—
On the right with the 14th Corps, ten Tanks were to work with the
Guards Division, and seven with the 6th and 56th Divisions, their objectives
being Ginchy and the Quadrilateral.
On the left eight Tanks were allotted to the 3rd Corps, operating
through High Wood and East of Martinpuich. The 15th Corps had seventeen
Tanks attached, and the Reserve (5th) Army—fighting between Pozières
and Martinpuich—had six tanks.

With all these groups of Tanks the preliminary moving up into the first-
line positions—in the pitch dark, through the mud and in and out of the
shell-holes of badly crumped ground—proved most arduous, and a good
many Tanks broke down in the process. One Tank Commander who struck a
narrow sunken road remarks:

“It was full of the bodies of dead Boches, and my driver did not
like going along it.”

For the Tanks’ crews the remainder of the night passed in a final
tightening of loose tracks and adjustment of the engines, and in listening to
the steadily increasing crash and roar of the British bombardment.
The strain on men and officers had been tremendous. Most of them
seem to have started the battle having had no sleep for over twenty-four
hours.
They were desperately anxious, too, that Tanks should prove their
worth, and the Mark I. machine was too capricious to give them much
assurance.
To this list of discomforts must be added that most of the men had
never heard guns before, and that the lying-up places were close to our
batteries.

II

The morning of the 15th was fine with a thin ground mist, and at six
o’clock the thunder of the British artillery rose to a final hurricane. The
barrage crept forward, and our Tanks and infantry crossed the parapets.
The Germans seemed to have heard no breath of the nature of the new
arm which was to be used against them, and the light haze added greatly to
the looming mystery of the approaching Tanks.
Official documents that were later on captured from the enemy
revealed something of the deep psychological effect that our Tanks had had
on the German infantry. These significant admissions might have done

more to convince our own High Command of the great potentialities of the
new weapon than they actually did.
One of the best known individual Tank exploits was that of the machine
belonging to “C” Company, which helped a New Zealand and an English
division in their assault upon Flers.
This was the furthest penetration achieved by any Tank that day.
This machine led its infantry, and these had their first taste of entering a
village which they knew bristled with enemy machine-guns without
suffering a single casualty.
The adventure had all the exhilaration of surprise, and the men, who
had nerved themselves for the usual ordeal of house-to-house fighting,
laughed at the astonishing anticlimax presented by their own and the Tanks’
stately progress down an almost empty street.
“All dressed up and no one to fight.”
It was on this occasion that the airmen’s now famous message was sent
back, a message whose repetition rather galled the Tank Corps in the days
of ill-rewarded effort that still lay between it and its final triumphs:

“A Tank is walking up the High Street of Flers with the British
Army cheering behind.”

Of two other Tanks which did particularly well, the first, a male,
entered Gueudecourt, where it attacked a German Battery and destroyed a
field gun; the other gave great assistance to attacking infantry which was
held up by wire and machine-guns. The Tank Commander placed his
machine astride the trench and enfiladed it; the Tank then travelled along
behind the trench and 300 Germans surrendered and were taken prisoners.
The following is a short summary of the returns of Tanks engaged.
The casualties among Tank personnel were insignificant, though one
officer of great promise was lost:

49 Tanks were employed.
32 reached their starting-points.

9 pushed ahead of the infantry and caused considerable
loss to the enemy.
9 others did not catch up the infantry but did good work
in “clearing up.”
5 became ditched.
9 broke down from mechanical trouble.

Of these last fourteen, some served as useful rallying-points for the
infantry after they had become immobile, and several could have been
extricated in time to render some service if they had not been knocked out
by indirect hits.
Crews who had been obliged to abandon their Tanks either got out their
machine-guns and continued fighting or helped the wounded.

III

The battle had been essentially experimental. What opinion had been
formed of the Tanks?
We now know what was the opinion of the German infantry. The
German High Command seems in public to have ignored the new arm.
In a secret “Instruction” the Chief of the Staff of the 3rd Army Group,
however, reminds units that they must “hold ground at whatever cost” and
“defend every inch of ground to the last man.”
“The enemy in the latest fighting have employed new engines of war as
cruel as effective.”

THE ORIGINAL THIEPVAL MARK I. TANK WITH ANTI-BOMB ROOF AND “TAIL”

FIELD CAMOUFLAGE

Every possible counter-measure is to be used against these “monstrous
engines,” which will probably be adopted on an extensive scale by the
British.
To our own infantry the Tank appeared as a lusty friend, who had at last
found a convenient way of dealing with the hitherto deadly partnership of
wire and machine-gun—a friend, too, who had a grotesqueness of gait and
appearance which was intrinsically endearing.
A wounded London Territorial said:

“‘Old Mother Hubbard’ they called her and lots of other funny
names as well. She looked like a pantomime animal or a walking
ship with iron sides moving along, very slow, apparently all on her
own, and with none of her crew visible. There she was, groanin’ and

gruntin’ along, pokin’ her nose here and there, stopping now and
then as if she was not sure of the road, and then going on—very
slow, but over everything.
“It was her slowness that scared us as much as anything, and
the way she shook her wicked old head and stopped to cough. It was
a circus—my word! I only saw her for about ten minutes. She came
humping out of the fog at one end of the line and humped into it
again at the other. The last I saw of her was when she was nosing
down a shell crater like a great big hippopotamus with a crowd of
Tommies cheering behind.”

To the British High Command the Tanks appeared as engines of war
which showed considerable promise. They must overcome certain
mechanical weaknesses, and tactics must be further modified to suit their
peculiarities. The G.H.Q. attitude was, in short, that of men satisfied,
though not enthusiastic, and was well expressed by Sir Douglas Haig in his
Somme Despatch:

“Our new heavily armoured cars, known as ‘Tanks,’ now
brought into action for the first time, successfully co-operated with
the infantry, and coming as a surprise to the enemy rank and file,
gave valuable help in breaking down their resistance.”

The despatch goes on to mention the taking of Flers.
The delight of the British and French Press knew no bounds. The
correspondents threw up their hats and set to ransack their dictionaries for
octosyllables in which to describe the new “All British” destroyer of
Germans.
It was “Diplodocus Galumphant,” it was a “Polychromatic Toad.” It
was a “flat-footed monster” which “performed the most astonishing feats of
agility as it advanced, spouting flames from every side.”
“It ‘leant’ against a wall until it fell and then crawled over the fallen
débris.

“It went irresistibly through High Wood, the trees smashing like
matchwood before it.
“It went up to machine-gun emplacements, ‘crushed the gun under its
ribs,’ and passed on, spitting death at the demoralised Germans.
“It ‘stamped’ down a dug-out as though it were a wasps’ nest.
“It crashed through broken barns and houses, ‘straddled’ a dug-out and
fired enfilading shot down German trenches.
“It put a battery and a half of guns out of action at Flers.”
Reuter added a cow-catcher to its equipment.
The French Press was enthusiastic:

“At the precise moment when the bombardment stopped, the
Germans had the surprise of seeing advance in front of the waves of
assaulting troops, enormous steel monsters from which spurted a
continuous fire of great violence. One would have described them as
gigantic infernal machines. Their front, which was shaped like a
ram, smashed down every obstacle. The heavy automobiles bounded
across the overturned and uneven ground, breaking through the
barbed wire and jumping the trenches. In the German ranks there
was a really mad terror. A prey to panic, the soldiers of the German
Emperor fell back in haste, abandoning their arms, ammunition and
equipment.”

And how did the Tank personnel itself view the events of the day?
Half choked with the engine fumes, boxed up for many hours without
respite in the intolerable clamour and shaking of their machines, or, worse,
having wrestled for hours under heavy shelling with a broken-down Tank,
they were inclined to see the exasperations of the battle rather than its
successes. It is indeed curious to note the difference in tone between the
accounts of those who saw the Tanks dispassionately from without and
those who had weltered within, between those who saw what the Tanks did
and those whose view of achievement was obscured by a knowledge of
what might have been.

The Tank Corps was too keen to be in the least satisfied by the measure
of success which it had achieved.
Only the Press and the Germans perceived that a new “Excalibur” had
been forged in England. “Out of the mouths....”

IV

After the battle, such of the Tanks as could go under their own power
rallied, and steps were at once taken to salve as many as possible of those
which had become incapacitated.
From this point, till all available Tanks had been used up and till the
ground became finally impossible in mid-November, Tanks were to be
constantly employed in insignificant numbers in a series of small
experimental actions.
This method of fighting by twos and threes against special strong
points was afterwards discarded, as it proved unsatisfactory. Several of
these small actions were nevertheless very successful, and showed in
miniature some special purpose which Tanks could serve, or illustrated the
importance of some special Tank organisation.
For example, Thiepval showed how Tanks could be used without
artillery preparation, and Beaumont-Hamel showed the importance of a
good Reconnaissance Branch. These small actions were therefore
important, not in themselves, but because they were microcosms. In one or
two unsuccessful actions it was rather the state of the ground which spoiled
the battle than mistaken tactics.
For as the campaign drew on conditions became worse and worse. By
the beginning of October the Army in general, and particularly the Tanks,
had a foretaste of the miseries of Flanders. The general conditions of this
part of the campaign are admirably described by Colonel Buchan in his
History of the War:

“October was one long succession of tempestuous gales and
drenching rains.

“To understand the difficulties which untoward weather
imposed on the Allied advance, it is necessary to grasp the nature of
the fifty square miles of tortured ground which three months’
fighting had given them, and over which lay the communications
between their fighting line and the rear.... Not the biggest mining
camp or the vastest engineering undertaking had ever produced one
tithe of the activity which existed behind each section of the battle
line. There were places like Crewe, places like the outskirts of
Birmingham, places like Aldershot or Salisbury Plain....
“There were now two No Man’s Lands. One was between the
front lines; the other lay between the old enemy front and the front
we had won. The second was the bigger problem, for across it must
be brought the supplies of a great army....
“The problem was hard enough in fine weather; but let the rain
come and soak the churned-up soil, and the whole land became a
morass. There was no pavé, as in Flanders, to make a firm
causeway. Every road became a water-course, and in the hollows the
mud was as deep as a man’s thighs....
“The expected fine weather of October did not come. On the
contrary, the month provided a record in wet, spells of drenching
rain being varied by dull, misty days, so that the sodden land had no
chance of drying. The carrying of the lower spurs—meant as a
preliminary step to a general attack—proved an operation so full of
difficulties that it occupied all our efforts during the month, and
with it all was not completed. The story of these weeks is one of
minor operations, local actions with strictly limited objectives
undertaken by only a few battalions. In the face of every
conceivable difficulty we moved gradually up the intervening
slopes.”

Such was the setting of this batch of experimental actions. The first of
them took place on September 25, when two small parties of Tanks were
employed in two distinct actions; the first with the 3rd Corps, and the
second on September 25 and 26 with the 15th Corps near Gueudecourt.

The first was a failure. Only two Tanks had been allotted; one was
ditched on the way to the starting-point, and the other machine was caught
in the enemy barrage and knocked out.
Very different is the story of the Tanks operating with the 15th Corps at
Gird Trench near Gueudecourt, when with the help of a low-flying
aeroplane 1500 yards of trench and 370 prisoners were taken by one Tank at
a cost to us of five casualties.
The story is told in the Somme Despatch:

“In the early morning a Tank started down the portion of the
trench held by the enemy from the north-west, firing its machine-
guns and followed by bombers. The enemy could not escape, as we
held the trench at its southern end. At the same time an aeroplane
flew down the length of the trench, also firing a machine-gun at the
enemy holding it. These then waved white handkerchiefs in token of
surrender, and when this was reported by the aeroplane the infantry
accepted the surrender of the garrison. By 8.30 a.m. the whole
trench had been cleared, great numbers of the enemy had been
killed, and eight officers and 362 other ranks made prisoners. Our
total casualties amounted to five.”

At noon on September 26 an attack was launched by General Gough’s
reserve army on Thiepval. Eight Tanks co-operated.
It was the second attack that we had made on Thiepval, of which the
Germans had made a most formidable fortress. The ground had been blasted
into the familiar alternation of crumbling mounds and water-logged holes,
and the shattered houses and splintered trees—particularly a certain row of
apple trees—stood up forlornly amid the general desolation.
From the point of view of the Tanks, however, the action was
important, because here for the first time Tanks were employed in a surprise
attack.
No artillery preparation was used, and

“our men were over the German parapets and into the dug-outs
before machine-guns could be got up to repel them.”

A large number of prisoners were taken, and in the Somme Despatch
the attack was noted as “highly successful,” and the Tanks as having given
“valuable assistance.”
By the middle of October 1916 when Tanks were next in action, the
ground was hopelessly sodden, and the story of the month which ensued
might, with an alteration of place names, be taken for a narrative of the
campaign in Flanders. Than this there is no greater condemnation.
It would be tedious to particularise the five or six minor actions in
which Tanks played, or more often endeavoured to play, a part between
October 17 and November 18. Excepting in the interesting little action
which took place at Beaumont-Hamel, to which we have alluded before, no
further light was to be thrown upon the uses and capabilities of the new
arm.
The following account of the Beaumont-Hamel fighting was given to
the authors by a Tank Officer who was present:

“At the end of September it became clear that the Somme battle
was fizzling out. The ratio of ‘cost’ to ‘results’ became more and
more unsatisfactory; every advance, too, made the devastated and
almost roadless area an ever greater problem.
“It was decided that an attack, if possible a surprise attack,
should be launched on the flank of the Somme battle. The position
selected was roughly from about Serre to the high ground some half
a mile south of the river Ancre. This sector had, of course, been
attacked at the beginning of the Somme battle in July, but the attack
had been a complete failure, and this front had relapsed into
comparative quiet.
“Tanks were collected and again entrained, the new detraining
station being Acheux. This was the first of the many flank moves
carried out with Tanks in order that a fresh front might be engaged.

“On arrival at Acheux, however, at the beginning of October,
very bad weather set in and the preparations for the attack were
delayed. Day after day the rain continued, and the ground in the
battle zone became steadily worse and worse. It was a trying time
for the officers and men of ‘C’ and ‘D’ Companies, as they were not
in very good accommodation just outside Acheux, expecting daily
to move up to battle. It was not until the beginning of November,
however, that a move was made by night via Beausart to
Auchonvillers and La Signy Farm. The Tanks having reached these
lying-up places, the rain came down even faster than before, and a
study of aeroplane photographs of the proposed battle sector showed
that all the old shell-holes and many of the old trenches had filled up
with water, and that the greater part of the front was in a hopeless
condition for that type of Tank (i.e., Mark I.).
“Just before the day of the Battle, November 13, it was decided
to send back nearly all the Tanks from La Signy Farm, and some of
those from Auchonvillers, only a few being held in readiness in case
the infantry advance should give scope for their use further ahead on
better ground.
“Three Tanks of ‘A’ Company were due to attack with the main
assault on November 13; and one of them succeeded in penetrating
into the enemy’s position and advancing for some distance along the
enemy’s support line and nearly reaching the Ancre before it
became ‘ditched.’
“Further north the attack had met with considerable success,
except that the village of Beaumont-Hamel had held out for some
hours. Tanks had been called upon to assist, and two of them had
advanced along the road to Beaumont-Hamel; just about the time
that they reached the village the remainder of the German garrison
capitulated. Between Beaumont-Hamel and the river Ancre a
considerable body of Germans were holding out in the enemy front
and support trenches; although troops of the 63rd Division had
reached the outskirts of Beaucourt well in the rear of this body of
men, they continued to hold out throughout the day. Tanks were
again called upon to deal with this situation. They reached the
position the next morning, being led up by a trench mortar officer of

the Division concerned. One Tank succeeded in crossing the very
large German front trench, but, unfortunately, became stuck soon
afterwards; the second Tank came to grief just before it reached the
enemy front trench. It appeared that a deadlock had again been
reached, and the crews of the Tanks were in a precarious position.
On examining the ground about them the Officer Commanding the
leading Tank (which incidentally was leading no longer, since it was
stuck and all too stationary) noticed that the whole area appeared to
be shimmering with white. On opening the front flap of the Tank
and obtaining a better view, it was seen that all the German garrison,
some 400 in number, appeared to have found something white to
wave in token of surrender; those who could not produce anything
better were waving lumps of chalk about or bits of board or rifle-
stocks which they had rapidly chalked white. The situation was
rather an embarrassing one for so small a number as the crew of
Two Tanks to deal with; fortunately, however, it was possible by
signs, and with the assistance of the infantry, to ‘mop up’ these 400
prisoners before they realised that both the Tanks were stuck and out
of action.
“Some of the worst of the ground was now in our line, and an
effort was made to get the Tanks through this bad zone in order that
they might continue to attack in the neighbourhood of Beaucourt.
Efforts were made to prepare a track for the Tanks by means of a
considerable digging party, but when the Tanks reached the very
broken ground just north of the Ancre, they became one after
another firmly stuck; with enormous efforts they were dug out, and
succeeded in getting a few yards further, only to stick again. It was
heart-breaking work, which would undoubtedly have been rendered
far easier if the Tanks had then had the unditching beams which
were only introduced some time later.
“Finally, on the evening of the 17th, only one Tank had
succeeded in getting through this bad zone and reaching the
comparatively good ground beyond. The crew, to whom great credit
is due, had already been working continuously for some days and
night, and were not only exhausted, but had had no time to carry out
any reconnaissance of the position which was to be attacked at dawn

the next day. There being, however, only one Tank, made it of
greater importance than ever that it should be made the most of. It
was decided that it should be used against the very strong position
known as the Triangle, which was a redoubt on the high ground,
roughly midway between Beaumont-Hamel and Beaucourt. The
ground about this redoubt was, unfortunately, also very heavily
shelled, and a frontal approach with the infantry was impossible,
and it was necessary for the Tank to go in on the flank while the
infantry attacked the position frontally. It was realised that the first
necessity was that the Tank should reach this redoubt as rapidly as
possible, and during the night a route was taped slightly beyond our
front line and directing the Tank straight for the Triangle. The
weather was now much colder, and the frost rendered the ground
less hopelessly outside the capacity of the Tank.
“Just before dawn, however, a fresh difficulty arose, and tried
still further the already severely tried expedition. It began to snow,
and the white tape which was to guide the Tank was obliterated.”

Captain Hotblack (now Major, D.S.O., M.C.), the Reconnaissance
Officer who had done the taping, was the only man who had reconnoitred
this piece of ground, and he immediately volunteered to lead the Tank upon
which so much depended.
Taking what little cover he could in shell-holes full of ice and water, he
walked in front of the Tank past our front line close up to the Triangle.
Marvellously enough, not one among the hail of bullets which greeted him
and the Tank found its mark. Having succeeded in this arduous enterprise
and having guided the machine to its position, he returned to report on the
progress of the action. The light was now improving, and the Tank started
its “rolling up” movement along the German trenches.
The machine was now so much in the midst of the enemy that the
German artillery did not dare to open upon it, and the Tank poured in a
devastating fire from its machine-guns not only upon the men in the
trenches, but also upon some horse transport behind the enemy lines.
But, meanwhile, the infantry was hung up in another part of the field,
and the Tank was urgently needed.

At that time signal communication to the Tanks was very imperfect,
and there seemed no way of letting the Tank Commander know of the new
development.
Again Major Hotblack came forward and again he crossed the fire-
swept zone undeterred. He reached the Tank and piloted it back behind our
lines, where a renewed attack was planned.
But before the tired crew could be sent out again, the wind changed and
it began to thaw. The ground over which the Tank had passed with difficulty
when it was hard became impassable, and the project was abandoned.
It was for this remarkable piece of work that Major Hotblack was
awarded his D.S.O.
The incident naturally had far-reaching results. An inspiring deed,
especially if it be one demanding skill as well as courage, will influence and
“set the tone” of a new unit or a new branch of an old service. It is far more
effectual than the most convincing arguments as to the necessity for a high
standard of conduct and of competence. Much of the subsequent efficiency
of the Reconnaissance Branch of the Tank Corps may be traced to this
incident.
Reconnaissance took its proper place, it was recognised as a fighting
service, and its work was seen to be a necessary preliminary to every action.
Of the total of about ten Tanks engaged in other small actions which
took place at this period, hardly one machine had satisfactory records to
look back upon.
On November 18 ended the Tanks’ first short campaign. If it did not
close in a blaze of glory, at least it had been sufficiently successful for the
authorities to decided not upon doubling but on quadrupling their
establishment.

CHAPTER V
WINTER TRAINING, EXPANSION AND
READJUSTMENTS

I

Though plans for expansion and the complete reorganisation of the unit
on a large scale had been begun directly after the results of the action of
September 15 were known, little of the actual work of training could be
started till the end of November, when the “veteran” Tank personnel were at
last available as instructors. They were, as we have said, withdrawn on
November 19 and moved to the Bermicourt area, which had been already
prepared for them.
They were the leaven—less than one “old” Company to each new
Battalion—who must impart their knowledge and experience to the new
men.
A subaltern who had seen any fighting with the Tanks would suddenly
find himself regarded as the greatest living expert on some obscure
technical point, and the newly joined who had never seen a Tank “looked
with awe upon these battle-tried warriors.”
Men and officers were allowed to volunteer for the Tank Corps from
other units either in France or at home. The notion of fighting in a Tank was
popular, for on many of the men of the old arms—especially the infantry—
the ordinary battle routine had—to put it conservatively—begun to pall.
Therefore, there was no difficulty as to supplies of men whenever the
authorities turned the tap.

15
“We came from the infantry, from the cavalry, from the
artillery, from the Machine Gun Corps, the Motor Machine Gun
Corps, the Flying Corps, the Army Service Corps, and even from
the Navy.”

At first each individual wore the dress of his original unit, so that there
was a strange collection of uniforms at Bermicourt—Scottish bonnets and
kilts, riding breeches, and bandoleers, every conceivable dress, even to
naval blue.

15
“The spirit of adventure called us to the Tanks ... and so the
call for volunteers found us ready, and when the word of acceptance
came, our hearts beat quickly and our hopes were high ... some of us
were selected because we were machine-gunners, and others
because we were motor drivers. But there were many of us to whom
the machine-gun and the motor were incomprehensible things. But
in the end we did not find this lack of knowledge any handicap; for
the Army authorities, who were wiser than we, knew that to men of
average intelligence these things were easy to learn; and to our very
great amazement we found that a week was all that was necessary
thoroughly to master any machine-gun ... and that it only took us
two weeks to grasp the principle of the internal combustion engine
and the mechanism of the Tank.”

At Bermicourt and at Wool the deficiencies of the old Thetford training
were realised. The experience gained on the Somme had been assimilated.
Instructors now knew exactly what they must teach, and this time the spirit
of the course of training was definite and businesslike.
The whole scheme was most carefully planned to ensure a proper
balance, and the right amount of time was allotted to the different courses.
At first the work consisted chiefly in the training of more instructors,
for the expansion of the Corps was to be rapid. The “settings” of all the
courses showed great advances on the Thetford model, for at last the
practice grounds could be made to resemble the actuality. There were old
trenches and shell and mine craters, and the men were at once taken over

bad ground, until the conditions of this curious progress became things of
custom.

16
“There is not one of us who will ever forget his first ride—the
crawling in at the sides, the discovery that the height did not permit
a man of medium stature to stand erect, the sudden starting of the
engine, the roar of it all when the throttle opened, the jolt forward,
and the sliding through the mud that followed, until at last we came
to the ‘jump’ which had been prepared. Then came the downward
motion, which suddenly threw us off our feet and caused us to
stretch trusting hands toward the nearest object—usually, at first, a
hot pipe through which the water from the cylinder jackets flowed
to the radiator. So, down and down and down, the throttle almost
closed, the engine just ‘ticking over,’ until at last the bottom was
reached, and as the power was turned full on, the Tank raised herself
to the incline, like a ship rising on a wave, and we were all jolted the
other way, only to clutch again frantically for things which were hot
and burned, until at last, with a swing over the top, we gained level
ground. And in that moment we discovered that the trenches and the
mud and the rain and the shells and the daily curse of bully beef had
not killed everything within, for there came to us a thrill of
happiness in that we were to sail over stranger seas than man had
ever crossed, and set out on a great adventure.”

The necessity of regularising and systematising the Reconnaissance
Branch had not been forgotten, and a separate Reconnaissance Service—
really a specially adapted branch of “Intelligence”—was set up, under
Major Hotblack.
The first organised work of the Branch was to be done in the
preparations for the Battle of Arras, and it is at that period that we shall see
the tentative beginnings of the very special system which was later on
developed.
For the present “Reconnaissance” spent its time lecturing and being
lectured, and in preparing maps or training areas for theoretical or practical
exercises in the new art of Tank warfare.

II

By February 1917, when individual courses came to an end and unit
training began, the H.B.M.G.C. was about 9000 strong.
Warmed by the sun of official approval, and watered with a kindly dew
of Memoranda and official “definitions,” Companies had budded into
Battalions and later Battalions were to burgeon into Brigades.
Even by this early date the authorities had decided that ultimately three
Brigades of three Battalions each should be formed.
Each Battalion was to be equipped with seventy-two machines and to
consist of four fighting sections, a Headquarters Section and a Battalion
Workshop, besides that curious collection of miscellaneous individuals,
tailors, barbers, shoemakers and clerks, which is necessary in every unit.
General Elles was to command in France, and took over on September 29
with the rank of Colonel. His “charter” was as follows:

“The Headquarters in France is to command the Heavy Branch
M.G.C. in the field, to be responsible for the advanced training and
for the Tactical employment of the Corps under the command of the
C.-in-C.”

He was also to have a large Central Depot and Repairing Shop in his
charge.
In England there was to be a Headquarters directly under the War
Office and which was to administer the Corps as a whole. The home
Headquarters was to be responsible for the provision of men, for supplies of
“technical material,” the preliminary training of units, and the maintenance
of units in France as regards men, machines, material and spare parts.
The experienced reader will perceive in this system of dual control a
very promising sowing of dragon’s teeth.
No one who has had an inside knowledge of the growth of any unit or
of any institution whatsoever during the War will be surprised at the fact
that the Tank Corps did not escape the common lot. It suffered from
growing pains.

Is there a new Ministry, a new Hospital, a new Factory, a new
Battalion, nay, a single new Committee, the tiniest Association of Allotment
Holders, the smallest Village Ladies’ Work Depot, that did not?
Among such organisations there are but two categories—those who
have the candour to acknowledge that they went through such a period, and
those who still dare not trust themselves to allude to it. Perhaps if we
consider the examples that come within our own experience, we shall find
that the stronger and more vital the new unit, the more capable and full of
character the men who moved it, the more marked was that initial stage of
uncomfortable adolescence.
The settling down, before responsibilities and prerogatives had been
properly paired and allotted to the right individuals. The time when one
department was still irritable from overwork and another exasperated by not
being given enough responsibility. We have all of us known such a time,
and most of us now look back upon its very real miseries with a kind of
mingled wonder and amusement. Not otherwise do the pioneers of the
Tanks look back upon their awkward age.
17
As soon as the programme of expansion had been decided upon the
question of how Tank production could be increased became an exceedingly
important one. Owing to the inevitable loss in battle, and still more to the
unfortunate defects of the type of the track roller then supplied, there were
not enough Tanks even for the training scheme proposed for France, where
there were in December 1916 only sixteen machines in working order. The
needs of the big training centre which was setting up at Wool could not at
present be met at all, and the accumulation of any adequate reserve of
fighting Tanks was, for the moment, impossible.
The Mechanical Warfare Supply Department was now responsible for
Tank production, and they had the task of arranging for the building of the
1000 Tanks which had been sanctioned on September 29.
In November the M.W.S. Department made an unofficial forecast of the
probable rate of production. This forecast they confirmed officially on
February 1.
The total output of Tanks was to be roughly as follows:

1917
January 50
February 50
March 120
April 120
May 140
June 200
July 240
August 260
September 280

Of these, after March at least eighty per month were to be of the Mark
IV. type, of which, with the Mark IV.a, there was to be a total of over 1000.
In August or September, a proportion of the output was to be of the
greatly improved Mark V. type. Actually at the end of March only sixty
Tanks could be scraped together for the Battle of Arras, and most of these
were machines that had been repaired after the Somme.
Not a single Mark IV. machine arrived in France until April 22, after
the Battle of Arras had been fought and won, and no Mark V. machines until
March 23, 1918. The entire programme was, in short, many months late.
The M.W.S.D. were, however, not altogether blameable for the
occasionally somewhat astonishing discrepancy between their promises and
performance.
It is, in fact, related for the defence that even the airy promises had
their purpose—that the very discrepancies which the Fighting Side viewed
aghast were deliberately created by the wily M.W.S.D. as bogies with
which to scare supine manufacturers or reluctant Government Departments.
“What!” the M.W.S.D. would say. “You can’t do better than that! But
look what we’ve actually promised! And just see what sort of names our
partners the Fighting Side are calling us already! You must do better.” A
duly enraged Fighting Side must have made an unsurpassable Jorkins.
In any case, however, it was usually only the M.W.S.D.’s promises
which could even be called in question. Considering the means at their

disposal and the difficulties which surrounded them, their practical efforts
were praiseworthy.
Their troubles came chiefly from three sources. Some of the difficulties
from each were inevitable, and some were not.
First there were the physical difficulties of manufacture. The shortage
both of labour and material was acute, and at the period with which we are
now concerned, Tanks came low in the Ministry of Munitions’ priority list.
Shells, guns, aeroplanes and even transport lorries all took precedence of
Tanks.
A second difficulty was the habit which the Authorities had of blowing
alternately hot and cold, according as Tanks momentarily did well or ill in
the field. This resulted in a tendency towards a see-saw of alternate periods
of slackness and overwhelming hurry in the factories.
Tradition relates that Sir Albert Stern (the Director-General of the
M.W.S.D.) here played a most useful part. He used his whole influence to
maintain a steady output, acting, in fact, as a kind of stabiliser.
The third set of difficulties came from the M.W.S.D.’s own Tank
designers, and from technical experts of the Fighting Side in France. Both
constantly asked for small alterations in design. Often these alterations were
necessary; frequently they were more or less frivolous even when they
came from what might be considered the best source, that is, from those
who fought the Tanks.
If the M.W.S.D. was sometimes accused of adopting an academic
attitude towards the results of the “acid test” of battle, it may as truly be
said of the Fighting Side that they often underrated the difficulties and
problems of manufacture and failed to appreciate how often quality could
only be obtained by a disproportionate sacrifice of quantity.

III

About the end of December 1916, when the dual control of Tank affairs
had been working for nearly three months, it became obvious that the
system was not one that would easily stand the strain of active operations.

The Tank Corps had outgrown it, and the shoe would soon begin to pinch.
General Elles thus summarised the position in his report of December 31:

“In France. The fighting organisation is under a junior officer
who faute de mieux has become responsible for initiating all
important questions of policy, design, organisation and personnel
through G.H.Q., France, and thence through five different branches
at the War Office.
“In England. Administrative and training organisation are under
a senior officer, located 130 miles from the War Office, with a junior
Staff Officer (Staff-Captain) in London to deal with the five
branches above mentioned.
“The system is working now because Headquarters in France
have been free from the questions of operations for most of the last
six weeks, and have, therefore, been in a position to deal
imperfectly and at a distance with the larger aspects of the whole
matter.
“This will not be possible when operations become a more
pressing obligation, as they are now doing.
“Then, this duty must devolve either on the five War Office
branches, not one of which, I submit with all respect, can have any
comprehensive grip of the subject, or on the G.O.C., Administrative
Centre, who is out of continued personal touch either with the War
Office or the requirements in this country, and is, moreover,
debarred by his charter from really having any control or direction
except at the instance of his Junior.
“In actual fact, the Director-General of Mechanical Warfare
Supply, an official of the Ministry of Munitions, at the head of a
very energetic body, becomes the head of the whole organisation.
This officer, owing to his lack of military knowledge, requires and
desires guidance, which none of the five departments at the War
Office can, and which the G.O.C., Administrative Centre, is not in a
position to, give him.

“In effect the tail in France is trying to wag a very distant and
headless dog in England. We have had one check already in the
matter of the increased weight of Mark IV. which it is possible may
have serious results as regards transportation.
“In view of the inevitable expansion and great possibilities of
this arm of the Service, I wish to urge most strongly that a
Directorate (however small to begin with) be formed at the War
Office on the lines of the Directorate of Aeronautics. Its functions to
be to study possibilities of development, to watch design and
supply, to co-ordinate training and administer the Corps as a whole.
The officer in charge to be a senior officer, free to travel and
empowered to issue definite instructions and decisions as to
requirements to the Ministry of Munitions.”

As a result of this remonstrance, General Capper was appointed to the
War Office, and the first Tank Committee was set up in the following May.
This Committee was commissioned “to systematise and strengthen
liaison between the Army and the Ministry of Munitions.”
But when we consider the list of its members we do not find a single
18
representative of the still drooping “tail.”
However, the appointment of the Committee proved to be a step in the
right direction, and an improvement began to be felt immediately.
Officers of the Tank Corps now took charge of the final running trials
of all Tanks. The M.W.S.D. submitted their designs to the Committee, and
in several other small particulars the control exercised by the Military side
was increased.
But in August the Committee was rent asunder.
A Memorandum was submitted by the two military members, calling
attention to the long and serious delays that were still occurring in the
preparation of new kinds of Tanks, after the execution of the designs had
been approved by the Tank Committee.
The delays, it stated, were largely due to the absence of direct
intercourse between the Committee as a body and the actual designer, and

they recommended that the designer should be ex officio a member of the
Committee.
Sir Albert Stern and Sir Eustace Tennyson d’Eyncourt dissented
strongly from this Memorandum—we are not told upon what grounds—and
in October a new Tank Committee was formed.
At last—upon this new Committee—the “tail” was fully represented,
and the Committee met fortnightly alternately in France and in England, so
keeping in touch with both factors in its work. A satisfactory organisation
seems, in fact, to have been found, and the interests of all the departments
involved in manufacturing and fighting these complex machines seem at
last to have been adequately represented. After October difficulties appear
to have been halved.
But this happier era did not dawn till after the Battle of Arras had been
won, and the long misery of the Flemish campaign had somehow been
endured. Meanwhile, as far as Tank control was concerned, things went on
much as before.
The reader is to imagine that just such “growing pains” and just such
difficulties, correspondences and memoranda filled in the background for
the next six months, while the fighting at Arras, at Messines and in
Flanders, whose story we are about to relate, was in progress.

