Our Great Hearted Men 9781460756515, 9781460705711

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Contents

List of Maps Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Michael Sharpening the tools An enormous intellect The physical audacity . . . so I drove over them . . . the finest fighting day I have yet had . . . the enemy’s inevitable reaction Our horses hated it and whimpered . . . an ignorant, wonderful lot of fools . . . a stunning achievement . . . some damn good men amongst them . . . one dead man to every 2 yards of trench The equal of any . . . great-hearted men

Photo Section Acknowledgements Bibliography Appendix I: Classification of BEF Field Artillery Appendix II: Conference of 31st July, 1918 Appendix III: Letter, Bean to White, 28 June 1918 Abbreviations Endnotes

Index About the Author Copyright

List of Maps

The Western Front, March 1918 Operation Michael Hamel, 4 July 1918 Battle of Amiens, 8 August 1918 Amiens, 9–11 August 1918 The Pursuit, 22–29 August 1918 Frontal Attack, 29 August 1918 Mont St Quentin, 31 August 1918 Mont St Quentin—Péronne, 1 September 1918 Mont St Quentin—Péronne, 1–5 September 1918 The Hindenburg Line The Outpost Line Attack, 18 September 1918 The Hindenburg Line, 29 September 1918 The Australian Corps—Ground Captured

CHAPTER 1

Michael Lieutenant George Mitchell, 48th Battalion, Saturday 23 March 1918: Order to prepare to move. I stand in the sun. A stout, old Frenchman sows his field, broadcasting steadily up and down. All with us is activity. What matter the personal shock of combat to him. I anticipate it all. The roar of shells, the wounds, the stink of explosives, and the eternal yabbering of machine guns. The farmer steadily goes on with his sowing. We go to the reaping.1 By March 1918 Lieutenant George Mitchell and many veterans of the First AIF had, during a succession of bloody and costly battles, confronted their ‘reaping’ for nearly three devastating years. Mitchell, and many like him, had despaired of their chances of seeing home again. And yet as volunteers they had a quiet, resigned acceptance of their fate: England is England . . . I want something that I have not got . . . The return to Australia is unreal, and, after all, do we really desire to go back without the laurel crowning of Victory? Better death than final defeat . . . You may never know what home is unless you pay the price of the learning . . . Great battles that we fought through are forgotten in the stormy host. Our pals went under. ‘And the old days never will come again.’ . . . New battles came. We lived. Yet more battles. We still live. And the future holds visions of more and more strife . . . We will meet our fates with good grace, for it is written in the Book of Eternity.2

As Mitchell left for the front on 23 March 1918, he was destined to face a part of the final major German offensive of the war—and a near calamity. He could not have contemplated that later, within a mere 100 days, the Allies would turn a desperate defence of the British Expeditionary Force’s (BEF) very survival on the Western Front into a comprehensive victory. This is the story of arguably the First AIF’s finest hour—five elite divisions together at last as a united corps, under its own experienced, astute leadership and commanded by an Australian general whose considerable appreciation of the science of war, coupled with studied innovation, an understanding of logistics, and minute planning, would prove brilliant. *** At the onset of the winter of 1917–18, as both sides considered the future of the Great War, one concept, embodied in one word, dominated their thoughts—manpower. Since late August 1916 General Erich Ludendorff had, as Field Marshal Hindenburg’s Chief of Staff, exerted the prime influence upon the German conduct of the war. Tall, red-faced, with cropped hair and a monocle, and possessing a heavy physique, Ludendorff had a typical Prussian officer appearance that belied his humble background: he had not risen through the ranks by the accident of birth or the cultivation of influence, but by hard work and merit. On 11 November 1917 at a conference at Mons, Ludendorff had to make a critical decision. Although Russia had been knocked out of the war and German troops and equipment were being rapidly transferred to the Western Front at a rate of some two divisions a week, that encouraging news was counter-balanced by a number of grim realities: 1917 had seen the German Army suffer over 1 million killed;3 the strategy of unrestricted submarine warfare had failed, and failed to such an extent that it had brought the United States into the war; and the ongoing British blockade of Germany had been far more effective, and had resulted in acute food and fuel shortages that were undermining morale at home, and as a consequence, political discontent and strikes were becoming more prevalent.

Time was the key. Ludendorff understood that other than the injection of divisions currently arriving from Russia to the Western Front, his only other source of manpower would be those males reaching military age in 1918. Late in 1917 Ludendorff had possessed around 150 divisions against the Allies’ 175. By March 1918, using his divisions arriving from the Eastern Front, he anticipated that he could deploy 192 divisions to the Allies’ 173 on the Western Front.4 Any German offensive in 1918 would therefore have to be delivered in the spring, before the American build-up of troops would eventually overpower his army. This sudden and rapid accumulation of German troops would facilitate one, and only one, substantial offensive—there would be no second chances. Knowing that he could now concentrate his force, and having determined the timing of the offensive, Ludendorff was then faced with a key strategic and tactical challenge. He had always considered the British to be the ‘driving force of the Entente, and the offensive must therefore be directed against them’.5 Thus, three plans to attack the BEF were examined: the first was against its junction with the French near the German-occupied town of St Quentin (codenamed Michael); the second was at Arras (codenamed Mars); and the third envisaged an attack in the Ypres area to the north (codenamed George). Despite differing opinions of some members of both his staff and those commanders about to undertake the operation, Ludendorff chose Michael, because he rightly believed that this was where the British front was stretched, undermanned and therefore most vulnerable, and that the ground on which that operation was to be fought might dry out quicker than the other two options. His strategic aim was to break through the British front, swing in a north-westerly direction and either destroy the BEF in battle or force its evacuation to the Channel ports. He ordered plans for all three alternatives to be made, so as to conceal his intention from the British, but also to facilitate other options should the operation become stalled. If, by Great War standards, Operation Michael was an ambitious strategic plan, its tactical execution would fly in the face of all previous doctrine—of either side. Ludendorff’s choice of his three army commanders was astute. In the north, General Otto von Below and his Seventeenth Army were tasked with

the capture of Bapaume; in the centre General von Marwitz’s Second Army was to capture Péronne; and General von Hutier’s Eighteenth Army was to penetrate the British line at St Quentin, capture the town of Ham, and then provide flank protection as von Below and von Marwitz’s armies thrust right (towards the north-west). All three had earnt Ludendorff’s trust: von Below had served under him in 1914 and had—among other notable successes—only a month before the conference at Mons, been the victor against the Italians at Caporetto (October–November 1917); von Marwitz had planned and executed the brilliant counter-attack against the British at Cambrai; and von Hutier, after a most impressive Western Front record, had further enhanced his reputation with the capture of Riga on the Eastern Front (3 September 1917). Thus, all three German Army commanders possessed not only sound long-term records, but highly impressive recent ones.

As with any Western Front offensive, a vital component of the operation would be the artillery. To plan that support for Michael, Ludendorff chose Oberst (Colonel) Georg Bruchmüller, whose skills had been first recognised prior to the German attack on Verdun in 1916, and had, since that time, been the artillery advisor to the Supreme Commander on the Western Front. The first prerequisite for success would be surprise, and that meant there must be studied staff work to disguise both the build-up of men and matériel, and, importantly, there could be no preliminary artillery bombardment. Bruchmüller and Ludendorff decided that the artillery barrage for Michael would have five main features: it would have to cover the breadth of the front; they then had to decide upon the duration, concentration and accuracy of the barrage; and they had to be prepared to be innovative in the use of gas. Across a front of 31 miles, the Germans deployed 6473 guns—3965 field guns, 2435 howitzers (5.9 inch), and 73 super heavies6—which provided a density of one gun to every eleven yards. Charles Bean, The Australian Official Historian: Ludendorff increased the front of his offensive by making it discontinuous: the face of the new British salient at Flesquières, opposite Cambrai, on the right centre of the front of the offensive, was not to be attacked. The Seventeenth German Army [General von Below] would strike north-west of it . . . the Second and Eighteenth Armies [Generals von Marwitz and von Hutier] south of it . . . the salient itself would be pinched out by these attacks.7 This ploy increased the front to 44 miles. This was the largest concentration of guns yet seen on the Western Front. The artillery would provide a ‘hurricane’ bombardment of some five hours’ duration; to give all possible depth to his artillery barrage, Bruchmüller brought his guns up as close as possible to the infantry start line; the heavy guns were to target key communication points such as road intersections, infantry assembly areas and enemy headquarters; and Ludendorff further added a comprehensive light and medium trench mortar barrage that would move with the infantry.

But it was a new sophistication in the use of gas that added another dimension to the artillery plan. Bruchmüller decided against the use of mustard gas (Yellow Cross)8, as its tendency to remain in the ground for up to two days might well cause it to also affect German troops during a decisive break-through. He therefore chose a mixture of phosgene (Green Cross) and a new gas called ‘lacrymator’. Phosgene was a high-density gas that severely impacted on the lungs, but the new bromine-based lacrymator gas was an irritant to the eyes, which ‘made it impossible to carry on without wearing a mask . . . [particularly for] harassed troops engaged in close fighting or in manipulating guns’.9 Thus, while Bruchmüller’s artillery would employ a conventional and concentrated barrage of highexplosive (HE) shells to destroy wire, trenches, combatants, artillery batteries and communications, the new gas mixture would inhibit the efficiency and therefore the performance of the British gunners. And this in some significant way, it was hoped, would compensate for the short ‘hurricane’ bombardment and its lack of registration. If Ludendorff’s shrewd plans for the location of the break-in, for the concentration of his force, for a high degree of secrecy, and for his artillery innovation were impressive, then his infantry tactics for Michael were revolutionary for the times. Both German and Allied senior commanders on the Western Front had long experienced the initial exuberance of a break-in on an enemy line (usually at great cost). The next stage of success, repeatedly denied them, was a break-through, due to the perennial problem of ‘the diminishing power of the attack’. Following a heavy artillery bombardment, the infantry were usually able to occupy perhaps a mile or two—provided their flanks were secure—but the attack would then flounder as the enemy rallied in subsequent trench lines, enfiladed the attacker, concentrated and then committed his reserves, and brought his rearward artillery into play. To achieve a comprehensive break-through, Operation Michael foresaw the use of three distinct waves—and types—of infantry. The first were the elite Sturmtruppen, carrying a preponderance of light machine guns and some flamethrowers, who were trained to either quickly eliminate British posts or simply outflank them and move on. The Battle of Cambrai had been the first instance of them being used in significant numbers.

Advancing under a creeping barrage of around 200 yards every four minutes, these troops were tasked to maintain momentum. The second wave formed the bulk of the offensive. These were orthodox battalions that were to surround and eliminate those enemy posts not dealt with by the Sturmtruppen. The third wave’s main task was to assist in the momentum of the operation by providing substantial reinforcements. Each German divisional commander was allotted a corridor in which his objective was to be gained with the utmost speed regardless of activity on his flanks. By following the surprise of his initial ‘hurricane’ artillery bombardment with a concentration of some 32 divisions with 25 in reserve, and an unconditional speed in movement, Ludendorff hoped to rapidly roll back the BEF’s lines and create havoc and confusion, with a consequent disruption to communications, command, artillery, reinforcement and supply. Michael was timed for 4.40 am on 21 March 1918. *** In late 1917 the issue of manpower was no less a concern for the French and British than it had been for the Germans. The problem was that the two nations’ political and military leaders held conflicting views as to where and how their manpower might be best deployed. After their protracted and costly defence of Verdun during the period February–December 1916, in which they had suffered some 410 000 casualties, the French Government and Army spent much of 1917 in upheaval. During the later stages of the fighting at Verdun, General Robert Nivelle had enhanced his reputation by leading counter-offensives that had largely rolled back the earlier German gains. In December 1916 Nivelle succeeded General Joffre as Commander-in-Chief (C-in-C) of the French Army. Fluent in English, Nivelle had the ability to charm political leaders in Paris and London alike. A fierce opponent of both General Sir Douglas Haig and Joffre’s ‘wearing-out’ or ‘attrition’ strategy on the Western Front, Nivelle devised a sweeping plan to force a break-through of the German lines and end the war. Its chief attributes were a concentration of some 27 divisions for the breakthrough and a creeping barrage, which would allow the French Army to both break in and subsequently break through—within an ambitious time frame of some 48 hours. Nivelle’s proposed plan was not

universally accepted. Within a divided government, Premier Briand’s support of the offensive cost him his leadership on 17 March 1917. His successor was Alexandre Ribot. To a number of politicians who had been the distraught witnesses to the grinding and costly battles of the Somme and Verdun, Nivelle’s recent success at Verdun and the promise of such a break-through were irresistible. The British Prime Minister, David Lloyd George, was greatly impressed by Nivelle and ordered Haig to subordinate himself to the French plan: Haig would attack the Germans at Arras. The French attempts to mask their coming assault were pedestrian: thoroughly aware of the impending attack, the Germans reinforced their front, both in terms of men and guns; and, by employing their defences in depth, were able to exact a heavy penalty upon the French. In what has become known as the Second Battle of the Aisne (April 1917), Nivelle actually made some reasonable initial ground, but all this was lost in a sea of despair over his promise of victory within 48 hours. The morale of the French infantry—and confidence in their leaders— was severely shaken by General Nivelle’s failed offensive. Mutinies occurred during May–June 1917, which saw units adopt varying methods of non-compliance: these included attacking officers on occasion; massing for demonstrations; drunkenness; and, primarily, refusing to conduct attacks. They were still prepared to defend, to hold the line, but participation in what they perceived as futile slaughter was another matter. Inevitably, on 15 May 1917, General Nivelle was replaced by General Philippe Pétain, and in early September Paul Painlev became the third premier of France for that year. In mid-November, Georges Clemenceau became the fourth. By the end of 1917 the French had lost 1.28 million men killed during the Great War; the morale of the Army was at a low ebb, and there was obvious political instability. Pétain, who now had General Foch as his Chief of Staff, quickly instituted changes. First, there was the urgent need to restore the morale of the French Army. This was done by allowing a degree of leniency towards many charged over desertions and the mid-year mutinies, and the improvement of leave in terms of both its frequency and conditions. Pétain, Foch and the government then decided that major French offensives would have to wait, as the Army was in no condition psychologically or materially to mount them. However, a strong defence of

the line would be maintained, coupled with any necessary limited attacks in the support of the BEF. They awaited what they believed would be two telling advantages in the coming year. The first was the projected build-up of manpower on the Western Front by the arrival of the American Expeditionary Force, and the second was to be the mass manufacture of specific implements of war: there was to be a significant increase in the production of their heavy artillery, smoke and gas shells, an improved and more numerous air arm, and, finally, the manufacture of some 3000 tanks. *** David Lloyd George had had a long history of opposition to the Great War being decided on the Western Front. Small in stature, sharp-witted and shrewd, a persuasive, often inspiring speaker—and sometimes happy to bend the truth—he wanted to ‘knock away the props’ (defeat Germany’s less powerful allies), which he believed would be far less costly in casualties. As Minister of Munitions (1915–16) he had advocated sending British troops to the Balkans; from June 1916 as Secretary of State for War, he was appalled by the ongoing losses on the Somme (around 620 000 British, Dominion and French casualties); and as Prime Minister of the UK from 7 December 1916, he had been equally horrified by the bloodbaths and seeming futility of 1917 (the Third Battle of Ypres and the Battle of Cambrai totalled 346 712 British and Dominion casualties). It was inevitable, therefore, that two of the Prime Minister’s sternest critics were the Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS), General Sir William Robertson, and the C-in-C Western Front, General Haig (promoted to Field Marshal in January 1917). Robertson had risen from the ranks to CIGS—most unusual in the British Army. A dour, thoughtful soldier, he was ‘not greatly interested in conversation, and even less interested in argument’.10 Perhaps Robertson’s greatest assets as CIGS were his loyalty to the Army in his dealings with politicians, and his steadfastness and trust in Haig. A cavalry officer, Haig shared two of Robertson’s personality traits: he was also dour and resolute. Haig was also a supreme optimist, and therefore prepared to push on in a campaign when circumstances appeared bleak. In terms of character, personality and their perceptions of how and

where the Great War should be fought, Robertson and Haig were diametrically opposed to Lloyd George. In his diary entry for 3 April 1918, Haig wrote: ‘L.G. seems a “cur” and when I am with him I cannot resist a feeling of distrust of him and of his intentions.’11 Both Haig and Robertson believed that the war could only be won by the defeat of the German Army in France and Belgium. Haig in particular believed that a renewal of his Flanders offensive of 1917 would cause a final break-through, provided his now well-below strength army was reinforced sufficiently from available drafts in England. Haig passionately believed that all that was required was a firm resolve to complete the strategy of 1917. Lloyd George would have none of it, and was utterly determined to go on the defensive on the Western Front, bolster and possibly break through on other fronts where possible, and, most importantly, await the arrival of American troops in 1918. The Australian Official Historian, Charles Bean: . . . yet the Government did not feel itself strong enough to depose the two military leaders, who had much support in parliament and the nation, or, without some counteracting support, to decline to follow their advice. Lloyd George could not have secured unanimity in his cabinet for any such course; indeed, some of his conservative colleagues had made it a condition of their alliance that there should be no change in the military command. The result was that, in his endeavour to mould the Allies’ plans for 1918, he resorted to the indirect methods which were so strangely characteristic of him . . .12 There were a number of telling ‘indirect methods’ which were employed in late 1917 and early the following year. The formation of the War Cabinet in December 1916 had already been a concerted government attempt to bring the strategic conduct of the war under the control of the politicians. The best way to negate Haig’s desire for a resumption of his Flanders offensive was, quite simply, to deny him the necessary manpower to do so—despite the fact that the offensives of 1917 had caused the British Army on the Western Front to be some 95 000 soldiers below its normal establishment.

To further compound Haig’s problems, four other measures were adopted by Lloyd George and the War Cabinet. The first was to agree to a French appeal that the British take over a part of their front—the initial request was for a British occupation of the French Sixth Army sixdivisional front from roughly east of Péronne to the River Oise. Haig protested and eventually secured a shortening of that line by the deployment of four rather than six of his divisions. The second measure involved Haig losing five divisions to the Italian front. The third, employed during late 1917 and early 1918, involved both the sacking of, and selection of replacements for, Haig’s GHQ staff. The changes were far-reaching. Among the many were a new Chief of Staff, Chief of Intelligence, Inspector General of Training and Transport, and a new Chief Engineer. Lloyd George and the War Cabinet’s fourth method in wresting control of the conduct of the war on the Western Front from Haig and Robertson was the formation of a Supreme War Council. Formed in early November 1917, the Council comprised the prime ministers of Britain, France and Italy, a second political member from each country, and a permanent military representative from each (the United States was also allotted a military representative). By stipulating that the military representative must hold no other post, Lloyd George was therefore able to circumvent the influence of his CIGS, General Robertson. He appointed General Sir Henry Wilson to the Supreme War Council. It was Wilson who had suggested the formation of such a Council to Lloyd George. Charles Bean: It happened that Sir Henry Wilson was at that time in England [late 1917], his restless intellect unemployed with any satisfying work upon the vital problems with which, like all other patriotic minds, it was incessantly grappling. He had warned Haig and others that, in these conditions, he would probably ‘get into mischief’.13 Very diplomatic. Bean might well have substituted ‘ambition’ for ‘intellect’ and ‘intrigue’ for ‘mischief’. Wilson was now in a position to decisively influence the course and conduct of the war directly through the prime minister and the War Cabinet, and thus, quite consciously, was the instigator in circumventing the power and influence of the professional head of the British Army: the CIGS, General Robertson.

A further significant initiative was planned by the Supreme War Council and endorsed by Lloyd George. In view of the fact that a German spring offensive was anticipated, if the present Allied manpower on the Western Front was to hold that line, a uniform Allied strategy must be planned and coordinated. There were two proposed mechanisms to achieve this. The first was to create a central reserve of 30 divisions whereby all three nations involved—France, Britain and Italy—would supply thirteen, ten and seven divisions respectively. It was also anticipated that the United States would supplement that reserve as its troops became available. In order to plan and execute the Allied strategy, and deploy the central reserve, the Supreme War Council also considered that the appointment of an Allied Commanderin-Chief would be desirable. Generals Haig and Pétain were both against the first proposal. They argued that the number of allotted divisions was too high; that the brief time span between the acquisition of the general reserve and the likely German spring offensive made the venture too risky in the short term; and, critically, that each would assist the other with reinforcements depending on the location and strength of the German offensive. Such ‘assistance’ would be put to a severe test of national interest when Operation Michael was launched. The notion that there should be a C-in-C Western Front obviously appealed to the French, since such an appointment would more than likely be given to them, but Lloyd George could find very few British politicians —much less soldiers—who shared his desire to appoint a French C-in-C. Impending events would also cause a change to this attitude. When General Robertson, after having been placed in an intolerable position, resigned on 11 February 1918, Lloyd George appointed Sir Henry Wilson as the new CIGS, with General Sir Henry Rawlinson as his Supreme War Council replacement. As the German attack loomed, Field Marshal Haig knew that a spring renewal of his Flanders offensive was lost. The BEF now numbered some 57 divisions (including its ten Dominion divisions), and occupied a front of around 125 miles. Denied his requested reinforcements, he had been forced to reduce his brigades from twelve to nine battalions in each division. While this measure obviously stretched his limited manpower, it also impaired his ability to relieve units in the line and give them much-needed training.

Not only did Haig have no doubt that there would be a German spring offensive, but his intelligence as to when and where it would occur was quite accurate. On 16 February 1918, his new Intelligence Chief, General Cox, ‘gave a very clear account of the situation of the enemy’ and stated that ‘we must be prepared to meet a very severe attack at any moment now’. On 2 March Haig recorded that Cox had briefed him as to the ‘reasons why we think the enemy is preparing to attack on the fronts of our Third and Fifth Armies’.14 Haig remained confident and told his Army commanders to be ‘ready as soon as possible to meet a big hostile offensive of prolonged duration’. The next day he recorded that ‘Troop movements and prisoners’ statements all indicate that an offensive on a big scale will take place during the present month.’ And on 19 March 1918—two days before Michael—he received ‘reports on the examination of certain prisoners showing that the enemy’s intention is to attack about March 20th or 21st’.15 In his defence of the BEF’s 125 miles of the Western Front, Haig’s chief focus was his northern flank and its protection of the Channel ports. Deployed in this area was General Plumer’s Second Army, occupying a line of 23 miles with nine divisions at the front and five in reserve; in its central portion of the line, occupying around 33 miles, he had General Horne’s First Army, with twelve divisions on the front and four in reserve; a portion of the central and southern front line, amounting to 28 miles, was occupied by General Byng’s Third Army, with ten divisions in the line and six in reserve; and, last, occupying around 42 miles of front with eleven divisions and three infantry and three cavalry divisions in reserve, was General Sir Hubert Gough’s Fifth Army. Clearly, Gough’s Fifth Army front was the most vulnerable part of the line, but Haig and GHQ believed that due to the much more extensive area to its rear a limited withdrawal and consequent loss of some ground could be tolerated if necessary. The Principle of War ‘surprise’ has a number of elements. While Ludendorff’s Michael offensive did not embrace it in terms of its location or timing, it most certainly embodied that principle in a tactical sense. That General Gough’s Fifth Army front was stretched and undermanned is beyond dispute, but two characteristics of his defence of that front exacerbated the problem. The first was the preparation of his defences. Tim

Travers disputes the notion that Gough was given little time to construct them: The difficulty . . . was labour, yet there were 354,577 men specifically available for this task on 1 January 1918 (including 104,739 coloured labourers, and 71,000 prisoners of war), and of course the infantry divisions themselves were also available. With this amount of labour power, it might be expected that reasonable defences could be ready for the anticipated attack in the spring.16 Travers points out that it took GHQ until 3 March 1918 to allot sufficient labour to Gough’s front; that despite this, Gough told Haig in early February that ‘in another month his front would be strong’; then, incredibly, on 15 February he told Haig that he had no labour; and again, on 8 March, he informed his C-in-C that ‘he had no defences and no labour’.17 If Gough—and GHQ—had been lethargic in their preparation of the Fifth Army front, then Gough’s emphasis upon his defence of the front or first defensive zone was the second factor that caused his army such difficulties in confronting Michael. By this stage of the Great War, it had become increasingly obvious that the first battle zone of any defence should be lightly held by machine gun posts and patrolling in front of that zone. In the second line of defences were to be found far more extensive interlocking trenches; significant artillery guns; a far greater preponderance of machine guns; and massed infantry. The rear or third zone contained the reserve, ready for a reinforcement of the battle zone or possible counterattack. By an insistence on deploying his strength at the front zone—especially in terms of his machine guns—Gough unwittingly exposed himself to the very attribute of surprise that Ludendorff and Bruchmüller had planned. The German ‘hurricane’ bombardment, followed by the elite Sturmtruppen advance of massed machine gun and flamethrower assaults on Gough’s front zone, and the sheer rapidity of it, would all cause that first British battle zone to break up into panic and confusion, with command, control and coordination lost. Once through it, the Germans would take ground, and take it rapidly and in great quantity.

The fact that Field Marshal Haig was oblivious to the potential disaster about to unfold is best illustrated by his diary on 5 March: I also told the Army Commanders that I was very pleased at all I had seen on the fronts of the three Armies which I had recently visited . . . I was only afraid that the enemy would find our front so very strong that he will hesitate to commit his Army to the attack with the almost certainty of losing very heavily.18 *** At the tactical level, Ludendorff’s Michael offensive (21 March to 5 April 1918) imposed a massive reverse upon the Allies, and, primarily, the BEF. In some sixteen days the Germans captured around 1200 square miles of territory (including the old Somme battlegrounds taken at such great cost by the BEF two years earlier); the British lost around 85 000 killed or wounded; a further 75 000 men became POWs; over 1000 guns were lost; and, by destroying or capturing much of the Fifth Army’s front zone posts, and a number of similar Third Army posts, large numbers of machine guns were also lost. But from a strategic perspective, Michael failed because the Germans were unable to gain either of their objectives. When Arras was not taken and the BEF pushed northwards, Ludendorff pushed his strength westwards towards Amiens, where, it was hoped, he might cripple the railway system, disrupt the supply of the BEF and also drive a wedge between that force and the French. Although the Germans struck within some ten miles of that transport hub, and were able to shell it, they did not—thanks in a significant measure to the Australian and French defence of Villers-Bretonneux—gain their objective. In the end, Michael failed because of a breakdown of logistics: the Germans outran their ability to adequately supply their troops, and to maintain their artillery dominance. Ian Brown has best summed up this German logistical failure: ‘[Michael] . . . forced the troops to march and fight at substantial distances from their railheads . . . Sheer fatigue and outstripped rear-area services do not reflect well on the German staffs of the time, nor does the lack of a coherent plan of campaign.’19 The German

offensive quite simply ran out of steam because of this ‘sheer fatigue’ and lack of adequate support. Forced to pause, the Germans gave the BEF time to reorganise, then to stall and eventually halt the offensive.

Despite the fluid nature of its withdrawal, no such logistical paralysis occurred within the BEF. Ian Brown gives us a striking example of the BEF’s superior logistical performance: The BEF expended an enormous quantity of ammunition in the spring, which greatly taxed the lines of communication. In the three weeks following the launch of the Michael offensive, the artillery used just short of 5.5 million 18-pounder and nearly 1.5 million 4.5 [inch] howitzer shells. This represented nearly the total number of 18-pounder shells available to the BEF just prior to the Somme offensive twenty-one months previously. During April, 725 ammunition trains ran to the front—nearly as many as ran during the whole five months of the Somme offensive.20 But the startling fact Brown reveals is that, other than 9.2-inch Howitzer shells, the British production of these shells exceeded their substantial and concentrated use during Michael. The same phenomenon applied to its guns: although 859 were lost in the first week of the offensive, the BEF still held a surplus of guns (except 12-inch Howitzers). Brown gives us a telling conclusion: ‘This reflected not only the increased production in England but also better ability to keep and maintain stocks on the lines of communication for just such an eventuality.’21 It will be remembered that both Haig and Pétain had rejected two of the Supreme War Council initiatives upon its formation in late 1917: the creation of a central reserve and the appointment of an Allied Commanderin-Chief. Both had pledged to come to the aid of the other should the German offensive threaten the dislocation of the two national forces. When Gough’s Fifth Army front collapsed and Ludendorff shifted his focus to the Amiens front, Haig, who had most of his reserves in the area north of Arras, appealed to Pétain for reinforcements. They were slow in coming. When Pétain admitted to Haig that he was contemplating swinging his left flank back to cover Paris, because he believed that the main German attack had not yet materialised, a crisis ensued. Haig recorded that: ‘Pétain struck me as very much upset, almost unbalanced and most anxious.’22 On

25 March, to avoid the calamity of a splitting of the French and BEF armies, Haig requested that the CIGS, General Wilson, and Lord Milner (Secretary of State for War) should come to France immediately to ‘arrange that General Foch or some determined General who would fight, should be given supreme control of the operations in France’.23 On 26 March 1918, a conference was held at Doullens (about 15 miles north of Amiens). Representing the French were President Poincaré, Premier Clemenceau and Generals Pétain, Foch and Weygand, while the British representatives were Lord Milner, Haig and Generals Wilson, Lawrence and Montgomery. Those gathered eventually saw the need for a supreme commander on the Western Front and identified General Foch as the soldier to lead the Allies. Haig noted that ‘Foch seemed sound and sensible but Pétain had a terrible look.’24 Foch’s appointment would prove an astute decision, as he had two priceless qualities that were drastically needed for the challenge ahead. First, he had that rare ability to engage in coalition warfare: he could see past the exclusive interests of just his own country and army, and perceive and fight an allied war (which was, of course, in the long-term interests of his country). Second, he had the admirable personality traits of resolution, perseverance and inspiring optimism. Ample proof of Foch’s above-mentioned qualities was the almost immediate order to Pétain to fast-track the deployment of French First Army divisions to the line north of the Oise River, and to immediately create a strong reserve near Amiens, manned by a further number of French divisions. Foch knew that the real threat was to Amiens and therefore that there was potential for the dislocation of the union of the French and BEF front, as well as the BEF’s logistics capacity. Thus, Michael had seen the first German spring offensive launched against the BEF’s Fifth and Third Army front in the Somme area; April 1918 saw the second major operation concentrated upon Lys in Flanders; and the third occurred in May on the Aisne, where a number of recuperating British divisions were badly mauled. In all this, the AIF added fresh laurels to an already impressive Western Front record at or near Hébuterne, Dernancourt, Albert, Morlancourt and Hazebrouck. And burnt forever into Australian military folklore were the two actions at Villers-Bretonneux: the

first (4 April 1918) saw the German attack there first blunted after an initial break-through, and then a brilliant counter-attack that restored the situation; and the second, after the German capture of that village on 24 April, in one of the most extraordinary and audacious feats of arms during the war—on the eve of the fourth Anzac Day—the 13th and 15th Brigades, AIF, counterattacked and re-took Villers-Bretonneux. During the period March–April 1918, the AIF sustained some 15 000 casualties. Ludendorff’s final offensive was checked at the Second Battle of the Marne (15 July to 6 August 1918). After initial impressive gains threatening Paris, the Germans were finally thrust back to where their offensive had begun, costing some 95 000 French, 13 000 British and 12 000 American casualties. But the Germans paid a heavier price: around 165 000 casualties. For all the seemingly impressive territorial gains, Ludendorff’s spring offensives had been finally blunted, and his strategic aims comprehensively denied. The initiative had now passed to Foch and the Allies. *** Given the unprecedented slaughter and seeming futility of the massive confrontations on the Western Front—particularly during 1916 and 1917— followed by the stunning Allied reversals during the German spring offensives of 1918, the consequent rapid and spectacular transformation from despair to victory in a mere 100 days is extraordinary. We have chronicled the divisions between the military and their governments in both the strategic and tactical aspects of the war, and we have noted that these impediments to progress existed within both Britain and France, and embodied, in the wider sense, in the difficulties of coalition warfare. It will now be shown that this remarkable 100-day change was the end result of a gradual evolution of expertise in the science laboratory, in the factory and, most of all, in the spectacular refinement of how a battle on the Western Front should be planned, coordinated and fought. In doing so, some of the myths of the Great War will be exposed, and a definitive understanding of the Australian contribution to that victory will be gained.

CHAPTER 2

Sharpening the tools Paddy Griffith, in Battle Tactics of the Western Front: The first two years of the war represent the essential preliminary charcoal sketch over which the whole war-winning tableau would subsequently be painted in oils.1 An army’s doctrine is its repository of administrative and tactical knowledge that facilitates its deployment and conduct of operations on the battlefield. When Britain declared war on Germany on 4 August 1914, the basis of its ‘preliminary charcoal sketch’—its doctrine—was in no way prepared for a massed-army and industrial Continental war; much less for the static, crushing and relentless confrontation of trench warfare that would soon unfold. In the first years of the war this ‘charcoal sketch’ would be painfully and painstakingly ‘edited’ and at times ‘redrawn’ as the BEF learnt its lessons. The ‘painting’ would begin in 1917 and come to its fruition the following year. At the onset of the Great War, Britain possessed two standing armies. The first was the British Regular Army which, numbering around 247 500 officers and other ranks, constituted the British Empire’s ‘police force’—its primary task was the occupation and protection of British interests around the world. The second was the Indian Army numbering some 160 000 men whose chief duty was the protection of the Indian frontier. Of the former, 75 000 were stationed in India. For service at home the Territorial Force, composed of part-time reservists, totalled some 270 000 men. While the quality of its personnel was often apparent in this relatively small British Army, it lacked quantity. In contrast, at the beginning of the war France’s

standing army and its reserves numbered some 4 million men, Germany 4.5 million, and Austria–Hungary 3 million. It follows that the Staff Corps was also of modest proportions. In 1914 there were only ‘908 officers in the British Army who could put the letters “psc” (passed Staff College) after their names, or were otherwise qualified for Staff duties’.2 Further, during the Edwardian era, the chances of promotion in the British Army were greatly enhanced by ‘class, upbringing, schooling, and powerful patrons . . .’3 Thus, an officer’s advancement might be accelerated by his patron’s endorsement, reliant to a large measure upon the prestige and influence of that supporter. In fact, the strong attachment and influence of an officer’s regiment—and his patron’s ‘guidance’—often proved far more effective than attendance at the Staff College. Ian M Brown has left us with a number of that institution’s further limitations: Students entered the Staff College by passing a series of competitive examinations . . . Some . . . entered on the recommendation of the Commander-in-Chief, which allowed for patronage and the potential of less able officers getting in . . . the artillery, the engineers, and the Indian Army suffered under-representation, due to regulations that limited the artillery to four entrants per year and the engineers two . . . In addition, artillery, engineers, and the Indian Army officers did not receive ‘corps’ pay while at the Staff College, thus increasing their financial burden still further.4 A relatively popular joke during the war was, ‘If bread is the staff of life, what is the life of the Staff? One big loaf!’ Nothing could have been further from the truth. As the BEF rapidly expanded, some original, capable staff officers were promoted and an ongoing pool of their peers with often only a year’s combat experience were sent to train at Hesdin in northern France. Their expertise in both administration and operations grew as their experience of war progressed, until, within that critical two-year period already discussed, the BEF’s staff work eventually became unrivalled. From a command perspective, the senior officers who were to lead the BEF on the Western Front had learnt their craft in open warfare: in India

and on the Frontier, in the Sudan, during the First Boer War, and in particular, the Boer War of 1899–1902. Neither they—nor the Central Powers—could have dreamt of trench warfare, and the subsequent expenditure of thousands of tons of explosives during massive artillery duels, which often mixed the terror of shrapnel with a dose of dreaded chemicals, or a screening cover of smoke; devastating machine gun, trench mortar and flamethrower fire; the gradual advent of steel monsters traversing battlefields with massed infantry on a scale undreamt of; or that warfare would journey to the skies to add a totally new dimension to that conflict. Colonel David Brook, Royal Australian Artillery, (Retd): You learn very fast! And of course things unravel the moment the first shot is fired. It’s as quick as that, as instant as that. Because you have no idea what you’re going to be up against, what tactics that will be employed . . . generals are always blamed for training for the last war. The sad fact of the matter is that they haven’t got any experience of what’s going to happen in the future and all they can do is . . . try and learn the lessons, learn from the mistakes they make . . . it’ll take them two years to square themselves away before they’re a viable proposition.5 The Great War quickly became a war of technological expertise, where the urgent need was for a blueprint of a new or refined weapon from the laboratory to then be translated into a prototype. Then there was the trialling, then its mass production by a skilled labour force in converted or new factories, and finally, its movement to the battlefield via an intricate logistics infrastructure. And all of these urgent aspirations, resulting plans, and their final completion in construction and deployment took considerable time. To compound these challenges, at the beginning of the war the BEF faced arguably the most numerous, professional, well-trained and -led Continental army of its time. Manned primarily since 1871 by the armies of Prussia, Saxony and Bavaria, the German Army was a by-product of a militaristic society disciplined and structured for conflict; its General Staff were extremely efficient; it could deploy 25 regular corps, each comprising two divisions, and all equipped with a full establishment of artillery; it

greatly outnumbered both the French and British in heavy guns; it had abundant, well-trained and available reserves; and, critically, at the onset of the war, it had an industrial infrastructure that enabled it to satisfy its requirements. Further, the nation that had set the pace in the development of a relationship between science and industry had been Germany. Procedures had been put in place to ensure that ‘research chemists in universities met the requirements of industry’, and to encourage such relationships numerous technical institutes were established.6 In contrast, the relationship between British and French universities and their industries lagged behind the Germans prior to the war. Again, although the scientific and industrial transformation for war by Britain and France would prove to be dramatic, that process would take time—another important portion of ‘the essential preliminary charcoal sketch’. *** In essence, the Great War was an ongoing, relentless and ruthless artillery duel. The great majority of the casualties on both sides—the killed, the maimed and the traumatised—were the result of the artillery, both in the attack on, or the defence of, any given location. From the start to the finish, no other arm of warfare remained such a critical constant in the planning and execution of a Great War battle. In direct response to its importance was its development from the traditional, mobile and dashing gunnery actions before and during 1914— where direct fire upon an observed enemy over quite short ranges could be employed—to its gradual evolution in 1918 into a weapon that could pinpoint an unseen, distant target; could surprise the enemy by delivering accurate, concentrated fire upon that target without prior registration; could disrupt the enemy’s rearward communications and transport and concentration of reserves for counter-attack; and could support the advancing infantry with a high-explosive creeping barrage, or on-call fire with either or both gas and smoke being employed as required. The extraordinary scientific and tactical artillery advances made during the Great War were learnt through constant technological and industrial invention and refinement, which was driven by hard-won and costly experience on the battlefield.

Given that the Great War was initially perceived by both sides as a mobile war of relatively short duration, the onset of static trench warfare produced an unquenchable demand for artillery guns and shells of all types. Two battles during 1915 provided the artillery with some limited lessons. The first was the Battle of Neuve Chapelle (10 March 1915) where, because of an acute shortage of ammunition, a narrow 2000-yard front was employed to achieve a suitable concentration of fire; an intense fire plan was brought to bear for 35 minutes before the attack; and 13- and 18pounder guns were designated to hit selected targets. The initial phase of the attack was successful, but the soon-to-be familiar problem of a slowness in bringing up reserves caused by communication difficulties stalled the attack. In September of that year, the Battle of Loos saw the lessons of Neuve Chapelle ignored: while the front was five times larger, the same number of guns were used, and thus the concentration of fire was diminished; the barrages lasted for four days and any hope of surprise was therefore forfeited; gas was used in adverse wind conditions; and the emphasis of the artillery barrage was to obliterate the enemy and his trenches in the belief that the infantry could then cross the intervening ground virtually uncontested. It would take considerable time to fathom that the artillery was best employed in neutralising the German ability to contest the infantry’s crossing of no-man’s-land. By mid-September 1914 the BEF had used all of its heavy howitzer ammunition, and one month later, ‘at the start of the First Battle of Ypres, British divisions were warned that they could each expect only three truckloads of ammunition per day’.7 As the size of the conflict grew, there was a consequent desire for more guns and more ammunition, and, as a result, the logistical challenges became immense. Colonel David Brook, RAA, (Retd): . . . this was part of the problem with horse transport, that often, given the terrain and the conditions, that it took hours and hours for one ammunition wagon with its horses to get up to where it was to go, and often, of course, you had mule transport with pack saddles and not the limbers . . . and also, a special little, you might say jacket . . . and there were two pockets on either side, that the troops

could put on . . . each taking a round of ammunition. Apart from the ammunition, there’s the fodder for the horses . . . an 18-pounder battery had 50 riding horses and 122 draught horses [for the guns and the wagons] . . . for six guns they had one two-horsed cart, twelve six-horsed wagons, and one bicycle, that was it. The forage for 172 horses each day is substantial, plus water.8 The Somme offensive fought during the period 1 July to 18 November 1916 along the Somme Valley (consisting of twelve main battles) provides us with a number of gradual lessons learnt—at enormous cost—by the BEF’s GHQ and artillery. As the main Allied offensive of 1916, the Somme was originally planned as a joint French and British attack in France to coincide with a major offensive on the Eastern Front. But the mammoth German thrust at Verdun in February 1916 caused the French to greatly reduce their contribution to the Somme in order to defend that critically important fortress. The first day of the Somme offensive, Saturday 1 July 1916, remains the most costly and infamous day in British military history. The BEF suffered nearly 60 000 casualties, of whom some 20 000 were killed in action. By mid-November 1916, the British and French had fought themselves to an exhausting standstill, which had yielded a paltry sevenmile gain in ground at a cost of about 420 000 British and Dominion casualties and around 200 000 French. The Germans suffered about 500 000. This offensive constituted the escalation of a war of attrition on a scale not previously witnessed. The AIF’s main contribution to the Somme was at Pozières and Mouquet Farm between 23 July and 3 September, and attacks around Flers during November 1916. The plan for the opening of the offensive involved an attack by Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Rawlinson’s newly constituted Fourth Army and a part of General Sir Edmund Allenby’s Third Army across a front of some eleven miles. The objective and the means of obtaining it was to cause an ongoing divergence of opinion between Haig and Rawlinson. During the eighteen-month period leading up to the battle, both British manpower and industry had grown enormously. By mid-1916 General Haig had an infantry strength of four armies comprising up to twelve corps of 43 divisions; he could deploy over 1000 field guns, 400 heavy guns and

howitzers, and possessed ample shells for all of them. But that rapid growth in manpower and artillery production had a severe limitation in quality, which began with its commanders. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, in Command on the Western Front: The five men who were now Army commanders had, back in 1914, been in charge only of divisions. Most of the present corps commanders had then led infantry brigades. And many of the current divisional generals had started the war commanding battalions. Of all the formation commanders directing the attack in mid-1916, only Haig, Rawlinson, and Gough had exercised real authority at the BEF’s last major operation—the battle of Loos just nine months before.9 And to compound this lack of experience in its senior commanders, Rawlinson maintained that ‘neither our new formations nor the old Divisions have the same discipline that obtained in our Army of a year ago’.10 The same problem of ‘quantity not quality’ applied to the BEF’s artillery shells during 1916. While the quantity from British and American factories was now increasing at an astounding rate, their quality and consistency were poor. A third of the shells used during the Battle of the Somme became known as the infamous ‘iron harvest’ whereby, for generations later, farmers in the Somme region were to gather a wealth of dud shells. Thus, the price paid for an initial, rapid, mass-produced shell by a still-learning industry and workforce was often a flawed product. ‘Bite and hold’ has been a concept discussed by Great War historians for many years. Haig was an advocate of a decisive and concentrated breakthrough of all three of the German lines of defence, which would facilitate a resumption of the long-sought-after mobile battle that had eluded Great War generals of both sides. Until virtually the end of the war, Haig, the cavalryman, saw his mobile war returning through the deployment and exploitation of the BEF’s cavalry after an initial artillery–infantry breakthrough.

Rawlinson, in contrast, believed that the ‘bite’ was contingent upon the range of the artillery: in other words, the ground gained in any offensive was restricted entirely by the field artillery being able to destroy the enemy trench lines within their range, and provide creeping barrages—an innovation on the Somme—to offer progressive support to the infantry advance. He also trusted that the 18-pounders might also cut the German wire belts to allow a less interrupted infantry access into the German trenches. In addition, the heavy guns might hamper the enemy’s communications, offer counter-battery fire, and disrupt the movement of reserves. In simple terms, while the width of the front could be determined in the planning of an operation, the length of that ‘bite’ or area of captured ground was absolutely restricted to the reach of its ‘jaw’—and the ‘jaw’ was the field and heavy artillery. Having conducted a successful ‘bite’, the next necessity was to deploy sufficient infantry onto the captured ground to hold it and consolidate that gain. This was no easy task, given the German propensity to both concentrate reserves and counter-attack very quickly. Rawlinson thus saw the war as a series of ‘bite and hold’ operations: destroy the enemy’s front trench system, cut their wire, advance under artillery fire, occupy and hold the captured ground, bring the guns forward, register the new objectives, and repeat the process. The Battle of the Somme was preceded by a seven-day British artillery bombardment designed to achieve three outcomes. The first was the destruction of the German front line of trenches and to thereby inflict heavy casualties or at least severe trauma upon its occupants. To some measure the sheer volume and prolonged duration of that bombardment did have an effect. The second aim was to cut the German wire. This was a failure. As some of the German wire belts were 50 yards or more deep and well staked, the British shrapnel shell proved unable to breach those barriers consistently. The third aim was to limit the supply of rations and reinforcements to the front line. In terms of cutting the German supply line, the artillery bombardment on the Somme was significant, but its efforts to both reduce and hamper their infantry response were limited. It should be remembered that the Germans had been on the defensive for around two years, and had, therefore, used their time and manpower resources to dig intricate, deep dugouts in the first and particularly the second line of trenches. Thus, although they did indeed take significant casualties and also

suffered the distress and strain of a seven-day shelling, vast quantities of safely stored ammunition supplies and infantry in those dugouts were able to spring into action when the bombardment lifted. In the end, the shocking losses during the Battle of the Somme for little ground gained were the consequence of a voluminous but crude quality of firepower that failed to destroy or even retard a powerful German response to infantry forced to cross open ground. Hence the tragic comment of an infantry soldier after his battalion’s demise: ‘We were two years in the making and ten minutes in the destroying.’ Further, the devastating artillery fire employed during that four-month series of battles greatly negated Field Marshal Haig’s desire for a break-through and a resumption of mobile warfare, since the landscape became a shell-cratered barrier to any speedy movement of men, guns, shells and supplies. And the problem was often compounded by rain and the resulting mud. However, amid the slaughter and seeming futility of the Battle of the Somme were hints of artillery initiatives, which were gradually identified, refined and employed during the period 1916 – 18. One of the most significant advances involved the status and influence of artillery personnel at GHQ, and at army, corps and divisional staff levels. We have noted the meagre acceptance of artillery applicants into the Staff College before the war. In 1914 the senior artillery officer at a formation HQ was no more than a subservient consultant who possessed no responsibility nor significant input in the planning of an operation. But by the Battle of the Somme in mid-1916, the sheer scale and resulting attributes of a detailed battle plan—involving such considerations as types, numbers and roles of guns, shell supply, movement and logistics, the need for joint tactical planning and liaison with the infantry, the Royal Flying Corps and later the Tank Corps—forced GHQ to have a Major-General Royal Artillery (MGRA) on that staff, while all Army and Corps HQ contained a General Officer Commanding Royal Artillery (GOCRA) and his nominated staff. In simple terms, the complexity of static, massedinfantry trench warfare now demanded an artillery level of specialisation and technical expertise not previously contemplated. One of the most enduring and ghastly images of the Great War is the spectacle of grotesque corpses who had endured the horrendous crossing of

no-man’s-land only to be checked, and then hit by shell, machine gun or rifle fire, and left strung out on the obstacle of barbed wire. By mid-1916 the BEF had learnt that 18-pounder shrapnel was often ineffective unless it could be burst close to the wire and the ground; that as many as six rounds of shell fire per yard were needed up to a range of around a mile and a half; that the longer the range after that distance, the more shells were required; and that the use of trench mortars was helpful, but was limited by their short range. Further, the process of breaching the German belts of wire was time-consuming, in that frequent infantry patrols were needed to both identify the nature and depth of the wire, whether or not the often ongoing shelling had in fact achieved its purpose, and, lastly, whether repeated shelling or patrols were needed to inhibit the German capacity to mend that obstruction. Two inventions gave efficiency and sophistication to the process. The first was the invention of the 106 fuse. It was first used in April 1917 during the Battle of Arras, and ‘fulfilled the stringent requirements of the British Army for safety, simplicity in manufacture, and instantaneous detonation’.11 The 106 fuse caused HE (high-explosive) shells to burst the moment they hit the ground, which reduced the time needed for repetitive firing, and, most of all, the amount of ammunition required. Guy Hartcup, in The War of Invention: . . . experience showed that the shortest range at which it was safe to fire was 1,550 yards when the fuse acted correctly and the best effect obtained against personnel and wire entanglements . . . Some 20–30 million of the new fuses were made and used by various calibres of field gun.12 The second was the advent of tanks. As they became more numerous, tanks were at times able to crush wire or drag sections of it away. By far the toughest artillery challenge of the Great War was the gradual development and implementation of predicted fire: the ability to accurately locate unseen enemy targets, be they guns, troop concentrations and movement, transport routes, villages, HQ and communications, and to do so with the intention of preferably destroying them or at least neutralising

them, by pinpoint fire from one’s own artillery, without an initial registration and excessive adjustment of that fire. The objectives of predicted fire were thus two-fold: to restore the Principle of War ‘surprise’ to operations, and thus, by means of accurate and telling firepower—not just manpower—facilitate an efficient and less costly infantry crossing of no-man’s-land; and then, as a consequence, restore some form of mobility to operations. An early innovation in locating German artillery was the use of flash spotting. This involved an observer watching the muzzle flash from enemy guns and then recording the bearing of the flash and reporting it to the Plotting Centre. On receipt, other bearings were also plotted from other observations, and the enemy gun was located by cross observation. The potential for locating enemy guns by sound ranging had been recognised as early as 1915 by German, French and British scientists.13 Introduced in mid-1916 and gradually enhanced and expanded from then on, listening stations, each with six Tucker microphones (named after their inventor, Corporal W S Tucker, a young physicist from the Imperial College), made it possible to record the sound of guns firing and then calculate the map coordinates. There were two negative aspects to sound ranging. First, communication lines were prone to damage from hostile artillery; and second, during any significant forward movement the process of redeploying survey to determine new map coordinates and implementing the use of the sets of microphones and communications became timeconsuming. Up to December 1918, 13 540 microphones were delivered to sound-ranging sections, each section manned by four officers and 24 other ranks. In all, 37 sound-ranging sections saw service in France. By late 1917, aerial photography and spotting had surpassed the effectiveness of flash spotting and sound ranging. In terms of ‘spotting’, the Royal Flying Corps could identify such enemy targets as artillery batteries, the ongoing accuracy of trench and counter-battery bombardments, relatively accurate and current infantry advance locations, and signs of enemy counter-attacks. And just prior to and during the Battle of the Somme, the zone call system and the use of kite-balloons came into operation. By dividing the ground to be assaulted on a map into relatively small grids (around 3000 square yards each), where

each battery was assigned one grid, aeroplane spotters could call down a blanket of artillery fire on specific targets with often telling results. Kiteballoons, which were linked to artillery batteries by wireless, complemented such target identification. But it was the employment of aerial photography that proved the most effective means of target acquisition. F M Cutlack, The Official Australian Flying Corps Historian: Earlier in the war, before the value of photography-reconnaissance was properly appreciated, the pictures made were but scantily distributed to divisions in the line . . . perhaps two to three or half a dozen; if one copy were occasionally sent to an infantry battalion in the line, it was an act of grace and goodwill . . . The value of a constant flow of intelligence from rear to front of the army, as from front to rear, did not easily win recognition . . . Staff officers would collect aeroplane-photographs as souvenirs of ‘sections of the front where we have been engaged.’ . . . The science of ferreting out what was called ‘hostile intelligence’ in the front line was not in 1915 and early 1916 the enthusiastic and unending work which it became later . . . As soon as the army had grown to accept the view that fighting the Germans was a problem as much about science and intelligence as of rude force, these old notions underwent a change. If the date for such a change must be named at all precisely, it would probably be the spring of 1916. Towards the close of that year frontline intelligence of the enemy had become almost a fetish with staffs of army corps . . .14 In order to provide accurate maps of the front, a topographical section was established at every Corps HQ. In March 1916 four Field Survey Companies were established as a part of the Royal Engineers and consisted of an HQ, a mapping section, an observation section and a sound-ranging section. Their work became of such importance that in May 1918 the companies were reconstituted into five Field Survey Battalions, each allotted to one BEF Army. This Royal Engineer expertise enabled constant updating, overprinting of changing detail, and special maps at varying scales of the many individual map sheets. The Royal Engineers also

introduced ‘artillery boards’ for the BEF artillery. An artillery board had a scaled, coordinated topographical map or gridded plotting sheet fastened to it. With the aid of a range arm and bearing arc, the bearing line of fire from gun to target and the range could be determined graphically. With regard to the guns, specific meteorological data such as wind velocity and direction, air temperature, barometric pressure and humidity— as well as wear in the gun barrel—were all factored into calculations for predicted fire. To ensure a consistent performance of any given battery, calibration sections were formed, and by ‘firing through screens the exact initial velocity of each gun was ascertained, and compensation could be given on the sights which ensured the uniform shooting of every gun in the battery’.15 Such knowledge and skill played no small part in the critical development of predicted fire, because without this work, such fire could not have been introduced and refined. It must, however, be accepted that for the purposes of this work, descriptions of these technological advances have of necessity been much simplified. The acquisition of artillery intelligence from sound ranging, flash spotting, RAF reconnaissance, other sources of ground observation and reports, and prisoners of war was constant by the middle of 1918. In conjunction with the results of Royal Engineer survey and mapping, the Counter-Bombardment staffs at the various higher headquarters were able to collate, assess and disseminate this information in Hostile Battery Lists— which contained the location by map reference, the type of enemy equipment and the numbers in each location—to the various artillery headquarters. Here the lists were converted into Task Tables for the batteries. From these tables, Gun Programmes were prepared and issued for each gun or howitzer, which showed the time of firing, range, bearing, type of ammunition and fuse, rate of fire, duration and the number of rounds to be fired. The located enemy batteries were fired on by dedicated guns and howitzers allocated specifically for counter-bombardment using the recently developed techniques of predicted fire. The succinct and painstaking combination of all of these initiatives gradually facilitated the ability of the BEF’s artillery to provide predicted fire plans on accurate maps without the necessity for ranging or registration

of guns. This tremendous expertise would, by late 1917 and during 1918, finally enable the key Principle of War ‘surprise’ to be imposed on a battle plan. During the Battle of the Somme in mid-1916, the ratio of heavy to medium guns was one to three, while during the Amiens offensive just over two years later, it had grown to seven to twelve—more guns, more firepower, more range, and, above all, more accuracy. As a consequence, there was a greater elimination or at least a neutralisation of distant enemy artillery batteries, troop concentrations, logistics and communications. For the field guns, these qualities aided a growing prowess in terms of their creeping, standing and lifting barrages, designed to assist the assaulting infantry to arrive within a short distance of the enemy trenches, to shell objectives, and then to lift to the next one in sequence. There were two critical battles during 1917 that are noteworthy concerning the development of the artillery. The Third Battle of Ypres, or Passchendaele, was a tragic reminder of the tactical shortcomings of the Somme. When the wettest winter in around 30 years descended on the Ypres battlefields, those heavy, concentrated and lengthy barrages had turned the landscape into a mire of water-filled craters that not only slowed the infantry’s progress, but made the task of moving guns and shells a nightmare. In short, the artillery’s aims of shattering the German trenches, killing his infantry and destroying his logistic capacity provided short-term gains, but severely impeded the ability of the infantry and artillery (and their logistic support) to move forward at anything other than a snail’s pace. During the Third Battle of Ypres the Australian 1st and 2nd Divisions fought in the battle of Menin Road on 20 September 1917, which saw them reach the shattered remains of Polygon Wood near Zonnebeke. Six days later the relieving 4th and 5th Divisions resumed the offensive and, despite some positions being taken, there were about 11 000 casualties for little ground gained. On 4 October the Australians captured Broodseinde Ridge, and then, forestalled by rain and the resulting mud, a 3rd and 4th Division attack on Passchendaele resulted in an early gain that could not be held. The AIF was forced to withdraw, sustaining heavy casualties. The Canadians relieved them in mid-November. The Battle of Cambrai (20 November to 7 December 1917) was a landmark battle on the Western Front. From an artillery perspective, the feature of the battle was the determination and drive of Brigadier-General

Hugh Tudor, CRA of the 9th Scottish Division, who, in the absence of his corps commander, convinced his superiors to allow him to forgo the usual long, preliminary artillery bombardment and, by the use of predicted fire, achieve surprise and the priceless chance of an early break-in of the German defences. This was not an entirely new plan. Colonel Bruchmüller had used predicted fire on the Eastern Front during the recent Battle of Riga (3 September 1917). But the Germans had not perfected predicted fire to the BEF’s extent: whether their calibration techniques or their ability to employ the same diverse number of mapping procedures were to blame, is hard to know, but in the end, their predicted fire was not as sophisticated. In the event, the BEF’s counter-battery fire and its ability to interdict the German defences proved decisive in the initial stages of the Battle of Cambrai. That fire also employed a telling mixture of shrapnel and smoke, which aided the movement of the great number of tanks used during the start of the battle. The surprise barrage at Cambrai, its use of smoke, and its accurate counter-battery fire—in unison with the success of tanks—caused a BEF break-through of the Hindenburg Line across a six-mile front to a depth of some five miles. Although that initial stunning success was to be shattered by a brilliant German counter-attack and a subsequent BEF withdrawal, the potential for predicted artillery fire, resultant surprise and infantry–tank cooperation had now been realised. By early 1918, the BEF’s artillery had become a weapon of intricate sophistication. The sheer volume of fire that had been so crudely employed during the Battle of the Somme in mid-1916, and repeated during the Third Battle of Ypres during July 1917, had, if anything, been increased in just over two years; but by 1918, with the priceless added quality of accuracy, it could screen its always vulnerable infantry and tank advances by smoke and debilitating gas concentrations; and, most important of all, its much more numerous medium and particularly heavy guns could now precisely bring counter-battery fire to bear and also disrupt German communications, troop concentrations and supply, which inhibited their ability to do what they had previously done so well: counter-attack. The BEF’s artillery had always been a brutal weapon. By 1918 it had become a brutally accurate one. ***

If the development and eventual sophistication of the BEF’s artillery during the Great War was a monumental achievement, then the conception, production and tactical evolution of the tank was no less astounding. D G Browne, in The Tank in Action: The Tank Corps was the only arm of the service equipped with an entirely novel weapon which was formed while the war actually was in progress. Everyone had to learn everything from the beginning. There were no traditions, nor any experience of any kind to draw on until the first battle had been fought. The corps suffered at the outset from a surfeit [excess] of parents. For months it was governed in turn or together by a number of departments; and often the right hand did not know what the left hand was doing.16 Most creative military inventions usually require the foresight and drive of both a professional and a political identity. In mid-1914 Hugh Marriott, a mining engineer, gave LieutenantColonel Ernest Swinton, an engineer officer, his opinions as to the potential of the Holt Caterpillar Tractor as a means of transportation in remote country, and that this tractor might have a military potential. Swinton was not without influence. As a recent Assistant Secretary to the Committee of Imperial Defence (CID), he had access to Colonel Maurice Hankey, who was the Secretary of that committee. Influenced by Swinton, in December 1914 Hankey wrote a memorandum for the CID outlining his concept of a future mechanical war. Guy Hartcup, in The War of Invention: . . . armoured machines on caterpillars brought up into position at night . . . advancing into the enemy’s positions, smashing obstructions on the way and sweeping trenches with machine-gun fire. Infantry would advance behind in short rushes . . . Once the positions had been consolidated the assault would continue against the second line. Above all, surprise would be vital . . . smoke screens might be used to cover the assembly of the force.17 The political impetus for the concept was provided by Winston Churchill. After having read Hankey’s paper, he contacted Prime Minister Asquith,

which resulted in a committee being established to assess the feasibility of Swinton’s original proposal. For the next year the project was variously developed under such titles as ‘landships’, ‘landcruisers’ and ‘caterpillar machine-gun destroyers’. It was soon realised that some form of secrecy was in order. Lieutenant-Colonel (later Major-General) Sir Ernest Swinton: The structure of the machine in its early stages being boxlike, some term conveying the idea of a box or container seemed appropriate. We rejected in turn —‘container’—‘receptacle’—‘reservoir’—‘cistern.’ The monosyllable ‘tank’ appealed to us as being likely to catch on and be remembered.18 The tank was born. After changes in specifications and design during 1915, the prototype ‘Big Willie’, soon to be known as the Mark I, was, on 2 February 1916, put through trials in front of staff officers, Churchill and members of the Cabinet. Ten days later the War Office agreed to the production of 100 tanks. The Mark I was shaped like a rhombus and was 26 feet 5 inches long, 13 feet 9 inches wide and 8 feet 5 inches high; it weighed around 28 tons; its armour was approximately a half-inch thick at the front, slightly less on the sides, and about a quarter-inch thick on the roof; it was powered by a 105 hp Daimler petrol engine, with a maximum speed of 3.7 mph and an average speed of 2 mph; and it had a radius of action of about twelve miles or just over six hours of driving time.19 There were two types of this Mark I Tank—the male and female. The difference between the two was quite simply their differing armament: the male carried two protruding 6-pounder guns (57-mm cannon) and four Hotchkiss machine guns, while the female was armed with six machine guns. The Mark I had two caterpillar tracks, each consisting of 90 steel plates, which ran around rollers and passed round its body. Two distinctive features of this first tank were its tail and two large sponsons (a semi-circular gun turret fitted to either side of the tank). The tail consisted of two heavy, large-diameter wheels attached to the rear on a

carriage. They were designed to allow the tank to be steered by means of pulling on steel cables. If the tank commander ordered a change in direction, the tail had to be raised off the ground, which was a timeconsuming operation. During 1916, after a number of these tails had been damaged or shot away, it was found that they were an unnecessary addition to the hull. Because an armed turret would have caused the tank’s hull to be too high and thus render it unstable, the sponsons were designed and added to house the machine guns. These protruding objects were a nuisance when it came to transportation by rail—both had to be detached prior to movement and reassembled upon arrival at any given destination. It was found that the Mark I could cover flat ground at around 100 to 120 yards per minute and move over trench-intersected ground at around 40 yards per minute, while at night its speed was reduced to about 15 yards per minute. One of its great features was its ability to traverse wire entanglements and either drag them away or crush them to create an infantry passage through those obstacles. The Mark I could also cross an eleven-and-a-half-foot trench, breach barriers up to five feet high and climb slopes.20 The tank was manned by a crew of eight, four of whom were required to operate its steering and speed. Of those four, two were drivers: the commander managed the brakes, and a second crew member steered and operated the main gearbox. The other two were stationed on either side at the rear to control the gears for each of the two tracks. It was a cumbersome and time-consuming system, which necessitated the driver hand-signalling (amid the tremendous internal noise of the tank) to either of his rear ‘gearmen’ for a change in direction. The remaining four crew members were responsible for firing the guns and/or machine guns, depending on whether the tank was a male or female. In March 1916 Lieutenant-Colonel Swinton established the HQ of the ‘Heavy Section Machine Gun Corps’ (named as such for reasons of secrecy) at Elveden Camp in Norfolk, and began to raise six tank companies. There was much to do. Swinton appreciated that the selection of personnel, their training, the evolution of combined infantry–tank tactics, and the elimination of mechanical faults in the Mark I were his priorities. Given that the new ‘Mechanical Warfare Supply Department’ under the

Ministry of Munitions would also take considerable time to produce the new weapon in large numbers, Swinton hoped that time, training and sufficient tanks would, if secrecy was maintained, eventually produce a decisive break-through on the Western Front. It was not to be. He was disappointed to learn that Haig planned to employ his 60 available tanks during August 1916 to assist in his continuation of the Somme offensive. The Mark I’s first battle occurred at Flers-Courcelette on 15 September 1916. It was less than auspicious. Of the 49 tanks deployed for the attack 17 failed to reach the start line through either being ditched or suffering mechanical failure—over one-third. Although a number did cause understandable distress to the enemy, in a tactical sense their deployment bore no resemblance to Swinton’s vision for them, and, more importantly, the surprise that might have been gained by their massed appearance on the battlefield with some semblance of a practised tactical doctrine was lost. A similar disappointment occurred ten days later. The Battle of the Ancre (13– 14 November 1916) was yet another disaster. Heavy rain and the consequent difficult ground along that river caused an originally designated twenty tanks to be reduced to five, and all of those became stuck in the mud. The lessons came thick and fast. It was very soon appreciated that the Mark I needed fine weather and firm ground, and therefore considerable reconnaissance and planning was required to ascertain where, in terms of the terrain, it was to be deployed. This necessity would eliminate its use crossing swamps, streams with marshy banks, sunken roads, and ground that had been savaged by intense artillery fire and then turned into a mire of mud. It was also found that when the Mark I ditched with its nose down, the petrol supply was often cut off, as it was gravity-fed from the main front tanks to the carburettor. Further, the engine had no silencer and a quiet approach was thus prejudiced. If the tank itself had a multitude of early teething problems, then the crews operating them faced critical challenges. We have noted the twelvemile or six-hour limit to the range of the Mark I. A similar constraint was placed on the crew’s ability to function in that cramped environment. It was found that both entering and leaving the Mark I was difficult, and in the event of fire almost impossible, and as the petrol tank was inside that vehicle the risk of fire was heightened. Further, after a twelve-mile or six-

hour stint in the tank, the combination of a confined space where movement was cramped and tedious, the tremendous internal noise, the extreme heat, and nauseating carbon monoxide fumes caused vomiting, dizziness and resulting fatigue. Added to these problems was the fact that because of enemy fire hitting the outside of the tank, splinter masks had to be worn to shield the face from flying paint fragments. Communication, both internally and externally, was to prove another ongoing problem. As has been noted, the noise forced hand signals to be employed to steer the tank; often two pigeons were housed in the back of the vehicle for potential release with messages (they too suffered fatigue from carbon monoxide fumes); communication with the infantry was primitive, in that a bell and rope were housed at the rear of the tank, or hand signals were given; and communication with other tanks was virtually nonexistent. While flags or tin strips were tried and found to be of some assistance, decent communication, and thus coordination from tank to tank, and tank(s) to infantry, would remain a great handicap. The next significant battle in which the new tank weapon was involved was the Battle of Arras (9 April to 16 May 1917). There were three participating tank efforts: the first at Feuchy Chapel on Monchy, the second from Neuville-Vitasse down the Hindenburg Line, and the third at Bullecourt. For our purposes, the last of these three attacks—in support of the Australians at Bullecourt—provides a number of lessons. General Gough’s Fifth Army attack by the 4th Australian Division and the 62nd British Division on the Hindenburg Line at Bullecourt was planned to support the British Third Army to the north, and a French Army assault further south. In a rash decision to attack without artillery support, Gough trusted that a mere dozen Mark I tanks might support the infantry, cut the German wire and offer infantry fire support. The attack was meant to go in on 10 April 1917, but the failure of the tanks to arrive at the start line caused its cancellation. The assault mounted the next morning was a complete disaster. One of the twelve tanks did not even set off on its mission. Of the four tanks deployed on the right flank two lost direction with one breaking down and being forced to withdraw, and the other being hit by armour-piercing bullets. The third was hit and forced to withdraw with engine trouble, leaving the fourth to fight on. Four tanks were also committed to the left flank. All four of these tanks were late in arriving, and

two were hit by shells before reaching the start line. The three tanks deployed in the centre of the assault were all hit and rendered incapable of further action. Thus, a paltry two of the twelve Mark I tanks committed at Bullecourt survived the fight. Despite this dismal failure, the 4th and 12th AIF Brigades managed to fight their way through the enemy wire and occupy a portion of the Hindenburg Line trenches. They then requested artillery support to contest the German counter-attacks that must surely come. This was denied them, as the British artillery commander wrongly believed that the tanks were through the line and argued that he was not prepared to fire on his own troops. By midday on 11 April 1917, the Australians, isolated and having fought off numerous counter-attacks, were forced to withdraw. The fiasco that was Bullecourt cost the 4th Brigade 2339 casualties out of 3000 committed to the battle, while the 12th Brigade sustained some 950. Lieutenant-Colonel Ray Leane, CO 48th Battalion, 12th Brigade, AIF: The men would have gone forward and successfully occupied the Objective under an artillery barrage without suffering such heavy casualties which undoubtedly resulted by the failure of the Tanks to start on time and their not advancing beyond the first ‘Jumping Off’ Trench. Why the Tanks stopped and opened fire from the ‘Jumping Off’ Trench perhaps is best known to the O.C. Tanks. It was certainly bad tactics because it promptly brought a barrage right onto the men waiting to advance. I am of the opinion that the tanks absolutely failed to carry out their part in the attack. I consider had they shown more dash and initiative things would have been better and perhaps we might have been still holding the line captured today.21 The lessons came thick and fast after Bullecourt. Lieutenant-Colonel Leane’s report would seem to indicate that there was little or no infantry– tank planning prior to the action. This was a flaw that would be remedied in no uncertain terms in 1918. The notion that an infantry–tank operation might be conducted without artillery support and counter-battery support was foolhardy in the extreme. The Mark I Tanks again showed their

unreliability in the mechanical sense. They failed to reach their start line on time and they incurred a significant number of casualties to both men and machines on that approach. It was obvious that there had been flaws in planning and that the training of their crews was, at best, varied and, at worst, deficient. Bullecourt also taught the Tank Corps that a far greater emphasis must be placed on concentration of their weapon in far greater numbers, not dispersion; that sufficient reserves of tanks were needed to combat both casualties and breakdowns; and that an individual (tank) supply system was desirable. Bullecourt was the genesis of an understandably deep AIF mistrust of the capabilities and therefore the basic worth of the tank as a weapon. It would be 1918 before that scepticism was transformed into a genuine respect. The Battle of Messines (7–14 June 1917) has come to be regarded as a model Great War limited-objective attack. Conducted by General Plumer’s Second Army, its aim was to capture the vital German defences on the Messines Ridge. The battle was noteworthy for its detailed planning and a much-improved use of its artillery. From a tank perspective, although their employment was on a relatively small scale towards the end of the battle, Messines was noteworthy for the appearance of the Mark IV tank—the Mark II had but a short stint at Arras, while the Mark III was essentially a training tank. The Mark IV was by far the most numerous of the BEF’s tanks during the Great War: 1166 were manufactured, of which 950 were fighting tanks (about two male for every one female), and a further 205 were supply tanks, while the remainder were for experimental use. Although this tank was essentially the same as the Mark I in terms of its crew of eight, its shape, weight, length and engine, a number of important improvements had been made. After the Battle of Messines, the Mark IV acquired an unditching system which gave individual tanks a mechanism to unditch themselves rather than be salvaged or assisted by other tanks. A new silencer was fitted to a longer exhaust, which not only decreased the level of noise, but also reduced the incidence of sparks and flames that were formerly discharged from the roof. The Mark IV was less of a death trap: its rearward outside 70-gallon petrol tank—the Mark I had two internal petrol tanks located behind the commander and driver—and a larger double door beneath both sponsons in the female instead of the previous small door allowed a far

greater chance of escape in the event of fire. The tedious task of removing the two sponsons prior to rail transportation was alleviated in the male tank by a shortened 6-pounder gun, and, significantly, while the armour plating was the same thickness as on its predecessors, it was made of hardened steel, which provided improved protection against the German armourpiercing bullet. The new tank’s rollers and links for the tracks were now made from cast iron, which gave greater durability. Two further initiatives were the installation of a set of lights to facilitate better communication between the driver at the front and his ‘gearmen’ at the back, and the addition of a tank compass. But the War Office was responsible for a meddling mistake when it insisted (against the wishes of tank personnel) on replacing the Hotchkiss Gun with the Lewis Gun. This error would only be corrected with the reintroduction of the Hotchkiss Gun in the Mark V Tank in 1918. The Battle of Cambrai (20 November to 7 December 1917) marks a watershed in the development of a tank doctrine—and a growing sophistication and maturity in combined-arms planning and tactical execution. It was originally perceived by the Tank Corps as nothing more than a large-scale raid against the Hindenburg Line that was designed to draw German reserves away from the Fifth Army front at Ypres. However, this planned ‘massed raid’ soon developed into a full-scale assault, which deployed six infantry divisions, two cavalry divisions, more than 1000 guns and over 400 tanks. From a Tank Corps perspective Cambrai produced three basic challenges. The first was its participation in the long-lost tactic of surprise. The startling artillery achievement that successfully employed predicted fire —not only with its quantity of fire, but with effective counter-battery fire— has been discussed. The secret arrival of the tanks by night was assisted by planes flying back and forth over the area of operations for two days prior to the attack, to drown out the noise of their movement. The second challenge was to concentrate and operate the tanks en masse with the infantry to cross the Hindenburg Line of trenches. In the approach, the key would be infantry–tank cooperation to either crush or drag away wire and to eliminate German machine gun posts while shielded by a creeping barrage. This involved infantry units and tanks in mutual-support training. In order to cross the German trenches a number of the leading tanks carried fascines

of bundled wood to be dropped into those obstacles. Each infantry objective was supported by a section of three tanks, which consisted of an advance tank and two infantry support tanks. The strength and priority of those German positions determined the number of tank sections deployed. Cambrai was initially a stunning success: in places the Hindenburg Line was breached to a depth of four miles and across a six-mile front, with successive German trenches overrun and numerous guns and prisoners taken. While the break-in was thus a spectacular success, the familiar problem of a break-through remained unresolved. In essence the old problems remained: the need for a faster movement of the infantry to both consolidate and regroup for the break-through; the time taken to move guns forward and repeat the use of predicted fire; and the tendency for this ‘all arms battle’ to slow, if not break down, after the first day, when the coordination of artillery, infantry, tanks and planes became more difficult because of fatigue, the loss of that critical initial surprise, and the enemy’s ability to marshal forces for counter-attack. The German counter-attack on 30 November saw not only lost ground retaken but new ground captured. It is not the purpose of this work to examine that BEF reversal. What is critical to our story is the fact that the initial BEF Cambrai break-in provided priceless lessons in the conduct of combined-arms operations. As there was no previous doctrine for such warfare, the lessons came as much through failure or disappointment as success. From its first engagement at Flers-Courcelette on 15 September 1916, until the advent of the Battle of Cambrai around fourteen months later, the tank’s chequered campaigning was quite simply a series of attempts to first manufacture a reliable tank, then to establish a doctrine, and, above all else, to achieve a degree of credibility within the BEF. That it met those objectives to a significant degree was no mean feat, given that within a mere three years it had progressed from a vague concept to a legitimate arm of warfare. While Cambrai was the turning point in the tactical sense, by 1918 the Tank Corps had established a number of structural initiatives. Although the need for an adequate supply system for tanks was understood before their deployment in France, because of a shortage of tanks, it was February 1917 before efforts were made to allocate supply tanks. It would be June 1917

before each tank battalion received six supply tanks. On 1 February 1918, carrier units were formed and by July of that year, a supply company was allotted to each of the five tank brigades. Their ability to carry Royal Engineer matériel, weapons, ammunition and water was to prove an enormous saving in manpower. By 1918 the Tank Corps possessed a highly efficient Central Workshops system that could repair tanks, send Salvage Companies to recover tanks that had been knocked out or had broken down, and then repair or re-use salvaged tanks, parts and guns. Such labour in this Central Workshops system allowed the ongoing specialisation of manpower and skills. This in turn allowed the tank crews themselves to maintain their tanks. Each crew member would eventually be responsible for a specific part of that maintenance and, where possible, crews would operate and maintain their own tank on a permanent basis so as to understand the peculiarities of their tank. This was facilitated by an Advanced Stores system. The Mark V Tank, which arrived in 1918, was a major improvement on the Mark IV. Like its predecessors, the Mark V was to a large extent rushed into service. Produced during 1917 through to mid-1918, and essentially of the same hull design and weight, the Mark V had an improved 150 hp Ricardo engine; its maximum speed was 4.6 mph and its average speed 3 mph; its endurance was a further improved nine hours and its range 25 miles; its machine guns were changed back to the Hotchkiss rather than the Mark IV’s Lewis Guns; it was far more manoeuvrable; and, critically, its new epicyclic gears allowed the driver to drive the tank without the commander and the rearward ‘gearmen’ assisting him. This measure obviously freed crewmen to concentrate on other duties, such as the guns, machine guns and observation. On 3 March 1918, the newly formed 5th Tank Brigade opened its HQ at Blangy-sur-Ternoise in France. At the end of that month it received a new CO—Brigadier-General Anthony Courage. This officer and his newly formed 5th Tank Brigade were destined to serve with the Australian Corps through some of the greatest triumphs of the 100 days’ offensive of 1918. *** F M Cutlack, The Official Australian Flying Corps Historian:

At the beginning of the war the existing aeroplanes on either side were but elementary machines. They carried no armament, and were regarded chiefly as auxiliaries to cavalry for purposes of reconnaissance. They were still largely at the mercy of any unfavourable breeze. Their flying speed was not great; their climbing speed, judged by the performances of 1918 types, was ludicrous.22 Prior to the Great War, the German Government had provided significant funding to military aviation, stipulating that all aircraft be built in Germany to standard specifications and that these planes must have the ability to carry bombs and cameras. It was a far-sighted initiative that saw an early establishment of 1000 planes.23 In 1912 the French Army had received some 500 aircraft of which around 340 were serviceable, and at the beginning of the war its ‘total effectives, comprising pilots, observers, and mechanics, numbered 4,343 . . .’24 By contrast, in 1914 the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) was composed of four squadrons. Each squadron consisted of eighteen planes, made up of three flights each of four planes, with two in reserve—72 planes. Within four years, at the end of the war, the Royal Air Force (RAF) formed in April 1918, had ‘grown to a force of 300 000 officers and men, 201 squadrons, and 22 000 machines in use’.25 With the early advent of trench warfare on the Western Front, the aeroplane replaced the cavalry as the chief form of reconnaissance. Such reconnaissance had a dual purpose: first, it relied upon gaining an insight into the enemy’s trenches, his strength in terms of infantry deployment and movement, the location of machine gun posts and gun batteries, the location(s) of HQ, and his logistics capabilities in terms of supply dumps, road networks and railheads; and second, to retard the German Air Force’s ability to ascertain that very same intelligence. And these two reconnaissance functions relied to a very critical degree on the ability of either side to have at best air superiority or, at the very least, air parity. This became contingent upon constant improvements in the types and capabilities of their aircraft. There was the pressing demand for improved

technology, and as the war progressed, there was the need to integrate this new resource into an all-arms battle plan. Early attempts at this new form of reconnaissance were crude, and were heavily reliant upon the expertise of the observer. It was he who had to prioritise and then spot what he was looking for; he had to quickly interpret and accurately map what he had seen; he had to communicate with his pilot in an open, windy and noisy cockpit; and the whole exercise was greatly influenced by the weather conditions—and the presence of enemy planes— on any given day. Four evolving attributes during the first years of the war added detail and accuracy to the RFC’s reconnaissance and therefore its ability to assist ground forces. The first was the challenge of taking high-quality and more numerous aerial photos. In late 1914 the first photos were blurred and taken by a hand-held camera, while in the spring of 1915 the Type A and then the Type B Camera (still hand-held) gradually improved the process, and were able to take the first photos of German trenches prior to the Battle of Neuve Chapelle in March of that year. In the summer of 1915 came the semiautomatic plate-changing Type C Camera, which was mounted on the aircraft and later employed during the Battle of the Somme. In the autumn of 1916 the Type E Camera was able to reduce vibration; during the spring of 1917 the Type L Camera provided the breakthrough of automatic plate changing; and in March 1918 came the LB/BM Type Camera, which had a longer focal length. Experience gradually taught the RFC that a combination of oblique and vertical photos gave detailed intelligence as to the German trench systems, their gun battery locations, their machine gun posts and troop concentrations, and any changes to all of these that might indicate either counter-attacks or a strengthening of their defences at any given location. The oblique photos were generally taken at around 1000 to 1500 feet and provided an extensive ‘bird’s eye view’ of smaller tracts of terrain, while the vertical photos were employed to offer a view of the enemy’s lines up to 4000 yards behind his front. F M Cutlack, The Official Australian Flying Corps Historian: Vertical photographs for mapping purposes were normally taken with a wide-angle lens at from 8,000 to 10,000 feet, in order to

include as wide an area, and as many ‘fixed points’ as possible. Photographic distortion was found to be less pronounced from the higher altitudes.26 Between August 1916 and the end of the following year, the RFC took a monthly average of some 8000 photos, while during 1918 that average had grown to around 20 000 a month. This allowed for a final selection of very high-quality prints to be chosen and distributed to all levels of the BEF. A vital prerequisite for all aerial photos taken throughout the war was the necessity for the pilot to maintain a continuous straight and level flight path so as to allow the observer to take the necessary number of overlapping photos. This procedure gave German anti-aircraft fire and planes a ready and consistent target, causing numerous losses of aircraft and crews. The second challenge was the need for adequate communication between planes involved in artillery spotting and their individual batteries. This was done by wireless telegraphy, which, because of the bulky nature of the equipment, allowed for Morse code from the aircraft to the ground but not the reverse. Prior to the Battle of the Somme such signalling was confined to one plane per 2000 yards of front, which prevented signals clashing. By the spring of 1917 superior equipment and organisation allowed for one plane per 1000 yards of front. By October 1916 wireless stations were deployed at each counter-battery site; five stations worked with each divisional field artillery group; a wireless station accompanied each Corps HQ; and a central wireless station operated at Corps HQ for the purpose of overseeing the progress and accuracy of all artillery shoots. For communication from the batteries to planes, white strips were laid out on the ground, while the infantry used flares, bright tin discs or white cloths. The third challenge entailed three types of low-level patrolling: prior to an attack patrols were detailed to reconnoitre enemy trenches; during an offensive operation, aircraft were required to track the progress and positions of an infantry advance and report this data back to rear HQ; and, after an attack, counter-attack patrols were deployed to report enemy infantry concentrations and to call in artillery fire upon them. Air superiority was the RFC’s fourth and most critical challenge. Its exhaustive photo reconnaissance and low-level patrolling of enemy

trenches; its desire to protect its balloon observation; its ability to operate for prolonged, uninterrupted periods in artillery spotting; and, of key importance, its capacity to restrict similar German Air Force operations over Allied territory—all relied on a mastery of the skies over any required sector of the front. By December 1915 the Germans had gained air superiority by employing synchronised machine gun fire through the propeller of the famous Fokker E.I fighter. That German air dominance lasted until just prior to the BEF’s Somme offensive in 1916, when the British once again became dominant in the skies over France and Belgium. But by late 1916 and through to June 1917, the Germans once again achieved air dominance by the use of their new Albatros fighter. It was to be late 1917 before the British regained air superiority by the deployment of their new Bristol F.2b in great numbers. By the time of the Allied 100 days’ offensive in France, the British had a decided numerical and technological advantage over the German Air Force over the Somme. By then, the Germans were handicapped by shortages of supplies of rubber and metal. During the 100 days’ offensive in 1918, the newly constituted RAF (formed in April 1918) was to carry out all of its previously mentioned functions while enjoying decisive air superiority. Its numerous planes, refined structure and organisation would facilitate thorough and accurate reconnaissance, logistics and communications support, and strafing and bombing support for both the infantry and artillery. *** J M Bourne: Few groups in British history have been the subject of such vilification as the Western Front generals of the Great War. Their popular reputation remains thoroughly evil, unredeemed by 30 years of revisionalist [sic] scholarship. Their professional competence is ridiculed, their courage impugned, their lack of humanity decried . . . Attempts to defend the military high command are often met with incomprehension, sometimes rage, and even with tears. The Great War still touches a raw nerve.27

Thus far, we have noted a number of key components of the ‘essential preliminary charcoal sketch’ of 1915–16, and then during 1917, the partial development of the ‘whole war-winning tableau’, which would come to its culmination in 1918. This learning curve, this painstaking acquisition of a successful doctrine in terms of the tactical deployment of men and matériel, provided an enormous—and totally unprecedented—challenge to the generals of the BEF. From the very beginning of that conflict until its end, the lack of fast, reliable and accurate communications remained the chief bane of commanders on both sides. And that frustration was magnified immensely when the static communications within a set perimeter were required to extend onto contested or captured ground. Therefore, after having spent considerable time in the planning and allocation of resources for an offensive, once it began, commanders often became detached from their battle’s ebbs and flows, and were thus thwarted in their ability to practise their art—at that very time when speedy and astute command decisions were required most. This limitation prejudiced the ability of commanders in the exploitation of a break-in in terms of location, strength and timing; in defensive operations it hampered, or at least often delayed, their ability to react and then reinforce a given location; and, in all this, it was a contributing cause to the horrendous casualties of the Great War. Despite the use of visual signalling, of intrepid messengers including pigeons and dogs as well as men, the gradual development of rockets, and contact patrol planes sounding their Klaxon horns and dropping signal canisters, the chief communications resource during the Great War was the cable. While new types of poles and trestles were employed for the effective carriage of lines behind the front, an intricate network of buried cable became the only means of relatively secure communications within it. Up to the Battle of the Somme, that cable had been buried at around two to three feet, but this had left it susceptible to German artillery damage, which then required a tedious and repetitive location of breaks, and then their repair. And when this system broke down, runners at the front and rearward-mounted messengers operated under obvious difficulties and sustained dreadful casualties. By mid-1916 it was found that cable had to be buried six feet beneath the surface to protect it from enemy shelling, which involved tremendous

demands on labour—some seven miles of cable was eventually buried during the Battle of the Somme. Thus, on 1 July 1916, General Rawlinson had communications by phone with his five corps commanders, the HQ of the RFC, the cavalry, General Gough’s Reserve Army, and the French Sixth Army. In turn, his corps commanders could communicate with their infantry divisions, their heavy artillery, and their allotted RFC planes and balloons. But the difficulty of communicating quickly and reliably forward of that network remained an irritation to effective command, which was further compounded by the fact that the above-mentioned HQ were themselves retarded in their forward movement by their own cumbersome and rigid deep-buried cable system. Paddy Griffith, in Battle Tactics of the Western Front: The problem was relieved a little during the Somme fighting by the adoption of a standardised grid or checkerboard layout, whereby each division would have a central cable running from front to rear, with side-branches at the level of batteries, brigade HQs and division HQ, and armoured test-boxes at regular intervals. If the front line advanced, new side-branches would be added further forward while existing branches were taken over by rear echelons. If the division moved sideways, it would take over the cables originally laid out by its neighbouring formation.28 In essential terms, this communications system remained in operation until the end of the war. Despite such innovations as training schools; a more structured formation of signals administered by the Royal Engineer Signals; an improved insulation of cables; the invention and use of the Fullerphone and the Power Buzzer (which transmitted signals through the earth); a growing prowess in terms of signals intelligence (eavesdropping on enemy communications); and, eventually, the growth of signals deception, the buried cable remained the main medium for communications. By 1918— with the pace of an advance still contingent upon the modest walking progress of the infantry and their often accompanying tank support—while the BEF’s communications grew in sophistication and coped with their

challenges, their ongoing limitations partly help to explain ‘the generalised failure of any Great War attack to produce a decisive breakout’.29 Given the continued restraints of this communications system, senior commanders were largely compelled to remain at or very near their HQ phone and cable facilities. This state of affairs has, in part, led to the stereotyped depiction of the Great War senior commander comfortably ensconced within his chateau HQ smoking his cigar, sipping his wine, and being almost oblivious to the sacrifice and suffering of his troops. In an illuminating paper delivered at the Australian Army History Conference in 1998, J M Bourne provides us with compelling evidence to the contrary: During the war as a whole one corps commander . . . was wounded, seven divisional commanders were killed in action and three died of wounds . . . nine divisional commanders were wounded . . . 30 infantry brigade commanders were killed in action and eight died of wounds . . . 72 infantry brigade commanders were wounded . . . Some cháteaux [sic] were clearly built far too close to the front line.30 The Battle of the Somme and the Third Battle of Ypres have come to represent the perceived incompetence and futility of the BEF’s senior command. They have been seen as responsible for slaughter and misery on a scale never dreamt of for little ground gained. Thus, by November 1917, if ‘the war was cutting into the heart of the nation, the battle of Passchendaele came near to breaking it . . .’31 The chief legitimate criticism of Haig during this period is his continued determination to prolong his offensives in his desire for the ever-elusive break-out into mobile warfare after his sometimes-successful break-in of a German perimeter. Although the BEF’s cavalry was the only means of achieving this, it was, by the onset of trench warfare, a redundant weapon. If and when a potential breach appeared in the line, the moment was often lost due to the poor communications already described. There was also the sheer depth of the German defences, which were amply furnished with barbed wire, machine guns and concentrated artillery in depth. And the often extended,

cratered, muddy terrain was hardly conducive to a massed, speedy charge into and then through an enemy perimeter. In short, as early as July 1915, an officer of the 18th Lancers summarised the plight of the cavalry that would last throughout the war: ‘Nobody knows how to use us or where. Indeed cavalry in this sort of war seems to be an anachronism.’32 It was a lesson Haig simply refused to grasp. In general terms, the accusation that Haig and his generals never really came to terms with a massed infantry crossing of no-man’s-land and the consequent slaughter is essentially true until mid-1918. But the allegation that this failure was the end result of a deficiency in ‘professional competence’ or a ‘lack of humanity’ would seem—at least in part—to be unfair. Hindsight is the luxury of the historian—and the reader. Given that the BEF expended some 1 732 873 artillery rounds in the seven-day preliminary bombardment for the Somme, Haig and his commanders might be forgiven for thinking that 2029 guns across a front of fourteen miles (with 32.2 heavy guns to the mile) might crush the German defences. Further, by the end of the Somme the BEF had fired an astonishing 27 768 076 rounds. But, as discussed, two critical attributes of that fire caused this measure to fail. The first was the still-to-be-employed and still-partial predicted fire of the following year, and the second was the enormous number of duds in that expenditure. While the Principle of War ‘surprise’ was thus forfeited, the attempt for its time, and with the resources and doctrine at the commanders’ disposal, could be seen as justifiable. It should be further acknowledged that attempts to break the Western Front deadlock included such measures as the introduction of gas (first used by the Germans but later returned in full measure by the BEF); the gradual employment of smoke; the early introduction of the tank—although premature and initially ineffective; attempts to tunnel and literally blow the enemy to pieces; and improved firepower through an increase in trench mortars and machine guns. But during 1916, Haig and his commanders were, as has been shown, working with crude and still-developing implements of war, and their eventual ability to employ those limited resources was, during that year, still impaired.

