So great had been the success of the raid that, when the first estimate of prisoners—30—was telephoned through to Brigade H.Q., they were too sceptical to forward the news to the Division. When the prisoners began to appear over the crest line, they were seen by some artillery observers who, never dreaming that such success had been gained, sent frantic messages through that the enemy was counter-attacking. When this was denied they declared that they could see the enemy in crowds coming down the hill.

But much still remained to be done. A number of wounded were lying out in No Man’s Land and these had to be brought in. This business was taken in hand by Major A. L. Mowat, M.C., who had gone up to the line immediately the Commanding Officer returned. Some of the enemy meanwhile had hoisted a white flag, and, under its protection which had not been violated by the British, were collecting their wounded. Seeing this, Major Mowat ordered a white flag to be put out, and stretcher-bearers to go over and bring back the wounded. This was done but, no sooner did they appear on the top of the parapet than every enemy machine gun in the district opened fire on them. It was a typical “Hun” trick—to make use of the white flag to collect their own wounded and then to open fire at once when it was used by their opponents. The flag was quickly hoisted down and fire was opened in retaliation. It is unlikely that any man in the Battalion ever respected a German flag again. In spite of this failure, it was not long before every wounded man was brought in. Lce.-Cpl. A. Moon, of D Company, particularly distinguished himself in this work. He had already done yeoman service during the raid; though not himself one of the party, he had taken a Lewis Gun out into No Man’s Land on his own initiative, and with it had provided covering fire during both the advance and the withdrawal. Now he twice went out, and on each occasion succeeded in bringing in a wounded man. For these actions he afterwards received the Distinguished Conduct Medal.

Later in the morning, a large party of the enemy was seen advancing to reoccupy the empty pill-box. Attempts to bring artillery fire to bear on them failed, but a heavy fire was opened with rifles and Lewis guns. Eventually the enemy artillery put down a protective barrage, under cover of which the Germans were able to rush forward and enter the pill-box. Apart from artillery activity, the rest of the day passed quietly, but during the night Patu Support was heavily shelled and several men of B Company were killed or wounded.

Needless to say, the Battalion received many messages of congratulation and commendation, for the raid had been one of the most successful on record. The Commander-in-Chief sent his congratulations, an unusual thing in connection with a minor operation, while the following wire was received from Second Army H.Q.:—

This was the first intimation the Battalion had that General Plumer had returned from Italy. Perhaps the most delighted people, though no message came from them officially, were the New Zealanders, who realised that their wishes were being carried out and that their old front had been left in good hands. For this operation, Sec.-Lieut. L. Gumby was awarded the Military Cross, Sergt. H. Binns and Lance-Cpl. R. A. Hudson the Distinguished Conduct Medal; Cpl. H. Kane, D.C.M., M.M., received a bar to his Military Medal, and eleven other ranks the Military Medal.

The remainder of the tour was marked by a considerable increase in the volume of enemy artillery fire. This was probably partly a result of the raid, but it may also have been an attempt to pin British troops to that area while the enemy concentrated for his attack elsewhere. The areas chiefly affected were the usual ones, with the addition of Peter Trench; this trench had been named after the Commanding Officer’s youthful son, the father later expressing the hope that his son would have better fortune than his trench had had.

On the night of March 17/18th a S.O.S. test was arranged which had a rather amusing sequel. In order to ensure that S.O.S. signals should be seen by the artillery if they were sent up, a chain of repeating stations had been arranged. A S.O.S. sent up in the front line was to be repeated from the left company H.Q., then from Battalion H.Q., and thence further back. To test the efficiency of this chain, green Very lights were supplied by Brigade, and it was arranged that, at 9-0 p.m., two of these should be fired from the front line, and repeated backwards as ordered. Everything went off well; the signals were seen, promptly repeated and—down came an enemy barrage. Brigade had overlooked the important point that a double green was the enemy S.O.S. Capt. N. T. Farrar who, as O.C. Left Company, was responsible for repeating the signal, in order not to give away the location of his Company H.Q., had gone down to Jetty Warren to fire his lights. Now Jetty Warren happened to be one of the enemy barrage lines, and Capt. Farrar soon found matters so lively there that he decided to run for it. As the scheme was only a test the British artillery was not intended to fire, but frantic appeals for retaliation soon got them going. Similar tests should have been carried out by the other battalions of the Brigade later in the night, but these orders were cancelled owing to the result of the first test.