CHAPTER VI
THE BATTLES OF ARRAS AND BULLECOURT

I

The Reconnaissance Officers were the first of the Junior personnel to
learn that operations were contemplated for early April, and that the new
battle was to be fought before the town of Arras on the banks of the river
Scarpe. By the beginning of March, the first small parties of Battalion and
Company Reconnaissance Officers had begun to leave Bermicourt.
It was rumoured that this offensive was going to be the blooding of the
1st Brigade; it was to be on a much larger scale than any the Tanks had
taken part in on the Somme. It was said that sixty machines would be
thrown in in one action. The Tanks were going to have an opportunity of
making a name for themselves, and of justifying all the embarrassingly
pleasant things that the newspapers had said of them in the previous
September. For this lavish praise had spread a gloom over the Tank Corps;
they had been unmercifully twitted by unfeeling gunners and infantrymen
who knew the real facts.
The newspapers had succeeded in making their intercourse with any
but battalions fresh from England one unbearable round of facile jest. Never
had any unit, save, perhaps, the London Scottish, been so unmercifully
hailed as “Mother’s blue-eyed boy.”
By March they lusted for blood, and the first whispers of battle were
listened to with a satisfied expectancy.
The new 1st Brigade of the Heavy Branch Machine Gun Corps was a
very much more assured body than the little band of pioneers who had
waited so anxiously for the dawn on September 15, 1916.

Owing to delays in manufacture, they were still only equipped with 60
Mark I. Tanks instead of about 120 Mark I.’s and Mark IV.’s, as had been
hoped. Still, the March 1917 Mark I. was very different from the September
1916 Mark I. The most striking improvement was the shedding of the
cumbersome and ineffectual “Tail” or hydraulic stabiliser.
Most of the machines had also undergone a most careful overhauling at
the hands of the indefatigable vulcan, at the Battalion workshops, and those
innumerable tiny adjustments, repairs and improvements which constitute
“tuning up” had been made.
The machine-gun armament, too, had been modified, the Hotchkiss
being replaced by the Lewis gun. A new contrivance for use on soft ground
had also been fitted, consisting of stout little cigar-shaped splinter-bars, a
yard or so in length, attached to the track by means of chains.
But more particularly crews had had proper time to train and they knew
that they knew their work. Their officers, too, were sure that they would this
time be properly supplied with maps and detailed orders. Therefore, officers
and crews got on with their own battle preparations, or, later, rehearsed the
coming action with the infantry, with a good heart.

II

In the front line active preparations had begun. The Reconnaissance
Officers, several of whom took up their quarters in the half-deserted town
of Arras, had each had his area allotted to him, and they were busy helping
“Q” side to find suitable positions for the supply dumps, for at this time
there was no system of supply Tanks. Every tin of petrol, every round of
ammunition, had, therefore, to be carried by hand from the railhead, and the
task was one which took weeks to complete.
It was calculated that had supply Tanks been available each machine
would have saved a carrying party of 300 men. The real work of the
Reconnaissance Officers, however, was to observe the enemy’s lines and
the country which lay beyond them.
Much of this country, even within our own lines, was practically
unknown to us, as the greater part of the sector selected for attack had only

just been “uncovered” by the sudden and unforeseen German retirement.
On this portion of the line the retirement had occurred about a month before
the battle was due. As in other parts of the line, and as the enemy had
intended, the retirement had proved extremely embarrassing. We had
carefully selected a site for our battle, and the chosen ground had been
thoroughly studied.
The sudden change to a piece of imperfectly known country involved
an enormous amount of extra photographing, map-making, sketching and
reconnaissance generally. This was merely troublesome; more
uncomfortable was the element of uncertainty which the retirement
introduced.
Would the enemy stand? And, if so, where? Was there some trap being
prepared for us? It was uncanny, for it was contrary to the tradition of more
than two years of trench warfare.
The final scheme of the attack was, however, planned on the
assumption that the enemy would give battle. For he now held a line of
great natural strength which he had improved with extraordinary skill and
energy. The scheme, as it affected the Tanks, was shortly this.
The general object of the action was to achieve a rapid success. That is,
to inflict a wound in the first twenty-four hours, severe enough to force the
enemy to bring up his reserves, thus depleting his line near Soissons and
Reims, where the French offensive was to be launched immediately
afterwards.
A proportion of Tanks was allotted to each of the Armies taking part.

1. With the First Army (“D” Battalion) to the North:
Eight Tanks were to operate against Vimy Heights and the
village and heights of Thélus, considered amongst the most
formidable enemy positions in France. Tanks were to play a
subsidiary part, as the soil here was a soft heavy loam, highly
unfavourable to Tanks.

2. With the Third Army (“C” Battalion):

Forty Tanks were to operate, some north, some south of the
river Scarpe. This sector contained several notorious strong points,
such as the Harp and Telegraph Hill. The ground here was hard and
chalky and afforded good going for Tanks, though it was intersected
by old trench lines and had been heavily crumped.

3. With the Fifth Army (“D” Battalion):
Twelve Tanks were to operate in the region of Lagnicourt. Here
the ground conditions were bad. The roads especially had been
destroyed, and it was found impossible to bring up sufficient
artillery for a preliminary bombardment. Therefore, on this sector
Tanks were to play a leading part, preceding the infantry and largely
replacing the barrage. This action was not to be launched till about
forty-eight hours after that on the other two sectors. Zero day was to
be April 9, and the attack was to be made at dawn.

III

Till the night before the battle the work of preparation had gone
smoothly.
Maps had been issued, stores stood ready, pack animals and limbers
were at hand to form advanced dumps.
The Reconnaissance Officers had taken little parties of Tank
Commanders to the best observation posts in their sectors, and had there
shown them the ground they must cross and expounded their maps to them.
All the Tanks had been brought safely to their railheads and successfully
detrained, and now they lay waiting in their tankodromes. “C” (afterwards
No. 3) Battalion lay in Arras itself. The town had been most carefully
prepared for troops to assemble and wait in.
Great chalk quarries underlay it, and these had been linked up and lit
with electricity, and here two divisions could lie thirty feet underground
secure from the heaviest shelling.
The Tanks had chosen the Citadel as their assembly place. There in the
great grassy ditch of the old Vauban Fort they lay, nosing for cover into the

re-entrant angles of the tall cliff of mellow brickwork that towered above
them.
As soon as it was dark, on the night of April 8–9, the Tanks set off on
their journey up the line.
There had been a question as to the route which these Tanks were to
follow.
The alternatives were a long detour round the head of a shallow valley
or a short cut over ground of questionable soundness.
The short cut had finally been decided upon, and, on the
Reconnaissance Officer’s report, the Battalion had applied for enough
brushwood and sleepers to build a rough causeway.
Owing to transport misunderstandings and difficulties, only a very
small proportion of this material arrived in time. It was, however, decided
still to chance the short cut. Brushwood had been laid in some of the worst
places and the ground had a firm top. It was thought probable that this
would, after all, bear the weight of the Tanks.
Alas, the hope was vain! The smooth turf proved to be no more than a
crust, covering a veritable bog, and it broke through when the column was
about halfway across. In the darkness six Tanks floundered one after
another into the morass.
The scene which followed is described by an officer who was present:

“Never shall I forget the scene at Achicourt on the eve of the
battle. It was round about midnight when I got there and pitch dark
19
save for the fitful light from the still burning village near by and
the flashes of the guns.
“We had got word of ‘trouble near the railway crossing,’ and
trouble indeed there was.
“There, sunk and wallowing in a bog of black mud, were some
half-dozen Tanks—Tanks that should by then have been miles ahead
and getting into their battle position for the attack at dawn.

“Instead, here were the machines on which so much depended,
lying helpless and silent at all sorts of ominous angles, and turned
this way and that in their vain struggles to churn their way out of the
morass.
“About them were great weals and hummocks of mud and
ragged holes brimming with black slime. The crews, sweating and
filthy, were staggering about and trying to help their machines out
by digging away the soil from under their bellies and by thrusting
planks and brushwood under their tracks. Now and again an engine
would be started up and some half-submerged Tank would heave its
bulk up and out in unsteady floundering fashion, little by little and
in wrenching jerks as the engine was raced and the clutch released.
“Then the tracks of a sudden would cease biting and would
rattle round ineffectively, the ground would give way afresh on one
side, and the Tank would slowly heave over and settle down again
with a perilous list, the black water awash in her lower sponson. No
lights could be shown on account of enemy observation, and at any
time he might reopen with his heavy artillery, which had already
been blasting the immediate neighbourhood earlier in the night.
“Altogether it was a desperate and discouraging business for
those of us who knew that there were infantry already assembled for
the morning’s assault who had practised with us, who looked to us
for a lead across the German wire, and who must now do as best
they might without us.”

In the event, however, it did not turn out as blackly as those at the
Achicourt slough had feared.
Had the approach march of the Tanks been run to time, the column
would almost certainly have come in for the blowing up of the ammunition
dump at Achicourt, which was hit and exploded by a German shell soon
after nightfall.
Also, the half-dozen Tanks that were extricated from the bog too late to
join in that morning’s attack, provided a small local reserve that later
proved of the utmost value and had an appreciable effect on the course and
ultimate issue of the battle.

The ruins of Achicourt continued to smoulder through the night.

20
“It had just been very badly shelled by the enemy. Two sides
of the square were burned and blasted away (it had been all right,
nearly, when I passed through it a few days before). The ruins still
smoked and glowed, and shadowy working parties shovelled
rubbish into shell craters to make them passable for transport and
cleared a way through the sorry wreck. Smashed limbers, strings of
dead mules, burnt-out and buckled motor lorries, transport wagons,
and the like, all rather weird and depressing, the red glow of some
other conflagration as a background, and this stabbed with the
flicker of white light from our guns, little and great—thousands of
them (actually), a throbbing roar in the distance, and fit to deafen
you anywhere near. The great thing is to go about with an open
mouth. It equalises the pressure on your ear-drums. I am acquiring a
permanent droop of the lower jaw. Anyway, a discouraged, shell-
shaken sentry told me that one could not go through for the shells,
mostly our own, exploding in the fire, and refused to let me take the
car in. It did not look anything like as bad as he tried to make out—
from the danger point of view—and indeed when I walked through
there were the working parties stolidly filling up the craters by the
light of the glowing ruins. Having fulfilled my mission, I got back
to report at Brigade Headquarters about 4 a.m., and then set out
again at 4.30 to follow the battle and note and report the doings of
our Willies.”

A DERELICT. VALLEY OF THE SCARPE

A BURNING TANK

“DIRECT HITS”

BELLIED ON A TREE-STUMP AND SUBSEQUENTLY HIT

IV

At about 3.30 a.m. heavy rain had begun to fall, and all day the armies
fought amid intermittent storms of sleet and drenching rain.

21
“Our bombardment was quite unimaginable—all that could
possibly be desired, I should think, for accuracy, evenness and
intensity. The final barrage was a really wonderful sight; just at
dawn the grey sky ablaze with star shells and coloured rockets all
along the line, nothing else to be seen.
“Then when it got a little lighter and the barrage had crept on,
we could see thousands of our men popping up from their barely
visible ‘assembly slits’ in the ground and pouring up the slope in a

slow-moving, loose sort of crowd with no discernible formation,
and with and among them, the Tanks.
“They had previously come up across an apparently deserted
valley over the heads of our waiting infantry in their shelter
trenches. They appeared breasting the hill and disappeared over the
brow together with the attacking waves of troops. The enemy’s
shrapnel and high explosives that came back were almost laughable
in comparison with what we put over them, and our casualties were,
on the whole, unusually light. Where I was watching was reported
22
to be the hardest nut on the whole line.
“What with the barrage and the Tanks the defence appears to
have just collapsed, and a few minutes and a few casualties gave us
possession of a wonderful redoubt that the enemy had lavished
extraordinary ingenuity and industry in preparing for many months
past.
“I saw it all from a hedge in a hillside about 1000 yards away. I
had determined on the spot, and, as luck would have it, I found
when I got there that there was a half-finished observation post with
a lovely little pit to jump down into if things got hot. However, there
was no need to use it. It was only getting into it that was rather
exciting. I got spattered with débris time and again, but by tacking,
waiting, and using the country, I got through without any real
unpleasantness.
“It’s been a real thoroughgoing victory so far as we can see and
hear—or rather hear, for I only saw the first phase. Good old
Willies, it’s partly their victory, too, as all can see. Wonderful
messages come in, a dozen or more to the hour, reports, telegrams,
telephone messages, kite balloons, aeroplanes, pigeon letters, etc.,
and nearly all good, awfully good.
“‘We have reached Z.22.B.64 and are going strong.’
“‘Have taken Tilloy Village.’
“‘Over 2000 prisoners in our Corps cages already, including
thirty officers and a Battalion Commander.’

“‘Nine hundred prisoners, scared and starved, moral rotten.’
“‘Have reached the Blue Line,’ Signed Daphne, ‘Consolidated
at Y.13.C.68 to 15.D. Central,’ only we don’t consolidate, we just
hammer on line after line exactly to programme and as never before.
“‘Tanks seen zero plus 5 hours 15 minutes in the “Howitzer
Valley” accompanied by infantry. Guns still in position, gunners
not.’
“And so on; and our blue cardboard slips representing infantry
and little red flags, denoting Tanks, march on and on and on.”

Partly owing to the weather conditions and partly because the sixty
Tanks were strung out along so wide a front, Tank Commanders had been
told to act more or less independently against the strong points which had
been allotted to them. Once zero had struck, therefore, the history of the
battle becomes, from the Tank point of view, chiefly that of the exploits of
individual machines.
The only exception is the history of the eight Tanks operating with the
Canadians at Vimy. Alas! their story is easily summarised.
It had been originally decided that if the weather was wet no Tanks
were to operate on this sector at all, as the condition of the ground was
already exceptionally bad. The eight were to be sent down to reinforce the
5th Army where the going was good.
As luck would have it, April 7 and 8 were fine, and it was determined
that the Tanks should not be sent down, but should go in on the ridge. When
a drenching rain set in two hours before zero it was too late to alter the plan
of attack. The result was as had been expected.
Every Tank without exception ditched or got stuck in No Man’s Land
or in the enemy front line.
Therefore, the Tanks claim no share in the Canadians’ brilliant and
historic taking of the ridge.
So great was the Canadians’ élan, and so successful was our barrage,
that by the time the Tanks were extricated there was happily no rôle for

them to play. They were, therefore, withdrawn as quickly as possible, and
were, after all, sent down to reinforce the 5th Army.
With the 3rd Army, several Tanks performed interesting exploits.
Second Lieutenant Weber’s Tank, “Lusitania,” for example, spent an
exciting and profitable two days. This machine was some three hours late in
starting owing to trouble with the secondary gear. Just as it was getting off,
word was brought that the infantry was held up. The arrival of the Tank
effected an entire change in the situation, and a machine-gun placed in a
wood north of the railway having been silenced by the Tank’s 6-pounder
fire, it proceeded towards the Blue Line. The infantry advanced at the same
time, and both reached the next enemy trench together.
The movement was carried out in such close alignment that the Tank
was prevented from making use of its guns and enfilading the trench, but
the Germans, unable to face the combined attack, held up their hands and
surrendered. The Tank then cruised along the railway towards Fleury
Redoubt, firing as it went with its 6-pounder and Lewis guns. The Germans
made haste to evacuate the Redoubt, and could be seen to take refuge in a
dug-out close to a railway arch.
The Tank drew on towards the arch, firing in its progress at any object
suggesting a machine-gun emplacement. Near the arch it found itself under
our own barrage and also shelled by an anti-Tank gun. It accordingly
wheeled about, reclimbed the slope it had just descended, and signalled to
the infantry to come on. Then, returning to the arch, it mounted guard while
the infantry unearthed the Germans who had taken refuge in the dug-out.
This point disposed of and a steep bank hindering further advance, it was
found necessary to take a southerly course to find a more possible place for
climbing, the engine having become badly overheated. Indeed, so hot was it
that the machine now jibbed at the easiest exit from the valley that could be
found, and there was nothing for it but to wait until the engine should cool
down.
On the instant that the Tank Commander announced his decision to lie-
up, down dropped each man of the crew where he sat or stood, overcome by
heat and the cumulative exhaustion of days and nights of almost ceaseless
preparation.

Shells whined and droned overhead, and would now and again pitch in
the valley on this or that side of the Tank, throwing up a brown cascade of
earth with a reverberating crash.
Along the western bank of the valley were the excavated and concreted
pits that had sheltered the enemy’s guns for two and a half years. From
some the pieces had been withdrawn, in others our fire had caught the
gunners and their teams in the very act, and the valley bottom was strewn
with tragic heaps—guns, limbers, men and horses, huddled together in
shapeless tangles of brown and grey, or tossed apart to lie singed and torn
amongst the short grass and the shell-holes.
Down near the railway arch through which the valley track led to the
river Scarpe, one diminutive Highlander had paraded a drove of some 200
prisoners who had somehow come under his sole charge.
They were neatly lined up in fours, each man with his hands above his
head, and as they drooped from weariness or fidgeted from fear of the shells
that continued to fall haphazardly about them, their small and solitary escort
would flourish, and more than flourish his bayonet. Up would go the 400
hands once more and the parade be restored to order.
Not for nothing had one young Scotsman been taught the value of
discipline.
By the time the engine had cooled down, the crew been roused, and the
far bank surmounted, the infantry were well on their way to their objective.
Dropping into third gear the Tank gradually gained on them, and its
commander, observing that they had entered the German trench, swung half
right and took a course through the barbed wire parallel to it. On the flank
of the 15th Division, the trench was seen to be still in German hands. The
Tank opened fire accordingly with 6-pounders and machine-guns, doing
what damage it could. It caused a redoubt to be evacuated, it searched out
and caused two snipers to surrender, and later in the evening, in answer to
an urgent request from a Colonel of infantry, it approached within fifty
yards of a trench and silenced two out of four machine-guns. Then, the
already defective magneto giving out altogether and the Tank being brought
to a standstill, it opened a heavy fire along the trench with Lewis and 6-
pounder guns. Having thus killed many Germans, and the engine refusing to

restart, the commander at 9.30 p.m. decided to abandon the Tank, after a
full twelve hours in action.
It had then been dark for some time, and the Germans had kept up a
lively fire on the stranded Tank with rifles and machine-guns, taking aim at
the chinks and loopholes through which the lights shone out in tell-tale
beams.
For hour after hour, those within had striven laboriously yet vainly to
set their engines going, and so to bring their Tank safely back out of its
gallant maiden action. But nothing availed, and, the enemy fire becoming
more intense and accurate, the lights were switched off and the preparations
for evacuation made in total darkness.
It was first necessary to find out where our own line lay and to warn
our infantry that the crew would be coming in.
Sergeant Latham at once volunteered for this reconnaissance, and
crawled out of the Tank into the lesser blackness of the night. Rifles spat
and stray bullets cracked and whined impartially around, and British and
German rifles and bullets sound very much alike. However, partly by
judgment and partly by luck, Sergeant Latham stumbled into our own lines
and warned the garrison of the trench to fire high as the crew from the
derelict Tank would soon be coming in.
It was as well that the sergeant succeeded in delivering his message, as
a relief had taken place under cover of the night, and the new garrison had
been told nothing of the Tank out in front, and would certainly have greeted
the returning crew as enemy raiders.
Next day, having procured a new magneto, the Tank Commander and
some of his crew set out for their machine with better hope of salving her.
They were approaching the battle front when an agitated battery
commander hailed them and sought information as to the Tank out to his
front. Hearing that it was a derelict that they were on their way to try to
bring in, he exclaimed, “Thank God for that! I’ve been blasting that part
this morning. I didn’t know about the Tank, and I’ve just got a direct hit on
it that’s crumpled it up. I feared it might have been manned.”
So ended the short but valiant career of the avenging “Lusitania.” For
his very gallant command, Second Lieutenant Weber received an immediate

award of the Military Cross, and Sergeant Latham the Military Medal. The
specific action for which the latter was decorated is officially described as
follows:

“76441 Sgt. F. Latham, ‘C’ Batt., awarded M.M. for
conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. During the Battle of
Arras on April 9, 1917, whilst passing through a severe enemy
barrage, lengths of barbed wire were caught up by the tracks of his
Tank which pulled the camouflage cover over the exhaust openings,
and caused the whole mass to catch fire. Without waiting for orders
Sergeant Latham climbed on top of the Tank and removed the
burning material. Later on this N.C.O. displayed the greatest
courage whilst attempting to dig out his Tank under heavy fire.”

Another Tank, commanded by Second Lieutenant S. S. Ching, in this
sector was late in starting, and had barely caught up its infantry when it
became ditched. It held out, however, for no less than three days while the
fighting eddied about it.
It made most active use of its 6-pounders, thereby effectively protecting
the right flank of its infantry.
Another Tank fell bodily into an old gun emplacement near Neuville-
Vitasse which had been carefully turfed over.

V
Bullecourt

By the night of the 9th the force of the first wave was spent, and
though, as we have seen, many units were continuously in action for the
next three days, for the bulk both of Tanks and infantry April 10 was spent
in consolidating positions or digging out and repairing Tanks.
On April 11 the attack on Bullecourt and two other lesser actions were
fought. One of the two minor attacks was that on Monchy, in which six
Tanks took part.

It was highly successful owing chiefly to the extremely gallant way in
which the machines were fought. The Tanks took the village practically
unassisted and held it for two hours till the infantry came up.
Unfortunately, there were no further supplies of Tanks to exploit the
success or more might have been achieved. The second attack was made
from Neuville-Vitasse down the Siegfried Line. Four Tanks took part and
did great execution, all the machines returning safely.
The stars in their courses seem to have fought against the success of the
attack against Bullecourt in which eleven Tanks co-operated with the
Australians.
It will be remembered that the 5th Army attack was not to be launched
till some time after that in the other sectors. Also that the state of the roads
was such that it was impossible to bring up enough artillery for a
preliminary bombardment. Therefore the Battle of Bullecourt was to have
been a first wave attack in which a small number of Tanks were to play the
lead.
The eleven Tanks were to have advanced in line upon the Siegfried
defences east of Bullecourt. Some were then to have wheeled west to attack
Bullecourt itself, while others were to move east down the German trench
system, a third party pushing straight ahead to Riencourt and Hedecourt.
The attack was to have been made at dawn on April 10, and at nightfall
on the 9th the Tanks began their move up to their battle positions behind the
railway embankment. All day the weather had been cold and stormy, and
the Tanks had not gone half a mile before a violent snow blizzard came on,
blotting out every landmark. Most of the troops who had moves to make
that night were confounded in the swirling darkness, and though the eleven
Tanks did not stray far, their pace had to be reduced to a crawl and at dawn
they were still far from their battle stations. The Australian infantry, who
had already assembled at the railway embankment, had to be withdrawn
under heavy shelling, the whole attack postponed, and the manner of it
much modified. All next night the snow fell. When the attack did take place
on the 11th, it proved, both for Tanks and infantry, a costly little failure. The
day dawned clear and against the whiteness of the snow every advancing
Tank and its broad double track, stood out sharply. Further, the Australian
infantry wading through the snow, found the path made by the Tanks

irresistible and followed in long lines strung out along their tracks. Thus
Tanks and infantry provided the Germans with the most perfect artillery
targets imaginable.
Of the eleven Tanks, nine were knocked out by direct hits before their
work was half accomplished. Worst of all, two Tanks which, with about 200
Australians, pressed on nearly five miles to Riencourt and Hedecourt, found
their right unprotected owing to our failure to advance the other part of our
line. The Germans organised a sweeping counter-attack, and the two
23
villages, the infantry and the Tanks, were surrounded and taken. “The
First Battle of Bullecourt was a minor disaster—the three brigades of
infantry lost very heavily indeed—and the company of Tanks had been
apparently nothing but a broken reed.
“For many months after, the Australians distrusted Tanks—‘the Tanks
had failed them’—‘the Tanks had let them down.’” We shall see that it was
not till after the Battle of Hamel that their confidence was restored.
Not a single Tank survived to rally after the battle. But our worst loss
was that of the two Tanks which were “taken alive,” for examination of the
captured machines revealed to the enemy how effective a weapon was their
armour-piercing bullet against the Mark I.
After this action a German Order was issued that every man should be
provided with five rounds of the “K” (armour-piercing) ammunition, and
every machine-gun with several hundred. As long as the Mark I. was used,
these bullets were to cause heavy casualties among Tanks and their crews.
For the next ten days Tanks were busy refitting. By the 20th thirty of
the original sixty Tanks were fit again for action, and on April 23 eleven
Tanks were employed in two and threes to help on the infantry advance on
the line of Monchy-Rœux-Gavrelle.
Again the feature of the day was the fine individual work.
The story of a Tank which worked opposite Rœux is told in the
Honours and Awards List in the note on Sergeant J. Noel’s D.C.M.:

“During the battle of Arras on April 23 this N.C.O. took
command of his Tank after his officer had been wounded. He fought

his Tank with the greatest gallantry and skill, putting out of action
many machine-guns and killing numbers of the enemy, besides
taking fifty prisoners. His action enabled the infantry to gain
possession of the Chemical Works. He brought his Tank back safely
to its starting-point. His skill and gallantry were beyond all praise.
He was continuously in action for nine hours.”

This was the first time a Tank was commanded in action by an N.C.O.
Another pause followed the actions of the 23rd. Of the sixty Tanks
which had gone in on the 9th, not many machines remained that could soon
be repaired.
However, twelve Tanks were somehow made “battle-worthy,” and on
May 3 were sent in for the last time before the Brigade was withdrawn to
rest and to be re-equipped at Wailly, their new training ground.
A party of four operated between Croisilles and St. Léger and became
heavily engaged in a fight at close quarters against bombs and trench
mortars.
The second group of eight Tanks made another assault upon Bullecourt.
Though individuals did extremely well, the attack was once more
unsuccessful, as, though Tanks reached their objective, they were obliged to
retire again.
No less than ten Military Medals and a D.C.M. were awarded to men
and N.C.O.’s of the Tanks who took part in this little action.
The Germans had learnt their lesson, and Tanks and crews suffered
heavily from armour-piercing bullets. Several of the decorations were given
to drivers who had brought their Tanks safely out of action when
themselves severely wounded.
With this second attack on Bullecourt ended, as far as the Tanks were
concerned, the Battle of Arras. There were not many 1st Brigade Tanks to
withdraw to Wailly nor many unwounded men to man them. It was,
however, with feelings very different from those of the “veterans” of the
Somme that officers and men left the battle.

The careful training at Bermicourt with its well-planned courses, its
boxing, and its games was justified. Men and officers could not have
displayed a finer fighting spirit. The value of their work was recognised by
all the units with whom they fought.
Major-General Williams, commanding the 37th division, wrote of “C”
Battalion’s work in the attack on Monchy:

“It was a great achievement, and in itself more than justifies the
existence of the Tanks. Officers and men concerned deserve the
highest credit.”

Lieut.-General Aylmer Haldane, commanding the 6th Corps, wrote to
Colonel Baker-Carr, commanding the 1st Brigade, on April 13:

“... I am really most grateful for all the Tanks and their
commanders have done, and the great success of this Corps is only
attributable to the help you have given us. This has been my first
experience of the co-operation of Tanks, and I certainly never again
want to be without them, when so well commanded and led.”

Not only had the personnel done extraordinarily well, their conduct
being “a triumph of moral over technical difficulties,” but on the whole the
general work of the Tanks had been a success.
These were briefly the technical lessons of the battle:

Tanks should be used in masses.
They should be concentrated.
A large reserve should always be kept in hand.
Mark I. machines are not suitable for use on very wet or very
heavily shelled ground.
Signal and supply Tanks are essential.

In fine, the chief obstacle to a still fuller measure of success had been
that there were 60, and not 260, Tanks available.

CHAPTER VII
THE BATTLE OF MESSINES AND THE “HUSH”
OPERATION

“And little would’st thou grudge them
Their greater depth of soul.
Thy partners in the torch race,
Though nearer to the goal.”—Ionica.

I

In many battles in which Tanks later took part, two or more Tank
Brigades would be associated. But the Battles of Arras and Messines
belong, the former to the 1st and the latter to the 2nd Brigade exclusively.
The 2nd Brigade had been formed exactly like the 1st.
That is to say, a nucleus of Somme “Tank Veterans” had been
reinforced by picked volunteers from the other branches of the Service.
Like the 1st Brigade they trained in France, in the Bermicourt area. The
unknown author of the 2nd Battalion history gives an amusing account of
this training in which sports of all kinds, rugger, soccer, snow fights, boxing
and swimming, helped in the “edification” as well as the more serious
courses.
One feature of the period was, as usual, a shortage of instructional
machines.
Dummy Tanks were therefore used for several practice attacks. The
dummies were made of wood and canvas and were carried from within by
their crew of seven.

“They looked for all the world like some drab-coloured
prehistoric monster with as many legs as a centipede. A high wind
blew during a certain ‘action’ in March, and made things most
difficult. By the time the final objective was reached many of the
Tanks were in a state of collapse, the torn canvas revealing the
perspiring machinery to the amused gaze of the onlookers. The
remains of the Tanks were, however, most useful for firewood and
the renovation of beds.”

The account goes on to relate the delightful keenness of the men, and
how their interest in their training was so great that such serious
contretemps as getting in late for tea “were regarded as nothing.”
The 2nd Brigade was to be equipped with Mark IV. Tanks as soon as a
supply was available.
The first batch of machines arrived in France towards the end of April.
The Mark IV. Tank was an improved Mark I., and did not differ very
materially from its predecessor in design.
These were, briefly, the principal improvements:
First, its armour was of a special steel which was impervious to the
German armour-piercing bullet.
Secondly, the sponsons were of a better pattern. In the Mark I. they had
to be completely unshipped whenever the Tank was moved by rail; in the
Mark IV. they were so constructed that they could be “pushed in”
sufficiently for railway transport.
Thirdly, a new and heavier design of track rollers and links was
introduced.
Fourthly, danger from fire was reduced by the petrol tank (protected, of
course, by special armour-plates) being outside and at the back of the
machine.
There were also other minor improvements in armament, and the total
weight of the Tank was slightly reduced.

Such was the weapon which was to be first tried at Messines, and such
was the unit which was at the same time to make its début.

II

The Battle of Messines did not prove one in which Tanks were able to
show to any particular advantage; this not because of adverse conditions,
but because of the battle’s very success. It was throughout an extremely
well-planned little action, and would probably have been perfectly
successful even without the co-operation of Tanks.
An expert military critic has said of it:

“The Battle of Messines, one of the shortest and best mounted
limited operations of the War, was in no sense a Tank battle.”

It was perhaps a little hard on the 2nd Brigade, who fought throughout
with particular gallantry, that more of the laurel could not fall to them.
For not only was the 2nd Brigade’s maiden battle notable for gallantry
in the field, but also for the very high standard of the Staff work—the
administrative arrangements indeed long remaining the model for
subsequent Tank operations.
So inspiring a little action was it, so well planned and executed in every
stage, that the 2nd Brigade themselves felt that they had been privileged in
playing even a relatively minor part in such an assault.
Though Tanks proved useful in several phases of the battle, Tank
Commanders are the first to attribute the successes of the day to the
artillery, the tunnelling companies and the infantry.
They had early established particularly cordial relations with the
infantry, and it is said that a Maori Unit of the 2nd Anzac Corps gave expert
help to the 2nd Tank Battalion in camouflaging its machines.
Messines was to be a prelude to a more considerable attack in the Ypres
Salient. The village of Messines itself and the Wytschaete Ridge were to be

taken, thus securing the British Right for the Ypres attack, and depriving the
enemy of dominating ground.
The advance was to be a very short one, and the rôle of the Tanks was
to be subsidiary to that of gunners, sappers and infantry.
Land Mines were to be a special feature of the action. The explosion of
twenty of these containing over a million pounds of ammonal was to be the
signal for attack on the morning of June 7.
Some of the mines had been ready for more than a year, and we had
constructed nearly five miles of galleries. The Germans too had not been
idle.
At the time of our attack we knew that the enemy was driving a gallery
leading to our Hill 60 mine. By careful listening we judged that if our
offensive were launched on the date arranged the enemy’s counter-mine
would just fail to reach us. He was, therefore, allowed to proceed.
Altogether seventy-two Mark IV. Tanks were to be employed, and, the
lesson of Arras having been learnt, twelve Mark I. and Mark II. Tanks had
been converted into supply machines. Each of these was able to bring up
sufficient petrol, ammunition and other stores to replenish five fighting
Tanks.
Forty Tanks were to cross the parapet at zero hour and the rest of the
Tanks were to be held in reserve.
They were to be distributed as follows:—
To the North: twelve Tanks were to work with the 10th Corps, whose
objective was the Oosttaverne line.
In the Centre: sixteen Tanks were attached to the 9th Corps, who were
to capture Wytschaete.
To the South: twenty Tanks were to fight with the 2nd Corps, who were
to take Messines and a strong point named Fanny’s Farm, the reserves
pushing on to capture the Oosttaverne line in the second phase of the attack.
The weather had been fine and hot for nearly three weeks before the
battle, and a heavy thunder shower which fell on June 6 hardly laid the dust
which had hung for weeks in a hazy curtain over the approach roads.

The Tanks were as usual moved up during the night before the action. It
was very dark, with heavy thunder clouds hiding the moon.

24
“The last part of the approach march will never be forgotten
by those who took part in it.
“The enemy took it into his head to bombard with lachrymatory
and other gas shells, and the night was so black that it was
impossible to keep gas-masks on the whole time.
“So with streaming eyes, with no sort of light, with Tank
Commanders and drivers coughing and spluttering, the Tanks forged
ahead over this area of unseen trenches, barbed wire and shell-holes,
the men buoyed up by the knowledge of the shock the Hun would
receive in an hour or so.”

Zero hour was to be at dawn.
Somewhere north of Wytschaete a German dump had caught fire, and
the red flames streamed up against the pale summer sky.
It grew lighter, and our aeroplanes and balloons began to go up, dark
against the dawn.
Our unusual activity in the air did not escape the watchful enemy, and
his suspicions were soon thoroughly aroused.
He began to send up rockets calling for barrage fire, and soon his guns
were responding with growing emphasis.
At seven minutes past three our artillery stopped, and the rattle of
machine-guns stood out in the comparative silence.
There was a pause. A low rumbling was heard. The earth rocked and
quivered until with a prolonged and rending crash a screen of fire rose
where the German front lines had been.
Masses of earth were hurled skywards, and as they rose gleamed for a
moment purple and gold in the first rays of the sun. They writhed and
shifted, fantastically swaying, and shot through with flames. Balls of fire
were hurled in every direction, and the air quivered and vibrated with the

shock. Before the tortured earth could fall again, down came the stunning
roar and crash of the British barrage; and Tanks and infantry were over the
parapet.
By 7 a.m. the Anzacs were in Messines, and both Tanks and infantry
had reached Fanny’s Farm by noon, their day’s objective gained.
One Tank working with the 2nd Corps reached its final objective (at a
distance of about two miles) in an hour and forty minutes.
A Tank led the Ulstermen and the Southern Irish of the 9th Division
into Wytschaete.
By about three o’clock three Tanks had reached Oosttaverne, and they
patrolled the ground beyond the village till their accompanying Welsh and
West Country troops came up.
By nightfall we held our final objective everywhere, and had besides
captured 7300 prisoners and 67 guns, 94 trench mortars and a very large
number of machine-guns.
All through the night of the 7th-8th the Germans launched small hastily
organised counter-attacks, and in repelling one of these, chance enabled
three Tanks to play a curious and useful part.
Three of the Tanks, which had helped in the capture of Oosttaverne,
had ultimately got ditched near a place named Joye Farm.
It was impossible to extricate them in the darkness, and the crews stood
by, hoping to get them out as soon as it was light again.
Meanwhile towards morning word came that the Germans were going
to counter-attack.
In the position in which the Tanks lay, the crews were able to train their
6-pounders against the enemy, who had been seen massing in the Wanbeke
Valley. As the Lewis guns could not be brought to bear, they were
dismounted, and the rest of the crews operated them from neighbouring
shell-holes.