The Third Battle of Ypres was also marked by some critical command lessons. In discussing the initial plan for Passchendaele, Robin Neillands in The Great War Generals claims that: ‘This was a viable, if highly optimistic plan, and it might well have worked. The snags were the terrain, the weather, the resilience of the enemy, the depth of his defences, and the character of General Gough.’33 Three of these supposed ‘snags’ should have been immediately obvious to Haig, and as such, they are merely poor excuses for failure. The resilience of the German soldier had been on ample display throughout the Great War, and surely could have come as no great shock in 1917. The depth of German defences was also a given, and should have been allowed for, and presumably was, through thorough reconnaissance and planning. And the choice of the terrain on which to conduct his offensive was specifically chosen to comply with Haig’s desire for a break-out by his cavalry onto the open country of Flanders and Belgium. As such, the first objectives were always going to be the toughest: the capture of the high ground (chiefly the Gheluvelt Plateau) overlooking the Ypres salient. But it is Neillands’s reference to the ‘snags’ of ‘the weather’ and ‘the character of General Gough’ that are a serious indictment of Haig’s command. The fact that the weather during the Third Battle of Ypres became the worst for some 30 years, and produced a mire of water and mud which contrived to turn the battle into a ghastly misery for both sides, should have signalled an obvious halt to the offensive. But Haig pressed on. It was a vain, unrealistic and costly decision. ‘The character of General Gough’ displays a further Haig command flaw during that period. Although a friend of Haig’s, Gough had proved to be an impulsive and poor planner of battles. Bullecourt provides us with sound proof of this. He probably should have been sacked after that debacle. Neillands also points out that a month of tough fighting during the Third Battle of Ypres: . . . took its toll on the generals of Fifth Army, eating into their never-abundant tolerance of General Gough. Brigade and divisional commanders protested long and loud at the condition of their men,

and complaints about the staff work at Fifth Army HQ soon reached the ears of Field Marshal Haig . . .34 When Gough decided against following Haig’s express orders to make his main attack on the high ground through Gheluvelt, Broodseinde and Moorslede, but chose instead an alternative plan, Haig had two distinct command choices: order Gough to comply with his original orders at once, or sack him on the spot. In a weak-minded gesture Haig did neither. His failure to be decisive for the overall good of the soldiers under his command, and his seeming inability to understand Gough’s standing among his subordinates and the quality of Fifth Army’s staff work, merely shows a lack of what General Montgomery would later refer to as a ‘grip’ of his command and his battle. Loyalty is a commendable character trait, but misplaced loyalty and a failure to exert authority over subordinates in war often has dire consequences. From a high command perspective, 1916 and 1917 might be best summed up by stating that Field Marshal Haig’s repeated desire for a breakthrough of the German lines and a resumption of mobile warfare was misplaced, simply because such an aspiration was beyond the capabilities of his existing implements of war and the tactical doctrine of the time. It comes as little surprise that Haig concealed this consistent failure by later stating that the ‘war of attrition’ fought during 1916–17 caused the final and irreversible destruction of the German Army. There can be no denial of this fact, as the German losses at the Somme, Verdun and the Third Battle of Ypres were comparable to those of the British and French. The debate for 1916–17 would seem to come down to the employment of limited objectives fought within the range and capabilities of the BEF’s arms and doctrine (‘bite and hold’), or the horrific ‘war of attrition’ that actually transpired. The latter alternative would seem a crude but effective contradiction of the Principle of War ‘economy of force’. In fairness, the rapid scientific, technological and industrial progress from 1916 until the 100 days’ offensive of 1918 is striking. In very many of these areas the BEF started the war well behind its enemies. Yet its twoyear process of ‘sharpening the tools’ of warfare, accompanied by a costly

and bitter but gradual maturity in the BEF’s command performance, would see an astounding transformation into the fighting machine of 1918.

CHAPTER 3

An enormous intellect If the bloodbath that was 1917 had devastated the British, French and German Armies alike, then the First AIF had also suffered horrific casualties: Lagnicourt just over 1000; First and Second Bullecourt 10 000; Messines 6000; and the Third Battle of Ypres a staggering 38 093—over 55 000 in total.1 By the end of the year those enormous losses had drained the pool of trained reinforcements in England and left the AIF some 18 000 men under strength. Further, while required enlistments from Australia were estimated at around 7000 a month, only about 5000 had been forthcoming, and that monthly recruiting shortfall was now further increasing. Given the approaching winter and the prospect of its remaining in the front line, the AIF by the beginning of 1918 would struggle to maintain its infantry establishment.2 Prime Minister Hughes had attempted a political solution to this ongoing manpower problem by the instigation of two conscription referendums. The first was conducted on 28 October 1916 and failed by the narrow margin of some 72 476 out of a total vote of 2 247 590. This contentious debate divided the nation and caused a Labor Party split and the formation of the Nationalist Party under Hughes. The second referendum occurred on 20 December 1917 and was lost by a slightly larger majority. The First AIF was destined to remain a volunteer force for the entire war. Clearly, the needed manpower would have to be supplied by a reorganisation of that force. It is here, towards the end of 1917, that five important characters enter our story. ***

General William Birdwood had had a long association with the First AIF. Born in India on 13 September 1865, he had been educated at Clifton College in Bristol and at the Royal Military College, Sandhurst. Short and lean in stature, a teetotaller, Birdwood had served in India on the North West Frontier and as an officer on Lord Kitchener’s staff during the Boer War. Kitchener, now as British War Minister, posted him to command the Anzac Corps in Egypt in December 1914. After having been promoted to Lieutenant-General in October 1915, when the AIF was doubled in early 1916 Birdwood was given command of the I Anzac Corps and served with it on the Western Front through 1916–17. Known as ‘Birdy’ to the rank and file, he had the common touch and was admired and trusted by the Australians. In that respect, he was unique among British officers. *** Lieutenant-Colonel Brudenell White was chosen as the original Chief of Staff of the 1st Division, First AIF. Born on 23 September 1876 at St Arnaud, Victoria, he moved with his family to Queensland in 1881. Following a number of failed attempts on pastoral properties, the family settled in Brisbane. After taking a job as a bank clerk and studying in his spare time, Brudenell White joined the 2nd Queensland Regiment and later the Australian Military Forces. He saw brief service during the Boer War, was the first Australian Military Forces officer to attend the British Staff College, and subsequently served for a time at the War Office in London. In 1912, back in Australia, White, as Director of Military Operations at Army HQ, devised plans for the raising, training, equipping and deployment of a combined Australian and New Zealand force in the event of war with Germany. As Chief of Staff of the 1st Australian Division prior to Gallipoli, and after having been promoted to Brigadier-General in October 1915, White planned the highly successful Anzac evacuation of Gallipoli. He subsequently had the primary role back in Egypt in the expansion of the AIF into four divisions, and then journeyed to France as Brigadier-General, General Staff, AIF. He was above average in height, lean in build, blue-eyed, fair in complexion, and had a strong but calming physical presence. White’s

incisive mind, professionalism and loyalty all combined to produce a superb level of staff work in the First AIF. If Birdwood was the high-profile, popular commander of the Australians, then White was the driving force behind its impressive operational record. *** Charles Bean was born at Bathurst, New South Wales, on 18 November 1879. His father Edwin was born in Bombay, the son of a Surgeon-Major in the Army of the East India Company. After having failed selection for the Indian Civil Service, in 1873 Edwin took a job as a tutor in Hobart; the following year he became assistant classics master at Geelong Grammar School; and in 1877 was appointed headmaster at All Saints’ College in Bathurst. In 1889, three years after Charles had entered this school, illhealth caused Edwin to take his family back to England. In 1891, Charles Bean attended Brentwood School (his father was its headmaster), and after three years was enrolled at Clifton College in Bristol. Two experiences during the twenty-year period leading up to the Great War decisively moulded Charles Bean the man, the future journalist and Official Historian. His time in England, and particularly at Clifton College, was the first. Bean’s father had been the sixth student to enrol at Clifton, and that school’s ethos had been ingrained into Charles both through his father’s influence and his own attendance there. Clifton embodied the values of an imperial education: the best man to administer the empire—or defend its interests on the battlefield—was a gentleman of character, who studied literature and the classics, and who acquired much of his moral training on the sports field. Such a man had to be gracious and humble in victory; stoic and ‘manly’ in defeat; and thus made his decisions and stood by them with a high moral ideal. Charles Bean’s childhood at home and at school thus exemplified a love of England and Empire. Among the Old Cliftonians who served in the Great War were Field Marshal Haig, General Birdwood, General Hugh Elles (Tank Corps) and Major-General Percy Hobart. Clifton produced five VC winners during the war, and 582 of its students made the supreme sacrifice. In 1898 Bean won a scholarship to Hertford College, Oxford University, where his education was further extended by a study of the classics. After

graduating, he subsequently failed to gain a posting in the Indian Civil Service, studied law, taught briefly at Brentwood College, and found his way back to Sydney in 1904. After having been admitted to the New South Wales Bar that year, and having also briefly been an assistant master at Sydney Grammar School, Bean decided on a writing career rather than teaching or the law. The second major experience in the shaping of Charles Bean was his subsequent prewar experiences in Australia. After writing a number of articles for the Evening News (edited by Banjo Paterson), Bean eventually secured a position as a reporter for the Sydney Morning Herald. Subsequent articles led Bean to write two character-forming books. Although he was sent to the outback to write about the wool industry, On the Wool Track (1910) became a study of that industry’s men rather than the industry itself. And, following a journey down the Darling River on a steamship, The Dreadnought of the Darling (1911) further developed and indeed enhanced Bean’s concept of the exemplary Australian. If his father and Clifton College had nurtured in him all that was cherished in the Imperial Briton, then according to Bean, rural Australia had bred an even better man: a wiry, tough, resilient survivor from a harsh environment, where the qualities of resolve, initiative and mateship were ingrained. Following a two-year stint as the Sydney Morning Herald representative in London (1910–12), Bean returned to Sydney as a leader writer for the Herald. In September 1914 each Dominion was asked to nominate an official correspondent to accompany its forces overseas. The Minister for Defence, George Pearce, invited the Australian Journalists’ Association to select a correspondent, and in a subsequent ballot of its members, Bean narrowly won the appointment from Keith Murdoch of the Melbourne Herald. Charles Bean was the only war correspondent to remain at Gallipoli for the entire campaign. His detailed yet concise observations and notes (in 226 notebooks) taken during the AIF’s campaigning at Gallipoli and in France (1916–18) were the basis not only for his despatches, but for his later monumental postwar volumes of the Australian Official History. To Charles Bean, the Australian soldiers’ deeds at Gallipoli and in France and Belgium were the very personification of the rural Australian he had identified and so admired in his On the Wool Track and The

Dreadnought of the Darling. And in Bean’s eyes, one man quickly became the very embodiment of all that he admired in this Australian. His name was Brudenell White. At the Victoria Barracks in Melbourne on 20 September 1914, the newly appointed war correspondent first met the Chief of Staff: ‘From his first word I felt he was my friend.’3 *** Keith Murdoch was born on 12 August 1885 at West Melbourne. The third of seven children born to the Reverend Patrick Murdoch (a Presbyterian minister) and his wife, Annie, he was born one year after the family’s arrival in Melbourne from Scotland. As a youth he was ‘Tall, strongly built but slow in movement, with dark hair and heavy brow’.4 But he suffered from an acute and embarrassing stammer, which inhibited his communication skills at school and caused an early shyness and difficulty in making friends. The end result was a powerful ambition and work ethic that saw Murdoch become dux of his school. Later, he opted for a career in journalism. His first interview with the chief of staff of The Age was less than auspicious: although his mother accompanied him, the youth with the stammer made little impact, and his mother was advised to ‘put him in a bank’.5 Murdoch’s father then intervened and arranged an interview with the proprietor of The Age, David Syme, who devised a diplomatic solution: Murdoch would have his chance as The Age district correspondent for Malvern. In truth the position was a tough challenge: it was at the very bottom rank of journalistic jobs; and it was assigned into ‘enemy territory’, as the citizens of Malvern were not Age readers but more attuned to the conservative ideals of the Argus. Moreover, it was an unsalaried position with payment at one shilling for each eight lines of published writing; and, as a consequence, the task of making even a modest wage and promotion was monumental.6 However, Murdoch’s work ethic, his speedy shorthand, his growing development of significant contacts, his incisive interviewing and ability to create newsworthy local stories, and his energy in analysis of the required format for Age articles all led to an increase in his ‘published

writing’ and therefore his pay. He improved the circulation of that paper in Malvern, and Murdoch was making his way in his chosen profession. In April 1908, after having diligently saved some £500, and realising that in London he could seek treatment for his stammer and aspire to a start in Fleet Street, Murdoch sailed in steerage to England, with letters of introduction from The Age, contacts with the Presbyterian Church in London through his father, and, through his father’s further influence, a reference on a prime ministerial letterhead from Alfred Deakin that referred to him as ‘a well-known and much respected young journalist’.7 When Murdoch sailed for London he left with an informal assurance that a job with The Age awaited on his return. Keith Murdoch’s eighteen-month stay in London was a further test of his determination. While his treatment for his stammer improved that condition marginally, few journalistic opportunities were forthcoming, and, after having missed a position with the Pall Mall Gazette when his stammer failed him during the final interview, he returned to Australia via the United States. After his arrival in Melbourne, Murdoch’s continued grit saw his job back at The Age begin at £4 a week and by the end of 1911 it had risen to £7. With his speech impediment now under reasonable control, Murdoch became the paper’s Commonwealth parliamentary reporter, which facilitated critical ongoing contacts with Andrew Fisher (through Murdoch’s father) and such notable politicians as Billy Hughes and George Pearce. His prewar career continued to blossom: in 1910 he became a founding member of the Australian Journalists’ Association; two years later he secured the job as the Melbourne political correspondent for the Sydney Evening Sun; and in July 1914 he accepted the provisional position of news editor of Hugh Denison’s Sydney World with the longer term position of the editorship of a new Melbourne daily. But the onset of war forestalled those plans. In late 1914, Murdoch was posted to London as managing editor of the United Cable Service. Before he left for London Prime Minister Fisher asked him to visit the Middle East and privately report on deficiencies in the Australian postal service and, critically, on the situation at Gallipoli. A letter of introduction from Defence Minister Pearce to the Dardanelles Commander-in-Chief, Sir Ian Hamilton, enabled him to visit Gallipoli for

four days. It proved a turning point in his career. Among the Gallipoli war correspondents, Murdoch met the British journalist Ashmead-Bartlett, who persuaded the Australian to carry a letter to British Prime Minister Asquith. The uncensored letter was political dynamite. Ashmead-Bartlett was horrified by both Hamilton’s and the overall British command performance, the resulting heavy casualties, and the perceived futility of poorly planned and fruitless attacks upon strong Turkish positions. Betrayed by another correspondent, Murdoch was forced to hand over the letter to a British officer at Marseille, France. By the time of his arrival in London Murdoch had written his own 8000-word assessment of the Gallipoli campaign for Prime Minister Fisher. After a discussion with his predecessor at the United Cable Service, Murdoch later met Geoffrey Dawson, the editor of The Times, and its influential owner Lord Northcliffe, who introduced him to a number of Cabinet ministers including Sir Edward Carson, Lloyd George (then Minister of Munitions) and Bonar Law. Later shown to the Prime Minister and subsequently printed as a ‘secret state paper’, Murdoch’s letter provided further substance and evidence for those against the Dardanelles campaign. It ultimately had some influence in the dismissal of General Hamilton and the later evacuation of Gallipoli. By the end of 1917, and at only 32 years of age, Keith Murdoch had developed a highly influential network of contacts: The Times owner Lord Northcliffe, who provided him with access to the political figures named above; military figures such as General Sir Henry Wilson; and, during Hughes’s time as prime minister, Murdoch acted as his emissary, seeking and sending confidential information to him, and relaying policies and messages from Hughes to the British. However, as a result of his Gallipoli letter, and also in part due to his forthright manner—and his youth—Keith Murdoch was less popular in some circles. Lord Hankey had met Murdoch in late 1915: ‘ . . . I lunched with Mr. Balfour to meet a horrible scab called Murdoch, an Australian journalist, who had written a poisonous letter to Fisher . . . re the Dardanelles.’8 ***

John Monash was born in West Melbourne, Victoria, on 27 June 1865, and was the eldest of three children. His Jewish parents, Louis and Bertha, were originally from Posen Province in Prussia. After John spent three years as a student at St Stephen’s Church of England School in Richmond, financial reverses caused Louis Monash to take his family to Jerilderie in New South Wales, where he opened a store. Although the young Monash was not taught Yiddish, the family were fluent in English and German, and it was here at Jerilderie Public School that Monash’s considerable ability as a student was first identified by his teacher, William Elliott, who greatly extended his education across the curriculum with a strong leaning towards mathematics. In a determined effort to realise John’s academic potential, Bertha Monash returned with her children to Melbourne in late 1877, leaving Louis to provide for the family at Jerilderie and later Narrandera. It would be 1883 before Louis rejoined his family in Melbourne. Monash was enrolled at Scotch College, Melbourne, where he excelled: in December 1881, he left as equal dux; dux in Modern Languages and Mathematics; and he had won the English prize on a number of occasions. In all this, Bertha Monash was his guiding light, and was utterly convinced that great deeds lay ahead of her son. Geoffrey Serle, in Monash: Her [Bertha’s] love is evident and though there is little to suggest that her possessiveness was smothering, she was a driving, striving parent . . . Like most great men and most great soldiers, John Monash was a mother’s boy, a favourite child, an only son with adoring younger sisters, who eventually would stride confidently through life and be highly attractive to women.9 Bertha Monash’s influence further extended to John becoming a skilled classical pianist, and his exposure to and love of English, German and French literature. In March 1882 Monash began his study at the University of Melbourne, with the ambition of becoming an engineer. His first year of university study was less than fruitful: unimpressed and unmotivated by the standard of lectures, he took to a self-imposed library study of history and literature, which inevitably led to his first-year failure.

In 1885 Bertha was diagnosed with abdominal cancer and she passed away on 18 October that year, aged 44. Her twenty-year-old son was devastated: ‘I have lost the dearest and most sympathetic friend I ever had.’10 Monash, now without funds, and feeling the loss of his mother and a responsibility to assist his ageing father in support of the family, followed his dream of engineering work. His friend Jim Lewis was able to obtain a job for Monash working for the firm engaged in building the Princes Bridge over Melbourne’s Yarra River. Monash had found his niche: for the next two years he excelled in design and construction planning; opened a quarry near the bridge site; and ran a supply yard. And in all this, he began to slowly develop an aptitude for a highly efficient and adroit coordination of both resources and labour. In 1887 Monash was subsequently given charge of the construction of the Outer Circle eastern suburbs railway line from Oakleigh to Fairfield via Camberwell. In a letter to his friend Will Steel in December 1888, Monash revealed his growing fascination in matters of power, leadership and organisation: The possession of absolute administrative power, and the conscientious attempt to make each administrative action, however insignificant, depend on a sound and logical analysis of the particular set of circumstances which rendered it necessary—just as the moves in a chess game—this is a new and delightful experience, and one which I believe will not grow dull by habit.11 Here, 27 years before his arrival at Gallipoli, we have the genesis of the evolving Monash persona. The brilliant intellect was now being harnessed, disciplined and above all challenged. Ample evidence of this acquired discipline and sheer intellect came in 1890 when Monash applied himself to his studies: in April 1891 came his Bachelor of Commercial Engineering; in 1891–92 he passed exams in municipal surveyor’s and water supply engineer’s qualifications; he also gained a degree in Law; and in 1892 he also completed his Arts degree. It was a truly impressive academic achievement.

After a number of impulsive and failed relationships with women, Monash married Hannah Moss on 8 April 1891. Their only child, Bertha, was born on 22 January 1893. At times it would prove to be a difficult marriage. The remaining twenty years leading up to the Great War constituted a number of severe tests and ultimate triumph for Monash. Retrenched during the depression in 1894, he bravely began his own business with a friend, and concentrated on civil, mining and mechanical engineering, and acting as a patent agent. Three years of struggle with poor remuneration ensued before Monash found specialised work in the legal aspects of engineering. During this time his business partner was able to secure the patent rights for Monier reinforced concrete production in Victoria. All went well until a bridge under their construction collapsed and they were forced to rebuild at their own cost. By 1902 a further setback saw Monash and his partner with no money and considerable debt. Three additional years of near poverty followed until, backed by business colleagues, Monash formed the Reinforced Concrete & Monier Pipe Construction Company. With a virtual monopoly provided by his Monier patents, Monash concentrated on building construction, and by 1913 he had paid off his debts at a rate of £1000 per year and had amassed a personal fortune estimated at £30 000. A Toorak mansion, a prestigious car, servants and various respected social appointments all resulted in both a measure of recognition and a considerable circle of friends. It is staggering to contemplate that through all of the personal, educational and engineering challenges—comprising dramatic and prolonged failures as well as triumphs—John Monash had, during the period 1884–1914, also pursued a part-time military career. In 1883 the Victorians formed a corps of paid militia. He enlisted as a private in the Melbourne University Company of the 4th Battalion, Victorian Rifles, in July 1884; when that company was disbanded he was commissioned in the Garrison Artillery the following year; two years later he was promoted to Captain in that same unit; in 1897 he was promoted to Major in the North Melbourne Battery; in 1908 he was chosen to command (as a LieutenantColonel) the Victorian Section of the newly formed Australian Intelligence Corps; in June 1913 he was given command of the 13th Infantry Brigade; just before the outbreak of war he was appointed Deputy Chief Censor; and

in September 1914 he assumed command of the 4th Infantry Brigade in the First AIF. Monash and his 4th Brigade were in reserve on 25 April 1915 at Gallipoli and did not land until the following morning. His Brigade took part in manning Pope’s Hill and Quinn’s Post; it fought in the disastrous night offensive on Baby 700; it helped withstand the Turkish offensive on 19 May; and the Brigade took part in the bloody and unsuccessful assault on Hill 971, before being withdrawn to Lemnos. Its final Gallipoli campaigning saw it later redeployed in a quiet sector prior to the evacuation. Monash returned to Egypt ‘a very competent brigadier’.12 His eye for detail, his careful planning and his care for his soldiers were among his early command attributes. Monash’s return to Egypt was marked by the news of his wife’s battle with cancer, and the reconstitution of his 4th Brigade as a consequence of the ‘doubling’ of the AIF into four divisions. His Brigade now became part of the 4th Division and set sail for France in June 1916. The following month Monash was promoted to Major-General and posted Commander of the newly arriving 3rd Australian Division on Salisbury Plain in England. As has been shown earlier in this work, the Great War quickly evolved into a trial of technology, industrial production, innovation and, most critically, how quickly commanders were able to adapt from their largely redundant prewar doctrine to confront the tactical problems of a new war. In Monash’s case, the 3rd Division’s training period in England (July– December 1916) formed a critical phase in his development as a commander. He was able to train his division in facilities that were ideal for the Western Front, and, though spared the trials of the Somme, Monash absorbed a number of its costly lessons through the BEF’s numerous doctrinal manuals.13 The attack on Thiepval in September 1916 provides an example. Major-General Maxse’s exhaustive planning, his advocacy of limited objectives, his conferences, his pre-battle training and rehearsals, and his determination to educate all ranks on the plan and their part in it, were principles in Maxse’s report that were examined by Monash. He thus studied and adopted the improvements of others, which would stand him in good stead as a divisional commander and a future corps commander.

Major-General Monash and his 3rd Division’s first major battle was at Messines in June 1917. He had the good fortune to serve under General Sir Herbert Plumer, whose detailed planning, limited objectives (‘bite and hold’), conferences, and a masterly use of creeping barrages produced a startling victory. In all this, Monash’s planning and eye for detail played no small part in the Messines victory. Perhaps his greatest feat as a divisional commander was at Broodseinde in October 1917, which preceded the onset of a terrible winter and the slaughter that was Passchendaele. By the end of 1917 the 3rd Division AIF had become an elite division with a near flawless record, and its commander had developed an impressive reputation. Monash’s prewar civil career had moulded him. That he possessed an enormous intellect is beyond doubt, but such an innate gift is no formula for success. His undisciplined, almost arrogant misuse of that intellect in his early university studies was later brutally reversed to conform to his obligation of supporting his father and family and later his wife and child. His triumphs and failures in business saw that intellect challenged by the need for disciplined innovation, for calculated risk, and for a sophisticated use of resources and manpower. The astonishing work ethic required for coping with his fluctuating engineering career, the completion of his parttime studies, and the additional pursuit of a part-time military career all shaped him for the pressures of command in war.

CHAPTER 4

The physical audacity If the AIF had had some cause to question the competence of the British command after Gallipoli, then that concern only escalated as a result of Fromelles and Pozières during 1916, and Bullecourt the following year. The resulting slaughter caused extreme bitterness, frustration and an emergent sense of Australian nationalism, which manifested itself in a desire for a unification of the AIF’s five divisions under its own command and administration. And in the second half of 1917, the Third Battle of Ypres only reinforced those Australian views. In May 1916 Prime Minister Hughes had asked General Haig to form an Anzac Army under the command of Birdwood. Haig and the War Office understandably denied that request on the grounds that, at the time, a BEF Army comprised some eight or ten divisions, which meant that the AIF’s establishment—even with the addition of the New Zealand division— would fall below that requirement. There was also the British desire for all participating Dominion nations and colonies to perceive the BEF as an ‘Imperial Army’ where all units could be deployed according to need, where staff were interchangeable, and where the emphasis was upon service as a part of the British Empire rather than on behalf of their country. It is hard to escape the conclusion that the chief reason for this attitude of the British Government, the War Council and particularly General Haig, was that by deploying the Australian divisions at Haig’s discretion—and essentially under British divisional and corps command—they were quite simply easier to control and administer. In Haig’s eyes, such issues as the refusal of the Australians to adopt the death penalty, their high rate of imprisonment compared to other forces, and even the need (as late as February 1918) to place them in separate convalescent camps lest they ‘put

revolutionary ideas’ into British soldiers’ heads, only reinforced this attitude.1 And with Haig’s views on the AIF came his distrust and lack of professional respect for its British commander, General Birdwood.2 There was also a persistent British tendency to perceive—and refer to— the Australians as ‘British’ troops when releasing strictly censored and often inaccurate despatches, or to refer to them as ‘colonials’ rather than as representatives of an independent Dominion. All this irritated the volunteer army and its government. It was an affront to their sense of nationalism. Matters came to a head during the second half of 1917, and the vehicle for their united expression of a common cause was Keith Murdoch. By this time, Murdoch’s wide circle of London political, military and business contacts had gained him enormous influence. He had organised ‘a London committee of eleven leading Australians’3 to marshal support for Hughes among the AIF for the federal election of May 1917, which Hughes won with a handsome majority. Then, when Hughes decided to conduct a further referendum for conscription, he sent a confidential cable to Murdoch in which he asked the committee to ‘make preparations for a vigorous campaign’ to secure a ‘yes’ vote among the AIF. Although that initiative failed, Murdoch’s efforts were highly valued.4 Murdoch subsequently briefed a confused Lloyd George as to the Australian electorate’s political mood after that failed referendum. What is of critical importance was the fact that Hughes relied almost solely on Murdoch for advice concerning his own position as prime minister, the best interests of his government, and on his dealings with Lloyd George’s government. But Murdoch’s chief coup in the second half of 1917 was his thrust for the long-awaited formation of an Australian Corps. On 12 July 1917, he cabled Hughes: Officers men have very strong Australian feelings prize highly distinctive Australian identity find that Australian comradeship valuable moral support. Moreover several recent battles they lost heavily owing weakness failure support of British troops. Third Division never assimilated rest AIF, because separated and under Godley, who notoriously anti-Australian . . . Leading officers also consider Australia should have Liaison Officers War Office. At

present important decisions affecting Australian Government public and national future taken . . . by people responsible to quite another public.5 Another Australian concern was the desire for the proposed Australian Corps to be staffed by Australians. Although Birdwood had made a modest start in this process, it was rightly felt that he could not serve both British and Australian interests. Murdoch therefore advised the Australian Government to request that Birdwood provide a list of British officers whom he considered ‘indispensible’. The pressure was building. On 30 July 1917, the Australian Government telegraphed the Secretary of State for the Colonies: Commonwealth of Australia desires to invite the attention of Imperial Government to the fact that the Australian Imperial Force . . . has now for some time exceeded 100,000 in the fighting line, and that it is desirable that the national feeling with regard to their troops should be given effect to more especially in the constitution of the fighting formations and the employment of Australian officers on the staffs, and also that, to ensure closer touch with Australian sentiments, the Commonwealth should provide a senior officer for duty at the War Office with regard to Australian questions . . .6 After this telegram had been passed on to the Army Council, the Australian Government received a stern answer from that council, which prompted the Chief of the General Staff in Melbourne to assert that the government was ‘disappointed at the terms of your reply’, and that it was obvious that the Army Council was ‘not in sympathy’ with the wishes of the Australian Government for an ‘Australian Corps with Australian staff officers’. The next sentence was far more forthright: ‘This would be far more acceptable to Australian sentiment than statement that Australian officers are regarded as interchangeable with British Staffs, which has not previously been actually put into practice.’7 When the Secretary of State for the Colonies also passed this telegram on to the Army Council the evasive reply was that

the proposal was ‘impractical’. Murdoch now sought to circumvent the Army Council and seek a political solution. He advised Hughes to send a telegram to be passed on to ‘his colleagues’ in the Imperial War Cabinet. In simple terms, Hughes merely repeated the contents of the previous telegrams, but added a telling last few words: ‘the Commonwealth Government presses for it’. On 5 October 1917, the Army Council contacted Haig and asked his opinion. Haig advised against the Australian proposal on the grounds that the current BEF Corps structure consisted of four divisions—two in the line and two in reserve—and that the proposed AIF Corps of five divisions would render this establishment unworkable. But on 19 October he pledged to meet with Birdwood. Haig’s views were further explained to Murdoch during an interview at his GHQ on 1 September. Murdoch must surely have briefed Birdwood and White of Haig’s reason(s) for denying an Australian Corps, as when Haig met Birdwood, White and Howse (Major-General Howse, VC, Director of Medical Services, AIF) on 29 October 1917, Birdwood and White negated Haig’s argument by suggesting that the AIF’s grave shortage of reinforcements might be remedied by either the disbandment of the 4th Division, or using it as a depot division which could be replaced by any of the other four divisions that had incurred the heaviest casualties. In the meantime, they argued, the need for such a disbandment might be avoided by the upcoming conscription referendum, or a change of fortune in recruiting. On 1 November 1917, Haig adopted that proposal. He decided that Birdwood’s former ‘I Anzac’ Corps would be renamed ‘The Australian Corps’ and would consist of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 5th Divisions, AIF. In line with Birdwood and White’s suggestion, the 4th Division would act as the Corps depot division. The opportunity for an Australian to command their corps came in October 1917 when Birdwood, through the retirement of older officers in the Indian Army, was promoted to full General. On 13 May 1918, Haig posted him as the Commander of the BEF’s re-established Fifth Army. In recommending his successor, Birdwood saw three realistic options: Generals Monash, White and Hobbs. Hobbs he eliminated first. Although that officer had commanded the AIF’s 5th Division from January 1917, and subsequently through its distinguished fighting at Polygon Wood in the

spring of that year, followed by its recent stirring success at VillersBretonneux in April 1918, Birdwood considered Hobbs ‘might find difficulty in standing alone’ in a corps command.8 In the end, it would appear that Birdwood had two reasons for his final selection of Monash: first, Monash was senior to White, and that soldier’s reputation as a divisional commander within the AIF, and his standing with Haig, was high; and second, although Birdwood believed that White was most capable of exercising a corps command, he was—possibly through a measure of self-interest—keen to see him remain with him as his new Chief of the General Staff, Fifth Army, with an accompanying promotion to MajorGeneral. A further reason for Birdwood’s decision might well have been to maximise his chances of retaining the administrative command of the AIF. Haig concurred with Birdwood’s selection of Monash, White’s promotion to the Fifth Army with Birdwood, and the latter’s retention of the administrative command of the AIF—subject to the Australian Government’s endorsement. In a further move towards an ‘Australianised’ Corps, Birdwood decided to promote and post Colonel Thomas Blamey to succeed White as Chief of Staff; Brigadier-General Glasgow (13th Brigade) to command of the 1st Division; Brigadier-General Rosenthal (9th Brigade) to the 2nd Division; and Brigadier-General Gellibrand (12th Brigade) would take command of Monash’s 3rd Division. In mid-May 1918, Birdwood cabled these proposals to Senator Pearce in Melbourne. They were approved by the Australian Government on 18 May. We now come to one of the most extraordinary intrigues in Australian history. On 16 May 1918, Charles Bean, on his way to Boulogne, called in at Corps HQ at Bertangles Chateau, where a staff officer told him that ‘there were great changes imminent’.9 Hearing Bean’s voice, Birdwood called him into his office and proceeded to brief him. In his diary Bean noted that: ‘If White has a great value to the British Army he has a greater value to Australia. I have been thinking out the straightest strongest telegram I can to Pearce.’10 Late next day, Bean arrived at the Australian correspondents’ HQ at Brewery Farm, Querrieu, north of Amiens. When he was joined by the official AIF artist Will Dyson, the photographer Hubert Wilkins and Fred

Cutlack, Bean’s Assistant War Correspondent, Bean ‘blurted out about White & Monash’.11 According to Bean’s diary there was ‘a great consternation’ evident in the opinions of his three colleagues. Cutlack saw White’s acquiescence to Birdwood’s choice of Monash as proof that ‘there must be something wanting in White’. He could not understand why White, knowing that ‘he was the best man for the job’ had not sought the position.12 Bean then described Dyson’s views in his diary: Dyson’s tendencies are all towards White’s attitude—‘Do your work well—if the world wants you it will see that it has you; anyway that’s not your job—your job is to do the work & not worry about yourself.’ Dyson thinks it a weakness, but he likes it better than advertising strength which insists on thrusting or insinuating itself into the front rank. He [Dyson] says: ‘Yes—Monash will get there— he must get there all the time on account of the qualities of his race; the Jew will always get there. I’m not sure that because of that very quality Monash is not more likely to help win this war than White— But the manner of winning it makes the victory in the long run scarcely worth the winning.’13 The three believed that in gaining the Corps command, Monash would have left ‘no stone unturned & no underground channel untried—rightly according to his light’.14 Hence they decided that if White was not inclined to promote himself, then they would. According to Bean’s diary, Cutlack then suggested what had already crossed Bean’s mind—but was unable to state in his cable to Pearce in Melbourne—that Monash should assume administrative command of the AIF in London (with a possible promotion to full General) and White should be given the Australian Corps command. This solution would also resolve the problem of Birdwood serving two, at times conflicting, interests—those of Australia and the AIF, and a BEF Army command of purely British interests. The meeting decided that Bean and Dyson should travel to London and enlist Murdoch’s help. This was an extraordinary gathering. Bean’s curious third-person description of the meeting in his diary sets the scene with the statement that

the ‘war correspondents artist & photographer [were] sitting back around their table with their caps on the back of their heads & discussing what was best to be done’.15 The mere fact that two war correspondents and an artist might consider themselves qualified to influence such decisions—made by the GOC AIF, endorsed by the C-in-C BEF, the elected Australian Minister of Defence, and then by the elected Australian Government’s Cabinet— smacks of a rare form of ignorance, arrogance and misjudgement. Bean and Dyson arrived in London at 10.30 pm on 18 May 1918 and, finding Murdoch was in Scotland, Bean stayed at Major-General Howse’s London flat, to compose a statement for Murdoch ‘& possibly Howse’.16 Bean’s reference to Howse is noteworthy, as not only was Howse a firm friend and admirer of White’s, but he had had a dispute with Monash during the latter’s command of the 3rd Division.17 Howse’s role in these events is, however, unclear. That day Bean received news from AIF HQ London that all of Birdwood’s recommendations had been approved, and that White was required to stay at Corps HQ for six weeks to assist Blamey’s transition to his former role. When Bean did meet Murdoch his brief to him was severely flawed. In his Official History, Bean claimed that he and Dyson ‘eventually swung’ Murdoch to their cause. It would not have been easy, as Murdoch saw White as the cause of him being denied a visit to France. He claimed that: ‘The Australian element on Corps Hqrs [sic]—the very one which ought to have fought for more representation for the Australian papers—Birdwood specially states that it is White who has raised this objection to our being there.’18 Using his notes prepared the day before, Bean pointed out to Murdoch that White was the ‘greatest soldier’ in the AIF; and that Monash was recognised ‘as having very great administrative ability’ but it was White who was ‘the best commander of operations in the AIF’. He further claimed that such views were ‘the universal opinion of the force’.19 The stark truth is that White had never held a field command and that Bean’s assessment of White and Monash was far from being ‘the universal opinion of the force’. Murdoch subsequently cabled Hughes, who at that time was on his way to the Imperial War Conference in London via the United States, asking that

the appointments be made temporary until Hughes’s arrival in England. Further, an additional cable from Birdwood reached Pearce stating that the War Council ‘had decided that his appointment to command an army was only temporary’.20 Charles Bean would later express the opinion that: ‘It seems probable that this development may have been due to Murdoch’s direct influence with Sir Henry Wilson, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, whose confidence he enjoyed.’21 Three points should be made concerning the two cables. First, Keith Murdoch had taken Bean’s brief as accurate. While his initiatives towards the formation of an Australian Corps, and his push for the ‘Australianisation’ of that Corps were both just and effective, Bean had quite simply given him untruths concerning Monash’s appointment. Second, the fact that Birdwood’s appointment had now also been made temporary would seem to indicate that Birdwood still harboured some doubts as to the desirability of leaving the Australian Corps; and that he wanted to retain his administrative command of the AIF. The third point concerns Murdoch’s extraordinary power. At a crucial stage in the war, just after the Allies had sustained a seemingly crushing defeat after Operation Michael, we note that an Australian journalist, holding no elected or official government title, was able to influence not only Australian policy, but, it would seem, the professional head of the British Army. The reader is entitled to ask why government policy was at times influenced by a civilian journalist in London. Bean claims that although the proper channel for such counsel should have been the realm of the Australian High Commissioner in London, Andrew Fisher, that ‘Murdoch’s position was partly due to the sad, gradual collapse of Fisher’s mental powers’.22 The blame for this abominable chain of events must lay squarely with Prime Minister Hughes. While on the one hand Hughes and his government were demanding a degree of justifiable independence, and a voice in their political and military affairs, the Prime Minister’s behaviour reflects a gross Australian political immaturity—journalists, artists and London correspondents should not formulate or influence national policy. And high commissioners who are suffering from a ‘gradual collapse of . . . mental powers’ should be replaced. Prior to Hughes’s arrival in London, Monash became aware of the attempts to remove him from the Corps command. On 18 June he wrote

that: Among my present enclosures is a copy of a letter. This letter is one of the evidences of a very serious introgue [sic] which has recently been started in London, in order to try and oust General Birdwood from the position of G.O.C., A.I.F.—You will notice from the letter that they want me to take it, and hope to bribe me with the offer of further promotion.23 On 25 June Monash wrote that: This intrigue referred to is going on apace and is taking all sorts of subtle forms . . . In order to bring this about they have started an attempt to attack my capacity to command the Corps, and are putting about a propaganda that Brudenell White, being a permanent soldier, would be better fitted for this job, and that it would be in Australia’s best future interests that he should get the appointment. All these proceedings are being undertaken in London, in order to bring pressure to bear upon Mr. Hughes . . . In this battle I possess of course very many, and very strong cards, and some of them are trump cards—among which is my undoubted belief that both Rawlinson and the Chief [Haig] will see me through.24 Hughes had arrived in London with his wife and daughter on 15 June 1918. Relegated to a footnote in the Official History, Bean states that: ‘Murdoch invited Lord Milner, Mr. Bonar Law, and Sir Henry Wilson to meet Hughes at a private dinner party on his arrival in London, in order to enable the Australian Prime Minister “to secure a thorough grip of the situation”.’25 This was a prestigious and influential gathering. Although there would seem to be no record of what was discussed, it is highly likely that Hughes was given some sort of briefing as to the conduct of operations on the Western Front (and the high casualties), and an assessment of Haig’s command of those operations, and it is probable that the issue of Birdwood’s command of the Fifth Army and whether or not he might retain

his position as GOC AIF would have been raised. Although conjecture, it is hard to believe that Bean and Murdoch’s desire for Monash to succeed Birdwood and White to command the Australian Corps would not have been raised. Thus, when Monash would write a few days after Murdoch’s dinner party that he possessed ‘trump cards’ and that Haig’s endorsement of his command of the Corps ‘would see me through’, he could have had no idea that Murdoch’s intriguing was occurring at the highest political and military level. The efforts of Murdoch and Bean continued. Murdoch, greatly underestimating Monash’s desire to command the Corps, attempted to persuade him to accept the post in London by praising his administrative skills and by pointing out that he might be promoted to full General. In desperation, Bean wrote an impassioned letter to White: You know and I know and Gen. Birdwood knows and everyone knows, that our men are not as safe under Gen. Monash as under you. You know that no-one will safeguard them against a reckless waste—or useless waste—of life in impracticable or unnecessary stunts, or will get so much effect out of them in a good stunt—as you can or would.26 Through all of these events, White maintained a dignified distance, and there is no evidence that he at any time sought to influence events, or further his own cause. In the end, despite a voluminous swapping of letters and cables, both from Murdoch and Bean on the one hand, and by those in support of Monash on the other, Hughes arrived in France on 1 July 1918 to visit the troops and to assess the command issue. He was accompanied by Murdoch and the Deputy Prime Minister, Joseph Cook. A bank clerk from Warialda, New South Wales, Corporal Clifford Geddes, 13th Battalion, was present at one of Hughes’s visits: We were addressed by two of our Australian politicians . . . Billy Hughes & Joe Cook. Little Billy made a good speech, there’s no doubt he’s a marvellous man, he hasn’t the strength of a child to look at, is a poor, thin, miserable, misshapen [sic] looking chap, &

his head is the biggest part of his body, but his eloquence is there. I don’t know how he stands the life, continual worry & speechifying. Joe Cook made a speech too . . . General Birdwood was there, I like ‘Birdy’, he gave me a friendly nod, not that he knows me, but he’s not a bit like a general with the boys. Generals Monash & McLagan were also there.27 After the ‘misshapen looking chap’ had made a number of visits to the troops and talked to staff officers and three divisional commanders, he realised that there was very considerable support for Monash, and pointed out to Murdoch that he had not been able to find anyone who did not support him. And when Monash made it abundantly clear to Hughes that he would not voluntarily surrender his new command, Hughes decided to postpone his decision. In the end, the truth is that Bean had allowed his personal respect and indeed his great affection for White to cloud his judgement; Dyson and Cutlack had been his willing but ignorant collaborators; and, most importantly, Murdoch had allowed himself to be inaccurately briefed, and had engaged in unscrupulous manoeuvres to reverse a considered decision made by those responsible for it. In his sixth volume of the Official History, among a whole host of inaccurate criticisms of Monash the man and the soldier, Bean would claim that Monash ‘had not the physical audacity that Australian troops were thought to require in their leaders . . .’28 Peter Pedersen has left us with a striking image of Monash when Bean would have first met him: His short stature—he was only 5 feet 8¾ inches tall—drew attention to his weight, about fifteen stone, giving him a decidedly corpulent, almost ponderous and certainly unsoldierly appearance. His face suggested ‘both strength and sensitivity. He had a prominent Jewish nose and his limpid brown eyes, watchful and intelligent, were his most unforgettable physical feature’. His hands were highly expressive, adding another dimension to a voice usually quiet and contained. When in conversation, or just listening, he had a peculiar

way of standing with his chin thrust forward and his head hunched.29 In simple terms, although Monash managed to lose a considerable amount of weight from the time of his arrival in England, in Bean’s eyes he lacked the racial, cultural and physical attributes found in an Imperial Briton with Clifton values, whose character had been redefined and enhanced in the harsh Australian environment identified by Bean in On the Wool Track and in The Dreadnought of the Darling. Through Bean’s eyes, despite whatever military virtues Monash possessed, he was no Brudenell White. In the end, the position of GOC AIF was resolved after Haig suggested that Birdwood retain that position but be on loan to the BEF’s Fifth Army until 30 November 1918. The Armistice, coming nineteen days before that date, meant that General Birdwood retained command of the First AIF. The intrigue and disruption during this command saga could not have been more poorly timed. After having assumed command of the Corps, Monash and his staff had been busily engaged in plans for a limited operation on their Amiens front. The leadership of the newly formed Australian Corps was about to be decided once and for all.

CHAPTER 5

. . . so I drove over them While Lieutenant-General John Monash’s preparation for his command of the Australian Corps had been impressive, by early 1918 the five AIF divisions under his command now constituted one of the BEF’s elite corps. LieutenantColonel G H N Jackson had been Monash’s GSO 1, 3rd Division. As an Englishman, he had been transferred to the British 29th Division in January 1918 as part of the ‘Australianisation’ of the Australian Corps. In a letter to Monash on 23 June, Jackson noted the difference between the 29th Division and Monash’s former 3rd Division command: Coming here is like coming back many, many years. Reminds me of 1897 when I joined. The Rouse is sounded, one is saluted on all sides, men are regarded as machines or gun fodder . . . It is a good division, certainly a very good Division but I wish you were commanding it. The lack of attention to detail is very apparent, e.g. no fuel for the men, 4 blankets to 3 men instead of two each and a thousand and one little things that we think essential are omitted . . . They are not within months of our modern ideas . . . The British Army is second to none. Magnificent heroism. Magnificent discipline in these old regular battalions but the selfish inhuman cranks on the one hand and the poor doddering old men on the other who command it are calculated to bitch any show.1 That is not to say that every, or even most, of the British divisions were poorly led, but the inconsistencies between a significant number of them were pronounced. Further, Eric Andrews stated that one ‘English colonel pointed out that his division was in five different corps and three different armies in one month’.2 Such a state of affairs therefore led to a lack of continuity in training and staff work, and a lack of morale. In contrast, gradual but radical change

had occurred in the quality of command in this new Australian Corps. On 15 May 1918, Lieutenant Sydney Traill—a 23-year-old clerk from Burwood, New South Wales who as a member of the 1st Battalion had been wounded at Gallipoli, Pozières and Hazebrouck—made a telling observation: The number of gentlemen one meets as officers nowadays is very small, gauging gentlemen by pre-war standards, and yet all these men holding commissions are gentlemen by act of parliament. Their talk, speech and manners in many cases is quite appalling, and yet everyone has to accept them as brother-officers and treat them with the utmost courtesy. No one, not even the old-fashioned colonels and majors ever try to be ‘uppish’ or superior. The war has brought some great changes. Standards are judged from such very different standpoints, thats [sic] the reason. In the pre-war days a man was judged by who his father was, or his clothes or manners or education or wealth. Now he is judged by his behaviour in action.3 Thus, by 1918 the First AIF, with very few exceptions, was led from divisional to platoon command by soldiers who had had to prove their worth over time in the crucible of battle. At battalion level, there was an unqualified expectation for junior officers to ‘dress like the men, to live among them in the trenches, to share their hardships and privations, and to be responsible for their welfare’.4 With the creation of the Australian Corps, the First AIF not only retained its fierce pride as a homogeneous, volunteer formation at the divisional level, but its already strong esprit de corps was now further enhanced. The ‘Australianisation’ of the Corps provided not only a further boost in morale. The high standard of staff work acquired from common procedures and the coordination of training resulted in greater efficiency. We have noted General White’s extremely competent staff work leading up to the formation of the Corps. His successor, Brigadier-General Thomas Blamey, upheld that high standard. Monash would later write of Blamey: He possessed a mind cultured far above the average, widely informed, alert and prehensile. He had an infinite capacity for taking pains. A Staff College graduate . . . he was thoroughly versed in the technique of staff work, and in the minutiae of all procedure . . . He worked late and

early, and set a high standard for the remainder of the large Corps Staff of which he was the head.5 *** During April–June 1918, against the background of the gradual recovery of the BEF after Operation Michael; after the French struggle against the German offensive on the Marne; and, critically, as the build-up of American troops began behind the front line, the Australians and New Zealanders had been involved in what became known as ‘Peaceful Penetration’. This quaint term described the constant harassment of the German front line and, at times, the acquisition of small tracts of the front by means of limited raids. To a number of other units in the BEF engaged in similar activities, ‘Peaceful Penetration’ was known as ‘nibbling’, and involved essentially the same limited objectives and localised raids. From an Australian Corps perspective, the fruits of such tactics were threefold. First, it aimed to gain limited ground deemed important —for straightening of the line, or perhaps a portion of tactically useful ground however modest in area; it also strived to secure the initiative by disrupting the German front and their patrolling; and the third element—which soon became most apparent through observation and the taking of prisoners—was gaining the knowledge that the German front along the Somme was neither well fortified nor manned by seasoned troops. ‘Peaceful Penetration’ began in the period 4–9 May in the triangularshaped area between the Somme and Ancre Rivers and Morlancourt. The 3rd Division was able to capture a portion of the German front line and some 170 prisoners at a cost of 260 casualties, while on 19 May a 2nd Division attack secured the village of Ville-sur-Ancre. And on 10 June 1918, the 7th Brigade captured a part of the German front at Morlancourt, which yielded 325 prisoners at a cost of some 400 casualties. The scope for a significant but limited set-piece ‘bite and hold’ operation on the Australian Corps front had existed for some time on the so-called ‘Hamel Spur’. It ran from the main Villers-Bretonneux Plateau north-eastwards to a point on the River Somme opposite the village of Sailly-Laurette. The main tactical objectives in the area were the village of Hamel, Pear Trench (sometimes referred to as ‘Pear-shaped trench’), Hamel Wood and Vaire Wood. This area constituted a ‘bulge’ into the Australian perimeter that gave its German occupants two advantages. The first was that by mid-June Major-

General Rosenthal’s 2nd Division line north of the Somme had progressed a considerable distance ahead of Major-General Sinclair-Maclagan’s 4th Division line on the other side of that river, with the result that German artillery near Accroche Wood was enfilading the latter’s right flank. The second was that the German occupation of the Hamel Spur limited the defence of the Villers-Bretonneux Plateau, and that feature overlooked the vital logistical centre of Amiens. While Monash was keen to address this ‘bulge’ on his front, the problem of manpower—and the possible losses that might be inflicted on his already below-strength corps—remained a limiting factor. For the time being, he had decided not to act. *** By January 1918 a number of changes had occurred within the Tank Corps. Its commander, Brigadier-General Elles, had realised that as the German tanks were inferior to his in quality and quantity, the second half of 1918 thus presented an opportunity to strike with an arm of warfare ‘which at present the enemy is not fully prepared to counter . . . We have an opportunity. Once tank meets tank the opportunity will vanish.’6 Elles strengthened his argument by stating that the BEF now possessed the new Mark V Tank, whose capabilities far outshone the Mark IV and that here was a chance to build upon the recent tank success at Cambrai. As stated in Chapter 2 of this work, the 5th Tank Brigade—consisting of the 2nd, 8th and 13th Tank Battalions—came into existence in March 1918 under the command of Brigadier-General Courage. It was allotted to the BEF’s Fourth Army under the command of General Rawlinson. Upon its arrival in France it lost no time in creating a brigade school at Vaux. Here, during the period May–June 1918, a system of training, ‘first of drivers combined with gunnery at targets, and later of trained tank crews combined with infantry was instituted and constantly improved’.7 The training ground at Vaux consisted of a grassy slope that was screened at its rear by dense woods. This slope provided: . . . a natural grand stand for thousands of spectator troops; parallel with this ran the practice ground equipped with a double trench system complete with communication trenches, strong points, and redoubts, the surface riddled with shell-holes which called for some skill and

continual alertness from Tank drivers. The length of the run from the first line to the final objective was about 900 yards.8 It was to this training venue that Elles invited key Fourth Army officers in a determined effort to ‘sell’ the capabilities and potential of his new Mark V Tank. Monash and Blamey were among them. Great minds think alike. It will always be a matter of conjecture who first thought of an infantry-saving tank operation to eliminate the ‘bulge’ at Hamel. In the end it matters little. On 18 June 1918, when Rawlinson, Montgomery (Rawlinson’s Chief of Staff), Monash and Blamey discussed the operation, Monash stated that he would require ‘the assistance of Tanks, a small increase of my Artillery and an addition to my air resources’.9 Rawlinson then asked him for a preliminary plan. On 20 June Courage submitted a tank plan to Monash for the operation. In essence it embodied the developing tank doctrine, which drew heavily upon the recent Cambrai success. Courage proposed three echelons or waves of tanks. The Advanced Section would comprise some five sections of three tanks each; those fifteen tanks were to ‘protect the advance of the tanks following in the rear and the infantry attached . . .’10 But the Advanced Section’s main role was to move to the rear of the main tactical points (Vaire and Hamel Woods, Pear Trench and Hamel Village) as quickly as possible and ‘cut off the retreat of the garrison, and . . . prevent the enemy reinforcing these points’. Courage believed that ‘this manoeuvre will tend to demoralize the enemy’.11 The second wave of seven sections of three tanks each—the Main Body Sections— were to accompany the infantry to its objectives and provide ‘immediate protection by fire’.12 The third or last wave of tanks—the Mopping-up Sections—were tasked with the replacement of any Main Body Section tanks that were put out of action, and the elimination of surviving German machine gun posts. Courage’s plan also envisaged the firing of smoke barrages to frustrate the enemy’s ability to range on his tanks during both the advance and the withdrawal. For air assistance, it advocated ‘a few planes with a noisy type of engine’13 be flown over the German lines to mask the tanks’ approach and, during the advance, low-flying planes to engage German dispositions and to look for and engage anti-tank guns. Finally, after consolidation of the

objectives, the three tank echelons were to occupy a number of the woods to ‘do as much damage as possible’ and then after half an hour withdraw and ‘return to their assembly positions where they will refill and refit as quickly as possible’.14 On 21 June 1918, just a day after Monash had received Courage’s outline for the Hamel attack, he submitted his preliminary plan to Rawlinson. In essence Monash adopted Courage’s plan. In doing so, he saw his task as the coordination of this tank plan with the other arms at his disposal. He proposed to assist the planes’ efforts to drown the noise of the tanks’ approach by adding an artillery barrage during the last 1000 yards of their approach. To acclimatise the Germans to this artillery bombardment, he ordered that it be composed of smoke and gas and that it should be a daily occurrence—starting as soon as possible—until the day of the attack. On that final day Monash ordered that the gas should not be a part of the barrage, and it was therefore hoped that the Germans would be caught wearing their gas masks, which would inhibit their detection of the tank approach, and also impair their ability to fight.

In allotting his initial manpower resources for the Hamel operation, Monash planned that there would be three waves of infantry. The first was to assault and then remain at the critical points of Hamel Village and Vaire Wood; the second wave, accompanied by the main body of tanks, was to be twice the size of the first, and was tasked with pushing through to the final objectives; and the third wave was to act as the reserve, as carriers and, if need be, to eliminate any few remaining German posts. In the centre, the 4th Division’s 4th Brigade was to assault Pear Trench and Vaire–Hamel Wood with one battalion (with the main body of tanks) on a front of a mile and a half; then two battalions were to pass through it and, with the tanks, occupy the final objectives; and the fourth was to act as carriers. On the northern sector, Monash deployed the 3rd Division’s 11th Brigade, employing the same one battalion followed by two with a fourth as carriers, across a front of a mile and a quarter. Its first objective was Hamel Village. On the southern one-mile-long front, two battalions of the 2nd Division were to provide flank protection and gain some limited ground. The total frontage to be attacked was ‘approximately 6,000 yards, increasing to 7,500 on the farthest objective, and the greatest depth 2,500 yards’.15 The decision to use three infantry brigades from three different divisions for Hamel was an astute one, because it took into account the relative fitness for battle of those brigades, and precluded the chance of any one division suffering heavy casualties. Monash’s desire for extra artillery was met by the allocation of an additional five brigades of field and two brigades of heavy artillery. His field artillery (guns and howitzers) would now number 326, while his heavy artillery count rose to 302 guns.16 The main volume of heavy artillery fire was to be directed against the German artillery in the Lamotte–Cerisy Valley, while the long-range guns were to concentrate on the enemy’s rear communications. On 23 June 1918, General Rawlinson sent Monash’s plan to GHQ. It is of interest to note that while Haig endorsed the operation, he still clung to the antiquated notion that ‘a cavalry division should be held ready against the possibility of a panic flight by the surprised enemy’.17 Monash now set to work to provide a detailed plan for Hamel and gave himself around seven days before its launch.

Courage’s plan may well have impressed Monash, Rawlinson and Haig, but it most certainly did not draw the same enthusiasm from Blamey and Brigadier-General Coxen, the Corps Artillery Commander. Their grievance concerned Courage’s desire for a first wave of tanks to move independently ahead of the infantry and the second wave of tanks to ‘cut off the retreat of the garrison, and . . . prevent the enemy reinforcing these points’. During a conference held at the 4th Division’s HQ on 25 June, Major-General SinclairMaclagan and the brigadiers chosen for the battle—with the Bullecourt fiasco fixed firmly in their minds—strongly sided with Blamey and Coxen. And they were right. Written early in 1919, the 5th Tank Brigade’s ‘War Experiences’ emphasised an important point: Tanks of the present (Mark V) type should not be asked to advance in front of infantry in daylight over open ground without some form of protection from hostile artillery fire . . . Close support and quick intervention by field artillery in this form of fighting are all-important. Without it an advance will probably be held up and heavy casualties caused to Tanks . . . The production of a type of Tank considerably faster than the Mark V, and equally handy, would overcome the difficulty now experienced in avoiding hostile gun fire.18 In short, a blitzkrieg-style doctrine was still over twenty years away. Senior tank officers such as Elles, Courage and Fuller were confusing the potential of a future tank to move rapidly ahead of infantry and cut off an enemy retreat— and thereby achieve surprise and demoralisation—with the reality of the Mark V Tank’s present maximum speed of 4.6 mph (and average speed of 3 mph). Blamey and Coxen were simply advocating mutual support between the infantry and the tanks; and the coordination of machine gun barrages, air support and, most important of all, a creeping artillery barrage to accompany the infantry–tank advance. Moreover, they argued for predicted counter-battery fire upon the very German weapon that might inflict heavy tank casualties: their guns. And at the forefront of their thinking was the potential for a reenactment of Bullecourt, and that priceless infantry might again be shredded by a lack of artillery support. In the end, the emphatic and united protests of the Australian senior officers prevailed. The emphasis of the Hamel operation had now rightly shifted from that of a tank operation to one of a combined infantry–tank–

artillery battle. To support the infantry and tank attack would be a creeping artillery barrage (with every tenth shell one of smoke) that would advance 200 yards for the first four minutes and thereafter 100 yards every three until at the halfway mark and after a ten-minute interval the barrage would cover 100 yards every four minutes until the final objectives were gained. As the initial plans for Hamel were thus under way, General Rawlinson, aware of the fact that the Australian Corps was under strength, suggested to Monash that a number of Americans who were training with the Australians to the rear might be used to bolster the Hamel brigades. On the proviso that the Americans were to be allotted to the Australians by platoon or company and under their own junior officers, this was agreed to. According to Charles Bean, this idea came to Rawlinson on either 22 or 23 June, and influenced him to fix the date of the operation to American Independence Day: 4 July 1918.19 Monash’s first task was to facilitate the joint training of the 5th Tank Brigade with his infantry: The usual practice was to give a demonstration to two Infantry Battalions each morning and two each afternoon. The exercise to be shown was first explained in detail to the onlooking troops, and questions as to Tanks, their powers, equipment, and so forth answered . . . A running commentary of explanation and criticism was kept up during this display, and after it further questions were invited and discussed. Each visiting battalion then sent two companies to perform the exercise, and was in turn criticised and praised or admonished as their performance might demand. Three types of exercise were shown: an attack supported by an artillery barrage, indicated by flags; an attack without a barrage; and an open warfare rush by Tanks to mask and isolate a fortified farm. Smoke signals, flag signals, and aeroplane signals were all employed.20 Corporal Cliff Geddes was most impressed with his 13th Battalion, 4th Brigade visit to Vaux. His diary, 30 June 1918: Breakfast 7.30, and then parties from each company of each of the 4 battalions in our brigade sent off, we marched to the other side of Daours where motor lorries took us on, through the city of Amiens, to the place where we had a practice attack with tanks . . . an English

Brigadier-General explained the scheme of attack & the objective. I was delighted when he said we could have a ride on them afterwards. I sat on the back of one . . . it started off with a jerk, came to a shell hole, quietly went into it, & up again the other side, then crossed a trench, & came to a steep bank & stopped. It then simply raised its nose, climbed the bank went on, travelled right along a trench, & could have poured fire into any Huns there . . . It came to some small trees & just knocked them down & went on, & knocked out an imaginary enemy strong post with its 6 pounder guns. On the level ground they can go pretty fast, look just like caterpillars plodding along. Provided they get across to the enemy lines alright, they’d be grand things in an attack & would put the wind up the enemy infantry . . . When we got back to our spot, there were a lot of Yanks there, they will be mixed up with us, good style of chaps they look too, as they ought to, as America hasn’t lost her best men yet like the other Allies.21 The infantry–tank training at Vaux produced two distinct outcomes. The first was tactical. Such training gave both parties an appreciation of the other’s capabilities (particularly those of the new Mark V Tank), in which each began to appreciate the potential for mutual support in terms of movement, firepower and minor infantry–tank tactics with regard to enemy strong posts. The second was the onset of a lasting esprit de corps between the Australian Corps and the 5th Tank Brigade. After the war, Fuller noted that at Hamel: . . . co-operation between the infantry and tanks was as near perfect as it could be; all ranks of the tank crews operating were impressed by the superb moral [sic] of the Australian troops, who never considered that the presence of tanks exonerated them from fighting, and who took instant advantage of any opportunity created by the tanks.22 A further point regarding this esprit de corps should be made. Rather than train with a random selection of tanks, where possible, each tank, and most importantly its crew, trained with the very infantry that they were to go into action with. Tanks were marked by an informal chalk drawing of the colour patch of the battalion they were to support (it was suggested that chalk be replaced by paint later); and the tanks were given a name by the infantry. In battle, therefore, the Australians were not in action with an anonymous steel

monster and an equally anonymous crew, but with comrades they had trained with and developed confidence in. ‘The friendly relations thus established were to be of the utmost value in action at a later date.’ As time passed, the ‘friendly relations’ grew to the point where ‘the drivers were forced to maintain a constant vigilance against curio [trinket] hunters from the Antipodes’.23 *** In his initial proposal to Rawlinson on 21 June 1918, Monash stated that, ‘In view of the unsatisfactory position of Australian reinforcements, any substantial losses would precipitate the time when the question of the reduction in the number of Australian Divisions would have to be seriously considered.’24 It is at this period in time that we note a fundamental change in the BEF’s tactical thinking, which was exemplified by Monash and the Australian Corps. And the issue was quite simply the vital preservation of its dwindling infantry manpower by the employment of concentrated, accurate and coordinated firepower across all cooperating arms, and that those resources must initially be deployed by a rigorous application of the key Principle of War: ‘surprise’. In short, the new dictum had become firepower not manpower. If the BEF’s ‘tools had been sharpened’ over the previous two years, it is here, in the second half of 1918, that its past trials and errors, its gradual technological, industrial and tactical development would result in a doctrine that had begun to rigidly conform to another long-lost Principle of War: ‘economy of force’. General Monash’s vehicle for the planning and implementation of this developing doctrine was by the use of conferences, which began at the corps level, but very soon occurred at division, brigade and battalion levels. Peter Pedersen has raised an interesting point: Although Monash was its most renowned practitioner, the conference method was a prominent weapon in the command armoury of the best British generals, a fact which tends to be overlooked. Currie attributed the Vimy success ‘largely . . . to the way in which everything had been carefully explained to those concerned.’ Plumer’s army was famous for its careful briefings, as were Maxse, Cavan and Jacob at corps level and Fielding and Babington at divisional. It is prudent to assume that they extracted as much from their conferences as Monash did from his.25

The point is valid. What does stand out when an examination is made of Monash’s conference agendas is their minute detail; the painstaking coordination of the various arms; the encouragement of questioning and constructive input at all levels of command in the Corps; and, most importantly, that once that conference process had been completed, there were to be absolutely no alterations to the plan. Nor should it be forgotten that the conference of mid-1918 was drawing upon a much greater degree of specific expertise than had been the case earlier in the war. At a conference held on 28 June, Monash placed 118 items on the agenda, while on 30 June at Corps HQ 133 items for discussion were held before a gathering of infantry divisional, brigade, tank battalion commanders, air squadrons and other cooperating units. Monash’s handwritten notes for the 30 June conference are illuminating: Conference Copy of agenda sheet Add my notes to do [sheet] Relief model & map to Conference

30/6/18

Object 1. Go over all—settled —still to be settled 2. Each to know what others going to do ∴ Each Commander states his plans 3. Try settle each point finally now 4. No alterations—only confusion 5. Secrecy—prime necessity (a) losing men who will talk (b) Clumsiness in our preparations.26 Some idea of the sheer detail in planning and the crucial dissemination of that Australian Corps work down through the chain of command is provided by Corporal Geddes’s 13th Battalion Unit Diary. Its CO, Lieutenant-Colonel Marks: On 22nd June a conference was held at Brigade Headquarters, at which the impending operation was outlined. Great importance was placed on the necessity for secrecy . . . By a judicious arrangement of the nightly

patrol programme, practically every Officer was enabled to familiarize himself with ‘No-man’s land’ without having any knowledge of the proposed operation . . . Message maps were supplied in sufficient numbers to give every man one copy, and every Officer and N.C.O. was in possession of an aeroplane photo. Material for the operation was available in such quantities as we have never known before. [author’s italics] ... Company Commanders were assembled on the 1st July and full details of the operation were communicated to them. Close liaison was established with the C.O. 21st Bn., and O.C. Right Coy. 13th Bn. got in touch with the O.C. of the left Coy. 21st Bn. Similar liaison was maintained with the 16th Battalion on left, Engineers, M.G. Coy, Fighting Tanks and Supply Tanks. At 4 p.m. on the 2nd July a conference was held of all Officers of 13th Bn., of ‘A’ Coy. 132nd Regiment American Army, of No. 8 Section 8th Tank Bn., of the G.C. Tank Officers, two Officers of the 4th M.G. Coy., C.O. 4th Field Coy. Aust. Engineers, officer of T.M. [Trench Mortar] battery. At this conference, all details as to formation for attack, allotment of frontages, assembly positions, approach march, special tasks, material to be carried, medical arrangements, supply arrangements, etc., were discussed and finally settled . . . The Battalion was assembled and every detail of the scheme fully explained by me. In addition, Coy. Commanders were able on the afternoon of the 2nd and morning of the 3rd July to practise their formation and certain details of their attack. Tanks were allotted minor tasks in concert with Coy. Commanders but their disposition to be as shown graphically on attached map ‘D’. One Bn. Scout to ride in each of the three fighting Tanks and two others to ride on supply Tank as unloading party. ... Supplies and ammunition to be carried forward as follows:-By Supply Tank: 134 coils Barbed Wire, 180 Long Screw Pickets [used for barbed wire], 270 Short Screw Pickets, 45 Sheets of Corrugated Iron, 50 Petrol tins water, 10,000 Rounds S.A.A, 4 Boxes No. 36 Grenades, 16 Boxes No. 23 Grenades. Each fighting tank, 2000 rounds S.A.A. and a few tins of water.