On the night of March 18/19th the Battalion was relieved. Instead of going back to Maida Camp, two companies moved to Westhoek Dugouts and two to Railway Wood Dugouts on Cambridge Road. The relief was much hampered by heavy gas shelling, but the Battalion escaped with practically no casualties.

The period which followed was one of anxious expectation. For the last month signs had been accumulating of the imminence of a great enemy offensive. It was known that many of his best divisions had been brought over from the Russian Front, and that his armies had never been so strong in the West before. In the early months of the year attack training had been carried out on an unusually large scale. And now the information obtained from almost every prisoner pointed to a great attack in the very near future. Every possible precaution had been taken in the Second Army to meet an attack, should it come on that front, and all were anxiously waiting for the enemy to make his first move. One minor attack had been made on the 33rd Division north of the Menin Road, about a fortnight before. But as the enemy had made no further attempt there, it was probably only a “blind.”

On March 21st the storm broke, though far away to the south. Never since stationary warfare had taken the place of movement, had a single attack been made on so wide a front in the West. From the neighbourhood of Arras to far south of St. Quentin, the whole front was ablaze. The news which reached the Battalion during the first few days was brief, but it was enough to make clear to everyone that practically the whole force of the enemy’s offensive was directed against the British, and that the situation was desperate to a degree. On March 24th the Commander-in-Chief published his, now famous, Special Order of the Day; and in forwarding it to Battalions the G.O.C., 49th Division, himself issued an Order which is so characteristic of the man that it is worth repeating in full:—

The Battalion chafed at its inactivity. It was well up to strength and in magnificent condition. After a month’s rest and training, it had spent another month in a line where, though it had suffered comparatively few casualties, things had been sufficiently active to keep it in good condition. Furthermore, the highly successful raid of little more than a week before had raised its morale to such an extent that it felt fit to tackle anything. All leave had been stopped and officers, who were in England, recalled. The news that the New Zealand Division was moving south rather added to the excitement. On March 27th a warning order was received to be prepared to move at the shortest notice; but that very night the Battalion again took over the defence of the Reutel Sector.

The tour which followed—the last the Battalion was to do in that sector—was wonderfully, almost uncannily, quiet. It was rarely a shell fell at all, and the standing joke of the tour was that, if the enemy division opposite wanted a concentration of fire on its front, it would have to ring up the neighbouring divisions and ask each to switch its “gun” round. This was not so correct of the enemy machine guns; wiring was the main work carried out that tour, and several casualties were caused to men working on the top.

On April 3rd the tour came to an end, the Battalion being relieved by the 1st Battalion Leicestershire Regt. (6th Division). This division had just come up from the south-east of Arras, where it had been in the line when the enemy first launched his offensive. It had acquitted itself well, as it always did, but had been terribly cut up. From the men of this battalion something was learned of the battle in the south.

The Battalion said farewell to the Reutel Sector and moved back to Maida Camp again. Here several days passed quietly and nothing was heard of an early move. Indeed, so far did the Battalion seem from battle, that orders were received to relieve the 146th Infantry Brigade on April 9th. That Brigade was now holding the sector astride the Menin Road, facing Gheluvelt and Polderhoek Chateau, where it had relieved part of the 33rd Division. It was a disappointed party of officers and N.C.O’s who went up to inspect the line on April 8th. But the Battalion was never to hold that sector. The same night orders for the relief were cancelled, and fresh orders were received to move the following day to a camp near Reninghelst.

The next day was crowded with incident. In the morning the G.O.C., Second Army, presented medal ribbons to a number of officers and other ranks, the Battalion providing three officers and 150 other ranks for the guard of honour. During the parade the General received several telegrams, and when he addressed the troops he referred to the probability that they would soon be in battle. In the afternoon the Battalion marched to the neighbourhood of Reninghelst, where it expected to remain for two or three days, and then to move to the southern battle. As the column wound its way along the road that bright spring afternoon, the dull but continuous roar of guns was such as had never been heard in that area since the battle of Passchendaele. Something was happening much nearer than the Somme, but none knew what. On arrival at the camp everyone quickly settled down, and arrangements were made for the night. But no night was to be spent by the Battalion there. The time had come when it was to write what is probably the finest page of its history.