25
“Word was sent to the infantry to warn them of the coming
attack, and to ask for co-operation. They replied that they had run

short of ammunition for their Lewis gun, and some was supplied to
them from the Tanks.”

The attack did not develop as early as had been expected, but when it
came it was in force.
From about 6.30 onwards the enemy repeatedly attempted to advance,
raking the Tanks with a hail of armour-piercing bullets, which, however,
failed to penetrate.
They were driven off every time with heavy loss, until at 11.30 a.m. our
artillery opened and dispersed them with barrage fire.

III

The failure of their armour-piercing bullets against the Mark IV. must
have proved something of a disappointment to the enemy.
It is curious to trace the effort which the Germans made to keep up with
our development of the Tank.
For once, we had moved first, and the enemy was always to be a lap
behind.
No sooner had he discovered how effective was his “K” bullet against
the Mark I. Tank, than we confronted him with the Mark IV., against which
it was powerless.
The Germans always had rather hazy ideas as to the capabilities and
habits of our current Tank. They had had ample opportunity of examining
two Tanks which lay derelict in their lines on the Somme, yet until the
Battle of Arras they believed that Tanks were largely dependent on the use
of roads, and that therefore pits and other obstacles in roads must form a
useful anti-Tank defence.

26
“It was also not till the later stages of the Battle of Arras that
the enemy realised from some captured Tanks near Bullecourt that
the ‘K’ bullet was effective against the type of Tank that had been in
use against them since September 1916.

“By the time the enemy had fully realised this, however, the old
Tanks were used up, and at Messines the Mark IV. had made its
appearance and the chance of the armour-piercing bullet was over....
“After Messines the Germans began to realise the importance of
artillery as a defence against Tanks, and ‘the chief rôle allotted to
the infantry was to keep its head’ and leave the rest to the guns....
27
“Prominence was given to indirect fire of guns of both heavy
and light calibres on approaching Tanks. In spite of several dawn
attacks the enemy laid great stress on what he called ‘Distant
Defence,’ and a few special anti-Tank guns, about two per divisional
front, were placed in specially covered positions.”

It was not till the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 that he was to
discover by chance the one effective weapon against Tanks. That is to say,
Direct Fire by field guns.

The “Hush” Operation
I

Before it was decided to fight the enemy at Messines there had been an
idea of an attack near Lens, and most of the reconnaissance for such a battle
had been carried out.
Like many another battle of the War, it was never fought, and remained
only the shadow of an operation.
Of all these shadows and projected attacks, the one which had attracted
more interest than any other was in active preparation while the 2nd
Brigade was fighting at Messines.
This was the revised and abridged version of the famous “Hush”
operation, that is, of the projected attack on the Belgian coast.
The first time such a notion had been suggested was in the spring of
1916, and elaborate plans were then made for a surprise landing in and near
Ostend.

But we were obliged to co-operate with the French, and to fight instead
on the Somme. The First Battle of the Somme, however, developed into a
“slogging match” and lasted through the rest of that campaigning season.
Next year the idea was again brought up. This time Tanks were to take
part. The scheme was a less ambitious one, and the landing was to be
effected between Ostend and the Allied line about Nieuport. A special
detachment of Tanks was located at Erin, and started training for the
difficult manœuvre of climbing the sea wall which here protects the coast.
This training was carried out as secretly as possible, and it was given out
that its object was the surmounting of some of the Lille fortifications, a
figment which for long satisfied the minds of the curious.
The problem to be solved was an exceedingly complex one.
The mere landing of Tanks on an open beach is no light matter. When
that beach is heavily defended by an alert and resourceful enemy, when it is
commanded and enfiladed by a concentration of artillery of all calibres
concealed amongst the dunes, and when in addition the shelving beach is
crowned by a steep sea wall of concrete, a landing would seem to have but
small chance of success. Still, there was a chance, and the stake at hazard
being a big one, big risks might be cheerfully accepted.
The general plans for the enterprise having been approved in the
highest quarters, were then very carefully worked out down to the smallest
details by a little band of experts, prominent amongst whom were Admiral
Bacon, Lieut.-Colonel Philip Johnson, and Major Hotblack.
The whole of the projected landing was elaborately staged, and long
and patiently rehearsed—the Tanks playing the lead in what the whole
various cast hoped was to be a really notable success.
Immense pontoons 600 ft. in length were specially built to carry the
landing parties—armies in little with representatives almost of every arm
and branch except the cavalry.
These strange craft were to be lashed between a couple of monitors,
and so pushed across the channel and up the beach at certain selected
points, points that exhaustive air reconnaissance and photography at all
states of the tide had indicated as most suitable.

Actual trials of the pontoons and their monitor escorts were made in the
secret waters of the Thames, and officers of the Tank Corps would suddenly
disappear on unknown missions, to reappear as suddenly with no memory
as to where they had been or what they had seen in the interval.
The sea wall itself might well have been designed as a special defence
against sea-borne hostile Tanks, its smooth concave face and projecting
coping making it absolutely unscalable by an honest Tank.
The wall was of recent construction, and by a fortunate chance the
Belgian architect who had designed it had escaped to France with all his
drawings.
From his plans an exact reproduction of a length of the wall was made.
There in the experimental ground it stood, perfectly smooth, and worst
of all, ending at the top in a curl-over coping.
At least, however, the engineers now knew the extent of their problem.
In the first place, the Tanks had to get up somehow, and in the second
place, when they were up they had to help haul up guns and transport
lorries.
After “trying on” various devices, the Tanks at last adopted what was
practically a portable ramp for the occasion.
The Tank, until it reached the sea wall, carried it well in the air on a
long spar supported by wire hawsers.
Then the ramp was lowered on to the pair of little wheels with which it
was fitted. On these the Tank pushed it up the incline, wheelbarrow fashion,
until further progress was stopped by the coping.
The two wheels were then immediately shed, and steel spikes on the
under side of the work were driven into the concrete by the weight of the
Tank, which now, disengaging itself, proceeded to climb up its own scaling
ladder which it had thus placed in position. But the lorries and guns had still
to be provided for.
The angle formed by the inclined plane and the level ground above the
retaining wall was a sharp one.

Besides, it must be understood that the inclined plane used by the Tanks
fitted in under the concrete lip. At the point of junction between the ground
and the inclined plane there was, therefore, a considerable bump. Both the
acuteness of the angle and this “bump” made it necessary to adopt some
less back-breaking device for the four-wheeled vehicles. A strong gangway,
like a see-saw, was therefore employed, and up this they were hauled, the
weight of the gun or lorry gently tipping the board down when it passed the
balancing point.
But the landing was never made, and for this many elaborate
explanations have been put forward.
Two circumstances seem, however, sufficient to explain the apparent
withdrawal of our hands from the plough.
The first was what seemed a trivial attack which the Germans made on
July 10.
It will be remembered that the Belgian inundations stretched inland
opposite Nieuport, almost from the mile-wide belt of dry ground next the
sea which was formed by the sand dunes. Through these dunes cut the river
Yser, and near the coast we held both banks of the river. When the time
came, General Rawlinson could have moved his troops forward freely over
the numerous bridges which had been made, to join hands with the landing
party for whom he had so long been waiting.
In the dune and polder country trenches were impossible, and our
defence here consisted of breastworks built in the sand.
Now it had been abundantly and constantly proved throughout 1915
and 1916 that any advanced trench system could be taken at any time by the
side which was prepared to mass sufficient troops and guns for the purpose.
The Germans could have stretched out their hands at any moment for
this bit of coast.
They chose not to grasp it until they imagined that our plans, whatever
they might be, were complete, and when their attack would probably cause
us the maximum of inconvenience. Therefore, it was on July 10 that, after a
tremendous bombardment, they attacked the position in overwhelming
force. Our defence was gallant but vain, and by the evening the Germans
had captured the northern part of our bridgeheads.

It is true that we succeeded in holding Nieuport itself, but the loss of
even the small strip of ground to the north of it rendered the assembly of
troops in that area for our own attack, which was to co-operate with the
coast landing, almost impossible.
The second and more weighty circumstance was the fatal slowness of
our main advance at Ypres.
In the next chapters we shall consider these tragic months, whose slow
passage swept away so many schemes and hopes, and made unfruitful so
much thought and labour.
Enough that the “Hush” operation was swept silently away with the
rest. As late as the beginning of October, however, the men who had
planned so cunningly, whose minds had surmounted so many difficulties,
still hoped that their work might not prove barren.
But by the middle of the month it had become clear that the landing
could not take place, and the end of October the special Tank detachment
was finally disbanded.

CHAPTER VIII
THE FLANDERS CAMPAIGN—PREPARATIONS FOR
THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES
The Third Battle of Ypres represented the remaining fragment of what
was to have been a great and extensive campaign. It was the stump of a tree
shorn down to shoulder height and bare of leaves and branches.
One circumstance after another had postponed the execution of the
large design. Troops which had been earmarked for it had had to be diverted
to other parts of the front.
We had had to put it off to co-operate more closely with the French,
and certain other obstacles had arisen, the full story of which has not even
yet been told.
The Battle of Messines was over by June 12, but it was considered that
if an attack in the strongly fortified Ypres Salient was to have a real chance
of success, it must be an attack in force, a regular full-dress battle, for
which the preparations were then held to be necessarily extremely
elaborate.
About six weeks were therefore to elapse before the attack was
launched. Once launched, however, the attackers must gain their objectives
rapidly. That was essential to the plan.
The Russian front was crumbling. Germany was bringing troops and
guns westward. We should soon be face to face with an enemy so strongly
reinforced that our chance of victory in an attack would be slight.

28
“It was in some degree a race against time. If a true strategic
purpose was to be effected before winter, the first stages must be
quickly passed. The high ground east of the Salient must be won in

a fortnight, to enable the British to move against the German bases
in West Flanders and clear the coastline.”

Not only must we hasten because we faced an enemy whose strength
would be increasing daily, but because we were to attack in Flanders, and
the summer would be far spent before we could complete our preparations.
The enemy’s lines lay on the slopes of the semicircle of low hills that
overlook Ypres. Behind him lay another swampy valley, which rose again to
another slightly higher crescent of hills.
In the inner arena lay the ruins of Ypres, and, set in the marshy levels
and immediately overlooked by the first semicircle of hillocks and more
distantly by the second, lay our lines.

29
“The territory lying within the crescent was practically all
reclaimed swamp land including Ypres and as far back as to St.
Omer, both of which, a few hundred years ago, were seaports. All
agriculture in this area depended on careful drainage, the water
being carried away in innumerable dykes. So important was the
maintenance of this drainage system considered, that in normal
times a Belgian farmer who allowed his dykes to fall into disrepair
was heavily fined.”

Across this terrain two great armies had faced each other for nearly
three years.
The Salient was, after Verdun, the most tortured of the Western
battlefields. Constant shelling of the low ground west of the ridges had
blocked or diverted the streams and the natural drainage, and turned it into a
sodden wilderness.
If August was a wet month, as it had been the year before for the Battle
of the Somme, our chance of success was scanty.

30
“Much rain would make a morass of the Salient where Tanks
could not be used, transport could scarcely move, and troops would

be exposed to the last degree of misery.”

However, the previous shelling of the ground was as nothing compared
with the bombardment which we now intended to inflict.
Every corner of the enemy’s ground was to be drenched with our fire.

31
“The present battle was to be preceded by the longest
bombardment ever carried out by the British Army, eight days’
counter-battery work (begun on July 7) being followed by sixteen
days’ intense bombardment. The effect of this cannonade was to
destroy the drainage system and to produce water in the shell-holes
formed, even before the rain fell.”

II

The enemy had for long been in no doubt of our intentions. The coming
battle was much discussed in Germany.
General von Armin (Commander of the German 4th Army) was to
remain strictly on the defensive.
He was to “put in time,” to “poke,” in fact, until the big movement of
troops from the East should have thoroughly reconstituted the Western
Front.
We were to be allowed to waste our time and our forces in petty gains
of unimportant territory, and to eat our hearts out in the slough.
To this end, and because the waterlogged soil of Flanders did not allow
of the making of another Siegfried Line, the enemy had devised a new
tactical method.
Directly the theory of this method is understood, many of the once
puzzling circumstances of this battle become comprehensible.
It involved the use of but one comparatively new contrivance, the “pill-
box.” The “pill-box,” first seen at Messines, was a small concrete fort.

Sometimes it only stood up a yard or two above the ground. More often it
stood well up, concealed within the ruins of a derelict farm.
It held a garrison of anything up to thirty or forty men, and bristled
with machine-guns.
The tactics themselves in which the pill-boxes figured are admirably
described by Mr. Buchan:

“The enemy’s plan was to hold his first line—which was often a
mere string of shell-craters linked by a trench—with a few men,
who would fall back before an assault. He had his guns well behind,
so that they should not be captured in the first rush, and would be
available for a barrage when his opponents were entangled in the
‘pill-box’ zone. Finally, he had his reserves in the second line, ready
for the counterstroke before the assault could secure the ground
won.... Any attack would be allowed to make some advance; but if
the German plan worked well, this advance would be short-lived,
and would be dearly paid for. Instead of the cast-iron front of the
Siegfried area, the Flanders line would be highly elastic, but would
spring back into position after pressure with a deadly rebound.”

The thoroughness and success with which this plan was carried out
may be read in the story of Glencorse Wood, of St. Julien, and of many
another bitterly fought “Minor Action.”
In the meantime, the enemy watched us from his vantage ground, and
day and night harassed us with his shelling, his aerial bombing, and his gas.

III

On our side the preparations for a formidable attack continued steadily.

32
“The various problems inseparable from the mounting of a
great offensive, the improvement and construction of roads and
railways, the provision of an adequate water supply and of
accommodation for troops, the formation of dumps, the digging of

dug-outs, subways and trenches, and the assembling and registering
of guns, had all to be met and overcome in the new theatre of battle,
under conditions of more than ordinary disadvantage.
“On no previous occasion, not excepting the attack on the
Messines-Wytschaete Ridge, had the whole of the ground from
which we had to attack been so completely exposed to the enemy’s
observation. Even after the enemy had been driven from the
Messines-Wytschaete Ridge, he still possessed excellent direct
observations over the Salient from the east and south-east, as well as
from the Pilckem Ridge to the north. Nothing existed at Ypres to
correspond with the vast caves and cellars which proved of such
value in the days prior to the Arras battle, and the provision of
shelter for the troops presented a very serious problem.”

It was a problem which in some sectors proved insoluble, and troops
and working parties had to come up night by night into the forward area,
going back far behind the lines at dawn.
Like their fellows of every other arm, members of the Tank Corps
carried out their battle preparations under conditions of peculiar difficulty.
But the 1st Brigade of Tanks had something more than indiscriminate
harassing fire and “area shoots” to trouble them.
The enemy had obtained information of our tankodrome in Oosthoek
Wood from a British prisoner, who was either a garrulous fool or a very
treacherous knave.
A soldier belonging to a certain infantry regiment, had betrayed every
detail of the whereabouts of the Tanks of the 1st Brigade, and of the
programme of their movements. A German document was captured setting
forth the whole of this creature’s evidence and explaining its value and
significance. The official account of this murderous piece of treachery was
periodically read out on parade to all Tank units, and formed the text of
many discourses on the vital importance of strict secrecy and high moral.
The name of this man will for ever have a sinister sound for all who served
in the Tank Corps.

Fortunately for us, the Germans seem to have but half believed his
story—at any rate, the shelling to which they thereafter periodically
subjected the secret tankodrome was, though accurate, never so heavy as
such an important target would have seemed to warrant. Perhaps the
Germans, having no illusions as to what fighting in Flanders meant, and
being reasonably alive to the natural limitations of Tanks, scouted the idea
of a Tank attack being possible or being even seriously contemplated. Be
that as it may, they certainly failed to act on the very valuable information
given them in anything like an adequate way.
Still, after some days of well-directed shelling and bombing, it was
decided to withdraw the whole of the personnel from Oosthoek Wood, and
to lodge them in camps in the plantations just north of Château Lovie,
where the Headquarters of the 1st Brigade was already established.
Hither, too, had come the Advanced Headquarters of the Tank Corps,
the original intention of occupying a most eligible house in the town of
Poperinghe being given up, in view of the inconvenience caused by the
periodic shelling of the place and the consequent interruption of
communications.
The advance Reconnaissance party had spent some weeks in the town,
and had been considerably annoyed by frequent and accurate high-velocity
shelling.
The concentration of personnel which thus came about seemed
inconvenient enough at first, but turned out most usefully, and liaison
between the Brigade and its battalions had never been so good.
There were forward dumps to be established with the aid of the supply
33
Tanks.
Very special preparations had to be made in order to bring the Tanks
within striking distance of the enemy. The roads were reserved for lighter
traffic. The enemy shelling was too heavy for railway making to be possible
beyond the detraining camps at Oosthoek Wood.
Tentative attempts to push the line further on were constantly made,
and as constantly detected and discouraged by the enemy.

The Tanks must have some sort of independent routes of their own over
the innumerable small waterways that must be crossed.
The Kemmelbeke, the Lambardtheke, and in some places the Yser
Canal, all lay in the way. Miles of rough causeways over the marshes had to
be built; splinter-proof shelters for the various advanced Headquarters, and,
further back, camps, Tank “stables,” storage sheds, kitchens and so forth,
had all to be constructed.
Such a programme of work was beyond the unaided power of the Tank
Corps, and therefore the 184th Tunnelling Company was allotted to the
Corps, one section to each Brigade.
Much of the canal bridging and of the track making was done under
fire, shrapnel, gas and H.E.
Often a series of shells, bursting on the newly laid causeway would
undo a day’s work in a few minutes. Half the time the men had to wear gas-
masks, and almost always they worked knee-deep in liquid mud or in the
oozy bed of some little “beke.”
Yet in no instance did the 184th Tunnelling Company fail to carry out
the work allotted to it.
One very ingenious piece of mechanism for use on the Tank itself had
been evolved at Central Workshops in view of the Flanders mud. This was
the “Unditching Beam.” It was a massive baulk of teak, iron shod at the
ends, and having heavy chains whereby it might be secured to the tracks
when it was needed.
Its length was somewhat greater than the width of the Tank over its
tracks, and therefore ordinarily it was carried lengthwise along the back of
the machine.
Its battle position was across the Tank, where it rested on the raised
guide-rails which served to lift it clear of the conning-tower, the silencer
and the other excrescences above the armoured back.
To these guide-rails it was secured by special holdfasts to prevent it
from breaking adrift when the Tank pitched or rolled amongst the shell-
holes.

When the Tank got “bellied,” these holdfasts had to be released and the
drag-chains attached to the tracks by one of the crew climbing out on to the
roof—the feat being one of some danger when in the near presence of the
enemy.
The beam having been duly attached, the differential gear would be
locked and the clutch released, when the revolving tracks would carry the
beam over the nose of the Tank, from which it would dangle by its two
track-chains until dragged beneath the Tank itself.
If the ground proved loose and boggy beyond a certain point, the beam
would merely be dragged under the Tank to come up again behind, clogged
and dripping with mud and leaving the “ditched” Tank still wallowing on its
belly.
Sometimes Tanks would thrash away with their unditching beams until
their vain efforts to struggle out of some quaking quagmire on to better
ground overheated the engines or caused the machine to settle down so
hopelessly in the oozing mud as to be flooded out.
Save on the very worst ground, however, the unditching beam proved a
most effective contrivance, and but little could have been done in the Ypres
fighting without it.

A FLANDERS PILL-BOX

THE UNDITCHING BEAM IN ACTION

THE STEENBECK VALLEY BEFORE THE BATTLE

THE STEENBECK VALLEY AFTER BOMBARDMENT

IV

The Reconnaissance Side had also been busy during the weeks of
preparation.
To facilitate the movement of Tanks over the battlefield a new system
was made use of, by which a list of compass bearings from well-defined
points to a number of features in the enemy’s territory was prepared, thus
enabling direction to be picked up.
This system was to prove invaluable when, later, the tides of battle had
obliterated all the nearer landmarks, and men wandered hopelessly lost in
the increasing desolation.

The Reconnaissance Officers’ methods of observation did not differ
from those they had employed at Arras.
They used artillery O.P.’s, they flew over the enemy lines, a “supply of
prisoners” for special examination was allotted to them, they talked to
refugees, they observed, made and annotated maps, and drew many
panoramas, and made detailed raised maps in plasticine.
By early July they had collected a great mass of information that was
not only vitally important to the Tank Corps, but also of great use to the
other arms.
Very carefully constructed from information collected from all sources,
a huge sand model was laid out by the 19th Corps in Oosthoek Wood.
Every hillock or depression, every road, railway, trench, stream, ruin,
spinney, or other landmark, was faithfully reproduced to scale. The
miniature trenches were formed in lengths of cast concrete, the trees were
represented by little evergreen bushes, and real water lay in the pools and
shallows of the Lilliputian Steenbeek.
The model covered nearly an acre—a man to the same scale would
have been about the size of a normal mouse.
At one side of the model was a high wooden platform raised on a
scaffolding and reached by a ladder, and from this point of vantage this
Ypres Salient in little could be overlooked and memorised as from a kite
balloon.
For several weeks before the day appointed for the battle, the platform
was almost constantly occupied by groups of officers. Indeed, it was seldom
unoccupied during daylight from the time it was erected to the eve of the
great attack, and round and across the model perpetually wandered little
groups of officers and N.C.O.’s with maps and notebooks and orders—
discussing, pointing, explaining. Generals personally conducted their
immediate subordinates over the mimic battlefield, whilst N.C.O.’s were
coached by their Company Commanders.
From a liaison point of view the model was invaluable. Individual Tank
Commanders there met the infantry officers with whom they were actually
to fight, and would walk and talk over “the ground” together, until they
were perfectly clear about their own and each other’s rôles, routes,

objectives and time-tables, after which mutual esteem and confidence
would be cemented and reinforced at the dinner table.
In this and similar ways a close and cordial entente was established
between the Tanks and their partners the infantry, and there were many
battlefield incidents that showed vividly how much success depended on
this personal liaison and good fellowship.

V

There was to be nothing novel in our general plan of assault.

34
“The 5th Army attack was to be carried out on well-
recognised lines; namely, a lengthy artillery preparation followed by
an infantry attack on a large scale and infantry exploitation until
resistance became severe, when the advance would be halted and a
further organised attack prepared on the same scale. This methodical
progression was to be continued until the exhaustion of the German
reserves and moral created a situation which would enable a
complete break through to be effected.”

Tanks were everywhere to be auxiliary, and were to be employed to
deal with strong points and for “mopping up” behind the infantry.
There was, however, one great improvement in the method of using
them.
They were to be used in definite “waves.” That is to say, supposing
thirty-six Tanks were to be employed on a sector where the Germans had
established the usual three lines of defence, twelve Tanks would start at
zero and be used to take the first objective. Meanwhile, the second wave
would have been advancing, and as soon as the first objective had been
taken by the first wave, the second wave would pass through them and on to
the second objective. The third party of twelve would advance in the same
way—a wave to each objective.
The method did not, as a matter of fact, have a good trial on this
occasion, for, in the first place, the Tanks’ first objective was only the

infantry second objective; and as we have seen, the enemy did not this time
employ his usual method of three set lines at all.
Altogether three Brigades of Tanks were to be employed with the 5th
Army.
Tank Brigade Commanders were to keep in touch with Corps
Commanders, Tank Battalions were to act with Divisions, Tank Companies
(twelve fighting Tanks) with Brigades, and individual Tanks with
Battalions.
The three Brigades were to be distributed as follows:—

A. 2nd Corps (consisting of the 24th, 30th, 18th, 8th and 25th
Divisions).
2nd Tank Brigade (“A” and “B” Battalions).
72 Tanks to be allotted as follows:—

1st Objective 16
2nd ” 24
3rd ” 24
The remainder to be held in reserve.

The main objective was to be the Broodseinde Ridge.
The ground in this area was broken by swamps and woods; only three
approaches were possible for Tanks, and these formed dangerous defiles.

B. 19th Corps (consisting of the 15th, 55th, 16th and 36th
Divisions).
3rd Tank Brigade (“C” and “F” Battalions).
72 Tanks to be arranged as follows:—

1st Objective 24
2nd ” 24
Reserve 24

The main objective was to be a section of the Gheluvelt-Langemarck
line.
On the 19th Corps front the valley of the Steenbeek was in a terrible
condition, innumerable shell-holes and pools of water existed, the drainage
of the Steenbeek having been seriously affected by the shelling.

C. 18th Corps (consisting of the 39th, 51st, 11th and 48th
Divisions).
1st Tank Brigade (“D” and “G” Battalions).
36 Tanks to be allotted thus:—

1st Objective 12
2nd ” 12
Corps Reserve 12

They were to seize the crossings of the Steenbeek and establish posts
beyond it.
On the 18th Corps front the ground between our front line and
Steenbeek was cut up and sodden. The Steenbeek itself was a difficult
obstacle, and the only good crossing was at St. Julien, thus forming a
dangerous defile.
Thirty-six Tanks belonging to the 1st Brigade were held in Army
Reserve.
Such was the battle order of the Tanks.
Zero was fixed for 3.30 a.m. on July 31. By the last week in July misty
weather with often a drizzle of rain at night had set in.
Our preparations were complete, but it was perhaps not without a
certain anxiety that our commanders awaited the issues of the engagement.
By none might such an uneasiness have been felt with better reason
than by General Elles.
The Army had staked much upon a gamble, but at least it had not been
forced to stake its prestige. General Elles must have been conscious that the

very existence of the Tank Corps might hang upon the fortunes of the
coming attack.

CHAPTER IX
THE THIRD BATTLE OF YPRES

“Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea
Nor good dry land—nigh foundered, on he fares,
Treading the crude consistence; half on foot.”
Paradise Lost.

The night of July 30 was dark and wet, and towards morning a fine
mizzling rain blurred the outlines of the star shells that lit up the lines.
Along fifteen miles of front the English and German guns had roared
against each other all night.
The waiting men shivered in their wet assembly trenches.
About three o’clock on the morning of the 31st there was a lull in the
firing. A low soaking blanket of Scotch mist had crept up and lay heavily
enfolding the opposing armies. Zero hour was drawing near. All along the
front, men were feeling for the little footholds above the fire-step.
At 3.50 the streaming darkness was rent along the seven miles of
attack. Thermite and blazing oil flared out, and such a barrage as had not
yet been crashed upon the enemy’s line, and infantry and Tanks scrambled
and lurched in the darkness in and out of shell-holes over the torn and slimy
ground.
The German front line fell at once along the whole seven miles. Until
nearly eight o’clock men and Tanks could hardly get through the mud fast
enough to come to grips with the enemy. On each Corps front there were
many machines that got ditched on the enemy front line as they nosed about
here and there, seeking to mop up lurking machine-gun nests and snipers.

There some of them remained stuck fast, not having seen the main
body of the enemy at all, so immediate had been his retreat.
His artillery was, however, active enough, and as the Tanks floundered
or stuck utterly in the mud, his guns and his low-flying aeroplanes took
steady toll.
All morning we pressed on, the enemy Command patiently conserving
the power of its armies.
The doings of a group of Tanks belonging to the 3rd Brigade give an
extraordinarily good idea of this part of the action. They were fighting on
the 19th Corps front.

35
“At 11.30 a.m. message was received that a Battalion of
Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders were held up on the right. Tank
‘Canada’ moved in this direction and silenced enemy machine-guns
in the Railway Embankment, assisted by the Tank ‘Cuidich’n Rich.’
When patrolling in front of the infantry whilst they were
consolidating, Tank bellied.
“At the same time enemy barrage came down, and both Tank
‘Canada’ and Tank ‘Cuidich’n Rich’ received direct hits. Five of the
crew remained with the infantry, and assisted in repelling a counter-
attack, two of the men being wounded.
“... Tank ‘Cape Colony’ arrived at Low Farm and proceeded in
front of the infantry. Came under heavy shell-fire and bellied.
Whilst unditching, Tanks ‘Cyprus’ and ‘Culloden’ were observed
under heavy fire from anti-Tank guns, which were in position on the
high ground beyond. Both ‘Cyprus’ and ‘Culloden’ were seen to be
hit.
“‘Cape Colony’ then came under heavy M.G. fire from both
flanks. On request of infantry ‘Cape Colony’ proceeded to a wood
on right flank, where they were held up.
“Although not fired upon from the Tank, several enemy
machine-gunners surrendered to the infantry, on seeing the Tank
approach. ‘Cape Colony’ now turned N.E. towards Beck House,

where a good view of anti-Tank guns, which had been shelling
‘Cyprus’ and ‘Culloden,’ was obtained. Whilst manœuvring to take
these guns in flank or rear, the Tank sank in a swamp, water rising to
the engine cover. Boche aeroplanes circled low overhead whilst
unsuccessful attempts were made to unditch. Enemy shelling then
became very heavy, so Lewis guns were taken out and Tank locked
up.
“... Flag Tank ‘Cumbrae’ was delayed half an hour by bellying
in a trench near Bill Cottage, went in front of the infantry towards
second objective. Opened fire on enemy who were disappearing in
direction of Delva Farm. Ground was quite water-logged, and Tank
bellied in a borrow pit. Whilst digging out was fired at by a sniper,
and by an aeroplane flying low overhead. Time was then zero plus 9
hours (i.e., 12.50 p.m.).
“... Tank ‘Caithness’ came under sniper and machine-gun fire
near Beck House. No bullets penetrated armour-plating. Proceeded
in company with Tank ‘Carstairs,’ which silenced enemy M.G. fire.
Cameron Highlanders then advanced, and Tank followed, bellied
near Zonnebeke Stream. Mud was up to floor level and door of
sponson was pushed off its hinges. Enemy aeroplane circled
overhead, and fired on them whilst attempting to unditch.
Eventually Tank ‘Carstairs’ came to the rescue, and Tank was got
clear.
“... Tank ‘Culloden’ had her unditching gear carried away by
barbed wire near Hill Cottage. Unditching beam was recovered, but
again broke lose, until secured with rope. Just west of Frost House
shell burst under front of Tank. Whilst crossing light railway half-
way between Frost House and Square Farm, a second shell hit roof
door and killed one gunner. Tank stopped, and it was found petrol
pressure pipe was cut. Time 9.15 a.m. A third shell struck behind
right sponson. Crew were withdrawn from Tank, and took up a
position in shell-holes near Square Farm. Tank was still being
shelled, undoubtedly by an anti-Tank gun, about ten shells being
fired at it in five minutes, six of which hit the Tank.

“Tank ‘Cyprus’ was then seen to be hit by the same anti-Tank
gun. At 10.15 a.m. survivors of Tanks ‘Culloden’ and ‘Cyprus,’
together with undamaged Lewis guns, withdrew to Battalion
Rallying Point, after pigeon messages had been despatched
reporting the situation.
“... Tank ‘Carstairs’ arrived at Black Line near Beck House, but
infantry had not then arrived.
“Tank soon bellied in boggy ground, but was unditched
successfully. Just west of Borry Farm Tank ‘Caithness’ was found
badly bellied, and with unditching gear lost.
“Having been informed by 6th Cameron Highlanders that the
second objective had been captured, Tank ‘Carstairs’ hitched on to
Tank ‘Caithness’ and towed it out. Enemy shell-fire was extremely
heavy, and an aeroplane flew over, firing at crew with machine-guns
during the operation.
“Instructions were then received to return to Battalion Rallying
Point.”

Another very gallant action was fought by a Tank crew also belonging
to this Battalion.
They started the battle in a Tank named “Ca’ Canny” under command
of Lieutenant H. P. M. Jones, who was killed near Wilde Wood. The crew
carried on under command of Corporal Jenkins until about 11 p.m., when
the Tank “bellied” hopelessly. Corporal Jenkins withdrew his Lewis guns
and crew, and, placing some of them on the top of the Tank and some on the
ground, kept up an effective fire on the enemy, who were then attempting a
small counter-attack.
He then transferred his men to another Tank, “Clyde,” whose crew had
all been wounded. They fought this Tank for a further two hours, but at
about three o’clock “Clyde,” too, stuck in the mud and proved inextricable.
He and his crew then returned on foot to their Battalion Rallying Point.
With the 18th Corps, the 1st Brigade Tanks were on several occasions
signalled for by fairly distant parties of infantry, who proceeded to “set”
them at strong points that were giving trouble. This system worked

extremely well, and had a particularly impressive moral effect on the
enemy. Several occasions are recorded on which enemy garrisons did not
wait for the Tank which had been thus “whistled up” to get near enough to
fire, but surrendered as soon as they saw it coming.
Our advance had continued for about ten hours, that is, till nearly three
in the afternoon, when our enterprise seemed to have succeeded.
As early as nine in the morning we held the whole of our second
objective north of Westhoek.
By the afternoon we had entered St. Julien, Frezenberg and the
Pommern Redoubt, and had taken the crossings of the Steenbeek and
Stirling Castle.
Glencorse Wood and Inverness Copse had proved more difficult, but
even here we held a footing on the ridge.
We had “riven the oak,” we were now to feel the force of the rebound.
That afternoon in a downpour of rain the enemy counter-attacked along
the fronts of all three Corps. There was a fierce struggle, in which in many
instances Tanks were able to do a good deal of execution.
We were shelled out of St. Julien. North of it we withdrew to the line of
the Steenbeek, and we were obliged to fall back from all but the western
outskirts of Westhoek.
All afternoon we slowly lost ground, yet when night fell we could still
boast a battle well begun. It was, after all, never meant to be a one-day
attack, and to-morrow we should start well. We had everywhere taken and
held our first objective, that is, the low muddy ridge from which the enemy
had so closely threatened the original Ypres arena.
The second flat valley and the higher ridge from Passchendaele to
Staden now lay before us.
At least we were in a good position for to-morrow’s attack. Mr. Buchan
thus in effect analyses our gains:
Along two-thirds of our line of attack we held our first objectives. On
half of the remaining third we had only fallen just short of our final
objective. On the remaining sixth we had even slightly exceeded our final

objective. We had besides taken 6000 prisoners and a quantity of machine-
guns.