On the man:-200 Rounds S.A.A., 1 No. 23 or No. 5 Grenade. 1 No. 34 Grenade. 1 Pick or Shovel (except Lewis Gun No. 1.) Ground Flares, (18 per Company) Message Rockets (2 per Company) Wire cutters: 10%. Sandbags, 3 per man. Extra water bottles: one per man.27 ‘The man’ often has a different perspective to those who plan the battle. Corporal Geddes’s diary, 2 July 1918: ‘After tea we all drew extra arms, bombs & grenades, pick & shovel. Lor’ knows how we’ll go over the top with all this load, a chap won’t have the strength to bayonet a plum pudding, let alone a Fritz.’28 While Geddes might have thought his pack heavy, the day before he was thoroughly briefed as to his role: Well, we are in for a hop over alright. Lt. Col. Marks addressed the battalion under the trees this evening, & explained the part the battalion is to play in the attack. My company D is to go over first, take the first two trenches & stay there, & A, B, & C companies will go on past us, our battalion will have 3 tanks, & aeroplanes will take part too . . . Our platoon officer, Mr. Smith, explained our position on the map, & how to read a map by the numbers & letters, to the N.C.O’s of his platoon.29 Geddes’s D Company was ordered to wear a red streak on their tin hats to indicate that they were being leapfrogged by the remaining companies, and the attached Americans were to have a blue patch on their hats to distinguish them from the company attached to the 15th Battalion.30 While Monash, his Australian Corps staff and their supporting arms had left little to chance, it is also obvious from the above brigade and battalion planning that the experience, expertise and meticulous planning were not peculiar to Corps HQ. The only hindrance to these plans came on 2 July, when after having finally found out that a small contingent of his troops was being committed to Hamel, the American C-in-C, General Pershing, informed Haig that he did not want his still-raw troops to participate. Monash would have none of it—he informed Rawlinson that if the Americans were withdrawn, he would cancel the operation. His strong stance was rewarded. The Americans’ participation would go ahead. ***

At the Australian Corps HQ at Bertangles Chateau on 4 July 1918, BrigadierGeneral Walter Coxen rose well before zero hour. Looking out of his window, he noticed a solitary figure slowly pacing back and forth along the gravel drive. There were frequent pauses while this figure consulted his watch. That lonely figure was Lieutenant-General John Monash. As the artillery unleashed its fury upon the unsuspecting German lines, Monash went inside. His thoughts can be well imagined. Given the efforts of others to unseat him in his command of the Corps and his obligations to his visiting prime minister, everything now hinged on Hamel. *** Gunner James Armitage was a nineteen-year-old student from Double Bay, Sydney. A reinforcement, he had arrived in France on 4 May 1918. He was posted to the 30th Battery, 8th Field Brigade AFA, 3rd Division. His diary, 4 July 1918: Got to our new positions and started setting progressive fuses at about 2 a.m. and on the tick of 4 a.m. [it was actually 3.10 am] every gun on this mile long, and God knows what depth of wheel to wheel guns, fired simultaneously. The earth shook and the mind boggled at the concussion . . . The assault was on Hamel and we were drawn up between Villers Bretonneux and Sailly-le-Sec . . . Those Germans who came back past us seemed rather weedy and very young and utterly shattered by the savagery of the barrage.31 The first barrage on 4 July was sited 200 yards ahead of the infantry start line and consisted of 60 per cent 18-pounder shrapnel, 30 per cent HE with delayed action fuses and 10 per cent smoke shell. The position of each gun was fixed, carefully camouflaged, bearings were given and artillery boards provided by the Army and Corps Topographical Sections.32 Here, building on the success of the initial barrage at Cambrai—with no prior registration or preliminary barrages—we see the concentrated and accurate predicted fire of the Fourth Army coming into play. Between 4 July and the next few days, over 200 000 rounds were expended by the artillery.33 The ploy to induce the enemy to wear gas masks by firing smoke and gas shells in the days leading up to the battle and then induce him to still wear them on the day when only smoke and not gas

was employed, was ‘to a certain extent successful’.34 It was also noted that smoke shells did deceive the Germans as to the frontage of the attack and also screened their observation of the approaching tanks and infantry. From the time that static trench warfare had descended upon the Western Front, one of the biggest impediments to an infantry crossing of no-man’s-land had been machine gun posts. In the case of German posts, these were well sited and camouflaged, mutually supporting, and usually manned by well-trained, disciplined and brave troops. But by the onset of the Battle of Hamel they faced daunting odds. If they survived the artillery’s accurate predicted fire and creeping barrages, then a further terrifying ordeal awaited them: tanks and infantry in mutual cooperation. Whereas low-flying bombers had, for two days, drowned out the noise of the tanks’ arrival at their lying-up points prior to the Battle of Cambrai, and then during their movement to the front line at the start of that battle, that same tactic had been employed for eight days prior to Hamel. Corporal Cliff Geddes and his 13th Battalion moved off from their taped start line and headed for their Vaire and Hamel Wood objective: . . . one would think this awful crash of artillery & bursting shells would deafen or drive you crazy, but your blood is warm, & really, I felt as cool as could be, just slightly ‘keen’ I’ll admit . . . there is a temptation to go too fast, & one of our shells burst fair among our company, & played havoc. I was pleased to see the tanks moving forward, they had arrived to time without mishap . . . Came to a trench, & saw a Fritz with his hands up surrendering to some of our boys, they fired into other dugouts, in case there were some hiding in there before we moved on. I was amongst some Yanks & A Coy now, the tanks still trudged along; & day was breaking. I then saw the tank in front of me hit with a shell. After going about 800 yards, D Company’s objective was reached & we immediately began to dig in while A, B & C Coys pushed on past us, & went ahead. The shells still screamed & our aeroplanes flew low overhead. Fritz prisoners in twos & threes were being brought back . . . We dug in unmolested while our other lads pushed ahead . . .35 The tank in front of Geddes that had been hit by a shell was Tank 9044 commanded by Lieutenant G H Etherton, B Coy, 8th Tank Battalion:

Started from Infantry tape line Z-8, arriving as Infantry jumped off in Coy with other Two Sec tanks. Overtook infantry behind barrage about 150 yds ahead and worked in conjunction with same, crushing enemy trench system . . . the tank . . . received direct hit from enemy artillery through starboard observation turret, killing Pte Parrish, No 3770, 13 Bn AIF, who was acting as a liaison scout between tank and coy infantry, and wounding L.Cpl Bond, Grs Adler, Birkett and Williams.36 But not far away, also in support of the attack on Vaire and Hamel Woods, Tank 9403, commanded by Lieutenant W A Vickers, 8th Tank Battalion, fared far better: I encountered a strong post, held by a party of German bombers . . . where the Australian infantry were held up. I gave my driver orders to drive over it, and kept up rapid fire. They succeeded in throwing 4 bombs on the roof of my tank before I was able to demolish it. I suspected that some were getting at the rear of my tank with the intention of bombing my petrol tank, so told my driver to reverse, thus going over some of the enemy. The Australian infantry then occupied this position and I proceeded to get well ahead of the first wave again. I was then informed by an infantryman that they were held up by heavy machine gun fire to which I proceeded and found a strong point consisting of 2 machine guns manned by 8 gunners. I drove straight up to their position firing at them. They refused to surrender so I drove over them . . . I then proceeded and found myself in front of the infantry, until I reached a small trench containing a few of the enemy. These immediately surrendered. Our barrage was then concentrating a heavy fire in front of me so had to stop for about 6 minutes. On the barrage lifting I proceeded and encountered numerous German infantry who freely surrendered. By this time I found myself on the plateau, behind and on the right of Hamel mopping up small trenches. I then found that the Aust Infantry had started to consolidate the objective behind me. I then turned round and proceeded to the rallying point.37 After this action Vickers reported that his crew’s condition was ‘good, only suffering a little shock’; that he had expended some 962 rounds of ammunition; that his tank had a ‘right track broken’; and that his exhaust pipe on the top of

his tank was ‘partly blown away’.38 Tank 9292, commanded by Lieutenant C T Draper, was also attached to Geddes’s 13th Battalion: I took part with my female tank in the attack on Vaire Wood and Hamel, operating on the southern fringe of Vaire Wood in co-operation with 13 Bn AIF . . . As I passed the southern edge of Vaire Wood, I raked it with m/g fire from left sponson . . . I saw male tank . . . receive a direct hit, so changed my direction further to the south to include this tank’s section, and so maintain co-operation with 13th Tank Bn on my right flank. Throughout the action . . . my chief function . . . [was] searching possible strong points and m/g emplacements, four of which I crushed . . . After being released by the infantry, I withdrew to the rallying point . . . Valuable assistance was rendered by the Australian Scout attached to the tank for liaison purposes.39 Despite the telling mechanical reliability and manoeuvrability of the Mark V Tank, conditions inside them were still most trying. Lieutenant Draper reported that his crew were exhausted after the action and that his tank had fired some 200 rounds of machine gun fire. Interestingly, he further stated that he had despatched two pigeons with messages.40 The frequent crushing of German machine gun posts and often their occupants was not confined to those accounts provided above. Tanks 9183, 9026 and 9097 reported the same tactic.41 Among these events on the 4th Division front, Corporal Cliff Geddes was engaged in the consolidation of the first 13th Battalion objective: I heard a chap from B Coy . . . say ‘Geddes is hit.’ I questioned him, & he told me ‘Boo was hit in the thigh, & was lying in a shell hole,’ so I went ahead to B Coy in front [‘Boo’ was Geddes’s brother Aubrey] . . . when I got to where Boo was, I saw some awful sights—the men who brought this war on the world ought to be tortured to death . . . I was delighted to see Boo lying in a shell hole, pale but conscious, his right thigh bandaged & all blood, but a smile on his face as he spoke. Near by, were cruel sights, dead Australians & Yanks, & men groaning with awful wounds. They had to lie there till the stretcher bearers could take them, they had been hit by our shells, moved too fast behind the

barrage . . . Some time later 4 of the 13th Bn bearers brought Boo down, & I saw him safely carried off by 4 Field Ambulance bearers to the relay station, where motors carry them off to hospital. He was very bright, smoked his pipe, & hasn’t a serious wound, 3 nasty flesh hits.42 On the southern front the 2nd Division’s 6th Brigade enjoyed similar success to their comrades on the central sector. Attached to the 21st Battalion, Lieutenant Atack in Tank 9097 reported three points of interest. The first concerned the tanks’ ability to deal with snipers. He pointed out that they were ‘causing trouble behind the infantry and were concealed in growing crops; these were killed by my machine guns’. Second, the tanks—especially the supply tanks— were a priceless asset: ‘I handed over 4 boxes of SAA and 8 gallons of water which I had carried for the infantry . . .’43 But one concern for longer operations was to be the extremely trying conditions even inside this new and much-improved Mark V Tank. Lieutenant Atack noted that after only two hours and twenty minutes of action, two of his crew were ‘overcome by petrol fumes’.44 In short, perhaps Lieutenant Litchfield in Tank 9055, in support of the 6th Brigade’s 21st Australian Battalion, best summed up the infantry–tank– artillery coordination at Hamel: ‘The enemy appeared to be surprised and demoralised by our barrage and the approach of the tanks.’45 In summing up the performance of the Tank Corps at Hamel, the Fourth Army Report noted that in addition to its admirable fighting qualities, that each one of the supply tanks carried a load of approximately 12 500 pounds ‘within 500 yds of the final objective, within half an hour of its capture’.46 The total load delivered by these supply tanks equalled the efforts of 1200 soldiers carrying a load of 40 pounds each. In sharp contrast to the unreliability of the Mark IV Tank, the 60 fighting tanks and four supply tanks deployed at Hamel all arrived at the start line; 57 of the fighting tanks and all four supply tanks reached their objectives; all but five tanks were able to reach their rallying points; and all five disabled tanks were recovered within the following two nights.47 The Mark V Tanks and their crews had provided a new and critical dimension to warfare on the Western Front. To add further to the firepower at Hamel, ‘12 [machine] guns were allotted to each attacking brigade for support of the artillery during the advance’, and

moved forward in close support of the infantry. The Fourth Army Report on the Hamel operation noted that: Machine gun group positions were sited with special reference to our knowledge of hostile shelling and were for the most part chosen in places which were usually unoccupied by our troops. For these reasons it is considered that numerous casualties were avoided. Owing to the nature of the ground the majority of machine guns were sited on the flanks of the attack, and were afforded excellent opportunities for enfilade fire.48 Among all of the intricate planning and implementation of the Battle of Hamel were the sterling efforts of the air support. Their aerial photographs were critical to the artillery’s predicted fire and were also provided to the infantry; their new-found ability to drop ammunition by parachutes to the infantry was invaluable (some 114 000 rounds were thus despatched); and they maintained a steady bombing program both prior to and during the battle. The Australian Flying Corps Official Historian has left us with a dramatic description of the airborne Battle of Hamel: They saw little but the locating flares, here and there the lumbering tanks crawling over German posts, small fires of burning houses, a rain of shell-bursts sweeping the enemy area, and only a few vain replyshots from the German guns; vague knots of men in the half-light, and little columns of pioneers going up to dig in; over all a haze of mist and smoke undispersed by the first shafts of the rising sun.49 Monash had timed his battle to last for 90 minutes. In the event his estimate was flawed—it took 93. And the sight being witnessed by those intrepid airmen was in fact an overview of a thoroughly evolving and sophisticated modern battle in which four arms were used to telling effect. In the end, there was only one real impediment to an otherwise flawless battle. At Pear Trench the artillery barrage began behind the German defences and the tanks on that objective became disoriented in the mist. In a timely reminder of past troubles, the now vulnerable infantry were forced to assault their objective in an unsupported frontal attack. They suffered accordingly.

At a cost of around 1400 casualties, over 1600 prisoners were taken and more than 170 machine guns captured. Bean estimates that the German casualties considerably ‘exceeded 2000’.50 *** On the day after his involvement in the Battle of Hamel, Corporal Geddes witnessed both the ongoing carnage of Great War artillery and the sheer luck involved in survival on the Western Front: Our company had some sad luck today, some big shells seemed to burst very close to 15 Platoon, on our right. One shell hit the trench, & two corporals, ______ & ______, two of the finest chaps in the whole battalion, were lying asleep in the bottom of the trench. They were blown to pieces, another chap was badly wounded, another deafened & a fifth got a very bad shaking . . . The two were so knocked about that they buried them in the broken trench, & I went along there, as Lt. Player read the burial service. Cpl ______’s head was missing, & one leg knocked off. Good heavens, it’s an awful business, you never know what a minute will bring forth.51

CHAPTER 6

. . . the finest fighting day I have yet had Der Wendepunkt der Kriegslage (the turning point of the war situation) occurred just a fortnight after the Battle of Hamel. Following his major offensives in France during March–June 1918, General Ludendorff had planned to mount an operation designed to capture Reims and split the French armies, which he hoped would force the French to withdraw their troops from Flanders and thus facilitate his long-sought-after victory against the BEF. Beginning on 15 July, this German offensive gained ground, but it was called off on the very day—18 July—that the French launched a massive counter-attack on the River Marne and towards Soissons. Employing nineteen French and four American divisions, some 2100 guns, over 1100 aircraft and nearly 500 two-man Renault tanks, Generals Charles Mangin and Jean Degoutte shattered Ludendorff’s last offensive of the war. The long-lost initiative on the Western Front now lay in the hands of the Entente’s Supreme Commander, General Foch. Throughout the troublesome period March–June 1918, Foch had held his nerve. As early as 3 April he had proposed a two-pronged offensive with logistics in mind: the first by the French Second Army in the Montdidier area to secure the St Just–Amiens railway, and the second by Rawlinson’s Fourth Army astride the Somme to safeguard the critical Amiens railhead. Ludendorff’s Lys offensive caused its postponement. Then, during the quiet period in May 1918, Foch again sought to resurrect the plans for his offensive. And those plans were now far more extensive: he saw Rawlinson’s role as ‘a surprise attack launched with tanks between the Somme and the Villers–Bretonneux–Amiens railway with the Morcourt– Harbonnières ravine, five miles distant, as its objective’.1 A few days after Rawlinson’s attack Foch envisaged a French pincer movement by his

Second French Army in the Montdidier area. Peter Pedersen has identified three key issues with this plan. The first is that when Haig sent Foch’s plan to Rawlinson, he stipulated that the Fourth Army’s formations for the offensive would comprise the Australian, Canadian and III Corps; second, that due to the considerable depth in Foch’s objectives, a ‘leapfrogging’ of formations would need to be employed; and third, that when Birdwood and White assessed the plan they ‘pointed out that guns on the heights between Sailly-Laurette and the Chipilly Spur could enfilade the advance to Morcourt on the opposite side of the river [Somme]’.2 It will be shown that Birdwood and White’s concern was prophetic. Despite the fact that the German offensive on the Aisne at the end of that month caused yet another postponement to Foch’s plans, it is apparent that the soon-to-be-fought Battle of Amiens was growing in definition and scope. On 17 July, fortified by the continuing fruits of ‘Peaceful Penetration’ and the Australian Corps’s victory at Hamel, Rawlinson submitted a written plan to Haig. In essence, this plan shows the evidence of a gradual but decisive acquisition of knowledge and expertise by a BEF army commander who had, to an extent, learnt his trade, and amply portrays the two-year learning curve described earlier in this work. On 17 July 1918, Rawlinson noted the vulnerability of the German defences; their poor morale; the ‘moral superiority gained by the Australian Corps over the enemy in the last three months’;3 that the terrain chosen was ideal for tanks (as per Cambrai and Hamel); the excellent existing observation of the German lines and good artillery positions already held; and the ‘covered lines of approach and cover, which render a surprise attack comparatively easy’.4 As at Hamel, Rawlinson emphasised the importance of secrecy and that it must be ‘the basis on which the whole scheme is built up’.5 He had also absorbed the tank lessons of Cambrai and Hamel: As in the case of the attack of July 4th, it is proposed to employ as many fighting tanks as possible, so as to save casualties to the infantry, and also to make full use of any supply tanks that may be available, so as to reduce infantry carrying parties. Whippets [Medium Mark A tanks] will be required for exploiting success.

Approximately six tanks (Mark V or Mark V one star) per 1,000 yards will be required for each objective.6 Haig endorsed Rawlinson’s basic plan on 23 July, Foch approved it the following day, and also advanced the operation from 10 to 8 August 1918. Monash subsequently made a number of claims for the genesis of the Amiens offensive that are simply inaccurate. Pedersen has noted that on 17 August 1918 Monash ‘informed [Keith] Murdoch that he was responsible for the battle on the 8th,7 and further, he later claimed that the idea of using the Canadians was his. Pedersen provides telling evidence that: The origin of this offensive illustrates nothing more than the operation of the chain of command from generalissimo downwards, with Monash’s role typifying the relationship between a Corps and an Army commander. Rawlinson’s discussions with him dwelt on the tasks and requirements of the Australian Corps in an Army plan, which the Army commander had prepared. As Bean finally concluded in 1935: ‘we know that Monash did not devise the August offensive . . .’8 In all this, a critical point should be noted. By mid-1918 the Entente’s chain of command had become far more defined and refined. Foch and Haig deserve some credit here. Although the two had had some disagreements, they both perceived the growing vulnerability of the German defences and the opportunities they provided. In their telling study of Rawlinson, Prior and Wilson have noted that: . . . what we are seeing, in microcosm, is the way in which the role of an Army commander was being adapted to the circumstances of war on the Western Front . . . Rawlinson was becoming less and less the creator of great operations. Rather, his role was diminishing to that of a manager drawing forth and co-ordinating the endeavours of others . . . As the complexity of the war expanded, the nature and extent of his job significantly contracted. Thereby it fell more within the limits of his competence.9

Also, in an evaluation of Hamel—and as a precursor to Amiens—Prior and Wilson have further stated: For what occurred there [Hamel] was not just a display of an enhanced weaponry and technical expertise which, at many levels, now lay at Fourth Army’s disposal. It was also a demonstration of those many facets of planning which were now passing out of the orbit of the Army commander and into the hands of a considerable array of experts.10 Rawlinson’s basic contribution to the forthcoming Battle of Amiens was therefore one of a sound basic plan, an allocation of two highly competent and well-led shock-troop corps, the provision of the necessary implements of war for their use, and the knowledge that, at the corps level, the expertise applied to his plan and then its execution would be judicious. *** While a basic blueprint for a combined arms operation had been established at Hamel, its limited scale had seen the employment of just three AIF brigades (using ten battalions) over a front of 7500 yards on the furthest objective and to a greatest depth of 2500 yards. For the Battle of Amiens, Rawlinson’s front was some 19 000 yards, stretching from the River Ancre near Morlancourt to south of the River Luce near Démuin. On the left, or northern flank, two divisions of General Butler’s III Corps would provide flank protection north of the Somme; in the centre, the four-division Australian Corps front—some 7200 yards and eventually widening to around 9000 yards—stretched from the Somme near Sailly-Laurette southwards to the Amiens–Nesle railway. South of that feature was to be General Currie and his Canadians’ four-division 4000yard front, which diminished as it journeyed eastwards to 3500 yards. Just south of the Luce, two of those Canadian divisions, with the eventual support of the 3rd Cavalry Division, were to exploit a break-through. The northern extremity of the Australian front was the River Somme, the Amiens to Péronne Road (Roman Road) was its central feature and the railway formed its southern boundary. Monash’s first objective was the

Green Line (roughly 3000 yards from his start line) that ran from near Cerisy on the Somme, and swung to Lamotte and thence to the railway line. The second objective—the Red Line (a further 4500 yards)—ran from the Chipilly Spur eastwards around the village of Morcourt and down to the railway. An occupation of this line would place the critically important railway centre of Amiens out of German artillery range. The last objective was the Blue Line (a further 1500 yards), which ran from the eastern edge of the Chipilly Spur. It bordered a horseshoe-shaped loop in the Somme, from just west of Proyart to just east of Harbonnières to then reach the railway line. The southern portion of the Australian Corps’s ground lay between the Amiens to Péronne Road (Roman Road) and the railway, which was relatively flat, open ground on which were scattered a number of woods and villages. From a Fourth Army perspective, a potential for heavy casualties on the central AIF front was the German-occupied Chipilly Spur, which lay in General Butler’s III Corps front. The German artillery not only dominated two nearby re-entrants, but could also reach as far as the distant villages of Bayonvillers and Harbonnières. As at Hamel, Rawlinson (and Monash and Currie) placed a heavy emphasis upon secrecy. Although Hamel now provided them with a blueprint for how to maintain such secrecy, at Amiens we note a greater degree of difficulty and a marked sophistication in the measures taken. The first problem was the deployment of the Canadian Corps to the Amiens front. Since the prowess of that corps was well known to the Germans, any concentration of Currie’s Corps on a new front—with the AIF Corps in the vicinity—would have aroused understandable suspicion. At a conference held at III Corps HQ on 29 July, it was planned that the Canadian Corps’s 2nd Division would arrive on 1 August; its 3rd Division two days later; and its 1st and 4th Divisions at midday on 5 August.11 In an attempt to mask those moves, a battalion from both the 2nd and 3rd Canadian Divisions was sent in the opposite direction to the Second Army front, along with a number of wireless units and two casualty clearing stations. As at Hamel, senior officers only became aware of the plan as necessity dictated. Another example of the extension and sophistication of secrecy was the proposed screening of the tanks’ arrival both in the area and during their approach to

the start line. Two days of droning heavy aircraft drowning out the noise of the tank approach at Cambrai had become eight consecutive days at Hamel, while at Amiens: From to-night [29 July] onwards aeroplanes will be in the air at irregular intervals. They will not be employed every night but will be employed somewhat on these lines—in the air to-night and tomorrow night; not in the air at all on the third night; in the air on the fourth night; not in the air on the fifth and sixth days; in the air on the seventh and eighth days, and so on, the main provision being that they are not to be in the air on the day prior to zero day.12

*** General Monash had been present at a conference with Rawlinson on 21 July concerning what was then a provisional Amiens plan. As the latter

sought Haig’s endorsement of it on the 22nd, Monash had journeyed to England on leave to witness the opening of Australia House in London, which was fixed for 3 August. Rawlinson granted that leave on the basis that Monash would return to France forthwith if required. Before he left, Monash had made preliminary plans with Blamey and had left General Hobbs (5th Division) in command. The extraordinary aspect of that effort was that it took a mere day, and yet these plans addressed all of the essential logistical facets of the Australian Corps’s Amiens offensive. And on his return to his Bertangles Chateau HQ on 29 July, Monash, according to Blamey, spent the morning of the 30th working through many of those issues with him. He then retired to his room, studied the intricacies of the plan and, when he conducted his first conference with his divisional commanders the following day, ‘he was outstanding in his completeness of plan, grasp of all requirements and clarity of expression of them’.13 We have earlier identified Monash’s outstanding intellect and, more importantly, his tremendous discipline in its application. His conference notes for 31 July 1918 bear ample testimony not only to his personal ‘grip’ of the upcoming battle, but also to the now established part played by his staff, his senior commanders and his supporting arms.14 Once those processes of constructive questioning, of input, and of eventual agreement to the plan were completed, there was an unqualified confidence instilled in all concerned—right through the chain of command—to successfully execute it. On 1 August Monash issued a memorandum to his senior commanders addressing all issues raised on the previous day, and three days later he held another conference in which his final instructions were given and were endorsed. It will be recalled that due to the depth of penetration planned for Amiens, Haig, and then the Fourth Army, had identified the need for a ‘leapfrogging’ of infantry units. Monash’s planning and implementation of this tactic were both masterly and innovative. He decided to employ his 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th AIF Divisions in the attack with his soon-to-arrive 1st Division as his Corps reserve. Two likely roles for that reserve division were identified: the first was one of potential exploitation, while the second was possibly to thicken his line in case of a German counter-attack.

To execute Phase A—the opening set-piece 3000-yard assault to the Green Line—Monash chose his 3rd and 2nd Divisions. Major-General Gellibrand’s 3rd Division was to attack along a two-mile-wide front starting at the Somme and stretching down to the southern edge of Accroche Wood, with his 11th Brigade on the left, his 9th on the right, and his 10th in reserve. On the right two-mile-wide or southern flank, Major-General Rosenthal’s 2nd Division was to attack with his 5th Brigade on the left, his 7th on the right, and the 6th in reserve, between the southern edge of Accroche Wood and the railway. Phase A was essentially a set-piece attack with an accompanying creeping barrage. In his The Australian Victories in France in 1918, Monash best describes Phase A: The opening phase involved no novel or unusual features so far as the infantry were concerned, and was conceived on lines with which the fighting of 1917 had familiarized me, modified further by the accumulated experience gained from earlier mistakes in the technical details of such an enterprise. The recent battle of Hamel became the model for this phase, the conditions of that battle being now reproduced on a much enlarged scale.15 Monash anticipated that Phase A would be complete within 143 minutes. He then foresaw a pause of 100 minutes, whereby a consolidation of the Green Line and the execution of a ‘leapfrog’ by the 4th and 5th Divisions through the 3rd and 2nd Divisions, would occur. Phase B—an advance of some 4500 yards—was to be what Monash referred to as an ‘open-warfare advance’ to the Red Line. Phase C consisted of a 1500-yard exploitation operation to the final Blue Line objective. We now come to a Monash invention of tremendous importance. After having gained the Green Line, he planned to comply with Rawlinson’s recommendation of a ‘leapfrogging’ of his first force. The fact is that Monash planned three ‘leapfrogs’. He deployed his second two divisions: the 4th (Major-General Sinclair-Maclagan), which was to ‘leapfrog’ on the Green Line from behind Gellibrand’s 3rd Division; and the 5th (MajorGeneral Hobbs), which was to ‘leapfrog’ from behind Rosenthal’s 2nd Division), forward of those two first-into-battle divisions on his start line. On the night of 7 August, the 3rd and 2nd Divisions would ‘leapfrog’

through the 4th and 5th to their starting-tapes for the attack upon the Green Line. By so doing, Monash was cutting a crucial three miles off the approach march of his exploiting 4th and 5th Divisions. We noted in the last chapter Corporal Geddes’s wry comment about the weight of his pack and the fact that he doubted whether he would have the strength to ‘bayonet a plum pudding, let alone a Fritz’. Geddes and his 13th Battalion, 4th Division, were now going to reach their objective in a decisively fitter state. Thus, both the initial 3rd and 2nd Divisions and their ‘leapfrogging’ 4th and 5th Divisions’ exploitation forces were now destined to march roughly the same distances. And after the Green and Red Lines had been occupied by his 4th and 5th Divisions, the third ‘leapfrog’ would occur by passing their reserve brigades through them to the final objective: the Blue Line. If the Australian Corps Commander’s plan—especially in hindsight— looked logical and indeed simple enough on paper, then its ramifications for Monash’s divisional, brigade, battalion and supporting arms’ commanders were both complex and fraught with the potential for monumental chaos. Here we again note both the expertise of the Australian Corps staff work, and the confidence and trust placed in them by Monash. He would later state that ‘The whole plan, thanks to an intelligent interpretation by all Commanders and Staffs concerned, worked like a well oiled machine, with smoothness, precision and punctuality, and achieved to the fullest extent the advantages aimed at.’16 Other than his early allotment of roads to them, Monash left his divisional commanders to their work, knowing that such considerations as boundaries and liaison between them and their supporting arms would be done thoroughly. While Monash’s employment of a refined method of ‘leapfrogging’ his infantry was impressive, his decision that each of his divisions would operate along a two-mile front is also noteworthy. At Broodseinde and the Third Battle of Ypres, his divisional fronts were 2000 yards. At Amiens, therefore, Monash sought to ‘greatly reduce the number of men per yard of front’.17 In this we note the principle that firepower not manpower had now become the prime consideration in an infantry advance. The Principle of War ‘concentration of force’ was now as much a matter of a concentration of supporting tank, machine gun, mortar, and, most of all, field and heavy artillery fire, as it was the hitherto crude massed-infantry crossing of no-

man’s-land, after days of artillery shelling designed in the vain hope that the enemy and his trenches might be obliterated. Of critical importance was the fact that the concentration of those supporting arms’ fire was now much more accurate. If the gradual learning curves of 1916 and 1917 had evolved into a more intricate display of interlocking arms at battles such as Hamel, then Amiens would see that doctrine’s further maturation. The use of tanks at Amiens drew upon the lessons of Hamel. The Australian Corps and its supporting 5th Tank Brigade had formed a trust, and indeed a strong esprit de corps, during both their combined training at Vaux and the Battle of Hamel. Both knew that they now had a reliable tank; the practice of tanks staying with a prescribed unit was maintained; aircraft were once again designated to drown out the tanks’ noise on the approach; a creeping barrage would be employed during Phase A, with tanks and infantry to follow it closely; and supply tanks would once again assist in carrying essential supplies forward. Across his entire Fourth Army front, Rawlinson was able to deploy 432 tanks (of all types). The 5th Tank Brigade was to support the Australian Corps with 24 Mark V Tanks for both the 3rd and 2nd divisions during Phase A; a further 24 Mark Vs for each of the ‘leapfrogging’ 4th and 5th divisions (together with the surviving Tanks from Phase A) were assigned to support the capture of the Red Line.18 On 1 August 1918, the 5th Tank Brigade (2nd, 8th and 13th Battalions) received a reinforcement. The 15th Tank Battalion had just been equipped with the new Mark V One Star Tanks (often denoted in records as the ‘Mark V* Tank’).19 While this tank had the same essential characteristics as the Mark V in terms of its weight, armament, engine, transmission, steering and number of crew, it was six feet longer than the Mark V. Its original purpose was to traverse any wider German trenches, but most of all to carry extra men into battle.20 For the exploitation phase to the Blue Line, eighteen Mark V* Tanks for both the 4th and 5th Divisions would each carry fifteen men, along with their Vickers or Lewis Guns. Here we note an attempt to as rapidly as possible move concentrated machine gun fire to reinforce the final capture of the Blue Line. The Mark V* Tanks were to deploy their machine gun crews just forward of that line.

On 4 August another attribute was added to the exploitation phase of the Amiens plan. The 17th Armoured Car Battalion’s sixteen cars were assigned to the Australian Corps. It was hoped that these vehicles would be able to travel along the Roman Road from Villers–Bretonneux and move through the German lines to assault such venues as billets, HQ, dumps and railway points. In a concerted effort to enable those armoured cars increased opportunity for movement, Monash assigned a number of parties of pioneers to work on the Roman Road, and, in addition, the armoured car crews were hurriedly trained with a number of tanks at Vaux so as to be towed through shelled areas if need be.21 The final tank establishment for Amiens also consisted of one gun-carrying company for infantry supplies, one tank supply company and one tank field company for the purpose of first aid and salvage work in the field.22 Two weapons had literally shredded substantial numbers of BEF infantry during the 1916–17 offensives: the artillery gun and machine gun. Hamel had shown that during an infantry advance, the deployment of tanks in mutual cooperation with infantry could locate, engage and then destroy machine gun posts. Any small number of missed enemy posts (often deployed in woods) could be destroyed by an infantry–tank outflanking movement and a resulting heavy enfiladed fire or, at worst, they could be mopped up by a succeeding wave of infantry and tanks. But Hamel had also shown that such an advance required a creeping artillery barrage, lifting as accurately as possible with its closely following infantry, so as to maintain a progressive blanket of fire to either obliterate those posts or neutralise them. When a percentage of smoke was added to that barrage (or was at times called in), the enemy’s ability to identify and then engage the tanks and infantry was prejudiced. However, the most destructive killer of infantry moving across no-man’s-land was the German artillery. By 1918 the essential role of the BEF artillery had become accurate counter-battery fire, rather than the former crude and redundant attempts to obliterate the enemy trench line. For Amiens the Fourth Army was able to call upon some 2000 guns, of which around half were 18-pounders. On the Australian Corps front Monash was allocated 348, which gave him an 18-pounder for every 22 yards of his front.23 Charles Bean: ‘The fire would creep forward in 100

yards’ lifts, the first two lifts occurring at two-minute intervals, the next eight at three minutes, and the later ones at four minutes, the infantry being thus given more time to fight its way around obstacles as the attack proceeded.’24 In addition to this field artillery, the Fourth Army deployed around 450 heavy guns. These guns had three roles. The first was to assist in the barrage, particularly during the advance to the far-distant Red and Blue Lines. The second was to shell the German HQ, dumps and billets. But its third and prime task was counter-battery fire, in which two-thirds of the Fourth Army’s heavy guns were employed. We have noted the gradual prowess in the BEF’s ability to identify enemy batteries by the use of such measures as flash spotting, sound ranging and aerial photography. Further, through the use of accurate weather data, the calibration of their guns, and artillery boards, we have also noted the ability of the BEF’s guns, to engage in accurate predicted fire. One illustration of this voluminous but precise collection of data is the fact that on 1 August 1918 alone, the Air Force was able to take 731 aerial photos for its Topographical Sections to compose accurate maps of the German defences, and particularly their battery positions.25 Some idea of the effectiveness of the multitude of that predicted-fire intelligence cited above is the fact that by 8 August, of the 530 German guns facing Fourth Army, 504 had been identified and plotted—a staggering 95 per cent.26 This first-class intelligence was complemented by a lavish Fourth Army ammunition supply. Of 427 053 rounds to be fired on 8 August, three different guns’ shell expenditure gives some concept of the artillery firepower: 279 699 were 18-pounder shells (153 358 shrapnel, 113 764 HE, and 12 577 smoke); 60 500 were 4.5-inch Howitzer shells; the heavy artillery’s 60-pounder guns fired 27 627; and its 6-inch Howitzers fired 57 329.27 Two points should be stressed. The first is that this massive artillery fire employed the priceless asset of surprise; and the second is that, unlike 1916–17, the ‘surprise’ was most accurate. The complexity in the level of planning and expertise for the advance of the artillery is noteworthy. A Fourth Army Report would later declare that: Roads and tracks were allotted, and preparations made for bridging trenches rapidly. A few units were held mobile from the start, but

the majority detailed to advance joined in the barrage and subsequently limbered up to advance at predetermined times. The artillery . . . advanced in waves. First of all, Brigades under orders of Divisions, with Sections pushed out to the front. Then a limited number of 60-pdrs . . . They were followed by further Brigades of Field Artillery. The remainder of the Field and Heavy Artillery moved up subsequently under Corps orders. The change in command from Corps to Divisions, and subsequently the resumption of command by Corps, worked smoothly. A special point was made of pushing forward the 6-inch howitzer guns as early as possible in order to shell the approaches and bridges over the SOMME.28 By the time of Amiens, the Royal Air Force was able to present a separate air plan to Haig, Rawlinson and then to the corps commanders, which was a recognition of its inclusion in the overall battle plan. One of the critical factors in the upcoming battle was undoubtedly air superiority: while the Germans were forced to deploy substantial numbers of their aircraft in the Champagne sector, the Allies at Amiens would enjoy a superiority of around five to one (about 1000 French, 800 British, against 360). That superiority allowed for a significant advantage in intelligence gathering. And that advantage took two forms. The first has been mentioned, which was a comprehensive aerial photo contribution to the counter-battery efforts of the artillery. But its second was central to the whole operation’s chances of success: surprise. That great superiority in aircraft inhibited the Germans’ ability to conduct their own reconnaissance. As a result, one side was undertaking astute, detailed reconnaissance and gaining accurate intelligence, while the other was being denied it. In support of the Australian Corps, the Australian 3 Squadron’s ‘A’ Flight was tasked with artillery patrols to identify German batteries not under fire; its ‘B’ Flight’s role was to identify enemy troop locations, send that information back, and then by the use of red marker flares, guide the infantry to those points. Its ‘C’ Flight was assigned the role of contact patrols. The Australian Flying Corps Official Historian: The contact-patrol airmen were required to memorise a special simple system of letter-code identifying all battalions; to recognise

the positions reached by the advancing infantry from flares, metal discs, and rifles laid parallel across tops of trenches—all these signs being given from the ground on the call of Klaxon horns from the pilots above—and to report in messages dropped at nearest brigade headquarters the position of the attacking line.29 Some concept of the BEF’s huge change in emphasis from manpower to firepower and its development of the doctrine of interlocking arms can be appreciated when some basic comparisons are made between Amiens and 1 July 1916 on the Somme. Prior and Wilson have pointed out that for both battles a similar number of divisions were deployed across roughly the same-sized front. At Amiens the battalions were at a strength of around 500 soldiers compared with the 1000-strong battalions of 1916. However, the Amiens battalions possessed not four Lewis machine guns but 30, eight light trench mortars not two, and the support of at least six Mark V Tanks.30 Despite all of these impressive resources and their expertise in application, the key to the whole operation was secrecy. The 3rd Australian Division Artillery provides us with but one of many examples: The operation referred to . . . is entirely dependent for its success on secrecy . . . The area in which the Artillery is to concentrate is, for the most part, under ground observation by the enemy, and in consequence, the strictest observance of the points enumerated must be maintained. NO digging in of guns will be carried out, and NO earth whatever will be upturned for any purpose, except that in order to lower the gun narrow wheel slits and a small trail hole may be excavated. ... All work must be carried out as silently as possible, and no shouting of orders is to be permitted. The following special precautions are to be taken to reduce the amount of noise made by guns proceeding into action and wagons bringing up ammunition:-

(1) Iron wheel tyres must be lapped with ropes if moving over metalled roads. (2) The noise made by drag washers31 and the play of the wheels should be diminished by leather washers. (3) Rattling of the upper and lower shields must be prevented by padding. (4) The rattling of the limber hook and the rattling of chains and harness are to be prevented by lapping with rags. (5) Spare poles carried under the wagons must be secured tightly. (6) No noise is to be made dumping ammunition. It is essential that the Divisional front shall, as nearly as possible, remain normal. As few officers and men as possible will be informed of the plan until the last possible moment. Officers Commanding Sub-Groups will detail Officers who will, both day and night, move over their areas in order to ensure that the orders are being obeyed. No movement of guns and wagons is to occur by day under any pretext whatever, without special orders from D.A.H.Q. [Divisional Artillery HQ] Guns are to be calibrated, battery positions re-sected, and guns placed in position and left strictly without any movement in their vicinity by day. NO registrations are to be carried out. Normal harassing fire will continue until Zero Hour.32 These elaborate Fourth Army plans for secrecy were jeopardised by two events. During the early hours of 6 August on the III Corps front, as an initial ‘leapfrogging’ of a division by another was in progress near Sailly-leSec, the Germans mounted an attack. In the ensuing action, trenches were lost and around 250 prisoners were taken. Despite the fact that a III Corps counterattack regained much of that lost territory, some of it remained in German hands. Luckily the Germans learnt nothing. Monash understandably complained to Rawlinson, whereby the latter informed Lieutenant-General Butler that his Battle of Amiens had begun a day early, and he was to capture the lost ground forthwith. But Monash harboured concerns—accurate as subsequent events were to prove—that the critical III

Corps Chipilly Spur objective may well not fall on 8 August. He therefore ordered Major-General Sinclair-Maclagan, whose 4th Division, after its ‘leapfrogging’ of the 3rd Division, was to be on the left-flank approach to the Blue and Red Lines, to be prepared to bend his left flank ‘back towards Morcourt, and to establish, with a reserve battalion, a flank defence along the river [Somme], facing north from Cerisy to Morcourt’.33 The second event was a chance occurrence. Just before sunset on 7 August, an enemy shell landed among sixteen supply tanks and their stores, which had been deployed in an orchard on the outskirts of VillersBretonneux. Thirteen tanks and their stores were destroyed. However, the resulting inferno failed to attract German suspicions of an offensive. The historical significance of the following day’s offensive was not lost on Lieutenant-General John Monash. In a message to the soldiers of his Australian Corps he said that: For the first time in the history of this Corps all five Australian Divisions will tomorrow engage in the largest and most important battle operation ever undertaken by the Corps. ... Because of the completeness of our plans and dispositions, of the magnitude of the operations, of the number of troops employed, and of the depth to which we intend to overrun the enemy’s positions, this battle will be one of the most memorable of the whole war; and there can be no doubt that, by capturing our objectives, we shall inflict blows upon the enemy which will make him stagger, and will bring the end appreciably nearer. ... I earnestly wish every soldier of the Corps the best of good fortune and a glorious and decisive victory, the story of which will re-echo throughout the world, and will live forever in the history of our home land.34 ***

Gunner James Armitage’s 30th Field Artillery Battery was to support the 3rd Division’s left-flank thrust. His diary for 8 August portrays the eerie approach, and then the beginning of a fearsome artillery barrage: We took our guns across ‘Circular Quay’ [a pontoon bridge] queuing up with hundreds of other vehicles quietly enough, with only an occasional shell dropping in the background. When we reached the little village the Hun started shelling it but, luckily for us, concentrated his fire on the road entering from the east while we and most of the traffic were on the west road. We got out on to the flat marshy country where our guns were to be sited. It was utterly still. Vehicles made no sound on the marshy ground. There was no talking and only an occasional random burst of German machine gun fire and an odd gun going off in the distance. Only the constant display of enemy verey lights going up from their trenches worried us. The silence played on our nerves a bit. As we got our guns into position you could hear drivers whispering to their horses and men muttering curses under their breath, and still the silence persisted, broken only by the whine of a stray rifle bullet or a long range shell passing overhead. We started putting out our lines of fire, calculating our charging fuse settings so that our shells would keep bursting ahead of our advancing infantry . . . Each crew’s world centred around his gun. At 4.29 a.m. silence reigned everywhere. Jerry appeared to be sleeping peacefully, unaware that hundreds of men had their fingers on hundreds of triggers. Away on our right we heard the stutter of some battery whose watch was a few seconds fast, then all hell broke loose and we heard nothing more. The world was enveloped in sound and flame, and our ears just couldn’t cope. The ground shook and our little sphere heaved. I was gun layer . . . I was relieved after about half an hour which was about as much as a gun layer could stand at that pace. The sound waves beat against my head and I looked around to find us half buried in shell cases. There was no wind and lots of men were made violently ill by the discharged cordite fumes. The smoke hid

our aiming posts to add to our difficulties, but we were not fired on once . . .35 Any detailed examination of the 5th Tank Brigade reports36 for Hamel and Amiens will testify to the repeated observation that mist, fog or smoke barrages tended to hamper the tanks’ navigation in terms of identifying ground obstacles and/or enemy posts. But the salient point is that those perceived difficulties were far outweighed by their positive attributes. The first was the diminished German ability to identify their tank targets, in terms of either their artillery fire upon them, or by the employment of armour-piercing bullets from posts. The sudden appearance of a steel monster out of a screening mist, fog or smoke barrage, accompanied by mutually supporting and disciplined infantry—and, for good measure, a concentrated creeping artillery barrage and machine gun barrages—caused either a quick death or a far more palatable end: surrender. The enormous numbers of German prisoners taken on 8 August 1918 at Amiens are a reflection of the interlocking arms’ employment of sound intelligence, surprise and concentration of firepower. On the Australian Corps’s left flank (adjoining the Somme), MajorGeneral Gellibrand’s 3rd Division’s main features of the ground to be taken were the trenches in the Accroche and Acquaire Woods, and the German battery area in the southern part of the Cerisy Valley.37 Despite the initial dense fog, which caused some of the troops to fall a little behind the creeping barrage, the 3rd Division’s forward troops were able to maintain contact with their tanks and, in spite of German machine gun fire from wheat fields, were able to press forward, occupy the woods by 6.00 am and were digging in on the Green Line by 8.15 am.38 At 8.20 am the protective barrage that had been covering the 100minute pause on the Green Line, which had allowed for consolidation and the ‘leapfrogging’ of the 4th Division through the 3rd, ceased. Although the 4th Division’s approach to the Red Line met ‘light hostile Artillery fire from the commencement’, the battalions on the left flank ‘encountered considerable machine gun and artillery fire from the high ground North of the River Somme’.39 By 9.40 am the Germans had concentrated 77-mm

field guns and machine guns on the Chipilly Spur. According to the 4th Division’s War Diary, ‘these caused many casualties to the 4th Brigade and several tanks were put out by the field 40 guns’.40 It is all too easy for the historian—and the reader—to learn that the Australians came under German machine gun and artillery fire from this menacing feature. It is entirely a different matter to have experienced it. After his participation in the artillery barrage in support of the 3rd Division’s initial thrust, Gunner James Armitage was involved in his artillery unit’s deployment forward. During that day he witnessed the consequences of artillery placed on a nearby high-ground feature employing direct fire: At 9 a.m. we limbered up our guns and started our advance into captured territory. What was left of the roads after our shelling was blocked with traffic and, until now, we had hardly had a shell returned at us. However, we now learned that all had not gone so well on our left. The English troops had been held up and ran into trouble on some bad ground and had been unable to silence the enemy guns on their sector. In consequence of this, when we made our advance, we came under flank fire from enemy guns. Things got uncomfortable until we entered a bit of a sunken road and here we were given ten minutes in hell. A German battery of 5.9 guns was dug in . . . and had an open sights target of all of us. In a few minutes of unmolested shooting the Huns had our column a mass of blown up tanks, guns, wagons, men and horses. The mess was indescribable. The horses went down with their drivers and the gun wheels shattered. We decided to get out but it was amazing how our drivers stayed with their horses and tried to get them free. A gun team, from some other battery, trying to gallop away along the top of the bank was literally blown on top of us—horses, gun and all . . . A fourth division battery, ordered into action against this German battery, was blown off the face of the earth before it could get its guns unhitched. They had 80% casualty [sic] . . . we returned to try and salvage our gun. The sight was beyond description. Heaps of

debris consisted of vehicles, men and horses and shattered guns. Our kits, tied to the wagons, were scattered in rags everywhere. Our gun was hardly worth salvaging but, with the help of ordnance, we got replacement parts for it and got it back into service. My gun team got out of this horrible business with extraordinary luck. Only one of the four of us was killed and two wounded but our horses didn’t fare so well.41 And from an infantry perspective, Corporal Cliff Geddes, 13th Battalion, 4th Division, was also exposed to the consequences of the hold-up over the Somme: We climbed another hill, & were nearly on our objective line, when we struck Hun machine guns in a sunken road, & they poured a fire onto us & made it lively. I saw 2 running away about 400 yards off, & had the satisfaction of bringing one down as he ran. Our O.C. Capt. Geary (only made a captain a few days ago) was shot dead, he was a fine old chap the boys called him ‘John.’ Then a couple of tanks went down, and a lot of Huns came running back with their hands up. ______ was that wild he turned his Lewis gun on to some of them, they had just killed John Geary near him. Poor Ted ______ was killed too, no stretcher-bearers were handy to take him away, & he bled to death. The 16th Bn now pushed on further ahead & we began to dig ourselves in. He was putting shells over now, & several were being hit. Lor’ we were tired, & at 3 p.m. we actually had to move on up to the front line another mile & a half . . . When we got up we found the 16th Bn had suffered heavy casualties from machine guns & shells coming up, owing to the Tommies on the flank having been held up. It is awful to see the dead, & badly wounded lying about, wish the awful affair would soon end . . .42 On the Australian Corps’s right flank, the 2nd Division’s progress to the Green Line was also rapid and cost little in casualties. By 7.30 am its two leading battalions had dug in on that objective, and machine guns and trench mortars had been sited. During the advance, a company of the 17th

Battalion had rushed the village of Warfusée and captured a German artillery battery ‘complete with officers’.43 The Division also noted that their tanks ‘cleared up machine gun posts in fine style and one mopped up Warfusée’.44 The 2nd Division also recorded that it had managed to capture 44 officers and 1500 other ranks, 27 77-mm guns, seven 4.2s, eight 5.9s, 26 trench mortars and 108 machine guns.45 Private Len Clarkson was a nineteen-year-old clerk from Adelaide. After training in England, he had arrived in France in June 1918, and had been posted to B Company, 32nd Battalion, 8th Brigade, 5th Division. On 8 August his 5th Division (Major-General Hobbs) ‘leapfrogged’ the 2nd Division on the Green Line and proceeded eastwards towards the Red Line: Soon we reached the German front line—a mass of powdered earth; our guns had absolutely annihilated the trench. A few dead lay about but most of the birds had flown. Then we gained their second line and similar results of our gunfire were observed. It was evident that the enemy was in full retreat but we could see nothing ahead of us so dense was the mist. Then it lifted and I saw a sight I will never forget. Everywhere swarmed our troops, the whole country seemed ALIVE with them. An hour later we were right back to his field guns and half an hour later signals went up in front to say that our first objective . . . had been gained. Here we saw a sight which demonstrated what wonderful work our artillery had done. There was a battery of German guns and everyone had been knocked out. Even the limbers bringing up ammunition had been blown to atoms and every man and horse killed. The ground about here was a shambles, nothing but shell holes and churned up earth. Our barrage had now lifted and was preparing our way to our next objective . . . The tanks were doing wonderful work and dozens of them were on ahead of us patrolling, dealing with machine guns and ‘mopping-up’ villages . . . These tanks have a nasty habit of going over a machine gun and crushing the lot. There were supply tanks keeping up with the advance with

ammunition and water and also tanks to bring back wounded . . . Prisoners were coming in in droves—hundreds of them. They all looked scared to death and heartily glad to get out of it. We employed them carrying back our stretcher cases and helping the walking wounded and, needless to say, they had to disgorge souvenirs before they left.46 *** During its operations on 8 August at Amiens, the 5th Tank Brigade had lost 40 tanks through direct hits, and three had been put out of action by landmines. They had fired nearly 1700 rounds of 6-pounder ammunition and over 66 000 from their machine guns.47 As we have seen, as a part of their tank support for 8 August at Amiens, the Australian Corps had been allotted sixteen armoured cars from the 5th Tank Brigade’s 17th Armoured Car Battalion. Given that the most suitable ground in the Australian Corps’s sector was on its southern or left flank (which contained the key Villers-Bretonneux Road), twelve of those cars were to support the 5th Australian Division, and four were deployed as a Corps reserve. To ensure every chance of their arrival at the front, three tanks from the 5th Tank Brigade were attached, in order to tow those vehicles over trenches and shelled ground.48 The plan for those cars was based on the lesson of Cambrai, which had seen them deployed at around ‘Zero + 5, by which time the Tank attack had penetrated to the zone of intact roads used by the enemy’s transport’.49 In other words, the Australian Corps’s occupation of the final Blue Line objective foreshadowed the opportunity for an armoured car operation on its right, or southern flank, to achieve as much damage as possible to the enemy’s personnel, organisation and transport. The sixteen cars had three roles: six cars were to operate to the north of the road; a further six south of it; and four were to drive directly down the road to carry out a reconnaissance in depth of the German lines. Each car carried axes for clearing minor obstacles such as trees, and four ‘slabs of Gun Cotton [an explosive] in case a heavy obstruction was encountered’.50

In addition, the towing tanks each carried three artillery bridges for trench crossings. By zero plus three and a half hours, after the Australian Corps Pioneers had cleared the road, the towing tanks and cars were able to drive through Warfusée and, despite an initial slow pace due to their own heavy artillery fire and a number of fallen trees, they were able to pass through the forward infantry to cause utter havoc in the German rear. Lieutenant E J Rollings, the OC No. 8 Section, provides us with an example: I received orders to proceed to FRAMERVILLE to find out any useful information I could and to do as much damage as possible, then go on to VAUVILLERS, do the same there, and also N.E. side of HARBONNIERES. Leaving the lying up point . . . I proceeded up the Main Road and . . . we came in touch with large numbers of the enemy on both sides of the road, these afforded excellent targets as they got up out of their trenches etc., and ran along the open ground, thus giving us a chance to do our job properly, which we did. This continued along the road including Hospitals etc. till we turned down the road for FRAMERVILLE. Here we again had them absolutely by surprise, we raided all round the village including the German CORPS H.Q. where I hoisted the 5th Australian Flag. A very large quantity of enemy transport was shattered, drivers killed and horses in many cases, also bullocks, the remainder dashed up and down the road madly colliding with each other and blocking the road. This could not be avoided, though as many as possible were killed clear of the main road. After mopping up all we could find I searched every road, track and field to try and get to VAUVILLERS but could not do so, so I returned to the centre of the village again, and was just in time to greet 4 Staff Officers who rode up to the H.Q., these were killed, one being dragged away by the stirrups till the horse fell. ... Large numbers of prisoners surrendered to us and I brought two good batches down to the Australian line who took them over. Nearly every German we saw waited till we were close up till they discovered who we were, they were absolutely dazed. Men

running from the Infantry came right up, in some cases as near as 50 yards before they realised what was happening. It was real murder. Absolutely no Artillery from either side, it is by far the finest fighting day I have yet had.51 The four cars engaged down the main road in the reconnaissance in depth of the German lines did not do well: one was hit by German field artillery at close range, the second had its wheels badly splintered, and the third ran into the side of the road and damaged the chassis. During the day the armoured cars fired 26 880 rounds at targets from 50 yards and upwards.52 *** While 8 August 1918 had been ‘the finest fighting day I have yet had’ for Lieutenant Rollings in his armoured car, that first day of the Battle of Amiens constituted a classic break-in operation. Within a half a day across a front of some 15 000 yards, the offensive reached a depth of about eight miles, and in the process laid waste to at least five German divisions. Over 400 guns were captured, the German casualties numbered approximately 15 000, and a further 12 000 were captured. And by Western Front standards, the roughly 8800 casualties sustained by the Fourth Army on that day— particularly for the ground gained, and the utter destruction and demoralisation of their enemy—were low. Before undertaking a summary of Lieutenant-General John Monash and his Australian Corps’s role in this victory, it is prudent to make a number of preliminary points. The first is the role played by General Currie and his Canadian Corps. In his The Australian Victories in France in 1918, Monash stated, ‘At no time did any question of the security of my right flank furnish me with any cause for anxiety; the prowess of the Canadian Corps was well known to all Australians, and I knew that, to use his own expressive vernacular, it was General Currie’s invariable habit to “deliver the goods”.’53 The Canadians did. In the last chapter we identified those attributes that made the Australian Corps an elite formation. Those very same qualities applied in equal measure to the Canadians: they had a battle doctrine and a

high standard of staff work acquired from common procedures and training, and a resulting efficiency; they engendered a strong esprit de corps throughout their divisions; they were well officered; and at their head was a corps commander better than most, and as good as any: Currie. By the night of 8 August the Canadians had ‘completed their objectives for the day. The Corps had captured 114 officers, 4919 O.R. and 161 guns . . .’54 In all this, it should be recognised that essentially the Canadians had identical support, resources and objectives to the Australians, and other than the employment of some differing strategies within their doctrine—Currie’s ‘leapfrogging’ technique, for example—they achieved equally impressive results. While the Canadians had performed splendidly on the right flank on 8 August, the III Corps’s performance on the left was poor. We have noted the consequences of its failure to capture the Chipilly Spur, and the resulting casualties inflicted upon the Australians by the German artillery and machine gun fire from that elevated feature. Three points deserve mention: the nature of the III Corps’s task; the quality of its units; and its commander. There can be no doubt that the degree of difficulty on that left flank was significant. First, the ground north of the Somme was not the rolling open landscape that existed on the Australian and Canadian fronts, and therefore the deployment of tanks was much more difficult. The fact that a mere 36 Mark V Tanks were allotted to this flank simply demonstrates the point. Further, German gun emplacements were far easier to camouflage in that terrain, which made their detection, and consequent vulnerability to counter-battery fire, a tougher task. Second, it will be remembered that the Germans attacked III Corps on the night preceding the battle, and that its orders were to immediately counter-attack and regain those lost trenches. While most were indeed retaken, the drain upon those troops’ physical reserves of energy must have been significant. If the nature of the ground, the degree of difficulty in providing adequate support, and the pre-battle physical condition of the III Corps troops were limiting factors, then the standard of its two divisions chosen for the attack was poor indeed. In their comprehensive study of General Rawlinson, Prior and Wilson have noted that:

Both divisions had been almost destroyed in the March retreat [the 58th and 18th]. The 58 Division had then suffered anew in the fighting around Villers–Bretonneux in April, and had lost 3,000 men. Both divisions had been rebuilt . . . with the rawest of conscripts brought hastily from Britain in the post-March panic . . . there was good reason to question the readiness of these III Corps divisions for battle in particularly testing circumstances . . .55 And to compound these problems, Prior and Wilson also point out that Rawlinson had had ‘severe reservations’ about Lieutenant-General Butler’s ability to command III Corps. Their argument is strengthened by the fact that Butler was ‘relieved temporarily’ of his command on 11 August—a mere three days after the start of the battle.56 We have noted that General Rawlinson’s role as an Army Commander prior to Amiens had gradually become more prescriptive, but he was now more amenable to the employment of the professional expertise of his corps commanders and his supporting arms. However, his failure to deploy a tried and tested corps, or furnish III Corps with a few more able divisions—and a competent corps commander—on his left Amiens flank, smacks of carelessness in planning that led to unnecessary casualties in both the III and Australian Corps. *** Monash and his Australian Corps’s performance on the opening day of the Battle of Amiens was a masterly execution of a ‘bite and hold’ operation. It is significant that the acquisition of the Blue Line lay within the range of his artillery. Its creeping barrage screened and protected his infantry–tank advance to the Green Line; its counter-battery fire either destroyed or neutralised the ability of the German guns to deliver counter-fire that might have significantly inhibited his advance; and his timetable for the movement of guns forward while maintaining continuous fire was skilled. Hamel and Amiens saw the fruition of Monash’s ability to coordinate his implements of war and harness the competence of his divisional staff and his supporting arms commanders. While the use of conferences was not

peculiar to the Australian Corps, it is hard to imagine that others elsewhere could have been more detailed or, for that matter, more egalitarian. Monash encouraged debate, discussion and input from all, and, finally, he instilled in his colleagues a single-mindedness of purpose in the execution of a plan. The other ranks in any army through time are more than able to perceive when their commander takes pains in the planning of their battle and places some sort of value on their lives. They are aware of the quality and coordination of their support in terms of both arms and logistics. And they must be confident that suitable medical evacuation procedures are in place. Bean has recorded that the four divisions of diggers on 8 August 1918 witnessed those very qualities in Monash and his commanders. Corporal Geddes’s diary on 8 August: ‘About 11 p.m. our weary bodies were revived by hot tea & stew which came up. It was a God send, & awakened us up a bit.’57 Monash had left little undone. While 8 August 1918 was the classic set-piece opening day of the Battle of Amiens, the successful break-in must now become a break-through. And that would prove a sterner test.

CHAPTER 7

. . . the enemy’s inevitable reaction Old habits die hard. With the prospect of a return to mobile warfare, Field Marshal Haig was determined to ensure that his horsed cavalry was returned to its traditional place of eminence on the battlefield. His fixation with cavalry was to damn him for the remainder of his life. He remained blinkered to the fact that with the concept of the ‘nation in arms and industrialization of war’, the shock action of charging cavalry and their mobility was no longer effective, because their traditional role of reconnaissance was being replaced by the light tank. The threat of massed machine guns from the ground and the air, together with massed artillery, made the battlefield a very unsafe place for horse and rider alike. After having approved General Rawlinson’s Amiens plan on 21 July and minor amendments to it on the 31st, Haig’s abundant but unrealistic optimism—previously evidenced during the First Somme, Arras and Cambrai Battles—surfaced again. On 5 August, a mere three days before the battle and convinced that Rawlinson’s Blue Line objective was too conservative, he extended it by five miles to the line Chaulnes–Roye, and also ordered that the offensive should then continue towards Ham—a further fifteen miles. Thus, a meticulously planned seven-mile-deep ‘bite and hold’ operation was to now constitute a twelve-mile, and possibly as much as a 27-mile, penetration into enemy territory. Haig’s preferred method of exploiting the initial break-in was a curious combination of cavalry and Whippet Tanks. The truth is that neither complemented the other, nor was either able to offer mutual support: the cavalry had the decided advantage of greater mobility but lacked protection, while the exact reverse applied to the slow Whippet Tanks. Thus, on the

afternoon of 8 August 1918, although the opportunity existed for a decisive breakthrough, the means for Haig’s realisation of it simply did not exist. During the afternoon of 8 August, the BEF unleashed its whole brigaded cavalry force into the German rear perimeter as their reserves were only just beginning to react. To the south, on the Canadian Corps front, the cavalry was able to reach parts of the old Amiens line before German reinforcements could arrive. On the Australians’ front, although the cavalry was able to advance up to two miles in places, it inevitably ran into enemy machine gun posts. And the consequences of that uneven contest were disastrous: high casualties and a rapid loss of momentum. We have noted the sterling efforts of the 17th Armoured Car Battalion on the Australian Corps front on that first day. Charles Bean has left us with a succinct summation both of Haig’s misplaced faith in his cavalry, and his ongoing failure to perceive the potential of a mechanised alternative: [The cavalry did] . . . useful work but not yet such as to justify the vast effort of its maintenance. At the same time sixteen armoured cars of a practically unknown unit, maintained possibly as a concession to the enthusiasm of a handful of grimy-fingered experts, raced about the enemy’s roads, the crews bowling over his transport with impunity from behind their sketchy armour. The cars too had their limitations; but in the light of events . . . the student may wonder what might not have been achieved if there had gone into their development the thought, labour, and money that kept the cavalry divisions for years waiting for this day’s opportunity.1 The truth is that the very ingredients for success on that first day would rapidly dissipate during the second and subsequent days. More importantly, the sophistication, potency and efficiency of the Fourth Army’s interlocking arms on 8 August would immediately become most difficult to maintain as the battle progressed. Secrecy, and thus surprise, was the first. It is hard to discover a single report written by any of the arms involved in the battle that does not mention the almost absolute surprise gained on 8 August and the benefits thereby gained. But, inevitably, that surprise was lost on the second day, when the enemy reacted to the initial thrust. In the case of Amiens, all of

the factors about to be discussed were compounded by the fact that after the first-day advance to the distant Blue Line, the offensive would encounter tactical, logistics, communication and resulting command and control difficulties. The problems confronting an artillery advance during the Great War were numerous. On 8 August, despite the fact that numbers of guns were moved forward in a ‘leapfrogging’ process from the start of the battle, the future employment of accurate, predicted fire now became a colossal task. The first problem was the physical movement of the guns. The initial consideration was the weight and range of the guns (whether heavy or field pieces); whether or not they required partial disassembly (heavy guns); and whether or not horse or mechanical transport was required. The next factor was the distance to be traversed, the terrain along that route, and whether or not engineer support was required. Then came the issue of the road space required per unit, and traffic control and priority of units all became critical factors. Horses, in terms of their casualties, replacement and required forage and water, were also a significant problem. During the period 8–11 August, the Fourth Army lost 1030 horses.2 The second problem was ammunition and stores. We have noted that some 427 053 rounds were fired on 8 August. On the following day, 170 625 rounds were used.3 Thus, the volume of rounds fired on the second day amounted to around 38 per cent of those used on the first day. Clearly, supply and movement would encounter the very same problems mentioned above with regard to the guns. Once the artillery personnel, their guns and ammunition, and the required stores were on the move, the next problem was one of the allocation of gun areas and observation posts. Then there was the need for digging, cable laying, camouflage and concealment, and further preparation of each new position. The prior planning for these gun areas would always be contingent upon the unknown factors of the depth of ground gained and the time taken. With the element of surprise now lost and the difficulties of movement and redeployment now to be faced, the next challenge was having sufficient time to register new targets and begin the task of gathering intelligence as to the location of the new enemy artillery battery sites. In the case of flash

spotting, while ‘church towers and other buildings in the villages in the captured territory provided excellent flash spotting C.P.s. [Command Posts]’,4 that process took time, and in the case of the sound-ranging sections, it would be 10 August before bases were established to cover the old Amiens line. Further, after another move on the 12th it would be 15 August before they had their locations established to cover the new front.5 On 9 August, although the Australian Flying Corps No. 3 Squadron managed to take 43 photos6 to begin their process of identifying new German battery positions, interpreting and disseminating such intelligence would take 24–36 hours.7 In short, the painstaking and highly technical process of gathering accurate artillery intelligence before the battle now became much harder but no less urgent as it unfolded. Thus, all of the difficulties described impacted upon the ability of the artillery to provide accurate creeping barrages and smoke cover, as well as the critical role of neutralising German gun batteries—however much they might now have been diminished. In fact, at various stages in the fighting on 9 August, the artillery would find some difficulty in actually locating exactly where their own infantry were. After their impressive performance during the day, the evening of 8 August brought four significant challenges to the 5th Tank Brigade. The first was supply. While the older Mark IV tanks had performed admirably as supply tanks, their towed sledges had failed them. During that evening, as a mobile dump of lorries borrowed from the Australian Corps and supplemented by horse-drawn limbers sought to make good those muchneeded supplies, the undamaged tanks of the 2nd Tank Battalion rallied to the neighbourhood of Wiencourt, the 8th Battalion to the Morcourt Gully, and the 13th to the village of Bayonvillers, while the 15th remained in the Cerisy Valley.8 The second challenge concerned the availability and condition of the tank crews. The casualties to both tanks and their crews sustained on that day caused the Brigade to form composite companies of ‘improvised crews’. Some were commanded by new officers whom the crews often did not know, or had not worked with. Further, for a significant number of those crews the idiosyncrasies of a new tank were unfamiliar to them.9 To compound these difficulties there was the physical toll of the

Mark V’s extreme internal heat, the ever-present petrol fumes, and the constant threat of enemy shell fire and anti-tank bullets. The third challenge concerned the inevitable wear and tear on the tanks and the consequent problems of daily maintenance by the crews, or the need to salvage them from the battleground. And the fourth problem was that as the battle unfolded the number of available tanks must diminish. The 5th Tank Brigade would later note that, ‘Some Tanks, say one per Company per Battalion, should not be put into a fight for the first day, so as to provide a fresh unit for subsequent actions and give crews that fought on the first day time to rest and overhaul Tanks.’10 Leaving the losses of the 4th Tank Supply Company and the 17th Armoured Car Battalion aside, of the 101 Mark V Tanks of the 2nd, 8th, 13th and 15th Tank Battalions that fought on 8 August on the Australian Corps front, 82 reached their objectives but 40 received direct hits and many others were damaged. After salvage and repairs, the 2nd, 8th and 15th Battalions were only able to commit 34 tanks to action on 9 August (the 13th Battalion was to act as the Fourth Army reserve).11 Clearly, having committed all available tanks to the stunning success of 8 August, the notion that the tank battalions might be able to sustain their numbers of serviceable machines and the fitness of their crews is further hard evidence that Field Marshal Haig’s ‘unlimited’ advance was most definitely not within the capabilities of his tank resources. If these difficulties experienced by the artillery and tanks were a significant handicap to a coordinated exploitation of the gains of 8 August, then the challenges faced by the infantry were no less daunting. The first was communication. The stunning success of 8 August in terms of the depth, and the rapidity, of the advance now caused communications to become both unreliable and slow. The difficulty escalated from the top of the chain of command downwards: General Rawlinson was able to maintain satisfactory communications with Butler, Monash and Currie, who in turn had ample contact with their divisional commanders; but brigade and thence battalion communications were another matter. Because telephone communication over captured territory now became an obvious challenge, the use of visual signalling and CW (continuous wave) wireless sets were employed. While such wireless sets had a range of around eleven miles,

valuable time was lost as all messages had to be decoded. In the case of the artillery, not all stations were operable on a given divisional front due to German jamming.12 After 8 August, communications from battalion to brigade and then to division were often reliant upon such measures as motor cycle despatch riders, ‘gallopers’ and runners. The efficiency of each of these methods would be, as had always been the case in the Great War, subject to navigation, the time taken, and their clear potential for elimination. To compound these difficulties were the obvious factors of the declining numerical strength of the infantry, and the drain upon their reserves of energy on the succeeding days of any battle. *** General Rawlinson’s order for his three corps commanders to continue the advance occurred ‘at some time before midnight’13 on 8 August, the objective the following day being the line Roye–Chaulnes–Bray– Dernancourt. The main thrust was to be on the Canadian Corps front in unison with General Debeney’s First French Army’s advance further to the south. General Monash could do little on his left flank other than await General Butler’s III Corps’s progress across the Somme. Once Butler had arrived on the outskirts of Bray, the Australian Corps would be in a position to advance its left flank towards Chuignolles. To protect General Currie’s left flank—and follow the Fourth Army plan—the main Australian thrust envisaged an advance on its southern or right flank by Major-General Glasgow’s 1st Division. This had been the Australian Corps’s reserve on 8 August. It was to pass through the 5th Division’s right flank, and move on the ruined village of Lihons and then on to Chaulnes. Such a right-flank thrust by the 1st Division through the 5th Division’s right flank allowed for the fact that the Australian Corps’s front must widen in an east-southeasterly direction as it moved forward. Eventually, depending on the ground gained during that first day, the 2nd Division would relieve the 5th. For the Australian Corps’s attack on 9 August, fourteen Mark V Tanks (2nd Tank Battalion) were allotted to the soon-to-arrive 1st Division; seven were assigned to the 5th Division (8th Tank Battalion); and thirteen were given to the 2nd Division.14 The country over which this Australian

advance was to be carried out consisted of around 4000 yards of level plain, after which it gradually rose to the ridge on which Lihons lay. ‘This high ground dominated the whole country’ over which the Australians were to attack, and gave enemy ‘observation over the area well in rear of Harbonnaires [sic]’.15 Clearly, any thrust by Monash must await contact from Currie as to the timing of his Canadian advance. Monash had first warned his divisional commanders at noon on 8 August that the operation would proceed, and further sent them his basic plan for it later that night. It was to be a three-phase attack. The first phase (the Green Line) sought to gain a mile and a half at its deepest southern point past Vauvillers extending to the railway; the second phase (the Red Line) anticipated gaining a line from the Old Roman Road to Framerville to a point on the railway midway between Rosières and Lihons; and the final phase (the Blue Line) aimed to capture the ground from the railway midway between Chaulnes, past Lihons and back to Framerville. In all, therefore, so as to maintain contact and ground with the Canadians, the operation sought to advance the Australian front some three miles along the railway, then extend northwards in a diminishing loop back to Framerville. The events that unfolded on 9 August clearly portray the difficulties already described in terms of communications and coordination, and the consequences of rushed planning. Major-General Glasgow’s 1st Division’s HQ arrived at VillersBretonneux on the afternoon of 8 August, while his 2nd Brigade reached Aubigny at around dusk and the 3rd Brigade arrived at Hamel near midnight. When the 1st Division received its orders to move forward, it therefore faced a march of about ten or eleven miles to reach the 5th Division’s 15th Brigade front line before going into battle. Further to this challenge in distance and timing, the 1st Division Unit Diary recorded that: ‘Communications which are maintained by D.R. [despatch rider] were becoming increasingly difficult and often caused delays in movements.’16 By 8.00 am the battalions of the 2nd Brigade were under way and an hour later the 3rd Brigade followed. The 1st Division’s brigade commanders received further orders at 1st Division HQ at 3.00 am. They were told that zero hour was to be 10.00 am and that their artillery support was to be the 1st Division Artillery and two brigades of the Royal Field Artillery.

But a series of events on the Canadian front now changed the timings and circumstances of the attack. At around 1.00 am on the 9th, General Currie had first timed his advance for 10.00 am. At 7.30 am the 2nd Canadian Division’s 6th Brigade, which was to attack next to the Australians, had arrived at the front line after dark to discover that it faced a formidable German strength across its whole front. In order to bolster its assault, the 2nd Canadian Division therefore ordered its reserve 5th Brigade to move forward and attack on its right flank. Then, just after 8.00 am, the 1st Canadian Division informed the 2nd Division that it could not be ready to attack until 11.00 am. Major-General Glasgow was duly informed of this delay. When the 6th Canadian Brigade discovered that the Australian 1st Division had not yet arrived, and fearing that their left flank might thus be exposed by that Division’s absence or late arrival, its Brigade Major visited the adjacent 5th Australian Division’s 15th Brigade HQ at around 9.30 am, and asked Brigadier-General ‘Pompey’ Elliott whether his Brigade could attack in 1st Division’s place pending its arrival. After having received permission from his divisional commander (Major-General Hobbs), Elliott pledged his support. The Canadian Brigade Major had, however, given Elliott the original start time of 10.00 am.17 Brigadier-General Elliott and his 15th Brigade moved with remarkable speed and efficiency. Elliott’s order to attack at 10.00 am reached his 60th Battalion at 9.14 am and his 58th Battalion at 9.55 am.18 Those two battalions were ordered to ‘leapfrog’ the two forward 15th Brigade battalions. In the end, the changed timing for the assault to 11.00 am saw the Australians arrive just as the Canadians advanced. We now come to a most peculiar decision made on 9 August. On that critically important Australian Corps right flank, Elliott’s 15th Brigade went into battle with three significant handicaps. The first was the fact that it was to advance with no real objective. That is, it was ordered to advance until the 1st Division arrived. The second was that it had no tank support but merely the pledge that the Canadians would ‘lend’ it one tank. The third was the extraordinary prior decision by the 1st Division to advance without artillery support. Charles Bean wrote that ‘[the 1st Division] . . . had dispensed with an artillery barrage presumably because the situation ahead

and the rate of the Canadian advance were uncertain, and its own artillery might not be in position’.19 This was a foolhardy decision. While the 5th Division’s 8th Brigade attack on Elliott’s left flank, and the Canadian 6th Brigade’s attack on his right, were to have both artillery and tank support, Elliott’s 15th Brigade was to have neither. Further, when the 1st Division was to finally move through Elliott’s Brigade, it still chose to have no initial artillery support. The 1st Division Unit Diary provides us with some interesting points. Artillery was to be in position by 10 a.m. For the capture of the BLUE Line, should two Inf. Bdes be employed, it was arranged for the C.R.A. [Commander Royal Artillery] to allot 2 F.A. Bdes to each of the General Officers commanding 2nd and 3rd Aust. Inf. Bdes. There was to be no Artillery Barrage [author’s italics]. TANKS. 14 Tanks of the 2nd Tank. Bn. were available for the capture of the GREEN and RED Line and were placed at the disposal of the G.O.C. 2nd Aust. Inf. Bde [1st Division]. In the event of the 3rd Aust. Inf. Bde. being needed for the capture of the BLUE Line, the tanks were to be distributed between the 2nd and 3rd Aust. Inf. Bdes by direct arrangements with the Tank. Bn. Commander. The G.O.C. 5th Tank Bde agreed to the absence of Artillery Barrage [author’s italics].20 It is of interest to note that the 1st Division ‘had dispensed with an artillery barrage’ when its flanking brigades had not. The 1st Division’s Artillery Diary records that the Australian Corps HQ had ordered its artillery to be in position by 10.00 am.21 Clearly, Corps HQ expected it to support the infantry. Further, with regard to the tanks, two issues are apparent. The first is the order that any distribution of tanks between the 2nd and 3rd Brigades was to be made by ‘direct arrangements with the Tank. Bn. Commander’, a directive that would require a speedy liaison and precise timing. It would be, as events were to prove, most difficult. The second point is less clear but of crucial significance: ‘The G.O.C. 5th Tank Bde agreed to the absence of Artillery Barrage.’ This strange acquiescence on Brigadier-General

Courage’s part might be explained by the fact that the Tank Corps doctrine was still, at this time, evolving. We have noted that at Hamel the Tank Corps had shown disappointment in being restricted to an advance with the infantry and under an artillery creeping barrage. After the war, and with the benefit of hindsight, Brevet-Colonel Fuller would emphasise two critical tank lessons: ‘the staying power of an attack lies in the general reserve. In this attack the tank general reserve was very weak, consequently after August 8 attacks began to “peter out” . . . once open warfare is entered on infantry must protect tanks from artillery fire.’22 On 9 August 1918, when it was hoped that the Australians would break out into open warfare, this 5th Tank Brigade general reserve was indeed ‘very weak’, and most certainly destined to ‘peter out’. The chief reason for this was not the infantry’s inability to protect the tanks, but the absence of their prime protective weapon: the artillery. This could provide widespread smoke cover, creeping barrages and, more importantly, accurate counterbattery fire. *** In response to Brigadier-General Elliott’s orders to advance and take up the initial stage of the 1st Division’s attack on either side of Harbonnières, the 15th Brigade’s 60th Battalion crossed its start line at 11.10 am and the 58th Battalion not long after. Although both battalions were met by shell fire on their approach, that fire, chiefly to their front and rear, caused few casualties. But when those units crossed their start lines, heavy machine gun fire slowed their advance and substantial casualties were taken. South of Harbonnières, the 60th Battalion was forced to ground and could then only advance about 100 yards at a time by section rushes before being forced to halt. The 58th Battalion, east of Harbonnières, met the same fate. The 60th Battalion Unit Diary: 12.45 pm. The Battalion had only managed to advance between 500 and 600 yards. At this time a message was sent back to the artillery who were now in position asking for immediate assistance . . . to barrage this line for 5 minutes then slowly creep up for 1000 yards . . . the message met with a ready response and some very

accurate fire shooting was witnessed. Its effect on the enemy was immediate and they commenced to run first to the LEFT then back to the RIGHT along the RAILWAY Line.23 As the 58th Battalion was seen to be in line on the left of the 60th, a message was sent to the 58th informing it of the requested artillery barrage, and at 1.05 pm a second message was sent to the artillery requesting them to sweep three degrees right and three degrees left.24 This second barrage caused the Germans to rapidly retreat, with around 100 being taken prisoner. While the 15th Brigade was thus occupied, the Australian Corps’s leftflank attack was initially undertaken by the 5th Division’s 8th Brigade. Its 29th Battalion was to attack alongside the 15th Brigade’s 58th Battalion. Here, despite efforts at the brigade and battalion levels to fulfil orders, poor communications and consequent rushed planning inhibited a coordinated assault. The 29th Battalion Unit Diary recorded that the CO had received his verbal instructions at Brigade HQ for the advance of around 800 yards to the Green Line at 8.00 am; that at 9.50 am the Battalion received orders to be ready to move at 10.00 am in fighting order; and that the CO’s Operation Order, which had been despatched by a mounted DR at Brigade HQ, did not reach the Battalion until 11.45 am.25 After having returned to Battalion HQ at 10.10 am the CO gave verbal instructions to his company commanders and at 10.42 am the Battalion moved forward to attack through the left edge of Harbonnières.26 To add to this regrettable state of affairs, the ‘protective’ barrage came down at 11.00 am while the 29th— which given the circumstances had reacted with commendable urgency— did not commence the attack until 11.40 am. The 8th Tank Battalion provided six Mark V Tanks with one in reserve for this 8th Brigade assault. Having advanced five minutes before the arrival of the 29th Battalion, and totally without artillery smoke-shell and supporting counter-battery fire, four of their number were put out of action by a single German anti-tank gun sited in a shed on the north-western edge of Vauvillers. After a fifth tank ditched, the remaining tank left the scene to return for duty later.

By 12.20 pm the 29th Battalion, positioned midway between their start line and their Vauvillers objective, had sustained heavy casualties from machine gun fire sited in and around Vauvillers. They were ordered to stay in their positions until progress could be made without incurring further heavy casualties. Their Unit Diary provides a gripping account of both the Battalion’s subsequent military skill and its élan: 12.30 pm. The C.O. (Lieut. Col. J. McArthur) was wounded by a M.G. bullet in the neck . . . 1 pm. Coys moved by short rushes towards objective and engaged enemy M.G.’s with Lewis Gun and Rifle Fire. 2.15 pm. After a series of short rushes and by means of crawling, all three Coys were on the objective.27 By 2.30 pm the 29th Battalion’s A Company had advanced through and beyond Vauvillers and had succeeded in establishing Lewis Gun posts to cover that location. By 3.00 pm their new line ran north-east and east of the village. But in so doing, the Battalion sustained three officers and fourteen other ranks killed and nine officers and 69 other ranks wounded, giving it a total casualty count of twelve and 83.28 While the described events were in train on the Australian Corps’s 8th and 15th Brigade fronts, the Canadians on the right Fourth Army front had gained impressive initial ground. By around 1.00 pm, assisted by four tanks, they managed to advance some two miles to the village of Rosières and thereby roll back the Fourth Army’s right flank. By the afternoon of 9 August 1918, the Australian Corps 1st Division’s first objective had been all but taken by the magnificent efforts of the 15th Brigade and its supporting 8th Brigade on its left. Major-General Glasgow had decided to commit two of his 2nd Brigade Battalions (the 7th and 8th) to his initial 1st Division attack, and if his first objective—the ground leading up to the edge of the Lihons high ground— was taken, he would then commit that Brigade to the final objective of Lihons village. Should that last objective not be taken, he then planned to commit his 3rd Brigade to his left flank on 10 August. At the start line, the 7th Battalion was to advance on the left and the 8th Battalion on the right.

During their advance the two battalions were to each have seven tanks in support. If the 1st Division’s decision not to employ an artillery barrage as it went into action on 9 August was rash, then the liaison between it and the 2nd Tank Battalion was no less poorly organised. In his report on the operation written on 10 August, the commander of the 2nd Tank Battalion, Major Laskey, pointed out that at 6.00 am on the 9th he received the 1st Division’s second Battle Instructions Order, which outlined the first objective only, and that he ‘had not received Battle Instructions No. 1, which were distributed to Divisions only’.29 Thus, Laskey had no knowledge of the three-phase objectives of the attack. Further, his only method of gaining that information came when the 8th Tank Battalion furnished him with their map of the objectives for their support of the 8th Brigade, which Laskey hurriedly copied.30 The tanks were now rushed forward as quickly as possible. These events are in marked contrast to the highly detailed infantry–artillery–tank plans for the previous day. After having marched for some five hours and covered ten to eleven miles ‘with only the usual 10 minutes halt in each hour and no spell for their mid-day meal’,31 the 2nd Brigade’s 7th and 8th Battalions passed through the 15th Brigade at around 1.40 pm. The 8th Battalion moved forward on the southern right flank and the 7th on its left. After passing through the 60th Battalion, the 8th Battalion’s right flank—adjoining the Canadians who were well ahead—made the quickest progress. As the Battalion approached the higher ground, the vulnerable tanks became targets for the German guns. Major Laskey would later write that: On approaching ROSIERES Station and the factory by it . . . resistance became stronger and shelling more intense. Three Tanks received direct hits there. At about this time a message dropped by an aeroplane reached me to the effect that ‘German reinforcements were arriving at LIHONS by the CHAULNES road, apparently infantry and field guns.’ I at once sent this back to the 2nd Brigade Report Centre . . . in order that these might be dealt with by our artillery. Before this was done a German Field battery came into

action on the high ground . . . where they commanded the whole of the country to the west. These at once opened fire on the Tanks, knocking out about 5 . . . The Tanks were unable to advance in face of this fire, and the infantry were held up by it, and by heavy machine gun fire from the border of the woods west of LIHONS, for fully one and a half hours, and suffered severely. Two field guns that tried to come into action against this battery . . . were obliged to withdraw after firing only about two rounds each, as they came at once under heavy and accurate fire from the German guns. At about 5.30 p.m. the German battery was engaged by artillery fire and very soon withdrew, leaving one gun behind, presumably disabled and immovable.32 After having destroyed the tanks, the German guns turned their attention to the infantry. In the face of this artillery and machine gun fire, the 8th Battalion continued its steady if slow advance at the cost of heavy casualties. At around 5.00 pm the Battalion had reached the trench system ‘occupied by the Allies prior to the German retirement in March 1917’.33 These trenches now provided some reasonable cover for the advance, which eventually saw three of four guns of a German battery put out of action. The only impediment to the 8th Battalion’s progress was a brief withdrawal to conform with a temporary hold-up on the Canadian front. During the fighting that day the 8th Battalion suffered heavy Lewis Gun losses. On 9 August the Battalion’s steadfast advance had begun with a strength of 26 officers and 680 other ranks. By the end of the day, it had suffered three officers and 27 other ranks killed and nine officers and 175 other ranks wounded for a total casualty count of 30 killed and 184 wounded.34 Private Reg Johanesen was a labourer from Northcote, Melbourne. After having joined the AIF on 1 January 1915, he had arrived at Gallipoli on 26 June 1915 as a reinforcement to the 8th Battalion. By 9 August 1918, Johanesen had not only survived Gallipoli and the Western Front for some three years, but had been wounded twice: at Lagnicourt on 22 April 1917 (shrapnel in the face) and then, six months later, near Broodseinde on 4 October 1917 (broken ribs and shrapnel to the body). Johanesen was a Lewis Gunner:

We had our objective, but the battalion on our right flank [the Canadians] was held up and our flank was open . . . so we had to retire about three hundred yards . . . We started off back and I had to give covering fire with the Lewis gun while the others retired, so I was last to go back. The brutal [German] was sniping all the way and he is some sniper too. They started as soon as I got up to go back and it was very unpleasant . . . I had to run about fifty yards and then flop to get a breather, as the gun was pretty heavy and every time I got up it was like a nest of hornets around me. Well once when I got up they put a bullet through the butt of the gun about an inch away from my hand and split a long piece off it and knocked the butt plate off. Well I got back to the rest of them behind a dugout and they must have seen us run in there, because . . . he started shelling it at point blank range. He put two shells behind us and the next one hit right on top of the dugout. I was getting the gun ready for his counter attack when the shell landed. A piece as nearly as big as my head hit the gun and tore the radiator off, bent the barrel into the shape of an S and exploded some of the rounds in the magazine. I got a piece in the back of the knee, but if the gun had not been there the piece that hit would have taken my leg off . . . I hardly felt the wound, I looked around and my No. 2 was lying alongside me with his arm hanging off [he later bled to death] . . . Then I looked at the other five but they were all dead so . . . I had my leg tied up and it felt alright so I decided to stay. I got another gun and fixed it up, but after three hours my leg got so stiff I could hardly walk so I handed the gun over to another chap and went out to the dressing station. They put me on a motor lorry and sent me to the Casualty Clearing Station where we were put on a hospital train for the base hospital . . . next day my temp went down and I felt a lot better so they took me to the pictures [operating theatre] and gouged the bit of ‘William Tell’ out of my leg. When I woke up the sister told me I was for the place where the King lives . . .35 While Private Reg Johanesen and his 2nd Brigade’s 8th Battalion had been thus occupied, its 7th Battalion on the left flank had suffered severely. After

having crossed its start line it too had been met by heavy machine gun fire. The 2nd Brigade’s Unit Diary would later report that: This was especially severe on the Left (7th) Battalion front, as their left flank was now in the air, owing to the failure of the 7th Aust. Inf. Brigade to advance in conformity with us. Throughout the whole of the advance to the RED line the Left (7th) Battalion was troubled severely by this flanking M.G. fire, the enemy seemed to quickly realize the situation and moved his M.G’s to our exposed flank. In the later stages of the advance to the RED line, our men were being shot down from the front, the flank and the rear. (The 7th Aust. Inf. Brigade did not pass the jumping off line until 4.30 p.m. or two hours and 50 minutes after our advance had commenced).36 Here, as was so often the case on 9 August, we find a breakdown in communications. The 2nd Division’s 5th and 7th Brigades were to have gone through the 8th Brigade and, in unison with the 1st Division’s 2nd Brigade, pushed onto the second objective (the Red Line). It ran from the Old Roman Road to Framerville and thence to a point on the railway midway between Rosières and Lihons. The time frame involved for the 2nd Division’s journey to their start lines, and their subsequent moves forward, were similarly obstructed by poor communications and a lack of inter-arms coordination, as had been the case across the Australian Corps that day. At 7.55 am the 2nd Division informed its brigades that they were to form up behind the old Amiens line by 11.00 am, and then be ready to push onto the second objective after the first had been captured. A brigadiers’ conference was held at 9.30 am. At this meeting it was decided that the 5th Brigade would move on the left flank, and the 7th Brigade on the right (alongside the 1st Division’s 2nd Brigade); that each of those brigades would deploy two battalions forward and two in reserve behind them; and that there was to be no artillery barrage. Both Brigade Commanders then ordered their Battalion COs to meet them at their new HQ at 11.00 am. In the case of the 5th Brigade’s 20th Battalion, that order did not reach it until 11.15 am, while the 17th Battalion’s Lieutenant-Colonel Sadler ‘found no one of his brigade [the 5th]

yet there’.37 It would be 1.30 pm before the conference finished, the precise time that the 1st Division was moving through the 15th Brigade. Charles Bean has stated that, ‘There is no record of any message to or from the 1st Division or the Corps as to the 2nd Division’s zero hour . . .’38 Although tragically late, the 7th Brigade did in fact inform the 1st Division of its start time. The 1st Division Unit Diary records that at 3.15 pm ‘2nd Aust. Divn. is on our left, their 7th Bde is in touch with our 2nd Brigade, but reports it will not be ready to move until 4.30 p.m.’39 Further, that same Diary records that at 5.30 pm the 1st Division was ordered ‘not to advance until the Canadians moved up beyond present line’.40 In short, although the 1st Division had advanced without flank support from the 2nd Division at 1.30 pm, it did in fact have the option of halting its advance at 3.15 pm when it was informed of that Division’s start time—just as it was about to do due to the Canadians’ slower progress. During the night of 9 August it became apparent that the Fourth Army attack had, on the whole, been successful. The Canadians were to have advanced some six to ten miles to the line Roye–Hattencourt–Hallu. On their right flank (from Roye northwards) they managed to advance a couple of miles, while on the left or northern flank (Hallu southwards) some four miles were gained. If the Australian Corps’s advance had been poorly coordinated, then the Canadian thrust was no less so, with similar poor communications causing differing start times. At around 8.30 pm on the night of 9 August, General Monash had learnt that the right flank of the 2nd Division and the left of the 1st had attained their first-phase objectives. *** Late on 9 August General Monash, frustrated by the lack of progress across the Somme by III Corps, persuaded Rawlinson to allow him ‘to take in hand the situation at Chipilly’ by giving him ‘a limited jurisdiction over the north bank of the Somme’.41 The pending departure of General Butler from his III Corps command on sick leave gave Rawlinson an excuse for implementing Monash’s request.