II

All that night the enemy counter-attacked us doggedly, resolved upon
driving us down again. All night we fought to keep what we had won, and
prepared the redoubled blow that we meant to deliver next day.
That blow was destined never to be struck. The wind that brought the
rain blew out our hopes of victory.

36
“The weather had been threatening throughout the [first] day,
and had rendered the work of our aeroplanes very difficult from the
commencement of the battle. During the afternoon, while fighting
was still in progress, rain began, and fell steadily all night.
“Thereafter, for four days, the rain continued without
cessation.... 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. In these conditions operations of any
magnitude became impossible, and the resumption of our offensive
was necessarily postponed until a period of fine weather should
allow the ground to recover. As had been the case in the Arras battle,
this unavoidable delay in the development of our offensive was of
the greatest service to the enemy. Valuable time was lost, the troops
opposed to us were able to recover from the disorganisation
produced by our first attack, and the enemy was given the
opportunity to bring up reinforcements.”

It was nearly a fortnight before the 5th Army could again attack.

The disappointment of the Higher Command was acute; acute, too,
were the physical and mental miseries suffered during that fortnight by the
Tank Corps and all the other arms engaged.
Their magnificent efforts, their sacrifices, were of no avail. There they
lay day after day, drenched by the inexorable rain, those in the forward area
half choked in the rising streams of liquid mud.
It was in no sunny frame of mind that the 5th Army Headquarters Staff
read the verdict of the three Corps upon the day’s work done by the Tanks.
The three Summaries were agreed that the courage and perseverance
shown by Tank personnel had been admirable.

A DEADLY SWAMP (THE WRECKS OF SIX TANKS MAY BE COUNTED)

“CLAPHAM JUNCTION” NEAR SANCTUARY WOOD

“THE SALIENT”

One Corps, however, had given way thoroughly to the spirit of the
time. They practically reported that Tanks had been of no use to any one,
and moreover that they were never likely to be. With the 30th Division they
had been unable to deal with certain machine-gun emplacement; with the
24th they had been late, they always drew enemy shell-fire; and with the
8th Division one Tank had even lost direction and been reported as firing on
our own men.
Another Corps had found Tanks helpful, and said all they could for
them.
Tanks had greatly assisted the Gordons and Black Watch at Frezenberg,
they had dealt effectively with concrete dug-outs; with the 55th Division
they had broken the wave of an enemy counter-attack at Winnipeg, and
everywhere their moral effect on the enemy had been of great assistance.
Twenty-four Tanks had been put out of action by bad going or shell-fire.
A third Corps with fewer machines had in many cases reached their
objective without being held up. The Tanks had in these cases merely
followed the infantry, but they reported that without Tanks the capture of
the strongly wired position of Alberta would have cost the 39th Division

dear, and that on the Steenbeek near Ferdinand Farm the enemy, who had
bolted at the mere sight of a Tank, had been “dealt with” at ease with a
machine-gun by infantry of the 51st Division.
Upon these Summaries and upon later failures the Commander of the
5th Army was subsequently to base a generally unfavourable report upon
Tanks.
The report may be condensed into a simple syllogism:—

1. Tanks were unable to negotiate bad ground.
2. The ground on a battlefield will always be bad.
3. Therefore Tanks are no good on a battlefield.

He added to this, that being no longer a surprise to the enemy, he
considered that Tanks had lost their moral effect, and had no value used in
masses.
This report was not officially presented for some weeks, but the Higher
Tank Command must early have perceived the drift of affairs. The events of
the first day and the manner in which those events were interpreted gave
only too much data to the prophetic spirit. The junior Tank personnel knew
little of what was going on. Like Burns’s mouse, they were only touched by
the present, the throwing away of what had cost them so many weeks of
toil. To the Higher Tank Command was reserved Burns’s own fate:

“But, och! I backward cast my ee
On prospects drear!
And forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess and fear.”

What would be the results of the initial ill-success of the battle, and of
the further Tank failures which seemed only too probable when an advance
which had begun so ill was continued, after perhaps two or three inches
more rain?

How were the final arbiters, G.H.Q. and the War Cabinet, going to
regard such failures? Tanks had been employed under grotesque conditions,
and after all, they had failed in common with every other arm. Were the
events of the next few weeks to be disastrous enough to consign them
irrevocably to Bottomless Perdition?
At best their hopes of expansion would most probably be nipped. Their
establishment would be reduced, and Tanks would be used in petits paquets
again, by ones and twos as they had been in the past, because, once more,
there would never be enough machines for an effective action.
As the days wore on, and the rain continued (at the rate often of an inch
a day), one of these alternative fates seemed inevitable.
The gloomy surmises of the Tank Headquarters Staff were only too
well founded. The authorities were in fact suffering from one of the worst
cold fits which the pilots of the Tank Corps at home and abroad ever
endured.
Tank Corps Headquarters heard it all. They knew well enough that in
well-informed but irresponsible London circles the remark, “I hear the
Tanks are going to be abolished,” was a common one; that often in such
gossip circumstances of person and date would be added.
For all this they had no certain refutation. If only Tanks could even now
do something that would catch the eye of authority. Some little “show”
exploit. Something that would at least make a summary condemnation
unlikely. The battle would have to be continued some day. Tanks would
have to play their part, but in that intolerable swamp was it likely that they
would do anything except engulf themselves—literally and metaphorically
—yet deeper than before?
There, however, lay the Tanks’ best hope. Chance and their own
exertions might bring them a success even in Flanders.

III

Thirty-six Tanks belonging to the 1st Brigade had remained in Army
Reserve. On August 16, the weather having been less wet for a day or two,

the first and most considerable of a series of renewed attacks was to be
made.
Twelve Tanks were to co-operate with the infantry on the Langemarck-
St. Julien front.
On the night of the 13th the Tanks began to move up. The roads were
already congested with other traffic, and the Tanks were not to be allowed
to make use of them.

37
“The country they had to traverse was all very deep in mud,
and the Tanks wallowed on their bellies in ground too soft for the
tracks to hold. The approach was continued during the following
night, but in spite of the repeated use of unditching beams, the
mutual help of Tanks in towing each other, and the valuable
assistance of a Tunnelling Company, it was recognised on the 15th
that none but the four leading Tanks could hope to reach the line in
time to take part in the battle. These four made strenuous efforts to
complete the journey the next night, but without success. None of
them could overcome the difficulties of the ground, and the infantry
had to go into attack without them.”

The infantry attacked, and after the action a nest of pill-box strongholds
north-east of St. Julien still remained untaken.
Like most of these little fortresses, they had been extremely skilfully
placed. An unwary advance would be trapped in their wire just within
convenient range of their machine-guns.
They were so small, scattered, and well concealed as to be almost
impossible targets for heavy guns, and as they were built of reinforced
concrete at least three feet thick, the ordinary high-explosive shell thrown
by a field gun had no effect upon them.
This particular nest consisted of four pill-boxes of more than average
size.
Three of them were hidden in the ruins of farmsteads. That in the Mont
du Hibou was manned by a garrison of about eighty men, and the Cockcroft
was still more strongly held. Triangle Farm and Hillock Farm were slightly

smaller. It was essential that they should be taken, and General Sir Ivor
Maxse, commanding the 18th Corps, was informed by the Brigadiers
concerned that their capture would probably cost us 600 to 1000 casualties.
He and Colonel Baker-Carr (commanding 1st Brigade of Tanks) then
considered the possibility of a Tank attack.
Colonel Baker-Carr, admirably undismayed by the dismal events of the
16th, optimistically guaranteed the fortresses at half the estimated cost to
the infantry, and the attack was arranged. One innovation he specially asked
for. There was to be no shelling, but he was to be granted the concealment
of a smoke barrage. Having once decided to entrust the affair to the Tanks,
General Maxse was zealous to give them every possible chance of success
and did not hesitate to modify his orders to suit their considered demands.
Only twelve Tanks were to be employed, and they and their infantry were to
use the roads for as far as these served them. Colonel Baker-Carr decided to
form a composite Company from “G” (7th) Battalion under the command
of Major Broome.
The resulting action, small as were the numbers engaged, will ever find
a place in the annals of the Tank Corps.

38
“In spite of the appalling condition of the ground, for it had
now been raining steadily for three weeks, a very memorable feat of
arms was achieved.”

The four strong points were triumphantly captured.

39
“Phenomenal results were obtained at very little cost, for
instead of 600 to 1000 casualties, the infantry following the Tanks
only sustained fifteen!”

At 4.45 a.m. on the morning of August 19, the artillery isolated the
doomed strongholds in clouds of dense smoke.
The action had been carefully rehearsed. Two Tanks were to be used
against each pill-box, and they were to take them in rear, so striking where

the forts were most vulnerable, and at the same time cutting off the
garrison’s retreat.
Just before six o’clock the enveloping manœuvre was complete, and
the first pill-box—Hillock Farm—fell, nearly all its garrison having fled.
At 6.15 two Tanks reached the Mont du Hibou, and fired forty rounds
from their 6-pounder guns into the back door of the stronghold. Sixty of the
garrison fled, of whom about half escaped or were shot down, and the rest
surrendered to the infantry as soon as it came up.
Triangle Farm fell ten minutes afterwards. The garrison had put up a
fight against the Tanks and our infantry killed them all, mostly with the
bayonet.
40
At the Cockcroft the attacking Tank got ditched within fifty yards of
its victim. But at sight of it the garrison of over 100 “withdrew.” The Tank
and its infantry immediately opened fire with their Lewis guns, and more
than half the fugitives fell.

41
“Our infantry then consolidated the Cockcroft. This
completed the capture of all objectives.

“The Tanks waited till consolidation was well forward before
returning.
“Casualties—Infantry: no killed, 15 wounded.
“Tank Personnel—Killed: Officers, none; other Ranks, 2.
Wounded: Officers, 2; other Ranks, 10.”

In one of the strong points we found a German officer who had been
hanged by his men.
The St. Julien attack, as it was afterwards called, proved a sufficient
counterblast to the 5th Army report.
The friends of the Tank Corps made the most of it. It was a brilliant
little exploit, and once brought to notice, the casualty figures pleaded too
loudly to be ignored.

It is probably no exaggeration to say that it was in some measure to the
Tanks which won the little Battle of St. Julien that the Tank Corps owed the
opportunity of winning the Battle of Cambrai.

IV

From August 22 till October 9, by which time hope of British success at
Ypres had been more or less abandoned, the Tanks fought in about a dozen
minor actions. They made almost as many more unavailing attempts to
fight. Like the rest of the Army, they spent much vain labour and knew the
weariness of much frustrated effort. They made elaborate and toilsome
movements in preparation for attacks which were never launched. They
struggled night after night to get up to some battle which eventually had to
take place without them. Tanks had now invariably to move upon the roads,
as the ground between had finally and definitely been reduced to
impassable swamp. The roads naturally formed standing targets for the
German gunners. We lost heavily in men and machines. General Elles had
originally estimated that one machine in two would get into effective action.
Now, in view of the appalling ground conditions, he revised this, only
reckoning on one machine in ten getting into effective contact with the
enemy. This modest estimate was as a matter of fact seldom exceeded.
Whenever Tanks did get into action, however, they usually did well,
though rarely decisively, in spite of the standard of extraordinary courage
which was steadfastly maintained by the crews.
The briefest review of most of these depressing little engagements is all
that need be given. They were remarkable for nothing except the heroic
patience shown day after day by every arm of our attacking forces.
On August 22 a minor attack was launched by all three Corps. Small
parties of Tanks fought with each.
With the 2nd Corps in Glencorse Wood four Tanks of the 2nd Brigade
were of some service, and did considerable execution.
With the 19th Corps eighteen Tanks of the 3rd Brigade were used on
the off-chance of their being able to reach the objectives. The going was
more than ordinarily atrocious, the whole of the Frezenberg-Zonnebeke

road having been shot away. One Tank fought a very remarkable action,
engaging the enemy near “Gallipoli” for sixty-eight hours.
With the 18th Corps twelve Tanks of the 1st Brigade headed an attack
on Bülow Farm, Vancouver, Winnipeg, and other strong points. They
proved useful, and several Tanks were in action for longish periods.
Two things are remarkable about this operation: first, that every Tank
which ventured to leave the road instantly bellied. One was “drowned” in
six or seven feet of water.
Secondly, the remarkable way in which they affected enemy moral. In
several instances parties of the enemy surrendered at the sight of them.
Prisoners in their examination said that they could have held up infantry,
but “felt helpless against Tanks.”
Next day, on August 23, four 2nd Brigade Tanks went into action near
Inverness Copse. The operation had had to be undertaken in a hurry, liaison
was bad, and the attack a failure.
On August 26 four Tanks fought with the 33rd Division in the
neighbourhood of Jerk House (near Glencorse Wood). The morning was
misty, and an enemy shell unfortunately exploded a dump of smoke bombs
just behind our lines. The attack was a failure. That night an inch of rain
fell, and four Tanks which were to have operated with the 14th Division
next day, August 27th, never reached their starting-point. Thirteen men
were wounded and an officer killed on the way up.
Nearly three weeks elapsed before Tanks were again in action, and
several battalions from the 2nd and 3rd Brigades were moved back to a new
training area near Arras. A certain number of “Replacement Tanks” were
issued to remaining battalions. The 1st Brigade stood ready in case they
should be wanted at short notice, but no attacks of any sort were launched,
probably partly on account of weather, and partly because a section of the
5th Army front was in process of transfer to the 2nd Army.
By the middle of September the relief had been completed, and again
we endeavoured to press on.
On September 20 a fairly successful assault was made along the whole
line. 2nd Brigade Tanks took part near Inverness Copse, and 1st Brigade
Tanks near Triangle and Wurst Farms. But the ground being known to be

unusually appalling in both areas, they had been given minor parts. These
parts they played with fair success, and they undoubtedly scared the enemy
a good deal. On the 18th Corps front 3rd Battalion Tanks had rather better
luck.
The efforts made by the crews to get to the battle at all were
superhuman.
Trees had been felled across the road by the enemy, resting breast high
on their branches and the tall stumps from which they were not completely
severed. At Wurst Farm also this kind of obstacle had been opposed to the
Tanks—the butts of the trees lying obliquely and at a slope, forming a
barrier very difficult to surmount.
If one leading machine got into difficulties struggling in the dark
through or over these obstacles, the whole string of Tanks behind would be
hung up, the deep swamps on either hand making it impossible to leave the
road.
The Tanks, however, arrived, and are reported to have “inflicted many
casualties.”
On September 26 fifteen Tanks operated near Zonnebeke Village. The
attack was not a success, though the Tanks did a great deal of good work.
On October 4 took place the last two actions of this battle in which
Tanks succeeded in playing a part. The first was fought by twelve Tanks of
the 1st Brigade, who had the honour of taking part in the capture of
Poelcapelle. It was a most successful little attack, and after reducing three
strong points which guarded the outskirts, the Tanks hunted through the
main street and out beyond the village.
In the other action four Tanks of the 1st Battalion were to take part in
an attack upon Juniper Cottage on the line of the Reutelbeek.
Not only was this, like the other, a successful little action, it was
ennobled by affording the background to one of the most patiently
courageous actions of the War.
It was on October 4 that Captain Robertson fell upon completing a
service for which he was posthumously awarded the V.C.

Tanks and infantry were to endeavour to cross the Reutelbeek and drive
the enemy from the positions which they held on the further bank.
There was only one bridge over the marshy stream. If, in the half-light
of the early morning and in the confusion of battle, they missed this
crossing-place, their one chance of success was gone.
Captain Robertson, the officer commanding the section of Tanks, early
realised that here lay the crux of the little operation for whose success he
was responsible. For three days and nights he and his servant, Private Allen
(subsequently awarded the D.C.M.), went carefully backwards and
forwards over the ground under heavy fire, taping the routes for the Tanks.
Working without a break, this task took him until half-past nine on the
night before the action.
It was time to get the machines up.
He started out at once again with his Tanks. The weather was dark and
misty, and from inside a Tank it was impossible to see the way over the
heavily shelled ground. Captain Robertson therefore walked ahead; they
reached the assembly point in good time, and at 6 a.m. on October 4 he led
them into action.
In imagining the rest of the story we are to remember that Captain
Robertson had already been continuously under fire and without sleep for
three days and nights.
The roads and every other landmark had all been wiped out by the
shelling, but the bridge still stood. Captain Robertson still led his Tanks on
foot, facing besides the shells an intense close-range machine-gun and rifle
fire. He must have known that to go forward on foot means certain death.
He and his convoy were by now well ahead of the infantry. Still he led
his Tanks on, carefully and patiently guiding them at a foot’s pace towards
their objective.
They reached the bridge, and one by one the Tanks crossed over. He led
them on towards a road that would take them straight up to the enemy
positions, the machine-gun fire growing more and more intense as they
advanced.

They reached the road, and as they reached it, Captain Robertson at last
fell, shot through the head.
But the Tanks went on, and succeeded in their mission. The object for
which Captain Robertson had so deliberately sacrificed his life was
achieved.
The 2nd and 3rd Brigades had by now gone back to Arras to refit their
machines, and to replenish their ranks. The 1st Brigade, however, made two
more efforts to take part in the fighting. The battle was by now recognised
as a serious British check. The Germans’ “elastic tactics” and the weather
had together delayed us for so long that they had defeated us.
We had inflicted heavy losses on the enemy, and had in the act suffered
still more severely ourselves.
Our hopes of clearing the coast were gone.
At the end of ten weeks we had achieved gains which had been on the
programme for the first fortnight.
The whole plan of campaign had to be reconsidered, and to take
Passchendaele must now be our ultimate ambition.
On October 7 two Tanks were to operate ahead of their infantry and
endeavour to capture two fortified farms. Halfway to their objective a
derelict Tank blocked the way, and the two advancing machines became
ditched on trying to make a détour. By the time they had been unditched it
was too late to go on.
On the 9th eight Tanks were to have attacked strong points on the
Poelcapelle Road. At midnight on the night of the 8th-9th they started for
their objectives.
The road was everywhere encumbered with blown-up limbers and the
bodies of dead teams.
Large shell-holes had been blown in it.
The Tanks managed to get on as far as the Poelcapelle cross-roads, but
the enemy then began to shell the road heavily. The leading Tank ditched in
a new shell-hole, the second Tank as it waited to pass was set on fire by a
direct hit.

These two wrecks formed a complete barrier to the advance of the rest
of the column.
No way being found by which the surviving Tanks could circumvent
the obstacle, and the shelling having grown hotter, it was decided to return.
But they had not gone far on the return journey when they discovered
that on the way up the last machine of the column had somehow fouled an
old derelict Tank. The remaining machines were trapped, and could neither
go forward nor back.
The efforts of their crews proved vain, and they were all five lost, some
being hit by enemy shells and the crews killed or wounded, and some
ditched in vain efforts to make their escape across country.
The enemy continued to shell the road, which was one we were obliged
to use, and it was a work of extreme hazard and difficulty to clear it of the
wrecks by which it was completely blocked.
The work was, however, performed. Every night for a week Major
42
G. L. Wilkes, the 1st Brigade Engineer, used to go up the road as far as he
could in a Tank. Then he would get out and work till morning. Most of the
wrecks he blew up, some he and his small party of men were able to tip
over into the swamp.
The scene on the first of these expeditions is thus described by an
engineer officer who accompanied him:

“I left St. Julien in the dark, having been informed that our guns
were not going to fire. I waded up the road, which was swimming in
a foot or two of slush; frequently I would stumble into a shell-hole
hidden by the mud. The road was a complete shambles and strewn
with débris, broken vehicles, dead and dying horses and men; I must
have passed hundreds of them as well as bits of men and animals
littered everywhere. As I neared Poelcapelle our guns started to fire;
at once the Germans replied, pouring shells on and around the road;
the flashes of the bursting shells were all round me. I cannot
describe what it felt like; the nearest approach to a picture I can give
is that it was like standing in the centre of the flame of a gigantic
Primus stove. As I neared the derelict Tanks, the scene became truly

appalling: wounded men lay drowned in the mud, others were
stumbling and falling through exhaustion, others crawled and rested
themselves up against the dead to raise themselves a little above the
mud. On reaching the Tanks I found them surrounded by the dead
and dying; men had crawled to them for what shelter they would
afford. The nearest Tank was a Female. Her left sponson doors were
open. Out of these protruded four pairs of legs; exhausted and
wounded men had sought refuge in this machine and dead and dying
lay in a jumbled heap inside.”

So ended the tragedy of October 9, the last of a series of hopeless
adventures.
A few Tanks were later moved up to a new railhead, with the hope that
better weather might enable them to take part in the final attack on
Passchendaele, the attack which was to end the Flanders offensive. But the
weather did not mend, and it was without the help of Tanks that by a final
effort the heights of Passchendaele were stormed and taken in the first week
of November. We held our gains. The high ground was ours, the weary
armies might rest, and the tragic nightmare of the Third Battle of Ypres was
over at last.
When time brought the verdict of the Official Despatch upon the work
of the Tanks, it was neither an unjust nor an unkindly one:—

43
“Although throughout the major part of the Ypres battle, and
especially in its later stages, the condition of the ground made the
use of Tanks difficult or impossible, yet whenever circumstances
were in any way favourable, and even when they were not, very
gallant and valuable work has been accomplished by Tank
Commanders and crews on a great number of occasions. Long
before the conclusion of the Flanders offensive these new
instruments had proved their worth, and amply justified the labour,
material and personnel diverted to their construction and
development.”

It was not to be long before the Corps had an opportunity of proving
their worth indeed.

CHAPTER X
THE FIRST BATTLE OF CAMBRAI

“On they move
Indissolubly firm; nor obvious hill
Nor straightening vale, nor wood nor stream divides
Their perfect ranks.”
Paradise Lost.

PART I

I

All through the later part of the Ypres struggle the Tank Corps had
turned their eyes towards certain other parts of the line with a longing as for
The Delectable Mountains.
They imagined places in dry rolling chalk country where a Tank could
travel on the surface of the ground. They dreamed of battles in which the
artillery had neither given the enemy weeks of warning nor helped him to
reduce the ground to a swamp or the likeness of an ash heap.
A starving man does not picture every circumstance of a meal, a
drowning man the sensations of warmth and solidity, more vividly than did
the Tank Corps call up their dream battle.
General Elles and his Staff had several places in mind in which such a
battle might be fought. Perhaps they dwelt most affectionately on the
thoughts of some sector of the Hindenburg line, some high rolling chalk
plateau anywhere south of Arras.

Several such delightful spots lay in the domain of General Sir Julian
Byng’s 3rd Army. Perhaps he had some sort of operation in view already! In
September General Elles hopefully paid him a visit as he lay at Albert. They
conferred.
The Army Commander had, indeed, an idea of attacking.
More, he had already independently worked out the place, and many of
the details, of just such an attack as the Tank Corps had been sighing for.
Together the two Generals worked at the scheme and a draft plan was
forwarded to G.H.Q.
G.H.Q., however, could not allow the attack for the present. The Ypres
affair must first be thrashed out, but when that was ended, say by early
November, then such an attack would have their blessing.
Meanwhile the two conspirators waited eagerly, all the while working
out and perfecting their plans.
At last, on October 20, the scheme was finally sanctioned, and Z day
was fixed for November 20. Still only four members of the Tank Corps
Staff knew of the project, and these four immediately stole off to our lines
near Havrincourt to make a preliminary survey of the new site.

II

The First Battle of Cambrai was to be a single-minded battle. It was to
fulfil in the simplest way the prime function of war, that is, to destroy the
forces of the enemy.
To attain this end it was to rely upon surprise, audacity, and rapidity of
movement.
Its main action was to be completed in about twenty-four hours, during
which time it was proposed to penetrate the Hindenburg Line, which here
consisted of four systems of trenches. Territorial gains were not to be so
much considered as were the destruction and capture of enemy personnel
and material. In other words, we were out to kill and chivvy Germans. The
system of attack was to be one completely new for a full-dress battle. There
was to be no artillery preparation whatever. To all appearance the front line

was to be perfectly normal up to the very moment of attack, when two
Army Corps and three Brigades of Tanks were suddenly to hurl their whole
weight against the enemy.
Such tactics demanded that the most complete secrecy should be
maintained up to zero hour itself, and for the second time in the history of
the Tanks a vital secret was successfully kept.
The area to be raided lay just south of Cambrai. It was an open rolling
chalk plateau, which had lain uncultivated for two years, and was now
covered with a thin growth of wan grey grass.
From north-west to south-east the low ridges ran, save where the
dominating hump of Bourlon’s wood-crowned Hill ran across the grain of
the country.
On either flank of this area, sometimes at right angles to the curve of
our lines, sometimes running parallel to the German lines, ran the Canal du
Nord and the Canal de l’Escaut.
The slopes were nowhere very steep, but the levels were everywhere
varied by spurs and—so-called—“ravines.” One of these, which lay just
within the German lines, and parallel to our front, for some time gave grave
concern both to the Tanks and to other arms, who apparently coupled it in
their minds with the Grand Cañon of Colorado. Its name sounded so
formidable, and it was marked so large on the map! It might well prove a
serious obstacle to the progress of Tanks. A series of exhaustive
reconnaissances carried out by the Tank Corps, however, dispelled this
alarming legend and the “Grand Ravine” stood revealed as being no more
than a shallow dry field ditch which could be jumped by any rabbit of
reasonable activity.
The German defences, the famous Hindenburg Line, lay wide and
strong across the spurs. The main line of resistance had been everywhere
well placed on the reverse slopes of the main ridges, and was invisible from
our lines. Only from the air and from rare posts of vantage could we see a
length of it. There were three lines of trenches, each trench anything up to
15 ft. wide, with an outpost line thrown forward to screen these main
defences. In front of the main line lay band upon band and acre upon acre
of dense wire; nowhere was it less than 50 yards deep, and here and there it

jutted out in great salients flanked by batteries of machine-guns. Never had
we before been faced with such a wilderness of wire.
It was calculated that to cut it with artillery would have taken five
weeks and cost twenty millions of money.
Not only was the actual “ditch” of the trench believed to be in most
places some 12 ft. wide and 18 ft. deep, but at either side, the parados and
parapet (each about 2 ft. 6 in. high) were, we had reason to believe, so
sloped as to increase the effective width to about 16 to 18 ft.
These were the dimensions of some trenches captured by us at Arras,
and for such trenches we had to be prepared.
The space to be cleared was too wide for a Tank. A special means of
crossing was, however, devised by the Staff of the Central Workshops at
Erin.
This was a special huge fascine made of about seventy-five ordinary
bundles of brushwood, strongly compressed and bound by heavy chains.
It was carried on the nose of the machine, and could be released by a
touch from inside the Tank by a specially ingenious releasing gear, and
dropped neatly into the trench.
The manufacture of the 350 fascines and the fitting of the Tanks with
the releasing gear was a piece of work of which the Central Workshops
have reason to be proud. They received the order for 350 fascines and 110
Tank sledges on October 24, when they had already for some months been
working at high pressure, chiefly upon Tanks salved from the Salient.
To fulfil the new order the shops worked day and night for three weeks.
To make the fascines, 21,000 ordinary stout bundles of brushwood,
such as are used for road repairing, were unloaded at the Central
Workshops.
Here eighteen Tanks had been specially fitted up, for binding and
fastening these into bundles of sixty or seventy.
The Tanks acted in pairs, pulling in opposite directions at steel chains
which had been previously wound round and round the bundles.

So great was the pressure thus exerted that, months afterwards, an
infantryman in search of firewood, who found one of these fascines and
gaily filed through its binding chain, was killed by the sudden springing
open of the bundle.
When they were ready, each bundle weighed a ton and a half, and it
took twenty of the Chinese coolies employed at the Central Workshops to
roll one of them through the mud. On one occasion 144 fascines had to be
loaded on to trucks within twenty-four hours. Concurrently with the
fascines the Central Workshops achieved the making of the 110 Tank
sledges. The whole of the timber needed for this work had to be sawn out of
logs. Besides this they repaired and issued 127 Tanks.

III

Each Tank could only carry one fascine, and once it had dropped it into
a trench had no means of picking it up again. There were, however, three
broad trenches to be crossed.
This circumstance had to be taken into account in the general scheme
of attack. Every detail of this plan had been most ably worked out either by
Lieut-Colonel Fuller himself (G.S.O.I. to the Tank Corps), or by the Staff
whom he inspired. Every movement and formation which we are going to
describe had been reduced to an exact drill, several special exercises being
evolved for the occasion. One of them, a simple platoon drill for the
infantry, was, we are told by an official historian, based upon a drill
described by Xenophon in the Cyropædia, and attributed by him to Cyrus of
Persia (circa 500 B.C.).
Very briefly the main plan was as follows:—
The whole line of attack was divided into areas for three Tanks who
formed a section and worked together.
Of these one was an “Advance Guard Tank,” and the other two were
“Infantry Tanks.”
The advance guard Tank was to go straight forward through the
enemy’s wire, and, turning to the left without crossing it, to shoot along the
fire trench which lay in front of it.

Its object was to keep down the enemy and protect the two infantry
Tanks. These the while both made for one selected spot in the trench; the
left-hand one cast in its fascine, crossed the trench on it, turned to the left
and worked down the fire trench; the right-hand Tank crossed the fire trench
on the first Tank’s fascine, and made for the second trench, dropped in its
fascine, and crossing, worked down this second trench. Meanwhile the
advance guard Tank had swung round and crossed over the first and second
trenches on the fascines of the two infantry Tanks, and it therefore moved
forward with its own fascine still in position for the third line.
The infantry were also divided into three forces and worked in single
file. The first force were “Trench Clearers.” They worked with the Tanks,
and helped to clear up trenches and dug-outs. They carried small red flags
with which they marked the paths which the Tanks had made through the
wire. The second were the “Trench Stops,” who, as it were, played the net
over the rabbit hole to the Tank’s ferret. The third force were the “Trench
Garrisons,” who took over the trenches as they were captured.
One feature of the combined Tank and infantry training for this battle
was particularly interesting.
They had not very long to work together, yet it was essential that the
infantry should have confidence in the trench-spanning and wire-cutting
power of the Tanks.
Infantry units were therefore invited by the Tank Corps to build their
own defences and entanglements, the Tanks guaranteeing to cross the
trenches and chew up the wire of their best efforts.
Some very formidable and ingenious defences were made.
The Tanks, however, everywhere carried out their guarantee, to the
great edification of the infantry.
The following table gives briefly the allocation of Tanks and infantry to
the various objectives:

Allocation of Fighting Tanks

1st Brigade Tanks 3rd Corps
Battalions. (No.) Divisions.

D (4) 42 On Right: 51st.
E (5) 42 51st and 62nd.
G (7) 42 On Left: 62nd.

Objectives: Havrincourt, Flesquières.
Of each battalion: thirty-six Tanks for 1st, 12 (plus survivors)
for 2nd Objective.
Exploitation towards Fontaine, Bourlon Wood, the Bapaume-
Cambrai Road, Bourlon Village and Graincourt. Bridges over Canal
du Nord.

2nd Brigade 4th Corps
Tanks (No.)
Battalions. Divisions.
42 on
B (2) 6th.
Right.
H (8) 42 on Left. 6th.

Objectives: Beaucamp, Villers, Plouich Road.
Exploitation towards Marcoing, Preny Chapel, and Nine Wood.

3rd Brigade Tanks 4th Corps
Battalions. (No.) Divisions.
C (3) 42 12th.
F (6) 42 ”
I (9) 42 20th.
44
A (1) 42 ”

Objective: La Vacquerie.
Exploitation towards Crèvecœur, Masnières, and Marcoing.

The part to be played by the artillery was carefully worked out. There
was to be no preliminary bombardment, but as soon as the attack was
launched the heavy guns were to begin counter-battery work and were to
shrapnel the bridges along the Canal.

At the same time a jumping barrage of smoke shells and H.E. was to
cover the advance of the Tanks and infantry.
The secrecy of the attack made it impossible for any registering shots to
be fired, and the ranges could be worked out in theory only.
Several squadrons of the R.A.F. were to co-operate, flying low; their
especial work being to bomb enemy Headquarters.
The cavalry were also billed to co-operate.
Special wire-pulling Tanks fitted with grapnels were employed to clear
convenient broad lanes through the wire for them, and their needs were
throughout carefully considered.
For one reason and another, however, the cavalry did not, after all, find
it possible to take much part in the fighting.
The preparations for the battle were of the thorough and laborious kind
always requisite for a “full-dress” attack.
An immense amount of railway movement was necessary in order to
bring up the three Tank Brigades, whose component parts were a good deal
scattered. Thirty-six trainloads of twelve Tanks each had to be dealt with,
and their stores besides.
For the sake of secrecy all this movement was done after dark. There
were only two minor accidents, otherwise the whole scheme was worked
out exactly to programme.
The usual huge dumps of petrol and grease and special stores had to be
formed. Most of them were made in neighbouring woods, where the Tanks
also lay up. Havrincourt Wood and Desert Wood were, for instance, used
for main dumps, and as lying-up places for the 1st and 2nd Brigades, for in
these woods the hornbeam undergrowth had not yet shed its leaves and the
Tanks and their stores could lie in perfect secrecy.
For the 3rd Brigade, however, there was no wood conveniently near,
and the Tanks lay out in a village with camouflage clothes thrown over
them, painted to represent bricks and tiles.
For the forward dumps splendid work was done by the 3rd Army’s light
railways, who handled astonishing masses of stores; for example, 165,000

gallons of petrol, 541,000 rounds of 6-pounder ammunition, and 5,000,000
rounds of S.A.A.
Beyond the light railways the Tank fills were transported by supply
Tanks.
All these preparations had to be carried out as secretly as possible.
Moves were made after dark.
No new wheel tracks must be made. There must be no reference to the
battle over the telephone. There must be no extra horse or mechanical
transport seen about in daylight.
The concentration of Tanks in the background was explained by the
establishment of an alleged new training area. Tank Corps Headquarters
established with the army at Albert was disguised under the plausible alias
of “The Tank Corps Training Office.”
There must be no increase in aeroplane activity for reconnaissance
purposes.
The same troops were to continue to hold the line, the attacking forces
passing through them, and those in the line were as far as possible to be
kept in the dark as to the new operations. There was always a danger of men
in the trenches being taken prisoner in some raid, and the less they knew the
better. Oosthoek Wood had not been forgotten.
All the Reconnaissance Officers and the Tank Staff who had to frequent
the line wore non-committal burberries and discreet tin hats; one well-
known Staff Officer even went to the length of affecting blue glasses; in
fact, in the matter of disguise the line was only drawn at ginger whiskers.
The cars they came in had their distinguishing badges taken off, and their
drivers were carefully primed with cock-and-bull stories with which to
explain their presence. Staff and Reconnaissance Officers slunk about,
above all avoiding Headquarters and those other social centres which
etiquette enjoins must be first called upon by all who visit other people’s
trenches. Friends were stealthily avoided, and a curious jumble of assorted
and obvious lies was gradually put into circulation.
At the Lyceum the villain conducts his affairs in this sort of way
without arousing the least suspicion in any one, but in real life, and

particularly in the line where a look-out must constantly be kept for spies,
such conduct is apt to cause remark.
Before Cambrai embarrassing situations frequently arose which could
be elucidated only by the drawing aside of some justly indignant
Commanding Officer for a few minutes’ whispered conversation.
At the 1st Brigade Headquarters in Arras there was a locked room with
“No admittance” written large upon the door. Here were ostentatiously hung
spoof maps of other topical districts and a profusion of plans lay spread
about.
The Reconnaissance Officer always hoped that this room was duly
ransacked by the “unauthorised person,” for whose visit he had taken such
pains to prepare.
One more precaution was most carefully observed in the line itself.
Exactly the amount of artillery fire to which the enemy was accustomed
must be continued, and from guns of the calibre which he expected. It was
considered that more or less shooting, or the use of guns to which he was
not accustomed, would be sure to alarm him.
For more than a week before the battle there was no rain. Low, creeping
mists screened our movements and made it almost impossible that the
enemy should have seen us from the air.
But the time was, nevertheless, an anxious one.
On the night of the 18th-19th the enemy raided our line and captured
some of our men.
We were uncertain how much these men knew, and how much
information they would give under examination.
If under prompt examination they gave away the gist of our plans the
enemy would have twenty-four hours in which to bring up reserves. There
was, however, nothing to be done except to await the event.
There was yet one other particular in which the Battle of Cambrai was
to differ from other battles.
In modern warfare the place of the General commanding any
considerable body of troops is almost invariably in the rear at some point

where communications are good and whence he can effectively control his
reserves.
His leadership is more a matter of the spirit and moral which he can
infuse into his troops, than of his actual presence in the forefront of the
battle. But General Elles had determined to lead his Tanks in person. All the
available machines were to be used, there would be no reserves for him to
handle. He would be best placed, he argued, in his Flag Tank where he
could keep his hand on the pulse of the battle. It must have been with great
satisfaction that he perceived that he would here once more be able to
indulge his remarkable penchant for battles, a penchant from whose
gratification his responsibilities as a commander had now long (officially)
debarred him.
On the evening before the attack he issued his Special Order to the
Tank Corps. It was not the incitement to “do their damnedest” which the
contemporary Press fathered upon him. That spurious fosterling he hated
the worse, the more he perceived its popularity.
His authentic Order was as follows:—

“Special Order, No. 6

“1. To-morrow the Tank Corps will have the chance for which it
has been waiting for many months, to operate on good going in the
van of the battle.
“2. All that hard work and ingenuity can achieve has been done
in the way of preparation.
“3. It remains for unit commanders and for Tank crews to
complete the work by judgment and pluck in the battle itself.
“4. In the light of past experience I leave the good name of the
Corps with great confidence in your hands.
“5. I propose leading the attack of the Centre Division.
November 19, 1917.
(Signed) Hugh Elles,
“B.-G. Commanding Tank Corps.”

The statement that the G.O.C. was to lead the attack came as a great
surprise to every one; it was probably a greater surprise to some of the
authorities than it was even to the Tank Corps themselves. This decision
was generally accepted with pleasure by the fighting troops, but many of
the more thoughtful were filled with very great anxiety. It was clear that the
General’s Tank, the “Hilda,” was going to be thrust close behind the barrage
in a conspicuous position flying the flag; the dangers that it ran were,
therefore, greater than those run by any of the other Tanks. On the other
hand, it was generally realised that the Tank Corps had, in this action, a
very great deal at stake; it risked not merely machines and the lives of its
officers and men, but its very existence. If the Tanks failed to make good
this time there is little doubt that this type of mechanical warfare would
have been abandoned for some time at least. On November 20, therefore,
the Tank Corps was “all in” in every sense of the word.

IV

At 4.30 on the morning of the 20th a heavy burst of firing from the
enemy made us fear for the integrity of our secret, but to our great relief it
died away, and for an hour before zero (6 a.m.) quiet reigned along almost
the whole front of attack.
From documents captured during the battle we found that up to the 18th
the Germans had issued such reports as “The enemy’s work is confined to
the improvement of his trenches and wire.” But the prisoners whom the
Germans had taken on the night of the 18th had yielded more interesting
information. On the strength only of their preliminary examination the
Germans moved reserve machine-guns up to Flesquières.
At the last moment a higher enemy authority seems to have again
examined the prisoners, and, too late, an urgent warning was sent down to
all units in the line to maintain a sharp lookout and to issue armour-piercing
bullets immediately.
This message we found half transcribed in a front-line signal dug-out.
Six o’clock had struck.

Under cover of the mist the whole line of 350 Tanks moved forward,
led by General Elles’ Flag Tank, the “Hilda.” As they moved a thousand
concealed guns hailed down their fire upon the German line. Even through
the din of the barrage and the clamour of their own engines the Tank crews
could hear, as they advanced, the tearing and snapping of the German wire
as they trampled it under them. The bewildered enemy was overwhelmed.
He had only one last hope. Perhaps the wide trenches themselves would
hold back this inexorable company!
But when each of the second line of Tanks stopped, ducked its head,
laid its “stepping stone” in the trench and crawled easily over it, the enemy
completely lost his balance.
All along the line men fled in panic. Only at a few tactical points did
our onrush meet with any real opposition. The surprise, the novel tactics,
the crushing onrush of the Tanks proved too much in those first
confounding minutes for one of the best fighting armies the world had ever
seen.
The “Hilda” reached the outposts line in the van of the battle; the
resistance here was only slight, but General Elles succeeded in picking up a
few targets which he pointed out to the gunners. It is reported that he did
most of his observing with his head thrust up through the hatch in the roof
of the Tank, using his feet in the gunner’s ribs to indicate targets.
Once the Tanks were astride the enormous Hindenburg ditch, the
enemy only offered resistance in a few places. The “Hilda,” still carrying
the flag which had been several times hit but not brought down, went on to
her first objective line, which included the main Hindenburg front, and
support lines.
But the General’s holiday was over. The great problem had been
triumphantly solved.
The next most pressing need would be for reorganisation.
If any of the Tanks were required to operate again the next day, that
reorganisation must be begun at once. So reluctantly leaving the “Hilda” to
carry on to further objectives, the General came back on foot, somewhat
impeded by various parties of “unmopped up” Germans who insisted on
surrendering to him. By the afternoon, General Elles was back at his

Headquarters, functioning by telephone and shorthand-typist in the manner
usual to Generals.
Here and there, after the first rush, a desperate handful of the enemy
would be rallied by their officers to defend some point of vantage.
At Lateau Wood on the right of the attack heavy fighting took place,
including a duel between a Tank and a 5.9 in. howitzer. Turning on the Tank
the howitzer fired, shattering and tearing off most of the right-hand sponson
of the approaching machine, but fortunately not injuring its vitals; before
the German gunners could reload, the Tank was upon them, and in a few
seconds the great gun was crushed in a jumbled mass amongst the
brushwood surrounding it.
A little to the west of this wood the Tanks of “F” (the 6th) Battalion,
which had topped the ridge, were speeding down on Masnières. One
approached the bridge, the key to the Rumilly-Seranvillers ridge, upon the
capture of which so much depended. The bridge had, as the Tank
Commander knew, been damaged either by shell-fire or by the German
sappers. It was, however, most important that he should cross, and he very
pluckily, therefore, went for it. As the Tank neared the centre of the bridge,
there was a rending of steel girders—the bridge had broken, and as it
collapsed the Tank disappeared into the waters of the canal. Other Tanks
arriving, and not being able to cross, assisted the infantry to do so by
opening a heavy covering fire.
The Tank that had fallen into the canal had been let down quite
gradually into the water as the bridge slowly subsided.
There was but one loss. The wig of one of the crew got knocked off as
his head emerged from the manhole, and it floated away down the canal and
was never seen again. Lost to view, its memory was kept green for many
months by its injured owner’s claims for compensation.
The dilemma which most cruelly racked the official mind was the
question whether a wig came under the heading of “Field Equipment,”
“Loss of a Limb,” “Medical Comfort,” “Clothing,” “Personal Effects,” or
“Special Tank Stores.” Finally, however, its owner did receive monetary
compensation for his loss.
But the genius of Comedy had not done with the Tanks.

45
“The town had been evacuated so suddenly by the enemy that
some civilian population still remained.
“Two cows belonging to the German Town Major were
solemnly presented by their French civilian keeper to Major
Hammond as a token of the joy that the inhabitants felt at their
liberation.”

These absurd camp followers remained for long the most cherished
possessions of the Battalion, and accompanied them wherever they went.

PREPARING FOR THE CAMBRAL. A TRAIN OF TANKS WITH FASCINES IN
POSITION

THE BAPAUME-CAMBRAI ROAD

A TANK CRUSHING DOWN THE ENEMY’S WIRE

At Flesquières the 51st Highland Division, which was using an attack
formation of its own, was held up; it appears that the Tanks outdistanced the
infantry, or that the tactics adopted did not permit of the infantry keeping
close enough up to the Tanks. As the Tanks topped the crest, they came
under direct artillery fire at short range and suffered heavy casualties.
No less than sixteen Tanks were knocked out by a single field gun.
This gun was at the west end of the village, and from its position the
Tanks were each outlined against the sky as they topped the ridge. Its story
is told in Sir Douglas Haig’s Despatch, with a generosity which might well
have encouraged what the Tank crews considered a most undesirable spirit
in enemy gunners:

“Many of the hits upon our tanks at Flesquières were obtained
by a German artillery officer who, remaining alone at his battery,
served a field gun single-handed until killed at his gun. The great
bravery of this officer aroused the admiration of all ranks.”

There was stiff fighting at Havrincourt, and before nightfall the 62nd
Division and its Tanks had captured Graincourt. Several Tanks even pushed
on beyond towards Bourlon Wood and the Cambrai road, but by this time
the infantry were too exhausted to follow.
By 4 p.m. on November 20 one of the most astonishing battles in all
history had been won, and as far as the Tank Corps was concerned,
tactically finished.
There were no reserves of Tanks, and the crews that had fought all day
were now very spent and weary.
The infantry were still more exhausted and a further advance was
impossible. The night was spent by Tank crews and infantry in resting, and
by the Staff in planning a renewed attack for the next day.
A letter home from a Tank officer describes a typical scene:

“We had captured the village of Havrincourt that morning, or
rather its ruins, and it was in the one remaining room of the once
magnificent Château that General John Ponsonby, commanding the
40th Division, established his Headquarters and convened a
conference for ten o’clock in the evening.
“The road thither had already been sufficiently restored to
permit of cars getting through, granted skilful driving and good
luck.
“Felled trees, wire, breastworks, and other barriers had been
cleared aside, trenches and craters on both sides of No Man’s Land
had been roughly filled in, whilst the notorious ‘Grand Ravine’ had
been made passable for carriage folk by the judicious placing of a
few fascines.
“There were a round dozen of us at the conference, a muddy,
rather blear-eyed party, some in tin hats and trench coats, revolver
girt—some in honorific red and gold—all with slung gas-masks.
“General Ponsonby and his G.S.O.I. sat on an old packing-case
with a map spread out before them on another, lit by the dancing
flicker of two guttering candles stuck into German beer bottles.

General Elles and Colonel Baker-Carr were there with a chorus of
Commanding Officers, Company Commanders and Reconnaissance
Officers from the 1st Tank Brigade.
“An armed sentry stood at the breach in the wall that served for
doorway—signallers and orderlies entered and left the little circle of
yellow light, stirring up the dust from the fallen débris on the broken
floor.
“One felt uneasily conscious of forming part of a Graphic
picture entitled ‘Advanced Headquarters,’ or ‘Planning the Battle.’
“Anyway, the battle was eventually planned and to the
satisfaction of all parties present. The G.S.O.I. finished writing his
operation orders for the morning’s attack, the conference dissolved,
and we stumbled out once more into the night, each of us with some
job to get done before the dawn.
“To me it fell to push on to the advanced Headquarters of the
Infantry Brigades concerned to explain the plans for the morrow’s
battles and to deliver certain necessary maps to the Tank
Commanders who would be co-operating.
“I slung the maps for easier porterage along a pole that I and
my orderly shouldered and from which they dangled in swaying
white packages to the great interest and mystification of passing
troops, to whom the bearers and the pole were invisible in the inky
dark.
“It was a weary way up to Graincourt with nothing but gun
flashes and infrequent star-shells to light the way, but at last we
reached it.
“Two of the Infantry Brigades had, we found, established their
Headquarters in a sort of catacomb underneath the ruined church—a
wonderful place, part mediæval and part the work of the industrious
Hun.
“Down and down you went—the old vaulted brickwork giving
place to stout German timbering—until at the very bottom, some
hundred feet below the floor of the church, the steep stairway ended
in a gallery off which opened a whole street of little chambers.

“The place was insufferably hot and stuffy to one fresh in from
the cold of the outer night; there was haze and reek of tobacco
smoke and cooking, half drowning the stale dank smell, inseparable
from a deep dug-out that has been long occupied—especially by
Germans.
“Graincourt had been taken by surprise and had changed hands
so quickly that we had taken over these very eligible Headquarters
as a going concern ‘ready furnished for immediate occupation.’

“So sudden, indeed, had been the change of tenancy that the
two Boche engineers whose job it was to run the electric lighting
plant had been captured in their own subterranean engine-room and
were even now stolidly carrying on their old duties, seemingly but
little concerned by the fact that they were now ‘under entirely new
management.’
“As it turned out, it was very well for us that we did capture and
retain this precious pair, for when they found that they were going to
be kept on to run the lighting as before, they quite shamelessly said:
“‘Well, if that’s the case, there’s just one little point we ought to
warn you about, and that is, if any one moves what looks like the
main switch—as any one would who didn’t know, when starting up
the plant—the demolition charges would be blown. If you would
like these removed in case of accidents, we can show you where to
dig for them—we know exactly where to find them, as it was our
job to lay them.’
“Even whilst I was there, I saw these ruffians superintending
the removal of case after case of high-explosive from cunningly
concealed chambers behind the timber linings and under floors.
“The cramped stairways, galleries and cubby-holes were
crowded with odd specimens of all ranks and arms, some eating or
talking, others huddled uneasily asleep, with the constant tide of
traffic pouring over their sprawling limbs.
“Electric lights burned brilliantly, and the engine sent a steady
shiver through the timbered walls like the vibrations of a steamer.

“Like a ship breasting the waves, too, were the intermittent thud
and tremor of bursting shells in the village high overhead, or the
replies of our own artillery.
“Telephones buzzed, a typewriter rattled away, and the clatter of
plates being washed in a bucket made one wonder wistfully whether
it would occur to any one to suggest that you might be hungry.
“One Brigadier, presumably the first come, sat in the utmost
pomp and luxury in a sumptuous arm-chair of crimson plush, a ci-
devant drawing-room table before him, on which was spread a
large-scale detailed map of Bourlon Wood—a very valuable legacy
left behind by the over-hasty Boches.
“On the walls were framed oleographs of Hindenburg and the
Kaiser, whilst a gilt clock still kept German time as it ticked above
the door.
“Two tiers of wire rabbit-net bunks lined one side of the little
chamber, and a smart little stove surmounted by a fine old mirror
adorned the other.
“They are pretty sound on Home Comforts are the Boches, and
they don’t think twice about pinching anything they fancy from the
unfortunate natives.
“Like another much advertised system of furnishing, ‘It’s so
simple’! ‘Deferred Payment,’ if they will have it so—deferred, but
payment at the last—payment good and plenty or I’ll eat my tin hat
—including visor and lining.”

V

The next day (November 21) saw composite companies of Tanks
fighting in co-operation with new infantry.
But though the infantry was new, it was unfortunately not fresh. Sir
Julian Byng had no rested troops at all at his disposal. It may be said that
the whole of the subsequent history of the battle and its sequel hinges upon

these two points. All our infantry was weary in the extreme, and most of it
had never co-operated with Tanks before.
Consequently many strong points, though they were finally captured,
gave us more trouble than they should.
On the 21st, Tanks attacked several villages and strong points with
success.
Thirteen Tanks of “B” (2nd) Battalion surrounded the village of
Cantaing. They met with a stubborn resistance as they closed in upon it. To
this they replied vigorously with machine-gun and 6-pounder fire, and by
noon the enemy had been driven out.
Two Tanks also, of “B” Battalion, were sent for by the infantry, who
were held up by heavy machine-gun fire outside Noyelles. In half an hour
they succeeded in crushing all resistance, setting fire to an ammunition
dump and patrolling the village till the infantry took over.
Neither Tank was in the least hurt, and there were no casualties among
the crews.
Twelve Tanks of “H” (8th) Battalion received orders soon after 8 a.m.
to attack Fontaine-Notre-Dame.
The village was six miles distant, and the Tanks came in for severe
fighting on the way there.
They reached their objective at about 4.30. By 5.30 they had captured it
and were withdrawn after handing it over to the infantry.
But next day a furious German counter-attack dislodged our garrison.
We were determined to possess it, and on the 23rd attacked again in
force.
The enemy was prepared, and a desperate battle ensued among the
houses. Twenty-four Tanks from “B” and “H” Battalions had entered the
village first, whereupon the enemy retired to the tops of the houses and
rained down bombs and bullets upon the roofs of the machines.
The Germans were in force, and in the narrow streets it was difficult for
the Tanks to bring an effective fire to bear upon them.

The infantry was too weary to clear the place, and after patrolling the
streets the Tanks withdrew, as soon as darkness covered their retreat.
On the same day thirty-four Tanks of the 1st Brigade supported a
brilliant attack made by the 40th Division upon Bourlon Wood. The wood
was captured after a sharp struggle. The Tanks then pressed on towards the
village, but as at Fontaine, the infantry, who had suffered severe casualties
in the taking of the wood, was too exhausted to follow up.
On November 25 and 26 we renewed our attack upon Fontaine-Notre-
Dame and again tried to capture Bourlon Village.
In the end, however, both these important points remained in enemy
hands.
A week had now elapsed since the launching of the battle.
According to the original scheme, the action should not have been
continued for more than three days, but in spite of our original “Self-
Denying Ordinance” as to ground, when desirable posts of vantage were
actually in our hands, we had fallen a prey to “land hunger,” and had still
fought on and continued to advance in order to consolidate these new and
delightful possessions.
But now we held the extremely important tactical point formed by the
heights of Bourlon Wood, and it was plain that to take Fontaine and
Bourlon Village would cost us more than they were worth to us.
We had done all and more than all we set out to do. The troops urgently
needed resting. They had had no proper rest before the battle, and now
despite their sense of victory they were extraordinarily spent.
The Tanks’ crews, too, were almost fought to a standstill, and owing to
the constant daily necessity there had been for hurrying composite
companies into action, their units had become inconveniently disorganised.
So on November 27 we rested from our labours and counted the spoil.

46
“Whatever may be the future historian’s dictum as to its
value, the First Battle of Cambrai must always rank as one of the
most remarkable battles ever fought. On November 20, from a base

of some 13,000 yards in width, a penetration of no less than 10,000
yards was effected in twelve hours (at the Third Battle of Ypres a
similar penetration took three months), 8000 prisoners and 100 guns
were captured, and these prisoners alone were nearly double the
casualties suffered by the 3rd and 4th Armies during the first day of
the battle. It is an interesting point to remember that in this battle the
attacking infantry were assisted by 690 officers and 3500 other
ranks of the Tank Corps, a little over 4000 men, or the strength of a
strong brigade, and that these men replaced artillery for wire-
cutting, and rendered unnecessary the old preliminary
bombardment. More than this, by keeping close to the infantry, they
effected a much higher co-operation than had ever before been
attainable with artillery. When on November 21 the bells of London
pealed forth in celebration of the victory of Cambrai, consciously or
unconsciously to their listeners they tolled out an old tactics and
rang in a new—Cambrai had become the Valmy of a new epoch in
war, the epoch of the mechanical engineer.”

It was a weary but satisfied body of men that General Elles inspected at
Havrincourt on November 29 when the party broke up.
The 1st and 3rd Brigades were entraining immediately for Mult and
Bray respectively, and the 2nd was to follow them in a few days’ time.
Good-byes were exchanged, and, as every one thought, the curtain rung
down upon the First Battle of Cambrai.

Part II
(November 30)

In order to understand the events that followed, we have to imagine a
victorious but very weary British Army holding a newly consolidated
salient against an enemy whom they have just roused to a revengeful fury
by a sudden stinging slap in the face.
The enemy had been horribly frightened, and now that he had
recovered he realised how urgently his prestige demanded signal

vindication. We were, it would seem, half expecting in a tired
unimaginative sort of way that he might hit at us on the new Bourlon Wood
flank of our salient. On the Gouzeaucourt side were old-established
defences. These we held thinly—it never entering our heads apparently that
he would attack an old piece of the line.
But the German Army Commander, General von der Marwitz, had an
ambitious scheme in his mind. He meant to pinch off our salient and, if
possible, to capture the entire third and fourth Corps, who held it. His right
wing was to operate from Bourlon southward, and his left from Masnières
westwards, the two attacks converging on Havrincourt and Metz.
The attack was launched shortly after daylight on November 30, and
failed completely on the right against Bourlon Wood; here the enemy was
caught by our artillery and machine-guns and mown down by hundreds. On
the left, however, the attack succeeded; first, it came as a surprise; secondly,
the Germans heralded their assault by lines of low-flying aeroplanes, which
made our men keep down and so lose observation. Under the protection of
this aeroplane barrage and a very heavy trench mortar bombardment the
German infantry advanced and speedily captured Villers Guislain and
Gouzeaucourt.
It was not till nearly ten o’clock on November 30 that Brigadier-
General Courage of the 2nd Tank Brigade received a telephone message
warning him of the attack.
The Tanks had been definitely “dismissed,” and were busy refitting,
and at that moment every machine was in complete déshabillé. Many of the
engines were in process of being tinkered with, and not a single Tank was
filled up or contained its battle equipment. Those whom some emergency
has obliged to get out an ordinary car on a cold winter’s morning when it
has neither petrol, oil, nor water in it, and has half its engine strewn about
the garage, will understand the difficulties that faced the Tank Corps. They
will realise that when no less than twenty-two Tanks of “B” (2nd) Battalion
had started for the battle by 12.40, a very smart piece of work had been
done. Very soon fourteen Tanks of “A” (1st) Battalion followed them, and
by two o’clock twenty Tanks of “H” (8th) Battalion were able to move up in
support.

In the words of Sir Douglas Haig’s Despatch, “Great credit is due to the
officers and men of the (2nd) Tank Brigade for the speed with which they
brought their Tanks into action.”
By the time the first twenty Tanks reached Gouzeaucourt, however, the
Guards, who had been hurried up with all speed, had managed to retake it,
and the Tanks were therefore pushed out as a screen to cover their
consolidation.
Here they remained all day, beating off enemy counter-attacks.
All day along both sides of the salient the enemy hammered fiercely at
our lines. Here and there he penetrated them. Cooks, servants, and
signallers, every available man, was given a rifle and put into the line, and
the Despatch tells of wonderful individual deeds that were done as the
battle surged and eddied confusedly. We did not propose to allow the
Germans to hold their new possessions, the points of vantage out of which
they had hustled us.
On December 1, Tanks, Guards, and dismounted Indian cavalry hit
back against Villers Guislain and Gauche Wood.

“Tanks were,” the Despatch notes, “in great measure
responsible for the capture of the wood. Heavy fighting took place
for this position, which it is clear that the enemy had decided to hold
at all costs. When the infantry and cavalry finally took possession of
the wood, great numbers of German dead and smashed machine-
guns were found. In one spot four German machine-guns, with dead
crews lying round, were discovered within a radius of twenty yards.
Three German field guns, complete with teams, were also captured
in this wood.
“Other Tanks proceeded to Villers Guislain, and in spite of
heavy direct artillery fire three reached the outskirts of the village,
but the fire of the enemy’s machine-guns prevented our troops
advancing from the south from supporting them, and the Tanks
ultimately withdrew.”

For two more days the enemy pressed on against us, and the battle
raged round Bourlon, Fontaine, Marcoing, and La Vacquerie.
Everywhere he dented in our line, and by December 4 the outline of our
front showed an impossible series of irregularities. We must either renew
the attack on a big scale, or make up our minds

47
“to withdraw to a more compact line on the Flesquières
Ridge.
“Although this decision involved giving up important positions
most gallantly won, I had no doubt as to the correct course under the
conditions. Accordingly, on the night of December 4–5 the
evacuation of the positions held by us north of the Flesquières Ridge
was commenced. On the morning of December 7 this withdrawal
was completed successfully without interference from the enemy.”

It is as well that the enemy did not “interfere,” for through some
oversight the Tanks did not receive due notice of the intended withdrawal,
and certain salvage parties, busily at work on disabled Tanks, in forward
positions, knew nothing of the evacuation until, to their astonishment, they
found our infantry streaming back past them in the darkness. There was
then nothing for it but to abandon the wrecks and to get back themselves
with such gear as they could carry.
So ended the second phase of the battle.
It had been an exceedingly vexatious business.
Putting the best construction we could upon it, we had to admit to
having been caught napping. The German attack had thrown us into
complete, if momentary, confusion. But afterwards, when the situation
could be calmly reviewed, contemporary criticism was unanimously agreed
that we had, after all, suffered little but moral damage. And from that sort of
damage the British have the art of deriving wholesome instruction in a
unique degree. We braced ourselves up, and determined that this sharp rap
over the knuckles should do us good.
But to the Tank Corps the exploits of the 2nd Brigade were more
directly advantageous.

Amid the hubbub and confusion the Tank crews, like the Guards and
the 2nd Cavalry Division, had known but one impulse—they had gone
straight east against the enemy. That was the pole to which their compass
pointed.
While everything had been doubt and hesitation they had had but one
thought, to fill and adjust their machines and hurry them forward. At 9 a.m.
the Tank crews had been peacefully preparing to break camp and leave for
their training area. By four in the afternoon seventy-three Tanks had been
launched with decisive effect against the enemy.
To many High Commanders who had believed that Tanks could only be
used in a “full-dress” attack after weeks of preparation, the events of
November 30 came as a joyful revelation.
So for the Tanks ended the 1917 campaign.

CHAPTER XI
THREE NEW TYPES OF TANK—THE DEPOT—
CENTRAL WORKSHOPS

I

The “Fighting Side” had now been for many months almost exclusively
engaged with “operations,” and having fought themselves nearly to a
standstill at the Battle of Cambrai, were now in as urgent need of
reorganisation as were their machines of overhaul and repair.
The present chronicle has also for long followed their fortunes, with not
a glance to spare for the activities of the manufacturing and other
organisations which played the supporting parts “Aaron and Hur” to the
Fighting Side’s “Moses.”
At the period we have reached it is high time to pick up the dropped
histories of the other persons of the drama. For while the Tank Corps had
been fighting, manufacturers had been busy, and a huge network of
auxiliary services and organisations had grown up, by means of which the
whole Corps was to rise rejuvenated from its ashes.
Before the Tanks fought their next pitched battle the Mark V. had come
into being, Whippet Tanks had been issued, a heavy type of infantry-
carrying Tank had been designed, and for fast work on good roads a
Battalion of Armoured Cars had grown up.
Besides this, a complete system of Supply Tanks and Field
Maintenance Companies for salvage and supplies had been gradually
evolved during the course of the last campaign.
The Tank Corps Depot had been enormously enlarged, and had moved
to its final “location” on the coast near Le Tréport.

The Home Depot at Wool had also increased, and there had been
changes and developments at the Ministry of Munitions and in the Tank
production side generally.
It is in fact impossible in a single chapter to give more than a brief
indication of this universal and increasing “back area” activity.
To begin with the changes in the home organisation and in the
production of Tanks.
The “New” Tank Committee was, as we have already related, a
success.
In December 1917 and January 1918 it saw a rather interesting new
phase, when Majors Drain and Alden, of the U.S. Tank Corps, attended
certain of its meetings, and when the manufacture for the British and
American Armies of the Mark VIII. or “Allied Tank” was decided upon.
This Tank was never fought, but its projection is perhaps interesting as an
example of inter-Allied solidarity.
By January 1918 proposals for an expansion from nine to eighteen
Battalions and for a reorganisation of Tank control had been put forward.
These proposals were eventually (in April 1918) discussed by the Inter-
Allied Tank Committee, a sort of sub-committee of the Versailles
Conference, on which the British, French and American Tank Corps were
represented.
But neither men nor really constructive thought could then be spared
from the immediate needs of meeting the German onrush, and nothing was
done to realise their proposals until that onrush was finally stemmed.
But in July 1918 the business was taken up again. It was decided to
expand the Tank Corps to thirty-four Battalions armed with about six
thousand machines.

II

In December 1917 the manufacturing situation was not particularly
satisfactory. As late as August 20 the Commander-in-Chief had, it will be

remembered, laid down, in an official letter, an order of priority in which
there were four categories preferred to Tanks.

“The manufacture of Tanks should not be allowed to interfere in
any way with:
“(1) The output of aeroplanes.
“(2) The output of guns and ammunition.
“(3) The provision of mechanical transport, spare parts therefor,
and petrol tractors up to the scale demanded.
“(4) The provision of locomotives up to the scale demanded.

And though by December the views of the authorities had changed
considerably, the sudden expansion of the Tank building programme was
not easy.
In October 1917, 700 Mark IV. Tanks had already been delivered in
France, and a balance of about 500 was still due. But the Fighting Side was
anxious that these should not all be of the unimproved Mark IV. pattern. For
up to now no change in the design had been made since the first Mark IV.
had been delivered. It was decided, therefore, that some of the 500 should
be given Ricardo engines and Epicyclic gears, and that others should be
fitted as Supply Tanks.
The M.W.S.D. hoped to build about 1600 new Heavy Tanks, 800 of
which were to be of the Mark V. type and ready by May 1, and the others to
be of other heavy types, probably Mark V. star and Mark VI., while 385
Whippet (“Medium A”) Tanks were also to be ready by May 1918.
Further, there was to be a small cadre of Salvage Tanks and of special
infantry Supply Tanks, two of the latter being able to carry complete
supplies for an infantry Brigade for one day.
A large number of these Tanks were as before to be built by the
Metropolitan Carriage and Wagon Company.
A very brief account of most of these new types of Tank has already
been given in Chapter I., and it is not necessary to repeat here the details of

their speeds, armament, and so forth.
Salvage Tanks were usually Mark IV. Tanks on which special gear, such
as winches and small cranes, had been fitted for hoisting wrecks out of the
mud, or for towing.
The Supply Tank was a Mark IV. fitted with very capacious sponsons.
In order to save weight these carriers were not made as fully armoured as
the fighting Tanks.
The Gun Carrier Tank was a machine with an elongated tail which
formed a platform whence it was intended that a 60-pounder gun or a 6-in.
howitzer could be fired.
The Tank Corps Armoured Cars were of the usual turreted pattern, and
were armed with machine-guns.
But more important than any other new development was the
improvement in the main issue of heavy Tanks, an improvement which is
very well described by the historian of the 13th Battalion:

“The old Mark IV. type had serious disadvantages. Its engine
power on bad ground was insufficient, and the clumsy secondary
gears made turning slow and difficult as well as requiring the
services of at least two members of the crew in addition to the
driver. This, in battle, became a heavy handicap upon the fighting
powers of the Tank. The officer was hampered by the need to attend
to brakes, and a gunner called upon suddenly to help alter gears
would lose the fleeting chance of firing at favourable targets. In the
new Mark V. Tank these troubles largely disappeared. An engine of
new design gave both greater speed and greater turning power,
while a system of epicyclic gears made turning easy and under the
sole control of the driver. The officer was free to supervise his crew,
the gunner was free to use his weapons to the best advantage. Add
that a greatly increased field of view was obtained by the addition of
an observer’s turret, and it will be understood that an immense
advance in type had been secured.”

The Mark V. had, however, one serious drawback. Its ventilation was
extremely faulty. We shall see later how serious a disadvantage this was to
prove.

III

There were also to be changes in the technical and mechanical
engineering side of the Tank Corps itself, by which an economy of man-
power was to be effected.
When the Tank Corps was first formed each Company had its own
workshops, and this system lasted to the end of 1916. Then in the course of
the winter reorganisation, Company Workshops were abolished and
Battalion Workshops were substituted.
By the autumn of 1917 the experiment was tried of centralising still
further and merging Battalion into Brigade Workshops, and early in 1918 it
was decided to take the last step and to concentrate all repairs in the Central
Workshops.
This system, which achieved a great economy of skilled men, was
made possible by a very clear line of demarcation being drawn between
Repairs and Maintenance, a principle which had been laid down by Colonel
F. Searle, D.S.O., the chief engineer of the Corps and the head of the whole
mechanical side of the Tanks.
No damaged part was ever to be repaired on the field; mechanical
efficiency was to be maintained by the broken bit of mechanism being
immediately replaced by a complete new part.
This replacement was carried out by the crew, whose efficiency as
mechanics was enormously increased by being thus made responsible for
their own machines.
One point had, of course, to be carefully attended to in carrying out this
system. There had to be a very efficient supply organisation by which the
necessary spares were quickly available in the field.
When the crew had removed the damaged part from the Tank, it was
sent back to the Central Workshops to be repaired.

Here a specially skilled man would be always employed upon damages
to one particular part.

48
“For example, broken unions of petrol pipes commonly occur
in all petrol engines, and if a small unit workshop exists, the brazing
out and repair of such broken unions can be carried out there. But in
order to do this a coppersmith must be kept at the unit workshop,
and only part of his time will be employed in this work of brazing
petrol unions. If now, however, all broken unions, from every unit,
are sent back to a Central Workshop for repair, there is a sufficient
amount of work of this description to keep one man, or possibly two
or three men fully employed all their time.
“These men become absolute experts in brazing broken unions,
and before very long can do in a few minutes a job which would
take a coppersmith with the unit workshop an hour or two to carry
out.”