On the morning of the 10th, General Sinclair-Maclagan’s 4th Division’s 13th Brigade took over this front as far as the Bray–Corbie Road and General Gellibrand’s 3rd Division relieved his two remaining brigades south of the Somme. After the Chipilly Spur had been taken by a joint Australian, British and American effort, Monash planned to take ground astride the Somme by an advance north of the river by the 13th Brigade and south of it by the 3rd Division’s 10th Brigade. The 13th Brigade’s objective was the Etinehem Spur and the occupation of a line on that feature’s eastern side. On the southern side of the Somme, the 10th Brigade’s task was to pierce the German posts on the Amiens–St Quentin Road, and march along it a distance of around 1500 yards and then turn north for the river. This pincer operation was to be undertaken at night with the limited support of tanks. The intention was to conceal their locations and deceive the Germans as to their numbers. On the northern side of the Somme, the 13th Brigade, supported by two tanks driving up and down the main road, caused the confused Germans to retire through Bray and allowed the Australians to occupy the Etinehem Spur. But south of the Somme the 10th Brigade came up against strong German machine gun posts. The 5th Tank Brigade History would later record that: Almost from the outset of the attack heavy enemy machine gun fire was encountered from the large enemy dump by the side of the main road. Tanks were unable in the dark to locate machine guns and could not assist the infantry to make progress. It was therefore decided to abandon the operation and withdraw the Infantry under cover of unaimed [sic] fire from the Tanks, who were themselves recalled when the Infantry was clear.42 After a further two days of heavy fighting with little tank and artillery support, and reinforced by the 3rd Division’s 9th and 11th Brigades, Monash’s Somme thrust yielded the villages of Proyart and Méricourt and the woods alongside the Somme. The events on the Australian Corps’s southern front during the concluding two days of the Battle of Amiens (alongside the Canadians) saw the eventual capture of Lihons and Rainecourt by the 1st and 2nd Divisions.

Those two objectives were taken in the face of stiffening German resistance around Lihons, and conducted across ground consisting of a maze of old trenches, wire and shell craters, which furnished ample locations for German machine gun fire. Despite enemy counter-attacks, those two objectives were held. Monash would later assert that, ‘Such a battle, with such results, would, in 1917, have been placarded as a victory of the first magnitude. Now, with the new standards set up by the great battle of August 8th, it was reckoned merely as a local skirmish.’43 If 8 August 1918 constituted a masterly break-in of the German Amiens defences, and indeed accomplished what General Ludendorff famously termed Der Schwarze Tag (‘the Black Day’) of the German Army, then the events of the following three days most certainly did not constitute the everelusive break-out that Haig and Foch had so desperately desired. Prior and Wilson have raised a telling point as to the physical condition of the soldiers of the Fourth Army by the night of 11 August: There could be no expectation that troops in this condition would be able, in a few days’ time and without substantial tank support, to make headway against an enemy with fresh (if disorganised) divisions and increasing quantities of artillery—the latter, it should be noted, largely unsubdued by British counter-battery fire. This was a prescription for disaster.44 In his diary, Corporal Cliff Geddes, 4th Division’s 13th Battalion, provides us with a graphic illustration of this pertinent point: 11 August 1918: It is a cheerful spot we have come out of the line to, several dead horses lay around, & in a trench here I saw one of the most pitiful sights I have seen in the war, & Goodness knows everything about it is ghastly enough. The Tommies here [III Corps] had a very rough time, didn’t have a walkover like on our sector—in fact before the Big Stunt started, they were attacked by Fritz & had to win back that ground before the big battle in the face of heavy opposition. In a trench we saw 4 Tommies lying dead, in full equipment, two had

their heads blown off. A corporal was in front, & they were evidently just advancing along the trench, with the corporal in the lead, a sort of little advance party, on patrol, when a shell came & got them all. They lay on their backs dead, one behind the other, a grim spectacle of war’s horror . . . Our chaps buried them & also the dead horses lying around. 13 August 1918: We . . . got the rotten news we are to do another stunt in a day or two in the Harbonnieres sector. We have to capture a wood. By jove, they are making it hot, we’ll have hardly any men left soon. Oh well, I shall hope & pray for the best as usual. One can only trust in Providence. We tramped on & on, it’s got dark, still we trudged on with the weight of our packs pulling our shoulders down, & our feet getting sore again. Passed through a village battered to pieces, like a mighty rubbish heap, not one building was left with a roof or walls standing. The chaps were awfully disgusted, it is red hot after a big stunt, to have to march like this, & go straight in for another. At 10.15 p.m. we got to our resting place—there weren’t any dugouts to sleep in, & no shelters, & as we had neither greatcoats nor blankets with us, we simply had to lie down on the bottom of an old trench with just a waterproof sheet & freeze all night. 14 August 1918: It was too cold to sleep with no covering last night, & a chap isn’t refreshed for the fray . . . We were told today the stunt was postponed indefinitely . . .45 The ‘stunt was postponed indefinitely’ thanks to the common sense and resolve of General Currie. On 11 August it had been decided to merely pause operations pending a renewal of the advance for either 14 or 15 August. But when Rawlinson visited Currie on 13 August, the Canadian made it clear that he was totally against an extension of the offensive. He reinforced his argument by producing aerial photographs of the Canadian front, which graphically showed abundant German wire protecting a myriad

of trench systems, which would reduce the offensive to an all too familiar 1917 slogging match of little ground gained at the price of heavy casualties. When Rawlinson then called on Haig the next day (14 August), he showed him Currie’s graphic evidence. Faced with this photographic proof—and the fact that Currie and the Canadians had their distinguished record behind them and, more importantly, were an independent entity—Haig postponed the offensive. That same day Haig faced his Supreme Commander. When Foch ordered Haig to continue the advance, Haig stood up to him by pointing out that he was ultimately responsible to his government. Foch backed off. *** In his Official History, Charles Bean examined the reasons for the heavy casualties of 9–11 August. As an example, he pointed out that during those three days, the AIF’s 1st Division took losses of around 100 officers and 1500 other ranks. He asserted that those heavy casualties would have been ‘lightened and the effectiveness of the attacks increased if the operations had been even fairly well co-ordinated by Rawlinson, Monash, and Currie and their staffs’.46 The reasons for this poor coordination, according to Bean, were that not enough time was allowed for senior commanders to confer and then explain their orders to their subordinates; and that the communications system required for that process was ‘not yet sufficiently arranged for’.47 Bean then bolstered his argument by quoting Rawlinson’s Chief of Staff, Montgomery, as having stated that, ‘I have no doubt that lives could have been saved and a more satisfactory advance made on the 9th if the attacks of the various divisions had been properly coordinated.’48

Bean could have gone further. It was all very fine for commanders such as Rawlinson to point to poor coordination. The truth is that such coordination, with the then existing means for its implementation, was quite simply impossible in the time allowed. In other words, the strikingly successful ‘coordination’ of the artillery, tanks and infantry of 8 August was not possible on the 9th. We have discussed the tremendous difficulties of the artillery to move forward rapidly and concentrate its guns, gain accurate intelligence as to enemy batteries, and then deliver intense, pinpoint fire onto German gun positions. Thus, the artillery’s capacity to provide smoke cover for the tanks and infantry advance of the previous day was subsequently lost, and its even more crucial role in the elimination or at least the neutralisation of German gun batteries was also lost. It should have come as no surprise to the Fourth Army and senior Australian Corps commanders that the high ground around Lihons was always going to provide superb observation of any approach to it, and would therefore accommodate concentrated German artillery and machine gun fire. The astute use of the high ground in any battle is as old as war itself. Thus, the failure to acknowledge this German high ground feature and plan for its

elimination, or at worst its neutralisation, was the major reason for the casualties taken. Next, that artillery handicap greatly affected the infantry and tanks. The forfeiture of any initial artillery barrage at all on the 1st Division front constituted an unforgiveable neglect of the prime ingredient for the success of the previous day. A tank advance in broad daylight under spasmodic smoke cover, no creeping barrage, and with no strong counterbattery fire was always going to cause crippling tank casualties. And those losses were immediately transferable to high infantry losses caused by the inability of the tanks to provide mutual support to the infantry. The events of 9–11 August were thus a chain reaction caused by rushed and therefore inadequate staff work, which led to a total breakdown in the mutual support between the interlocking arms that had been the very crux of the success of the previous day. Major Laskey’s 2nd Tank Battalion Report for 9 August says it all: I should like to express the opinion that the decision not to employ our artillery at the start of the operation was unfortunate. Had the artillery been used to keep under fire, and to smoke commanding positions from which hostile batteries could overlook the field of operations (of which the most obvious was the high ground running North West from LIHONS) it would not have been possible for the enemy’s guns to remain for a period of over two hours in action, unmolested. Had such areas been searched by Heavy Guns, with H.E. and smoke, the fire of such batteries would have been much impeded, or silenced. As soon as the battery that caused all the damage was seriously engaged, it withdrew.49 The tanks of the 5th Tank Brigade (and indeed the Tank Corps itself) were a finite resource. To squander that resource both in terms of its machines and their crews was a foolhardy action. In short, if more time was needed to replicate the events of 8 August (surprise aside), then that time should have been taken. The emphasis should have been on coordinated firepower, not manpower. It might be argued that any delay in following up the outstanding success of the break-in of 8 August might have allowed the enemy to concentrate reserves in terms of his artillery, machine guns and infantry, and

thus cause heavy casualties anyway. Prior and Wilson have astutely negated such a theory: . . . in vital respects the Fourth Army’s planners were applying the means of victory [on 8 August]. Pre-eminent among these was the counter-battery programme. . . . had the German artillery survived the bombardment unscathed, it could have exacted a fearful toll on the advancing infantry and tanks.50 During the changed circumstances of 9–11 August, the Germans’ artillery and machine gun fire exacted that ‘fearful toll’. In contrast to Haig’s unrealistic determination for an advance at Amiens into ‘open warfare’, there would seem to be no shortage of evidence that, in contrast, Monash, Currie and Rawlinson originally saw the Battle of Amiens as a set-piece or ‘bite and hold’ operation. Peter Pedersen has asserted that Monash had learnt that lesson at Messines: . . . in every offensive operation, large or small, a definite limit was set to the task performed . . . under no circumstances whatever, no matter how tempting, were these limits to be exceeded . . . To allow troops a free hand to exploit a local victory, by continuing their advance indefinitely, had often led to complete disorganization and an inability to resist the shock of the enemy’s inevitable reaction.51 The Battle of Amiens was nonetheless a crushing Fourth Army victory. To the spectacular success of 8 August a further five miles of enemy territory was taken (no mean feat by Great War standards), giving a total advance of some twelve to fourteen miles. And all this in four days. Field Marshal Haig now decided to shift the BEF’s offensive northwards to General Byng’s Third Army line. It also suited him to comply with Currie’s request that his Canadians be returned northwards to their familiar Arras area and the First Army. ***

The Australian Corps HQ, Bertangles Chateau, mid-afternoon 12 August 1918. King George V alights from his car and is escorted into the grounds of the chateau. There is a long guard of honour consisting of around 100 soldiers from each of the five AIF Divisions that have contributed so much to the great Amiens victory. They are assembled beside the long, narrow tree-lined drive to the chateau. The approach and the grounds of the chateau are proudly adorned with the trophies of war: a startling array of German artillery, machine guns, vehicles, horses and search lights. After brief introductions and conversation with the AIF’s five divisional commanders, Monash is knighted by the King as a Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath. This investiture is worthy of comment on three grounds. First is the obvious recognition of Monash himself. Second, this event put an end— once and for all—to any attempts by others to question, much less unseat, Monash from his command of the Australian Corps. But third, and most importantly, the investiture was surely the symbolic event that marked the final and irreversible maturation of the AIF into a cohesive, superbly led Corps (from top to bottom), where meticulous staff work and planning, and a resulting sound doctrine, had seen a masterly execution (with the equally impressive Canadians) of a Great War set-piece operation. While all this was impressive enough, the Australian Corps commander, his divisional commanders and his soldiers would soon provide fresh evidence of their military prowess by a striking operation that embodied many more military attributes than just those of a set-piece battle.

CHAPTER 8

Our horses hated it and whimpered As a consequence of Field Marshal Haig’s wise decision to cancel the Fourth Army attack for 15 August and shift the main BEF offensive northwards to General Byng’s Third Army front, a vital eight-day interlude was gained before Rawlinson’s resumption of his offensive on 23 August. This respite gave the Fourth Army the priceless opportunity to reconstitute its all-arms formula for success that had been so evident on 8 August. The period 15–23 August was marked by two important imperatives. In the case of the Australian Corps, the first necessity was for a much-needed rest. By this time, the Corps had been fighting for some five months without a decent break. While still maintaining sufficient strength on its front, efficient corps and divisional staff work was required to enable all five divisions to enjoy an equal period of rest. General Gellibrand’s 3rd Division was relieved by the British 17th Division on the 12th; the 4th and 5th AIF Divisions relieved the 1st AIF and 17th British Divisions on 16 and 18 August; and the 32nd British Division relieved the 2nd AIF Division the next day. This process required an even-handed treatment by Monash. Peter Pedersen, in his masterly Monash as Military Commander, has pointed out that although the length of this rest was relatively short, ‘by ensuring that hardship was shared equally, Monash forestalled any impression among the men of one division that they were being called upon to do more than the others’.1 The second necessity was a resumption of ‘Peaceful Penetration’ of the German line, which aimed at an aggressive elimination of desired enemy strong posts in villages and woods. This pause also gave each division’s artillery invaluable time not only to enjoy a brief rest, but also to recalibrate their guns and begin the task of gathering or at least receiving accurate intelligence through sound ranging,

flash spotting and aerial photography. It was crucial to learn the locations of prime German guns, likely reserve concentration areas, headquarters and logistics targets, and also to redeploy guns and stockpile ammunition. In contrast to the German defences at Amiens, this new enemy defence line was protected by a thick belt of wire, the cutting of which now became a Fourth Army artillery priority. While the need for a rest had applied to the infantry and artillery, it most definitely was needed for the 5th Tank Brigade: By this time all the Tanks of the Brigade after many days of marching and fighting were in urgent need of a thorough overhaul . . . on the 15th all tanks were collected at Aubigny and Frouilloy [sic], where all tracks were broken and a thorough mechanical overhaul begun, the Australian Corps having given a promise that no Tanks would be required for the next 10 days. This hope proved illusive as on the 19th of August the 5th Tank Brigade . . . received orders to prepare to take part in another action on 23rd August.2 *** Having secured Marshal Foch’s endorsement for a shift in the BEF’s offensive from Rawlinson’s Fourth Army to General Byng’s Third Army north of the Somme, Field Marshal Haig planned a three-phase operation. On 21 August the Third Army was ordered to capture the ground along the Albert–Arras railway running from Beaucourt to Moyenneville across a 14 000-yard front. The next day, to conform to this Third Army thrust, the left or northern Fourth Army flank was to advance along a 12 000-yard front from the Somme to Albert. On the third day (23 August), both armies were to embark on the main objective: a line from Mercatel around three-and-ahalf miles south of Arras in the north, to Herleville in the south, about fourand-a-half miles below the Somme. If these objectives—across a 33-milewide front—were achieved, then Byng’s Third Army would advance on Bapaume, the Fourth Army was to proceed on its southern flank, and General Horne’s First Army was to join the advance to the extreme north beyond the River Scarpe. The Australian Corps’s participation in this plan

was to occur on the second and third days (22–23 August). On 22 August the Fourth Army’s III Corps, with the AIF’s 3rd Division, was to advance on the Third Army’s right flank, while on the following day the remainder of Monash’s Australian Corps would join the offensive south of the Somme and ‘capture the valley and slopes ahead’.3 On 22 August General Gellibrand’s 3rd AIF Division, tasked with the right-flank advance astride the Third Army’s 47th, 12th and 18th British Divisions to their north, faced a significant problem. The British portion of the front bent a considerable distance back from Gellibrand’s front. As a consequence, the British were faced with a 4000-yard advance while the Australians were to thrust just half that distance. To allow for this discrepancy in ground, an intermediate objective was chosen for the British and ‘to conform with this, a first objective was also chosen for the 3rd Division’.4 Once this 1500-yard Brown Line first objective had been gained by the 3rd Division, a pause of 66 minutes was to be taken to allow the British to ‘arrive into line’.5 If the Australian Corps was well led by Monash, then the next few days bore ample testimony to the highly competent leadership of his divisional commanders. General Gellibrand’s plan of attack for his advance on the 22nd is a strong case in point. The ground in his 3rd AIF Division sector was dominated by a plateau that stretched from Tailles Wood to the slope above the village of Bray. Realising that an artillery barrage preceding his attack would be most difficult on this ground, Gellibrand decided to attack ‘Happy Valley’ about 1000 yards north of Bray, which would allow him to use a creeping barrage on the approach and then facilitate either an encirclement of Bray or a later frontal assault, or both. He deployed his 9th Brigade’s 33rd Battalion for his left flank, his 35th Battalion in the centre and the 3rd Pioneer Battalion on his right, with his 34th Battalion in reserve. His use of the Pioneers as infantry on the right flank overlooking Bray was necessitated by the fact that his 9th Brigade was now reduced to three battalions. On 22 August, despite the fact that a heavy German bombardment of an hour’s duration fell on the front line at 2.30 am, few casualties were taken. When another bombardment occurred at around 4.00 am, twenty casualties were inflicted upon the left flank’s 33rd Battalion and six on the 35th

Battalion as they assembled on their start lines. At 4.30 am, as the 3rd Division’s creeping barrage began to fall some 300 yards ahead, the 9th Brigade’s soldiers advanced into a morning mist coupled with what Charles Bean described as ‘dust whipped up from the dry ground, and the smoke of phosphorous [sic] and high explosive, it [sic] filled the valley with haze so dense that the men could barely see ten yards’.6 Strains of Hamel and Amiens. The mist and dust and high explosives that inhibited the attackers’ navigation and identification of enemy positions also provided a screen of concealment against German machine guns and artillery. Bean has further recorded that the creeping barrage ‘was good but, inevitably in such broken country, seemed rather ragged’.7 He more than likely adopted the term ‘rather ragged’ from Lieutenant-Colonel Morshead’s 33rd Battalion Report on the operation: Our barrage was very ragged and inaccurate and was very difficult to follow. A very large number of our casualties on the advance were inflicted by our own shells. The 47th Division on our left advanced slowly and with hesitation and had to be urged to keep up to the barrage. The enemy did not make a determined stand; his morale was not high. Machine gunners were an exception; they maintained a heavy fire until our troops rushed them, when they eagerly surrendered.8 Three points are of interest. First, as Bean stated, the barrage was indeed put down in ‘broken country’, which was no easy task. Second, near the conclusion of his report, Morshead lists his casualties as being two officers and fifteen other ranks killed and seven and 98 wounded, and that ‘most were slight’ and that ‘compared with the enemy our casualties were very light’.9 And those casualties were over the two days 22–23 August. Third, his soldiers’ sterling efforts in ‘rushing’ the German machine gun posts must surely have been greatly facilitated by that creeping barrage. Gellibrand’s report stated that, ‘A German Battalion Commander and Staff, captured early in the advance, could speak of nothing but the rapidity with which the men were on them and round their machine guns.’10

By this time, initial morning mist, artillery smoke, a creeping barrage, concentrated and accurate machine gun fire, and experienced infantry fire and movement, were characteristic elements of a BEF attack. In the centre and right of the attack the 35th Battalion and the 3rd Pioneers also gained their Brown Line objective. Although the planned 66-minute halt on the Brown Line enabled the enemy to ‘partially reorganize and shorten his artillery barrage’,11 and to bombard the Australians with gas just twenty minutes before they resumed their offensive, the Green Line was taken by 8.30 am. On the right flank the Pioneers were able to move two companies down to the edge of the village of Bray. Although III Corps captured most of its objectives, when the cavalry attempted a break-through from the head of ‘Happy Valley’ a predictable outcome ensued. Lieutenant-Colonel Morshead witnessed this futile act: A party of the Northumberland Hussars, the remnants of a squadron, galloped down the Brasy–Fricourt Road shortly after the capture of the Green Line. They suffered heavy casualties from machine guns and aeroplane bombs on reaching our left flank . . . 2 officers and 10 men followed by about 20 riderless horses galloped towards Bray and reached the outskirts of the village. All except one officer became casualties. The cavalry displayed the greatest courage and dash, but shock action against a nest of machine guns can only end in failure.12 To ensure contact between the British 47th Division and the left flank of the 3rd AIF Division, one company of the reserve 34th Battalion followed in the rear of the 47th. This company captured the key Chalk Pit position (about 1500 yards north of Bray) and held that feature until relieved by the British. In line with Gellibrand’s original plan, the village of Bray was to be later seized by attacks from the west, north and the front. Despite heavy German shelling and the ‘particularly oppressive’13 heat that day, the 9th Brigade spent the remainder of the morning of 22 August digging in and consolidating their Green Line objective.

At around 4.00 pm, with the probable intention of retaking the Chalk Pit and ‘Happy Valley’, the Germans counter-attacked. The 3rd Division would later record that: On the front of this Division [the 3rd] the line was held throughout and the attack repulsed with loss to the enemy. The troops on our left, however, were forced to withdraw to their first objective (the Brown Line). This left the flank of the 33rd Battalion exposed to attack from the rear. The situation was saved, however, by the prompt action of the Left Company Commander, who immediately occupied the Chalk Pit and formed a defensive flank along a minor spur running into Happy Valley. Extra machine gunners were moved into position on the high ground north of the Bray-Corbie Road and later, when the enemy using Happy Valley as a covered approach, attempted to penetrate behind our left flank, these guns were able to assist in checking this new thrust.14 When Gellibrand deployed his 11th Brigade’s 43rd and 44th Battalions forward to further bolster that vulnerable left flank, all further German attempts to turn the 3rd Division’s flank were thwarted. From nightfall on 22 August, although heavy shelling on selected Australian locations was undertaken, there were no further efforts by the enemy to retake that prized ground. Thus, with the Third Army’s advance on 21 August having attained nearly all of its objectives on the northern approach to the old Somme battlefields, with III Corps having taken the first of its objectives, and with Gellibrand’s 3rd Division in possession of its final Green Line objective— and gamely hanging on to their tenuous left flank—the stage was now set for a further advance the next day. Because III Corps had failed to capture its final 22 August objective, General Rawlinson was forced to abandon his plan for a general advance on 23 August and instead opt for two separate operations. The first was the prize of Bapaume, which would be captured by the Third Army with his III Corps assisting it on the right or southern flank. The second was the thrust south of the Somme by the Australian Corps and the 32nd British Division. The Australian 1st Division’s objective anticipated an advance of between 2000 and 3000 yards across roughly a three-mile front to gain the plateau

beyond the Froissy Valley, while the 32nd Division was to capture Herleville. The 1st AIF Division’s attack was to have three phases. The first was to be a movement by the 2nd Brigade on the right (the southern flank) and the 1st Brigade to its left. Both brigades were to deploy two battalions in front and two in support. That first or main objective, which at its deepest point consisted of some 2000 yards of ground, ran from around 1000 yards east of Foucaucourt, bending back northwards to the eastern side of Chuignolles. The objective of the second phase (the first exploitation) ran roughly from just east of Chuignes north-west back to the Somme and about 350 yards from the Froissy Beacon. Phases one and two were allotted to the 1st and 2nd Brigades. Should their objectives be taken, the 3rd Brigade was to push through the 1st and seize the objective of the third phase (the second exploitation line), which ran virtually due north from outside Chuignes to the Somme, and covered, at its widest northern point, a further distance of some 2000 yards. In the planning of this attack we note the employment of many of the tried and tested inter-arms attributes of Hamel and Amiens. The British 32nd Division, on the right or southern flank, was to have twelve Mark V Tanks from the 8th Tank Battalion in support; the 1st Division’s 2nd Brigade was to attack in the centre with twelve tanks from the 13th Tank Battalion; and on the left or northern sector, the 1st Division’s 1st Brigade was to be supported by twelve tanks from the 2nd Tank Battalion. To assist in rapid supply, three Mark IV Tanks were allotted to each of the 1st and 2nd Brigades. These tanks were able to deliver 46 tons of stores, including two loads of ammunition, grenades, drinking water, picks and shovels, sand bags and materials for wiring to nine different locations.15 This feat was even more noteworthy since those nine points were ‘inaccessible to Field Transport’.16 As at Hamel, ‘demonstrations were carried out by the 5th Tank Brigade with the Battalions of the 1st Australian Division’ during the week before the attack.17 It is probable that the lack of such ‘demonstrations’ prior to 9 August might have been a contributing factor to the 1st Division and the Tank Corps’s poor coordination on that day, as the 5th Tank Brigade would later record that ‘as a result of this practice the co-operation of Tanks and

Infantry in the Battle [of 23 August] was beyond praise’.18 To cement that spirit of coordination and mutual trust, prior to the attack, the tank officers were billeted with their infantry counterparts and—as at Hamel—all tanks were to carry an infantry scout.19 In yet another Hamel initiative, the 1st Division Report for 23 August noted that ‘Aeroplanes . . . flew continuously over the forward area between 9.30 p.m. and 1 a.m. night 22/23rd and from zero minus 1 hour to zero, in order to conceal the noise of Tank engines. Normal Field Artillery and M.G. fire was also employed for this purpose.’20 The artillery for the assault of 23 August was also well prepared. Employing the same predicted fire intelligence attributes of Hamel and Amiens—and mindful of the time needed for their implementation—the artillery was able to dispense with a preliminary barrage, gain the key advantage of surprise, but still fire accurately on selected targets. The initial creeping barrage was to move at zero plus three minutes and then lift at a rate of 100 yards every two minutes for three lifts. This was to be followed by lifts of 100 yards every three minutes up to and beyond the final objective. The barrage was to consist of ‘50% Shrapnel 25% 106 Fuze, H.E. and 25% 101 Fuze delay or non delay H.E.’21 Smoke would also be used to screen the tank–infantry approach. The firepower of the assault was to be supplemented by a machine gun company to provide barrage fire for each attacking brigade. Operating from their advanced aerodrome at Glisy, No. 3 Squadron, after a thorough prior reconnaissance of the German positions and movements, and having also provided numerous aerial photographs of the battlefield, was charged with the task of dropping phosphorus bombs to make a smokescreen around the rise above Chuignes village. The 1st Division’s assault on 23 August was another vivid illustration of the implementation of what was by now an astute, comprehensive and smooth execution of a set-piece doctrine. On the northern or left flank, the 1st Brigade, accompanied by the tanks from the 2nd Tank Battalion, took Chuignolles by 5.30 am. This was despite the now customary heavy German machine gun fire, which was encountered at Chuignolles Wood as well as on the extreme left flank. By 7.00 am the first phase had been

completed and, despite varying degrees of progress, the now customary tactic of a reserve battalion moving forward to briefly secure a vulnerable flank was employed. The second or first exploitation phase—although undertaken without artillery support—was most successful, despite the fact that enemy machine gunners deployed in a number of woods offered stubborn resistance. And in surmounting that resistance the tanks provided invaluable support. Lieutenant W Ribchester commanded Tank 9388 during the advance: The visibility was good but the smoke caused by the barrage tended to limit it to about 300 yds . . . Anti-tank guns were numerous but accurate fire caused them to desert their guns. Machine gunners in many cases hid in hope of being passed, but few escaped our observation and the infantry followed on with very few casualties . . . [although the Germans] used many AP [armourpiercing] bullets, I succeeded in either knocking out the machine guns or causing the gunners to flee . . . One anti-tank gun I was compelled to run over after putting the crew to flight, as the gunners attempted to return . . . After the battle I towed out three tanks which were ditched. Before reaching the rallying point my track broke so I reported to the OC and immediately after repaired the tank and returned . . . I had 2 casualties while the remainder of my crew were wounded by splash. On the whole the ground was extremely strongly held and roughly I put out 30 machine guns and one antitank gun.22 During the fighting that day, Lieutenant Ribchester’s tank expended some 5000 rounds of small arms fire, was in action for five hours and covered nine miles of ground.23 For the third and last exploitation phase, a creeping barrage delivered by three field artillery brigades that had rushed forward during the morning added significant protection to the advancing infantry. When the 3rd Brigade passed through the right flank of the 1st Brigade early that afternoon, it was able to capture the ground around the key Froissy Beacon

and the heights overlooking Chuignolles. Lieutenant Syd Traill, 1st Brigade, 1st Battalion: A great morning and just a shade of mist. Tanks came up and everything went well . . . Tanks went over and the lads followed. The barrage was just about perfect, and very heavy. Prisoners soon started to roll in and the attack succeeded . . . A most successful stunt, we took beaucoup prisoners, a 16” gun, 3 77’s, an anti-tank gun, and over 70 M.G.s and 6 minnies . . . All this belongs to the one day . . .24 On the afternoon of the 23rd, while the Australians were scaling Chuignes Ridge, No. 3 Squadron sent out a number of planes to attack retiring German artillery and infantry and to disrupt any signs of a counter-attack. Later a patrol of some five planes sighted ‘burning supply-dumps and other symptoms of a possible German 25 retirement’.25 In summing up the 1st AIF Division’s attack on 23 August, Charles Bean stated that: The Australian Corps had by dusk won not only its main objective but, except for immaterial fractions, the ground intended to be gained by exploitation. Most of the German batteries lay beyond this line, at the head of Chuignes gully, and the troops’ elation was somewhat damped [sic] by the severe shelling that followed. Nevertheless a most powerful blow had been struck. Of 8,000 prisoners taken that day by fifteen divisions in the successful offensives of Fourth and Third Armies, the 1st Australian Division captured 2,000.26 While high praise was due to Major-General Gellibrand for the 3rd Division’s efforts the previous day, the leadership of Major-General Glasgow and his subordinate 1st Division commanders on 23 August was outstanding. Peter Pedersen has identified two entirely fair criticisms of General Monash’s command of the 1st Division’s fighting on that day. The first was his decision to place the Green Line ‘short of the old French

trenches on the eastern slope of the valley so that the wire guarding them would not have to be crossed under machine gun fire’.27 Pedersen has pointed out that while this decision was taken by Monash to protect the Australians from the potential of a German counter-attack, it also allowed the enemy the chance to ‘manoeuvre on the Foucaucourt Plateau’28 in the rear. He further points out that the tanks and artillery might well have been employed to cut the wire. Second, Pedersen indicates that Monash changed a number of the objectives just 24 hours before the attack after having pledged, as usual, that all matters must be finalised at his final conference on 21 August. These issues demonstrate two important points: first, Monash was indeed at fault; but second, they portray a corps commander who was willing to both acknowledge an error and change his plans, and who also possessed tremendous confidence in his divisional commanders. MajorGeneral Glasgow more than rewarded such trust, and his ‘grip’ of his battle was first-class. We have noted the distinguished campaigning of the 5th Tank Brigade during the battles of Hamel, 8 August and this Australian Corps offensive of 23 August. Of the 37 tanks deployed on the Australian Corps front that day, 26 returned to their rallying point and eleven were knocked out by direct hits. While valuable lessons had been learnt concerning their need for careful coordination with both the artillery and infantry during the period 9– 11 August, a far more serious problem confronted them at the end of this operation, which could not be addressed quickly. The 5th Tank Brigade would later record that: The conditions in which this action was fought make very noticeable the gallantry and determination of the Tank crews. A number of cases were reported of men becoming delirious and even unconscious during the battle, this was partly due to the heat of the day which after sunrise became oppressive; but the main cause was to be found in the toxic action of the petrol fumes from the exhaust pipes. These had been strained and contorted by the long period of marching and fighting without overhaul and allowed the closed Tank to fill with poisonous gasses. The effects of these on Crews became the subject of a Special Report by the Senior Medical

Officer of the Brigade and henceforward the study and remedy of this defect inherent in the design of the Ricardo Engine became a matter of the first importance.29 *** In order to maintain contact with events across the Somme, it was decided to renew Gellibrand’s 3rd AIF Division and the III Corps thrust to capture Bray and the La Neuville Peninsula. From the cliffs overlooking that centre, the Pioneer Battalion was able to construct light footbridges across the river to facilitate infantry movement onto the peninsula and establish contact with the 1st Division’s 3rd Brigade. Having ascertained that the German machine gun defences around Bray were formidable, the 10th Brigade was ordered to relieve the 9th and capture Bray in unison with a III Corps assault to seize the Green Line—which they had failed to capture on 22 August. The plan foresaw the 40th Battalion undertaking the attack with left-flank assistance from the 37th Battalion. After having captured Bray, both battalions were to establish posts on the eastern side of the town. During the night of the 23rd, the 3rd Division’s artillery bombarded Bray and La Neuville, while the Pioneer Battalion crossed the Somme via their footbridges. At around 1.00 am, and under the screen of an artillery and machine gun barrage, the 40th Battalion attacked. The 3rd Division Unit Diary: . . . owing to the defences and size of the town, the troops found great difficulty in maintaining touch and direction. The enemy put up a determined resistance from the western and north-western hedges and the attacking troops were met with heavy machine gun fire when trying to leave the gardens on the north-eastern outskirts.30 When the artillery barrage was then extended for some fifteen minutes, and elements of the 37th Battalion were added to the assault, the area around the railway was taken and all of the original objectives captured. The booty from this action yielded ‘a large dump of timber and material & three loaded trains, also a large ammunition dump partially prepared for

demolition’.31 On the Australian left flank, III Corps was able to recapture the high ground north of the Chalk Pit. Bray had fallen. Gunner James Armitage, 3rd Division Artillery, had been a keen observer of the recent 3rd Division fighting: On the 22nd August a big stunt opened out and it was very successful. Several thousand prisoners were brought back past us. This stunt just left us out of range of enemy targets. On the 23rd the attack on Bray was made. Our brigade didn’t fire in the attack but leap-frogged through the other batteries while they were in action. Bray is in a deep hollow valley and the surrounding country is very high, though completely level like a tableland. As we advanced the Germans were being driven out of Bray by our troops and we see the fighting on both sides of the town, and the German and our own artillery barrages steadily moving back into German territory. It was a wonderful sight. This high road into Bray was littered with German skeletons. They must have been there for years. The flesh was all gone from their bones and they were just skeletons in rotting uniforms. We could not understand why they had been left there. They were well inside old German territory and had been driven over for ages. Our horses hated it and whimpered. There were skeletons of horses too.32 *** The period 8–23 August 1918 was tumultuous and exhilarating. Field Marshal Haig’s eternal optimism now knew no bounds. Late on the night of 22 August, and rightly sensing a general German loss of morale and a growing inability to cope with the pressure of coordinated attacks across their defences, he now advocated far more aggressive tactics: . . . the most resolute offensive is everywhere desirable. Risks which a month ago would have been criminal to incur ought now to be incurred as a duty. It is no longer necessary to advance in regular lines and step by step. On the contrary each division should be given

a distant objective which must be reached independently of its neighbour, and even if one’s flank is thereby exposed for the time being. Reinforcements must be directed to points where our troops are gaining ground not where they are checked . . . The situation is most favourable. Let each one of us push forward to our objective.33 *** From a BEF and Fourth Army command perspective, the period 23–27 August 1918 is noteworthy for a divergence of thought and subsequent orders. We have noted Field Marshal Haig’s 22 August order for ‘the most resolute offensive’ and that ‘risks which a month ago would have been criminal to incur ought now to be incurred as a duty’. Peter Pedersen has pointed out that the very next day Haig qualified that order by asserting that the prerequisite for such risks would most likely constitute a penetration of ‘a system of defences in depth’, which would inhibit a rapid breakthrough.34 Peter Pedersen: ‘This shows conclusively that Haig was not expecting a breakthrough, and that the main German defence lines would be reduced only by heavy fighting. In short, it was far from an expression of imminent victory.’35 When Rawlinson sought reinforcements to continue his advance, Haig denied that request, pointing out that the next major BEF offensive was to take place to the north on General Horne’s First Army front. Haig anticipated that Horne’s thrust—with General Currie’s elite Canadians in the van—might pierce the northern portion of the Hindenburg Line and endanger the German right flank facing the Third and Fourth Armies. If that offensive gained significant ground, two important outcomes would occur: the first was that the Germans facing the Fourth Army would be forced to withdraw not only past the Somme, but possibly back to the Hindenburg Line; and second, that such a strategy would complement Marshal Foch’s impending offensive north of the BEF’s front by the Belgians, and to its south by the French and Americans. Late on 25 August, as a consequence of that meeting with Haig, Rawlinson, conscious of the news that the Germans were most likely

reinforcing their defence of his front, informed Monash that the Fourth Army was to ‘mark time and await events elsewhere’.36 His orders for Monash now anticipated operations designed to support Byng’s Third Army across the Somme and simply maintain contact with the enemy south of it. Clearly—and understandably—Rawlinson was more than prepared to endorse a policy of a frequent shift in major operations, employing a ‘bite and hold’ strategy. However, Monash was of a different mind. When, late on 27 August, Rawlinson ordered that ‘touch must be kept with the enemy’, Monash considered it ‘sufficient to justify an aggressive policy on my part’.37 Fortified by the fact that his Australian Corps front had been shortened to around nine miles by the relief of his 4th AIF Division by the French on the 23rd, and that his 2nd and 5th Divisions had relieved his 1st Division south of the Somme on the night of the 26th, Monash now foresaw an opportunity to achieve two aims. He would later write: . . . firstly, that his [the German] withdrawal should be more precipitate than would be agreeable to him, and secondly, that when he reached that line [the Somme] he should be accorded no breathing time to establish upon it a firm defence from which he could hold us at bay for the remainder of the fine weather.38 Monash now had his nine-mile front held by four divisions with two in reserve: to the north and across the Somme was Gellibrand’s 3rd Division; southwards across that feature were his newly deployed 2nd and 5th Divisions; and to their south was the British 32nd. In reserve were his just relieved 1st Division (resting on the Somme near Chipilly) and the 4th (near Amiens).

By 28 August Gellibrand’s 3rd Division north of the Somme, after having seized Bray, had pushed on and captured Suzanne, Vaux and Curlu, and was now moving on Cléry. On the southern side of the Somme, General Rosenthal’s 2nd Division and General Hobbs’s 5th, with the British 32nd Division, were nearing the bend in the river. But as the Germans fought

their rearguard actions such a rapid Australian Corps pursuit still entailed stiff fighting and casualties. Private Len Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, 8th Brigade, 5th Division, faced such an action on 28 August: We . . . kept going . . . till we came to open country with low bushy copses ahead of us. We were advancing in artillery formation when crack! crack! rang out from the copses ahead of us, and bullets started to whistle past our ears. We had certainly found him, and undoubtedly he had found us. We lay down for a while for it was getting a bit too hot with bullets whispering around us in the grass. A very exhilarating sensation I don’t think! Then came the order to advance, and we hopped up again. The snipers got to work again and two or three bullets whistled within an inch or so of my head, and I thought to myself ‘it won’t be long now’ . . . we couldn’t go far under this fire. Several of our chaps had been hit and were lying behind us, and bullets were too near to be pleasant. The aggravating part of it was that not a sign of Fritz could we see . . . so we dashed forward and hopped down into the welcome cover of an old disused trench. We got our machine guns into position and had a good rest, for we were dog-tired after our long tramp after the Hun. There were still chaps behind us, and we watched them from our new position. As soon as even one of them so much as moved, crack would go a sniper’s rifle . . . We stopped in this trench till nightfall and Fritz kept up his firing all day. I have never placed too much faith in newspaper reports of the Germans firing on the Red Cross, but I can fully vouch for it now. Some of our chaps as I have said had been wounded and were stretcher cases. Out go four stretcher-bearers with Red Cross badges on big white armlets plainly visible. They hoist the wounded chap onto a stretcher and move off, and then the snipers opened up on them before they had gone ten yards. One of the stretcher-bearers was killed, hit clean through the head. I don’t think the Hun can be human, but I think he’ll find out that this stretcher-bearing business is a game two can play. That’s how it makes you feel!39

At ‘the bend in the river’ the new Australian Corps objective would be the town of Péronne. The battle that would now follow constitutes one of the most stirring episodes in the Australian story.

CHAPTER 9

. . . an ignorant, wonderful lot of fools The approach to, and the subsequent capture of, Mont St Quentin and Péronne would amount to the toughest challenge yet faced by the Australian Corps. This was because the number and physical condition of Monash’s infantry, his artillery requirements, the availability of tanks and his logistics were all causes for concern. We have noted the AIF’s almost continuous fighting during the previous five months, and Monash’s attempts to give them an opportunity for a rest after Amiens. It has also been mentioned that that ‘rest’ for each division was brief before they were returned to the front. Towards the end of August 1918 the casualties and drain upon the Australians’ reserves of energy were becoming ever more acute. The AIF was now a rapidly diminishing resource. As an example, when the 2nd Division’s 5th Brigade returned to the line on 26 August, Charles Bean identified its 17th and 20th Battalions as having a strength of eighteen officers and 357 other ranks, and eighteen and 302 respectively—both under half-strength.1 And a portion of that diminishing AIF strength comprised experienced soldiers, such as the longserving 4th Division, 13th Battalion’s Corporal Cliff Geddes. Five days after his relief, Geddes recorded that: ‘I have been very crook lately with diarrhoea & pains in stomach & was sent today in a motor ambulance to the 61st Casualty Clearing Station.’2 On 5 September 1918, he guessed that his war might be over: Arrived by a hospital train at Rouen & was taken to No. 10 General Hospital . . . This Rouen front, on which I conclude this diary, is certainly more cheerful than that celebrated ‘health resort’ Villers Bretonneux where I passed so many exciting moments, where gas &

shells were as plentiful as rabbits in N.S.W. I am truly thankful to be alive & sound as I close this off.3 As his troops approached the Somme, General Monash was aware of the AIF’s dwindling numbers and physical condition, but also conscious of the fact that he had the initiative and the momentum. He then had to make a critical decision. To pause, or for that matter to slow his advance, was to allow the Germans a respite that would give them an invaluable opportunity to fall back over the Somme, stiffen their defences, enhance their fire plans and further reinforce their positions. It is here, at the Somme, that we witness a crucial attribute in a great commander: the ability to know the military and physical limitations of both his subordinate commanders and their soldiers, and then push them even beyond what they themselves believe to be those limitations. Just prior to reaching the Somme, Monash had decided that each of his three available AIF divisions—the 3rd to the north of the river and the 2nd and 5th to its south—were to push on, on a one-brigade front, with their ‘two remaining Brigades arranged in depth behind it’.4 For simplicity, and to save time and therefore a maintenance of the momentum, each division was to fight along a clearly defined front or sector. There was to be no intricate and time-consuming ‘leapfrogging’ of divisions, and each brigade was to continue its advance until it had reached ‘the limits of its endurance’.5 He estimated that such reserves of energy might last for some two days per brigade, and therefore, with a three-brigade rotation, for six days per division. Further, he decided that if necessary, each division might have to undertake two rotations. Orders are easy to issue, but as stated, the efficacy of even the most astute orders often relies on the senior commander’s judgement and resolve to see them carried out in their entirety. The commander must possess an unshakeable degree of confidence in his subordinates’ capacity to implement them. From divisional commander through the chain of command to the platoon commanders alike, the battles of Mont St Quentin and Péronne would require rapid decision-making, close and swift liaison between infantry units, with supporting arms, and often, because of time constraints, the necessity for verbal orders only. Time was of the essence.

The artillery support for the capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne presented three challenges. As for the infantry, speed of movement in the advance and the consequent test of endurance was the first. Gunner James Armitage, 3rd Division Artillery, 28–29 August 1918: The position of the line changed sometimes a couple of times a day. We eventually found the battery—on the other ridge, hidden amongst heaps of German road metal. We also found the rest of the battery there too—teams, wagons, headquarters, everything . . . That night we camped in old French 1916 dugouts recently vacated by the Germans and struck camp at 3 a.m. and moved our horse teams up behind the guns while they opened up on an attack. . . . I shall never forget carting ammunition to the guns in their new position. Each team made three trips. Three times we went into that damned gully and each time I thought it would be our last. The Hun was bombarding the dump with 5.9” and 8” shells and each time we had to gallop through this inferno, in a positive hail of flying shell splinters, coils of barb wire, planks and girders. Everything he had in that dump was flying about. Each time we arrived we gathered in a cutting and the six teams tried to time the series of salvos and take it in turn to make a wild dash.6 The second challenge was the necessity for the continued elimination, or at least neutralisation, of the enemy’s artillery and the destruction of his machine gun posts. Monash ordered that on the approach to the river, two guns from each battery would ‘come under the direct orders of the Infantry Commanders for the purpose of engaging with direct fire any machine-gun nest which was holding them up’.7 The third imperative was to continue to provide localised smoke cover for infantry advancing on German machine gun nests. This was accomplished by the order that all batteries would use ammunition composed of one-fifth smoke shells. A smokescreen on an infantry approach—and on call—was still of paramount importance. The next concern was tanks. We have noted the ever-declining numbers of tanks and trained crews that had begun to beset the 5th Tank Brigade since Amiens. After its recent sterling support of the AIF’s 1st Division, the

Brigade was withdrawn and placed in GHQ Reserve. It would be some seventeen days of ‘hard work making their tanks fit for further action, overhauling engines and training’ before their next action.8 And even then, the Brigade would be able to deploy far fewer tanks and crews than the heady days of Hamel and Amiens. The difficulties in the movement of tanks across the Somme aside, once across (had they been available), they would have been of inestimable value. Another problem for Monash was logistics, and it was linked to his artillery requirements. In a mere 21 days the Fourth Army had captured roughly 30 miles of territory. By Great War standards this was a monumental victory. In terms of the BEF’s logistical achievements such an advance deserves high praise. In his excellent study British logistics on the Western Front, Ian Brown has pointed out that: In August [1918] the QMG [Quarter Master General] looked back on the trials of the spring [Operation Michael] and made the ironic observation that they had helped to prepare the BEF’s administrative services for the advance of the summer, in that they had forced the services to deal with a return to mobility. . . . In 1916, Haig could not have so easily switched the axis of his attacks, but the administrative excellence brought about by four years of hard-won experience made it a relatively simple matter by 1918. The advances in August had been well-supported, and a 27 August policy of concentrating advancing broad-gauge railways and roads had worked well. By August 1918, all types of ammunition, with the exception of 6-inch howitzers, remained readily available, and the problems of previous years with bad fuses and high explosives were no longer serious.9 Thus, by the time the Australian Corps gained the western bank of the Somme on 29 August 1918, General Monash could look to artillery support that was manned by highly trained personnel; had surmounted many of its technical challenges; and had, well before this time, been integrated into an exceedingly efficient all-arms system of war that had maximised its performance.

Monash’s artillery problem at this time, therefore, was not one of personnel, or shells, or a lack of field artillery—his problem was transporting his slow and cumbersome heavy artillery to his everdistant front. In his The Australian Victories in France in 1918, he quite understandably devoted space to this issue. Unlike his more mobile field artillery, the 60-pounders and particularly the heavier tractor-drawn 6-inch guns (their restricted ammunition stocks aside) were purely road-bound. They had to contend with congested, cratered roads that were often boobytrapped or mined. Any decrease in their numbers could compromise the attack on Mont St Quentin and Péronne. Thus, the Australian Corps’s engineers and pioneer battalions would play a critical role in the coming battle, both in terms of transport from the rear and of crossing the Somme. *** The proposed capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne would bear no resemblance to the meticulously planned, set-piece and interlocking-arms confrontations such as at Hamel or Amiens. When the Australians reached the Somme bend on 29 August 1918, they were to encounter an enemy on ground that possessed an abundance of defensive advantages. The Australian Corps front now stretched along the river from roughly St Christ in the south, some two miles northwards to Brie, and thence a further three miles to Péronne, before flowing further northwards for some two-and-ahalf miles to reach Cléry, where it bent almost at right angles to follow its western passage to the sea. At Péronne the Cologne River flowed in from the east to join the Somme. Crossing the Somme was the first challenge for any attack. At the time that barrier was, according to Monash, ‘not less than 1,000 yards wide, being, in fact, a broad marsh, studded with islets which are overgrown with rushes, while the stream of the river threads its way in numerous channels between them’.10 For prewar commercial purposes, the Somme Canal had been built in an attempt to overcome this extensive and uneven stretch of marshes and river width, part of which passed along the western side of the river and through the Australian perimeter. The Canal du Nord (uncompleted in patches) had also been constructed, stretching across the river at Halle then travelling in a north-easterly direction. Bridges aside, any

infantry attempt to cross the Somme would necessitate an inevitably slow and exposed wading through the extensive waist-deep marshes, followed by the deep-water obstacle of the river itself, and all that against the German Machine Gun Corps, whom Monash described as ‘the best of all his services’.11 There were four Somme bridge crossings south of the bend on the Australian front: at St Christ, Brie, Eterpigny and the main bridges that were the road and railway entrances into Péronne itself. While the Somme was a major obstacle, there were also two dominant high-ground features on the eastern side of it that provided clear and distant observation over any assault. The first and higher was the pencil-shaped Bouchavesnes Spur, which lay around 2000 yards north-west of Péronne. Its highest point (around 425 feet) lay just south of the village of Bouchavesnes and overlooked Cléry on the Somme’s bend, and, more importantly, the second high-ground feature. This was the 300-foot-high Mont St Quentin, which lay across the Tortille River Valley from the Bouchavesnes Spur around 1500 yards north of Péronne. The term ‘Mont’ is a flattering one—‘hill’ would seem a more realistic title. Mont St Quentin possessed three important military attributes. The first was the open, rolling ground and gradual rise to it, which offered superb observation of any approach on Péronne from the west, north or south. The second was its bare slopes, which also provided excellent observation and little cover for an assault. Those slopes were ringed by extensive belts of rusted barbed wire and a substantial interlocking trench system. The Mont St Quentin village ruins and its wood were on its western side and therefore furnished added defensive cover. Thus, there were three descending topographical ‘steps’ to the Somme in the area: the Bouchavesnes Spur overlooking Cléry and Mont St Quentin; the ‘Mont’ overlooking Péronne (Monash referred to Mont St Quentin as Péronne’s ‘sentinel’);12 and the sloping ground from Péronne down to the Somme. Therefore any plan to capture Péronne would be entirely contingent upon taking both high-ground features. A failure to do so would invite concentrated artillery and machine gun fire from either, or mutually supporting fire from both.

*** As Monash’s British 32nd Division and the 5th and 2nd AIF Divisions came onto the Somme south of the bend—the 32nd on the right or southern flank, the 5th in the centre and the 2nd on the left—he had initially planned a two-phase operation for the capture of Péronne. The first phase was to ‘closely follow the enemy with vigorous patrol action and not become involved in heavy fighting’.13 By 29 August this speedy, continuous advance had been most successful. The second phase now looked to ‘bring him to battle and if possible hustle him across the river and follow closely on his heels’,14 and thereby disrupt the German occupation and preparation of bridgeheads, and subsequently capture Mont St Quentin and Péronne. Peter Pedersen has left us with a succinct reason as to why Monash made this first western frontal assault: . . . he was confronted with a dilemma. Although it was the most direct attack, it was also the quickest and simplest and, if the Germans were disorganized, it might succeed. But for the past few days machine-gunners had contested his advance stoutly, necessitating at Foucaucourt, for example, a heavy bombardment before it could proceed. Monash would have had to cross the river in front of them. The scheme was no more than a gamble and a desperate one at that.15 At a conference held at the 2nd Division HQ at 2.30 pm on 28 August,16 it was decided that Major-General Rosenthal’s 2nd Division, having the wider front, would attack on a two-brigade front (the 5th and 7th Brigades), cross the Somme at Halle and Omiécourt, and capture the high ground at Mont St Quentin. Major-General Hobbs’s right-flank 5th Division, using his 8th Brigade, was to cross the river at Brie and capture Hill 80 near Doingt. Hobbs’s 15th Brigade was to follow it up. Should this pincer movement on Péronne succeed, the Germans would be forced to withdraw from what would now constitute an indefensible town. For the 2nd Division’s northern or left-flank crossing of the Somme and subsequent attack on Mont St Quentin, its 5th Brigade was to be supported

by Private William McLennan’s 2nd Machine Gun Battalion. Born at Sandford near Casterton, Victoria in August 1882, McLennan had been a professional ornithologist, and by the outbreak of the war had worked at Cairns, on the Great Barrier Reef, at Atherton Scrubs and in the Gulf Country. He had volunteered but been rejected for service in September 1914, and again in March 1915, with another rejection. Consequently, he resumed his career by working in the still relatively unexplored Arnhem Land, where he made a number of valuable discoveries. As a result of an illness from this expedition, he arrived back at Cape York in August 1916 and applied to join the AIF for a third time in March 1917. Third time ‘lucky’. McLennan arrived in England in August 1917, and in France in January 1918, at the age of 36. It would seem that despite being embroiled in the horror of the front line, McLennan found bird-watching—often in the middle of an enemy shelling, or during a lull in the fighting—a form of therapy. The addenda to his diary contains a month-by-month record of his observations. But his diary also records the more sinister and often ongoing Great War soldier’s experience of gas. During the six-month period March–August 1918, his diary recorded its gradual impact: 9 March: Got a slight dose of it. Makes one sneeze & cough, burns the lungs & makes the eyes water. 21 March: 7 am. Hun sends some gas shells over, get a bit of it in the trench, it burns the lungs some. 19 May: Hun sending over sneezing gas in his HE shells, get a dose of it. 3 July: Hun goes mad & strafes the village, puts a lot of shells a short distance from our little home. Gas in his HE, get a dose of it. 6 July: My lungs burning like hell, coughing a lot, can’t use respirator. 10 August: Suddenly discover that there is gas over, sneezing & mustard, have got a bad dose; can’t wear my respirator.17

On 29 August 1918, McLennan described the 5th Brigade’s 18th Battalion progress: 4.30 am. D coy [18th Battalion] go forward. We follow, the load seems to weigh very heavy. Reach a sunken road 1000 yds ahead & rest awhile. Our officer goes ahead to get in touch with Btn . . . Our officer returns we move on to cross roads 500 yds ahead. Daylight now. The infantry are going over, we go with C Coy on the river flank. Our objective a bridge 3000 yds ahead. 2 of our guns . . . go with a company on our right. Over we go in artillery formation. For a thousand yards there is nothing doing; then the Hun starts using his MG’s from across the river & from a wood on the right front. Come to the canal and find that the bridge is destroyed . . . Our officers go forward to investigate canal, as we have to cross it . . . Our officers return, they have found a partially destroyed foot bridge across the canal. Hear that there were some mines attached thereto. Mr Duncan first tried the bridge, then cut the mines away. The infantry cross over first & line the opposite bank of the canal. We follow. Our objective is now about 1000 yds away but we cannot get to it during the day as the Hun holds a strong commanding position across the river . . . MG bullets come whistling down the canal. Plenty of Huns to be seen about the ridges across the river & in the ruins of Clery. Hun spasmodically shelling the area we have left across the canal. Send over a few big shells trying to get the lock on canal about 50 yds from our possy. 11 am. Hun sends over 3 salvos of Whiz bangs at the lock. The right flank appears to be well advanced. The rest of the Btn come in from there about midday.18 Whilst the 18th Battalion was thus engaged, the 19th Battalion on its right had gained the high ground overlooking the canal. But as soon as it was reached ‘a battery of 77’s firing from Halle and intense M.G. fire from Ommiécourt [sic] arrested further progress’.19 After subsequent patrols failed to find crossing points, all movement by the Brigade was suspended until dark.

The 2nd Division’s right-flank 7th Brigade encountered similar opposition. On its southern flank Barleux was taken and the canal reached by 9.30 am, while at its centre, although the high ground at La Maisonette was taken, its 28th Battalion then came under concentrated machine gun fire, which screened a German retreat across the canal and the demolition of bridges. On the 7th Brigade’s left or northern flank, ‘the 27th Bn came under shell fire from Mont St Quentin very early in its advance, and to this was added M.G. fire when it reached the high ground west of Biaches’.20 As with the 5th Brigade, the 7th Brigade now suspended all movement until dark. While these events were in train on the 2nd Division front, to the south, the 5th Division’s 8th Brigade, with its 31st Battalion on the right or southern flank, and its 29th on the northern flank, pushed eastwards at 5.30 am towards its objective of Brie.21 The 31st Battalion Unit Diary: Great progress was made by the Battalion and also the Battalion on the left (29th). There was no opposition to the advance—the enemy apparently had retired across the SOMME as was anticipated . . . At 11.30 am orders were received from Brigade HQ that posts were to be established on or near the river . . . The companies marched out at 12.15 pm . . . As soon as [A Company’s] three platoons had left the trench to move forward they came under direct fire from 77 mm guns on the high ground on the other side of the river . . . there was continual M.G. fire and sniping from the E bank of the river and also all moving targets were engaged [by] two enemy 77 mm guns . . . The guns were engaged by 18 pdrs and 4.5 How. [Howitzers] and forced to limber up and retire. During the evening enemy artillery was not so active, but his machine guns were going all night.22 In simple terms, the gamble of a Somme frontal assault failed because the Australians were unable to surmount two seemingly predictable obstacles. The first and most obvious was the fact that despite the Australian Corps’s speedy approach to the river, the Germans were professional enough to demolish all bridges and most of the foot crossings just prior to their arrival.

As a consequence, the attackers were thus exposed to the vulnerability of crossing the numerous marshes and the river obstacle. Further, the Germans had ample machine gun and artillery covering those crossings. Having created that first obstruction, the second became the German capacity to employ the eastern slopes of the river to enfilade not only those obvious crossing locations but also the distant, relatively open-sloped western approaches to it. It should also be noted that this initial plan failed to recognise the critical importance of the German occupation of the Bouchavesnes Spur and the ability of machine gun and artillery fire on and around that feature to offer support for Mont St Quentin. Had the Australians gained a footing over the Somme they would have paid a very severe price for a failure to assault that obstacle. Peter Pedersen has made two pertinent points regarding Monash’s command during 29 August. First, he has correctly pointed out that in his The Australian Victories in France in 1918, Monash quite simply failed to mention his initial attempt to breach the Somme by a westerly frontal assault, and further that this initial plan’s failure to consider the Bouchavesnes Spur was ‘a major blunder’.23 General Monash called a Corps conference at 5th Division HQ—‘then situated in a group of bare sheds . . . just south of Proyart’—at 5.00 pm on 29 August.24 In attendance were Monash, Hobbs (5th Division), Rosenthal (2nd), Gellibrand (3rd) and the British 32nd Division’s Major-General Lambert. The plan that Monash subsequently outlined to his divisional commanders was a masterly one, because it paid due attention to the ground and the German employment of it in their fire plan. Monash now sought to concentrate his force on his left or northern flank. To achieve this, he ordered the British 32nd Division on his right flank to increase its front northwards along the Somme to a point opposite Lamire Farm. Although the 32nd was to now occupy a Somme frontage of some 7500 yards, its new role was merely one of a defensive brigade occupation of forward posts and to ‘demonstrate’ the intention of a crossing. Its remaining brigades were to rest. This northwards extension of the 32nd Division’s line allowed Monash to order General Hobbs’s 5th Division front to shorten but also move northwards. His 4000-yard front would now extend from Lamire Farm in the south northwards to Biaches.

Hobbs’s orders were to force a crossing of the Somme at Péronne, but if its bridges were blown, to move further north and cross following the 2nd Division. The northern portion of the front (on and just below the Somme bend) was assigned to General Rosenthal’s 2nd Division, and was to stretch some 4700 yards from Biaches in the south to Omiécourt on the bend. Rosenthal’s orders were to cross the river at Halle or, failing that, to cross behind the present 3rd Division front. The 2nd Division was tasked with the capture of Mont St Quentin. Across the Somme, Gellibrand’s 3rd Division was given the short-term objective of the high ground north-east of Cléry, and a subsequent capture of the previously neglected Bouchavesnes Spur. The obvious possibility that might well cause the plan to falter was that there might be a lack of well-positioned, intact, or at least partially intact, bridge and/or footbridge crossing points. To overcome this potential for failure, Monash stipulated that whichever division secured a crossing, that passage was to be made available for another division to pass through them. He further ordered that these changes were to occur that night in readiness for the operation to commence at dawn the next day. A number of features of this plan deserve examination. The first is Monash’s insistence upon the new divisional fronts being shortened, and occupied that very night, which indicates his determination to concentrate his force on a changed and localised portion of his front. The plan was also to gain surprise and maintain the momentum of his offensive. Next, his plan employed an admirable degree of flexibility. It allowed for a crossing in force—and a reinforcement of that crossing—despite the fact that at the time of the conference, such a location or locations had not yet been found. In addition, his subordinate commanders, at the division, brigade and battalion levels, were entrusted with an equal measure of flexibility in thought, in the use of their resources, and in their resultant plans and orders. And such plans would come to nought if the Corps engineers and pioneer battalions were unable to maintain the road-system approach to the Somme. Moreover, they had to forge bridge and footbridge crossings, which would allow the logistic staff to continue to adequately supply the Corps over that obstacle. ***

To implement General Monash’s plan for 30 August 1918, it will be remembered that Major-General Rosenthal’s 2nd Division task was to cross the Somme at Halle, form a bridgehead and subsequently attack Mont St Quentin. If this crossing failed, the Division was to march north-west and cross the river behind the 3rd Division front. Rosenthal allotted this mission to Brigadier Martin’s 5th Brigade. Further, because of time constraints, the 5th Division’s 15th Brigade could not pass through Rosenthal’s 7th Brigade until the following night. Thus, the 7th Brigade was ordered to cross the Somme near Péronne pending the 15th Brigade’s arrival. To support the two thrusts, the artillery supporting the 2nd Division had been reinforced by the just arrived 2nd Division Artillery, which deployed three of its brigades in support of the 5th Brigade, and two in support of the 7th. The success of Monash’s plan now came down to the engineers’ ability and speed in locating, and if need be repairing, his infantry’s Somme crossing points. To the south, on the 7th Brigade front, a daylight attempt on 29 August by the 7th Field Company to reconnoitre the canal and its far side south of Péronne met with formidable resistance. When the 7th Field Company’s Major Webb and Lieutenant Mott found a bridge still partially intact, they were met by ‘7.7 cm guns . . . shooting on to the bridge at about 800 yds range and machine guns at about 400 yds range and our own howitzers were bursting within 50 yds of it . . .’25 In quite an understatement, the 7th Field Company’s report stated that ‘this bridge and corduroy track on the far side could not be inspected at the time’.26 Clearly, nearly all bridge reconnaissance and construction would now have to be undertaken under the cover of darkness, which further pushed the urgency of the completion of those crossings. In short, the bridges from Brie northwards to Lamire Farm, to the lock at La Chapelette, into Péronne, to the Canal du Nord, to Halle, and thence at the Omiécourt canal lock, were all either completely blown, partially blown —which allowed for only foot traffic—or covered by German guns and machine guns. To compound these difficulties, if a passage was gained, it often led into impassable stretches of lagoon or marsh. The experience of the 7th Brigade’s 26th and 28th Battalions in the early hours of 30 August is a case in point. After the 7th Field Company had constructed two

footbridges south of Péronne, and those units had travelled a mere 200 yards beyond them, the foot track ended on the broad expanse of a lagoon. General Rosenthal had briefed his 2nd Division Brigade Commanders for the attack on Mont St Quentin at 7.30 pm on 29 August—a mere nineand-a-half hours before it was to go in. At that juncture, the Somme was still to be bridged. When the attempt at Halle failed, the 5th Brigade were redeployed to the Omiécourt crossing. However, with Cléry yet to be taken, the approach to Omiécourt was met with intense machine gun and shell fire that forced its abandonment. Later that night the Omiécourt crossing was blown up. At 3.00 am on 30 August, Rosenthal, in consultation with Brigadier Martin (5th Brigade), realised that the 5th Brigade’s crossing of the Somme hinged on two possibilities. The first was to follow the 7th Brigade to the south in the hope that it would secure a crossing at Halle; the second was swing back two miles to Feuillères, where a bridge had been repaired, and then move alongside the 3rd Division on the north side of the river. Given the time constraints for this move—and the fact that Cléry was yet to fall—the attack for 5.00 am on 30 August was cancelled. The 5th Brigade was to now march some two miles back, cross the Somme at Feuillères, and march along the northern bank of the river, to join the 3rd Division’s right flank. *** With the plan for the capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne now changed, its chances of success now hinged upon Major-General Gellibrand’s 3rd Division’s capture of Cléry and, ultimately, the Bouchavesnes Spur. It will be recalled that as the 2nd and 5th AIF Divisions had pushed on to the Somme south of its bend, by 28 August the 3rd Division had captured Bray and had subsequently taken Suzanne, Vaux and Curlu, and by the 29th was heading towards Cléry. The 3rd Division’s fighting from Bray eastwards had been marked by strong German rearguard actions. However, should that advance reach Cléry and continue eastwards it would enable the Australians to ‘push in a south-easterly direction and so nullify the defensive advantages the enemy then had from the river Somme’.27 The Germans, therefore, strongly reinforced their line at and around the Cléry defences and the high ground

stretching to the Bouchavesnes Spur. The 3rd Division would later record that: ‘Prisoners captured later gave the identification of the reinforcements as being the 2nd Guards Division, and stated that they had received orders to hold on at all costs.’28 The rearguard was now over. The fighting around Cléry would see a far more resolute German defence. Charles Bean recorded the toll taken on Gellibrand’s 3rd Division on its approach to Cléry: The 38th Battalion (10 Bde) had been fighting or moving continuously, night and day, since August 26th. Its staff having worked for 71½ hours without sleep had at last settled at Curlu, the intelligence officer and adjutant lying down to sleep while the doctor and the scout officer . . . proposed ‘a swim and a good feed’ first. At this moment there arrived the brigadier, General [BrigadierGeneral] McNicol, whom they assumed to be also coming for a long deferred ‘nap’. ‘Get your battalion ready to move in twenty minutes as advanced guard of the brigade,’ he said. ‘Cléry is burning and if possible your headquarters are to be there to-night.’29 During 29 August the 3rd Division had cleared the broken ground around the village of Hem but had run into strong German machine gun fire on the ridge west of Cléry. During the late afternoon and early night the Division made steady progress west of Cléry and managed to clear most of that village by around 10.00 pm. There remained, however, pockets of German resistance in dwellings on its eastern end that continued to be of concern. During that same day, the British advanced south of Maurepas to relieve the pressure on the 3rd Division’s left flank, and by nightfall the utterly exhausted 10th Brigade had occupied a line starting from the Cléry causeway and extending northwards to make contact with its 9th Brigade at and near Hill 110. During 30 August, although the 3rd Division encountered heavy resistance on its right flank and was unable to advance beyond the limits of Cléry, it did make further ground on its left, which resulted in its line being extended from Cléry Copse northwards past Road Wood.

At around 9.00 pm on 30 August a stunned Brigadier-General McNicoll received orders from General Gellibrand that his 10th Brigade was to attack the Bouchavesnes Spur next morning. Further, after General Rosenthal informed Gellibrand that his 5th Brigade had been prevented from its crossing at the Omiécourt causeway, McNicoll was informed that he was to eliminate fire coming from Cléry forthwith to allow the 5th Brigade’s crossing. Given the tremendous effort his 10th Brigade had given in its sleepless advance on Cléry and its accompanying high ground—of some 72 hours—he sincerely doubted whether his exhausted troops could maintain the offensive. When Gellibrand informed him that the 5th Brigade were also fatigued, and that their crossing of the river depended on Cléry being taken, McNicoll acted with great haste. The 3rd Division report would record that Cléry village was eventually totally cleared at around 10.00 pm on 30 August ‘and then only after much hand-to-hand fighting among the dugouts and ruins’.30 While this savage 3rd Division fighting was in progress, the 5th Brigade was able to make its Somme crossing. Private William McLennan’s 2nd Machine Gun Company was in support. His diary for 30 August chronicles the 5th Brigade’s crossing at Feuillères, and its subsequent painstaking movement eastwards: 2.30 am. . . . Mr Carne goes to find 20th Btn Officers. 4 am. Mr Carne returns. 20th Btn come along. 18th Btn patrol have returned. Report bridge across the river has been destroyed not possible to cross. Hun commands situation with MG’s. Stunt off . . . 6 am. 18th Btn ordered to fall back. We go with them . . . Our Field artillery can be seen moving up into action across the river. Transport of all kinds also going up. Orders come through 10.15 am that 20th Btn are to cross river at Feuilleres & go up to hop off position beyond Clery. We are to go with them. 10.50 am 20th Btn move off. A little later our limbers come up. Pack our gear on board & move off . . . Cross river & up along road, then along trench to deep valley in front of Clery . . . HQ of a 3rd Div Btn here . . . 2.30 pm. Our limbers come in at the gallop dump the gear & gallop off again. It is not a place to loiter in. We shoulder our loads & move up the valley along a trench

to left of the village. Hun shelling as we go; one lands very close . . . Hear that we cannot go further forward as our side is held up a bit . . . Hun shells the place at intervals of short duration till about 4 pm. 5.9s landing only a few feet away, he also sends some gas shells over; get a dose of it . . . good few casualties coming out of forward positions . . . The infantry can only get ahead slowly before dark as the Hun enfilades the CT [communication trench] with MG fire . . . hear that 7 men have just been buried in a dugout by a big shell bursting right on it. A party are digging them out. A little later they carry them past our dugout. 4 killed & 3 badly wounded . . .31 Late on the 30th the 3rd Division front extended from around 1100 yards west of Quarry Farm, bending southwards past Road Wood and thence just west of Cléry Copse to the Somme. The 9th Brigade was on the left or northern flank and the 10th Brigade south of it. The 2nd Division’s 5th Brigade was on the Somme bend and ready to assault Mont St Quentin. Far to the south, the 7th Brigade, having been unable to cross the Somme, was relieved during the late afternoon and night of 30 August by the 5th Division’s 15th Brigade. The 15th Brigade Unit Diary would report that the front was ‘vigourously patrolled during the night and the following day but at no place could a crossing be effected across the swamp’.32 The degree of difficulty in an assault upon two high-ground features such as the Bouchavesnes Spur and Mont St Quentin—and against an entrenched enemy determined to hold his vital ground—was extreme. And that degree of difficulty was compounded by the Australians’ diminishing numerical strength, their utter exhaustion and their resulting poor physical condition. It is little wonder, therefore, that when General Rawlinson visited Monash on the afternoon of 30 August, he was flabbergasted to learn that the attack would indeed take place at 5.00 am on the 31st: ‘And so you think you’re going to take Mont St. Quentin with three battalions! What presumption! However, I don’t think I ought to stop you! So, go ahead, and try!—and I wish you luck!’33 ***

Although the assault upon Mont St Quentin had been postponed for 24 hours to 5.00 am on 31 August, the preparations for that attack were still implemented under severe time constraints. Brigadier-General Martin (5th Brigade) ordered a three-battalion assault upon the Mont: his 20th Battalion on the left or northern flank, his 17th Battalion in the centre and his 19th Battalion on the river or right flank. The 18th Battalion was to act as the Brigade reserve. The fact that the 19th Battalion was ‘warned to be prepared to cross [the Somme] at 3 am on 31st August’,34 then march to its start line and attack a mere two hours later at 5.00 am, illustrates the speedy planning and resultant tight timetable. However, if the 24-hour postponement had involved pressured planning, and significant and exhausting movements for the infantry, then it had also facilitated a priceless opportunity for further artillery support to arrive at the Somme. The 5th Brigade was to be supported by five Field Artillery Brigades, with some 90 heavy artillery guns in support. These guns were deployed from the 9th Brigade Royal Garrison Artillery and elements of the Corps Heavy Artillery and also counter-batteries from the Corps.35 The planning may have been rushed, but its professionalism was not compromised: The artillery support was arranged and co-ordinated by the C.R.A. [Commander Royal Artillery] direct with the G.O.C., 5th A. I. Bde. at latter H.Q. at 10 pm August 30th. Orders were then issued personally to the O.C’s F.A. Brigades and the O.C. 9th Bde RGA. The latter carried out all work possible with his own batteries and arranged with Aust. Corps H.A. for extra assistance from other H.A. Bdes.36 As the limitations of time forbade a standard creeping barrage, it was decided that the artillery would engage selected locations to the limits of their range, subsequent to that fire being adjusted to the anticipated advance of the infantry. For the 18-pounder field artillery—to be used across a roughly 2500-yard front on the lower portion of the Mont at a gun every 25 yards—each gun was to fire two rounds per minute. The heavy artillery 6inch Howitzers, with their high trajectory and plunging fire, were allotted one round per minute, and were to engage the enemy on the summit and its

flanks. For maximum and immediate ground burst, 106 fuses were to be used as far as possible.37 Additional 5th Brigade support was provided by one section of Vickers machine guns and two Stokes Mortars to each of its three front-line battalions. The Brigade Report stated that ‘special arrangements were made for telephone, visual and runner communications’.38 Thus, although the four battalions of the 5th Brigade were to undertake their Mont St Quentin attack with a grossly under-strength 70 officers and 1250 other ranks, the 1918 adoption of ‘firepower’ rather than the previous use of expendable ‘manpower’ was still being adhered to. But in the end, the Battle for Mont St Quentin would come down to the sheer courage, stamina and spirit of the exhausted infantry. The 17th Battalion’s Unit Diary, 31 August 1918: ‘A small issue of rum arrived and was distributed to the men just before moving off. It is worthy of note that the men were so fatigued and sleepy that even officers almost fell asleep standing up.’39 In what must have been a Brigade decision at the conference at Martin’s HQ at 10.00 pm on the 30th, it was resolved that ‘whenever opposition was met with in the dark the company concerned should simply rush the position making as much noise as possible’.40 Therefore, the 5th Brigade’s tactics were to embody firepower, aggression and bluff, in the hope of creating enemy confusion. *** As darkness gradually turned to light at 5.00 am on 31 August 1918, the 5th Brigade’s 17th Battalion moved to its start line. Few casualties were sustained on that approach, but as the Battalion moved forward, heavy machine gun fire was encountered from Park Wood, which caused the right company to engage that strong point in order to facilitate a general advance. The artillery concentration enabled the Battalion to move rapidly forward until an hour later, at 6.00 am, two companies gained the village of Mont St Quentin with a third able to form a defensive flank. While the 17th encountered no Germans in the village, large numbers of them were seen withdrawing.

Before the 17th Battalion could make contact with the left-flank 20th Battalion, the Germans put in a counter-attack, which was supported by a battery of 77-mm guns firing over open sights, trench mortars and machine guns. With contact not made with the 20th Battalion on the left flank, the 17th Battalion was attacked from three sides, the gap on the left flank being the most serious threat. Heavy casualties resulted, with one company losing all of its officers. The 17th Battalion would later report that: The senior Company Commander on the spot decided to withdraw to the trench system, which was 80x [yards] from the Mont St Quentin–Peronne Road, leaving the left flank at the trench junction . . . which he defended in that area with two Vickers Guns and eight Lewis Guns. Five attempts by the enemy to bomb down our position from this flank were beaten off.41

To the left of the 17th Battalion, the 20th Battalion had had an 800-yard stretch of ground between its start line and the artillery barrage line. The dash and aggression of the rush across that ground saw the Germans ‘surrender themselves readily in order to avoid coming to close quarters’.42 Having gained the trench system, the Battalion was able to follow up the barrage and capture its objective of Feuillaucourt. But at 5.30 pm, with its left flank and its right with the 17th Battalion both open, the 20th Battalion was attacked and a fierce fight eventuated. When the Battalion was enfiladed from the north by 77-mm fire and machine gun fire it was ordered to make a withdrawal. The potency of a requested concentration on the line to assist that withdrawal was prejudiced by the fact that the artillery was itself on the move. By that night, the 20th Battalion, having been forced to abandon Feuillaucourt, had dug in and secured its ground on Oder Trench, about 500 yards west of the Péronne–Bouchavesnes Road. Its casualties were one officer killed, four wounded, 21 other ranks killed, and 106 wounded. However, the telling statistic from the day’s fighting was the fact that the Battalion strength (exclusive of HQ) now stood at a paltry six officers and 125 other ranks.43 Private William McLennan’s 2nd Machine Gun Company had been in support of the 20th Battalion that day. His diary, 31 August 1918: Heard that our side outflanked Mont St Quentin this morning & cleaned up a wood beyond but had to fall back again as the 3rd Div had not got up on the left. We now hold a line of trench right in front of the village. The Hun has a commanding position there & you have to keep your head well down as MG bullets are flying around pretty thick at times . . . 1 pm. Hear that 6th Bde are coming in. 2 pm. 17th Btn comes into our trench . . . 6 pm. Mr Turnbull comes along to take charge . . . Our side are going over again in the morning. Hun starts shelling our trench with 5.9s. makes things very warm. They are landing all round our dugout. The concussing puts out the candle 30 ft below the surface several times. One gets the paradox between gun position & dugout . . . 2 get the trench 50 yds below us, kills 5 of 24th Btn & wounds several others. Shelling

continuous pretty solid till 9.30 pm. On guard from 10.30 to 11.30 pm. Things fairly quiet. Hun is in a copse & ruins in valley as I see a couple of his flares going up from there. Mr Turnbull comes along a[nd] tells us that on the gun next to ours . . . Mick O’Loughlin has been killed, Bert Styles wounded & a couple of the others shellshocked.44 While the 17th and 20th Battalions had been thus engaged, the 5th Brigade’s 19th Battalion had been ordered to cross the Somme and advance on the right flank. Some idea of the degree of difficulty, even for seasoned troops, of crossing the Somme and moving forward across challenging ground to a start line can be appreciated by the 19th Battalion Unit Diary: This was done under very adverse conditions owing to confused character of the ground ie., railway embankment along the river, quarries and steep hill facings. During the assembly the enemy severely shelled Ommiecourt–Les-Clery [sic] and neighbourhood of the bridge with heavy calibres and stragglers who became detached taking refuge from shell fire had to be directed to the objective. Exact location of enemy posts in neighbourhood was not known and the success of the operation depended mainly on boldness and trust.45 When the 19th Battalion left its start line at 5.00 am it encountered only slight initial opposition due to the artillery shelling of all of the known enemy positions on its front. However, on reaching the trench system on the south-western slope of Mont St Quentin, it came under heavy machine gun fire from the village and 77-mm point-blank fire from Anvil Wood. At around 7.30 am, when the Germans were observed concentrating in the direction of Feuillaucourt, the Battalion was able to break up that enemy assembly with a combination of Stokes Mortar, Lewis Gun and rifle fire. The 19th Battalion identified the position as ‘precarious’ as it had no supporting troops on its right flank, and the 20th had yet to establish contact with the 3rd Division.

Throughout the afternoon, any movement by the 19th Battalion soldiers manning their captured shallow trenches drew concentrated and frequent machine gun fire from the village. In addition, the long, broken brick wall on the Mont running parallel with the road was occupied by machine gun nests expertly deployed in breaches of that feature, and supported by further emplacements in the village ruins. At around 9.00 am, with the situation between Mont St Quentin Village and Feuillaucourt unclear, and the 5th Brigade’s Battalions experiencing difficulty in maintaining contact with each other, General Rosenthal committed his reserve 18th Battalion to the fight, with the intention of occupying the gap between the 17th and 20th Battalions, and reinforcing the right flank of the 17th Battalion. To maintain the momentum of the advance, the 2nd Division’s 6th Brigade was ordered forward at 11.30 am with its 23rd Battalion in the van, followed by the 24th, 21st and 22nd Battalions. Its orders were to clear the troublesome Anvil Wood and its surrounding ground. After having crossed the canal at Boscourt, the Brigade came under heavy machine gun fire near Halle and Park Wood. Despite this fire, Florina Trench was cleared and the Brigade now deployed ready to continue the advance. At around 2.30 pm, the 2nd Division’s last Brigade—the 7th—was also ordered forward via the bridges at Feuillères and Omiécourt. It is worth noting at this juncture the discipline in planning and execution of Monash’s original orders concerning division movements during this battle. As a result of the 5th Division’s failure to find a crossing point south of Péronne, its 14th Brigade was now ordered to follow the 6th Brigade across the Somme. Obeying Monash’s order that ‘right-of-way’ must be given to any new formation needing to cross the Somme through another’s crossing, the 2nd Division’s 7th Brigade now allowed the 5th Division’s 14th Brigade to pass through it. This was no mean feat. The 14th Brigade (already severely fatigued) was forced to undertake a seven-mile march, cross the Somme and ready itself for an attack the next day. As a consequence, the 7th Brigade was ordered to stand fast where it was to avoid undue congestion and slow movement. We last left Major-General Gellibrand’s 3rd Division late on 30 August on their northern Somme front, which extended from around 1100 yards

west of Quarry Farm, bending southwards past Road Wood and thence just west of Cléry Copse to the Somme. The 9th Brigade were on the left or northern flank and the 10th Brigade south of it. In unison with the 2nd Division operation just described, Gellibrand’s orders for 31st August were to advance at 5.42 am along the high ground west of the Mont St Quentin–Bouchavesnes Road. At the same time, the British 58th Division was to begin its assault—at 6.12 am—upon the high ground in the vicinity of Bouchavesnes. The 3rd Division’s left-flank 9th Brigade managed to cross the Feuillaucourt–Rancourt Road and capture the Old Quarry and Quarry Farm. Late that day the Germans counter-attacked. Although Quarry Farm was lost, elements of the embattled 9th Brigade held the Old Quarry. The 3rd Division Report gives some idea of the intensity of that fight: The number of guns and machine guns captured made it evident that the enemy had intended to hold his ground as long as possible. The field guns were mostly distributed singly, and in many cases were fought to the last moment, and it was only by bayonetting the gunners that they could be put out of action.46 On the right 3rd Division flank the 10th Brigade’s 40th Battalion was able to employ its Lewis Gunners and snipers to break up localised German efforts to concentrate for counter-attacks. Later German attempts during the day to form up for counter-attacks were also dispersed by speedy and accurate liaison between the Brigade and its artillery. By the afternoon of 31 August, the 9th and 10th Brigades were ‘utterly tired out as a result of previous weeks strenuous fighting’ but were greatly heartened by the news that their 11th Brigade was to relieve them that night.47 By dusk on 31 August, further artillery support had crossed the Somme at Feuillères and had taken up positions in a valley east of Cléry. At 7.00 pm Brigadier-General Robertson received verbal orders that his 6th Brigade was to pass through the 5th Brigade, and early on 1 September establish a line running east of Feuillaucourt and Mont St Quentin. Further, the 14th Brigade (Brigadier-General Stewart) was to deploy on the 6th Brigade’s right flank and attack in a south-easterly direction towards Péronne and St

Denis. At a conference held at Robertson’s HQ at 9.00 pm that night, Robertson and Stewart defined their boundaries and organised their artillery support. They were confronted with two challenges. The first was the fact that the exact positions of the 5th Brigade remained somewhat obscure, so they determined that the artillery start line would start just east of the St Denis–Mont St Quentin Road. They also decided that in order to allow the 14th Brigade adequate time in preparation, zero hour was to be at 6.00 am rather than 5.00 am. Some appreciation of the degree of difficulty associated with these urgent plans might be gained by Monash’s comment on them: It was a serious performance to demand, and it was fraught with many risks. There was no time to assemble responsible Commanders concerned, separated as they were by long distances over bad and congested roads. In the absence of properly coordinated action, there was every chance of confusion, and crosspurposes, and even collision of authority arising from the troops of one Division passing over ground under the tactical control of another Division. But the only alternative was to do nothing and attempt nothing. That would have been the worst of bad generalship, and it was an occasion when risks must be taken.48 Pertinent points. However, the real and most damning ‘worst of bad generalship’ would have been to attempt such a challenging operation with anything other than extremely capable leadership and the very best, seasoned troops. *** The 2nd Division’s 5th Brigade had made stunning ground, but at great cost on 31 August. The 6th Brigade’s entry into the Battle of Mont St Quentin was also severely contested. Brigadier Robertson planned his attack on a two-battalion front: the 24th Battalion on the left, and his 23rd Battalion on the right. The strength of his 6th Brigade was (including each Battalion HQ) 75 officers and 1259 other ranks.

While the left-flank 24th Battalion managed to reach its start line at the northern part of Gottlieb Trench at 6.00 am, as it moved forward it met a hail of machine gun fire. By the time it reached the bank of the road it was forced to stop behind that cover. Its northern company, meanwhile, skirted Feuillaucourt before also being held up by similar fire from Plevna Trench and the Canal du Nord. While the 24th Battalion had been subjected to severe machine gun fire and held up, its right-flank 23rd Battalion had endured an even tougher time. If Gottlieb Trench had been clear of Germans to the north, it sprang to life with concentrated machine gun fire when the 23rd moved there to its start line. That portion of the offending trench was only just cleared by the 6.00 am zero hour. Machine gun fire had made casualties of all officers in two of its companies, and all of the sergeants except one in another. Here once again, we note the professionalism and dash of experienced troops who know their drill, and can display initiative, assume command and maintain the momentum of an attack. Those soldiers were able to reach Elsa Trench, where they reinforced a lone detachment of the 5th Brigade that had gamely fought on. In view of the stiff German resistance to this 6th Brigade advance, a halt was called across its front, and additional artillery support was requested. In response ‘every gun and howitzer that could be brought to bear, including the heavies, bombarded Mont St Quentin’ for a half an hour.49 During that shelling, the 21st Battalion had pushed two companies forward to bolster the attack, and at 1.30 pm they rushed the northern half of the village while the 23rd Battalion stormed its southern half. In unison with those two thrusts, the 24th Battalion struck north of Mont St Quentin village and a further company of the 21st to its south. Mont St Quentin had fallen. The 2nd Division Report noted that: Intense fighting took place, the defenders were picked troops and fought to the death, few prisoners were taken and the enemy dead lay strewn over the whole area. The advance was continued to the Wood and a line established 600 yards east of the village. The 24th Bn. pushed down Plevna and Koverla Trenches and the Coy. of the 21st Bn. consolidated in Koros Alley.50

A consolidation of the 6th Brigade line now ensued: Vickers machine guns were brought forward, the 22nd Battalion was brought up to thicken the front, and one of its companies pushed forward to occupy the right-flank Gott Mit Uns Trench. At around 3.00 pm on 1 September, General Rosenthal ordered that his remaining 2nd Division Brigade—the 7th—was to relieve the 5th during darkness that night, and the 6th Brigade was to attempt to advance until relieved by the 7th on 3 September.

While the events just described had unfolded on the 2nd Division front, the 5th Division’s 14th Brigade, whose task was a south-easterly thrust towards Péronne and St Denis, had also been given a monumental task. After having marched some seven miles across covered and rough country, it was ordered to relieve the front-line troops occupying Florina Trench and use that feature as its start line. Employing the now standard two-battalion advance, its 53rd Battalion was to operate on the left or northern flank, its 54th Battalion was to move on the right, its 56th was to move in close support, and the 55th was to act as brigade reserve. The right-flank 54th Battalion’s ultimate objective was to fight its way into Péronne and then secure that town and its crossings; the left-flank 53rd Battalion was to seize the ground running from its boundary with the 6th Brigade and thence southwards to the Cologne River. The artillery support for the 14th Brigade would comprise a hurricane bombardment upon known and likely locations of artillery and machine gun fire. The 53rd and 54th Battalions were each to be further supported by a section of machine guns and a sub-section of Light Trench Mortars. It will be recalled that when the 6th Brigade’s right-flank 23rd Battalion had reached its Florina Trench start line, it had found that portion of the trench in enemy hands. When the 14th Brigade’s left-flank 53rd Battalion’s patrols reached its adjacent part of that trench, it too was occupied by the enemy. A bitter hand-to-hand fight resulted after movement through thick enemy wire, during which both battalions were delayed by 25 minutes in their assembly. The 14th Brigade Report stated that ‘practically no prisoners were taken at this period owing to the violence of the fighting’.51 By 6.45 am the right-flank 54th Battalion, despite having encountered heavy machine gun fire and an additional obstacle of belts of wire (and resulting heavy casualties), had gained the water surrounds of Péronne and had watched the Germans retreating into the town. To the north the 53rd Battalion (closely followed up by elements of the 55th and 56th) had advanced through a wood, and by 7.30 am their companies had linked up just east of the cemetery—about 650 yards north of Péronne. After one company of the 53rd had managed to advance beyond their flanks, it was wisely decided to stop the advance, consolidate by bringing forward troops

from the rearward 55th Battalion, and also bolstering its left flank pending contact with the 6th Brigade. To the south, by 8.45 am the 54th Battalion had gained central Péronne and, finding that their southern flank was protected by swamps, proceeded to secure the town. HQ 14th Brigade issued orders for a halt at 8.30 pm on 1 September, with all small forward detachments withdrawn to conform to a line running from just south of Péronne, roughly through to the ground east of the cemetery, and thence to just west of the Sugar Factory. As the Germans were still able to offer concentrated fire from the north-eastern ramparts of Péronne and from St Denis Wood, darkness would enable further artillery support to be moved forward. To the south of the 5th Division’s 14th Brigade fighting, its sister 15th Brigade (Brigadier-General ‘Pompey’ Elliott) had tried—and failed—for nearly two days to cross the Somme. Frustrated by this lack of success, Elliott, in a typical act of boldness, took into his own hands a task normally assigned to a small reconnaissance patrol. At 8.00 am on 1 September, Elliott personally reconnoitred the front and discovered that the road bridge over the Somme, which had been previously reported as destroyed, was in fact crossable by single-file infantry: . . . owing to the fact that whilst the whole structure had collapsed on the surface of the water, a steel girder had fallen and jambed [sic] in such a way that men could cross with little difficulty. The Brigadier crossed without opposition but was fired on by an enemy Machine Gun from the vicinity of the Railway Line on gaining the crest of an old earthwork on the opposite bank. He immediately directed the platoon of the 59th Battalion who held the post guarding the Bridge to the West side to move at once to establish a post on the opposite side, which was done. He then instructed the C.O.’s of the 58th and 59th Battalions, to move . . . (the 58th by the Road Bridge and the 59th by the Railway Bridge), to exploit the situation.52 During 1 September the 15th Brigade found that ‘the situation’ was most difficult to exploit. When the 14th Brigade’s 54th Battalion managed to enter Péronne, Elliott hoped to secure that Battalion’s right flank by a push

across the Somme and the capture of the key railway station and village of Flamicourt, to be followed by taking the high ground to the south-east. To this end, two companies of his 58th Battalion crossed the bridge he had earlier ‘recced’. In concert with this thrust, Elliott ordered his 59th Battalion to cross the railway bridge and advance towards Flamicourt along the railway line. The plan failed at this early juncture on 1 September because neither Péronne or Mont St Quentin had yet fallen. An early attempt to join flanks with the 14th Brigade, and thence move north-eastwards, was thwarted by severe machine gun fire and, in the approach to Flamicourt, all movement was confined to the railway track as there were swamps on either side. If the approach to that railway station was hard enough, then the building itself was a veritable machine gun fortress: . . . a strongly built two story [sic] brick building. The enemy had, by using steel rails and concrete formed the ground floor into a huge pill box fort which resisted with ease a heavy bombardment with 6" Howitzers with splendid observation. Many direct hits speedily reduced the top floors to ruins but had no effect on the machine gunners below.53 By 8.00 pm on that action-packed day, Elliott had withdrawn all but two companies of his Brigade—deployed to protect their hard-won bridgehead —to the western bank of the river. By the end of 1 September 1918, the Australians had not only stormed and seized the much-vaunted Mont St Quentin and significant ground to its north, but were also in possession of most of the prize of Péronne. And away to the north, the III Corps and the Australian 3rd Division had driven the Germans from the high ground on the Bouchavesnes Spur. Private William McLennan witnessed parts of that day’s fighting and recorded an interesting observation on the Australian efforts that day: Prisoners & wounded are beginning to go past down the trench. 3rd Div are forging ahead on the left. Our artillery is giving the Hun something to occupy his mind . . . Our boys are now mopping up the village & wood of Mont St Quentin; it is a very strong position . . . Capts Mansfield & Allen of the 17th Btn are below sleeping after a

long & strenuous spell of fighting. We make them some tea about 3 pm wake them up; give them a mug each of it, with a good tot of rum & something to eat. They give great praise to those of our guns who were forward with them & tell us some tales of the fighting. Capt Mansfield questioning a Hun officer whom he had captured asked him what he thought of the Australians. The Hun answering said, You are an ignorant, wonderful lot of fools.54 *** The Australian Corps engineers had also laboured tirelessly during 1 September. By late that night they had completed a bridge for motor transport; strengthened bridges at Omiécourt and Cléry; repaired the road approaches to Feuillères; built a heavy pontoon bridge over the Somme to Halle; and secured and tested invaluable water supply points. This enabled the Corps field and heavy artillery units to now concentrate beyond the Somme. The plans for 2 September, from the north of the front southwards, envisaged a British III Corps thrust to force the Germans across the Canal du Nord, capture the Nurlu Heights and occupy the high ground south of that village. To assist this plan, on the night of 1 September the 58th British Division was relieved by the 74th (Yeomanry) Division. In unison with this attack, in the centre, the 2nd AIF Division was to advance along the southern bank of the Canal du Nord and capture the high ground around Aizecourt-le-Haut. It was hoped that this British III Corps and 2nd Division thrust would gradually squeeze the Australian 3rd Division out of the front, allowing it a more than deserved rest. Further to the south, the 5th AIF Division was to capture the ground eastwards of Péronne from Bussu stretching south to Doingt. It will be recalled that the 2nd Division’s 7th Brigade had given way to the advancing 14th Brigade during their crossing of, and concentration over, the Somme on 31 August. For the operation on 2 September, the 7th Brigade was tasked with a thrust forward through the 5th Brigade’s reserve position and thence a movement through the 6th Brigade to take over the 2nd Division front. To support its operations, the artillery plan was arranged to provide a series of standing barrages onto trenches and selected targets so

as to allow the 7th Brigade to move forward close enough to storm the enemy trenches. Employing the now standard Australian Corps additional support, the Brigade was assigned one section of Vickers Machine Guns and two Stokes Mortars to each battalion. Its strength for its operation on 2 September was (including Battalion HQ), 49 officers and 1065 other ranks. The 7th Brigade went in on a three-battalion front at 5.30 am: its 27th Battalion on the left or northern flank, its 25th in the centre, and its 26th on the right. When the assault began, heavy casualties ensued, mainly caused by an intense combination of enemy HE and gas shell fire, and intense machine gun fire. On the left flank, the 27th Battalion missed the retaliatory German barrage at zero but struck heavy machine gun fire when it reached Tortille Trench. When all but two of its officers became casualties, we note yet again the experience and initiative of its junior leaders, who assumed command and subsequently led the Battalion through and then past Allaines and Haut Allaines. In the centre, the 25th Battalion crossed their start line on a two-company front, with the third in close support and the fourth in reserve. When its soldiers were held up by concentrated machine gun fire, and the artillery barrage consequently left them well behind, the assault became one of a critically important and skilled outflanking of German posts and the use of mutually supporting fire. But the Brigade’s 26th Battalion’s right or southern flank presented the biggest challenge. Obliged to cooperate with its 25th Battalion on its left and the 14th Brigade on its right—which did not attack until 6.00 am—the 26th ran into a stream of machine gun fire from both its front and unsupported right flank, where heavy casualties ensued. When the newly deployed British 74th Division failed to hold its objective and was pushed back westwards, and with the 14th Brigade held up on its right, the 7th Brigade was holding a pointed, narrow and therefore vulnerable salient. The 2nd Division Report for 2 September 1918 would record that by the end of the day its 7th Brigade had experienced: . . . a bitter day’s fighting for the enemy had fought stubbornly and never yielded an inch of ground until forced to do so. Despite the loss of their officers the infantry fought with bravery, determination and skill that is indescribable. Without the slightest hesitation they crossed the fire swept slopes and flat ground to their objectives. Our

casualties were heavy, amounting to 32 officers, and 417 other ranks . . . The day ended with the Brigade on a frontage of 5,000 yards and only 800 bayonets to hold it—a task which needs no comment.55

It will be remembered that to the south of the 2nd Division, the 5th Division’s 2 September objectives were the final ‘mopping up’ of Péronne and the seizure of the ground eastwards from Bussu stretching south to Doingt. The 14th Brigade’s task was to employ its 56th Battalion and two companies of the 55th to advance eastwards north of Péronne and gain possession on the ridge west of Hesse Trench. Meanwhile, the 54th Battalion was to complete the occupation of Péronne. On reaching its objective, the 55th Battalion was then tasked with facing and protecting the southern flank in order to both secure its ground and subsequently link up with the advancing 15th Brigade on its southern flank. The 15th Brigade’s objectives were to move its 58th Battalion into Péronne and assist the 14th Brigade’s 54th Battalion in clearing it, while the 59th and 60th Battalions were charged with the thrust north of that town. Zero hour was 6.00 am. The 14th Brigade struck trouble even before its assault could commence. When the 7th Brigade’s artillery concentration opened at 5.30 am upon their front, and the heavy artillery began to bombard the northeastern ramparts of Péronne, the Germans replied with a barrage ‘even more intense than that experienced during the morning of 1st September’.56 A significant portion of that barrage fell upon the assembling 56th Battalion, causing heavy casualties and a difficulty in the transmission of orders. When the 56th Battalion advance did commence, it was met with a hail of enfiladed fire from the seemingly unaffected Péronne north-eastern ramparts and from St Denis, with the result that only one company managed to advance some 300 yards before digging in. That company now numbered 35 men. Employing their now standard fire and movement, and initiative, two companies of the 55th Battalion—close behind—now sought to assist the 56th by a left-flanking movement. Although this thrust saw them gain an embankment running south from the Brickworks, a consequent attempt to cross that embankment and work around the eastern side of the ramparts proved a failure. But at 7.45 am a company of the 55th had managed to occupy a part of the Brickworks, which caused the Germans to withdraw from St Denis. A line was then established just east of the Brickworks along the St Denis–Mont St Quentin Road.

Despite its early difficulties, the 56th Battalion had, by 9.30 am, managed to slowly move small numbers of men forward to link with the 55th Battalion on their left. When elements of that Battalion subsequently made contact with the 59th on their right, who in turn had established contact with the embattled 54th south of the cemetery, the 14th Brigade had, by 10.00 am, painstakingly formed an unbroken forward line. When the 14th Brigade stopped and consolidated its line late on 2 September, it occupied ground running roughly from its boundary with the 2nd Division just east of the Péronne–Mont St Quentin Road to just past the northern ramparts of Péronne. If all of the Australian Corps’s attacking brigades experienced great difficulties on 2 September, then the degree of difficulty experienced by Brigadier-General ‘Pompey’ Elliott and his 15th Brigade was even more extreme. At 9.00 pm on 1 September Elliott was summoned to a conference at 8th Brigade HQ. After a car sent for Elliott failed to locate him, he decided to walk to that venue. But he too experienced considerable navigation problems and did not arrive at 8th Brigade HQ until 2.30 am, by which time the other commanders had received their orders and left. MajorGeneral Hobbs then proceeded to issue his orders for 15th Brigade’s role in the attack for 2 September. Hobbs ordered Elliott to be ready to attack at 6.00 am in support of the 14th Brigade after a half an hour’s artillery bombardment. He was ordered to deploy his 58th Battalion to assist in the mopping up of Péronne with the 14th Brigade’s 54th Battalion, and further, that his 59th and 60th Battalions were to pass through the 14th Brigade and capture the last portion of high ground, seize Flamicourt, and move on to Le Mesnil. Elliott considered these orders impossible to execute. However, he realised that given the lateness of the hour, the fact that the other commanders had received their orders and had left and, finally, that there was also insufficient time to register any form of realistic protest, he must carry out those orders to the best of his ability. It would be 4.15 am on the 2nd before Elliott was able to issue his orders to his battalion commanders for an attack due to start in less than two hours. In short, despite the fact that the 15th Brigade met with the same determined machine gun fire resistance as had the other brigades, by 10.00 am its 59th Battalion had pressed north of Péronne and, supported by its sister 60th Battalion, had eventually gained a line from the ramparts of the

fringes of St Denis to the right of the 14th Brigade’s 55th and 56th Battalions. Concurrent with this advance, the linking 15th Brigade’s 58th Battalion was able to assist the 14th Brigade’s 54th Battalion to clear the northeastern ramparts of Péronne. During the afternoon of the 2nd, patrols that crossed the St Denis–Mont St Quentin Road encountered severe machine gun fire from St Denis Wood. This forced a consolidation of the 5th Division line, which ran from the road to the south-eastern and eastern outskirts of Péronne. Further fighting during 3–4 September 1918 saw attempts made to gain further ground east of Péronne and Mont St Quentin, and also to push the Canal du Nord line. On 3 September the 5th Division gained a part of Flamicourt and, after having completed its capture the following day, then moved further eastwards and seized Chair Wood. With the German threat to the key high-ground features of Mont St Quentin and the Bouchavesnes Spur now gone, the 2nd Division confined its fighting to a gradual movement forward along the Canal du Nord. Throughout the fighting for Mont St Quentin and Péronne, the German artillery and machine gun fire, and his ever-present use of gas, constituted a never-ending and cruel lottery of life and death. Private William McLennan’s diary, 3rd September 1918: . . . heard that our boys are held up beyond Peronne. Some of our guns may have to go up again. 9.30 pm Hun starts shelling our trench with HE & gas . . . have to don our respirators now & again as there is a good bit of Blue cross or sneezing gas about. Shelling continuous for about an hour. Some of us drift back to our dugouts or bivvys. Mick Kenelly, Alf Andrews & I stand talking for a few seconds; then Mick & I get into our bivvy leaving Alf on guard. About 2 seconds later a shell bursts right alongside. I get outside to see if anyone is hurt, Mick follows can’t see for smoke. Call out to the occupants of another bivvy a few ft along the trench. One of them answers saying, Alf is knocked. Mick & I grope our way around to where he is lying. Get him up & help him round to our bivvy. Another shell bursts close by blowing the 3 of us over. Get Alf into our bivvy. Mick tries to light a candle just succeeds, when another shell burst puts it out. Suddenly discover that the place is

rotten with gas. Say to Mick, come on we will have to get out of this. Can’t wear our respirators, we have inhaled too much gas . . . We go about 50 yds; Alf is exhausted & lays down. We call out for a stretcher. 2 infantry SB’s come along immediately get Alf onto a stretcher & take him to a dressing station 100 yds further along the trench. He is attended to at once by the doctor. Bad stomach wound, a small piece of shell went right through him, entering on right side of stomach & coming out through the back. Alf seems to know that he is done for & asks Les Byrnes to write & tell his mother all about it. He is taken out as soon as possible. Dr says that there is absolutely no hope of him getting over it. Mick & I are pretty bad with gas. Nose, throat & lungs seem to be on fire.57 In a letter home to his parents in Adelaide, Lance-Corporal Len Clarkson described the impact of Mont St Quentin: The whole business horrifies a chap with any feelings at all. Of course, out in Australia you never hear of OUR losses; do you remember reading of the capture of Mont St. Quentin by the Australians? The papers reported our losses as comparatively light, but I saw our dead lying in HEAPS on the German barbed wire entanglements and was employed on burial duties.58 In his Official History, Charles Bean lists the Australian Corps casualties between 31 August and 2 September as: 2nd Division 84 officers and 1286 other ranks; 3rd Division 43 and 554; and 5th Division 64 and 1066. Thus the total infantry casualties in the Corps amounted to some 191 officers and 2906 other ranks.59 Three points should be made. First, given previous Great War casualties and the tactical and strategic premium placed by the Germans on the Mont St Quentin and Péronne battlegrounds, those losses were ‘acceptable’ given their significance. Second, it might be argued that had Monash paused for any significant period of time before assaulting those objectives, the Corps may well have taken higher casualties. Third, it is of interest to note that the 14th Brigade sustained by far the heaviest casualties—44 and 797—grim evidence of its degree of difficulty in

capturing Péronne, where close-quarter street fighting among narrow streets and numerous buildings always invites painstaking fighting and heavy casualties. The battles fought between 31 August and 3 September 1918, when General Sir John Monash’s Australian Corps captured Péronne, St Denis, Mont St Quentin and Haut Allaines—and the British III Corps took the Bouchavesnes Spur and St Pierre Vaast Wood—constitute some of the most striking victories of the Great War. After the war, General Rawlinson’s Chief of Staff pointed out that the Australians had captured their objectives against picked German troops and had maintained those gains against fifteen enemy counter-attacks. Further, he pointed out that the enemy had deployed some nine divisions in his attempts to stem the Australian and III Corps advance.60 As with most battles through history, not all went according to plan and mistakes were made. From the onset of the Battle of Amiens through to the capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne, the significance of the Fourth Army’s left or northern flank across the Somme was not given the emphasis that it deserved. In terms of the ground and the enemy’s employment of it, that flank warranted the best of commanders, infantry and support. It was allotted none of these. The two Dominion Corps had proved that in every respect they were at the peak of their fighting ability. Unfortunately, the British III Corps, as has previously been explained, was indifferently commanded and administered, and had not been battle-hardened. From an Australian Corps perspective, two points should also be made. First, in hindsight, General Monash’s attempt to cross the Somme by a frontal assault upon the Corps’s arrival there was a decision based on wishful thinking rather than military reality. It was doomed to failure. Second, although Monash successfully pushed his senior commanders and troops to the very limits of their endurance and won a stunning victory, small fissures, and later significant cracks, would appear in the Australian Corps’s morale. As with all soldiers through the pages of history there is a fine line between being pushed to the limit and being pushed beyond it. Thus, General Hobbs’s protest to Monash concerning the condition of his 5th Division was not without substance. In the short term, Monash’s

determination and judgement were totally vindicated, but in the longer term, there were consequences that we shall chronicle. *** Ranking any nation’s battles in order of merit is a futile affair. However, in his book The Great War, Les Carlyon has provided us with a pithy basis for an evaluation of the importance of the Australian Corps’s performance at Mont St Quentin and Péronne: Anzac Cove on Gallipoli has atmospherics: tawny ridges rise out of a sea that displays all the colours of a peacock’s tail. Gallipoli is part of Australian folklore; it is a place for pilgrimages. Mont St Quentin isn’t like that. It doesn’t have the atmospherics: a low hill rises out of the plain; the village, church and memorial to the 2nd Division lie near the summit, from where you look down on Péronne and the tree-lined river. Nor does Mont St Quentin have a place in the folklore; it is hardly spoken of. There is no sense to these things.61 The Battles of Mont St Quentin and Péronne marked the final coming of age of the Australian Corps. If that attainment had first manifested itself in the superbly planned and executed set-piece Battles of Hamel and Amiens, then Mont St Quentin and Péronne provided a far different and surely more challenging obstacle to the Australian Corps. We start with its commander. Charles Bean would later refer to Monash’s plan for the capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne as: . . . one of movement rather than a set piece; indeed within Australian experience on the Western Front it was the only important fight in which quick, free manoeuvre played a decisive part. It furnishes a complete answer to the comment that Monash was merely a composer of set pieces.62 Peter Pedersen has astutely identified four key attributes to Monash’s command of his Corps during the battle. The first was his dogged determination to maintain his objective, which entailed the necessity of

changing plans when necessary. Second, his grasp of logistics enabled the Corps to rapidly restore its infrastructure of supply, best exemplified by the Corps’s quick repair of bridges, and its ability to maintain its speedy deployment of its artillery and supplies. Third, although Monash’s first attempt at an initial Somme crossing on 29 August proved a badly calculated gamble, his grasp of the ground demonstrated his acumen. He knew the significance of the northern-flank high ground of the Bouchavesnes Spur and, in turn, of Mont St Quentin, and that they were vital steps in the capture of Péronne. Last, Monash demonstrated the ingredient of ruthlessness that is required in all great commanders. He had the ability to know his subordinate commanders’ and their soldiers’ capabilities and then to push them to the absolute limits of their stamina.63 In his The Australian Victories in France in 1918, Monash rightly acknowledged the superb performance of his divisional commanders. At various stages during those action-packed four days of fighting, Rosenthal, Gellibrand and Hobbs were all tested by the immediacy of changed circumstances. While those constraints might potentially have inhibited the performance of his divisional commanders, they influenced brigade and battalion commanders much more. There is always the potential for failure when tired, pressured commanders have time only for rushed conferences, verbal orders, inadequate reconnaissance and hurried communications. They are a recipe for disaster. The fact that the artillery liaison was maintained under such pressures is further testimony to the standard of professionalism within the Corps. Last but not least, the performance of the front-line soldiers across the Corps was outstanding. They were low in numbers, suffering from prolonged sleep deprivation and stricken by further casualties. On many occasions, they lost company and platoon commanders, yet their determination, esprit de corps and initiative still allowed them to reach their objectives. During the three-day period 31 August to 2 September 1918 at Mont St Quentin and Péronne, the Australians were awarded eight Victoria Crosses.64 In any company, and certainly in the annals of Australian military history, the Battles of Mont St Quentin and Péronne must surely rank highly. It makes perfect sense.

CHAPTER 10

. . . a stunning achievement After the Battle of Amiens, General Ludendorff had planned a prolonged defence along the Somme and to its north on his so-called ‘Winter Line’. Although the Australian Corps’s capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne had been a devastating blow to the Germans, events to the north were even more disturbing. Three battles fought during August and early September 1918 forced Ludendorff’s abandonment of his crucial ‘Winter Line’. It will be remembered that after the Battle of Amiens, Field Marshal Haig had shifted the main thrust of the BEF offensive north of the Somme to General Byng’s Third Army front. He had also transferred the Canadian Corps from General Rawlinson’s Fourth Army northwards to General Horne’s First Army. Haig’s offensive began on 21 August with an attack by the Third Army, and five days later the right or southern flank of General Horne’s First Army joined that offensive. As a prelude to the Australian Corps’s stunning success at Mont St Quentin and Péronne, Byng’s Third Army and the American II Corps attacked Albert, which fell on the 22nd, and on the 29th Bapaume was taken by the Third Army’s New Zealand Division. However, it was further north, on 2 September 1918, that Ludendorff suffered a shattering blow, when General Currie’s Canadians broke through the Drocourt-Quéant switch line south-east of Arras. Confronted by two breaches of his ‘Winter Line’—on the Arras–Cambrai front and at Mont St Quentin and Péronne—Ludendorff was compelled to withdraw his Seventeenth, Second and Eighteenth Armies to the Hindenburg Line. This had abundant defensive features, and a German withdrawal to that line would, Ludendorff hoped, ‘shorten his line, economise troops, and . . . give them at least a short rest’.1 The German withdrawal began on the night 3–4 September.

Charles Bean recorded that after the fall of Mont St Quentin and Péronne: Rawlinson had ordered his two corps [the Australian Corps and III British Corps] to press the enemy vigorously so as to prevent roads and railways from being destroyed. This order . . . displeased Haig who did not wish to be forced into attacking the Hindenburg Line until Foch was ready with his American and French offensives elsewhere; then the blows would fall together. Haig therefore refused Rawlinson another division to bring relief to his tired troops —they must be rested by not pressing the pursuit. When the time for the combined stroke arrived, Haig would send several divisions to form a new Corps, the IX, to relieve the right of the Australian [Corps].2 Two points are worthy of mention. The first is that in the strategic sense, Foch and Haig were now undoubtedly displaying sound judgement in their desire to attack the Germans across a number of fronts and in a synchronised manner. The second interesting thing to note is the stillconstant pressure—and ignorance—of Haig’s military and political masters, who may well have had some bearing on his actions. As recently as 21 August 1918, Winston Churchill, the Minister of Munitions, had visited Haig at his HQ and assured him of ‘hurrying up’ the supply of ‘10 calibre [radius]-head shells, gas, tanks etc’ which were timed for completion in June 1919. When Haig explained that ‘we ought to do our utmost to get a decision by this autumn’, Churchill replied that the General Staff in London believed that the decisive period of the war ‘cannot arrive until next July [1919].’3 Eight days later on the 29th, Haig received a personal telegram from the CIGS, General Wilson (Wilson was not made a Field Marshal until the following year), who cautioned him regarding the possibility of incurring heavy losses assaulting the Hindenburg Line. In view of the resounding success of the BEF’s recent campaigning, Haig’s diary response was understandable: ‘What a wretched lot of weaklings we have in high places at the present time!’4 On 3 September Wilson sought to explain his ‘personal’ telegram of 29 August by pointing out that the

‘Police strike and other cognate matters make Cabinet sensitive to heavy losses . . .’5 *** As a significant portion of the German Western Front defences, the Hindenburg Line, known to the enemy as the Siegfriedstellung or Siegfried Position, had been constructed during the winter of 1916–17 from Arras southwards to near Soissons on the River Aisne. General Rawlinson’s Fourth Army’s part of the Hindenburg Line front was to extend from roughly a mile north of Nurlu, southwards to just north of St Quentin— about thirteen-and-a-quarter miles. And of that front, the Australian Corps sector of some eight-and-a-half miles stretched between two tributaries of the Somme: from the Omignon in the south northwards to the Cologne. These two tributaries formed two valleys, which were dominated by rolling hills, dispersed woods and numerous villages. By the time the Fourth Army approached the Hindenburg Line in September 1918, that line consisted of six trench systems: the first three comprised the former British 1917 line; and the last three formed the Hindenburg Line itself. In places the six lines ran to a total depth of some six miles. In essence, the Fourth Army would assault the three old British lines in reverse from west to east: that is, the old Reserve Line first, then the Main Line and finally the old Outpost Line. These three former British lines now consisted of overgrown trenches and extensive belts of rusted wire that ran for miles both across and along the ridges. In a stroke of luck, the Fourth Army was presented with priceless intelligence as to the nature of the three German trench lines of the Hindenburg Line—and the likely employment of them—on 8 August, the opening day of the Amiens offensive. The reader will recall (in Chapter 6) that as a part of their tank support for 8 August at Amiens, the Australian Corps had been allotted sixteen armoured cars from the 5th Tank Brigade’s 17th Armoured Car Battalion. One of those cars was commanded by Lieutenant E J Rollings who had ‘received orders to proceed to Framerville to find out any useful information I could and to do as much damage as possible’.6 In addition to taking a heavy toll on his utterly surprised enemy

in that village, and having as he called it ‘by far the finest fighting day I have yet had’,7 Lieutenant Rollings had not only captured maps but also priceless documents concerning the Hindenburg Line. These maps and documents were distributed within the Fourth Army and resulted in a detailed appreciation of the Hindenburg Line by, amongst others, Captain Chapman, 5th Division AIF.8 The intelligence thus gained showed that a fundamental change had occurred since the original line had been designed and constructed. When first planned, the Germans had placed their Main Line behind the obstacle of the St Quentin Canal (on its eastern side). That feature ran through a deep cutting from the River Scheldt between Le Catelet and Vendhuile, and then southwards to the Somme at St Quentin. The average width of the canal at its surface was 59 feet; at its bottom it was 32 feet ten inches; and its average depth was six-and-a-half feet.9 In only two places did this Main Line penetrate the canal cutting: to the western side of a 1200-yard tunnel three miles north of St Quentin at Le Tronquoy, and at a more substantial three-and-a-half-mile tunnel north of Bellicourt. This latter tunnel varied in depth from 50 to 65 feet and was about 30 feet wide.10 Both tunnels were therefore protected from artillery fire and, as such, were capable of housing literally thousands of soldiers. The 5th Division Artillery appreciation noted that: The front line was provided with concrete dugouts at 40 or 50 yards interval: the captured maps show all the machine guns in the front and support lines, and the artillery not disposed in depth. Modifications must now be expected in these directions. But even for the Hindenburg Line the enemy was careful to keep a series of forward positions to deny observation and in 1918 did much work on outpost lines . . . Where the natural obstacle of the Canal is lacking, i.e. at the long tunnel between Vendhuille [sic] and Bellicourt and the shorter le Tronquoy tunnel, the enemy organised particularly strong and well wired trenches in the form of a slight salient. The wire is

particularly strong, the forward belt being in the form of triangles characteristic of the Drocourt-Queant [sic] line.11 The passage above highlights the 1918 German Hindenburg Line dilemma. Although the Main Line itself was protected for the most part by the canal —and at the tunnels by extensive trenches, strong posts and wire—it lay on lower ground than the first or Hindenburg Outpost Line. Thus the Main Line planned in 1916–17 relied on its defenders being deployed on the eastern side of the canal and therefore on a reverse slope, as a protective barrier to artillery fire. However, swayed by the canal’s influence as a defensive position, the Germans had opted to construct their chief defences on that feature. Therefore, instead of defending their ground on a reverse slope, they were now confronted with defence of a valley line and, as a consequence, should the ridges comprising the Hindenburg Outpost Line fall, the Fourth Army would enjoy superb artillery observation over the Main Line—which was a mere mile or two away. In simple terms, the Hindenburg Outpost Line had become a critical feature of the German defence—far from being an Outpost Line, it was now the first of two ‘main lines’. Numerous dugouts and wire belts were now constructed on this first line, its strength in personnel greatly increased, and the emphasis upon its retention heightened. *** The Australian Corps’s pursuit from Péronne began on 5 September, when General Monash deployed three divisions on that advance, each along a 5000-yard front. Given that he felt forced to rest his well-worn 2nd Division and to hold his 1st and 4th Divisions for the assault upon the Hindenburg Line, Monash was compelled to deploy his equally exhausted 3rd and 5th Divisions in the pursuit. This operation began with the British 32nd Division south of the Roman Road; the AIF 5th Division’s 8th Brigade in the centre to the north of that road; and the AIF 3rd Division’s 11th Brigade on the left flank still farther north.

General Rawlinson’s orders envisaged the capture of four objectives, each between two and three miles apart. Beginning from the west, the first two lines (the Green and Red) passed through open country; the third (the Blue Line) lay close to the old British Reserve Line; and the fourth (the Brown Line) lay on the old British Main Line. During the period 6–7 September it became obvious that while the Germans were in full retreat, their machine gunners were facilitating an orderly and disciplined withdrawal. Few German machine gun crews presented themselves to No. 3 Squadron’s planes for detection or strafing. Gun battery supplies unable to be removed were destroyed, villages were torched and the bulk of the enemy infantry remained essentially just beyond reach. The Australian Flying Corps Official Historian recorded that: The airmen on September 6th and 7th over the Roisel plains looked down on an inspiring spectacle. The whole army was moving forward in quick pursuit of the German rear guards—light horse and cyclists in advance; infantry in skirmishing waves and little columns of sections; and vast numbers of other columns in rear; the roads crowded with guns moving up, supply-transport, and engineers’ repair-trains.12 When, on 7 September, the advancing 8th and 11th Brigades reached the third objective (the Blue Line), Monash, sensing that the fourth and subsequent lines might require a set-piece attack, ordered that they dig in and hold their ground. On 8 September, Field Marshal Haig asked his army commanders for their views on how best to support the upcoming French and American offensives. Both Generals Byng and Rawlinson advocated an attack upon the Hindenburg Line. In Rawlinson’s view, given that his Fourth Army already held the old British Reserve Line, such an attack, to be undertaken as rapidly as possible, should have the limited objective of the outer defences of the Hindenburg Line. Rawlinson saw a number of reasons for such an early but limited assault. The first was the chance to inhibit the enemy’s organisation of his defences and manpower, which in turn would further erode his already declining morale. His second aim was to rest his

tired troops after a limited attack upon the outer defences and not before it. But, most importantly, Rawlinson reasoned that such a pause might provide added time for thorough reconnaissance, and a much-needed opportunity to organise his artillery. Further, this pause before the Hindenburg Main Line operation would also ease his logistics concerns. And, not unlike the Germans, Rawlinson saw the limited objectives of the two remaining British lines and the first ridge line—the Hindenburg Outpost Line—as providing opportunities for observation over the Main Line. This was a critical prerequisite to thorough reconnaissance, a sound plan, and an assessment of the enemy’s morale and power of resistance. Such a strategy, Rawlinson argued, would truly assess the vulnerability and therefore the chances of success of a major assault upon the Hindenburg Main Line. It is hardly surprising that on 13 September Haig approved Rawlinson’s plan. He also pledged to extend the attack by adding General Byng’s Third Army to the north, and the French to its south. Given Haig’s desire to cooperate with Foch and his plans for the French and Americans—and his warning by the CIGS, General Wilson, that the government was loath to see him incur heavy casualties on any assault upon the Hindenburg Line— Rawlinson and Byng’s limited objectives made great military and political sense. On 11 September 1918, in preparation for the forthcoming attacks upon the Hindenburg Line, Lieutenant-General Sir Walter Braithwaite and his newly created British IX Corps joined the Fourth Army and took over General Monash’s right or southern flank, which had been held by the British 32nd Division. During the previous two days, General Monash had relieved his 3rd and 5th AIF Divisions with the 1st and 4th AIF Divisions. In the offensive by the Fourth Army on 18 September, the British III Corps (General Butler) was to attack on the left or northern flank, Monash’s Australian Corps was in the centre and the British IX Corps was to attack on the right or southern flank. The attack was to be supported by elements of the British Third Army to the north and the French First Army farther south. Three objectives were identified: the first was the old British Main Line (Green Line); the second was the old British Outpost Line (Red Line); and, if possible, the exploitation phase of the battle envisaged the occupation of the Hindenburg Outpost Line (Blue Line). Peter Pedersen has recorded that ‘Monash was confident about the set-piece phases of the

battle, but unsure of the exploitation to the Blue Line, which entailed the crossing of an open valley 1 mile wide and seamed with uncut wire. The attack was not to be pressed if strong resistance was met there.’13 Monash had every reason to feel confident about the two set-piece phases of the battle. By this time the Australian Corps doctrine for a setpiece battle was so sophisticated, and its personnel so well versed in their procedures, that success could be confidently predicted. The artillery plans for this 18 September offensive incorporated all of the painstaking lessons learnt over considerable time, and further refined and practised since Hamel. This operation would see a devastating use of artillery fire support, the resultant employment of surprise, the highly successful use of creeping barrages, and a speedy movement forward of both the field and heavy artillery. In all this, the 5th Field Survey Battalion and the Australian Flying Corps No. 3 Squadron played a key role. During September 1918 that squadron alone had taken a staggering 686 aerial photos and had issued 14 048 prints—and all this despite some eight days of poor weather that inhibited the squadron’s flying time.14 In unison with its techniques of flash spotting and sound ranging, the 5th Field Survey Battalion was able to provide these photos to a depth of 4000 yards across a thirteen mile-front, which were subsequently issued to officers and NCOs of the eight divisions taking part in the operation.15 Accurate maps showing such features as the location of German gun batteries, machine gun posts, supply dumps, communications and transport hubs were provided across the Fourth Army. Using this accurate and plentiful supply of maps and photos, Monash employed the same tactic first used by him at Amiens in August: for both accuracy and simplicity, a perfectly straight artillery start line, which enabled his gunners to site their guns with great precision. When they needed to move they could be relocated with pinpoint accuracy. Peter Chasseaud, in Artillery’s Astrologers: ‘Once in position, they could lay out their line by compass, or more accurately by resecting their position from any map detail or trig points in sight, and measuring the angle on the fighting map or artillery board.’16 In an endeavour to bring the Hindenburg Main Line under artillery range, and therefore inhibit the German potential for counter-attack from

that feature—and also to reduce the infantry ground to be covered to 5000 yards—Monash fixed his artillery start line on ground not yet taken. That is, on ground he expected his Corps to acquire by ‘Peaceful Penetration’ before 18 September. The infantry start line at the commencement of the attack was to be fixed 200 yards behind that artillery line. Creeping barrages were to be staged in lifts of 100 yards ‘measured along the InterCorps boundaries’, the first being at zero plus three minutes, the second at zero plus five minutes, succeeding lifts up to and including the eleventh lift at three minutes, and the twelfth and succeeding lifts at every four minutes.17 Further, a prolonged protective barrage was to be laid in front of the first two objectives before the attempt to advance to the exploitation Blue Line (Hindenburg Outpost Line). As at Hamel and Amiens, measures to maintain secrecy were also instituted: in the case of the artillery, no movement was permitted by day; guns and ammunition stocks were camouflaged; and no firing of those guns in the forward position was permitted prior to zero day. It is little wonder that Monash’s conference (and subsequent divisional and brigade conferences) were of a relatively short duration, for as Monash observed: The methods of the Corps were becoming stereotyped, and by this time we all began to understand each other so well that most of what I had to say could almost be taken for granted. Each commander was ready to anticipate the action that would be required of him, almost as soon as I had unfolded the general plan.18 While the return of tanks to operations by the Australian Corps was welcomed, their paucity in number was a concern. A paltry twenty tanks were available across the whole Fourth Army front, eight being allotted to III Corps, four to IX Corps and eight to the Australian Corps—four each to the 1st and 4th AIF Divisions.19 Given their past impressive performances, Monash sought to counter this scarcity of tanks, and maximise their impact upon the offensive by three initiatives. The first was psychological. He ordered that dummy tanks be constructed by the engineers and placed in positions where the Germans would see them. To what extent this ruse

worked is debatable, since the 4th Division Report on Operations would later note that: Dummy tanks were not an entire success due to the rain over night making the ground sodden and heavy going. Such conditions would have to be provided for and the design of wheels and propelling gear altered accordingly. The scheme is capable of producing considerable moral effect on German troops.20 Monash’s second problem regarding his shortage of tanks was the consequent loss of concentrated firepower upon hostile machine gun nests. This had the potential for high infantry casualties, which he could ill afford. His solution was adept. While he could look to his accurate and concentrated creeping barrages to provide their usual support, Monash sought to replace his lack of tank fire with extra machine gun fire. For the attack on 18 September, the machine guns of the recently relieved 3rd and 5th Divisions were added to those of the 1st and 4th Divisions, which saw some 250 machine guns available to lay down a barrage that was to advance 300 yards ahead of the infantry. Thus, the now standard 1918 principle of ‘firepower not manpower’ was adhered to. The third initiative was a more studied use of that limited tank resource. Those few tanks were to confront only specific targets, and significantly they were to follow behind the infantry and were not, with the exception of those four supporting the 1st AIF Division, which had the furthest to travel, to go beyond the first Green Line objective. Clearly, Monash was attempting to preserve a limited resource. In support of the offensive, it was arranged that No. 3 Squadron was to play three main roles. The first was for its contact planes to fly over each of the three line objectives at prearranged times to confirm infantry occupation of those lines. This was to be done by the planes calling for flares by ‘the aeroplane sounding a succession of “A’s” on the Klaxon horn and by firing a White Very light’. The foremost advanced infantry were to respond to this procedure by red ground flares, bright metal discs, and rifles laid across the trench in batches of three or four. The second task was to fly counter-attack planes to identify hostile concentrations and/or abnormal movement. Once identified, those planes were to signal this intelligence to the artillery by

wireless and signal the infantry by dropping white parachute flares. No. 3 Squadron’s third task was to support the tanks by reporting on their progress and to bomb and strafe hostile anti-tank guns. And as at Hamel and Amiens, aircraft were designated to fly over the assembly approaches to drown out their noise.21 The strength of the 4th Division’s battalions now averaged nineteen officers and 405 other ranks in the field (including HQ), and the 1st Division eighteen and 339. This gave the Australian Corps strength a total of 277 officers and 5545 other ranks.22 Monash and his Corps staff had certainly adhered to the Principle of War ‘economy of force’ and had left little to chance. *** With each division attacking on a 3500-yard front, the 1st AIF Division on the left flank had Hargicourt as its first objective, while the 4th Division on the right had the task of moving on Le Verguier. The number of battalions initially deployed on each brigade front depended upon the ground to be crossed, the distances to their objectives, and the perceived degree of difficulty of the defences to be overcome. The 1st Division, with the furthest to advance to its key objective of Hargicourt, was to attack on a two-brigade front with two battalions in the van and two in support, the task of the latter battalions being a movement through the front two upon reaching the Green Line and then moving on the Red Line and, if possible, undertaking the exploitation phase to the Blue Line (Hindenburg Outpost Line). The 4th Division’s left flank, with the key objective being the village of Le Verguier, which lay on a spur only about half a mile from the start line, presented a different challenge. Here it was decided to attack on a threebattalion front. The 4th Brigade’s 15th Battalion was to outflank the village from the north; the 13th Battalion was to outflank it from the south; and, while those two battalions then moved on the Green Line, the Brigade’s 16th Battalion was tasked with the capture of Le Verguier followed by the mopping up of that village. Once those tasks were completed, the 16th Battalion was to move to the Green Line to become the brigade reserve, the

15th and 13th were to capture the Red Line, and the hitherto ‘unused’ 14th Battalion was then to move through them and attempt the seizure of the final Blue Line. On the 4th Division’s right or southern flank, its 12th Brigade was to attack on a one-battalion front with a ‘leapfrogging’ of battalions on each of the Green and Red Lines. The 4th Brigade was allotted three tanks and the 12th, one. *** At about 3.00 am on 18 September, the rain came and persisted until just after sunrise. The infantry were wet through from their approach march and time spent on the start line. When the barrage opened promptly at 5.20 am, they were confronted by gradually fading rain, slippery sodden ground and dense mist. Moreover, they were met by a thunderous roar the intensity of which they had not previously experienced. The usual din of the artillery was heightened by 250 machine guns firing a barrage across the Australian Corps front. It was inevitable that navigation in these conditions would be challenging. But the very conditions that made that navigation difficult also undoubtedly screened the advancing troops from German field guns and, particularly, their machine gun fire. In what had now become standard drill, ‘specially selected Officers and N.C.O’s using compass bearings’ were mostly able to guide their platoons and companies successfully towards their objectives.23 On the left-flank or northern Australian Corps front, the 1st Division’s 1st Brigade crossed its start line with the 2nd Battalion on the left and the 4th on the right. Its 3rd Brigade was tasked with the right-flank advance, with its 11th Battalion on the left and its 12th on the right. On the right or southern 4th Division front its 4th Brigade (the 15th Battalion left and the 13th right) was flanked to its south by the 12th Brigade. Although the 1st Division had by far the greatest distance to traverse to reach its first Green Line objective, it encountered little resistance for the first 800 yards. The two Battalions of the 1st Brigade on the left advanced on a front of 500 yards for each company and managed to keep within 100 yards of the barrage, which caused the 4th Battalion to record that ‘only in a few instances was the enemy able to get into action before our troops were

upon them’.24 Where resistance from German machine gun posts were encountered, those rapid assaults, or an outflanking movement allowing the support line to mop up those positions, produced a brief fight, a withdrawal or a surrender. On the 1st Division’s right or southern flank, the 3rd Brigade’s 11th Battalion (on the left) employed two tactics in its advance: The two line companies adhered throughout with marked success to the principle of advancing along the high ground avoiding the valley, which ran through the centre of the sector. In addition gaps were left in the line of advance, thrusts being made into the enemy’s positions, the gaps thus becoming outflanked were mopped up.25 Despite the Germans making a ‘resolute stand’ at Fervaque Farm and its adjoining trench system, the abovementioned tactics allowed the advance to continue unabated. The 3rd Brigade’s 12th Battalion (on the right) encountered tougher resistance. Its first obstacle was the small Brosse Wood, where it met intense machine gun and rifle fire. This caused its support platoon to drive the enemy out of that feature into the open, where they were either killed or surrendered. However, when the Battalion reached the trench line beyond Brosse Wood, stubborn German resistance—numerous machine guns and two 77-mm guns—caused it to fall behind the barrage. Thus, when its soldiers entered the much more extensive Grand Priel Wood, they sustained significant casualties. In the ensuing stiff fight at a chateau, the Germans ‘were badly mauled and, a large number of prisoners . . . [were] captured amongst whom was the machine gun Commander, Capt. von Streseman’.26 By around 7.30 am the 1st Division was on its first Green Line objective. Of the two tanks deployed to assist the 1st Brigade, one performed admirably in support of the 4th Battalion, while the second, in support of the 2nd Battalion, hit a mine and was put out of action. But in what was now standard tank drill, the carrying tank in support of the Brigade managed to bring forward two loads of ammunition and entrenching tools for consolidation of that Green Line. While the 1st Division was thus engaged, the 4th Division 4th Brigade’s advance had also began promptly at 5.20 am. The 15th and 13th Battalions

achieved their outflanking of Le Verguier and the subsequent penetration of the German trench line to reach their Green Line objective with little difficulty. The 4th Brigade’s Report on Operations: So effective was the artillery and Machine Gun fire, and so complete the surprise, that generally little determined opposition was met with, most of the enemy ‘going to earth’ until the barrage had passed when they readily surrendered to our troops. A few machine gun nests attempted to put up a stand, but these were quickly outmanoeuvred and effectively dealt with.27 The 16th Battalion’s task of attacking and mopping up Le Verguier presented a potentially tougher challenge. It assaulted the village from north to south using its D, C, and B Companies with A Company in reserve. In essential terms, the German village defence was dominated by numerous machine gun posts, a number of 77-mm guns for anti-tank defence and abundant dugouts. Unlike the approach over the more open ground across the front, the 16th Battalion’s C Company Report on Operations stated that: ‘The village was more or less non-existent, consisting of a mass of debris and shell holes, with wire stretching in every direction. These obstacles had a tendency to divert the men to the roads which running at all angles as they were, tended to throw the men off the right direction.’28 The 16th Battalion’s D Company was confronted with two posts: Fort Bell and Orchard’s Post, which both put up a spirited if brief fight with bombs and machine guns before being outflanked and overrun. To that Company’s south the Battalion’s C and B Companies were confronted with Fort Bull, which ‘was really the key of the whole defences of the village’. The fact that its numerous defenders were either defeated in short, sharp outflanking encounters or caught in dugouts simply reflects the savagery and accuracy of the creeping barrage, the machine gun barrage, and the declining morale of its German occupants.29 On the southernmost flank, the 12th Brigade’s 48th Battalion encountered only slight resistance before gaining its Green Line objective at around 7.30 am. Following the occupation of the Green Line across the Australian Corps front by around 10.00 am, the 1st and 4th AIF Divisions now prepared for a

resumption of the offensive towards the second Red Line objective. If the 1st Division had had a greater distance to its first objective than the 4th Division, then it was to now enjoy a much shorter approach to its Red and Blue Lines. On that Division’s front, the barrage now continued in front of the Green Line for some 70–90 minutes, thus allowing its 2nd and 4th Battalions to dig in and consolidate that line, while its 1st and 3rd Battalions prepared to move through them to assault the second Red Line objective. While the intensity of the barrage waned temporarily as elements of the artillery also moved forward, its resumption once again provided critical support to the 1st and 3rd Battalions’ advance. Lieutenant Syd Traill, 1st Battalion, had moved in rear of the 4th Battalion from the start line early that morning. His diary, 18 September 1918: We got up to Hargicourt and reformed behind a bank. All my platoon was there. Here the Bn. passed through the 2nd Bn. and our advance started. The Hun is a wily bird and as we advanced he shortened his artillery range—damnably clever work and shews [sic] great system of communication. It was annoying to us though. Bull was killed instantaneously, had his head split in two. Tanks were doing pretty good work and we had two in front of us. It was rough going and machine-gunners caused us trouble. The tanks dealt with most of these—damn fine things for us—but they are reckless with their 6 pdrs—firing with an abandon that put the wind well up on us more than one occassion [sic]. We got a few guns, beaucoup m.g.s and our objective.30 Lieutenant Syd Traill’s 1st Battalion was able to gain the Red Line with few casualties. Upon reaching that objective, the Battalion was able to establish contact with its 3rd Brigade’s 9th Battalion on its right. After gaining the Red Line the 1st Battalion, faced with an exploitation advance of 1200 yards, was able to secure positions on the Hindenburg Outpost Line (Blue Line). But the 1st Brigade’s 3rd Battalion on the left flank had a tougher fight. Moving over more challenging terrain and held up for a time by German artillery and machine gun fire, their barrage got away from them, and consequently, although the Battalion gained its Red Line objective, it

sustained ‘greater losses than any other unit at the time’.31 In its subsequent advance from the Red Line after 10.00 am, the 3rd Battalion encountered extremely heavy machine gun fire from the direction of Quennemont Farm, which stalled its advance. It was later able to link up with its left-flank 74th British Division, which had also failed to reach the Blue Line objective. On the 1st Division’s right flank, after the 3rd Brigade’s 11th and 12th Battalions had occupied the Green Line, the 9th and 10th Battalions moved through them to resume the advance to the Red Line. As with the 1st Brigade, the 3rd Brigade’s 9th and 10th Battalions were faced with a far shorter distance to the exploitation Blue Line. Although the 9th Battalion’s advance on the left flank ran into concentrated machine gun fire from the village of Villeret, its accompanying tank was able to offer strong support in the elimination of those enemy posts. After having cleared the village and a number of sunken roads, the Battalion occupied its portion of the Red Line by around 9.30 am. Given the relatively short distance from its Red Line positions to the Blue, the Battalion pushed out patrols from its leading company straight after the barrage lifted from in front of the Red Line. While the 9th Battalion had been thus employed, the 10th Battalion on its right found its main opposition in a trench line between the Green and Red Lines and an equally strong system just prior to reaching the Blue Line. The former trench system was captured by the Battalion’s C Company. It yielded 100 prisoners, twelve machine guns and a 77-mm gun.32 The 3rd Brigade Report on Operations would later record that: ‘The final stage was accomplished by a spirited charge, the enemy machine gunners only retiring after severe fighting. Posts were established in the proximity of the Blue Line.’33 It will be remembered that on the 1st Division’s right or southern flank, the 4th Division’s 4th Brigade had deployed its 13th and 15th Battalions to outflank the village of Le Verguier, and that its 16th Battalion had been tasked with the capture and mopping up of that location. After its occupation of the Green Line, the 13th and 15th Battalions moved under their barrage to attack and occupy the Red Line. ‘Little opposition was met with and the Red Line was reported captured at 9.35 am.’34 The 4th Brigade plan now envisaged a consolidation of the Red Line by the 13th

and 15th Battalions, and a movement by the 14th Battalion through them to advance towards the exploitation Blue Line. The 16th Battalion was to move forward and occupy the Green Line. At around 9.40 am the barrage ceased and the 14th Battalion moved towards the Blue Line. With most of the field artillery on the move, the Australian Field Artillery’s 41st Battery moved in support and ‘was able to engage many targets over open sights, and did much good work’. Upon reaching the enemy trench system, the 14th Battalion’s fight became one of ‘individual enterprises and “nibbles” here and there’, as a part of that feature was gained and the rest of the front was covered from the sunken road.35 As a result of similar difficulties on the 12th Brigade’s right flank, it was decided that the 4th Division would stay in the sunken road until after dark and that batteries of the field artillery would move forward to ‘previously selected positions’. The attack by the 4th Brigade’s 14th Battalion on the left and the 12th Brigade’s 46th Battalion on the right was timed for 11.00 pm. The 4th Division Report on Operations best sums up the superb teamwork between the artillery and the infantry: Considerable opposition was met with. Great difficulty was experienced in penetrating the thick masses of wire that protected the enemy works, and it was only due to the accuracy of the Artillery Barrage and splendid individual efforts of Officers and N.C.O’s that this obstacle was quickly overcome. Rain had commenced to fall before 11 p.m. and the night was very ‘dirty’. A hot meal had been served to the men whilst in the Sunken Road and all were in excellent spirits . . . At 1 a.m. the whole of the Blue Line was in our possession . . . Over 300 prisoners were captured together with a considerable number of machine guns and minenwerfers [mortars].36 The 4th Brigade Report on Operations would later recall the intensity of the fighting that night: ‘Owing to the darkness of the night very few prisoners were taken but many dead Boche were found next morning in the numerous saps and dugouts.’37

Daylight on 19 September 1918 saw the Australian Corps in occupation of nearly all of its exploitation Blue Line. Ahead of the 1st Division lay a tantalising spectacle: a significant portion of the Hindenburg Main Line, with its canal, tunnel and entrance, and the rolling ground stretching for miles around that feature, were clearly visible. It had been a stunning achievement. In their incisive study of General Rawlinson, Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson have left us with a telling summary of the Fourth Army’s attack on the Hindenburg Outpost Line on 18 September 1918: . . . if any of the factors which led to success on the Australian front were absent, the Germans were still capable of very stiff opposition . . . Clearly, in situations which gave the German defenders some hope of success, they were still prepared to fight it out. That is, in the absence of the full range of expertise which the British Army was now in a position to employ in delivering attacks, no operation was assured of success.38 The Australian Corps’s resounding victory on 18 September did indeed come down to the application of ‘the full range of expertise’ that was then available to the BEF. A number of examples should be noted. A significant aspect of this expertise was the intensity and accuracy of the artillery and machine gun barrage, which caused many of the German machine gunners to be in their dugouts rather than manning their guns. In its Report on Operations, 10–20 September, the 4th Division reported that ‘many platoons crossed the hostile wire under cover of the barrage, and were into the hostile trenches almost immediately after the barrage lifted’.39 Further, the same report noted that a captured German officer, in describing the machine gun barrage, stated that ‘it was impossible for anyone to put their heads above the parapet without being shot’.40 Another element was the refined and practised infantry drill of outflanking troublesome posts, which caused understandable distress among defenders whose morale was already shaken. Indeed, if the Germans were not eliminated from the flank or rear, they were all too often rushed by the closely following ‘mopping up’ second wave of attackers. In all this, it

was often the proficient drill of the platoon or section, whose individuals drew on their experience, initiative and esprit de corps—and their concentrated use of trench mortars, Lewis Guns and rifle grenades. Next was the ability of both the field and heavy artillery to accurately engage their German counterparts. While Australian casualties from German guns were incurred, the reports on operations from the 1st and 4th Divisions and their Brigades mostly record light casualties on the start line and upon subsequent objectives. It would seem likely that the element of surprise, the gathering of accurate intelligence and the ability to bring down accurate infantry support and counter-battery fire were major factors in both the German casualties and the high surrender count. Obviously, the above-mentioned ingredients for success were vital, but ‘the extreme importance of complete and thorough preparation of administrative details was again emphasised’.41 In short, the role of sound staff work was of paramount importance in the Corps’s ability to apply this ‘full range of expertise’. Such was the attention to detail that the 4th Division report noted ‘a considerable factor in the success of their attack’ on the Blue Line at 11.00 pm on the 18th came down to ‘a hot meal prior to their final assault . . .’42 In contrast, events on both the British left III Corps front and on the right IX Corps flank demonstrate both a lack of a number of the abovementioned attributes and poor coordination. In the case of the III Corps we have noted the command issues concerning General Butler. In short, it is enough to say that Butler was no Monash. Two points are illuminating. First, in his book, The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the hundred Days, Major-General Montgomery made the extraordinary admission that ‘owing to an error in the synchronisation of watches, some machine-guns opened fire too soon’. He then went on to say that despite this fundamental flaw the awaiting infantry were able to interpret the din of that barrage to ‘realise fully the intensity of the covering fire they were receiving from the machine-guns’.43 Montgomery might have added that the critical aim of surprise had been lost. Further, he acknowledged that on some parts of the III Corps front, the ‘barrage gradually outstripped the infantry, and any attempt to advance had, therefore, to be made without its

assistance’.44 Prior and Wilson have indicated that this failure to keep up with the barrage was caused by ‘over-complicated operation orders requiring the barrage (and as a consequence the troops) to make several changes in direction’.45 Thus the key elements of surprise—coordinated creeping artillery and machine gun barrages closely followed by disciplined, well-drilled infantry, so prevalent on the Australian Corps front —were lacking on this III Corps sector, which prejudiced the advance and caused higher casualties. By the end of 18 September, not only had III Corps failed to occupy any part of its Blue Line objective, but its front (already some 600 yards back from the Australian Corps left flank) now looped back further still as it travelled northwards. If the III Corps had experienced great difficulties on its left Fourth Army front, then the performance of the newly constituted IX Corps on the right or southern flank was also marred by a series of poor command decisions that severely inhibited its chances of success. For the purposes of this work, the main emphasis is placed upon the IX Corps’s 1st Division, which was deployed on the AIF 12th Brigade’s right flank. It will be recalled that a most effective machine gun barrage had been employed on the Australian Corps front, and to a lesser degree on the III Corps front, as a means of compensating for the paucity of tank support. In an error of judgement, General Braithwaite declined to employ that machine gun barrage on his IX Corps front. When his 1st and 6th Divisions attempted to gain ground on three key objectives during the period 18–19 September, they failed to do so. It was not until 20 September that Braithwaite finally employed a machine gun barrage. To compound this lack of firepower, the 5th Tank Brigade would later report that its tanks were ‘unsupported by their infantry who were unable to advance in face of the terrific machine gun fire’.46 Clearly, the tactics of infantry–tank assaults upon German machine gun nests, so prevalent on the 1st AIF Division front, were lacking. It has been demonstrated that across the Australian Corps front on 18 September, a ‘leapfrogging’ on a one, two or three battalion basis had been instigated to preserve the energy of the infantry and thus the momentum of the attack. On the Australian Corps right flank (Brigadier-General Leane’s

12th Brigade), the 2nd British Brigade deployed but one battalion, the 2nd Royal Sussex, to advance through the first two objectives and also seize the exploitation Blue Line. In an understatement, Charles Bean recorded that: ‘The strain on the troops was thus very great.’47 While it is conceded that its commander was ordered to carry out the exploitation ‘unless he thinks his troops have done all they can manage’, the lack of a clearly defined ‘leapfrogging’ point told heavily on the British 1st Division’s progress. Charles Bean would later record that the night of 18 September brought further concern for the British IX Corps southern front and particularly to Brigadier-General Leane’s AIF 12th Brigade’s right flank: . . . the left company of the 2nd Royal Sussex was exhausted and seemed to have lost heart after its captain’s death; it advanced but did not hold on. Farther south the 6th Division had not captured its first objective . . . Leane accordingly ordered two companies of the 48th to attack at the same time as the 46th and seize a position above St. Hélène, guarding his flank. The commander of the 1st British Division, however, protested that this lay on his front and ordered his own troops to attack it. Leane had to cancel his order but directed the two companies to advance and guard the flank inside his boundary instead.48 The British 1st Division attack at midnight failed. Further, Bean recorded that after the successful 11.00 pm attack on 18 September when the 4th Division’s 4th and 12th AIF Brigades had captured their Blue Line objective, the British Commander of the 1st Division was giving inaccurate information as to the location of his Division. It was, in fact, a full half a mile back near its second Red Line objective. Bean might have gone further. Brigadier-General Leane’s 12th Brigade Report on Operations, 10–20 September 1918, is a damning document. Parts of his report stated that: With the exception of a small liaison party of English numbering about 10 who advanced with us touch could not be gained with the English for a considerable time. Although the Brigade detailed a

Liaison Officer to the 2nd [British] Brigade not much assistance was given to this Brigade on account of the fact that the 2nd Brigade Headquarters seemed to be absolutely in the dark regarding the position of their troops. We endeavoured to get the 2nd Brigade to lay a line to 12th Brigade Headquarters, and although instructions were issued that responsibility for communication was Right to Left, the 2nd Brigade refused to lay the line . . . The English gave this Brigade no assistance whatever during the advance to the Blue Line and the information as to the position of their troops was absolutely inaccurate and misleading. This was proved by patrols repeatedly.49 In concluding his report, Leane therefore stressed the necessity for interbrigade communications; for being able to cross onto another brigade’s front if the capture of a given locality was to the benefit of all; and that every effort should be made to give accurate dispositions.50 In all this, two points deserve mention. The first is that General Braithwaite had been in command of IX Corps for a mere fifteen days, and his Corps had been established only a short while. To therefore expect the same level of staff work and cooperation between the various elements of his corps as existed in the Australian Corps was an unrealistic aspiration. Second, although Prior and Wilson have succinctly pointed out the level of expertise and weaponry then available to the BEF, success in battle comes down to the formulation and execution of a practised doctrine. The acquisition of that doctrine depends on four basic ingredients: ability, experience, cooperation and the resulting esprit de corps. And that process takes time. Perhaps this phenomenon is best summed up by one of Brigadier-General Leane’s final points contained in his report: Close liaison and conferences of all concerned in the attack again proved of the utmost value. They are worth tons of paper. By this means you find out what is in the mind of the others engaged in the operation. Everyone engaged is quite clear as to what you intend to do and arranges accordingly. Write your operation order then! It saves lots of amendments later on.51

It is worth remembering that such Australian Corps conferences were not confined to corps, division or brigade level, but permeated right through the chain of command. *** In his assessment of Monash’s command both leading up to and during the Australian Corps attack upon the Hindenburg Line, Charles Bean would later write: In this decisive fighting, for such it was, he was right to work his troops to the extreme limit of their endurance, which normally is beyond the limit to which men themselves think they can endure. At such times victory often goes to the troops that hold out the longest, withstanding the strain, toil or exhaustion in perhaps unbelievable degree and for an unbelievable time; and the value of different armies depends largely upon how far they are ready to do this.52

CHAPTER 11

. . . some damn good men amongst them Hamel,

Amiens, Mont St Quentin, Péronne and now the Hindenburg Outpost Line—all stunning victories achieved by a commander who had rightly pushed his highly trained troops to the very limit of their endurance. But for a significant number of the AIF’s soldiers that limit was reached in September 1918. The first problem that confronted the AIF was the rapidly diminishing strength of its infantry battalions as they approached the Hindenburg Line. As an earlier response to his lack of reinforcements, Field Marshal Haig, against his wishes, had been forced to restructure the British Army to three battalions per brigade instead of four. Bean has recorded that ‘a similar measure had long before been adopted by the French and Germans, and this policy had already been approved for the AIF in February . . .’1 But the Australian Government was loath to implement such a policy until it became absolutely essential. That necessity came as a result of Ludendorff’s Operation Michael in March 1918. Consequently, the 3rd Division 9th Brigade’s 36th Battalion was disbanded on 30 April 1918; the 4th Division 13th Brigade’s 52nd Battalion on 16 May; and that Division’s 12th Brigade’s 47th Battalion on 31 May. By early September 1918 the situation had become critical. The British Army Council now drew attention to the fact that while the 57 remaining battalions in the Australian Corps were collectively some 8500 soldiers below full strength, the projected reinforcements over the next four months would only amount to some 3000 per month. Therefore over that time, taking into account casualties and illness, the AIF had little chance of preserving even its existing poor strength.

It is interesting to note the reactions of Generals Birdwood and Monash when the Army Council sent Haig a further letter on 29 August, suggesting that the change from four to three battalions per brigade should be instituted as soon as possible. When Haig asked them for a response, both were measured and, in a number of ways, sought to delay the inevitable. Birdwood had previously advocated an individual assessment of battalions, in that they should only be disbanded when they could no longer function at a required strength. Monash, who pointed out that the present strength of the AIF had been sufficient to gain it startling successes, argued that no change should be undertaken before the new year. Convinced that the approaching winter would force a slowing in the momentum of the Fourth Army’s advance, and that by mid-October the Corps would be rested, he was hopeful that in the new year the AIF might attain a battalion strength of some 750. To further avoid the disbandments, Monash also urged two additional initiatives: that each battalion might now function with three rather than four companies, and that the desired reductions might be achieved by allowing him and his generals the prerogative of disbanding individual battalions if and when they found it beneficial. The first option was redundant in the sense that many of the AIF battalions had already reduced their establishment from four to three companies, while the second was in line with Birdwood’s suggestion that such disbandments should best be undertaken by the AIF itself, rather than by employing a rigid policy across the Corps. However, matters were brought to a head when Monash learnt that he was to lose some 6000 of his most experienced soldiers who had enlisted in 1914 on ‘Anzac Leave’. That leave was to involve furlough back in Australia for a period of six months. Lieutenant Syd Traill, serving in the 1st Division’s 1st Battalion, was one of those eligible for ‘Anzac Leave’. His diary, 2 September 1918: ‘They again took a list of 1914 officers and men for 6 months transport duty to Australia—its [sic] going to be a weekly return I believe, just enough to tantalise, but not materialise.’2 This measure had first been suggested as far back as 29 May 1917 by Senator Pearce, the Minister for Defence—who proposed an additional recruitment of around 5000 soldiers on top of the needed 7000—‘to be granted to survivors of General Bridge’s original [Anzac] force’.3 The

proposal was rejected by the Army Council in London on the grounds that if adopted, it might necessitate similar leave for British and Dominion troops stationed in all ‘distant theatres of war, with accompanying difficulties of finding transport . . .’4 Prime Minister Hughes had been in London since June 1918 and by September he had made four decisions. These were ‘Anzac Leave’ for the AIF’s Gallipoli veterans; the withdrawal of the AIF from the front by 15 October; that it should winter in the south of France or Italy; and that he be informed of all subsequent AIF deployment(s). There were two basic reasons for these initiatives. With an eye to the future, and therefore his role in the representation of Australia at a potential peace conference, the first was his desire to preserve the strength of the AIF, and thus his influence. The second was his political standing in Australia: those measures would strengthen his leadership in the face of numerous enemies from within his own party, from the opposition and, indeed, from a significant portion of the electorate. On 12 September 1918, Hughes informed Birdwood that limited shipping had been found, and the first 800 original Anzacs were to sail immediately for two months’ leave in Australia. Further, he told Monash that the Australian Corps was to be withdrawn from the front no later than 15 October and that, as Peter Pedersen has recorded, ‘his position as corps commander depended on it’.5 Given that General Monash had had to endure the attempt to remove him from his command of the Corps only a few months before, this threat from Hughes must surely have been galling, especially when the recent and present pressures of his command are considered. As a response to the ‘Anzac Leave’ order and the increased British War Council pressure for disbandments, Monash was now forced to act. Birdwood and Monash agreed that this reduction should not immediately apply to the original four brigades of the AIF, as they were to be initially deployed in the coming offensive. Thus the 1st Division’s 1st, 2nd and 3rd Brigades and the 4th Division’s 4th Brigade were exempt for the time being. And as General Hobbs was currently on leave in England, his 5th Division’s 8th Brigade was also initially exempted.

The selection of battalions for disbandment was rightly conducted by each divisional commander in consultation with their brigadiers. General Rosenthal identified the 19th Battalion (5th Brigade), the 21st Battalion (6th Brigade) and the 25th Battalion (7th Brigade) from his 2nd Division. General Gellibrand’s 3rd Division selected the 37th Battalion (10th Brigade) and the 42nd Battalion (11th Brigade), while the 5th Division selected the 54th Battalion (14th Brigade) and the 15th Brigade’s 60th Battalion. It will be remembered that the 3rd Division had already lost its 36th Battalion and the 4th Division its 52nd and 47th Battalions during the period April–May 1918. Although there can be little doubt that Monash and his division and brigade commanders were aware of the angst that those September 1918 disbandments would cause, they could not have contemplated the intensity and breadth of their soldiers’ response. This work began with Lieutenant (later Captain) George Mitchell’s description of going into battle at the beginning of Operation Michael. He has left us with a pithy definition of the esprit de corps of a battalion. It was, said Mitchell, ‘our father and our mother of unforgettable years’ and that it was one of the critical ‘links that connected us with the unforgotten dead . . .’6 The first reaction came from the 10th Brigade’s 37th Battalion. Its CO, Lieutenant-Colonel Story, whom Bean referred to as ‘a fine leader’,7 circumvented the chain of command in an extraordinary manner. It would prove his immediate undoing. The 10th Brigade Unit Diary entry for 13 September: Dull day: 37th Bn officially notified of their disbanding and are naturally very much upset . . . (Lt Col Story) wrote a strong letter of protest to the Corps Hqrs [Monash], G.O.C. AIF [Birdwood] & Prime Minister with copies to Bde & Div Hqrs., and was suspended from duty by Div. Commdr for his action.8 This ‘dull day’ was followed by a number of others. The next day the Brigade Commander visited the 37th and found ‘a good deal of unrest’. On 15 September the 10th Brigade’s Unit Diary reported that ‘representatives of other units AIF have visited 37th Bn & promised support to resist

amalgamation’.9 When the 37th Battalion soldiers decided that they would obey every order except the final one directing them to march to their new battalions, matters came to a head. On the morning of 21 September, when the paraded Battalion was ordered to pass to the 38th and 39th Battalions’ lines, only 40 men did so, including the ‘officers, sergeants and a few corporals & other ranks’.10 On 22 September the 10th Brigade’s Unit Diary provided an excellent insight into the 37th Battalion’s attitude, and that of other units destined for disbandment: GOC Division called re 37th then went to the Bn and saw each Coy without any result. The attitude of the men is one of opposition to the disbanding of any Australian Bn . . . there has certainly been a good deal of excellent organising which has been carried out quite unobtrusively and of which the leaders are not apparent. Delegates have both been sent to & been received from other units whose disbanding is threatened and promises of mutual support have been made. One outstanding feature of the whole thing has been the excellent discipline in 37th Bn on all points but that of obedience to . . . amalgamation. Turnout, saluting, cleanliness & tidiness of billets have never been better . . . and . . . never at any time the slightest signs of disorderly conduct or AWL . . . The whole attitude of the Bn was a good example of their views on discipline . . . The men themselves insisted on more than ordinary care being paid to their general behaviour.11 The remaining six battalions all followed the 37th Battalion’s decision: to obey every order but the one to move to their new battalion lines. Further evidence of the sincerity of the stand taken by those battalions was provided by the 2nd Division’s 25th Battalion, whose soldiers requested that their unit be allotted the toughest task in their next operation, which would either cause the Battalion’s extinction or add such prestige to its record that disbandment could not be contemplated. But one of them, after an initial refusal, did comply. Brigadier-General Elliott received orders for the disbandment of one of his 15th Brigade Battalions at 3.00 pm on 24 September. He decided that

‘the whole of the 60th Battalion would transfer to 59th Battalion as two complete companies’,12 while the 59th would also reorganise its soldiers into the two remaining companies. The parade for the handover of the 60th Battalion personnel to the 59th was timed for 9.00 am on 26 September, and Elliott promised to attend that parade and speak to the 60th Battalion at 10.00 am. The acting CO of the 60th informed Elliott that although the men were ‘sore at being broken up’ he anticipated that there would be no trouble when the time came to cross over to the 59th Battalion.13 When Elliott rode onto the parade ground the men were called to attention and ordered to slope arms, whereupon that order was obeyed ‘by about half a dozen men. The order was repeated with a similar result’.14 The 15th Brigade Unit Diary: Addressing the assembled parade the Brigadier informed them that this nonsense must cease at once. He certainly was surprised and pained to know that such action had been taken by the 60th Battalion, and, if they had reached such a state that they would not obey lawful orders given them, then he would cease to command them, for he would not command a mob. There were two things for which a wise Australian Defence Act, the most human Army Act in the World, had provided that the death penalty be awarded: these were—desertion to the enemy and the concerted refusal to obey an order, which was mutiny. Open mutiny on the part of the Battalion would result in the ringleaders being shot; if they could not be found then one man in every ten would be shot.15 According to Elliott’s biographer this brazen threat met with an equally unequivocal response from an anonymous source within the ranks: ‘We’ve got bullets too.’16 This comment elicited a more conciliatory attitude from the Brigadier. He now attempted to explain the reasons for the disbandment. Elliott pointed out, with dubious substance, that it was not the fault of the ‘AIF authorities’ for this action, but the politicians who had failed to provide the necessary reinforcements. But what then followed must have made sound sense to the 60th. He spoke of the good name of the Battalion,

which would be forfeited by such an action, and ‘what was the use of keeping a full Battalion Staff with Transport organised to administer 1,000 men to follow 200 men about the country?’17 Further, to alleviate the idea that battalions had been ‘ranked’ in order to select those for disbandment, he informed the parade that there was no best or worst battalion in his Brigade, and in selecting the 60th Battalion he had simply followed the Corps order, ‘which stipulated that the last Battalion in each Brigade was to go unless there was a special reason . . .’18 It is of interest to note that of the three battalions disbanded in April–May 1918 and the seven chosen at this time, only two were the last battalion in their brigades. Elliott gave the men half an hour to contemplate their stance, and when he returned he met with a delegation who put forward their views. One of their six grievances was widespread among the five divisions: a ‘general feeling of dissatisfaction at not receiving the long promised rest’.19 In the end the crisis passed. Elliott handed the 60th Battalion over to the 59th Battalion’s Lieutenant-Colonel Scanlan ‘and the new Battalion marched past being played past by the old 60th Battalion band’.20 In the meantime Monash, in the midst of planning the final assault upon the Hindenburg Line, and acutely aware of the intense feelings of his Corps towards the disbandments, managed to convince General Rawlinson to ask Field Marshal Haig for a fortnight’s delay. This was granted. The reader can imagine the torment and frustration felt by both the soldiers of the 60th Battalion and Brigadier-General Elliott when this decision became known. When Elliott was again confronted by delegates from the 60th, he managed to convince them to accept the situation. Charles Bean referred to the whole episode as ‘the mutinies over disbandment’, but also rightly observed that while in the strict sense they were mutinies, the AIF soldiers’ non-compliance was not treated as such by either the British or Australian authorities.21 Indeed, no soldier—other than the 37th Battalion CO, Lieutenant-Colonel Story—was in any way punished for his role in the incident. The fact that Monash and his division and brigade commanders made every effort to explain the situation to the men, and also willingly received delegations and written protests from them, reflects both the widespread nature of the protest and their

understanding of the esprit de corps of the AIF as a whole. In the end, the request to delay the disbandments was an astute command decision that eased the tension until such time as the AIF could be relieved from the front and the matter could be addressed. But September 1918 also brought Monash and his Australian Corps another far more serious issue with which to contend. *** We have noted in Chapter 9 the intense strain that had beset the Australian Corps by the time Mont St Quentin and Péronne had fallen. It has been further recorded that General Hobbs had warned Monash on 31 August that his 5th Division was approaching the very limits of its endurance. Bean stated that by the time those two objectives had been taken ‘the strain on the 2nd and 3rd Divisions was even greater’.22 In his Official History Bean recorded two incidents of mutiny in the AIF during September 1918. These will be examined shortly. But in an intriguing rider to his examination of those incidents—mentioned in a footnote—he stated that: ‘There had during this period been slighter incidents, of which only hints are given in the records.’23 While this is conjecture, perhaps one such incident was recorded on 29 August by Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion: ‘Heard that 18th Btn refused to go across river & attack. Position said to be too strong as left flank is not up far enough. Btn likely to be cut off. 20th Btn are coming to do the job, so we are now to attach ourselves to them.’24 The 18th Battalion Unit Diary for this period is unclear concerning McLennan’s comment. At 3.00 am on 5 September a mutiny occurred when the 15th Brigade’s 59th Battalion was ordered to move through Péronne and deploy to the rear of a 57th Battalion outpost.25 At 7.15 am that Battalion’s CO, LieutenantColonel Scanlan, went to Brigade HQ and told Elliott that about 60 men from B Company’s 5, 6 and 7 Platoons and their Headquarters had refused to comply with the movement order.26 Scanlan informed Elliott that the men were ‘in an exhausted condition after the fighting of the last few days’27 [at and around Péronne] but that there was no excuse for their

action. He then handed Elliott his resignation, which was not accepted. Elliott then ordered Scanlan to proceed with his remaining three companies to his Battalion’s new location, while the Brigade Major was ordered to go and talk to the 60 men and obtain a list of their grievances in writing. After reading the grievances, Elliott visited the men and pointed out that their ‘refusal to obey an order was one of the most serious crimes of which a soldier could be guilty and was punishable by death’.28 He then proceeded to appeal—in much the same manner as he would later do with the 60th Battalion’s soldiers during their disbandment—to the men’s pride in their battalion, the loss of trust the men had displayed to both LieutenantColonel Scanlan and himself, and the Brigade’s good name. The 15th Brigade Unit Diary, 5 September: He [Elliott] said that he would go away for half an hour and receive their decision on his return. If they still decided to remain as they were he would immediately direct them to pile their arms and march them to a compound in rear; if they wished to return to their Battalion they could do so and while the official notice of their action would have to proceed he would speak strongly in their favor [sic] as he was fully persuaded they did not fully understand the nature of their offence.29 The men returned to their Battalion. The 60 soldiers’ eight grievances are recorded in an appendix to the 15th Brigade Unit Diary for September 1918. They are worth noting: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Absolutely unfit to carry on. Consider not getting a fair deal from Medical Officer. Shortage of food in forward area. Continuously in forward area since 1st February 1918 and have had an extremely strenuous time since April and it is now September. 5. Companies too weak we are overburdened when going in and out of line.