It is interesting to trace what might have been the itinerary of a Tank
from the time it left the manufacturers in about Midsummer 1917, till after
going into action in, say, the Third Battle of Ypres.
On completion every Tank was first sent to testing grounds at Newbury,
where it was manned by No. 20 Squadron R.N.A.S. From here it was
forwarded to Richborough, whence it was shipped by the Channel ferry and
received at Le Havre by another detachment of Squadron 20. Thence it
went to Bermicourt, was again tested, this time by Tank Corps personnel,
and then handed on to the Central Stores at Erin. These stores were first
established in 1917, and eventually consisted of over seven acres of railway
siding and six acres of buildings. The Central Workshops were at one time
also installed here, but as more accommodation became necessary they
were moved to Teneur, about a mile and a half away.
From the Central Stores the Tanks would be issued to Battalions as
needed.
For example, during the Third Battle of Ypres a large number of Tanks
were supplied to Companies actually in the line. We will suppose that a

particular Tank was so supplied, and received a bullet through its
carburettor during one of the small actions of the end of October.
The crew would immediately draw a new carburettor from the
neighbouring mobile advanced store, which was run by one of the two Tank
Salvage or Field Companies.
Thus re-equipped the Tank would again go into action, perhaps within a
day of being damaged.
This time we will suppose that the Tank got knocked out between the
first and second objective by a direct hit, the unwounded members of the
crew going forward with their Lewis guns and leaving the Tank stranded
and immovable.
The position of the derelict having been reported, men from a Tank
Salvage Company would go up that night, probably under shell-fire, and
possibly in full view of the enemy whenever a Véry light went up.
The experts would arrive at the wreck with their favourite set of
repairing tools, possibly consisting of the specially designed Tank-repairing
outfit, but more probably of a few pet spanners, some odd lengths of tubing
and a coil of copper wire. They would toil at the Tank till dawn.
Sometimes after one or more nights spent like this they would induce
the Tank to go. In the Ypres area Tanks were sometimes salved that had
completely disappeared into the mud. Sometimes it was possible to tow a
machine away, particularly after the special salvage Tanks with their
hoisting gear came into use. Sometimes only disjecta membra, such as
engine parts, 6-pounders, or parts of the gears or transmissions, could be
saved.
During the two years of their existence the Field Companies, at the
lowest computation, saved two or three million pounds’ worth of stores, a
work which they did not accomplish without heavy cost to themselves.
We will suppose that the Tank whose history we have followed was
salved whole.
The next step would be that it would be entrained by the Field
Company and sent back to the Central Workshops at Teneur.

This was really a vast engineering works covering about twenty acres
of ground, where, besides a very large number of trained and expert
mechanics, more than a thousand Chinese coolies worked.
These coolies often became very dexterous artisans.
Here, in endless ranks down the long shops, they would toil
indefatigably, in the summer stripped to the waist, their brown bodies
gleaming in the white light of the arc lamps or in the glow of the forges, or
in the winter dressed in their loose blue quilted jackets and close caps with
curious rabbits’ fur ear-lappets.
Possibly the shattered or burnt-out Tank would have to be almost
entirely rebuilt, two wrecked Tanks providing, perhaps, parts enough to
make one good one. Here, finally, the reconstructed Tank would be tested
and sent back to the Central Stores.
Possibly it would have been reduced to a sort of “C. III.” category, and
made into a Supply Tank. Possibly it would have been fitted with all the
latest gadgets, and come out from its reforging a better weapon than it was
originally.
For the activities of the Central Workshops were not confined to mere
repair. It will be remembered how they distinguished themselves in the
matter of the lightning delivery of fascines, releasing gear, and supply
sledges for the Battle of Cambrai.
A large proportion, too, of the experiments which led to improvements
in the design of Tanks were carried out here; for example, the long Tank and
the unditching beam were of Central Workshops origin, and here the
officers who fought the Tanks could have their ideas for gadgets
sympathetically reviewed and put to practical proof by the band of expert
engineers that Lieut.-Colonel Brocklebank had brought together. But they
were more than mere experts; they were enthusiasts whose unflagging zeal
had created the marvel of Central Workshops where there had been bare
ploughland so short a time before.

IV

We have traced a Tank from its setting forth from home with
unscratched paint through the vicissitudes of battle to its remoulding as a
greatly improved machine or to its relegation to “Permanent Base.”
How would the military history run of a member of a Tank crew which
had fought, say, at the Battle of Cambrai?
We have already related how the Tank Corps was chiefly recruited in
early days, that is, either from among mechanical experts or from
volunteers from other branches of the Service. Later men with no special
qualifications were taken by direct enlistment. We will suppose, however,
that 1234 Pte. John Smith got his transfer from the West Surreys when in
the line in about June 1917, and that at that moment the training schools in
France had no vacancies. To their great joy, therefore, Pte. Smith and his
batch would be sent home for training to the Tank Depot at Wool.
Here was a huge camp where men like themselves, who had seen
fighting, and also men fresh from the Recruiting Depots, were being formed
into the new Tank Battalions. By July about nine of these new Battalions
were in training. The men went through the usual recruits’ curriculum. First
of all, drill, discipline and physical training; then individual courses in Tank
Gunnery, Driving and Maintenance. Then they would go through the
Signalling, Revolver and Compass Schools, the Gas and Reconnaissance
Schools.
There was also here an Officer Cadet Preliminary Training Company
where the same sort of instruction was given. Gunners at this time did all
their firing practice with 6-pounders at the Naval School of Gunnery,
Chatham, or rather, to be exact, on “H.M.S. Excellent,” Whale Island. All
the other courses were gone through in and around the camp.
Practically, only individual instruction was given at Wool, and their
collective and tactical training was done by the men at Bermicourt, after
their arrival in France. At Wool it was reckoned that, with this important
omission, nearly four months would usually be occupied in raising and
training a Tank Battalion. It would, therefore, be towards the end of
September that Pte. Smith found himself in France.
He was, he found, to be detailed to one of the old Battalions, and was,
therefore, despatched to the Training and Reinforcement Depot, then

established at Erin, and later to be moved to Le Tréport.
Here he was attached to a Reception Company, put through a kind of
examination in the subjects he had studied at Wool, but passing
satisfactorily and his records being duly completed, he was issued with his
kit and equipment and posted to his Company. He was soon sent to join it at
an improvised training area where it was at this moment “resting” from the
Battle of Ypres. It was not actually having a particularly restful time, as
tactical training with the infantry was in progress, and there was more than
enough night work in the programme.

SLEDGE-TOWING TANK TAKING UP SUPPLIES

BERMICOURT CHATEAU NEAR ST. POL.
TANK CORPS MAIN HEADQUARTERS

GUN-CARRYING TANK TAKING UP A HOWITZER

A WHIPPET GOING IN

This phase did not last long, however, for the Company was soon sent
back to join its Battalion in the Salient, where they executed an astonishing
number of moves and were considerably shelled, but never succeeded in
getting into action.
After that they were hurried off to do intensive training for Cambrai.
Then came the battle, in the last three days of which a very much exhausted
2nd Driver Smith was wounded in the face by a bullet splash. The trouble
was not serious enough to get him to England, and on his return from an all
too brief stay in a Hospital in France, he again found himself at the Depot.
This time, after only a day in the Reception Company and after a medical
examination, he was posted for fourteen days to the Seaside Rest Camp at
Merlimont.
This Rest Camp consisted of rows and rows of rather pretty bungalows
built among the sand dunes. Here both men and officers were given a very
pleasant time, though they were still under military discipline and had a
certain number of parades to keep. For the officers there was a comfortable
club, and for the men an exceedingly well-run Y.M.C.A. hut, where there

were concerts or pierrot shows almost nightly—either home-grown or
imported.
Games and, in summer, swimming and bathing were great features.
There is no doubt, first, that the Camp was immensely popular, and,
secondly, that the Tank Corps owed a good deal of its cheerful spirit and
high moral to the refreshment which the Camp afforded to many a weary
body and mind.
After this fortnight by the sea Smith rejoined his Battalion, and was,
with the rest of the Tank world, plunged into winter training.

V

The general organisation of the 1917–18 training, though, of course, on
a much larger scale, was very much like that of the previous winter. New
training centres had been established and old centres extended.
But perhaps a chronicle of the numbers who passed through these
courses of instruction at Wailly, Le Tréport, Bermicourt and Merlimont, and
of the sequence in which the different Brigades took their turns at the
different areas, might prove less interesting than a brief account of what
was actually taught and of the sort of way a syllabus would be carried out.
In the official “Instructions for the Training of the Tank Corps in
France” these are the sort of general principles we find laid down:

“All work must be carried out at high pressure. Every exercise
and movement should, if possible, be reduced to a precise drill.
“Games will be organised as a definite part of training (see S.S.
137, ‘Recreational Training’).
“Order is best cultivated by carrying out all work on a fixed
plan. Order is the foundation of discipline. Small things like
marching men always at attention to and from work, making them
stand to attention before dismissing them, assist in cultivating
steadiness and discipline. Each day should commence with a careful
inspection of the billets and the men, or some similar formal parade.

Strict march discipline to and from the training grounds must be
insisted upon.
“It is an essential part of training for war that the men are taught
to care for themselves, so as to maintain their physical fitness. To
this end the necessity for taking the most scrupulous care of their
clothing, equipment and accoutrements will be explained to them.”

The following is the syllabus (slightly condensed) of a Maintenance
Course for Tank Commanders:

How to drive a Tank.
How to set a magneto.
When an engine is misfiring or overheating.
When an engine is knocking too badly to continue working or is
not pulling.
When carburation is bad.
When a Tank is at such an angle that it is dangerous to run the
engine.
The causes of engine failures and how to correct them.
How the autovac works.
The correct tension for fan belts.
When an engine bed is loose.
How much petrol, oil, grease, and water should be used during
average hour’s run.
When road chain sprocket wheels or pinions should be changed.
How long it takes to change a set of sprocket wheels and
pinions.
When a track or the Coventry driving chains are too slack.
When a clutch is too fierce, and how to correct it.

When a clutch is slipping, and how to adjust it.
When secondary gears are too much worn for further service,
and what is the effect of their not being fully in mesh.
How long it takes to change such gears.
When tracks or secondary gears are over or under lubricated.
When brakes are operative or not.
How long it takes to prepare a Tank for a day’s run.
How long it takes thoroughly to clean and adjust a Tank after a
day’s work.

How long it takes to detrain Tanks and adjust sponsons.
How the equipment of a Tank should be stowed.
The appliances which are necessary to dismantle various
sections of a Tank, and how it should be done.
That it is just as necessary for a Company Commander to
inspect Tanks daily as it is for a Cavalry Squadron Commander to
inspect his horses.

For an interesting “Immediate Action Course,” i.e., first aid to the
engine, the following directions are given to instructors:

“In order to inspire confidence at the outset, particular stress
should be laid upon the fact that in a Tank there are practically only
three causes of engine failure—Valves—Ignition—Petrol.
“If this is borne in mind, a very little experience in the simple
operations connected with these three functions, coupled with a
little training in diagnosis, will enable students to deal very easily
with troubles as they occur.
“Drivers should know by the ‘feel’ of their engine whether it is
firing correctly or not, and any member of a crew ought to be able to

detect and report at once any irregularity in the sound of an exhaust
from outside the machine.
“When the students have been through a course (using the
book) of what to do when:
“1. The Engine won’t start,
“2. Engine starts and stops after a few Revs,
“3. Irregular sound of exhaust—machine will not climb,
“4. Popping back of Carburettor,
“5. Overheating and knocking,
the Instructor is to set up faults for the students to remedy.”

He is given ideas for nearly fifteen ways of producing the symptom
“Engine won’t start.”

“It is suggested that the Instructor should insert a piece of paper
between the platinum points in the little magneto, or fit a faulty
contact breaker with a stiff rocker in the big magneto, or smear
segments and outside of the distributor with a little dirty oil; if he
desires to queer the plugs, he may insert one with its gap closed up
or bridged with dirt or with a cracked insulation. To produce
symptom No. 2, he may insert a punctured float in the Carburettor
or insert a piece of rag in the passage between the float chamber and
the jets, or block a cock under the Autovac. Or in order to produce
an irregular sound in the exhaust and to make the machine refuse to
climb, he may remove the roller and pin from one or more inlet
valves; or place two faulty plugs in the engine. To make the engine
overheat, he is to insert an extra link in the Radiator Fan Bolt, open
the Air Slide, or start a leak in one or more of the water outlet
elbows. He may make the engine tap and rattle by adjusting the
valves with abnormal clearances, and so on with the number of
other defects, which each student in turn is to be called upon to
diagnose and remedy.”

For the conduct of a “Refresher” Battle Practice Course the following
points are suggested for the guidance of instructors:

“The ammunition required for each man firing will be 20
rounds of shell, 5 rounds of case shot, and 250 rounds of S.A.A.
“Before beginning a Battle Practice, the following points must
be seen to:
“That each practice or scheme is of a practical nature, i.e., that
it should bring out certain lessons under as near battle conditions as
possible.
“All ports, etc., in the Tanks will be closed during the practice.
Targets should represent as nearly as possible those met with in
action. The practice must not be hurried and the Tank must never
contain more than the normal crew. Students should be allowed to
ride on the top of the Tanks, in order to observe the fire effect. In
this way, by observing the faults of others, they should be able to
avoid committing the same errors themselves, when their turn
comes to fire.
“Battle Practice exercises must be regarded by the Tank Crews
as what the Field firing practices are to the Infantry.
“Vizors and Gas-Masks must frequently be worn during a
Battle Practice Course.
“Before the Battle Practice begins, Crews and Gunners will
form up outside the Tanks and the scheme of attack will be
explained to them; also how it is intended to carry out the attack and
what are their objectives. All drivers and gunners must fully
understand the scheme of attack and what is expected of them; they
must be told to ask their Tank Commander to explain any point that
does not appear clear to them. Positions where Anti-Tank guns are
expected must be pointed out to them on a map, and other
information of this type may be given. This will add to the keenness
and interest of the men.
“Drivers must be reminded that the goodness or badness of the
shooting will probably depend upon their driving.

“The Gunnery Officer must see that the targets are sited
properly; he should always go over the Course in a Tank previous to
the practice to satisfy himself on these points.
“If flashes are to be used, or moving targets employed, he must
see that the fatigue men know their work, and the Gunnery Officer
should always give these fatigue men one rehearsal before a Battle
Practice Course, as it is most important for everything to go
smoothly on the day.
“N.C.O. Instructors must be told off, one to each gun in the
Tank which is firing, and their duty will be to see that points taught
in the elementary training are brought into play and that the
necessary safety precautions are adhered to.

“There will always be a conference at the end of each Battle
Practice exercise. All members of the crews, students, instructors,
etc., will attend. Constructive criticism and encouragement should
be the tone of the conference. Faults brought to light should be
carefully explained so that all can hear, learn and correct, in the
future. The Gunner is as anxious to learn and to improve his
shooting as is the Instructor to have a pupil who will do him credit.”

Very excellent courses were also arranged in the Reconnaissance
Schools. But almost the most interesting of the Reconnaissance Side’s
activities was the series of improvised courses—outdoor schemes, indoor
practices and lectures which they arranged during the weary time while the
Tank Corps “stood to quarters” through January, February and early March
1918.
The events of this time we propose to chronicle in the next chapter but
one.
There had by this time been many other Tank activities which we have
not at present chronicled at all. The French had trained and equipped a Tank
Corps. The Americans were busy with Tanks, and a Detachment of our own
Corps had fought in two engagements in Palestine.

Note to Chapter XI

Stories of the early days of Wool are related in the 6th Battalion
History.
When the first few consignments of Tanks were sent to the Camp at
Bovington from Wool Station the most elaborate precautions were taken to
secure the machines from the eyes of the profane.
The route was guarded by military policemen marshalled by A.P.M.’s.
All civilian traffic was stopped, and—as if the Tanks had been so many
Lady Godivas—all the blinds in the front rooms of the farms and cottages
which bordered the roads had to be drawn, and all the inhabitants were
relegated to the back rooms.
This ritual was observed every time a batch of Tanks arrived.
One farmer remarked that he was delighted to help keep the secret in
any manner that seemed good to the authorities, but he thought they might
like to know that a day or two before a Tank had broken down and that he
and his horses had helped to tow it into his yard, where it had remained for
forty-eight hours.

CHAPTER XII
THE FRENCH TANK CORPS—AMERICAN TANKS
AND BRITISH TANKS IN EGYPT
It is said that there is something in the Anglo-Saxon mind which has a
special affinity for committees.
“Enough,” said the logical Asiatic when the doctrine of the Trinity was
being explained to him by the English missionary, “I understand you
perfectly. It is a Committee of three.”
At least, there is no doubt that the British Tank sprang from
committees, and was matured and licked into shape entirely by a large
assortment of these excellent bodies.
So with the American Tank Corps. Three or four names are equally
illustrious in its early annals.
But with the French, one man, and one man only, stands out as the
Father and Mother of Tanks. He was the General Swinton, the Sir Albert
Stern, and the General Elles of the French Tanks. That is to say, he was first
the principal independent inventor, deriving his inspiration (in early 1915)
from Holt Tractors which he saw at work with the British. Then he was for
long the principal “propellant” of the Tank idea in official quarters, and was
the Commander-in-Chief’s delegate to the Ministry of Munitions in the
matter of Tanks. Finally, on September 30, 1916, he was gazetted
49
“Commandant de l’Artillerie d’Assaut aux Armées.”
So much did the personality of this remarkable man permeate and
vitalise the French Tank Corps that we offer no apology to the reader in
setting forth the following delightful miniature biography of General
Estienne by the hand of Major Robert Spencer, the British Liaison Officer
to the French Tank Corps:

“Jean Baptiste Eugène Estienne was born at Condé en Barrois
(Lorraine) on November 7, 1860. Owing to the trend of events
during the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71 his school, the Lycée of
Bar le Duc, was forced to shut, and it was whilst enjoying an
enforced holiday at the age of ten years at Condé with his parents
that his idea of embracing a military career was born. He was one
day an interested spectator of the passage of a column of Prussian
artillery through the paved streets of his native town, and was lost in
youthful admiration of this display of military power. He hastened
back to tell his parents of his decision one day to enter as a
conqueror into a town with his guns clattering behind him.
“From this hour he became wedded to an artillery-man’s life,
and in due course passed in and out of the famous École
Polytechnique, where his mathematical ability enjoyed full scope.
“In due course, too, he passed through the artillery school of
Fontainebleau, and in 1884 entered the garrison town of Vannes as a
Second Lieutenant.
“Promoted Captain in 1891, he completed his studies in the use
50
of the collimateur and became the apostle of the use of direct fire
for field artillery, which he eventually succeeded in introducing in
the French Army. In 1909 he was summoned to Vincennes with a
view to determining if any use could be made of aeroplanes in
conjunction with field artillery, and succeeded in establishing a part
for F.A. aircraft service. This, however, was transferred to the R.E.
and Lieut.-Colonel Estienne consequently asked to be returned to
regimental duty.
“In 1913 he was again summoned to Vincennes to continue his
research, and was here at the outbreak of war, when he obtained
command of the 22nd Regiment of Artillery. This he commanded in
Belgium and throughout the retreat from Charleroi to the Seine. He
had with him his two experimental aeroplanes, which rendered
invaluable service during the Battle of the Marne, where he served
under General Pétain.
“It was during the retreat that Colonel Estienne first spoke to
members of his Staff of the future which would attend a machine

capable of crossing ploughed fields and trenches, transporting arms
and men. With this thought in his mind he was wont to invite his
casual visitors and members of his Staff to assume all manner of
peculiar attitudes under tables, etc., with a view to determining how
many human beings could conveniently be crammed in a certain
cubic area.
“His last command before being selected to father the future
Chars d’Assaut was at Verdun, when he did not hesitate to employ a
barrage of his heavy guns to break up a threatening German attack.
“As a man he appears to enjoy perpetual youth. He is short of
stature, with no neck and a large round head. His hair is white,
plentiful and worn en brosse, and he appears to be clean-shaven, so
short is his clipped white moustache.
“Two things strike one immediately, the charm of his perennial
smile and the quick brilliance of his brown eyes.
“As a raconteur he is inimitable, whilst as a lecturer his
marvellous power of expression, his command of vocabulary and
his convincing use of simile make it possible for him to
communicate to his less erudite audiences a certain measure of his
vast knowledge. This is by no means confined to military subjects,
and his power of quotation from the classics is marked, whilst he
has at least once published a lengthy poem in a volume dealing with
the mathematics of gunnery.
“As an ardent philologist, he bristles all over at the sound of the
word ‘Tancque’ from French lips, and opens a violent crusade
against the use of foreign words as a substitute for good French
equivalents.
“His voice is loud and resonant and his speech accompanied by
frequent gestures, his favourite being the placing of his left hand flat
upon his chest as if he implies that his utterances emanate from his
heart.
“He possesses many characteristic attitudes, and when in
conversation is often to be seen tossing his képi from one side of his

head to the other. In fact it is scarcely ever to be seen except jauntily
tilted over one ear.
“His admiration for the cavalryman at the head of a triumphal
entry into a town is reduced to nothingness by his conviction that he
is useless in modern war. He would prefer to see a victorious
General enter a town on foot, escorted by a section of Chars
d’Assaut, as being more typical of the present-day battlefield.
“He is himself a great walker, and may frequently be seen
alone, wearing, as is his wont, a pair of pale blue spats or gaiters, a
relic of the Empire uniform, and in summer no socks.
“This latter habit was recommended to him by a friend, and its
adoption by him is typical of the man in that he is always prepared
to give careful thought and personal trial to any scheme laid before
him.
“To this quality, added to his immense personal charm and vast
experience, is due his undoubted right to rank amongst the big men
of this war, a successful issue to which has ever been the dream of
his life.”

On December 1, 1915, Colonel Estienne wrote an official letter to the
Commander-in-Chief of the French Armies in which he outlined the idea of
a new engine of war exactly as Colonel Swinton had done earlier in the year
to our own War Office. A few days later he was given an interview at
French General Headquarters, when he was able to enlarge upon his
theories as to the new arm. Here he must, one conjectures, have received
some encouragement, for about a week afterwards he visited the Schneider
Engineering Works in Paris and discussed mechanical details with the
management.
But the good seed which Colonel Estienne had sown at Headquarters
would, he knew, take some time to germinate. He returned to his command,
now the artillery of the 3rd Corps, at that time before Verdun. All the while
he kept unofficially in touch with the Schneider Works.
At last, about February 25, 1916, he learned that the Under-Secretary’s
Department for Artillery had decided to place an order for 400 armoured

vehicles with Schneider’s.
But about two months later, at the end of April, he heard a more
surprising piece of news.
The Under-Secretary’s Department had, without the approval of the
Commander-in-Chief or any notice to him, Estienne, placed an order for a
further 400 vehicles of a different and heavier type, driven by a petrol-
electric motor.
Curious as was their parentage, these 400 machines were actually made
and were known as the St. Chamond Tanks. It is said to have been upon
stolen drawings of this type that the Germans afterwards based their still
heavier, “Hagens” and “Schultzes.”
In the course of the summer, the new French Ministry of Munitions
formed an experimental and instructional area at Marly-le-Roi, and in the
early autumn, Colonel Estienne was gazetted to the command of the French
Tanks, and, as we have said, to be delegate, as far as this arm was
concerned, from the Commander-in-Chief to the Ministry of Munitions.
Like the British, the French were beginning to need a name for their
new engine of war.
But more logical than we, instead of an absurd, if pleasant, nickname,
they chose “Artillerie d’Assaut,” which they contracted into the letters
“A.S.,” as being more agreeable to the ear than “A.A.”
Apparently Colonel Estienne had no preliminary inkling of what our
activities had been in the “Land Cruiser” direction.
It is interesting to conjecture how eagerly he must have read of what
was happening on the Somme during the fortnight before he was finally
gazetted to his new post. His “heart” must, indeed, have been “at our
festival” when the British Tanks were everywhere acclaimed by the public,
and when even the most conservative soldiers had to admit that the new
weapon had at least earned a right to further trial.
In October 1916 a training centre for personnel was established at
Champlieu, on the southern edge of the Forest of Compiègne, and here in
December the first lot of sixteen Schneider Tanks were delivered, other
batches both of Schneiders and St. Chamonds following them during the

succeeding months, until, in April 1917, nine Schneider Companies and one
St. Chamond Company and their crews were ready for action.
On April 16, 1917, French Tanks took part in their first battle, fighting
with the 5th French Army in the attempted penetration of the Chemin des
Dames.
Of the eight Schneider Companies employed, five succeeded in
reaching their third and final objectives, but owing to lack of previous
training with the infantry, the attack as a whole was not very successful, and
the Tanks, though they played an exceedingly gallant part, suffered
severely.
A week or two later, one St. Chamond and two Schneider Companies
took part in a hurriedly prepared operation with the 6th Army.
The Schneiders did extremely well, but of sixteen St. Chamond
machines, only one managed to cross the German trenches. All through the
summer months, the 6th French Army was preparing another attack on the
west of the Chemin des Dames, and for this battle, warned by their previous
experiences, infantry and Tanks trained diligently together, special
detachments known as troupes d’accompagnement being taught how to
help the Tanks over trenches.
But the agile mind of Colonel Estienne was not content. He had had
another idea. This time his mind had worked at the idea of the armoured
attacking force from a slightly different standpoint.
He envisaged waves of armoured skirmishers attacking in open order,
each man possessing besides his armour a quick-firing weapon with which
he could shoot as he advanced.
Now, armour which will protect from machine-gun and rifle fire is too
heavy for human legs. The armour must be independently propelled. More,
if its occupant is to fire as he advances, it must carry him as well as itself.
This postulates an engine, and if there is an engine, there must be a second
man to look after it. This set of propositions he laid before the Rénault firm
in July 1916, and the design of the famous Rénault Tank was evolved.
But the Ministry would have none of it.

However, the designs were worked out in greater detail, and at the end
of November 1916 Colonel Estienne proposed to the Commander-in-Chief
that a number of such machines should be constructed. A few, he explained,
had already been ordered to act as “Command” Tanks for the heavy
Battalions. The Commander-in-Chief consented to a trial.
This, however, was not held until March 1917, and when it had been
held, the Ministry were still not convinced.
Therefore, still further demonstrations were arranged in May, when at
last they ceased to doubt, and finally, in June 1917, ordered 3500 of the new
machines.
In October the five Companies of heavy Tanks, which had been in
training all summer, were launched when the 6th Army delivered its blow at
Malmaison.
As before, the Schneider Companies were successful, and again the St.
Chamond Tanks were nearly all unable so much as to get into action.
Still, at the end of October the general verdict was that the French
heavies had justified themselves, though many soldiers of the old school
still doubted their utility.
But in November the British Tanks fought the Battle of Cambrai, and
all doubts were finally dispelled from the French mind.
It is to be imagined that Colonel Estienne did not fail to rub in the facts
proved by that engagement.
They were facts which it was impossible to deny or to overlook. The
Ministry removed its hold from the brakes, and from that moment life
behind the scenes of the French Tank Corps became happy. It was decided
to form thirty light Tank Battalions, each Battalion to consist of seventy-
five machines, and the firms of Schneider, Rénault and Berliet were all set
to work upon their manufacture, while over a thousand machines were
ordered in America.
All the winter of 1917–18, the French Tank Corps, like the British,
continued to train and to organise.
For the future of the French Tanks was to be a brilliant one.

Those matchless givers of “unsolicited testimonials,” the German
General Staff, attributed the great victories which the late summer of 1918
brought to the French arms, chiefly to the employment of “masses of
Tanks.”
Naturally the annals of the French Tank Corps are full of stories of
individual deeds of gallantry.

Chevrel, R. C., Brigadier, 505th Regt., Chars Légers.

“In the course of an attack he refused to abandon his Tank,
which remained isolated in the German lines. Protected by his
turret, he ceaselessly opened machine-gun fire on the surrounding
enemy, and shot down with his revolver those who succeeded in
approaching the Tank and who called upon him to surrender. For
thirty-six hours he never slackened. Finally rescued by our
advancing troops, he immediately undertook the unditching of his
Tank and volunteered to support the further advance of the infantry,
and then brought his Tank to the rallying point.
Médaille militaire and Croix de Guerre with Palm.”—Official
Gazette, dated October 26, 1918.

Cellier, Pierre, Brigadier in 35th Co., 11th Heavy Battery.

“This soldier, on July 18, when his Tank had been hit by a shell,
placed himself at the head of fifteen American soldiers and stalked a
position whence the Germans were using many machine-guns to
resist the attack. These he engaged with an automatic rifle and
forced the Germans to surrender after an hour’s struggle. This act
resulted in the capture of fifteen officers, including one Colonel,
guns and numerous machine-guns.
Chevalier de la Légion d’Honneur and Croix de Guerre with
Palm.”—Official Gazette.

Dr. Gilles, Raoul Jules Gustave, Cte. in the 506th Regt., Chars
Légers.

“Although blinded by wounds, brought his Tank back into
French lines guided (by signals tapped on his shoulders) by the Tank
Commander Maréchal de logis Joseph, who was himself wounded
in the stomach.
Médaille militaire and Croix de Guerre with Palm.”—Official
Gazette, No. 2127 “D,” July 26, 1918.

Colonel Estienne was promoted to the rank of General of Division and
received the Cravat de la Légion d’Honneur, and the Commander-in-Chief
of the French Armies issued the following special Order of the Day to the
French Tank Corps:
“Vous avez bien mérite (de) la Patrie.”

American Tanks

By the time the United States of America declared War (April 1917) the
value of Tanks had already been demonstrated in battle by the British in the
Somme Offensive, and by the end of October 1916 the French were already
training with their first machines. It is not, therefore, surprising that the
Americans, with their great experience of Tractors (it was, the reader will
remember, an American Tractor that was the chief ingredient in the make-
up of the Mark I.) had a strong desire to include this new arm in their
Expeditionary Force.
Colonel Rockenbach, who was later to command the American Tank
Corps in the field, was detailed to initiate preliminaries. He arrived in
France in June 1917, and followed General Pershing to Chaumont, the
United States General Headquarters, where he immediately occupied
himself with the future organisation of the Corps.
By September 23, 1917, the provisional American Tank Corps
establishment had been approved. It was to be of a size to match the
original Expeditionary Force, which was to be limited to twenty Divisions
and ten replacement Divisions—that is to say, to one Army. The American
Tank Corps in France was to consist of five Heavy and twenty Light
Battalions, with the usual complement of Headquarters Units, Depot

Companies, instructors and Workshops; and, in the United States, a
Training Centre, accommodating two Heavy and two Light Battalions, was
to be maintained. When the American Expeditionary Force was increased to
three Armies, a new Tank Establishment was authorised to match it. There
were to be five Brigades per Army. These Brigades were to consist of one
Heavy and two Light Battalions. The Light Tanks were to be of the French
Rénault type, and the Heavy were to be of the British pattern. The first
Tanks with which the Americans were equipped were, in fact, actually of
French or British manufacture, but as soon as an establishment was
sanctioned, Tank manufacture was pushed forward in America, and by the
time the Armistice was signed, there were several thousand American-made
machines ready for shipment.
So keen on the Tanks were Americans, that private enterprise was not
idle, and early in October 1918 a three-and-a-half-ton Ford Tank arrived in
France. This tank, indeed, had the honour to be the first American-made
Tank to appear in France. But though it was extremely agile and handy, its
designers had not quite succeeded in producing a genuine fighting machine.
It could, however, be turned out quickly and in great quantities, and in spite
of its defects, it was thought in America that it would be worth while to
continue its construction, and tradition has it that no less than 10,000 of
these little Ford Tanks were ordered.
In the autumn of 1917, a number of American officers who were later
on to have charge of the organising and training of the new Tank Corps
were sent on visits to the British and French Brigades, to learn as much as
they could, both from the mistakes and successes of the two older Corps.
By February 1918, there were a large number of volunteers for the
American Tank Corps, some in England at Wool, who were to form the
American Heavy Section, and others (about 500) at Burg in France, where a
Training Centre was being formed for instruction in the Light French
Rénault machines. At Burg were ten French Tanks which were used for
training purposes, and in the course of the summer, as the personnel to be
trained increased, this number was added to, and at the end of August 124
Rénault Tanks were delivered to the Training Centre for impending
operations.
Two Light Battalions were formed into a Brigade under Colonel G. S.
Patton, Junr., and they proceeded to the St. Mihiel Salient. Here they went

into action with the First American Army on September 12, the first
occasion on which United States Forces fought independently.
But, alas, it was our First Battle of the Somme over again! Nobody
quite understood the habits of the new beasts, and unfortunately both
Battalions were called upon to trek over twenty kilometres to their lying-up
places from the railhead, and, the ground in the back area being very
difficult, they did not succeed in catching up the infantry at all on the first
day. The enemy resistance was, however, very feeble, as they had already
decided to give up the Salient, but misfortune still dogged the unhappy
Tanks. They had run out of petrol, and no supplies being immediately
available, they were not able to get into action on the second day.
On the third day, however, they did get into the fight, but by this time
the enemy had been thoroughly demoralised by the American infantry, and
there was little more for them to do than to receive the surrender of a
number of prisoners. The two Battalions suffered hardly at all in casualties
and were withdrawn practically intact.
The American Light Tanks next appeared at the beginning of October
in the Argonne, in operations where they fought side by side with French
Tank Units. This time the two Battalions had much better luck, and though
they must have been a good deal handicapped by the fact that they and the
infantry with whom they were to co-operate had had no opportunity of
training together, the Tanks rendered good service. All the machines were
launched on the first day, although in the original plan of the battle, it had
been proposed to hold back a reserve for the second day; but the infantry
had been held up, and the reserve Tanks had, instead, to go to the rescue in
the afternoon of the first day. From this time to October 13 these two
Battalions were continuously at the disposal of the infantry. But, as with us
in the early days, the infantry do not seem to have had a very clear idea of
the uses and limitations of the Tanks, and the Battalions were frequently
called upon to traverse many weary miles—much to the detriment of their
machines—without finally being ordered into action. On one or two
occasions they were used for independent reconnaissance and for
unsupported assaults upon positions which the infantry had failed to
capture. By the middle of October the long distance covered and losses in
battle had caused the numbers of the two Battalions to dwindle exceedingly,

and they were formed into a provisional Company, which accompanied the
advance of the American Forces right up to the Armistice.
A Third Light Battalion had also been mobilised and supplied by the
French with seventy-two Tanks. Recruiting, too, had been continued and
there were no less than 7000 officers and men awaiting admission to the
Corps at Burg alone.
Meanwhile, on August 24, 1918, the 301st U. S. Heavy Battalion had
left Wool for France, and was almost immediately sent to the forward area,
where it was attached to begin with to the 1st and later to the 4th and 2nd
British Tank Brigades. With the 4th Brigade and still later with the 2nd
Tank Brigade the 301st was, as we shall see in Chapters XX and XXI,
destined to take part in several successful actions.
The 301st had based its methods of training almost entirely upon
British lines, and though the American Tank Corps would undoubtedly have
struck out improvements and methods of its own had the war gone on, the
301st, being throughout its active service brigaded with British Tanks, very
wisely adopted a battle organisation practically uniform with the British.
Only in minor details did their habits vary. Their reconnaissance procedure,
for instance, was almost exactly like ours, except for one improvement.
Special Reconnaissance N.C.O.’s relieved Reconnaissance Officers, Tank
Commanders and Section Commanders from the work of guiding the
machines on approach marches. From the tankodromes to the lining-up
points the Tanks were in charge of these N.C.O.’s, who were directly under
the orders of the Battalion Reconnaissance Officer. This system worked out
extremely well.
In later chapters we shall see how worthy a representative both of the
arms of the United States and of the best traditions of the British Tank
Corps the 301st Battalion proved themselves in the supreme test of battle.
In February 1919, to the regret of their British colleagues, the men of
the 301st sailed for America, when General Elles expressed the sentiments
of all ranks of his Corps in a special order.

“February 15, 1919.

“1. On the departure of the 301st American Tank Battalion, I
wish to place on record my appreciation of the services it has
rendered.
2. The Battalion has practically formed part of the British Tank
Corps since April 1918, and while fully maintaining its national
identity, has co-operated with British troops and adapted itself to
British methods with a spirit that deserves fullest recognition.
3. In the field the 301st Battalion, after experiencing heavy
casualties in its first engagement at Bony, which might have
deterred less determined troops, volunteered for the next action, in
which, as in subsequent ones, it inflicted heavy casualties upon the
enemy at Brancourt, the Selle and Catillon.
4. I feel I am voicing the opinion of all commanders and troops
who have been associated with them, in expressing sincere regret at
the departure of our American comrades and in wishing them all
good fortune in the future.
(Signed) H. J. Elles,
Major-General,
Commanding Tank Corps in the Field.”

Tanks in Palestine
The Second and Third Battles of Gaza, April and November

1917

“Gaza yet stands, but all her sons are fallen,
All in a moment overwhelmed and fallen.”
Samson Agonistes.

The Tanks that had fought in the Battle of the Somme, in the autumn of
1916, had proved successful enough for the authorities to consider that a
test ought to be made of their capabilities in some other theatre of war.
Accordingly a small—a very small—detachment of Tanks was sent to
“assist our troops in the Sinai Peninsula.”
Unfortunately only eight Tanks were ultimately sent, and
51
further, “through an unfortunate error, old experimental machines were
sent out instead of new ones as intended.”
The experiment was thus upon so extremely miniature a scale that it
cannot be said to have proved anything save what was already clear, that is,
the general proposition that with a few mechanical modifications Tanks are
perfectly suitable to desert warfare.
The Tanks were, of course, too few to exert any influence upon the
fortunes of war in Palestine, and the two actions in which they fought amid
palms and cactuses and lay up in groves of fig trees, form a curious, rather
than an important, little incident in their history.
The field on which they fought was like the plain of Flanders, one of
those ominous lands which seem predestined for ever to witness the strife
of men.

52
“The land from the Wadi el Arish—the ancient ‘River of
Egypt’—to the Philistian plain had for twenty-six hundred years
been a cockpit of war. Sometimes a conqueror from the north like
Nebuchadnezzar, Napoleon and Mehemet Ali, or from the south like
Ali Bey, met the enemy in Egypt or Syria, but more often the
decisive fight was fought in the gates. Ascalon, Gaza, Rafa, El
Arish, are all names famous in history. Up and down the strip of
seaward levels marched the great armies of Egypt and Assyria,
while the Jews looked fearfully on from their barren hills.... In this
gate of ancient feuds it had now fallen to Turkey’s lot to speak with
her enemy.”

In December 1916 a little company of 22 officers and 226 other ranks,
under Major Nutt, embarked with their eight Tanks at Devonport and

Avonmouth and landed in Egypt in January.
The first business was to show the Staffs of the various fighting units,
with whom they were to co-operate, exactly what Tanks could and could
not do.
Demonstrations were therefore given among the sand dunes near
Kilban, a village which lies between Port Said and El Kantara on the Suez
Canal.
53
One day in February—the exact date seems uncertain —the
detachment received orders to entrain immediately for the fighting zone,
and within three hours of receiving the message, the whole little force with
its Tanks and accessories was travelling towards the forward area. A delay
occurred half-way, at El Arish, which had only recently been captured, but
next morning the Tank Train arrived at its destination, Khan Yunus, an old
Crusaders’ stronghold, surrounded by fig groves and lying inland about
fifteen miles south-west of Gaza.
Here the detachment remained for about ten days.
During these ten days the First Battle of Gaza had come to an end.
Gaza had not been captured, as, though we had fought in its streets, we
had just not been able to keep up the attack long enough to keep what we
had gained owing to lack of water.
In his despatch, General Murray, the Commander-in-Chief of the
Egyptian Expeditionary Force, characterised it as a most successful
operation which only the waterless nature of the country had prevented
from being “a complete disaster to the enemy.”
We had been obliged to withdraw again to our water supplies, but we
immediately began to prepare a second attack in greater force.
This time great cisterns were set up forward, and filled with rail-borne
water. Three weeks of careful preparation were allowed for what was to
prove one of the most hotly contested actions fought in the Eastern theatre.
We were to attack a Turkish force of about 30,000 men which lay upon
a front of some sixteen miles, between Gaza on the north and Hereira and
Sheria to the south-east.

Two ridges, Sheikh Abbas and Mansura, run almost at right angles to
the coast and command the town of Gaza from the south, and the capture of
these heights was allotted to the 52nd, 53rd, and 54th Divisions.
On their left flank was the sea, and their right, on the Hereira front, was
protected by the Desert Column, consisting of cavalry units and of the
Imperial Camel Corps which was manned by Australian, New Zealand, and
British personnel.
The eight Tanks were to be widely spaced along the crucial five miles
of attack. The 53rd Division nearest to the sea was to have two Tanks,
which were to be held in reserve until the infantry had taken their first
objective. Next to them the 52nd Division was to have four Tanks, which
were to support the infantry in the attack on the Mansura Ridge. With the
54th Division, two Tanks were to support the attack on the Sheikh Abbas
Ridge. The battle was to be in two phases; the Turkish outer defences were
to be taken in the first phase, and in the second his inner ring was to be
broken through and Gaza itself taken.
It was a country of sand dunes, deep nullahs, and criss-cross ridges, a
labyrinth admirably adapted to defence and containing endless natural
machine-gun positions. Between Gaza and the sea the enemy had built a
54
double line of trenches and redoubts “strongly held by infantry and
machine-guns well placed and concealed in impenetrable cactus hedges
built on high mud banks and enclosing orchards and gardens on the
outskirts of the town.”
The Tank Detachment had been able to do little or no reconnaissance;
routes had been arranged to the starting-places, and petrol and ammunition
dumps had been formed in convenient places, but no forward preparations
had been possible.
All eight Tanks reached their assembly places before daybreak on April
17, and at zero hour, the dawn of what promised to be a day of scorching
heat, the first phase of the attack was successfully launched.
The advance of the 53rd and 52nd Divisions came as a complete
surprise to the Turks, and the six Tanks did not come into action at all on
the first day, as the enemy fled from his trenches and strongholds in
complete confusion, and the slow Mark I.’s and Mark II.’s had no chance of

getting in at him. The outer defence line had fallen by seven that morning.
The two Tanks, however, on the 54th Division’s front saw a good deal of
fighting. One received a direct hit and was destroyed, but the other did
admirable work in clearing the enemy out of his trenches, north-west of the
Abbas Ridge. The Tank inflicted heavy casualties, and our infantry had only
to come up and occupy the defences which the Turks had abandoned.
By the evening the three attacking Divisions found themselves in
satisfactory positions on high ground, and proceeded to entrench
themselves and to prepare for the second phase.
On the morning of April 19 we again attacked, this time upon a wider
front, a French man-of-war and two British monitors supporting on the left,
and the Australians on the right. The three original Divisions were,
however, once more to deliver the main blow.
A very stiff programme was outlined for the seven surviving Tanks.
The four with the 52nd in the centre had finally four lines of defence to
attack, and their orders were changed during the night before the action.
With the 53rd Division two Tanks were to work separately, each having
a succession of objectives, while with the 54th the single Tank had only one
redoubt allotted to it.
This time the Turks were ready for us.
One of the Tanks with the 53rd Division, the “Tiger,” led the infantry
advance on its sector. The enemy was quickly driven from our first
objective, Samson Ridge. The Tank went on to the second objective, the El
Arish redoubt, but the infantry being unable to follow, after being in action
for six hours and having fired 27,000 rounds from its machine-guns, the
Tank withdrew, all its crew being wounded.
On the front of the 52nd Division, our advance was hotly contested.
The Turks had massed hundreds of machine-guns along their entire
front, but on this sector their fire was particularly intense. One tank was
able to do good service at Outpost Hill, which it helped to clear before
receiving a direct hit.
Of the other three Tanks, one fell into a gully, the sides of which
unexpectedly crumbled under its weight; another was put out of action by a

direct hit, while the third eventually rallied.
The objective of the Tank fighting with the 54th Division was a
particularly strong redoubt. The work was held in force, but the garrison
soon surrendered on the advance of the Tank. Our infantry immediately
took over the position, which the Turks forthwith proceeded to shell.
It was not long before the Tank was hit and one of its tracks broken,
and the Turks, counter-attacking, eventually captured Tank, infantry and
redoubt.
By nightfall our position all along the line was unfavourable. The left
of the 54th Division was more or less in the air. We had, in several parts of
the line, been forced off the lately won main ridges. We had lost 7000 men,
and our troops were worn out by the dust and heat, and were once more
short of water. The battle had to be admitted as a failure. The Tanks had
been too few and of too old a type for the work they had been given.
Their co-operation was, however, much appreciated, and they were
considered to have given a good deal of protection to the infantry.
It is interesting to note that by the time the battle was over these
antiquated machines are said, on an average, each to have covered forty
miles of country.

The Third Battle of Gaza

The Second Battle of Gaza had been so completely unsuccessful that
the troops who had been engaged in it had to be withdrawn from their
advanced positions.
The Tanks were concentrated in a fig grove to the rear. Here, no work
being found for them, they stayed till October, being reinforced by three
Mark IV. machines.
General Allenby had now succeeded to the command, and there was to
be another attack upon Gaza, for the town and its defences effectually
barred our further advance along the coast or towards Jerusalem.
We were this time to operate upon a still wider front. The usual shock
troops, the same three Divisions and their eight Tanks, were to attack

nearest the coast.
Next to them, a mixed force of French, Italian and West Indian troops
were to make feint raids near Outpost Hill.
Opposite Gaza itself several cavalry Divisions, mounted and
dismounted, were to attack, and from Hereira to Beersheba a synchronised
assault was to be made by the Australians. The position was, in fact, to be
turned by an extensive flanking movement.
On October 23, 1917, the Tanks moved up to a new station on the
beach.
From here, on horseback and by boat, the new area was thoroughly
reconnoitred. This was the special country of cactus hedge and strong mud
bank, and in it had been dug a veritable labyrinth of trenches. It had been a
country of small fig groves and of little irrigated gardens, and its close
boundaries afforded unending cover to the enemy. However, it was divided
into Tank sectors, and by dint of patient toil, the Tank Commanders at last
formed a more or less coherent picture of the intricacies. Tank Officers and
N.C.O.’s were attached to each Brigade with which they were to work, for
ten days before the battle.
Most of the Tanks were detailed to bring up R.E. stores, such as wire,
pickets, shovels and sandbags for their infantry. These things they were to
carry on their roofs.
The first phase of the attack, timed in consideration of a full moon for
an hour before midnight, was to be independent of Tanks, and was to
consist of an infantry attack protected by a creeping barrage. While this
attack was going on, six of the Tanks were to move to their starting-points,
in order to be ready to advance at 3 a.m. Two Tanks were held in reserve. It
will be observed that the plans, preparations and liaison were in general
much more complete than for the Second Battle of Gaza, but unfortunately
one mistake of that battle was repeated.
The six first-line Tanks were given among them no less than twenty-
nine objectives to attack.
At eleven o’clock on the night of November 1–2, the first phase of the
battle began.

The 156th Infantry Brigade attacked Umbrella Hill, the first objective.
The Turks were taken completely by surprise, there was little resistance,
and even their artillery seemed too startled to fire.
Unfortunately, however, the smoke of the battle and a dense haze made
so thick an atmosphere that not a ray of the expected moonlight reached the
combatants, and the infantry had to fight and the Tanks to manage their
approach march in profound darkness.
Also, when the enemy’s artillery at last woke up, it was to open a heavy
fire on our back areas, where the second wave was gathering. All the Tanks,
however, came safely through and were at their stations half an hour before
the second zero at 3 a.m.
The Turkish resistance had by now stiffened, and when the Tanks and
the fresh infantry advanced behind a heavy barrage it was to meet with
dogged opposition.
The two Tanks detailed to the El Arish redoubt were, after a stiff fight,
successful in driving the enemy out of the enclosed stronghold, and were
making their way through the maze of trenches, cactus hedges and gardens
beyond, when one received a direct hit and the other got ditched in the
darkness. Both crews at once joined the infantry. Slowly, scrambling up the
mud banks, often fighting hand to hand in the darkness, we advanced. The
Turks were fighting stubbornly, but inch by inch we pushed them back. The
remaining Tanks lumbered slowly on.
At last all along the coast all the objectives were taken. No. 6 Tank
captured Sea Post, and, followed by the infantry, moved along the enemy’s
trenches, crushing down the wire as far as Beach Post. It successively
attacked three other strong points and deposited its R.E. stores at the
appointed place. It was again moving forward to attack a certain isolated
Turkish trench when one track broke, so ending a brilliant innings. The
crew went on, but the Tank had to be temporarily abandoned.
The two reserve Tanks both caught fire through the empty sandbags
with which their roofs were loaded being set ablaze by the heat of their
exhaust pipes.
The coastal attack had done its work, and the Turks’ hold upon Gaza
had been loosened.

The other attackers, the troops who had advanced from Beersheba,
broke through the enemy’s resistance completely, and drove them back for
nine miles on an eight-mile front.
The battle was decisive, and after about three days’ fighting our troops
at last entered Gaza. Our persistency in attack was well rewarded. The
Spectator, commenting on the battle, said, “Samson took away the gates of
Gaza, but General Allenby has secured the gates of Palestine.”
On the whole the Tanks had been a success.
All machines except one reached their first objectives; four reached
their second, third, and fourth, and one Tank reached its fifth.
All five damaged machines were afterwards salved.
This was the last Tank action fought with the Army of Palestine, for, for
some reason or other, the repaired and renovated Tanks were never used
again.
Later, however, during the Turkish retreat, we had great trouble in
rounding up the tattered and wandering Turkish rearguard.
We felt the need of some sort of sheep-dog, so a mission was sent to
France to ask for a number of Whippet Tanks.
By an ironical chance, this mission reached Tank Headquarters in
France on March 21, the very day the German offensive was launched. It
need not be added that no Whippets were sent.
There seemed no work left for the heavies, and the Tank Detachment,
therefore, handed over their machines to the Ordnance Department at
Alexandria, and returned to England.

CHAPTER XIII
SUSPENSE—THE “SAVAGE RABBITS” EPISODE—
THE ENEMY’S INTENTIONS
The story of the Tank Corps from the beginning of February to nearly
the end of March 1918 is one of waiting and expectancy, of strategic moves
to unexpected places, of diligent rehearsal for first nights upon which the
curtain never rose, of endless preparations for events which never
happened.
And through all the moves, in all the odd billets, or in the open fields,
when—in hourly expectation of the German attack—Tanks and their crews
lay ready under the hedges, run the Tank Corps’ Pinkerton-like efforts at
self-improvement, its determination to finish its winter training.
From before the middle of January we had been perfectly aware that
the enemy meant to strike and to strike hard. He held a wasting security. We
were waxing and he was waning. He was still our superior, still had more
men available, but by Midsummer he knew that the Allies would outnumber
him.
He had troubles, we knew, at home too, troubles for which the only
salve was victory.
We had besides long known that before the war ended, whenever and
however that end might come, we must expect a last desperate struggle. It
would be the last spring of the wounded beast in which he might still find
our throats, the last staggering blast of the hurricane by which the ship
might still be confounded and overwhelmed.
Every sign spoke of the coming storm, but none told from which
quarter we must expect it. The Germans were concentrating in such a way
—at the base of the great salient formed by their line—that they could plant
their blow wherever it might at the last moment seem good to them.

For better or worse, it was decided that our available forces were to be
impartially distributed all along the line. Not that we had very much choice,
as with our limited resources a concentration at any one strategic point must
imply virtual gaps in our defence elsewhere.
For we had in January taken over an additional forty miles of line, and
the men for whom the High Command in France had so frequently pleaded
had not been sent out to them.
We were in for a lean three months, and to hold the extended line was
as much as we could hope to accomplish.
The British and French Spring Campaign must be a defensive one.
There was no longer a Russian front, and till the Americans were ready—
which could not be till Midsummer at earliest—the Germans would have a
numerical preponderance of nearly a quarter of a million men. Besides this,
their position on interior lines and their superior lateral railway
communications could at any moment give them an overwhelming local
superiority.
However, we had faced worse odds before. We could form a strong line
and cunning schemes of defence against which the enemy would hammer in
vain. Our first defence was a deep forward zone. It consisted first of an
outpost line and second of a “line of resistance.”
The line of resistance was extremely carefully laid out. About every
mile redoubts of special strength were so arranged that on this sector an
attack would be entrapped into our wire and held exposed to a cross-fire
from our machine-guns.
The line was, in fact, to offer “patches” of resistance, and so break up
the ordered advance of the enemy, who was to arrive at the next line, the
“battle zone,” weakened and disorganised.
Here the main fight was to take place, and upon this zone we lavished
all our skill and industry, and, having faith, we prepared no serious
positions in rear of it.
The Tanks were spaced out all along a sixty-mile front.
Near Lens in the 1st Army area was the 1st Tank Brigade.

The 2nd Brigade was in 3rd Army Reserve at Haplincourt, near
Bapaume.
The 3rd Brigade—which was in process of being equipped with
Whippet Tanks—was also in 3rd Army Reserve.
The 4th Brigade was attached to the 5th Army and established itself in
camps near Péronne.
The 5th Brigade was in process of forming, and therefore had no
definite task allotted to it, though, as we shall see, the 13th (its nucleus)
Battalion actually saw a considerable amount of fighting.
Each Tank Brigade got out a defence scheme in conjunction with the
Army to which it was attached. As a rule the Tanks—which had been
moved up as secretly as possible—were to lie in ambush till the last
moment, and then, emerging—as General Elles described it—“like Savage
Rabbits from their holes,” were to fall upon the Germans in flank or rear.
His phrase struck the fancy of the Tank Corps, and the whole of this
period is frequently referred to tout court as “Savage Rabbits,” somewhat to
the bewilderment of the uninitiated.

II

Their schemes prepared, their Tanks in position, after an exhaustive
reconnaissance, the Tank Corps waited, a process which all troops find both
tedious and demoralising, unless some really profitable means can be found
of employing their time.
For the Tank Corps the need of the moment was further training.
Several of the Battalions had been dragged untimely from half-finished
courses, several were almost fresh from Wool, and had still most of their
tactical training to do. Everywhere there were units and individuals who
had lost “school attendances” to make up.
The great difficulty was that Battalions and even Companies were so
spread out and scattered that it was almost impossible to collect the students
for instruction.

The regular curriculums were out of the question, so the directors of
Tank training immediately set to work to evolve new courses that would fit
the altered circumstances.
In some ways the Reconnaissance Side fared best.
Their chief instructional material—the actual country to be fought over
—was there for their students to study, and even when the pupils were so
scattered that a sufficient audience could not be collected for a formal
lecture, many ingenious little practical schemes could be carried out and
written work could always be done.
They had a fairly definite standard to aim at. Had the battalions
remained in the training areas, every officer and man would have been put
through a five days’ course in Reconnaissance. Under normal conditions
such courses were arranged more or less as follows:

On the first day, the students heard an introductory lecture,
practised chalk layering, heard a short discourse on map reading,
did a practical comparison of map and country upon which they had
to answer questions.
On the second day, visualising country from a map was taught,
and practice indoors was gone through with a model. In the
afternoon panorama sketching was practised, a short lecture heard,
some visualising was done and the characterisation of landmarks
was practised, the day being finished up by night guiding.
On the third morning, close observation of a certain sector,
involving sketches and notes, was undertaken, and visibility
practices carried out. Later, the students were taken for an
“observation march,” and having described the features of the
country they had traversed, they had to write a report upon the new
sector which they had observed in the morning, and upon this report
they were later questioned.
On the fourth day, a new sector was visited, upon which they
had previously made notes from a map. These notes they had to
compare with reality, and to notice whether their imagination had
been faulty. A lecture on obstacles commonly found on approach

marches followed, and one on aerial photographs with practical
work. Night work followed, with special reference to the study of
the stars.
On the fifth day, oblique and other aerial photographs were
compared with the actual ground, and a lecture was delivered
summing up the special points of the course.

Sometimes, however, during the “Savage Rabbit” period, lectures were
possible, and for these occasions a rather new type of discourse was
evolved, in which the broader aspects of Reconnaissance and of the study of
country were dealt with.
Local history was recalled:—how men had lived and fought in the
villages and cornfields that lay immediately about them; how that great
abbey church that stood alone was erected by a group of pious merchants as
a thankoffering for their town’s escape from the plague; how to this little
town the Revolution had brought a Committee of Public Safety, and how it
had held its red assize in the coffee-room of the Hôtel de l’Europe, or how
Bonaparte had lain at this or that château on his way to the Camp at
Boulogne.
Or again, the lecture might be more strictly military and concern the
place of Reconnaissance amongst the arts of war, and the action and
reaction of one arm of the Service upon another—the ever-present trilogy of
wire, trench and machine-gun, new theories of artillery work, the latest
fashions in tactics or the effects of the latest poison-gas.
Then, where some isolated Tank Company or even section lay ready
day and night by its machines and lectures were impossible, an itinerant
instructor would set the exiles little schemes to carry out.
The two following exercises are typical:—

“Two small parties of officers go at different times to positions
from which a good view is obtainable. They pick out landmarks,
etc., and their peculiarities, taking notes or making sketches. From
these notes or sketches each party writes out three or four questions
on landmarks, general observation, routes taken, etc. On their return

the two parties exchange their questions, answers are written, and
these answers returned to the writers of the questioners to correct.
“Catch questions, such as ‘How many windows had such and
such a house?’ will, of course, be discountenanced, and only useful
tests permitted.
“Exercise II.—The student was asked to sketch the outline of a
cottage from about 800 yards distant. He then had to consider from
the position of the house on the map, and the contour lines of the
ground, what the appearance of that cottage would be likely to be
from a different point of view. Of this hypothetical elevation he had
then to make an outline sketch, and finally to walk over the ground
and compare his imaginings with actuality.”

Practices for approach marches were also given by means of an
exercise on tape laying and the taking of compass bearings.

III

And still the Germans stayed their hands, and still we waited and
speculated upon what the coming campaign might hold for us. For the Tank
Corps it seemed certainly to portend a new form of warfare—the Tank duel.
All sorts of things were rumoured concerning the German preparations,
and the sheets of the Tank Corps Intelligence Summary for late February
are full of little items of information of a perfectly new kind.
Tanks of some sort were certainly being made at Krupp’s.
Prisoners had been caught who described them as larger and heavier
than the British machines. We had reason to believe that men were being
withdrawn from certain other units to form Tank crews.
Then, in the next day’s Summary, it would be reported that airmen had
found out that in certain Regimental, Brigade, and Divisional training
schemes which were being carried out by the enemy, horses and wagons
were being used, representing Tanks. Combined infantry and Tank attacks
of all sorts appeared to be being rehearsed. Again, some recently captured

prisoners said that a few derelict Tanks, which the Germans had taken at
Cambrai, were being put into order, they seemed to think, as training rather
than as fighting machines.
It is to be imagined that the notion of the new warfare, of meeting their
kind in combat for the first time, was exceedingly interesting to all ranks of
the Tank Corps; and there was not a single hut in a single camp where
wonderful new ideas for tactics and manœuvres wherewith to annihilate the
new enemy, were not really elaborated.
We did not know that the bitterness and anxiety of a long retreat lay
before us; a retreat whose gall and wormwood were to enter into our very
souls, and of whose confused events it is even now almost impossible to
write either with accuracy or impartiality.

CHAPTER XIV
THE MARCH RETREAT

“A mile around the city,
The throng stopped up the ways;
A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days.

“For aged folks on crutches,
And women great with child,
And mothers sobbing over babes
That clung to them and smiled,
And sick men borne in litters
High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sun-burned husbandmen
With reaping-hooks and staves.

“And droves of mules and asses
Laden with skins of wine,
And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine,
And endless trains of waggons
That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn-sacks and of household goods,
Choked every roaring gate.

“Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the City,
They sat all night and day,
For every hour some horseman came
With tidings of dismay.”
Lord Macaulay.

I

About March 14 the 3rd and 5th Armies were warned by their aerial
reconnaissance that a new and ominous concentration was taking place
behind the enemy’s lines.
These two Armies, to which the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Tank Brigades were,
it will be remembered, attached, held the line which lay between Bullecourt
to the north and St. Quentin to the south.
Behind them lay the old Somme battlefields, and about them was a dry,
rather bare, downland country with few woods and divided up by broad
valleys that ran east and west across it. It was a part of the line upon which
we had long considered the blow might probably fall.
The 3rd and 5th Armies, now on the alert, immediately set about
raiding the enemy and, having captured the desired prisoners and examined
them, were consistently told the same story.
Thursday, March 21, was to be the day of attack.
The weather, which had been clear and bright for a week or two, broke
on Tuesday, the 19th, and all day it rained heavily. On the night of the 20th
a thick mist came up and lay densely over the downs. Such weather
conditions only made an attack the more certain, and all along the line
Tanks were moved forward into their allotted positions.
At two o’clock in the morning of the 21st the British line was warned
to expect an attack. The forward zone was already fully manned, but at 4.30
an order was sent out to man the battle zone. Nor was the order premature.
The mist still lay heavily over the lines, and under its cover the Germans
had secretly pushed up their troops until all along the front between
Bullecourt and La Fère, they had massed thirty-seven divisions on a line
little more than a mile from our outposts.
The drama was about to begin. At a quarter to five every German
battery from the Marne to Dunkirk opened fire. Such a bombardment had
never been known before, and it reached its zenith on the fronts of the 3rd
and 5th Armies.
Torrents of gas shells and high explosives were poured out upon our
forward and battle lines, upon our Headquarters, upon our artillery
positions, and upon all our lines of communication.

The batteries of the 3rd and 5th Armies replied as best they could, but
owing to the mist our artillery observers were helpless. It was impossible to
see fifty yards ahead, and the German fire seemed to crash upon us out of
some alien planet.
By 8 or 9 o’clock the first parties of Germans had begun to advance, to
cut our wire here and there along the front of attack, and to filter
unobtrusively through our outpost line.
We began to perceive that the enemy was behaving in a most
unaccountable way. Even by 10 o’clock—as far as we could learn in the
confusion—he seemed in some places to have made no attempt at an
infantry attack at all. In others compact but apparently isolated little parties
of Guards or Cockchafers, or men from some other picked regiment, had
pushed right through our forward zone and were away beyond the places
where the cross-fire from our machine-guns was to have checked them,
before the men in the redoubts, half-blind amid the clouds of gas, had
realised that any Germans had crossed No Man’s Land. Again and again the
garrisons were overwhelmed from the rear before they could send back any
warning to the men behind in the battle zone. When they did endeavour to
signal, the S.O.S. would be blanketed in the mist.
Only too often the first news of the attack to reach our batteries was the
appearance of German infantry on their flank and rear.
There would be nothing left but to mow down the enemy at point-blank
range, till finally the gun crews were overwhelmed by the in-flooding tide.
As at Ypres, we had begun amazedly to feel that we were up against a
type of tactics against which we had never fought before. Our conjecture
was perfectly right. It was a system of surprise, and of the theory of
Sturmtruppen carried to its extreme conclusion. Mr. Buchan has likened the
new method to the advance of a hand whose finger-tips are shod with steel
pushing its way into a soft substance.
In practice the assault was conducted as follows: The infantry attack
was preceded by a short but extremely intense bombardment in which a
large proportion of gas was used.
This was followed by the advance at irregular intervals of clusters of
highly trained assault troops, carrying light trench mortars or machine-guns

(each cluster really constituting a kind of human Tank. It was well, indeed,
for us that they were no more than mere flesh and blood, and neither
armoured nor engined.) These clusters, which were closely followed and
supported by the field batteries, made gaps through which the line troops
poured, guided by an elaborate system of flares and rockets.
Each section of the defence might thus find itself caught between the
“fingers”—outflanked and encircled.
Each body of the advancing enemy was under the command of a
specially trained officer, whose leadership generally proved a model of skill
and initiative; each detachment was instructed to push on as far as its
strength allowed, and every man carried iron rations for several days.
When a regiment had advanced as far as it was able, another took its
place, the waves of the advance thus leapfrogging over each other in an
endless chain.
The dangers of such tactics are obvious, but on March 21 the system
was portentously successful.

II

As in all disasters, events seemed to move with a terrible rapidity.
A moment before the motor accident you are a free man; a moment
after and you are involved in an endless line of consequences which have
sprung up while you could hold your breath, and amid whose mushroom
growth you may wander for the rest of your life.
Five hours after the opening of the German cannonade the world
seemed to have changed for the two armies which had stood in the path of
the hurricane.
In the course of the next fourteen days the Germans were to sweep
forward for forty miles, and their advance was even then to be checked, not
by the British Army, but by the gradual attenuation of their supply system.
The whole fourteen days of the retreat were completely confused. Units
were inextricably mixed, and communications were impossible.

Some sort of immediate action was always having to be taken by junior
Commanders on information which they justly believed to be
untrustworthy. There were often more Germans to the flank of any given
body than to its front. When we try to form any general conception of the
events of this period, we seem to see the actors moving in a kind of mist
from which they emerge for a moment, perform some action which may or
may not appear relevant, and then disappear again into the confusion,
leaving us to guess at the meaning of the play. As far as the events of such a
time can be chronicled, we propose for this fortnight to follow separately
the doings of the three Tank Battalions chiefly involved, and to make no
effort to present a coherent picture of this return to the reign “of Chaos and
old Night.”
The 4th and 5th Battalions (4th Brigade) lay near Cartigny (south of
Péronne).
On the morning of the 21st the two Battalions of Tanks were moved up
into the line, two Tanks of the 4th Battalion counter-attacking at Peizière
and clearing a railway cutting of the enemy.
On the 22nd all the Tanks were ordered into action. The infantry were
retreating, and their chief duty was to gain time and to cover that retreat.
Twelve Tanks of the 5th Battalion attacked the enemy at Hervilly
Wood, and several from the 4th Battalion near Epehy. Both detachments
suffered rather severely.
At this point the two Battalions seem to have more or less parted
company.
Seventeen Tanks belonging to the 5th Battalion rallied at Cartigny that
night, and next day (the 23rd) were ordered to retire over the Somme.
The only available crossing place was the bridge at Brie, a few miles to
the south.
They set off immediately, but the enemy advance was too rapid for
them. They were unable to cross the bridge, and, lest they should fall into
the hands of the enemy, all the machines were destroyed by their crews.
The story of one of these Tanks is told in the 5th Battalion History:

“Second Lieutenant T. E. Van Zeller’s Tank was covering the
withdrawal of the infantry across the Somme, moving from
Cartigny to Brie on the east side of the river. He inflicted severe
casualties on the enemy, and was under heavy and continuous shell-
fire. On arriving at Brie late in the afternoon of the 23rd, he found
that the bridge was about to be blown up, and that his Tank could
not cross. He accordingly destroyed his Tank, and then directed his
crew in assisting to carry wounded across the bridge. Finding two
men seriously wounded who had been left behind, he decided, with
three of his crew, to make an effort to rescue them at the last
moment.
“When half-way across, the bridge was blown up in front and
behind them. Second Lieutenant Van Zeller, however, succeeded in
getting the whole party across the débris under heavy shell-fire, and
finally brought them back behind our lines on the west side of the
river.
“For this he was awarded the M.C., and the three members of
his crew who assisted in the last plucky effort were each awarded
the Military Medal.”

There were other places where the now “dismounted” Tank crews
could cross the river.
But they had no means of transport, and were, therefore, obliged to
burn or otherwise destroy most of their stores and kit.
Indeed, as a rule, the Lewis guns from the Tanks were their only
salvage.
One Staff Sergeant, however, hid away or buried a number of his tools,
and six months later, when the British advance swept back again, they were
recovered.
By March 24 the Battalion had lost all its Tanks. But in almost every
case the Lewis guns had been salved.
As the crews fell back they were immediately organised as Lewis gun
detachments, and distributed along the line wherever their help was most
needed.

Colonel O’Kelly, Commanding the 5th Tank Battalion, had to use his
own initiative in the matter, as communications were by this time
hopelessly disorganised and the need was instant.
Once, too, a detachment had been sent off, as it were disappeared, and
each party had to rely upon its individual Commander.
Tank crews had had no training in this kind of warfare, but the strange
dilemmas in which a Tank frequently finds itself had accustomed them to
the unexpected, and thus left alone they displayed plenty of initiative.
The chief work which fell to them was that of forming rearguards and
of protecting the retreat of the infantry.
Food and ammunition were both short, and they, like the other troops,
suffered many hardships.
Each of these Lewis gun detachments was made up of about four
officers and forty men, and they ordinarily had twelve Lewis guns with
them.
Three such detachments fought near Masvillers and Merlaincourt,
others near Villers Bretonneux, Caix, Harbonnières and Marcourt, the
general retreat carrying them back almost to Amiens.
Again and again small parties failed to get the orders to retire in time,
and had to fight their way back after being surrounded and cut off by the
enemy.
Sometimes they fought with French infantry, but chiefly with the
Sherwoods, Queen’s and Royal Fusiliers of the 19th Corps.
Extraordinarily good individual work was done, as the list of honours
shows. The story of a 5th Battalion detachment gives a typical picture:

55
“The 5th detachment under the command of Lieutenant Pitt,
consisted of Second Lieutenants Whyte and Storm, forty-one men
and seven guns. On March 28 this detachment was attached to
‘Carey’s Force’ and ordered to hold the line on each side of the
Villers Bretonneux—Warfusée—Abancourt Road, a position which
was to be held for two days at all costs.