6. When out of line not knowing whether out for five minutes or a day and, promises of relief made from time to time never fulfilled. 7. We were relieved from line at 11 p.m. after 8 days fully expecting a Corps relief but, was awakened at 3.30 a.m. to move forward again. We are in a filthy state and have had no opportunity given us to rectify same. 8. We are of opinion that the Australian higher Command have failed to inform General Headquarters of the condition of the men and the difficulties they have been working under, and, that the necessary relief might have been forthcoming.30 The one aspect of this episode that cannot be ignored is that 60 soldiers of mixed ranks of the 59th Battalion refused to obey a legal order. As there were more than two members involved, a mutiny had taken place as laid down in the Army Act which members of the AIF were subject to, provided it was not inconsistent with the Australian Defence Act. This was not the case, and if the alleged mutineers had been prosecuted before a Court Martial and found guilty, the penalties could have been quite severe, as they were on War Service as defined in the legislation. A Court of Enquiry was assembled to consider the Terms of Reference pertaining to the case. Appropriately the Court was composed of members selected from a different battalion in the 5th Division. However, the matter to be enquired into was not related to an alleged mutiny but to the more minor grievance concerning the shortage and unsatisfactory quality of recent rations (point 3 above). No formal charges of mutiny were laid against the soldiers involved. We have recorded that the 5th Division’s Commander, Major-General Hobbs, and his brigade commanders were well aware of the debilitating state of health of the troops, as the matter had been raised formally. It may be that for this reason it was decided to ignore the alleged mutiny and overlook the possible serious consequences. Such an important decision could only have come from General Monash himself. Publicity surrounding the case could not have been avoided, and other cases in the 5th Division

might have followed, particularly as most of the Division were in the same state. The Court found that given the circumstances, the rations were adequate and the correct procedures for distribution had been followed but the 60 soldiers concerned were ignorant of them. Brigadier-General Elliott subsequently issued two instructions titled Mental Care of the Men and Instructions for the Occupation and Care of the Men. In order to address point 2 of the men’s grievances, Elliott ordered a medical report from the Regimental Medical Officer, which stated that the soldiers of the 59th Battalion were all suffering ‘from excessive fatigue, loss of sleep and nervous strain’ and that ‘the limit of endurance had been reached for most of the men’.31 *** It will be recalled that on 18 September 1918 the 1st Division had managed to occupy its final Blue Line objective: a section of the Hindenburg Outpost Line. But to the 1st Division’s north, General Butler’s III Corps, despite frequent attacks by all of his four divisions on a limited scale, had failed to gain its Blue Line objective. Having decided to attack again on 21 September with all four divisions and a small number of tanks, Butler requested that General Monash support that operation by an Australian Corps assault on the southern 500 yards of his front. Knowing that the final attack upon the Hindenburg Main Line depended on the III and IX British Corps taking their Blue Line objectives before a suitable start line could be gained for that operation, Monash agreed. At 10.30 pm on 20 September Monash issued a warning order for General Glasgow’s 1st Brigade to undertake this limited attack. His decision made sense, given that the 1st Brigade was on the III Corps right flank and the issues of knowledge of the ground and movement would be easily accommodated. At 12.40 pm General Glasgow cancelled the 1st Brigade’s relief for 24 hours. Lieutenant Syd Traill, 1st Battalion, in his diary, 21 September 1918: Then came the first rumours of a mutiny. The men had had a hard time and their nerve was just about gone to shreds. On top of their promised relief turned out only to be another attack. We got a

whisper that D Coy were not going to attack, and by degrees it so read round that none of the other coys were going to either . . . I told Hayward how things stood, and he said he’d talk to them when they had had something to eat. But they didn’t wait that long, the evil spirits amongst them worked their way, and they started to desert in droves. There was nothing we could do to stop them—the damned devils.32 When the 1st Battalion went forward to its objective it totalled ten officers and 84 other ranks. In all 127 men were subsequently arrested and tried by Court Martial.33 Despite this, the 1st and 3rd Battalions took their objectives. Further north the British 74th Division gained the Hindenburg Outpost Line. But on their left the remaining divisions of that Corps failed to capture the old second or Red Line objective. At around noon on 21 September the Germans successfully counter-attacked the 74th Division and forced it to withdraw behind the Red Line. Those III Corps withdrawals forced the 3rd AIF Battalion to make a limited withdrawal to protect its left flank. The 1st AIF Division was relieved during the night of 23–24 September. With regard to the treatment of the mutineers, Lieutenant-Colonel Stacy and his Divisional Commander, Major-General Glasgow, both called for tough penalties. In his report to his 1st Brigade Commander, BrigadierGeneral MacKay, Stacy maintained that: . . . Capt Moffat informed me he had traced it all to one man in his Coy. who was a suspended sentence man and I think the same will be found in other Coys . . . the men have done well today with the few numbers, accomplishing all that was asked of them—the Officers have behaved splendidly throughout but in many cases N.C.Os have not realised their responsibilities and have sided with the men in the wrong . . . I feel it hard to make any recommendation except that in spite of the numbers, about a 100, who were timid and deserted, no man be let go free but that the severest punishment be meted out to them. I consider the lightness in suspension of sentences in the past for desertion is greatly responsible for the

trouble and I would not care to have any of them in the Battalion again if they can be transferred.34 The Court Martial convened to try the 1st Battalion soldiers found 115 of the 127 accused not guilty of mutiny but guilty of desertion. Of those 115 soldiers, the privates were sentenced to imprisonment for three years and the NCOs for five to ten years with their rank reduced. Of the remaining twelve, eleven were found not guilty and the twelfth was found guilty of Absence Without Leave.35 The majority of those found guilty had their sentences suspended within seven to eight months and a number did not return to Australia until September 1919.36 It would seem that Major-General Glasgow, Lieutenant-Colonel Stacy and Lieutenant Traill all favoured either tougher prison penalties, or indeed the death penalty for some of these men. While there would appear to be no hard evidence that ring leaders or ‘hard cases’ instigated the mutiny, the conclusions drawn by Lieutenant-Colonel Stacy, Captain Moffat and Lieutenant Traill are compelling—and they were there. In his diary entry for 23 September 1918, Lieutenant Syd Traill made a pertinent point: ‘The rotten part is that there were some damn good men amongst them—just led astray and they followed the mob.’37 Geoffrey Serle, in his biography of Monash has stated that: Shortly after the Armistice, probably at the conference of senior officers late in November, Monash and Hobbs suggested to Glasgow that he remit the sentences . . . Glasgow refused to do so and Monash gave way. Glasgow told Bean that he considered Monash showed ‘moral cowardice’ in not enforcing his opinion.38 Following the Armistice, the sentences were remitted by LieutenantGeneral Hobbs after he succeeded Monash in command of the Australian Corps. In the end, any judgement upon the soldiers’ actions and penalties incurred after the 1st Battalion mutiny of 21 September 1918 will be subjective. But there can be little doubt that Monash, in pushing the soldiers of his Australian Corps to the very limits of their physical and emotional

capacity, was vindicated by the striking military gains achieved by the Corps—the end justified the means. Perhaps, therefore, the incidents concerning the disbandments and mutinies that occurred during September 1918 were appreciated by commanders such as Monash, Hobbs and Elliott as a by-product (however unsavoury) of the extreme demands that they had made upon their soldiers. Little did the soldiers of the 1st and 4th AIF Divisions realise that their offensive of 18 September 1918 would prove their last. Their war was over. *** If the strain from July to September 1918 had told on his soldiers, then Monash also had been under enormous stress. Peter Pedersen has quoted Blamey as saying that Monash ‘became very thin, the skin hung loosely on his face. His characteristic attitude was one of deep thought’. Pedersen has also stated that Monash ‘was afflicted by nervous tremors’.39 Despite the now battle-worn condition of the Australian Corps and its Commander, ahead lay what was to prove their last monumental challenge —the final assault upon the Hindenburg Main Line.

CHAPTER 12

. . . one dead man to every 2 yards of trench Marshal Foch and Field Marshal Haig planned four major offensives for the four-day period 26–29 September 1918, which had tremendous significance for the Entente. Up until that time their battles had been planned and executed to regain the vast territory lost to the Germans during the period March–July 1918. The long-awaited time had now arrived to seize ground that had been held by the enemy since the beginning of the war. The first operation was to be an offensive by the French and General Pershing’s Americans between Reims and the River Meuse on 26 September. The second was to be a thrust on 27 September by the BEF’s First and Third Armies near Cambrai, while the third was to be undertaken by the Belgians, French and British in Flanders (Belgium) the following day. But Haig’s main blow was aimed on General Rawlinson’s Fourth Army Hindenburg Main Line front on 29 September. It is a measure of the confidence placed in Monash and his Australian Corps that Rawlinson entrusted that Corps with the main role in this operation and, significantly, placed the responsibility for the initial plan upon its Commander. Monash submitted his plan to Rawlinson on 18 September 1918—the very day that the Fourth Army attacked the Outpost Line. In doing so he had been faced with a number of critical factors. The first was the paucity of infantry resources available to him. Of his five AIF Divisions, the 1st and 4th had to be rested after this present operation; he judged that the 3rd and 5th required another week’s rest; and he ‘had promised the Second Division would not be called upon until towards the end of September’.1 As Monash required four divisions for the attack (and one in reserve) but could only at first deploy his 3rd and 5th AIF

Divisions, he requested that Rawlinson supply him with an additional two. Rawlinson offered Monash the American II Corps (Major-General Read), which consisted of the 27th and 30th Divisions. At that time they were the only American divisions in the British zone of operations and were deployed as GHQ Reserve. Each division had an establishment of two brigades composed of two regiments of three battalions. Monash was therefore being offered twelve full-strength and fresh battalions that also had ‘three times as many machine gun companies as a British division and twice as many engineers’.2 The Americans were prepared to fight under Monash’s command. The second consideration was the choice of a break-in location. It will be remembered that the Hindenburg Main Line ran mainly just behind or to the east of the extensive St Quentin Canal. The area most vulnerable to a passage over that feature was the substantial three-and-a-half mile tunnel stretching from just south of Bellicourt northwards to Vendhuile. In basic terms, the ground running over the top of that tunnel offered him a threeand-a-half mile passage across the canal, and was therefore the only point on the line where tanks might be gainfully employed. Given the existence of this prime crossing point the Germans had strongly fortified its defence. Away to the west, and until captured, the Knoll, Gillemont Farm and Quennemont Farm, although located on the III Corps Outpost Line front, were mutually supporting high-ground positions of great tactical significance; from Bellicourt northwards to Bony lay the first line; located one mile to the east of the tunnel lay the second, the Le Catelet Line, which ran roughly from Nauroy northwards to Le Catelet; and the Beaurevoir Line was the third and final obstacle. Monash felt confident that with a comprehensive artillery barrage and ample tanks, the tunnel crossing was achievable. He chose the two American Divisions for the break-in, which was to be along the tunnel frontage of 6000 yards and then to a depth of 4000 yards (the Green Line), and allotted them 60 tanks. The AIF 3rd and 5th Divisions were to accomplish the more difficult exploitation phase of the attack by a ‘leapfrogging’ through the Americans to gain the additional 4000 yards to the Beaurevoir Line (Red Line), supported by 30 tanks. The AIF 2nd

Division was to be the Corps reserve. Should the Red Line be taken, Monash’s plan allowed for a further eastward break-through by the cavalry. By opting to cross the Hindenburg Main Line at only one narrow location, Monash sought to both protect the flanks of his thrust and broaden the advance by pushing the III Corps on the left flank along the tunnel breach and having it swing northwards, while IX Corps on the right was to undertake the same movement but then swing in a southerly direction. It is highly likely that Monash, in avoiding a crossing of the canal other than by the ground above the tunnel, was influenced by the recent memory of his failed frontal assault upon the Somme on 29 August. Monash concluded his plan by informing Rawlinson that its success was contingent upon four basic requirements. The first concerned his artillery support. Consistent with his now standard doctrine, he advocated not only a plentiful field artillery barrage to support the American thrust to the Green Line, but at least six mobile artillery brigades for the AIF exploitation phase to the Red Line. Importantly, those brigades of mobile artillery were not to be employed in the American Corps’s initial advance. Second, fully aware that the advantage of surprise could not be employed, he stressed the importance of ‘a systematic destructive bombardment of the whole of the Hindenburg trench system on the battle front, lasting at least four days’, which was designed to not only destroy or neutralise the German defences but ‘also demoralize and starve the trench garrisons’.3 Third, he stressed the importance of his 60 tanks in support of the Americans and a further 30 for the AIF exploitation phase. His last imperative concerned logistics: The rapid construction of usable roads, both for horse transport and mechanical transport . . . so that the whole of our battle organisation could be rapidly carried forward to maintain the battle eastward of the Red Line. This would involve the mobilisation of a large amount of mechanical transport, ready loaded with road-stone [author’s italics], so that road-making can commence after Zero hour without any delay. For these works, there would be available the greater part of the Australian and American technical troops of seven Divisions, as well as Army Troops Companies.4

With typical thoroughness Monash and his staff planned the efficient use of all four available roads. What follows is but a small part of that detailed staff planning: These roads are coloured respectively BLACK, RED, YELLOW, and BLUE on the map attached . . . They will be respectively marked on the ground by sign boards, painted in the same sequence of colours. Of these roads, the RED and YELLOW roads will probably be developed into M.T. [mechanical transport] roads. The BLACK road is not likely to be suitable for any but pedestrian and horse transport traffic . . . the Armoured Car Battalion (and Whippet Tanks accompanying it) will use the YELLOW road . . . All North and South traffic must give way to, and avoid blocking, all East bound traffic.5 At a conference on 19 September, General Rawlinson made some key changes to Monash’s plan of the preceding day. The first was a generous increase in his tank support: instead of 60 tanks, the American break-in was to now be supported by 86, while the Australians were to have 76 instead of 30. Further, as at Amiens, once the final Red Line objective had been gained, the 17th Armoured Car Battalion and a number of Whippet Tanks would move forward to secure bridges and disrupt the German line of communication. However, concerned by Monash’s narrow tunnel front, Rawlinson’s second amendment extended the front to 10 000 yards instead of Monash’s 6000. In this, Rawlinson was worried that the German potential to provide concentrated fire from the tunnel flanks might at worst jeopardise the operation, or at best cause heavy casualties. By deploying the IX Corps’s British 46th (Midland) Division in an assault across the canal a little south of Bellenglise to just below Bellicourt—on the American and Australian right or southern flank—the intricate task of passing three corps through such a narrow tunnel frontage would be avoided. After the 46th Division had crossed the canal, Rawlinson planned that the British 32nd Division would ‘leapfrog’ it, and then seize the smaller Le Tronquoy Tunnel and the high ground to the east. The IX Corps’s 1st British Division was to provide flank protection for this operation. If the assaults mounted by General

Braithwaite’s IX Corps had been less than auspicious up to this point, then its newly posted 46th Division (it arrived on 19 September) would prove a far more formidable addition to its establishment. Rawlinson’s third change stipulated that the final Beaurevoir Line objective need not necessarily be taken on that first day, but should be left to await the success of the earlier stages of the attack. After this meeting with Rawlinson on 19 September Monash also conducted his first Australian Corps conference with his divisional commanders. Realising that General Read and his American 27th and 30th Divisions were inexperienced in operations, Monash created an Australian Corps Mission ‘to act as a body of expert advisers on all questions of tactical technique, and of supply and maintenance’.6 General Read, who had already moved his Corps HQ close to Monash’s, readily excepted the offer. Knowing that the Americans were in the process of relieving the AIF 1st and 4th Divisions, Monash chose the 4th Division’s Major-General SinclairMaclagan to command a Mission of 217 soldiers: 109 from the AIF 1st Division to the American 30th Division, and 108 from the AIF 4th Division to the American 27th. Each AIF Division ordered that such personnel were ‘to be most carefully selected in order to ensure that the best experience of the Australian Corps is made available to the American Forces’.7 However, it stipulated that the duties of the Mission ‘will be entirely advisory and not executive’.8 The breadth and depth of tactical and administrative expertise contained in this Australian Corps Mission were impressive. Attached to the American II Corps HQ were the 4th AIF Division’s GOC, Major-General Sinclair-Maclagan, and its Machine Gun Battalion CO, Lieutenant-Colonel Murray, while the 1st Division supplied a General Staff Officer (GSO), a Deputy Adjutant and Quartermaster General, and a Senior Signals Officer. Each American Division HQ received a Brigadier, a Brigade Major, a Staff Captain and a Signals Officer; each Infantry Brigade HQ received a Battalion CO and a Signals Officer; and each Regimental HQ received a Brigade Major Trainee, a Staff Captain, a Transport Officer, a Quartermaster and a Senior Signals NCO. Although the numbers increased as the size of the junior formations grew, the ‘formula’ remained constant: personnel were supplied for tactics, administration, communications,

transport, machine guns and mortars.9 The 4th Division Diary recorded ‘the probable date required’ was 24 September.10 This Australian Corps Mission was therefore to have approximately four days with the Americans. The basis of Monash’s initial plan presumed that III Corps was to have taken its sector of the Hindenburg Outpost Line on 18 September or as soon as possible thereafter. It did not. By 24 September General Butler’s exhausted III Corps troops were still 1000 yards short of their Blue Line objective. Thus the three important German high-ground positions of the Knoll, Gillemont Farm and Quennemont Farm on the Outpost Line had not been taken. With the final attack on the Hindenburg Main Line scheduled for 29 September, General Rawlinson was faced with an acute problem. Insisting that the III Corps start line must be captured, he realised that time would not permit a fresh force being committed to that objective, to be then relieved by the Americans for the main attack. Further, even though he had ordered III Corps to continue to attack those features, he must have doubted its ability to do so, especially as he was at that very juncture attempting to have General Butler relieved of his command.11 He therefore reduced III Corps’s role on 29 September to the minor one of merely gaining the tunnel and providing flank protection for the Americans’ crossing of that obstacle. To compensate for III Corps’s diminishing role, Haig reinforced the Fourth Army with the British XIII Corps, which would later assume the role of an advance on the left or northern flank. There were two additional alternatives. The first was to commit the Americans to capture the remaining ground on 27 September before the main attack of the 29th. The second was to place the American 27th Division’s start line for the attack on that day 1000 yards in the rear of the former Blue Line objective—essentially where the Division was then positioned. Rawlinson chose the first option. In doing so he was probably driven by two thoughts. The first was wishful thinking, in that he hoped the Americans might accomplish in one to two days what III Corps had failed to accomplish in seven. However, it would seem that Rawlinson’s decision was driven more by his reluctance to change his intricate plans at such a late juncture. The point is illustrated by the fact that although Monash offered to change the artillery barrage plans to accommodate a revised American start line, his offer was rejected. In the end, the Americans were

now confronted with a one- to two-day operation to take the old Blue Line objectives of the Knoll, Gillemont Farm and Quennemont Farm, before then mounting their Hindenburg Main Line attack on the very next day. On 23 September Monash held a conference for the American II Corps senior officers. The senior Australian Corps Mission officers were also present. Lasting some three hours, Monash gave an outline of the American preliminary attack upon the Outpost Line objectives of the Knoll, Quennemont and Gillemont Farms. He also described in minute detail the roles of both Divisions in the coming 29 September attack. On the 25th he held his first full Australian Corps conference, and the next day the American Generals and brigadier-generals, the Australian divisional commanders and their staffs, and tank, air force and cavalry officers all attended the final conference. On that same day (26 September), after Monash had formally assumed command of his new front, with the American 27th and 30th Divisions on the left and right flanks respectively, the planned four-day artillery bombardment of the German Hindenburg Main Line began. The artillery plan for this operation presented three challenges. The first was the fact that the German defences were far more extensive than had previously been confronted, in that there was an abundance of concrete dugouts across three lines of main trenches; the protection offered by the two tunnels; and the widespread and deep nature of the wire belts. Second, those attributes made the employment of an artillery predicted bombardment at zero hour redundant, and, as a consequence, the prized Principle of War ‘surprise’ could not be employed. The third concerned General Rawlinson’s plan to cross the canal at two places instead of Monash’s original Bellicourt–Vendhuile tunnel-only plan. The canal was about 59 feet wide, some 32 feet ten inches deep, and its average water depth was six-and-a-half feet. Most importantly, its western wired side and its eastern side were both extremely steep. Therefore, a prolonged artillery program would be required to both decrease the gradients of those canal slopes and to cut the wire, and thereby facilitate the British 46th Division’s crossing of that obstruction. There were thus five Fourth Army artillery objectives: neutralise the German defences; cut the wire; lessen the canal slope gradient at the 46th Division crossing point; provide, as usual,

accurate and telling creeping barrages for the infantry advance; and generally demoralise the enemy occupants on that line. The artillery resources for the four-day bombardment were impressive. In all, ‘44 brigades of field artillery, 21 brigades of heavy artillery, and 4 long-range siege batteries’, which amounted to ‘1,044 field guns and howitzers, and 593 heavy guns and howitzers’, were to be employed.12 Of those, General Monash’s front was allotted 23 field artillery brigades and ten heavy artillery brigades.13 There were five parts of the four-day preliminary bombardment. The first was the employment of some 30 000 new gas shells (Mustard Gas), just then arriving from England, which were to be fired in combination with HE by 18-pounder guns and 6-inch Howitzers during irregular periods over the four days. The gas shell targets were the main dugout and artillery locations as far as the range of the guns would permit. The second was counter-battery fire using HE shells with instantaneous fuses and gas shells. When this fire was employed on fortified emplacements and dugouts, delayed action fuses were to be used. The third took the form of intensive harassing fire over each 24-hour period so as to demoralise the enemy. Wire cutting was the vitally important fourth role. This was to be undertaken by 4.5- and 6-inch Howitzers using instantaneous fuses, to be followed by machine gun fire to hamper German repair work. The last objective was the bombardment of selected strong points and locations. In the realisation that a destructive bombardment certainly upon the tunnel, but also upon concrete dugouts and machine gun positions would not destroy them, the entrances to those features were targeted and harassing fire was to be used. In an effort to disrupt German communications, telephone exchanges were to be targeted, and specially defended locations—such as Bellenglise, Nauroy, Bellicourt and Bony— were to be hit.14 The majority of the Fourth Army’s guns were deployed on good ground stretching north to south on the line Lempire–Hargicourt–Le Verguier. The counter-battery program for the four-day bombardment was hampered to some extent by poor weather and reduced flying hours, which affected photography, observation and flash spotting.15 However, the use of

sound ranging, and most of all the detailed captured maps, compensated for those handicaps. *** At 5.30 am on 27 September 1918, the American 27th Division’s attack to secure the Outpost Line consisting of the Knoll, Gillemont Farm and Quennemont Farm was launched. Charles Bean: It had to advance 1,000–1,500 yards on a front of slightly over 4,000 yards. It attacked with the three battalions of the 106th Regiment (53rd Brigade), helped by twelve tanks (a company of the 4th Tank Battalion), behind a creeping barrage laid by nine brigades of artillery and including fifteen per cent of smoke shell.16 Such terms as ‘mopping up’, ‘infantry–tank cooperation’, ‘junior leadership’, ‘communication’, ‘navigation’ and ‘staff work’ are so easy to use; and yet these techniques are so hard to master. And then they must be coordinated into a practised and successful military doctrine. If one or more of the critical elements of time, training and experience are prejudiced in the acquisition of that doctrine, then failure and severe casualties will result. High endeavour was not lacking in those American troops. Edward M Coffman has recorded that intense fighting raged around the three key locations of the Knoll, Gillemont Farm and Quennemont Farm for much of the day. ‘A reinforced battalion took the Knoll three times and lost it each time.’17 Of the above-mentioned points, the failure of ‘mopping up’, ‘junior leadership’ and ‘communication’ appear to have been the major causes for the American reverses. In their enthusiasm, as ground was gained in the fog and mist early that morning, German machine gun posts were missed, and a ‘mopping up’ second wave of troops failed to deal with them. In all this, the Americans went into the operation with a shortage of officers. Peter Pedersen has pointed out that the American 53rd Brigade had gone in with ‘only eighteen officers in its twelve companies, whereas an Australian Brigade would have employed at least forty officers’.18 Two further points should be made. First, those American officers were

handicapped by poor map-reading and navigation skills, and a number were too far to the rear to effectively control their battle. Second, while the Australian officers in such an operation would have been more numerous, if they became casualties, senior NCOs—and indeed other ranks—were familiar with the minor infantry tactics required, and would have carried on. This did not apply to the Americans. However, communication was the major problem, and it surfaced not only at the local sub-unit level, but right through the chain of command. As the Americans gained ground, their failure to mop up some German machine gun posts saw them fired on from the front, back and flanks, which fragmented their progress into isolated, disorientated and often leaderless groups. In the intensity of fighting, therefore, many junior and senior commanders alike lost control of their battle. No. 3 Squadron, Australian Flying Corps, first reported that the early morning fog and mist made identification of the front-line position difficult; it also found that ‘a later contact reported our line not quite on the objective but considerable doubt existed as to where the more advanced posts were. No flares were lit so that the line had to be obtained by recognising our troops.’19 And, late that day, No. 3 Squadron observed that: Just on dusk it was reported that the most advanced posts of the Americans were cut off with communication with their rear and a plane was sent out to drop a message ordering them to hold on until reinforced . . . Captain L. J. Wackett, Pilot, and Lieut. M. Shelley, Observer, also went up and dropped two boxes of ammunition in this vicinity in case these troops were in need of same.20 Monash’s Corps HQ received conflicting reports throughout the day, which varied from individual officers maintaining that the objectives had or had not been taken, to further contradictory reports from airmen. Further away still from the battle, on 27 September the Fourth Army recorded that an officer ‘who returned from the front line at 5 p.m. reports definitely that the Knoll-Guillemont Farm [sic] and Quennemont Farm are in our hands’.21 It would not be until the early morning of 28 September that patrols found Germans still in control of the three original objectives. In scattered

and isolated groups, some behind them and others in front, lay numerous dead, dying and still-unwounded American soldiers. The question was, how many of the latter existed and where were they? On 28 September the American II Corps Commander, Major-General Read, and Generals Monash and Rawlinson were faced with a harsh choice concerning the artillery barrage for the main attack the next day (29 September) on the left American 27th Division front. Given that Division’s failed attack of the previous day, and the consequent unknown numbers of American troops still scattered between their start line and the stilluncaptured objectives, the generals were confronted with two options. And both were unpalatable. The first was to stick to Monash’s original barrage to comply with his plan of 18 September. But if this option was adopted, the Americans would be forced to cross over 1000 yards of ground in order to reach those three formidable high-ground objectives without artillery creeping barrage support, for fear of bombarding their own isolated pockets of troops. Monash and General O’Ryan, the American 27th Division Commander, suggested a second option to Rawlinson, which entailed a postponement of the attack for a day, in order to mount a further operation to secure the original Outpost start line. Rawlinson declined, pointing out that the attack on the 29th involved four armies and could not therefore be rescheduled for one division, but that he would allot the 27th Division extra tanks. In the end, the matter was greatly influenced by General O’Ryan, who was not prepared to bring down a barrage on stranded elements of his own troops, which, he stated, would have been ‘repulsive to the mass of the officers and men of the division and destructive of morale’.22 Monash’s original plan of 18 September with its Hindenburg Outpost start line was to stand. *** 5.50 am, 29 September 1918. Under cover of an early morning fog and mist, amid the deafening roar of the Fourth Army artillery barrage, and with the added din of tanks and of planes flying overhead, the infantry began its assault upon the Hindenburg Main Line. The operation conducted by the British IX Corps’s 46th (Midland) Division on the right or southern flank

must go down as one of the most audacious and brilliantly executed attacks of the war. And from an Australian Corps perspective this British operation secured its right flank throughout the battle.

On this southern front the 46th (Midland) Division’s 137th Brigade, closely following an excellent artillery barrage, stormed the advanced German trenches on the western side of the canal. This coordinated action was so swift that many of the German defenders were caught in their dugouts and were either overrun or captured. When the leading elements of the Division reached the canal they were confronted by the fruits of the long artillery bombardment upon its slopes. Sections of the wire had been cut and the former steep gradient had been damaged to allow an easier descent to the water and the scaling of its eastern bank. At this point a most innovative plan for the canal crossing was implemented. The Fourth Army had procured all manner of aids for the crossing of that obstacle—some 3000 lifebelts, ropes, a few rafts and ladders—which facilitated not just a crossing, but a rapid one and in large numbers. Further, the rapidity of that crossing led to the capture of an intact bridge near Riqueval just as the German engineers were about to demolish it. Nor did the momentum of this 46th Division slow after its canal crossing. By mid-afternoon, and still aided by the intensity and accuracy of their artillery barrages, the 46th Division had not only taken the canal from Riqueval to Le Tronquoy, but also the first line of the Hindenburg Main Line defences. After the 32nd Division had ‘leapfrogged’ the 46th, its soldiers went on to capture the critical high ground east of Magny and had, by the end of that stirring day, taken its objectives to an impressive depth of 6000 yards. Prior and Wilson have left us with a telling summation of the 1918 consequences of an intense, accurate, artillery bombardment followed up by disciplined, well-drilled infantry who had kept pace with it: ‘It has been estimated that during each minute 126 shells from the field guns alone were falling on every 500 yards of trench. The intensity was maintained for the entire eight hours of 46th Division’s attack.’23 On the British IX Corps left or northern flank, General Monash’s II American and Australian Corps attack was undertaken by the American 30th Division and the AIF 5th Division on the right flank, and the American 27th and AIF 3rd Division on the left. Each of the two forces were to attack across a 3500-yard front.

The American 30th Division (Major-General Lewis), closely following its barrage, crossed the start line promptly at 5.50 am, and set off for the southern half of the Bellicourt Tunnel. As had happened to their sister 27th Division two days earlier, the heavy fog and mist—and artillery smoke— that concealed many of those soldiers during their advance, also made navigation and the identification of German machine gun posts most difficult. As they progressed, those two factors caused a breaking-up of formations into individual groups of soldiers who often found themselves disorientated, leaderless and stuck in shell holes or trenches and unable to communicate with other personnel. The 5th AIF Division (Major-General Hobbs) was tasked with ‘leapfrogging’ the American 30th Division on the Green Line. Its 8th Brigade was to advance on the right or southern flank, its 15th Brigade on the left or northern flank, and its 14th Brigade was to act as the Division’s reserve. All three Brigades were supported by eight Mark V Tanks. Strict orders were given that all AIF Brigades were not to cross their start line until 9.00 am and were to ‘leapfrog’ the Americans at the Green Line not before 11.00 am. The 5th Division’s 8th Brigade (Brigadier-General Tivey), moving in artillery formation, crossed its start line on schedule with its 32nd Battalion on the right, its 29th Battalion on the left, the 31st in support and its 30th Battalion in reserve. Evidence of poor American 30th Division communication and a resulting confusion immediately surfaced. The 8th Brigade recorded that: At 9.40 a.m. word was received from Brigade Forward Station that the assaulting Bns. had passed Bellicourt: situation fairly quiet. At 10.8 a.m. all Bns reported coming under heavy machine gun fire from direction of Nauroy, also that they could not see any evidence of Americans in front of them. At the same time word was received from Division that 30th American Division had captured their objectives.24 As the right-flank 8th Brigade’s 32nd Battalion approached the tunnel, it came under withering machine gun fire, which stalled its advance. Tanks were called in and the troublesome machine gun posts were taken. By early

afternoon, although the 32nd Battalion was able to push forward through the southern end of Nauroy, the 8th Brigade had established the fact that there were ‘no organised American troops in front of the Brigade’.25 The 32nd Division’s right flank was secured by contact being made with the British 46th Division’s 4th Leicesters. The situation on the 8th Brigade’s left flank presented a tougher challenge. With its sister 15th Brigade’s difficulty in maintaining its forward advance on the 8th Brigade’s left flank, the latter’s 29th Battalion, although managing to reach the Green Line at about 3.00 pm, was forced to withdraw to the Le Catelet–Nauroy Line.26 While these events were in train on the 8th Brigade’s right flank, on the 5th Division’s left flank its 15th Brigade (Brigadier-General Elliott) had also experienced a tough time. Elliott deployed his 59th Battalion on his left flank, his 57th Battalion on the right, and his 58th in reserve. It will be remembered that Elliott’s 60th Battalion had been disbanded and had become a part of the 59th Battalion. The two leading 59th and 57th battalions were each supported by two Mark V Tanks and two Whippet Tanks, while the reserve 58th Battalion was supported by four Mark V Tanks. Some idea of the degree of difficulty even for experienced troops attempting to navigate their way forward through that dense fog, mist and artillery smoke early that morning, can be gauged by the fact that although compass bearings were frequently taken, the 15th Brigade’s 59th Battalion ‘appeared to have suffered most by loss of direction’.27 Having travelled too far to the north, the Battalion found their supporting 58th Battalion on their right and the right-flank 3rd Division’s 44th Battalion ahead of them. Once again, on the 15th Brigade front, we note poor communication from the Americans ahead: The only reports received here were from our Liaison officer with the 119th American regiment. At 7.5 a.m. he reported that the attack was progressing well; Tanks and Troops were across the HINDENBURG SUPPORT LINE . . . The Support Battalions were reported to be ‘mopping up’ the MAIN HINDENBURG LINE.28

At around 11.00 am, just as the fog began to clear, the 15th Brigade reached the southern portion of the Bellicourt Tunnel—which was about halfway to the American Green Line objective—and found scattered and leaderless groups of Americans who ‘did not seem to know anything of the situation and could not say where their front line was’.29 As this position was being subjected to intense shell fire and enfiladed machine gun fire from the north, the 58th and 57th battalions—still with a company of the right-flank 3rd Division 11th Brigade’s 44th Battalion—were forced to dig in and consolidate. In addition, parties of Americans were taken into the 15th Brigade’s 58th and 57th Battalions. The whereabouts of their original leftflank 59th Battalion was unknown. It transpired that the 59th Battalion had formed a joint HQ with the 3rd Division’s 44th Battalion (less one company), and were held up by enfilading machine gun fire to their north. After receiving orders to resume their advance, the COs of the 57th and 58th Battalion planned an attack for 3.00 pm to advance to, and clear, the village of Estrées. The assault was to be supported by a creeping barrage, four tanks and six Whippet Tanks. Given the 59th Battalion was held up, the 57th (right flank) and 58th (left flank) were to stage the attack, with the 59th ordered to provide flank protection on the left. The attack did not go according to plan. As the two Battalions went forward the artillery barrage failed to ‘fall in the place arranged’ and a 77mm gun deployed on the Le Catelet–Nauroy Line knocked out all four tanks and four of the six Whippet Tanks in about fifteen minutes.30 Two tank reports from the 8th Tank Battalion illustrate their ability to deal with machine gun posts but their difficulties in the face of improved German anti-tank fire. Lieutenant Harding in Tank 9199: I moved in front of Infantry in an Easterly direction. Hostile shelling was very severe. The enemies’ defence consisted of many machine gun nests. I was able to pick out three of these and used my 6 pdr gun with effect. The Infantry were unable to move forward in face of fierce MG fire. I accordingly returned to Infantry in order that I might best form an idea what part of enemies’ defence was giving most trouble. The MG fire seemed to be coming from all directions. I moved forward again in the direction of Cabaret Wood . . . and

fired on a light field gun position there. Before I could come within near range my tank was hit on the left idle sprocket. I decided to withdraw from action, which I did. I acquainted the Infantry of my intention and reason and then moved back . . . I was able to bring my tank to the rallying point but on arrival my left track broke and fell off. Further movement was thus impossible.31 During this engagement, Harding’s tank managed to expend some 40 rounds of 6-pounder ammunition and 60 rounds of machine gun fire, and was in action for 45 minutes. Second-Lieutenant Dunlop in Tank 9385 was attached to the 58th Battalion: . . . picked up the infantry and went over the bank in front of them. As soon as we appeared over the bank the enemy machine guns opened up. We went along in a direction leading left of the Cabaret Wood Farm. When the enemy infantry saw the tank they left their trench and retreated under the fire of all the possible guns of the tank, my driver firing with his revolver whenever a slight cessation of enemy fire permitted. During the whole of the time from leaving the bank we were under direct fire from enemy field guns in the Farm and on our left. On the way up and before we crossed the enemy front line, a shell came through the left sponson and burst in the right hand side slightly wounding two of the crew. They got into the right side and we carried on doing as much damage as possible to the retreating infantry and the gunners at the Farm. We crossed the trench and on reaching a point level with the Farm I asked for news of the movement of our own infantry and was told they were not following up behind, so I asked my driver to return. On our way back the left track was clipped by a shell but not sufficiently damaged to stop us. Fortunately we managed to get fairly close to our front line before we were finally put out of action altogether by a shell smashing up the right track. Shells were dropping all round the tank so I gave orders to evacuate. I saw all my crew out and they managed to reach our front line in spite of shells and machine gun fire.32

Lieutenant Dunlop’s tank expended some 800 rounds of machine gun fire, covered two miles, and suffered three casualties. Faced by heavy casualties, particularly to officers, both battalion commanders ordered their men to hold and consolidate their positions in depth on the Le Catelet–Nauroy support trench line, which lay about halfway between the Hindenburg Main Line and the American Green Line objective. By around 7.00 pm that night the 58th Battalion reported that it had made contact with the 57th on its right, and had, in unison with a number of Americans and a company of the left-flank 44th Battalion, formed a defensive flank. The 58th Battalion Report on Operations also made a startling revelation: An incident occurred during the evening which goes to prove that the Americans in their advance did not mop up completely as the Bearer Sub-Division of the 15th Field Ambulance, on entering a dug-out, found 2 enemy Officers and 40 other ranks occupying same. This dug-out was situated behind my Battalion Headquarters.33 With the 5th AIF Division thus engaged, on its left or northern flank, it will be remembered that the 27th Division had failed in its attempt to capture the Knoll, Gillemont Farm and Quennemont Farm two days earlier, which was Monash’s planned start line for its 29 September assault. Thus, on the 29th it faced two enormous challenges. First, it had to cross over 1000 yards of ground without artillery support, as unknown numbers of stranded Americans were perceived to be scattered across that ground. Second, it was to then seize a further 4500 yards to gain its Green Line objective. At 5.50 am the Americans crossed their start line. If the absence of artillery support was to be a crippling factor in their progress even before they had crossed that line, then the fate of their tank support only added to their impending disaster. As the infantry began the advance, 34 of the allotted 40 tanks, mainly from the 301st Tank Battalion, accompanied them, as six had failed to reach their start line. Then, of the remaining 34, two were almost immediately lost in an old British minefield containing 600 mines; heavy anti-tank fire from Gillemont Farm accounted for a further

fourteen; and poor navigation skills caused yet others to lose direction in the smoke and mist. In the event only one reached the Tunnel Line. What then transpired for the 27th American Division is a classic example of a breakdown in the 1918 interlocking-arms doctrine for infantry support, where the emphasis was on firepower not manpower. The absence of artillery support told heavily on the tanks, which in turn dramatically affected their infantry support role. While the Americans and their supporting tanks made much of their difficulty in navigation, it is left to the reader to contemplate the additional infantry casualties that would have resulted had that fog and mist screen not been present. The conditions were not the problem; it was rather the Americans’ total inexperience in navigation. Major-General Montgomery, in his The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the hundred Days, made the point that the conditions on this day were ‘almost a replica of the morning of August 8th’.34 If the Americans suffered from a lack of a tactical doctrine, then other worrying issues soon became apparent: supply and administration. Charles Bean: ‘In this fighting their water, rations, and ammunition arrived irregularly, sometimes not at all. Some troops who had been without food for a day returned to obtain it. In action, the men without leaders were lost, helpless and listless.’35 On 29 September the AIF 3rd Division (Major-General Gellibrand) had the task of following up the 27th American Division and then ‘leapfrogging’ through it on the Green Line at 11.00 am. It was then to assault and capture its segment of the distant Red Line. Gellibrand allotted his 10th Brigade (Brigadier-General McNicoll) the left or northern flank, his 11th Brigade (Brigadier-General Cannan) the right flank, and the 9th Brigade (Brigadier-General Goddard) was to act as reserve. When the right or southern flank 3rd Division’s 11th Brigade advanced it soon became apparent that the American 27th Division attack had foundered. As the 11th Brigade’s left-flank 41st Battalion reached the Benjamin Post trench system—which was near the 27th American Division start line for that day—‘it became evident that things were not going well.’36 It was met with intense machine gun, artillery and sniper fire, which drove them into that trench system. The 41st Battalion would later report that:

. . . a number of Americans appeared through the mist and got into the Benjamin Post trench system. This number rapidly increased and it was learned that they had been definitely checked on the line GILLEMONT–QUENNEMONT, had suffered very heavily, and it was apparent their morale and organisation no longer existed as a fighting Unit.37 A striking feature of the subsequent attempt by the 41st Battalion to then move forward by outflanking and mopping up machine gun posts was the high incidence of officer casualties through machine gun and sniper fire. The Battalion would later state that their nine officers were lost as a result of their desire to move forward to gather intelligence and run their battle. In the face of such fire they suffered accordingly. The 44th Battalion on the 11th Brigade’s right flank was able to advance and make contact with the 15th Brigade’s 58th Battalion. By 11.00 am that morning the 11th Brigade found that its tank support had come under heavy fire and that no ‘live’ tanks were then operating on its front. On the 3rd Division’s left or northern flank the 10th Brigade advanced to its start line with its 40th Battalion on the left or northern flank, its 39th in the centre, its 38th Battalion on the right and its 37th Battalion in reserve. As the Battalions approached their start line they also came under heavy, direct fire from machine guns and 77-mm guns; their eight supporting tanks were soon either knocked out by shell fire or mines; and, with some American troops who had passed beyond the Gillemont Trench Line and others in unknown locations ahead of them, they were unable to employ their field artillery. Under direct observation from well-sited German machine gun posts and concrete dugouts, their movement was restricted to trenches and patrolling in an effort to advance. Major-General Gellibrand was informed at 9.50 am that his 10th and 11th Brigades had been held up. It is at this point that questionable intelligence and poor communication came into play. When, at around 10.30 am the 10th and 11th Brigades again reported their positions to 3rd Division HQ, Gellibrand had already left to visit the front and confer with his two brigadiers. In his absence, the Division’s GSO 1, LieutenantColonel Jess, advised Brigadiers Cannan and McNicoll to attempt to

employ strong patrolling rather than attacks in strength on the German posts and dugouts. Cannan and McNicoll had anticipated this order and had already begun that process. Jess, also aware that the much more successful advance on the 5th Division’s front offered an opportunity for an outflanking movement against the Germans opposing 3rd Division, ordered the 9th Brigade to prepare for this possibility. Meanwhile, at the Australian Corps HQ Monash and Blamey were forming a very different interpretation of events. Charles Bean: About 11 a.m. there reached Monash an airman’s report that Americans had been seen all along their objective. Ground flares had been observed (it said) in Gouy. Messages from General Brand and from other senior Australians with the American staff, said that the 27th Division had undoubtedly reached the Tunnel mound, but that how much further they had gone was unknown.38 At 1.10 pm on 29 September, after General Gellibrand had returned to 3rd Division HQ from his visit to the front and his two brigade commanders, he spoke to Blamey at Corps HQ. The two had a spirited discussion. In essence, Blamey argued that the Germans facing 3rd Division were ‘isolated’ posts that merely required ‘mopping up’, and that elements of the American 27th Division had gained the Green Line. Gellibrand knew better. He told Blamey that far from facing a task of ‘mopping up’, his Division faced considerable German strength on the American start line. His evidence was compelling. He informed Blamey that very significant numbers of Americans had returned to that line; that the Germans had excellent observation over his northern front from the high ground west of Quennemont Farm; that American troops and tank officers had informed him that the Americans were a long way from the Green Line; and that planes had flown over his troops on the start line requesting signals. Despite the fact that Gellibrand informed Blamey that he had just returned from the front—and might have added that he had conferred with his two brigadiers—Blamey remained unconvinced.39 Peter Sadler, in his biography of Gellibrand, has given a pithy summation of the divergence of opinion between Gellibrand and Blamey: ‘Here was a classic example of

one person knowing what the situation was, because he had studied it first hand, and another believing unconfirmed reports that justified his preconceptions.’40 In the end, the 3rd Division was ordered to stage a further frontal assault against the German defences with tank support at 3.00 pm. Given the stillunclear position of forward American troops, yet again the Division was forced to advance without artillery and machine gun support. When the attack went in its soldiers ‘were met with such machine gun and shell fire that the continuation of the advance was not possible during daylight’.41 Although the advance only gained a few hundred yards, the long-soughtafter prize of Gillemont Farm was taken. The ground gained by the Fourth Army attack upon the Hindenburg Main Line on 29 September markedly decreased in length and area as it moved northwards. In this, the reasons came down to the quality of the troops and the level of their support. The attack by the 46th (Midland) Division and their supporting 32nd Division was magnificently supported by concentrated and accurate artillery fire on the canal, and a heavy and accurate creeping barrage closely followed up by the infantry. Further, the innovative crossing of the canal obstacle allowed concentration of force and a resultant securing of the objective. On the American 30th Division front their inexperience was, to a large measure, compensated for by the artillery support and the competence of the following 5th Division, which allowed for limited success. However, the chances of success for the American 27th Division were based on the false assumptions that they would capture the start line on 27 September and that they would reach their Green Line objective without artillery support on 29 September. And a consequence of that error was felt not only by the 27th Division but by the AIF 3rd Division. Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, was a stunned onlooker to the events on that day: . . . we pulled our guns out and moved northward back along the same gully past Roisel and camped in an open field near Hesbecourt and Templeux-le-Guerard. Before daylight we were moving back up into the line equipped as horse artillery. All blankets and gear were left behind and rations strapped to each gun limber. We passed

through Hargicourt and the whole 8th Artillery Brigade was assembled in a big gully nearby. Here we waited for the attack to develop. We were to leap frog and pass through the Americans who were attacking first (our first experience of actually actively supporting the Yank). The line was only over the rise in front of us. We were to dash out and into action before the Hun could recover from the first onslaught. At last we got the order to advance . . . We immediately came into a hail of machine gun fire . . . Our horses were getting hit and we had to retire hastily. We now discovered that the Americans had advanced right through the German first defences without stopping to clear out the dugouts and machine gun pockets and had gone onto their second line of defence sending their prisoners, unescorted, to the rear. These prisoners, finding their first line defences still occupied by a number of Germans, rallied and reinforced their comrades. The result was the Americans found themselves between two lines of German trenches, cut off from both retreat and reinforcements by a barrage of reformed German machine guns. This was a horrible example of bad fire discipline and cost a lot of lives. We could not give support because we were too close to fire from cover and would have been literally mown down trying to site our guns on top of the ridge. We had to camp the night in some old trenches.42 Armitage could not have then known that any support he might later have given was denied the Americans and Australians by orders. Prior and Wilson have recorded that Rawlinson and Monash were scathing in their criticism of the American effort on 29 September. They have quoted Rawlinson’s diary as recording that he feared that the Americans had taken heavy casualties ‘but it is their own fault’.43 And in summary they have identified the consequences of an infantry assault against strong enemy positions without artillery support: ‘There were any number of precedents in this war for failure under such circumstances. On this occasion the originators of the fiasco were not the hapless American troops or their commanders but Rawlinson and Monash.’44

By the end of 29 September the Fourth Army’s British 46th Division, supported by the 32nd, had breached the canal from Le Tronquoy to Riqueval and captured their section of the Hindenburg Main Line and its support line to a depth of 6000 yards. To its north, the American 30th Division and the AIF 5th Division’s front had just reached the second Nauroy–Le Catelet Line, but as that line wound its way northwards to the 27th American and 3rd Division front, it dramatically wound westwards, or backwards, to the American start line of that fateful day. During the late afternoon, light rain began to fall, which intensified during the night. With typical administrative efficiency, and despite casualties to its Transport and Quartermaster personnel in transit, the AIF Battalions were furnished with a hot meal, a warm drink—and in some cases rum—late on that rain-soaked night and in the early hours of the morning. Those Americans who had managed to join the AIF 3rd Division during that day’s confused fighting were also supplied. General Rawlinson’s orders for 30 September were that the IX Corps in the south was to capture the high ground to its north-east and then move on Joncourt, so as to assist the Australian Corps right flank. In the centre, the Australian Corps was to take over the advance, with the Americans ordered to withdraw to the rear to reorganise and rest. The 3rd and 5th AIF Divisions were ordered to advance in a north-easterly direction. On the northern flank, the 3rd Division’s objectives were the tunnel entrance, the Knob and the village of Bony, which would secure that northern end of the Hindenburg Main Line. The 5th Division had three tasks: the newly deployed 14th Brigade was to attack northwards along Railway Ridge to capture a portion of the Le Catelet Line; the 15th Brigade was to occupy that gained ground and later thrust eastwards; and the right-flank 8th Brigade was to move on Joncourt in unison with its right-flank British IX Corps advance. *** On 30 September 1918, on the far right or southern 5th AIF Division flank, its 8th Brigade’s attempt to advance was met with heavy machine gun fire from the north. The only ground gained that day was by the Brigade’s 32nd Battalion, which, having a secure and advancing British 32nd Division right

flank, was able to make some 500 yards before digging in. During that morning Lance-Corporal Len Clarkson became a casualty. His letter to his parents, 4 October 1918: I am afraid you will have to excuse this terrible scrawl but I don’t feel much like writing as I am very weak and a bit ‘done-in’, but thankful to be alive and out of the war (I hope). I was wounded on the morning of September 30th. We started to advance across open country . . . but the machine gun fire was so heavy that we had to stop and dig ourselves in. Then Fritz opened up on us with whizbangs and one of them landed amongst three of us lying down. I was hit in the right thigh above the knee and cried out for stretcher bearers. After some time these chaps arrived (they’re wonderful). They cut off my breeches and plugged up the hole in my leg with bandages, quite a gory job. They looked at the other two but they were dead so they left me to attend to others and there were plenty of them. Then the rain began to pelt down and I felt pretty miserable and scared as the shells were still bursting all around us and I was afraid that I would be hit again (actually I was but only slightly—in the other leg). After a couple of hours the shelling stopped and I waited to be carried out. After what seemed an awful long time along came four Tommie stretcher bearers and they started back with me. We were all scared stiff as we were right out in the open with plenty of shells about but they kept on going and every now and then would put me down for a spell. I had the Platoon’s cigarette rations in my pockets and told the Tommies to help themselves which seemed to urge them on a bit as we all wanted to get as far away from Fritz as we could. There seemed to be an awful lot of dead lying about. After they had carried me for what seemed miles they dumped me at an underground C.C.S. (Casualty Clearing Station). This seemed to be full of wounded Germans but the Doctors, seeing that I was an ‘Aussie’ put me on the table before the Jerries and made them wait (I suppose that was fair enough). The place was a shambles and looked like a butcher shop. They plugged my wound again and I

was loaded into a Red Cross motor van with 3 others and remember a mighty lot of bumps and that the road seemed pretty rough; every bump hurt a bit. Two of the other fellows were in a bad way and will probably die. Late that night we were loaded into a Red Cross train and it was strange to see Army Nurses and they looked after us like children. They had plenty to do as the train was full of wounded . . . I expect I will be sent to England soon, Much love to all, Len45 While the 5th Division’s 8th Brigade was thus employed, on its left the 14th Brigade (Brigadier-General Stewart) was tasked with an attack along that portion of the Le Catelet Line held by the 15th Brigade. It was then to advance along Railway Ridge. The Brigade was to be supported by a creeping artillery barrage from two field artillery brigades, which was timed for zero hour 300 yards ahead of the infantry, and a subsequent advance at a rate of 100 yards every five minutes. The heavy artillery was to concentrate its fire upon the Le Catelet Trench Line.46 In this 14th Brigade advance the 53rd Battalion was to lead, with the 55th in support 500 yards behind it. The 53rd Battalion’s entry into battle was handicapped by two events. First, ‘the guiding arrangements went amiss, and the Battalion had to find its own way across very difficult country, not previously reconnoitred, and was 15 minutes late in reaching its start line’.47 As the barrage began at 6.00 am, and as the approaching 53rd came under heavy machine gun fire, its well-drilled CO and his soldiers came onto their start line in artillery formation and then reverted to an attack formation. The second problem occurred when it was found that the artillery barrage ‘was not very strong’, and the advance was met with further heavy machine gun fire from Cabaret Farm, the Le Catelet Line and Bony. The story of the 14th Brigade’s fighting on 30 September was one of ferocious, close-quarter fighting, where the skill and endeavour of the Section Commander and his troops were pitted against a desperate, skilled and determined enemy who mostly fought to the end. And a feature of that resistance was the high number of German machine guns employed and the

preparedness of those manning them to fight to the last. After the 53rd Battalion and its supporting 55th Battalion had gained some ground along the Le Catelet Line, they were met by a fierce counter-attack, that drove them back. At noon efforts were made to bomb the enemy trench line and regain ground, but that and subsequent attempts failed. The Germans counter-attacked again along the Le Catelet Trench Line at 3.00 pm, and in fierce fighting drove the 53rd and 55th Battalions back a further 200 yards. Then the Australians attacked again and retook that lost ground. By late afternoon, with evidence of yet another impending German counter-attack, the 53rd and 55th Battalions were concentrated under the former’s CO and ordered to consolidate a strong flank line extending from their northernmost Le Catelet Line to link up with the 3rd Division’s 44th Battalion on their left. This line was completed around midnight. Some measure of the intensity of the hand-to-hand fighting of that day was the fact that while some 70 machine guns, seven 77-mm guns and one 4.2 inch gun were taken, only two German officers and 30 other ranks were captured. A later count of the German dead in the area revealed 200 corpses.48 In support of its 14th Brigade, the 15th (Brigadier-General Elliott) had occupied and consolidated the limited trench line gained by the 14th Brigade, and had made an unsuccessful attempt to clear the troublesome Cabaret Wood Farm. If the 5th Division had endured a tough day’s fighting on the Australian Corps’s right flank, the 30 September operation facing General Gellibrand’s left or northern flank 3rd Division was also formidable. The 3rd Division Report on Operations, 29 September to 2 October 1918: The situation regarding the operation of the American Division [the 27th] was still obscure. The enemy was holding strongly those trenches of the portion of the HINDENBURG Line system still in his possession, though during the night his advanced patrols had been pushed back from their forward positions in MACQUINCOURT VALLEY–QUENNEMONT FARM– GILLEMONT FARM, nearer to his front line in the HINDENBURG Line system.

Command of the Forward Area passed from 27th American Division to Third Division at 3.35 a.m.49 For his 3rd Division attack on 30 September, Major-General Gellibrand had planned to deploy his fresh 9th Brigade (Brigadier-General Goddard). But when he was ordered at 7.10 pm on 29 September to stage another frontal assault, it became apparent that Goddard’s fresh brigade could not cover the necessary distance to its start line on time, especially given the heavy rain and mud of that night. It is a measure of the competence and trust in the AIF command and its junior formations that Gellibrand was able to stage his attack with a mixture of battalions from his three brigades—no mean feat in terms of command, control and cooperation. His plan for 30 September now envisaged a thrust by Brigadier Cannan’s 11th Brigade’s 42nd, 43rd and 35th Battalions upon Bony Ridge, which was to be reinforced by the 9th Brigade’s 33rd and 35th Battalions upon their arrival. Next, the 9th Brigade with its remaining 34th Battalion and the 11th Brigade’s 41st were to finally clear the Hindenburg Outpost Line. The 3rd Division’s left or northern thrust for that day was to be an eastward movement undertaken by Brigadier-General McNicoll’s 10th Brigade. But yet again, there would be no artillery support for the operation, given the still-unknown fate of any stranded Americans. The only concession was permission to shell Bony. In its Report on Operations, the 3rd Division would later record that: The progress of the attack of the 11th Brigade at 6.0 a.m. was very slow, the enemy fighting stubbornly for each machine gun position or portion of trench; and throughout the whole of this day the 11th Brigade and the patrols of the 10th Brigade were engaged in severe fighting (bayonet, rifle grenades and bombs). The enemy shelling on the portion of the HINDENBURG Line in our possession was very heavy and concentrated and movement, except along the trenches, was practically impossible.50 As the morning’s fighting progressed, the 9th Brigade signalled that its troops were held up under excellent German observation of their positions

and that they required artillery support. Just after midday 3rd Division informed Corps HQ that its 10th and 11th Brigades—and their adjoining 5th Division 14th Brigade—were all stalled at their start lines by heavy machine gun and artillery fire. But late that afternoon there were signs that the enemy’s resolve was weakening. Although Cannan’s 11th Brigade was still held up on Bony Ridge and Stewart’s 14th Brigade on Railway Ridge, patrols of the 9th and 10th Brigades found the last vestiges of German positions on the Hindenburg Outpost Line vacated and promptly occupied them. Despite the fact that heavy machine gun fire from Bony prohibited any further advance, both Brigades now reported that German infantry were evacuating Bony. Apparently the machine gun barrage was screening a German withdrawal. That afternoon a further discordant conversation occurred between Monash and Gellibrand. In essence, Monash questioned the frontage of the latter’s attack; he stated that Gellibrand could not be facing significant numbers of enemy troops; questioned his use of his available tank resources; and even disputed the strength of his units. The 3rd Division was warned to prepare for another frontal attack the next day. *** On the 5th Division’s right or southern Australian Corps flank, the fighting on 30 September had restored some order to the battlefield: the likelihood of still-stranded and surviving Americans was no longer a factor, and the line had been clearly defined and consolidated, which now facilitated a setpiece attack with time to employ concentrated artillery support. MajorGeneral Hobbs now ordered a limited advance, with provision made for exploitation, should the opportunity present itself. The attack was timed for 6.00 am. On his southern or left flank his 8th Brigade achieved immediate success. Moving closely behind its creeping barrage, within three hours it had passed through Joncourt, was in contact with the British 32nd Division on its right, and had established a line just in front of the Beaurevoir Line. On the Brigade’s left, the 14th Brigade’s 56th Battalion, with a company of the 53rd in support, managed to move through and to the east of Estrées. The Brigade’s Report on Operations would later identify the ‘excellent

barrage provided by the artillery’, the successful ‘co-operation between tanks and infantry’ and the ‘unqualified success’ in establishing contact with its supporting planes.51 Even more rapid success materialised on Brigadier Elliott’s 15th Brigade’s left 5th Division front. He would later report that after employing a 100-round trench mortar barrage upon Cabaret Wood Farm, and then following his 6.00 am artillery barrage, his troops had taken that locality. Elliott concluded his report by mentioning that: ‘The [German] 2nd Guards Division fought well throughout and when CABARET WOOD FARM and a portion of the LE CATELET–NAUROY Line was taken there was at least one dead man to every 2 yards of trench, as well as scattered bodies out in the open.’52 Early on the morning of 1 October, Major-General Gellibrand, having received earlier reports that numbers of Germans were withdrawing from Bony behind covering machine gun fire, was told that his 10th and 11th Brigades were making progress towards that village. By 10.00 am Bony and its nearby trenches were in their possession. By midday the 3rd Division had reached Bony Point and the Knob, had secured the northern tunnel entrance, and were pushing out patrols in a north-easterly direction towards Le Catelet—‘the whole of the Hindenburg System was in our possession’.53 Clearly, this German withdrawal was instigated because troops on this front faced the distinct possibility of being outflanked. And there was no possibility of committing reserves—there weren’t any. With the four offensives planned by Foch and Haig all beginning between 26 and 29 September, and raging roughly across a 100mile front, the Germans were stretched to the very limits of not only their resources, but also of their dwindling reserves of energy. Gunner James Armitage and his 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade moved forward in support of the 3rd Division late that day and witnessed evidence of the fighting around Bony: . . . we went into action on the right of Bony; a totally destroyed village which had been the centre of terrific fighting . . . The adjacent wood was thick with American dead, derelict tanks and large numbers of German dead.

Our position was right among the trenches of the first defences of the German Hindenburg Line. We had to clear large numbers of German dead before we could make a camp.54 The end came quickly. By 2 October the exhausted 3rd and 5th AIF Divisions had accomplished their tasks. The 5th was now relieved by the 2nd AIF Division and the 3rd by a division of the British XIII Corps. All that remained of the Hindenburg Line was its third and final Beaurevoir Line. The following day, Major-General Rosenthal’s 2nd AIF Division broke through a portion of that obstacle, and on 5 October its 6th Brigade captured Montbrehain—the last Australian operation of the Great War.

CHAPTER 13

The equal of any On 21 November 1918, Prime Minister Hughes appointed LieutenantGeneral Sir John Monash to the London post of Director-General of Repatriation and Demobilisation. It was no small assignment. Ahead lay the task of repatriating 185 000 men and 7000 dependants: roughly ‘95,000 in France and Belgium; 60,000 in Great Britain (staffs, reinforcements, sick, wounded and convalescents); and 30,000 in Egypt and Mesopotamia’.1 Despite a shortage of shipping, Monash accomplished this herculean task in a little over eight months. The 5th Division’s General Hobbs succeeded him in command of the Australian Corps. Monash returned to Melbourne on Boxing Day 1919, but his triumphant return was soon marred by the death of his wife on 27 February. In late June 1920 Monash was appointed general manager of the State Electricity Commission of Victoria. By 1930 the commission had established an electricity grid across Victoria and had become a highly successful government utility. He was also instrumental in the construction of the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne. On Armistice Day 1929, Prime Minister James Scullin promoted Monash and Chauvel to the rank of General. Monash died on 8 October 1931 aged 66. Some measure of the respect, and indeed the esteem, in which he was held was demonstrated by the fact that his state funeral drew a crowd of at least 250 000.2 After the war Monash received no shortage of accolades. Writing in 1938, Liddell Hart claimed that had the Great War continued for another year, Monash would ‘have almost certainly’ risen to command of an Army and ‘he might have even risen to be Commander-in-Chief’.3 Thirty years later, Field Marshal Montgomery of Alamein was even more forthright, asserting that Monash was ‘the best general on the Western Front’ and that

the war would have concluded earlier and with fewer casualties had Monash been appointed C-in-C of the BEF.4 In his memoirs, David Lloyd George added still further praise: ‘Monash was, according to the testimony of those who knew well his genius for war and what he accomplished by it, the most resourceful General in the whole of the British Army.’5 At the time of writing there is a proposal by former Deputy Prime Minister Tim Fischer and the Saluting Monash Council to have General Sir John Monash promoted to the rank of Field Marshal. In view of the tributes mentioned above, and this most recent attempt for the further promotion of Sir John Monash, it is incumbent upon this work to attempt a balanced summary of both his achievements and his standing as a Great War general. Monash had many command strengths. First, as is applicable to any vocation, was his considerable intelligence. But raw intellect is never enough. We have noted the quality, breadth and relative speed of Monash’s education. That intellect, that lateral thinking and speed of thought were all initially harnessed to the rigours of civil engineering, which entailed man management and coordination of resources. Monash’s was thus an acutely disciplined mind. In 1938 Liddell Hart was of the opinion that Monash ‘more than any one [sic] fulfilled the idea which gradually developed in the war—that the scale and nature of operations required a “big business” type of commander, a great constructive and organising brain. His views were as large as his capacity.’6 A capacity for flexibility of thought and innovation is the next. Monash’s time in England training his 3rd AIF Division was central to his education as a corps commander. It was here that he absorbed the key elements of an evolving BEF doctrine, which involved an all-arms approach to modern warfare. Three examples of his flexibility of thought were his ready adoption of Courage’s tank plan for Hamel, despite the fiasco that had been Bullecourt; his positive response to Blamey and Sinclair-Maclagan’s desire to keep the tanks at Hamel under infantry control and protected by a creeping artillery barrage; and his rapid change of thrust at the Somme in order to assault Mont St Quentin. If the qualities of Monash the engineer were to prove beneficial, then the attributes of the qualified lawyer were also apparent in the form of his conferences. Forthright and sincere views were encouraged across a

comprehensive number of agenda items and, once given, there was a resultant demand for uniformity of plan and purpose. Monash’s depth and clarity of thought were then translated into lucid and precise orders issued by Blamey. Administration is arguably the Principle of War too little recognised and discussed when evaluating command. Monash’s attention to detail in this area was unsurpassed: the allocation of roads, tracks and the ground in general to facilitate the efficient movement of his artillery; supplying the requirements of his engineers for bridge and road building; and ensuring a water supply, and indeed a hot meal and drink, for his front-line infantry— all reflect his talent for administration. We have noted the American 27th and 30th Divisions’ poor mastery of it during the fighting on the Hindenburg Line, caused quite simply by a lack of experience and of a tried and tested doctrine. At the Australian Army History Conference in 1998, J M Bourne succinctly acknowledged Monash’s ‘managerial style of command’, and the fact that he ‘measured his resources against his task’.7 However, he made two further points of interest: He was not close to or beloved by the ordinary soldier. He was a strict disciplinarian who never sought popularity, characteristics which endeared him to Haig, who had little time for the shameless vulgarity of Monash’s predecessor, Birdwood. He rarely, if ever, visited the front line.8 The other ranks of any army are not stupid. They well know when plans fail through a lack of reconnaissance and poor planning; when the available and necessary implements of war are denied them; when those weapons are poorly coordinated; when they are poorly fed and watered; and, most of all, when they suffer unnecessary casualties. In addition, in any vocation, nothing succeeds like success—an army feeds on victory. Monash ‘fed’ his soldiers well. In his Official History, Charles Bean—whose praise for Monash was often begrudging—made a critical point: ‘His men went into action feeling, usually with justification, that, whatever might lie ahead, at least everything was right behind them.’9 High praise indeed.

Peter Pedersen has recorded that: Not once as corps commander did Monash call on a brigade headquarters during a battle. His visit to Mont St Quentin and Péronne on 6 September, four days after the fighting, was probably the closest he came to the front line . . . he never gained a personal impression of the battle by visiting the subordinate commanders fighting it.10 In his Through the Fog of War, Liddell Hart maintained that Monash possessed ‘an uncanny mastery of what was reported and by a masterly organization of his intelligence, so that he saw more exactly through these compound lenses than anybody else with their own eyes’.11 It is true that Monash had an uncanny ability to interpret intelligence, listen to liaison officers, visualise a given battleground from a map, and plan an operation accordingly. But his ‘compound lenses’ failed him on two occasions: the first during the Battle of Chuignes and the second on the Hindenburg Line when Gellibrand’s ‘own eyes’ saw the real situation. On that occasion Monash should have listened to him. But his propensity for conducting his battles from Corps HQ is understandable. Given that communication was the curse of senior commanders during the Great War, with its consequent problems of command and control, a commander’s ‘grip’ of his battle was best maintained at his HQ. Charles Bean has offered a further dimension to an assessment of Monash: ‘Whether Monash possessed the ruthless will of the greatest fighting leaders may be strongly questioned, and he was fortunate in never having to carry unsupported the shock of a great reverse.’12 As a corps commander, a ‘ruthless will’ was not lacking in Monash. His courage in demanding the already pledged American support at Hamel and his threat to cancel the operation unless it was forthcoming are apposite examples. Another is his repeated insistence on continually pushing his soldiers to the very limits of their endurance—despite the protests of Gellibrand and Hobbs—to maintain the momentum of his advance. This single-minded, ruthless stance undoubtedly reduced the casualty count, and in the end bore the fruits of victory. And while Monash was successfully conducting his

battles it should not be forgotten that Bean, Dyson and Murdoch’s intrigues to have him replaced by White were an added and lingering additional strain. Further, Prime Minister Hughes’s insistence that the AIF be relieved from the front by mid-October 1918 and that Monash’s ‘position as corps commander depended on it’, brought further pressure upon Monash and little credit to Hughes. The notion that Monash might have faltered under the ‘shock of a great reverse’ is nothing more than baseless conjecture. In view of our summary of General Monash’s illustrious command of the Australian Corps, consideration should be given to Liddell Hart, Field Marshal Montgomery of Alamein and Lloyd George’s claims concerning him. Liddell Hart’s contention that had the war gone into 1919, Monash would have risen to the command of an Army and possibly might have become the BEF’s C-in-C, while complimentary, is in blunt terms fanciful. The same should be said of Montgomery of Alamein’s claim that Monash was the best general on the Western Front, and that had he commanded the BEF, the war would have concluded earlier and with fewer casualties. And Lloyd George’s assertion that Monash was ‘the most resourceful General in the whole of the British Army’ is little more than speculative hindsight. In his Through the Fog of War, Liddell Hart stated that ‘perhaps the strongest testimony’ to Monash’s capacity was the ‘distance he went in spite of a tremendous compound handicap’ of his Jewish origin and the fact that he was an ‘amateur’ soldier.13 The degree of anti-Semitism of that period should not be ignored. Peter Pedersen has left us with a relevant and telling example. He has recorded that in 1920, when Monash’s former Fourth Army Commander, General Rawlinson, sought the prestigious post of C-in-C India, and suspected that the Secretary of State for India Sir Edwin Montague might oppose that appointment, he wrote two letters to his former Chief of Staff, Montgomery, claiming that: I read him [Montague] as a clever, slippery, creepy crawley jew [sic] who will always back you if he thinks you are winning and have no scruples about sticking you in the back if he thinks you look like a loser . . .

He is clever and intelligent but his knees knock together when trouble is about. Edwin is not unlike Monash!! We know how to manage his sort.14 In his memoirs, Lloyd George claimed that ‘Seniority and Society were the dominant factors in Army promotion’ and that ‘deportment counted a great deal’.15 Although Lloyd George was no great admirer of the British officer class, there is an element of truth in his observations. It is left to the reader to contemplate the chances of a mere ‘colonial’ officer, commanding but 10 per cent of the BEF, and an ‘amateur’ at that—and of German Jewish ancestry—having any chance whatsoever of commanding a BEF Army, let alone reaching the exalted rank of C-in-C. In the end, Lloyd George’s memoirs thoroughly discount any chance that Field Marshal Haig might have been replaced by anyone as C-in-C BEF. He gave five reasons. The first was quite simply that neither he nor his advisors could recommend a replacement. The second constituted what he identified as ‘the gag of Army discipline’.16 He cited the probable reaction of public opinion as the third. His fourth reason was the anticipated effect upon Britain’s Entente Allies. But it was the fifth reason that must surely have been the most persuasive: his own political survival. In contemplating sacking the CIGS, Robertson, and the C-in-C BEF, Haig, at that time: I always had to bear in mind the possibility that such a step would inevitably have given rise to political complications. Both had a considerable backing in the Press and House of Commons and inside the Government. The Asquithian Opposition, were solid behind them. Northcliffe [the English newspaper magnate] strongly supported both.17 When it is remembered that the above-mentioned events were occurring before Monash assumed command of the Australian Corps—he was at the time GOC 3rd Australian Division—it is obvious that his name would not at that time have been put forward. Given the numerous and compelling reasons cited above as to why Lloyd George did not remove Haig at that

time, he was hardly going to remove him during the second half of 1918, or into 1919 as Haig was busily presiding over momentous victories. In his book Maestro John Monash and through his chairmanship of the Saluting Monash Council, Tim Fischer, at the time of writing, is advocating that General Sir John Monash be promoted to Field Marshal. In so doing Fischer has made a number of assertions. In comparing Currie and Monash, he has stated that ‘if only because Monash had to overcome steeper odds to succeed I favour John Monash as being greater than Arthur Currie by the narrowest of margins.’18 This assertion hardly constitutes an even-handed method of comparing generals. The Canadians would argue—with some justification—that their accomplishments under Currie match the Australian contribution. Indeed, their 1917 successes such as Vimy Ridge, Hill 70 and Passchendaele, followed by their superb 1918 efforts of Amiens, Arras and the Canal du Nord are comparable with the Australian Corps’s efforts. And when one examines the Canadian doctrine in 1918 the similarities to the Australian Corps are striking. A senior British officer remarked that the Canadian Corps ‘was an organisation. It had life; there was a family feeling present’.19 In other words, there existed a similar Canadian homogeneous structure to that of the Australian Corps; a similar trust and cohesion; a similar degree of sound staff work; and an evolution of a sound doctrine. General Arthur Currie’s 1918 emphasis upon firepower not manpower, and his Corps’s efficient staff work and logistics, all mirror the same learning curve—with some variations—that had occurred in the Australian Corps. Professor Tim Cook has noted that: . . . he [Currie] added dozens of additional heavy Vickers machineguns and poached the artillery from the now broken-up 5th Division to augment the corps’ available firepower. Additional trucks created a more robust logistical system, engineer battalions were augmented to three times the size of their British equivalent, and additional mortar teams rounded out the formation.20 General Currie and his Canadians also employed the conference method for uniformity of plan and purpose, and, like Monash, Currie was open to the

opinions of others and their constructive criticism. None of these similarities should come as any great surprise, since both Monash and Currie were well read and versed in the BEF’s doctrine that had evolved over time. And so too were a number of British Generals—Maxse and Plumer are but two examples. Fischer is not content to attempt to elevate Monash to superiority over his Corps command peers, but has proceeded to attempt a ranking against the Supreme Commander of the Entente, Marshal Foch: Was Foch a better conductor than maestro John Monash, who also likened a perfected battle plan to a score for orchestral composition? They were both very good. However taking into account the margin of difficulty each faced, Monash was up against steeper odds, albeit on a significantly smaller scale.21 Musical allusions aside, the notion that a supreme commander might be compared to a corps commander defies logic and credibility. In the opinion of this work, brief and sweeping—and unsustainable—comparisons have also been made between Monash and the likes of Allenby, Chauvel, Pershing, Maxse, Plumer, Jacob and the then CIGS, General Wilson. A number of further points should be made concerning the Saluting Monash Council’s advocacy for General Sir John Monash to be posthumously promoted to Field Marshal. First, General Chauvel— promoted General by the Australian Government at the same time as Monash—was senior to Monash as a Corps Commander, and the Desert Mounted Corps was bigger than the Australian Corps. Second, Canada could have sought equal consideration for General Currie to be promoted to Field Marshal. Equally, there were some excellent British generals who were not promoted: Rawlinson was one, but he died in 1925. Appointment to the rank of Field Marshal in that era required that that General be on the Active List of the Army. It is significant that with Birdwood being promoted to Field Marshal in March 1925—as C-in-C Indian Army—the then Australian Government did not consider Monash or Chauvel. However, it would have constituted a jump of two ranks and neither had been Army Commanders like many British officers who had been promoted after the Great War. Monash was not on the Active List and

had never been an Army Commander. Further, of the thirteen generals promoted to Field Marshal during and not long after the war, six were so promoted when or shortly after assuming the highest position in the Army, that of Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS): Robertson, Wilson, Milne, Cavan, Montgomery-Massingberd and Deverell. Of the remaining seven, four were Commanders-in-Chief: Haig, Birdwood, Allenby and Chetwode. The remaining three were Army Commanders: Plumer, Byng and Jacob. We search for a fair, balanced summary of the achievements and standing of General Sir John Monash. In the end he should be judged or assessed as a BEF Corps Commander, simply because that was the highest position that he attained. In that capacity, he was among the elite: the equal of any and better than all but a few. It is enough to claim for this great Australian; it is enough with which to honour him; and it is enough to proudly commemorate him. To claim more than he actually achieved, to engage in mere speculation as to what might have been, is to actually demean his enormous and well-deserved reputation and status.

CHAPTER 14

. . . great-hearted men During its illustrious campaigning in the period 8 August to 5 October 1918, the Australian Corps suffered 4998 soldiers killed or died of wounds, 16 166 wounded, and 79 missing. Its total casualties were therefore 21 243.1 Despite those losses, the Corps took 29 144 prisoners and captured 338 guns, innumerable machine guns and trench mortars, and all within a vast 344 square miles of captured territory containing 116 towns or villages. Thus a Corps that comprised just under 10 per cent of the BEF had taken around 22 per cent of the total captures in terms of prisoners, guns and territory. *** The fate of our seven AIF diarists is of interest. Our story began with the 48th Battalion’s Captain George Mitchell. His was a remarkable AIF service. A South Australian, after having landed with that state’s 10th Battalion at Gallipoli as a Private on the first Anzac Day, he was evacuated with enteric fever on 6 August. He rejoined the 10th in Belgium in early September 1916, and was subsequently posted to the 48th Battalion as a Lance-Corporal. Mitchell’s Western Front service was most distinguished: he was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal during the first battle of Bullecourt, and less than a year later was awarded the Military Cross at Dernancourt. In May 1919 Mitchell returned to South Australia. It is utterly remarkable that he served his country for four years on the front line without being wounded. Not unlike many of his comrades, Mitchell found the transition to civil life difficult. He took up a soldier settlement block near Mt Gambier but

struggled to prosper and left it in 1922; he then went to Victoria, regularly changing jobs; then he moved to Queensland in 1926, where he tried real estate, running a garage, and working as a car salesman. He then went to New South Wales where he began to write for Reveille and Smith’s Weekly, which culminated in his book, Backs to the Wall, which was first published in 1937. After having served between the wars in the Militia, Mitchell saw service with the 43rd Landing Craft Company during World War II. On 11 May 1945, he landed troops near Wewak in New Guinea. George Mitchell died on 11 January 1961. His wife and a son survived him. *** We have recorded Corporal Cliff Geddes’s vivid accounts of his 13th Battalion’s fighting at Hamel and Amiens and, in particular, the horrific mass and yet at times random small-scale slaughter inflicted by artillery shelling. Among his many Great War experiences was the sheer exhaustion that was the constant companion of the Great War digger. And in Geddes’s case that fatigue was matched by a bitterness towards those who had not volunteered.