“While placing his guns, Lieutenant Pitt was wounded and
Second Lieutenant Whyte took over the command.
“A Vickers gun section was in position north of the road, so
Second Lieutenant Whyte posted his guns on the south side. The
infantry holding the line at this point were all low category men and
convalescents, and not more than twenty men had any experience of
holding a rifle.
“At 6 p.m. on the 28th, word was received that the enemy were
about to attack and, at close range, machine-gun fire was opened on
them.
“The infantry began to fall back, but were rallied by Second
Lieutenant Whyte and Captain Bingham, M.C., and taken back to
their former position.
“Second Lieutenant Whyte then assumed command of this
section. At 10 p.m. the enemy again attacked, but were again driven
back by the Lewis gun fire.
“On the following day (29th) the enemy launched an attack on
the right, but it was completely broken up by enfilade fire from
Second Lieutenant Whyte’s guns, the enemy suffering extremely
heavy casualties. Some relief was afforded on the night of 29th-30th
by cavalry, who came up on the right of this sector.
“Enemy machine-guns and snipers were very active, but two of
the former and three snipers were accounted for by Lewis gun fire.
Second Lieutenant Whyte held the line until 10.30 p.m. on the 31st,
when he was relieved by Australian troops.
“For his gallant defence of this position Second Lieutenant
Whyte was awarded the M.C.

“Corporal S. Archbold working under Second Lieutenant
Whyte showed conspicuous gallantry throughout these trying days.
Single-handed he worked his Lewis gun, carrying it and its
ammunition to a new position, firing it and loading his magazines
without assistance for twenty-four hours. During this period he
helped in breaking two enemy attacks.

“On the 30th he was wounded in the head by a sniper, but
continued to work his gun all day until he was ordered by his officer
to the dressing-station. This devotion to duty gained for him the
D.C.M. Another member of this party, Pte. W. Lyon, was awarded
the M.M. for carrying important messages in broad daylight across
the open under heavy machine-gun and rifle fire at 200 yards
range.”

Between March 24 and April 2 the 5th Battalion had sent a total of
eighty-four Lewis guns and crews into the line.
Every available man had gone, cooks, officers’ servants, clerks and
orderlies. They had suffered heavy casualties, and on April 4 the Battalion,
or what was left of it, was taken to Auchy by lorry.
Here they drew Hotchkiss guns, and began to train again. But they were
not to be left long in peace.
On April 12 they had orders to form again as a Lewis gun Battalion,
and next day found them once more in the forward area, this time at
Meteren, not far from Hazebrouck, where they relieved an infantry
Battalion which had held a switch line through the village and an isolated
point near Meteren Church. On April 15 they got news that the enemy had
captured high ground between Neuve Eglise and Bailleul, and on the 16th
the enemy advanced on Meteren.

“Breaking through a section of trench which had been left
unmanned, they forced back the infantry on the right and also ‘B’
Company, and got behind the latter. No. 8 section was entirely cut
off and lost.
“Second Lieutenant Carter showed great presence of mind at
this juncture. He was Reconnaissance Officer of his Company. On
seeing the position caused by the enemy break-through, he
immediately rallied and reorganised the various parties as they fell
back and took up a line in rear. He was all the time under heavy
shell-fire.
“The position of ‘C’ Company had then become precarious.

“Second Lieutenant Dawson, assisted by Second Lieutenant
Bayliss, immediately placed four of his guns in the open, covered
the now exposed flank and held up the attack. During the night of
the 27th-28th he dug a trench, connecting these isolated posts with
our original line, and posted his guns in this new trench. The enemy
mounted two guns behind a hedge about 200 yards in front of the
position. These two guns, however, were knocked out before firing a
shot. The Germans also tried to assemble behind this same hedge for
an attack; but they were driven back with heavy casualties. This
well-thought-out defence performed throughout under frontal and
enfiladed fire, saved the company from an attack which would have
endangered the entire position.”

On April 17 the Battalion, except for twenty guns, was relieved by the
Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. After helping to hold back one more
serious attack, the remaining gun crews were finally withdrawn and joined
the rest of the Battalion at the Mont des Cats.
On April 24 detachments of the 5th Battalion, which were helping to
man the line before Kemmel, were heavily in action.
The enemy attacked after a fierce bombardment, and Kemmel Hill was
taken.
On the 29th the enemy opened a heavy gas and H.E. barrage and
attacked Mont Rouge in force. They were driven away, but returned again
and again, always being beaten off.
At last in the first days of May the Battalion was relieved, and was sent
back to the training and rest area at Blangy, the Divisional General having
complimented the gun crews upon their conduct in the field.
The story of the 4th Battalion is very like that of the 5th. All through
the last days of March there was the same heartbreaking destruction of
machines that had run out of petrol or grease, or were suffering from some
slight defect which there was no time to rectify. Again kits and orderly-
room material had to be burnt, and again the Lewis guns were salved. The
usual Lewis gun detachments were formed, but this time did not have quite
so much fighting, their chief battle being on March 26, on the Bray-Albert
road, where they did exceedingly well.

The 2nd Battalion was near Maricourt when the crash came, and
twenty-five of their Tanks went into action on the afternoon of March 22.

56
“The Tanks had to come into view when they crossed the
Bapaume-Cambrai road, and as soon as the enemy spotted them
coming into action, very heavy machine-gun fire was brought to
bear upon them, to be followed in a few minutes by heavy direct
artillery fire. Several Tanks were knocked out by shells almost as
soon as they arrived amongst the enemy infantry, who were found to
be very numerous, as if massing for a further advance.
“The appearance of the Tanks seems to have been a complete
surprise to the enemy infantry, who became disorganised and retired
some distance in confusion.

“The Tanks carried out the attack without any infantry, and
practically no artillery, co-operation.
“The casualties both in Tanks and personnel were heavy, but the
attack achieved its object, in that it upset the plans of the enemy and
delayed any further attack on their part for nearly twenty-four hours.
It was known at the time by the Staff that the enemy was massing
for an attack at once, and the appearance of the Tanks rendered this
impossible.
“The first Tanks came out of action about 7.30 p.m.”

Of the twenty-five Tanks which went into action only six came out
undamaged, and the Battalion was not really in a fit state to fight again
without reorganisation.
But the enemy were still advancing, and the Albert-Bapaume road had
to be defended at all costs.
So on the 24th the surviving Tanks were manned and sent forward
again, and the Tankless crews were formed into Lewis gun detachments.
They waited all through the night of the 24th expecting to be sent
forward.

No orders came till midday on March 25, when they were sent to the
3rd Tank Brigade Camp near Bray, which they later in the day were ordered
to burn to prevent it from falling into the hands of the enemy.
All next day the infantry fell back, and with them the Lewis gun teams.
Some idea of the confusion may be gathered from the fact that at this
moment the 2nd Battalion was separated into no less than eight parts, none
of which could communicate quickly enough with its fellows to make any
combined action possible.
The 8th and 10th Battalions still had some Tanks in going order, and,
on the day when the 3rd Army was forced across the old Somme battlefield,
they fought an exceedingly good rearguard action on either side of the
Albert-Bapaume road. The Tanks received a special message of
commendation from the General Commanding the 3rd Army.
Another incident—of which the authors have not been able to obtain
many particulars—was the action fought by a scratch Tank force formed out
of all the fighting Tanks from the driving school, Aveluy.
The 7th Battalion was one of several which were not in the path of the
hurricane, and consequently lost no Tanks.
A certain number of its men were, however, organised as Lewis gun
detachments, and by mid-April saw a considerable amount of fighting.
One such detachment was attached to the 61st Division near Nieppe
Forest, and with them manned a line of fortified shell-holes.
There were no trenches and the country was absolutely flat. The
whereabouts of the enemy was extremely uncertain. The Tank Lewis
gunners held about a mile and a half of improvised line, their headquarters
being a little farmhouse not far from Merville. Hardly had the detachment
taken over than the enemy put down a hot barrage. A Reconnaissance
Officer who was present described the events that followed in a letter home:

“I went out of the northern door of the farm. A beastly sniper’s
bullet whizzed past my head, and then another and another. The
bullets were all coming from the north, and it seemed as though
Fritz had made his way through the town and would get us from the

rear. This is what he did do. A sergeant was killed next to me, and
57
Norton told me to go back to Divisional Headquarters and report
the situation. After I had been there about an hour, a runner came
back to say Norton had been wounded, and soon after we heard that
the enemy had broken through to the north of the Canal. Just at that
moment General Elles came up and asked what the situation was,
and having heard that there were some Tanks and men of another
Battalion on the northern side of the Canal, said he would go up and
see for himself. He had his A.D.C. with him, and took me along as
well. We motored right up to where we came in touch with our men,
who were being pushed back on the north of the Canal. We then got
out of the car and went forward on foot. The General had not even
his tin hat on, but his red and gold. He went out beyond the
withdrawing infantry and taking out his map, held a council of war,
a council not uninterrupted by machine-gun bullets.
“He then sent me back a couple of hundred yards and told me to
stop every man on a certain cross-road, reorganise them and make
them take up fresh positions. This I did, and we thus re-established a
line. The General took command and made his Headquarters in a
small house until shelled out of it and into a neighbouring ditch. I
was sent back to Divisional Headquarters to report and get some
more ammunition. When I returned the situation was pretty well the
same, and we were holding on all right. The General then suggested
that we might see in which houses the enemy really were. During
these investigations Ian Stewart went forward by himself on our
flank, and had a private battle with a company of Germans, killing,
amongst others, one who was on a bicycle, and himself returning on
the captured machine, the original rider’s papers in his pocket.
“We were relieved about 7 p.m. by a new Division, and I got
back to Divisional Headquarters about 9. The next morning the C.O.
turned up with the rest of the Battalion.”

The 3rd Tank Battalion, whose camp at Bray had been destroyed, were
now a fully fledged Whippet unit.

During the first few days the Whippets saw no actual fighting but were
subject to plenty of alarms, and made a great number of fruitless excursions
from place to place.
At the Bray Camp there had been, unfortunately, a certain number of
Whippet machines which were temporarily laid up with engine trouble.
But there were no spare parts and no time for repairs, and a good many
machines had to be blown up “unblooded.”
On March 26 two Companies of the 3rd Battalion were moved to
Mailly-Maillet Wood.
As soon as the machines had arrived the Company Commanders went
out to reconnoitre the position near the village (Mailly-Maillet).
The result of their investigations is typical of the whole retreat:

58
“The position on the front between Beaumont-Hamel and
Hébuterne proved to be very obscure, a gap in our line appearing to
exist between these two places. The only troops of ours to be found
consisted of two small posts of about one platoon each on the
outskirts of Colincamps, the ground to the front and between them
being occupied by enemy patrols and machine-gunners.”

About noon the Whippets arrived at the village. The situation was
explained to the Section Commanders, and half the Tanks proceeded down
the main street while the rest guarded the two flanks.
A small body of our infantry which was holding the village had been on
the point of falling back before the rapidly advancing enemy when the
Tanks arrived.
The Tanks had gone forward almost beyond the village, when suddenly,
round the edge of the wood, they met 300 of the enemy advancing in close
formation.
The Germans were too much surprised to attempt to resist, and fled in
disorder.

A number of them were shot down by the Whippet’s machine-guns, and
many surrendered to the infantry who had by now arrived.
The remnant scattered, and were pursued by the Tanks right on to the
outskirts of Auchonvillers.
The two Whippets remained out on patrol for about an hour, but no
further attack was attempted, and they returned to the village about 3 p.m.
Later in the afternoon the gap in our lines was filled by the arrival of a New
Zealand Division. This successful little action is interesting as the first ever
fought by the Whippets.
There were several other sections of Whippets and heavy Tanks out on
patrol on this and the following days.
Several Tanks of the 10th Battalion fought in Rossignol Wood on two
occasions, and Whippets of the 2nd Battalion were in action near
Bouzencourt in a blinding rainstorm.
Everywhere it was the same story of villages the question of whose
ownership was “obscure” of gaps in the line which the Tanks had to bridge
for a critical hour or two, often firing their machine-guns into the advancing
waves of the enemy until the guns grew hot and jammed and the Tanks had
to retreat. Often they would go back till their petrol gave out, and the crews
had to blow up their machines.
The new Medium A machines (the Whippets) acquitted themselves
extremely well, and there were astonishingly few cases of mechanical
trouble.
The Battalion histories describe many pitiful scenes which took place
during the retreat, the fate of the inhabitants, for whom our withdrawal
meant complete ruin, striking the eye-witnesses as the most distressing
feature of the whole business.

59
“During the withdrawal the condition of the villagers was
pitiful. Women and children and old men crazed with fright with
liveliest memories of the conduct of the Germans in the area
occupied by them, were to be seen streaming westwards from their
homes, pushing their meagre possessions before them in hand-carts

and alternately invoking the aid of their Saints and calling down
their wrath upon the hated Boche.”

Nor was the retreat only tragic to those of the Tank Corps who had to
witness the supreme misery of these processions of the Cross. There was a
lesser unhappiness for the tacticians of the Tank Corps in the contemplation
of the appalling waste of Tank machines and men.
The Tanks had been far too scattered ever to pull their weight.

60
“To hit with them as they were distributed on March 21 was
like hitting out with an open hand instead of with a clenched fist.
“When the German blow fell there was no time to hit and
simultaneously to close the fingers.”

Out of 370 Tanks which were fit to fight, only 180 saw any action, a
great many machines running out of supplies or being incapacitated by
some temporary mechanical trouble, and so lost without having fired a shot.
The fault lay in the fact that the infantry Commanders under whom
they were acting did not fully understand the functions and limitations of
the Tank, or realise that as the final loss of a good many Mark IV. machines
in such a retreat was inevitable, it would have been much better to give the
Tanks a run for their money.

III
Villers Bretonneux

It was not till the German offensive had lasted for more than a month
that opposing Tanks at last met in battle.
The enemy had pushed us back to within six or seven miles of Amiens,
and he now planned a more or less full-dress attack upon positions on high
ground, which were, in fact, the outer defences not only of the town, but of
the vital Amiens-Paris railway. A break through on this sector would be a

serious disaster, and the situation was an anxious one. The weather was
unsettled, and the mornings often still misty in the Somme country.
At 6.30 on April 23 the river fog lay thick, and under cover of this mist
the Germans attacked the whole of the line south of the Somme after a short
and particularly intense bombardment.
A company of heavy Tanks of the 1st and seven Whippets of the 3rd
Battalion had been hastily moved up into the domain of the 3rd Corps,
north and south of Villers Bretonneux, where it was rumoured that the
Germans were going to use Tanks, and, in fact, when at last the first little
knots of German infantry appeared through the fog, three huge forms
accompanied them.
It was over Tanks of this type, the “Schultz” and the “Hagan,” that the
little boys of London scrambled so delightedly on the Horse Guards Parade
in the spring of 1919. Now all we could see of them, as they lumbered
slowly through the fog, was that they were a good deal larger and heavier
than the heavy British Tanks, and that they were rather tortoise shaped, the
armoured “shell” everywhere coming down over the tracks like a sort of
crinoline.
They broke right through our line, opening a way for the infantry which
was following them. But three of our Tanks, under Captain F. C. Brown,
M.C., happened to be on their way to the very spot (Cachy) where the
German Tanks had attacked. Unfortunately two of the three were females,
whose machine-guns were not of much use against the new thick-skinned
enemy.
However, they went on, hoping for chinks in their opponents’ armour,
but in spite of their superior power of manœuvre both the females were
soon knocked out by shells from the German Tanks.
The one male Tank, under Lieutenant Mitchell, was now opposed to
three undamaged enemy machines, each more heavily armoured than the
British Tank. Lieutenant Mitchell, however, immediately engaged them and,
after some dodging of the salvos of his three antagonists, who seemed to be
trying to close upon him, he managed to obtain a direct hit with one of his
six-pounders upon the leading German. Twice again he fired, each time
hitting the same machine. The third shot completed its discomfiture; in its

efforts to get away it fell into a sandpit, where it lay on its side, its tracks
still rattling round ineffectively.
With its first enemy definitely out of action, the British Tank turned
upon the other two.
But they had not waited, and had already discreetly turned tail, leaving
Lieutenant Mitchell master of the situation.
Such was the rather inglorious end of the Germans’ first endeavour to
meet the British Tank Corps with its own weapons.
It was not far from the scene of this strange encounter that about half an
hour later seven Whippets came into action, debouching from north of
Cachy, attacking the enemy on the ridge between Villers Bretonneux and
Hangard Wood. The ridge was held by machine-gun groups concealed in
shell-holes, while on the eastern slopes two German Battalions were
forming up in the open ready to attack. The Whippets moved from shell-
hole to shell-hole, destroying the machine-gun groups, and then proceeded
to deal with the infantry. Their success was terrible. They got right in
among the enemy, who had absolutely no cover, and mowed the unhappy
Germans down in ranks as they stood. At least 400 of the enemy are
estimated to have been killed, and the rest at last fled in confusion, the
threatened attack being completely broken up.
Not only were these two Battalions disposed of, but by nightfall it was
clear that for the time being at least some circumstance had definitely held
up the German advance. We did not know it, but our defences had
withstood and survived the last hungry lickings of the great spring tide.
Its impulse was too far spent to overflow the frail dam of our Villers
Bretonneux positions. The German advance had reached slack water.
There had been one incident which had genuinely cheered the hard
pressed men of the Tank Corps. At the very blackest moment of the retreat,
when machines were being sacrificed by the dozen, and when the grey
waves of the German infantry seemed to pursue our weary men with
endless, tireless iteration, General Elles received a telegram from Mr.
Docker, the chairman of the Metropolitan Carriage Company of
Birmingham:—

“A resolution has been passed unanimously by the Works
people of the Metropolitan Carriage Company to forgo any
holidays, and to do their utmost to expedite delivery of Tanks to
assist their comrades in the Field.”

CHAPTER XV
THE EQUILIBRIUM—MINOR ACTIONS—HAMEL—
THE BALLON D’ESSAI
It is not perhaps too fanciful to envisage the battles of April 24, 25 and
26, though they were by no means uniformly satisfactory little actions, as
belonging to a different and a happier era than the action of Villers
Bretonneux itself. On the 23rd we had been fighting for our lives. Through
the three subsequent days’ fighting, it began to be more and more obvious
that a change had taken place. Either through our desperate efforts to save
Amiens, or by the workings of some deeper cause, spent and disorganised
as we were, we had begun to pull level with the Germans again. The change
was slight, but none the less palpable.
On the 25th, a few Tanks of the 1st and 3rd Battalions fought with the
3rd Corps in a counter-attack against the most advanced of the new German
positions in the Bois d’Aquenne. The Tanks did a good deal of execution,
and we succeeded in driving in some of the forward German posts.
On the 26th, four Tanks of the 1st Brigade had an interesting
experience.
The Allied forces on this part of the line consisted of a most curious
mixture of arms and races.
The scene, for example, in a neighbouring wood about ten days before
is thus described by the historian of the 1st Battalion:

“The Bois d’Abbé presented a most picturesque spectacle, and
any one taking the trouble to walk through it could have had the
unique experience of seeing practically every branch of both the
British and French Armies represented. In this wood were to be
found Tanks of all descriptions, Mark IV.’s, V’s, Whippets and
French Rénaults, heavy and light artillery, British infantry,

Australians, French cavalry and infantry, Moroccans, and lastly a
detachment of the Legion of Frontiersmen mounted on little Arab
ponies, which presented a strange contrast to the heavy Percherons
of the artillery.”

On April 26, it was in company with the Moroccan Division that the 1st
Battalion fought.
The enemy had launched a strong attack against the Front held by these
troops at 6 a.m. on the morning of the 26th, under cover of the usual heavy
mist. Very soon, however, a section of Tanks under Captain Groves got
right in amongst the advancing Germans and inflicted heavy casualties
upon them. The French Colonial infantry, who had been obliged to fall
back, immediately rallied and brought the German assault to a standstill. In
the course of the action Second Lieutenant Wilson’s Tank found itself
61
among some German heavy guns, which it attacked with case shot and
machine-gun fire, wounding most of their crews and killing the rest. Mr.
Wilson then patrolled up and down some trenches held by the enemy and
cost them very heavy losses by his enfilading fire. Eventually, having fired
every round of ammunition in his Tank, he decided to go back, but while he
was on his way, his magneto broke down. However, he sent back a
messenger to fetch a new magneto, and after this had been fitted, he
returned to the rallying point, his Tank having suffered the total casualties
of two men slightly wounded.
On the 28th, another Company of the same Battalion again co-operated
with the Moroccan Division. This time it was the Allies who were the
attackers, their objective being the Hangard Wood. Owing to a mistake, the
four Tanks did not get into action until rather late. Second Lieutenant Jones’
Tank, however, fought a very good action, clearing out a great number of
machine-gun nests in the Wood, and generally giving a great deal of help to
the Moroccan infantry in their advance. The Tank stayed in the Wood, until
all its ammunition had been expended, and then, the infantry deciding not to
make a further attack, it was withdrawn and rejoined its Company.
Except a small action of the 1st Battalion on May 2, the Tank Corps
saw no fighting for the next six weeks, and it was not till July 4 that they
fought again in any considerable action.

II

The general situation in May was still such as to cause our High
Command a certain anxiety. It is easy to be wise after the event and say that
the Germans must obviously have outrun their transport and overtaxed the
limited road capacity of the devastated area which lay behind them. In early
May this, though true, was not obvious. Meanwhile, we had been too much
weakened by the disasters of the last six weeks to be able to counter-attack.
Consequently, the enemy had the same opportunities for reconstruction as
we had ourselves, and although we felt confident that after such a hurricane
of battles there must be a breathing space for both Armies, we were by no
means certain what would be the respective rôles of the two opposing sides
when the struggle came to be resumed. Our most pressing need was the
filling of the gaps in our Divisions and the closing of the huge breaches
which the German advance had made in our defensive systems. The greatest
need was for men. We had, it is true, to lay out new trench lines and
reconstruct such old systems as already existed, but it was not likely that the
enemy would afford us time to establish new defences comparable with
those which he had already proved his power of overrunning. Therefore it
was to procuring new and well-trained troops that our chief efforts must be
directed. The men procured, there must be railways upon which to move
them.

62
“The depth to which the enemy had penetrated in the Somme
and Lys valleys had disrupted important lateral lines of railway, and
had created a situation of extreme gravity with regard to the
maintenance of communications in Northern France. At Amiens,
Béthune, and Hazebrouck, much-used railway junctions had been
brought under the effective fire of the enemy’s guns, while the
railway centre at St. Pol was threatened. To relieve the situation a
comprehensive programme of railway construction was
undertaken.”

Some 200 miles of broad-gauge track was laid between April and July
and a complete series of new defences were built, involving, incredible as it
may seem, 5000 miles of trench. Nor were Tanks left out of the scheme of

reorganisation. But, alas! owing to the extreme need of infantry
reinforcements, and the difficulty of immediately re-arming Battalions
which had lost their Tanks during the Retreat, this “reconstruction” all but
took the form, not of augmentation, but of diminution. It was proposed to
reduce the number of Tank Brigades from six to four. The appearance of
enemy Tanks, however, soon quashed this project. Not only had the Corps
lost heavily in machines, but the fighting done by the Lewis gun Units had
been of a particularly strenuous kind, and several Battalions had sustained
such casualties in trained and experienced men as to cause great anxiety at
Tank Headquarters. However, the Tank Corps were only in the same
predicament as the rest of the British Army, and there was nothing for it but
to gather up the bits with as much grace as possible and to start away as
quickly as might be on the work of reconstruction. All through May, Mark
V. machines were arriving in France at the rate of about sixty a week. Some
of the Battalions which had not taken any part in the Retreat had been left in
their original areas, in case the Germans should attack, so that we find
Battalions (for example of the 1st Brigade) doing “Savage Rabbit” as late as
the middle of May. For the most part, however, the Corps was gathered
together undergoing intensive training in the Bermicourt area. All Tank
Units were to be ready for action—re-armed, re-equipped and re-trained—
by August 1.
The Central Workshops set to work in early June to prepare sledges for
supply haulage, bridges upon which the Whippets could cross wide
obstacles, and “Cribs” for the heavy Tanks. There “Cribs” were big
hexagonal oaken crates, reinforced with steel, which were an improved and
lighter version of the fascines which were improvised for the Battle of
Cambrai. Training grounds and workshops hummed with the preparations,
and when, in the last days of July, the call came, it was, as we shall see,
found possible to launch 400 Tanks at little over a week’s notice.
It was while the Corps was training at Bermicourt that the foundation
of the excellent relations which ever afterwards existed between Tanks and
the French infantry was laid. A great number of French troops happened to
be billeted in and around the Tank Corps area, and their keenness to learn
all they could about our machines and their tactics afforded great pleasure
to the men of the British Tank Corps. General Le Maistre, commanding the
10th French Army, particularly asked that Tank demonstrations should be

held for the Units of his command. This was done, and all through May and
June two or three of these demonstrations were given weekly. Besides
French troops, representatives from a number of British and Colonial
Corps, and the Canadian and Australian Corps, also came to watch, to their
great edification.

III

We have said that only a few minor Tank actions were fought during
the last part of May and the month of June. Two of these small encounters,
however, were rather interesting. To begin with, the 17th Armoured Car
Battalion fought its first action in company with the French on June 11. At
9.30 on the morning of June 10 orders were received by Colonel Carter,
commanding the Battalion, to report to the 1st French Army at Contay. At
Contay instructions were issued for the Battalion to proceed to Ravenel,
near St. Just. The Battalion got this order by telephone, and although the
night was very dark and wet, and the roads crowded with traffic, it reached
Ravenel after a sixty miles’ journey by five in the morning of June 11. That
same day it went into action with the 10th French Army in its counter-attack
at Belloy. Two sections of the Armoured Cars engaged the enemy with
machine-gun fire, but unfortunately the roads here were piled high with
every sort of débris. This prevented the cars from being as active as they
were to prove themselves later.
The second small action was a night raid, interesting as the first in
which Tanks had ever been engaged. Here the 10th Battalion fought in
conjunction with the 4th Corps. We were endeavouring to capture a series
of posts near Bucquoy, only five Platoons of infantry and five female Tanks
being employed. The raid began at about half-past eleven at night. We were
met with a heavy barrage from trench mortars and machine-guns, and the
infantry were held up. The Tanks, however, managed to push forward, and
carried on the attack in the pitch dark by themselves. As they advanced they
met with a number of large parties of Germans, into the “brown” of which
they fired. The Tanks certainly accounted for a great many of the enemy,
though it being, as we have said, extremely dark, it was impossible to make
a very exact computation of the “bag.” Curiously enough, not a single Tank
was damaged by the trench mortar barrage, which was extremely heavy.

One Tank was swarmed over by a particularly bold party of the enemy and
the crew shot them down with their revolvers. Later on this same Tank
managed to rescue a wounded infantry officer who had earlier been taken
prisoner by the Germans. The raid is interesting as it demonstrated the
possibility of manœuvring Tanks in the dark through the enemy’s lines—not
a single machine lost direction—and also showed how much protection was
afforded to the machines by their invisibility.

IV

By the middle of June the British High Command had grown anxious
to make some test of the position of things on the enemy’s side of the line.
This they proposed to do by a more or less limited and tentative attack, an
attack which might, if it was successful, be utilised as a dress rehearsal for
larger ventures, or which, if it failed, would not commit us too deeply. The
Australians had been constantly harassing their vis à vis on the Villers
Bretonneux Front, and the High Command gave out that for this and other
reasons they considered that a better place than the sector opposite Villers
Bretonneux could hardly be found from which to launch our ballon d’essai.
What those “other reasons” were did not appear for nearly a month after the
battle had been fought. It was proposed that between sixty and seventy
Tanks belonging to the 5th Brigade should be employed. Our attack was to
have a strictly limited objective, its ostensible purpose being to capture the
spur running from the main Villers Bretonneux plateau towards the Somme,
on the east side of Hamel, and thus to gain important observation and
incidentally a useful jumping-off place for any subsequent advance. “Z”
day was to be on July 4.
Directly the attack had been decided upon, Tanks and Australians began
their combined training in the area of the 5th Tank Brigade. Tank units were
at once permanently affiliated to corresponding Australian infantry units
with whom they were to fight, and by this means a very close comradeship
was cultivated. It was (tradition relates), most necessary that some special
steps should be taken to ensure the confidence of the Australian infantry in
the Tank Corps, for, in the absence of artillery preparation, upon the Tanks
would almost entirely depend the success and prestige of the Australians in
this first Allied offensive since the March disaster.

Now the Australians, though having, as it were, a natural affinity for the
activity and surprise of a Tank as against a prepared artillery attack, were
not inclined to bestow their approval on the Tanks without due cause being
given.
They still had vivid memories of the tragedy of errors of the Bullecourt
incident in 1917.
They were, however, very open-minded, and the battle partners had not
long been in training together before their relations were particularly
cordial.
Coy and hard to please as were the Australians in the beginning, the
triumphant success of their partnership in battle left them no memory of
their earlier shyness, and made them vociferous in their praises of a
combination that the Tanks had long felt would prove notably effective.
The plan of the attack soon took exact shape. It is worth more or less
detailed consideration, as it was upon the lines of the Battles of Cambrai
and Hamel that all set Tank attacks were afterwards based.

63
“The operation was to be conducted as a direct advance of
infantry and Tanks in two waves, under cover of a rolling artillery
barrage. From a Brigade point of view, the points of chief interest
lay, first, in the preliminary arrangements with the Australian Corps
and the infantry concerned; secondly, in the somewhat intricate
plans for assembling Tanks at their start lines with due provision for
concealment; and, thirdly, in the methods devised for bringing up
large quantities of infantry supplies to the final objective. At a
conference held by the Australian Corps three days prior to the
action the plans were finally settled and no alteration in these was
permitted after that date. Thus infantry and Tank officers were able
to confer in perfect faith that their mutual arrangements would be
carried out without change, and this method was adhered to in all
subsequent operations of a prepared type with the Australian Corps.
Tanks were employed on a scale that was large in proportion to the
front attacked, the saving of casualties to the infantry being made
the most important factor in the plan.”

The main tactical features of the attack were the strongholds of Vaire
Wood, Hamel Wood, Pear-shaped Trench and Hamel Village. There was no
defined system of trench, except the old British lines just east of Hamel
which the enemy now occupied, and which had, of course, been originally
sited to face east. For the rest, the German defensive consisted in machine-
gun nests.
The attacking forces were the 4th Australian Division and four
companies of American infantry. The Artillery was to provide a rolling
barrage, behind which the infantry were to advance, followed by the Tanks,
which were only to pass ahead of them when resistance was encountered.
This last arrangement did not prove a good one.
The going was good, and the fertile country lay still and smiling in its
Midsummer pride. The camp allotted to the Tanks lay five miles behind the
line in the angle formed by the meeting of the Somme and the Luce.

64
“It was an ideal spot in which to spend the summer months. In
the cool of the evening, looking toward the west over the uncut
cornfields, we could obtain a wonderful view of the old city of
Amiens, its large cathedral, with the numbers of smaller church
spires and smokeless chimneys clustering around it, being outlined
against the setting sun. Toward the east one saw the ruined village
of Villers Bretonneux standing on Hill 104, its château dominating
the surrounding wreck of houses. It was hard to believe that the line
was so close until the view was suddenly obliterated by the familiar
sight of bursting shrapnel and the heavy smoke of the gas shells.”

The sixty fighting Tanks which were employed in the attack were
divided into two waves, the first of forty-eight, and the second of twelve
machines. As the advance intended was but a short one, the usual gigantic
system of supply dumps was not necessary. On the contrary, each fighting
Tank carried forward ammunition and water for the infantry, and the four
supply Tanks were detailed to carry up R.E. supplies and other stores.

65
“Each of these four machines eventually delivered a load of
about 12,500 lbs. within 500 yards of the final objective and within

half an hour of its capture. The total amount of supplies delivered on
July 4 at 40 lbs. per man represented the loads of a carrying party
1,250 men strong. The number of men used in the supply Tanks was
twenty-four.”

No precise information as to time and place had been given to the Tank
Corps till just a week before the battle; but as the area had been carefully
reconnoitred for the last two months, very little had to be done to complete
this side of the preparations.
On the night of July 1–2, the Tanks were moved up to the assembly
point, an early move which was the result of the Australians’ last lingering
doubts as to the capacity of the Tanks for arriving in time at rendezvous. No
chance was thus given to any Tank of being late in the starting line.
Machines of “C” flight of No. 8 Squadron of aeroplanes were to make
their début as honorary members of the Tank Corps on the morrow, for the
wonderful potentialities of aeroplane and Tank co-operation were now fully
realised, and the Tank Corps had been allotted a squadron of its own.

VI

At three o’clock on the morning of July 4, almost before the sky had
begun to lighten, the Tank engines were swung up all along our line, and at
two minutes past the hour sixty graceful Mark V.’s slid forward after their
infantry, two low-flying aeroplanes escorting them. As the Tanks moved
along, the crew’s blessed the sweet running of their new machines, for there
had not been a single mechanical hitch of any sort, and they knew that the
shrewd eyes of the Australians had been fixed like gimlets upon them.
But the whole day was to be one long triumph for the Mark V.
Here and there as the attack surged forward the Tanks were leading,
following close behind the bursting shells. Here and there the Australians
were ahead. The enemy’s infantry put up little or no fight, but their
machine-gunners resisted us with the tenacious courage which we had
learned to expect.

But our onrush was inexorable. The new Tanks were possessed, the
Germans found, of a deadly power of manœuvre which they used to the
full, expending little ammunition upon machine-gun nests, but, even when
they had passed an emplacement by in the first rush, swinging swiftly round
on the wretched gunners and crushing guns and crews beneath them. As a
Tank chronicler somewhat grimly remarks: “This method eliminated all
chance of the enemy coming to life again after the attack had passed by.”
Over 200 machine-guns were accounted for during the day. There were
also other and rarer little groups of picked men which the Tanks here and
there routed out of the standing crops.
These little parties, generally consisting of three men, were armed with
a special rifle of gigantic size designed to be fired—like our Lewis gun—
from a bipod. Its projectile was a heavy steel-cored armour-piercing bullet.
It was a new anti-Tank weapon, a weapon from which the Germans
hoped great things.
With the 13th Battalion, a Tank which had advanced ahead of the
infantry, came upon some enemy dug-outs, on the far side of a trench too
broad for their machine to cross. From these dug-outs the enemy were
keeping up a hot fire.
The Tank Commander, Second Lieutenant Edwards, and Private Benns,
immediately got out of their Tank and attacked the garrison on foot.
Between them the two killed seven of the enemy with their revolvers, and
the rest they took prisoners, and handed over to the infantry at the first
opportunity.
There were many fine pieces of individual work, especially instances of
Tanks helping each other under heavy fire, and there is little doubt that it
was to this friendly co-operation, this towing of lame Tanks out of hot
corners, the astonishingly low casualties in machines were partly due.
The despatch tells how the battle fared all along the line.

“Moving up and down behind the barrage, the Tanks either
killed the enemy or forced him to take shelter in dug-outs, where he
became an easy prey to the infantry. Hamel was taken by
envelopment from the flanks and rear, the enemy was driven from