His diary, 20 August 1918: . . . at 8 p.m. once more set off, bound for La Neuville, near Corbie, where the nucleus are. We had already walked a long way but this was the limit. More dead with fatigue than alive walked & walked, got in two motor lorries for a short while, but otherwise had no lift, & walked the whole way . . . A lorry took us about a kilo to Corbie, then we walked to La Neuville, & finally hit our destination at 12.30 a.m. Think of that, you cold-footed ‘stay at homes,’ started walking at 8 p.m., finished at 12.30 a.m. & yet we were out to have a rest. Civilians who haven’t done these army tramps, lumping rifle equipment & gear, can have no idea of the utter weariness we felt.2 Geddes also had a protracted war that was interspersed with illness. After having participated in the landing at Gallipoli on 25 April 1915, subsequent

dysentery and enteritis caused his evacuation to Lemnos in July. He was eventually invalided home. After being discharged from hospital in Sydney in early 1916, Geddes was promoted Sergeant, re-embarked from Australia in 1917 and was posted to the 13th Battalion. Two of his brothers also served in the AIF: Aubrey (‘Boo’), who was wounded at Hamel, and another who served as a sapper with the 15th Field Company. After arriving back in Sydney in July 1919 Cliff Geddes resumed his bank employment and later worked as a real estate agent. He married Elsie Gall in September 1919 and we know that the marriage produced at least two children. Geddes died in October 1946 aged 58. *** Lieutenant Syd Traill, 1st Battalion, is an example of a soldier gradually promoted through the ranks of the First AIF as a result of hard-earned experience, and thus on merit. We have noted his vivid description of his 1st Battalion’s fighting and a number of its soldiers’ subsequent mutiny. After having enlisted in late August 1914, the then Private Traill received his first wound—a gun shot to the neck—at Gallipoli on 25 April 1915. On 24 July 1916, at Pozières he was wounded again by a gun shot to his left thigh, which resulted in a broken leg. On 17 April 1918, at Hazebrouck, Traill was wounded for a third time by a gun shot to the right shoulder. Promoted Lieutenant in late May 1918, Traill became eligible for Anzac Leave in October of that year. A number of Traill’s diary entries in the second half of 1918 portray a sense of the inevitability of death or wounding that his original Anzac comrades shared, and a certain degree of cynicism. 31 August 1918: No definite news of the war and we hardly ever get recent papers. One hears of successes and reverses but they are all rumours—one fact always remains—in spite of all news and rumours, the war always continues and another winter is hard on our heels. I don’t fancy the bare idea of it.3

2 September 1918: Same old rumours of the war, how the Australians took Peronne and so forth. The Aussies are never unsuccessful, but one day they must surely find a nut too hard to crack and then won’t the English newspapers chortle and the old wind-bags write letters to the Editor!4 Lieutenant Syd Traill returned to Sydney in early July 1919. After the war he worked as an accountant in Sydney until stricken by pulmonary tuberculosis, which took his life on 28 October 1928. He was unmarried and died at 33 years of age. Traill had been awarded the Belgian Croix de Guerre in April 1919. *** Gunner James Armitage’s service with his 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, did not conclude with the Australian Corps infantry divisions’ end to their campaigning in early October 1918. His 3rd Division artillery continued to support the British IX Corps. His diary, 10 November 1918: We had just ridden through Brancourt when the leading column turned about, so we concluded we were being called into action. However the whole brigade stayed at Brancourt and we made ourselves comfortable in the deserted and only partly destroyed village . . . On the 11th November we were told the war was over . . . That night we celebrated by blowing up old charges of cordite and stacks of German verey [sic] lights but, I think, it took a day or two for the implications of the Armistice to sink in, and everyone became very quiet and relaxed . . . Because I could speak a little French I was given the wonderful job of advertising the pending auction sale of some of our horses. Our horses were graded first class to return to England and second class (some a bit the worse for wear) and our mules were to be sold to the French farmers.5

On the grounds of his being a prewar student, James Armitage applied for an early repatriation to Australia. The news he then received is an indication that he had come from a very well-to-do family: Then I got word that Father and Mother were coming over to England to meet me. So I applied for discharge in England. Both applications were granted. This caused some confusion, but the army was happy to give me my discharges. I had to sign away all claims on the Australian Government such as cost of return to Australia and repatriation benefits of any kind.6 And then came the affliction that would claim so very many lives across the world: Before I left France, Europe and England were smitten with a terrible type of flu which killed thousands and thousands of people. We all got it in my billet and of those who went to hospital nearly all died. Snow Hamilton, John Roxburgh and I were treated by the old old woman who owned our billet and who was so good to us. She dosed us on herbs she collected from the countryside and we made a remarkable recovery. . . . I got my discharge in time for a joyous reunion with my family. We bought an old Sunbeam car and toured England very pleasantly accompanied by my friend, John Roxburgh. When we finally boarded the steamer to return home I was in civilian clothes and my war was over.7 On 15 May 1925, James Armitage married Lurline Buchanan, the granddaughter of William Buchanan, a well-known and successful pastoralist. In 1928 James and Lurline were residing on and running a family property, ‘Moodani’, at Sutton Forest in New South Wales. The marriage produced no children. Armitage died in July 1997 aged 100. His wife predeceased him by three years aged 97. ***

It will be recalled that Lance-Corporal Len Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, had been wounded on 30 September 1918 while attacking the Hindenburg Line. In just five months of service on the Western Front, Clarkson made a number of pertinent observations. Unlike many of his comrades, Len had led a sheltered existence before joining the AIF. His father had established the very well-known Adelaide business Clarkson’s Glass and had sent Len to Prince Alfred College. The college’s then Methodist ideals—and probably his parents’ influence—caused the young soldier to write an interesting letter home to his father on 24 September 1918: I wanted to ask your opinion on something which has been exercising my mind. Now that the winter is coming on, there is a rum issue almost nightly. We have often had this rum issue on cold nights up the Line and always before an attack but so far I have always refused it. Still, it’s getting colder and colder of a night and the rum has, I believe, a good warming affect [sic], so I thought I’d ask you before I accepted my issue as to your opinion. As you can guess I can always find chaps who will drink MY ISSUE besides theirs. Most fellows take it but not always with medicinal motives. Hoping to get your reply. Yours Len.8 In a letter to his parents from hospital on 12 October 1918, Clarkson painted a personal and therefore graphic image of the cost of victory: . . . take my own case; when I joined up with the 32nd Battalion early in June, the strength of my platoon was 21. Eleven (including the platoon officer and sergeant) have been killed, seven of us have been wounded and three are so far untouched. Of the original 21 when I joined up there are only three still in action, although reinforcements have strengthened the platoon since then.9 And then there is the optimism of youth that wounds will heal, and then the gradual realisation that the battle for recovery might be tougher than anticipated. Clarkson to his parents, 12 October:

Please don’t either of you two worry about me; my wounds, though serious, are not DANGEROUS, and will heal in time and the pain will soon wear off. Please give my love to all dear brothers and sisters and accept same for yourselves.10 On 23 October he wrote that: Today is the 24th day I have been lying on my back and it is a fortnight tonight since I arrived back in dear old England. I am doing satisfactorily although my right foot is still troubling me a good deal. The large wound in my right leg is healing up satisfactorily if slowly, while the wound behind my left knee is practically healed up now.11 On Christmas Eve 1918: My foot shows no marked improvement; I was ‘boarded’ a few days back and was marked C2. This is the second lowest degree of military fitness, so that had the war still been on I would have never been fit for France again. . . . I am getting some of the feeling back in my foot and leg, through the treatment I am getting but some of the nerves don’t respond at all.12 And finally, in a letter home five days later: . . . about my foot; it is no better; I cannot yet put it to the ground. I feel miserable sometimes, for the aching old pain doesn’t seem to go away, massage and electrical treatment eases the pain for a while but it soon starts again. A chap doesn’t realise what an important part nerves play in his anatomy, until he gets them injured with a lump of shell. Sister informs me I’ll limp for a year or more, but I’ve rather an idea it will be permanently.13 Lance-Corporal Len Clarkson was invalided home on 7 October 1918. He joined his father’s firm, Clarkson’s Glass, was made a director in 1929, its

Managing Director in 1936, and its Chairman in 1945. In 1923 Len married Gwendoline Pitt. After having retired in 1966, Clarkson died in 1983. *** The 8th Battalion’s Private Paul Reginald Johanesen (known as ‘Reg’) was probably a good example of the stereotypical First AIF larrikin. When Reg joined his 8th Battalion at Gallipoli as a reinforcement on 22 June 1915, he was under-age: seventeen years and nine months. Brief extracts from his memoir, diary and letters are illuminating. On leaving Gallipoli: ‘I was ten times more frightened going away than I was the first night I landed.’14 Back in Egypt Reg joined the Battalion’s stretcher-bearers because he ‘got full up of marching around in sandstorms’.15 In late August 1916 Reg was given Field Punishment No. 1 for failing to do a fatigue. His diary records that it was an ‘unwritten law’ that stretcher-bearers were exempt from fatigues. On 24 April 1917 near Lagnicourt, Reg was wounded for the first time: . . . we were put on a secret post . . . a few of us were sent out to cover up the tracks of the ration party and I got a broken nose with a piece of shrapnel from a shell which dropped short of the village . . . and was evacuated to England . . . They probed and found a piece of shrapnel embedded in the bone of my cheek . . . the doctor cut the wound open and pulled it out with forceps. In less than one hour I had a beautiful shiner.16 By this time, considering the length of his service, and not unlike a lot of his comrades, Reg had come to regard a wound as an honourable chance of a rest. He wrote to his parents not long after: Just to let you know that I am back in England. I got a bit of a smack on the side of the nose with a bit of shrapnel, it spoilt my beauty a bit, but I never did have much to boast about . . . I intend to stay away from the firing as long as I can. I have had a fair whack of

fighting now. Nearly two years since I heard my first shell and this is the first spell away from the herd.17 On 4 October 1917, Reg was wounded for the second time: One shell landed on the back of the trench and killed Tatlow and wounded Harry Carruthers in the neck and hand. I got splattered all over the left side with small pieces of shrapnel and also a couple of broken ribs. We lost no time getting out to the dressing station . . . We got into a horse ambulance and a shell landed and killed all the horses and left us untouched . . .18 In a letter to his parents on 28 January 1918, Reg gave his view as to the conscription referendum: ‘I see that the conscription came a thud over there in Aussie, well it is a good thing. The more men we get the more fighting we get.’19 We have chronicled Private Reg Johanesen’s 1918 experiences, culminating in his wounding for a third time. Given his long period of service he was awarded an early return to Australia. He arrived home aged 21 years and three months. Nobody slept that night, we all stood around the rails watching the lights of Melbourne and trying to pick out landmarks . . . Next morning at ten o’clock we pulled into the pier and were loaded onto Char-a-bangs [sic] [buses, either horse drawn or motorised] and driven through the city. What popular heroes we were, flags waved, cigarettes and chocolates were thrown to us. We were taken to the reception centre at Sturt Street barracks [sic], given our leave passes and met our relatives, discharged immediately and promptly forgotten.20 After the war Reg Johanesen worked as a telephone linesman at Bendigo, Melbourne, Castlemaine and Geelong. He finished his working life as a line inspector at Geelong. His marriage to wife Doris produced two sons and three daughters. In a letter to the author, his son Christian described Private

Reg Johanesen as a ‘quiet strong willed man of simple tastes, dependable. His relationship with his grandchildren was such that denied the existence of a generation gap’.21 *** We have noted Private William McLennan’s accounts of his service with the 2nd Machine Gun Battalion in support of the 2nd AIF Division. His diary ends quite abruptly on 8 September 1918 due to illness, almost certainly the result of his continued exposure to gas shells. His diary contains two further points of interest. We have noted McLennan’s prewar occupation as an ornithologist. It would appear that this pursuit was a mechanism for coping with the horror of the war. Among numerous diary entries, three illustrate that point: 9 April 1918: 9 am. Pair of magpies busy building in tree along road behind our possy, shells are frequently bursting round the spot. About 10 am a pair of crows tried to take possession of the nest. A fight ensued in which the magpies were getting the worst of it. Reinforcements in the shape of another pair of magpies arrived & the crows were driven off. Meanwhile the Hun was chucking shells all round our position.22 21 May 1918: 8 am. Turn out & go for a walk through village. House Martins [swallow family] building amongst the ruins. Hun starts to drop stray shells so I leave . . . Some of our dead are still lying where they fell. We bury 3 of them . . . I go up the road to the right & examine the magpies nest, it contained 2 small young about a day old . . .23 3 June 1918:

4 am. Our guns active. Hun putting over Minnies on the front line & gas shells a few hundred yds to out left. 3.15 am. A Skylark singing on the left beyond the wood.24 The second point of interest in McLennan’s diary is his frequent pursuit of souvenirs. Although this practice was widespread among the AIF, McLennan recorded the extreme lengths that a number of its soldiers were prepared to go to in the hunt for them: 19 May 1918: Some of the chaps go out after souvenirs machine guns, rifles, bayonets, revolvers Field glasses & numerous other articles are found in the Hun trenches & dugouts. A Hun sniper is commanding the cross roads from the village & he makes the boys hop across pretty lively, good job it is too dark for accurate shooting.25 McLennan returned to Australia in December 1918, and from November of the following year resumed his ornithological work on the Torres Strait Islands, which ‘considerably extended knowledge of the interchange of birds between Papua and Cape York’.26 He also tried his hand at gold mining at Coen on Cape York Peninsula in the early 1920s. However, partly as a result of his gassing, his health gradually deteriorated, and tuberculosis ensued. Too debilitated to continue his outback pursuits, McLennan returned to Casterton, Victoria, where he lived until his death in September 1935 aged 51. *** We have noted Charles Bean’s imperial education and his consequent love and respect for England and Empire. We have further recorded that partly through his trips to the outback, during which he wrote On the Wool Track and The Dreadnought of the Darling, Bean had developed his own concept of the exemplary Australian. He believed that rural Australia had bred an even better strain of the Imperial Briton—a man and soldier from the bush whose qualities of resolve, initiative and mateship were ingrained.

In his Volume VI of the Official History, Bean, while acknowledging the fact that the great majority of the soldiers of the First AIF were from the major cities, still attempted to promote the influence of the bush soldier. He quoted Hindenburg as proclaiming that the elite of the British Army had come from the colonies and that this was due to the fact that ‘the colonial population is mainly agrarian’.27 And as Eric Andrews has stated, in a letter to The Times, Bean pointed out that German commanders had protested that: ‘The enemy, who has grown up in the Australian bush, wriggles to our posts with great dexterity from flank and rear . . . It has often happened that complete pickets have disappeared from the forward line without trace.’28 The above quotations raise an interesting point. The notion that a mythical Australian bushman has a natural propensity for the elimination of enemy posts borders on the comical. He must be highly trained, well equipped, well led and supported by all arms and by sound staff work. In broad terms, the soldier of the First AIF was a product of a growing Australian nationalism, which encompassed the idealism and aspirations of the New World, while at the same time preserving many of the institutions of the Old. And through this developing idea of national consciousness, he had a distinct social agenda. Stuart Macintyre has stated that: ‘The working class mobilized around clear economic aims—a living wage, the eight-hour day, security of employment, legal recognition of trade unions and preference in employment for their members—and looked to parliament as one means of their fulfilment.’29 To these basic aspirations were added such desires as a white Australia, the need for a citizen defence force, compulsory arbitration for the settlement of industrial disputes, and the granting of old age pensions. The Australian soldier resented the existence of rigid social class and economic exploitation. He was essentially egalitarian in outlook. Respect from others was earnt, not demanded. In 1918 the soldiers of the First AIF possessed three distinct advantages. The first was the fact that they were the only force in the BEF composed only of volunteers. There was a preparedness to see the war through and trust in what they termed ‘Providence’. The second was the high physical standards demanded of all recruits. In this, the Director-General of Medical

Services, Major-General Howse, VC, was the guiding and unyielding influence. The standard of leadership was the third. Brave but crude and utterly futile efforts such as at the Nek gradually became a thing of the past. As in any vocation, the identification of competence, hard-won experience, training and a homogeneous organisation, are the ingredients for success. But the process takes time. By 1918 the Australian Corps had embraced these elements. Although this work has taken issue with Charles Bean’s attempt to remove General Sir John Monash from his command of the Australian Corps, and has further challenged his concept of some of the qualities of the Great War Australian soldier, two points should be made concerning this great Australian. First, for his extraordinary achievement in researching and writing six volumes of the Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18—and supervising the remaining six—Bean deserves great praise. By any standard, it has been, and will always be, a compulsory starting point for any examination of Australians in the Great War. Geoffrey Serle has stated that: ‘Despite all possible reservations, the Official History is a work well worthy of the quality of the A.I.F.’30 Second, Charles Bean was a major advocate for the establishment of the Australian War Memorial, which is both a memorial to the First AIF and a research centre of the highest standard. Michael McKernan has provided us with a moving insight into Bean’s motivation to create it: [His] . . . thoughts often turned to the image of a young Australian soldier dying alone and unattended in some crater on the Pozières battlefield. Knowing that he was soon to die, the soldier began to think of home; ‘at least in Australia’, he consoled himself, ‘they will remember me.’ This image provided the motivation for Bean for all the years of toil on the history and on the memorial.31 Charles Bean died in Sydney on 30 August 1968 aged 88. He has left us with a fitting tribute to the soldiers of the First AIF:

What these men did nothing can alter now. The good and the bad, the greatness and smallness of their story will stand. Whatever of glory it contains nothing now can lessen. It rises, as it will always rise, above the mists of ages, a monument to great-hearted men; and, for their nation, a possession for ever.32 In 1918 the ‘great-hearted men’, under their own command and together as a Corps, were at the very pinnacle of their fighting prowess. The tools had been well and truly sharpened. And while the nation has proclaimed, and continues to proclaim, that Gallipoli was the birth of a nation, Hamel, Amiens, Mont St Quentin, Péronne and the Hindenburg Line must surely mark the military coming of age of the First AIF. It was indeed their finest hour.

Photo Section

Field Marshal Haig, C-in-C BEF. (Australian War Memorial [AWM] A03713)

General Rawlinson, Commander, 4th Army. (AWM H12220)

General Birdwood, GOC AIF. (AWM ART03338)

General Currie, Commander Canadian Corps. (AWM H06979)

Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, Commander Australian Corps. A02697)

Major-General White, 5th Army. (AWM 001110)

(AWM

Brigadier-General Blamey, Australian Corps. (AWM E05006)

Major-General Glasgow, GOC 1st Division AIF. (AWM ART00107)

Major-General Rosenthal, GOC 2nd Division AIF. (AWM H19207)

Major-General Gellibrand, GOC 3rd Division AIF. (AWM H15790)

Major-General Sinclair-Maclagan, GOC 4th Division AIF. (AWM ART00102)

Major-General Hobbs, GOC 5th Division AIF. (AWM E05007)

Brigadier-General Elliott, Commander, 15th Brigade AIF. (AWM H15596)

Prime Minister W M Hughes. (AWM H16071)

Charles Bean, Official Historian. (AWM P04340.004)

Keith Murdoch, journalist. (AWM A05396)

Will Dyson, Official War Artist. (AWM E02437)

One of three Mark V Tanks knocked out at Hamel. (AWM E03843)

Australian 4.5-inch Howitzers in action, 8 August 1918. (AWM E02927)

Amiens: The artillery follows up the infantry advance. (AWM E02791)

The view of Mont St Quentin as seen by the attacking 6th Brigade AIF (AWM E03147)

The assault approaching the Mont St Quentin village wall. (AWM E03104)

A 54th Battalion Lewis machine gun post in Péronne. (AWM E03183)

An advance on the Hindenburg Outpost Line, (AWM E03367)

The 45th Battalion sniping at retreating Germans on the Outpost Line. (AWM E03260)

The body of a German machine gunner who fought to the last, Amiens. (AWM E03351)

AIF Engineers work to repair a corduroy track for an ambulance wagon, Amiens. (AWM E03631)

Captain G D Mitchell

Lieutenant S R Traill

Corporal C M Geddes

Private P R Johanesen

Private W R McLennan

Lieutenant-Corporal L S Clarkson

Acknowledgements

Throughout the time spent in the research and writing of this work I have been blessed by the help of a number of people. Over some fifteen years, Colin Williams of Adelaide Booksellers has been able to secure for me literally any book from anywhere. I thank him sincerely. But it was his suggestion in the early stage of the research that I contact Colonel David Brook, Royal Australian Artillery (Retd), that proved a most fruitful recommendation. Apart from his professional training and career as a Gunner, Colonel Brook’s extensive research and knowledge of World War I artillery of the BEF and the Great War in general have made his advice invaluable. I am further indebted to him for his enthusiasm for the project, which has manifested itself in his painstaking proofread of the manuscript. I also thank his wife, Jan, for similar rigour with proofreading. David and Jan Brook and their hard work and friendship are deeply appreciated. Similar scrutiny in proofreading was provided by Anthea Taylor. I thank her sincerely. Throughout the research for a number of my books I have relied on Joyce Bradley’s expert knowledge of the Research Centre collection at the Australian War Memorial. Her guidance, advice and efficient organisation of my time in Canberra have maximised my research at the AWM, and further facilitated an enormous amount of material to find its way to me in Adelaide. I thank her sincerely. I wish to thank the staff of the Australian War Memorial. I am indebted to Stuart Bennington, Curator of Official Records at the AWM, for his kind permission to quote from the Official Histories and his liaison on my behalf with the Bean family; I thank Shane Casey, Senior Curator, Military

Heraldry and Technology, for allowing me to examine the Memorial’s Mark IV Tank; and, as always, I thank the staff of the AWM Research Centre for their tireless guidance and patience during my research. I thank Dr Peter Pedersen for his kind permission to quote from his Monash as Military Commander, which remains the authoritative work on General Monash. I am likewise indebted to Professor Robin Prior for permission to quote from his and Trevor Wilson’s excellent Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918. Extracts from the war diaries, letters and other works of the late Dr CEW Bean are reproduced with the kind permission of his grandchildren, Edward Bean Le Couteur and Anne Marie Carroll. For permission to quote from letters and other works of General Sir John Monash I am indebted to his great-grandson, Michael Bennett. I thank Tim Gellel, Head of the Australian Army History Unit, for his kind permission to quote from the Corps, Division, Brigade and Battalion Unit Diaries of the First AIF. I wish to sincerely thank Jonathan Holt, the archivist at the Bovington Tank Museum, Dorset, UK, for the selection of and the copying of a wealth of material, which I was able to purchase, regarding the illustrious support given by the 5th Tank Brigade to the Australian Corps during the second half of 1918. With respect to personal diaries quoted in the work, my appreciation goes to the State Library of NSW for permission to quote from the diary of Clifford Geddes; to the State Library of South Australia for permission to quote from the diary of Len Clarkson; and to Christian Johanesen for permission to quote from his father Paul’s diary. My warm thanks go to Carto Graphics of Unley, South Australia, and to their cartographer Stewart Adrain, for the expert and painstaking construction of the maps for the work. Stuart’s former career as an Army Survey cartographer is reflected strongly in his final preparation and presentation of all maps. I thank him sincerely. The great majority of my books have been edited by Neil Thomas. He is painstaking, demanding, has a great command of structure, and is an absolute pleasure to work with. My professional and personal thanks are extended to him. To my publisher Helen Littleton, to the in-house editor Madeleine James, and all at HarperCollins, I hope and trust that the following pages

will do justice to the confidence and effort that you have shown in this project. My sincere thanks for your professionalism and goodwill. It should be appreciated that despite all of the assistance and encouragement of others, the conclusions reached in this work are not necessarily those of other persons. I gladly stand by what I have written. Last, I hope and trust that this work will achieve further recognition of the First AIF during the second half of 1918. Their campaigning constitutes a professional, stirring and victorious chapter in the Australian Story. Peter Brune Adelaide September 2018

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Military Classics, Barnsley, South Yorkshire, 2004 Ramsay, Roy, Hell, Hope and Heroes: Life in a Field Ambulance in World War I, Rosenberg, Sydney, 2005 Rawling, Bill, Surviving Trench Warfare: Technology and the Canadian Corps, 1914–1918, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 2014 Rees, Peter, Bearing Witness: The Remarkable Life of Charles Bean, Australia’s Greatest War Correspondent, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, 2015 Robson, L L, The First A.I.F.: A Study of its Recruitment, 1914–1918, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1970 Roskill, Stephen, Hankey: Man of Secrets, Vol. I, 1887–1918, Collins, London, 1970 Rule, Edgar John, Jacka’s Mob: A Narrative of the Great War, edited by Carl Johnson and Andrew Barnes, Military Melbourne, Melbourne, 1999 Sadler, Peter S, The Paladin: A Life of Major-General Sir John Gellibrand, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 2000 Saunders, Anthony, Weapons of the Trench War, 1914–1918, Sutton Publishing, Stroud, Gloucestershire, 1999 Schaedel, Charles, Men and Machines of the Australian Flying Corps, 1914–19, Kookaburra Technical Publications, Melbourne, 1972 Serle, Geoffrey, John Monash: A Biography, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1982 Simkins, Peter, From the Somme to Victory: The British Army’s Experience on the Western Front 1916–1918, Praetorian Press, Barnsley, South Yorkshire, 2014 Swinton, Major-General Sir Ernest D, Eyewitness: Being the Personal Reminiscences of Certain Phases of the Great War, Including the Genesis of the Tank, Hodder and Stoughton, London, 1932 Terraine, John, The Great War 1914–18, Arrow Books, London, 1967 —— The Smoke and the Fire: Myths and Anti-Myths 1861–1945, Leo Cooper, London, 1992 —— White Heat: The New Warfare 1914–18, Book Club Associates, London, 1982 Toland, John, No Man’s Land: The Story of 1918, Eyre Methuen, London, 1980

Travers, Tim, How the War Was Won: Factors that Led to Victory in World War One, Pen & Sword Military Classics, Barnsley, South Yorkshire, 2005 —— The Killing Ground: The British Army, the Western Front and the Emergence of Modern Warfare, 1900–1918, Allen & Unwin, London, 1987 UK War Office, Field Service Pocket Book, 1915 —— Field Service Regulations, Volume I, Organisation and Administration, reprinted with amendments, 1939 Winter, Denis, Haig’s Command: A Reassessment, Penguin, London, 2001 Wintle, Justin (ed.), The Dictionary of War Quotations, Hodder & Stoughton, London, 1989 Wrench, C M, Campaigning with the Fighting Ninth: In and Out of the Line with the Ninth Battalion AIF, Boolarong Publications, Brisbane, 1985 Younger, R M, Keith Murdoch, Founder of a Media Empire, HarperCollins, Sydney, 2003 Yule, Peter (ed.), Sergeant Lawrence Goes to France, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1987 Zwar, Desmond, In Search of Keith Murdoch, Macmillan, Melbourne, 1980

Appendix I

Classification of BEF Field Artillery Mention has been made of both field and heavy artillery in this book. What do these terms mean? Unfortunately there is no simple, clear-cut answer. Generally, field and heavy artillery can be distinguished by projectile weight, or by the calibre of the bore, or by their barrel weight, or on the basis of whether they are either quick firing (QF) or breech loading (BL). Some examples are the QF 18-pounder gun, the QF 4.5-inch Howitzer and any of above combined with barrel weight and breech system such as the BL 6-inch 26-cwt Howitzer. In the Great War field artillery, which included horse artillery, was designed to provide close, intimate support to the infantry and cavalry. As the war progressed, it supported the tanks as well. Field artillery was primarily armed with a gun of about 3 inches (75 mm) calibre or a howitzer of up to 4.5 inches (114 mm) calibre. And the combined weight of the gun and limber behind a team of six horses under normal, favourable conditions was about 3300 pounds. Heavy artillery, sometimes called ‘siege artillery’, on the other hand, was often too heavy to be brought into action as a single piece of equipment and therefore it was dismantled into manageable components. Until mechanical transport was available, these components were hauled into position by many teams of horses or other draught animals. On arrival at the gun position, the dismantled gun or howitzer was reassembled with the aid of fairly primitive mechanical handling aids. All this took a considerable amount of time. However, the system of classification became complicated when guns and howitzers of the same calibre or projectile weight were introduced. In

some circumstances, one was classified as belonging to field and the other to heavy artillery. As far as the BEF artillery was concerned, the following table attempts to separate the guns or howitzers into the appropriate categories of ‘field’ and ‘heavy’. Antiaircraft, railway and obsolete/obsolescent artillery are not included. Imperial units from the weapon user handbooks are used. It has been noted that the BL 6-inch Howitzer of 26 hundredweight has sometimes been classed as belonging to ‘field’ artillery. From the table, it could be assumed that any gun or howitzer with a calibre greater than 5 inches could be classed as ‘heavy’ artillery. CLASSIFICATION TABLE FIELD ARTILLERY Calibre Projectile Weight Nomenclature (inches) (lb) QF 13 pr gun QF 18 pr gun Mk 1

Range (yards)

3

12.5

5 900

3.3

18

6 525 9 300

Mk 4 QF 4.5 inch how

4.5

35

7 300

QF 4.7 inch gun

4.7

46.5

10 000

Calibre (inches)

Projectile Weight (lb)

Range (yards)

BL 60 pr gun Mk 1

5

60

12 300

BL 6 inch 26 cwt how

6

100

9 500

BL 6 inch gun Mk 7

6

100

13 700

BL 6 inch gun Mk 19

6

100

18 750

BL 8 inch how Mk 1

8

200

10 500

HEAVY ARTILLERY Nomenclature

13 000

Mk 4 BL 9.2 inch how Mk 1

9.2

290

10 050 14 000

Mk 2 BL 12 inch how Mk 2

12

750

11 340

BL 15 inch how

15

1400

10 795

Appendix II

General Monash’s notes for his conference with his divisional commanders, 31 July 19181

CONFERENCE OF 31st JULY, 1918 INTRODUCTION. Take full notes because only then bare minimum of orders will be issued. SECRECY. An essential condition for success. Secrecy as to facts; as to dates and times. MEASURES. (a) Normality of our procedures. (b) Movement by night. (c) Concealment by day. (d) Don’t tell anyone until the action is essential. (i) Prisoners; (ii) Talk by prisoners; (iii) Spies. (e) Camouflage stories. GENERAL SITUATION. German failure has seriously affected his strategy. Maintenance of our initiative. Moral effect of another defeat on a large scale. Therefore, FOCH decides on a large offensive by Fourth Army within 8 or 9 days. Reasons: for our front.—Minor offensives and their effect. Enemy holds weakly. Junction with French least suspected. Absence of organised enemy defences. Disengagement of AMIENS and ABBEVILLE. ARMY PLAN OF BATTLE. (Tell so far as essential for Divisions to know). Action by four Corps: III, Australian, Canadian, French. III Corps—one Division (18th) perhaps two (58th). Australian—five Divisions. Canadian—four Divisions. French—1 Division (Foch insists). 11 Divisions—and 1 cavalry Division. General objective—Map—blue line. Describe boundaries on general map. ...

CORPS RESOURCES. 4 Battle Divisions. 1 Relieving Division. 18 Brigades Field Artillery. 9 Brigades Heavy Artillery. TANKS. 108 Mark V; 36 Mark V (Star); 18 Whippets; 16 Store Tanks; 24 Carrying Tanks. 1 Regiment Light Horse; 1 Battalion Cyclists. Corps Squadron, A.F.C. CORPS PLAN OF BATTLE. 1. Green Line—includes ACCROCHE WOOD, WARFUSSE [sic] and enemy guns 2. Red line—describe. 3. Blue line—old Reserve System of 1916. 4. Corps Boundaries.—SOMME inclusive and Railway exclusive 4a. Inter-Divisional Boundaries. 5. Two Divisions to capture Green line—in a set piece attack under barrage, with Tanks, g.v. HAMEL. II Div on right; III Division on left—each on a two Brigade front— each 12 Tanks. 6. Two Divisions to leap-frog—and fight on principles of open warfare —to red line. V Division on right; IV Div. on left—each on a two Brigade front, with one Brigade in Reserve. Each Infantry Brigade to have 1 Brigade of Artillery, and each first line Brigade to have 12 Tanks. 7. EXPLOITATION—By IV and V Divisions. using— (a) Reserves brigades—if necessary. (b) Each Mark V (Star) Tanks x 20 men = 64 M.G’s and Lewis Gun (c) M.G. Battalion—(and Lewis Guns) = average 70 to 80 yards per gun. CORPS MOVES IN PREPARATION.—Provisional only. 1. 5th Division comes into Corps Reserve complete by 1st Aug.

2. 4th Division takes over French front, complete by 2nd Aug. 3. 4th Division takes over 2nd Division, front as far north as Railway (inclusive)—complete by night 2/3rd Aug. 4. 2nd and 3rd Divs, rearrange frontages to junction at p. 21.b. central— complete by night 2nd/3rd August. 5. All three Divisions get on to a single Brigade front (disposing these troops as a passive outpost line) by night 4/5th August. The other two Brigades of each Divn. are withdrawn to positions of readiness for commencement of approach march as follows (to be done on nights 3rd/4th and 4/5th August):IV Division—2 Brigades—(replaced by 2 Canadian Bdes.) Division—2 Brigades—replaced by 2 Brigades of 5th Division) go W. of VILLERS-BRETONNEUX. Division—2 Brigades—(replaced by 2 Brigades of 4th Division) go to region of CORBIE. V Division—2 Brigades—go into support of 2nd Division. G.O’s.C. II and III Divisions remain in control of Battle fronts till green line passed. Canadian Division takes over command of their line on 5th Aug. All above must be complete by dawn on 5th August. OBJECT—To save 4th and 5th Divs. a long march on Z day. 6. Last Brigade of 4th Division is relieved by Canadians on 5/6th August and moves to position of readiness. Last Brigade of 5th Division moves up to position of readiness. POSITIONS OF READINESS. (a) Where troops can be instructed and equipped. (b) Whence they can get to their approach routes having regard to their tasks. (c) Where they will be clear of routes of other troops (d) In case of 4th and 5th Divisions—Where they can act in support of Outpost Brigades. Necessity for careful inter-divisional co-ordination and mutual conciliation. Divisions to work in pairs—II and V; III and IV. Commanders and Staffs to confer—Corps can give little help. Inter-divisional line not to be encroached upon except by approval of Corps.

7. Actual battle programme—(order of events). (a) Assault Brigades of II and III move through IV and V and get to tapes. (b) Time Table Barrage in time for Zero—to capture of green line. (c) IV and V Divs. prepare to move at Zero. (d) Assault Brigades of IV and V, with their Tanks and Artillery to have moved up to green line ready to start, by Zero plus 4 hours, followed by reserve Brigades with their Arty. [(e) was omitted.] (f) Advance to red line. (g) After green line is passed line Brigades of II and III concentrate. (h) After red line is reached, Assault Brigades of II and III concentrate, reorganize and move up to suitable support positions —predetermined. (i) Exploitation to blue line by IV and V. (j) Garrisoning of blue line by IV and V—two Brigades in line and one in reserve—disposed in depth. (Army police re defences to be got later). TIME TABLE. (Provisional). Zero hour to be settled by Army—Assume 3.30 a.m. 100 yards lifts, Advance 3,500 yards; = 2 lifts of 100 yards in 2 minutes then 100 yards in 3 minutes for 1,000 yards. Balance = 100 yards in 4 minutes. This will take about 2 hours. Reach Green Line Z plus 2 hours—say 5.30 a.m. Leave Green Line Z plus 4 hours—7.30 a.m. halt. Reach Red Line Z plus 7 hours—10.30 a.m. Exploitation starts Z plus 8 hours—11.30 a.m. Exploitation complete Z plus 9 hours—12.30 a.m. G.O.C., R.A., commands all Artillery till green line is reached. ARTILLERY. FIELD ARTILLERY. 18 Brigades—in time table Barrage. Protective Barrages—½ guns stand ½ hour; rest sweep and search to extreme range. 6 Brigades—mobile—1 to each Infantry Brigade of IV and V.

7 Brigades to Divisions i.e. 3 each to IV and V for Defensive. 6 Brigades as Corps Reserve, under G.O.C. R.A. HEAVY ARTILLERY. In time table—counter battery. Back barrage. After Green Line—1 mobile Brigade to each Division, IV and V. Remainder under G.O.C., R.A. Counter-battery map. Action in case of gas bombardment. N.B. Infantry Start Line—must have it by 10 a.m. 2nd August. [Underneath this in pencil he has II + III] MACHINE GUNS. All left to Divisions—Green line—Barrages and consolidation. Red line—For exploitation. For consolidation. Suggestion only.—Each Div. (IV and V)—32 guns for consolidation = 16 per Assault Bde. --32 guns for Mark V (Star) Tanks. 16 Mark V (Star) Tanks to carry 2 Vickers and 2 Lewis Guns each and Crews. 18 Mark V (Star) Tanks to carry Infantry and Officers. TANKS—Allocation. II Division, Mark V—27. ie 12 per Brigade and 3 in Reserve. 2 Tanks in 1750 x = 1 tank per 150 x Store Tanks—1 per Brigade = 2 Carrying Tanks = 3 III Division [as above] IV Division, Mark V—27, i.e. 12 per Bde. and 3 in Reserve Mark V (Star)—18, 8 to each Bde., 2 in support. Whippets—9—4 per Brigade and 1 in Reserve. Store Tanks 6—2 per Brigade. Carrying Tanks 9—3 per Brigade. V Division. [as above] TOTALS: Mark V 108

Mark V (Star) Whippets. Store Tanks Carrying Tanks.

36 18 16 24

Loading of store Tanks—each carries 6 tons. Time for their movements. (Courage) Green Line Tanks—Some to join in advance to Red line if available —in own Brigade Zones. Balance to rally and act under orders of Divisions. Divisional Commanders to decide Distribution of Tanks to their Infantry. Times of movements of Whippets and Store Tanks Withdrawal of Tanks. Tank Commanders to be detailed forthwith and to Liaise. ENGINEERS AND PIONEERS. Need for pooling. Corps Pool 1 Field Coy. from IV Division. 1 Field Coy. from V Division. 2 Field Coys. From II Division. 2 Field Coys. From III Division. 6 Field Companies. 5th Pioneer Battalion. 3rd Pioneer Battalion. 2 Pioneer Battalions. 2nd Pioneer Battalion will serve II and III Divs. 2 cos. [Coys] to each. 4th Pioneer Battn. will serve IV and V Divs. 2 Coys. to each. Divisional C.R.E’s will control— II Div.—1 Field Coy. and 2 Companies Pioneers. III Div.—1 Field Coy. and 2 Companies Pioneers IV Div.—2 Field Coys. and 2 Companies Pioneers. V Div.—2 Field Coys. and 2 Companies Pioneers.

C.E. will

(a) Co-ordinate work as between himself and C.R.E’s. (b) Inform Divs. as to Works to be done by Corps. (c) Draw up a Scheme of roads and tracks to be opened, having regard to grades, visibility, surface.

PREPARATORY MEASURES. Div. H.Q.—V Railway Dugouts, IV CORBIE, organize. Cable buries—Divs. in line to do. Stop leave, if desired. Reduce present activities to a minimum, except patrols for identifications. Tank Training. Settle and advise me of Brigades to be used and order of battle. Use of Americans—postpone advance beyond platoon training Cyclists. Mounted Troops—1 troop to I and III each and Cyclists. 2 troops to IV and V each Medical.

Question of Ambulances with Red line Brigades.

FORWARD ROADS. Routes (a) Artillery and Ammunition. for (b) Mule Transport—Infantry. (c) Evacuation of wounded. (d) Infantry routes. DETAILS OF DIVISIONS. II Alteration of front. Leaving Brigade in line. Battle dispositions—Tanks and Machine Guns. Capture of WARFUSSE. Digging in on Green line. Dumps. Tapes. Approach March.

III

Alteration of front. Leaving Brigade in line. Refuse CERISY flank. Capture of guns. ACCROCHE WOOD (Tanks). Avoid SOMME Valley. Be ready to mop up CERISY re-entrant.

Appendix III

Letter, C E W Bean to Lieutenant-Colonel Brudenall White, 28 June 19181

Abbreviations

AFA A.F.C. A.I. AIF AP Art AWL AWM Bde BEF BL Bn/Btn Bty C.C.S. C.E. CID CIGS C-in-C CO Coy C.P.s CRA

Australian Field Artillery Australian Flying Corps Armoured Infantry Australian Imperial Force armour-piercing Artillery absent without leave Australian War Memorial Brigade British Expeditionary Force breech loading Battalion Battery Casualty Clearing Station Chief Engineer Committee of Imperial Defence Chief of the Imperial General Staff Commander-in-Chief Commanding Officer Company command posts Commander of the Royal Artillery

C.R.E. CT CW D.A.H.Q. Div DR GHQ GOC GOCRA GSO H.A. HE HQ Inf MC MG MGRA Mk M.T. NCO OC O.R. QF QMG R.A. RAA RAF RFC RGA SAA T.M.

Commander, Royal Engineers communication trench continuous wave Divisional Artillery HQ] Division despatch rider General Headquarters General Officer Commanding General Officer Commanding Royal Artillery General Service Officer heavy artillery high-explosive headquarters Infantry Military Cross machine gun Major-General Royal Artillery Mark mechanical transport non-commissioned officer Officer Commanding other ranks quick firing Quarter Master General Royal Artillery Royal Australian Artillery Royal Air Force Royal Flying Corps Royal Garrison Artillery small arms ammunition Trench Mortar

UK US VC

United Kingdom United States Victoria Cross

Endnotes

1 Michael 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

AWM 2DRL/0928, Capt. George Mitchell, 48th Battalion, diary. ibid., a compilation of diary entries from 17 August and 1 September 1917. The author has been most conservative here. Robert Weldon (ed.), in ‘War Losses (Germany)’, in: 1914–1918-online, International Encyclopedia of the First World War, lists the German Army killed in 1917 as 1 271 273. C E W Bean, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Vol V, The AIF in France 1918, p. 100. (Further reference to Bean’s Official History will be cited as ‘Bean’ the volume number and page number.) Bean, Vol V, p. 103. The ‘Entente’ refers to the ‘Entente Cordiale’, the understanding between Britain and France agreed to in 1904, which was the foundation of their alliance during the Great War. Any artillery piece above a 9.2-inch calibre. This includes railway guns. Bean, Vol V, p. 107. The types of gas shells were identified according to the colour of a cross painted on them. Taken from: an extract from The Medical Department of the United States in the World War, Volume XIV, Medical Aspects of Gas Warfare. (The italics are the author’s.) Robin Neillands, The Great War Generals on the Western Front 1914–1918, p. 223. Robert Blake (ed.), The Private Papers of Douglas Haig 1914–1919, p. 264. Bean, Vol V, pp. 51–52. ibid. p. 67. The italics are the author’s. Robert Blake (ed.), The Private Papers of Douglas Haig 1914–1919, diary entries for 16 February, 2 March, 3 March and 19 March 1918. Tim Travers, How the War Was Won: Factors that led to Victory in World War One, p. 60. ibid. Robert Blake (ed.), The Private Papers of Douglas Haig 1914–1919, p. 291. Ian M Brown, British logistics on the Western Front, 1914–1919, p. 184. ibid. p. 189. ibid. Robert Blake (ed.), The Private Papers of Douglas Haig 1914–1919, p. 297. ibid. ibid. p. 298.

2 Sharpening the tools 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

Paddy Griffith, Battle Tactics of the Western Front, p. 11. Major-General Julian Thompson, quoted in Robin Neillands, The Great War Generals on the Western Front 1914–1918, p. 46. Tim Travers, The Killing Ground: The British Army, the Western Front and the Emergence of Modern Warfare, 1900–1918, p. 27. Ian M Brown, British logistics on the Western Front, 1914–1919, p. 19. Colonel David Brook, RAA (Retd), interview with the author, Adelaide, 9 August 2015. Guy Hartcup, The War of Invention: Scientific Developments, 1914–18, pp. 4–5. Major-General J B A Bailey, Field Artillery and Firepower, p. 27. Colonel David Brook, RAA (Retd), interview with the author, Adelaide, 9 August 2015. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 138. ibid. p. 143. Guy Hartcup, The War of Invention: Scientific Developments, 1914–18, p. 58. ibid. Guy Hartcup, The War of Invention: Scientific Developments, 1914–18, gives a detailed explanation of the development of sound ranging and the Tucker phone. See pp. 68–76. F M Cutlack, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Volume VIII, Australian Flying Corps, pp. 205–206. Lieutenant-General Sir Noel Birch, KCMG, CB, Colonel Commandant, Royal Artillery, ‘Appendix 38: Artillery Development in the Great War’, Army Quarterly, October 1920. D G Brown, The Tank in Action During the First World War, pp. 12–13. Guy Hartcup, The War of Invention: Scientific Developments, 1914–18, p. 82. Major-General Ernest Swinton, Eyewitness, pp. 186–87. Brevet-Colonel J F C Fuller, Tanks in the Great War, 1914–1918, p. 44. ibid. p. 49. AWM 4, 23/65/15, The 48th Battalion Unit Diary, April 1917. Appendices, Report on Operations 11 April 1917, written by Lieutenant-Colonel R Leane. Cutlack, Volume VIII, p. xvi. ibid. Appendices, p. 397. ibid. p. 398. ibid. Cutlack, Volume VIII, p. 436. J M Bourne, ‘1918: Defining Victory, The BEF’s Generals on 29 September 1918: An Empirical Portrait with Some British and Australian Comparisons’, Australian Army History Conference, 1998. Paddy Griffith, Battle Tactics of the Western Front, p. 171. ibid. p. 175. J M Bourne, ‘1918: Defining Victory, The BEF’s Generals on 29 September 1918: An Empirical Portrait with some British and Australian Comparisons’, Australian Army History Conference, 1998. Robin Neillands, The Great War Generals on the Western Front 1914–1918, p. 381. Mark Adkin, The Western Front Companion, p. 263. Robin Neillands, The Great War Generals on the Western Front 1914–1918, p. 389. ibid. p. 394.

3 An enormous intellect 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

These casualty figures are taken from Bean, Vol V. ibid. p. 5. Charles Bean, Two Men I Knew, p. 3. Bean, Vol V, p. 8. Quoted in R M Younger, Keith Murdoch: Founder of a Media Empire, p. 26. ibid. pp. 26–27. Quoted in R M Younger, Keith Murdoch: Founder of a Media Empire, p. 29. Stephen Roskill, Hankey: Man of Secrets, p. 220. Geoffrey Serle, Monash: A Biography, p. 19. ibid. p. 51. ibid. p. 83. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 126. See Paddy Griffith, Battle Tactics of the Western Front, pp. 179–91.

4 The physical audacity 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

Robert Blake (ed.), The Private Papers of Douglas Haig 1914–1919, p. 290. Haig to Lady Haig, 28 February 1918. ibid. pp. 112, 290. R M Younger, Keith Murdoch: Founder of a Media Empire, p. 83. ibid. Murdoch Papers, AWM, cable, Murdoch to Hughes, 12 July 1917. Bean, Vol V, p. 10. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 191. AWM 38, 3DRL 606/111/1, Bean Papers, Diaries and Notebooks, May 1918. ibid. ibid. ibid. ibid. ibid. ibid. ibid. Monash had ordered all AAMC personnel in the 3rd Division to wear its colour patch rather than their own. Howse eventually had Monash’s order rescinded. This dispute and the fact that Howse was a friend and admirer of White’s is recorded in Howse’s Australian Dictionary of Biography entry written by A J Hill. AWM 38, 3DRL 606/111/1, Bean Papers, Diaries and Notebooks, May 1918. ibid. Taken from Bean’s Changes in AIF Command (confidential notes). Bean, Vol VI, p. 198. ibid. Bean, Vol V, p. 7. AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Series 1: Personal Letters, 1914–1918. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 198. AWM 38, 3DRL 6673/60, Bean Papers, letter Bean to White, 28 June 1918. This letter is reproduced in full in Appendix III of this book.

27. 28. 29.

Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 2 July 1918. Bean, Vol VI, p. 195. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 40.

5 . . . so I drove over them 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Letters, 1914–1918. Jackson to Monash, 23 June 1918. E M Andrews, The Anzac Illusion: Anglo-Australian Relations during World War I, p. 149. AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 15 May 1918. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 294. ibid. p. 296. Brigadier-General Hugh Elles, quoted in Bean, Vol VI, p. 245. Bovington Tank Museum, Dorset, UK. E2006.2387, A History of the 5th Tank Brigade. Copy kindly given to the author by its archivist, Jonathan Holt. References to sources from this museum will hitherto be cited as ‘Bovington Tank Museum’ and the catalogue number or the title of the document. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 44. Letter, Courage to Monash, 20 June 1918. A copy is in AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers. ibid. ibid. ibid. ibid. AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Files Book 19, 23 June to 7 July 1918, Fourth Army Report on Hamel, note by the General Staff. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 253. Bovington Tank Museum, 5th Tank Brigade, ‘War Experiences’, Chapter 3 ‘Fighting’. Bean, Vol VI, p. 263. Bovington Tank Museum, War History of the 13th Battalion, Tank Corps. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 30 June 1918. Brevet-Colonel J F C Fuller, Tanks in the Great War, 1914–1918, p. 207. Bovington Tank Museum, War History of the 13th Battalion, Tank Corps. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 45. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 169. AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Files Book 19, 23 June to 7 July 1918. AWM 23/30/45 13th Infantry Battalion Unit Diary, July 1918, Appendices, Report on Operations Hamel Wood, 4 July 1918. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 2 July 1918. ibid. 1 July 1918. AWM 23/30/45 13th Infantry Battalion Unit Diary, July 1918, Appendices, Report on Operations Hamel Wood, 4 July 1918. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 4 July 1918. AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Files Book 19, 23 June to 7 July 1918, Fourth Army Report on Hamel, note by the General Staff. ibid.

34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51.

ibid. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 4 July 1918. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 8th Battalion, Tank Corps, Lieutenant G H Etherton, 4 July 1918. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 8th Battalion, Tank Corps, Lieutenant W A Vickers, 4 July 1918. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 8th Battalion, Tank Corps, Lieutenant C T Draper, 4 July 1918. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 8th Battalion, Tank Corps, for tanks 9183, 9026 and 9097, 4 July 1918. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 4 July 1918. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 13th Battalion, Tank Corps, Lieutenant P Atack, 4 July 1918. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 13th Battalion, Tank Corps, Lieutenant H Litchfield, 4 July 1918. AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Files Book 19, 23 June to 7 July 1918, Fourth Army Report on Hamel, note by the General Staff. ibid. ibid. F M Cutlack, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Volume VIII, Australian Flying Corps, p. 273. Bean, Vol VI, p. 326. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 5 July 1918.

6 . . . the finest fighting day I have yet had 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 234. ibid. A copy of Rawlinson’s proposal of 17 July 1918 is in AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Files Book 19, 7 July to 30 July 1918. ibid. ibid. ibid. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 235. ibid. p. 237. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front, The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 300. ibid. From a copy of ‘Notes on Conference held at III Corps Headquarters’, 29 July 1918 in AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Personal Files Book 19, 7 July to 30 July 1918. ibid. Blamey, quoted in Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 239. Monash’s conference notes for 31 July 1918 are to be found in AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Series 3: Personal Files Book 19, 7 July to 30 July 1918. They are reproduced in this book as Appendix II.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44.

Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 84. ibid. p. 95. ibid. p. 84. Bean, Vol VI, pp. 496–97. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. Brevet-Colonel J F C Fuller, Tanks in the Great War, 1914–1918, pp. 43–45. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History, and Bean, Vol VI, pp. 498– 99. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. These figures are taken from the Fourth Army Report for Amiens, and Bean, Vol VI, p. 499 (footnote). Bean, Vol VI, p. 499 (footnote). AWM 4, 1/14/10, General Staff, Headquarters Fourth Army, War Diary, August 1918, Part 1. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 314. AWM 3DRL/2316 Monash Papers, Series 4 Folder 5, copy of the ‘Fourth Army Artillery in the Battle of Amiens’. ibid. F M Cutlack, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Volume VIII, Australian Flying Corps, p. 308. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, pp. 310–11. The purpose of a drag washer was to allow the hook of a drag rope to be passed through the loop of the washer so that when manhandling in adverse conditions, manpower could be used to pull on the drag rope to move the gun carriage. There was one drag washer per wheel. AWM 4 13/12/28 Unit Diary, Headquarters, 3rd Australian Divisional Artillery, August 1918, Part 1. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 126. Quoted in AWM 4 13/12/28 Unit Diary, Headquarters, 3rd Australian Divisional Artillery, August 1918, Part 2. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 8 August 1918. The author has copies of the 2nd, 8th and 13th Tank Battalion reports, and the 5th Tank Brigade’s history. There are frequent references to mist, fog and smoke barrages and the difficulties in navigation. The same reports seem to fail to acknowledge their screening attributes in the approach. AWM 4, 1/46/22 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Division, the August Diary, Part 1. ibid. AWM 4 1/48/29 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Division, the August Diary, Part 3. ibid. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 8 August 1918. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 8 August 1918. AWM 4 1/44/37 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 2nd Division, the August Diary, 1918 Part 3. ibid.

45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

ibid. State Library of South Australia, PRG/503, papers of Lance-Corporal L S Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, 8 August 1918. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387. Report of operations of 17th (Armoured Car) Tank Battalion, 8 August 1918, a copy of which is found in: AWM 4 1/50/30 Part 10: General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, August 1918, Part 10. ibid. ibid. Report of operations of 17th (Armoured Car) Tank Battalion, 8 August 1918, Battle History Sheet, written by Lieutenant E J Rollings, copy of which is found in: AWM 4 1/50/30 Part 10: General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, August 1918, Part 10. Report of operations of 17th (Armoured Car) Tank Battalion, 8 August 1918, a copy of which is found in: AWM 4 1/50/30 Part 10: General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, August 1918, Part 10. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 75. AWM 26/472/2, Fourth Army HQ, Final Offensive 5–12 August 1918 (Part I). Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 325. ibid. p. 326. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 8 August 1918.

7 . . . the enemy’s inevitable reaction 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

Bean, Vol VI, p. 616. AWM 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Series 4, Folder 5, copy of the Fourth Army Artillery Report in the Battle of Amiens. ibid. ibid. ibid. AWM 4, 8/6/20, No. 3 Squadron Australian Flying Corps, August 1918, Part 1. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, 5th Tank Brigade War Experiences. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. This history provides us with the August 1918 statistics for date, battalion, locality, the number of tanks started, the number that reached their objectives, and the number that received direct hits. AWM: 3DRL/2316, Monash Papers, Series 4, Folder 5, copy of the Fourth Army rtillery Report in the Battle of Amiens. Bean, Vol VI, p. 618. Bean, Vol VI, p. 619, lists the tank support at fourteen for the 1st Division, seven for the 5th Division, and fifteen for the 2nd Division, with five of these held in Corps reserve. My figures are taken, and adopted, from Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. AWM 4, 1/42/43, General Staff, Headquarters 1st Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. AWM 4, 1/42/43, General Staff, Headquarters 1st Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. AWM 4, 23/15/30, 15th Brigade Unit Diary, August 1918, Part 4, Brigadier-General Elliott’s Report, 9 August.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51.

ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 621. AWM 4, 1/42/43, General Staff, Headquarters 1st Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. AWM 4, 13/10/47, Headquarters, 1st Australian Divisional Artillery, August 1918, Part 3. Brevet-Colonel J F C Fuller, Tanks in the Great War, 1914–1918, p. 228. AWM 4, 23/77/31, 60th Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/46/37, 29th Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918. ibid. ibid. ibid. Account of action of 2nd Tank Battalion, afternoon 8th August to evening of 9th August 1918, by Major F S Laskey. A copy of the report is in AWM 4, 1/50/30 General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, August 1918, Part 10. ibid. AWM 4, 23/2/40, 2nd Brigade Unit Diary, August 1918, Report on Operations carried out by the 2nd Aust. Inf. Brigade on the 9th, 10th. Account of action of 2nd Tank Battalion, afternoon 8th August to evening of 9th August 1918, by Major F S Laskey. A copy of the report is in AWM 4, 1/50/30 General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, August 1918 Part 10. AWM 4, 23/2/40, 2nd Brigade Unit Diary, August 1918 Report on Operations carried out by the 2nd Aust. Inf. Brigade on the 9th, 10th. AWM 4, 23/25/44, 8th Battalion War Diary, August 1918. AWM PR 87/018 Papers of Private Paul Johanesen, 8th Battalion. From a letter home to ‘Jim and Ruby’. AWM 4, 23/2/40, 2nd Brigade Unit Diary, August 1918 Report on Operations carried out by the 2nd Aust. Inf. Brigade on the 9th, 10th. Bean, Vol VI, p. 637. ibid. AWM 4, 1/42/43, General Staff, Headquarters 1st Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. ibid. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 136. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 139. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 334. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 8 August 1918. Bean, Vol VI, p. 682. Bean, Vol VI, p. 683. ibid. Account of action of 2nd Tank Battalion, afternoon 8th August to evening of 9th August 1918, by Major F S Laskey. A copy of the report is in AWM 4, 1/50/30 General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, August 1918, Part 10. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 320. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 248.

8 Our horses hated it and whimpered 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 257–58. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. Bean, Anzac to Amiens, p. 476. AWM 4, 1/46/22 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Division, the August Diary, Part 3. Narrative of Operations of Third Australian Division, North of the Somme, from August 13th 1918 to 2nd September 1918. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 727. ibid. AWM 4, 23/50/22, 33rd Infantry Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918, Part 1. ibid. AWM 4, 1/46/22 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Division, the August Diary, Part 3. Narrative of Operations of Third Australian Division, North of the Somme, from August 13th 1918 to 2nd September 1918. AWM 4, 23/50/22, 33rd Infantry Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918, Part 1. ibid. AWM 4, 1/46/22 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Division, the August Diary, Part 3. Narrative of Operations of Third Australian Division, North of the Somme, from August 13th 1918 to 2nd September 1918. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. ibid. ibid. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 736. AWM 4, 1/42/44, General Staff, Headquarters 1st Australian Division, the September Diary, Part 2. Appendix, Report of Operations in Proyart Sector 22nd August, to 27th August, 1918. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 13th Battalion, Tank Corps, Lieutenant W Ribchester, 23 August 1918. ibid. AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 23 August 1918. F M Cutlack, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Volume VIII, Australian Flying Corps, p. 315. Bean, Vol VI, p. 760. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 260. ibid. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. AWM 4, 1/46/22 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Division, the August Diary, Part 3. Narrative of Operations of Third Australian Division, North of the Somme, from August 13th 1918 to 2nd September 1918. ibid. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 22 August 1918. Quoted in Bean, Vol VI, p. 761. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, pp. 261–62.

35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

ibid. footnote p. 262. ibid. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 167. ibid. p. 164. State Library of South Australia, PRG/503, papers of Lance-Corporal L S Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, letter to his parents 1 September 1918. The events in his letter have been matched with the 32nd Battalion Unit Diary for August 1918.

9 . . . an ignorant, wonderful lot of fools 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

25. 26.

Bean, Vol VI, p. 810. (footnote). Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 31 August 1918. ibid. 5 September 1918. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 167. ibid. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 28–29 August 1918. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 169. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. Ian M Brown, British Logistics on the Western Front, 1914–1919, p. 197. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 174. ibid. p. 169. ibid. p. 177. AWM 4, 1/44/38 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 2nd Division, the September Diary, Part 1. Report of Operations of Second Australian Division, from August 26 to 5th September 1918. ibid. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 264. AWM 4, 1/44/38 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 2nd Division, the September Diary, Part 1. Report of Operations of Second Australian Division, from August 26 to 5th September 1918. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, March– August 1918. ibid. 29 August 1918. AWM 4, 1/44/38 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 2nd Division, the September Diary, Part 1. Report of Operations of Second Australian Division, from August 26 to 5th September 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/8/33, 8th Australian Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, August diary 1918. AWM 4, 23/48/37, 31st Battalion Unit Diary, August diary 1918. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, pp. 264–67. The timing of the conference is taken from AWM 4, 1/44/38, General Staff, Headquarters 2nd Australian Division, September 1918, Part 1. General Rosenthal’s Report, 26 August to 5 September 1918. The description of the venue is from Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 178. AWM 4, 14/8/23, Headquarters 2nd Australian Divisional Engineers, Unit Diary, August 1918, Part 1. ibid.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

AWM 4, 1/46/22, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. Taken from General Gellibrand’s Report, 13 August to 2 September 1918. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 792. AWM 4, 1/46/22, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. Taken from General Gellibrand’s Report, 13 August to 2 September 1918. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, 30 August 1918. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Brigade War Diary, Report in the September Diary, Appendix 1. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 181. AWM 4, 1/44/38 Formation HQ, General Staff, Headquarters 2nd Division, the September Diary, Part 1. Report of Operations of Second Australian Division, from August 26 to 5th September 1918. AWM 4, 13/11/30 Headquarters, 2nd Australian Division Artillery, August 1918, Part 1. Report on Operations August 31st to September 2nd 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/34/37, 17th Infantry Battalion War Diary, August 1918. AWM 4, 23/5/39, 5th Infantry Brigade, Report on Operations, Mont St Quentin, September 1918. AWM 4, 23/34/37, 17th Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918. AWM 4, 23/5/39, 5th Infantry Brigade, Report on Operations, Mont St Quentin, September 1918. AWM 4, 23/34/37, 17th Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918. AWM 4, 23/37/37, 20th Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918. ibid. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, 31 August 1918. AWM 4, 23/36/31, 19th Battalion Unit Diary, August 1918. AWM 4, 1/46/22, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Australian Division, August 1918, Part 3. Taken from General Gellibrand’s Report, 13 August to 2 September 1918. AWM 4, 23/10/22, 10th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, August 1918 Appendices, Part 1. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, pp. 187–88. AWM 4, 13/11/30 Headquarters, 2nd Australian Division Artillery, August 1918, Part 1. Report on Operations August 31st to September 2nd 1918. ibid. The author found this 14th Brigade Report in the appendices of the 15th Brigade Unit Diary. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, September 1918 Appendix 1. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, September 1918. Appendix 1. Report on Operations, 15th Infantry Brigade, September 1st to 5th 1918. ibid. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, 1 September 1918. AWM 4, 13/11/30 Headquarters, 2nd Australian Division Artillery, August 1918, Part 1. Report on Operations August 31st to September 2nd 1918. AWM 4, 1/50/31, General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division, September 1918. Part 1. Major General Hobbs’s Report on Operations, 31 August to 2 September 1918. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, 3 September 1918.

58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64.

State Library of South Australia, PRG/503, papers of Lance-Corporal L S Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, letter to his parents, 10 October 1918. Bean, Vol VI, p. 8734. Major-General Archibald Montgomery, The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the Hundred Days, August 8th to November 11th, 1918, p. 111. Les Carlyon, The Great War, p. 694. Bean, Vol VI, p. 873. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 271. The Victoria Cross recipients (* denotes posthumous award) were: Captain George Cartwright, 33rd Battalion, Bouchavesnes, 31 August 1918; Corporal Alexander Buckley,* 54th Battalion, Péronne, 1 September 1918; Warrant-Officer William Currey, 53rd Battalion, Péronne, 1 September 1918; Lieutenant Arthur Hall, 54th Battalion, Péronne, 1 September 1918; Sergeant Albert Lowerson, 21st Battalion, Mont St Quentin, 1 September 1918; Private Robert Mactier,* 23rd Battalion, Mont St Quentin, 1 September 1918; Lieutenant Edgar Towner, Australian Machine Gun Corps, Mont St Quentin, 1 September 1918; Corporal Lawrence Weathers, 43rd Battalion, Péronne, 2 September 1918.

10 A stunning achievement 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

Bean, Vol VI, p. 874. ibid. p. 879. Robert Blake (ed.), The Private Papers of Douglas Haig 1914–1919, p. 324. ibid. p. 326. ibid. See Chapter 6 note 51 of this work. ibid. A copy of Captain Chapman’s appreciation is to be found in AWM 4, 13/14/33, Part 1, Headquarters, 5th Australian Division Artillery, October 1918. Report on the St Quentin Canal, in AWM 4, 13/14/33, Headquarters, 5th Australian Division Artillery, October 1918, Part 1. ibid. ibid. F M Cutlack, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Volume VIII, Australian Flying Corps, p. 325. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 274. AWM 4, 8/6/21, No. 3 Squadron, Australian Flying Corps, Unit Diary, September 1918, Part 1. Peter Chasseaud, Artillery’s Astrologers: A History of British Survey and Mapping on the Western Front 1914–1918, p. 470. ibid. p. 471. AWM 4, 13/13/28, Headquarters, 4th Australian Division Artillery, September 1918, Part 2. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, pp. 222–23. AWM 4, 1/48/31, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, Report on Operations 10–20 September, October 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 1/48/31, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, Part 2, Instructions, Series ‘D’ No 11, Aircraft. Bean, Vol VI, p. 896.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52.

AWM 4, 1/48/31, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, October 1918 Diary, Report on Operations 10–20 September 1918. AWM 23/21/43, Part 2, 4th Infantry Battalion, September 1918, Appendices. AWM 23/3/35, 3rd Infantry Brigade, September 1918 Diary, Report on Operations 18 September 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/4/36, Part 1, 4th Infantry Brigade, September 1918 Appendices 1–24. AWM 4, 23/33/34, 16th Infantry Battalion Diary, September 1918, Report by the Officer Commanding C Company, 16th Battalion. AWM 4, 23/33/34, 16th Infantry Battalion Diary, September 1918, Reports by the D, C and B Company Commanders for Operations on 18 September 1918. AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 18 September 1918. AWM 4, 23/1/38, Part 1, 1st Infantry Brigade, Report on Operations 18–22 September 1918, September 1918 Appendices. AWM 23/3/35, 3rd Infantry Brigade, September 1918 Diary, Report on Operations 18 September 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/4/36, Part 1, 4th Infantry Brigade, September 1918 Appendices 1–24, Report on Operations Le Verguier 18/9/18. ibid. AWM 4, 1/48/31, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, October 1918 Diary, Report on Operations 10–20 September 1918. AWM 4, 23/4/36, Part 1, 4th Infantry Brigade, September 1918 Appendices 1–24, Report on Operations Le Verguier 18/9/18. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 357. AWM 4, 1/48/31, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, October 1918 Diary, Report on Operations 10–20 September 1918. ibid. ibid. ibid. Major-General Archibald Montgomery, The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the Hundred Days, August 8th to November 11th, 1918, p. 126 (footnote). ibid. p. 127. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 357. Bovington Tank Museum, E2006.2387, 5th Tank Brigade History. Bean, Vol VI, p. 921. ibid. p. 924. AWM 4, 23/12/31, 12th Infantry Brigade, September 1918, Brigadier-General Leane’s Report on Operations 10–20 September is an appendix. ibid. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 940.

11 . . . some damn good men amongst them 1.

Bean, Vol VI, p. 935.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 2 September 1918 Ernest Scott, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Vol XI, Australia During the War, p. 409 (note). ibid. (in narrative). Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 278. G D Mitchell, Backs to the Wall, p. 318. Bean, Vol VI, p. 937. AWM 4, 23/10/23, Part 1, 10th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, September 1918 ibid. ibid. ibid. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, September 1918, Part 1. ibid. ibid. ibid. Ross McMullin, Pompey Elliott, p. 489. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, September 1918, Part 1. ibid. ibid. ibid. Bean, Vol VI, pp. 939–40. ibid. p. 875. ibid. (footnote). AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, 29 August 1918. In his Official History, Charles Bean mistakenly records the events described as occurring on 14 September 1918: Bean, Vol VI, p. 875. The timings and circumstances pertinent to this event are taken from the 15th Brigade’s September Unit Diary, while the identification of the platoons and the fact that their HQ were involved is taken from a list of grievances compiled by the men, which is found in an appendix to part 3 of the September diary. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade Unit Diary, September 1918, Part 1. ibid. ibid. ibid. Quoted in Ross McMullin, Pompey Elliott, p. 486. AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 21 September 1918. Ashley Ekins has corrected Bean’s count of 119 by pointing out that Bean failed to include a number of the acquitted files. See Ashley Ekins (ed.) 1918 Year of Victory, p. 271, note 23. AWM 4, 23/1/38, Part 1, 1st Infantry Brigade, September 1918, Appendices. Ashley Ekins (ed.) 1918 Year of Victory, p. 271, note 20. ibid. p. 117. AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 23 September 1918. Geoffrey Serle, John Monash, p. 361 (note). Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 276.

12 . . . one dead man to every 2 yards of trench

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 235. Bean, Vol VI, p. 943. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 240. ibid. AWM 4, 1/50/31, Part 5, General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division. Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 243. AWM 4, 1/48/31, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, September 1918, Part 2. ibid. The numbers for the 1st and 2nd AIF Divisions and their roles are taken from AWM 4, 1/42/44, General Staff Headquarters, 1st Australian Division, Part 3, September 1918; and AWM 4, 1/48/31, Part 2, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, September 1918. AWM 4, 1/48/31, Part 2, General Staff, Headquarters 4th Australian Division, September 1918. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 359. Major-General Archibald Montgomery, The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the Hundred Days, August 8th to November 11th, 1918, p. 153. AWM 4, 1/50/31, Part 5, General Staff, Headquarters 5th Australian Division. ibid. AWM 4, 8/6/21 Part 1, No. 3 Squadron, Australian Flying Corps Unit Diary, September 1918. Bean, Vol VI, p. 953. Edward M Coffman, The War to End All Wars: The American Experience in World War I, p. 293. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 287. AWM 4, 8/6/20, No. 3 Squadron Australian Flying Corps, September 1918, Part 1. ibid. AWM 4, General Staff, Headquarters Fourth Army, Part 3, September 1918. General o’Ryan, quoted in Bean, Vol VI, p. 955. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 374. AWM 4, 23/8/34, 8th Infantry Brigade, September 1918. ibid. ibid. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade, September 1918, Part 4, Report on operations, September 28 to 2 october 1918. ibid. ibid. Report of operations carried out by 58th Battalion, cited in AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade, September 1918, Part 4. Bovington Tank Museum, Tank Battle Sheets of 8th Battalion, Tank Corps, for Tank 9199, 29 September 1918. ibid. Tank 9385, 29 September 1918. Report of operations carried out by 58th Battalion, cited in AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade, September 1918, Part 4. Major-General Archibald Montgomery, The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the Hundred Days, August 8th to November 11th, 1918, p. 157. Bean, Vol VI, p. 993. AWM 4, 23/58/23, 41st Infantry Battalion, September 1918, Appendices, Part 2, Summary of operations of 41st Battalion 29/9/18 and following days.

37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

ibid. Bean, Vol VI, p. 997. The substance of this conversation and its timing is taken from Peter Sadler’s thorough use of the Australian telephone and wire records for Australian Corps records, and cited in his The Paladin: A Life of Major-General Sir John Gellibrand, p. 177. Peter Sadler, The Paladin: A Life of Major-General Sir John Gellibrand, p. 177. AWM 4, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Australian Division, September 1918, Part 3, Action Near Bony—29th September to 2nd october 1918. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 29 September 1918. Rawlinson’s diary, quoted in Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 375. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–1918, p. 375. State Library of South Australia, PRG/503, papers of Lance-Corporal L S Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, letter to his parents from Trouville Hospital France, 4 October 1918. AWM 4, 23/14/31, 14th Infantry Brigade, October 1918, Report on Operations, 29 September to 2 October 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/70/26, 53rd Infantry Battalion, September 1918, Report on Operations, 29 September to 2/3 October 1918. AWM 4, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Australian Division, September 1918, Part 3, Action Near Bony—29th September to 2nd October 1918. ibid. AWM 4, 23/14/31, 14th Infantry Brigade, October 1918, Report on Operations 29 September–2 October 1918. AWM 4, 23/15/31, 15th Infantry Brigade, September 1918, Part 4, Report on Operations, September 28 to 2 October 1918. AWM 4, General Staff, Headquarters 3rd Australian Division, September 1918, Part 3, Action Near Bony—29th September to 2nd October 1918. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 1 October 1918.

13 The equal of any 1. 2.

Bean, Vol VI, p. 1057 and note. Geoffrey Serle, Monash: A Biography, p. 527. Serle points out that the police estimated the crowd at 300 000 but ‘250 000 at least’. 3. Liddell Hart, Through the Fog of War, p. 149. 4. Montgomery, quoted in Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 294. 5. David Lloyd George, Memoirs, Vol 6, p. 3423. 6. Liddell Hart, Through the Fog of War, p. 150. 7. J M Bourne, ‘The BEF’s Generals on 29 September 1918: An Empirical Portrait with Some British and Australian Comparisons,’ paper delivered at the Australian Army History Conference 1998. 8. ibid. 9. Bean, Vol VI, p. 1092. 10. Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 287.

11. Liddell Hart, Through the Fog of War, p. 150. 12. Bean, Vol VI, p. 1092. 13. Liddell Hart, Through the Fog of War, p. 150. 14. Letters, Rawlinson to Montgomery-Massingberd, 8 May, 9 September 1920, quoted in Peter Pedersen, Monash as Military Commander, p. 220. 15. David Lloyd George, Memoirs, Vol 6, p. 3423. 16. David Lloyd George, Memoirs, Vol 4, p. 2270. 17. ibid. p. 2274. 18. Tim Fischer, Maestro John Monash, p. 194. 19. Brigadier-General Norman ‘Ox’ Webber, quoted by Tim Cook, in Ashley Ekins (ed.) 1918 Year of Victory, p. 164. 20. Tim Cook, in Ashley Ekins (ed.) 1918 Year of Victory, pp. 165–66. 21. Tim Fischer, Maestro John Monash, p. 194.

14 . . . great-hearted men 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, p. 289. Mitchell Library, Sydney: MSS 2763, Corporal Clifford Geddes, diary, 20 August 1918. AWM 2DRL/0711, Lieutenant Sydney Traill, 1st Battalion, diary, 31 August 1918. ibid. 2 September 1918. AWM PR00420, Gunner James Armitage, 30th Battery, 8th AFA Brigade, 3rd Division, diary, 10 November 1918. ibid. ibid. State Library of South Australia, PRG/503, papers of Lance-Corporal L S Clarkson, 32nd Battalion, Letter to his parents, 24 September 1918. ibid. 12 October 1918. ibid. ibid. 23 October 1918. ibid. 24 December 1918. ibid. 29 December 1918. AWM PR 87/018 Papers of Private Paul Johanesen, 8th Battalion, memoir. ibid. ibid. AWM PR 87/018 Papers of Private Paul Johanesen, 8th Battalion, letter to his parents, May 1917. ibid. Memoir. ibid. Letter to his parents, 28 January 1918. ibid. Memoir. Mr C R Johanesen, letter to the author from Wy Yung, Victoria, 6 November 2017. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, diary, 9 April 1918. ibid. 21 May 1918. ibid. 3 June 1918. ibid. 19 May 1918. AWM 3 DRL 749, Private William McLennan, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, from his obituary, given by E A D’Ombrain, which accompanies McLennan’s diary. Bean, Vol VI, p. 1078.

28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

Bean, letter to The Times, quoted in E M Andrews, The Anzac Illusion, p. 147. Stuart Macintyre, The Oxford History of Australia: Vol 4, 1901–1942, p. 86. Bean, Vol VI, Serle’s introduction, Queensland University Press edition, 1983, p. xxviii. Michael McKernan, Here Is Their Spirit, p. 351. Bean, Vol VI, p. 1096.

Appendix II 1.

AWM 3DRL/2316, papers of General Sir John Monash, conference notes, 31 July 1918.

Appendix III 1.

AWM38 3DRL 6673/60; papers of Charles Bean, letter to Brudenall White, 28 June 1918, courtesy of the Bean family.

Index

The pagination of this digital edition does not match the print edition from which the index was created. To locate a specific entry, please use your ebook reader’s search tools. (All dates 1918, unless otherwise indicated.) First Army (BEF) 17; to advance beyond R. Scarpe (Aug) 196 First Army (French) 23; advance (9 Aug) 168; attack Hindenburg Line (18 Sep) 276 1st Bde (1 Div), at Chuignolles (23 Aug) 201–3; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282 1st Btn (1 Div), Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 285–6 1st Div (AIF), advance (9 Aug) 169, 172; advances without artillery support (9 Aug) 172; Artillery Diary record of timing (9 Aug) 172–3; at Ypres (20 Sep 1917) 43; captures Lihons and Rainecourt 184; communications problems 170; as Corps reserve at Amiens 137; Hargicourt as objective (18 Sep) 281; included in Australian Corps (Nov 1917) 89; relieves 3 Div (9–10 Sep) 276; tanks allotted to (9 Aug) 169; three-phase attack by (23 Aug) 201 1st Div (AIF) Artillery, in support at Battle of Amiens 170 1st Div (AIF) Unit Diary, at Amiens (9 Aug) 182 1st Div (British), attack fails (18 Sep) 293 1st Div, Canadian Corps 135; problems (9 Aug) 171 ‘I Anzac’ Corps renamed ‘The Australian Corps’ by Haig 89 Second Army 17; at Messines 53–4 Second Army (French), at Montdidier 129 Second Army (German) 4, 7; withdraws to Hindenburg Line (3–4 Sep) 268 Second French Army, attack at Montdidier 129 2nd Bde, action on 9 Aug 18 180–81; at Aubigny (8 Aug) 170 2nd Bde (1 Div), attack (23 Aug) 201; tanks in support (23 Aug) 202 2nd British Bde, used only one Btn (18 Sep) 293 2nd Btn (1 Div), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282, 285 2nd Div (AIF), at ‘Hamel Spur’ 104, 108; at Ville-sur-Ancre (19 May) 103; at Ypres (20 Sep 1917) 43; in attack at Amiens 137, 138; attack plan for Mont St Quentin 223; breaks through Beaurevoir Line (3 Oct) 353; captures at Amiens (8 Aug) 153; captures Lihons and Rainecourt 184; as Corps reserve 315; fights along Canal du Nord (3–4 Sep) 260; front at Mont St Quentin and Péronne 227; included in Aust Corps (Nov 1917) 89; nearing bend in R. Somme (28 Aug)

212; Report on Mont St Quentin fighting (1 Sep) 248; tactics on 30 Aug 231; tanks allotted to (9 Aug) 169; told to capture Mont St Quentin (29 Aug) 229–30 2nd Div Artillery, to support attack on Mont St Quentin (30 Aug) 231 2nd Div (Canadian Corps) 135, 171; problems (9 Aug) 170–71 2nd Guards Div (German), prisoners taken 233 2nd Machine Gun Btn, to support attack on Mont St Quentin 223 2nd Royal Sussex Btn (18 Sep) 293 2nd Tank Btn 104, 169; at Wiencourt 166; losses 167; poor liaison with 1 Div 177; report for 9 Aug 18 190; supports taking of Chuignolles (23 Aug) 203; to provide 12 tanks in support (23 Aug) 202 II Corps (American), Monash holds conference for senior officers (23 Sep) 321–2 Third Army (BEF) 17, 19; at Bullecourt 50; at Somme 33; attacks Albert (22 Aug) 267; in Hindenburg Line attack (18 Sep) 276; orders from Haig (23 Aug) 196; to advance on Bapaume (Aug) 196; to capture Bapaume (23 Aug) 201 3 Squadron (RAF), tasks at Amiens 144–5 3rd Artillery Div (AIF), secrecy at Amiens 145–7 3rd Bde, at Hamel (9 Aug) 170 3rd Bde (1 Div), attack plan (23 Aug) 201–2; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282; takes Froissy Beacon (23 Aug) 205 3rd Bde Report on operations, success of attack (18 Sep) 287 3rd Btn (1 Bde), sustains great losses (18 Sep) 286–7 3rd Btn (1 Div), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 285 3rd Div (AIF), attacks Passchendaele (Oct 1917) 43; captures Old Quarry and Quarry Farm (31 Aug) 245; captures Suzanne, Vaux and Curlu and moves on Cléry (28 Aug) 212; faces problem near ‘Happy Valley’ (22 Aug) 196–7; German prisoners and Aust casualties (May) 103; leapfrogging at Amiens 138; leapfrogging on Hindenburg Line (29 Sep) 330; Monash appointed Commander (Jul 1916) 83; Mont St Quentin front (30 Aug) 236; objectives Knob, Bony and tunnel entrance (30 Sep) 343; possesses all of Hindenburg System (1 Oct) 351; in pursuit from Péronne (5 Sep) 274; tasks accomplished (2 Oct) 351, 353; thrust to Bray and La Neuville Peninsula (23 Aug) 207; to leapfrog through 27 American Div (29 Sep) 337; under Monash at Messines (Jun 1917) 83 3rd Div (AIF) Report, on intensity of fighting (31 Aug) 245 3rd Div (AIF) Report on Operations, on American 27 Div (29 Sep–2 Oct) 347–8; slow progress on Hindenburg Line (30 Sep) 348–9 3rd Div (AIF) Unit Diary, on attacking Bray (24 Aug) 208 3rd Div (Canadian Corps) 135 3rd Pioneer Btn (9 Bde) (22 Aug) 197, 199 III Corps, at Amiens 132, 133, 147, 168–9; captures high ground north of Chalk Pit (24 Aug) 208; captures most objectives (22 Aug) 199; casualties (11 Aug) 185; fails to capture Chipilly Spur 159–60; fails to take sector of Hindenburg Outpost Line on 18 Sep 320; role reduced (29 Sep) 320–21; to advance (22 Aug) 196; to capture Bapaume (23 Aug) 201 III Corps (British), Butler asks Monash for relief support 309–310; in Fourth Army offensive (18 Sep) 276; indifferently commanded and administered 263; plan to force Germans across Canal du Nord (2 Sep) 254; poorer performance than AIF 291; striking victories (31 Aug–3 Sep) 263 Fourth Army (BEF) 105; 9 Aug attack mostly successful 182; ammunition supply at Amiens 143; artillery objectives at Hindenburg Main Line 322; at Amiens 129; at the Somme 33; casualties at Amiens (8 Aug) 158; guns at Amiens 142; III Corps to advance (22 Aug) 196; plan for 9 Aug 18 169; predicted fire by at Hamel 120; report on artillery advances 143–4; report on Tank Corps

and MG positions at Hamel 125–6; secrecy plans at Amiens 147–8; section of Hindenburg Line to attack 269–70; significance of northern flank not emphasised 263; tanks used with 140 Fourth Army (German), rolled back by Canadians at Rosières 176 4th Bde (4 Div), at Pear Trench and Vaire-Hamel Wood 108; gained objective (18 Sep) 293–4; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282, 284, 287–8 4th Bde (4 Div) Report on Operations, effects of artillery and surprise 284; intensity of fighting (18 Sep) 289 4th Bde (AIF), casualties at Bullecourt (Apr 1917) 51; visit to Vaux 112–13 4th Btn (1 Bde), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282 4th Btn (1 Div), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 285 4th Btn (Vic Rifles, Melb Uni Coy), Monash enlists in (1884) 82 4th Div (AIF), at Bullecourt (Apr–May 1917) 50; at Chipilly Spur 151; at ‘Hamel Spur’ 104; at Ypres (Sep–Oct 1917) 43; in attack at Amiens 137, 138, 147; battalion strengths (Sep) 280; Le Verguier as objective (18 Sep) 281; relieves 1 Div (16 Aug) 194; to act as Australian Corps depot division (Nov 1917) 89 4th Div (AIF) Report on Operations 10–20 September, effectiveness of barrages 290; poor performance of 2 Bde (British) 294, 295 4th Div (AIF) Report on Operations, dummy tanks 279; effect of artillery and surprise (18 Sep) 284; teamwork between artillery and infantry (18 Sep) 288–9 4th Div (Canadian Corps) 135 4th Infantry Bde (1st AIF), at Gallipoli (Apr 1914) 82; becomes part of 4 Div (Jun 1916) 82–3; Monash commands (Sep 1914) 82 4th Tank Supply Coy, losses 167 Fifth Army 17–19, 22; at Bullecourt 50 5th Bde (2 Canadian Div), at Villers-Bretonneux (9 Aug) 171 5th Bde (2 Div), at Elsa Trench (1 Sep) 248; attack on Mont St Quentin 223, 231–3, 235–8 5th Div (AIF), at Ypres (Sep 1917) 43; in attack at Amiens 137, 138, 154–5; attacks Hindenburg Main Line (29 Sep) 330; compensate for American inexperience (29 Sep) 341; front at Mont St Quentin and Péronne 227; gains Flamicourt and Chair Wood (3–4 Sep) 260; included in Australian Corps (Nov 1917) 89; leapfrogs Americans 315, 330; in Monash’s plan (29 Aug) 229; nearing bend in Somme (28 Aug) 212; in pursuit from Péronne (5 Sep) 274; reaches second Nauroy-Le Catelet Line (29 Sep) 343; relieves 4 Div (9–10 Sep) 276; relieves BEF 17 Div (18 Aug) 194; tanks allotted to (9 Aug) 169; tasks on 30 Sep 343; tasks accomplished (2 Oct) 351, 353; to capture ground east of Péronne (2 Sep) 254 5th Div Artillery, appreciation of Hindenburg line defences 271–2 5th Field Survey Btn, key role in artillery plans for 18 Sep 277; provides photos for Hindenburg Line attack 277 5th Tank Bde, agrees to artillery absence (9 Aug) 173; at Amiens 140; challenges at Amiens (8 Aug) 166–7; demonstrations with 1 Div (AIF) (15–22 Aug) 202; formed 57, 104–5; in GHQ Reserve for repair and training 218–19; joint training with infantry 111; losses and rounds fired at Amiens (8 Aug) 155; navigation difficulties at Hamel and Amiens 150; performance (23 Aug) 206–7; petrol fumes inside tanks (23 Aug) 207; rest needed by (Aug) 195; tanks as finite resource 190; towing tanks with armoured cars 155; unsupported by infantry 292 5th Tank Bde History, in Somme thrust (10 Aug) 184 Sixth Army (French) 14 6th Bde (2 Canadian Div), (9 Aug) 170–71, 172 6th Bde (2 Div) 247; at Vaire Wood and Hamel 124–5; attack plan and outcome (1 Sep) 247–8, 250; captures Montbrehain (5 Oct) 353; consolidation of 248–50; joins fight for Mont St Quentin (31 Aug) 244

7th Bde, artillery bombards Péronne (2 Sep) 258; at Morlancourt (10 Jun) 103 7th Bde (2 Div), allows 14 Bde (5 Div) to pass through (31 Aug) 244–5; attack plan for Mont St Quentin 223; heavy casualties (2 Sep) 257; ordered forward (31 Aug) 244; relieved on 30 Aug 236; stopped by artillery and machine gun fire (29 Aug) 227; to cross R. Somme near Péronne (30 Aug) 231; to go to 2 Div front (2 Sep) 255 7th Btn (2 Bde), advances to Lihons 176–9 7th Field Coy, reconnoitres Somme canal (29 Aug) 231; tries to construct footbridges (30 Aug) 232 8th Bde (5 Div), advance on 29 Sep 330, 331; at Amiens (8 Aug 18) 154–5, 172, 174–5; moves to Joncourt (30 Sep) 343–4; passes through Joncourt and Beaurevoir Line (1 Oct) 350; in pursuit from Péronne (5 Sep) 274 8th Btn, joint fight for Mont St Quentin (31 Aug) 244 8th Btn (2 Bde), advance to Lihons 176–7; heavy losses to Lewis Guns 179 8th Field Bde (3 Div AIF), at Hamel 119 8th Tank Btn 104, 121–2, 122–3, 169; at Morcourt Gully 166; losses 167; provides 12 Mk V tanks (23 Aug) 202; report on anti-tank fire 333 9th Bde (3 Div) 337; advances into mist, dust and smoke (22 Aug) 197–8; captures Old Quarry and Quarry Farm (31 Aug) 245; consolidate position (22 Aug) 200; exhausted (31 Aug) 246; near Hill 110 (29 Aug) 234; reduced to three battalions 197; reinforces Somme thrust 184 9th Bde (Royal Garrison Art), guns at Mont St Quentin 237–8 9th Btn (3 Bde), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 286, 287 9th Scottish Division 43 IX Corps (46 Midland Div), audacious and brilliantly executed attack (29 Sep) 327–30 IX Corps (British), advance on Joncourt (30 Sep) 343, 344; formed 268; joins Fourth Army 276; poor command decisions in 292; poorer performance than AIF 291; too great expectations of 294–5 IX Corps (British) (1 Div), at canal crossing 319 10th Bde (3 Div) 337; on 30 Sep 348; exhausted (29 Aug) 234; exhausted (31 Aug) 246; fighting on 30 Sep 349; held up (29 Sep) 338–9; progressing towards Bony (1 Oct) 351; south of the Somme (10 Aug) 183, 184; stalled at start line (30 Sep) 349; to capture Bray 208 10th Bde (3 Div) Unit Diary, men’s attitude to disbandment (22 Sep) 302; resistance from other units to amalgamation (15 Sep) 301–2; Story’s protest about disbandment (13 Sep) 301 10th Btn (3 Bde), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 287 11th Bde (3 Div) 337; at Hamel Village 108; held up (29 Sep) 338–9; held up on Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 349; progressing towards Bony (1 Oct) 351; in pursuit from Péronne (5 Sep) 274; reinforces Somme thrust 184; relieves 9 and 10 Bdes (31 Aug) 246; stalled at start line (30 Sep) 349; thrust to Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 348 11th Btn (3 Bde), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282, 287; tactics used in advance (18 Sep) 283 12th Bde (4 Div), gained objective (18 Sep) 293–4; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282, 288; to attack Hindenburg Line (18 Sep) 281 12th Bde (AIF), casualties at Bullecourt (Apr 1917) 51 12th Bde (AIF) Report on Operations 10–20 September, poor performance of 2 Bde (British) 294, 295 12th Btn (3 Bde), at Brosse Wood and Grand Priel Wood (18 Sep) 283; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282, 287 12th Div (Third Army) advance (22 Aug) 196 13th Bde, on north side of the Somme (10 Aug) 183–4; takes Villers-Brettoneux (24 Apr) 24 13th Bde (4 Div), at front (10 Aug) 183

13th Btn (4 Bde), outflank Le Verguier (18 Sep) 281, 284; outflanks Le Verguier and advances (18 Sep) 287–8; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282; visit to Vaux 112–13 13th Btn (4 Div), at Amiens (8 Aug) 152–3 13th Btn Unit Diary, conference on Battle of Hamel (22 Jun) 116–17 13th Inf Bde, Monash commands (1913) 82 13th Tank Btn 104; at Bayonvillers 166; losses 167; to provide 12 tanks in support (23 Aug) 202 XIII Corps (British), reinforces Fourth Army 321 14th Bde (2 Div), attack on Allaines (2 Sep) 257; enters Péronne (1 Sep) 252 14th Bde (5 Div), at forward line (2 Sep) 259; attack along Railway Ridge and take part of Le Catelet Line (30 Sep) 343, 345–7; crosses Somme (31 Aug) 244; as Div reserve (29 Sep) 330; given huge task 250; held up on Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 349; Report on Operations reports success 350; stalled at start line (30 Sep) 349; sustains heaviest casualties at Péronne 262 14th Bde (5 Div) Report, on violence of fighting at Péronne 251 14th Btn (4 Bde), securing Hindenburg Outpost Line (18 Sep) 281, 288 15th Bde, performs well in spite of difficulties (2 Sep) 259–60; reaches Bellicourt Tunnel (29 Sep) 332; takes Villers-Bretonneux (24 Apr) 24 15th Bde (5 Div), on 30 Sep 343; difficulties (29 Sep) 331; Somme crossing and fighting 251–3; to clear Péronne and move beyond (2 Sep) 258; to follow 8 Bde to Hill 80 223; tries to clear Cabaret Wood Farm (30 Sep) 347; Unit Diary report on front (30 Aug) 236 15th Bde Unit Diary, Elliott resolves 59 Btn mutiny 307; Elliott’s address to 60 Btn on mutiny (26 Sep) 303–4; grievances of 60 men in 59 Btn (Sep) 307–8 15th Btn (4 Bde), outflanks Le Verguier and advances (18 Sep) 281, 284, 287–8; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 282 15th Tank Btn, at Cerisy Valley 166; gets Mark V One Star (Mark V*) tanks 140–41; losses (8 Aug) 167 16th Btn (4 Bde), mopping up Le Verguier (18 Sep) 284, 288; to capture Le Verguier (18 Sep) 281 Seventeenth Army (German) 4, 7; withdraws to Hindenburg Line (3–4 Sep) 268 17th Armoured Car Btn, at Amiens 141, 155–7, 163–4, 167, 270; in changes to Monash’s plan (18– 19 Sep) 318 17th Btn, at Warfusée (8 Aug) 153 17th Btn (5 Bde), in Mont St Quentin attack (31 Aug) 239, 241; ordered to attack Mont St Quentin on 31 Aug 237; reduced strength (end Aug) 215; rum issued to fatigued troops (31 Aug) 239 18th Btn (5 Bde), as Bde reserve on 31 Aug 237 Eighteenth Army (German) 4, 7; withdraws to Hindenburg Line (3–4 Sep) 268 18th Div (Third Army) advance (22 Aug) 196 18th Lancers 66 19th Btn (5 Bde), attack on Mont St Quentin 242–4; ordered to attack Mont St Quentin on 31 Aug 237; progress arrested (29 Aug) 227; to be disbanded 300–301 20th Btn (5 Bde), abandons Feuillaucourt and digs in at Older Trench (31 Aug) 241–2; ordered to attack Mont St Quentin on 31 Aug 237; reduced strength of (end Aug) 215 21st Btn (6 Bde), at Hamel 125; at Mont St Quentin (1 Sep) 248; clearing Anvil Wood (31 Aug) 244; to be disbanded 300 22nd Btn (6 Bde), clearing Anvil Wood (31 Aug) 244 23rd Btn (6 Bde), at Mont St Quentin (1 Sep) 248; clearing Anvil Wood (31 Aug) 244; hard fighting at Mont St Quentin (1 Sep) 247–8 24th Btn (6 Bde), attacks Mont St Quentin (1 Sep) 248; clearing Anvil Wood (31 Aug) 244; halted by machine gun fire (1 Sep) 247 25th Btn (2 Div), reaction to disbandment order 303

25th Btn (7 Bde), assault on Allaines (2 Sep) 155; to be disbanded 300 26th Btn, tries to cross R. Somme (30 Aug) 232 26th Btn (7 Bde), heavy casualties (2 Sep) 257 27th Btn (7 Bde), assault on Tortilla Trench (2 Sep) 255; under shelling and machine gun fire (29 Aug) 227 27th Div (American) 337; attack on Outpost Line (27 Sep) 324–5; attacks (29 Sep) 330 27th Div (American II Corps), faced great challenges (29 Sep) 335–6; offered to Monash 315; reduced role for (29 Sep) 321 28th Btn (7 Bde), tries to cross R. Somme (30 Aug) 232; under fire from Mont St Quentin (29 Aug) 227 29th Btn (8 Bde, 5 Div), crosses start line (29 Sep) 330; forced to withdraw (29 Sep) 331; push towards Brie (29 Aug) 227 29th Btn (8 Bde), at Amiens (9 Aug) 175–6 30th Btn (8 Bde, 5 Div), in reserve (29 Sep) 331 30th Bty (8 Field Bde AFA, 3 Div) 119 30th Div (American II Corps), attacks (29 Sep) 330; effect of fog, mist and smoke on troops 330; offered to Monash 315; poor communication from (Sep 29) 331; reaches second Mauroy-Le Catelet Line (29 Sep) 343; some compensation for inexperience (29 Sep) 341 30th Field Art Bty, at Amiens (8 Aug) 148– 50 31st Btn (8 Bde, 5 Div), push towards Brie (29 Aug) 227; supporting advance (29 Sep) 330; Unit Diary (29 Aug) 227–8 32nd Btn (8 Bde, 5 Div), on 30 Sep 344; at Amiens (8 Aug) 154–5; crosses start line (29 Sep) 330; stalled by machine gun fire (29 Sep) 331 32nd Div (BEF) 350; on 30 Sep 344; in contact with 4 Leicester (British) (29 Sep) 331; leapfrogs 46 Div to capture Magny (29 Sep) 329; in Monash’s plan (29 Aug) 229; nearing bend in Somme (28 Aug) 212; in pursuit from Péronne (5 Sep) 274; relieves 2 Div (AIF) (19 Aug) 194; support 46 (Midland) Div (29 Sep) 341; tanks in support (23 Aug) 202; to leapfrog 46 Div and seize Le Tronquoy Tunnel 318–19; to thrust south of Somme (23 Aug) 201 33rd Btn (9 Bde), advance (22 Aug) 197; Report on barrage and casualties (22 Aug) 198; thrust to Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 348 34th Btn (9 Bde), on 22 Aug 197, 200; clear Hindenburg Outpost Line (30 Sep) 348 35th Btn (9 Bde), at ‘Happy Valley’ (22 Aug) 197, 199; thrust to Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 348 35th Btn (11 Bde), thrust to Bony Ridge 348 36th Btn (9 Bde 3 Div), disbanded (30 Apr) 297 37th Btn (10 Bde), on 29 Sep 338; in attack on Bray (23 Aug) 208; men’s attitude to disbandment (22 Sep) 302; Story writes letter of protest about disbandment 301; to be disbanded 300 38th Btn (10 Bde), on 29 Sep 338; toll taken on (26–30 Aug) 234–5 39th Btn (10 Bde), on 29 Sep 338 40th Btn (10 Bde), on 29 Sep 338; attack Bray (23 Aug) 208; Lewis gunners break up counter-attacks (31 Aug) 245 41st Btn (11 Bde), clears Hindenburg Outpost Line (30 Sep) 348; reaches Benjamin Post trench system (29 Sep) 337; report on disorganised Americans 337–8 41st Bty (AFA), in support at Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 288 42nd Btn (3 Div), thrust to Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 348; to be disbanded 300 43rd Btn (11 Bde) 200–201; thrust to Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 348 44th Btn (3 Div), on 29 Sep 332, 338; forms joint HQ with 59 Btn (29 Sep) 333 44th Btn (11 Bde) 200–201; forced to dig in (29 Sep) 332–3 46th Btn (12 Bde), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 288

46th (Midland Div) (British), on 29 Sep 343; attack well-supported (29 Sep) 341; audacious and brilliantly executed attack (29 Sep) 327–30; deployed in canal crossing 318 47th Btn (12 Bde 4 Div), disbanded (31 May) 298 47th Div (Third Army) advance (22 Aug) 196 48th Btn (12 Bde), in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 285 48th Btn (AIF) 1; at Bullencourt (Apr 1917) 51 52nd Btn (13 Bde, 4 Div), disbanded (16 May) 297–8 53rd Btn (14 Bde) 350, attacks on Péronne (1 Sep) 250–51; navigation problems on 30 Sep 346 54th Btn (14 Bde), attacks Péronne (1 Sep) 250–51; clears Péronne and mops up (2 Sep) 258–60; to be disbanded 300 55th Btn (14 Bde), on 30 Sep 346; at Péronne (1 Sep) 250–51; north of Péronne (2 Sep) 260; occupies Brickworks (2 Sep) 258 56th Btn (14 Bde) 350; attacks Péronne (1 Sep) 251; north of Péronne (2 Sep) 260; only 35 men (2 Sep) 258 57th Btn (15 Bde, 5 Div), at Estrées (29 Sep) 331–3 58th Btn (15 Bde), on 29 Sep 338; at Péronne (2 Sep) 258, 259; crosses Somme and withdraws 252– 3; forced to dig in (29 Sep) 332; handicaps (9 Aug) 171–2; in place just in time 171; in reserve then to attack Estrées (29 Sep) 331–2, 333; slow advance (9 Aug) 174–5 58th Btn (15 Bde) Report on Operations, Germans not mopped up by Americans (29 Sep) 335 59th Btn (15 Bde), advances along railway (1 Sep) 252–3; at Estrées (29 Sep) 331–2, 333; medical report on men ordered by Elliott 309; mutiny by 60 men (5 Sep) 306–8; north of Péronne (2 Sep) 259–60; suffers loss of direction (29 Sep) 332; to move north of Péronne (2 Sep) 258 60th Btn, in place just in time 171; slow advance (9 Aug 18) 174 60th Btn (15 Bde), Elliott speaks to mmutineers (26 Sep) 303–4; handicaps (9 Aug) 171–2; north of Péronne (2 Sep) 259–60; slow advance by 174; to be disbanded 300; to thrust north of Péronne (2 Sep) 258; to transfer to 59 Btn (26 Sep) 303 61st Casualty Clearing Station, Geddes sent to 216 62nd British Div, at Bullecourt (Apr–May 1917) 50 74th British Div, in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 287; takes Hindenburg Outpost Line then withdraws 311 74th Yeomanry Div, attack on Canal du Nord (2 Sep) 254; pushed back (2 Sep) 257 137th Bde, 46 (Midland Div), attack by (29 Sep) 329 301st Tank Btn, tank losses in advance (29 Sep) 336 A Coy (16 Btn), in reserve at Le Verguier (18 Sep) 284 A Coy (29 Btn), advance beyond Vauvillers (9 Aug) 176 B Coy (16 Btn), at Le Verguier and Fort Bull (18 Sep) 284, 285 B Coy (32 Btn, 8 Bde, 5 Div), at Amiens (8 Aug) 154–5 C Coy (10 Btn), captures trench system (18 Sep) 287 C Coy (16 Btn), at Fort Bull and Le Verguier (18 Sep) 284–5 D Coy (16 Btn), overruns Fort Bell and Orchard’s Post (18 Sep) 285 Accroche 150 Acquaire Woods 150 Adler, Gnr, wounded in Tank 9044 (4 Jul) 122 Advanced Section of tanks at Hamel (4 Jul) 106 Advanced Stores system for tanks 56 aerial mapping, problems after first day at Amiens 166

aerial photography and spotting (late 1917) 39–40 aerial photos, improvements in 59; for maps of German defences 143; in Sep 277 aerial reconnaissance aircraft, losses 60 aeroplanes, in 1914 57; at Amiens 135; noise used to conceal sound of tank engines 202–3; replacing cavalry for reconnaissance 58–9 The Age newspaper (Melbourne), Murdoch works for 75–6 AIF, decisions by Hughes 299–300; desire for unification of five divisions 85; rapidly diminishing resource by end Aug 215–16 air superiority, challenge for RFC 61–2 aircraft patrolling, low-level 61 Aisne, River 23, 269 Aisne, Second Battle of (Apr 1917) 10 Aizecourt-le-Haut 254 Albatros fighter (German) 61 Albert, AIF at 23; Fourth Army advances to 196 Albert-Arras railway 196 Allaines 255 Allen, Capt (17 Btn) 253 Allenby, Gen Sir Edmund, at the Somme 33 American Expeditionary Force 11 American II Corps, attack Albert (22 Aug) 267; offered to Monash 315 American inadequacies in field (27, 29 Sep) 325, 326–7, 332, 335, 336, 342 Amiens 19, 23 Amiens, 9–11 August 1918 (map) 188 Amiens, guns at 42; Monash’s objectives at 133; tanks at 140–41 Amiens, Battle of 132–61; as crushing Fourth Army victory 192; last two days on southern front 184; preparations for 129–32 Amiens offensive, Phases 137–8 Amiens–Péronne Road (Roman Road) 133 Amiens–St Quentin Road 183 ammunition, carried by tanks and men 117; problems keeping up supply 165; supplied for Amiens 143; used by BEF artillery in Operation Michael 21 ammunition wagons, noise reduction in 146 Ancre, Battle of (13–14 Nov 1916), disaster for tanks at 49 Ancre, River 132 Andrews, Alf, killed (3 Sep) 261 Andrews, Eric, on Bean 379; on British disorganisation 101 Anvil Wood 244 Anzac Army, formation (May 1916) 85 ‘Anzac Leave’, Hughes decides on (Sep) 299–300; proposed by Pearce (29 May 1917) 299; shipping found 300 Armitage, Gnr James 119–20, 148–50, 151–2, 208–9, 217–18, 341–2, 351, 370–72 armoured cars, at Amiens 155–7, 163–4 Army Council, receives telegraph from Australia and replies (30 Jul) 87–8; suggests to Haig that reduction of bde btns be done asap (29 Aug) 298 Arras 4, 10, 19, 22, 196 Arras, Battle of, 106 fuse first used 37–8; tanks at 50 Arras-Cambrai front, breach of ‘Winter Line’ 268

artillery, advances at Amiens 143–4; bombardment prior to the Somme 35–6; German barrage in Operation Michael 6; improvements after the Somme 36–7; intensity and accuracy 290; objectives at Hindenburg Main Line 322; plans for 18 Sep offensive 277; preparation for 23 Aug attack 203; problems with shells (1916) 33; production 21–2; resources at Hindenburg Main Line 323; sophistication by 1918 44; support for infantry-tank operations 52; transport problems with 220 artillery barrage, absence on 9 Aug 172 artillery boards 41, 120 artillery bombardment (4-day) of Hindenburg Main Line 322, 323 artillery duel, Great War as 30 artillery support, for 14 Bde at Péronne 250; at Mont St Quentin 237–8; for capture of Mont St Quentin and Péronne 217–18; importance for Hindenburg Line crossing 316–17 Artillery’s Astrologers, Peter Chasseaud, on artillery accuracy 277 Ashmead-Bartlett (British journalist) 77–8 Atack, Lt, pros and cons of tanks 124–5 attacks by BEF, characteristics of 199 Aubigny 170 Australian Corps, at Amiens 132–3, 140; casualties and captures (8 Aug–5 Oct) 365; in Fourth Army offensive (18 Sep) 276; guns at Amiens 142; message from Monash to 148; Monash holds conferences (25–26 Sep) 321–2; pursuit from Péronne (5 Sep) 272, 274; sector of Hindenburg Line to attack 270; strength (Sep) 280; striking victories in battles 31 Aug–3 Sep 262–3; to thrust south of the Somme (23 Aug) 201; on western bank of R. Somme (29 Aug) 220 The Australian Corps – Ground Captured (map) 367 Australian Corps engineers, work done by (1 Sep) 254 Australian Corps Mission, created 319–20 Australian Corps (proposed), staffing by Australians 87 Australian divisions, at Ypres (Sep–Oct 1917) 43; desire by Britain to control 86 Australian Flying Corps (AFC), No. 3 Squadron, difficulties with observations 325–6; key role in artillery plans for 18 Sep 277 Australian Flying Corps Official Historian, allied advance on Hindenburg Line 274; on Battle of Hamel 126; on contact patrols 144–5 Australian Government, approves Birdwood’s proposals for Australian Corps 90 Australian Intelligence Corps (Vic Section), Lt-Col Monash commands (1908) 82 Australian troops, characteristics of 380; to winter in France 299–300 The Australian Victories in France in 1918, Sir John Monash, Canadians at Amiens 158; performance of Divisional Commanders 265–6; on Phase A of Amiens 137 Australian War Memorial, Bean major advocate for 381 aviation (military), German funding for 57–8 Bapaume 4, 196, 201, 267–8 Barleux 227 battalions, disbandment of 297–8, 300–301 Battle of Amiens, 8 August 1918 (map) 134 Battle of Amiens see Amiens, Battle of Battle Tactics of the Western Front, Paddy Griffith, drawing and painting as war analogy 26; on phone cables 64 Bayonvillers, 13 Btn at 166

Bean, Charles (C E W) 6–7, 13, 14–15; on 1 Div (AIF) attack (23 Aug) 205–6; 1 Div dispenses with artillery barrage 172; activities and later life 379–82; American task (27 Sep) 324; background 72–5; clouded judgment of 98; conflict between 12 Bde (AIF) and 1 Div (British) orders 293; diminishing strength of 5 Bde 2 Div 215–16; Dyson’s view of White 91; flawed briefing of Murdoch 93, 94; great strain on British troops 293; Haig’s attitude after fall of Mont St Quentin and Péronne 268; Haig’s misplaced faith in cavalry 163–4; inaccurate criticisms of Monash 98; inaccurate information by 1 Div (British) commander 293–4; intrigues by 90–91; letter to White 96; letter to White in full (28 Jun) 406–410; mis-assessment of White and Monash 93, 94; on Monash 358–9; Monash and Blamey interpret events differently (29 Sep) 339; Monash’s command in Hindenburg Line attack 295–6; on Monash’s plans for Mont St Quentin and Péronne 264–5; no record of 1 and 2 Div timing 182; poor visibility in advance and creeping barrage 197– 8; shortcomings of American army 337; toll taken on 3 Div at Cléry 233–4; tribute to soldiers of First AIF 381–2; on use of guns at Amiens 142 Bean, Charles, Official History, Australian Corps casualties (31 Aug–2 Sep) 262; men’s opinions of Monash 357; reasons for heavy casualties (9–11 Aug 18) 187, 189; two incidents of mutiny (Sep) 306 Bean, Charles, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, praise for 381 Bean, Charles, On the Wool Track (1910) 74, 75, 99 Bean, Charles, The Dreadnought of the Darling (1911) 74, 75, 99 Bearer Sub-Division, 15 Field Ambulance 335 Beaucourt 196 Beaurevoir Line 315, 319 BEF Field and Heavy Artillery, classification 395–6 Bellenglise 318, 323 Bellicourt 318, 323 Bellicourt–Bony Line 315 Bellicourt–Vendhuile tunnel, dimensions 322 Below, General Otto von 4, 6 Benjamin Post trench system 337 Biaches 227, 229 ‘Big Willie’ tank prototype (2 Feb 1916) 46 Birdwood, Gen William (‘Birdy’), advocates delay in btn reduction 298–9; appointed Commander, Fifth Army (May) 89; assessment of Foch’s Montdidier plan 129; background and Old Cliftonian 71, 73; Haig’s distrust of 86; retains command of First AIF 99; threatened by Hughes if troops not withdrawn from front by 15 Oct 300 Birkett, Gnr, wounded at Hamel 122 ‘bite and hold’ concept 34–5 ‘bite and hold’ operation, at Amiens 161; on ‘Hamel Spur’ 103–4 ‘bite and hold’ strategy, Rawlinson happy with 211 Blamey, Brig-Gen Thomas, appointed Chief of Staff (May) 90; describes Monash’s Amiens planning 136; disagrees with Hamel plan 109; has spirited discussion with Gellibrand 339–40; Monash’s assessment of 102 Blangy-Sur-Ternoise 57 Blue Cross gas 261 Bonar Law, Murdoch meets 78 Bond, L/Cpl, wounded at Hamel 122 Bony 323, 346; German infantry evacuating 349 Bony Point 351

Bouchavesnes Spur 221–2, 230, 233, 263, 265; importance to German defences 228 Bourne, J M, casualties in commander ranks 65; vilification of Western Front generals 62 Bourne, J M, Australian Army History Conference (1998), Monash’s personal qualities 357 Braithwaite, Lt-Gen Sir Walter, British IX Corps joins Fourth Army 276; error of judgement by 292; too great expectations of 294–5 Brasy–Friscourt Road, cavalry charge along 199 Bray 197, 200, 207; captured (24 Aug) 208, 233 Bray–Corbie Road 183, 200 break-in, at Amiens (8 Aug 18) 185; in Battle of Amiens 158; to German perimeter 66 break-out, into mobile warfare 66 Brewery Farm, Querrieu, Australian correspondents’ HQ 91 Briand, Premier 10 Brickworks 258 bridge crossings of R. Somme 221 bridges on Omiécourt-Brie front covered or destroyed 232 Brie 220, 227; R. Somme bridge at 221, 232 Bristol F.2b fighter (British) 61 British Army, strength in mid-1916 33 British Expeditionary Force (BEF) 2, 4, 16–17, 19; ammunition use in Operation Michael 21; casualties at the Somme (1 Jul 1916) 32; expansion 28; perceived as ‘Imperial Army’ (May 1916) 85 British Logistics on the Western Front, Ian Brown, achievements by Aug 219 British Regular Army, numbers (1914) 26–7 Broodseinde Ridge 43; Monash and 3 Div at 83–4 Brook, Col David, RAA (Retd), on ammunition 32; learning in battle 28–9 Brosse Wood 283 Brown, Ian, logistics of BEF 21–2; Staff College limitations 27–8 Brown, Ian, British Logistics on the Western Front, achievements by Aug 219 Browne, D G, The Tank in Action 45 Bruchmüller, Oberst (Col) Georg 6, 7, 18; use of predicted fire by 43–4 Bullecourt, First AIF casualties at (1917) 70; tanks at 50–51 bush soldier image (Bean) 379 Bussu 254 Butler, Lt-Gen, ability to command III Corps questioned 160; at Amiens 132, 133, 168–9; in Fourth Army offensive (18 Sep) 276; requests relief support for attack on 21 Sep 309–310; on sick leave 183 Byng, Gen 17; advocates attack on Hindenburg Line 275; Third Army line 192, 194; Third Army to advance on Bapaume (Aug) 196; Third Army to attack Hindenburg Line 275–6 Byrnes, Les (3 Sep) 261 Cabaret Farm 346 Cabaret Wood Farm 347 cable (buried), phone communication by 63–5 Cambrai 6, 7, 314 Cambrai, Battle of (20 Nov–7 Dec 1917) 43–4, 54–5; casualties 12; tanks at 54–5 cameras, improvements for aerial photos 59 Canadian Corps, accomplishments under Currie match those of Australians under Monash 361; advance on 9 Aug 18 168; breaks through Drocourt-Quéant switch line (2 Sep) 268; deployment

at Amiens 135, 158–9; timing problems (9 Aug 18) 170–71 Canadian divisions, at Amiens 133 canal crossing, innovative plan for (29 Sep) 329 Canal du Nord 221, 232, 247, 260 Cannan, Brig-Gen, advised to employ strong patrolling (29 Sep) 339; at Hindenburg Line (29 Sep) 337; thrust to Bony Ridge (30 Sep) 348 Caporetto 6 captured maps 324 Carlyon, Les, The Great War, attitudes to Mont St Quentin and Péronne 264 Carson, Sir Edward, Murdoch meets 78 casualties, in First AIF 70 casualties see also losses casualties and captures, at Amiens (8 Aug) 158 cavalry, attempted break-through (22 Aug) 199; redundancy of for break-out 66 Central Workshops for tanks 56 Cerisy Valley 150; 15 Btn at 166 chain of command, problems after 8 Aug 168 Chair Wood, seized (4 Sep) 260 Chalk Pit position, captured (22 Aug) 200 Chapman, Capt (5 Div AIF), evaluates captured Hindenburg Line intelligence 271 characteristics of AIF soldiers 380 Chasseaud, Peter, Artillery’s Astrologers, on artillery accuracy 277 Chaulnes 170, 178 Chauvel, Gen, compared with Monash 363 Chief of General Staff (Melbourne), replies to Army Council’s refusal to support AIF requests 88 Chipilly Spur, at Amiens 133; German guns at 151; III Corps failure to capture 159–60; Monash’s concerns about 147; taken (10 Aug) 183 Chuignes 201, 202; smokescreen around (23 Aug) 203 Chuignes Ridge 205 Chuignolles 169, 201, 205 Chuignolles Wood 203 Churchill, Winston, and tanks 46; on timing of supplies 269 Clarkson, Len, at Amiens (8 Aug 18) 154–5; deaths at Mont St Quentin 262; fighting German rearguard action (28 Aug) 212; letter to father on rum (24 Sep) 372; letters home (25 & 30 Dec) 374; letters to parents (12 & 23 Oct) 373; war and later life 372–4; wounded and evacuated (30 Sep) 344–5 Clemenceau, George 11, 22 Cléry 220, 230, 232; 3 Div clears (30 Aug) 234; bridgework at 254; German defences at 233 Cléry Copse 234, 236, 245 Clifton College (Bean’s school in England) 73 Coffman, Edward M, intense fighting along Outpost Line (27 Sep) 324–5 Cologne, River 221, 250, 270 Command on the Western Front, Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson 33–4; comments on Rawlinson 131, 160;condition of Fourth Army troops by 11 Aug 185; on counter-battery programme 191; evaluation of Hamel 132; inadequacy of barrages 291; on interlocking arms 145; scathing criticism of Americans by Rawlinson and Monash (29 Sep) 342 commanders, casualty rates 65 communication problems, in American attack (27 Sep) 325

communications, breakdown on 9 Aug 181; by buried cable 63–5; difficulties on 9 Aug 170–73; effects of lack of 62–3; ground-to-air 60–61; problems after 8 Aug 167–8 ‘concentration of force’ Principle of War 139 conference method of Monash 114–15 conscription referendums, instigated by Hughes 70–71; Murdoch supports 86 contact patrols by aircraft 144–5 continuous wave (CW) wireless communications 168 Cook, Joseph (Dep PM), with Hughes and Murdoch on visit to troops (Jul) 97 Cook, Professor Tim, views on Currie 362 coordination, difficulties on 9 Aug 170–73 Corps engineers, duties of 230 Corps HQ, General Officer Commanding Royal Artillery on staff 37 counter-battery fire, at Hindenburg Main Line bombardment 323, 324; by heavy guns 142 counter-battery programme (8 Aug) 191 counter-battery support for infantry-tank operations 52 Counter-Bombardment staffs 41 Courage, Bdr-Gen Anthony 57, 104–5; acquiesces to absence of artillery barrage (9 Aug 18) 173; submits tank plan to Monash (20 Jun) 105–6 Court of Enquiry, into 5 Div mutinies 308–9 Court Martial, 127 men tried by 310–311; judgment and sentences 312 Cox, Gen 16 Coxen, Bdr-Gen Walter, disagrees with Hamel plan 109; observes Monash (4 Jul 18) 119 creeping barrages 198, 203, 205, 277, 279, 333, 346 Curlu, 38 Btn (10 Bde) at 234 Currie, Gen Arthur, at Amiens 133, 158–9; breaks through Drocourt-Quéant switch line (2 Sep) 268; Haig moves Canadians northwards 192; has similar approach to Monash 362; opposes extension of offensive (13 Aug) 186–7 Cutlack, F M (Fred), on aerial photography 40; aeroplanes in 1914 57; with Bean 91; supports White as Australia Corps commander 92; on vertical aerial photos 59–60 Dawson, Geoffrey (editor, The Times), Murdoch meets 77 Debeney, Gen (First French Army), advance on 9 Aug 18 168 defensive advantages of Germans at bend in R. Somme 220–22 Degoutte, Gen Jean, at R. Marne 128 Démuin 132 Deputy Chief Censor, Monash appointed as (1914) 82 Dernancourt, AIF at 23 disbandment of Btns 297–8, 300–301 disobeyment by men of orders to disband 302–3 Doingt 223, 254 Doullens conference (26 Mar) 22 Draper, Lt C T, at Hamel and Vaire Wood 123–4 The Dreadnought of the Darling (1911), Charles Bean 74, 75, 99 Drocourt-Quéant switch line 268 dummy tanks 279 Dunlop, Lt (Tank 9385), report on operations (29 Sep) 334–5 Dyson, Will (official AIF artist), anti-Monash views of 91

Eastern Front 3, 6 ‘economy of force’ Principle of War 280 18-pounder guns at Amiens 142 Elles, Hugh 104; Old Cliftonian 73 Elliott, Brig-Gen ‘Pompey’ (5 Div), 15th Brigade handicaps on 9 Aug 171–2; addresses 60 Btn on mutiny (26 Sep) 303–4; attempts to cross R. Somme 251–3; meets difficulties and surmounts them (2 Sep) 259–60; orders received for disbandment of a 15th Bde Btn (24 Sep) 303; persuades men to acquiesce in Btn mergers (26 Sep) 304–5; troops take Cabaret Wood Farm 350 Elsa Trench 248 Elveden Camp, Norfolk 48 engineers (Australian Corps), work done by (1 Sep) 254 Entente, chain of command 131 esprit de corps of battalions 301 Estrées, attack on (29 Sep) 333 Eterpigny, R. Somme bridge at 221 Etherton, Lt G H, Commander, Tank 9044 121–2 Etinehem Spur 183, 184 ‘exemplary Australian’, Bean’s concept of 379 Fervaque Farm, Germans make ‘resolute stand’ at (18 Sep) 283 Feuchy Chapel, tanks at 50 Feuillaucourt 241, 243, 246, 247 Feuillères, 7 Btn (2 Div) to cross bridge at 244; artillery support crosses Somme at (31 Aug) 246; repaired bridge at 232; road repairs at 254 Field Artillery (BEF), accuracy 290; classification 395–6 Field Marshal, conditions for appointment as 363–4 Field Survey Battalions 41 fighter aircraft, German and British 61 firepower, improvement on Western Front 67 ‘firepower not manpower’ dictum 114, 279 First AIF, casualties in 70 First AIF soldiers, possessed three advantages in 1918 380–81 First Battle of Ypres (Oct 1914), British ammunition use 31–2 Fischer, Tim, proposes Monash’s posthumous promotion to Field Marshal 355 Fischer, Tim, Maestro John Monash, advocates Monash’s promotion to Field Marshal 361–2 Fisher, PM Andrew, asks Murdoch to visit Middle East and Gallipoli 76–7; ‘collapse of mental powers’ claim by Bean 94 Flamicourt 252, 259, 260 Flamicourt Railway Station, German machine gun fortress 253 Flanders (Belgium) 314 flash spotting 38–9, 277; at Amiens after first day 165 Flers, AIF at (Nov 1916) 33 Flers-Courcelette battle, tanks at (15 Sep 1916) 48–9, 55–6 Flesquières 7 Florina Trench 250; cleared (31 Aug) 244 Foch, Marshal 11, 22–3; endorses Haig’s plan for shift in offensive (Aug) 196; Fischer tries to rank Monash alongside 362–3; Haig stands up to 187; impending offensive by Belgians 211; planned four offensives for 26–29 Sep 314; Western Front initiative in hands of 128–9

Fokker E.1 fighter (German) 61 Fort Bell 285 Fort Bull 285 Foucaucourt 201 Foucaucourt Plateau 206 Framerville 156, 169, 170 French Army, aircraft numbers (1912) 58; at Bullecourt 50; to attack Hindenburg Line 275–6 Froissy Beacon 201; captured by 3 Bde (23 Aug) 205 Froissy Valley 201 front lengths, at Broodseinde (Amiens and Third Battle of Ypres) 139 Frontal Attack, 29 August 1918 (map) 225 Fuller, Brevet-Col, on infantry-tank cooperation at Hamel 113; emphasises tank lessons 173 Fullerphone 64 Gallipoli, Keith Murdoch visits 77 Garrison Artillery, Monash commissioned (1885) 82 gas, continued use by Germans 260; on Western Front 67 Geary, Capt, killed at Amiens (8 Aug) 153 Geddes, Aubrey 124 Geddes, Corporal Clifford (13 Btn, 4 Bde, 4 Div), at Amiens (8 Aug) 152–3, 161; at Hamel 121; at visit by Hughes and Cook (Jul) 97; condition of troops (11–14 Aug) 185–6; describes deaths in trenches 127; diary (2 Jul) 118, 138; on joint training exercise at Vaux 112; sees brother wounded 124; sent to hospital (5 Sep) 216; war and later life 366, 368 Gellibrand, Maj-Gen, 337; on 29 Nov 338–9; 3 Div at Amiens 137, 138, 150; 3 Div captures Suzanne, Vaux and Curlu and moves on Cléry (29 Aug) 212; 3 Div faces problem (22 Aug) 196– 7; 3 Div relieved by BEF 17 Div (12 Aug) 194; 3 Div relieves brigades (10 Aug) 183; appointed commander 3rd Division 90; argument with Monash (30 Sep) 349; attack on 30 Sep 348; praise for leadership (22 Aug) 206; at Corps conference (29 Aug) 229; Btns from 3 Div to be disbanded 300–301; good leadership by (22 Aug) 197; has spirited discussion with Blamey (29 Sep) 339– 40; orders 10 Bde to attack Bouchavesnes Spur (31 Aug) 234; rapidity of troop’s attacks on German machine guns (22 Aug) 198–9; thrust to capture Bray and La Neuville Peninsula 207; to advance (31 Aug) 245 General Headquarters (GHQ), Maj-Gen Royal Artillery on staff 37 George, Operation 4 German air superiority (1915) 61 German anti-tank fire, improved 333–4 German Army, composition (1914) 29 German artillery in Lamotte-Cerisy Valley 109 German casualties at Cabaret Wood Farm 350 German casualties and captures at Amiens (8 Aug) 158 German counter-attack, at Cambrai (30 Nov 1917) 55; at Chalk Pit and ‘Happy Valley’ (22 Aug) 200; at Mont St Quentin (31 Aug) 239–41; recaptures Quarry Farm (31 Aug) 245 German defences at Ypres, depth of 67 German losses compared with British and French 69 German Machine Gun Corps at R. Somme 221 German prisoners taken at Amiens (8 Aug) 150 German skeletons, road into Bray littered with 209 German soldiers at Ypres, resilience of 67

Germans, defensive advantages at bend in R. Somme 220; fought to the death 248; pursuit eastward of (22–29 Aug) 194–214; retreat to Hindenburg Line 274; surrender to 20 Btn 241 Gheluvelt Plateau 68 Gillemont Farm 315, 320, 321; taken (29 Sep) 340 Gillemont Trench Line 338 Glasgow, Maj-Gen, 1 Div advance (9 Aug) 169; 7 and 8 Btns advance to Lihons 176; appointed commander 1 Div 90; at Villers-Bretonneux (8 Aug) 170–71; communication problems (9 Aug) 170; ordered by Monash to undertake relief for III Corps attack 310; praise for leadership (23 Aug) 206; wants tougher mutiny penalties 311, 312 Glisy aerodrome 203 Goddard, Brig-Gen 337; 9 Bde unable to arrive on time (30 Sep) 348 Gott Mit Uns Trench 250 Gottlieb Trench 247 Gough, Gen Sir Hubert 17–18, 22, 50 Gouy 339 Grand Priel Wood 283 The Great War Generals, Robin Neillands, on plan for Passchendaele 67, 68 The Great War, Les Carlyon, attitudes to Mont St Quentin and Péronne 264 Griffith, Paddy, Battle Tactics of the Western Front 26; on phone cables 64 ground-to-air communications 60–61 gun areas, problems in allocation 165 Gun Programmes 42 guns, noise reduction during transport 146; problems with physical movement 164–5 Haig, Field Marshal Douglas, 9, 10, 12–15, 16–19 passim 22, 33, 36, 136, 137; advises against independent control by AIF 88–9; advocates more aggressive tactics (22 Aug) 209–210; approves Rawlinson’s Hindenburg Line plan (13 Sep) 275; changes Rawlinson’s plans for Amiens 162–3; desire for break-out into mobile warfare 65–9 passim; fixation on cavalry 162; grants Monash two weeks delay in Hindenburg Line assault 305; ignorance of military and political masters 269; moves BEF offensive northwards 192, 194; Old Cliftonian 73; planned four offensives for 26–29 Sep 314; plans three-phase operation (Aug) 196; postpones offensive (14 Aug) 187; restructures British Army due to losses 297 Halle 221, 223, 229, 232, 244 Hallu 182 Ham 4 Hamel, 4 July 1918 (map) 107 Hamel, 3rd Bde at (9 Aug) 170; as combined infantry-tank-artillery battle 110; first barrage (4 Jul) 120; as objective 103–4; tank plan for 105–6 Hamel, Battle of, air support at 126–7; casualties 127 ‘Hamel Spur’, German occupation of 104 Hamel Village, as objective 106, 108 Hamel Wood, as objective 104, 106 Hamilton, Sir Ian 77, 78 Hamilton, Snow, treated for influenza 371 hand-to-hand fighting, along Le Catelet Trench Line (30 Sep) 347; at Péronne (1 Sep) 250 Hankey, Maurice, on mechanical warfare 45–6; on Murdoch 78 ‘Happy Valley’ 197, 200 harassing fire, at Hindenburg Main Line bombardment 323

Harbonnieres 156, 169 Harding, Lt (Tank 9199), report on anti-tank fire (29 Sep) 333–4 Hargicourt 281, 314 Hartcup, Guy, The War of Invention, on 106 fuse 38, on tanks 45–6 Hattencourt 182 Haut Allaines 255, 262 Hazebrouck, AIF at 23 Heavy artillery 6-inch Howitzers, firing rate at Mont St Quentin 238 Heavy artillery, accuracy of 290; to fire on Le Catelet Trench Line (30 Sep) 346 heavy artillery (siege artillery) 395–6 heavy guns, at Amiens 142 ‘Heavy Section Machine Gun Corps’ established (Mar 1916) 48 Hébuterne, AIF at 23 Hem, 3 Div clears ground around (29 Aug) 234 Herleville 196, 201 Hesbecourt 341 Hill 80 223 Hindenburg, Gen 2 The Hindenburg Line, 29 September 1918 (map) 352 Hindenburg Line, attack on 267–96; BEF break-through 44, 51, 55; final assault on 314–53; from Arras to Soissons 269; German armies withdraw to 268; Horne’s thrust might pierce 210–211; Monash chooses crossing point 315–16 The Hindenburg Line (map) 273 Hindenburg Main Line attack (29–30 Sep) 321, 327–53; front 314; operation 275 Hindenburg Outpost Line 272, 273, 275, 276, 278, 281; 1 Btn (3 Bde) on (18 Sep) 286 Hobart, Maj-Gen Percy, Old Cliftonian 73 Hobbs, Gen, 5 Div nears bend in R. Somme (28 Aug) 212; 8 Bde (5 Div) to capture Hill 80 223; approves Elliott’s request to replace 1 Div with 15 Bde 171; at Amiens 138; at Corps conference (29 Aug) 229–30; issues orders for 15 Bde (5 Div)’s role in 2 Sep attack 259; leapfrogs 2 Div at Amiens (8 Aug) 154–5; orders limited advance (1 Oct) 350; not recommended by Birdwood for command of Australian Corps 89–90; protest to Monash about condition of 5 Div troops 263–4; remits mutineer’s sentences after Armistice 312; succeeds Monash as Commander, Australian Corps 354; in temporary command at Amiens 136 Holt Caterpillar Tractor 45 Horne, Gen 17; First Army to advance beyond R. Scarpe (Aug) 196; next major BEF offensive on his First Army front 210–211 horses, problems and losses 165 Hostile Battery Lists 41–2 Hotchkiss Gun, on Mark V tanks 54 Howse VC, Maj-Gen 89; influence on high physical standard of troops 380–81; role in Bean’s intrigue 92–3 Hughes, PM Billy, attempt by Murdoch to influence 93; behaviour reflects Australian political immaturity 94; instigates conscription referendums 70–71; makes four decisions about AIF (Sep) 299–300; meeting with Milner, Bonar Law and Wilson 95–6; Murdoch’s contact with 77; Murdoch’s support for in May 1917 election 86; visits troops with Cook and Murdoch (Jul) 97 Hutier, Gen von 4, 6 Indian Army, numbers (1914) 27

infantry, challenges after 8 Aug 18 167–8; joint training with 5 Tank Bde 111 infantry (German), in Operation Michael 8–9 infantry-tank planning, need for 52 infantry-tank-artillery coordination at Hamel 125 influenza epidemic, Armitage suffers in 371 Instructions for the Occupation and Care of Men, issued by Elliott 309 inter-aircraft communication by wireless telegraphy 60 inter-brigade communications, necessity for 294 interlocking arms, doctrine of 145 Italian front, losses 14 Jackson, Lt-Col G H N, criticises British command (23 Jun) 100–101 Jess, Lt-Col (3 Div GSO 1), advises McNicoll and Cannan (29 Sep) 339 Joffre, Gen 9 Johanesen, Paul Reginald (‘Reg’), on arrival in Melbourne 376; describes action at Amiens 179–80; letter (24 Apr 1917) 375; letter to parents (28 Jan) 376; letter to parents (1917) 375–6; war and later life 374–7; wounded again 376 Joncourt 343 junior officers, new expectations of 102 Kenelly, Mick (3 Sep) 261 King George V, visits Australian Corps HQ at Bertangles (12 Aug 18) 192 Knob 351 Knoll 316, 320, 321 Koros Alley 248 Koverla Trench 248 La Chapelette, lock at 232 La Maisonette 227 La Neuville Peninsula 207 lacrymator (gas) 7 Lagnicourt, First AIF casualties at (1917) 70 Lambert, Maj-Gen (32 Div BEF), at Corps conference (29 Aug) 229 Lamire Farm 229, 232 Lamotte-Cerisy Valley, German artillery in 109 Laskey, Maj (Commander, 2 Tank Btn), complains about battle instructions 177; describes destruction of tanks 177–8; report (9 Aug) 190 Lawrence, Gen 23 Le Catelet 271 Le Catelet Line 315, 346 Le Catelet-Nauroy Line 331 Le Catelet-Nauroy support trench line, positions consolidated at (29 Sep) 335 Le Mesnil 259 Le Tronquoy 271 Le Tronquoy-Riqueval canal, breached (29 Sep) 343 Le Verguier 281, 287 Leane, Brig-Gen (12th Bde) Report on Operations 10–20 September, poor performance of 2 Bde (British) 294, 295

Leane, Brig-Gen Ray, lack of leapfrogging by 293; tank failure at Bullencourt 51–2 leapfrogging, on 18 Sep 292; at Amiens 138–9, 140, 147, 151, 154, 159, 171 Lempire-Hargicourt-Le Verguier Line 323 Lewis Guns, on Mark IV tanks 54; use at Mont St Quentin 243; use in Outpost Line attack 290 Lewis Guns (German), inflict heavy losses 179 Liddell Hart, contentions about Monash had War continued 359; on Monash (1938) 355, 355–6 Liddell Hart, Through the Fog of War, on Monash 358, 359 Light Trench Mortars, at attack on Péronne 250 Lihons 169, 170, 176, 178, 184; high ground around unacknowledged 189 limits, long-term effects of pushing troops beyond 263–4 limits to tasks, setting 191 Litchfield, Lt, effect of tanks on enemy 125 Lloyd George, David, 10, 11–16 passim; briefed by Murdoch on Australian electorate 87; on factors in Army promotion 360; his reasons why Robertson and Haig would never have been replaced as C-in-C BEF 360–61; Murdoch meets 78; praises Monash in memoirs 355; speculation on Monash 359 logistics, achievements in 219; importance for Hindenburg Line crossing 317 long-term effects of pushing troops beyond limits 263–4 Loos, Battle of (Sep 1915) 31, 34 losses, to Lewis Guns on 9 Aug 179; see also casualties losses, German, compared with British and French 69 low-level aircraft patrolling 61 Luce, River 132 Ludendorff, Gen Erich 2–9, 18, 19, 22, 24; defence along ‘Winter Line’ 267–8; Der Schwarze Tag of German Army (8 Aug) 185; Der Wendepunkt der Kriegslage 128 Lys 23, offensive at 129 machine gun posts, crushed by tanks 154; impediment to crossing no-mans-land 120 machine guns, for Hindenburg Line attack 279; intensity and accuracy (18 Sep) 290; in support at Péronne 250 Macintyre, Stuart, working class social agenda 380 MacKay, Brig-Gen (Commander 1 Bde), reports Stacey’s call for tougher mutiny penalties 311 Maestro John Monash, Tim Fischer, advocates for Monash’s posthumous promotion to Field Marshal 361–2 Magny 329 Main Body Sections of tanks 106 Main [trench] Line (old British) 270, 271, 273, 276 Mangin, Gen Charles, at River Marne 128 manpower, need for preservation of 114 Mansfield, Capt (17 Btn) 253 mapping sections, establishment of 40–41 maps provided across Fourth Army for 18 Sep attack 277 Mark I tanks 46–9; crew challenges 49–50; mechanical unreliability of 52; uselessness at Bullecourt 50–52 Mark IV tanks, at Messines 53–4; as supply tanks 166, 202 Mark V One Star (Mark V*) tanks, at Amiens 140–41

Mark V tanks 54, 56–7; on 9 Aug 169; on 29 Sep 330; at Amiens 140; at Vaire and Hamel Wood 123–4, 125; at Vaux 105; four destroyed at Amiens (9 Aug) 175; losses at Amiens 167; shortcomings of 109–110; in support (23 Aug) 202; supporting 5 Div Btns (29 Sep) 332 Marks, Lt-Col (CO, 13 Btn), conference on Battle of Hamel (22 Jun) 116–17 Marne, River, French counter-attack on 128 Marne, Second Battle of, casualties at 24 Marriott, Hugh 45 Mars, Operation 4 Martin, Brig-Gen (5 Bde), orders attack on Mont St Quentin (31 Aug) 237; to attack Mont St Quentin (30 Aug) 231 Marwitz, Gen von 4, 6 Maurepas 234 Maxse, Maj-Gen, Monash examines report on Thiepval by 83 McKernan, Michael, Bean’s motivation for War Memorial establishment 381 McLennan, Pte William, on Australian troops (1 Sep) 253–4; crosses Somme at Feuillères (30 Aug) 235–6; on 18 Btn (5 Bde) progress across Somme Canal near Cléry (29 Aug) 226; 18 Btn refuses to cross river and attack 306; background and experience 223–4; diary for 31 Aug 242; effect of gas on (Mar–Aug) 223–4, 226; gas use and casualties (3 Sep) 260–61; observations on birds (9 Apr, 21 May, 3 Jun) 377–8; on souvenir hunting (19 May) 378; war and later life 377–9 McNicoll, Brig-Gen 337; 10 Bde to attack Bouchavesnes Spur (30 Aug) 234–5; on 30 Sep 348; advised to employ strong patrolling (29 Sep) 339 ‘Mechanical Warfare Supply Department’ 48 Menin Road battle (20 Sep 1917) 43 Mental Care of Men instruction, issued by Elliott 309 Mercatel 196 Méricourt 184 Messines, Battle of (7–14 Jun 1917) 53–4; First AIF casualties at 70; Monash’s 3rd Division at 83 Meuse, River 314 Michael, Operation 4, 19; artillery barrage 6; map 20 military aviation, German funding for 57–8 Milner, Lord 22 minenwerfers (mortars) captured 289 mistakes made, from Amiens to Mont St Quentin and Péronne 263 Mitchell, George, 1–2; esprit de corps of men going into battle 301; war and later life 365–6 Moffatt, Capt, traces source of mutiny 311 Monash, Bertha 79 Monash, Geoffrey Serle, on Monash’s mother 79 Monash, Gen Sir John, ability to push men beyond limits 216–17; advocates delay in btn reductions 298–9; appointed Commander of 3 Div (AIF) (Jul 1916) 83; appointed Director-General of Repatriation and Demobilisation, London (21 Nov) 354; appointed general manager, State Electricity Commission of Victoria (Jun 1920) 354; argument with Gellibrand (30 Sep) 349; awareness of intrigue by Bean, Murdoch et al 95–7; background and first part of War 78–84; command strengths of 355–9; comments on Robertson and Stewart’s plan 246–7; comparing battle victories 184; concerns about Chipilly Spur 147; method 114–15; confidence about Hindenburg Line battle 276–8; confidence in Corps methods 278; creates Aust Corps Mission 319–20; detailed staff planning by 317–18; dies (8 Oct 1931) 354; on effect of Australian losses 114; effects of strain on 313; four basic requirements for Hindenburg Line crossing success 316– 17; harsh choice for (28 Sep) 326–7; interprets Rawlinson’s order to justify aggressive policy (28 Aug) 211; knighted by King George V (12 Aug) 192; long-term effects of pushing troops beyond

limits 263–4; major battle with 3 Div (AIF) at Messines (Jun 1917) 83; message to troops at Amiens 148; notes for conference (30 Jun) 115–16; notes for conference with divisional commanders (31 Jul) 397–405; objectives at Amiens 133; outlines plan to divisional commanders (29 Aug) 229–30; Pedersen’s description of 98; persuades Rawlinson to ask Haig for two weeks delay in Hindenburg Line assault 305; planning Amiens offensive (Jul) 136–7; planning and command at Mont St Quentin and Péronne 264–5; requests control at Chipilly 183; requires tanks at Hamel ‘bulge’ 105; sees opportunity to achieve two aims 211–12; sends three-phase plan for 9 Aug 18 to commanders 169–70; at start of Hamel offensive (4 Jul 18) 119; striking victories from 31 Aug–3 Sep 262–3; submits preliminary Hamel attack plan (21 Jun) 106, 108–9; suggests attack postponement (28 Sep) 327; to command Australian forces (May) 89–90; two fair criticisms of command (22 Aug) 206; two-phase plan for capture of Péronne 222–3 Monash, John, The Australian Victories in France in 1918, on artillery transport problems 220; Canadians at Amiens 158; no mention of crossing Somme from west on 29 Aug 228–9; performance of Divisional Commanders 265–6; on Phase A of Amiens 137 Monash as Military Commander, Peter Pedersen, on 15–23 Aug rest break 195 Mons, Ludendorff at conference (11 Nov 1917) 3 Mont St Quentin, 31 August 1918 (map) 240 Mont St Quentin, Australian losses at 262; battle of 215–66; bombardment of (1 Sep) 248; breach of ‘Winter Line’ 268; important military attributes of 222; preparations for attack on (31 Aug) 237– 9 Mont St Quentin – Péronne, 1 September 1918 (map) 249 Mont St Quentin–Bouchavesnes Road 245 Montague, Sir Edwin (Secretary of State for India), Rawlinson’s anti-Semitic letters about 359–60 Montgomery of Alamein, Field Marshal, fanciful view of Monash 359 Montgomery, Maj-Gen, The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the Hundred Days, conditions on 29 Sep almost same as on 8 Aug 336–7; inadequacies in British performance 291 Montgomery, Maj-Gen (Rawlinson’s Chief of Staff), 23; on attack co-ordination 189 Mopping-up Sections of tanks 106 Morcourt, pursuit of Germans eastwards to Péronne from (22–29 Aug) 194–214 Morcourt Gully, 8 Btn at 166 Morcourt-Harbonnières ravine 129 Morlancourt 132; AIF at 23 Morshead, Lt-Col, 33 Btn Report on barrage and casualties (22 Aug) 198; report on cavalry charge (22 Aug) 199 Moss, Hannah, marries John Monash 81 Mott, Lt (7 Field Coy), reconnoitres Somme canal (29 Aug) 231 Mouquet Farm, AIF at (23 Jul–3 Sep 1916) 33 Moyenneville 196 Murdoch, Keith, advises Hughes on political solution 88–9; background 75–8; cables Hughes on formation of Australian Corps 87; carries letter from Ashmead-Bartlett to Asquith 77–8; expresses Australian troops’ desire for own control 86; flawed briefing by Bean 93, 94; influence on government policy 94; views on White 93; visits troops with Hughes and Cook (Jul 18) 97 Murray, Lt-Col (CO, 4 Div MG Btn) 320 mustard gas 224; British use at Hindenburg Main Line 323 mustard gas (Yellow Cross) 7 mutinies, as result of extreme demands made on troops 313; by French troops (May–Jun 1917) 10 Nauroy 315, 323, 331

Neillands, Robin, The Great War Generals, on plan for Passchendaele 67, 68 Neuve Chappelle, Battle of (10 Mar 1915) 31 Neuville-Vitasse, tanks at 50 New Zealand Division (Third Army), takes Bapaume (29 Aug) 267–8 ‘nibbling’, by BEF 103 19-pounder Field Art, firing rate at Mont St Quentin 238 Nivelle, Gen Robert 9–10 noise reduction, in movement of guns and ammunition 146 North Melbourne Battery, Monash promoted to Maj in 82 Northcliffe, Lord (owner, The Times), Murdoch meets 77, 78 No. 3 Squadron (AFC), attacks retiring Germans (23 Aug) 205; key role in artillery plans for 18 Sep 277; in reconnaissance for 23 Aug attack 203; roles in Hindenburg Line attack 280 No. 10 General Hospital, Geddes sent to (5 Sep) 216 Nurlu 269 Nurlu Heights, III Corps (British) to capture (2 Sep) 254 oblique aerial photos, use of 59–60 observation posts, problems in allocation 165 observation sections, establishment of 40–41 officer casualties, through machine gun and sniper fire (29 Sep) 338 Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–18, Charles Bean, praise for 381 Official History, Charles Bean see Bean, Charles, Official History Oise, River 14, 23 Old Quarry, fight by 3 Div for (31 Aug) 245 Old Roman Road see Roman Road Older Trench 241 O’Loughlin, Mick, killed (31 Aug) 242 Omiécourt 223, 227, 229; 7 Btn (2 Div) to cross bridge at 244; bridgework at 254; canal lock at 232; crossing blown up (29 Aug) 232 Omiécourt-Les-Cléry 243 Omignon, River 270 On the Wool Track (1910), Charles Bean 74, 75, 99 106 fuse, invention of 37–8 Operation Michael 4, 19; artillery barrage 6 Operation Michael (map) 20 Orchard’s Post 285 O’Ryan, Gen, suggests attack postponement (28 Sep) 326 Outer Circle railway line, Monash supervises construction of 80 outflanking, infantry drill of 290 Outpost Line, attacked by Americans (27 Sep) 324–6 The Outpost Line Attack, 18 September 1918 (map) 328 Outpost Line attack (18–28 Sep) 282–95; conflicting and contradictory reports received (27 Sep) 326 Outpost [trench] Line (old British) 270, 273, 276 Painlev, Paul 11 Park Wood 239, 244 Parrish, Pte, No 3770 (13 Bn AIF), killed at Hamel 122

Passchendaele 65, 67; artillery at 42–3 ‘Peaceful Penetration’ of German line 278; by Australian and New Zealand troops 103; need for resumption after 23 Aug 195 Pear Trench, artillery barrage 127; as objective 103–4, 106 Pearce, George, Murdoch’s contact with 77 Pearce, Sen George, and Birdwood’s proposals for Australian Corps 90 Pedersen, Peter, American officer shortage (27 Sep) 325; description of Monash 98; example of antiSemitism regarding Monash 359–60; on Foch’s Montdidier plan 129; Haig qualifies order of 22 Aug 210; Hughes’ threat to Birdwood about AIF withdrawal 300; key attributes of Monash’s command 265; Monash confident on Hindenburg Line battle 276; Monash stayed away from battle lines 357–8; on Monash’s command on 29 Aug 228–9; on Monash’s conference method 114–15; on Monash’s inaccurate claims about Amiens 130–31; quotes Blamey on results of stress on Monash 313; reason for Monash’s first frontal assault on Péronne and Mont St Quentin 223; on setting limits to tasks 191; two fair criticisms of Monash’s command (22 Aug) 206 Pedersen, Peter, Monash as Military Commander, on 15–23 Aug rest break 195 Péronne 4, 14, 221, 246, 250, 262; Australian Corps pursuit from 272, 274; battle of 215–66; breach of ‘Winter Line’ 268; pincer movement attempt on 223; pursuit of Germans from Morcourt eastwards to (22–29 Aug) 194–214; R. Somme bridges at 221 Péronne–Bouchavesnes Road 24 Péronne–Mont St Quentin Road 259 Pershing, Gen, against US troops being used at Hamel 118–19 Pétain, Gen Philippe 10–11, 15, 22, 23 phosgene (Green Cross) 7 pioneer battalions, duties of (30 Aug) 230 Pioneer Btn, constructs footbridges over R. Somme (23 Aug) 207–8 Plevna Trench 247, 248 Plumer, Gen Sir Herbert 17; at Messines 53; Monash serves under at Messines 83 Poincaré, President 22 Polygon Wood 43 Power Buzzer 64 Pozières, AIF at (23 Jul–3 Sep 1916) 33 predicted fire, data needed for accuracy 142–3; development and implementation 38–42; use by Germans 43–4 Prior, Robin and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front 33–4; comments on Rawlinson 131, 160; condition of Fourth Army troops by 11 Aug 185; consequences of artillery bombardment followed by infantry (29 Sep) 329–30; on counter-battery programme 191; evaluation of Hamel 132; Fourth Army attack on Hindenburg Outpost Line (18 Sep) 289; inadequacy of barrages 291; on interlocking arms 145; Rawlinson’s and Monash’s scathing criticism of Americans (29 Sep) 342 Proyart 184, 229 The Pursuit, 22–29 August 1918 (map) 213 Quarry Farm 236, 245 Quennemont Farm 287, 315, 320, 321 radio jamming by Germans 168 Rainecourt 184

Rawlinson, Gen Sir Henry 16, 105; advocates attack on Hindenburg Line 275; amazed that Mont St Quentin attack to go ahead on 31 Aug 237; anti-Semitic letters about Montague and Monash 359–60; at Somme 33; attack between Somme and Villers-Bretonneux-Amiens railway 129; on ‘bite and hold’ 34–5; contribution to Battle of Hamel 132; declines attack postponement (28 Sep) 327; extends front on Monash’s plan (18–19 Sep) 317–18; Haig changes plan for Amiens 162–3; harsh choice for (28 Sep) 326; makes key changes to Monash’s plan (19 Sep) 318; orders for 30 Sep 343–4; orders advance late on 8 Aug 168; orders Monash to keep in touch with enemy (27 Aug) 211; orders for pursuit from Péronne 274; phone communication (Jul 1916) 63–4; resumes offensive (23 Aug) 194; section of Hindenburg Line to attack 269; sends Monash’s Hamel plan to GHQ 109; sends Montdidier plan to Haig 129–30; shows Currie’s information to Haig (14 Aug) 187; suggests using Americans at Hamel 111; on tank use at Montdidier 130; tells Monash that Fourth Army ‘marking time’ (25 Aug) 211; two operations on 23 Aug 201 Read, Maj-Gen (American II Corps) 315; harsh choice for (28 Sep) 326–7; to be helped by Aust Corps Mission 319 reconnaissance, aircraft replace cavalry for 58–9 Reims 314 Reinforced Concrete & Monier Pipe Construction Company, Monash forms 81 Reserve [trench] Line, old British 270, 273 rest period for five AIF Divs 194–5 Ribchester, Lt W (Commander, Tank 9388), in action (23 Aug) 204 Ribot, Alexandre 10 rifle grenades, use of 290 Riga, Battle of (3 Sep 1917) 6, 43 ‘right-of-way’ orders 244 Riqueval, intact bridge taken (29 Sep) 329 Riqueval-Le Tronquoy canal, breached (29 Sep) 343; taken (29 Sep) 329 Road Wood 234, 236, 245 Robertson, Gen Sir William, 12–16; attack plan and outcome for 1 Sep 247–8, 250; orders for 6 Bde to pass 5 Bde (31 Aug) 246; sets zero hour for 1 Sep (31 Aug) 246 Roisel 341 Rollings, Lt E J, captures maps and Hindenburg Line documents 270; describes armoured cars 156–7 Roman Road 133, 169; pioneers work on 141 Rosenthal, Maj-Gen, 2 Div at Amiens 137, 138; 2 Div nearing bend in Somme (28 Aug) 212; appointed commander 2 Div 90; at Corps conference (29 Aug) 229; at ‘Hamel Spur’ 104; briefs 2 Div Bde commanders for Mont St Quentin attack (29 Aug) 232; Btns from 2 Div to be disbanded 300; Mont St Quentin attack plan for 2 Div 223 Rosières 176, 178 Roxburgh, John, treated for influenza 371 Royal Air Force (RAF), formation 61–2; plan for Amiens 144; size (1918) 58 Royal Engineers, mapping, observation and sound-ranging sections in 40–41 Royal Field Artillery 170 Royal Flying Corps (RFC), aerial photography by 40; growth 1914–18 58; need for planning and liaison with 37; spotting by 39 Roye 182 Roye-Chaulnes-Bray-Dernancourt, objective (9 Aug) 168 rum, issued to fatigued troops (31 Aug) 239 Sadler, Lt-Col (17 Btn), mistiming (9 Aug) 182

Sadler, Peter (biographer of Gellibrand), on divergence of opinion between Gellibrand and Blamey (29 Sep) 340 St Christ 220; R. Somme bridge at 221 St Denis 246, 250, 262; Germans withdraw from 258 St Denis Wood, German fire from (1 and 2 Sep) 251, 260 St Denis–Mont St Quentin Road 260 St Pierre Vaast Wood 263 St Quentin 4, 269, 271 St Quentin Canal 271 Saluting Monash Council 355, 361 Salvage Companies for tanks 56 Scanlan, Lt-Col (59 Btn), men of 60 Btn handed over to 305; tells Elliott that 60 men from 59 Btn refuse orders to move 306–7 Scarpe, River 196; first army advances beyond (Aug) 196 Scheldt, River 271 Scullin, PM James, promotes Monash and Chauvel to rank of General (11 Nov 1929) 354 Second Battle of the Aisne 10 Second Battle of the Marne, casualties at 24 secrecy, at Amiens 145–7; emphasis on Hamel and Amiens 130, 133, 135; lack after first day at Amiens 164; near jeopardisation of Amiens 147–8 Secretary of State for Colonies, telegraph from Australian Government to 87–8 Serle, Geoffrey, Monash, Monash suggest sentence remittal for mutineers 312; on Monash’s mother 79 set-piece battle doctrine 276–7 Shelley, Lt M (No. 3 Squadron AFC) 326 siege artillery (heavy artillery) 395–6 Siegfried Position (Siegfriedstellung) see Hindenburg Line Sinclair-Maclagan, Maj-Gen, 4 Div at Amiens 138, 147; at Amiens (10 Aug 18) 183; at ‘Hamel Spur’ 104; disagrees with Hamel plan 109; to command Aust Corps Mission 319–20 smoke, use on Western Front 67 smoke cover for infantry 218 sneezing gas 224, 261 Soissons 269 soldiers see troops Somme, Battle of 23, 65; artillery bombardment before 35–6; artillery improvements after 36–7; artillery rounds fired 66; casualties and losses 12, 19, 32–3; defective artillery shells at 34; guns at 42 Somme Canal 221 Somme offensive (1 Jul–18 Nov 1916), lessons from 32–3 Somme, River 196, 202, 245; crossing challenges 221–2, 231; pontoon bridge to Halle (1 Sep) 254 sound ranging 39, 277, 324 sound-ranging sections, at Amiens after first day 165–6; establishment of 40–41 Stacy, Lt-Col, calls for tougher penalties for mutiny 311; favoured tougher penalties for mutineers 312 Staff College, limitations 27–8 Staff Corps, numbers (1914) 27 staff planning by Monash, example 317–18 staff work, importance of 291

Steel, Will, letter on leadership from Monash to 80 Stewart, Bdr-Gen, ordered to deploy 14 Bde in attack towards Péronne and St Denis (31 Aug) 246; to attack along Le Catelet Line and advance along Railway Ridge (30 Sep) 345–6 Stokes Mortars, supporting 7 Bde (2 Sep) 255; use at Mont St Quentin 238, 243 stores, problems keeping up supply 165 The Story of the Fourth Army in the Battles of the Hundred Days, Maj-Gen Montgomery, conditions on 29 Sep almost same as on 8 Aug 336–7; inadequacies in British performance 291 Story, Lt-Col, letters of protest about disbandments 301 Streseman, Capt von, captured (18 Sep) 283 Sturmtruppen in Operation Michael 8, 18 Styles, Bert, wounded on 31 Aug 242 Sugar Factory 251 supplies, carried by armoured cars 156; carried by tanks and men 117 supply tanks, introduction 56 Supreme War Council, appointment of Allied Commander-in-Chief 15; changes in (Feb) 16; formation (Nov 1917) 14 surprise, lack after first day at Amiens 164 surprise factor, of aircraft 144 Suzanne, captured (28 Aug) 233 Swinton, Lt-Col Ernest, and tank development 45, 46, 48 Sydney Evening Sun, Murdoch as correspondent for 77 Sydney Morning Herald, Bean as war correspondent for 74 Sydney World, Murdoch as news editor for 77 synchronised machinegun fire on aeroplanes 61 Tailles Wood 197 Tank 9026, crushing machine gun posts 124 Tank 9044, hit at Hamel 121–2 Tank 9055, effect on enemy 125 Tank 9097, crushing machine gun posts 124; pros and cons of 124–5 Tank 9183, crushing machine gun posts 124 Tank 9199, report on anti-tank fire (29 Sep) 333–4 Tank 9292, at Hamel and Vaire Wood 123–4 Tank 9385, report on operations (29 Sep) 334–5 Tank 9388, in action (23 Aug) 204 Tank 9403, at Hamel 122–3 The Tank in Action, D G Brown 45 Tank Corps, changes in (Jan) 104; need for planning and liaison with 37; report by Fourth Army on Hamel 125–6; structural initiatives by 1918 56; tanks as finite resource 190 tank crews, availability and condition of 166–7 tank-infantry planning, need for 52 tanks, advent of 38; allotted to 4 and 12 Bdes (18 Sep) 281; ammunition and supplies carried by 117; with armoured cars for towing purposes 155; at Fleurs-Courcelette (15 Sep 1916) 48–9, 55–6; crews 49–50; distribution (9 Aug) 173; failure at Bullencourt (Apr 1917) 51–2; identification with troops 113; importance for Hindenburg Line crossing 317; improvements (1916–18) 55–6; knocked out on Le Catelet-Nauroy Line (29 Sep) 333; losses and sustainability of numbers 167; low numbers at Hindenburg Line 278–80; Mk I 46–9; more careful use of 279–80; in Outpost Line attack (18 Sep) 284; petrol fumes inside 207; rapidly knocked out (29 Sep) 338; reduced

numbers of tanks and crews in 5 Tank Bde 218–19; shortcomings of Mk V 109–110; support for attack on Estrées (29 Sep) 333; supporting 15 Bde advance (29 Sep) 332; use in infantry advances 141–2; usefulness at Amiens 154 Task Tables 42 tasks, setting limits to 191 technological expertise, need for 29 telephone communication by buried cables 63–5 Templeux-le-Guerard 341 terrain choices at Ypres 67 Territorial Force, numbers (1914) 27 The Australian Corps – Ground Captured (map) 367 The Hindenburg Line, 29 September 1918 (map) 352 The Hindenburg Line (map) 273 The Outpost Line Attack, 18 September 1918 (map) 328 The Pursuit, 22–29 August 1918 (map) 213 The Western Front, March 1918 (map) 5 Thiepval, attack on (Sep 1916) 83 Third Battle of Ypres (31 Jul–10 Nov 1917) 65; artillery at 42–3; casualties 12; command lessons from 67; First AIF casualties at 70 Tivey, Brig-Gen (8 Bde, 5 Div), crosses start line (29 Sep) 330 topographical sections, establishment 40–41 Tortille River Valley 222 Traill, Lt Sydney, in action (23 Aug) 205; criticises British command (15 May) 101; favoured tougher penalties for mutineers 312; at Hargicourt (18 Sep) 286; records beginning of mutiny (21 Sep) 310; war and later life 369–70 Travers, Tim 17–18 trench mortars, use of 290 trench system bombardment, importance for Hindenburg Line crossing 317 trench systems on Hindenburg Line 270 trenches, deaths in at Hamel 127 troops, ammunition and supplies carried by 117; identification with tanks 113; long-term effects of pushing beyond limits 263–4; responses to disbandments 301–5 Tucker, Cpl W S, inventor of microphone 39 Tudor, Brig-Gen Hugh, use of predicted fire by 43 tunnel (Bellicourt to Vendhuile), Monash chooses as crossing point 315–16 Tunnel Line, one tank reaches (29 Sep) 336 tunnelling, use on Western Front 67 tunnels, on Hindenburg Line 271, 273 unification of AIF, desire for 85 Vaire Wood, as objective 104, 106 Vauvillers 156, 157, 169 Vaux, captured (28 Aug) 233; infantry-tank training exercise at 112–13; Tank Bde training ground at 105 Vendhuile 271 Verdun 6; casualties (Feb–Dec 1916) 9; German thrust (Feb 1916) 32

vertical aerial photos, use of 59–60 Vickers, Lt W A (8 Tank Btn), at Vaire and Hamel Woods 122–3 Vickers Machine Guns, supporting 7 Bde (2 Sep) 255; use at Mont St Quentin 238 Victoria Crosses, eight awarded 31 Aug–2 Sep 266 Villeret 287 Villers-Brettoneux 21, 23–4; 1 Div (AIF) arrives at (8 Aug) 170 Villers-Brettoneux Plateau, defence of 104 visual signalling 168 Wackett, Capt L J (No. 3 Squadron AFC) 326 War Cabinet, formation (Dec 1916) 13–14 ‘War Experiences’, 5 Tank Bde, on shortcomings of Mk V tanks 109–110 The War of Invention, Guy Hartcup, on 106 fuse 38 Warfusée, 17th Btn at (8 Aug) 153 Webb, Maj (7 Field Coy), reconnoitres Somme canal (29 Aug) 231 Western Front, attempt to break deadlock 67; vilification of generals 62 The Western Front, March 1918 (map) 5 Weygand, General 22 Whippet Tanks 130, 163; knocked out on Le Catelet-Nauroy Line (29 Sep) 333; in Monash’s plan (18–19 Sep) 318; support attack on Estrées (29 Sep) 333; supporting 5 Div Btns (29 Sep) 332 White, Maj Gen Brudenell, appointed Chief of Staff of Fifth Army 90; assessment of Foch’s Montdidier plan 129; background 71–2; Bean’s anti-Monash letter to 96–7; supported by Cutlack, Bean and Dyson 92 Wiencourt, 2 Tank Btn at 166 Wilkins, Hubert (photographer), with Bean 91 Williams, Gnr, wounded at Hamel 122 Wilson, Gen Sir Henry (Chief of Imperial General Staff) 14–16, 22; Murdoch’s influence with 78, 93–4; warns Haig of heavy losses likely in Hindenburg Line attack (29 Aug) 269, 276 Wilson, Trevor see Prior, Robin and Trevor Wilson Command on the Western Front ‘Winter Line’, Ludendorff’s defence along 267–8 wire cutting, at Hindenburg Main Line bombardment 323 wireless stations and telegraphy 60 Ypres 4 Ypres, First Battle of (Oct 1914), British ammunition use 31–2 Ypres, Third Battle of (31 Jul–10 Nov 1917) 65; artillery at 42–3; casualties 12; command lessons from 67; First AIF casualties at 70 Zonnebeke 43

About the Author

PETER BRUNE is one of Australia’s leading military historians. He is author of the bestselling and highly acclaimed A Bastard of a Place: The Australians in Papua, as well as Those Ragged Bloody Heroes: From the Kokoda Trail to Gona Beach 1942, The Spell Broken: Exploding the myth of Japanese invincibility, Gona’s Gone: The battle for Beach Head 1942 and We Band of Brothers: A biography of Ralph Honner, soldier and statesman and is co-author with Neil McDonald of 200 Shots: Damien Parer and George Silk and the Australians at war in New Guinea and Valiant for Truth: The life of Chester Wilmont, war correspondent. His book Descent Into Hell: The Fall of Singapore – Pudu and Changi – The Thai– Burma Railway was shortlisted in the category of Australian History for the 2015 Prime Minister’s Literary Award.

Copyright

HarperCollinsPublishers First published in Australia in 2019 by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited ABN 36 009 913 517 harpercollins.com.au Copyright © Peter Brune 2019 The right of Peter Brune to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000. This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher. HarperCollinsPublishers Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney NSW 2000, Australia Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive, Rosedale 0632, Auckland, New Zealand A 75, Sector 57, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF, United Kingdom Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower, 22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor, Toronto, Ontario, M5H 4E3, Canada 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007, USA ISBN 978 1 4607 5651 5 (hardback) ISBN 978 1 4607 0571 1 (ebook) A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia Cover design by Hazel Lam, HarperCollins Design Studio Cover image courtesy AWM, E03183. A machine gun position established by the 54th Battalion during the morning of the attack through Péronne. The photograph was taken the following day, after the capture of the town, when positions close to it had been taken. Pictured, left to right: Private Cullen, A Company, 53rd Battalion; Private A. Storen, A Company, 54th Battalion; unidentified (standing at back); Sergeant Kelly, 54th Battalion; and Private McSweeney, 54th Battalion.